Downton Abbey Script Book Season 1 (32 page)

MATTHEW: Is this Lady Rosamond Painswick?

MARY: You
have
done your homework.

MATTHEW: She wrote to welcome me into the family, which I thought pretty generous given the circumstances.

MARY: It's easy to be generous when you have nothing to lose.

He gives a sympathetic look which almost makes her smile.

MARY (CONT'D): So are you doing any more church visiting with Edith?

MATTHEW: My mother's trying to set something up.

MARY: Watch out. I think she has big plans for you.

MATTHEW: Then she's in for an equally big disappointment.

He gives a knowing look and, again, he has made her laugh.

Anna and Gwen are working as usual when Daisy comes in.

DAISY: Is it all right to do the fire?

ANNA: Why are you so late?

DAISY: I went back to my room after I'd woken everyone, and I just shut my eyes for a moment … I've been trying to catch up ever since.

ANNA: Have you had any breakfast?

DAISY: Not a crumb.

ANNA: Here.

She takes a small tin from beside the bed, holding it open.

GWEN: You can't take her biscuits.

ANNA: She never eats them. None of them do. They're just thrown away and changed every evening.

Daisy takes the tin and starts to munch one as she speaks.

DAISY: Thanks. She wouldn't mind anyway. She's nice, Lady Sybil.

Gwen looks at the clock and sits heavily on the bed.

GWEN: Ooh.

CARSON (V.O.): Gwen? May I ask why you are sitting on Lady Sybil's bed?

He is in the doorway. Which seems to make Gwen nervous.

GWEN: Well, you see I had a turn … like a burst of sickness … Just sudden-like. I had to sit down.

ANNA: It's true. She came over queasy.

CARSON: You'd better go and lie down. I'll tell Mrs Hughes.

GWEN: I don't need to interrupt her morning. I'm sure I'll be fine, if I can just put my feet up.

CARSON: How many more bedrooms have you still got to do?

ANNA: Just one. Lady Edith's.

CARSON: And you can manage on your own?

ANNA: Well, she's no use to man or beast in that state.

Gwen stands and goes to the door. She looks back, a little guiltily, to see Anna finishing the counterpane.

ANNA (CONT'D): Shoo.

She waves her away. Carson looks round the room, sternly.

CARSON: Daisy? May I ask why you are holding Lady Sybil's biscuit jar?

Daisy, still swallowing, nearly jumps through the roof.

DAISY: I was just polishing it before I put it back.

CARSON: See that you do.

He goes, leaving Anna and Daisy to share their relief. Anna picks up a tray, to take candle and water carafe away.

Mrs Patmore is indignant.

MRS PATMORE: Where is that stupid girl?

MRS HUGHES (V.O.): She's just here.

Mrs Hughes is watching from the door, puzzled.

MRS PATMORE: Why are you hiding?

DAISY: I'm not hiding. I'm stood here.

MRS PATMORE: One more word and you'll be up a chimney with a brush in your hand.

DAISY: Yes, Mrs Patmore.

MRS PATMORE: Have you done them fires? Because it'd be ever so nice if they were finished by Christmas.

Daisy scuttles off. Mrs Hughes speaks again.

MRS HUGHES: She wasn't hiding.

Mrs Hughes walks along the corridor towards the kitchen where Cora is standing with Mrs Patmore and Daisy.

CORA: But Mrs Patmore, it's such a little thing to ask.

MRS PATMORE: I'm sorry, m'lady, but I can't do more than my best.

Mrs Hughes has arrived.

MRS HUGHES: Is there some difficulty, your ladyship?

CORA: Dear Mrs Hughes, as you know we're giving a dinner on Friday for Sir Anthony Strallan—

MRS HUGHES: Yes, m'lady.

CORA: Well, it seems he is particularly fond of a certain new pudding. It's called Apple Charlotte. Do you know it?

MRS HUGHES: I'm not sure.

CORA: His sister, Mrs Chetwood, sent me the receipt, and I'm trying to persuade Mrs Patmore to make it.

MRS PATMORE: And I'm trying to persuade her ladyship that I have already planned the dinner with her, and I can't change it now.

MRS HUGHES: Why not?

MRS PATMORE: Because everything's been ordered and prepared.

Mrs Hughes takes the paper from Cora.

MRS HUGHES: Well, there's nothing here that looks very complicated. Apples, lemon, butter … I think we've some Granose Flakes. If not, we can certainly get them—

MRS PATMORE: I cannot work from a new receipt at a moment's notice!

DAISY: But I can read it to you, if that's the problem.

Predictably, this sets the match to the taper.

MRS PATMORE:
Problem?
Who mentioned a problem? How dare you say such a thing in front of her ladyship!

Cora's had enough. She raises her hands in defeat.

CORA: Very well. We can try it another time, when you've had longer to prepare. We'll stay with the raspberry meringue.
*

MRS PATMORE: And very nice it'll be, too.

CORA: I'm sure.

Cora walks away with Mrs Hughes, who stops her at the door.

MRS HUGHES: I'm so sorry about that, m'lady.

CORA: Never mind. I was asking a lot.

Behind them Mrs Patmore is hissing more abuse at her underling.

MRS PATMORE: Oh, yes. Butter wouldn't melt in your mouth, would it? But you'll pay for that! And the hour will not be long in coming!

Cora glances back at the irate cook stamping about.

CORA: Do look after that girl.

MRS HUGHES: Daisy? She's used to it. She'll be all right.

CORA: I wonder. Mrs Patmore looks ready to eat her alive.

DAISY: I was only trying to help.

MRS PATMORE: Oh, like Judas was only ‘trying to help' I s'pose, when he brought the Roman soldiers to the garden! Oh, just you watch it, my dear! Just you watch it!

Sybil holds the reins of the little cart as it travels briskly through the park. As she approaches the gate, she looks around and pulls in the horse. After a moment there is a movement and Gwen emerges from behind a bush. She is neatly dressed in the suit Sybil gave her. She climbs in and they set off again. Sybil glances at her approvingly.
*

GWEN: I've had to let your skirt down a little, but I can put it back.

SYBIL: No, it's yours … What happens if a maid finds your room is empty?

GWEN: It'd only be Anna and she wouldn't give me away. She's like a sister. She'd never betray me.

SYBIL: Then she's not like
my
sisters.

She turns to the horse.

SYBIL (CONT'D): Walk on.

Sybil and Gwen laugh together as they speed off on an adventure.

Anna is making the bed. She has to keep walking round it.

BATES (V.O.): Shall I give you a hand?

He is standing in the doorway. He walks over to the bed.

ANNA: Oh, would you? It takes half the time with two.

BATES: I always feel a bit sorry for Lady Edith.

ANNA: Me too. Although I don't know why. When you think what she's got and we haven't.

BATES: Mr Molesley said she'd made a play for Mr Crawley.

ANNA: ‘Made a play' is a bit strong.

BATES: Mrs Hughes said she was after the other heir. Mr Patrick Crawley. The one who drowned.

ANNA: That was different. She was in love with him.

BATES: What happened?

ANNA: She never got a look in. He was all set up to marry Lady Mary.

BATES: Then he was a braver man than I am, Gunga Din.

Which makes both smile a little.

BATES (CONT'D): Sad to think about.

ANNA: It's always sad when you love someone who doesn't love you back. No matter who you are.

BATES: I meant it's sad that he died.

Anna feels slightly caught out.

ANNA: Oh. Yes. Very sad. He was nice.

The bed is finished and the room tidied. She has loaded the tray, and now she takes it up and starts for the door.

ANNA (CONT'D): Well, thank you for that. Much appreciated.

BATES: My pleasure.

She is almost out of the room when he speaks again.

BATES (CONT'D): Perhaps Mr Patrick did love her back but just couldn't say it.

ANNA: Why ever not?

BATES: Sometimes you're not at liberty to speak. Sometimes it wouldn't be right.

And he has passed her and gone about his business.

Sybil sits in the governess cart as Gwen climbs down.

SYBIL: Don't be too long.

GWEN: They said ten o'clock, so we should be fine. We'll be back before they notice we're gone.

SYBIL: Good luck.

With a nervous smile, Gwen hurries inside.

A secretary leads Gwen along the corridor.

SECRETARY: Take a seat.

Gwen sits down. A wall clock shows five to ten. A door opens, a woman emerges. Gwen leans forward expectantly, but nothing happens.

Violet sits ruling the roost. Isobel is paying a call.

VIOLET: The flower show? I thought I was in for another telling off about the hospital.

She smiles pleasantly.

ISOBEL: No. This time it's the flower show. I've been to see old Mr Molesley's garden. His roses are the most beautiful I've ever laid eyes on.

Now Violet is beginning to get the idea. Her eyes narrow.

VIOLET: Go on.

ISOBEL: You may not know it but I believe the committee feels obliged to give you the cup for Best Bloom as a kind of local tradition.

VIOLET: No, No. I do not know that. I thought I usually won the prize for the Best Bloom in the Village because my gardener had
grown
the Best Bloom in the Village.

She sits back pleasantly, waiting for the next tactic.

ISOBEL: Yes, but you don't ‘usually' win, do you? You
always
win.

VIOLET: I have been very fortunate in that regard.

ISOBEL: Surely, when Mr Molesley's garden is so remarkable and he is so very proud of his—

VIOLET: You talk of Mr Molesley's pride. What of my gardener's pride? Is he to be sacrificed on the altar of Molesley's ambition?

ISOBEL: All I'm asking is that you release them from any obligation to let you win. Why not just tell them to choose whichever flower is best …

VIOLET: But that is precisely what they already know. And do.

Isobel is tough but Violet is tougher.
*