Downton Abbey (2010–2015): Season 3, Episode 5 - Episode #3.5 - full transcript

The pains have stopped. Nothing will
happen yet.

Everything is fine.

You mean it was a false alarm? Not
exactly.

These early labour pains show that
the womb is preparing itself for birth.

Dr Clarkson, I'm afraid Lord Grantham
doesn't enjoy medical detail.

The point is, can we all go back to
bed?

You can.

And so can I. I'll see you out.

Sir Philip Tapsell will be here
tomorrow. Of course.

If you think it advisable.

There really is nothing wrong?
Nothing at all.



She a healthy young woman going through
a very normal and natural process.

I think I'd rather be in the city if
I were having a baby.

Where they've got all the modern
inventions.

Far away from everyone you know and
trust? I don't think I would.

What are you talking about having
babies for, Ivy?

I think we can leave that for a
little further down the menu.

It's always an idea to be prepared.

I expect you're always prepared? I
try to be, Mr Barrow.

I don't like the direction this
conversation is taking.

Could we all begin the day's tasks,
please?

And remember - Lady Sybil is in a delicate
condition, so no noise on the gallery.

It's exciting, though, in't it, to
have a baby in the house.

It won't make much difference to you.

Now get back in the kitchen,
and do as you're told!



Well, I think that message got
through.

We can't risk her welfare to soothe
Clarkson's feelings.

I know. I like the old boy, but he
did misdiagnose Matthew,

and he did miss the warning signs
with Lavinia.

Thank you, O'Brien.

Is that fair?

He didn't wanna get Matthew's hopes up
when it wouldn't make any difference.

With Lavinia, the disease moved like
lightning.

I know, I know. But even so...

Sir Philip Tapsell may have delivered
many lords and royal highnesses,

but he doesn't know US.

I'll ask him to include Clarkson in his
deliberations. Will that satisfy you?

I suppose so.

You look a bit puzzled. I am. Mr
Carson's asked me to wind the clocks.

You must be doing well.
In this house, that marks

you out as First Footman
more than anything could.

That's just it. I said thank you right
away, but I know nothing about clocks.

You'd better ask Mr Barrow. He's the
clock expert.

He used to wind them, but of course

it's quite wrong for a valet to do
it.

Mr Barrow won't mind? Oh, no.

I can see he likes you, and that's good,
since he's got the ear of His Lordship.

Yes, I suppose he would have.

I'd keep in with him if I were you.
I will.

Thank you. Think nothing of it.

I'm the size of a house.

My back hurts,

my ankles are swelling,

and my head aches.

Honestly, I cannot recommend this to
anyone.

I am listening, but of course I'm
dying to start one of my own.

So, you're not waiting? Waiting for
what?

I don't know, but I did wonder.

Mary, you know what I said about the
baby being Catholic?

I've just realised that the
christening will have to be here.

In Downton.

Blimey.

I wanted the whole thing done in
Dublin.

Out of sight, out of mind.

But we can't wait forever.

We can't not christen it, the poor
thing.

You don't have to do this. It's your
baby too.

I don't mind.

I mean, I do believe in God, but all
the rest of it - vicars, feast days,

and deadly sins - I don't care about
all of that.

I don't know if a vicar knows any
more about God than I do.

And I love Tom so very, very much.

I'll let you rest.

And don't worry. I'll fight your
corner with Travis if it comes to it.

There. You feel a slight increase in
the resistance?

I think so. That's what you're
watching for.

Never go past the point where the
clock is comfortable.

You make it sound like a living
thing.

Clocks are living things. My dad was
a clockmaker.

I grew up with clocks. I understand
them.

Never wind them in the early morning
before a room has warmed up,

nor too late, when the night air
cools them down.

Find the time when the family's out
of the room.

But I don't understand. Why
was I kept away from you until now?

Whatever the reason, it's over. The point
is someone has to question Mrs Bartlett.

You wrote and said she saw Vera on
the evening of the day of her death.

That's right.

She went for a walk. The door was
open, and she went in.

She saw Vera was cutting pastry from
under her nails.

I wrote that because it was such a
strange detail for her to remember.

She was making the pie that she ate that

night when I was on the
train back to Downton.

So, Vera planned this?

She meant for you to be imprisoned,
and hanged for her suicide?

It was her revenge.

And what a revenge, for both of us.

But they'll say you poisoned the
milk,

or the flour or something to catch
her after you'd gone.

They tested everything in the kitchen.

They said it was in the pastry,
where I couldn't have put it.

Oh, I hope she's burning in hell!

Don't go down that road.

Once you do, there's no way off it.

I've been thinking about you since
we last met,

and wanted to know how you were
living.

I've not gone back to...

..doing what I was doing, if that's
worrying you.

I've no Charlie to feed, so now if I
starve, I starve alone.

I'd rather starve than do that.

You see...I thought you might work
here for a while.

Helping Mrs Bird.

It would mean that when you moved on
you will have had a respectable job

with a respectable reference.

Are you sure you've thought about
this, ma'am?

What will Mrs Hughes' reaction be, or
Lady Grantham's?

And old Lady Grantham?

I can't wait to hear what she has to
say about it.

Don't you want to come?

It's not that, ma'am.

You're offering a return to a wholesome
world, and I am very, very grateful.

Well, then?

But I think it's going to be a lot
more complicated than you allow.

Then we shall have to face those
complications together, shan't we?

I'll take him from here. Sir.

Bates seems very cheerful. Is he?

He has a visit from his wife earlier.
She must have brought him some good news.

It hardly seems fair, does it?

You've got an extra year, and I've
got a formal reprimand,

and Mr Bates, who's done it all, who's

made all the trouble
for us, gets good news.

What do you think it is?

She can't be pregnant. He was
arrested a year ago.

She might be, but he wouldn't be very
happy about it.

So, what do you wanna do? Um...

It'll need some thought. First, what
does this good news consist of?

When you shared with him, where did
he keep his letters?

Quite a few of the cottages have
been renovated.

Thanks to you. Maybe a little thanks
to me.

But many of the farms have been left
entirely to their own devices.

Coulter hasn't farmed this properly
for 20 years.

He struggles to pay the rent, which
is too low anyway.

There's been no...investment.

Papa would say you can't abandon
people just because they grow old.

I agree, but it would be cheaper to
give him a free cottage,

and work this land as it should be
worked.

I see. And you don't think Papa
understands that?

Maybe he harks back to a time when
money was abundant.

There wasn't much need to keep on
top of it.

I think he equates being
business-like with being mean.

Or worse, middle-class like me.

The middle classes have their
virtues, and husbandry is one.

We ought to get back. Sir Philip
thingy's due on the seven o'clock train.

You ought to be there to hold Tom's
hand.

Poor fellow.

He's so terrified, and so thrilled
at the same time.

As I would be.

As I WILL be.

The dear Duchess of Truro is full of
your praises, Sir Philip.

Then of course, you know that.

She had quite a time when she was
first married, but I said to her,

"Never fear, Duchess, I'll get a
baby out of you one way or another."

And so you did.

Three boys, and as a result, a
secure dynasty, I'm glad to say.

But you see no complications here?

None at all. Lady Sybil is a perfect
model of health and beauty.

We told our local doctor
we'd send a message

to him when it looks
as if the baby's coming.

Dr Clarkson has known us all since
we were girls.

Yet what's needed here, Lady Mary, is
a knowledge of childbirth, nothing more.

But if it soothes you, then of
course.

He's most welcome.

I'm going to check on Sybil.

Sorry to trouble you, My Lord, but I
wondered if I might have a word?

Come into the library.

Matthew, will you take Sir Philip to
the drawing room?

Shall we go in?

Sir Philip, I was rather hoping to
have you to myself for a moment.

Do you know that I was injured
during the war?

I think I did hear something about it
from Lady Grantham.

My spine was very severely bruised,

and for a time it seemed I'd lost
the use of my legs,

and...

everything else.

But the bruising reduced, and you
recovered? I have heard of this.

Well, how relieved you must have
been.

Yes, but I wonder now whether the
injury might have...

affected my...

I suppose I mean my fertility.

If it may have limited my chances of
fathering a child.

Well, is...is everything working as
it should?

Yes.

Then um...

why do you think there may be a
problem?

We're anxious to start a family.

We've been married for a few months
without any...results.

My dear Mr Crawley,

may I point out the word that gives
you away?

Anxious.

Anxiety is an enemy to pregnancy.

Don't, whatever you do, feel anxious.

I can run a test if you wish, but I
would urge you

not to bother for some time yet.

There you are. We were wondering
what had happened to you.

This is extraordinary.

Why did the police miss it so
completely?

Mrs Bartlett never spoke to them.
She never spoke to anyone.

Except to you.

She didn't think the truth would
make any difference now.

She thought it was only further
proof of his guilt.

The difficulty is she may not want to
accept Bates' innocence.

Doesn't she have to? Not
necessarily.

She may think he drove his wife to
suicide, and deserves to rot in prison.

In short, she may not wish to tell
the truth to set him free.

Then we need to get a statement from her

before she finds out it
could overturn the case.

I'll telephone Murray tonight. He can come
up here and talk to you, and see Bates.

You were right, though.

The proof was out there, and you
found it.

The editor of The Sketch wants me to
write for him.

He saw my letter to The Times, and
wants to give me a regular column.

How regular?

And what about?

Once a week, and I can write about
whatever I like.

It would be the problems
faced by a modern woman

rather than the fall of the
Ottoman Empire, but even so.

Will you write under your own name?

I hadn't thought.

You won't have an option.
That's what he's buying,

that's what he wants
- your name and title.

I don't know. I thought Edith's letter
to The Times was very interesting.

Don't bother, Matthew - I'm always a
failure in this family.

I'm sad to hear this, Mrs Bird.

And I'm sad to say it, madam, but
it's kept me awake all night,

and I know I cannot work alongside a
woman of the...

..a woman who has chosen that way of
life.

But Miss Parks has changed.

Maybe she has and maybe she hasn't.

But if I tolerate her, I would be
tarnished by it.

Suppose people come to think that I'd
followed the same...

profession as what she has.

Nobody could look at you and think
that, Mrs Bird.

Well, I hope not, because I'm a
respectable woman.

I may not have much, but I have my
good name,

and I must protect it.

You'll have a month's wages in lieu
of notice.

Where will you go? Back to
Manchester.

I can stay with my sister.

She says there's plenty of work for a
plain cook these days.

And they will find one in you.

Goodbye, Mrs Bird, and good luck.

Anything else you need to know about
having babies, Ivy?

Honestly, if I told
Mrs Patmore the things

you two say to me you'd
be up before Mr Carson.

What are you doing with your
afternoon off?

None of your business. I'd like to
make it my business.

Have you greased the cake tins? Yes.

What about the pastry?

It's in the larder. Get started on
the vegetables for tonight.

She doesn't want much, does she? She
doesn't like me.

Why not? I don't know.

She just doesn't.

Well, anyone who doesn't like YOU
needs their head examining.

I hope you agree with him, Jimmy?

That'd be telling.

Are we the first down?

How is Sybil? Sleeping, thank God.

She's been restless all afternoon.
I don't think it'll be long now.

I'm sorry it couldn't have been in
Dublin.

We know how much it meant. Nothing
means more than she does.

And you're sure you have everything
you need? Quite sure.

Hello, Granny. You're here. How nice.

Your grandmother will be with us
every night until the baby's born.

I hate to get news second-hand.

Well, you won't have long to wait.

I thought I'd bring up Dr Clarkson
after we've eaten.

Yes, I've been talking to Lord
Grantham about the good doctor.

Sir Philip feels the room would be
too crowded.

It might be better to leave old
Clarkson out of it for the time being.

But I said I'd telephone.

Well, it really isn't necessary.

I've given him my word.

Why don't I run down in the car
after dinner, and fetch him?

The hollandaise for the fish, put it
in the sauce boats, and do the souffles.

As soon as - Will you just do it?!

Out of my way, quick.

What are you doing?

Haven't you done it? Oh, my God.

What's happened? It's curdled, and it's
got to go up in a minute. Oh, my Lord!

Ivy can manage it. Go on with what
you're doing. Can you really?

I can.

Now what? Give me an egg quick.

Dribble it in. But it's ruined. Do
what I say.

How does that work?

It's magic. It's one of the tricks of
the trade.

How have you done that? Just...one
of the tricks of the trade.

Well, go and take it up. Well done,
Ivy. You played a good one there.

Thank her, Daisy. Yes, thank you.

That didn't hurt at all, did it?

I'll tell you what,
Daisy, Alfred won't like

you any better for being rough on her.

I should have the fish. I'll do it.

There's nothing more tiring
than waiting for something to happen.

Edith, have you written back to your
editor yet?

What's this? Edith has had an
invitation to write a newspaper column.

When may she expect an offer to
appear on the London stage?

See?

Oh, God, is it beginning?

Dinner's suspended, so to speak.

Yes, but suspended cancelled, or
suspended keeping it hot?

What should I do about dinner down
here?

I couldn't tell you.

But...

What do you mean, concerned?

Lady Sybil's ankles are swollen. She
seems...muddled.

What sort of muddled? Not quite
there, not quite in the present moment.

And what do you think it means? It
means she's having a baby.

A word, Dr Clarkson.

Excuse me.

Sir Philip mustn't bully him into
silence.

My dear, this is just Clarkson's
professional pride,

like barber's asking who last cut
your hair.

They always want to be better than
any other practitioner.

But we must listen to what he has to
say.

I quite agree. I don't want to hurt
Sir Philip's feelings.

If there's one thing
that I'm quite indifferent

to it's Sir Philip Tapsell's feelings.

You are upsetting these people for
no reason at all.

I am not!

I think she may be toxaemic, with a
danger of eclampsia.

In which case, we must act fast.
There is no danger whatsoever.

Judging by my experience, Lady Sybil
is behaving perfectly normally.

Do you not find the baby small? Not
unusually so.

And the ankles?

Maybe she has thick ankles. Lots of
women do.

But SHE does not.

I'm warning you, Doctor, if you wish
to remain,

you must be silent.

I cannot allow you to interfere.

Oh!

Don't be burnt...

Are you all right, Ethel? Only, I
heard a shout.

Fine, ma'am. Everything's fine.

It's a kidney souffle, ma'am.

A kidney souffle? Isn't that a bit
adventurous?

I've seen Mrs Patmore do it a hundred
times.

Yes, but she can't have begun her career
as a cook by making a kidney souffle.

Shall I try something else, ma'am?

No, if we're to avoid a midnight
feast, it's...

..too late to turn back.

Is everything all right?

I think so. I've just come to fetch
some warm milk in case she fancies it.

Mr Carson?

I'm glad I've caught you.

I've had a letter from Mrs Bird
who used to work for Mrs Crawley.

I didn't know she'd gone. Well,
that's the point.

I've been thinking about what we
should do.

You know I have a brother in Liverpool,
and there might be an opening there.

It'd mean working with cars again -
No.

We're not going backwards. You must
promise me that.

God, I wish there was something I
could do.

Just be here.

We can just lie back and look at the
stars.

Is she...?

It's all just as it should be.

Now what?

I want to test the latest sample of
her urine. Oh, for Heaven's sake.

Just give the order to the nurse,
please, Sir Philip.

How's the young mother doing? Am I
on duty, Dr Clarkson?

What? Only I swear I'm not on duty,
otherwise I wouldn't be lying here.

No. No, you're not on duty.

Mrs Crawley has hired a prostitute to
manage her house.

And that's why Mrs Bird felt she had
no choice but to hand in her notice.

Nor did she, poor woman. Mr Carson,
this is Ethel we're talking about.

OUR Ethel.

And Mrs Crawley was just trying to give
her a helping hand. Is that so wrong?

I do not criticise her for her charity,
but she hasn't considered her actions.

No respectable person - certainly, no
respectable woman -

can now be seen entering her house.

But Ethel's given all that up.

I didn't think she was running a
brothel in Mrs Crawley's kitchen.

Can't we say nothing for now?

Mrs Bird's gone, and I don't
remember Ethel as any great cook,

so it may sort itself out.

Very well.

We shall keep silent. For the moment.

But I don't want the maids going into
that house on any pretext whatsoever.

Is that clear?

Quite clear, Mr Carson.

Or the footmen.

It's my belief that Lady Sybil is at
risk of eclampsia.

What is that? A rare condition from
which she is NOT suffering.

Tell him why you think she may be.

Her baby is small, she is confused,
and there is far too much albumen -

that is, protein - in her urine.

Dr Clarkson, please! Have you
forgotten my mother is present?

Please. A woman of my age can face
reality far better than most men.

The fact remains, if I am right, we
must act at once. And do what?

Get her down to the hospital, and
deliver the child by Caesarean section.

But is that safe? It is the opposite
of safe.

It would expose mother and child to
untold danger.

She could pick up any kind of
infection in a public hospital.

An immediate delivery is
the only chance of avoiding

the fits brought on by the
trauma of natural birth!

It may not work, but - Honesty at
last.

Even if she were at risk from
eclampsia, which she is NOT,

a caesarean is a gamble which might
kill either or both of them.

I think we must support Sir Philip
in this.

But it's not our decision.

What does Tom say?

Tom has not hired Sir Philip.

He is not master here, and I will
not put Sybil at risk on a whim.

If you are sure, Sir Philip? I am
quite, quite certain.

You're being ridiculous. Obviously,
we have to talk to Tom.

Don't look at me. Cora is right.

The decision lies with the chauffeur.

How are things going? I'm not sure.

The doctors are arguing. That's never
a good sign.

Is everything all right?
Unfortunately, it seems it is not.

Could we get her to hospital? To move
her would be tantamount to murder.

Sir Philip, admit you're beginning
to detect the symptoms yourself.

You can see her distress! Can you?
Yes, Lady Sybil is in distress.

She's about to give birth.

Lord Grantham, Mr Branson, time is
running out.

We'd be at the hospital by now if we'd
acted at once. The baby would be born.

If she has the operation now, do you
swear you can save her?

I cannot swear it, no.

But if we do not operate, and I am right
about her condition, then she will die.

If, if! Lord Grantham, can you
please take command?

Tom, Dr Clarkson is not sure he can
save her.

Sir Philip is certain he can bring
her through it with a living child.

Isn't a certainty stronger than a
doubt?

I don't mean to insult Sir Philip,
but Dr Clarkson knows Sybil.

He's known her all her life. So
you'd take her to the hospital?

I would've taken her an hour ago!

God help us!

Any news from the house, ma'am?

Not yet.

Matthew said he would try and
telephone if it's not too late.

Lady Sybil was always kind to me.

Yes, she's a very dear girl.

What...

What's in this?

Some honey. Was that not right?

It's perfectly fine for now, Ethel,

but perhaps not another time.

Would you like anything, Mama? No.

Just good news of the baby, and a
car to take me home.

I don't suppose I shall get either
before long.

What about you, Tom?

I just feel so helpless.

We men are always helpless when a
baby's in the picture.

You can come up. It's a girl.

And they're both... They're fine.

Oh, thank God.

And hallelujah!

She's so beautiful.

Oh, my darling,

I do love you so much.

I just want to sleep, really.

Of course you do. You've earned it.

She's a wonderful baby.

I think we should let her sleep.

Very well done. Thank you.

Mama?

Yes, my darling?

Tom is thinking of getting a job in
Liverpool,

going back to being a mechanic, but
it wouldn't be right for him.

He needs to move forward.

We'll talk about it tomorrow.

You don't need to worry about it now.

I think...

Papa may see it as some kind of
answer,

and -

Your father loves you very much.

I know.

I know, and I love him terribly.

But will you help me do battle for
Tom and the baby if the time comes?

Of course. Lady Grantham?

Now sleep, darling.

I'm sorry we doubted. No.

As to that, Lady Grantham, it's
always a good idea

to forget most of what was said
during the waiting time,

and simply enjoy the result.

Is there anything more to be done?

Not really.

The nurse will stay with her, and so
I suggest we all get some sleep,

and meet again refreshed in the
morning.

Show us a card trick, Jimmy.

It's your move.

That's it. The baby is born.

It's a girl.

Fantastic. Now you can all go to
bed.

Good news. Do you like Lady Sybil?

I do. We worked together in the
hospital during the war,

so I know her better than all of
them, really.

She's a lovely person, like you.

Anything the matter? No.

No, but Mr Barrow's so familiar all
the time, isn't he?

I'm glad to hear it. That's a very
good sign.

If he's taken to you, he'll definitely
put in a good word with His Lordship.

I'd like to tell him to keep his
distance.

Do you want to get your marching
orders, then?

Why, what are you implying?

Nothing unseemly, I hope?

No.

No, nothing like that.

Good night.

Mama, wake up! It's Sybil.

Can you hear me, darling? It's Tom.
I should be getting up.

Darling, all you need to do is rest.

Sybil?

My head...!

My head! Sybil? Let me bathe your
forehead.

It hurts!

What's happening?

Oh, God.

Oh, God!

God, no, no! What the hell is
happening?

Sybil? She can't hear me.

Sybil? Sybil, it's Mary. Can you hear
me?

It looks as if -

It looks as if what? This is
eclampsia.

Sybil?

It cannot be, Sir Philip. You were
so sure.

She can't hear me. This is
unbelievable.

Darling... Somebody do something!

The human life is unpredictable.
But you were so sure!

What can we do? Help her, help her,
please!

Oh, God, no! Dr Clarkson, shall we
take her to the hospital?

There's nothing that can be done.
It's not possible, not these days!

Once the seizures have started,
there's nothing to be done.

You don't agree, do you?

Please don't leave me! Help her!
Help her, please!

She can't breathe. Please, just
breathe.

There has to be something worth
trying!

Please! Come on, come on. Breathe,
love.

Come on. Sybil? Listen, it's me, my
darling. All you need to do is breathe.

We've given her morphine, and
atropine.

What's happening?

Please breathe, love!

Please!

She can't breathe.

Oh, no, no!

Please!

Oh, no!

Please, love.

No, no! Please wake up.

Please don't leave me.

Please wake up, love. Please don't
leave me!

Please don't leave me, love!

No! Oh, God!

Please, love.

But this can't be.

She's 24 years old.

This cannot be.

Is there anything we should do, Mr
Carson?

Carry on, Daisy.

As we all must.

Thomas?

I don't know why I'm crying, really.

She wouldn't have noticed if I'd
died.

You don't mean that.

No. No, I don't.

In my life, I can tell you, not many
have been kind to me.

She was one of the few.

Oh... Don't mind me.

The sweetest spirit under this roof
is gone,

and I'm weeping myself.

Are you all right, Mr Carson?

I knew her all her life, you see.

I've known her since she was born.

We'll look after them.

We'll look after them both.

Don't you worry about that.

It's time to go to bed, Mama.

You'll need some rest to face
tomorrow.

Not just yet. This is my chance to
say goodbye to my baby.

You go.

I'll be all right, I promise.

I could stay, or would you prefer to
be alone?

Alone, I think, but thank you.

And Mary?

Could you ask your father to sleep in
the dressing room tonight?

Because you were my baby.

You always will be. Always.

My beauty, my baby.

I've asked Carson to bring Anna
here, Mr Murray,

but I don't think it'll be possible
for you to see Lord Grantham.

Not today. I'm sure you understand.

Of course.

I should have guessed there was something
wrong when there was no car at the station.

What a dreadful, dreadful thing.

I'll leave you to it.

Mr Murray, I wonder if I might have
a word with you before you go?

It's not the best day for it, but there's
no knowing when you might be up here again.

Of course, Mr Crawley.

I am very sorry to trouble you on a
day like this, Mrs Bates.

You weren't to know. None of us
could have known.

The men from Grasby's have arrived.

To take her away?

Yes.

And we must let them.

Goodbye, my darling.

She was the only person living who always
thought you and I were such nice people.

Oh, Mary...

Do you think we might get along a
little better in the future?

I doubt it.

But since this is the last time we
three will all be together in this life,

let's love each other now, as sisters
should.

You see, what I have discovered is
quite simple, Mr Murray.

It's proof of my husband's
innocence.

That seems a good place to start.

Yes, but the key to his innocence

depends on the word of a woman who
hates him,

and may want him to stay in prison
whatever the truth.

Why not tell me everything you know?

Of course, this isn't the right
time,

but you're here, and it's not a
subject for the telephone.

No, but I must confess to you, Mr
Crawley, that

even at this sad hour, your words are
music to my ears.

Testing times are coming for these
estates, indeed.

They've already arrived, and many
great families will go to the wall

over the next few years.

It's never been more vitally important to
maximise the assets of a place like this,

and run it with a solid business
head.

What are you talking about?

Mr Crawley and I were discussing the
management of the estate.

He was outlining some interesting
plans for the future.

And do you intend to involve my
father in these fascinating plans?

Of course.

Then I cannot think this
a very appropriate moment

to be deciding the destiny
of Downton, Mr Murray,

when my sister's body has just been
removed from the house,

and my father is quite unable to see
or speak to anyone.

I'm really only here to talk to Mrs
Bates about her new evidence.

Naturally, if I'd known...

No, no, that's quite different.

None of us would wish to keep Bates in
prison for an hour longer than necessary.

Shall I fetch her? I've already seen
her.

Now I'm on my way to York to visit
Bates,

and learn what he has to say about
it.

Then thank you so much for coming
all this way.

Lady Mary, please tell your parents
how very sorry I am.

Of course.

Mr Murray is just leaving.

I'm sorry, darling. Forgive me. I
wasn't thinking.

It's just Murray was in the house...

Papa has lost his youngest daughter.

I think that's enough.

Or does he have to lose control of
his estate on the same day?

And the challenge is
to get a statement from

Mrs Bartlett before she
realises its significance.

That's it.

I can't stop thinking about Lady
Sybil.

A lovely young woman at the height
of her happiness.

If I had any beliefs, that would
shake them.

Make your way out now.

I'll keep you informed, Mr Bates.

I'll do my very best for you.

Thank you, Mr Murray.

I suppose that's his lawyer.

Lord Grantham's lawyer, more like.

I don't care if he's lawyer to the
Prince of Wales.

He'll get a shock when he contacts
Mrs Audrey Bartlett.

Oh, Carson. Good afternoon, my Lady.

We've seen some troubles, you and I.

Nothing worse than this. Nothing
COULD be worse than this, my Lady.

Mama.

Oh, my dears.

You'll be glad to know they've found
a nurse for the baby.

She is already here. Good, good.

Where's Tom?

He's upstairs. I've asked if he wants
anything.

He says no.

He wants his wife back, but that's
what he can't have.

I must write to Dr Clarkson and have
it sent down before dinner.

Darling, there's no need for that.
I should. I want to.

I have to apologise for our
behaviour.

What?

Why?

Because if we'd listened to him,
Sybil might still be alive.

But Sir Philip and your father knew
better, and now she's dead.

Why... Why did she say that?

Because there is some truth in it.

My dear, when tragedies strike,

we try to find someone to blame.

In the absence of a suitable
candidate, we usually blame ourselves.

You are not to blame. No-one is to
blame.

Our darling Sybil has died during
childbirth,

like too many women before her,

and all we can do now...

..is cherish her memory,

and her child.

Nevertheless, there is truth in it.

I thought I might move back in here
tonight.

I think I'd rather sleep alone for a
while.

We should think about the
christening. She'll be Catholic.

She's Irish, and will be Catholic
like her father.

What were you doing at Crawley House
this morning? Who says I was there?

I saw you coming out. Oh, I see.

You look very nice this morning.
Don't flirt with me, Robert, not now.

What do we do next?

You mustn't do anything
stupid.

Promise me.

You won't win over the Christening.
Not if you're against me.

I'm never against you, but you've
lost on this one.