Downton Abbey Script Book Season 1 (16 page)

VIOLET: Precisely.

CORA: I wish Mary wasn't so confident that it could all be put right.

VIOLET: Meanwhile, we have to watch that dreadful woman parade about the village as if she owned it.

CORA: I think she means well.

VIOLET:
Meaning
well is not enough. Poor Doctor Clarkson. What has he done to deserve that termagent?

CORA: I'm afraid he's in for an uncomfortable afternoon.

VIOLET: Why?

CORA: On my way here, I saw her go into the hospital. She looked extremely determined.

Violet rises.

VIOLET: Not as determined as I am.

Isobel is with Clarkson, who looks weary.

ISOBEL: I have the adrenaline here in my hand. Will you really deny the man his chance of life?

CLARKSON: I just wish it was a treatment I was more familiar with.

ISOBEL: And will that serve as your excuse when he dies?

He looks at her for a sombre moment. Then he nods, goes to the door and calls out for a nurse.

CLARKSON: Can you prepare Mr Drake for his procedure, please? Thank you, nurse. I will need a needle, an empty syringe, and another standing ready filled with this.

He hands over the adrenaline, looking back at Isobel.

CLARKSON (CONT'D): Well, Mrs Crawley, I have a feeling we will sink or swim together.

Drake is sitting up, greyer than ever. His wife is with him with terror in her eyes, as they listen to Clarkson.

CLARKSON: Mr Drake, your heart is not functioning properly and, as a result, your pericardial sac is full of fluid. We call this tamponade. I am proposing, first, to withdraw the fluid, and then to inject the adrenaline to stimulate the heart and restore normal activity.

MRS DRAKE: Is it dangerous, Doctor?

CLARKSON: I cannot tell you it is not. The draining may stop the heart, and the adrenaline may not be able to re-start it.

ISOBEL: Mrs Drake, the choice is simple. If your husband endures this procedure he may live. If he does not, he will die.

The wretched woman trembles, but before she can speak, there is a noise from beyond the screens.

VIOLET (V.O.): Let me pass! I must see the doctor, at once!

CLARKSON: Your ladyship.

She comes sweeping round the screens.

VIOLET: Just as I thought. Please, Doctor Clarkson, tell me you will not permit this amateur to influence your professional opinion.

ISOBEL:
Amateur?

MRS DRAKE: Your ladyship—

VIOLET: My dear woman do not allow them to bully you. They'll not disturb the peace of your husband's last hours. Not if I can help it.

Violet's words do the trick. Mrs Drake's mind is made up.

MRS DRAKE: But that's just it, m'lady. I don't want them to be his last hours. Not if there's a chance …

She nods towards Clarkson.

MRS DRAKE (CONT'D): Please, doctor. Do what you must.

The nurse takes a pad of chloroform and holds it to the man's face. The doctor feels the ribs, and pushes the needle with the syringe attached into Drake's chest.

VIOLET: As President of this hospital, I must warn you that I shall bring this to the attention of the Board at the first opportunity.

CLARKSON: Steady.

Mrs Drake is crying.

CLARKSON (CONT'D): Nice and steady.

He pulls on the syringe. Violet tries again.

VIOLET: As President of this hospital, I must …

But Clarkson ignores her. He withdraws the syringe and a yellow liquid is seen. For a moment, Drake looks as if he were dead.

VIOLET: Have you no pity?

CLARKSON: Adrenaline. Quickly, quickly. His heart's stopped.

The nurse gives Clarkson the second syringe, which he now attaches to the needle still in Drake's chest.

CLARKSON (CONT'D): Ready?

The man is in extremis. Clarkson thumps it in. For a moment, all is stillness. Then, suddenly, colour floods back into Drake's face. The nurse removes the cloth, as Clarkson takes his stethoscope and listens. He nods to Isobel and the nurse. Now Drake blinks and opens his eyes.

DRAKE: Oh my dear.

He has survived it. His voice is normal. As he takes his wife's hand, Isobel challenges the raging face of Violet.
*

Doctor Clarkson is with Robert and Matthew.

ROBERT: You don't have to worry. She may be President, but I'm the Patron and you're quite safe with me.

MATTHEW: My mother was right, then? The man's life was saved?

CLARKSON: I like to think we were
both
right. But I'm not sure Lady Grantham will be so easily convinced.

ROBERT: Then we must strengthen the argument. Cousin Isobel wants something to do. Very well. Let's make her Chairman of the Board. She'd like that, wouldn't she?

MATTHEW: Certainly, she would.

ROBERT: Then my mother will have to listen to her.

This is very puzzling for the good doctor.

CLARKSON: But I thought you were—

ROBERT: You thought I didn't want Mrs Crawley involved?

CLARKSON: So I was led to believe.

ROBERT: Doctor, Mama has many virtues, but not all.

MATTHEW: Which of us does?

ROBERT: She's been the absolute ruler there for long enough. It's time for some loyal opposition.

CLARKSON: If you're quite certain, my lord.

He hesitates, then thinks better of it and shuts his mouth.

ROBERT: What were you going to say?

CLARKSON: At the risk of being impertinent: On your own head be it.

Robert and Matthew are talking. Thomas is holding Matthew's bicycle for him.

ROBERT: About your scheme for restoring the estate cottages.

MATTHEW: You don't mind my interfering?
*

ROBERT: My dear fellow, I brought you here to interfere. In fact, why don't you stay for dinner and we'll talk about it? We'll send down to Molesley for your clothes.

MATTHEW: Better not. My mother's expecting me. But in fact, I've been meaning to speak to you about Molesley.

ROBERT: Oh?

MATTHEW: Would you find me ungrateful if I dispensed with his services?

ROBERT: Why? Has he displeased you in some way?

MATTHEW: Not at all. It's simply that he's superfluous to our style of living.

ROBERT: Is that quite fair? To deprive a man of his livelihood, when he's done nothing wrong?

MATTHEW: Well, I wouldn't quite put it—

ROBERT: Your mother derives satisfaction from her work at the hospital, I think? Some sense of self worth?

MATTHEW: Certainly.

ROBERT: Would you really deny the same to poor old Molesley?

Matthew feels himself slipping off the moral high ground.

ROBERT (CONT'D): And when you are master here? Is the butler to be dismissed? Or the footmen? How many maids or kitchen staff will be allowed to stay? Or must every one be driven out?

The young man has lost this argument.

ROBERT: We all have different parts to play, Matthew. And we must all be allowed to play them.

He is not angry, but he is firm.

Carson reads and smokes his pipe. Mrs Hughes looks in.

MRS HUGHES: I've told William to lock up.

He nods his thanks, but she lingers in the doorway.

MRS HUGHES (CONT'D): Are you feeling better? In yourself? I thought you might be coming down with something. But you seem a bit improved tonight.

CARSON: I'm sorry if I've been edgy.

MRS HUGHES: Things'll work out. You'll see. Lady Mary will marry some rich lord and be as happy as a pixie, no matter who gets Downton.

CARSON: I hope so.

MRS HUGHES: Though I can't pretend to share your enthusiasm for her. I think she's an uppity creature.

CARSON: You didn't know her as a child. She was a guinea a minute then. I remember once when she came in here, she can't have been more than four or five. ‘Mr Carson,' she says. ‘I've decided to run away and I wonder if I might take some of the silver to sell.'

He laughs at his own memory.

CARSON (CONT'D): Well, I said. That'd be awkward for his lordship. Suppose I give you sixpence to spend in the village instead? ‘All right,' says she. ‘But you must be sure to charge me interest.'

MRS HUGHES: And did you?

CARSON: She gave me a kiss in full payment.

MRS HUGHES: Then she had the better bargain, which doesn't surprise me.

CARSON: Oh, I wouldn't say that.

But she is smiling as he stands to blow out the lamp.

A bright afternoon. The three girls emerge from a bedroom, wearing hats and gloves, ready for an excursion.

EDITH: Has the car been brought round? We should go. It's almost three.

SYBIL: I bet Granny wears black.

EDITH: Why must we all go to the hospital?

MARY: I'm afraid Papa wants to teach Granny a lesson. Poor Granny. A month ago these people were strangers. Now she must share power with the mother and I must marry the son.

EDITH: You won't marry him, though, will you?

MARY: What? Marry a sea monster?

Which sets them all off. They descend the staircase.

SYBIL: We shouldn't laugh. That was so unkind.

EDITH: But he must marry someone.

Mary catches sight of her sister's face.

MARY: Edith? What are you thinking?

EDITH: You know I don't dislike him as much as you do.

MARY: Perhaps you don't dislike him at all.

EDITH: Perhaps I don't.

Something about this annoys Mary but she throws it off.

MARY: Well, it's nothing to me. I've bigger fish to fry.

SYBIL: What fish?

EDITH: Are we talking about EN?

MARY: How do you know that? Have you been poking around in my things?

EDITH: Of course not.

Although she has. They've reached the hall now.

SYBIL: Come on. Who is he? It's not fair if you both know.

MARY: You won't be any the wiser, but his name is Evelyn Napier.

Edith salutes as she walks.

EDITH: The
Honourable
Evelyn Napier. Son and heir to Viscount Branksome.

MARY: Who wants an old sea monster when they can have Perseus?

And she walks out through the door to the waiting Taylor.

Mrs Hughes is getting ready when Carson looks in.

CARSON: If you're going to the ceremony, I thought we might walk together.

MRS HUGHES: Certainly, I'm going. I want to see the old bat's face when they announce it. I must try not to look too cheerful.

At the sound of the word, he looks up sharply.

MRS HUGHES (CONT'D): Or shouldn't I talk like that in your presence?

CARSON: Do you find me very ridiculous, Mrs Hughes?

MRS HUGHES: What?

CARSON: Am I a joke? Putting on airs and graces I've no right to?