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Hey, guess what? We've got back-to-back weddings! That's right, after all this time Edith and Sir Anthony are getting married, and Downton is once again abuzz with preparations and Dowager Countess barbs. But despite having gone along with it, Lord Grantham still isn't thrilled about the match between Edith and Sir Anthony, and when he has a moment alone with Sir Anthony, he basically tells him so.
Mrs. Hughes' test results still aren't back, but Carson overhears a conversation between Mesdames Hughes and Patmore about them so he goes running to see Dr. Clarkson, who suggests he could help Mrs. Hughes by lightening her duties. Knowing that he's acting against Mrs. Hughes' wishes, Carson approaches Lady Cora and spills it all about Mrs. Hughes, asking if she might send some of her work his way. Lady Cora's answering move is to send for Mrs. Hughes and tell her that if she is ill, she's welcome to stay and they'll arrange for her care. Mrs. Hughes barely keeps it together in the face of Lady Cora's kindness and she later admits to Carson how touched she was by the gesture, but her condition is benign and Carson is so happy he literally sings, which in turn brings much joy to Mrs. Hughes.
Molesley has mentioned in passing that he has a friend whose daughter is looking for a situation as a lady's maid, so to pay O'Brien back for the stunt with the shirts last episode, Thomas tells Molesley that O'Brien is planning to leave, which sends Molesley down to Lady Cora to try to push his friend's daughter as a replacement. When O'Brien gets wind of this, it looks like Molesley's days on this earth might be numbered and it doesn't help that Lady Cora doesn't buy that O'Brien said nothing to Molesley. Molesley does eventually reveal the real culprit to O'Brien, prompting O'Brien to make to Thomas what sounds to me like a formal declaration of war.
Ethel returns to see Isobel and runs off again, but this time at least she confirms she'… um, eligible for the clinic's help. Now quite concerned, Isobel gets Ethel's last known address from Mrs. Hughes, but that's all for that subplot since the episode isn't two hours long again, THANK GOD.
Anna goes to see Mrs. Bartlett, who at first is as nasty a piece of work as you might expect, as she takes Anna's money and then tells her she's got nothing to say. However, she consents to invite Anna in and tell her what she knows, but none of it seems particularly helpful; however, I wonder if there isn't a nugget in there that Anna will realize she can use at some point. Also, Bates gets a warning that his cellmate is going to set him up for something and, sure enough, he soon finds an incriminating package planted in his bed and palms it seconds before the guards burst in to search the room; while they're busy with the bed, he slides it into a hole in the wall. It's too bad about the roommate, because if he weren't watched -- and with the walls in that kind of shape -- Bates could probably Andy Dufresne his way out of there.
Apparently, no financial miracle has presented itself since the episode, and Lord Grantham has resigned himself to selling Downton. This forces the conversation of when to inform the staff that their service(s) will no longer be required, but Mary prevails on her father to at least delay that announcement until after Edith's wedding. This makes the arrival from India of the death certificate of Lavinia's father's Heir #2 rather exquisitely poorly timed; not only that, now that Matthew is definitely the beneficiary, the lawyer brings him a letter Lavinia's father wrote before his death. Matthew, drama queen that he is, refuses to open it, but Mary does in his stead. It turns out that Lavinia wrote to her father the day she died -- that is, after she had tried to get Matthew to call off their wedding -- and told her father how much she loved and admired Matthew, given his willingness to sacrifice his own happiness for her. As a result, Matthew finally agrees to pass the money on to Downton, although he does decide to wait until after the wedding to tell Lord Grantham so as not to steal Edith's thunder.
But -- and you could see this coming with one look at Sir Anthony's ashen face on the big day -- all the disapproval combined with his own self-doubt is too much for the man, and he leaves a distraught Edith at the altar. Despite the Dowager Countess' assurances that the development is for the best, Edith is inconsolable. Fortunately, the overall mood is tempered when Matthew tells Lord Grantham about his change of heart. Lord Grantham won't accept the money outright, but will allow Matthew to invest in the place, making them joint masters of Downton. To seal the deal, they come as close as two men can to hugging without touching chests or groins. And with that, the Crawley family lives to see Downton Abbey another day.Think you've got game? Prove it! Check out Games Without Pity, our new area featuring trivia, puzzle, card, strategy, action and word games -- all free to play and guaranteed to help pass the time until your show starts.
Want more? The full recap starts right below!The multitude of flowers and wineglasses and the rolling up of the huge carpet in the hallway could only mean that Edith's wedding is imminent, even if the woman herself weren't beaming as she observes the preparations from above. We then cut to her having descended, and she looks around like she can't even take it all in. I'm going to try not to make jokes like "And she might as well not," but it's going to require actual physical effort, and I can't promise I'm not going to strain something as a result. Edith sees the Dowager Countess approaching and asks her if it isn't so exciting, getting this reply: "At my age, one must ration one's excitement." Her failure to mention Sir Anthony as another in that category is probably about as well-behaved as she's going to get. They arrive at the sitting room, in which there are already a number of gifts, and Edith can't believe that something happening in the house is actually about her. After some discussion between Lady Cora and the Dowager Countess about the dress, the Dowager Countess asks after Sir Anthony and Edith tells her he's so excited: "Just when he thought his life would never change, he's going right back to the beginning." The Dowager Countess remarks what an invigorating prospect that is and since Edith's back is turned, Lady Cora drops the smile and glares. Hee.
Downstairs, Thomas is walking ahead of O'Brien and Alfred as he informs them that he's hidden a couple spare shirts away, so they might as well not bother again; they're both like, who... us? Whoever Ashton Kutcher's ancestor in this time is should know about the punking war going on below stairs here. Anna looks like she's heading out and Mrs. Hughes checks in with her about the flowers; once Anna's gone, Mrs. Patmore appears and asks if there's any word from the doctor. The answer is negative, but as it happens, Carson overhears their ensuing conversation and I'd wonder about the lack of discretion, but it's got to be exhausting checking around every corner for eavesdroppers and Mrs. Hughes is tired enough as it is.
Upstairs, Thomas wastes no time escalating the feud, as with a sunny smile he buttonholes the hapless Molesley, recalling that he mentioned the daughter of a friend who is looking for a position as a lady's maid. Molesley complains that such slots are really hard to come by, but Thomas is like, hey, you're in luck, I've got some great news on that front that I'll just whisper in your ear because O'Brien doesn't want it known yet! Of course, you'd have to be an idiot not to notice just how Arctic the relationship between Thomas and O'Brien is at the moment, which is to say that Thomas has chosen the purveyor of this false rumor very wisely.
In the study, Lady Cora asks how "it" will be advertised and from Lord Grantham's response, it's clear that he's selling Downton, so all his talk about not giving up was apparently nothing more than a reflex. Branson, obviously back for the new wedding, asks where Lord Grantham will go, and Lord Grantham tells him they have some land a bit further north. He makes it sound like it's an untilled field, but as we'll later see, while nowhere near Downton's size (what is?), it's a reasonable estate in its own right. Lord Grantham suggests that they could rename it "Downton Place," and if that's branding a spinoff rather than spitballing, color me intrigued. Matthew asks who lives there now and Lord Grantham merely tells him it's "a tenant" with whom he's sure they can come to an arrangement. Lady Cora suggests they take a picnic there the day to enjoy "Edith's last day of freedom." Before that can remarked upon/scoffed at, Mary bustles in with the news that Molesley is waiting to see Lady Cora. He's called in, whereupon he nervously asks Lady Cora if he might be allowed to put in a candidate for O'Brien's replacement. Lady Cora doesn't literally gasp in response, but despite then pretending for Molesley's benefit that she already knew O'Brien was leaving, she's far from thrilled... unlike certain other people in the room. Actually, Lord Grantham proclaims his own feelings on the subject mixed, as, if you'll remember, O'Brien raised her profile in his eyes with her unwavering care when Lady Cora was at death's door with the Spanish flu. But then Mary chimes in, "Mine are fairly unmixed." Heh. Sybil asks if Lady Cora had a clue and the answer is a disappointed no, but Lord Grantham points out that the news makes it as good a time as any to discuss, well, how they're going to fire the staff. Mary sensibly suggests that they get through the wedding and then tell them, and then shoots Matthew an accusing look as he shifts uncomfortably. Mary, if you really want to stick it to him, get him to explain to the servants how he's turning down a thousand years' worth of their wages because of feelings or whatever shit.
In town, Carson catches Dr. Clarkson on the street and tells him he heard about Mrs. Hughes' "condition" and wonders if there's anything he can do to help her. Dr. Clarkson tells him that lessening her duties would be quite the start, and when Carson pries for more information, Dr. Clarkson is gone before you can say the words "doctor-patient confidentiality." Which, in fairness, does take a couple seconds to get out.
Matthew tells Mary that Lavinia's father's lawyer has received the death certificate from India, and he's stopping by the house. Does Matthew even need that for his records? I suppose it can't hurt, but I wouldn't have thought it was his responsibility; however, the point is he insisted on coming in person. Mary chews him out when she hears the guy's coming the day, because they're going to visit Downton Place. "I'm surprised you of all people can forget that!" This leads to a full-blown fight about the money again and sometimes the time jumps on this show are jarring, but if this is representative of the last month -- and I have no doubt that it is -- it's just as well we skipped ahead. For his part, when Mary's gone, Matthew looks like he's wondering if he can arrange for a bulk order from Bayer.
O'Brien asks Lady Cora if there will be anything else, and Lady Cora keeps an "I know what's going on" expression fixed on her face, which is always hilarious when the other person, you know, doesn't. She eventually asks if O'Brien has something to tell her, but when O'Brien obviously does not, she lets it go and I'm kind of surprised at this point that O'Brien's Thomas alarm isn't going off every time something out of the ordinary happens. When she's gone, Lady Cora sighs to Lord Grantham that O'Brien has really let her down. Given what happened when the tables were turned, it's just as well that O'Brien isn't pregnant. Lord Grantham then makes an offhand comment about Sir Anthony, so Lady Cora tells him that she knows he's not happy with the match, but Edith will be nearby and there was certainly a time when I disliked Edith enough to have made a joke about her proximity being in Lord Grantham's "Objections" column. Lord Grantham doesn't say anything about that, but does once again bring up Sir Anthony's age and infirmity...
...while downstairs, Carson awkwardly pulls Mrs. Patmore aside and tells her about his encounter with Dr. Clarkson, and that he got the advice to lessen Mrs. Hughes' workload. Mrs. Patmore thinks that's a good idea, but warns Carson that Mrs. Hughes won't be pleased to hear Dr. Clarkson has been talking about her "before it's been confirmed." Carson heavily says it is cancer then, but Mrs. Patmore repeats that it isn't confirmed and he shouldn't say anything, because Mrs. Hughes would hate to think the doctor told him. Carson: "He didn't tell me, Mrs. Patmore. You told me." I don't think that's fair on Mrs. Patmore at all, but it's not like anyone's having a great time with this situation.
The men (Lord Grantham, Matthew, Branson and Sir Anthony) are having after-dinner cigars, and Lord Grantham talks about how Branson is their "tame revolutionary." Considering Sir Anthony was there for Branson's Roofie Realtalk, I don't think he's likely to forget that he's got a political bent to him. Branson and Matthew then head off for a game of billiards (it's a nice sartorial touch that, while Branson is dressed up, he's in black tie while the others are in white), leaving Lord Grantham to tell Sir Anthony that they're getting used to Branson and he hopes he will too. I don't think there's any indication that Sir Anthony has social issues with like, anyone, but I think Lord Grantham was just fishing for something to say. Sir Anthony senses it, offering that they haven't really spoken since everything was settled with Edith. He goes on that he understands why Lord Grantham was against the match, but he hopes Lord Grantham believes his sincere intention to try to make Edith happy. Lord Grantham does and adds that his objections were never personal, so Sir Anthony's like, no, of course not -- it's just that I'm kind of a cross between the Hunchback of Notre Dame and Methuselah? Lord Grantham replies that "the thing is done," so he's continuing to go along without expressing any enthusiasm, prompting Sir Anthony to ask him directly if he's happy about the union. Lord Grantham: "I'm happy Edith is happy; I'm happy you mean to keep her happy. That is quite enough happiness to be going on with." Even without Lord Grantham's "I'm so happy my chest might explode" comment about Mary and Matthew's wedding to most unfavorably compare it to, the short version of that answer is "No," and Sir Anthony looks a bit wounded and not in his hand for once. Honestly, I don't know if this is a stratagem at this point, but without Lord Grantham's extremely thinly veiled disapproval, I think the events of this episode would have gone differently.
Mrs. Hughes is talking about some last-minute changes to the wedding menu as Carson trails behind her like a nervous mother hen. She doesn't notice his concern until he tells her he just doesn't want to see her get tired, at which point she noticeably stiffens, and that's saying something among people whose posture is generally ramrod straight. She turns and asks to whom he's been speaking, but he's like, um... no one! Speaking? Where am I? Who am I? Mrs. Hughes lets it go, but if I were Mrs. Patmore, I'd hide in the meat larder the time I heard her coming.
Isobel is teaching a sewing class to some women, who from their level of enthusiasm look like they're ready to get out and resume showing the local male populace a good, moderately-priced time, when Ethel appears behind her. Isobel gets up and warmly tells Ethel that she hopes she's come for their help, and she'd be very welcome to it. Ethel, however, tells her she's past help, but Isobel says there's no such thing. Raising her voice, she adds, "And if you mean by that that you are a prostitute, you should know that is true of every woman who has come here to rebuild their [sic] lives." The peanut gallery makes some snide comments in return, as you might well expect, and Isobel is another of my favorites on the show, but it is enjoyable occasionally to see her sublime self-assurance taken down a peg. Ethel, however, tells Isobel that while she is in fact a prostitute, she doesn't want help -- at least, not for herself. She then gets overcome, declares the errand a mistake and runs off again despite Isobel's entreaties for her to stay. Is she thinking of giving up the baby? Or has something happened to him already? Hard to say, but the fact she doesn't have him with her is suspicious -- who could she have gotten to care for him? Then again, she probably had to make some arrangements in her current vocation, because I could only imagine that a crying baby is the anti-Viagra.
As we start on a close-up on an envelope in Matthew's hands, the lawyer supposes that it must be strange to receive a letter from a dead man. Well, on some shows I'm sure that'd be true. Matthew hastily shoves the letter into an inside pocket as Mary enters and says it's time to go, adding an apology to the lawyer for whisking her husband away as she is. The lawyer shakes Matthew's hand and tells him there will be papers to sign, and sure it's a bit of a chore, but from the haunted look on Matthew's face you'd think he's going to be made to write his name in baby's blood. Mary then tells Matthew that Sir Anthony has been invited so they can all "face the future together," and adds that he'll be picking up the Dowager Countess and Isobel on the way, and if I didn't already know we were going to get to see that, here's where I'd be complaining. Matthew apprehensively guesses the prospect of leaving is hard for the Dowager Countess, but Mary tells him that it's torture for all of them. "And if I ever look as if I'm finding it easy to lose my home, then I am putting on an act." It's a good line with which to leave, so the five subsequent seconds spent on Matthew making goofy sad faces are probably unnecessary.
We're outside and apparently Alfred has improved his reputation with Carson, as he's sending him along to work the picnic. After a bit of instruction, the family starts emerging and Carson sends Alfred over to see to one of the cars before stopping Lady Cora and asking for a word. He says he knows it's awkward with the wedding the day, but Mrs. Hughes is very tired, so would Lady Cora mind diverting some of her work to him? Lady Cora, however, won't accept "tired" at face value, so Carson, after some hesitation, tells her that Mrs. Hughes is ill -- possibly very ill -- and he doesn't want the wedding to... well, kill her. Lady Cora agrees, but wonders how they'll get on without her and O'Brien both. I suppose she's talking in a broader sense, because I'm not sure it's reasonable to fear that O'Brien is going to disappear before the wedding when it's literally the day. (I really almost pulled something restraining a comment there.) Carson is like, O'Brien in the what now?, but Lord Grantham's twelfth impatient summons since the scene began is enough to finally get his wife into the car, and off they go.
In what looks to me like Council housing, Anna finds Mrs. Bartlett taking down some laundry from the line; she hands over the amount of money they apparently agreed on, only to have Mrs. Bartlett pocket it and smugly tell her she's got nothing to say. Well, at least the fact that she was friends with Vera isn't in question. Anna soldiers on and asks if "Mrs. Bates" (she starts by referring to her as "Vera," but that goes over like a lead balloon) seemed depressed or unhappy, and Mrs. Bartlett confirms that, because "her husband had left her and gone off with a trollop." That's what I said! Anna has the good sense not to react to the cheap shot and soon Mrs. Bartlett is ever so slightly less hostile, offering that Bates had changed by the end, and Vera was scared of him. And honestly, as awful as she was, I'm not sure I doubt that. I don't believe Bates killed her, because with his martyr complex he'd be only too happy to swing for it if he had, but I wouldn't put violence past him. Anna asks when she last saw Vera, but Mrs. Bartlett notices some inquisitive looks from the neighbors and suggests they go inside. Just keep your keys in your hand, Anna. With as many as you must have for your job, you could do some real damage if she tries anything.
In prison, Bates and the other inmates are doing this forced-march-in-a-circle "exercise," whereupon a friendly face tells Bates to search his cell when he returns there, as his cellmate is planning to set him up for something. Not sure what the point is when he's already serving a life sentence, but maybe he's trying to get Bates' dessert privileges revoked.
Mrs. Bartlett has apparently decided to open up to the trollop, as she tells her she was passing Vera's place on the fateful day and her door was open, so she looked in. Vera was cooking, but she had to post a letter so they walked out, whereupon she told Mrs. Bartlett that Bates was coming back later and she was jumpy and fearful, but determined. She goes on that Vera had made pastry and she was scrubbing it out of her nails "like she didn't care if she took the skin off." Well, that's... sane-sounding. Anna asks if she went home after posting the letter and Mrs. Bartlett confirms that, saying that in the light rain, there was sort of a halo around her. Anna can't resist a little sarcasm in response -- hard to blame her; she might hurt herself otherwise, to which I can attest -- but Mrs. Bartlett is genuinely upset at Vera's death, so it doesn't look like she's intentionally hiding anything. On the other hand, if Vera did cook something with poison in it to set her husband up, it would make sense for her to go to any lengths to remove the evidence from her fingers, no?
After a close-up on a Rolls Royce hood ornament, the Dowager Countess tells Sir Anthony, who is in the back seat with her, that it's kind of him to give them a ride. He calls up to Isobel that he wishes she had let him sit up front, but she tells him she prefers it and she's ridden in the front seat many times. I expect she's making a statement on how she's no aristocrat, but of course the Dowager Countess can't let that go: "Aren't you a wild thing!" If I make it to her age, I'm pretty sure I won't censor myself either. Some discussion about driving speeds leads to a typical age-difference comment from the Dowager Countess through which Sir Anthony chooses to smile and then, in response to a question from Isobel, the Dowager Countess says that the late Lord Grantham had shooting parties on the grounds of their destination. While it's nice as a retreat from the world, "I wouldn't have thought it suited to much else!" Well, retreat is kind of what the family is doing, so everything sounds very a propos!
A modest luncheon has been set up outside and we can see that the new house, which, while perhaps a bit bigger than Crawley House, is hardly the size of Downton... and that, of course, is the point. Lady Cora smiles and repeats, "Downton Place," while elsewhere, Mary wonders if it won't be a bit cramped, to which Branson points out that to most people, "it looks like a fairy palace." He and Sybil being included in "most people" -- I can only imagine the two of them aren't exactly living on acres and acres of green Dublin land. Sybil adds that they'll be able to run the place with a much smaller staff and Lord Grantham concurs, thinking that eight at the maximum should work. The Dowager Countess is like, so, do I get shipped off with the kitchen maids? Lord Grantham kind of doesn't pay her much mind, which is funny and then Isobel sticks her nose in by wondering why Mary got an archbishop for her wedding and Edith is stuck with "poor old Mr. Travis," not realizing that that's what Mary wanted anyway. Edith is with her, explaining that Travis christened the children, so this will work out great. Sure, because the baptism involved water, just like this will DAMMIT I CAN'T HELP MYSELF.
Later, Matthew and Mary stroll around with champagne in hand and Mary asks what the lawyer's visit was all about. Matthew sighs and tells her he gave him a letter from Lavinia's father -- apparently he wrote one to each of the prospective heirs, to be delivered to whomever actually inherited the estate and at this rate I'm expecting Matthew's test to be to spend a night in a haunted house. Mary asks what it said, but Matthew tells her he hasn't opened it and isn't sure he will, because he knows "it'll be a paean of praise, how Lavinia could not have found a better man," and somewhere above, Lavinia's dad is elbowing an Army buddy all "Get a load of this guy!" Mary obviously still thinks he should open it, but Matthew is basically like, I won't do it and you can't make me! Matthew, how about spending some of that money on some testosterone?
Okay, here's a Crawley who doesn't waste time on bullshit. Isobel descends the stairs and finds Mrs. Hughes, whom she tells that Ethel is in quite a bad way. Although she's not sure it's current, Mrs. Hughes offers to fetch Ethel's address for Isobel and manages to do it without an emotional outburst, either.
With his roommate asleep in the top bunk, Bates desperately searches his bed as guards head his way for an inspection -- they mean it to appear routine, of course, but it's obvious they've been told to expect to find something. Just before they arrive, Bates finds what he's looking for -- a small package -- and palms it as the guards enter and order him and the cellmate up against the wall. With their eyes on the bed, Bates manages to slide the incriminating evidence into a hole in the wall, not that they search him, which seems ridiculous. Obviously they didn't expect him to have had any knowledge of the set-up, but, you know, while they're up? Bates does look pretty shaken by the near miss.
It's dinnertime for the servants and after Anna mentions that her trip to London was pretty fruitless, Carson asks O'Brien if she might let them in on what she told Molesley. O'Brien, of course, doesn't know what he means, so Carson clarifies, whereupon O'Brien swivels her head in Molesley's direction. He may not be too bright, but some survival instinct tells him to look terrified, which I guess means there's hope for him. He says he thought Lady Cora would have already known that O'Brien is leaving, but before O'Brien can really work up a head of steam, Thomas asks if it isn't time for the dressing gong, and Carson confirms that. Before everyone breaks up though, O'Brien promises Molesley that she'll deal with him later, prompting this comment from Daisy: "You're in the soup. I wouldn't be in her bad books for a gold clock." Daisy, we have and will continue to have our disagreements, but I couldn't have said it better myself.
O'Brien has apparently tried to straighten out the situation, but Lady Cora thinks she must have said something to Molesley that he misinterpreted. O'Brien is like, the most words I've ever said to him at one time are "get out of the way" (her actual words), but Lady Cora is determined to play the victim, which seems odd, given how fiercely devoted O'Brien has been to her since her capricious decision ended any chance for a direct male Grantham heir. Any further recriminations, however, are interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Hughes and after Lady Cora dismisses O'Brien, she, without preface, tells Mrs. Hughes that she understands she's sick. Mrs. Hughes understandably is shocked, although she downplays everything, but does say it's not confirmed that she is, in fact, ill. Thinking that she's there to defend her job, Mrs. Hughes starts to go on that she's perfectly capable, but Lady Cora cuts her off to say one thing -- if she is ill, she's welcome to stay for as long as she likes and Sybil will aid in finding a suitable nurse. "I don't want you to have any concerns about where you'll go or who'll look after you, because the answer is here and we will." Aww. Mrs. Hughes looks like she doesn't dare believe Lady Cora's kindness, and as much as it seemed like a violation, you have to give Carson credit for judging his employers accurately.
Edith, holding court for her sisters, Isobel and the Dowager Countess, is talking about the honeymoon -- a month in various locations in Italy -- and that she's looking forward to working on the house after that. Still as disapproving as Lord Grantham, if not as openly so, the Dowager Countess suggests Edith go to bed so as not to look tired the day. "Tired means [a bride]'s anxious or been up to no good." Edith says she won't sleep a wink and Sybil asks if she means that night or the , for which the Dowager Countess admonishes her: "Vulgarity is no substitute for wit." Sybil retorts that she started it and not to get all playground, but she's right!
Molesley finds O'Brien and pretty much begs her not to kill him, but the jury's out until he tells her he heard the news from Thomas. Clueless as ever, he goes on that he's sure it was an honest mistake, but while O'Brien disabuses him of that notion -- on both counts -- she absolves him of blame. Molesley moves to escape, but she isn't quite done: "And when you see [Thomas], you can tell him that I may make some 'honest mistakes' myself in the future." Molesley doesn't look like he understands her, but I'd wager he gives Thomas a wide berth for a while. Or at least starting after dinner, as it's that time and when everyone sits, O'Brien gives Thomas an absolutely chilling look, not that he's particularly intimidated by it. Alfred suggests that Daisy pull up a chair and join them, but Carson acidly tells him that Daisy eats with Mrs. Patmore in the kitchen and that's that. Alfred asks Daisy if she's up for a game of something later, but Mrs. Patmore declines on her behalf and Anna claims she's busy as well. Molesley then pipes up that he'll play, and Alfred doesn't even hesitate: "We'll see how we feel." I mean, poor guy, but Molesley doesn't make it easy.
If I thought this would come as a shock, I'd suggest you sit down, but you know her as well as I do so surely you won't be surprised to learn that Mary read Matthew's letter. She explains that she felt destroying a man's last words without reading them was wrong, and while I don't necessarily doubt her, it's hard to take her completely at face value when she has so much invested in the letter changing Matthew's mind. Of course, I'm not just talking about the money, but about getting him to shut up about FEELINGS, so whatever Mary's reasons, I'm on her side. (Again, I don't expect anyone to faint over that revelation.) Mary asks Matthew if he wants to know what the letter said; hilariously, when he says no, she takes it as a yes and tells him that for a start, Lavinia wrote to her father the day she died -- remember she took a sudden turn and went down very quickly -- and that it was after she'd talked with Matthew about calling off the wedding and he'd refused. Matthew can't believe A) she wrote, given that they didn't find a letter or B) that she would have said those things, but Mary produces the father's letter and quotes, "She loved and admired you for this sacrifice of your own happiness, and she commended you to my care." The letter goes on to say that this prompted the father to add Matthew to his list of heirs and while he expects one of the other two to outlive him, should the money come to Matthew, "know it is with my full knowledge of what transpired." It finishes in this vein and Matthew looks like he's being prodded with the fireplace poker the whole time; when Mary's finished, he wheels around and asks if perhaps she wrote it. He then withdraws that accusation, but thinks that someone forged it and as many times as I've said that he needs to get over himself, I will admit that the letter is awfully suspicious, given how it is precisely what Matthew would need to hear in order to keep the money. Then again, Lavinia's father must have met Matthew and if he were going to leave him an estate of this magnitude, it must have been small enough bother to write a "Just In Case the Boy Loses His Damn Fool Mind" letter to make sure it doesn't end up paying for some Manchester city expansion. But, jokes aside, we know Matthew saw Lavinia's father on his deathbed; it's not the sort of thing he might have mentioned?
Carson comes in to see Mrs. Hughes and, with the subtlety of one of your smaller anvils, points out that it's late and asks if there's anything he can do. When she tells him she's just finishing up, he turns to go back out, but she asks him -- rather directly for these two -- if he said anything about her to Lady Cora. He's like, um, that all depends, but she puts him at ease by saying Lady Cora was so very kind and even though she doesn't worship the upstairs crowd like he does (Carson: "I wouldn't put it like that"), she freely admits she was quite touched. Having said her piece, Mrs. Hughes turns back to her work, but when Carson's gone, she looks up and there are tears in her eyes, but maybe she feels a little bit safer regardless.
The morning, Mary comes below stairs and after everyone gets to their feet, she asks if any of them might have taken a letter from Lavinia on the day she died? Unfortunately, no one pipes up and Carson thinks that, given the events of the day, if there had been a letter it would have been reported to him or Mrs. Hughes. Mary tries to hide her disappointment and she quickly withdraws, but Daisy comes in with another couple plates of food at that exact moment, and when she hears what Mary was there for, she says that she posted Lavinia's letter. Mary apparently was within earshot for this -- maybe she was taking a moment to recover -- and, as she walks back in, Daisy explains that she was in tending Lavinia's fire when Lavinia started chatting her up -- "she was ever so nice" -- and asked her to post the letter, so she put it in the box in the hall. Mrs. Hughes starts to scold her, but Mary cuts that off right quick and says she's so grateful to Daisy and Daisy at least has the good sense not to try to parlay that gratitude into a new kitchen maid.
Upstairs, Lord Grantham seems finally to have made peace with what's happening, and he does point out that of all three of his girls' husbands, Sir Anthony is the most traditional choice -- I'M SAYING -- but the Dowager Countess, with real emotion that at least makes me think she cares about Edith, says that Edith will be starting married life "as an old man's drudge." Of course, you can't expect any such outpouring to stand for long, so when Lord Grantham asks why she's on about this now, she replies, "Because I want the pleasure of saying 'I told you so.'" Hee.
Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore are dressed to go to the church when Carson comes in and is like, are you sure about this wedding/maybe you should lie down/how about I carry you about in my arms for the rest of the day, and Mrs. Hughes -- getting a bit exasperated -- says it would be nice for people to wait until she knows she's ill before "boxing me up." Carson's like, illness, what illness/who said illness/I don't know anything about any illness, and he's about as convincing as Manuel on Fawlty Towers saying "I know naathing." When he's gone, Mrs. Hughes tells Mrs. Patmore that the doctor will have the results back the day, and she's to call in the afternoon...
...while upstairs, Anna finishes with Mary and heads off to attend to Edith, leaving Mary alone to tell Matthew what she learned. Matthew looks like he can't take it in and he sits to process it, but for once, his facial expression doesn't look tortured and I don't know if Mary sees it too, but either way she goes for it: "If you try to find one more excuse not to accept the money, I'll have to beat you about the head." I'm surprised it took you this long to come up with that solution, Mary. I was there somewhere in the middle of last episode. Matthew laughs, and it's not just in humor but also in relief that he can let go of at least part of his crushing guilt, but he does tell Mary he has one condition -- that they wait until after the wedding to tell Lord Grantham. "Let's not steal Edith's thunder." Make your own joke here while I go see my chiropractor.
Edith's sisters and mother are in with her now, and, beaming, she suggests they have the photographer take a photo of all three sisters at the church...
...but, for a look at a different mood, we cut to Sir Anthony, who the Dowager Countess accurately describes to Travis as looking "as if he's waiting for a beating from the headmaster." Indeed, it's the longest I can remember Sir Anthony going without a (usually goofy) smile.
Outside, however, the sisters are getting the aforementioned photo taken and then Lord Grantham barks at them for being, apparently, quite late, so everyone rushes in, but Mary holds Edith back to tell her that while they haven't always gotten along and probably won't in the future, "today, I wish you all the luck in the world." Edith is touched, Mary kisses her and they go in, Anna trailing behind Edith holding her train...
...and it's time. And look, I loathed Edith in Season 1 -- who didn't -- but they've done a good enough job in rehabilitating her that I take no pleasure in what follows. It seems pretty cheap, story-wise, for this disaster to happen to the middle, forgotten sister; I can't see what greater purpose it's going to serve. So let's rip the Band-Aid off: before Travis even gets further than "Dearly beloved," Sir Anthony pipes up that he can't do this; wild-eyed, looking like he has about ten seconds to live, he babbles that it's wrong and Lord Grantham told him so himself. Edith, gaping, says she doesn't understand his meaning, so he leans forward and tells her he can't let her throw her life away; he wants her to be happy, but that'll never happen if she wastes herself on him. Lord Grantham tries to tell him it's too late for all this and Travis suggests they take a moment, but the Dowager Countess soberly steps forward and instructs Edith to let Sir Anthony go and not to stop him from "doing the only sensible thing he's come up with in months." Even as he looks like a zombie, doomed to walk the earth without a soul, Sir Anthony manages to thank the Dowager Countess, and it's touches like that that go a long way to explain why I will miss him. Edith, however, can't just agree to this like her grandmother wants her to, so Sir Anthony steps forward and bids his "dearest darling" farewell before walking out of the church, and of all reasons not to leave someone at the altar, the prospect of walking that gauntlet of people's shocked stares would probably be at the top of my list. Outside, Sir Anthony's face breaks as he rushes away...
...while, when Edith arrives home, she rushes upstairs, throwing her veil over the railing before rushing into her room and collapsing on the bed, distraught. If I were she, I'd grab those tickets to Rome and get out of there for a month. They wouldn't go to waste and she might meet a handsome stranger... or ten!
Downstairs, Lord Grantham asks Alfred to clear out every reminder of the wedding reception once the other servants had returned. "I want it gone before Lady Edith comes down." So, it definitely needs to be done within a week, then.
Upstairs, Lady Cora gingerly asks if there's anything she can say, but Edith says no, and bitterly looks at her two married sisters before asking them to go. Lady Cora nods to them and when they're gone, she puts her arms around Edith and tells her she's being tested, fiercely adding that it will only make her stronger. Edith, however, sobs that she doesn't think it's working with her and not to nitpick the jilted, but I think it takes a little time -- at least until your sobs downgrade from hysterical to intermittent.
After a couple shots of the staff breaking down the party that never happened, Matthew follows Lord Grantham out onto the grounds, whereupon Matthew gives his father-in-law an uncertain smile and wonders what they do now. Lord Grantham tells him there's nothing they can do other than hold Edith's hand until she recovers, which she will; meanwhile, it's time to face leaving Downton and "astonish the world with the extent of my wretched failure." Not that you asked, but I think the extent is going to be less shocking than the method, Lord Grantham. Because: Canadian rail? Anyway, Matthew takes a deep breath and tells Lord Grantham that he doesn't have to leave -- he's going to give him the money after all. Hugh Bonneville does some nice work as he literally looks like he wants to go in about seventeen directions at once, both physically and emotionally, but he manages to tell Matthew that of course he's not giving him the money. Matthew, however, tells him that none of them want to leave Downton, not even he. So Lord Grantham, after casting an appraising (literally!) eye over his domain, tells Matthew that he will allow him to invest in Downton -- they'll be joint owners. You know, I never thought of this before, but if Lord Grantham is able to sell Downton, isn't that an easy loophole to the entail? Couldn't he offer it to Mary for like, a dollar? Maybe the late Lord Grantham excluded family members as buyers -- he doesn't seem to have missed many bets when it comes to making people's inheritances difficult. Matthew doesn't look too thrilled, even though, of course, he's only getting his mitts on Downton early this way. I suppose this brings the reactionary/progressive seasonal conflict right to the management of Downton, which could be interesting. Probably not with these two, though; there's way too much of a mutual admiration society as their ensuing almost-hug demonstrates.
Downstairs, Daisy remarks to Anna that she never thought she'd feel sorry for an Earl's daughter before haltingly asking Anna if she's of the opinion that women should say what they think, especially in the area of romance. Anna considers the question before noting that things are changing for women -- the vote is coming, for example -- but "with most of the men I've ever met, if you started to court them, they'd be so terrified they'd run a mile." Heh. Just then, Alfred, the obvious object of Daisy's affection, pops in for a moment and Daisy lights up in a way it'd be hard for Anna to miss. And I actually don't mind a Daisy-Alfred pairing philosophically really, but how are they going to overcome the four-foot height differential?
Upstairs, the family is having dinner in the mood you'd expect; Isobel asks if Edith has had anything to eat, but Mary tells her that she wouldn't touch the sandwiches Anna brought up for her. Lady Cora remembers to tell Carson that she doesn't want Edith to see any of the wedding food and Carson assures her that "what's left" is being taken to the church to be given to the poor. Hilariously, the Dowager Countess tells him to bring it her way if the poor don't want it and then Matthew wonders how they can help Edith. Isobel suggests that finding her something to do would be a start and despite that being what you'd expect from Isobel, she's got a point -- Edith never had more of a purpose in life than when she was helping in the convalescent home that was Downton in Season 2.
Here's why the entirety of the wedding food isn't going to the church -- the downstairs staff is getting their share and good for them. In a know-it-all voice, Thomas explains the concept of canapés to Alfred and Mrs. Patmore chimes in with a bunch of other offerings on the menu that makes me wish I could be a Downton vagrant for a day. Mrs. Hughes laments all the trouble Mrs. Patmore went to, but to her credit, Mrs. Patmore says it's absolutely nothing compared to "the pain of that poor girl upstairs," and O'Brien adds that she couldn't stand the shame. Thomas: "Then it's lucky no one's ever asked you, isn't it?" Cheap! Rude! And above all, stupid! Alfred is the only one who thinks this is a blessing -- Edith is young, not bad-looking and "she could do much better than that broken-down old crock." Carson tells Alfred that Sir Anthony doesn't deserve to be spoken about in that manner by a footman, but Mrs. Hughes is like, overruled, and Carson recants: "Well, maybe just this once." Hee. Mrs. Patmore asks what everyone's having -- lobster, duck or asparagus -- whereupon Alfred asks her if there's any cheese and even O'Brien gets a "Maybe we're not actually related" look on her face.
In the morning, Anna enters to find Edith still in bed and she asks what Edith would like her to bring. Edith: "A different life." Girl, Italy. I'm telling you. Anna wants to bring up some breakfast, but Edith tells her she's a useful spinster, good at helping out. "That is my role. And spinsters get up for breakfast." See, against all that Sir Anthony-nursing, she could have had a lifetime of breakfast in bed! Lord Grantham, you really are cruel.
Mrs. Hughes is just getting ready to go to the doctor when Carson comes in to see her; they do a bit more of their verbal dance before Mrs. Patmore comes to collect her. Carson watches them go with stirring and real concern on his face...
...and then we're in the village, with Mrs. Hughes lingering outside the hospital before she gathers her courage, saying out loud that she won't be cured by standing there. They head in.
Carson looks at his watch nervously...
...a nurse shows Mrs. Hughes into Dr. Clarkson's office...
...and then, below stairs, O'Brien is down the hall when Thomas loudly calls and asks if everything's all right. She steps forward and says that, oh yes, everything's all right with her. "But it'll be all wrong with you before too long, mark my words." If those words don't send a shiver down your spine, you might want to go in for a complete physical. Thomas asks exactly how it's going to be all wrong with him and O'Brien admits that she doesn't know... not yet. But, with an evangelical smile that's even scarier than anything I've seen from her before, she promises him that it's going to happen and when she's gone, some cracks appear in Thomas' smug façade, which might mean he's only 90% sociopath.
Mrs. Patmore has returned and Carson comes rushing up to her for the news, which is that the lump is benign. He looks out of his mind with joy for a second, but recovers to instruct Mrs. Patmore not to say anything to Mrs. Hughes, as "she doesn't know I know." Sounds like Carson's audition for Friends. Mrs. Patmore assures him she won't say a word, but as soon as he's gone, Mrs. Hughes sneaks in and asks if she told him. Mrs. Patmore: "I would prefer to say I put him out of his misery." Aww. The women smile and part ways, but soon Mrs. Hughes is shocked to hear a most unfamiliar sound -- Carson is singing as he polishes a silver tray. Mrs. Hughes laughs joyfully, both at the spectacle and what it represents and with her being touched at the kindness people have shown her at Downton once more, we go to credits. This ep was a letdown in some ways, particularly the Edith stuff, but this Mrs. Hughes mini-storyline has been both stirring and satisfying, so I'm not surprised they closed this episode with it again. See you week!
John Ramos is a writer and film producer living in Los Angeles. His new film, a documentary on online privacy and the sale of personal data called Terms And Conditions May Apply, will premiere at the Slamdance Film Festival in January. You can get news on it from the film's Twitter account. Also, you can email John at couchbaron@gmail.com, follow him on Twitter at https://twitter.com/couchbaron, or check out his blog, "Pull Up A Chair," which he'd just love for you to stop by.
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