As mentioned by Edith last episode, it's house party time at Downton; as such, Mrs Patmore is freaking out and eventually self-induces a panic attack. Alfred -- who you'll remember has cooking experience -- fills in and I'm guessing he's going to end up in the kitchen, which will allow Molesley to return to the house. Speaking of, Molesley is now a delivery boy until Jimmy James -- or "Mr. Clever Clogs" as Mrs. Patmore hilariously dubs him -- makes an ass of himself by showing off and hurts his wrist to boot. So Thomas is forced to fill in as footman, much to his chagrin. For the day, though, Carson gets the idea to call Molesley in for relief, and Molesley isn't super-thrilled about stepping down to footman status either, but at least realizes it's a good offer given his current position.
The young "Lord Gillingham," played by Tom Cullen, turns up along with his man Green, who takes an immediate shine to Anna, which is noticed and unappreciated by Bates. Gillingham was no stranger to Downton when he was younger; he was apparently somewhat tiresome back then, but is congenial and rather fetching now. Gillingham is also involved with a very desired heiress -- but he still asks Mary out riding, where he gives her some advice about how to get Lord Grantham to listen to her about solving their tax problem. At the end of the weekend, Lord Gillingham seems rather pleased with the way things went, so it seems like Mary and we will be seeing him again, which is welcome on both counts.
One of the guests, Mr. Sampson, is a poker sharp who's obviously cheating, and Lord Grantham isn't the only one he swindles; the good news, such as it is, is that he's favorably impressed with the way a visiting Gregson also took his own beatdown like a man. Gregson's stock only rises higher as he figures out Sampson's game and beats him at it, forcing Sampson to forgive all his weekend winnings to avoid public exposure. This, of course, gets Lord Grantham on his side, but does make us wonder what other secrets and illicit talents Gregson might be hiding.
Isobel informs Dr. Clarkson that she's not going to inflict her bereaved presence on the Downton party; however, the Dowager Countess catches her in town and urges her to attend the last night of the festivities. She does, but is unamused to see Mary enjoying Lord Gillingham's company; nevertheless, she seems glad to have attended, and the Dowager Countess pats herself on the back and I can't say I blame her.
Having been forced to dance with an ancient Duchess who has no idea what to make of his ignoble upbringing, Branson goes to Lord Grantham and tells him he obviously doesn't belong at Downton. Although Lord Grantham assures him that's not the case, it doesn't stop Branson from accepting a chalice-sized glass of whiskey from Edna, who later enters his room… presumably for some Sexy Irish Fun Times. What's the point if we're not even going to see the preliminaries?
Cora has booked Nellie Melba to sing over the weekend, and Carson gets up in arms about the idea of AN AUSTRALIAN SINGER EATING WITH HER LADYSHIP. Said Ladyship, however, wants her at dinner and chews Lord Grantham out for going along with Carson. So Lord Grantham reluctantly sits to her, only to delightedly find out that she's a wine snob. Sounds about right, no?
During the concert, Anna pops downstairs for some headache relief, whereupon Green wastes no time in physically and sexually assaulting her; there's lots of screaming and violence and while it's not super-graphic, it's also not sugarcoated at all. When Mrs. Hughes later finds a distraught and disheveled Anna, she wants to go to Bates, but Anna begs her not to tell anyone she was raped, as she's afraid convicted felon Bates will go and kill Green in retribution, which would mean at least the end of his liberty… if not his life. Dead Green and off-the-show Bates wouldn't seem that bad to me, but it's true Anna's been through enough without that kind of pain.
A parade of cars heralds the advent of Cora's house-party weekend, and it's so reminiscent of Gosford Park that I hope no one slips and calls Violet "Lady Trentham." And speaking of movies I love, Tom Cullen hops out of one of the vehicles, and this will be the last time I'll mention this, but his performance was the very best of many great things about Weekend, which -- if you haven't seen it -- is in my opinion the best gay film of this decade thus far. (I wrote a little something about it here.) Anyway, Tom Cullen (okay, okay… his name is "Lord Gillingham") tells his man that the housekeeper used to be Mrs. Hughes, but he's not sure if she's still there, so apparently he hasn't been to Downton in a while… and also Mrs. Hughes is old. Inside, Lord Gillingham's man bumps into Anna and flirts with her a bit in aid of asking her for directions (or the other way around), and then we cut to upstairs, where several gracious lords and ladies are standing about with teacups in their hands. Lord Grantham asks a "Sir John" about his train trip and is told that it was jolly good; we then learn that a "Mr. Sampson" is there thanks to Lord Grantham seeing him at White's every now and then.
Seeing Lord Gillingham, Lord Grantham asks who the "glamorous pirate" (hee) is, and Cora asks if he doesn't recognize "Johnny Gillingham's son." Lord Grantham (after recalling that he used to be called "Anthony Foyle") replies he hasn't seen him since the father's funeral. He heads over to say hello, and Mary joins them not a few seconds later to note that the last time he visited, he was "a very superior young man who found three little girls extremely tiresome to deal with." Well, he might have just been taking his cues from your dad, Mary. Lord Gillingham looks amusedly chastened, but someone who's not seeing the humor in all this is Gregson, who's like, Edith, your dad doesn't liiiiike me! Also uncomfortable is Branson, who gets some tin-eared sympathy from an older lady over Sybil's death; it seems reasonable for him to seem awkward as he casts about for a change of subject, but the Dowager Countess worries to her son that "Tom's small talk is very small indeed." Lord Grantham actually defends Branson, saying not everyone can be Oscar Wilde, but the Dowager Countess replies that that's a relief, and I'm going to choose to believe she only doesn't like him because he might conversationally outdo her on a good day. Lord Grantham then invites the group to retire to their rooms and announces that they'll gather in the drawing room at eight. It sounds like such easy living, but I bet some of the attendees are going to have to allow twenty minutes for the walk from the guest bedrooms.
Upstairs, Sampson is killing his opponents -- particularly Lord Grantham -- and it's probably not fair on Lord Grantham given that Sampson is cheating, but I wonder if he wouldn't be doing as badly even if everyone were playing straight. He's also in for enough that he hopes no one will tell Cora, but that doesn't stop him from playing another hand.
Passing him in the hall, Edna asks Branson how he enjoyed the party, and Branson is dejected enough that he confesses he looked and talked like a fool, and that's what he is. Edna smiles that she heard he was dancing, but Branson replies, "With an old bat who could be my granny and thinks I grew up in a cave." In her defense, I never heard her say "cave," but in her non-defense, it's entirely possible she's never even heard the word. Edna gives him some placating words, but when she walks away she's got a "mwa ha ha" look on her face. Can't blame her for this one, though; it practically fell into her lap.
Having retired, Lord Grantham confesses to Bates that he "took a walloping" from Sampson, and he at least admits that he should have heeded Lord Gillingham's warning. Bates, having some common sense, wonders how well Lord Grantham knows Sampson, and Lord Grantham tells him they only met once or twice at the club, but Sampson heard about the party and hinted a bit. Lord Grantham then suggests Bates keep the news to himself, and I think Bates is trustworthy on this point, but what might help word not get back to Cora is NOT TELLING EVERYONE ELSE ABOUT IT.
Mary's lying on her Sad Side of the Bed when Anna comes in and Mary asks if she knew about Rose and the gramophone. Anna says she did, but she told Rose to ask Mary, and when Mary admits that she's very sad this evening, Anna is indignant that Rose didn't get permission. Mary, however, says she's in mourning not just for Matthew, but for the person she was when she was with him, so Anna assures her that she's fine and strong, and she'll realize it as time goes by. Mary, already looking like she's recovering, sits up and sighs that she supposes she made herself the idiot in front of Lord Gillingham, but Anna thinks he won't mind, and Mary agrees: "No, I don't think he will." And God love him for it.
In her car, the Dowager Countess sees Isobel in town and has her driver stop so she can disembark and ask Isobel to come to the house that evening. Isobel tries to say she has a lot to do, but the Dowager Countess -- after prefacing that she doesn't want to be unkind or unsympathetic -- points out that her isolation won't bring Matthew back. Isobel says she knows, but goes on that she thinks that when she laughs or reads a book, "it means that I've forgotten him, just for a moment, and it's that that I can't bear." The Dowager Countess, however, thinks it's better for her to forget and smile than remember and be sad, and when Isobel points out that the Rossetti quote was referring to her own future death, the Dowager Countess is undeterred: "Will you come?" If these two didn't see each other all the time already, I'd root for them to move in together. Think of the petty arguments over when tea should be served!
Downstairs, Carson complains that there are ten guests with only three maids and two valets to service them all. Mrs. Hughes agrees that it's not like before the war, but what is these days, before bright-siding that most of the guests -- including the Duchess of Yeovil, will be easy -- although she does allow that Sampson and Sir John are unknowns. She then asks a passing Anna if she'll look in on "Mrs. Jefferson," and of course Anna's happy to help. But when Mrs. Hughes makes a similar request of Edna in regard to "Lady Raven," Edna's like, up your arse, I'm busy. I'm telling you, give this girl a piece of string and she'll hang herself; a rope would make it too much of a foregone conclusion. Mrs. Hughes instructs her to make time, after which Carson sympathizes with the way Lady Raven has apparently come down in the world to the point where she lives north of the park. Oh dear! I hope Edna does make time to go up and wash the poor off her.
Mary and Lord Gillingham are chatting about the fate of the latter's ancestral estate, and then the show does not beat around the bush by informing us that the rather soft-spoken Lord Gillingham has no wife and no kids, although he does appear to be in a relationship. Mary then braves a mention of Dead Matthew with aplomb before the two break off. In contrast, downstairs, Mrs. Patmore is in an uncharacteristically nervous tizzy about the preparations, and even though Daisy has an answer for everything, it doesn't stop the cook from rushing off-screen, whereupon Ivy remarks that Mrs. Patmore will "bust a gut" if she keeps that up. Mrs. Patmore, Ivy's got all the snark of a Portland hippie, so maybe you should pay attention.
Upstairs, we learn that Lord Gillingham's man's name is "Green" and that he doesn't plan to stop flirting with Anna anytime soon. Speaking of not giving up, Edna catches Branson and notes they finally got him into white tie. He tries for self-deprecation, saying he's never felt more stupid -- and I'm sure I don't have to tell you that he doesn't look stupid to me -- but Edna isn't worried about his fragile ego, as she urgently wonders why they haven't spoken since she returned and offers that she hopes they can still be friends. The plucked strings on the soundtrack express their opinion of that idea at this point so I don't have to. Branson smiles and says they can, of course, but Edna -- yet again not able to quit while she's ahead -- guesses that they can't have lunch at the pub in the village again, and it's interesting that she's focusing on that as the ultimate forbidden fruit when she's also KISSED HIM WHILE HE HAD NO SHIRT ON. Branson starts to explain that he's walking a tightrope, but Edna assures him that as long as he's not her enemy, everything's cool. When's the wacky music going to devolve into Madama Butterfly?
At Crawley House, Isobel and Dr. Clarkson look like maybe they've been out together? In any case, Clarkson wonders if Isobel is going to attend any of the festivities at the Abbey, and she says she's supposed to go on the last night for dinner and "to hear Nellie Melba sing." Clarkson points out that she doesn't seem too psyched, so Isobel sighs that she doesn't want the lot of them "to spend their days in Stygian gloom," but it's harder for her. Clarkson asks how Mary feels about the struggle between respectful memory and moving on, but Isobel replies that Mary is "always quite opaque." Well, given her change of dress, less so after last week!
Rose and Sir John are chatting about Al Jolson records, after which he asks if Rose is ever in London. She smiles that she might be, while a few feet away, Branson is chatting about the wonders of barley with the Duchess. When his nervous attempt at humor (it actually is quite funny; he talks about owing a debt to the man who first made alcohol from barley) falls to the ground to join his ego, the Duchess goes to say hello to Lady Raven. When she's gone, the Dowager Countess admonishes Branson that addressing her as "Your Grace" is improper in a social situation and that he should merely use "Duchess." Branson complains about the illogic of it, and the Dowager Countess doesn't disagree, but that's not going to let him off the hook for learning it. On top of that, he asks "Thomas" for a drink and is immediately reminded that it's "Barrow" now. Hee. Elsewhere, Sampson's like you know what would be great and not at all competitive or costly is a game of cards, and Lord Grantham orders a table to be set up in the smoking room. Edith asks Gregson if he plays, and he confesses that he used to, although he'd rather spend the evening with her. Meanwhile, Mary is arranging for Lord Gillingham to go riding the day; she then accepts his invitation to join him, and longtime viewers will of course know that Mary going riding with an attractive man inevitably leads to butt sex, so we've got that to look forward to.
Downstairs, Mrs. Hughes finds Mrs. Patmore working away even though her staff has gone to bed; I wonder if this is hysteria brought on by too many electric gadgets in the kitchen. Mrs. Hughes and Carson then discuss what to do with Dame Melba and her pianist, and when Mrs. Hughes suggests it might be nice for her to dine with the house party, Carson is aghast: "An Australian singer? Eating with her ladyship?" He sounds so offended by the whole thing I can't tell if he's more put off by "Australian" or "singer." (Given his attitude about his own career, maybe the latter.)
Hey, guess who's delivering food orders to the Abbey? Molesley! I guess that thirty quid really didn't last long. Daisy looks sad that Molesley's a "delivery boy," but Mrs. Patmore brushes that aside and loudly proclaims there's no shame in hard work, which is nice of her. I wouldn't want to be too closely related to her, but she'd make an awesome great-aunt who upstages all your other relatives' Thanksgiving cooking.
Upstairs at breakfast, Lord Grantham sees Lord Gillingham and notes that he played cards late, adding that he hopes Lord Gillingham didn't find him rude for heading off to bed. Lord Gillingham says no, but unsmilingly adds that Sampson is a very skilled player, so even at this point I think certain people are smelling a rat in their midst. Sir John tells Rose that he too lost a bundle to Sampson, although he doesn't sound nearly as put out about it -- at least not to her, as there's definitely something brewing between them. Elsewhere, Lord Grantham hears that Branson intends to walk the grounds and wonders if he shouldn't stay to help entertain, but Branson is like, if I don't have a couple hours to work off this class-inferiority nervous tension I will literally explode into a fountain of rebellion and Guinness, so later. Edith then asks if Lord Grantham will accompany her and Gregson on a post-breakfast walk, and now it's Lord Grantham's turn to leave some cartoon smoke in the shape of himself on screen, after which Edith tries to assure a skeptical Gregson that she'll make this work eventually and he's like, "How adorable that you think that."
Downstairs, Green is laughing about the fortune Sampson took off Sir John in poker, adding that Lord Gillingham was smart enough to get out of the game early. Thomas demurs that it's not what he heard, and we get a reminder that Molesley is poor. Show, I watch you for architecture, landscapes, withering humor and overheard gossip. I don't need Molesley to matter, so stop trying to make it happen.
On their horses, Mary, having learned the identity of Lord Gillingham's fiancée ("Mabel Lane Fox"), offers that he caught "the greatest heiress of the season," and he smiles that "even though" everyone in their families wants it, he and Mabel get on well. Mary assures him from experience that a marriage wanted by everyone can turn out to be extremely happy, and he tells her she's very lucky, as a great love should enrich anyone's life. Mary, however, says that even though she loved Matthew, she wonders if she'd be happier now if she were still as tough as she was before she met him, to which he's basically like look, we have a hard enough road ahead of us if we're going to be love interests without you going on about things you can't change, so how about not torturing yourself and appreciating how much better I fill out a suit than I used to?
Green keeps up with the not-quite-inappropriate complimentary attitude toward Anna, and Bates is irritating and a pill generally, but it's understandable in this case as he points out that there's a lot of chatter going on. Anna follows him out of the room and asks what's up with him, and Bates confesses that something about Green gets his goat, but Anna assures him he was just trying to be nice. Even on first viewing, I didn't quite get that read, Anna. Sigh.
Upstairs, the ladies have assembled and Cora tells Carson she'd like coffee to be served after they return from their imminent tour of the gardens. Lord Grantham then takes Carson's place so he can grouse a bit about Nellie Melba's price tag, so I guess it's just as well that he hasn't really taken a shellacking from Sampson yet.
Downstairs, there's some absolute nonsense regarding a hard-to-open jam lid that ends with Jimmy James falling backward onto the floor and spraining his wrist, which is only important in that it will affect the plot and that it affords Mrs. Patmore the opportunity to disparagingly call Jimmy James "Mr. Clever Clogs." I'm not typing it on a regular basis, but I still hope it sticks.
As the ladies wander the gardens, Edith and Gregson return from their own constitutional, and after we learn that Gregson is taking German lessons (I'd imagine those are pretty reasonably priced at the moment), they accost Lord Grantham, who once again doesn't suffer their presence for two seconds before running away from the lepers with some excuse about the wine. I suppose the bright side is that he can't really treat Gregson much worse once he finds out about the Germany thing.
In Lord Grantham's defense, he wasn't making the wine thing up, as he's choosing bottles; when that's done, Carson brings up Dame Nellie, saying the servants have been invited to listen to her, but he wonders about the propriety of allowing the kitchen staff to do the same. Lord Grantham, however, is fine with making this nod to modern times, but he doesn't challenge Carson on the point of Dame Nellie eating dinner in her room, agreeing with a "whatever you think." I wonder if Cora and Carson together have ever wondered to which of them Lord Grantham is addressing that.
Lord Gillingham and Mary are still out for their ride, and as they pause in a beautiful field with the Abbey in the distance, Gillingham sighs that it's lovely to see one of the old estates still intact. Since he brings it up, Mary tells him about the huge tax bill coming due and how she'd like to find an alternative to Lord Grantham's proposed plan of selling land. Lord Gillingham counsels her to get Lord Grantham to agree to her meeting the tax people and negotiating the best deal they'll offer, as her bargaining position will improve. He adds that when his own father died, his family was left in a similar situation and they ended up renting the house out, but keeping the land. Mary thanks him, not just for the advice but for the assurance that she's not alone in her situation, and he assures her, "No. You're not alone." I'm sorry, Mabel Lane who?
Downstairs, Jimmy James can't lift a tray thanks to his having "jiggled" his wrist, which results in Carson telling Thomas he'll have to fill in. Thomas sniffs a reminder that he's the under-butler now, but Carson replies that he doesn't care of he's "the High Cockalorum" (hee) -- he's a footman for the evening. Jimmy James does worriedly apologize to Thomas, but Thomas looks so annoyed he doesn't even think to give him an "I know how you can make it up to me" look.
Upstairs, Sampson tries to get another poker game together, and although Gillingham this time begs off, Lord Grantham -- as is his wont -- is only too eager to get fleeced. Gregson wants in as well, and after Sampson tells them he'll be back down in ten, Lord Gillingham once again tries to warn Lord Grantham, without coming out and saying anything direct, that Sampson is a very sharp player. Lord Grantham, however, thinks that he can look after himself, and it's at least consistent that his self-confidence is as expansive as it is misplaced.
Alfred is bringing a gramophone downstairs at Rose's behest, while at the post-dinner cocktail hour, Gregson tells Edith about his plan to get Lord Grantham's ear over cards. Cora wonders if their servant situation will be likewise compromised the day, but Carson apparently has an idea about that; elsewhere, Lord Grantham reluctantly allows Mary to proceed with Lord Gillingham's advice. Some music then kicks up from another room, after which Rose enters and asks if anyone would like to dance and Sir John practically trips over the carpet in taking her up on it. The Duchess sighs that she loves to dance, and despite the Dowager Countess' face of imminent doom, Cora suggests that Branson partner her and the Duchess is delighted. Lord Gillingham then asks Mary if he could have the pleasure, but Mary tells him she was thinking to keep the Dowager Countess company. The Dowager Countess: "Don't use me as an excuse. If you don't want to dance, tell him!" She's getting even less circumspect in her old age. Mary, however, looks up at Lord Gillingham with every equivocation.
Downstairs, Green and his everlasting smarmy smile discuss card games (he offers to teach her Racing Demon) with Anna before Bates appears and asks his wife for her help with some clothes. Upstairs, things are no less awkward as the Duchess names a bunch of nobles from Branson's neck of the woods and asks if he knows them. He's basically like, sure, they gave me the noble wave once or twice from a safe distance. Mary has consented to dance, but no sooner has she told Lord Gillingham about taking his advice than she notices the gramophone, whereupon she quickly says she can't dance after all. Don't ask her! Once Mary's gone, Rose has to explain that the gramophone belonged to Matthew, and she looks deeply chastened for a moment, but the party must go on, and soon she's back in Sir John's very interested arms. (If Sir John's your thing, by the way -- and he's quite good-looking -- the actor, Andrew Alexander, will soon be appearing in George Clooney's The Monuments Men.)
Upstairs, Sampson is killing his opponents -- particularly Lord Grantham -- and it's probably not fair on Lord Grantham given that Sampson is cheating, but I wonder if he wouldn't be doing as badly even if everyone were playing straight. He's also in for enough that he hopes no one will tell Cora, but that doesn't stop him from playing another hand.
Passing him in the hall, Edna asks Branson how he enjoyed the party, and Branson is dejected enough that he confesses he looked and talked like a fool, and that's what he is. Edna smiles that she heard he was dancing, but Branson replies, "With an old bat who could be my granny and thinks I grew up in a cave." In her defense, I never heard her say "cave," but in her non-defense, it's entirely possible she's never even heard the word. Edna gives him some placating words, but when she walks away she's got a "mwa ha ha" look on her face. Can't blame her for this one, though; it practically fell into her lap.
Having retired, Lord Grantham confesses to Bates that he "took a walloping" from Sampson, and he at least admits that he should have heeded Lord Gillingham's warning. Bates, having some common sense, wonders how well Lord Grantham knows Sampson, and Lord Grantham tells him they only met once or twice at the club, but Sampson heard about the party and hinted a bit. Lord Grantham then suggests Bates keep the news to himself, and I think Bates is trustworthy on this point, but what might help word not get back to Cora is NOT TELLING EVERYONE ELSE ABOUT IT.
Mary's lying on her Sad Side of the Bed when Anna comes in and Mary asks if she knew about Rose and the gramophone. Anna says she did, but she told Rose to ask Mary, and when Mary admits that she's very sad this evening, Anna is indignant that Rose didn't get permission. Mary, however, says she's in mourning not just for Matthew, but for the person she was when she was with him, so Anna assures her that she's fine and strong, and she'll realize it as time goes by. Mary, already looking like she's recovering, sits up and sighs that she supposes she made herself the idiot in front of Lord Gillingham, but Anna thinks he won't mind, and Mary agrees: "No, I don't think he will." And God love him for it.
In her car, the Dowager Countess sees Isobel in town and has her driver stop so she can disembark and ask Isobel to come to the house that evening. Isobel tries to say she has a lot to do, but the Dowager Countess -- after prefacing that she doesn't want to be unkind or unsympathetic -- points out that her isolation won't bring Matthew back. Isobel says she knows, but goes on that she thinks that when she laughs or reads a book, "it means that I've forgotten him, just for a moment, and it's that that I can't bear." The Dowager Countess, however, thinks it's better for her to forget and smile than remember and be sad, and when Isobel points out that the Rossetti quote was referring to her own future death, the Dowager Countess is undeterred: "Will you come?" If these two didn't see each other all the time already, I'd root for them to move in together. Think of the petty arguments over when tea should be served!
Downstairs, Carson uses a lot of words to explain to Molesley he'd like him to fill in as a footman, and Molesley is reflexively horrified. Even as Carson starts to face-savingly say how he knows it's far beneath him, Molesley looks like he's considering it, and when Carson asks if he might do him "the great favor" of helping him out of this predicament, Molesley replies that as a beggar, he can't be a chooser. Given that he's spitting on the footman job out of one side of his mouth while accepting it with the other, I suppose no one's completely pleased here… but it's a yes, at least.
Cora asks Edna if Dame Nellie has arrived, and when Edna says she believes she has, Cora bemoans it having been too late for tea. Lord Grantham then enters, and after Edna withdraws, husband and wife chat about how they're enjoying the weekend before Lord Grantham tells her he doesn't want Sampson invited back; "I think he's rather a tyke." (British usage here suggests he means he's uncouth.) Cora asks what he thinks about Gregson, and Lord Grantham at least was impressed with how he took his beatdown at Sampson's hands. This gives Cora the opportunity to decry the stupidity of gambling, and Lord Grantham's like right you are, I couldn't agree more while clenching so hard his noble under-drawers may never be seen again.
Downstairs, Daisy is happy to see Molesley while Mrs. Patmore asks if he's a footman now, and Molesley regretfully admits his career is going backwards before Carson appears and adds to the indignation by announcing that Alfred will be acting first footman; also, Molesley will have to wear gloves to perform his job. As long as he doesn't have to pay for them, I guess. Sometime soon after, I suppose, the servants not involved in dinner are playing the frenetic card game mentioned earlier (speed is key, apparently) while Bates looks on disapprovingly, and it's hard to give him any credit for disliking Green when even Molesley noted what an antisocial clod he is.
Upstairs, I'm delighted to see that Isobel has indeed made it up to the Abbey (and has ditched the black to boot), but Cora has other things on her mind as she wonders where Dame Nellie could be. The Dowager Countess proves she's in the Carson camp on this one as she wonders why she'd appear until after dinner when she's scheduled to sing, and Cora practically rolls her whole body in response. In another room, Gregson catches Sampson and asks if they could have another game that evening, and Sampson is only too happy to agree. Back in the sitting room, Cora disbelievingly asks Carson why Dame Nellie is in her room, and Carson admits that tea was sent up to her earlier as dinner will be now, since he felt it wasn't appropriate for her to join the gracious lords and ladies, nor did Lord Grantham. Cora gets That Look on her face and summons Lord Grantham to her side, whereupon she whispers (but not so everyone else can't hear if they so choose) a tongue-lashing about how Dame Nellie has been honored by the King, and yet Lord Grantham felt it was beneath his dignity to eat with her? Lord Grantham looks to Carson for help, but none is forthcoming, and after Cora wonders if she's the only member of the family who lives in the twentieth century, there is an absolutely sublime cut to the Dowager Countess and the Duchess, the former of whom shifts a bit in her chair like "Nothing to brag about, dear." Cora hisses that Lord Grantham will have Dame Nellie to him at dinner and will like it before stomping off, after which Lord Grantham impotently tells Carson he blames him. Hee.
Downstairs, Mrs. Patmore literally runs herself into a panic attack and with her forced into a chair, Alfred takes over helping in the kitchen, as is his dream and which I wish they'd get on with making permanent already. Carson is just like, I can't even with all this, and it's hard to blame him.
Upstairs, the Dowager Countess perks up when she sees Molesley and tells him they can't keep a good man down, but Molesley demurs, after which Carson gives him such an indignant look I'm surprised it doesn't burn the gloves right off his hands. Gregson whispers to Edith that he's going to turn the tables on Sampson, while down the table, Dame Nellie impresses Lord Grantham by calling the wine vintage merely by tasting it. Lord Grantham: "This is going to be much less uphill than I thought!" Not the most elegant way of putting it, Lord Grantham, but I'm glad you're pleased, I guess. Mary tells Lord Gillingham that she'll make an appointment with the tax people and take Branson with her, and Lord Gillingham assures her his help is on offer should she need it. He then asks if he might take her out for dinner while she's in London, and Isobel looks like she might die on the spot, but Mary swiftly replies his fiancée wouldn't approve of the idea and she doesn't really either, "but I can't tell you what a lift it is to hear that you'd like to." You can't really begrudge her that, and when Branson asks Isobel if anything's the matter, she agrees: "If it is, it shouldn't be."
Picking up on what she's saying, Branson notes it's the first time she's heard Mary laugh since Matthew's death, and Isobel tightly says she knows and she wants her to be happy: "She's not the Lady of Shalott." Hee. Isobel goes on, though, that it's not easy for her to join in the fun, and while Branson kindly reminds her that he's had some grief of his own with which to contend, Isobel tells him that all the men she sees of his generation -- Sir John and Lord Gillingham and Branson himself -- remind her that her son is dead. Branson, deeply moved, reaches out a hand to comfort Isobel, and after she takes a steadying sip of wine, the Dowager Countess nods her sympathetic approval in Branson's direction. See Branson? Not everyone thinks you're a hopeless rube! Or if they do, they recognize you have your good qualities!
The card game is still going on, and people are hooting and hollering so loudly that Bates has to bellow to get Anna's attention, not that he minds doing so. He informs everyone that Mrs. Patmore has been taken ill, and as such "this racket" is inappropriate. Jesus. With the game broken up, Edna brashly announces she was going to win, which she thinks is a good omen, because even when she's attending to her duties or engaging in recreation she's always got at least one eye on her endgame of separating Branson from his pants. Anna asks Bates why he's being "like this," not that I think being anti-fun is that much of a departure for him, and after Green passes by to ooze some smarm over them, Anna makes a point of thanking him for organizing the game, and I'm sure that one will stick later.
Anna enters an office and asks how the seated and looking-much-better Mrs. Patmore is, and Dr. Clarkson announces (Carson and Mrs. Hughes are also on hand) that it was a panic attack. He counsels her not to get so worked up, and then when Anna asks if he's staying for the concert, he says he just might, ignoring Carson's halfhearted throat-clearing. If the kitchen staff is allowed, Carson, I don't know how you can argue against the family physician.
Upstairs, Lord Grantham enters his study and pours himself a little something, whereupon he sees Branson hiding away from the gracious company. Branson steps forward and says he's let Lord Grantham down -- since Sybil died, they've all tried to make him believe he's one of them, but he isn't. Lord Grantham, to his credit, is firm in disagreeing, even going so far as to divine that the Duchess upset him and telling him not to pay her any mind, but Branson still thinks he doesn't belong at Downton. I'm not always a fan of the way Lord Grantham breezes his way through conversations wherein people are trying to make him listen, but Branson's having a self-pitying moment that doesn't completely deserve to be taken seriously. I like Lord Grantham adding that if he doesn't accept what Branson is saying, Cora certainly won't. He's right, you know!
Singing time! I should mention that Dame Nellie is played by actual famous opera singer Dame Kiri Te Kanawa, and some people are rightly into it, but after a conspiratorial side-eye with Sampson, Gregson tells Edith he's sneaking off. Commending him on his cooking, Mrs. Patmore tells Alfred the party gobbled up all the food, and Alfred reminds her that the kitchen is his desired destination, but she replies, "One step at a time." I mean, I don't care about the character much, but he's been going on about this for a season; let's not drag it out until the show's set in the 1940s, okay? Carson -- as he might be given his background -- appears moved by the music, but Anna complains of a headache and when Bates asks if it's because of the singing, she admits it's not exactly helping. Heh. She heads off for an analgesic, and after the Dowager Countess and Isobel have one of their inimitable exchanges (Isobel likes Bartok; the Dowager Countess is like, you would), Dame Nellie launches into another number. Upstairs, Sampson is stunned to lose a big hand to Gregson, and it becomes fairly clear (not least from Gregson's small but meaningful smile in Sampson's direction) that Gregson has devised a way to cheat as well. My guess is Gregson -- an old hand himself -- figured out exactly how Sampson was pulling it off, so Sampson likely doesn't have any recourse, nor can he suddenly exit the game after having been only too happy to play long hours when he was winning. The only silver lining for him is that Gregson won't be in the UK much longer.
Downstairs, Anna has just mixed some powder with water when Green turns up and offers her "something stronger" from his flask. She declines, of course, and after a bit of chat she moves to go back up, but he blocks her path and tells her he thinks she could use "a bit of real fun for once." Noting his suddenly breathy and intense tone, her voice sharpens as she tells him firmly that what she wants is to go back upstairs, but soon he's roughly grabbed and kissed her. When she struggles, he smacks her in the face, and even though we don't see much more it's horrible in every way, right down to the obvious, cold-blooded detail of him using the performance to cover the sounds of any screams and struggles she might (and does) make and the fact that the love song "O Mio Babbino Caro" (dedicated "to love and to lovers") is what the oblivious Bates and everyone else are hearing upstairs.
Downstairs, Green drags Anna into one of the rooms, and we intercut shots of the upstairs crowd listening peacefully to the song and ominous looks at the hallway downstairs off, which Anna's muffled cries can still be heard. Horribly (not that they could know), Bates and Mrs. Hughes joke about what Anna must be up to -- Green was standing in the wings behind him, so it's not like anyone would have put two and two together here -- but he does reappear just as the song ends, which isn't lost on Mrs. Hughes. In the card room, Sir John and some non-speaking guy leave the game at even, at which point Sampson sweatily asks Gregson if he'll take an IOU. Gregson, however, evenly tells him he'll be repossessing all the IOUs he's collected for the weekend, and Sampson can send him a check for the difference, which means Gregson must have taken him for an astronomical sum. Sampson starts to protest, but Gregson tells him if he doesn't, he'll expose him to Lord Grantham as a cheater, "and there won't be a club in London to touch you with a ten-foot pole." I'm not sure he shouldn't do that anyway, but Brits are weird about this kind of thing. Sampson reluctantly hands over his sheaf of IOUs and writes out a receipt for the balance before telling Gregson he's a cheat just like Sampson himself, but Gregson amusedly replies that he won against a card sharp. "There is pleasure in that." It's his little chuckle and the pat on the shoulder he gives Sampson as he heads out the door that really sells it.
Outside, Lord Grantham tells Isobel -- with a beaming Dowager Countess in tow -- how delighted he is that she came, and Isobel is equally happy. When Lord Grantham returns inside, he finds Gregson already in conference with Lord Gillingham and Sir John, and Gregson hands out the IOUs, begging them to accept as he won them off Sampson fair and square. Well, not literally, but in a broad sense I'll agree. Lord Gillingham proves how onto Sampson he was when he dubiously repeats the "fair and square" language, and Gregson is like, well I did win it at least. Lord Grantham is delighted not to have to pay out, and Edith shows perfect timing as she appears and asks how it went, hearing from a happy Lord Grantham: "Mr. Gregson has saved my bacon. But don't tell your mother." SOMEONE'S GOING TO AT SOME POINT! When they're alone, Edith asks how he managed it and Gregson replies, "I revived a dubious talent from my misspent youth." Well, Edith, your romantic choices are still suspect, but I'll concede Gregson's more interesting than all your love interests combined. For his part, Lord Grantham remarks what a nice surprise that was, prompting Lord Gillingham to reply that his whole stay has been full of them, and he's so happy he came. Lord Grantham doesn't seem to read any Mary into that, at least, but I'd imagine it'll become clear at some point.
Edna sneaks Branson, who's sitting on the bench in front of the grand stairs, an entire hand of whiskey, and he asks if she understands him, which is unintentionally hilarious given that he's already well on and as such is a little bit slurry. Regardless, she replies that she'd like to think so. Run, Branson! Or escape however quickly your drunkenness will allow!
Everyone's back below stairs -- I suppose a little enough amount of time has passed -- when Mrs. Hughes enters her office and finds a disheveled and teary Anna, a nasty cut on her lower lip and another on her forehead. After Mrs. Hughes shuts the door, Anna sobbingly begs her to find her some clothes and to see to Mary. Mrs. Hughes agrees, but thinks Anna has to tell someone what happened. Anna, however, thinks Bates would literally kill her attacker if he knew who it was, and then he'd be lost to her forever. Mrs. Hughes wants at least to get Dr. Clarkson, but Anna cries that no one else can ever know, so Mrs. Hughes agrees but sure doesn't look happy about it. She goes to see what she can find Anna in the way of a dress, leaving Anna to slide down to the floor in wracking, terrible sobs.
Lord Grantham enters the bedroom in his dressing gown, and when Cora asks if he enjoyed his evening, he somewhat smugly says he did, rather. She asks if it wasn't too much of a chore to speak to a singer and then makes fun of him for only liking her for appreciating his wine. Lord Grantham: "There are worse reasons." No argument here. And speaking of unorthodox reasons for taking a shine to someone, Cora asks about Gregson, and Lord Grantham admits that while he's still not sure he's perfect for Edith, it's a changing world and he's certainly a decent bloke. Cora laughs that he's undergone a Damascene conversion and Lord Grantham snorts but does add that Gregson behaved in "a way that I thought was really quite gentlemanly." Interesting way to term cheating at cards, but as we know it was done for good instead of evil.
Well, here's Edna stealing into Branson's bedroom. I guess it was bound to happen, although it would be only too fitting if she found him with whiskey dick.
Downstairs, Bates runs into Anna emerging from one of the rooms; she's wearing a dress with white trim instead of solid black, and of course the cuts on her face are obvious, so he asks what's up. She shakily says she was drinking a powder for her head when she felt faint and passed out, and she must have hit her head on the way down. She also says her dress got badly marked, and of course Bates is deeply concerned but he doesn't seem actually to suspect anything untoward -- not even when Green, from down the hall, gallingly calls his thanks to them for looking after him during his stay. As if she hasn't been through enough, Anna has to force a goodnight out, and then she can't stand it anymore and heads out into the night in tears without even waiting for her husband. I suppose the best thing you can say that he's easily located should Anna decide to let people know what happened. That's not much.
John Ramos is a writer and film producer living in Los Angeles. His new film, a documentary on online privacy and the exploitation of personal data called Terms And Conditions May Apply, a New York Times Critics' Pick, is now on iTunes here. You can get news on it from the film's Twitter accountor website, or check out trackoff.us to learn how to protect your privacy. 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.