Downton Abbey Script Book Season 1 Read Online Free

doorway. The stunned company struggles to its feet. Whereupon he notices he has interrupted them.
    ROBERT: I do apologise. I should have realised you’d be at luncheon.
    CARSON: Not at all, m’lord.
    ROBERT: Please sit. Sit, everyone. I just want to say a quick hello to my old comrade in arms. Bates, my dear man. Welcome to Downton.
    But Bates has struggled to his feet and now Robert sees that he is disabled. He takes his hand.
    ROBERT (CONT’D): I’m so sorry to have disturbed you all. Please forgive me.
    He goes. The table is silent, with everybody’s eyes fixed on the newcomer. He shrugs slightly, looking round.
    BATES: You never asked.
    O’Brien catches Thomas’s eye. Their look is not friendly.
END OF ACT TWO
ACT THREE
36 INT. KITCHEN. DAY.
    Mrs Patmore and the kitchen maids are working flat out. *
    MRS PATMORE: Thomas, take that up!
    The footman loads a pie onto a tray with Daisy’s help.
    MRS PATMORE (CONT’D): Leave that, Daisy! He’s a grown man. I suppose he can lift a meat pie. Now, put the apple tart into the low oven!
    Daisy smiles up at Thomas as he hurries out. Mrs Patmore sees a bowl on the side.
    MRS PATMORE (CONT’D): And take that away. Mr Lynch shouldn’t have left it there.
    DAISY: What is it?
    MRS PATMORE: Salt of Sorrel. I asked him for some to clean the brass pots. But there’s no time until the luncheon, so put it somewhere careful. It’s poison.
    Daisy picks it up, surveying the many waiting dishes.
    DAISY: It seems a lot of food, when you think they’re all in mourning.
    MRS PATMORE: Nothing makes you hungrier or more tired than grief. When my sister died, God rest her soul, I ate my way through four platefuls of sandwiches at one sitting and slept round the clock.
    DAISY: Did it make you feel better?
    MRS PATMORE: Not much. But it passed the time.
    Daisy takes a step towards the scullery.
    MRS PATMORE (CONT’D): Oh my Lord, what was this chopped egg supposed to be sprinkled on?
    She has picked up a bowl of egg from the table.
    DAISY: Was it the chicken?
    MRS PATMORE: It was. Take it upstairs now.
    DAISY: I can’t go in the dining room.
    MRS PATMORE: I should think not! Find Thomas or William. Tell them what to do.
    Daisy still hesitates.
    MRS PATMORE (CONT’D): For heaven’s sake. Get a move on, before they get back from church!
37 EXT. DOWNTON CHURCH. DAY.
    People in black are emerging, among them a sober-looking lawyer, George Murray, who is walking with Robert.
    ROBERT: Well, we’ve given them a memorial in London and a memorial here. I don’t know what else we can do.
    MURRAY: I think it’s gone off pretty well, all things considered. I prefer memorials to funerals. They’re less dispiriting.
    ROBERT: We could hardly hold a funeral without the bodies.
    MURRAY: It was right to bury Mr Crawley in Canada. In fact I hear the Canadians are making quite a thing of the Titanic cemetery.
----
    ROBERT: It seems strange to have buried James without Patrick.
    MURRAY: They may still find some trace of him.
    ROBERT: After three months? I doubt it. No, I’m afraid Patrick was food for the fishes long ago.
----
    Robert sighs. It is very distressing.
    MURRAY (CONT’D): I’m surprised at the number they found. You’d think the sea would have taken more of them.
    ROBERT: They didn’t all drown apparently. They froze to death in their life jackets. Hundreds of corpses, men, women and children, bobbing on the surface of the ocean.
    He shakes his head in sorrow.
38 EXT. GARDENS. DOWNTON. DAY.
    Robert and Murray approach the house. The smarter members of the congregation walk behind, including the girls.
    ROBERT: So, Murray, what have you to tell me about the lucky Mr Crawley? Nothing too terrible, I hope.
    MURRAY: I’ve only made a few enquiries but, no, there’s not much to alarm you. Matthew Crawley is a solicitor, based in Manchester—
    ROBERT: Manchester?
    MURRAY: Manchester. His special