All language subtitles for Downton Abbey S03E05.eng

The pains have stopped.

Nothing will happen yet.

Everything is fine.

You mean it was a false alarm.

Not exactly.

These early labor pains show

that the womb is preparing
itself for birth.

Dr. Clarkson,
I'm afraid Lord Grantham

doesn't enjoy medical detail.

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

You can.

And so can I.

I'll see you out.

Sir Philip Tapsell
will be here tomorrow.

Of course.

If you think it advisable.

There really is nothing wrong?

Nothing at all.

She is a healthy young woman

going through a very normal
and natural process.

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

Where they've got all
the modern inventions.

Far away from everyone
you know and trust?

I don't think I would.

What are you talking about
having babies for, Ivy?

I think we can leave that

for a little further
down the menu, thank you.

It's always an idea
to be prepared.

I expect you're always prepared.

I try to be, Mr. Barrow.

CARSON: I don't
like the direction

this conversation is taking.

Could we all begin

the day's tasks, please?

And remember, Lady Sybil
is in a delicate condition,

so no noise on the gallery.

IVY: It's exciting,
though, ain't it?

To have a baby in the house.

It won't make
much difference to you.

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

Well, I think that message
got through.

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

I know.

I like the old boy,

but he did misdiagnose Matthew

and he did miss the warning
signs with Lavinia.

Thank you, O'Brien.

Is that fair?

He didn't want to get
Matthew's hopes up

when it wouldn't make
any difference,

and with Lavinia, the disease
could move like lightning.

I know, I know.

But even so.

Sir Philip Tapsell
may have delivered

many Lords and Royal Highnesses,

but he doesn't know us.

I'll ask him to include Clarkson
in his deliberations.

Will that satisfy you?

I suppose so.

You look a bit puzzled.
I am.

Mr. Carson's asked me
to wind the clocks.

You must be doing well.

In this house, that marks
you out as first footman

more than anything could.

That's just it.

I said "thank you"
and "right away"

but I know nothing about clocks.

You'd better ask Mr. Barrow.

He's the clock expert.

He used to wind them,
but of course it's quite wrong

for a valet to do it.

Mr. Barrow won't mind?

Oh, no.

I can see he likes you,
and that's good

since he's got the ear
of his lordship.

Yes.

I suppose he would have.

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

I will.

Thank you.

Think nothing of it.

I'm the size of a house.

My back hurts,
my ankles are swelling

and my head aches.

Honestly, I cannot
recommend this to anyone.

I am listening,

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

So you're not waiting?

Waiting for what?

I don't know.

But I did wonder.

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

I've just realized
that the christening

will have to be here,
at Downton.

Blimey.

I wanted the whole thing
done in Dublin,

out of sight, out of mind.

But we can't wait forever

and we can't not Christen it,
the poor thing.

You don't have to do this.

It's your baby, too.

I don't mind.

I mean, I do believe in God,

but all the rest of it...

vicars, feast days
and deadly sins...

I don't care about all of that.

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

And I love Tom
so very, very much.

I'll let you rest.

And don't worry.

I'll fight your corner
with Travis

if it comes to it.

There.

Do you feel a slight increase
in the resistance?

I think so.

That's what you're watching for.

Never go past the point
where the clock is comfortable.

You make it sound like
a living thing.

Ah, clocks are living things.

My dad was a clockmaker.

I grew up with clocks.

I understand them.

Never wind them
in the early morning

before a room has warmed up,

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

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

ANNA:
But I don't understand.

Why was I kept away from you
until now?

It doesn't matter.

Whatever the reason, it's over.

The point is, someone has
to question Mrs. Bartlett.

You wrote and said she saw Vera

on the evening
of the day of her death.

That's right.

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

And she saw Vera scrubbing
pastry from under her nails.

I wrote that because it was

such a strange detail
for her to remember.

She was making the pie
that she ate that night,

when I was on the train
back to Downton.

So Vera planned this.

She meant for you
to be imprisoned.

She meant for you to be hanged
for her suicide.

It was her revenge.

And what a revenge,
for both of us.

They'll say you poisoned the
milk or the flour or something.

To catch her after you'd gone.

They tested everything
in the kitchen.

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

Oh, I hope she's
burning in hell!

Don't go down that road.

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

ISOBEL:
I've been thinking about you

since we last met,

and wanted to know
how you were living.

Well, I've not gone back
to doing what I was doing,

if that's worrying you.

I've no Charlie to feed,

so now if I starve,
I starve alone.

And I'd rather starve
than do that.

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

Helping Mrs. Bird.

It would mean that
when you moved on,

you will have had
a respectable job

with a respectable reference.

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

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

And Old Lady Grantham?

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

Don't you want to come?

It's not that, ma'am.

You're offering a return
to a wholesome world

and I am very, very grateful.

Well, then?

But I think it's going to be

a lot more complicated
than you allow.

Then we shall have to face
those complications together,

shan't we?

I'll take him from here.

Sir.

Bates seems very cheerful.

Is he?

He had a visit
from his wife earlier.

She must have brought him
some good news.

It hardly seems fair, does it?

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

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

who's made all the trouble
for us, gets good news.

What do you think it is?

Well, she can't be pregnant.

He was arrested a year ago.

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

So what do you want to do?

Oh, that'll need some thought.

But first, what does
this good news consist of?

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

Quite a few of the cottages
have been renovated.

Thanks to you.

Maybe a little thanks to me,

but many of the farms

have been left entirely
to their own devices.

Coulter hasn't farmed
this properly for 20 years.

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

There's been no...
investment.

Papa would say
you can't abandon people

just because they grow old.

I agree, but it would be cheaper

to give him a free cottage

and work this land
as it should be worked.

I see.

And you don't think Papa
understands that?

Maybe he harks back to a time
when money was abundant

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

I think he equates being
businesslike with being mean.

Or worse, middle class like me.

Middle classes
have their virtues,

and husbandry is one.

We ought to get back.

Sir Philip Thingy's due
on the 7:00 train,

and you ought to be there
to hold Tom's hand.

Poor fellow.

He's so terrified but so
thrilled at the same time.

As I would be.

As I will be.

The dear Duchess of Truro

is full of your praises,
Sir Philip,

but then of course
you know that.

She had quite a time
when she was first married.

But I said to her,
"Never fear, Duchess,

I'll get a baby out of you
one way or another."

And so you did.

Three boys, and as a result

a secure dynasty,
I am glad to say.

But you see no
complications here?

None at all.

Lady Sybil is a perfect model
of health and beauty.

We told our local doctor
we'd send a message to him

when it looks as if
the baby's coming.

Dr. Clarkson has known us all
since we were girls.

What's needed here, Lady Mary,

is a knowledge of childbirth,
nothing more.

But if it soothes you,

then of course
he is most welcome.

I'm going to check on Sybil.

Anna?

I'm sorry
to trouble you, m'lord,

but I wondered
if I might have a word.

Come into the library.

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

Shall we go in?

As a matter of fact, Sir Philip,

I was rather hoping
to have you to myself

for a moment.

Do you know that I was injured

during the war?

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

My spine was very
severely bruised,

and for a time it seemed
I had lost the use of my legs

and everything else.

But the bruising reduced
and you recovered?

Yes, I have heard of this.

Well, how relieved
you must have been.

Yes, but I wonder now
whether the injury

might have affected my...

I suppose I mean my fertility...

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

Well, is...

Is everything working
as it should?

Oh, yes.

Then, um...

Why do you think
there may be a problem?

We're anxious to start a family.

We've been married
for a few months.

Without any...

results.

My dear Mr. Crawley,

may I point out the word
that gives you away?

"Anxious."

Anxiety is an enemy
to pregnancy.

Don't, whatever you do,
feel anxious.

I can run a test, if you wish,

but I would urge you
not to bother for some time yet.

There you are.

We were wondering
what had happened to you.

This is extraordinary.

Why did the police
miss it so completely?

Mrs. Bartlett
never spoke to them.

She never spoke to anyone.

Except to you.

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

She thought it was only
further proof of his guilt.

The difficulty is,

she may not want to accept
Bates's innocence.

Doesn't she have to?

Not necessarily.

She may think he drove
his wife to suicide

and deserves to rot in prison.

In short, she may not wish
to tell the truth

to set him free.

Then we need to get
a statement from her

before she finds out
it could overturn the case.

I'll telephone Murray tonight.

He can come up here
and talk to you and see Bates.

You were right, though.

The proof was out there,
and you've found it.

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

He saw my letter to The Times

and wants to give me
a regular column.

How regular?

And what about?

Once a week.

And I can write about
whatever I like.

It would be the problems
faced by a modern women

rather than the fall
of the Ottoman Empire,

but even so.

But will you write
under your own name?

I hadn't thought.

You won't have an option.

That's what he's buying,
that's what he wants:

Your name and your title.

I don't know.

I thought Edith's letter
to The Times

was very interesting.

Don't bother, Matthew.

I'm always a failure
in this family.

I'm sad to hear this,
Mrs. Bird.

And I'm sad to say it, madam.

But it's kept me awake
all night,

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

A woman who has chosen
that way of life.

But Miss Parks has changed.

Maybe she has
and maybe she hasn't,

but if I tolerate her,
I will be tarnished by her.

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

profession as what she has?

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

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

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

and I must protect it.

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

Where will you go?

Back to Manchester
and stay with my sister.

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

And they will find one in you.

Goodbye, Mrs. Bird,
and good luck.

JIMMY: Is there anything
else you need to know

about having babies, Ivy?

Honestly, if I told
Mrs. Patmore

the things you two say to me,

you'd be up
before Mr. Carson.

So what are you doing
with your afternoon off?

None of your business.

I'd like to make it my business.

Have you greased the cake tins?

Yes.

What about the pastry?

It's in the larder.

Then get started
on the vegetables for tonight.

She doesn't want much, does she?

She doesn't like me.

Why not?

I don't know.

She just doesn't.

Well, anyone who
doesn't like you

needs their head examining.

I hope you agree with him,
Jimmy.

That'd be telling.

Are we the first down?

How is Sybil?

Sleeping, thank God.

She's been restless
all afternoon.

I don't think it'll be long now.

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

We know how much it meant.

Nothing means more
than she does.

ROBERT: And you're sure you
have everything you need?

Quite sure.

Hello, Granny, you're here?

How nice.

Your grandmother will be
with us every night

until the baby is born.

I hate to get news secondhand.

Well, you won't
have long to wait.

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

TAPSELL: Yes,
I've been talking to Lord Grantham

about the good doctor.

Sir Philip feels the room
would be too crowded.

It might be better
to leave old Clarkson

out of it for the time being.

But I said I'd telephone.

Well, it really isn't necessary.

I've given him my word.

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

The hollandaise for the fish.

Put it in the sauce boats
for Alfred.

I'm doing the soufflés.

As soon as I...

Will you just do it!

Out of my way, quick!

What are you doing?

Haven't you done it?

Oh, my God!

ALFRED:
What's happened?

It's curdled and it's got to go
up in a minute... oh, my Lord!

Ivy can manage it, don't worry.

Go on with what you're doing.

Can you really?

I can.

Now what?

Give me an egg, quickly.

Dribble it in.

But it's ruined.

Do what I say.

How does that work?

It's magic.

One of the tricks of the trade.

DAISY:
How have you done that?

Just one of the tricks
of the trade.

Right.

Well, go on, take it up.

Well done, Ivy.

You played a good one, there.

Thank her, Daisy.

Yes, thank you.

That didn't hurt at all, did it?

I tell you what, Daisy.

Alfred won't like you any better
for being rough on her.

I should have the fish.

I'll do it.

CORA: There's
nothing more tiring

than waiting
for something to happen.

MATTHEW: Edith,
have you written back

to your editor yet?

What's this?

Edith has had an invitation

to write a newspaper column.

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

See?

Oh, God, is it beginning?

Dinner's suspended, so to speak.

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

And what should I do
about dinner down here?

I couldn't tell you.

What...

What do you mean,
"concerned?"

Lady Sybil's ankles are swollen,

and she seems muddled.

What sort of muddled?

Not quite there.

Not quite in the present moment.

And what do you think it means?

It means she's having a baby.

A word, Dr. Clarkson?

Excuse me.

Sir Philip mustn't bully him
into silence.

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

like barbers asking,
"Who last out your hair?"

They always want to be better
than any other practitioner.

But we must listen
to what he has to say.

I quite agree.

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

If there is one thing
that I am quite indifferent to,

it's Sir Philip Tapsell's
feelings.

You are upsetting these people
for no reason at all.

I am not!

I think she may be toxemic,
with a danger of eclampsia,

in which case we must act fast.

There is no danger whatsoever.

Judging by my experience,

Lady Sybil is behaving
perfectly normally.

Do you not find the baby small?

Not unusually so.

And the ankles?

Maybe she has thick ankles.

Lots of women do.

But she does not.

I warn you, Doctor.

If you wish to remain,
you must be silent.

I cannot allow you to interfere.

Oh, Christmas!

Don't be burnt,
don't be burnt...

Are you all right, Ethel?

Only I heard a shout.

Fine, ma'am.

Everything's fine.

It's a kidney soufflé, ma'am.

A kidney soufflé?

Isn't that a bit adventurous?

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

Yes, but she can't have begun
her career as a cook

by making a kidney soufflé.

Shall I try
something else, ma'am?

No.

If we're to avoid
a midnight feast,

it's too late to turn back.

Is everything all right?

I think so.

I've just come to fetch
some warm milk

in case she fancies it.

Mr. Carson?

I'm glad I've caught you.

I've had a letter
from Mrs. Bird,

who used to work
for Mrs. Crawley.

I didn't know she'd gone.

Well, that's the point.

I've been thinking
about what we should do.

You know I've a brother
in Liverpool,

and there might be
an opening there.

It'd mean working
with cars again...

No.

We're not going backwards.

You must promise me that.

God, I wish there was
something I could do.

Just be here.

We can just lie back
and look at the stars.

Is she...?

It's all just as it should be.

Now what?

I want to test the
latest sample of her urine.

Oh, for heaven's sake!

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

How is the young mother doing?

Am I on duty,
Dr. Clarkson?

What?

Only I swear I'm not on duty,

otherwise I wouldn't be
lying here.

No.

No, you're not on duty.

Mrs. Crawley has hired
a prostitute

to manage her house?

And that's why Mrs. Bird
felt she had no choice

but to hand in her notice.

Nor did she, poor woman.

But Mr. Carson,

this is Ethel
we're talking about.

Our Ethel.

And Mrs. Crawley

was just trying to give her
a helping hand.

Is that so wrong?

I do not criticize her
for her charity,

but she hasn't considered
her actions.

No respectable person,

certainly no respectable woman,

can now be seen
entering her house.

But Ethel's given all that up!

I didn't think she was
running a brothel

in Mrs. Crawley's kitchen.

Can't we say nothing for now?

Mrs. Bird's gone
and I don't remember Ethel

as any great cook,
so it may sort itself out.

Very well.

We shall keep silent
for the moment.

But I don't want the maids

going into that house
on any pretext whatsoever.

Is that clear?

Quite clear, Mr. Carson.

Or the footmen.

It's my belief that Lady Sybil

is at risk of eclampsia.

What is that?

A rare condition

from which she is not suffering!

Tell him why you think
she may be.

Her baby is small,
she's confused,

and there is
far too much albumin...

that is, protein... in her urine.

Dr. Clarkson, please!

Have you forgotten
my mother is present?

Peace.

A woman of my age
can face reality

far better than most men.

Look, the fact remains

if I am right,
we must act at once!

And do what?

Get her down to the hospital

and deliver the child
by Caesarean section.

But is that safe?

It is the opposite of safe!

It would expose mother and
child to untold dangers!

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

An immediate delivery is the
only chance of avoiding the fits

that are brought on by
the trauma of natural birth!

It may not work, but...

Honesty at last!

Even if she were at risk
from eclampsia,

which she is not,

a Caesarean is a gamble

which might kill either
or both of them!

I think we must support
Sir Philip in this.

But it's not our decision!

What does Tom say?

Tom has not hired Sir Philip,
he is not master here,

and I will not put Sybil
at risk on a whim.

If you are sure, Sir Philip?

I am quite, quite certain.

CORA:
You're being ridiculous.

Obviously we have
to talk to Tom!

Well, don't look at me.

Cora is right.

The decision lies
with the chauffeur.

How are things going?

I'm not sure.

The doctors are arguing,
and that's never a good sign.

Is everything all right?

Unfortunately,
it seems it is not.

Could we get her
to the hospital?

To move her now would be
tantamount to murder.

CLARKSON:
Sir Philip, admit it.

You're beginning to detect
the symptoms yourself.

You can see her distress.

Can you?

Yes, Lady Sybil is in distress.

She's about to give birth!

Lord Grantham, Mr. Branson,
time is running out.

We should be
at the hospital by now.

If we'd acted at once,
the baby would be born.

But if she has
the operation now,

do you swear you can save her?

I cannot swear it, no.

But if we do not operate

and if I am right
about her condition,

then she will die.

If, if, if, if!

Lord Grantham, can you
please take command?

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

Sir Philip is certain
he can bring her through it

with a living child.

Isn't a certainty
stronger than a doubt?

Robert, I don't mean
to insult Sir Philip,

but Dr. Clarkson knows Sybil.

He's known her all her life!

So you'd take her
to the hospital?

I would have taken her
an hour ago!

God help us.

Any news from the house, ma'am?

Not yet.

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

Lady Sybil
was always kind to me.

Yes, she's a very dear girl.

What...

What's in this?

Some honey.

Was that not right?

It's perfectly fine
for now, Ethel.

But perhaps not another time.

Would you like anything, Mama?

No, dear.

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

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

What about you, Tom?

I just feel so helpless.

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

You can come up.

It's a girl.

And they're both...?

They're fine.

Oh, thank God.

And hallelujah!

She's so beautiful.

Oh, my darling.

I do love you so much.

I just want to sleep, really.

Of course you do.

You've earned it.

She's a wonderful baby.

I think we should let her sleep.

Very well done.

Thank you.

Mama.

Yes, my darling?

Tom's thinking of getting
a job in Liverpool

and going back
to being a mechanic.

But it wouldn't be right
for him.

He needs to move forward.

We'll talk about it tomorrow.

You don't need
to worry about it now.

I think Papa may see it
as some kind of answer.

And if he does...

Your father loves you very much.

I know.

I know, and I love him terribly.

But will you help me do battle

for Tom and the baby
if the time comes?

Of course.

TAPSELL:
Lady Grantham.

Now sleep, darling.

I'm sorry we doubted.

No.

Well, as to that, Lady Grantham,

it's always a good idea
to forget most of what was said

during the waiting time
and simply enjoy the result.

Is there anything more
to be done?

Well, not really.

The nurse will stay with her,

and so I suggest
we all get some sleep

and meet again,
refreshed, in the morning.

Show us a card trick, Jimmy.

That's it.

The baby is born.

It's a girl.

Now you can all go to bed.

Good news.

Do you like Lady Sybil?

I do.

We worked together
in the hospital during the war,

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

She's a lovely person.

Like you.

ANNA:
Good night.

Anything the matter?

No.

No, but Mr. Barrow's

so familiar all the time,
isn't he?

I'm glad to hear it.

That's a very good sign.

If he's taken to you,

he'll definitely put in
a good word with his lordship.

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

Do you want to get
your marching orders, then?

Why, what are you implying?

Nothing unseemly, I hope.

No.

No, nothing like that.

Good night.

Mama, Mama!

Wake up, it's Sybil!

Oh, boy, I should be...

Darling, can you hear me,
darling, it's Tom.

I should be getting up...

No, my darling.

SYBIL: I need to be...
how busy...

BRANSON: No, darling,
all you need to do is rest.

SYBIL:
My head!

Sybil...

Oh, my head!

My head!

Sybil, let me bathe
your forehead.

It hurts!

What's happening?

Oh, God!

God, no!

What the hell is happening?!

Sir Philip?
MARY: Sybil...

She can't hear me!

Sybil, Sybil, it's Mary.

Can you hear me?

It looks as if...

It looks as if what?!

This is eclampsia.

Sybil, it's Mary,
can you hear me?

ROBERT:
But it cannot be!

Sir Philip?

You were so sure!

She can't hear me.

MATTHEW:
This is unbelievable.

Somebody do something!

The human life is unpredictable.

But you were so sure!

What can we do?

Help her, help her, please!

Darling...

Oh, God, no!

Dr. Clarkson, should we
take her to the hospital?

There is nothing
that can be done.

But that's not possible,
not now, not these days!

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

But you don't agree with him,
do you, Sir Philip?

Please don't leave me.

Help her, help her, please,
what's happening?!

She can't breathe.

Please, just breathe, love.

There has to be something
worth trying!

Just breathe, love, please.

Breathe, love, come on.

Listen, it's me, my darling,

all you need to do
is breathe right now.

We have given her morphine
and atropine...

What's happening?!

Please breathe, love!

No, please!

She can't breathe.

No, no, no...

CORA:
Oh, no, no...

Please, please...

Please, love...

No!

Please wake up.

Please don't leave me.

Don't leave me.

Please wake up, love.

Please don't leave me,

please don't leave me, love.

Oh darling, no.

BRANSON:
Please, love!

But this can't be.

She's 24 years old.

This cannot be.

Is there anything
we should do, Mr. Carson?

Carry on, Daisy.

As we all must.

Thomas?

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

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

You don't mean that.

No.

No, I don't.

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

She was one of the few.

Oh, don't mind me.

The sweetest spirit
under this roof is gone,

and I'm weeping myself.

Are you all right,
Mr. Carson?

I knew her all her life,
you see.

I've known her since
she was born.

CORA:
We'll look after them.

We'll look after them both.

Don't you worry about that.

It's time to go to bed, Mama.

You'll need some rest
to face tomorrow.

Not just yet.

This is my chance
to say goodbye to my baby.

You go.

I'll be all right, I promise.

I could stay.

Or would you prefer to be alone?

Alone, I think, but thank you.

And Mary...

Could you ask your father

to sleep in the dressing room
tonight?

Because you are my baby,
you know.

And you always will be.

Always.

My beauty and my baby.

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

but I don't think
it will be possible

for you to see Lord Grantham.

Not today.

I'm sure you understand.

Of course.

I should have guessed
there was something wrong

when there was no car
at the station.

What a dreadful, dreadful thing.

I'll leave you to it.

Mr. Murray,

I wonder if I might have
a word with you before you go.

It's not the best day for it,

but there's no knowing when
you might be up here again.

Of course, Mr. Crawley.

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

You weren't to know.

None of us could have known.

The men from Grassby's
have arrived.

To take her away?

Yes.

And we must let them.

Good-bye, my darling.

She was the only person living

who always thought you and I
were such nice people.

Oh, Mary...

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

I doubt it.

But since this is
the last time we three

will all be together
in this life,

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

You see, what I have discovered

is quite simple, Mr. Murray.

It's proof of my husband's
innocence.

That seems a good place
to start.

Yes, but the key
to his innocence

depends on the word
of a woman who hates him

and may want him
to stay in prison,

whatever the truth.

Why not tell me
everything you know?

Of course this isn't
the right time,

but you're here

and it's not a subject
for the telephone.

No.

But I must confess to you,
Mr. Crawley,

that even at this sad hour,

your words are music to my ears.

Testing times are coming
for these estates.

Indeed, they've already arrived,

and many great families
will go to the wall

over the next few years.

It's never been
more vitally important

to maximize the assets
of a place like this

and run it with
a solid business head.

What are you talking about?

Mr. Crawley and I
were discussing

the management of the estate.

He was outlining
some interesting plans

for the future.

And do you intend
to involve my father

in these fascinating plans?

Of course.

Then I cannot think this
a very appropriate moment

to be deciding the destiny
of Downton, Mr. Murray,

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

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

I'm really only here
to talk to Mrs. Bates

about her new evidence.

Naturally, if I'd known...

No, no.

That's quite different.

None of us would wish
to keep Bates in prison

for an hour longer
than necessary.

Shall I fetch her?

I have already seen her.

Now I'm on my way to York

to visit Bates and learn
what he has to say about it.

Then thank you so much
for coming all this way.

Lady Mary, please tell
your parents

how very sorry I am.

Of course.

Mr. Murray is just leaving.

I'm sorry, darling.

Forgive me.

I wasn't thinking.

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

Papa has lost
his youngest daughter.

I think that's enough.

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

MURRAY: And the challenge is to
get a statement from Mrs. Bartlett

before she realizes
its significance.

BATES:
That's it.

I can't stop thinking
about Lady Sybil;

a lovely young woman,

at the height of her happiness.

If I had any beliefs,
that would shake them.

GUARD:
This way out, now!

I'll keep you informed,
Mr. Bates.

I'll do my very best for you.

Thank you, Mr. Murray.

I suppose that's his lawyer.

Lord Grantham's lawyer,
more like.

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

He'll get a shock

when he contacts
Mrs. Audrey Bartlett.

Oh, Carson.

Good afternoon, m'lady.

We've seen some troubles,
you and I.

Nothing worse than this.

Nothing could be worse
than this, m'lady.

Ah, Mama.

Oh, my dears.

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

She's already here.

Good, good.

Where's Tom?

EDITH:
He's upstairs.

I've asked if he wants anything.

He says no.

CORA:
He wants his wife back,

but that's what he can't have.

I must write to Dr. Clarkson

and have it sent down
before dinner.

Darling, there's
no need for that.

I should, I want to.

I have to apologize
for our behavior.

MARY:
What?

Why?

Because if we'd listened to him,

Sybil might still be alive.

But Sir Philip
and your father knew better,

and now she's dead.

Why...

Why would she say that?

Because there is
some truth in it.

My dear, when tragedies strike,
we try to find someone to blame,

and in the absence
of a suitable candidate

we usually blame ourselves.

You are not to blame.

No one is to blame.

Our darling Sybil
has died during childbirth,

like too many women before her.

And all we can do now is cherish
her memory and her child.

Nevertheless,
there is truth in it.