DAISY: You weren't here and I didn't like to touch the curtains with my dirty hands. GWEN: Quite right, too. ANNA: Why didn't you put the lights on? DAISY: I dursen't.※ GWEN: It's electricity, not the devil's handiwork. You'll have to get used to it sooner or later. ANNA: At Skelton Park, they've even got it in the kitchens. DAISY: What for?
─ And the maids, so crisp and clean in their outfits, plump the cushions and dust and tidy and make the kitchen maid, still hard at it in the ashes, feel very small indeed.
─ Carson, the butler, sits in his magnificence. He wears an apron for his early duties. The silver safe is open nearby and three candlesticks are on his table. William knocks.
WILLIAM: Breakfast is ready, Mr Carson. CARSON: Ah, William. Any papers yet? WILLIAM: They're late. CARSON: They certainly are. Get the board out, so you can do them as soon as they're here.
─ William opens a cupboard and takes out a blackened ironing board which he sets up. An iron is heating on the grate.
─ William opens the door and the Iabrador, Pharaoh, comes in. The paperboy is just getting back on his bike.
WILLIAM: You're late. BOY: I know. But ... WILLIAM: But what? BOY: You'll see.
─ And he is gone.William, puzzled, goes back in. A newspaper is laid out on the filthy board. An iron comes down on it. William is at work.Carson looks in.
CARSON: Do the Times first. He only reads that at breakfast. And the Sketch for her Iadyship. You can manage the others later, if need be.
─ He walks away asWilliam turns the page. He is stunned. Carson's pantry is off the passage leading to the Servants' Hall. The butler walks back and sits at the table.
DAISY: Why are their papers ironed? MRS PATMORE: What's it to you? O'BRIEN: To dry the ink, silly. We wouldn't want his lordship to have hands as black as yours.※
※原注: Ironing newspapers is a cliche in a way because everyone knows it was done; but on the other hand a lot of people still think they were ironed to make them flat, as opposed to being ironed so that the ink would dry. It is sometimes quite fun to correct these common misapprehensions.
ROBERT: Good morning, Carson. CARSON: Good morning, m’lord. ROBERT: Is it true? What they're saying? CARSON: I believe so, m’lord.
─ Robert takes up a plate. Watched by Carson, he lifts the lids and helps himself to breakfast.
ROBERT: I'm afraid we'll know some people on it. Lady Rothes for one. We only saw her a few weeks ago. I don't suppose there are lists of survivors, yet? CARSON: I understand most of the ladies were taken off in time. ROBERT: You mean the ladies in first class?
─ He looks at the butler who acknowledges this.
ROBERT (CONT'D): God help the poor devils below decks, on their way to a better life. What a tragedy. He sits, shaking open the paper. On the third page, is a picture of the familiar fou1?-funnelled liner, Titanic※.
※原注: The challenge of an opening episode, as I keep saying, is to give the audience enougl1infonnation so that they can follow the show. The reason I chose the sinking of the Titanic to begin with, was because the Titanic is an iconic disaster. There are very few people who've never heard of the Titanic and most of us have a fairly accurate idea of when it took place, which is just befo1-e the First World War.<以下長いので略>
ROBERT: What's that? SYBIL: Just arrived. A telegram. I told the boy to wait, in case there's an answer.
─ Robert takes it, slits it open and reads. He is quite still for a moment, then he stands abruptly and leaves the room. The girls stare at their father's unfinished plate. As Robert appears, a door opens. O'Brien comes out.
ROBERT: Is her Ladyship※ awake? O'BRIEN: Yes, m'lord. I'm just going to take in her breakfast. ROBERT: Thank you.
─ The three maids are coming down into the back hall.
GWEN: What do you mean? O'BRIEN: What do you think? Mr Crawley was his lordship's cousin and heir to the title. GWEN: I thought Lady Mary was the heir. O'BRIEN: She's a girl, stupid. Girls can't inherit. But now Mr Crawley's dead. And Mr Patrick was his only son. So what happens next? ANNA: It's a dreadful thing.
─ The man from the train is below them. With a suitcase.
BATES: I've been waiting at the back door. I knocked but no one came. O'BRIEN: So you pushed in. BATES: I'm John Bates. The new valet.
─ What makes this surprising is that he walks with a stick and has a noticeable limp. O'Brien stares at him.
O'BRIEN: The new valet? BATES: That's right. O'BRIEN: You're early. BATES: Came on the milk train. Thought I could use the day to get to know the place. And start tonight. ANNA: I'm Anna, the head housemaid. O'BRIEN: And I'm Miss O'Brien, her Ladyship's maid. BATES: How do you do?
─ He holds out his hand. Anna shakes it. O'Brien does not.
─ Mrs Hughes is questioning Bates, watched by O'Brien, Mrs Patmore and the rest. They're amazed.
MRS HUGHES: But how can you manage? BATES: Don't worry about that. I can manage. MRS PATMORE: Because we've all got our own work to do. BATES: I can manage. CARSON: All rtght, Mrs Hughes. I'll take over, thank you. Good morning, Mr Bates, and welcome.
─ But he has not seen the stick until the others break back, giving him a full view. He's taken aback, but recovers.
CARSON (CONT'D): I hope your journey was satisfactory? BATES: It was fine. Thank you. CARSON: I am the butler at Downton. My name is Carson. BATES: How do you do, Mr Carson. CARSON: And this is Thomas, first footman. He's been looking after his lordship since Mr Watsonleft. It'll be a relief to get back to nonnal. Won't it, Thomas?
─ But Thomas is not sure he wants to go back to normal and even Carson is not sure this change will be 'normal.' ↑ このト書きが良いw
THOMAS: Snuffboxes. He collects them. BATES: Beautiful. It’s lucky Mr Watson didn't help himself. THOMAS: He knew they wouldn't let it go if he had. He was canny like that.
─ Bates stares down at the glittering geejaws.
BATES: Funny, our job, isn't it? THOMAS: What d'you mean? BATES: The way we live with all this. A pirate's hoard within our reach. But none of it's ours, is it? THOMAS: No. None of it’s ours.
─ Thomas meets O'Brien, who is carrying some linen.
O'BRIEN: Well? THOMAS: I can't believe I've been passed over for Long John Silver. O'BRIEN: You should have spoken up when you had the chance. Don't make the same mistake next time. THOMAS: Who says there'll be a next time?
─ But Mrs Hughes is in the passage now.
MRS HUGHES: Is this a public holiday no one's told me of?
VIOLET: Of course I've heard! Why else would I be here? CORA: Robert didn't want you to read it in a newspaper and be upset. VIOLET: He flatters me. I'm tougher than I look.
─ Cora's expression implies that this would be hard.
VIOLET (CONT'D): I'm very sorry about poor Patrick of course. He was a nice boy. CORA: We were all so fond of him. VIOLET: But I never cared for James. He was too like his mother and a nastier woman never drew breath.
─ Which puts paid to any worries about excessive grief
CORA: Will you stay for some luncheon? VIOLET: Thank you.
─ Cora walks towards the bell-pull by the fire.
CORA: I'll let Carson know. VIOLET: I've already told him. Shall we sit down?
VIOLET: What does Robert say? CORA: Nothing yet. He's too upset. VIOLET: Good. Don't let him come to a decision until we can be sure it's the correct one.
─ At this Cora starts to huff, but Violet raises her palm.
VIOLET (CONT'D): The problem is, saving you1?dowry would break up the estate. It'd be the ruin of everything Robert's given his life to. CORA: And he knows this? VIOLET: If he doesn't, he will. CORA: Then there's no answer.
─ Cora is now truly fascinated. Which the other woman sees.
VIOLET: Yes there is, and it's a simple one. The entail must be smashed in its entirety and Mary recognised as heiress of all. CORA: There's nothing we can do about the title. VIOLET: No, she can't have the title. But she can have your money. And the estate. I didn't run Downton for thirty years to see it go, lock, stock and barrel, to a stranger from God knows where. CORA: Are we to be friends, then? VIOLET: We are allies, my dear. Which can be a good deal more effective.
CARSON: Downton is a great house, Mr Bates, and the Crawleys are a great family. We live by certain standards and those standards can at first seem daunting. BATES: Of course. CARSON: If you find yourself tongue-tied in the p1-esence of his lordship, I can only assure you that his manners and grace will soon help you to perform your duties to the best of your ability. BATES: I know. ROBERT (V.O.): Bates! My dear fellow!
─ Robcrt is in the 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.
CARSON: Are you all ready? Very well. We will go out to greet them. DAISY: And me, Mr Carson? CARSON: No, Daisy. Not you. Can you manage, Mr Bates? Or would you rather wait here?
─ Bates is walking out with the others. He stops patiently.
BATES: I want to go, Mr Carson. CARSON: There is no obligation for the whole staff to be present. BATES: I'd like to be there.
ROBERT: Welcome to Downton. CROWBOROUGH: This is so kind of you, Lady Grantham. CORA: Not at all, Duke. I'm delighted you could spare the time. You know my daughter Mary, of course. CROWBOROUGH: Of course. Lady Mary. CORA: And Edith. But I don't believe you've met my youngest, Sybil. CROWBOROUGH: Lady Sybil. SYBIL: How do you do.
─ Then he remembers something and turns back to her mother.
CROWBOROUGH: Lady Grantham, I've a confession to make which I hope won't cause too much bother ... My man was taken ill just as I was leaving- ROBERT: Oh well, that won't be a problem, will it Carson? CARSON: Certainly not. I shall look after His Grace, myself. CROWBOROUGH: I wouldn't dream of being such a nuisance. Surely, a footman-
─ He stops and looks at Thomas.
CROWBOROUGH (CONT'D): I remembe1?this man. Didn't you serve me when I dined with Lady Grantham in London? THOMAS: I did, Your Grace. CRUW.BURUUGH: There we are. We will do very well together, won't we.... THOMAS: Uh, Thomas, Your Grace. CROWBOROUGH: Thomas.
(第1回) 公爵とディナー CORA: I'm afraid we're rather a female party tonight, Duke. But you know what it's like trying to balance numbers in the country. A single man outranks the Holy Grail. CROWBOROUGH: No, I'm terribly flattered to be dining en famille. EDITH: What were you and Mary doing up in the attics this afternoon? SYBIL: I expect Mary was just showing the Duke the house. Weren't you?
─ Sybil has come to the rescue, which earns Mary's gratitude. But Violet also sees that Edith is making trouble.
VIOLET: Are you a student of architecture? CROWBOROUGH: Absolutely. VIOLET: Then I do hope you'll come and inspect my little cottage. It was designed by Wren. CROWBOROUGH: Ah. VIOLET: For the first Earl's sister. ROBERT: The attics? EDITH: Yes. Mary took the Duke up to the attics. ROBERT: Whatever for? CORA: Why was this, dear? MARY: We were just looking around. EDITH: Looking around? What is there to look at but servants' rooms? What was the real reason? VIOLET: Don't be such a chatterbox, Edith. CORA: I think we'll go through.
─ Firmly, she leads the way out. Edith starts again.
EDITH: I still don't understand- MARY: Will you hold your tongue!
─ Anna is bringing in a plate of hot food for a laid tray.
ANNA: I thought I'd take something up to Mr Bates, him not being well enough to comedown. You don't mind, do you, Mrs Hughes? MRS HUGHES: I don't mind. Not this once. CARSON: Take him whatever he might need.
─ Carson is obviously embarrassed. He addresses the company.
CARSON (CONT'D): Mr Bates is leaving without a stain on his character. I hope you all observe that in the manner of your parting.
ROBERT: We must go through and let the servants get in here. CROWBOROUGH: I should be grateful if we could stay for just a minute more. I have something to ask you.
─ Robert nods and sits down again.
CROWBOROUGH (CONT'D): I was terribly sorry to hear about your cousins. ROBERT: You said. Did you know them? CROWBOROUGH: Not well. I used to see Pat rick Crawley at the odd thing.
─ He hesitates.There is a sort of tension in the air.
CROWBOROUGH (CONT'D):I imagine it will mean some adjustments for all of you. To lose two heirs in one night ... It's terrible. ROBERT: Indeed. It was terrible. CROWBOROUGH: Awful. But then again, it's an ill wind ...
─ He half smiles at Robert who is not making this easier.
CROWBOROUGH (CONT'D):At least Lady Mary's prospects must have rather improved. ROBERT: Have they? CROWBOROUGH: Haven't they?
─ Robert gives himself another glass of port as he looks at the greedy fortune-hunter. Is it right that Downton should be broken up and destroyed for this nonentity? It is not.
ROBERT: I will not be coy and pretend I do not understand your meaning, though you seem very informed on this family's private affairs.
─ Now it is Crowborough's turn to be silent.
ROBERT (CONT'D): But you ought perhaps to know that I do not intend to fight the entail. Not any part of it.CRUW.BURUUGH: You can't be serious. ROBERT: It pains me to say it, but I am. CROWBOROUGH: You'll give up your entire estate? Your wife's money into the bargain, to a perfect stranger? You won't even put up a fight? ROBERT: I hope he proves perfect but I rather doubt it. CROWBOROUGH: Ha. It is an odd thing to joke about. ROBERT: No odder than this conversation. So there you have it. But Mary will still have her settlement, which you won't find ungenerous. CROWBOROUGH: I'm sorrry? ROBERT: I mean only that her portion, on her marriage, will be more than respectable. You'll be pleased, I promise.
─ An expression of concern crosses the younger man's face.
CROWBOROUGH: Oh, heavens. I hope I haven't given the wrong impression ROBERT: You know very well the impression you've given. CROWBOROUGH: My dear Lord Grantham ─ ROBERT: Don't ‘my dear Lord Grantham’ me! You knew what you were doing when you came here. You've encouraged Mary, all of us, to think- CROWBOROUGH: Forgive me, but I came to express my sympathies and my friendship. Nothing more. Lady Mary is a charming person. Whoever marries her will be a lucky man. He will not, however, be me. ROBERT: I see. And what was it that you asked me to stay behind to hear? CROWBOROUGH: I ... I forget.
THOMAS: I want to be a valet. I'm sick of being a footman. CROWBOROUGH: But I have a valet. I thought you were trying to get rid of the new one here. THOMAS: I've done it. But I'm not sure Carson's gonna let me take over.
─ He approaches the Duke.
THOMAS (CONT'D): And I want to be with you.
─ They embrace.
CROWBOROUGH: I can't see it working. We don't seem to have the basis of a servant-master relationship?
─ He kisses his fingers.
THOMAS: You came here to be with me. CROWBOROUGH: Among other reasons. But one swallow doesn't make a summer. THOMAS: Aren't you forgetting something?
─ His voice has got quite nasty. But Crowborough smiles.
CROWBOROUGH (CONT'D): Because of a youthful dalliance? A few weeks of madness in a London Season? You wouldn't hold that against me, surely? THOMAS: I would if I have to. CROWBOROUGH: Who'd believe a greedy footman against the word of a duke? If you're not very careful, you'll end up behind bars. THOMAS: I've got proof.
─ The Duke opens a drawer and brings out a bundle of letters.
CROWBOROUGH: You mean these?
─ Thomas lunges, but Crowborough's quick. He hurls them into the fire and holds Thomas in an arm lock. The letters burn.
CROWBOROUGH (CONT'D): I'm grateful. My mother's always telling me never to put anything in writing and now, thanks to you, I never will again. THOMAS: How did you get them, you bastard?! CROWBOROUGH: Don't be a bad loser, Thomas. Go to bed. Unless you want to stay.
ROBERT: Besides, how was I to know he wouldn't take her without the money? CORA: Don't pretend to be a child because it suits you. ROBERT: Do you think she would've been happy with a fortune-hunter? CORA: She might've been. I was.
─ This admission of the unspoken brings Robert up short. After a beat, he sits on the bed and takes her hand.
ROBERT: Have you been happy? Really? Have I made you happy? CORA: Yes. That is, since you fell in love with me.
─ She is playing with him a little, but she does love him.
CORA (CONT'D): Which if I remember correctly was about a year after we married. ROBERT: Not a year. Not as long as that.
─ This is a pleasant room. A handsome woman in her fifties, Isobel Crawley, is eating breakfast with her son, Matthew, who reads a paper. A maid carries in letters on a salver.
MAID: First post, ma'am. ISOBEL: Thank you, Ellen.
─ She takes them, holding one out to Matthew. He opens it and reads. He looks astonished.
MATTHEW: It's from Lord Grantham. ISOBEL: Really? What on earth does he want?