If you’ve been reading my thoughts on DA, inquiring readers, you know I’ve lumped scenes together for review and not recapped each episode as it progressed. For the sake of space, I’ve ignored some story threads altogether. This week, viewers were treated to dinners upstairs and downstairs, and to more of Lady Violet’s witticisms. (Spoiler Alert! Do not proceed if you have not watched this episode.)
Dining with the Crawleys
Although the viewers couldn’t care less, the boring saga of the hospitals continues. When Violet discovers that Mr. Neville Chamberlain Minister of Health, is going on an inspection tour of the North, she demands that her son invite him to dine at the Abbey.
Lady Violet in persuasion mode.
He’s a busy man,” the earl tells his fond mama. “What makes you think he will come?’
“Because your late papa, the 6th Earl of Grantham, was his wife’s godfather!”
End of argument. Bested by Lady Violet once again, the earl invites Mr. Chamberlain, and, much to Robert’s surprise, the health minister agrees to come. Cora, knowing all about Violet’s scheming ways, invites Dickie Merton, Isobel, and Dr. Clarkson, the old sawbones (and her new ally), to dine as well.
The earl is already dreading the affair. He’s sure there will be hell to pay. All through Season 6 and going back as far as Season 5, he has suffered from indigestion. Unconcerned, he has gone about his business, ignoring the symptoms. Just before dinner with the health minister, he clutches his abdomen again. He decides to take this new burning sensation on the stomach like a man and make an appearance at dinner, knowing that his mama would march up the stairs and drag him out of bed if he failed to attend.
Mr. Chamberlain is having the most unforgettable dinner of his life. Photographer, Nick Briggs.
So kind of you to respond to my mother-in-law’s summons, Mr. Chamberlain,” says Cora in greeting, before Lady Violet pushes her aside and reminds him of their long past history.
“Oh, I recall you when you were so young and so carefree and I was young and gay, and so I say, let’s let the past stay in the past, like the hospital.”
Tom quickly rescues Mr. Chamberlain before he responds, as Lady Cora invites everyone in to dine, even before the servants are finished setting the table.
“She can’t protect him in the dining room,” announces Lady Violet, unconcerned. “I was trained in a hard school and I FIGHT accordingly!”
But things do not go the dowager’s way, for just as she’s working up to prove that change for change’s sake will ruin power, her son erupts like a breaching whale from his chair, clutching his belly, and violently spews blood on the table until the dining room resembles a Roman vomitorium.
Cora receives a blood bath
Everyone is worried – Cora that she will lose her husband, Violet that she will lose her train of thought from the shock, and Mr. Carson that the blood-spattered tablecloth will defy cleaning. But Mr. Chamberlain only feels relief, the earl having found a way to save him from a battle royal. He will always be grateful to Robert’s bursting ulcer for its impeccable timing.
As he’s trundled off to the Downton hospital, Robert manages to tell his Cora how much he loves her. At this declaration, all our hearts go aflutter.
Dinner with the Carsons
Elsie and Charlie at home. Photographer, Nick Briggs.
Mr. Carson suggested we might have dinner in the cottage tonight, says Elsie to Mrs. Patmore, wanting her advice. “It won’t be a regular thing, just once in a while.”
When did you last cook?” asks Mrs. Patmore. She can’t decide between helping Elsie make two juicy lamb chops or the more complicated Turducken (turkey stuffed with chicken, stuffed with duck, stuffed with quail).
“Oh, I’ve done the odd thing every five years or so. Still, I WOULD be grateful for the basket.”
‘Chops it is, then,’ thinks Mrs. Patmore.
Later that day, the Carson’s cozy cottage smells of home cooking.
My compliments to the chef,” says an eager Carson, settling in for an evening feast at his own dining room table.
“That would be Mrs. Patmore, not me,” Elsie says complacently. “Are you ready?” She places the chops on the table.
“Are these done enough?” he asks, testing the meat. ” Oh, the plate is cold, that’s a pity.”
She gives him a look that would freeze a Florida swamp as she slides another platter on the table.
“What’s this?”
“Bubble and squeak.”
“With lamb?”
“I LIKE it with lamb.” Elsie is beginning to realize that her groom is easier to please between the sheets than at the dinner table.
“Well, we musn’t let it get cold,” he says in a sing song voice that grown-ups adopt with toddlers. He saws away at the lamb. “Ah, this knife could do with sharpening.”
Elsie slaps a portion of bubble and squeak on his plate with the force of a pig farmer wrestling a sow, which is when Carson realizes he shouldn’t have told his bride that her cooking doesn’t hold a candle to his mother’s.
‘Uh, oh.’ From the look on her face, he understands he’s not getting any nookie tonight either.
A few days later, having forgotten his love’s reaction to his constructive criticism, he approaches Mrs. Patmore.
I wonder if you would you be willing to help my bride catch up with her pantry pans. It’s been a while since she’s played with them. ”
He turns to Mrs. Carson, er, Mrs. Hughes, er, Elsie. “You’d be very glad of the help, wouldn’t you my dove?”
“Sure. Why not. It’s time to get our coats,” she says, thinking that if she out paces him to their cottage, she could get the couch made up in a trice for his bed.
A Loving Sisterly Exchange
I’ll be in London on Wednesday,” announces Edith at breakfast.
Her papa looks around the table and says proudly, “Edith has a date.”
“Not really,” says she.
“Of course not,” says Mary.
“What do you mean, of course not?” retorts Edith, wanting to scratch her sibling’s eyes out for the gazillionth time.
A Visit to Mr Mason’s New Pig Abode
When Lady Mary learns that pigs are his speciality, she allows Mr. Mason to move to Yew Tree Farm in a trice.
Mary and Tom in inspection mode. Photographer, Nick Briggs.
I want to look in on, Mason,” she says to her papa, “He’s moving in today.”
“You may go where you like, as long as the pigs are settled.”
“I am concerned,” says she. “I’ve asked him to take over, but pig keeping needs strength, come to think of it.”
“Very sensible. Pigs can be dangerous. Mason’s scrawny. He needs more meat on his bones. ”
“Perhaps we can ask Mrs. Patmore to help in that department.”
In sync with Lady Mary’s thoughts, Mrs. Patmore has laden an abundant basket with fattening goodies as a welcome present. Mr. Mason is the first new bachelor of a certain age with a good job to move within 50 miles of the vicinity this past decade and Mrs. Patmore is old enough to know when OPPORTUNITY comes a’knocking.
Mr. Mason and Mrs. Patmore: a new romance in the making? Or a possible spin-off to be titled: ‘Of Pigs and Men.’ Photographer: Nick Briggs
Mr. Mason admires her strong ample figure and thinks it a sight for sore eyes.
Does me good to see a woman bustling around my kitchen.”
“I’ve got goodies galore for you,” she says, “and a snack for later on.”
“You’re an angle of mercy.”
“Do you mean me?” asks Lady Mary without irony, stepping into the kitchen with Tom. “Am I interrupting?”
“Not a bit, my lady, You’re welcome here.” ‘Drat,’ he thinks, ‘just when Mrs. P and I were getting to know each other…’
“We wanted to discuss the pigs.”
“I’m top at pigs.”
Tom steps forward. “Lady Mary is worried about the physical side of it. Prizing a boar off a sow…”
“Heeheehee,” giggles Mrs. Patmore.
“Or taking the piglets off their mother.”
“Boohoohoo,” cries Mrs. Patmore.
Andy offers his services. Photographer, Nick Briggs.
As Tom and Mary discuss Mr. Mason’s feeble strength and the absence of a farm hand, Andy, who has volunteered his services in moving to gain favor with Daisy, steps forward to offer his strong arms to help with pig maintenance.
Can you do it?” asks Tom.
“Sure,” says Andy, promising the stars, the sun, and the moon, as well as seven years servitude. He wants to learn as much as he can about farming, just as long as there ain’t no book learnin’ involved.
Daisy is all agog. ‘Could this be the man of her dreams? A footman plus a pig farmer rolled neatly into one?’
I’ll lend you some books about pig farming and breeding,” offers Mr. Mason to Andy.
“Books?” Charlie utters.
“You need to know the theory of it. Makes it more logical.”
“I’m up shit’s creek,” thinks Andy, visions of pigs and Daisy fading away, since he can’t make heads or tails of a ‘p’ or an ‘i’ or a ‘g,’ much less their capitalized versions.
Later on, downstairs in the Abbey, Mrs. Patmore practically glows from having worked her knuckles raw helping Mr. Mason set up his house and larder. “What a lovely chap.”
‘Wait a moment,’ thinks Daisy, glaring at Mrs. Patmore. ‘Mr. Mason’s MY lovely chap. I found him first!’
Daisy in hissing mode
He must be lonely,” Mrs. P. concludes, thinking of how fine the contents of her Hope Chest would look in Mr. Mason’s cottage.
Daisy hisses,” He’sss not lonely! He’ss MY precioussss. He’s been living alone for yearss.”
‘And working himself scrawny, so he needs help with the rutting pigs,’ thinks Mrs. Patmore, knowing she could fatten him up in no time flat and build up his muscles.
He seemed to enjoy the company…” she ventures.
“He was only being polite! He was longing for you, er, us, to go.”
“Pfff.”
Mrs. Patmore huffs off, thinking, ‘Let’s see if I give that ungrateful chit any helpful advice from now on.’
Lady Violet, Denker, and Septimus Sprat
During a village stroll, Denker encounters Dr. Clarkson and rounds on him for being a traitor and scoundrel to the Dowager Countess. His dignity offended, he sends Lady Violet a letter describing Denker’s INSULT and her impertinence. Clutching the letter to her heaving bosom, Violet summons her disagreeable lady’s maid.
Photographer, Nick Briggs. You read too many novels, Denker!
Denker arrives, thinking she’s about to receive a raise for loyalty.
Is it true you called Dr. Clarkson a traitor?”
“I just thought he behaved very badly.”
“It’s not your place to have opinions of my acquaintances, let alone express them! If I withdrew my friendship from everyone who’s ever spoken ill of me, my address book would be EMPTY! For a lady’s maid to insult a physician!… You’ve read too many novels, Denker. You’ve seen too many moving pictures. You’ve skulked around too many hallways.”
“I was sticking up for you.”
“And for that I shall write a tepid character. From this house you must go forthwith.”
“But my lady, what am I to do? Where am I to go?”
“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn. When we unleash the dogs of war, we must go where they take us.”
Knowing Lady Violet will not change her mind, Denker approaches Sprat to help save her job.
How’d it happen?” he asks, secretly delighted with the turn of events. “Were you drunk?”
“Of course not! Am I to blame if I have a very passionate nature?”
Sprat makes a face. “Any more of that talk and I won’t be able to sleep.”
The more Denker pleads with Sprat, the happier he gets, ’till he’s humming from sheer joy, but, alas, his happiness is short lived.
“Are you packed?” he asks her the following morning. “Are you gonna help her dress, get your reference, and then head off, never to darken my life again?”
“No, and I’ll tell you why, you insignificant worm. Did they catch your nephew. The one you hid?”
Sprat stops humming. “Wha…?”
“Septimus Sprat, if I go down, I am taking you down with me. Capiche?”
“What can I say to …”
“You’d better think of something. And you better hope it works, Mr. Sprat. You better hope that I don’t ever need to mention your nephew ever again.”
Sprat walks away from the conversation thinking that daily torture in a dark dungeon would be preferable to being stuck with this woman for the rest of his benighted life. He wonders if he should apply for a position at Gosford Park before it is too late.
Love Does Not Conquer All
As Lady Mary and Tom drive to the track to watch Henry Talbot, he turns to her. “Do you like him?
He’s attractive and nice and reminds me I’m a youngish woman again, but that’s all. I don’t mean to sound snobbish, but I won’t marry down. I don’t want to be grander than my husband or richer, but he needs to bring something to my substantial table.”
“Happiness doesn’t have much with money or position. Sybil and I had a marriage of equals. I brought the copper, she brought the gold. I brought the dust, she brought the duster. I…”
“I get it,” says Lady Mary, not amused.
Tom and Mary at the track.
‘Tom’s not getting the point,’ thinks a frustrated Mary. She needs to stay grander than Edith so that she can always lord it over her and her unfortunate choices of doddering old suitors and mere land agents.
And so, having discussed her elevated norm for marital love, Tom and Mary arrive at the racetrack, where Henry and his best friend, Charlie, are driving recklessly around the track at around, oh, 60 – 65 mph.
Just look at him. Working hard but getting nowhere,” says Mary, adding, “He’s just going around in useless circles.”
As Henry and Charlie race around the track a few hundred times, I begin to make my weekly grocery list and check my work schedule. These overly long scenes are best distinguished by the background music, which resembles a soundtrack from an Annette Funicello and Frankie Avalon Beach Muscle Blanket Bikini Bingo movie.
As Henry finishes his practice turns and strides towards them, Tom tells Mary, “You don’t have to marry him, but you do have to let him enjoy this moment.”
‘Enjoy, yes,’ Mary thinks, ‘but I won’t let anything as puny as love get in the way of sensible thought.’
Bates and Anna Discuss Lady Mary and Lady Luck
Oh, happy days.
“I want Lady Mary to be happy, like I am happy,” says Bates to his wife as they walk towards the Abbey after breakfast in their cozy cottage for two. “I want everyone to be happy.”
“Are you really happy? says Anna, clutching her rabbit’s foot.
“I am so happy that happy is my middle name. I’m, you know, happy.”
“No, I don’t know. But if you’re happy then I’m happy.”
“I’m happy.”
“Bad Harvest,” says Anna, not wanting to spoil her good luck.
Lady Edith happy.
Outing the Secret
At the end of dinner and in the heat of the moment, as the earl and his bleeding ulcer are carted off to Downton Hospital, Lady Cora prevents Lady Violet from talking any more nonsense about the hospital. “No more secrets from now on!”
Uh, oh. Edith should have said ‘bad harvest’ too.
“You mean, like Marigold?” says Lady Violet, not seeing Lady Mary standing behind them.
From Lady Mary’s expression, we know she’s come to an ah-hah moment. Cue ominous music, please.
What a fine episode, gentle readers. While, for the sake of brevity, I did not discuss Baxter’s plight, Thomas’s offer to help Andy read, or Edith’s trip to London and the start of a budding romance, I give this episode four and a half stars out of five. What say you?
Informal poll: Which did you think was grosser?
The bloody carnage at
- the earl’s table in this episode.
- the red wedding in Game of Thrones.
- the remains of Hannibal Lechter’s lunch.
My other Downton Abbey Season 6 Reviews:
- Downton Abbey Season 6 Episode 1
- Downton Abbey Season 6 Episode 2
- Downton Abbey Poll, Ep 1 & 2
- Downton Abbey Season 6 Episode 3
- Downton Abbey Season 6 Episode 4
Jane Austen's World 
Lord Granthams exploding ulcer looked like the entire The Hateful Eight, slapstick bleeding. The reason they had to open him up was because doctors in this period didnt have X-rays as a tool.
X-rays were in use since the late 1800s!!
You’re in rare form tonight, Vic! A fine and hilarious summery. It was a very good episode, filled with plenty of very amusing lines. You made it even better with tongue in cheek recaps – Thanks. The exploding ulcer was really a bit over the top for DA but the “Roman Vomitorium” analogy was hysterical – even though the moment was surely supposed to be serious:-).
Thanks, Lynne. Truly, that dinner scene with the earl was so over the top, how could one give it the gravity it deserves? And Mary stooping to fall for someone soooo beneath her on the economic ladder, no matter how handsome? And a race car driver, to boot? She’s no Sybil and these actions are out of character. I love DA, but how can you take some of these developments seriously?
Vic, like you I don’t see Lady Mary having anything to do with a race car driver, especially after what happened to Matthew. Forgot to say your sendups make the event of watching more enjoyable.
Patty, :)
Talbot has me stumped – he surely must have hidden depths. I’ve decided enigma is the word for him. Not rich or important but from a very rich and important family. He did mention his father was in the House of Lords so where does that leave him? I think we have more to learn about this fellow. Curiouser and curiouser…
Hello Lynne. Talbot threw me for a loop also…I’m not so sure though, despite his warming up and amiable side in this episode. Smooth operators are, after all, smooth. However, it is a bit perplexing. Can hardly wait for the next episode.
Love your review, as always it’s better than the actual episode.Glad we got Robert’s big scene over with I’ve been dreading it since he first started grabbing his chest and being brave last year.
The end was so disgusting. I swear, this show is all over the place sometimes. I can just imagine Lord and Lady Carnarvon’s faces when they were told what was going to happen in their dining room “You’re going to WHAT?!”) Well, there’s more going on than usual, which is good, more zingers, also good, and I’m happy Edith is finally getting a life. Mary is a huge disappointment as a character. She never changes and the same thing keeps happening with her: a botched love life. Yawn. Anna and Bates, two great actors wasted as usual. I’ll enjoy watching Patmore and Mason and Edith but that’s about it. Ready for this show to end.
I love your cheeky wit and have enjoyed all your clever summaries of DA episodes. I thought Lord Grantham’s bloody discharge was a bit much. For me, however, this scene was topped by the conversation regarding the strength and determination that is necessary to prise a boar off a sow. Good thing Tom has come back to help out. I expect he has the necessary tools at hand. A tire iron and a jack.
The conversation about the poor piggies was just the limit, wasn’t it? I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or yell “stop already”!
Definitely worse than the red wedding. After all in Game of Thrones blood (gore, death, resurrection, carnage, murder, fire, daggers, arrows, swords, Gods, knives, they have knives at the Abbey…) at a dinner table is quite passe. Far more shocking in the dining room at the Abbey. I’m shocked Carson wasn’t in the ambulance behind him having a heart attack.
**And now I’m forced to vent the following on your blog, because who else will understand me????
And what of Tom? Rescuing Chamberlain with a drink, standing in the doorway with Carson, although in this scene Carson is the Butler and Tom is…the son of the Earl? Sort of? Close enough? Hmmm. Quite the man of the castle. Watching the last guest leave (the chauffeur uppity enough to question Mr. Chamberlain on his nefarious past deeds that his wife’s godmother can hold over him) and making sure Carson locks up correctly.
Elsie, we all know that name is safe, you have two choices: 1. send Carson back to his old room in the servants quarters or 2. learn to cook. Note that if you do indeed send Carson packing back to his old room you are really just giving him a much desired excuse to return himself to the proper order of things in British servitude which doesn’t involve butlers living in cottages. Do keep in mind that not only will the butler be back in his box (thanks season 5), he will be mere steps (staircases) away from Mrs. Patmore who cooks meals worthy of a Butler in a Great House. Assuming she doesn’t forget the house meals running off to Mr. Mason’s farm. But Daisy can cook.
Trying to fatten up Mr. Mason are you? Meh. Fatten away. Take Baxter and Moseley with you.
Daisy. Daisy Daisy Daisy. Take a lesson from Gwen. Remember Gwen? How she left service to become a…secretary who then married a man…what did he look like? What was his name? Where did he go? Take a lesson from Ygritte (Gwen changed her name), or Gwygritte, and learn to make some proper arrows. Much more effective than dagger looks. Or get a dagger. Or a knife, stick, letter opener…surely you can find something between the kitchen and the farm yard to get your point across. And take Andy. Straight footmen not engaged in flirtation (and more) with previous employers who have no wish to go off and cook in a hotel, or return to America (worse than Westeros), are scarce.
Speaking of Gwygritte…I’m American and I know (from Downton Abbey and other urban legends) that the British (have you read Notes from a Small Island?) have a great love of discomfort. They react to comfort (like bathrooms with every bedroom) like I react to spiders – great terror followed by extreme discomfort at the thought of more spiders. However, Gwen turned Ygritte, you do take the cake. I must give you Brit of the year (or longer) for managing to one up British discomfort by moving North of The Wall. Plus Jon Snow? Way hotter than that man you brought to lunch. Whomever he was.
Thomas. Take note. You would not survive on either side of The Wall. You know nothing Thomas the Under Butler.
What would Violet do with the time she has left over from the hospital if she didn’t have Denker and Septimus Sprat (I assume his name was chosen from the Harry Potter book of baby names?) to entertain her? Now those two. They could survive Game of Thrones. Can you imagine them in dark alleys with daggers? Me too.
Now Violet we must talk. You have an impeccable reputation. In Britain. But even you have not achieved the heights of devious activities and manipulation as your Game of Thrones counterpart Lady Olenna. You might throw some zingers, but when is the last time you poisoned someone over tea? If you really mean it, mean it. Own it. Kill it. For the greater good please poison enough of the hospital contingent over tea that the topic can be dropped entirely.
Love blossoms at the race track. Tom just can’t take his eyes off Henry and his car. “You don’t have to marry him,” (Mary). Actually, yes you do, because I can’t. But you can, and we’ll all be under the same roof. With cars! How can we convince Robert to turn the Cricket pitch into a racetrack (quickly, while he is still puking blood in the dining room)?
Denker. Remember. Death brings silence. After chastising Dr. Clarkson it would have been best to take out your dagger and be done with it rather than leaving him the opportunity to send letters to Violet about your treasonous verbal attack. Leave the body in the vicinity of the dining room table around the time of the Abbey’s red dinner party.
Sprat. Kill Denker before you both do actually go down together. Hide her wherever you successfully hid your nephew in the end. Or move to Westeros. Take Denker with you.
Let’s be honest. The story of Anna and Bates would be MUCH better somewhere around Castle Black or North of The Wall than the English countryside with the sun shining. Ought to sort out their endless problems more efficiently as well. Bad Harvest! Bad Harvest! Winter Is Coming!!
And then there is Mary. On the one hand Tom is plotting how to be the acting Earl as well as hoping for a superb bro-mance with Henry. And his car. Preferably at the convenient location of the Abbey. And it’s new Cricket Race Track. Hopefully Mary will buy him (you) more cars! On the other hand you’ve suddenly realized that after Edith wrote that letter to the Turkish Embassy and you prevented that guy…what is his name? The old one with the lame arm who needs a nurse and can’t shoot anymore? Him. So you pretty much did Edith a disservice by prolonging the time period between that moment and when he did finally leave you at the altar. Then you forgot she existed entirely until suddenly, as your father was dying, and more importantly, Carson was dying over the state of the dining room, she has all kinds of a life you never remotely suspected! Michael G? He was real! Nothing says real like an illegitimate child (or bastard depending if we’re at the Abbey or King’s Landing). I’m sure that Mary’s “of course not,” regarding Edith and her not a date with the guy who was the agent at Brancaster was only showing sisterly support by deflecting dear Papa’s interest in your love life. Of course you have each other’s backs. Like Cersei and Tyrion against Lord Tywin. Even Edith couldn’t remember that guy. Fine, of course she did. Of course she didn’t expect Bertie to remember her either. Hi! I’m Edith! The sister no one likes! And I own a magazine! (please don’t ask me where I got the magazine…or about my ward…)
And then, hello Sir Richard! What’s up with the “Jorah?” Are you undercover? Are you spying both for Varys and for your own newspaper? Or did the dating and breaking up with Mary prepare you for nothing less than Throne Land? After you’ve been thrown over by the Cold and Calculating Lady Mary Crawley (Matthew) what’s a little Dragon Queen? I will never call you or think of you as “Jorah.” There is nothing in your new career, lifestyle, personality, etc., to remotely suggest a need to change your name. After all you didn’t change your career. You are still a spy engaged in nefarious behavior. You too confirmed your British-ness by moving to Throne Land even if you are South of The Wall. And then East? West? Where are the bathrooms???
I LOVE your analysis. This melding of GOT and DA has to be the best GOTDA I’ve read in an age. Where does Gwendolyn Cristie, aka Brienne fit into your wonderful schemes-scenes?
Brienne of Tarth…the overshadowed under noticed, ever stoic, silent, and failing Evelyn Napier.
Ah, good ol’ Evelyn! I was really hoping he’d man up and sweep Mary off her feet. But alas.
Thanks for making me laugh. :) Much of this episode was way over the top, but that’s part of the charm, right? Hopefully, no more blood, though.
There is a big difference between being dramatic and being graphic. Yes, I realize they wanted to make the “eruption” a major event, but it would have been just a shocking to have him clap a hand over his mouth and have blood pour through his fingers before he goes face down. I just thought it was fairly gratuitous. But then, they have been trailing useless plot highlights around like cat toys and I don’t think a lot of the audience are biting.
Lady Mary defies the old adage that you can’t be too thin or too rich. In profile, she looks like a skull with a bob, beautiful as she is.
Elsie’s as stiff as a board, isn’t she? I feel sorry for Mr.Carson, who did have some very funny lines (re becoming reacquainted with your pots and pans).
I was truly moved by Carson’s moment at the bottom of the stairs, trying to recover from the terrible shock and bloodshed at the dining table. I’ve been mulling Sir Robert’s condition over hot cocoa every morning since. But Carson’s great empathy was evident; he is a loyal man and a beloved butler par excellence. Thomas a’ Barrow did a wonderful turn didn’t he? I love it!
I knew it! He’s paying Baxter’s kindness forward, regarding teaching Andy to read. And then there’s the fine man, Sir Richard (we like to call him Dickie Merton) showing just how compassionate and loving he truly is towards that defiant cranky Isobel, who apparently doesn’t know what she has. Its the business about the hospital..but Lord Merton has been there for her at every turn. Daisy remains a nuisance. But is it wonderful or is it wonderful that Mr. Mason is growing quite fond of Mrs. Patmore. Unlike Elsie, this woman can cook like an angel. Some times you just want to shake that damn Daisy.
On the left. No water. Thank goodness Isobel and Dr. Clarkson were there.
.For a second, the ambulance attendents looked like nuns coming to the rescue. We pray for Sir Robert’s full recovery.Spectacular episode.
Oh, and wouldn’t it be just dandy if Denker and Spratt formed a romantic attachment.
Thanks for a very entertaining review from Vic.
I’ve been wondering the same thing about Denker and Spratt! They’ve kind of got this love-hate thing going.
If Lord Grantham dies, the death duties will spell the end of Downton. There’s no way the family can afford them. Unless, of course, the Dowager Duchess can blackmail the Chancellor of the Exchequer.
Lord Grantham’s heave-ho rather reminded me of the scene in Alien, when the critter bursts out of the poor spaceman. Denker’s continued blackmail of Spratt reminds me of various scenes in the Godfather, where folks are being tortured for the pleasure of the Capo.
I don’t care if Thomas does teach Andy how to read – I still won’t like or trust him.
Please, oh please – who cares whether Lady Mary finds out the truth regarding Marigold’s biological parents? Edith kept going on and on in this episode about living in London. She likes the idea of motherhood, not the daily reality.
As for Lady Mary, her boyfriends are bores, and frankly, so is she. Perhaps Sybil could rise from the death, a la Bobby in Dallas (“It was an awful dream…”)?
I’m waiting for Mrs Hughes to fling the next bubble and squeak in Carson’s face.
Death duties: The fact that he has an heir in place…wouldn’t it just go into the heir’s name with Mary as Executor/Trustee?
Vic, you’re hilarious! Can’t wait to watch Downton today (streaming) so I can read your recap of episode 6. How many years has it been at this point since Matthew’s death? It seems Lady Mary has not grown (matured) much since then.
Season 4? So we’re going on 3 years now. Edith has enjoyed a more interesting character arc than Mary. :)