Costume Quibbling: Downton Abbey, Season 1, Episode 7

Ok, here we go—the last episode of Series 1! This episode is more plot-heavy than costume-y—I couldn’t believe it when I saw it only clocked in at an hour—but, all the better to draw significance from!

The finale opens on the staff, scurrying about to finish preparing for the Crawleys’ return from the London season. This is a very canny move on Fellowes’ part: the production saves a bundle by having the family’s London house, Sybil’s debut, and a whole lot of London footage happen off-screen, plus it advances the story by several months (the Season ran from Christmas or the New Year to June, give or take a few weeks on both sides). If he’d had an American-style season of 13 or 14 episodes to work with, he could have devoted a few of them to the goings-on in the Great Cesspool, but with only 6 and plenty of other plotlines humming along, he’d only have been able to cover London in one episode or less and it wouldn’t have felt like enough. So in the space of three minutes, we learn that William’s mother has died but he was with her at the end, Archduke Franz Ferdinand has been assassinated recently enough that the town is still talking about it, which would place us somewhere in June of 1914, Mary’s staying in London with Aunt Rosamund for a while, and Sybil’s coming-out (no, no, not that kind of coming out, her acknowledgement by society as an adult and her entrance on the marriage market) was a great success. Oh, and Edith was very helpful!

Not the same scene, but roughly the same shot as the opening one.

Everyone’s dressed in outfits we’ve seen before: Cora in that magnificent brown coat and dress, Edith and Sybil in their blouse-and-skirt combos (there are matching jackets, which we don’t see but for a moment). Edith’s is the green she wore on her sad church date with Matthew; Sybil’s is the blue she wore to the rally/riot (guess they got the blood out). Of note, however, are Mrs. Hughes’ Stripes of Authority as she starts in about the garden party within minutes of poor Cora walking through the door, and, if you look closely, you can see O’Brien and Anna (who would have been taken along to help all the girls—you don’t get your own dedicated ladies’ maid until you’re married), wearing their own clothing rather than uniforms. All the ladies are also wearing hats, which were de rigeur for traveling. Cora has secured hers to her head with a length of white net, which makes her look a little old-fashioned next to her daughters. In Cora’s day, hats were so big and wide-brimmed they would have been in danger of flying off in a car, so you had to tie them down with veils that also shielded your face (closed cars weren’t very common then, and roads were dusty). The fashion in 1914 is for smaller hats that can be pinned securely to one’s hair, so Edith and Sybil don’t need veils and look a little sleeker.

Servant Scene. Mrs. Patmore’s sight is even worse than before, and no one knows what to do about NinjaBates.

Oooh, we get to see a quick shot of London, and meet Aunt Rosamund! Mary’s walking with her in the park, wearing the white walking suit she had on in the last episode. . Rosamund is Lady Violet’s daughter, of course, and you can definitely tell. She’s almost as starchy as her mother, making quips about what a Christmas cake Mary is, and she looks very upright and uptight in a military-inspired jacket and hat. She doesn’t seem too pleased about Matthew’s proposal to Mary, but she doesn’t elaborate.

Servant Scene. O’Brien gets a letter that sends her and Thomas rushing out for a smoke and a gossip. NinjAnna reassures her twin that he’s probably out of the woods on the whole getting-canned thing. He’s a karma ninja! She’s also made William a black armband to wear for this mother. This was a form of mourning for men; since their clothing was dark all the time anyway, the armband let you know someone close to them had died. Weird continuity issue: when NinjAnna is talking to NinjaBates, she’s holding knitting needles; when she passes the armband to William, it’s clearly black cotton and not knitted. Unless she had it right to hand and just dropped the needles in her lap or something to pass it over to him, that’s an awfully quick change.

Robert runs into Dr. Clarkson coming downstairs and rushes up when he hears Cora sent for him. Remember how I said I thought the Dowager Countess’ knees were going to give way when Cora tells her about the Pamuk Affair? Well, good things come to those who wait, because Robert sits down hard on the bed when Cora tells him she’s pregnant. And then she refuses to go into detail about “what [they’ve] done differently”, suggesting that he get it out of the doctor by plying him with drink. Ugh. Poor Dr. Clarkson.

Source. But he's pleased, because now he gets to write letters, and he can do joined-up writing now!

“Guy Fawkes and his assistant” are smirking outside with their cigarettes and a letter from “one ladies’ maid to another (that means something, you know!)”. So they got some dirt on Bates.

Oh, god, Robert does actually give Dr. Clarkson some whiskey and make him explain why Cora’s pregnant! It’s biblical! Except he keeps cutting him off when Doc mentions icky girl things like menstruation and menopause. Robert claims he knows quite enough about the latter; oh my god, what do you think Lady Violet was like while she went through it? I bet she was Malory Archer meets Miranda Priestly. I would watch the hell out of a flashback episode or two about that!

Anyway, Mrs. Hughes comes in and breaks up the party because she needs to discuss Mrs. Patmore. Robert looks relieved. Even servants’ business (normally handled by Cora) is better than talking about a “last surge of fertility”, and it’ll take his mind off the nagging question of the sex of the baby. No way to tell back then!

Servant scene. Guy Fawkes And His Assistant (I’m going to call them that from now on when I refer to them as a pair, and O’Brien is clearly Guy Fawkes) take Carson the letter. We still don’t know what it says, but it’s clearly disturbing.

London. Wet, gray, “quite enjoyable”, according to Carson. Mary is sitting by the window, brooding, in the blue silk blouse she wore at breakfast in the pilot and again in Episode 4 when her father wanted her to marry Matthew. Evelyn Napier comes to call, and she perks right up when she hears his engagement is off. But no, he’s come to talk about the Pamuk Affair, because people are saying he’s responsible for spreading the story, but he’s not. It seems she wears this blouse whenever there’s a marriage that she either wants but can’t have (she was wearing this when they got the news about Patrick Crawley dying on the Titanic, and now Evelyn isn’t here to talk marriage, as she hopes). Then Evelyn tells Mary it was Edith who tipped off the Turkish Ambassador. Heads will roll when she gets back to the country!

Servant Scene. Carson and Mrs. Hughes serve as audience surrogates so we can catch our breaths and think about whether Mary will marry Matthew and what will happen if the new baby’s a boy.

The Dower House. The Dowager is wearing the same peacock blue dress she had on when she was having tea with Cora and left to go see the Adrenaline Caper. Cora is wearing the dress she usually wears with that fabulous brown coat. It’s a very dark purple, almost brown, and very fancy, with lots of detail. It might have been the same dress she was wearing at that tea, too. They seem to dress in repeats like this when they’re allied and working together congenially and in harmony.

Cora commiserates with Violet about her lady’s maid, Simmons, who seems to be looking to jump ship. Can you imagine what working for her would be like? “Gentle as a lamb”, I don’t think so! Neither does Cora, from the look she gives her mother-in-law over tea.

Matthew and Robert are walking and talking. Somehow in the space of about two minutes they go from how Matthew’s going to be unseated as an earl to whether Mary’s responded to Matthew’s proposal to the name of Matthew and Isobel’s cook. Way to pack in the exposition, Fellowes. Robert is in his walking suit (no plus-fours this time, thankfully), and Matthew’s in another dark city suit, looking like an outside again as his position as heir weakens. He does have a cloth cap that matches Robert’s though, so he’s not entirely out yet.

Servant Scene. Hustle and bustle in the kitchens. Daisy tries to help Mrs. Patmore, who shakes it off but then burns herself—again!—and Mrs. Hughes and her Stripes of Authority make her sit down and rest. Daisy tries to talk William up a little, but Thomas interrupts with some nasty comments. Wow, Thomas, slagging on someone’s dead mother is a step too far, even for you.

Matthew, brooding. Isobel, snarking by the window. In mauve and lavender, a kind of mourning, since the life she was just getting used to might be taken away from her. It’s sad, because the soft pastel she’s wearing makes her seem very much at home in that room full of light colors. Remember how jarring and middle-class she looked like back in the first few episodes? She looks pretty aristocratic now.

Anyway, Molesley comes in (ugh) and brings Mrs. Bird (Byrd? No, I checked the wikia), who seems very timid at first but then sort of snarks at Matthew that she’s surprised that Lord Grantham even knows she exists. Isobel snorts and Matthew doesn’t know what to do with that. She’s a piece of work.

Cut to Bates laying out Robert’s clothes. Carson comes in to discuss the letter that O’Brien got from her friend. Turns out she was a lady’s maid to the wife of a colonel in Bates’ old regiment. Carson feels like Pontius Pilate. Bates is stoic and humble.

London. It’s raining. Again. Rosamund and Mary descend the stairs of Rosamund’s house. Rosamund gives terrible advice about what Mary should do with Matthew, although to be fair to her, it sounds kind of snobby but does seem as though she has Mary’s best interests at heart. Mary would hate living in a cottage as the wife of a country solicitor, even if she loves Matthew. Anyway, Mary’s in that awesome gray walking suit she wore in Episode 2. Another time when she was trying to convince someone (Edith, in the earlier case) that she doesn’t feel for Matthew what she appears to feel, but this time, it’s the opposite. She’s sort of trying to convince herself, along with Rosamund, that she really does care about him him. Her hat is smaller, though, as if she’s less sure of herself, or maybe just less herself, since it’s not as grand a statement as she usually likes to make with millinery. Rosamund is in maroon, which is clearly the color for progressive and/or authoritative women (see Isobel, Gwen, etc.). And, Gwen aside, apparently nosy, intrusive women too. Rosamund makes an interesting prescient observation that of the Sisters Three, Sybil might be okay with living in a cottage, you know, like a normal person and not a lady…

In other news, I can do screenshots now! Hooray!

Carson and Robert discuss the telephone (which Robert appears to be having installed mostly because the “girls got used to it…in London”. God, what a pushover), the brewing storm in Europe, and Bates’ alleged crimes (stealing regimental silver). Nothing much to see here, but dig that library.

The ladies are sitting around. Sybil, in a blouse-and-skirt combo that looks just like the one she wore in the last episode (the skirt is the same, but the blouse is green and pink instead of blue and lavender, and it will turn up on Edith later and look much better on her), asks Mary, “what [they] missed” in London. I’m always a little surprised when Sybil gets enthusiastic about something other than Votes for Women, especially the bourgeois pleasures of society, but I shouldn’t pigeonhole her. She’s only 18. Mary responds languidly that Sybil would have been more popular. She’s very relaxed in a gray cardigan over pearls and a white blouse and skirt.

Lady Mary's Eyebrows have their own Twitter account. Because of course they do.

Granny doesn’t think Mary should pay any attention to Rosamund, and I agree with her! She’s in the formidable-looking mauve and purple walking outfit she had on when she told Robert to get Mary and Matthew hitched in Episode 2 and then when she visited Matthew to try and get the entail dissolved in Episode 4. Obviously her go-to ensemble when she’s meddling in other people’s affairs, but always for the good of her granddaughter.

They debate the merits of marrying Matthew regardless of his position, and Edith, in her dark(horse?) dress and weird Grecian head-scarf-wrap thing, provokes Mary, who snaps at her. Edith doesn’t know that Mary’s been tipped off about the Pamuk Affair, but we do, which makes the exchange all the more delicious. Cora shoos Edith out, but not before Violet mentions Sir Anthony Strallan, which makes Edith grin. Cora and Lady V discuss the perfidy of ladies’ maids (leaving to get married! How can they be so selfish?), and we learn that Robert is always after Cora to dismiss O’Brien. Could it be that he suspects her of something, or is he simply trying to economize by shedding some staff? It would be unthinkable for a lady like Cora not to have a personal maid until about 1950, so I’m betting Robert just doesn’t like her. It’s fun to see these weak spots in the characters develop: Cora’s kind of blind to O’Brien’s many faults, and Robert, as we learn later, is pretty terrible with money.

Servant Scene. Daisy wants to give Cora a baby gift. Awww. There’s talk of war. William is patriotic; Thomas is self-serving. Robert sends for Mrs. Patmore and NinjAnna.

Upstairs, Mrs. P acts like she’s never been topside before. I know she’s nervous about being sacked, but she must meet with Cora somewhere to go over the menus and meal plans. Maybe Cora receives her in the drawing room or something; she certainly doesn’t go down to the kitchens unless she absolutely has to (remember when O’Brien said she shouldn’t be held responsible for things she said in places the Quality wouldn’t be?). Once Robert can get a word in between his cook’s wibblings, he informs her that he’s made her an appointment with an eye specialist in London, and he’s sending her and NinjAnna up there to stay with Rosamund (you always go “up” to London, even if you live north of it). Mrs. Bird will come up from Crawley house and Matthew and Isobel will eat at the Abbey every evening (presumably either Isobel or the kitchenmaid can manage toast and eggs and sandwiches). Anna is perfectly happy to go on her adventure, especially since she has a few things she’d like to look into…

Poor Mrs. Patmore is so overcome she has to sit in her lord’s presence.

After that heartwarming scene, we cut to Mary and Matthew arguing. Matthew’s convinced that Mary’s stalling because she’s waiting to see whether her new sibling will unseat him as heir. Mary is hedging and doesn’t understand why Matthew has to make everything so black and white. He’s in black, she’s in white. So I think she might be right, hon. But there are touches of black in Mary’s outfit (hatband, gloves), and white in Matthew’s (shirt). Something something yin and yang…no, I can’t bring myself to apply that particular cliché. But wait, her blouse is the same color as Dan Stevens’ dreamy blue eyes! Maybe those crazy kids will figure out all out after all!

They're also shot so they look like they're standing about 15 feet apart.

Robert and Bates are discussing NinjaBates’ crime. NinjaBates refuses to give details about the incident (totally ninja), even though Robert thinks there are some weird bits, like the judge’s leniency. I like these scenes because you can see how Bates actually does his job, helping Robert with cufflinks and jackets and brushing his clothes. Back down in the kitchens, NinjAnna refuses to accept NinjaBates’ story. Mrs. Bird and Mrs. Patmore snipe at each other. Molesley and NinjAnna wisecrack to each other a little, and Molesley laughs for what’s probably the first—and last—time in his life.

Matthew broods by the window while Isobel fumes that Mary’s “taken orders from someone with false and greedy values.” Whoa there, Isobel! Even Matthew thinks that’s a little much and orders her to stay away from the Dowager Countess, who I daresay would hold her own against an outraged middle-class mother, even an upper-middle class one.

Robert and Cora are hanging out before dinner, he in his usual white tie and she in the drapey Grecian floral number she had on in Episode 4. They’re discussing the Bates Affair, and Cora is all for sending NinjaBates on his way. Boy, they really don’t like each other’s servants, do they? Robert tells her that Carson thinks Guy Fawkes And His Assistant have been muddying the waters, and when Cora snarks that she should just sack O’Brien, Robert declares his support for it. Guess who’s at the doorway? Awkwarrrrrd.

Cut to GFAHA having a smoke-n-bitch. Guy Fawkes is convinced she’s going to be sacked. His Assistant tries to tell her that with the war coming, it’ll be a good chance to reinvent oneself, but he’s maddeningly obscure about his own plans, and Guy Fawkes looks as confused as I feel once he skives off.

Mrs. Patmore is trying to get Daisy to ensure the family will be grateful once she gets back—by poisoning the food? No, Daisy, you’re so thick! I fear for the family, I really do.

Carson is dickering with the telephone guy (I can’t imagine that there are enough technicians in Yorkshire that he can make good on his threat to find someone else if the one he’s got won’t give them two sets!), when Sir Anthony appears, asking for Edith, who practically leaps into his arms. Edith, honey, cool your jets a little. Sybil appears out of nowhere, for some reason, chats up the telephone guy, whose name is Mr. Borage, it sounds like, finds out he needs a secretary, and promises him Gwen will apply. She’s wearing—what else?—the lavender dress she wore when she got the first letter for Gwen’s job hunt. Well, that was an expeditious bit of plot advancement. Carson, Edith, and Sybil/Gwen, all taken care of. Sir Anthony kind of watches Sybil as she goes. Don’t get your hopes up there, Tony. Stick with Any-Port-in-A-Storm Edith.

Moorfield Eye Hospital. Anna gets Mrs. Patmore set up in her room. Poor Mrs. Patmore. She probably hasn’t been all by herself for more than a few waking hours since she was a girl, and now she’s stuck in this ward with a not-very-nice doctor, or whoever he is, and Anna visiting only once a day.

Anna goes right to the Military-Industrial Complex (or whatever it’s called) in her businesslike gray pinstripe, and starts her inquiry into Bates’ checkered past. I love her umbrella with the spiral gold handle (could it be hers, or a loaner from Rosamund in Belgravia?), and the fact that the sergeant she talks to looks just like Patton Oswalt (I love your #DowntonPBS tweets, Mr. Oswalt!).

Little girl on a big mission.

Daisy, just as put-upon under Mrs. Bird as Mrs. Patmore (life at the bottom never changes) grates something she picked up near the sink into the soup. God, I hope it’s not soap.

The sergeant (seriously, that face! Where did they get this guy?) brings Anna a ledger, which he won’t read to her, about Bates’ military record. But he does give her Bates’ mother’s address, and then swings off. I’m not thrilled about Anna’s hat, but I love her circle brooch.

Mary, in her criss-cross Big X dress from Episode 4, is literally lying in wait for Edith, who’s going down to dinner in the dusty pink dress she wore in Episode 4, only this time, she’s got another odd-looking headpiece, with swinging beaded tassels. What is up with her headgear? It gets weirder with every scene. My guess is that she knows she isn’t the pretty sister, or the clever one, so she tries to liven herself up any way she can. Mary confronts Edith about the Pamuk Affair, and Edith doesn’t deny her part in it, then calls her big sister a slut for good measure. In this scene, Mary’s the one who comes out of it looking, if not pure, exactly, in her whitish dress, at least more sympathetic than Edith with her slut-shaming and her swingy head-thing.

Notice also the cross, which is unusual--this family isn't particularly devout, but Edith is being awfully sanctimonious here.

After dinner, the ladies are sitting around in various gowns we’ve seen before. Cora and Lady Violet discuss their search for a new ladies’ maid for the Dowager while Thomas is right near them, but they don’t specify who the maid is for, so you know His Assistant will take this (mis)information right down to Guy Fawkes. Edith mentions that Sir Anthony wants to ask her something at the garden party to which he hopes she’ll say yes, and the look of disgust and exasperation on Mary’s face is priceless.

Love. It.

The Dowager Countess and Isobel snipe at each other, but this time Lady V prevails. Even Carson has to chuckle at how handily she throws over Isobel and her notion that it was the Dowager who turned Mary’s head. I’m including a shot of the two of them together, because in this scene, they look very similar even though they’re not at all allied. Maybe it’s because Lady V feels out of place with all the new technology raining down on her, and Isobel feels out of place—and out of sorts—with the new complications.

Downstairs, Thomas is going through Carson’s pockets in the butler’s pantry. Molesley comes in looking for Carson, confronts Thomas, and Molesley is such a weenie that he appears to buy Thomas’ story that he (Thomas) was just putting back Carson’s dropped wallet. Jeez, Molesley. You’d lose your own head to a con man if it weren’t attached.

Robert and Matthew discuss the proposal and Mary’s reluctance. Apparently a lot went on at Sybil’s ball—Evelyn Napier’s marriage plans, Mary and Matthew—and it’s too bad we didn’t get to see it.

Servant Scene. Daisy tries to keep Mrs. Bird from eating with the rest of the Downton servants, probably partly so she won’t taste whatever Daisy’s done to the food. Mrs. Bird and Molesley seem to really want to join the crowd, though, because at Crawley House “there’s only the four of [them]”, which intrigued me. We know about Mrs. Bird and Molesley, plus the kitchenmaid Mrs. Bird mentioned when insulting Mrs. Patmore, so who’s the fourth? My money’s on a housemaid, who would have had to clean and tidy the whole house with no help (except for a couple of heavy or seasonal jobs), make fires, possibly haul water up and down stairs if the house isn’t fully plumbed, do laundry, maybe help in the kitchen sometimes, and dress Isobel, or at least tend to her clothes and personal effects. Not quite a maid-of-all-work, since she’d be spared any cooking, most kitchen prep, and whatever Molesley is expected to do as butler (see to Matthew, polish silver and shoes, etc.), but still, a pretty hard life.

Anyway, His Assistant tips off Guy Fawkes that Cora’s advertising for a ladies’ maid (a little information is a dangerous thing!), and then they all sit down for a nice bowl of…ugh, what’s in the soup? OH MY GOD IT WAS SOAP! Surprisingly, Mrs. Bird is tenderly sympathetic once Daisy explains, through her tears, that she did it for Mrs. Patmore. Whew. For a second on the first watching, I was sure we’d actually get to see someone getting her ears boxed (punched), which was a common form of corporal punishment for servants and children back then, and no joke, as it could burst your eardrum. And then Thomas makes a poop joke. So all’s well.

Sybil catches up with the telephone guy because he never responded to Gwen’s letter. She’s got Edith’s green-and-pink blouse on again over her own blue skirt, and I don’t really know what to do with this costume. Anyway, it turns out that Sybil didn’t mention that Gwen was a housemaid, but this guy’s mother was a housemaid and he has a lot of respect for them, so he gives her a typing test right then and there. Poor Robert not only can’t use his library “because one of the housemaids is in there applying for another job”, but he actually accepts this as an excuse from Sybil and doesn’t even try to challenge her. This man has a serious soft spot for his youngest daughter.

Anna’s having tea with Momma Bates. She’s a solid-looking lady in an equally solid-looking and outdated blouse and skirt. Her clothing and living space is very dark, which is accurate for the time and place and her circumstances but also heightens the mood of mystery and wrongdoing. She tells Anna that Bates is innocent but that his wife, Vera, is the culprit, and Bates took the fall for her because he thought his Boer War-induced PTSD had ruined her life. I can’t quite place her accent. Irish? Anyone?

Servant Scene. Carson blusters at his subordinates, who are clustered around the new telephone, shoos them out of his pantry, and then, adorably, practices picking it up and speaking into it a little later. Too bad Mrs. Gordon the postmistress (telephone exchanges were run through the post office back then) thinks he’s stupid, but he told her, didn’t he!

Dr. Clarkson is being escorted out by Thomas, who gets his chance to move up and out by applying for the Territorial Hospitals. Of course, this means he not only gets to shake off his servant career, but also ensures he won’t be drafted. Too clever by half. But apparently Molesley has at least one brain cell working, though, because Carson tells Robert that Molesley reported Thomas attempting to steal Carson’s wallet. Oh my god, Robert, fire his ass! What’s all this dithering about waiting for the garden party and Lady Grantham’s condition? Do you think Cora cares if one thieving footman gets sacked? Incidentally, the advisor for the production has gone on record saying there aren’t nearly enough footmen for a great house at the time; before the war, there would have been at least nine or ten, but we only ever see Thomas and William, even in passing.

Mrs. Patmore’s back and rocking some badass shades! She starts right up again with the snarking at Mrs. Bird, but when she discovers the other cook is an ally against Mrs. Hughes, her Stripes of Authority, and her iron grip on the store cupboard, she changes her tune so fast I’m surprised she didn’t get whiplash.

The Dowager Countess is visiting Cora in her purple-and-lace outfit, while Cora is in that nice pale dress with the pretty shoulder embellishments from Episode 5. The same outfits the were wearing when Violet got the news of the Pamuk Affair and then, for Cora, when she came in peace to repair the breach it caused. Apparently Cora’s mother wrote to Lady V asking to come over, but we won’t see Shirley MacLaine for another couple of seasons, so clearly she headed that off at the pass. Then they talk about the maid problem again, right in front of O’Brien, who goes into the bathroom and seethes.

Anna goes in to talk to Robert, who, befitting a Julian Fellowes nobleman, is totally open to listening to a random housemaid with information about his valet. But instead, we cut to Cora in her bath, and the horrible thing that happens next I don’t want to set down in writing. All I can say is, at least O’Brien reconsidered and tried to stop it, but it was too late.

Source.

Bates and Robert commiserate about Cora’s miscarriage (there, I said it *shudder*). Turns out it was a boy, and Robert is totally devastated. Bates seems strangely unmoved by Robert’s assurance that he won’t be fired after Robert learned what Anna found out.

Servant Scene. Everyone’s very upset, especially O’Brien. Branson shows up—hi, Branson! Been keeping a low profile since knocking out one of the ladies?—and then Thomas, who is disgusting. He also has nothing to lose, since he’s on his way out, but wow, does he ever deserve the walloping William gives him once he insults William’s mother again. Strangely, no one stops them for a few minutes, long enough for dishes to go flying about and a few good punches to land on both faces, until Branson pulls William up and Carson restrains Thomas. I’m equally surprised that Thomas, at least, and maybe even William, wasn’t sacked that minute, but I guess they needed all hands on deck for…

…the garden party! Good job picking the nicest day of the year (which, as we’ll learn, was apparently August 4 that year). Thomas strides around with trays of little sandwiches and gets his marching orders from Dr. Clarkson. So that’s his Season 2 arc taken care of.

Why is the doctor still in wool when everyone else is in summer whites? He must be broiling.

Daisy tries to make up with William, who clearly has not a second to spare at that moment (although if Thomas had a few minutes to chat up the good doctor, why is William in such a rush?), although he promises that they’re friends now that she’s out from “under an evil spell” (hee! Thomas is an evil spell!) and she gets all gooey-eyed watching him trot off with more trays. Down in the kitchens, Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Bird are getting along like a house on fire when the phone rings and only Branson is brave enough to answer it. He goes dashing up to the party (remembering, at least to put his jacket on—can’t have him frightening the ladies in his shirtsleeves!) and pulls Sybil away from a group of said ladies. Nope. That wouldn’t have happened. Even Sybil wouldn’t have risked the gossip that would have come of letting the chauffeur whisper in her ear, then squealing and running off with him, even if she is only 18. She’s out now, remember? She finds Gwen, tells her that the job at the telephone company is hers, and they all squeal and jump in a big group hug. No, no, NO! Jesus, Fellowes.

Pictured: a thing that did not happen, anywhere, at any time, ever.

We can forgive the occasional slip-up of modern phrasing, especially if you’re letting the actors ad-lib sometimes, but this is ridiculous. For one thing, servants were dirty. Between the actors’ shiny hair and excellent dentistry, apparently some historians find the show “infuriating to watch”. (LINK: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/tvandradio/downton-abbey/8980024/Downton-Abbey-servants-are-far-too-clean-says-historian.html ) Think about it: they might—might—have gotten to bathe a few times a week, but servants could only wash their uniforms when they weren’t wearing them, and they only had two, anyway. When I worked as a butler, I changed my undershirt every day, but I was only given two button-downs by my employers, and they got pretty stinky after a week of climbing stairs, fetching and carrying, polishing brass, and other cleaning. I got a few of my own later, mostly so I wouldn’t smell bad most of the time. And I had much less to do than these housemaids, much less soot to deal with (remember that Downton Abbey would have gone through a ton of coal a day in winter) and much fewer layers of clothing to work in/sweat through. And don’t get me started on the chauffeur, who basically marinated in grease and gas and brake fluid and lived in or over the garage. Sybil wouldn’t have wanted to get too close to any of them in that nice white dress or any other time, I assure you. Not to mention the impropriety of a male chauffeur making unnecessary physical contact with a lady and a female servant. Nope. Nopenopenope. So anyway, Mrs. Hughes comes and puts a stop to it (Gwen is lucky; a housemaid could have been fired for that display), sends Gwen back to work and Sybil to her mother so that Branson can’t whisper in her ear again. And quite right, too. Mrs. Hughes would probably have been like a second mother to the girls in some ways. Then she tells Branson to be careful because his feelings could cost him his job and his happiness. He asks her what she means and she’s all like, please, child.

Mary is strolling with Strallan (stralling?) in her lovely striped dress and totally, casually, effortlessly, ruins Edith’s chance at happiness with Sir Anthony by making him think that she (Edith) is dreading his marriage proposal. Sir Anthony takes is like a champ, and you can’t help but feel Mary is somewhat justified—you ruin my prospects, dear sister, and I shall ruin yours—but it’s still pretty cringe-y.

Carson and Mrs. Hughes are patting each other on the back for a job well done (it’s all in the planning!) with the party when Thomas slithers up and announces he’s quitting. Couldn’t have planned that any better either!

Poor Edith chases after Sir Anthony, who at least has the grace not to tell her why he’s leaving so soon, or take her to task about why he hasn’t proposed. She’s all confused and hurt, and then she catches sight of Mary looking awfully satisfied with herself, and the camera lingers on her pout turning into something altogether more aware and therefore more dangerous. At least she took Mary’s advice about her dress, if not the hat. The flat, wide, V-shaped collar suits her much better than that puffy thing she wore to the flower show.

O’Brien fusses over Cora, who’s rallied enough to sit in a chaise lounge and preside over the party, although she still looks sad and drawn. It’s obvious O’Brien feels pretty guilty, and that only intensifies when the Dowager Countess catches her and asks her about the letters Cora’s been receiving about a ladies’ maid. Finally O’Brien realizes that she was never in danger of being fired (just to make sure we all get it, Lady V specifically references the one she was discussing with Cora who did hair in Paris, which O’Brien overheard right before the Bath of Doom), and the full weight of what she’s done visibly descends on her, making her heavy black dress all the more apt.
The Ninja Twins have another anguished conversation. Anna learns that Bates is estranged from his wife, which gives her something to think about as she gets back to work. Molesley sidles up to Bates and asks about Anna and if “she’s got someone special”. Bates puts him off. Way to go, Bates! I hope you’d do that even if you weren’t “keen on her” yourself. Molesley looks gratifyingly bummed, and we shift to Mrs. Patmore and Daisy, who’s back to her old ditzy self after her moment of clarity that got her out from under Thomas’ “evil spell”. Ices (ice cream), Daisy, not iced cakes!

Mary and Matthew are having it out under what I think is the same tree as their last argument. Of course Mary wants to marry him now, since he’s the heir again, but Matthew isn’t having it. It’s pretty painful to watch. I think it counts as a breakup talk, and I hate those. Mary breaks down completely.

Lady V turns on Rosamund for meddling. Rosamund defends herself by saying she has to speak her mind, which is a lousy excuse. Nobody else does, after all! Rosamund is in black and white, which is apt, considering how she sees the world.

Carson comes over to comfort Mary. Aww.

Seriously, no one is having fun at this party except Sybil, Gwen, and possibly Thomas.

Violet and Isobel are discussing the foolishness of their offspring; Violet assures Isobel that she told Mary to take Matthew when she could, and Isobel confesses that she thinks Matthew, who’s stalking around the party in high dudgeon, is making a mistake himself. I love Isobel’s modern suit with its dramatic lapels. Lady V is in her summer whites from 1909, because of course she is.