The pains have stopped. Nothing will happen yet.

Everything is fine.

(HE SIGHS WITH RELIEF)

You mean it was a false alarm? Not exactly.

These early labour 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 a healthy young woman going through a very normal and natural process.

I think I'd rather be in the 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.

It's always an idea to be prepared.

I expect you're always prepared? I try to be, Mr Barrow.

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.

It's exciting, though, in'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 wanna get Matthew's hopes up when it wouldn't make any difference.

With Lavinia, the disease moved 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 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 realised that the christening will have to be here.

In Downton.

Blimey.

I wanted the whole thing done in Dublin.

Out of sight, out of mind.

But we can't wait forever.

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 a 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. 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.

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

ANNA: But I don't understand. Why was I kept away from you until now?

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.

She saw Vera was cutting 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, and hanged for her suicide?

It was her revenge.

And what a revenge, for both of us.

But 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.

(SIGHS)

Oh, I hope she's burning in hell!

Don't go down that road.

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

I've been thinking about you since we last met, and wanted to know how you were living.

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.

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' 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 has 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, and 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?

She can't be pregnant. He was arrested a year ago.

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

So, what do you wanna do? Um...

It'll need some thought. 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.

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

I think he equates being business-like with being mean.

Or worse, middle-class like me.

The middle classes have their virtues, and husbandry is one.

We ought to get back. Sir Philip thingy's due on the seven o'clock train.

You ought to be there to hold Tom's hand.

Poor fellow.

He's so terrified, and 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.

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'm 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.

Yet what's needed here, Lady Mary, is a knowledge of childbirth, nothing more.

But if it soothes you, then of course.

He's most welcome.

I'm going to check on Sybil.

Sorry to trouble you, My 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?

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'd lost the use of my legs, and..verything else.

But the bruising reduced, and you recovered? I have heard of this.

Well, how relieved you must have been.

Yes, but I wonder now whether the injury might have..ffected 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?

Yes.

Then um..hy 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' 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 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 woman rather than the fall of the Ottoman Empire, but even so.

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 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 would be tarnished by it.

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.

I can 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.

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.

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. 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.

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's born.

I hate to get news second-hand.

Well, you won't have long to wait.

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

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, and do the souffles.

As soon as - Will you just do it?!

Out of my way, quick.

What are you doing?

Haven't you done it? Oh, my God.

What's happened? It's curdled, and it's got to go up in a minute. Oh, my Lord!

Ivy can manage it. Go on with what you're doing. Can you really?

I can.

Now what? Give me an egg quick.

Dribble it in. But it's ruined. Do what I say.

How does that work?

It's magic. It's one of the tricks of the trade.

How have you done that? Just...one of the tricks of the trade.

Well, go and 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'll 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.

(SIGHS) There's nothing more tiring than waiting for something to happen.

Edith, have you written back to your editor yet?

What's this? Edith has had an invitation to write a newspaper column.

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 cancelled, or suspended keeping it hot?

What should I do about dinner down here?

I couldn't tell you.

But...

What do you mean, concerned?

Lady Sybil's ankles are swollen. 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 barber's asking who last cut 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's one thing that I'm 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 toxaemic, 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'm warning you, Doctor, if you wish to remain, you must be silent.

I cannot allow you to interfere.

(SIGHS)

Oh!

Don't be burnt...

(SCREAMS)

Are you all right, Ethel? Only, I heard a shout.

Fine, ma'am. Everything's fine.

It's a kidney souffle, ma'am.

A kidney souffle? 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 souffle.

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 have 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.

(GROANS)

God, I wish there was something I could do.

Just be here.

We can just lie back and look at the stars.

(GASPS)

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's 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.

(SHE MOANS)

(HYPERVENTILATES)

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. 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 criticise her for her charity, but she hasn't considered her actions.

No respectable person - certainly, no respectable woman an 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.

(SIGHS)

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 is confused, and there is far too much albumen hat is, protein - in her urine.

Dr Clarkson, please! Have you forgotten my mother is present?

Please. A woman of my age can face reality far better than most men.

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 danger.

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

An immediate delivery is the only chance of avoiding the fits 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.

You're being ridiculous. Obviously, we have to talk to Tom.

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. That's never a good sign.

Is everything all right? Unfortunately, it seems it is not.

Could we get her to hospital? To move her would be tantamount to murder.

Sir Philip, admit 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'd be at the hospital by now if we'd acted at once. The baby would be born.

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 I am right about her condition, then she will die.

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?

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've taken her an hour ago!

(SCREAMING)

God help us!

(SCREAMING CONTINUES)

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.

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.

(DOOR OPENS)

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 is thinking of getting a job in Liverpool, 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 -

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. Lady Grantham?

Now sleep, darling.

I'm sorry we doubted. No.

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?

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.

It's your move.

That's it. The baby is born.

It's a girl.

Fantastic. 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.

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.

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, wake up! It's Sybil.

(HYPERVENTILATING)

(TRIES TO SPEAK)

Can you hear me, darling? It's Tom. I should be getting up.

Darling, all you need to do is rest.

(SHE CRIES OUT)

Sybil?

My head...!

My head! Sybil? Let me bathe your forehead.

It hurts!

What's happening?

Oh, God.

Oh, God!

God, no, no! What the hell is happening?

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 cannot be, Sir Philip. You were so sure.

She can't hear me. This is unbelievable.

Darling... Somebody do something!

The human life is unpredictable. But you were so sure!

What can we do? Help her, help her, please!

(SYBIL HYPERVENTILATES)

Oh, God, no! Dr Clarkson, shall we take her to the hospital?

There's nothing that can be done. It's not possible, not these days!

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

You don't agree, do you?

Please don't leave me! Help her! Help her, please!

She can't breathe. Please, just breathe.

There has to be something worth trying!

Please! Come on, come on. Breathe, love.

Come on. Sybil? Listen, it's me, my darling. All you need to do is breathe.

We've given her morphine, and atropine.

What's happening?

Please breathe, love!

Please!

She can't breathe.

(TOM SOBS)

CORA: Oh, no, no!

Please!

Oh, no!

TOM: Please, love.

No, no! Please wake up.

Please don't leave me.

Please wake up, love. Please don't leave me!

Please don't leave me, love!

(SHE GASPS)

No! Oh, God!

TOM: Please, love.

(TOM SOBS)

But this can't be.

She's 24 years old.

This cannot be.

(CRIES OF BABY)

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.

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 were my baby.

You always will be. Always.

My beauty, my baby.

I've asked Carson to bring Anna here, Mr Murray, but I don't think it'll 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.

(DOOR OPENS)

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 Grasby's have arrived.

To take her away?

Yes.

And we must let them.

Goodbye, 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 maximise 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've 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?

And the challenge is to get a statement from

Mrs Bartlett before she realises its significance.

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.

Make your 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, my Lady.

We've seen some troubles, you and I.

Nothing worse than this. Nothing COULD be worse than this, my Lady.

(SHE GASPS)

Mama.

Oh, my dears.

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

She is already here. Good, good.

Where's Tom?

He's upstairs. I've asked if he wants anything.

He says no.

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 apologise for our behaviour.

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 did she say that?

Because there is some truth in it.

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

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.

I thought I might move back in here tonight.

I think I'd rather sleep alone for a while.

We should think about the christening. She'll be Catholic.

She's Irish, and will be Catholic like her father.

What were you doing at Crawley House this morning? Who says I was there?

I saw you coming out. Oh, I see.

You look very nice this morning. Don't flirt with me, Robert, not now.

What do we do next?

ANNA: You mustn't do anything stupid.

Promise me.

You won't win over the Christening. Not if you're against me.

I'm never against you, but you've lost on this one.