So, just to say, this article is not mine, all the credit goes to MarlyK from Basket of Kisses here:
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Mathew Crawley and his Mum, Isobel, ride in one of those gorgeous cars that had to be hand-cranked. Matthew looks cranky. He is. You, too, would be in a foul mood if you’d been told toi were about to inherit a beautiful castle, a large fortune, a title, and a household of servants to wait on toi hand and foot. Isobel, his momma, chides him, “There’s no legal mechanism for toi to refuse it. When toi inherit, toi can throw it away!” What else is an inheritance for, anyway?
Things get worse as soon as they arrive. Some guy in a suit and tie comes out and introduces himself as Molesley, the butler and valet. He offers to help them with their bags. (Many years into the future, Molesley will quit this cabriolet, gig and invent a a nifty notebook he’ll call a Moleskin. He’ll get the idea for the name from a mohel.) While Matthew kvetches, Isobel takes to her new-found status like a canard to water and lets Molesley carry the bags. Matthew goes on a tirade about the Earl: “Let’s see what he says when he finds out his heir is a middle-class lawyer – the son of a middle-class doctor!” (Matthew, dear, there’s a magical place called the Upper West Side where this makes toi practically royalty.)
After much grumbling, Isobel finally gets her son into the house. It is lovely, sun-drenched, and airy. But, of course, Matthew complains that there are too many servants. (I can’t tell if Matt is a brat ou a communist.) Finally, Matthew lets out that he’s terrified that the Earl wants to change him. So the song in his cœur, coeur is not “The Internationale,” it’s “I Gotta Be Me!” Plus, he exclaims, “They’re going to push one of their daughters on me!”
Enter Lady Mary. She is not amused. Matthew gazes at her, lovestruck. She sure does look striking in jodhpurs, wielding a riding crop! Lady Mary announces that they’re invited to a welcome dîner at Downton, then promptly turns on her heels and leaves. A flustered Matthew finally manages to take his foot out of his mouth so he can run after her. He apologizes, but she just gets on her horse and rides off. Welcome to Downton!
It’s fancy schmancy dinnertime. Mercifully, Isobel convinced her son not to wear his Che Guevara shirt. The entire estate greets them in a receiving line, just like at a wedding! No wonder Matthew looks nervous.
Isobel asks Violet, aka the Dowager Countess, what they should call each other. “How about Mrs. Crawley and Lady Grantham?” Yes, that’s much plus a proposthan “beeyotch”. Something tells me this is going to be a very awkward dinner.
Sure enough, everyone is rude to the newly arrived Crawleys. For shame, Downton peeps! I expected plus hypocrisy out of you.
At dinner, Matthew shocks the Earl par informing him that he’s taken a job in town as a lawyer. Who’s going to take care of the estate, the Earl wants to know. Matthew will. On the weekends. “What is a weekend?” Lady violet asks. Indeed! I prefer a mois of Sundays myself.
But all the servants are too distracted par William the footman’s teensy weensy tear in his veste to take umbrage at Lady Violet’s Marie Antoinette impression. Between courses, Carson the butler tells William, “You will mend it now and toi will never again present yourself in public in a similar state of undress!” Clearly, Carson has never visited New York City in the summer, where toi become acquainted with many a Brazilian, whether toi want to ou not. And I don’t mean Pele.
Lady Mary tells the Greek myth about Andromeda and thus has the opportunity to call Matthew a monster. She longs for Perseus to rescue her. No one has bothered to explain to Mary how the Ancient Greeks kept the population low. Matthew looks very peeved. If she keeps this up, he just might tell her. Lady Cora graciously steers the conversation to plus neutral ground par mentioning that Isobel might be interested in the hospital. Phew! That was a long dinner. Please excuse me while I quaff some Alka Seltzer.
The suivant day, Isobel drops par the hospital. As the doctor shows her around, she notices a very ill young man. The doctor informs her that he’s a farmer suffering from dropsy of the heart. It’s a pity he’s so sick, too, because he has a wife and young children. Once he’s gone, the poor lady will have to fend for herself. But Isobel suggests a revolutionary treatment that she observed her husband perform on several occasions. The doctor turns her down.
Meanwhile, Bates sees old Carson sneaking into a house. Hmm.
Lady Violet, in the meantime, talks to her son, the Earl, about the prospect of marrying Mary off to monstrous Matthew. “I thought toi didn’t like him!” puzzles the Earl. “So what? I have plenty of Friends I don’t like! Why do toi always have to pretend to be nicer than the rest of us?” Nice people are so annoyingly perplexing.
Downstairs, the maids Anna and Gwen gossip about the prospect of Lady Mary marrying Matthew. And no sooner are tongues wagging than Lady Cora and the Dowager Countess put the plan in motion par visiting Isobel. Poor Matthew. No wonder he won’t let Molesley dress him. He’s afraid he’ll slip him the noose. But Lady Cora and the countess make a hasty retreat, disgusted par Matthew’s insistence on serving himself.
And, downstairs in the pantry, could it be? No! Why, yes, Anna, toi just saw Carson stealing food. Carson has either a secret ou a tapeworm.
Isobel must’ve let Molesley do the dishes because all of a sudden she’s back in the hospital again. The farmer is on his last legs. She insists that the doctor try the treatment. He turns her down again, adding: “Don’t force me to be uncivil!” I am so totally going to use that on the subway. And then I will cuss people out.
All the servants are a-rumblin’ and grumblin’ that they will not kowtow to the Crawleys. All right, maybe not all the servants. It’s just O’Brien, who is running off at the mouth and, yay! Lady Cora happens to come down and overhear. In her inimitably polite manner, Cora cuts her down.
Upstairs, the three daughters are hanging out in Lady Mary’s room, talking about Matthew. Lady Edith, the redheaded one, says that she’d gladly marry Matthew, if Lady Mary won’t. As Lady Mary complains about Matthew’s vulgarian ways, Lady Edith sneakily reads a letter from a certain Evelyn Napier. And before toi can say “Boston marriage,” let me remind toi that Evelyn was originally a boy’s name. Anyway, Cora has a knack for montrer up on cue, and orders her two youngest out so she can have a word with Lady Mary—who won’t let her have a word in edgewise. She’s too busy complaining about that crass lawyer. Mary, toi fool, marrying a lawyer is practically like being single, except with tax benefits. You’ll never see him, he’ll be too busy lire his clients’ constant barrage of e-mails. Cora finally shouts, “For once in your life, will toi please just listen?” I know! Cora shouting! But, of course, Mary won’t budge: “Marry a man who can barely hold a couteau like a gentleman?” Ah, those spoiled Edwardian women actually expected their men to be trained BEFORE they married them!
The plot thickens. A dandy guy in a brown suit rings the doorbell at Downton. The two footmen are out so Bates réponses the door. This guy is low-class. The brown suit’s the tip-off. Anyway, the man insists on talking to the Earl. Stupidly, Bates leaves the door ajar as he tries to gather his wits. The man barges in and sits his fanny down on the Earl’s favori chair. Lady Sybil, the youngest daughter, who hasn’t been donné a storyline yet because she’s a suffragist and was probably chained to a gate, arrives and decides to stay and watch. The man becomes plus demanding. Enter the Earl. Finally, a mortified Carson appears. He confesses that he’s been housing this dubious subject in one of the vacant houses on the estate and stealing from the pantry in order to feed him. The dandy was blackmailing poor Carson, threatening to tell the Earl that they had a two-man act on the stage, The Cheerful Charlies! I’m plus shocked to learn that Carson has a first name. Regardless, Carson submits his resignation, whereupon the Earl pays the other Charlie a paltry sum to get the eff out of there. Carson is to stay on as butler, because “we all have chapters we would rather keep unpublished.” Well, in the 21st Century, we refuse to let people blackmail us! We humiliate ourselves first, par posting it on Facebook.
Lady Grantham has gotten word that Isobel is trying to play doctor. She’s about to get out the smelling salts when she sees that it’s meant literally. Isobel’s pressuring the doctor to try the new procedure. Now Lady Grantham’s really appalled! The suivant time she hears that Isobel’s shown up at the hospital, syringe in hand, she gets on her horse to rescue the young farmer from Isobel’s meddling.
Sure enough, Isobel has persuaded the farmer’s wife that the doctor should try the new procedure on her husband. Lady Grantham arrives and tries to dissuade her. But the wife is courageous. And then, the doctor takes the syringe that Isobel offers him and, right then and there, sticks it into the farmer’s chest, in full view of everyone. Well, that shut Lady Grantham up. If the sight of the fluid draining into a vial doesn’t turn her off afternoon thé forevermore, she’s stronger than I am.
When I come to, everyone is off to see Isobel’s investiture as the first chair-lady on the hospital’s board of directors. The doctor gives a lovely little speech about how Mrs. Crawley, the first chair-lady, has graciously agreed to share her duties with the President of the Board, the Dowager Countess of Grantham. “The hospital will surely thrive with these doughty champions, united as they are par the strongest ties of all, family and friendship!” Ah, the British are ever so gracious!
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Mathew Crawley and his Mum, Isobel, ride in one of those gorgeous cars that had to be hand-cranked. Matthew looks cranky. He is. You, too, would be in a foul mood if you’d been told toi were about to inherit a beautiful castle, a large fortune, a title, and a household of servants to wait on toi hand and foot. Isobel, his momma, chides him, “There’s no legal mechanism for toi to refuse it. When toi inherit, toi can throw it away!” What else is an inheritance for, anyway?
Things get worse as soon as they arrive. Some guy in a suit and tie comes out and introduces himself as Molesley, the butler and valet. He offers to help them with their bags. (Many years into the future, Molesley will quit this cabriolet, gig and invent a a nifty notebook he’ll call a Moleskin. He’ll get the idea for the name from a mohel.) While Matthew kvetches, Isobel takes to her new-found status like a canard to water and lets Molesley carry the bags. Matthew goes on a tirade about the Earl: “Let’s see what he says when he finds out his heir is a middle-class lawyer – the son of a middle-class doctor!” (Matthew, dear, there’s a magical place called the Upper West Side where this makes toi practically royalty.)
After much grumbling, Isobel finally gets her son into the house. It is lovely, sun-drenched, and airy. But, of course, Matthew complains that there are too many servants. (I can’t tell if Matt is a brat ou a communist.) Finally, Matthew lets out that he’s terrified that the Earl wants to change him. So the song in his cœur, coeur is not “The Internationale,” it’s “I Gotta Be Me!” Plus, he exclaims, “They’re going to push one of their daughters on me!”
Enter Lady Mary. She is not amused. Matthew gazes at her, lovestruck. She sure does look striking in jodhpurs, wielding a riding crop! Lady Mary announces that they’re invited to a welcome dîner at Downton, then promptly turns on her heels and leaves. A flustered Matthew finally manages to take his foot out of his mouth so he can run after her. He apologizes, but she just gets on her horse and rides off. Welcome to Downton!
It’s fancy schmancy dinnertime. Mercifully, Isobel convinced her son not to wear his Che Guevara shirt. The entire estate greets them in a receiving line, just like at a wedding! No wonder Matthew looks nervous.
Isobel asks Violet, aka the Dowager Countess, what they should call each other. “How about Mrs. Crawley and Lady Grantham?” Yes, that’s much plus a proposthan “beeyotch”. Something tells me this is going to be a very awkward dinner.
Sure enough, everyone is rude to the newly arrived Crawleys. For shame, Downton peeps! I expected plus hypocrisy out of you.
At dinner, Matthew shocks the Earl par informing him that he’s taken a job in town as a lawyer. Who’s going to take care of the estate, the Earl wants to know. Matthew will. On the weekends. “What is a weekend?” Lady violet asks. Indeed! I prefer a mois of Sundays myself.
But all the servants are too distracted par William the footman’s teensy weensy tear in his veste to take umbrage at Lady Violet’s Marie Antoinette impression. Between courses, Carson the butler tells William, “You will mend it now and toi will never again present yourself in public in a similar state of undress!” Clearly, Carson has never visited New York City in the summer, where toi become acquainted with many a Brazilian, whether toi want to ou not. And I don’t mean Pele.
Lady Mary tells the Greek myth about Andromeda and thus has the opportunity to call Matthew a monster. She longs for Perseus to rescue her. No one has bothered to explain to Mary how the Ancient Greeks kept the population low. Matthew looks very peeved. If she keeps this up, he just might tell her. Lady Cora graciously steers the conversation to plus neutral ground par mentioning that Isobel might be interested in the hospital. Phew! That was a long dinner. Please excuse me while I quaff some Alka Seltzer.
The suivant day, Isobel drops par the hospital. As the doctor shows her around, she notices a very ill young man. The doctor informs her that he’s a farmer suffering from dropsy of the heart. It’s a pity he’s so sick, too, because he has a wife and young children. Once he’s gone, the poor lady will have to fend for herself. But Isobel suggests a revolutionary treatment that she observed her husband perform on several occasions. The doctor turns her down.
Meanwhile, Bates sees old Carson sneaking into a house. Hmm.
Lady Violet, in the meantime, talks to her son, the Earl, about the prospect of marrying Mary off to monstrous Matthew. “I thought toi didn’t like him!” puzzles the Earl. “So what? I have plenty of Friends I don’t like! Why do toi always have to pretend to be nicer than the rest of us?” Nice people are so annoyingly perplexing.
Downstairs, the maids Anna and Gwen gossip about the prospect of Lady Mary marrying Matthew. And no sooner are tongues wagging than Lady Cora and the Dowager Countess put the plan in motion par visiting Isobel. Poor Matthew. No wonder he won’t let Molesley dress him. He’s afraid he’ll slip him the noose. But Lady Cora and the countess make a hasty retreat, disgusted par Matthew’s insistence on serving himself.
And, downstairs in the pantry, could it be? No! Why, yes, Anna, toi just saw Carson stealing food. Carson has either a secret ou a tapeworm.
Isobel must’ve let Molesley do the dishes because all of a sudden she’s back in the hospital again. The farmer is on his last legs. She insists that the doctor try the treatment. He turns her down again, adding: “Don’t force me to be uncivil!” I am so totally going to use that on the subway. And then I will cuss people out.
All the servants are a-rumblin’ and grumblin’ that they will not kowtow to the Crawleys. All right, maybe not all the servants. It’s just O’Brien, who is running off at the mouth and, yay! Lady Cora happens to come down and overhear. In her inimitably polite manner, Cora cuts her down.
Upstairs, the three daughters are hanging out in Lady Mary’s room, talking about Matthew. Lady Edith, the redheaded one, says that she’d gladly marry Matthew, if Lady Mary won’t. As Lady Mary complains about Matthew’s vulgarian ways, Lady Edith sneakily reads a letter from a certain Evelyn Napier. And before toi can say “Boston marriage,” let me remind toi that Evelyn was originally a boy’s name. Anyway, Cora has a knack for montrer up on cue, and orders her two youngest out so she can have a word with Lady Mary—who won’t let her have a word in edgewise. She’s too busy complaining about that crass lawyer. Mary, toi fool, marrying a lawyer is practically like being single, except with tax benefits. You’ll never see him, he’ll be too busy lire his clients’ constant barrage of e-mails. Cora finally shouts, “For once in your life, will toi please just listen?” I know! Cora shouting! But, of course, Mary won’t budge: “Marry a man who can barely hold a couteau like a gentleman?” Ah, those spoiled Edwardian women actually expected their men to be trained BEFORE they married them!
The plot thickens. A dandy guy in a brown suit rings the doorbell at Downton. The two footmen are out so Bates réponses the door. This guy is low-class. The brown suit’s the tip-off. Anyway, the man insists on talking to the Earl. Stupidly, Bates leaves the door ajar as he tries to gather his wits. The man barges in and sits his fanny down on the Earl’s favori chair. Lady Sybil, the youngest daughter, who hasn’t been donné a storyline yet because she’s a suffragist and was probably chained to a gate, arrives and decides to stay and watch. The man becomes plus demanding. Enter the Earl. Finally, a mortified Carson appears. He confesses that he’s been housing this dubious subject in one of the vacant houses on the estate and stealing from the pantry in order to feed him. The dandy was blackmailing poor Carson, threatening to tell the Earl that they had a two-man act on the stage, The Cheerful Charlies! I’m plus shocked to learn that Carson has a first name. Regardless, Carson submits his resignation, whereupon the Earl pays the other Charlie a paltry sum to get the eff out of there. Carson is to stay on as butler, because “we all have chapters we would rather keep unpublished.” Well, in the 21st Century, we refuse to let people blackmail us! We humiliate ourselves first, par posting it on Facebook.
Lady Grantham has gotten word that Isobel is trying to play doctor. She’s about to get out the smelling salts when she sees that it’s meant literally. Isobel’s pressuring the doctor to try the new procedure. Now Lady Grantham’s really appalled! The suivant time she hears that Isobel’s shown up at the hospital, syringe in hand, she gets on her horse to rescue the young farmer from Isobel’s meddling.
Sure enough, Isobel has persuaded the farmer’s wife that the doctor should try the new procedure on her husband. Lady Grantham arrives and tries to dissuade her. But the wife is courageous. And then, the doctor takes the syringe that Isobel offers him and, right then and there, sticks it into the farmer’s chest, in full view of everyone. Well, that shut Lady Grantham up. If the sight of the fluid draining into a vial doesn’t turn her off afternoon thé forevermore, she’s stronger than I am.
When I come to, everyone is off to see Isobel’s investiture as the first chair-lady on the hospital’s board of directors. The doctor gives a lovely little speech about how Mrs. Crawley, the first chair-lady, has graciously agreed to share her duties with the President of the Board, the Dowager Countess of Grantham. “The hospital will surely thrive with these doughty champions, united as they are par the strongest ties of all, family and friendship!” Ah, the British are ever so gracious!
