Rose models her trousseau for Cora, Isobel, Violet and Mary but not her loving mother, Lemon-Face Susan, who has not yet returned from India. We notice that in the boudoir, posture standards relax just a bit, like nudes reclining in a Renaissance painting. Anybody know whatever happened to that charming custom where [wealthy] brides get a pretty new married-lady wardrobe? Those were the days.
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| Oh girl, that one's totally on fleek |
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| And see how twirly? |
It’s the childrens’ hour and Donk teaches Sybbie that old white men always win the game. Do not pass GO, do not collect $200. Edith reads Tom’s private letter over his shoulder. Everyone at Downton is so nosy about everyone else’s mail! He tells Edith he might move to Massachusetts to work at his cousin’s car dealership. Take it from a couple of Americans, Tom, if there’s anyone people like less than a car salesman, it’s an Irish car salesman, so don’t say nobody warned you.
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| Board games are a lot like life, darling--girls just can't win! |
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| I don't think you've thought this plan all the way through |
Denker comes up to collect Violet’s breakfast tray and is all, BTW that Prince Kuragin guy is lurking downstairs in the drawing room, draped lustily all over your sofa. Denker wins extra Lady’s Maid Brownie Points by having already picked out a saucy outfit for Violet to wear.
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| So, like, don't come down in your bathrobe or anything |
The handsome Prince (except, come on now, what’s that greasy ‘do all about?) lays out his design for Violet--he wants to run away with her so they can spend their old age naked together. Despite his undeniably devastating charm, we think this is too big a leap for Violet. Like she would just ditch everything and go? We guessed correctly; she sends him packing.
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| Let's not beat around da bush. Grab your coat and we'll blow dis popsicle stand |
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| OMFG! |
Inspector Clouseau comes back for the ninth time to harass Anna and Mister Bates by asking the same stupid questions, except this time he says their star witness (whom we suspect has been consulting a Magic 8 Ball) is now convinced that whoever heaved Mister Green to his death was a short person (Mister Bates sits up very straight), and he glares at Anna who is already sitting up straight but is still no bigger than a fifth grader. The fact that there are NO OTHER SHORT PEOPLE in London is a very unfortunate coincidence.
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| I'm pretty sure you don't know what you're doing |
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| Whatever! So, PeeWee, is there some reason you didn't tell us that you're short? |
Stan Junior, from Stan ‘n Son’s Stupendous Stonesetters, swings by with some sketches so Robert can choose a headstone for Isis. Remember Isis? Aw, dear old Dog Butt. Robert spots one honoring a dead soldier, and the seed of a good deed is planted.
Hmmm...
Violet supervises as Spratt loads up her luggage for Rose’s wedding in London, and uses her Super Violet Nonsense Detecting Skillz to spot some PFN (Potential Future Nonsense.) Spratt, in an attempt to get Denker in trouble, “left” one of Violet’s suitcases in the house. Violet kicks him in the shins and orders him to go fetch it. Why Violet needs seven suitcases and a jewelry box for a five day trip is another story, and also, WHITE luggage?
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| I only count four suitcases, two hatboxes, and a big ass trunk--hold the phone, SPRATT! |
For the third family wedding in a row (and don’t forget, Rose’s Grand Supreme Deb-Stravaganza!), the Crawley family fails to include Rosamund, who not only lives in a mansion on the next block, but has a full staff, and is as much Rose’s cousin as Robert. Geeze, Julian, you didn’t have to give her a bunch of lines, just INVITE HER! But no; and so rather than borrow a footman from Rosamund, Mister Carson hires Jack Skellington Boney Andy to help out for the week.
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| Boney Andy, at your service! |
Lord and Lady Flintshire, AKA Lemon-Face Susan and her miserable husband Shrimpy arrive, still crabby and sweaty from their train ride from the docks, after more than a year in exile diplomatic service in India. Susan throws a tantrum because (see above RE: Rosamund’s giant empty house) she has to share a room with her husband. EW. We are sorry your wife is such a shrew, Shrimpy! Even though there are fewer people staying this time than at the Deb-stravanganza (we counted) and there were rooms for everyone then!
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| I'M GOING TO HOLD MY BREATH UNTIL I TURN BLUE |
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| Womp, womp, Susan. If only we knew anybody else in London |
Atticus and his parents, Darth and Lady Sinderby, come over for dinner. Susan lobs anti-Semitic comments across the table, which Lady Sinderby bats right back.
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| I've always that you people #~!@/`%^&*)+>? |
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| Yipes! Did she just say that out loud? |
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| At least we're still rich |
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| It's as if I'd trained her myself |
Anna has been ordered to appear at Scotland Yard, where she is forced to stand next to four tall ladies in an old-timey line-up, and the witness walks right over to smell your breath (and vice versa.) Poor Anna, when will someone invent one-way glass?
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| Anna and Mister Bates vs. Great Britain's legal system: round ten |
Atticus’s rowdy posse throws him a bachelor party at Miss Kitty’s Saloon, which operates downstairs at the hotel where Atticus took a room to escape all the many relatives at Chez Sinderby. Your assignment? Try to spot any of these hounds at the wedding.
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| Turn down for what! |
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| I'm good looking, rich, and drunk--what could possibly go wrong? |
We will tell you what could go wrong: SOMEONE could pay a floozie to be photographed flouncing in and out of your hotel room, son! (Is that an actual business, like, on Angie’s List and everything?) At lunch with Edith, Tom, and Mary, an envelope of incriminating photographs is delivered for Rose. We hear the fragile bits of her broken heart shattering on the floor. Teen Rose does not deserve this AT ALL.
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| Oh dear, not a flouncy floozie! Say it isn't so! |
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| I'm going to be sick |
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| So I guess lunch is canceled? Maybe we could get something to go? |
Mister Molesley, Miss Baxter and Daisy spend the afternoon at an art museum. Molesley is, as expected, SUPER STOKED about the ART. Daisy has a culturally inspired epiphany and realizes that spending eighteen hours a day in a basement kitchen, six and a half days a week, for fifty or sixty years is, like, a big old drag. She imagines it would be way more fun to be a Bohemian student in London, going to museums and smoking pot studying art, and we wholeheartedly agree with her.
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| ART! |
Atticus convinces Rose that he had nothing to do with the baudy hotel photos, and although her faith in her fiance is restored, she’s still mighty discouraged because what kind of soulless wretch would pull such a hateful stunt to ruin her dreamy wedding?
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| Well at least you know your sister didn't do it |
We will tell you what kind of soulless wretch, honey: your own MOTHER! Old Lemon-Face herself! And we know because just the day before, that despicable [but not particularly secretive] Susan waved around a mysterious check, made out to none other than Miss Frannie’s Flouncy Floozies For Hire By The Day or By The Hour. Here’s a tip, Susan: You don’t write that in the check register. You write, Patsy’s Positively Perfect Weddings Just Call Us. You are really not very good at this; never mind how we know.
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| But--how did you catch me? |
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| Duh, I checked our ChaseBank EasyPay Online Banking Statement on my iPhone |
Denker strong-arms Boney Andy into a wild evening of drinking (her) and gambling (him) and they roll on in, well past curfew. Denker is way too sloshed to put Violet to bed and Mrs Hughes IS HOPPING MAD. We’re sure the downstairs staff are all too classy to draw a Sharpie mustache on her when she passes out.
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| Shots! Shots! Shots! |
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| Every time a bell rings, and angel gets her wings |
Daisy tells Mrs Patmore she wants to quit slaving away in the dank basement and strike out on her own, above ground. Mrs Patmore gets super sad between the arms and Daisy catches her bawling, and even though we know Daisy could do better, we sniffle too because we don’t want her to go.
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| Please don't cry, it's just a supporting role |
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| Next time you'll get the lead and we'll never see you again |
On Friday everyone gathers for Rose’s wedding at the registry office, which we guess is because they can’t get married in either an Anglican church or a synagogue. Susan makes one last desperate attempt to ruin poor Rose’s happiness. She climbs up on a table and shrieks, HEY EVERYBODY ESPECIALLY THE SINDERBYS; I’M GETTING A DIVORCE! in an effort to force Darth Sinderby, who literally believes Until Death Do Us Part, to stop the wedding. Julian Fellowes, who doesn’t mind trotting out endless murder plotlines for Anna and Mister Bates, must have elected not to have another bride get jilted at the altar, so rather than kick the legs out from under the table, Lady Sinderby gently helps Judas Susan climb down and smoothes everything over like frosting on a warm wedding cake, and incidentally notifies Darth that this wedding is happening--OR ELSE SOMEONE BALD WILL DIE TODAY. Boom! Drop the mic!
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| CHEESE AND RICE you are the biggest whack job I have ever met |
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| Not today, Satan |
The blushing bride, who is still blessedly unaware of her mother’s table-jumping spectacle, enters on Shrimpy’s arm and the ceremony proceeds without a hitch.
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| Here comes the bride |
But then later, at the reception, some tattletale tells Rose that her deranged mother tried to train wreck the nuptials by blabbing about her pending divorce; and Rose is not very happy about that. We’re sorry your mother has no maternal instincts, Rose. If only you knew SHE was behind the flouncy floozie photos, you’d never be able to forgive her. At least your mother-in-law is super nice! And also, although we like the little green blue green blue suit you wore for the civil ceremony, your other wedding dress is FABULOUS.
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| All right, Mummy, what is this, an episode of My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding? |
Tony and Mabel appear at the reception and say hello to Mary, who does her best to be genuinely happy for them. It’s so awkward watching Mary be nice to anyone, but we appreciate her trying.
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| Oh hey Mary, you still single? Want to see my ring? |
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Oh yes, that's the one he used to proposed to me it's very...sparkly! |
Thomas, who is still pretty weaselly, is using his sneaky skillz to teach Denker a lesson for letting the new kid get swindled out of his meager savings. He suggests that the three of them go back to the Fuzzy Fiddle for a snootful of free booze little more fun that night.
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| Luck be a lady tonight |
Thomas wins back all the money Boney Andy lost and then tells the manager Denker’s been cheating him out of liquor for three nights in a row. The manager shakes her by the ankles until enough money to cover her bar bill falls out of her pockets. We are cautiously happy to see that Thomas is using his considerable evil powers to help somebody this time. Can we dare hope he has turned a moral corner?
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| I can explain... |
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| I don't think my father, the inventor of toaster strudel, would be very pleased to hear about this |
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| I didn't commit murder; I'm just a victim of unimaginative scriptwriting! |
Fast forward to a few days later, and all the village residents, upstairs and down, are at the war memorial unveiling. Mister Carson, as the committee chairman, reads a long dreary poem, and then there’s a long dreary trumpet solo which seems to have been made up on the spot.
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| Bla bla bla bla, bla blabla blabla, bla bla bla... |
And then! How did that get there? Courtesy of Stan n’ Son’s Stupendous Stone-setters, there’s a lovely plaque for poor dead Archie. Robert really is trying to win our hearts back, which is good because he’s been such a dope [again] this season. Mrs Patmore (and Marm and Lillian) all boohoo a little.
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| Is that...a little doggy carved on there? |
Daisy realizes that while being a Disney movie star Bohemian art student in London might be a good time, being around the people who love her is more important, and she tells Mrs Patmore and Mister Mason that she won’t be ditching Downton for London after all. Hooray for Daisy! There’s no place like home, right?
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| Heck, there's only one more season anyway |
As they are all walking back to Downton (We guess it’s more respectful to walk places, rather than drive, after funerals and stuff like that), the usually-dim bulb swinging over Robert’s head has finally flickered on, and he tells Cora he is pretty sure Marigold is really Edith’s and dead Gregson’s love-child. Cora is like DUH yes, but don’t tell anyone--we have to have SOMETHING to talk about in the Christmas Special. Robert is so tickled to have figured something out all by himself that he agrees to keep Edith's secret under his hat.
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| You're a genius, Donk! |
Recap by Marm and Lillian
Links By Lillian
Editing by Marm
Captions by Marm and Lillian
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