Which Of Downton Abbey's Snitty Sisters Will Get To Be The Girl With The Most Cake?

The Love Shack Is A Little Old Place Where Patmore Serves You Breakfa-a-ast!

Situation: Sgt. Willis comes back to tell us why that guy was hanging around Mrs. Patmore's inn with a camera and notebook: he was an investigator following Mrs. Patmore's first pair of guests, a Dr. and Mrs. Fletcher...who weren't. This female guest was, in fact, married to someone else and chose Mrs. Patmore's place to FORNICATE IN.

What makes it awkward? If the fake Fletchers don't settle out of court, not only might Mrs. Patmore be called upon to testify, but her establishment could be in the news as a "house of ill repute." Carson is, of course, horrified by the thought of Mrs. Patmore's business bringing shame to the Crawleys because she also works at Downton.

Everyone else thinks it's hilarious. Because it is.

How is order restored? Rosamund suggests that the toffs show support for Mrs. Patmore's enterprise by being photographed enjoying tea there, and though Carson tries to make Mrs. Patmore talk them out of doing it, they dare to defy him. Business saved! Thanks, toffs insulated from ruin by social standing and piles of cash!

R.I.P. Bertie's Boss

Running errands in town, Mary's eye is drawn by a newspaper headline about a Marquess who's just died in what everyone keeps calling "Tangiers," which I guess is what it was mostly called then, as opposed to "Tangier," the more common name now. Since she has a vague recollection that Bertie's Marquess boss is always in Tangiers (which, are we supposed to surmise that he's a sex tourist who goes there to hire local boys to service him? BECAUSE I DO), she sends Tom to buy a copy, I guess because a Right Honourable Lady couldn't do something as common as hand change to a vendor. Turns out it totally is Bertie's boss, Lord Hexham, who died of malaria, though whether he did it on top of a pile of "dancing boys" is not specified. "Does this mean Bertie's out of a job?" wonders Mary. Tom says it depends on the heir. "Poor Edith," drawls Mary. "It's bad enough he was an agent -- now he may not even be that." "Don't sound so gleeful about it," snorts Tom. Thank you, Tom, for saving me the effort. (She loves it.)

Daisy Kicked All Her Exams' Asses

Good work. Get out.

Top Marquess

The Crawleys, in their not-especially-warm British way, discuss the Marquess's death so that their more nosy and impertinent questions are out of their systems before Bertie stops at Downton on the first leg of his trip to Tangiers. Edith reminds everyone that the late Marquess was actually Bertie's cousin, which is how he got the agent job in the first place; Bertie was very fond of him and doesn't really know what to do now, since the body's already buried. Former colonist Isobel says that's common in hot climates; Edith knows, but says the question is whether the right thing is to leave it there. Mary comments that it should be up to the new Marquess, to which Edith replies, "Well, that's the thing. He is the new Marquess, Bertie."

Mary, stunned and then suspicious, says that if Bertie were next in line for the title he would have told Edith, but she says he did; it's just not a position he ever thought he'd inherit since the late Lord Hexham was only in his thirties. "But that's absurd!" sputters Mary. "If Bertie's a Marquess, then--" "Then Edith would outrank us all!" finishes Lord G. "Yes, that's right!" He cracks up: "Golly gumdrops, what a turn-up!"

Took the words right out of Mary's mouth, clearly. Tom pushes his luck by adding everyone would have to bow and curtsy to Edith: "You'll enjoy that, Mary." Without missing a beat, Mary sniffs, "Hardly" -- and, since Edith's left the room already, adds, "And if Bertie really is Lord Hexham, which I still don't believe, he won't want to marry her now." "Careful," warns Cora. "People will think you're jealous, dear, we don't want that." Little does Cora know that the time is coming -- and soon -- when everyone will look back fondly on the decorum Mary exhibited here!

Somewhere In My Youth Or Childhood, I Must Have Done Something Shitty

Alert Type: Regret Alert.

Issue: Mary's still having Feelings about Henry, despite having just dumped him.

Complicating Factors: So many! She still loves him, though she won't admit it to herself or anyone else. The news that Edith is possibly on the verge of becoming, like, Deputy Queen or whatever the shit has Mary feeling sorry for herself but ALSO insistently re-convincing herself that she was right not to commit herself to marriage to a relative hobo like Henry. But Tom is still shipping Mary and Henry pretty hard, and insisting to her that she needs to get over herself and get Henry to the estate to talk to her.

Resolution: Tom ignores Mary and invites Henry to Downton.

Spoiler: Mary doesn't like being ignored.

Don't Cry Out Loud, Or Out Quiet

Situation: Bertie, Edith's bereaved almost-fiancé, is visiting Downton for a short stay.

What makes it awkward? Edith's parents and aunt and Edith herself are pretty sure Edith needs to tell Bertie the truth about Marigold's parentage before she accepts his proposal in case he wants to withdraw it as a result, but also, they don't want him to withdraw it as a result of her telling him, so they're wondering if her entering into marriage to him with this giant lie between them would really be the worst thing?

Cora, Rosamund, and Lord G are kind of in the middle of having this conversation when Edith leads Bertie in. Also making it awkward is the fact that no one is sure if he's going to insist upon being called Lord Hexham now, but he says he'll stay Bertie until the funeral service for his cousin; the decision's been made not to disinter him. (Edith says she'd like to come, and Bertie immediately says he wants her to.) The subject turns to his apparently quite stern and status-conscious mother -- who, Bertie says, is "cock-a-hoop" about Bertie's new title -- but he adds that she doesn't understand how devoted he was to his late cousin: "Most people didn't get the point of him. He was so delicate." "DELICATE," YOU SAY? WAS HE ALSO "SENSITIVE" AND "CREATIVE"? Got it, WINK. Bertie: "But he was as kind to me as any man has ever been." "Then how pleased he'd be to know that you're his heir," says Cora gently. Bertie:

How is order restored? "And that's the man you want to trick into marriage," says Rosamund after Bertie's left the room and taken his shocking two-second show of human emotion with him. So: whether or not Edith should come clean is still an open question.

A Way Of Life Is Dying Out

Alert Type: Changing World Alert.

Issue: Thomas has just received another rejection from a potential employer, and reads its closing sentiment aloud to Baxter -- "Best wishes for the future" -- sarcastically adding, "What future?"

Complicating Factors: We've already seen earlier in the season that Thomas doesn't present well in interviews, and the fact that there are fewer and fewer jobs to be had in service is further narrowing his prospects.

Resolution: "Don't be silly," says Baxter. "Of course, that's right," smiles Thomas sadly. "I'm silly, aren't I? Silly old me."

Spoiler: This is a very big house in which Thomas might hide himself away almost anywhere to do almost anything. (To himself. Including physical harm.)

To Sir, With Disdain

Situation: Molesley's starting his job as a teacher at the village school.

What makes it awkward? Oh, you know. It's Molesley, so: everything? He way over-prepares for his first day, making all kinds of historical charts in which his students could not be less interested. They can also smell his inexperience on him and take advantage, failing to acknowledge his authority.

Molesley confides to Baxter afterward that he's worried things will devolve even further if they somehow find out he's in service.

How is order restored? Baxter suggests that he just deal with that one head-on and tell them about his other job, so he does, possibly making it the world's first Teachable Moment as he explains how his own example demonstrates that it's not necessarily true that toffs will always run the country. ("We'll see." - Eton.) He says that education is for everyone -- even himself, a servant -- and a few of his pupils speak up to say that their parents are in service, too. Molesley says that he never gave up on learning even after he went to work: "I read as much as I could, and I taught myself, and I hope to be able to teach you. Maybe give you the shortcut that I never had."

The students are rapt!

Out in the hall, Daisy is proud! Molesley -- victorious at last!

Mary vs. Men

Mary's run out of patience to sit in Henry's presence pretending to read the paper and has, instead, stomped upstairs, ranting at Tom for inviting Henry there behind her back. Henry follows, correctly guessing that they're fighting about him, and Tom's like, BYE. Mary snits that he just happened to be rolling past Downton with everything he would need to spend the night in a gentlemanly fashion, including his dinner jacket: "You were very well equipped to do your car things in Durham." Henry asks how long she thinks he's looked for someone he wants to spend his life with. "Living in my family house?" snaps Mary. "Working to preserve my estate, and being outranked by your own stepson?" "I'm tougher than that," says Henry simply, in a way that sure makes it seem true. Mary whines at him not to make this harder than it has to be, at which Henry lays out his thesis statement for the episode: "If you're trying to get rid of me, I'm going to make this as hard and as horrible as I can." "Well, you're being extremely unfair!" yelps Mary. Meaning, he's not rolling over and doing what she wants, the way every other man she knows (except Tom) has done the entire time she's been alive.

Winner: Draw.

Mary vs. Henry

Dinner has only pissed Mary off more, since the drinks and mingling beforehand just gave her the opportunity to watch Henry's no-fancy-title-having ass and compare it unfavourably to Bertie's.

So once again, Mary's stomping upstairs with Henry following. He realizes, he says, that he made a mistake in coming on Tom's invitation; he just thought he would be better able to make his argument to her in person. Mary tells him she can't stand being "maneuvered," as she thinks Tom and Henry are colluding to do. Henry thinks that's beside the point: "But you see, I think we love each other very much. For some reason, you're fighting it. I'm not." Good start! "My birth is respectable, so it can't be that," he adds. "Which forces me to believe it is my lack of money and position that present the problem. Aren't you better than that?"

Oooh, less good! "It just seems rather small to me: not to marry a man for lack of money is the same as marrying him because of it." Mary starts to shove past him, and when he challenges her, she turns on him: "You push in here, into my home, uninvited, in order to call me a grubby little gold-digger? You've got a nerve." She stomps away from him and shuts herself in her room...

...a touch dramatically.

Winner: Draw.

Suitor Approved!

Meanwhile, the Bateses are discussing the night's fireworks. "She loves him, but she can't control him -- that's what frightens her," says Anna. "She's a bit of a bully, your Lady Mary," says Bates. "She likes her own way." Anna agrees that she does, but says that there's another side to her, and that Henry sees it. Finally, she says she was wrong about him. MAYBE TELL MARY THAT, DANG.

Anyway, whatever, now the Bateses are joining Tom on Team Hary, I guess. That means more to Mary, probably, than it does to me.

I Can Hear The Bells

Bertie walks Edith to her room, asking, "Will you send me to bed happy?" "Sounds like an indecent proposal," she jokes. Bertie is, of course, too upright for any such thing -- particularly since he's the only one in the house who knows Edith will totally throw down with anyone who hasn't put a ring on it; he'd just like an answer, "and a sense that my tomorrow's beginning." "I love you, Bertie," Edith babbles. "I've been in love before -- I won't pretend that I haven't -- but I really do love you."

"The trouble is, I'm not as simple as I used to be," warns Edith. "My life is not as simple. I just need to be sure I'm being realistic, not living in a fool's paradise and dragging you into it with me." Poor heedless Bertie who has ZERO INKLING of what she's hinting around about, just tells her he'll still take it as a yes.

GREEEEEEEAT, THESE TWO WILL BE HAPPY FOREVER FOR SURE!

Badly Done, Emma Mary

WELL, THIS IS GOING TO BE ROUGH, NO TWO WAYS ABOUT IT. Mary comes down to breakfast to find out that her (first) disdain and (later) multiple confrontations with Henry have had a completely unexpected result: he left!

Mary has to take a few moments staring at the buffet like she's been gut-shot. Lord G decides he'd rather not deal and takes off to "write letters" (smoke opium?), at which Bertie says he's disappointed Lord G didn't stay; he has news for everyone and he'd been waiting for Mary to come down before he announced it. Edith cautions him that it might not be the right moment. Mary asks snottily asks why, and Edith points out that, you know, Henry "abandoned" her (that word is a bit much). Mary replies that he didn't; she asked him to go. Tom jumps in to say that if it's good news, everyone's happy for Bertie and Edith, but wishing doesn't make it so! Mary doesn't join in Tom's congratulations even when he prods her, so Edith, to Bertie, is like, "See? I told you. The one thing Mary can't bear is when things are going better for me than for her." Bertie chuckles that such a thing can't be true (though Mary doesn't deny it, because how could she), but Edith knows better: "I'm getting married and you've lost your man and you just can't stand it." Tom tries to shut up Edith for a change, but Mary sees her opening and walks right through.

Uh oh. "Mary, don't," says Tom. Oh, but Mary do: "Well, you must have told him! You couldn't accept him without telling him!" "Tell me what?" asks Bertie.

Ever wondered what it looks like when Edith dies inside? Of course you haven't; it happens all the time. But here's the latest!

Bertie stares at her, waiting for an explanation, so Edith somehow finds her voice and speaks: "Marigold is my daughter."

Ooh, that is not a great look on Mary. I mean, none of this is, but that reaction is particularly hideous...

...and Tom judges her. Poor Bertie is so blindsided that all he can manage to do is push his chair back, ask everyone to excuse him, and leave.

Mary knowing she did something completely monstrous but faking like she didn't is the gross capper to a pretty brutal scene. If only Lord G could have broken the tension by coming back in and puking blood all over everything!

Putting The "Shut The Fuck Up" In "Nuptials"

Who called the meeting? Isobel.

What's it about? The invitation she's received, from Miss Cruikshank, to her wedding to Larry.

How'd it go? Chilly! Isobel breaks from her usual bubbly warmth to tell Miss Cruikshank that her attitude is a "bold farce." Miss Cruikshank, still playing dumb about the rift Larry opened between himself and Isobel, smoothly says, "[Men] dig themselves into a position, sometimes without considering all the options!" Isobel firmly says she won't "rekindle Lord Merton's dreams" unless Larry himself invites her to the wedding. Wow, someone really doesn't want to have to buy a place setting.

Baby? It's Ew.

While Bertie waits for his ride to the train he plans to get on literally as soon as he physically can in order to speed away from Downton Abbey forever, he gives Edith the chance to explain herself even as neither of them believes the engagement's still on -- which, spoiler alert, it isn't. She knows she should have told him everything from the beginning, but she was afraid of ruining everything. Bertie says what she means is that she didn't trust him. "I can't have, can I?" asks Edith. Bertie asks whether she would have married him without telling him about Marigold, and she honestly (for once) answers that she doesn't think she would have, but that they'll never know now. "No," Bertie agrees. "You see, I don't feel I can spend my life with someone I don't trust, who didn't trust me. Do you understand?" She does, and she's "terribly sorry," though she knows that doesn't mean much: "The truth is, my life was about to be perfectly wonderful, and now I've thrown it all away."

Bertie says he'd better go if he's going to catch his train, and Edith bravely says she doubts they'll meet again, so she wishes him good luck, and everything else that goes with it. Bertie, very sadly, wishes her the same.

And then Edith watches Bertie go, and thinks about all that hot Marquess ass she's never going to get to tap now.

Tom vs. Mary

Mary's in her office feeling shitty when Tom enters, furiously spitting, "Well, you got what you wanted." Mary claims Edith and Bertie's breakup ISN'T what she wanted, disingenuously saying she can't believe Edith hadn't already told Bertie about Marigold. "Don't lie!" screams Tom. "Not to me! You can't stop ruining things! For Edith, for yourself -- you'd pull in the sky if you could, anything to make you feel less frightened and alone." "You saw Henry when he was here," Mary shoots back, "high-handed and bullying and unapologetic. Am I expected to lower myself to his level and be grateful I'm allowed to do so?!" "Listen to yourself," sneers Tom. "'Lower yourself to his level.' You're not a princess in The Prisoner Of Zenda!...You ruined Edith's life today! How many lives are you going to wreck, just to smother your own misery!" Mary starts to stomp out, but Tom beats her to it, right after getting the last word: "You're a coward, Mary. Like all bullies, you're a coward." Damn, Tom, you didn't have to tell it like it is! Just kidding, you did. But also, yikes.

Winner: Tom.

Not A Very Private Place For A Suicide

Alert Type: Self-Harm Alert.

Issue: Thomas is about to have no job, basically has no friends, and -- now that he's no longer tutoring Andy -- nothing to live for.

Complicating Factors: Thomas is normally so snotty that when Baxter sees him in a hallway looking kind of weird...

...and later hears from Molesley that Thomas had told him "how he hoped I'd make more of my life than he'd ever made of his," she figures Thomas's sudden kindness indicates that he's planning to kill himself, and races to the bathroom...

...to find out that, sadly, she's right.

Resolution: Baxter calls Andy to come in with her, and the two of them come to Thomas's aid before he actually dies.

Spoiler: Thomas probably doesn't have to worry that much about finding his next job anymore.

Edith vs. Mary

After her conversation with Tom, Mary steels herself and goes in to Edith's room to have a pleasant chat, like sisters, nbd. Noting that Edith is packing, Mary puts on her most casual tone to ask, "Going away?" "Do you care?" spits Edith. Mary tries to defend herself -- but, obviously, her defense stinks, because it stands on a foundation of complete bullshit: "Look, I wasn't to know you hadn't told him. It never occurred to me--" Edith can't with this and yells at her to shut up: "I don't know what's happened -- Tom's made you feel bad, or Papa! Or maybe it's just the same old Mary, who wants her cake and hate me too." Mary tartly says, "I never meant to--" "Yes, you did! Who do you think you're talking to? Mama? Your maid? I know you."

"I know you to be a nasty, jealous, scheming bitch!" Mary: "Now, listen, you pathetic--"

"And not content with ruining your own life, you're determined to ruin mine!" Ohhhhhhhh shit. Somehow, Mary keeps talking, denying that she's ruined either her own life or Edith's, and starting to say that if Bertie, THE MARQUESS, is put off by the SURPRISE REVELATION THAT HIS FIANCÉE, IN THE YEAR 1925, HAD A CHILD OUT OF WEDLOCK AND IS CONTINUING TO RAISE HER UNDER FALSE PRETENSES-- but of course she doesn't get to finish that (absurd) thought because Edith stops her: "Don't demean yourself by trying to justify your venom. Just go."

Edith starts to stomp out, but then stops for a parting shot that is, under the circumstances, actually pretty loving: "And you're wrong, you know, as you so often are. Henry's perfect for you, you're just too stupid and stuck-up to see it."

"Still, at least he's got away from you. Which is something to give thanks for, I suppose." In other words:

Winner: Edith.

How Sharper Than A Serpent's Tooth Is Mary -- Damn, Girl, Take A BREAK

In the library, Mary's being called to the carpet for putting Edith's love child business on blast when Carson enters with tea to tell Lord G where the footmen are, because, like, the thing is, Thomas tried to kill himself and he's recuperating after Dr. Clarkson stitched him up but like it's still kind of a scene downstairs so maybe the toffs could try pouring their own tea for the first time ever? Everyone is horrified and miserable and speechless. Well, almost everyone!

Mary vs. Anna

Anna and Mary discuss the day's events, and the way, as Mary puts it, Edith's "only sister has wrecked her chances of a happy and fulfilling life."

Mary says Edith doesn't think Bertie is going to come around, and when she says she's sorry, she actually seems to be approaching a realistic sense of how horrible what she did actually is.

Anna then makes the mistake of changing the subject to Henry. Mary, through gritted teeth, says Anna's as bad as Tom, continually pushing Henry on her: "We'd be miserable." Anna replies, "As long as you're sure that--" and Mary FLIPS SHIT: "I AM SURE."

Mary regains her composure, ish, to apologize, but also justifies her outburst by lamenting that no one can believe she knows her own mind. Anna's like

Winner: In that Anna can't fight back without risking her job? Mary.

Orange You Glad You Didn't Actually Kill Yourself?

Mary starts the process of working on being a decent person again by bringing George to visit a recuperating Thomas. George presents Thomas with an orange, to make him feel better, and it seems like it works. "At least I've got one friend, eh?" jokes Thomas wanly. "Have you been lonely?" Mary asks, actually seeming interested in the answer. Thomas says that if he has, he only has himself to blame: "I've done and said things. I don't know why. Can't stop myself. Now I'm paying the price." "It's strange," says Mary, "I could say the same."

This moment of communion between the estate's two biggest bitches is interrupted when Anna comes in with a tray, and Mary decides two minutes of humanity is enough to start and she shouldn't risk getting the bends, so she and George had better leave. At the door, she turns back to tell Thomas, "I hope things improve for you. I really do." Does she...mean it? Shit, she really might have learned something this time.

Supergran!

And then the Dowager C is back from her trip, having been summoned by Tom to comfort her heartbroken granddaughters (and bitching on her way in that Spratt wasn't at the house, like she expected him to be curled up in his crate waiting for her). Anyway, since Edith's in London, the Dowager C is starting with Mary, who opens by telling the Dowager C she's not here for anyone else to tear her to strips, because she's sorry...uh, now: "With Edith, I just say things, and then they can't be unsaid." The Dowager C reports that Tom says Mary lashes out because she's unhappy. She's kind of always been like this? But sure.

"Look, if this is about Henry Talbot," says Mary, "you should be clear he hasn't much to offer. Bertie Hexham is a loss, but not Henry. He's well-born, but there's no money, or position. He's not even a countryman -- not really. He grew up in London." "He shoots?" confirms the Dowager C. "YES, he shoots," snaps Mary exasperatedly. "Like every social-climbing banker shoots."

"Tom says that he is in love with you, and that you are in love with him," says the Dowager C, because she's old and she doesn't have all the time in the world to dick around. "Do you believe it?" quavers Mary. "Do you deny it?" asks the Dowager C. Mary downshifts to her default position, declaring that the Dowager C can't claim Henry's status as an only moderately wealthy and connected person is inconsequential, but the Dowager C gives her more real talk back: "Tony Gillingham had all that I could wish -- birth, money, looks. But he didn't suit you....He wasn't clever enough. He wasn't strong enough. Henry Talbot is both."

Mary admits that "it's not his poverty" (uh, good, because if you think it is you should open one of the million books downstairs and reacquaint yourself with the definition of that word). But they've finally gotten around to the real issue, as Mary snaps and breaks down: "Did Tom tell you I stood there staring at a car in flames, wondering if it were him?...I can't be a crash widow again! I can't! I'd live in terror -- dreading every race, every practice, every trial! I cannot do it!" The Dowager C totters to her feet and asks if Henry knows this is what her hang-up actually is, to which Mary says Henry would give up racing for her, "but I don't want that! He'd resent me! Oh, can't you find me some Duke? There must be one spare, so I can put Edith in her place!"

The Dowager C doesn't let Mary default to joking, coming closer to declare, "You're the only woman I know who likes tutting herself cold and selfish and grand. Most of us spend our lives trying to hide it!...I believe in rules and traditions and playing our part. But there is something else." "And what is that, pray?" murmurs Mary.

Céline Dion over here. "I mean, brilliant careers, rich lives, are seldom led without just an element of love," adds the Dowager C.

First, orders the Dowager C, Mary must make peace with Edith. Then she must make peace with herself. And then, you are not going to believe it...

THEY HUG! Their bodies press up against each other! With affection! CAN YOU EVEN?!

Miss Jones, I Presume

And then Miss Edmunds and Edith are meeting the mysterious advice columnist Cassandra Jones, having previously agreed upon a secret word to drop into conversation if they believe the person who appears is, in fact, the writer whose work they've come to know.

I can't lie: this reveal made me clap my hands in glee. Who wouldn't take advice from Spratt? And if this is his ticket out from life with Denker, GOD BLESS.

A Grave Discussion

Who called the meeting? Mary.

What's it about? Henry.

How'd it go? It's kind of one-sided. Mary tells Matthew('s grave) that either he knows everything that's going on with her, or else he's not hearing her now. The truth, she FINALLY admits, is that she loves Henry, and believes the two of them are right together. But she wants to feel that Matthew's happy for her, as she would be happy for him. (She wouldn't -- she'd expect him to pine for her the rest of his days, since no other woman could live up to her memory, but whatever.) "Remember how ever much I love him, I will always love you," she concludes. Matthew's ghost doesn't swim up through the ether to give his blessing...

...but Mary gets the next best thing when she runs into Isobel coming in as Mary's on her way out. Mary says she came to ask Matthew's forgiveness, which Isobel takes to mean Mary wants to remarry. Isobel doesn't know if Mary has Matthew's approval, but she doesn't need to ask Isobel's: "I'm delighted." Even Mary's dead husband's mom knows Henry is a HOT PIECE and that Mary needs to LOCK THAT SHIT DOWN.

Sense And Fuckability

And then Tom is ushering Henry in to talk to Mary and taking his leave: "I've been part of this courtship for quite long enough. It's for you to manage from here."

This scene is such a delight to watch; it's the most chemistry these two performers have had together and they both have obvious fun playing it. Nothing will ever match the scene in Sense & Sensibility (the movie) when Mr. Ferrars comes to explain to Miss Dashwood that he's free to marry her. But this is about as romantic as this show ever gets and I love it.

Anyway: it's still valid, so, Henry asks, shouldn't they just get married without a bunch of fuss and fooferaw? Mary doesn't want any of that bullshit again.

Also it's the season finale.

Maybe You're Not The Worst After All

Who called the meeting? Edith.

What's it about? Forgiving Mary for...everything, basically.

How'd it go? "You know I'm sorry," Mary tells Edith straight out of the gate. "I assumed you would be fairly sorry unless you are actually insane," says Edith wryly. Mary says she doesn't know why she did it, but Edith does: "I've told you. Because you were unhappy, so you wanted me to be unhappy too. Now you're happy again, you'll be nicer. For a while." If that's what Edith thinks, then why is she here? "Because you're my sister," says Edith. "And one day only we will remember Sybil. Or Mama, or Papa. Or Matthew, or Michael. Or Granny or Carson, or any of the others who have peopled our youth. Until at last, our shared memories will mean more than our mutual dislike." Geez, you didn't have to tell it like it is. Mary asks what Edith thinks Matthew would make of all this, and Edith -- much more kindly than Mary really deserves -- says simply, "Matthew loved you, and wanted you to be happy." It's not the most emotional reconciliation imaginable, but it is true to both these characters, and the wedding would have been really grim if it hadn't happened, so I'll take it.

As the guests head to the chapel, Lord Merton tells Isobel that he heard Miss Cruikshank called on her: "Was it productive?" "That rather depends on him," says Isobel firmly. Lord Merton tries to push it, but the Dowager C's got her girl's back: "The ball is in Larry's court, Lord Merton. Only he can play it." PLEASE let this be building to a scene where the Dowager C beats Larry to death with her cane.

Henry and Mary have a very solemn wedding!

Guests are...happy for them? Is that what these expressions indicate? I'M ASKING.

Petals are thrown! Affection is publicly displayed!

In the carriage on its way to the reception, Mary drawls, "Well, Mr. Talbot, you have swept me off my feet." "I promise you won't be sorry," Henry replies. "I'd better not be." I mean sometimes it's honestly like she's blind and deaf.

"It seems all our ships are coming into port," says Lord G as Henry and Mary's carriage pulls away. "And Edith?" asks Cora. "Of all my children, Edith has given me the most surprises," says Lord G fondly. "Surprises of the most mixed variety," cracks the Dowager C. "A surprise is a surprise, Mama," says Lord G, "and I'm sure we haven't seen the last one yet." Probably not. There's still a Christmas special!

Speaking of Edith: she's cheerfully watching the kids gamboling around Sybil's crypt! WHAT A PERFECTLY WONDERFUL END TO A FESTIVE DAY!