Downton Abbey Series 3, Episode 4

Lady Sybil Branson is dead.

‘The sweetest spirit under this roof’, she perished violently and suddenly following the birth of her daughter. The scene was horrific, the family’s traumatized faces looking on helplessly, the doctors defeated at the foot of the bed.

This was an episode with a plot so secret that previews weren’t even released to critics. The trailer suggested another hour of eddying domestic difficulties, some vague development in the Bates drama and some editorial glory for Edith—who, bless her, just got thrust aside again. But really, there was no hint of the grievous events that would occur; we were totally unprepared.

On reflection, there were sly hints within the episode. Once Dr Clarkson, famed for his wariness of new procedures, starts recommending the then very new and controversial Caesarian section, surely alarm bells should sound. Sadly, he was lambasted by Lord Grantham, painted a pessimistic man given to misdiagnosis (Matthew, Lavinia) and ‘provinicalism’, and replaced by the pompous Sir Phillip. This is an action Cora looks unlikely to forgive. There was a reasonable case for each, hotly debated in the hall, but as the Dowager Countess sagaciously remarked: Cora, in her desperate grief, has chosen to point blame, and has found an easy target in her husband. Throughout the episode various characters, both upstairs and downstairs, reflect upon Sybil’s kindness before and after her passing. Reformed-prostitute Ethel makes a comment in the past tense when delivering Isobel’s honey-spiked tea that proves prophetic indeed.

Fellowes even treats us to a cruel lull, with the Bransons and baby pictured happy and well. Implored to rest and to not worry about Liverpool or Catholicism, the house retreats to bed, alas, far too early in the episode.

In the middle of the night the house awakens at a feverish pace, everyone scrambling out of their beds, Sybil delirious and restless. She seizes up, she shakes and swells, then she stops. Paralyzed, we are shaken by the feeble cry of the now-motherless newborn, the consequences cruelly left to dawn upon us.

I’m reluctant to draw attention away from this climatic sequence, but the comparative minutiae of Bates’ innocence (my, that was drawn out – and what for? Why build up all that dramatic tension just to have it dealt with by Murray out of sight?), Ethel’s disastrous kidney souffle, Thomas’ flirting (‘She’s a lovely person. Just like you.’ CRINGE.) and Matthew’s insensitivity must at least be acknowledged.

For now, though, I’ll leave you in mourning. Sybil’s death may not have such ramifications for Downton’s fortune—unlike Lavinia’s, who freed up both an heir and a fortune with her timely death—however as ‘one of the few people who thought [Mary and Edith] were nice people’, a woman with active views and courage and sense, she will be sorely missed. The Dowager Countess’ wobble in the hallway said it all.

May Jessica Findlay-Brown’s acting career not rest in peace.