November 9, 2011
by biondino
Last week, we tied up the second division plot strands, leaving us a final, 90-minute (or, if you prefer, 15 minute + ads, cheers ITV) bonanza of metaphorical- and literal- coitus interruptus.
As we’ll see, some of the characters take “sorry dear, I’ve got a headache” to frankly extreme measures.
The key plot drivers, then, are sex and Spanish flu, two things I always try to keep separate. To be fair, as the epidemic overruns the Abbey, sex is the last thing on the minds of most of the invalids.
The same can’t be said for Lord Grantham, whose dalliances with Jane (“I think you know how much I want to help, my Lord”), if ultimately unconsummated, are a rather rum show while Cora writhes in bed for entirely more vomity reasons.
Disappointingly, ingrained chivalry eventually gets the better of him, which is a shame for those of us who heartily share in his taste and were looking forward to this moment, and packs her off the only way he knows how – out of his service, with a hefty chunk of hush money weighing down (but, alas, not all the way down) her petticoats.
You know, written down, that almost makes him seem like a bounder. Cuddly Sir Hugh? Never! Read more of this post
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