And so, we're hurtling towards the exhilarating race of intrigue. My period dramas crave those snarky asides, a delight best savored amidst a gathering's bustling ambiance. Our premiere left the characters scattered like stars in the night sky, but now, they're colliding in a celestial ballet that I wholeheartedly embrace. Loose meteors, indeed! Each collision promises more collateral damage, painting vivid pictures of social scandals—imagine Mrs. Astor harshly excluding someone from next month's charity bazaar meant to aid polo ponies with minor injuries. *Gasps of disbelief echo through the air.*
Gladys has bolted, initially giving the impression she'd escaped Consuelo Vanderbilt's fate by eloping with the uninspired yet seemingly decent Billy. The servants are in a tizzy, their world turned upside down. Larry is furious with Bertha, believing she pushed Gladys to this drastic step. But lo and behold, Gladys is merely residing at Billy's, quite chastely, mind you, perverts aside. Gladys! You cannot dodge the inexorable Wheels of Fate, a.k.a. Bertha's meticulously laid plans, unless you make daring, irrevocable leaps! Truth be told, even if she had eloped with Billy, I doubt Bertha, with her boundless wealth, couldn't have dissolved the marriage discreetly. Gladys would've needed to outmaneuver Bertha, and let's face it, Gladys isn't quite up to that level of scheming.
When Bertha collects Gladys from the Carlton family, Broadway legend Victoria Clark herself, Mrs. Carlton, attempts to smooth ruffled feathers. Noticing Bertha's steadfast opposition to the union, Mrs. Carlton proudly noted that her great-grandfather had signed the Declaration of Independence and implicitly questioned what Bertha's ancestors had accomplished. I'm not privy to their deeds, but perhaps they weren't busy erasing the condemnation of slavery from our nation's foundational document.
Regarding Peggy's health, no more delays in sharing an update. Last week, I confess, I was deeply concerned for Peggy. I strive to avoid spoiling the season's narratives before and during its airing. I feared the worst—Peggy's untimely demise, given her relentless coughing. However, her illness has serendipitously brought Audra McDonald and Christine Baranski together in a scene, mere moments (or years, in narrative terms) after their collaboration in 'The Good Fight' concluded. I understand the magic lies in "acting," yet I'm still baffled by how they pulled off these scenes together without breaking character. The vibes! Oh, the vibes are so strikingly different!
Dorothy's presence is necessitated by Peggy's illness, prompting a visit from her anxious parents. Attempting to discreetly enter via the servants' entrance, Dorothy encounters resistance from Arthur, who insists they all, including the accompanying doctor, proceed through the grand front door. Agnes ushers them into the parlor, where the strikingly handsome physician attends to Peggy, eliciting thoughts of marital status from onlookers. "How delightful he is! Let's hope he remains unwed; so many eligible bachelors on this show end up married," they muse. As he requests hot water for Peggy's feet, a humorous aside ensues: "I could use some hot water for my feet too! Despite the scorching heat index of 112, the heart craves what it desires." Thankfully, Peggy gradually regains her strength.
Agnes emphasizes her family's upbringing in politeness towards all, a value she upholds diligently. Arthur counters, challenging the notion that good manners alone could heal the wounds of 250 years of slavery. Their conversation deepens over shared parenthood, and we are thankful for the talented acting of Audra McDonald and Christine Baranski, who breathe life into these characters.
Downstairs, Miss Armstrong's racist remarks persist, defiantly asserting, "I'm merely voicing what everyone thinks." "No one thinks that," corrects another servant, hinting at the prejudice prevalent in 2025. Meanwhile, the servants grapple with Ada's newfound financial control and her potential enforcement of the temperance pledge. It's worth noting that some temperance pledges permitted beer and wine, giving rise to the term 'teetotaler' for those advocating complete abstinence. While I might argue that the movement's rigidity contributed to its decline, this is not the forum for such opinions. The servants resist signing the pledge, with Marian courageously asserting, "I'm sorry if that disappoints you," a moment of boundary-setting excellence.
Finally, the moment we've all been anticipating: George's return. Upon arrival, he encounters the imposing figure of J.P. Morgan, brought to life with compelling charm by TV veteran Bill Camp. Never did I imagine myself yearning for more J.P. Morgan screen time, yet here I stand, entranced. George and J.P. discuss his ambitious Big Railroad Idea, which J.P. compares to Moses parting the Red Sea—a high-stakes venture with potentially immense rewards. J.P. pledges support but warns that failure would leave George to fend for himself. Could this be a harbinger of things to come? My concerns for George's Big Railroad Idea linger. If this were a musical adaptation of 'The Gilded Age,' George might break into "Never Enough" from 'The Greatest Showman' at this juncture.
Bertha and Gladys return home, following Gladys's fleeting refuge with Billy. George's chaste cheek kiss to Bertha seems almost comically inadequate in the context of 2025's emotional landscapes. Gladys confides in George about her ordeal with Hector, the Duke, and pleads for his protection before departing. As George and Bertha's passion ignites on the couch, the scene abruptly shifts to the kitchen, leaving viewers yearning for unfulfilled narratives. Must we resort to fan fiction—straight fan fiction, at that—during Pride Month, to satisfy our desires?
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That's the extent of our engagement with George and Bertha, even with a bedroom scene thrown into the mix. This bedroom scene, however, turns out to be a heated debate about Gladys's future and who holds the reins. Bertha informs George that he can voice his opinions regarding Gladys's marriage only when he's in her boardroom, discussing railroads and steel mills. She's attempting to empower Gladys through this marriage, but has she even bothered to meet Gladys?
Before diving into "The End of Gladys and Billy," we must address the Fane saga. Aurora and Charles are supposed to host the Young Women's Christian Association that week, but Charles remains unresponsive to Aurora's letters. I understand his desire for a divorce, but his lack of compassion, understanding, and sheer "dickish" behavior are beyond comprehension. At the YWCA event, Aurora informs everyone, including Mrs. Astor, that Charles is unwell and unable to attend. Thank heavens Donna Murphy is there; I've truly missed her presence. Charles ultimately shows up at the event, accompanied by his mistress. Mrs. Astor catches on and departs, while Charles informs Aurora that the woman he's with didn't even want to come, but he coerced her into it. Agnes shuts Charles down in a most gratifying manner, but what would be even more satisfying is crushing all his aspirations and dreams.
The YWCA event marks the moment when Billy is supposed to approach George and ask for Gladys's hand in marriage. Billy approaches George, who's conversing with two other gentlemen, and promptly chickens out. Fortunately for him, Bertha has already informed Mrs. Carlton at the party that if Billy doesn't back off, he'll never work again, and the Russells will disinherit Gladys. Oh, Bertha. Meanwhile, the descendant of John Adams is over here expressing his love, belief, and support for Oscar, offering him money to invest and get back on his feet. Redemption for the John Adams descendant!
Larry and Marian continue their clandestine affair, but in such an obvious manner that everyone seems to be in on it. Larry could have kissed Marian in the secluded alcove by the servants' entrance, but instead, he opts for a parked carriage with wide-open windows and numerous people walking by. Really, what a perfect spot for a make-out session. I can't help but miss the Bridgerton carriage scene right about now. At least there was some semblance of privacy there. Despite this, I genuinely like Larry and Marian, even if Larry had some surprising chemistry with Jack the Clock Boy during Jack's suit fitting. Larry was even clutching a phallic cigarette throughout the encounter. Perhaps Harry Richardson, who portrays Larry, is just naturally great at generating chemistry with others. But I sincerely hope he and Marian tie the knot and live happily ever after.
We conclude with the dinner for Hector the Duke. Right before it commences, Billy secretly meets with Gladys and breaks up with her, claiming their love is "no longer practical." Not cool, Billy. But if you're this terrible, it's probably for the best. Oh no, have I become the next Bertha? Hector brings his attorney to the dinner, stunning George. He assures Gladys that he'll handle it. Will you, George? Really?
