Downton Abbey, series three, episode eight, ITV1, review The finale of the third series of Downton Abbey (ITV1) contained a shocking revelation. The noble Crawley family - who have endured outrages ranging from a valet being charged with murder to a missing dinner jacket - faced fresh ignominy. Not only was the Earl's son-in-law, Tom Branson (Allen Leech), an Irish socialist, he was an Irish socialist who could not play cricket. For a drama that has often flirted with self satire, the village cricket match proved the perfect series send-off. All the Downton-as-pastiche elements were there: sepia-toned vistas of cricket whites, ladies in linen dresses, Lord Grantham (Hugh Bonneville) harrumphing that he was captain of the team and he was going to win. The nostalgic jollity was almost enough to banish the ghost of Lady Sybil, whose untimely death in childbirth in episode five rattled cocoa mugs around the country. The main plot concerned the sacking of scowly gay servant Thomas Barrow (Rob James-Collier), following his injudicious night-time swoop on Jimmy, the sleeping - and resolutely straight - footman. With gossip beginning to spread, the household was split asunder, not by lines of class this time, but by attitudes towards valet-on-footman romance. The way this played out encapsulated the paradox of Downton, whereby a ludicrous storyline (would Thomas really be silly enough to attempt a non-consensual stealth kiss?) can still somehow yield a deeply satisfying result. Carson (Jim Carter), the butler, took a break from impersonating a cross between an Old Testament prophet and a stuffed black bear, softening up at least enough to let Thomas depart the house with a reference. When this was thwarted by some malicious below-stairs scheming, Lord Grantham intervened, noting that at Eton, "If I'd screamed blue murder every time someone tried to kiss me, I'd have been hoarse within a month." This glorious line gave the poor Earl a much-needed break from the plot arc which has, in this series, turned him from wise custodian of the land to anachronistic nitwit. Perhaps cueing up a fourth series, the writer Julian Fellowes waited until the final episode to make the canny move of bringing in alluring distant niece Lady Rose (Lily James), a well-played bright young thing with a penchant for canoodling with married men in nightclubs. He also left Lady Edith on the brink of another disastrous romance. Despite a shaky start, this series has been enjoyable enough to make me want to see what happens next. The waistlines dropped, the dialogue sometimes soared, and as the Dowager Countess, Dame Maggie Smith showed that American snark was no match for English imperiousness as she saw off newcomer Shirley MacLaine, who played Cora Crawley's mother. Even if Lady Mary (Michelle Dockery) and Matthew Crawley (Dan Stevens) did prove the axiom that the more you root for a TV romance, the less you actually want to look at it cosying up in marital bliss, this is unlikely to remain a problem. With a howling baby now in all likelihood on the way - not to mention doubts about Stevens" availability for another series - surely the doe-eyed declarations of love can't last.