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Those big dramatic moments were sidestepped rather well. Ross's admission that he wouldn't marry Lady Rose because he didn't want to ruin her life was heartbreaking, beautifully judged and acted with fine understatement by Carr. Ivy's refusal of Alfred's hand in marriage was sweetly done as both realised it wasn't meant to be. Add to that the surprisingly complex Daisy's (Sophie McShera) admission that she had once loved Alfred and that she hoped they would always be friends and you had a strange sort of love triangle, a tribute to the emotional reserve of decades past.

More troubling was the death of Green, presumably at the hand of Bates. The closing ranks of upstairs and downstairs (Lady Mary realised what had happened) was touching in its avowal of loyalty, but the conclusion that he probably deserved it will have made many viewers feel uncomfortable, even if he was a monster. There again, Bates is a tragic hero and like all tragic heroes he will never be allowed to rest. Heaven knows what Fellowes has in store for this luckless valet.

The episode also set up some promising new storylines. Branson (Allen Leech), rather a minor player this series, was encouraged to attend a socialist meeting in Thirsk by the deliciously subversive Cousin Isobel (Penelope Wilton). Later, he met teacher Sarah Bunting (Daisy Lewis), a doe-eyed, pocket-sized firebrand with a contempt for the old order. "Are they not taking advantage?" asked Sarah, her hands clasped suggestively around a jar of gobstoppers as Branson was made to work like a packhorse at the Downton fete. Romance seemed possible for Isobel, too, in the form of Lord Merton (Douglas Reith), a crashing bore according to the Dowager Countess (Maggie Smith), but in truth rather a sensitive soul who might just lift Isabel from her continued grief.

Most characters managed to grab their moment of glory. Special mention to the excellent Kevin Doyle whose portrayal of the bowed but unbroken Molesley managed to convey both a hilarious haplessness and the woes of a man whose existence consisted of a series of disappointments. "Life kicks the stuffing out of you sometimes," he said at one point, and the understatement of Doyle's delivery was devastatingly effective.

Some broadsheet critics are unreservedly sniffy about Downton Abbey. It's true that it's not perfect. There is too much reliance on coincidence (Branson's discovery of Lady Rose and Jack Carr's secret meeting), the dialogue continues to lapse into occasional anachronism ("You can say that again!") and some storylines seem to have barely left the development stage (the idea that Lady Edith would run off to Switzerland with Cousin Rosamund in order to have her baby). But it is unfair to apply harsh rules of cultural erudition to what is mainstream entertainment. And in any case, the Switzerland stuff prompted some hilarious dialogue – "Can you really afford to spend four months reading novels in the Alps?"

It is surely easier to create a highbrow drama that pleases a small elite or a piece of trash that relies on shock tactics. The hardest job for a dramatist is to write something that is populist but also offers some shards of sophistication and therefore appeals to a wide demographic. It seems that, four series in and after many inconsistencies, Julian Fellowes has finally achieved that.