Part 1 - On the way to the Village
Monday, the 5th of November, 1928, Guy Fawkes Day, had been chilly since morning, and had it been any other day but this, seven year old George Crawley, Viscount Downton, would not have wanted to go out into the cold. But that afternoon, Matthew, Lord Grantham, earnestly wanted to take his elder son to see the great bonfire in Downton Village square.
'… darling, I promise I won't let him catch a chill… oh, please, won't you let me take him? He's never seen such a thing before, and Mother started taking me when I was his age. It'll be fun.'
Two pairs of bright blue eyes took on the sweetest, most puppy-like expression. How could the lovely Lady Mary, Matthew's Countess, refuse father and son, though she would not have them with her and the other children that evening until it was past the lad's bedtime?
'Oh, all right, Matthew, dearest,' Mary replied, brushing her husband's hair behind his ear, 'but you must come home before a youngster's curfew, or I shall worry about two of my darling boys.'
That other darling boy, eighteen month old William, presently slept, having been lulled to sleep a few hours before with one of Rudyard Kipling's Just So Stories as read by his father. At four and a half, little Lady Violet did not like to take naps and hid in her mother's skirts at the moment, playing a game of peek-a-boo with Matthew. With her dark, curling hair and vivid blue eyes, she who had once been a certain merry twinkle in her father's had also been a joy from the day she was born.
'Daddy, I see you!' the child squealed, wearing an expression that reminded Matthew of her mother in a teasing mood. 'You can't hide from me!'
'But you are hiding from me, my Lollipop Queen, aren't you? Does your Mama know where you are?' Matthew asked his daughter playfully.
'Eeee-yesssss,' Violet replied, emerging from behind Mary to speak to her father.
'Well then, sweet Violet, I suppose it will be a secret until I come find you.'
She then ran to Matthew and threw her arms around his legs.
'You don't have to find me, Daddy, I came to you!' Violet exclaimed, smiling brightly as Matthew swept her up into his arms.
'I'm so happy you did,' he smiled back, kissing her cheek soundly as she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck. 'Now, will you promise to be a good girl for your Mama tonight?'
'I will, Daddy. I love Mama. I love you too!'
'That's my little girl…' Matthew said proudly.
In the twilight, Matthew drove a 2 year old Morris Cowley to Downton Village, with an excited George by his side in the front seat. It made a lovely family car and purred like a kitten. Before little William was born, the Crawleys had even gone all the way to Manchester and back a few times. Right now the headlights gave a steady glow so father and son could see ahead of them.
'Dad, Miss Bunting told me and Sybbie all about Guy Fawkes Day today at our lessons,' George piped up.
'So she did…' Matthew replied. 'And what did she say?'
The lad became very animated as he began to tell his father.
'That people light bonfires now just like they did when King James's life was saved. Guy Fawkes was a bad man because he and his friends wanted to blow up the House of Lords! Don't you go to the House of Lords, sometimes, Dad? Mama said so…'
'I do, maybe once every few months when they talk about the law,' Matthew said. 'I'm glad nobody wants to blow up the place nowadays! People like King George, and you know you were named after him, don't you?'
'I'll never forget it, either,' George smiled.
The boy had a charming grin, just like his father; even more so lately because one of his front teeth was growing back in at the moment.
'I think the Mayor will be reading a Proclamation from His Majesty tonight before the fire is lit…' Matthew mused aloud.
'What's a proclamation, Dad?' George asked.
'A proclamation is a very important announcement that is almost like a law,' his father replied.
By now Matthew and George had left the grounds of the estate and were headed towards Downton Village on the same way the Crawleys took to Nana Isobel's house.
'Is Nana going to be at the bonfire, Dad?'
'Oh, I suppose so! After all, it will be great fun, and there will be drinking chocolate because it is a bit chilly outside.'
'Nana makes the BEST drinking chocolate!' the boy exulted.
And Matthew concurred wholeheartedly, for that same drinking chocolate had nourished him at that tender, normally excitable age of seven.