Spring 1939
Amelia Charlotte Drewe sat at the bedside of her father, rubbing his hand gently as he stared up at the ceiling, mumbling to himself, the smell of death hanging in the air. No one had left the house today, knowing it would be his last, and with 8 mouths to feed, it was not an easy task, dropping the work they depended on, but this was more important to the Drewe children, to be with their last remaining parent before he died.
Their mother had been taken from them only 3 years ago with the birth of little Maggie, named for their mother, Margaret. Ever since then, Timothy Drewe had not been the same, his health deteriorating greatly, and now, at just shy of his 56th birthday, he was dying of what the doctors called pancreatic cancer. There was nothing they could do, and it meant each day had to be treated as his last. The diagnosis had only been made 4 months ago and it had taken every bit of him since, each day the man getting sicker and sicker, his children watching with helplessly.
The once handsome man was unrecognizable to anyone who may have known him, his skin sallow and peeling, his stomach distended to the point of looking as if it was going to pop. His once thick, dark hair had become thin and dusky and his eyes, once full of life, were hallow, lifeless. Even his limbs had gone from being all muscle to skeleton like sticks, unable to support his weight, to even hold a glass. Timothy Drewe was at the end of his suffering, his children taking on the entire work load of the farm and house. He had once be the commander of, running the farm with his team of children, each task getting done with nothing but smiles and laughter, but now the title was on Timothy Jr.'s shoulders, big shoes to fill for the man and his young bride, but it was a task he had no choice but to take, especially with how close they had come to losing the farm. They couldn't loose it again. The girls, Lillian and Amelia, had already taken on the role of mother to the young ones, Lillian taking the lead, Amelia following just behind her, both girl trying to do everything to stay strong, maintain normalcy for the household, but how could they without their father to tell them how good a job they were doing, that their mother would be proud.
The laughter and smiles were gone, and within the walls of the small farm house, the blonde girl could hear the sound of her younger siblings, Maggie, Elizabeth, and Edward, weeping, each distinctive from each other, Amelia's ears trained to know the difference in their cries from year of coming to their aid, having been the one to wake up to care for the baby Maggie throughout infancy, to nurse all of the young one when they were scared or sick. She could hear Tim trying to keep everyone calm, his wife, Katherine, probably rubbing his shoulders, Lillian singing softly and even the muttering of John praying to God. They had all had their turn to say goodbye, and as much as she wasn't ready to, Amelia was the last.
"I love you so much." Timothy muttered just loud enough for his daughter to hear. "You know….you know the truth." He was delirious, had been for a week now, the doctors saying his body was collecting toxins which were affecting his mind, but the girl knew what he was talking about. The fact she was adopted was no secret to her. It was a fact that was obvious from one look at her compared to her siblings, a group of dark haired, average height, stocky girls and boys. Then there wass Amelia: blonde, tall, blue eyed, a regal look to her with an pointed chin, prominent cheek bones, and a small hook to her nose that no one else had. She had know from an early age she was never one of them, but she loved them. They all loved her back, even if she was the awkward little duckling of the bunch.
"I know papa…please…say no more." Amelia begged, not wanting to hear it. She wanted it all to remain a mystery. Her curious mind was already searching for answers of where she had come from. She had no traces though, no birth certificate, not even a location of her birth and she knew that one little hint would cause her to go looking. She was grateful for her family, a family she loved dearly, that treated her no differently than as if she were born into it. Her parent's had loved her dearly, her mother dotting on her as much as everyone else, making sure she had the best they could get. Oh sweet mama, may she rest in peace. The woman who nursed every fever, cuddled her through ever nightmare, had been there for every birthday, and then there was papa, who would take her with him to see the pigs whenever she had ask, kissed her goodnight ever single solitary night, nursed her through her first broken heart when the boy she liked did give her a valentine's day gift. She was lucky for the time she had had with her parent's, and with each second, Amelia could feel her heart ripping more and more as the light fading fast from her papa's eyes.
"You were born in Geneva…" He started, his voice just a murmur, but crystal clear to the girl, who was listening intently." Her heart pounded in her chest, the thumping in her ears driving her mad. She wanted him to stop. No, she couldn't go searching, not when she had a family that loved her, but with each word, her brain seemed to keep asking for more, to know who had really given birth to her, why she had been given to a farmer and his wife.
"Please papa…stop…you need to rest." Amelia pleaded, but the man was in another world, and she knew that he wouldn't stop. She didn't even think that he knew what she was saying anymore, just of her voice, her presence, her real words and demands probably being twisted in his mind from "No" to "Yes".
"Edith Crawley." He said at last, "Your Mother." The man breathed the last word out heavily, his voice getting caught in his throat, his chest heaving a bit before stopping, the faint heart beat Amelia could feel in his wrist pausing, and with one last glace, the girl locked eyes with the man. She staring at him, seeing the last glimmer in his eyes saw as they rolled back and shut, his head going limp, a small smile on his lips. Timothy Drewe, her Daddy, was gone.
Amelia could feel the tears welling up in her bright blue eyes, hot and burning, falling down her cheeks like small rivers. However, her mouth still hung ajar from his last words, of finding out that her mother was, someone she had met, chatted to a few times before. The Drewe family had lived next door to the Crawley's for some time, for a century according to the family history, and to think she was the daughter of a woman who came from the family that owned the land she had worked and sowed since she could hold a hoe. She was shocked, so shocked that she seemed to not know what to feel. But then she looked back down at the man that really was her father in all the ways that counted, reality hitting her harder than a kick to the chest.
"Good night, my sweet king. Say hello to mama for me." She whispered, placing a kiss on his forehead, crossing his arms across his chest, and then, pulling the blanket up to his neck to make it look as if he were sleeping. She sighed and walked out the room, looking at the many sets of brown eyes suddenly staring at her, nodding her head gently before breaking down, her knees buckling into the nearest chair, everyone coming to her, all 8 Drewes hugging each other and sharing their grief.
The funeral was three days later, the entire family working hard to give their father a proper send off. They did not stop working the fields until the day of his burial as there was too much work that needed to be done. The Crawley's pigs needed tending, the barley field needed to be sown and the wheat field needed seeds spread. A farm could not stop running but of course, everyone found themselves working slower than normal, no talking or laughing or singing coming from the usually cheerful bunch, the only sound being the quiet of the ground being turned as the sowed the fields in deep mourning.
The morning of the funeral was the hardest for the close knit family, Amelia and Lily fussing to make sure everyone looking their best, ironing the clothes that had been taken out, making sure they fit the growing children properly. It had been hard to find enough black that fit, but thankful they had managed. Sitting in the small church, the Drewe family took up the entire front row of the chapel as they listened to the new vicar speak about their father. This preacher hardly knew him though, and so the generic speak was not something that grabbed their attention, Amelia's especially, who's mind was already wondering from the shock of everything she had learned. Maggie sat on her lap, cuddling into her chest, sucking her thumb for comfort. Normally, Amelia would be the first to scold the girl, yelling at her to stop before she ruined the shape of her mouth, but today she was too grief filled and distracted to stop the child, instead just rubbing the tiny girl's back, adjusting her black cotton dress every so often, a nervous habit, along with brushing the girls soft brown curls. Maggie was her baby, Amelia having practically raised her from birth. It was only natural for her to fuss, but today, knowing that this little girl would have more emotions then she could handle, Amelia took extra special care to make sure she was comfortable.
She could see the Crawley family in the second row across from her, staring forward, each person wearing a different expression on their face. Lord and Lady Grantham held each others hands gently, the greying man and woman smiling sadly, looking down every so often. It had not been long for them since they had been in the exact same spot as the Drewe's were now. Old Lady Grantham having finally died last year at the ripe old age of ninety-five. Amelia found herself locking eyes with them once or twice, causing her to turn back quickly to avoid the darting blue gazes, fearing they were staring at her, even more aware now that she knew what she knew. Then there was the dark hair Lady Mary, stoic, indifference twisted on her lips. Her son, George, next to her, straight backed, a tight lipped frown on her square, handsome face, his blue eyes glistening a bit in the light from the stain glass windows, light that caused his blonde hair to shine like gold. Amelia had heard he was the spitting image of his father, but looking at him now, the girl could swear he was wearing the same expression as his mother. Finally, Amelia's eye's landed on Lady Edith, the girl finding herself staring at the woman longer than she should, only to turn back when she realized how awkward she was probably making things. Edith had to know who she was. It wasn't possible for her not too.
The service ended with hymns, the family standing at the front of the church to receive condolences. It wasn't even a moment before Lord Grantham appeared, addressing all of the children after shaking Timmy's hand, looking down the line a bit, his eyes falling on the lone blonde for a split second longer than the rest. That always seemed to happen whenever the children were lined up, Amelia sticking out like a sore thumb.
"I'm so sorry for your lose and I hope you all find relief in knowing you father is no longer suffering." The noble said, his wife taking a hold of his hand gently. The children each thanked The Lord and Lady in a scatter of replies, the man nodding a bit before leaving, his eldest daughter and granddaughter in tow.
"If anyone of you should be in need of work, don't hesitate to come to the Abbey. I'm sure we can find you something." Lady Edith said to the four oldest, looking at them all individually, and when her eyes made it to the Amelia, she stopped and stared at the girl, Amelia's back straightening a bit as the two locked eyes, more than just for a second, but a good moment. As uncomfortable Amelia had felt at first, staring into this woman's brown eyes, noticing how they had almost all the same features: The same blonde hair, the same hooked nose, even the same slight pout to the lip. It felt natural, almost perfect to see this mirror image staring back at her and younger blonde found herself wanting more, to know more about her birth mother and just as the woman walked away and followed after her family, Amelia's mouth twisted into a small smile as a plan hatched in her head.