"Go get them," purrs Mary to Matthew over their new son, who at this point happens to be oblivious to their joy and is instead absorbed with his task of greedily pulling at his mother's bodice in hopes of a meal to celebrate his entry into the world. "But first," continues his new mother, "I think I've earned a well-deserved kiss."
"Oh, you certainly have," agrees Matthew as he leans in to savor his overwhelming joy that has enveloped them both, the complete love and family that so many times seemed out of their grasp. At long last, fate has sealed their future: Downton has survived the war to end all wars, and they have succeeded in producing their very own heir, the first of what they both hope will be many. As soon as Mary is finally up to it, of course, Matthew thinks to himself rather mischievously. He simply can't wait!
The future seems limitless and boundless; the darkest days of their lives are truly over now. Even the weather is perfect, he muses, as if nature itself has sensed the need for a truly beautiful moment for the future Earl and Countess of Grantham.
So absorbed in their joy as a family they are that they fail to see the strange, white-haired, wild-eyed man wearing a white coat and gloves and donning driving goggles, skulking towards Matthew. The stranger is still unnoticed as he carefully places an envelope into the pocket of Matthew's jacket. Even the hovering, beaming Anna is too absorbed in the happy atmosphere to notice the strange intrusion.
All too soon, Matthew tears himself away from Mary's arms as she retains her rocking of their son. He walks backward, bright smile still in place, wanting to savor the beautiful scene as long as possible…and nearly bumps into the door frame in the process.
Stumbling to right himself, he sheepishly turns the opposite way…and feels a strange rustling in his pocket. Puzzled, he pulls out the envelope, simply addressed to "Mr. Matthew Crawley," and finds a letter. Chills run up his spine as his smile slowly dissolves into a puzzled frown and cold foreboding freezes his warm, happy glow. Within seconds, the letter rattles along with his now clammy, shaky hands clutching to the slip of paper, as though it were a ledge from which he could plummet to a certain doom:
"Dear Mr. Crawley,
"To begin with, congratulations on the birth of your new son. You don't know me, but I am an American scientist, and I have come from the future to warn you that, impossible as it may seem to you now, within the next hour, you will lose your life in an automobile accident.
"Worse still, your wife will endure an extensive grieving period that will culminate with her marriage by 1925 to a professional car racer who will eventually support your estate through the profession of used car salesman! How exactly this comes to transpire is a bit distasteful for my liking on which to elaborate, so as I'm overstepping my boundaries as it is, I refuse to do so here.
"It should be noted that a certain worldwide cataclysmic event some four years after her second wedding will cause a decided strain on her second marriage and the life of your son, and the estate of Downton Abbey will face a resulting near-ruin. It is therefore imperative that you do what you can to preserve your home, heritage, and family.
"For their sake, please take the necessary precautions. And for God's sake, please KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD!
"Sincerely, Dr. Emmett Brown.
"PS: I would like to apologize for the distress I am no doubt causing you on what should be a very joyful day in your life. Normally I would not attempt to interfere with potentially jeopardizing the natural course of historic events in the life of a stranger. However, in your case, given the potential seriousness of the outcome, I figured, what the hell?"
His spinning thoughts are pierced by the screech of tires, and his piercing blue gaze floats to the window where a cloud of dust is sliced by a strange silver vehicle of some sort. That's a rather jolly-looking model, he muses vaguely, as it zips through the path at a terrific pace. Suddenly, a flash of what appear to be fireworks appears to swallow up the vehicle, leaving two trailing flames in its wake of the dirt road outside of Downton Hospital.
Unnerved, he runs towards the phone and asks the operator to connect him to Downton Abbey. Once connected, he asks in a shaky voice for Cora.
"Matthew, what's wrong?" asks a gentle yet slightly worried voice. "Is Mary all right? What about the baby?"
"The baby?" Matthew pants. "Oh, yes, he's absolutely beautiful and perfect, and Mary is tired but fine."
"A boy! Matthew, a boy! No wonder – that's marvelous news! But why-"
"Oh, it's just that there's just been a change of plans," Matthew explains, his gaze fixed on the odd trails of fire. "I'd just like to stay with my new family while we wait and plan our future. Could you please have Robert bring the others in his own car?"