Episode 1
Lady Mary was seated at the breakfast table, no longer eating off a tray in her room. Her new position as the estate agent kept her very busy, and she found herself eager to get started. Her father turned to the butler standing at attention by the sideboard. "Did Lady Edith get off alright? I hope she had time for breakfast before she left."
"Mr. Stark drove her to the station, m'lord," Carson replied. "She said she'd have something to eat on the train."
"She's always racing up to London these days. What was it this time?" Mary asked disinterestedly.
"Perhaps she's met a man there," Robert suggested.
"Edith? Not likely."
He shrugged. "Then something to do with the magazine, I suppose."
She rolled her eyes and reached for the letter Carson held out to her on a salver. "It's from Tom," she announced brightly. She opened the envelope and perused its contents.
"What does he have to say for himself?" her father inquired.
"Everything is going well. He's found a flat with a garden, and Sybbie's happy at her school. Goodness! He says he's planning to run for the Boston city council."
"Hmm," Robert replied noncommittally.
Mary quickly scanned further down. "He's seeing someone, a Miss Flynn. Apparently, they met at a political rally and hit it off. He doesn't say if it's serious."
"Well, he wouldn't, would he? Not to us anyway. I just hope for Sybbie's sake that she doesn't turn out to be another Miss Bunting."
She folded the letter and stuffed it back in the envelope. "What are you doing today?"
"I'm meeting with your grandmother and Isobel to discuss this wretched hospital business." His voice signaled his displeasure.
"What's it all about anyway?"
"The Royal Yorkshire County Hospital wants to take over the running of our hospital. It would mean newer methods and more modern treatments but at the expense of our independence. Isobel and your mother are for it, while your grandmother and Dr. Clarkson are against it."
"And what do you think?"
"I just want to keep the peace."
"I don't envy you," Mary commiserated with a slight smile. "Now I must run. I want to see Fairclough's new planting, and then I have to see how Mr. Mason is settling in. I'll be back before luncheon." She promptly rose from her chair and sailed out of the room. As much as she missed her brother-in-law, she reveled in her new role as the land agent. It gave her a sense of pride and purpose that she hadn't found in marriage and motherhood.
Before the war, her life had been ordained: marry Cousin Patrick, produce an heir, and eventually take her place as the mistress of Downton Abbey. But that future was shattered with the sinking of the Titanic and the death of Downton's heir presumptive and his son. In truth, she was less upset at Patrick's death than the loss of the countess' title.
Her chance came again when she married the new heir, Matthew Crawley, and gave birth to their son, George. Once more, all seemed set for the future until Matthew was killed in a car crash. Mary was devastated and dealt with her grief by throwing herself into the management of the estate. To her great surprise, she found that the work was to her liking. When Tom left for America, she gladly took over his position as the estate agent. As she was quick to point out, it was a changing world.
While Lady Mary was out, Anna Bates nipped down to the hospital to keep an appointment she'd made the previous day. She left Dr. Clarkson's office smiling to herself. The secret that she had suspected for weeks was confirmed. She was pregnant. After all their years of trying, she and John were going to have a family at last. She supposed the stress of everything that the pair had been put through since their marriage began was the reason she hadn't conceived sooner. It sometimes seemed that no couple on earth had as many problems to contend with as they did, but all that was behind them now. Mr. Green's murderer had come forward, and they were free to get on with their lives. She wouldn't tell John the news about the baby, not yet. It was still early days, and she didn't want to see him disappointed if something tragic happened. No, she would keep her secret a little while longer.
Upon returning to the Abbey, her husband was the first to greet her at the back door. "I was looking for you. Where did you go?"
"I had an errand to run for Lady Mary." Her eyes couldn't quite meet his.
"Oh, and what was that?" he asked playfully.
"Never you mind, Mr. Bates," she teased. She still couldn't bring herself to call him by his first name when they were working. "It's almost time for our lunch. We should go in."
The weeks passed, and the pregnancy was beginning to show. Bates hadn't noticed yet, but Lady Mary was more observant. One night while the servant was getting her ready for bed, she asked, "Is there something you're not telling me?" She added a knowing smile.
Anna blushed. "There might be, but I haven't told Mr. Bates yet. I didn't want to get his hopes up until I was sure that everything would be alright."
"Oh, Anna, I'm so happy for you, happy for you both, but you must tell him soon before someone else notices and ruins the surprise."
"You're right, m'lady. I'll tell him tonight." The little maid finished her work and joined her husband who was waiting patiently downstairs in the servants' hall. They quickly made their way out the back door and down the path leading to their cottage.
"You're awfully quiet tonight," Bates observed.
"Am I?"
"Is there something on your mind?"
"There is, actually." She stopped and took her husband's hand, pressing it gently to her growing belly.
He turned and faced her in the moonlight. "My God! Are you saying—"
"You're going to be a father, John. I'm going to have a baby."
He lifted the petite woman off her feet and twirled her about.
"Put me down," she laughingly insisted.
He complied and promptly gave her a kiss instead. "Have you seen Dr. Clarkson yet?"
"I have. He said it'll be born in late December."
"Then you must have known for weeks. Why did you take so long to tell me?"
She became serious. "I wanted to wait in case something went wrong."
"Nothing will go wrong," Bates assured her.
"I pray you're right."
"I am right," he declared imperiously. "So what's it going to be, a boy or a girl?"
"Oh, I neither know nor care as long as it's healthy."
"I can see her now, a pretty little girl with her mother's blonde hair and blue eyes."
"Or a stubborn little boy like his father," Anna added with a smile.
He squeezed her hand. "Let's go home."
Daisy Mason sat at one end of the long dining table deep in thought. Her finger absently traced the rim of the empty teacup in front of her. Mrs. Patmore had already gone upstairs, and the Carsons and the Bateses had returned to their respective cottages for the night. Farther down the table, Andy and the hallboy, Billy, were engrossed in a game of cards, one or the other letting out an occasional whoop when they took the hand. Mr. Molesley and Miss Baxter were locked together in conversation at the far end while Mr. Barrow sat alone in his usual spot by the fireplace. Daisy observed that the underbutler's dark hair was now flecked with gray. It was yet another reminder that the years were passing.
She had come to Downton back in 1912 at the tender age of fourteen to work as a scullery maid. She never knew her parents, and the orphans' home where she grew up arranged it with Mrs. Hughes. She worked hard and did well for herself, rising to the position of assistant cook. At one time, she might have been content to remain in the Downton kitchen until she was old, eventually replacing Mrs. Patmore, but now the thought of spending the rest of her days in that dark and gloomy basement filled her with a sense of dread.
Mr. Mason was still after her to move in with him. He had taken over the tenancy of nearby Yew Tree Farm after his old estate was sold. He was anxious to teach his widowed daughter-in-law what she needed to know about running a farm, so she could carry on when he was gone. It was a very generous offer, and she was truly appreciative, but so far she had managed to hold him off. She didn't want to spend her life buried down on the farm, marrying one of the local lads and discussing livestock and crops for the rest of her life.
After leaving school at the age of eleven, Daisy knew little more than how to read and write and perform simple arithmetic. She had determinedly taken up her studies again, discovering a whole world that she never knew existed, a world of art and history and science. It only made her eager to go further, to see what else was out there for her. She had passed all her exams with high marks, but she wondered now what it was all for—to slave away in the Crawley kitchen from morning to night or tend to the chickens on the farm?
Gwen Harding's recent visit had stirred up something in her. At one time, the two had been equals below stairs, but now Gwen was a successful businesswoman. She was lunching upstairs with the Crawleys while Daisy was still stuck downstairs. Of course, Gwen hadn't done it alone. Lady Sybil had helped her: finding job openings, giving her clothes, and even driving her to an interview. But Sybil was dead these past five years, and no one else seemed interested in the dreams of the young assistant cook.
In her heart, Daisy longed to follow in the footsteps of her idol, Miss Bunting, teaching working-class children like herself. She wanted to give them the opportunities she never had, a chance at a better life, but what good did it do to dwell on it? She would need to attend college to earn a teaching certificate, and where would she get the money for that? Holding back tears, she rose and slipped out of the servants' hall unnoticed.