Robert Crawley stared thoughtlessly out the carriage window as it made its way through the London maze. He didn't notice the gentle sway as the wheels pulled him along the city streets, or the soft spring breeze that wafted through the cracks in the closed door. His mind was on the conversation he had had with his father 3 weeks prior. It amazed him how ones world could change in the course of so short a time. 3 weeks ago he was Robert Crawley, Viscount Downton, Heir to the Earldom and estates entailed to him through his father and his father's father and all those who came before. A proud heritage, a noble name, and a life of privilege not to be squandered but respected. It had been the only work he had been trained for to grow to manhood, marry, produce an heir and take over from his father upon his death. He had been taught since the nursery that this was his goal, this was his life … there was no other purpose for Robert Crawley. This had suited Robert just fine. Pleased in fact, proud was he that he would one day rule over the estate and take upon himself the name Earl of Grantham. He would be a just and generous land owner, a kind employer and master to those in the house, a benevolent member of the community in which his estate resided. His one hesitation at taking on the Earldom was that for him to do so his father would have to be dead. There had always been the rub. But his father had taught him well how to put Downton first, how to be the man that ruled it all.
So it had been that Robert had accepted gladly the life that was mapped out for him. Yes, 3 weeks ago his world had all but come crashing down upon his ears and he could not find his way out. He felt as though he was drowning and could not reach the surface for air. 3 weeks ago his father had called him into his study and confessed that all was not well, that they were in financial trouble, that unless something changed – and soon, they would lose Downton. Robert had thought at first he misunderstood his father, this could not be so. The life, the only life he had been raised for would no longer exist. Who would Robert Crawley be then? Viscount Downton? Future … what? Who? Had he not looked into his father's eyes at the very moment his thoughts were running off in such a selfish manner he may have continued down that train of thought for who knows how long. Wallowing in the self-pity and dishonor of it all. But he had looked up; he had seen the despair in his father's eyes, the remorse, the guilt. He knew in that instant that he would do whatever he could to help save Downton.
At first his father explained there was nothing to be done. If they were lucky, very lucky, they could last at Downton perhaps until the end of the year. One last Christmas and then they would be gone. His father's concerns were for the farmers, the servants of the house, the village as a whole. He wore the strain of his worry in each line on his face and Robert knew it had cost him more than money to finally have to face it. It had cost him his pride, but he had given it when he realized he would have to somehow face the masses of people he had let down. For the next week Robert and his father had gone over books, plans, finances trying to find any untapped resource, any way to make things easier, make it last longer but it was for naught. Then at one dinner it had been Rosamund who made what was supposed to be a wise crack about Robert marrying wealthy and Robert had stopped mid bite. His pouched quail dangling in between the plate and his mouth as the words sunk in. Yes. Robert could fix this. He could secure his families fate, save his father's pride; reclaim the future he was born to have. He could marry a wealthy girl. Not just wealthy, an heiress. She would have to be from newer money more than likely as the kind of dowries the women in his circle came with may seem pleasing, but they would not suffice in this situation. It would be a blow to his mother for sure, to have him marry someone she considered 'less' in the social scheme of things. She would have to be new money, no doubt in that. But the London season was set to begin and the young women arrived in droves from the country estates and even countries abroad. He had never envisioned marrying for love anyway, his people very rarely had that luxury so it would be no great loss. Of course he had hoped to marry a woman of impeccable breeding and class, a woman that could please even his mother and her mountainously high standards. But given the circumstances he did not think even she could find fault with this plan. Marry a wealthy, possibly slightly less established girl, or lose Downton. There was no argument. So it had been that Robert had discussed it with his father that night. He made a plan with his mother over the course of the next week of what balls to attend, who may be worth looking into and had set of for London a week before his parents were even ready. He wanted to get started. If he was responsible for ensuring Downton's safety then there was no better time to start than right now.