Title: A Note On Bravery
Author: Darcy Roe
Rating: T
Parings: Robert/Cora, Bates/Anna, Branson/Sybil, Mathew/Mary, William/Daisy, and the unproven but suspected Carson/Hughes.
Summery: A long awaited war has finally come to England. Even a place like Downton, ruled by ironclad tradition, will feel the effects of total war. Some will stay others will go, but no one is untouchable, and the fear of death will break down the normal social barriers sweeping the changes of the modern world in and altering the lives of all who live and work at Downton Abbey.
I. Hell Breaks Loose
Summer ~ 1914
I very much regret to announce that we are at war with Germany.
Lord and Lady Grantham's guests dispersed at a snails pace after Lord Grantham's announcement.
Indeed, most stayed late into the evening, and for a while the servants stood, at attention with them on the spacious lawns of Downton Abbey, halted in a dazed stupor. For a small moment, the bridge between the classes seemed to be infinitely smaller then normal; a well precipitated and ultimately short lived illusion.
Suddenly, William had dropped a silver tray, laden with champagne filled flutes, onto the skirts of a lady who jumped, startled with a shriek. What could be described as all hell swiftly broke loose.
"Sorry! Sorry!" William cried. "Daisy, run for a towel, will ya? I am sorry, My Lady!"
Other ladies began to wail: frightened, high-pitched squawks and clamors flying from their months, like the calls of large, colorful birds whom had just had their feathers ruffled the wrong way.
"Good heavens," Sybil exclaimed, her voice lowered to a harsh whisper that rose and fell slightly as she gasped, breathing in and out unsteadily. Branson found her hand with his, fingers applying gentle pressure, the intimacy hidden by the clamor and commotion surrounding them.
~o~O~o~
Life moves on. Mrs. Hughes reminded herself, as she stood at the bottom of the steps leading below stairs, another realm practically. She waited for Mr. Carson to appear.
The guests eventually collected themselves; after several hours of bewildered fear, pushing the whole of Downton into a state of high anxiety that made her feel fidgety. Elise despised the feeling.
Some of the aristocracy left immediately, returning home to be with loved ones which – and this was a grim line of thought – might soon become an extinct opportunity. Many chose to remain surprisingly, and prey on Lord Robert's hospitality and Lady Cora's quiet strength.
She and Carson rallied and marshaled their troops, seeing that the well-heeled friends of their employers were made comfortable; offering beverages and food in the Ladies' Drawing room were the women sat conversing tearfully (some sobs were heard occasionally from above) and in the dinning room. The gentlemen gathered to drink, smoke and discuss the ramifications of the proclamation around the expensive, oak-polished dinning table; they sounded with each drink and each passing hour more like a mock war counsel out of fictitious piece then middle and lower English nobility.
Discussing what needed to be done… What effect the war would take…
Good Lord, we are at war with Germany, and the beautiful decorations are still up, she thought, wistfully just as the door opened and Mr. Carson descended, looking weary.
"You look beaten about the brow," she observed, kindly. "Well? Are they all settled?"
He sighed. "For now. Many of the Ladies and Lords are ready to retire." Mr. Carson drew a breath deep for withen his chest, exhaling loudly. Mrs. Hughes observed his shoulders tighten and his spine straightened; he was steeling himself, she could tell – sorrow written in the tightly furrowed lines of his forehead and jowls. "Lord Grantham suggests that we prepare the staff for…whatever is about to happen. He predicts an earlier start to everyone's day tomorrow. Best get the family and their guests settled and then send everyone off to bed."
"Of course," Mrs. Hughes said, with forced bravado. Her fingers shook, so she clasped her hands tightly behind her back. "Life moves on, even in war time."
He gave her a fleeting smile and they moved quietly into the next room, standing in the doorway of the small dinning room reserved for the house staff, though almost everyone – cooking staff, grooms, and gardeners – gathered around the table. They did not rise, unusual on any other day, the low, nervous chatter died off, all eyes focusing on them.
"Lynch, put that foul cigarette out this instant!" Mr. Carson snapped, angrily.
The groom looking sheepish, snuffed out his fag and murmured a hurried apology.
Anna lifted her gaze immediately to Mrs. Hughes;' steady, determined, a question in her brown eyes though her face had lost all its' pallor. The stubborn line of her jaw spoke of her courage, strength that would be greatly needed in the coming days.
Mr. Bates sat besides her on the left in the accustomed spot, and Daisy sat to her right, her shoulder's slumped forward, head resting on Anna's shoulders, sitting half in the older girl's lap.
Her eyes were red, she had been crying on and off all afternoon like an English summer (vexing, especially for Mrs. Patmore). Daisy appeared to have quieted, finally. William stood behind her directly to the side, a respectable distance. His face contorted into a pinched expression; it seemed that he was not sure were he should be. They were not courting let alone walking out. Not yet, anyway.
Mayhap never.
The kitchen next door was quiet, the chatter of the scullery maids, the din of pots and pans silenced. Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Bird murmuring, their heads bent, cheek to cheek, over the salvers of rich food.
And Gwen…Mrs. Hughes looked at the redheaded girl and felt slightly more crestfallen then she had a moment before. The girl had just gotten that blasted secretary post. Poor dove. Poor doves, she amended slightly.
"Mr. Bates, Lord Grantham needs you. William," Mr. Carson began, his rich baritone more authoritarian then usual. "I need you to find Thomas. He's not quit yet and I need an extra hand. Yours to."
"As a v-valet, Mr. Carson?" He stuttered.
"Is their another second-footman named William?"
The lad flushed. "Right away, Mr. Carson," he said, tripping over his feet in haste. Mrs. Hughes had the distinct impression that the boy was trying hard not to grin at the special elevation, and the thought made her want to crack a smile in spite of herself.
"Right," Mrs. Hughes said, eyeing Daisy. "I think I'll send the younger girl's to bed now, Mr. Carson, as this has obviously been to much."
"Aye," he agreed.
"Come on, Daisy," Anna said, rising, her arm winding securely about the girl's waste. Anna was the only thing keeping Daisy off the floor, Mrs. Hughes realized. "It'll all seem better after a good night's sleep."
"Anna, after you're done, I need you, Gwen, and O'Brien to help me settle the ladies and their company."
Anna nodded, solemnly.
Mrs. Hughes hopped the girl's rationality would stay firmly anchored, she would need another clear mind in the turbulent days to come.
~o~O~o~
Anna settled Daisy in her small room off the side of the scullery, tucking the sheets in tight around her small, trembling form. She fetched a bowl of water, warmed it, and then - with her handkerchief - smoothed the grime and tears from Daisy's face. "Sleep now; you'll make yourself sick with this worry."
"But I can't sleep, Anna, its all so barmy!" Daisy exclaimed, propping herself up on her elbows. "Were at war with Germany. All the men will be gone, and we'll be all alone surviving on farthings!"
The older girl laid a calm hand on Daisy's shoulder, gently forcing her to lay back down on the pillow. "Listen to me Daisy, and listen good, Downton's stood through more then one war." She brushed a piece of stray fringe away. "Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes will make sure we have more then farthings to live on, and so will his Lordship, I'd say."
Daisy's upper lip quivered, she drew a shuddering breath, stammering, "B-but I s-spent ages fannyin' around w-with Thomas, a-and now that I know I fancy William he's goin' to go off to war."
"If William does decide to go – and he clearly hasn't made up his mind, Daisy – then all of Downton will be proud. It's the honorable thing to do…." Anna paused, one hand resting on the mattress the other on Daisy's far head, knowing her words were not to comforting. "Listen here Daisy Coleman, and listen good, you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, so you best get some sleep." Anna stroked her hair, soothingly. "It will all seem better in the morning. I promise."
Once Daisy drifted off, Anna joined Gwen and O'Brien in the hall; the latter wreaking of fags. Anna gazed intently at the bitter maid. Since Lady Cora's slip getting out of the bath (since the miscarriage) O'Brien appeared to be visibly shaken. Her dark eyes were perhaps a shade darker, devoid of the malicious glint, though her tongue, sharper then normal, made up for that in spades. Anna thought briefly of Lady Mary; biting comments were often another kind of defense.
Mrs. Hughes appeared, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. "We'll settle the guests first, between us three. Gwen, I know you aren't a ladies' maid but you'll do just fine. O'Brien, after you've seen to Lady Grantham, come and help us. She has requested that we see to the guests' needs first, but Mr. Carson has orders straight from his Lordship to get her to bed immediately."
~o~O~o~
"Has Mrs. Crawley gone?" The Dowager Countess inquired of O'Brien. The Lancashire woman nodded as she removed the last of the lady's fine garments and reached for the elaborate nightgown laid out upon the bed. "Yes, M'Lady. She left with Mr. Crowley about an hour ago."
Violet gave a dry little chuckle. "In all the…in all the commotion I had not noticed."
That and the smelling salts I was running to fetch all night. O'Brien lifted the nightgown over the Dowager Countess' head. God forbid she lifts a finger. I already have to be exposed to the sight of her wrinkled carcass.
"Edith was a godsend today," the woman prattled on, sitting before the intricately carved vanity. O'Brien picked up the silver handled brush and began to smooth the grey hair out of it's snarls. "Sybil kept disappearing – but that girl has always been flighty…full of wild ideas, suffrage and such nonsense – and Mary was so downtrodden she did not even attempt to play hostess. Sulking like that in public," the Dowager Countess scoffed. "I would think with Cora's recent ordeal she would feel duty bound to step into the role of Lady of the House by de facto."
O'Brien nodded politely. Stop blathering on you miserable aged bat and belt up. She tied off the plait, neatly. "Finished, Ladyship. Can I fetch you anything else?"
Violet smiled, "No," and as their gazes met in the glass the normal beady eyes softened. "Is Lady Grantham…?"
"She went to bed half-an-hour ago," O'Brien supplied, a pang of guilt resounding in her soul.
The Dowager Countess moaned. "What might have happened if you had not been there I do not want to think, and they way you have attended to her every need, practically been at her side every day, going beyond the call of duty" she smiled. "She holds you in high esteem; swears she would not know how to get by without you. Thank you, O'Brien."
"Not at all, your Ladyship." O'Brien felt her skin tingle, neck and cheeks unpleasantly hot, burning shame; evidence of her betrayal. They might as well brand my face. It'd be less painful then living with this guilt.
The pain echoed throughout as she picked up the dirty cloths for laundry and hurriedly left the room.
~o~O~o~
"Do you require anything else, My Lord?" Mr. Bates asked.
Lord Grantham stared at his reflection, pajama clad, slippers on feet, and robe closed. Ready for bed. "No. Thank you, Bates." He smiled over his shoulder.
"Good night, My Lord."
"Good night, Bates."
"Will you reenlist?" Mr. Bates stood, hand on the doorknob, cane hooked over his forearm, laundry folded neatly and tucked under his elbow.
Slowly, Lord Grantham turned and surveyed him closely, eyes unveiled as he studied John who allowed his face to relax. Only honesty and transparency would do here. "I don't know. Will you reenlist?"
Mr. Bates thought of Anna. Her sweet continence and psyche, her fierce loyalty. She deserves a better man then you, John Bates. "If it is the right thing to do then yes I suppose I will, or at least I will endeavor too." He nodded towards his cane.
Lord Grantham shook his head. "I am sorry, that was tactless of me."
"Not at all. Good night, My Lord."
"Good night, Mr. Bates."
Bates closed the door firmly behind him, though he knew the Earl would fallow a moment later and tread the short distance to his wives chambers.
It was a warming notion that a couple could be steadfastly in love after more then two decades together. He thought briefly of Vera, of Anna, and his mother who loved his father despite forty-five years of matrimony and loved him still though the old bugger had been in his grave for the past six years.
His mother also loved Anna.
"Mr. Bates."
Speak of the devil.
He turned, Anna stepped out from behind a draping.
"Why are you hiding?"
"I was waiting for you, if you must know," she flushed, "and Mrs. Hughes came by…"
"Ahh, I see."
She nodded in silent agreement. "Here let me take that for you," she gestured towards the bundle of laundry.
Bates gave her a weathering smile. "I can manage, Anna."
She returned his smile, arms stubbornly outstretched. "I never implied you couldn't." Mr. Bates relented. Anna held the laundry close to her chest, arms wrapped around it in a nervous clutching movement. "I can't believe it, yet," she confessed as they moved down the hall.
"It wont seem real until…"
"Until something truly offal happens," she finished for him. "Something close to home."
They stopped in their tracks, standing closer then proper in the middle of the upstairs corridor, the grand stairway that led into the entryway dark before them. No one else was about; moment was long overdue. He took a step closer, heart beating a tattoo into his ribs; it ached so badly to always be so close yet never able to reach out and stroke her face or take her hand.
Partly his fault. John had fought an uphill battle, pointless sometimes tactless, but he was not fighting anymore. Defiantly throwing up the white flag now as their lips met, softly, gently, ever so sweetly and exquisitely.
~o~O~o~
Mrs. Hughes stood, rooted to the spot for the second time that day. Directly across from her in the entrance to the opposite corridor, Anna and Mr. Bates were kissing, unhurriedly and unabashed at such a public display of affection.
She ducked quickly back into the gloom of the corridor, extinguishing the candle. Elsie knew she could walk the house blindfolded if she had to, anyway.
They wouldn't be kissing where they thought other people may happen to see them. They thought they were quiet alone. She was the intruder, the one violating their privacy.
But it was good that she had. This odd romance raised many alarming questions.
How long had this been going on?
At what stage had it progressed to?
Could this be the first kiss? No. Anna and Mr. Bates' behavior seemed much too comfortable for new sweethearts. The pair sometimes acted like a well-settled couple, confident in the other's affections…
Yes, this had been going on long before tonight and it had gone much further she suspected then a few kisses and heavily veiled looks.
They were in love.
Love did not bloom over night, it was a precious flower that needed to be carefully nurtured over a great period of time before it was ripe.
Mrs. Hughes ran a hand over her face distressed at the unintentional metaphor: she felt fidgety. She hated feeling fidgety.
Just when Mr. Bates had been cleared - esteemed himself even - she would have to report him to Mr. Carson. Mr. Carson would be honor bound to tell his Lordship, and Lord Grantham would most certainly sack both Anna and Mr. Bates.
And to make matters worse, they were at war with Germany.
~o~O~o~
Robert Crowley waited a respectable length of time before he opened his door and slipped into the corridor beyond, carefully shutting it, only releasing the latch when the door had relined with the frame.
He should not have been so quiet, he should have waited longer: at the end of the hall John and Anna stood, figures glowing in a beam of moonlight, lips sealed together.
His insides froze, heart dropping into his bowels.
They separated with a soft, barley audible pop. Lord Crowley dived behind a nearby drape (ridiculous hiding in his own house from his own servants).
"Anna…" Bates sounded shaken.
From the crack in between the drapes Robert saw his old comrade-in-arms take Anna's hand in his, gently pressing a kiss to the inside of her palm.
"I know," she whispered, sounding just as shaken. "I know, Mr. Bates."
They stared at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.
"Shh…" Anna whispered, hands covering her mouth in an attempt to stifle her mirth. "Mrs. Hughes is still about, we don't want to be discovered."
Bates straightened, his smile visible from a distance. "No. Imagine that?"
"Just when you've been cleared and deemed respectable," Anna's voice carried a hint of a tease.
"Respectable?" He offered her his arm with a flourish; Anna nearly collapsed into hysterics again. "Then I should escort you back to the servant's quarters, My Lady."
"Why thank you, Sir," Anna said with mock seriousness, picking up the train of her dress and imitating a curtsey. "I would be delighted."
Robert waited until the sound of their steps faded before moving from his hiding spot. He slipped quietly into his wives room, disrobing and sliding under the covers, weak and slightly nauseous with what he just witnessed.
Cora rolled over. "Darling…" she murmured.
"You waited up." It was a statement not a question.
"Of course I did." She settled against him, head pillowed on his chest as their arms locked securely around each other; easy as breathing. They were at war with Germany, but this at least remained the same.
TBC…
a/n: I found this section yesterday to my extreme delight. This story will have multiple chapters, but will be short (no more then five or six at the most). A Note On Bravery is the first in the Cor Blimey Series.
A Note on Bravery Roaring Life The Opposite of Good Value Into the Fire Once MoreAnyway, please review, a healthy dose of criticism is good for ones constitution.
P.S. How long does the seven episode take? How many months, years, etc. I'm having a hard time figuring it out.