AN:

So I re-watched the Christmas special and just wanted to write a little something because I'm in such a Downton-y mood at the minute. Because the characters are so fantastic, it took me a while to settle on who I should write it about. I was surfing old clips on YouTube and came across Violet saying something about Mary being forgiven for the Pamuk disaster because 'she's family'. I thought that was sweet, so I've done a little grandmother/granddaughters thing. I hope you like x

The arrival of an American does much to test Violet's patience. She has never been fond of them. She is English, through and through, and cannot abide their drawling voices, their customs and their strange ways. To her, those that she has met seem entirely too uncouth.

Cora, unfortunately, is not altogether loathsome. But to Violet this is somehow worse than if she had been a girl without manners. If she had known nothing of propriety, if she was sloth and brash and a little bit tarty – then she would have been proven right. The fact that she knows how to conduct herself, is almost ladylike, means that she will have to be tolerated. That and the incentive of her fortune is enough.

Within weeks, she and Robert are married.

It is not long after that Mary is born. Lady Mary Josephine Crawley - a girl. Violet cannot help but purse her lips in disdain when she hears, but she shrugs it off quickly. She is happy to have a grandchild, and boys could follow. She meets with Cora when she is presentable and explains this. All her daughter-in-law does is offer her a tired smile, while Robert shakes his head in the corner. She doesn't quite understand why. Don't they want to know she isn't too downhearted?

Though not a soft woman by nature, (for life has taught her it is better to be hard) she would never let it be said she did not have a great deal of affection and sympathy in her for those who deserved it. In matters concerning those she holds in regard, she is fierce. She will champion their cause to the end.

One look at this small babe, shrouded in blankets, and she is forever lost to feeling. It is not that she believes she will never differ with the child. No doubt she will be stubborn and they will argue. Stupid choices will be made, ignorance shown and so on and so forth. But for now this small being cannot talk or walk or make any type of displeasing decision, and that is enough for Violet.

The girl is presented to her by Robert. She looks at him, truly looks at this man who was once merely a little thing in her arms. Yet now his own daughter takes his place. The comparison almost brings her to a sort of happy sob, but she soon sets herself right. What a silly thing crying from happiness would be!

Mary is dark-eyed and dark-haired, the image of her mother. But somehow in this, her first grandchild, she can feel herself. She watches Mary grow and understands they are more alike than perhaps the wilful girl realises. They can be steadfast, formidable allies. But when they butt heads, Downton's bubbled world shakes.

Of course, as Violet knew they would, other children follow. She is disappointed once more when Edith arrives, but consoles herself. It is the birth of Sybil, not followed by any immediate pregnancies, that leads her to believe the future of the estate may not ever be secure.

Then, when Mary is still but a child, the question of a match with Patrick is brought into play. She cannot abide James, his father. He grates on her, forever whining and luxuriating. Violet herself, as she is well aware, occasionally moans, but she is witty about it. Whining, however, she cannot abide. But Patrick seems a decent enough lad and so it is settled.

She would be lying if she said she felt no remorse for locking her small granddaughter in a union at an early age. But matters had to be taken into hand and dealt with. One day, Mary would understand, as her grandmother did, as her parents did too: Sacrifices must be made.

So, now, surrounded by her granddaughters, she had achieved an odd sense of peace, or at least a sense that 'life is life and one must make do with what one has'. In any case, she enjoyed evenings spent at Downton in the company of family and revelled in the cheery spirits of the children. To have children about the house livened her own.

She still remained true to herself of course. She still made sarcastic comments, said humorous things here and there. That was in her nature. Since the death of her husband, of her Patrick, she had learnt to use humour as a defence. Wit was the greatest tool in her arsenal, at the very odd times when her cunning did not do the trick.

One night, mindful that Robert and Cora hardly ever had time to themselves (and feeling in rather a good mood) she offered to take the girls back to her house for 'a jolly sleepover.' The couple had protested but she was as stubborn as a brick wall, and a little merry on sherry, and would not be curtailed. And so the children traipsed behind her to the carriage, dressed in all manner of odd things. They still had on their evening wear, but parts of things had been taken away by Ms Hughes and bits of nightclothes were haphazardly flung over shoulders or half on their arms. In this clumsy fashion, they arrived at the smaller house and ran about the place, until stopped by their iron-eyed Granny:

'Girls, girls. It will not do for you to be racing around like a bunch of little urchins. Now, sit down before the fire and we shall have a nice, peaceful night. Cards, perhaps?'

They had carried on in this manner for most of the night, until it was far past their usual time for bed. Sybil dozed on Mary's shoulder, woken every so often by her sister shifting herself violently:

'Come now, off to bed with you.' The girls tried to protest, but to no avail. They should have known not to argue with Granny. Sybil and Edith pecked her on her cheek and wandered up the flight and just as she turned to extinguish the lamp, Violet realised her eldest granddaughter was still standing beside her:

'Mary, what on Earth are you doing, child? To bed with you, go on.'

Mary didn't move, just looked at her grandmother with smiling eyes, then slipped her skinny little arms around her waist. Quite taken aback by such intimacies, Violet stood frozen for a minute, before gingerly patting the child's back:

'Thank you, Granny,' murmured the child.

'Why, whatever for?'

'For having us to stay.'

'Well, I am your grandmother, am I not? Isn't that what grandmothers do?'

'We've never done it before.'

'Yes, well – I suppose you haven't.' Still Mary did not move. 'Was there anything else? It is rather late.'

'Just -' The girl backed away and for an instant she wasn't the double of Cora that Violet had always seen in her. There was a determined flash that reminded her all too much of herself. She cleared her throat and aged a decade and Violet could only stare, wordless, which was quite a feat. 'Just that I heard you talking to Mama and I think I'll like marrying Patrick.'

If Violet had cried since her husband's death she might have shed a tear. Could this little slip of a thing be growing up so fast? Did she understand what she was saying at all?

'That's nice, dear.' That's nice, dear? Her years of wit had failed her underneath one statement from Mary.

'He's not so terribly bad, Granny. He pokes me and makes fun of me, but that's what all the boys my age do. I'll get along with him, I think.'

'I – I'm glad to hear it.'

'I just thought you should know. Because Mama said she didn't know if she should tell me yet. And now I know and I don't mind, so – it'll be alright. Won't it, Granny?'

Mary stared up at her, eyes twinkling, still wearing her evening dress and Violet saw a flash of a grown woman. A woman with a stony face and a biting wit, cold to the ways the world should surprise you with all her life planned out. But she couldn't say that to the child, who looked so expectantly and happily at her.

'Yes, Mary. Yes, I think it will.'

Come what may, they would both be ready. Heaven knew, perhaps the two would fall in love. The future might not be an open book for a titled family with three daughters, but Violet vowed at that moment that if any of her granddaughters were to pave their own way while still following the lines – it would be Mary Josephine Crawley. The one who reminded her the most of herself.

AN:

A stupid little thing I know, but I hope somebody reads it! PLEASE REVIEW!