Once in Royal David's City
So once again I am revisiting the Easter Rising universe where M&M married before the end of WWI and eventually had two daughters. I wrote this as a secret santa gift for msmenna and I hope she and you enjoy reading it half as much as I enjoyed writing it. The title is the first carol at the service depicted in the story.
.~.~.~.~.
December 23, 1928
Pulling her husband's dressing gown around her Mary decided pregnancy did not much suit her taste. "I feel like an overstuffed goose." She remarked testily entering the bedroom.
"Very appropriate for the season," Matthew quipped bemusedly, he was propped up against the headboard reading a document.
Mary quirked an eyebrow feigning a frown of displeasure before a chuckle gave her away. During her previous pregnancies her husband would have offered her the most glowing of compliments. That was a different time. Benjamin's death had changed them in a thousand ways. This pregnancy seemed almost to exist in another country, as if their marriage had crossed over past the easier ardor. They loved each other yes, perhaps more than in that time, but differently. If love evolved across a lifetime, as Cora claimed, then theirs had changed into a stronger, surer thing. Grandiose compliments, vows of eternal beauty belonged in their distant past functioning like the Pyramids as beacons of a past civilization that had once existed. She didn't much miss the earlier times. She was finding she liked the middle years of their marriage more than she had expected.
Shucking the dressing gown she deposited it at the foot of the bed before crawling under the covers. Scooting closer to Matthew, she ran her feet along his pajama clad calves warming them. His only response was to distractedly reach over, resting his hand atop her swollen abdomen. "Someone is awake," He observed continuing to read his report.
"And athletic," Mary groused leaning her head into the pillow. "I fear we have a rugby champion."
"Perhaps the babe is just disgusted by the condition of the world and is in revolt like her aunt."
Mary raised a brow saying distastefully, "Did you read her latest article?"
"I did." He said evenly masking his opinion of the piece; Mary herself had judged it utterly ridiculous. "It was the talk of the chambers this afternoon."
"I'll bet it was." Mary agreed before adding, "She's bringing her new suitor to Downton for the New Year. I dislike him so…"
"You haven't even met him." Matthew pointed out scribbling a note on the margin of the report.
"One need not meet a person to know a great deal about them."
Matthew smiled slightly saying, "The only thing you know is he's a liberal."
"And that is quite enough." She noted as if his words proved her point.
Matthew lifted his brow noting, "As is your sister."
"When one is blood one must make some allowances."
Mary felt the chuckle bubbling up in his chest before it escaped his throat. "I see."
"What are you reading?"
He glanced over observing, "An armaments report." He said placing the report on his bedside table. Removing his glasses he sighed rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I cannot get used to these spectacles."
"They make you look very distinguished."
He chuckled and again she felt the rumble rolling from his chest. "They make me feel very old."
"Well," Mary retorted lightly. "If the shoe fits."
"Says my old wife." He remarked wrapping his arm around her.
"Old." Mary popped up just in time to see him chuckling. "You!" She swatted his chest playfully. "And to the soon to be mother of your child…. Your third child." She said quietly the easy tone vanishing at the thought.
Matthew kept his arm wrapped around her vowing, "A seemingly healthy baby."
"Just as Benjamin appeared to be," She reminded him quietly.
Yes," He agreed remembering that time mournfully.
Mary felt his tone deflating and cursed herself saying, "I'm sorry I shouldn't speak of it."
He tightened his hold on her waist insisting, "No, no you should, you must…. Didn't we promise… We must always be honest with one another."
"It's perfectly morbid the way I keep remembering." She said chastising herself. She had never much trusted emotions and valued them even less of late now that she felt herself at their mercy.
Matthew remained silent for a time before acknowledging, "And yet very normal, I think."
"I suppose," She acquiesced snuggling once more into his chest. "Still it cannot be healthy." Matthew offered no comment instead continued softly running his hand over her back. She inhaled taking deep measured breaths before sharing, "Edith wrote that she visited the nursing home in the village at Downton. She says it is surprisingly modern. I believe baby and I will both be very comfortable there."
"Good." Matthew said pressing a kiss into his wife's hair. They had decided to Christmas at home before journeying to Downton for the New Year. If the child was a boy then the Viscount should be born at Downton. If it was a girl well it provide a bit of continuity. Caroline had come into the world in the village so it felt right for the third child to be born in Downton even if it would likely grow up a Londoner.
"Nothing will go wrong this time, Matthew." It seemed half a promise, half a vow as if she needed reassurance as much as he did.
There was a long silence between them. In that hard year after Benjamin they had become accustomed to the silence, having learned painfully that silence was sometimes preferable to words. Just as both knew the promises and vows they made might easily go asunder. One cannot go through the agony of burying a child, and ever again believe in anything simple or fair in the world. Still one clung to whatever promises they could in an uncertain world. As such Matthew assented saying, "I am sure you are right."
Another long pause occurred ending only with Mary confessing, "I want to believe you."
Matthew continued stroking her back as if focusing on touching each ridge in her spine. The movement slow and meditative lulled Mary ever closer to slumber. One of the small mercies of their life had been moments such as these when one could instinctively calm the other. Finally, when her eyes were closing he spoke promising only, "I believe in you and us…" Even half asleep Mary felt the corners of her lips curving into a smile, and she marveled that after ten years and two children no one else on earth could make her smile like Matthew Crawley. It was a small blessing she never failed to be grateful for….With that thought and with a smile still resting on her lips Mary drifted into sleep on the last night that she was the mother of one daughter.
.~.~.~.~.
Christmas Eve 1928 dawned charcoal gray, and Mary woke finding herself alone in an empty bed. The absence of her husband was an unwelcome if not infrequent occurrence of late. She had married a solicitor and disliked his hours. However, she was finding the wife of a politician even less to her taste; Matthew simply never seemed to not be working… Politics consumed him to such a degree that at times she felt more his mistress than his wife. He snuck away for hours, and sometimes days with her, but his attention always returned to his work. Some wives worried about finding their husband in a passionate clinch with a buxom female. Mary expected Matthew would likely be in a darkly secluded corner embracing a government brief. Glancing about the room, the pallor of the dawn, and the silence of the house, led Mary to realize it was early. "Matthew?" She exclaimed thinking he was perhaps in his dressing room. However, her call was met with only silence. Rising slowly and with the support of the bedpost Mary pushed her feet into slippers and pulled the heavy dressing gown around her as she waddled down the hall. Approaching his study Mary self-consciously belted the robe before pushing the door half-open. Glancing inside she saw Matthew sitting at his desk garbed only in pajamas and an open dressing gown. His glasses rested low on his nose, a fact he seemingly took no notice of as he remained wholly engaged in the report he was reading.
"Has anyone ever told you," Mary chided lightly, "That all work and no play makes Matthew a very dull boy."
Without looking up from his document Matthew stated, "You've always considered me very dull."
"Not very," She retorted adding, "Only slightly, and only sometimes."
Looking up he chuckled exclaiming, "Happy Christmas Eve."
Strolling over toward his desk Mary bent over dropping a kiss on his cheek. "Happy Christmas Eve. " Lowering herself she perched herself on his lap asking, "And you are working?"
"Catching up on some work." He clarified as if the two concepts were wholly different.
"It is a holiday."
He chuckled at her words admitting, "I don't think government work adapts to a holiday calendar."
Mary sighed admitting, "To think I thought you working less hours at the firm would provide us more time together."
"We shall have a perfectly lovely Christmas Eve together." He promised giving her a reassuring squeeze. "I just need to put some time in on my reports before the holiday begins."
Mary glanced reprovingly at her husband noting, "I know why you push yourself, and I do admire you." He looked up sensing she had more to say. "But we're only going to have a few more years before our daughter is ready for marriage."
"University." Matthew replied firmly.
"University," She acquiesced in a tone suggesting she did not wholly believe the concept but was malleable. "My darling our time with our girl and this," She placed her hand on her abdomen rubbing it gently, "Child is limited. We mustn't waste it."
"Do you think I'm ignoring Caroline or you?" He sounded slightly concerned as if she might well state that she did believe that he was…
"Not precisely," Mary said amending her statement only slightly. "I believe you are working too hard though."
He smiled affectionately up at her stating, "You always think I'm working too hard."
"It's my duty to think that."
He grinned giving her a gentle squeeze. "And it's my duty to build a better world for our children."
"Honestly," Mary responded irritably. "You make overworking sound like a civic virtue."
Sighing realizing he'd lost the argument Matthew inquired, "What would you like wife mine?"
"I'd like us to have a proper Christmas Eve with our daughter and my sister with as little politics as possible."
Matthew nodded assenting, "Then that you shall have… But might I have perhaps a half hour to clear my desk so as to speak." He glanced up at her so hopefully Mary almost laughed.
"A half hour," She agreed rising from his lap and moving toward the door. "But in a half hour I expect you ready to make merry."
"I do promise." He granted returning his attention to his brief. Mary closed the door behind her knowing full well a solid hour or more would pass before her husband even looked up from his papers. And as she so often was, in this respect, she was wholly right.
.~.~.~.~.
Sybil scanned the letters to the editor section of the newspaper with mounting pleasure. The previous day she had published a particularly radical article and was eager to see the response. She delightedly noted that there were at least six letters insisting on censoring future articles. Sybil considered that an excellent result. Whenever she wrote an article and received no negative response she felt curiously let down.
"Are people very mad?" Caroline asked familiar with her aunt's fondness for public reaction.
"Very." Sybil announced proudly. "Did you read it by chance?" She knew Mary and Matthew were liberal parents but she was not convinced their liberality went nearly as far as her own.
"I read it." She answered flatly. "Nanny read it to. She had lots of opinions." Caroline sighed weakly saying, "She had to tell me every one."
"Did she like it?" Sybil asked skeptically knowing Mary's disdain for anything smacking of unconventional thoughts from her servants.
Caroline shook her head explaining, "She said it was ridiculous. She's very conservative. Very."
"Well your mother did hire her." Caroline considered this before nodding causing her blonde braids to sway slightly. "What did you think?"
"I think Grandma will need some headache powders when she reads it."
Sybil chuckled remarking, "Oh I understand she did."
"When I grow up I hope I don't give Mama head pains."
"You are a Crawley girl," Sybil responded expectantly. "I suspect that you will."
Caroline considered this with a shrug; she was and always would be the most pragmatic of the Crawley family. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course," Sybil said turning to face her niece.
Carolina glanced around as if anxious not to be overheard. "Did you come to help with baby?"
"Well of course," Sybil agreed taking a sip of her tea. Glancing over at her niece and seeing her pensive expression Sybil gently prodded, "Are you worried about baby?" Caroline nodded meekly. "Why? The doctors haven't said anything. Your mama certainly looks well."
"She wasn't sick with Benny…" Caroline protested softly. "The people said everything would probably be fine." There was stubbornness in her words that betrayed an absolute conviction in her words. "It could happen again."
Sybil was silent for a time before acknowledging, "It could." Seeing Caroline looked up disappointedly Sybil reminded her, "There are no promises…Sometimes things just go wrong." She lightly brushed a golden strand from her forehead. "And no one does anything wrong, things just happen."
"Dad says Benji woke up in Heaven. That his lungs weren't strong enough."
Sybil smiled softly, "I think that's a lovely way to think of it."
"I wish Benji had stayed with us."
"So do I." Sybil could hardly think of that small grave with the lamb marker without fearing her eyes moisten.
"Do you think new baby…." She did not finish her sentence instead becoming wholly absorbed in the condition of her toast.
Sybil reached down taking the girl's small hand into her own. "I believe everything will be well. And I will do everything in my power to ensure it is."
Caroline looked up hopefully saying only, "Good," Then without further comment she returned to reading her section of the newspaper.
.~.~.~.~.
From their first year in London, that long year of 1917, Matthew and Mary had moved from the Downton and Manchester traditions of their childhoods establishing instead their own rituals and routines. They had quickly decided they favored spending the Christmas holiday in the city, before decamping to Downton to ring in the New Year. In that first hard year, after Robert's passing, they found that they needed the solace of such traditions far more than in previous years. And as such the afternoon Christmas Eve 1928 passed in a very quiet domestic fashion. After luncheon the family gathered together in the library listening to the wireless and enjoying conversation and company. It had been their tradition to attend the Lessons and Carols service at the neighborhood chapel but this year Matthew felt a certain reluctance at leaving his wife. Even as he dressed for the service he still questioned if he should go saying, "Are you sure you will be alright?" While her husband and daughter dressed for the service, Mary had undressed donning a gown and robe opting for a bit of rest.
Mary resisted the impulse to roll her eyes at her husband, if just barely, observing, "I believe I will be alright for an hour or two." She did not even try to curb the sarcasm in her tone. Really Matthew could be slightly infuriating. He was either ignoring her for politics or smothering her in cotton duvets of overprotectiveness.
Matthew smiled bemused by her piqued tone. "I remind you we may be standing in line for some time and the service will not end until five or after."
"You left me alone for an hour this morning." She retorted glancing over her magazine.
He shrugged and chuckled knotting his tie. "I was only down the hall."
"Last night you didn't get home until almost nine."
Sensing he was unlikely to win the argument Matthew countered her statement suggesting, "How about I spend the entire evening with you and our girl."
"How do you intend to maintain our interest?"
"Books, jokes, pirate songs." He offered cheerfully. "Are we could play name our baby. There are literally dozens of names you have not ruled out."
"Thank you for reminding me." Mary said referring to a list she kept by her bedside. "John is out." The night before she'd had a horrible nightmare about Matthew galloping about the house singing that idiotic song to their child, most likely while feigning a terrible pirate accent. The memory caused her body to shudder even now.
"Oh I know lots of songs." He promised lacing his shoes. "And lots and lots of pirate names." He added teasingly. Oddly offering ridiculous names for their child had provided a certain levity to the household.
"I live in fear of that fact." She replied returning her attention to her magazine.
Slipping on his jacket Matthew vowed," I shall return to serenade you very soon, Mrs. Crawley." Punctuating his words he leaned down kissing her cheek.
In spite of herself Mary smiled replying, "I shall be waiting expectantly, Mr. Crawley." Hearing her daughters' shoes coming down the hall she called, "Caroline take care of your father."
"Yes Mama." Caroline answered was muffled only slightly by the door.
Hurrying to join his daughter, at the very last moment, Matthew turned blowing a kiss to his wife as he left the room. In spite of the decade they'd shared, despite them truly being an old married couple she felt her cheeks redden in a scarlet blush.
Yet an instant later she felt a sudden spasm gripping her entire body, nearly causing her to cry out. Clutching the mattress she expelled several panting breaths trying to find relief. Even before the front door closed Mary was tugging the pull cord and calling, "Sybil!"
.~.~.~.~.
After standing in what felt to be an eternal line, during which he closed his coat around Caroline to keep her warm, Matthew and Caroline found seats in the chapel. It was at moments such as these when he felt most keenly the passage of time. Caroline was no longer content to climb upon his lap. Dressed in her best dress sitting in her most serious pose Caroline looked every bit the Earl's daughter and oddly reminiscent of a blonde version of Lady Mary Crawley or what he imagined his wife like at a similar age. Proud as he was of her progress, he still felt a certain loss. Time passed so quickly, and Mary was right, soon enough Caroline would be taking rooms at university or married and away. Either way he must clear aside more time to spend with his girl. He could not voice such things though so when he noticed her studying him quizzically he merely smiled clarifying, "I hope you brought the correct songbook."
In response Caroline merely smiled withdrawing the dog eared text Hymns for little Children from hercoat pocket. "Grandpa Crawley's." She stated tenderly. "As much as I miss Grandpapa at least I knew him a little. I never knew my Grandma and Grandpa."
The past few months Matthew found himself answering question after question about Isobel and Reginald. Robert's death had somehow caused his granddaughter to recognize she had lost her other grandfather and grandmother without ever really having them. A loss made even more painful each time he imagined the great pride Isobel and Reginald would have taken in their granddaughter's every accomplishment. Wanting to express that thought he stated,"Mother and Father would have been very proud of their granddaughter."
"Do you think so?" She questioned with a surprising hopefulness.
"I know so." He affirmed taking her hand and squeezing it within his own.
"Mama says I remind her of Grandma, but sometimes she says that when she's cross."
Matthew grinned admitting, "You certainly have her determination which may in time prove a blessing or a curse."
"She seemed like such a heroine…nursing the wounded, going to war."
"I suppose," Matthew said stiffly. "But to me mostly just a very good Mother." He frowned finding the thought of war Isobel as always deeply upsetting.
"Just like Mama." Caroline said plainly pleased with the comparison even if it was her own invention.
The comment served to cause Matthew's mood to shift in a healthier direction, it was never good to dwell to long into the murkiness of the past, and he smiled. "Very much like your mama," He agreed smiling.
.~.~.~.~.
"The doctor will be here soon." Sybil promised glancing worriedly at her elder sister. Less than a quarter of an hour had passed since Mary had summoned her but the contractions were growing both in frequency and agony. Mary's face was bathed beneath a sheen of sweat and her hair was disheveled. Sybil had seen childbirth of course but it had never consumed her interests. Now she felt a moment's regret… she only hoped she could provide whatever support Mary needed.
"It's coming very fast." Mary worried noting, "It wasn't this fast…not for either of them."
"It's your third baby," Sybil rejoined praying that she sounded more convincing to Mary's ears than her own.
"But…nothing can go wrong," Mary stated panting as she felt another contraction climbing up in her.
"Nothing will," Sybil insisted clenching Mary's hand inside her own, feeling her own fear escalating along with her sisters.
.~.~.~.~.
Sweet baby, sleep; what ails my dear?
What ails my darling thus to cry?
Be still my child and lend thine ear
To hear me sing thy lullby
Me pretty lamb, forbear to weep
Be still, my dear sweet baby sleep.
Thou blessed soul, what canst thou fear
Glancing over at Caroline, Matthew thought that perhaps in a year or two another small child would sit beside her during this service. The family would perhaps never be as complete as it might have once been, but oh how he was looking forward to another child! Caroline had been such a blessing and he dearly relished the notion of another little daughter or son. Reading the text of the hymns singing the songs his own father had crooned as a lad, he felt an almost crushing certainty that this child, boy or girl, was going to bring them such blessings. Matthew did not consider himself a particularly optimistic person, the war had sucked that right out of him, but he did believe somehow that at least for his family 1933 might just bring better things. His smile grew as he thought of a little daughter or son who would so soon be part of their lives. And so he sang the final lines with gusto and a growing certainty.
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep;
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.
Sweet baby, sleep, and nothing fear;
.~.~.~.~.
"Alright Lady Mary," Dr. Tapsell advised looking over the sheet and at his patient. "I believe it is time for you to push."
Mary looked over at Sybil imploring her, "Don't leave."
Sybil smiled reassuringly squeezing her sister's hand promising, "I'll be right here to greet my niece or nephew."
"Alright then," The doctor agreed urging, "Push."
And Mary panted and did as he urged and moments later she heard the sweetest sound she would ever hear in her life, the strong bawling of her third child.
"You have a daughter!" The doctor announced but he really needn't have bothered. Mary knew that sound was the first wailing protest of a strong, healthy Crawley girl.
.~.~.~.~.
Matthew and Caroline walked home atop slushy streets their arms swinging between them. Since the war Christmas had always seemed a pensive time, a time when amid the merry one could not quite forget a time when all was not merry much less ignore those who would never make merry again. Yet, this evening he could only feel happiness, as if memory at least for a day had retreated to a distant shore. He thought William and the others would not begrudge him a single day or two a year. And as such his steps were eager and his mood light as they climbed the stairs to their home.
Entering the foyer he removed his coat and boots and then helped Caroline to do the same. Seeing the footman appear Matthew turned to his girl inquiring, "Shall we ask for a Christmas Eve hot chocolate to warm us up?"
He never heard her response for a sudden defiant cry emitted from up the stairs. Matthew could claim he had heard many a babe's first cry, Reginald had taken him to many a birth, but all his life he swore three he could never forget. Caroline had hardly cried at all, just a sort almost apologetic bleat as if really she was quite above such juvenile behavior. Benjamin….poor Ben his was a sickly call. It sounded, and he supposed it was, as if the boy did not have strength enough even to cry. This third cry was of course different, as he knew if things were as they should have been Caroline, Ben, and this child would have all grown into different individuals. This cry echoed the strong, fierce cry of a warrior cast out into battle. A protest so strong and pure Matthew felt his entire being relax at the sound of it. He'd been holding a breath, the whole nine months, and now he could truly relax. Boy or girl this child sounded like a fighter.
Seeing his sister-in-law coming down the stairs Matthew rushed forward demanding, "Have we….has Mary."
Sybil nodded unwilling to repress a delighted smile. "You have a very healthy baby."
"How? When?" The questions seemed to flow out of him rapidly.
"About a half hour ago." She said unable to stop herself from clucking, "Good thing I avoided chapel."
"Boy or girl?" He inquired instantly demanding more information.
"Your wife threatened my life if I told." She admitted nudging Matthew, "Go up and meet your new addition."
Needing no further urging Matthew turned hurrying up the steps calling over his shoulder, "Stay with Caroline?"
"Always," Sybil said slipping her hand into Caroline's.
Matthew turned grinning at both of them before hurtling himself up the stairs.
.~.~.~.~.
Mary thought that she had never seen anything more beautiful than the tiny brown eyed, brown haired babe nestled in her arms. From the first sobbing howl the little girl had seared herself into Mary's heart. And the more she looked at her daughter the deeper the love grew. Indeed, she was so fixated on the small perfect child that Mary barely heard the light tapping at her door. Looking down at the girl she cooed happily," Time to meet daddy." Smiling she called, "Come in."
Matthew opened the door and entered grinning widely, "So?"
Mary forced herself to look away from the child, and up at her husband announcing, "Come and meet our second daughter."
"A girl!" Matthew practically shouted. "We have another girl!" The question of any possible disappointment with the sex of the child fled from Mary's mind at the sight of his pure glee. "Oh darling, a girl. How very, very splendid!" He seemed quite beyond words and clearly so very, very happy that Mary could not help beaming at his happiness.
"A brown eyed one this time," She announced feeling a surging pride at the news. Caroline had the look of her husband, and how Mary had adored that blonde haired, blue eyed babe. But their youngest girl looked the picture of her, and Mary had not anticipated the delight that fact caused her.
"She has your eyes," He questioned hurrying across the room, and crouching down beside the bed. "She does," He cried delightedly locking eyes with the little girl. "And her hair is the color of yours."
"I think she has your nose."
"Poor child," He murmured tearing his eyes from his little girl and up toward his wife. "Oh Mary thank you so much my darling, thank you."
"She's healthy darling, perfectly healthy." Mary stated wanting to affirm that straight away.
"Wonderful!" He said still peering down and completing his count of fingers and toes. "Was it very dreadful?"
"Very, but very, very worth it," Mary assured him smiling the memory of the pain paling beside the great joy of her baby in her arms, and her husband at her side. "Now I believe I have earned a proper kiss."
"I believe you have," He granted lowering his mouth to hers.
.~.~.~.~.
"Thank you so much for coming out today," Sybil offered gratefully escorting the doctor down the stairs and through the hall toward the door. "I do know how much the Earl and Countess appreciate your taking the trouble to do so."
"No, no I was glad to do it." He said adding, "A happier result than last time."
"Very much," Sybil affirmed feeling a bit wane at the mention of the tiny boy whose desperate huffing cries had foretold the end of the story at the very beginning.
"She looks the picture of health." He assented seemingly pleased at the news. Sir Phillip Tapsell's son was a far humbler and kinder hearted physician than his father. "Well with that said my wife has threatened my life if I am not home in time to share a Christmas bowl with her tonight." He smiled even as he spoke seemingly a happy man. "And," He said reaching into his bag and withdrawing a bright peppermint stick, "I believe this will please the new sister."
Caroline crossed from the behind the stairs where she'd been listening quietly. "Thank you." She said smiling at the gift. As Sybil bid the doctor good day and a happy Christmas Caroline twirled the candy between her fingers.
After promising to come again the following day, the doctor donned his bowler and hurried into the darkness. Closing the door Sybil shifted her attention to her niece who had sat down on the bottom step.
Walking over to the staircase, taking a seat next to her niece Sybil said, "Now that the doctor is gone I'm sure your parents are expecting you to come up and meet baby."
"A girl," Caroline said softly. "I overheard the footman."
Sybil nodded, "A little sister for you."
"I suppose." Caroline agreed her focus determinedly fixed elsewhere.
"You are going to be a great big sister."
"I already was a big sister," Caroline reminded her with a surprising firmness.
Sybil took a moment before replying, "I know Benjamin was so glad you were his sister."
"He didn't know." Caroline disagreed adding, "He was just a baby."
"I'm sure he knows now…"
"Maybe," Caroline agreed noncommittally. Then so softly Sybil could barely hear her niece Caroline muttered, "Maybe he'd be mad."
"Why?"
"Maybe he'd think the baby was replacing him." She confessed deliberately focusing on the shine of her shoes.
"Replacing him?" Even to her own ears Sybil found her question utterly idiotic.
"Baby will be living here and he never did. And growing up and he never did that either." She said her voice dropping lower and lower with each succeeding word.
"Oh," Sybil said contemplating how to best answer such a fear. Due to her writing, and speaking schedule she had not really spent a great deal of time with her niece in any sustained fashion. But she innately recognized that Caroline was most likely confessing things to her that she would never voice to her parents. She recognized that such trust deserved more than a pithy response. Oddly she found herself thinking about the war. Well she thought of the war constantly. She supposed she always would, just as Matthew once confessed he knew he always would. Still for once the war seemed less an intrusion than a connection, instead of taking her further away somehow the experience provided her a means of moving closer to her niece. Somehow the hell she and Matthew and the others had endured provided her a means of connecting to the fears of a small girl who had blessedly never seen a single battle or heard the roar of cannon. "Caro do you remember the picture on my desk? The one from the war," There were several of course, yet she trusted the girl to know the one she referenced.
"The one of Dad, and you, and Grandpa, and the two men who worked at Downton."
"Yes," Sybil said quietly. "Do remember the soldier in the center."
"William Mason." Caroline answered without the slightest prompt. "He was Dad's valet."
Sybil nodded prodding, "Do you remember what happened to William?" Sybil fought against the initial break in her voice. The youngest of the young boys could still scratch at her like some errant bit of shrapnel destined to forever scar her soul.
"He died after dad left the war, at a place in France…Amiens." She said firmly and with a sad look crossing her eyes. "Dad took me to meet his Papa at his farm. He was very nice."
Sybil smiled moved at the small gesture Matthew had made integrating William's life into his daughter's lexicon so effortlessly. "He was just one of the men I knew who didn't come back." Seeing Caroline watching her with a puzzled expression Sybil explained, "Those men went off to battle and they died very young, and with most of their stories unwritten."
Caroline studied her aunt for a moment before saying, "Like Benjamin."
"Yes," Sybil agreed awkwardly, "It was still so difficult to talk about that time, and those boys who never quite became men. Wanting to explain her hesitance Sybil continued, "One day I'll tell you more about that time... But for now maybe I can say this…During those years I lost many friends… Sometimes," She said brokenly, "It felt as if every boy I'd ever danced with died in those years. But a few didn't and the ones that did…I wouldn't give away those dances for anything." Focusing her gaze on her niece she explained, "You see as much as I miss those friends, I am so glad to have had those dances, and those picnics, and all the good memories to remember them by….And I would not trade away those times… But life goes on and go on we must." She sighed a little self-consciously. "I suppose what I'm saying is no I don't think Benjamin would feel that way." She took a breath ensuring the girl followed her thoughts. "I don't think he'd begrudge you or your parents' happiness." Smiling at the girl Sybil continued, "He most likely had his father's open heart and your mother's pragmatic nature…. He'd want all of you to be happy… He'd want you to dance and be merry and laugh and have a wonderful life." She said surprised to find herself thinking that her words were just, that indeed that would be what the child would want. "And just because you love baby doesn't mean any of us will ever stop loving Benjamin."
"I suppose." Caroline agreed sounding less than convinced.
"But perhaps that's not it, not really." Sybil said feeling she'd deduced a more likely rationale for her niece's behavior. "Perhaps it's that you are afraid about loving baby."
The girl looked up her eyes pooling with water. "What if something happens?"
"Caro," Sybil said using her nickname for her niece. "It's okay to be scared. Life is scary. But," She said running her hand along the girl's hair, "Sometimes we have to swallow our fear and just plunge ahead. We have to forget what we're afraid of and just take what is to come. I cannot dance with some of those boys anymore, but I must still dance and try and move on as best I can."
Caroline seemed to consider her aunt's words before standing announcing, "I have a sister."
"You have a sister." Sybil agreed decidedly.
"I am going to go see her." She said sounding more decided than pleased about the decision.
"You should," Sybil agreed watching the girl climb the steps. And for only a moment she was sure she heard a waltz playing, and imagined if she turned quickly enough she might catch sight of a sea of young swans in white tie and tails extending their hands offering to waltz. Turning though she saw only a silent, empty hall and somehow that seemed about right.
.~.~.~.~.
Caroline crept down the hall walking in a slow strait line as if traversing a balance beam. At last she stood before the half open guestroom where her Mama and Dad and the baby, no her sister were…. She raised her hand and knocked. "Come in my girl," Mary's voice called beckoning her closer.
Caroline stepped into the room. "Come meet your sister." Matthew urged cheerfully. He was laying in stocking feet beside her mother on the bed, and tapped the mattress beside him. Caroline slowly moved over and took a seat on the edge of the mattress.
"She is very small," Caroline said studying the infant with the keenest of interest.
"You were that small once," Matthew told her still smiling at his second daughter.
Somehow the combination of her aunt and father's words reassured Caroline and she smiled more cheerfully asking, "What will we call her?" Caroline asked curiously. "Not Lettice." She insisted firmly fixing her father with a disapproving look.
Matthew and Mary chuckled agreeably. ""I think not," Mary agreed adding, "I'm not certain what she looks like."
"If we name her Alvid she'll look like an Alvid."
"Matthew," Mary stated tensely, "We are not naming our daughter after a Norwegian pirate."
"She was not just a Norwegian pirate," Matthew corrected with a pointed interest. "She was the chief pirate and clearly a heroine of some renown."
Mary rolled her eyes saying irritably, "Who'd think a book I picked up to provide some distraction from government business on our holiday would become yet another thing you need distraction from."
Matthew was about to retort when Caroline who had been studying the baby with intense interest suddenly proclaimed, "She looks like a Jane."
"Jane." Matthew said repeating the name. "Jane Crawley." He rolled the name over deciding he liked it, even as he waited for Mary to commence narrating a story of some creature she disliked named Jane.
Instead, Mary smiled cooing to her daughter, "Hello Jane."
"Merry Christmas Jane." Caroline whispered to the sleeping baby, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead. And so as the snow swirled and the evening of Christmas Eve began the Crawleys and their daughters remained cocooned in a world all of their own…..
.~.~.~.~.