Robert was in the library shouting at Mr Murray.
"It is less than a month since Matthew was killed, and less than a fortnight since his son died. Why do we have to do this now?"
"Lord Grantham, I am very sorry for your recent losses, but dreadful as they have been, you cannot ignore this for much longer."
"Very well" Robert sighed. "Do what you have to do."
Murray left.
Since Matthew's accident, life at Downton had been chaotic, even more so than after Sybil's death, perhaps because it had been the second such tragic, pointless death of someone young to have blighted the Crawleys. They were more traumatised by what had happened to Matthew because of Sybil's death.
When little Robert Matthew had died of diphtheria a fortnight after his father, the real hysteria had begun. Mary was still in shock. Cora was distraught with grief but even more heartbroken because she felt so powerless to comfort Mary. There were fearful whispers below stairs of tragedy coming in threes.
Tom, who'd had his own wounds reopened, sleepwalked through his days and threw himself further into work on the estate while Robert lost all sense of the meaning or purpose of his life.
Now he had no known heir once more. Murray had turned up worrying about the entail again, and was determined to look at the family tree to find some distant cousin, but Robert had little hope. Deep down he knew it was important to settle it as quickly as possible, that finding an heir was the only way to see a future for any of them.
Edith, as ever, was left to cope on her own as best she could. She found herself things to do supporting Cora, Violet, and Isobel especially. Her column for The Sketch took a back seat and her friendship with Michael Gregson began to wane. She may not have always loved, or even liked, Mary but even Edith wouldn't wish this series of catastrophes on her.
.
Three weeks later, Murray asked for a meeting with Lord Grantham. Robert thought everyone should hear what he had to say, so had asked Violet, Cora, Isobel, Mary, Edith, and Tom to be present. After the usual greetings, and everyone had settled down Murray began to speak.
"I bring information that I fear none of you will find welcome, my lord."
"Murray, the last time we had to have this conversation I did not welcome your news, but Matthew turned out to be the best thing to happen to this family for a long time. Perhaps this will turn out well, despite everything."
"That is for you to decide, my lord. There is an heir. As you all know, the Earldom of Grantham is old enough to have the unusual, but by no means unique, characteristic that, should the male lines die out, the title can be inherited through the female lines. After Mr Matthew and his son, there are no successors by the male lines. The heir we have found is in actual fact the only heir by the female lines. Thus if you, Lord Grantham, and he die without male issue, the Earldom would become defunct. In 1810, a sister of the third Earl married a local nobleman and landowner, local matches being more common then than now. It is through her and the male line from her that the new heir is related to you."
"Go on, tell us his name."
"Murray took a deep breath.
"His name is Sir Anthony Strallan."
After the initial shock, everyone looked at Edith, who had gone very pale but otherwise didn't react. Violet, however, exploded.
"You must have made a mistake, Murray."
"I sincerely hoped I had, Lady Grantham. So I had the College of Arms look over it as well. There is no mistake."
"But he can't…he just can't!" Violet spluttered.
"Why not, Granny?" asked Edith. "Is your disapproval not just your conscience aching?"
"Nonsense, child. He betrayed you. For that alone he does not deserve to inherit the title of Grantham."
"Whether he deserves to inherit or not is immaterial, Lady Grantham" started Murray.
Edith stood. "No matter. I think we should all just get on with accepting what has to be, don't you agree Mr Murray?"
"Exactly, my lady" Murray agreed.
"Does Sir Anthony know?" she asked.
"Not yet" Murray answered. "I will write to him this afternoon."
Mary was quiet throughout the meeting until Murray had left. Then she got up to return to her room, whispering to Edith as she went past.
"Bad luck again, Edith. It appears neither of us is destined to be Countess of Grantham."
It was only then that Edith lost control and had to fight against the tears. She couldn't care less about being the Countess of Grantham. If only she could have been Lady Edith Strallan she would have lived with Anthony in a hovel and been grateful.