"Take care, Matthew."
"I will."
"Be sure to write, when you can." Cora said, and he promised he would. "You've said goodbye to your mother?"
"Yes, this morning," he said,
"She had to leave early for the hospital. We've all got our duties now." He tried to smile but failed.
"Where is Sybil?" he asked suddenly, realizing the youngest Crawley was not among the group gathered outside Downton Abbey.
"She was supposed to be here," Robert said, "She sent a note home late last night, she would try her best to be here by morning."
"Can't you stay a little longer?" Cora asked, "I'm sure she can't be too long."
"I wish we could." Matthew said, "As it is I suppose I'm lucky they haven't sent me my orders sooner." Sudden footfalls made them all start; they turned to see young William heading out of the service quarters, carrying his pack, and a picnic basket.
"Sorry I'm late sir," he said to Matthew, "Mrs. Patmore insisted she pack us a lunch for the train." There were a few smiles attempted to be hidden amongst servants and family. Matthew glanced at Mary, who swiftly looked away, averting her eyes quickly.
"Well…" he said finally. "I suppose- I suppose we'd better be going." He bent to press Mary's cheek, but she ducked her head,
"Godspeed." She muttered her tears evident. Attempting to brush off his hurt, he put a smile on for Edith, quickly kissing her cheek, hugging her tightly
"Tell me how you and Sir Anthony get on." He said softly to her, and she smiled a little nodding. "I'm sure I could use good news."
"Yes I will." She said, squeezing his hand tightly. Matthew turned to Cora, who held him as a mother might,
"Be careful," she said in his ear, and she stepped back, pride and fear shining in her eyes. When it came to Robert, Matthew was suddenly at a loss. Robert had become so much more than a distant cousin, acting almost as a father to him.
"I expect Pharaoh will have to keep you company on your daily walks." Matthew said finally, Robert nodded, unable to speak for a moment before hugging him outright. He stepped aside, "William,"
"I wanted to thank your Lordship, for helping me get this post." he made to bow as usual, but Robert grasped his hand instead.
"You take care, be careful. I'm sure you'll make us very proud."
"I will sir, thank you for everything."
"You've always a place here at Downton, no matter what. Come home to us son." William was startled by the term of endearment, and he tried not to let the fear in his eyes show. He wanted to make Lord Grantham proud.
"Thank you sir. I'll remember." With that, Matthew and William climbed into the carriage, slapping the reigns they started off, down the drive, the family and staff waving kerchiefs goodbye.
Train Station
"Note from Lady Sybil said she'd see us off from the station."
"Our train leaves at 9:15, it's already ten past." Matthew said, scanning the crowds for his youngest cousin.
"Yes sir." William seemed nervous, shifting from foot-to-foot. "She'll be in her uniform too sir."
"Hm." The porter appeared on the platform, blowing a piercing whistle
"All aboard!" he called, Matthew and William exchanged unhappy glances, but started for the train, carefully looking through the crowds, all a sea of uniforms and weeping ladies hanging on their sweethearts, whole families had come to say goodbye.
"I guess she couldn't come." William said, and Matthew nodded. He was more than a little upset, after all Sybil was his cousin, and of all of the Crawley ladies, he got on best with her. Six month ago, he would have said it would be Mary he wanted most to write to, but ever since the garden party, her demeanor was cool and reserved, and twice as uncomfortable as before. He'd hoped that with the stirring conflict going on, and the prospect of him leaving, perhaps forever, would help her make up her mind whether or not she wanted him. Instead it seemed only to make her less and less appealed by the idea. He'd been one of the first to sign up, but he wasn't sent directly to war. He was sent off for training, he and William together. It was Sybil who'd written to him, and urged him to tell her all about what he was learning and how things were going. Their letters back and forth from camp to home and back became a lifeline for Matthew, keeping him tethered to Downton, but without the pomp and circumstance. He knew Sybil treated his letters with utmost discretion, and she wouldn't share them unnecessarily. She seemed genuinely interested in what he was being taught (nothing spectacular, he swore to her all they learned was how to make a bed neat enough to bounce pennies on them, and how to peel potatoes. She told him in turn, how she learned to fix the cars, and that she volunteered at the hospital. Wounded from the front overloaded London hospitals, so nearby villages and towns were taking them. Downton was one such medical facility. Matthew had become rather fond of his cousin, of her being quite sensible, and setting aside her personal affairs, namely her votes for women campaign to help the war effort.
"Ticket, soldier." A voice above him disturbed him from his thoughts. Stepping up onto the train, he gave the porter his ticket. He turned giving one last once over of the crowd. Unhappily, he stepped into the corridor, finding his and William's compartment. In a few minutes, the train let out a piercing whistle; it started the chug slowly down the tracks, crawling away from the platform.
"Wait! Wait!" William looked up
"What was that?" Matthew looked out the window, hope brimming. He scanned the crowds, the gates holding back loved ones, all frantically waving hats and kerchiefs. No one stood out.
"I don't know."
"William! Matthew!" a familiar voice was shouting above the roar of the train, they flew to the window, rolling it down to poke their heads out just in time to see Sybil jump the gate, escaping a police officer's grasp. Her coat flapped behind her as she sprinted down the gangway, her hand clutching her hat, she still wore her apron from the hospital.
"Sybil!" he called back, truly shocked. Her petticoats kicked up around her knees as she pounded down the platform, trying to catch up to his window. Other windows were rolled down, cheers going up from the soldiers, waving her on; one telling her he'd get the letter up to Matthew if she wanted. "Sybil what are you doing?" Matthew shouted,
"Take this-" she was calling, the train let out another shrill whistle as she spoke, and they were picking up speed. Matthew stretched out to meet her half-way, the tips of his fingers barely grasped the paper, she gave one final lunge, and he grabbed for the letter. As soon as she'd released it, she went sprawling, unable to keep up with the train, her burst of adrenaline gone. For a moment he was afraid she'd rolled off the platform. Managing to fit most of his shoulders out the window, he peered through the smoke to see her picking herself up, hat gone now. Out of breath, she waved frantically, tears evident. "Come back-" she shouted, whatever else she said was cut off by another shrill whistle from the train.
"I will!" he waved the letter in his hand at her, showing her he caught it.
"Open it!" she shouted. Tearing the paper, he tipped it over his hand, out fell a whistle. He looked at her, shocked. She nodded, trying to compose herself. Confused, he wondered what it was for when suddenly he remembered. Sybil told him when she was little she used to wear a whistle on a long chain, a gift from Carson. Once she'd fallen out of one of the hazel trees in the orchard and broke her ankle. No one seemed to hear her calling, so she blew the whistle until someone came to help. Putting it to his lips, he blew as hard as he could; Sybil had reached the edge of the platform, waving her hat to him,
"Goodbye, goodbye!" she cried.
"I'll be back!" he shouted. He waited until she was out of sight. He and William rolled the window up again, sitting down with heavy sighs. The letter was crumpled from him holding onto it. Reaching under his collar, he tugged at the twine around his neck, undoing the knot, two discs, one red and one green, clinked together as he slid the whistle over the string to hang down with the tags. Tucking back under his shirt, he sat back, feeling the cold metal against his skin, wondering if he'd ever need to use it.