A/N A nanowrimo project. Downton Abbey in 2013. The house is a 5 star hotel run by Claire Crawley and her parents Marjorie and Richard, the Countess and Earl of Grantham. The Grantham's have three daughters with Claire being the oldest and the one responsible for the business. Jane, the second daughter has left the house to live in London and runs a small restaurant there. Viola is the youngest at 31. A carefree woman, single, aspiring journalist for National Geographic. She doesn't want to be involved in all the boring business staff and loves to explore the house. One day she discovers something in the old attic that will change her life forever and allows us to time travel with her.
What remains of the Past
chapter 01
"It is supposed to be here somewhere!" Viola rummaged through the open drawers of her great-grandmother's bureau all the while muttering to herself. "I've seen it in here before. Damn it. Why can I never find anything?" She stacked piles of old postcards she had found in one corner on the left side of the small table, then emptied what was left inside the small drawer in the middle of the chaos she had created. All across the delicate antique Victorian bureau things lay scattered around. A valuable paper knife had fallen to the floor, some unframed photographs lay on the small chair that stood in front of the bureau. Old letters, children's paintings, and various other paraphernalia she had carelessly thrown behind her in the search for the key she was desperately looking for.
"Hah! There you are! Stupid little thing." With a triumphant look she held the old, iron wrought key up above her head. "I knew you were hiding in here. I knew it!" Viola started to dance around the small room, ignoring the chaos around her. She kissed the key and then slipped it into the pocket of her worn out jeans. "I'll have a better place for you, my precious. But first, we are going on an adventure." She almost laughed out loud at her own joke. Too many hours spend in front of the TV with one of her favourite movies. Before she opened the door to step out into the gallery she looked behind her once more, examining the state of the room. "Well, not my fault." She shrugged her shoulders. "Cleaning can wait for later." The door was slammed shut and Viola was happily walking along the gallery, the heavy key in her pocket, towards the green baize door that led her to the part of the house that was hidden from the eyes of the hotel guests.
Unlike the main staircase, which was grand and stately, decorated with a beautifully, hand-carved railing, the steps hidden behind the old door were well-trodden in the middle and the old brass handrail was only shiny in the parts that were often touched. Not many people still used these secret passages. Some of the maids they had hired to help them with the many rooms and the cleaning surely enjoyed the shortcuts the backstairs offered. But Viola's sisters or her parents never even thought about taking the old servant's staircase to move secretly and hidden from view between the many floors of Downton Abbey. She on the other hand had always enjoyed exploring the entirety of their home. Not just the parts they were living in or where their guests resided. There was so much to discover all throughout the house. She would never understand why the rest of her family refused to understand her love for the mysteries this majestic building had to offer.
With a spring in her step she climbed the many stairs, whistling a song that had been stuck in her head since the early morning hours. All the single ladies, now put your hands up! Up in the club, we just broke up… A maid passed by and greeted her rather formally. Viola would not have been surprised if the girl had curtsied for her. She sent a simple "Hi there" back, suppressed a grin and started singing the song loudly. It was so much easier to walk on, higher and higher, with a bit of music around her.
The more steps she climbed, the more the house changed around her. The usually tall windows that overlooked the backyard of the house, soon made room for small, simple square frames that only allowed half of the daylight in, making the top floor of the house a rather dark and mysterious place. She ran the last few steps upwards until she stood in the long, dimly lit corridor that had once been a home to the many servants her ancestors had employed. She tried to remember when they had let the last of them go. Was it in the late 1970s? Or earlier? The hotel was founded in 1975. Viola knew that much although it never really interested her. Business related things were her older sister's expertise, not hers. What she knew for sure was that there had still been a butler and a housekeeper around when she grew up in the early 80s. A kind, elderly woman who always gave her chocolate and cookies whenever she was down in the large kitchen, and an always sourly looking man whose only purpose seemed to be to bring the morning newspaper and the post into the dining room every day.
She looked around. So many doors to her left and right. Most of them now hid unused furniture or their old playthings from childhood. But once people lived behind those very doors. Most of them spent almost their entire lives working as servants for her family. The thought amazed Viola every time she came up here. It was like visiting a museum, a thing from the past long forgotten, something strange that did not seem real. But it very much had been. She tried to imagine what a life in service must have felt like. Getting up every morning before everyone else was awake, walking up and down all the stairs throughout the day, carrying out orders, not being able to take a day off whenever they liked, or go on holiday for a week! How could one live like that? How could people have a life like this where they could not make their own decisions because their employer made them for them? Viola shook her head to get rid of this depressing thought. There was no use to dwell on the past now. Maybe she should do some research about life in service and then write an article about it one day. It would be a very interesting study and her publisher was always open for new ideas. But for now, Viola tried to focus on the reason why she had come all the way up here.
She walked along the dusty floorboards that creaked with every step she took. Small paper signs at every door told her what was hidden behind them. Furniture Drawing room, Children's clothes, Garden chairs… All of these rooms were rather exciting places where she would surely find one or two things for her rooms. There was always a piece of the past hidden in them she had yet to discover. "Don't. Not now." She told herself and her hand went into the pocket of her jeans to take out the old key. It would lead her to a much more interesting place: the old attic!
The last time she had been up there was years ago and her mother had accompanied her on their quest to find a new chest of drawers for one of the larger guest suites. Downstairs, Lady Grantham had only found unsuitable furniture that would not do the newly decorated room justice. And since Viola had always wanted to see the attic, she had agreed to help. She remembered the excitement she had felt when the large door opened, the strange smell, a mixture between old wood, leather and the dust particles that danced in the scattered light. From that day on she had always wanted to return to this magical place.
Viola reached the end of the corridor and turned right where a small passage led to the attic door. She turned on the light but although the old black Bakelite switch clicked, the bulb stayed dark. There was no additional window in this part of the house and despite not being afraid of the dark and mysterious, Viola felt a bit uneasy, though also strangely excited. Carefully she moved on, one hand feeling along the old stone wall until she reached the wooden frame of the door. Quickly she felt for the lock and inserted the key. It required a bit of strength to turn the bolt and Viola was a bit afraid she might break the key in two by using too much force. But then a satisfying click echoed through the otherwise silent servant's quarters and the door swung open inwards revealing the vast attic. Viola's paradise.
It was exactly like she remembered it. Old old furniture stood to the left and right covered with white sheets that had turned grey over the years. Obviously it should help to keep away the dust but Viola doubted this method was very effective. With every step she took, dust was raised from the surfaces around her and the particles formed the most impressive swirls in the sunlight that filtered in through the dirty windows. In the dim light she could make out a large cupboard and an impressive table in one corner, the chairs carefully stacked behind it. Across form this arrangement stood an old hope chest side by side with two old chests of drawers. So many wonderful things to discover! Viola stood in the middle of it all for a moment to take it all in and to remind herself of why she had come here in the first place.
An old ladder leaned against one of the ceiling beams that crossed the room. Above her head a few floorboards formed a kind of platform for extra storage. This was the place she had been looking for. Old suitcases and bags were stored up there. She had only caught a glimpse of them the last time she had been in the attic. Back then, her mother had insisted on quickly finding the required piece of furniture and then leave this dreadful place as soon as possible. But today, Viola planned on spending the rest of the day among the antique and forgotten furniture, browsing through history and the past of her family. Confidently she climbed the ladder until she had reached the platform. It was dark up here. Almost as uncomfortable as in the passage earlier. She looked around and up in the hope to find another window or hatch hidden somewhere in the roof. Her hands felt for a handle that might be concealed in the darkness and after a moment of intense search, her fingers brushed over a metal bar. Viola pushed it upwards and with a creaking sound, a small, rectangular hatch opened one metre above her head. "Lucky me." She could start her search now.
Her mother had suggested buying Viola a new leather suitcase to replace her worn out travel backpack that had seen half of the world already. Whatever argument she had brought forward to explain how impractical a fancy suitcase was for her travels, her mother had not stopped bothering her with this idea. To avoid another discussion in the evening, Viola had formed a plan she was right now executing with pleasure. Hidden away right under their roof, a multitude of old bags and suitcases only waited for their chance to be rediscovered again. Viola was sitting in the middle of them, surrounded by the large steamer trunks one could open on both sides like an actual wardrobe, smaller, worn out carpet travel bags as well as black and brown leather suitcases. Full with curiosity she tried to open the one nearest to her but the locks were rusty and stuck. She held it into the light. A label on the side, the ink faded but still legible, told her whom this suitcase once belonged to: George Crawley, her late grandfather. Viola tried again to open it, now even more curious if there was still something inside. But the locks would not budge. Carefully and a bit frustrated she tried the next one. A black one with a wooden handle. It looked rather new although the corners were a bit battered but the leather felt smooth under her fingertips and she could not find any cracks. When she lifted it to have a closer look at the two locks, Viola was surprised of its weight. This one definitely carried a secret inside. She searched for a label, a name, anything that would tell her who the owner of this suitcase was. But she could find nothing on the outside.
"Please, please, please, open!" she begged aloud. She carefully lowered it on top of her grandfather's case and pressed the clasps downwards. A faint click told her that this time she had been lucky. Viola stared at the open suitcase and waited a moment to control the excitement that threatened to overwhelm her. Then she tentatively lifted up the top and rested it against one of the steamer trunks. A past era, the memories of someone else's life began to unfold in front of her eyes. The suitcase contained stacks of letters, postcards, framed pictures and a few books. In awe Viola let her fingers run across the items before she picked up one of the books.
Great Expectations – Charles Dickens.
The gold lettering on the spine was fading but still intact. Carefully she opened the book and searched for the publishing date. 1892 – London. So whomever this case belonged to had been alive in the 19th century. She examined the book further, looked for a name or an inscription but could not find any. Viola put the book down again and lifted up one of the stacks of letters held together by a light blue bow. Unfortunately the first few were only the handwritten pages without the matching envelope. They were addressed to a woman called Elsie and signed by a man called Charles. The date was June 1912. Viola scanned a few of them, still searching for a full name although she desperately wanted to start reading right away.
"One step at a time." She unfolded letter after letter but could only find the first names. The correspondence was sorted according to the date. What she held in her hands was the summer of 1912 and the fact that these words were written over one hundred years ago made Viola more nervous than anything else she had so far encountered. When she had finished sorting through the first stack, she started on the second and after the fourth letter she finally found an envelope with a London postmark.
Mrs E. Hughes
Downton Abbey
Downton
Yorkshire
The sender was a certain
C. Carson
Eaton Square
London
Viola looked at the date on the envelope. May 1911. These were even older. She put the envelope back and started reading the first letter.
TBC
please let me know what you think about this. I've never done something like that before and I'd really appreciate it, if you'd let me know whether you like the idea or if it is a silly AU setting :)