Hi! I know, another William/Daisy fic. I love them both so much and I felt that there's not enough of them over here. I talked this over with thatdragonchic-hi, there! And we thought of this what-if story, how things would happen if William rose from the dead. Please feel free to provide feedback-I'd love to know what you guys think!
July 1918
Daisy Robinson, now Daisy Mason, stared numbly at her left hand. The ring, a reminder of her new status in life winked at her. The fading light of the summer's day reflected on it, and it gleamed in a slightly dull gold glow. Daisy tried to block everything that happened today. But she couldn't. Everything happened so fast, almost like a blur. She remembered being dressed up by Anna and the new maid Jane Moorsum, a widow of a man who died in the Somme. Her hair was curled; Anna had used the electric curling tongs with the permission of Lady Mary, and a bit of lip rouge courtesy of Jane.
Married for less than twenty-four hours. As Lady Sybil would say, it was grim.
He doesn't need you no more, Daisy. He doesn't need none of us no more.
Daisy remembered her father-in-law taking her hands while saying this to her. The poor, kind man no longer had his own son, all because of a wretched war. She didn't know what to feel about it, honestly. Her best friend in the whole world was forever gone. William had forever closed his lovely blue eyes; she would never see his shy, sweet smile ever again. Tears rolled down Daisy's pale cheeks. While she still felt like a fraud about marrying him, she could only look back on how happy he had been. She wasn't happy about it at first, but after she kissed him at their wedding, some of her doubts had fled, and realised that it had been worth making (and seeing) her best friend smile before he died.
Someone was knocking softly on her door. Reluctantly, Daisy got up from her bed. She had been hugging her knees and sitting up alternately since she had come up to her room after the men from Grassby's came to take William's body away. Opening the door, she saw Anna, Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Hughes standing outside her room. Daisy no longer had any roommate ever since Milly Flanagan left to become a VAD in France, so she felt she could let these three women in without being worried about any interruptions.
"May we come in?" asked Mrs. Hughes. Daisy looked up, and said "Yes," rather wearily. Mrs. Hughes' eyes were red and puffy; so were Mrs. Patmore's and Anna's. Daisy felt bad over her own relatively dry eyes. Thankfully, the three older women in front of her had different ideas as they came inside the room. "We imagine that you're trying to be strong, my lass," said Mrs. Hughes sadly. "But it doesn't hurt to grieve."
"I—" Daisy began, but she trailed off as Mrs. Hughes put her hand on her shoulder. The housekeeper went on. "You poor lassie. You must have had a hard slog of it." Hard was an understatement, Daisy thought, considering how the housekeeper and the cook took their turns in convincing—no, browbeating her into marrying William.
"You must be tired, you poor girl." Anna said, "Come and sit. It's no good for you to be pacing around."
I need to walk around. I need to do something and they've given me the rest of the day off. I wish they'd let me work instead, Daisy thought. At the same time, she felt tired and deflated for some reason. Numbly, Daisy sat on her bed, beside Mrs. Patmore and put her arms around herself. She felt so cold, oddly cold. No—it wasn't that. Her spine felt tickly, and her hairs stood on end.
Why do I feel this way?
"Daisy, you're white as a sheet!" chorused Anna and Mrs. Patmore.
"I think I'm going to be sick," Daisy said in a small voice, to no one in particular. The three older women started to fuss over her. Anna picked up the nightdress at the foot of Daisy's bed. "Get yourself changed into this," she said, in her gentle, yet slightly businesslike tone. "You're staying up here." Daisy nodded meekly and watched as Anna and Mrs. Hughes left the room.
But Beryl Patmore stayed a little longer. "You stay and rest, love. I'll have Alice send up a tray for you." In a rare, gentle gesture, she laid her hand on Daisy's head, to check if she had fever and she could tell Elsie Hughes to go up with the Beecham's Powder. "I feel odd," Daisy confessed to her superior.
"How?" Beryl asked.
Daisy sat up in bed, closed her eyes, opened them again, and said rather thoughtfully, "Do you remember that day that I stopped what I was doing an' I said that someone walked over me grave? An' it turned out that it was the exact moment that William got hurt. I felt that way awhile ago. "
"Only Jesus and Lazarus rose from the grave, Daisy." Beryl, in a strange way, got her subordinate's drift.
"I must be going mad," Daisy sighed. "Forget what I said."
"I'll be back...or I'll send Mrs. Hughes up for you to take Beecham's Powder. Rest well."
Unbeknownst to cook and kitchen maid, William Mason woke to consciousness inside the Grassby's van. He had the oddest feeling of having gotten out of a tunnel—a dark one, then getting out into beautiful place with a kindly vision telling him to go back where he came from.
William didn't get to see what the "vision" clearly looked like, though. He could only remember being told, "My child, you have another chance. Go and be happy with your wife. You will be happy, I tell you. I won't let you into my gates just yet." Like a whoosh, he was transported back to earth again, and drifted into life by—a jolt caused by a stone in the road.
"Owww..." mumbled William. He opened his eyes. It was dark as Egypt during the plague. Was he dead again? But he could open his eyes. Surely that should be a sign that he was in the land of the living again. Or do dead people lose their sense of location if they came back to life? But he had little contact with people who died and lived again, so he wouldn't know. He also noticed that wherever he was, it was moving.
Why?
Where am I? Why am I here?
What's going on?
William also found that he couldn't breathe. He needed air. So he tried to kick open the door with as much strength he could muster. It didn't open. So he kicked again. He was lucky though, since the moving stopped, and two men opened the door. The small, thin man was the first to speak. "What in God's name is going on?" the man named Mr. John Merriwether (William later found out that he was Mr. Grassby's son-in-law) asked. Mr. Merriwether was also white as a sheet. Probably whiter than the one covering William's pyjama clad body. How did this happen? The two men looked at each other, and at William, who was sitting up. We were perfectly sure he was dead when we brought him in.
"You were dead when we got you in this van," stuttered Mr. Jedidiah Stubbs, one of the undertakers.
"Well, I'm alive now," William pointed out.
"Such a smart mouth on you, and you just came back from the dead," snapped Mr. Stubbs.
"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to offend," William apologised humbly. "What I mean is—why am I here? I woke up here in the van. Why am I not in Downton?"
"Methinks you have to get in with us. Mason—William, aren't you?" William nodded at Mr. Merriwether.
"Yes sir."
John Merriwether jerked his chin up. "Well my lad, we best get inside my father-in-law's office. This one's for the books. You died and rose again. Just like Jesus and Lazarus." William gave a weak smile at this. Mr. Stubbs took another look at William to be sure that he wasn't seeing someone's apparition. "Well, you look right famished. Best you get a bite and a cuppa tea."
"So...do you remember anything at all before you died and went back to life?" a perplexed Martin Grassby asked William, who just finished eating his second scone. Tea was served by Mr. Grassby's daughter, the wife of Mr. Merriwether.
William took a sip of tea before he started his short narration. "I was in Amiens—in France with Captain Matthew Crawley—His Lordship's cousin. I was his soldier servant. Before I left His Lordship's employ, I was engaged to a kitchen maid. When Captain Crawley and me were in Amiens, it was such a bloody battle. A shell exploded an' it was going to hit him an' kill him. So I blocked him, an' we fell down that crater. When we came to, Captain Crawley was sent back to Downton, an' me to Leeds. They told me I was goin' to die because my lungs were badly damaged and I only had days to live. So I asked the kitchen maid—Daisy's her name—to marry me soon because I've not much time, an' we did get married—I felt bad about leaving her alone in the world—she hasn't got family. 'Course, 'cept my dad."
"Well, you needn't worry about it now," said Mr. Stubbs rather pertly.
"You're right," William was in concurrence.
"Someone has to ring up Lord Grantham," Mr. Merriwether reminded them.
"Mr. Carson will need smelling salts. Or Major Clarkson. He'll faint into a heap if he hears of this." William said.
