Downton Abbey:

The Sufficiency of Service (formerly "Guy(s) Night")

by Mirwalker


Prologue

Tuesday, 5 November 1912

The shattering glass and piercing shriek were almost simultaneous to the brilliant flash outside. Both were followed instantly by a peal of thunder, and then a complete silence in the previously chat-filled drawing room.

All eyes turned to where Lady Edith held gloved hands over her open mouth; and a dark stain spread down her dress, matched by one on the floor.

"Edith?" the Earl chided the sudden and inappropriate exclamation. He and several others looked disapprovingly at her childish reaction to the storm, the crystal breakage and wine spill, and, perhaps most egregious of all, the interruption of the otherwise charming evening.

"My dear, are you alright?" the Countess added motherly concern to her similar judgment.

Edith pointed at the floor-to-ceiling length glass across the room. "There was a figure there. In the window. A man. A bloodied man!"

The Dowager Countess gasped herself, "Such language, young lady!"

Edith glanced around worriedly, as the surprised stares continued to focus on her. "No grandmamma, a man… covered in blood." Once again, would no one grant her any credit? Would they all always assume so little of her, her thoughts and her actions?

All eyes shifted swiftly in the indicated direction, where rich draperies framed black rectangles of wet glass—all that separated the gathered family from… nothing. Another brief burst across the sky showed no one, and nothing, in sight beyond the family's reflections.

"I am not imagining it," the middle daughter anticipated the looming response to the lack of supporting reality to her claims. "I happened to glance past mama, just at the long lightening flash. And there he was, plain as you all are. Dripping wet, reaching out to me."

The presumptive heir shared a look with his mother, neither seeing anything beyond the room, but also not sure how to respond to their cousin's vision, or larger cousins' reactions to her.

Mary sipped her cordial, quietly amused by the whole scene, and wholly happy not to be the center of this attention.

"Will no one believe me?" Edith sank to the edge of the chair, beside a consoling Sybil, more upset at the family's disbelief than at the apparition itself. "Will we not take a look to care for ourselves, if not for him?"

Feeling the need to do more than simply allow her claims to continue, the Earl walked to the window, and—cautiously—looked out into the drive and yard. "My dear, it is cold and pouring outside, and has been for some time. No one would have any good reason to be out there."

"No one worth knowing," the Dowager stage whispered through pursed lips.

"Precisely. Isn't that all the more reason to make sure?" Edith pointed out, angry now, if not entirely surprised, at the lack of compassion or interest. "That someone is out in this weather clearly suggests that something is the matter. That it should be looked into… Oh," she exclaimed, standing suddenly and heading for the door, "If no one will, I shall have a look myself."

Her mother stood, as the apparent hysteria had moved from surprising, to irritating, to downright disruptive. "You'll do no such thing, young lady. The weather, that dress, never mind dinner-"

As she spoke, Carson quietly entered the room, ready to nod that dinner's readiness to the Lady of the house. Seeing several family members gathered around the distressed Lady Edith, he asked under arched eyebrows, "Is everything alright, Milady?"

"Ah, Mr Carson," interrupted Matthew, in the hopes of smoothing the apparent impasse of wills. "Lady Edith believes she's seen someone outside the window. As she changes and the family moves in for dinner, I wonder whether you might spare a member of staff to join me in a quick round of the house? Just to put all our minds at ease. That we haven't left someone out in this downpour."

Grimacing and wringing his fingers at the suggestion that the evening was going off-script, at sparing any of his workforce for a drenching tangent while dinner was waiting, and—God forbid—at their possibly finding another soul to care for this evening, the butler looked to his employer for direction.

The Earl glanced to his wife, who cast back an expectant look. But expectant of what, he wasn't entirely sure.

Seeing his daughter's own plea for support, and knowing all eyes were now on him, he smiled and nodded, while heading to the door himself. "If everyone will please proceed to dinner, Mr Crawley, Carson and I shall sort out a quick search party."

With a mix of grumbling and niceties, the ladies of the house made their way across the saloon, Edith breaking off up the staircase for some distance and a fresh dress.

"Should we not wait for everyone to be seated?" asked Mary, doe-eyed.

"Gracious no, dear," her grandmother corrected, taking her arm and keeping her moving, "If the gallant barrister wishes to indulge the deluge, who are we to hold him up...?" She added in a whisper, "And a drenched dog is unlikely to win any affection at the master's table…"

Behind them, the men huddled to manage their competing obligations. Both other men looked to the Earl for his intentions. "Matthew, I appreciate your offer; but I think we might be able to handle this without dousing any of those involved with or invited to dinner..." He turned to his right hand man, suggesting, "I realize it's late, and testing Noah himself out there; and that the bulk of your staff are committed to dinner service. But in the interest of peace of mind, and peace more generally, could you please have Mr Bates take the hall boys on a quick check outside?"

"Cousin Robert, I sincerely don't mind a little rain, to help put Lady Edith's concern to rest," Matthew protested being removed from the resolution.

"Admirable, my boy," the Earl assured with a hand to his shoulder, and a knowing smile, "But our duty is to the dinner and its conversation. There'll be no escaping that for any of us." He looked back to the butler for a confirmation.

Unhappily, but dutifully, Carson agreed, "Very well, sir. It will only take me moment to relay the instruction, and return for dinner service. Please pass along my apologies to the family for that slight delay…"

"It shall give Lady Edith time to change, and so keep us all included."

With a deep breath, each man turned toward his assigned task.


After the meal, the ladies returned to the drawing room for a final round of conversation, in hopes the storm might break enough for two cars' departure. Lord Grantham and Mr Crawley hung back to enjoy a sherry and a moment's silence before joining them.

"Milord," Carson interrupted from the service door as soon as they'd poured the drinks, "I do apologize; but Mr Bates would like a word with us."

The Earl's brow wrinkled, as his valet had earlier sent word that they'd found no one outside, as expected. "Very well."

Nodded in, the caned man spoke humbly, as always, but with particular seriousness. "My Lord, Mr Crawley, I apologize for the interruption, but I wanted to catch you both as soon as appropriate."

Both gentlemen set down their glasses at the grim tone.

Bates nodded, and placed both hands on his cane. "I don't mean to raise alarm with you or their Ladyships; but I think it best we keep everyone here, inside for the night. We could use the storm as an excuse…"

"Bates, whyever for?" the Earl wondered. "The rain is still strong, but that's not enough to hold anyone here."

"You said you'd found nothing outside," Matthew reminded, connecting that the former soldier's concern was less about the weather.

"I said we hadn't found anyone, sir," Bates corrected slightly.

Robert and Matthew sat upright at the ominous distinction.

Bates looked to Carson, who pursed his lips, but nodded him to continue.

Stepping forward, Bates narrated as he pulled a wadded handkerchief from his pocket, "While the rain will have washed away anything less substantial, I found this… at the front door." He opened his bundle between the two men in white ties, to reveal another folded square of fine white fabric. Only this one was damp and stained with unmistakable deep, red splatters.


A/N: Much to my amused chagrin, a friend's video recommendation has caught my binge-watching fancy, and promptly loosed a plot bunny in my head. Sometimes I wonder why I can't just watch good television, and enjoy it at that!

I invite you to please enjoy, and constructively review as you go…