So this is another homework piece I can upload – yay! But I will update my stories as soon as I get some free time which at the moment is very difficult :L
So as my last one shot was from Elsie's point of view this one is for Charles, set at the end of S1 E7.
The words still rang in his ears, the sounds were reverberating in his mind driving him to distraction.
"We are at war with Germany"
It had been predicted of course, the death of a Duke, Europe beginning to rumble, the stirrings of conflict starting to rise to the surface. Their way of living was already being altered; electricity, cars, the telephone, he was a stubborn man and liked the way things were;
He did not like change.
He was of an age where he wouldn't fight, too old, not exactly in the best physical shape, he was relieved for this, but troubled also. He would have to stay while watching all the other men go to fight, fight for their country, fight for their King – while he continued with his normal life as if nothing was going on. No man liked to feel useless, but somehow he did.
There would be those called to fight, those who signed themselves up, but eventually they would all go, every man called to duty to fight this bloody battle, experiencing horrors unknown, tortured by terror and suffering in cold dark trenches with no foreseeable end, listening to screams, watching others die – that was no place for such young boys. They would pray to be spared, but if not, they would pray to be killed quickly. So much death, so much sorrow;
He did not like change.
His own staff would leave to fight, young boys only just out of their mothers' safe embrace, sent to their deaths like cattle to the slaughterhouse – his paternal instinct had deepened. They were the boys he brought up; taught them skills, taught them to be proud of the house, of the family and of their jobs. He was strict with them but inside, they were his sons and no parent should have to deal with the death of their children.
He did not like change.
He would be left, with a house full of women, women who had a strong willed demeanour but inside were suffering with the threat of death in their family. These women may still be his staff, but maids, doing the job of footman? It simply wasn't right. His entire life had been devoted to keeping up standards and decorum, a life full of being taught the rules, following them, then teaching them to others. Now, forget everything? He would have to do more himself, compromise for his loss – it would be tough, but he could not the let the appearance of the house fall, there may be a war on, but things needed to be as close to normal as they could be, even if to show the Germans that they would not beat them in the end.
He did not like change.
He would watch the family, a shadow in the background, just an observer. He would watch as they exchanged goodbyes with the Lord and his heir, dressed to the nines in their uniform, but with an unmistakable look of fear in their eyes, having to stay resilient in front of the ladies so as to not cause any more pain. And he knew, he knew he would see her leave her family, find somewhere distant and cut off, somewhere private to cry tears of untold love, hidden from the man she'd just seen leaving for France. His surrogate daughter dying inside from events out of her control. Life certainly could be cruel. She was usually so happy, but now every shred of happiness had been ripped from her heart.
He did not like change.
His heart had nearly stopped when the words had reached him, the look of fear on everyone's faces identical to the mask on his, to them he would appear as shocked as they were, but in his heart that was not the cause of the fear. They were not nearly as scared as him. He of course felt worried, worried for those who would see off their husbands, sons, brothers, as they left their homes – some never to return. But the change, the change the war would bring, there would be so much work they would be too dulled down for time off. A never ending circle of work and stress, playing with their hearts, taunting their heads; how would they cope? But that was still not his reason. His fear that caused his heart to stop when it dawned on him how she would react to this, how she would see the change – she would no doubt see it as a sign that life could not go on as it had before, they themselves would have to change, nothing could remain the same.
He knew she felt like this as he felt her tiny hand in his, removing it just as quickly, leaving behind no trace as if it had never been there – except a ring. The ring he'd given to her when he'd asked for her to marry him. He turned, wanting to plead for their love, but she was already gone. Gone forever.
He hated change.
Being in a sad mood somehow calls for sad writing which is a shame but please don't hate me too much and please review so I know whether or not my teacher'll hate it too :p