I should have seen it coming. The signs were all round me! I'm Downtown's butler. I'm supposed to protect this family from things like this! I should have nipped this in the bud.

And here we are left stewing in the aftermath of the worst disaster this family has seen in generations!

As the butler I am privileged to share in the Crawley family's most intimate moments. I was there all 3 times when Lady Grantham told his Lordship she was with his children. I had shared cigars and brandy with the man who I've known since he was a boy, and I had merely been first footman to his father the previous Lord Grantham of sainted memory.

For once I was not excited about the occasion. His Lordship's heir Mr. Matthew Crawley had miraculously regained the use of his lower half he injured fighting in France. He was so joyous he decided he and his fiancee Ms. Lavinia Swire will marry in Downton as soon as possible.

I have nothing personally against Ms. Swire, but she is basically a thief. Taking things that do not belong to her. Her newfound title as Countess of Grantham, the grand estate that is Downton Abbey and her future husband. All belong to another.

We were in the drawing room. I was serving the evening port and everyone was speaking of the upcoming wedding of the heir and his Countess. His Lordship and her Ladyship were as giddy as can be. Ms. Swire beamed with pride, however reluctant she may be about her new circumstance. Only the Dowager Countess didn't partake of the celebration. A woman after my own heart.

The girls! The clues were in their faces! I paid no attention and now we pay the price.

Lady Mary. The firstborn. She should be Countess. She should be marrying Mr. Crawley. She should inherit Downton. All were hers by rights. Now she must settle for marrying an unscrupulous scoundrel unworthy of a West End strumpet. But she was acting strange. The kerchief! How could I have been so dull? She had been fidgeting with her kerchief. She only does that when she's nervous. And hardly anything made Mary Crawley nervous.

Lady Edith. As second born she has hardly any prospects. Hard for me to say but I am afraid she might end up a veritable housekeeper. Arranging events and fixing up the house for social gatherings and taking care of her aging parents. It's a ghastly prospect. She was acting odd, too. She is usually good in the fine art of polite conversation. She can laugh and giggle and fake interest in any topic. But tonight she had hardly anything to say. And she had wanted tea. Tea in the evening, my Lady? But I gave her some. Little did I know she was keeping herself calm for the veritable cyclone about to hit.

And Lady Sybil makes three. I will not deny she is the most physically appealing of the sisters (forgive me, Lady Mary). With her heart-shaped face, heavy eyelids and creamy complexion, Lady Sybil has the stuff to reduce grown men to warm puddles on the floor. Its just she is so headstrong. She loves nothing more than to shock the family with her choices in fashion and politics. Women aren't supposed to know politics. Nursing kept her busy during the war but now its over she seems to just sit around with a sour look on her face. She shares this same look with soldiers I had seen when Downton was a convalescent home. A blank look on their faces while looking out into the distance to god knows what. Don't worry, my Lady. Once you are married and settled, you can put this nonsense behind you.

I am naive.

I just wanted this night to end. Watching Lady Mary smile and pretend to be happy for the man she loved and lost is excrutiating. I would give my left arm for something to barge in that door and give us the worst news possible.

Branson? What are you doing? The chauffeur entered unannounced. He said he had saved up enough money to begin a new career back in his native Ireland and he was turning his notice this evening. But this interruption? I ought to box his ears for this breach of protocol.

His face was... determined. "I'm here", he announced. His voice was solemn. "So I can see" his Lordship answered back, a little puzzled. We all were.

Lady Sybil rose and walked to his side. She murmured something to him but he only told her "You told me to come, and I've come". Why was he talking to her so informally? I knew this boy would be more trouble than he is worth. I still remember Ripon. I still remember that prank he tried to pull on Gen. Strutt. When I'm done with him he won't be seen fit to work as a knocker-upper.

The Dowager asked what was going on.

"Your grandmother has as much right to know as everyone else." Is there no end to his insolence? The Dowager did not find it at all reassuring.

Lady Sybil was trembling, but she spoke the words that will rock this family for generations. "Everyone. Branson... Tom... and I are getting married." She took his hand!

It's like being told England is at war with Germany again (unlikely). Everyone's jaw dropped. Except the sisters. My God, they knew!

His Lordship was aghast. "Sybil, are you...?"

She knew what question was coming and quickly answered back "I know what you are all thinking and no, I am not! Tom has been a perfect gentleman all these years."

"Years?!" Lady Mary seemed shocked. "Sybil, how could you? You said that this was all one-sided! I kept your secret!

"You knew?!" His Lordship shouted, startling his eldest. "What do you mean you knew?!"

Lady Mary faced her father. "I hoped it would blow over. I didn't want to split the family when Sybil might still wake up."

His Lordship was indignant and faced the ex-chaffeur. "And all this time you're been driving me about, bowing and scraping and seducing my daughter behind my back!"

Lady Sybil flinched at his words and turned away. That's right, turn away. Be ashamed of what you let the chauffeur do to you. Be ashamed of what you've done to our family.

Branson answered back "I don't bow and scrape! And I've not seduced anyone! Give your daughter some credit for knowing her own mind!"

"How dare you speak to me in that tone? You will leave at once!" You took the words right out of my mouth, my Lord. This was a folly! A ridiculous juvenile madness!

The Dowager asked Lady Sybil what their plans are. I have known her long enough to know her strategy. She'll let the lovers explain their foolproof plan, then she'll find the chink in its armor, exploit it and watch it fall apart. She was like a surgeon's scalpel. Her son however is a mallet.

"I won't allow it! I will not allow my daughter to throw away her life!"

"You can posture all you like, Papa, it won't make any difference!"

"Oh, yes it will."

"How? I don't want any money. You can hardly lock me up until I die. I'll say good night, but I can promise you one thing: Tomorrow morning, nothing will have changed." She bid her "fiance" to follow her and walked out. I had half a mind to charge him and wring his neck. Then slap some sense into the foolish girl.

But I did not. I stood by while the best family I know slid into infamy in a matter of minutes.

The eldest daughter has been dethroned while the youngest is disgraced.

Silence followed. The bad kind. The kind that usually preludes an artillery barrage.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL JUST HAPPENED?!

"OUR BABY'S MARRYING A CHAUFFEUR!" Her Ladyship collapsed in sobs. Her two true daughters attended to her. I say "true" because Lady Sybil will definitely be disowned after tonight.

The rest of the evening was passed coming up with strategies to end this foul union. Call the police? Have Branson deported? Engineer an unlucky accident? I do still have friends in the entertainment industry.

At least no one's talking about Ms. Swire's wedding anymore. She spent most of the incident looking down, avoiding eye contact after she was caught up in this family tragedy. Mr. Crawley looked like a deer caught in headlights.

I lay down to sleep but I don't think I can. How will our family survive this?

Mrs. Hughes, where's your "sweetest spirit" now?