LETTERS of INTENT/Tales from Downton Abbey
Chapter 1. The Treasure Hunt. 1926.
The two motors trundled steadily toward the Dowager's house. Robert and Cora sat in the back seat of the lead car, with Bates up front next to the chauffeur. Behind them, in a sort of jerry rigged lorry, rode Thomas, Alfred, and, at the wheel, proud as it was possible to be of his new driving skills, James. It was a sunny, late autumn afternoon and the little caravan was making its way to the Dowager's house to clear out a last room ... a room that that the Dowager's aged butler Wells described rather mysteriously as the 'East attic double storage room.'
The Dowager, Violet Estelle Makepeace Crawley, had died on the first day of autumn. She had had her normal breakfast, written a few letters, strolled in the garden, had lunch with the Vicar, indulged in a brief nap, harassed her gardener, read a novel of which she strongly disapproved, dined promptly at 8:30, retired at 10 and was found by her maid, dead in her bed at 9 the next morning. A stroke,most likely, said Dr. Clarkson.
Opinion varied as to whether the relative peacefulness of her passing was more in or out of her formidable character. (Many years ago, when her daughter-in-law had found out that the Dowager's maiden name was 'Makepeace.' she had voiced the "irony" of the name to her husband, who only smiled ruefully in reply.)
Downton rallied quickly. The Dowager had laid out her wishes for her own funeral with military precision and they had been followed to the letter. In her will she had dispensed and dispersed all of her worldly goods including nearly all of the bulky furniture in the Dowager House. Only the oddly named 'East attic double storage room,' remained to be dealt with.
As the front car turned through the gates, toward the house, Cora slipped her arm through Robert's. "Whatever shall we do with it?"
"The house? Well, I have been thinking about that." Robert paused until Cora nudged him. "And?" Robert turned to her with a smile. "I was wondering if perhaps we might be able to turn the house into a school."
Cora's beamed. "Robert! What a wonderful idea! Do you think we could? There is such a need. So many children can't afford to go on to Ripon and there just isn't the farm work for them anymore."
"Perhaps. If we can afford it."
"But you and Mary and Tom have said how well the estate has been doing."
"Yes...but that is today and I am determined not to be such a fool about money twice. And," he continued before Cora could protest, "there is the matter of the damned 'death duties..."
"So, don't die!" Instructed Cora firmly.
"Easy for you to say," Robert said with a smile, "and I'll certainly do my best, but before we commit to the school or much else, I need to insure that Sybie and Marigold are well provided for and that young George will have enough to manage the estate as it should be. Apparently Mathew gave Mama some rather shrewd advice, so at least some of her money is shielded from worst of the taxes. Still, If we can do it at all, it will ultimately have to be self sustaining."
Cora pondered this possible bump in their financial road. She had learned, through hard experience, to pay more attention to matters monetary than she ever had as a young woman or, indeed, through much of her marriage to Robert.
"Well, we shall see. But IF we can manage, we must. A school would be such a wonderful legacy for you...and," she added hastily, "of course, your mother."
Robert smiled. "The Dowager Duchess School" perhaps?"
"Or", Cora offered, "The Dowager Duchess of Grantham School."
"Rather a mouthful that. Think of the monogramming," Robert added with a smile. "What say you Bates?"
Bates half turned in his seat, unsurprised that his master assumed he had been listening. "Perhaps, M'Lord, just, The Grantham School?"
"Well done Bates! The very thing." Robert enthused.
"Yes," Cora agreed, "It IS good. The Grantham School. But Robert, you MUSN'T let dreadful Mr. Travis run it!"
Robert laughed in agreement. "No, I quite agree. It needs someone younger and less…less…rigid."
"Less of a horse's ass!" Cora exclaimed as Bates suppressed a laugh and the chauffeur's ears turned pink.
In the second car...which really was just one of the farm carts, normally used for hauling hay from the outer farms...tacked onto a lorry bed, there was less chatter but more excitement. For the three footmen, this drive to the Dowager's house, even to act as 'removal men', was a rare opportunity to venture outside their normal routine. The Earl hadn't known what awaited him in the East Attic Double Storage Room, so he had simply drafted his 3 senior footmen into duty. A duty they rather considered an adventure.
The Rolls glided smoothly to a stop in front of the main entrance of the Dowager House, still bearing a black ribboned wreath. The lorry lurched and skittered to a somewhat less graceful arrival behind the Rolls.
Wells, who had been called out of retirement to replace the departed Spratt, was now deep into his 80s but was at the door to greet them before the cars had even fully stopped.
Robert and Cora swept into the house with the Bates and the footmen straggling a in a little awkwardly behind them.
"M'Lord," Bates inquired, "do you want James to leave the lorry out front, or take it round the back?"
"He might as well leave where it is...even if we have to bring things down and load them in, there is no one here to see." Robert shook his head. "No wait...Mama would have fit if she saw the lorry out front. Have James park it round back and then he can join us inside. Oh, and Wells. I think you might remove the mourning wreath from the door. Mama always did hate dragging things out. Now, perhaps you will be so kind to lead us to this mysterious 'East attic room.'"
"Yes, of course, M'Lord." Wells began a slow but steady ascent up the main staircase, with Robert, Cora and the servants strung out like ducklings behind him. "I haven't been up there myself for...oh, it must be 25 years and more...the Dowager asked me to take a screen up..one of those Oriental screens with painted birds and all. I think it was a gift from Mrs. Livermore."
"Oh dear." responded Robert.
"Quite" said Wells.
"Who is Mrs. Livermore?" Cora whispered to Robert.
"Ah..she was a venerable lady who husband was among the first of the non landed, monied class in these parts. Her husband was a very wealthy merchant. China trade. And Mrs. Livermore was, if it is possible to imagine, even more imperious than Mama. She was several years older than Mama and one of the few people I ever saw who could actually boss her around. She used to shower gifts on Mama that, almost without exception, she utterly loathed."
"Because of the gift or the giver?" asked Cora.
"A bit of both, I think," replied Robert.
At the top of the stairs the group turned down a long corridor, past the guest bedrooms. It occurred to Robert that he hadn't been in the second floor of this house since the days of his own somewhat ferocious grandmother Crawly. He and Rosamund would sneak up to explore and dash around in and out of the rooms slamming doors behind them until they were called to heel by their parents. At the end of the corridor they climbed a small staircase and followed a shorter hallway to a double door.
"I did send the day helper in to dust M'Lord," Wells informed Robert. "I hope that was alright? I thought it would be a fright of decades of dust if no one went in to see to it. I instructed her MOST strongly NOT to disturb anything." he said with vigor. "Other than the dust of course." he added hastily.
"Yes, of course, quite right" Robert assured him. "You know," he said to no one in particular while peering out a window near the large door, "the first thing I notice about the 'East Attic Double Storage Room' is that it is very much in the western part of the house."
Wells looked around vaguely. "I hadn't ever noticed, M'Lord." He swung open the large door and gestured Cora and Robert into the room. Robert stepped in feeling foolishly nervous. Cora took his hand, feeling the same way, and followed him.
The room was dimly, but adequately lit by a series of small, high windows that cast a diffuse light. After his eyes became accustomed to the change in light, Robert let his gaze swing around. And discovered simply a large room containing perhaps a dozen cloth draped objects, some large and some small, most in one corner of the room. The only other thing of note, was a wall...only two feet high or so... that divided the room in two, with a small passage way that allowed access to both sides of the room.
"Well," Robert said...feeling a little foolish at his trepidation, "This shouldn't take long." He moved further into the room, with Cora and then the servants stepping in behind him. "Really, there doesn't seem to be very much at all."
Cora let out a sigh. "I must say, I am a little disappointed."
Robert laughed, "What were you expecting...a treasure chest of doubloons?"
Cora slapped his arm gently. "No, just something more…" she paused and looked around at the pile of cloth draped lumps, "of course," she continued, "we really don't know what is under all the drapery. It could be anything; old trunks filled with love letters, pirate booty...shrunken heads!"
"Shrunken heads!?" blurted James, looking alarmed.
Robert raised an eyebrow at Cora and said, "Really. The only shrunken heads my mother ever collected were those of her nearest and dearest." Everyone laughed at that ...even Wells…and they all went further into the room. "Now," continued Robert briskly, "let's see what IS under some of this."
He randomly chose one of the medium -sized 'lumps' and tugged the cloth away. Underneath was a 3 foot vase...perhaps an umbrella stand.. of Oriental design. Robert knew or cared little for art. His taste, such as it was, ran to traditional country scenes, but even he could see that this was something special. The glaze was of an extraordinary green; something between the color of the sea on a mild day and an unripe apple. Even in the dim light of the attic, it positively glowed. Etched and layered from the base upwards was a marvelous array of dragons, waves, fish, sea plants, and flotillas of sea birds. There was no color change...this vivid world was all created through the skill of the artist's hand.
"Oh, its beautiful! Beyond beautiful!" Cora exclaimed. "I can't believe your mother didn't like this. I mean I know our tastes were different but this IS just too wonderful. And after all, she had all those lovely Japanese figurines she was so attached to"
"I agree," said Robert. "But, perhaps this was a time where mother couldn't see past the giver to the gift. In any case, this should be the first to go down to the lorry."
In his capacity as under butler, Thomas took charge. "Right. Alfred, wrap that carefully in the original cloth and take it down. And when you put it in the back, make sure you put it in one of the crates we brought with LOTS of the wood shavings around it."
Gingerly, Alfred re-wrapped the vase and carried it as carefully as he could, holding it as tightly as he dared, and headed downstairs.
"And don't drop it!" Thomas called after him.
"A bit superfluous, don't you think," murmured Bates to Thomas.
Thomas responded with a shrug and a smirk.
Meanwhile, Robert had moved on to a horizontal object that lay on a small table. Underneath its shroud lay a beautifully carved rifle case. Robert opened the case and nearly gasped at the exquisite, if ancient, guns that lay nestled in the plush, wine colored lining. Looking over his shoulder, Cora admired the guns as well. "Do you think they were your father's?"
"Must have been," Robert replied. "Mother didn't shoot."
"Well, except for those she didn't like." Cora blurted out and then immediately regretted her words. "Oh, Robert, I AM sorry. That was very thoughtless of me."
"Not thoughtless at all," her husband replied with a smile. "Merely inaccurate. Mama always saved the rapier for those she disliked."
"Stop that!" Cora said through a laugh.
Robert returned his attention to the gun case. "Yes...here... these are my father's initials. I wonder why mother didn't leave this in the gun room at Downton?"
"Perhaps it had some sentimental value for her," Coral suggested.
Robert raised his eyebrows extravagantly at her.
"Well, she MIGHT have!" Cora protested.
"In any case...these will certainly be easy to carry down. The case and handle seem very sturdy." He handed the case off to Bates, who placed it by the door.
"Why don't you choose what's next, Cora?"
"All right," she replied. "I choose this, because even covered it really does look like it might be a treasure chest." She gently tugged at a sturdy canvas covering and indeed, what was revealed beneath was an old fashioned, medium sized, steamer trunk with a curved lid. It was very simply made, but quite elegant.
Robert hefted the trunk by one of its handles. "What do you think Thomas? Will that table support this?"
Thomas bent and tested the trunk by both its handles. "I believe so M'Lord...but we should keep a hand under it. I'm not sure I fully trust it. Or the handles. Jimmy...give us a hand here."
The two placed the trunk on the table, which swayed slightly under the weight, but held. Thomas and James kept a hand on each end as Cora raised the lid to reveal a slew of small objects, each carefully wrapped in muslin. Gently unwrapping the first one that came to her hand, Cora found herself holding a beautifully decorated oblong plate. Like the vase, it too was obviously of Oriental origin. But unlike the vase, with its singular, spectacular green, this plate was decorated with a multi colored menagerie of birds, fish and of course, dragons, whose tails curved around to form the plate's handles.
"Oh, this is so WONDERFUL," Cora exclaimed. "God bless Mrs. Livermore."
As she and Robert continued to unwrap the contents of the trunk, a dozen other Asian delights were revealed from beneath their wrappings. A small plate, delicate bowls, an incense burner, medium and small vases. Each seemed more exquisitely crafted than the last.
"Robert!" Cora interrupted suddenly as they were murmuring over their finds. "Do you think this room is called the EAST storage room because objects from the far east- China and Japan - are stored here? The kinds of things Mrs. Livermore gave your mother?"
"Cora...that is absolutely brilliant! It makes perfect sense. Especially given that this room is no where near the eastern part of the house. Well done! Why can't you ever be that clever when we are playing 'The Game?'" he teased her. "Now, can you also figure out what on earth those silly half walls are all about?"
But, Cora, who was re-immersed in the treasures of the trunk suddenly let out a gasp of delight. "Oh, Robert! Look! How wonderful!" She had unwrapped a small, but stunning silvern picture frame, which featured miniatures of what could only be Robert and Rosamund. How lovely! And how sweet both of you look. The frame is quite wonderful."
Looking over her shoulder, Robert smiled at the images of his younger self and sister. "You know, that frame looks like some of the things in Papa's 'Russian' collection."
"Thomas, after you re-wrap the items, this can go down as well. But even though it is not that heavy, I think you are right about the handles. Better for two to take it - one on each end with a hand underneath.
Alfred had by this time re-appeared from taking the vase down and has been craning his neck over Cora and Robert's shoulders.
"James and I can take it, M'Lord. We'll be very careful."
"All right then,"...and speaking quietly to Alfred, Robert added, "And on your way back up, stop and get a couple of small chairs. There still should be some in the servants' quarters."
The two younger footman left, carefully holding the trunk between them. Which was rather a challenge given the disparity in height between the two.
They had barely left when Thomas called out, "Well, would you look at this!" Robert walked over to where Thomas was holding a mantle clock admiringly. "I'm sorry, M'Lord...the cloth cover came off by accident."
"No doubt." murmured Bates under his breath.
"Well, no harm done," said Robert. "Do you make it to be any good Thomas? We all know of your skill with Downton's clocks."
Thomas beamed under the praise. "Well of course it is very dirty, but I think it may be quite good, M'lord. It's American, I think."
"American?" Cora snorted. "No WONDER it's up here."
"Well, I'll have to do some research to be sure of course," said Thomas. "It is a bit odd though...larger than most mantle clocks."
"Fine then," said Robert with a laugh at his wife's indignation. "Add it to the lot."
"M'Lord," called Bates from the corner of the room. "Does this look familiar to you?" he inquired, gesturing with his stick at a largish object at his feet, wrapped not in muslin but in a kind of felt sack, dark crimson in color and tied loosely with leather draw strings.
Robert peered down. "By jove, it bloody well does!" he said with a smile. "What on earth..."
"What is it?" inquired Cora as she joined the two men.
"Well unless Bates and I are very much mistaken, it is a saddle. This is how saddles were packed to be transported by train when we were in South Africa. In this very kind of cloth."
He reached down and grabbed the leather cords and lifted the sack. "Feels awfully light though..not a cavalry saddle."
Robert put the crimson package on the table and untied the cords. Which, considering their presumed age, yielded surprisingly easily. And, indeed, he pulled a beautiful saddle from the felt. The leather was rich and still shown with the luster and high polish someone had applied before putting it away. It was missing stirrup leathers, irons, and girth, but it was a thing of great craftsmanship. It was also fairly small.
"Do you think it might have been a child's saddle M'Lord?" proposed Bates.
Robert puzzled over this. "It certainly looks like one. But then why is it in Regimental kit? Look...here is the Regiment's Insignia on the cover...OUR Regiment," he said looking with surprise at Bates. "I don't recall serving with any children, do you?
"Far from it, M'Lord. Perhaps someone just stored the saddle in it to keep it well protected."
"Yes," agreed Robert, "but, like the guns, why up here? Why not in the tack room?"
"It seems to be monogrammed." Bates pointed to initials on a brass plate that that had been fastened to the back of the cantle. VEM."
"Mama's initials!" Robert exclaimed. "But that doesn't make any sense. It is not a sidesaddle...it is astride. Mama would have NEVER ridden astride. It just wasn't done. Certainly not in her day. She wouldn't even hear of Mary riding astride."
"Was there someone else in the family; a man with the same initials?" asked Cora.
Robert shook his head. "Mother was the only 'V.' I can't imagine what..."
The question hung unanswered until Robert finally shrugged and said, "Whatever the reason, it certainly belongs in the tack room. Perfect for..." he paused..then finished the sentence..."for a young rider," while Cora frowned at him slightly.
Bates added the saddle to the rifle case and the clock near the door.
By this time Alfred and James had reappeared and Robert nodded to James to set a chair near where Wells was holding up one of the walls.
"I am fine, m'lord, just fine," he protested, straightening.
"Yes, I'm sure you are…this is just for her Ladyship, " Robert responded, taking the other chair and setting it near Cora. Who ignored it.
"Really, it looks like we are just about done," said Robert. "By the shape of it, this must be the screen Wells spoke of. Let's have a look at it before we bring it down stairs."
Alfred gave an enthusiastic tug to the light muslin that covered the 5 foot tall screen. So enthusiastic the delicate work tottered and then fell slowly toward the floor. Alfred gasped, Thomas swore and Wells, who by this time had quietly made use of the chair, reached out a now perfectly positioned hand and grabbed a corner of the screen, keeping it from crashing the whole way down.
"Well played, Wells, Well played!" Robert enthused. You'll have to join us for cricket next year."
"Its very light M'Lord." Well said, as Alfred and Thomas each grabbed a corner of the screen and set it upright.
"And beautiful too," said Cora, as she admired the colorful rendition of kimono clad maidens gathered near a lake with a mountain reaching for the sky behind them. "Honestly, I really AM surprised that your mother didn't like ANY of these exquisite pieces"
Robert sighed. "I suppose..." he began before Bates interrupted him.
"There's something behind the screen, M'Lord." And indeed, between where the screen had been and the wall, one last muslin covered mystery remained. It was about 4 feet wide and 3 feet high.
"Hah! Not done yet! In for a penny/in for a pound," said Robert cheerily removing the muslin with a flourish.
Everyone took a step forward to see more clearly what lay beneath. And then simply stared. And stared.
"But it's YOU, M'lord," Alfred finally blurted out. "To the life, its YOU!"
"Quiet, Alfred," reprimanded Bates. But not harshly, because he, like everyone else could only agree.
It was indeed a portrait of Robert Crawley. Robert as a child of 4 or 5, but captured so perfectly by the artist that there could be no doubt as to identity. But not only Robert. The painting, which was unframed, featured 3 sitters and had clearly been executed in the Lady's Sitting Room at Downton. In the middle, seated on the small, velvet covered sofa, sat Violet Crawley. She wore a gown of the richest blue, which, under the artist's talented brush, glowed with color and nearly matched the vibrant blue of her eyes. She gazed out with a regal calm, bordering on disdain. She held a fan in one hand and her whole mien indicated that she might well use it to to give someone a sharp rap. Though it was unclear who. Perhaps the artist. To her right, leaning against the arm of the sofa was an 8 or 9 year old Rosamund. Also dressed in blue, but a lighter shade than her mother's gown. She fingered the pale green ribbon that cascaded down from a bow in her auburn hair and she too gazed straight out at the viewer with a look that seemed already bemused by life. At Violet's feet and to her left sat Robert. He wore grey trousers, a white shirt and a blue embroidered waistcoat that matched the color of his mother's dress. At his side lay a sleeping Labrador puppy. His small hand stroked the puppy's head. Robert looked slightly past the viewer and it seemed clear that he had worked hard to look 'serious' for the portrait, but had been unable to fully banish a hopeful, slight smile; an open smile that now, to all those in the attic, was a very familiar sight.
"Oh!" exclaimed Cora. "How truly wonderful! Thomas..James.. put it up on the table and lean it against the wall so we can see it better."
The two footmen did as instructed and everyone, even Wells, gathered around to examine this amazing find more closely.
"Its just so marvelous," Cora continued to enthuse. "It really is SO like all of them. Just wait until Rosamund sees it!" She leaned in to look at the painting even more closely. "Its strange though. See here, there are parts that look like they are not finished. The rug, and the drapes; even the puppy's collar is only sketched in. And the background is all rather...vague."
"Perhaps the painter never got paid." suggested Thomas.
Cora laughed. "Well the Dowager certainly didn't pay for what she didn't like. But maybe this is a study for a larger work? But then where is the finished product? Robert...Robert?"
Cora turned and found that the only person NOT studying the painting with great interest was the only person there who was in it. Robert. He stood apart from the others.
"Robert? Do you remember this? Do you know if there is another more finished one somewhere?"
Robert shook himself out of what had seemed to be a bit of a trance.
"Honestly, I don't remember this at all. Nothing about it. Rosamund might. She's older after all. And I certainly have never seen any larger version of it. In any case," he hurried on, "it's time we finished up here. Cover it back up with the muslin and take it down with the screen and the other things. It is time we left here. Past time," he added brusquely.
Thomas and James went to cover the painting back up, but Cora stopped them. "Wait- I want to look to see if it was signed." Robert sighed impatiently. "Can either of you two," she said, addressing Thomas and James, "make out a signature? I can't see one."
The two men squinted hard at the painting. Finally, James said, 'I THINK I might see a bit of a squiggle in the right hand corner, M'Lady...near where the rug sort of peters out. Perhaps a 'W." But a better light would help."
"Yes, of course," agreed Cora, "We can look again when we get it back to Downton.
And with that, the treasure hunters and finders packed up and left the Dowager house in peace. Or, at least as much peace as the most recent Dowager would ever allow.
And the strange little dividing wall to permanent mystery.