January 1912

William Mason enjoyed the drive with his father-possibly the last one he would have in a long time. If he had his way, he would have walked to the small station where they had vehicles that could fit in as many as ten people inside. Buses, they were called.

He received a letter yesterday from Mr. Carson-the butler at the big house, asking him if he could come today, for an interview. Just a few weeks ago, when he told his parents that he intended to work for Lord Grantham and his family, William finally saw his opportunity-to be a groom. But his mother had other ideas. She wanted him to be a butler, lording it over at the big house. So, she asked him to apply for second footman instead. Because love for his family won, Mrs. Mason got her wish. William was excited just the same, even if he was to apply for the position of a second footman. He originally wanted to be a groom-the groom, Mr. Lynch (Mr. Carson wrote this as an aside) needed all the help he could have.

"Good luck, my boy," Mr. Mason whispered to his son, hugging him. "I have no doubt that you will get it," he said. William only nodded. "Right. But we best cross the bridge when we're coming to it," he said rather sagely. His father nodded in agreement. "I must go, lest your mother become anxious. I'll see you tonight. Or tomorrow."

William only nodded as he alighted from the cart. Butterflies already began to settle in his stomach, and his excitement turned to slight nervousness. "Chin up," he told himself. "Onwards to the breach." He walked to the back door (he was later to learn that this was where he should go to get the papers), and knocked, rather timidly, for the first time. He shook his head, telling himself not to be daft. No one seemed to hear the first knock, obviously. He tried again, a little louder, this time. No answer. Still.


Sitting on the foot of the servant's hall table was Daisy Robinson, in her blue checked gingham dress and grey apron. A cake, baked by Mrs. Patmore was on the table, with white icing and pink candy letters spelled out HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAISY. Mrs. Patmore sent out Gwen on an errand to Mrs. Hurst who owned the only sweet shop in the village earlier in the day to buy the candy letters. Apart from the cake, there were ham and cheese sandwiches, scones, fruit cake, small meat pies and of course, tea. For Daisy, however, was a cup of hot cocoa, her last day to drink it. The next day, she would be allowed to drink tea like the rest of the staff. Daisy eyed the food in wonderment. Before she left home for good six years ago, all she and her brothers and sisters had was porridge—everyday, and a bit of milk and sugar was already considered a treat. Even after she stated working as a scullery and kitchen maid, she never got over seeing food like this in great abundance.

"Thank you, ever so much," she told everyone in the servants' hall. These people were her family now, seeing as her own family gave her up for good now. There was no use wishing to be brought back to them—although sometimes she wished she could bring all these good food that she ate to them sometimes—if only they would let her. The gifts were passed around to her and she opened them, giving exclamations of delight, and thanks being uttered to the gift givers.

Mr. Carson signalled to Mrs. Hughes about the last gifts, which was from Lord and Lady Grantham and their daughters. Mrs. Hughes nodded at him, and so, Mr. Carson excused himself for a while, which mystified the staff, especially Daisy. He came back with paper-wrapped packages, and a hat, which Daisy recognised to be Lady Sybil's boater hat. He put them in front of her, and said, in a gentle, fatherly voice that he rarely used, "Open these, Daisy." And so, she did. A dark red coat came from Lady Mary—she had asked Anna to let some stitches up to make the coat and its sleeves a little shorter—Lady Mary was tall and Daisy wasn't. A book called Little Women came from Lady Edith. Mr. Carson said that Lady Grantham read that book as a young girl back in New York, and so, when Edith went to visit her Aunt, the Lady Rosamund Painswick in London, she went to book shop and bought it—the book was said to be highly recommended. Daisy was right in guessing that the hat came from Lady Sybil, with a packet of wide ribbons and a letter for her from Lady Sybil herself. Daisy saved it to read for later. The very last, and a relatively large package was a dress from Lord and Lady Grantham. Mr. Carson said, "They intended to give it to you on Christmas, but they decided to give it on your birthday instead. Your new uniform."

"Please thank them for me, Mr. Carson...I...I could have done it myself, but..." Mr. Carson nodded, and promised to extend her thanks.

The servants' hall now bore traces of a small party coming to an end. Charles Carson, the butler of Downton Abbey, was in a rare moment of joviality. Mrs. Hughes also wore that equally rare smile of hers. One of the servants, the kitchen maid Daisy turned fourteen today and the servants-from Mr. Carson to the two other maids under Mrs. Patmore surprised the young girl with presents during their tea time (extended for the benefit of the tea "party"). The under-kitchen maids Gertie and Milly each presented her with lemon scented sachets. Mrs. Hughes and Anna a packet of handkerchiefs, Mr. Carson, the newest issue of Photoplay (Mr. Carson privately opined that purchasing of such articles as magazines was a frivolous way of spending money, but a birthday was a birthday, and it didn't take much to make the girl happy). Gwen shyly pressed a tissue-wrapped packet which contained colourful bolts of hair-ribbon, "For Sunday, and I'm ever so sorry that it's all I could manage for now," she whispered. But Daisy all the same thanked her, and for an extra measure, hugged the girl she considered as her other older sister in the staff—next to Anna, of course. The other maid, Lily, was on her day off, but she, care of Anna, presented a letter writing set for Daisy.

Miss O'Brien and Thomas (in a very rare spurt of kindness) clubbed together to buy a small box of new hairpins. All of these gifts were gratefully received by Daisy, who was moved to tears. Mrs. Hughes smiled at her, pleased that she was happy and gratified with the small tokens. After all, the poor lass hadn't much of a family. When Daisy first came to Downton, she was a mere scrap of eight, and it was apparent that whoever left her on the back doorstep of the kitchen, was determined to be shed of the duty of a young person's care and upbringing. And it was plain to see that Daisy Robinson had not been loved.


There was a knock at the back door, and Jerry, one of the hall boys ran to open it. It could be the butcher; to deliver tomorrow's meat, or the greengrocer's boy, who was to deliver leeks on short notice for Mrs. Patmore, Mrs. Hughes thought. Jerry returned. "It's a William Mason, Mr. Carson, said he's here to apply for footman," he reported. "Ah," said Mr. Carson. "Send the lad in." Jerry trotted back to the door, asking the visitor to come in. "Mr. Carson says yer to come inside. Come quickly, looks like it's gunna snow again today. Follow me," he instructed, and they walked to the servant's hall. "William Mason, Mr. Carson,"

"Ah yes," said Mr. Carson. "Good afternoon to you, William. Today is a rather busy day, as it's our kitchen maid's birthday, so we put up a small party for her. Now, come with me to the pantry. Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Patmore, please allow me to request Gertie to put some meat pies in a saucer and some tea for our young guest here. Now, come in to my pantry."

"Good afternoon," William greeted everyone in the hall, doffing his cap. He just got it for Christmas, and a new waistcoat—Christmas presents from his mother. He also wore the waistcoat today. His eyes fell on the birthday girl—Daisy. The girl had a pink and milk-white complexion—a milkmaid's complexion, he mused. She had dark brown hair and grey-blue eyes. Large, and long-lashed, he noted. Why he was taking note of her appearance, he didn't know. All he knew was that she had this fragile, delicate look about her, that made him want to have a chance to look after her. Now, where did that come from?

"William," called Mr. Carson again. He quite liked the look of the boy. Green about the ears, but if he was anything like Abner Mason, his son could be relied on. That much could be said. He hoped he was right, and he hoped William would not be corrupted by Thomas. Handsome though the lad may be, but has manners and ways like a viper.

"Come along, now. No time to be lost." William followed Mr. Carson to his pantry.

"I...I may not know much about being a footman, sir, but I do know something about carrying things and setting the tables and such," admitted William. "But I am willing to learn."

Charles Carson was happy to know that he was right. Abner Mason was a nice fellow with a large farm, and he raised his only son proper. William was polite, kind, and thoughtful. The poor man, his three other sons and his daughter died shortly after birth. William was the only surviving child, and was much loved. The boy surely knew the value of hard work, as he would stay up to tend to a sick cow or a horse, or when his mother was under the weather, he would help his father prepare food for them both, or for the farmhands. Constantia Mason may be physically fragile, but she was as amiable as her husband. The sad fact was, he was also right about William being green about the ears, but a malleable personality was very much an asset. Besides, William was too old to be a hall boy. This was the first gamble he would make and make young William Mason second footman.

"So...we shall see you tomorrow? But first, I'll ask Thomas to show you where the livery is kept and where you shall be sleeping. And we'll go up to Lord Grantham to meet you." He and William rose, and they went out of his pantry. Checking if there were still people in the servants' hall, he saw that most of the staff were still there.

"May I have your attention, please? This is William Mason, who will be second footman. William, this is Mrs. Hughes," the kind woman nodded, "and, Anna, Gwen, Jenny, and Lottie. Lily, the other maid is on her day off. Mrs. Patmore is our cook," continued Mr. Carson as he pointed to a red-haired rubicund, plump woman. "Gertie and Milly are the under-kitchen maids, and Daisy—our birthday girl—is our scullery maid. Mr. Watson is his lordship's valet, Miss O' Brien is her ladyship's maid. Tomorrow you can meet the others. Up we go now."

Daisy's eyes followed the young footman-to-be. She noticed that the other servants looked at him askance. The newcomer surely would need a friend.