1904
Stewart walked silently to Locksley's front door. If it's that blasted vicar again, I think I may strangle him myself he thought as he drew the bolts. Sir Anthony doesn't want to see anybody, and why should the poor man be troubled after all he's been through just because it's Christmas?
He opened the door, and a blast of cold engulfed him. There was no one there. Cursing under his breath he took a step outside to peer into the darkness. As he did so he bumped into something, and a child's voice exclaimed "Oh!".
Stewart looked down to see a young girl, perhaps nine or ten years old, looking up at him with painfully pale features and tearful eyes that were all the more tearful for nearly being trodden on by a butler.
"Good heavens! Hello!"
"Hmmlo" replied the girl, shyly.
"It's very cold out there? Why don't you come in, so I can shut the door. Is there anyone with you?"
"There was. Not now."
"Where did they go?" Stewart was intrigued, despite himself.
"Don't know."
"Is that why you knocked on the door?"
"No. I'm carol singing. We were all supposed to go carol singing, then they ran off and I was...anyway, I saw your house, so can I sing to you, please?"
It all came out in a rush, as these confessions often do in the very young. Stewart sensed that the young lady was fast using up her stock of bravado. She was alone, probably lost, and definitely frightened. The girl might try to run away and then he'd have to deal with it, and wasn't sure he could cope with that as well as everything else.
Suddenly he thought that perhaps a little sweet innocence might be just the thing that Sir Anthony needed; a distraction; a reminder that life went on.
"This isn't my house, I'm the butler. But, oh, please do sing. The Master will be able to hear" he said encouragingly, nodding towards the nearest door.
The girl looked even more frightened now, but she cleared her throat and started.
"Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon Virgin mother and child
Holy infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace."
Stewart saw the door to the Library open a crack. That was the most the Master had stirred himself for days.
"Go on!" he whispered.
"I don't know any more!" she wailed in a whisper, looking towards the door with panic.
"Just sing it again then! It's all right."
As the child's voice gained strength from use, and the warmth, and Stewart's encouragement, and filled Locksley's hall with pure Christmas magic, Sir Anthony himself slowly inched around the doorjamb.
"...Sleep in heavenly peace."
The silence, heavy with grief, was broken by Sir Anthony's quiet sob.
"We've been visited by a small carol singer, Sir." Stewart covered his employer's momentary lapse with professional finesse. He turned to the girl.
"May I announce you, Miss?"
"Ly Eth Cly" she mumbled, shy once more.
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that."
Though still small and scared, she drew herself erect.
"Lady Edith Crawley."
"Lady Edith Crawley, Sir." Stewart turned to his guest to complete the introductions.
"This is Sir Anthony Strallan, my lady."
The Butler felt better now the situation was more defined, and Sir Anthony seemed to be dealing with it.
"Good evening, Lady Edith. Your singing is exceedingly beautiful. Very much better as a solo, if I may say so, more affecting."
The girl shivered, but not from the cold.
Sir Anthony saw it, but leapt to the obvious conclusion.
"You must be frozen. Please, come and warm yourself by the fire. Two steaming hot cocoas, please, Stewart."
"Very good, Sir" his man replied, giving his Master a meaningful nod, and then smiling to himself as he strode down to the kitchen.
"Now, that's better, isn't it?" Sir Anthony had stoked the dying embers of the fire and it was now blazing to life.
"Yes, thank you, Sir Anthony."
"I must say, it was quite a wonderful surprise, hearing you carolling like that. Have you been to many other houses this evening?"
Sir Anthony had not been so lost in his own emotions that he had missed Stewart's subtle unspoken message as he passed him outside the library. This child was astray. And now, she was their responsibility. On Christmas Eve. They needed to get her back to her proper place. Oh well, it wasn't as if they were doing anything else.
Sir Anthony's question caused the child to grow shy and withdrawn once again.
"No."
He slid off the chair onto his knees to look the girl in the eye.
"You impress me as an unusually bright girl, and brave. You know I can't let you leave this house alone, my lady. It wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be safe. So, why don't you tell me how it came about...the miracle of you coming to my door tonight?"
The tears the girl had held in for so very long released themselves in the face of such kindness.
"My...my sisters and I and...and my cousin, Patrick...we...we were all supposed to go carol singing together with Mrs Hughes and nanny. We were going to collect for the hospital. But Sybil ate something that disagreed with her and she was sick, so nanny and Mrs Hughes looked after her and that was that. But...but Mary and Patrick wanted to go anyway, and I chased after them because I wanted to help, and they ran, and they ran, and then they called me all sorts of horrid names, saying I always spoilt everything they did. Then they pushed me in a ditch and they ran off...they were laughing at me. They said they'd get more money without me than with me because I was so ugly and horrible! And they wished I would disappear into the snow! So, once I'd got out of the ditch I thought I'd try carol singing on my own...and yours was the first house I came to."
Anthony offered her his handkerchief and rubbed her back with sympathy. Then he took out his pocket book and took out several notes.
"Firstly, these are for your wonderful carol singing, to prove to your mean relations that you can sing. I doubt they will have collected half as much!"
He placed them securely in her dress pocket while she watched wide-eyed.
"Thank you, Sir Anthony!"
"Now, I want you to listen to me, because I'm a quarter-of-a-century older than you, or thereabouts. So I am older and wiser than your sister and cousin. Correct?"
Edith nodded, totally focussed on her host.
"You, my lady, are beautiful. You are kind and courageous and talented. Other people can be very cruel when they want something and someone else accidentally gets in the way. I suspect Mary and Patrick just want some time alone, and that's why they were so horrible to you."
"They're going to get married! And Mary doesn't love him. But I do!"
Oh golly! How to explain that tangled web to a child!
Sensibly, he didn't try.
"Oh little one! Life is unfair. I know. How I know! Three weeks ago, I had a beautiful wife and a child expected any minute. Now I have neither. Yes, Life is cruel." He sighed. "So you see, kindness like yours is even more precious when such injustice is all around us, and people who don't appreciate such kindness are fools."
Edith put her small hand up to Anthony's face to wipe away the tears, and the two of them wept together in the firelight until Stewart brought their cocoa and the news that the pony and trap would be ready in half and hour to take Lady Edith back to Downton Abbey.
