Not surprisingly and not uncommonly, I was lost. Again. Bored of listening to Aunt Eglantine bore Cora, I had made my excuses and set out on an adventure that was happily devoid of rude, classist relatives. Well, it wasn't really an adventure. I was actually only walking around the place because it trumped sitting in a drawing room all day.
Nevertheless, I managed to find an interesting corridor bursting with paintings of proud men and women in fine clothes, no doubt the illustrious Grantham ancestors. As I traipsed further down, the clothes changed with the centuries, until the final portrait, which was of an Elizabethan Lord. My sightseeing at an end, I continued through the corridor, taking a few lefts and some stairs. My surroundings began to grow dabber, and more cramped. Trying to repress the feeling I shouldn't be here, I paused to recollect the many turns I had taken, with no success.
"I'm only sayin' his lordship's found no complaint with my work. It was only the other day he said I was far more competent than Watson ever was."
I nearly jumped out of my skin. Metaphorically, of course. Two voices were coming out of a slightly open door; feeling frantic for some reason, I grew very still, praying they wouldn't leave the room. This was even worse than the last time; at least then I hadn't been anywhere I oughtn't to be.
"I mean, it would be easier, wouldn't it? I already know the work, and it's hard to find a good valet. All you have to do is hire another second footman. I daresay William would like the promotion, and with me filling in as valet, he has more to do."
I had never heard that voice before… Perhaps it was Thomas? I knew Watson had retired several months ago, and Lord Grantham had mentioned using Thomas's services until he could find a new man.
A second voice, one I immediately recognized as Carson's, answered. "Your concern for William's welfare is most touching, Thomas, but I hardly think he's ready to be a first footman. It was only last week that he dropped the spoons in front of guests, as you… no doubt know."
There was a pause. "Will you talk to his lordship?"
"I will consider it," said Carson, but in the tone that one adopts when one is doing a great favour.
"Yes, Mr Carson."
"Now, I believe you have work to do."
"Indeed."
I scampered off before they came out, and somehow managed to find my way back to the drawing room, where Aunt Eglantine scolded me for being gone for so long.
x-X-x
I was surprised that evening when a knock at my bedroom door revealed a blonde maid, coming in with an armful of lace and pearls.
"Beg pardon, Miss Eleanor," she said. "I'm Anna. Your aunt has requested that you wear this shawl this evening. There are earrings to match, and I'd be glad to fix your hair up."
She smiled at me; a kind, sweet smile, but I had to ask something.
"Where is Maisie? She's my dress maid," I added, wondering how well Maisie had managed to integrate herself with the staff downstairs.
"She is busy downstairs. Mrs Hughes has drafted all who can help with the preparations for the Duke's arrival. And I'm afraid Maisie is still occupied. But I'm sure we'll manage."
She smiled again, and I felt myself trusting her, despite what Maisie had said about the opinions of some of the staff.
"Of course," I said. "Thank you."
Anna, it seemed, was more advanced than Maisie in styling hair, and by the time she had twisted and twirled my locks, I looked far more like the 'respectable lady' my aunt was always upholding as the ideal I could only aspire to.
"There!" said Anna when she was finished. "You look lovely, Miss Eleanor."
"Nellie," I said. "Please, call me Nellie. Or," I added at Anna's slightly startled expression, "Miss Nellie, if you must insist."
"Alright," said Anna, smiling once more. "Well, then, Miss Nellie, I am sure that the Duke of Banbridge will have nothing but nice things to say of you when you are looking this lovely."
I returned Anna's smile, knowing that she was paying me a compliment (even if it was in a roundabout sort of way), but her words just filled me with utter dread. I had never even met the Duke of Banbridge, and already people were speculating about us. Us. There shouldn't even be an 'us'.
Downstairs, I was led into the Drawing Room by Thomas, who announced my arrival (an idea I found frankly ridiculous) by saying, "Miss Eleanor Dean."
"Oh, Nellie!" breathed my aunt, rising from her chair and swooping over to me. "You look wonderful."
In all honesty, I didn't feel I looked much different than any other time she saw me, but I allowed myself to be embraced by my aunt, breathing in her scent of powder and perfume.
"Now," she said. "You must come and meet the Duke of Banbridge..."
The Duke, it seemed, had already arrived, and was in the library with Lord Grantham. The Crawley sisters were all there in the Drawing Room, and we acknowledged one another in a way one might expect from brief acquaintances. Cora Crawley seemed pleased as ever to see me, and was equally eager to introduce me to the Duke.
"But Mother," said Mary. "Surely Nellie should meet Cousin Matthew first?"
"Oh, of course!" said Cora. "How silly of me. Eglantine, I'm sure you're familiar with Matthew? Robert's cousin?"
At this moment, I realised there was a man in the room whom I did not recognise. Tall and good looking, he greeted my aunt with pleasure.
"And Matthew, this is Lady Eglantine and her niece, Eleanor."
"What a pleasure to meet you," said Matthew, proper and polite.
"Matthew and his mother live at Crawley House," informed Mary.
"And Mrs Crawley works at the hospital," interjected Sybil.
"How interesting!" said my aunt, though I was quite certain she did not care in the slightest.
"Shall we proceed to the library?" asked Cora. "There are further introductions to be made!"
"Nellie," hissed my aunt, as we trailed at the back of the group heading through into the library. "I do not want to see you making eyes at Matthew Crawley. He is already promised to Mary, so Cora tells me."
"But I—" I attempted to protest, but my aunt continued.
"Of course, he is a dashing fellow, but you must know your limits, girl!"
"But, Aunt Eglantine! I had not even considered Matthew Crawley at all!" I insisted.
My aunt, not even listening to me anymore, had been thoroughly distracted by the presence of the Duke of Banbridge and swept immediately over to him.
Edward Yorke, it appeared, was not an unattractive man, and would have been perfectly pleasant, had it not been for his completely vulgar mannerisms.
"Lady Eglantine Dean!" he practically boomed, though my aunt was mere yards away. "What a pleasure it is to meet you at last!"
"And Edward," said Robert. "This is Lady Eglantine's niece, Eleanor."
"Of course, of course! Wonderful to meet you, Eleanor!"
He took my hand to kiss it, but then did not drop it afterwards, but instead kept hold of it and used it to steer my arm under his own.
"Shall we proceed in to dinner?" he asked, loudly.
"Yes, of course," said Cora. "Let us go through to the Dining Room."
"You can sit next to me!" said the Duke to me, as though this were some great treat.
"Lucky her," I heard Sybil say under her breath as we walked through. "If Nellie is not deaf by the end of the evening, I shall be most surprised."
"Must he talk quite so loudly?" said Mary quietly to her sister, wincing slightly as Edward Yorke gave a particularly deafening boom of laughter.
We settled down at the table, which William and Carson soon filled with the first course. At Lord Grantham's inquiry after Thomas, Carson told us that he was ill, though with a rather sceptical look on his face. I attempted the trick that I took up when at dinner at Larkford House, which was keeping my mouth full of food at all times, so that conversation with the Duke would be limited to a minimum. The Duke, however, wasn't having any of it.
There was not a single let up in the conversation. Barely a pause to chew or swallow. How he ever managed to eat any of his meal, I do not know. By the end of the first course, I knew the Duke's life story better even than my own and I was wondering whether pretending to faint to get myself away would be a bit extreme. It was awful. Though I had first perceived the Duke to be an attractive man—his soft, fair hair and hazel eyes did charm one—this idea was fast evaporating, as his personality quickly overclouded his nice face. By the time the second course arrived, I could not believe I had seen anything in him at all.
"I'm planning to go driving tomorrow!" he was saying. No, not saying, shouting. "I have a new car, you see, and would very much like to try it out around here. A fine piece, a fine piece. Engine runs as smooth as silk. Oh! I remember one time, I picked the bumpiest road in Oxford—I made a bet, you see, that I could drive over it without spilling my gin—we collegiates get up to the most amusing larks—and I won ten guineas driving thirty miles an hour. Blindfolded." He stared around the table impressively, as if expecting praise for his truly idiotic stunt. Dear Lord. Blindfolded. I made a mental note never to get in a car with him, ever.
"Well, you're more than welcome to use the grounds," said Robert. I could hear the wince in his voice.
"Excellent, thank you! Perhaps—" he turned to me, and, though I was much closer to him than Robert Crawley was, possibly increased his volume further— "Perhaps you'd like to join me?"
"I—" Oh, God, no. I would die.
"Of course she will," cut in my aunt.
"What?" I blurted out. "No, no, I can't."
"Of course you can," insisted my aunt, through slightly gritted teeth.
"No, I won't go, thank you," I said.
"Weren't you just saying, Eleanor—" I should, perhaps, have taken my proper name as a warning—"about how you would love to take a drive around the Downton Grounds?"
"No?" I insisted. Was she trying to kill me?
"Eleanor," said Aunt Eglantine, her nostrils flaring. "You will go with the Duke tomorrow for a drive, and that is that."
But I had had enough of them, and that included my aunt too.
"No," I said, bluntly, standing up, not at all caring that everyone was now listening intently, including, I noticed, Carson the butler.
"Eleanor, sit down this instant," said my aunt.
But it was too late. I didn't care anymore. Crossing swiftly to the door, ignoring everybody, I quitted the dreadful dinner.
"Oh, leave her," I heard Cora say to my aunt, who was evidently making preparations to stand up and come after me, already calling out my name. "Let her be alone. You know what girls are like."
For the first time, I felt as though I and her Ladyship might be on the same page; I certainly didn't want to be followed by my aunt and listen to her scold me for half an hour. I stumbled slightly as I strode down the corridor, dull, hot anger flaring up within me for my aunt. More than anything, I wanted to be alone. My chest felt tight under my corset; fresh air seemed an intoxicating prospect.
I turned right at an ornate vase on a stand and continued down a corridor. Not sure where I was going, nor really caring at all, I found myself carried down some stairs and into an area I realised horribly was the servants' area. Thinking this was probably not where I wanted to be, I tried to backtrack, and pushed on a door.
To my immense relief, I burst straight out into a courtyard, and gasped the cold, October air, trying to steady myself. After just a few moments, I noticed that I was not alone, making me practically jump out of my skin. Two figures were sitting on crates, shadowed almost completely by the dark, starless sky. One I recognised instantly as Thomas; his stature was a good head above his companion, a shorter female with hair that was even more ridiculous than my own (which was now giving in and falling out of its elaborate style).
There were a few seconds of awkward silence, in which they both looked at me in surprise, before they hastily threw down their cigarette ends and stood up particularly straight and tall.
"Miss Eleanor," said the woman, with apparent grace, but there was a snide edge to her tone that made me believe that she begrudged addressing me in such a way.
"I—I'm sorry," I said breathlessly, hurriedly trying to think of something, anything, that I could say that didn't make me seem entirely incompetent. "I was just..." I trailed off, searching for an excuse with no luck.
"No, no matter, Miss," said the woman. "We were just leaving." She sent a significant look to Thomas that I was quite sure meant something, even if I had no idea what. Thomas, however, had other ideas.
"What are you doing?" he blurted out at me, accusing.
"Thomas!" hissed the woman, and I knew that however much she might begrudge my superiority to her, she would play the part of the noble servant if she needed to.
"What?" said Thomas. "I'm only asking a question."
"E—excuse me?" I said, somewhat confused.
"Well," he said, "I just think that we've a right to know what the great Lady Eglantine's niece gets up to when she's supposed to be at dinner with the Duke of Banbridge."
At this, he looked at me expectantly, and I was surprised to find myself weirdly compelled to look into his cold, grey eyes.
"I was just..." I started, a hundred excuses fluttering in front of me, none of them seeming quiet appropriate. But then I realised something. "Wait," I said. "I don't need to make excuses to you."
Despite my views on equality and friendliness between staff and employers, I didn't see why a footman and a maid should have a right to know what I was doing. The woman looked between the two of us, rather taken aback, as Thomas appeared to consider my words.
"No," he said slowly. "I guess you don't. But the truth'd be nice."
"I don't see why I should tell you of all people," I said, annoyed now.
"Oh! You hear that, O'Brien?" said Thomas, gesturing to the woman. "I guess we're not worthy enough of the wonderful Miss Eleanor Dean's time."
"Thomas," O'Brien hissed again. "I insist that we go inside this instant." She even went as far as to place a hand on his arm, but he shook it off roughly.
"No. Why should she tell us anything? Us of all people!"
He was mocking me, but this was the exact thing that I was terrified people would think of me. That I shared my aunt's idea that we were better than everybody. That we had some right to give orders and act superior.
"Look," I spluttered. "What is your problem? I mean—"
At this point, I was saved from saying something I probably would have regretted by the sound of a commotion by the door behind me. It seemed that Maisie and William were both attempting to break down a door that had accidently swung locked when I had burst through it.
"Miss!" Maisie practically squealed, sounding both relieved and surprised at the same time. "I'm so glad you're here. I have been looking everywhere for you."
"Obviously not quite everywhere," muttered Thomas.
"You said you were ill," said William, looking at Thomas.
"And you believed it?" he taunted. "Babe in a cradle, you are."
"Y—you watch your mouth, Thomas!" said William, bizarrely drawing some confidence from somewhere.
"Is that so?" asked Thomas, stepping intimidatingly forward towards William. Though virtually the same in physical height, one was almost cowering under the influence of the other.
"Now, now!" said the voice of O'Brien. "I really think we ought to go inside now. Come on, Thomas." Though O'Brien possibly would have been quite happy for a fight to ensue, she evidently felt some sort of responsibility for the group and did not want anything to be her fault.
With one final murderous glance at everyone, Thomas and O'Brien swept back inside, making Maisie sigh with relief.
"Come on, Miss, let's get you back inside before your aunt has a heart attack."
She began leading me over to another door that hopefully led to some corridor devoid of either Thomas or O'Brien. It was only once we reached the door, however, that I realised that William had not followed us. He stood still by the crates that Thomas and O'Brien had occupied earlier. A strip of pale moonlight, just visible through the clouded sky, shone down on his profile. I was about to call out to him, to insist that he follow us inside, but he turned away and sat on the vacated crates, looking rather dejected. Therefore, I followed Maisie back inside, leaving the chilly night air behind me.
"Is William alright?" I asked, concerned, as Maisie walked me up and down corridors that I had never seen before.
"Oh yes," she said. "He'll be alright. Besides, it's you we should be bothering with, Miss Nellie."
"Me?"
"Of course you! You're not to worry about Thomas, Miss!" insisted Maisie. "He's a nasty piece of work, that man. You'd do good to ignore him altogether."
"Hmm," I muttered, non-committal.
"And of course I heard what happened at dinner."
"What? Oh, yes, of course." Dinner? Dinner seemed days ago, weeks.
"You shouldn't have done that, you know. I expect your aunt is going to be most angry."
"Probably," I said. "I don't regret leaving the table, though."
"You don't?" said Maisie in surprise, as we turned into a corridor I finally recognised, hinting that we were nearing my room.
"No," I said. I couldn't explain why, but there was something I had found ridiculously satisfying about leaving a stunned Duke of Banbridge and an angry Aunt Eglantine and being insulted by an evil footman. It sounded bizarre, but I could not help feeling that the evening had not been altogether unpleasant, though I could not at all pinpoint exactly why.
After I returned to my bedroom, however, I fully regretted ever leaving the dining table. Aunt Eglantine insisted that she was extremely distressed, disturbed and disappointed with my behaviour. Anything, it seemed, beginning with D. Though perhaps not delighted. With a look in her eye I knew better than to argue with, and warning that she would scold me ceaselessly should I not apologise most profusely to Lord Grantham and the Duke of Banbridge in the morning, my aunt turned swiftly and quitted the room.
Though she was gone, she had left behind a nasty mood that wriggled right into my conscience and lingered long after I blew out the lamp beside my bed. Another thing lingered in my mind too, however. A pair of cold, grey, imploring eyes.