A/N There have been complaints... Apparently I did not give sufficient warning about the special guest star in my last chapter... It's not my fault. You see I have suspected for some time that my muse may not be the full shilling. It has developed a somewhat evil glint in it's eye and today I swear I heard it snigger. This is not going to bode well for us people... So, I will endeavour to be more careful to ensure that you are sufficiently prepared for what may come.

Thank you again to everyone who is bobbing along with us in this little boat of lunacy. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it. :)

This chapter is rated T as in you may well need a strong cup of it.

Enjoy x

"Lady Edith, Milady." Moseley said quietly as the middle Crawley daughter entered her sister's drawing room. She had George by the hand.

"Edith." Mary said in acknowledgement before bending to be at eye level with her son. "And where do you think you have been all afternoon young man? Nanny Stevens has been absolutely beside herself!" She said sternly.

"Sorry Mama." He said, almost managing to pull off a contrite expression that was so like his father that Mary's heart melted instantly.

"It's all very well being sorry." She said, her tone much softer. "But what would have happened if you had been eaten by a tiger, we never would have known where to find all the left over bits!"

The little boy giggled in amusement at the thought of a George eating tiger roaming the grounds of Downton Abbey. Mary knew such things had amused her at the same age. The corners of her mouth twitched, but she managed to try and remain strict.

"Your father is in his study and I think he may well want to speak to you George." She said.

"Papa?" The little boy's eyes lit up. Rather than dreading a visit to his father's study, it seemed to the child that this alone time with Matthew was a treat to be savoured. He turned quickly and ran from the room.

"I fear that child will grow up to be quite beastly." Mary said in resignation.

"He is his Mother's son." Edith replied. The two sisters exchanged small smiles. As the years had passed, their bickering had become almost an amusing sport that both enjoyed, but it had long ago lost its bite and malice.

"Thank you for bringing him back." Mary said, indicating a chair. "Where ever did you find him?"

"About to be eaten by that awful Nanny. Honestly Mary, I don't know where you found her but she reminds me exactly of Frauline Kelder"

"I know, I see that too, but the children do need someone firm to guide them. I am afraid we spoil them far too much…"

"She was threatening to do something awful to him; I just caught her in time."

Mary rolled her eyes. "I will speak to her. Thankfully I can manage to discipline a Nanny, even if I can't quite manage it with my own offspring."

Edith seemed to be fidgeting nervously in her chair.

"Is something wrong?" Mary asked.

"No." Her sister looked almost guilty.

"Edith what ever is the matter, you are really making me quite giddy."

The younger Crawley hesitated, clearly unsure what to say.

"Well spit it out then!" Mary said sharply.

"James is coming back." She gushed. "He is arriving from India on the twenty third and asks if he might come to Downton for a visit."

"James? James Lansdowne?" Mary said in some surprise.

"Yes!"

"And what did you say?"

Here Edith squirmed even more. "I haven't said anything yet. He says to write care of his parents. Oh Mary, what am I going to do?"

Matthew looked up as the small knock came on the door of his study.

"Come in." He said.

George opened the door and walked towards his father's desk.

Matthew watched the boy with such a stern look on his face that his son actually began to worry.

"Am I in trouble Papa?" The child said.

"I don't know George. Do you think you should be in trouble?"

George shrugged his shoulders and looked at his shoes.

"Do you think a brave man is someone who runs away and hides when he fights with his sister?"

The little boy shuffled his feet. "No Sir." He muttered.

"Good so we will agree on that." Matthew picked the boy up and placed him on his knee. George leant against his father shoulder affectionately.

"So what was it your sister did or said to make Miss Florence such an unfortunate victim?" Matthew asked.

George squirmed uncomfortably.

"There is a difference between telling tales and answering a question George." His father added.

"She hit me over the head with the stupid doll." The little boy muttered.

Matthew suppressed a grin. "Ah well," he said seriously as he got to his feet, lifting George with him. They crossed to the bookcase. Reaching up, he took down his old tin helmet. Inside were some lead soldiers. George picked up the toys as Matthew placed the too big helmet on his son's head. "Now you are properly prepared." He said, as he sat back down with George on his knee.

"Sometimes it is difficult I know. Your sister has the unfair advantage of being a Crawley woman, which is a breed to be feared throughout the land."

The boy looked up into his father's face, as he fiddled with the toy soldiers...

"Worse than a tiger?" He asked in wonder.

"Far, far worse than an… um… pack of tigers, when roused." Matthew said seriously, albeit confused at the reference. "However, we have an even better end of the arrangement…"

"Why Papa?"

"Because you, my boy, and I are blessed with them and as Crawley men, we are naturally disposed to love them, even if they do occasionally hit us over the head."

"You promised me you wouldn't laugh." Edith said petulantly. Unfortunately Mary had been unable to stop herself.

"I promised nothing of the sort, I said I would try… and I really did."

"You failed." Her sister retorted, there were the beginnings of a pout.

Mary composed herself. "Well honestly darling, we did all wonder why, when James proposed, you wouldn't take him. Why didn't you come to me at the time?"

"Because if you recall, we were not exactly confidantes… and I knew you would laugh at me."

The elder Crawley nodded, this was true, it had been a gradual process, but relations had become much better with her sister once they were no longer sharing the same cage, albeit a gilded one.

"I was going to ask Sybil, but she hadn't managed to get home again since your wedding and there was no-one else and I think I just kind of panicked. It's not like I could ask Mama or…"

"Granny." Mary finished for her. They both couldn't help but chuckle at the image of that conversation.

"I see, so I am your last desperate hope?" Mary said, arching an eyebrow.

"James was so upset and I obviously couldn't tell him why, and before I could decide what to do, he'd gone to India."

"Yes," Mary agreed. "That was rather impressive; I could only manage to drive Matthew as far away as Manchester."

"And France."

Mrs Crawley nodded a little sadly, that was not a time she wished to remember, a time when the happiness she now knew had seemed completely impossible. The memory made her a little more sympathetic to her sister's dilemma.

"Does he write that he is still available? We are not going to have him turn up with a wife or a fiancée are we?"

"He would have mentioned it, I am sure." Edith said. She took the letter out of her pocket and smoothed it nervously.

"You think he wants to know if you have changed your mind?"

The fair haired woman raised her eyebrows, her shoulders twitching slightly.

"And have you?"

"I… um… I wanted to marry him at the time… It's just... the rest of it was... so… terrifying." Edith admitted. "What if I am not very good at it?" Her eyes widened in genuine worry.

"My darling, first of all, no-one is any good at it."

"But… you and Matthew…"

Mary chuckled. "Absolutely hopeless. I think we spent more time in fits of laughter than anything else. But that helped. It meant we weren't afraid to communicate our… preferences. And with practice we very soon got the hang of things."

"But you seem to be immediately expecting?" Edith asked, clearly not aware how the two could be mutually exclusive.

Mary gave a wry smile. "As I said, you learn. If we had known then what we know now…"

This left Edith even more confused. "But what about…?" The name remained unspoken.

"Mr Pamuk?" Mary looked a little sad. "That was a completely different experience. I was not so much a part of the action as the source of it. It was forbidden and I suppose that made it exciting but with Matthew it is always so… utterly delicious."

Outside the drawing room door, Sarah Smith had been listening as she supposedly dusted. The hall side table had received an awful lot of attention.

"Sarah!"

The poor girl nearly jumped out of her skin.

Anna was looking at her quizzically over the top of a tea tray for the mistress and her sister. "What ever are you doing?" The older maid asked.

Sarah simply bobbed up and down.

"Never mind." Anna said wearily. "Can you take a cup of tea in to Mr Crawley please?"

There was a knock on the study door. George lay on the rug, the tin helmet still on his head, playing with his soldiers. Matthew sat at his desk working.

"Come in." He said absently and continued with his letter.

When nothing happened, he looked towards the door expectantly. "Come in!" He called louder.

The door opened very slowly as Smith peeped into the room.

"I've brought you a cup of tea sir." She said shyly.

"Thank you Smith."

She ventured into the room. However, what she hadn't seen was the little boy lying on the floor. Her foot caught under his outstretched leg and she plunged forwards, throwing the full teacup across the room.

In a split second Matthew was on his feet and caught the girl before she fell headlong into the fireplace.

"I am so sorry Sir." She babbled. It was as if her skin was burning through her dress where he'd touched her, it was only for the briefest moment. She was falling and suddenly he was there, and it had been barely anything, but …his hands… on her, her! He'd saved her! The endings to a million romantic stories raced through her head.

"Don't worry about it. It is entirely George's fault, isn't it George?" Matthew said, completely oblivious to the effect he was having on the girl.

The little boy mumbled something, which could possibly have been sorry.

"It was my f… fault sir… I am so sorry… I should have seen… I will…" She was so flustered, embarrassed and… so many other feelings she had never experienced before.

Matthew bent and picked up the fallen teacup. Sarah couldn't help her eyes wandering to him, the way his jacket didn't nearly do enough to hide the contours of his shoulders, the tiny little golden hairs at the base of his neck and those strong hands as he collected the crockery. She thought about what she'd seen earlier and felt her face on fire as the blush shot to the roots of her hair, those hands...

"George can you run to the kitchen and ask Mrs Bird for a cloth to clean up this mess?" His father instructed as he stood. He turned to the dumbstruck maid. "You are having quite the first day aren't you?" He said kindly, mistaking the cause of her discomfort completely.

"Is everything all right?" Miss Stevens asked briskly as she appeared in the open doorway having seen George disappear at high speed. Her sharp eyes took in the apparently concerned master and the completely disintegrated maid.

"Quite all right Stevens." Matthew replied. "Smith had a little accident with a particularly feisty cup of tea, but there was no harm done."

Smith took the opportunity to flee from the room with her customary bob. The Nanny particularly noted the girl's flushed features and breathlessness.

"By the way Nanny Stevens. I have spoken to George and I think he has seen the error of his ways." Matthew said matter of factly.

The prim woman's mouth settled into a slit which suggested she very much doubted it. "Very good sir." She said, barely moving her lips.

As she walked away the corners of that same mouth turned upwards, ever so slightly, into a smirk. 'Now that was interesting.' She thought.