Episode 4

While the family was in London for the motor racing, Bertie Pelham unexpectedly proposed to Edith one evening after dinner. Although they had only been seeing each other a few months, the two were desperately in love. She wanted to accept him straight away, but it wasn't that simple. There was Marigold to consider. Edith had told him only that the girl was a ward of her family and a particular favorite of hers. He had agreed to let her bring the child with her after they wed, but how could she marry him without telling him the truth? Would he still want her, knowing of her past?

Bertie had little family to speak of: his cousin, the current Marquess of Hexham whom he adored; and his mother who was, by his own account, a stern and forbidding woman. Would they need to be told also? And whatever would they think of her? These were the questions that plagued her constantly and the reason she had not yet given him her answer. She finally confided her dilemma to her parents.

"I should say nothing. No one has to know," Robert advised her.

Cora was quick to disagree. "Of course, you must tell him. If you don't, there will be a lie at the heart of your marriage, and you'll never be happy."

Now Edith was more confused than ever.

She had received a phone call from a heartbroken Bertie saying that his beloved cousin had died in Tangiers. He would be flying there to make the necessary arrangements but wished to stop by Downton first. He also informed her that his cousin's death meant that he was now the new Marquess of Hexham. Before dinner, she shared the news with her family to audible gasps of surprise.

Only Mary appeared unimpressed. "Well, if it's true, he won't want to marry you now, not with a bastard child."

Edith was stunned. "How did you find out?"

"Please. I'm not stupid." She added, "I assume you've told him the truth about Marigold."

Edith didn't reply, but she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She and Bertie were seated alone on a bench overlooking the lake. The day was warm, and Edith held a parasol to protect her from the sun's rays. The talk centered on Bertie's sudden ascension to the peerage. "I can't do this without you. Please say you'll marry me," he implored.

Edith came to a decision. "There's something I must tell you first. If you want to take back your proposal afterward, I'll understand."

"Nothing you could say would make any difference to me," Bertie declared gallantly.

"But it might. You see, it's about Marigold."

"Your ward?"

"Marigold is my daughter."

Bertie stared at her in stunned silence.

"Her father was Michael Gregson, the man I told you about. We were only together that one night, but I became pregnant. We would have been married if he hadn't been killed and raised our daughter together." She paused. "I won't give her up."

"No," Bertie agreed.

"I haven't accepted you yet, so you're free to find someone else."

"Why would I do that? I love you, Edith, and I want you to be my wife."

"But what would your mother say? Would she accept me? And what about Marigold?"

"I'll speak with her. We'll find a way to make this work. I promise."

"Oh, Bertie, I do love you."

"Is that a yes then?"

"Yes." Edith beamed at him.

"How do you feel about New Year's Eve for the wedding?"

Some days later, Isobel was perched on a small settee in the Dowager's drawing room. "So Edith is to be the Marchioness of Hexham," she said with a smile.

Violet nodded. "Let's just hope nothing goes wrong this time."

"Has she told him about Marigold?"

"She has, thank heavens." The Dowager had confided the truth about the girl to her cousin some time back.

"And he still wants to marry her? He must be a very good sort of man."

"I believe they're planning to 'adopt' the child after the wedding."

"Will they ever tell her the truth, I wonder?" Isobel mused.

"Someday when she's older, I imagine," Violet replied absently.

"Is something wrong? You seem distracted."

"It's this hospital business. I wish we could get it settled. It just seems to be dragging on and on." The two women found themselves at odds over the proposed amalgamation.

"Surely it would be settled if you and Dr. Clarkson would stop fighting the changes."

"Yes, I dare say." The older woman rang a little bell on the table beside her chair, and soon the butler appeared. "May we have some tea, Spratt?"

"Very good, Your Ladyship."

As he turned to leave, she added, "And ask Denker to bring me my shawl."

Spratt bobbed his head and exited the room.

"Are you feeling cold?" Isobel asked with surprise, as the day was warm and dry. "I hope you're not coming down with something."

"I'm perfectly fine," Violet replied waspishly.

Isobel returned to the previous subject. "So you're determined to dig in your heels over the hospital merger."

"Indeed, I am." Violet fixed her with a curious look. "What does Lord Merton think about it all?"

"Lord Merton?"

"He must have an opinion. After all, he's heading the board of charitable donors now."

"Well, since you asked, he happens to agree with me."

"Naturally."

Isobel looked annoyed. "What does that mean?"

"Is he still on at you to marry him?"

"You know perfectly well why we can't be married. His sons don't approve of me."

"I don't see why you're letting them dictate your future. You must seize your happiness where you can before it's too late."

Miss Denker returned to the Dowager's bedroom to tidy up after retrieving the shawl. She was becoming increasingly concerned about the elderly Countess' health. She voiced her fears to Mr. Spratt that evening in the servants' hall. "I'm worried about Her Ladyship. She's become very frail."

"What are you going on about?" he asked without glancing up from his novel.

"She's been very tired lately, and today she asked for a shawl when it's quite warm out."

"She felt a chill. It doesn't mean she's about to keel over," Spratt retorted, turning a page in his book.

"But what if something should happen to her? Where would we go? What would we do?"

"We'd find other employment."

"It's not that easy. Mrs. Potter and Betty would be alright. There's always work for a cook and a housemaid, but what about us? Who do you think is hiring a butler or lady's maid these days? They're cutting back all over, even at the Abbey. Mr. Barrow can't find a place anywhere."

"We'd be fine," the butler insisted, more to convince himself than her.

"And there's another thing. Would anyone still want me at my age? I'm not as young as I look," she admitted.

Spratt's eyes widened, but he wisely kept silent on that point. "Nothing's going to happen to the Dowager. She's as strong as an ox."

Bates stood outside Mr. Carson's pantry door. After this, there would be no turning back. He knocked softly before sticking his head inside. "Mr. Carson, may I please have a moment of your time?"

"How can I help?" The butler indicated a chair in front of his desk.

Bates carefully lowered himself down with a slight grunt, thrusting his right leg stiffly out in front of him. "I've come to give notice, mine and Anna's. We'll stay on until after the wedding, but then we'll both be leaving."

Carson appeared shocked. "Might I ask why?"

"We purchased a small hotel in Ripon some months back. The repairs have all been completed, and it's now ready to open."

"I see. Have you informed His Lordship and Lady Mary?"

"We'll tell them tonight. I wanted to let you know first."

"That was very considerate of you. Thank you." As the valet was leaving, he saw Carson settle back in his chair wearing a curious expression.

That evening, Mr. Bates was waiting for the right opening. "Your Lordship, I have something to tell you."

"What is it, Bates?"

"Anna and I have turned in our notices. We'll be leaving Downton after Lady Edith's wedding."

Robert turned to him in astonishment. "Have you been unhappy here? I hope not."

"No, m'lord. We've both been very happy, but we believe it's time to move on. We've purchased a hotel in Ripon, and we'll open early in the new year after the baby is born."

"I understand, and I wish you luck with your new venture. You both deserve the best after all you've been through."

"Thank you, m'lord."

While her husband was sharing their news with Lord Grantham, Anna was searching for a way to broach the subject with Lady Mary. The aristocrat noted her silence and said, "You're very quiet tonight. If you're not feeling well, I can get myself to bed."

"I'm fine, m'lady, but I do need to tell you something." She paused. "Mr. Bates and I bought a small hotel in Ripon."

"What? When did this happen?"

"A few months ago."

"Why didn't you say?"

"We didn't want to tell anyone until it was ready to open, and now it is."

Mary was quick to grasp where this was heading. "I suppose this means you'll both be leaving us soon."

"Not until after the wedding. The baby will be born by then, and it feels like the right time to go."

Mary turned to the lady's maid, forcing a smile. "Well, I wish you both all the best. I'm going to miss you, though. We've been through a lot together."

"That we have, m'lady, and I'll miss you too."

"We mustn't lose touch. You'll come back to visit us sometimes?"

"That would be nice," Anna agreed, but both women knew their paths were unlikely to cross much in the future.

The other servants were surprised and excited for the couple when the news was announced the following day. "I think it's time for me to stop working now," Anna added. "Dr. Clarkson said I need to take it easy until the baby is born."

"Of course," Carson assured her, looking relieved.

"What will Lady Mary do without a maid?" Molesley asked.

"I can take over her duties until she finds someone else," Miss Baxter volunteered.

"That's kind," Mrs. Carson replied, "but I don't think she'll be replacing Anna."

"Another clang in the march of time," Mrs. Patmore opined, while Mr. Carson sighed for the old days.