I am horribly behind with...well, everything, but especially my reviews. There are so many wonderful Andith stories at the moment, and they are all so fabulous, it's like having a feast after a long period of famine (aka Downton Abbey, series 4!). I hope to return to the fandom soon.
Meanwhile, I hope to finish this story off, and the Austen pastiche before starting on the next Andith story which I've begun! Yes, I'm obsessed and proud of it! Long Live Andith!
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The Crawlettes' final concert was to be in York. They hadn't planned it that way; Mary's insistence that this concert be their last had forced this previously chosen venue upon them as their final one, but it somehow seemed quite appropriate. Their first concert had been in York too, almost two years ago now. At the time they had wanted to raise a little money to start digging Downton's finances out of the hole into which they had fallen thanks to Robert's unwise investments in Canada. They hadn't meant to start a phenomenon which included national fame for themselves. Their success had taken them by surprise.
It had been the best business decision of Mary's life to hire Anthony to be their Manager straight after that first concert which he had attended as an ordinary punter out of curiosity, to support a local cause, and for something to do one quiet evening. He had had some experience in the music business from before the war, but hadn't found a place for himself in the post-war world, and he had drifted back to his ancestral home without really thinking about it. All the land was rented out to farmers. He only had to think about the house, and his housekeeper and caretaker husband and wife team were more than adequate for that. He still tinkered with codes and ciphers; he kept in touch with friends in the armed services and did a little work for them here and there. Mostly he sat in his library pretending to read, wondering where his life had gone so wrong, why he was so very lonely.
Mary had contacted him the day after that first concert once she had managed to get away from the press and media attention. Anthony was a bit startled to hear her on the telephone.
"Sir Anthony, I believe you used to work for HMV before the war?" she asked without preamble.
"I did, Lady Mary. I was a producer for them. Just a gentleman amateur really."
"Well, I need someone who understands what these music people want and how they want it, at the same time as having a good idea of our family sensibilities. After all, we have a position to maintain! We're not…Bobby Soxers!" Anthony stifled a chuckle at her outdated language. "Granny already thinks that the world has fallen down around our ears, and Papa is outraged at both how little money we charged for the tickets yesterday , but also at the amount of fuss that is being caused, without realising that the one outrage contradicts the other. I did see you in York last night, didn't I? You do know what I'm talking about?"
"I do indeed, Lady Mary. You and your sisters are the next music sensation as far as the punters are concerned and everyone wants to be associated with you. That's what they want. You, however, are ladies with a standing in the county and at court. That, of course, is part of the attraction of your group. You must not give in or spread yourselves too thinly: you must preserve your uniqueness. It will help you in the long run and certainly keep your mystique and your prices high. I would be very happy to help in any way I can."
Mary thought. "Clearly, I came to the right person."
That night, he was at Downton dining with the family and making plans, and enthusing over Edith's music. In the months that followed, he fell in love with Edith herself as well. He admired her songs, but he saw how much she felt overshadowed by her sisters, even before The Crawlettes became an overnight success. He felt it was unwarranted and unfair that she considered herself less than Mary or Sybil, even as her self-deprecation tugged at his heart and made him love her all the more.
His mind had convinced him it was all for naught though. This was the end of the 1950s. Everything had changed. The war had swept away the last vestiges of the Victorian and Edwardian class systems and the Empire was crumbling, if not already crumbled. There had been a bit of a counter-revolution under Churchill, Eden, and Macmillan when things seemed to go backward in the face of Attlee's reforms. But the progress was too strong. Even presentation at court and debutante's balls had been abolished the year before.
In the social climate prior to the war, he might have had the courage to at least declare himself to Edith. Now, he was decidedly too old to be a suitable husband for her, no matter how much he loved her. And so, he kept silent.
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Tom drove the three sisters in his capable manner, not too fast, not too slowly, just carefully and competently, on the main road from Manchester to York. Anthony was driving himself in his rather old fashioned Rolls, as usual. Edith would have preferred to ride with him, rather than endure this uneasy silence as the four of them chased their own thoughts around their heads.
Tom pulled into the front entrance of The Royal York Hotel. As they alighted from the car, one or two flashbulbs went off, a testament to the patience of a couple of local newshounds. Anthony was already in the hotel lobby, with the manager of the hotel hopping excitedly by his side.
"It is, indeed, an honour to have you staying with us, my ladies! If there is anything I…we can do to make your stay even more comfortable, please do not hesitate to ask for it."
Mary was very tempted just to roll her eyes, but the experience of the last two years had taught her that most people meant very well even if their awe made them make fools of themselves in the presence of three young ladies who just happen to be a well-known group. Mary would have been happier if people acted this strangely simply because their father was an earl.
Anthony accompanied the three of them and the hotel manager and some boys carrying luggage up to their rooms, fending off as much of the attention as he could.
"Now, Mr Stonethwaite, I really must insist that the ladies are allowed some privacy for a rest after their journey. Yes, I'm sure they will be willing to sign autographs for the staff in due course. But for now, please…"
Anthony closed the door behind him decisively, leaving the girls alone.
"One more…just one" Mary sighed dropping down into a comfy armchair, "and then we can all go back to normal!"
"I always forget how tiring it can be being constantly nice to everyone" said Sybil.
"I don't believe that of you. You're nice all the time" observed Mary.
Edith was looking out of the window. She had kept very quiet since the meeting the day before. There didn't seem to be anything more to be said.
The door opened again and Anthony returned.
"Well, that's him just about sent on his way. He seems even more keen than his staff to have you here!" he smiled.
"He's probably got the hots for Mary!" quirked Sybil, earning her the delayed eye-roll.
"I've got a programme for tomorrow here" Anthony said, laying three pieces of paper on the table. "I'm really sorry it's going to be so busy, but it is the last one. There's a lot of interest, and that means sales. I know you want to go out on a high." He looked meaningfully at Mary daring her to disagree, which she didn't.
"Thank you, Anthony. We really are most grateful" said Sybil. Edith said nothing, but looked nervously up at him and then at the floor again.
"Yes, well, I must let you rest. Today is all yours to do as you wish, but beware! You're on home ground. If you leave your room, let alone the hotel, you will be recognised and mobbed. I'll arrange for some people to help if you do want to go out."
"I don't think that will be necessary, Sir Anthony, thank you" said Mary.
"As you wish, my lady. I'll be in the next suite if you need anything." He looked once more at Edith, and left.
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Mary was taking a nap, Edith was still as a statue, staring out of the window at the cityscape so well-known to her, and Sybil was reading the schedule for tomorrow when there was a knock at the door.
Sybil answered, and smiled.
"Hello Tom."
"Lady Sybil. Er…I know you don't have to be anywhere today. I wondered if you might like a drive out to the countryside, for a bit of relaxation?"
His eyes said much more than his words.
Sybil looked back at Edith.
"Will you let Mary and Anthony know, if they ask?"
"Yes. Go on. Have fun." Edith was not blind. She had seen how her younger sister and Tom looked at each other when they didn't think the other was looking. It made her both happy and sad. Glad for Sybil's sake, but there's nothing like another's happiness to put one's own sadness into stark relief. The Crawlettes were coming to an end. Sybil and Tom would get together, despite anything the family said. Sybil had that charm and force of personality. Mary…didn't she have some fan who turned out to be a hotshot lawyer? That would please Papa and there would be no objection to them becoming a couple.
Alone among her sisters, she was The Crawlette who could go out without being recognised, because no one ever noticed her. Alone among her sisters, she would not have anyone to comfort her when all this was over. Anthony…oh Anthony! If only I was as old as I feel, you might consider marrying me. As it is…I don't suppose you'll ever think about me again after tomorrow. Anthony...
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Tom drove out of the hotel garage and of York with ease. They followed little lanes, keeping by the Ouse, and stopping at a particularly pretty set of small waterfalls.
They walked for a bit, talking of nothing, meaning everything.
"What do you think you will do once tomorrow's over?" he asked, scared of her answer.
"What I'm not going to do is go back to being an upper class leech on society" she retorted with spirit.
"I never said you were!"
"No, you didn't. But The Angry Young Men do, and they're right! My family…and people like us…we should not take anything for granted. Look at Sir Anthony! He's as landed gentry as the Crawleys, but he finds useful things to do in this new world. And so shall I!"
She was both angry and proud, and in Tom's eyes, magnificent.
"What kind of work?"
She giggled as though sharing a joke.
"I don't know! What I'd really like is to become a clothes designer and have a shop in Carnaby Street or the King's Road. The Crawlettes thing will help me sell, at least to begin with. Hopefully people will buy the clothes because they like them eventually once they get known."
"You'll be brilliant, I know you will!"
Her face became sadder, more serious.
"What will you do, Tom?"
"Look for another chauffeur position, I suppose. I could come to London with you and you could give me a reference…" They both grinned at the idea. "…or…I might get married."
Sybil just looked at him, not trusting her ears.
"Lady Sybil, you are the most wonderful, beautiful, incredible woman I've ever met, and it would make me the happiest man in the world if you…would…marry…me….I love you, Sybil."
She still stared into his blue eyes, and he began to think she was trying to find kind words of rejection. Then her face burst into joyous smiles like the sun breaking from behind clouds.
"Oh Tom! Yes, yes, yes! I'd love to. I love you too! Oh Tom!"
Overwhelmed, it was all he could do to reach his arms around her and kiss her. Between kisses and laughter and smiles and happiness, they ignored time passing until it began to get dark and they were forced to return to the hotel in York.