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Chapter Ten
Oh, God, was all Tom Branson could think as his eyes flicked between his sister-in-law and the little girl who looked exactly like her. No! But how? When? Why here?
He could feel his eyes bulging out of their sockets at the sight. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened once again.
"Umm..." was all he managed to get out. Tom looked to Charles, who suddenly did not look as urbane as usual. Charles looked back and shook his head. Edith was picking up the bicycle. She placed a gentle hand on the little one's head and said softly, "Have a happy Christmas, my darling."
"Will you come see me again, Aunt Edith?" The little girl asked.
"Yes, dear," Edith replied. "I'll not return to London until after the New Year." She smiled. "Best get inside. It's rather nippy out."
The girl nodded and returned to the door, to stand by Mrs. Drewe. Edith took up her bike and dragged it down the shallow steps of the porch. Charles grabbed the handlebars and said, "Allow me." Tom followed, still feeling dazed.
"Why don't you come back with us, Edith?" Charles asked.
"Oh, but the bike..." Edith said.
"We brought the truck," Tom replied, voice finally returning. "It'll fit in the back."
There seemed to be a tacit agreement between the three to not discuss the Drewes, the little girl, or Edith's visit until they had returned to one of the larger dirt roads, leading in the direction of the house. Tom drove, but his head was spinning. He'd seen the Drewes' daughter about before and had noted that she didn't look like the others, but then, Drewe said she was actually the child of a friend of his, a friend who died. Drewe was the child's godfather and felt duty-bound to raise her, which Tom found very honorable.
"That's not his goddaughter," Tom blurted out.
"And you're not her aunt," Charles went on. Edith, sitting between them, knotted her gloved hands together. "Edith? Tell us. We won't judge or condemn."
"But you'll tell Mary," Edith said to Charles. She turned to Tom. "And who will you tell? Mama? Papa?"
"No one, if you don't want me to," Tom replied. "She's, what, about seven? Eight?"
"Nine," Edith said.
"What's her name?"
"Caroline Geneva Rose."
Nine years old. How had Edith hidden her all these years? In plain sight, that's how. Tom cast his mind back ten years ago. Charles wouldn't remember, having only been introduced to the Crawleys at about that time, but Tom well remembered. Edith had begun her journalism career and was spending lots of time in London. She'd been very friendly with her editor, Michael Gregson, and even, Tom had suspected, been in love with him. Then Gregson had gone to Germany and disappeared.
Edith had been very low then, terribly worried. Then she and Aunt Rosamund had gone to Switzerland for several months. Tom had wondered whether being in Switzerland also meant some trips into Germany to search for Mr. Gregson, but he'd never heard if they'd crossed the border or not.
Switzerland. Geneva was a city there.
"Switzerland," Tom said.
"Yes," Edith replied. "I gave birth in hospital in Geneva. I...well, I fed her. I weaned her. Then Aunt Rosamund had found a nice Swiss-German family to give the baby to. So I did. And then I came home."
Charles exhaled loudly. Tom then remembered how low Edith had seemed around Rose's debut. That had not been long after she'd returned from Europe.
"Then how did the baby come to be with the Drewes?" Charles asked.
The story came out. Tom deliberately drove them around the winding dirt roads of the estate slowly, taking the very scenic route back to the house. Edith had been tormented without her child. That Tom could understand. There had been suggestions after Sybil's death that he go off to Liverpool, Manchester, or London to find work and leave Sybbie at Downton Abbey. He hadn't wanted to do that. There had been an instant bond between him and the baby, the two Bransons, and Tom had never wanted to leave the child behind.
Edith had found Tim Drewe to be a trustworthy sort of man and had concocted a plan whereby the Drewes took in Caroline. She told them that the child was the baby of a friend her parents disapproved of. In return, Edith provided them money to care for Caroline.
"So she doesn't know that you're her mother?" Charles asked.
"She thinks I'm her godmother," Edith replied. "I named her once we returned to England. I applied for British citizenship on her behalf. And then I gave her away again." Edith began crying.
"Does anyone but Rosamund know?" Charles asked.
"Granny knew."
Tom stepped on the brakes. He and Charles looked at each other over Edith's head, incredulous.
# # #
At the house, Edith dried her eyes and went inside. Tom and Charles stayed back by the garage for a few extra minutes, conferring.
"Jesus," Tom sighed.
"I know," Charles replied. "It's sad, but I can understand. She'd be ruined. Child born out of wedlock."
"Father's been missing for years. They did the paperwork to declare him dead in 1930."
Charles nodded. "Yes, I remember. Hasn't she got a good portion according to the will?"
Tom nodded. "A third to Edith, then some to family of his."
"Do you suppose Caroline has inherited anything?"
"I assume that was part of the legal declaration," Tom said. "So that Edith could pass on some to Caroline. Good God, what a tangle. I wonder if the girl's birth record even says that Edith is the mother. And still, we don't know if she intends to do more than be the child's 'godmother.'"
Charles shakes his head. "I don't know if I can keep something like this from Mary."
"Would it do any good to tell her?"
Charles ran frustrated fingers through his hair. "I don't suppose so. But...Even Cora doesn't know! Imagine not knowing that a grandchild is living on the same estate. Yet Violet knew!"
Tom agreed. That, too, was still incomprehensible. Then again, the Dowager Countess had been a tricky sort of soul. "Still, it would bring Edith's shame and misery to the fore. That's not something we can decide."
Charles sighed."No, you're right. It's not. Stay for dinner?"
Tom shook his head. "It's end of term, remember? Sybbie and I have our ritual for end of term."
Charles grinned, nodded, and then went up to the house. Tom turned to walk home.
# # #
Sybbie presented her report card to Tom with a flourish. Da looked over the report card, whistled, and then ruffled her hair.
"Great job, love," Da said with a tight hug. "Shall we commence our ritual?"
Sybbie nodded. At the end of each term of school, Sybbie handed Da her report card. Since Da never frowned over her grades, even the less-than-perfect ones, instead just reminding her gently to work hard on them next term, they always had their ritual. First, they would get dressed up and go out to eat, a rarity. They almost always ate at home with Ivy cooking for them or up at Downton with the family. But last term day, Da would take Sybbie out to the Bates' inn and they would tuck in to a meal and then come home and eats lots of chocolate chip cookies.
Tom changed and then they bundled up into their coats, hats, and scarves and walked to The Climbing Vine, the Bates' inn and restaurant. Anna greeted them and sat them close to the fire.
"How are you?"Anna gushed over Sybbie. "I haven't seen you for ages! How is school going?"
"Glowing grades, as always," Tom bragged.
Sybbie nodded. "It's okay. I have to do a project next term. A family tree project."
"Oh, that sounds interesting," Anna said.
"Guess I have to write to Gran!" Sybbie said, referring to Tom's mother. "She might know all that stuff, right, Da?"
"I'm sure she does," Tom replied.
"Well, just so you know," Anna said, "we've got a really lovely roast joint tonight as well as an herb-crusted pork chop." She grinned. "The best of Downton pork."
# # #
In Downton Abbey, after dinner, Charles unbuttoned the back of Mary's dress.
"I wonder if Edith's feeling all right?" Mary said. "Mama said she hoped she hadn't caught cold from being out all day. It really was rather frigid today. George came back and his ears were bright red."
Edith had pleaded a headache and taken a tray in her room.
"I'm sure it's just a headache," Charles said. "I do hope our little angel will behave tomorrow in the pageant."
Mary laughed. "We needn't worry about Charlotte. It's when Ruthie gets her part in the Christmas play that we'll need to be concerned."
Charles laughed.