Pausing under a streetlamp, Sarah O'Brien lit a cigarette and squinted ahead into the darkness. She hadn't been to Whitechapel in several months, and certainly not at night, so her attempts to locate the shop of her old friend, Fergus MacCrory. No sooner had she heaved a disgruntled sigh, exhaling smoke into the night air, than she heard the familiar tinkling of shop bells and looked down the street. A man was emerging from a shop - not sure that it was Fergus, in the dark she could scarcely make him out - she figured she could at least ask if he knew where Fergus lived. Since the Whitechapel Murders, the streets had quieted at night and thus far in her journey she hadn't crossed paths with very many people at all, and the sounds of her heels echoing along the pavement sent a chill up her spine. At least she'd had the foresight to tell Anna where she was going.
"Sir, 'scuse me!" she called, pitching her cigarette onto the ground. The man paused and walked toward her, and as he illuminated under the streetlamp, O'Brien saw that it was indeed Fergus MacCrory. And thank God for it; the clock in town struck eleven and she knew her hours were limited.
"Sarah O'Brien, my God." he said, "What'en earth are ya doin' in Whitechapel this time o' night?"
"Fergus, I've got to ask you somethin' important, I'm lookin' for information about a family here. Pertains to my work at Downton. I hate to trouble ya so late in the evening, but you know I could never get away during the day."
He smiled knowingly. Sarah O'Brien had been a tough one even as a girl, and since he'd been friends with her brother, he knew that beneath her stony exterior there was a sweet lass buried there. Though, maybe the years that had passed her by had buried it deeper than he thought.
"Sarah, sure, come back to my flat. I'll make you a cuppa and we'll talk. Have to be quiet though," he said, leading her away, "The wee ones will be in bed and I don't want to wake them."
He poured her a cup of tea, the steam rising from the cup and warming her face. Or, perhaps, it was the heat of the anxiety that plagued her. She still wasn't entirely sure what she'd do with the information she got from Fergus, but she knew that she just had to have it - in any case, she couldn't risk being ignorant of any trouble brewing at Downton, even if it didn't directly affect her.
"What did you want to ask me about, now Sarah?" Fergus said, pouring a cup for himself, "Must be important if ya come all the way to Whitechapel late at night to find me."
"I need to know about a man named Brody- he had a wife and a daughter- Amelia."
Fergus narrowed his eyes at her, "What are the odds o' that, you're the second person to ask me about the Brody's in so many months."
O'Brien raised her eyebrows, "What? Who else has asked?"
He shrugged, "A young lass - blondey, sort o' plain, didn't look like she belonged in Whitechapel with her fine clothes and accent- she came into me shop and asked about them."
O'Brien couldn't believe her ears. If he was describing the girl right, it sounded like none other than Lady Edith. She had to smile to herself at the thought, 'twas always the quiet ones that caused the most ruckus.
"What did she say, the girl who asked?" O'Brien said, setting her tea down.
"Well, I told her what I knew about the fam and then she got flustered and bolted outta here like she had a train to catch - she probably did, too, like I said, she didn't belong here." he looked at O'Brien a moment, who was completely engrossed in what he was telling her, then he had a thought. "Sarah, was it one of the Grantham's girls? One of the daughters? Could have been, you know, would have been about the right age and certainly dressed the part."
Sighing, O'Brien fussed with her tea, "I think I know who it was, Fergus. Now I'll tell ya why I'm here and what I need to know." she paused, collecting her thoughts. "O'er the summer, Lord Grantham got a letter about a girl who'd lost her parents - a man he fought in the Boer War with, you see. Long story short, the girl came to Downton and she's still here. Her Ladyship's taken to her like a cat to a stray kitten - and I don't have a good feelin' about it, and the ladies don't either, you see, except the youngest, Lady Sybil - who is exactly like her mother and even more likely to take in a stray if given the opportunity."
"That must be why the gel came to see me, to ask about where Amelia came from. She didn't say why, but I could tell she was interested outta more than just curiosity." he looked down at his tea, "Sarah, do ye know about the Brody's? What kind o' business they run underground?"
O'Brien shook her head, "No, Fergus, that's why I'm here tonight. I wanted to find out where she come from and if I ought'a be so worried about the fact that she's living the high life at Downton."
Fergus sighed, "Her father ran a con, and the wife - sweet girl, Emmaline- she was part of it but she didn't want to be. No mother would want to bring a child into a world of poverty and crime, not a good one anyway. Amelia's a beautiful child, mane o' red hair like her mum, and they went into the city proper and peddle her good looks for money. I think Emmaline was in it, too, you know."
"What do you mean - prostitution?" O'Brien whispered, her voice harsh, "Are you sure that's what they were about?"
He nodded solemnly, " 'fraid so, the whole town knew about it, too, but no one wanted to fight it, go in and get the gel out of it you see - Brody was a hellion when he'd had too much of the bottle, which was all the time if you want to know the truth."
"Good Lord." O'Brien said, "So, she's got no parents now - but what about the con they ran, was anyone else involved in it? Anyone gonna come lookin' for her?"
Fergus stiffened, "I couldn't say for sure, Sarah, but you know how nasty those things are, and with the murders an' everythin' else we've had that's turned Whitechapel into a haven for criminals, I don't think you could be too careful. If ye had a hunch about Amelia, it's probably that she's got a trail of crime followin' her, poor thing. An' she had nothin' to say about it, but lord help her to outright it." he took a sip of his tea, which had gone lukewarm, "You think she's safe now, at Downton? Will they take care of her?"
"I think so, Ladyship likes her well enough. But they don't know a lick of any of this. As far as His Lordship's concerned, our Mr Brody was a perfect gentleman, a war veteran like him with a polished record."
"Are you goin' to tell them the truth?"
"I don't know, Fergus." she said, "I don't know what I'll do."
Cora awoke to the sensation of her hair being lovingly stroked. She smiled, still half-asleep, thinking it could only be Robert trying to persuade her awake. As she emerged from sleep, however, she felt that the hands soothing her hair were small, and a bit cold; not his strapping, warm ones. For a moment she wondered if she was still dreaming- and having a nostalgic reckoning back to when the girls were little and would crawl into bed at night after they'd had a nightmare. When she opened her eyes, she saw the wideawake Amelia looking down at her. Noticing that she'd woken her, the girl scattered to the opposite end of the bed in remorse.
"I'm sorry I woke you up, I didn't mean to." Amelia said in hushed tones.
Stretching, Cora sat up slowly, propping herself up on her elbows. "It's alright, my darling, it was a very pleasant way to be woken." she regarded the child for a moment, positioning herself with her head back against the headboard and a pillow at her back, "Did your mother used to do that for you?" she asked, patting the bed beside her. Relieved, Amelia returned to her side, cuddling up next to her and sighing loudly.
"Oh yes, she did. I miss her so much." the girl said, nuzzling into Cora's side and closing her eyes. Taking her cue, Cora began to stroke the girl's mop of red curls, gently unsnarling them with her long, elegant fingers.
"I know you do. She must have loved you so very much."
"Oh, she did." Amelia said, "I don't think my daddy did, though."
Cora furrowed her brow. She knew Amelia couldn't see the expression on her face, so she tried not to betray herself too much when she asked why.
"I can't tell you." Amelia said quietly. After a few moments of silence, she sat up and looked Cora straight in the eye, "You aren't going to take me into the city to get money, are you? I know it's almost Christmas."
Now Cora couldn't help but appear confused, "Amelia, what are you talking about? Take you into the city for money? Do you mean London?" she laughed, "Why on earth would we do anything like that? I assure you that we don't need any money from you." - she didn't add that she knew it was because, quite simply, Amelia's parents had died leaving her no money- certainly no dowry of any kind- and they hardly expected her to work until she was older.
"How do you get money,then?" Amelia asked in disbelief. "Does Lady Sybil go for you, since she's the youngest?"
"Amelia, forgive me love, I haven't a clue what you mean to say."
Her face pinked in frustration, "Who goes to the city with the men?" she cried, punching her fists against the bed.
Cora's jaw dropped. She couldn't think of what to say - she still wasn't entirely sure what Amelia was on about. She softened, holding her arms open. Amelia had begun to cry, her face now as red as her hair.
"Come, now, darling, come here."
As she heaved against Cora's chest, Amelia suddenly began to fear that her time at Downton was limited. Now that she had been there several months, and especially since the holidays were fast approaching, if she wasn't going to be of any use to them - then what reason did they have to keep her? When they had said that she wouldn't be a maid, that she'd just be a little girl, she figured that they would make her work like she did in Whitechapel. So what now, if not that, did they have planned for her? What if it was worse? She knew nothing of their life, and what horrors might lie before her at Downton.
There was a light rap on the door and Anna opened the door.
"Your Ladyship, O'Brien's ill this morning, she asked me to come up and ready you for breakfast, if you don't mind." As she stepped into the room, she noticed Amelia on the bed and stepped back, "Oh, m'lady, I'm sorry to interrupt. I can come back."
Amelia pulled away from Cora and scurried off the bed, leaping down and running out of the room, past Anna, and down the hall. A few moments later, they heard the door to the nursery door slam.
Before she could even lift her voice to call after her, the child had disappeared from the room as mysteriously as she had appeared in the bed.
"Is Amelia alright?" Anna said, going to Cora's vanity.
"Oh, Anna. I'm not sure. She's upset and asking me about whether or not we will send her into the city for money? Something about going with the men?"
The color drained from Anna's face. Suddenly she thought about O'Brien's escape to Whitechapel in the night. She wondered what, if anything, she'd learned.
"Anyway, O'Brien's ill?" Cora asked, throwing back the covers and stepping out of bed.
"Oh, just a bit of a cold." Anna said, forcing a smile, "Now, how would you like your hair today?"
On the train back to Downton, O'Brien nervously bit her fingernails and tried to decide who- if anyone- she would tell about Amelia's past. If Edith knew, best guesses meant she had told Mary. No doubt the two were scheming something, which was probably why they hadn't had a major row in weeks, which was reason enough to think something was up between them. She couldn't trust Anna, who was a blabbermouth about anything that made her heartache, softie that she was. And though she'd probably tell Thomas for the thrill, she knew that he would take pride in telling the rest of the staff, and she didn't want that, not yet. Sitting back against the seat, she closed her eyes and hoped to drift off. Without proper sleep, the day before her would be a long one. Deep down, she already knew the answer to the question of who, at Downton, she could tell about Amelia's precarious past. She'd have to tell Her Ladyship.
Back at Downton, Robert was having breakfast in the dining room with Mary and Edith. Cora had yet to join them, as she was still getting ready in her room, and Sybil had finished already and rushed off to write a letter - Maybe she's got a suitor, Edith had said, Oh hardly, Mary had scoffed, Even the census taker hides from Sybil and her passionate political opinions.
Cora entered, leaning down to kiss Robert's cheek as she went to collect herself some toast and jam.
"Good morning, darling, did you sleep alright?" Robert asked, buttering his toast.
Cora joined them, sighing. "Despite our visitor, yes, I did. Thank you."
Mary raised a skeptical eyebrow, "A visitor? Am I to assume you're talking about our little boarder?"
"Mary," Cora said, her voice low and disapproving, "Amelia is quite troubled about something and I do think it's effecting her sleep." she eyed the girls for a moment, "It wouldn't have to do with either of you, would it?"
Pretending to look wounded, Mary put her hand to her chest, "Mama, why would we say anything to her? We're truly thrilled she's here."
"Mary, watch your tone." Robert said, looking up at her.
"This morning she was teary eyed and prattled on about us taking her into the city for money? To see the men in the city? The child has some kind of whimsical fantasy about it and I rather say she's distraught at the prospect."
Edith dropped her fork with a clank and everyone looked at her.
"Edith, darling, are you alright?" Robert asked.
"So, she's already told you then?" Edith said, leaning back in her chair, "How tragic, really. I'm sorry to have had ill feelings towards her, it was all out of her control of course."
"Edith what are you talking about?" Robert said.
Edith looked at Cora, "Mama, she told you then. About the prostitution?"
Robert nearly choked on his tea. Cora's mouth hung agape and Mary, who usually was skilled at hiding her feelings, allowed her face to contort into a disgusted grimace.
"Prostitution?" Robert barked, "Edith Crawley what in God's name has gotten into you? Why would you even suggest such a thing? Amelia's father was an upstanding man, and to sit here and hear you make such a despicable allegation-" he stood up and banged his fists against the table, "I will not stand for it!"
"Papa, you think you know this man but you're mistaken. You don't know anything at all about him!"
Both of them looked at Cora, who had stood up, tears glistening in her eyes. "If you'll excuse me I'm going to go upstairs. I am feeling ill and am no longer interested in breakfast."
She hurried out of the room and Robert turned back to Edith as he rushed after her, "We aren't finished, Edith. I am going to make sure your Mama is okay but if you so much as think about leaving the breakfast table before I promise you there will be grave consequences."
As her parents rushed out of the breakfast room, Edith sunk slowly back down into her chair. Beside her, Mary exhaled loudly.
"My God, Edith." she said, picking up her tea cup, "I do think this is the first time in Crawley history where you have managed to upset father worse than me."
A/N: Wow, ten chapters! Thank you to all who have been reading, reviewing and keeping me so engrossed in telling Amelia's story. I know that it's extremely unlikely anything like this would ever be canon, as it wouldn't ever be a feasible story in the Dowtonverse, but I really wanted to explore the social conditions of the time period, especially for children who were not from aristocratic families, and Amelia sort of personifies the struggles of the period in a way that none of the Downton girls would have ever been keenly aware of. I think, at least I hope, that the plight of a child in such a situation would bring together the upstairs and downstairs - but, as you know, O'Brien is a master at stirring up trouble, so to see if this is what plays out you'll just have to keep reading! :-O