Chapter 10

AN: Hello, everybody! I want to thank you all so much for your awesome response to this story so far, as I honestly didn't think it would get anywhere. I would also like to thank Edward Carson for helping with historical details and for being so supportive! This chapter may be a bit boring; there was a lot more I wanted to put in it, but I didn't want to drag it out. I promise the next one will be much more...tense. That's all I'm going to say. So, without further ado, I give you Chapter 10!

-downtonabbey15 :)

Bertie froze. For a moment, it seemed almost impossible for the information to sink in. He was sure the world had stopped.

Eventually, his voice began working again.

"Pregnant..."

Edith nearly laughed at her husband's reaction. "Yes, Bertie. I'm pregnant."

He still couldn't fathom it. "But...We've tried and tried...and-"

"And we've finally succeeded," Edith finished for him, brushing his cheeks with her hands. "Oh, darling...I've gone to see Dr. Clarkson..." She let the silence build for a moment, then smiled.

"Bertie...we're having twins."

Maggie had never stayed up all night; save for one evening, before the war, when she, George, and William had spent hours searching the upstairs for ghosts, (but that's another story,) and she had absolutely no idea how anyone before her had possibly managed to do it. She missed breakfast, which was enough to make her mother suspicious, and had barely made it through luncheon. She and George were now seated in the servants' hall, occupying chairs against the wall to stay out of the way. They had only come down to get a moment's respite from the chaos of upstairs, but now their stay was going on nearly half an hour. George knew that if they didn't go back up soon, unwanted questions would be asked.

George turned to his sister. "You can skip dinner if you want. I'll cover for you."

Maggie closed her eyes for a moment and leaned her head back against the wall. She rubbed her eyes. "No. I've got to get to William."

George shrugged. "So skip and sneak out during it. The weather's fine. You could be back before we even go through. No one will know."

Maggie considered it, then stopped. "How do I get the food? If I sneak out during dinner, Mrs. Patmore will be in the kitchen working on the servants' food."

George thought for a minute. "Tell you what. In a minute I'll go in to Mrs. Patmore. I'll tell her that you, me, Sybbie, and Marigold are going on a picnic later, and that I'd like a basket of something. I'll take it and put it in my room. When we're all down at dinner, you sneak in, grab it, and go to William." He shrugged. "Simple."

"Won't she ask why you didn't bring the basket back?"

"What right has she to ask about anything we do?"

Maggie scoffed. "That doesn't sound snobbish."

George smiled slightly. "Sometimes we need to be snobbish."

"What about Bates? Won't he wonder when he comes to dress you?"

George shook his head. "He's Bates. He won't care."

At that moment, Barrow came through the doorway and faced them. "Her ladyship's asking for you, Miss," he said with a slight nod.

"What for?"

"Mr. Nicolas Grey is in the drawing room."

"What?"

Barrow held back a chuckle at Margaret's confusion. "He's with her ladyship. He's here to see you."

George turned to his sister. "Did you ask him here?"

Maggie shook her head. "Lord, no." She heaved a sigh, then stood. "If I can't chase him away within ten minutes," she said in a low tone to Barrow, "come rescue me."

Once they were sure she was up the stairs and out of earshot, Barrow and George laughed out loud.

"Poor Nicolas," George said with a chuckle. "He'll never accept that his cause is hopeless..."

Nicolas Grey was a decent-looking boy. His brown hair (so light it could be considered blonde,) was always neatly kept, and the same went for his clothes. He was short for his age, a mere 16, but if Maggie didn't initially detest him so, she would have found him attractive.

He stood upon her entrance into the drawing room.

"Margaret," Cora said with a smile. "You remember Nicolas?"

Nicolas gave her a slight bow and a smile. "Margaret."

Maggie acknowledged him. "Nicolas...It's been a long time."

Nicolas smiled again. "Yes, so it has. I'm moving out here in a bit, actually. So, you'll hopefully be seeing a lot more of me."

Maggie couldn't fully erase the displeasure from her face. "You're...moving here?"

"His mother doesn't feel that London is safe anymore," Cora explained. "And I think she's quite right."

"You've not met my mother, have you?" Nicolas asked.

Maggie shook her head. "No." Then added a, "Fortunately," under her breath.

Cora fixed her eyes on her in a glare, but somehow managed to keep her expression pleasant. "Margaret, I thought you could show Nicolas around the gardens. It's been so long since he's been to Downton."

"There's nothing interesting in the gardens."

Seeing her grandmother's look, she headed for the door, not bothering to hide the irritated sigh that escaped her.

Maggie had never liked the gardens. At least, not when the temperature still fluctuated between warm and cool. She couldn't stand the scent of pollen or grass, and the insects that plagued the area were tiresome. She and Nicolas walked in silence for a while. She felt slight guilt at her initial treatment of him, especially considering he had yet to insult her; his métier in their few encounters as children.

After a while, he surprised her by breaking the silence.

"I gather, you didn't ask me here today after all."

Maggie stopped walking and turned to him. She shook her head. "No," she said, trying to keep her tone gentle. "Who said I did?"

Nicolas looked slightly uneasy. "Your grandmother...the Dowager Countess."

Maggie didn't respond for a moment. Her gaze wandered as she fought to control the anger she could already feel building up. "What did she say?" she asked, a little more forcefully.

"She said..." Nicolas chuckled awkwardly. "Well, never mind what she said. But she implied that you were very eager to see me. She told me when to come."

Maggie heaved a sigh. "Nicolas, she's played a joke on us. I'm terribly sorry. And I apologize for her behaviour."

Nicolas shook his head. "It's quite alright. Really." He averted his gaze. "Well, I'd best be heading back to the village," he said, beginning to walk in the opposite direction. "Good day."

Maggie couldn't help but stare after him. She couldn't help but feel guilt. He hadn't been rude, or cruel. He hadn't even been snobbish. He had actually been...nice?

"Cousin Violet, London is being destroyed before our very eyes! We cannot expect innocent children to remain there!" Isobel resisted the urge to slam her teacup down on the table.

She and Violet were sitting at a small table behind the dower house, with the intention of enjoying a calm, afternoon tea. Unfortunately, that was not to be.

Violet was nearing the end of her rope. "I understand your point, Isobel! But we cannot take in the entire youth population of London in our village!"

"I'm not asking for the entire population!" Isobel fought. "I'm only asking for a few host families! Is that so wrong?"

"My dear," Violet said, setting her cup and saucer down on the table as calmly as she could. "We have only just come out of a depression. Many of families in this village can barely afford to feed their own children, let alone the thousands that are in London."

Isobel thought for a moment. Violet did have a point. "Very well. What about the house?"

Violet looked appalled. "D-Do you hear yourself when you speak?! Or is it just a ringing in your ears?!" She scoffed. "We cannot have unidentified city children running amuck the abbey! Who in heaven's name would look after them?! Nanny Brown is gone, and if she is replaced, she can hardly be expected to care for children who are not even of the family!"

"What's wrong with getting volunteers?" Isobel questioned. "And you talk as though I want to bring in masses of them. I only mean a small number."

"Even so, it's..." Violet trailed off and her gaze focused on something behind Isobel. She sighed. "Well, she's prompt, I'll give her that."

"Who?" Isobel turned and followed her gaze.

Maggie was marching down the grassy hill behind the dower house, her blue dress blowing around her legs in the strong breeze. Her eyes were already fixed on Violet, her face trying in vain to mask her temper.

"I suppose it could be worse," Violet mused. "She could've come on horseback like the cavalry."

Isobel looked at her strangely, then turned back around. "Good day, Margaret!" she called.

Maggie didn't even acknowledge her as she reached them. She was focused solely on Violet. "How dare you!" she exclaimed as soon as she stopped in front of them.

"How dare I?" Violet asked, donning innocence.

"Granny, how could you set me up like that!"

Isobel immediately turned to her cousin. "What've you done now?"

Violet gave her a look as if to say don't start.

Maggie finally seemed to regard Isobel's presence. "She invited Nicolas Grey to the house and made it look as though I asked him!"

"You've set her up with my step-grandchild?" Isobel asked incredulously. "And you didn't think to tell me?"

"I didn't think you'd mind!"

Now Isobel set down her tea unceremoniously on the table with a loud clink! "For your information, Timothy and I are on very tolerable terms now, and I would've appreciated some information on the subject."

Violet glared at her as if to silence her. "Alright," she said with a note of finality in her voice. She turned to Margaret. "Margaret, I was not trying to upset you-"

Maggie scoffed. "You weren't trying to? Granny, do you know how embarrassing that was? He knew from the moment I walked in that I'd no clue he'd be there. And to have to tell him that? It was absolutely humiliating!"

Violet held up a hand and gave Maggie a harsh glare. "Now," she said sternly. "You've had your tantrum, let me say my piece. Nicolas Grey is a more than perfect match for you-"

"I'm fourteen!"

"It does not matter! If you begin to know him now it may make things easier in the future. He's from a good family, and a good upbringing. And while he has fair prospects, and a decent position, he is not next in line to anything, so you will not have to be responsible for producing any heirs."

The colour drained from Maggie's face, and she recoiled as if she'd been slapped.

After a moment, Isobel turned away and stood. "I'll leave you," she said quietly.

Violet rang the little bell beside her, and the back door was opened almost immediately by Spratt.

"Spratt, show Lady Merton into the drawing room. I'll be in presently."

Once they had left, Violet and Maggie remained in silence for a few moments. Eventually, Maggie spoke.

"How long've you known?" Her voice was cool and unwavering, and for a moment, Violet thought it was Mary standing in front of her, instead of her daughter.

"Since the day your mother brought you home from that appointment at the beginning of the summer," Violet confessed in an equally crisp tone. "All the women in this family know. I assume your mother told your father?"

Maggie nodded.

Violet gave her a knowing look. "And you've not mentioned it to George..."

"He doesn't need to know."

Another awkward silence settled between the two.

"Nothing's definite," Maggie eventually argued. "I've never been examined. At least...not as I should've been."

Violet looked at least partially sympathetic. "My dear, if it were only the word of one doctor, I may agree with you. But you have the diagnosis of two experienced physicians." She looked the girl up and down without intending to do so. "And even if you could conceive, with your health, I doubt you could keep it."

Maggie's face darkened. "Thank you for that."

"I'm sorry. That was rather harsh."

Maggie shook it off. "It doesn't matter."

"No...it does matter. But let's not talk about it now." She stood and collected herself, preparing to resume her conversation with Isobel in the drawing room. "And I hope you realise I truly never meant to upset you."

Maggie had already started the long trek back to Downton. But she turned to her great grandmother. "Did you assume you were making me happy?"

Violet didn't respond. She only watched the 14-year-old's retreating form, before sighing and rejoining Isobel.

AN: So, like I said, I thought it was kind of boring. But please review and tell me your thoughts! FYI: lots of angst coming in the future, for those of you who like it! Until next time!

-downtonabbey15 :)