Thank you for reviews and welcome to followers. Just a note that I essentially post up as I type, so I will be going back to edit/refine sentences and clarify a little bit here and there. Yes this will be a long story, but hopefully not too mawkish. I think my plan right now is to take them up to the brink of ww2 and then stop there. It's been fantastic to just let my imagination go. Thanks for reading! A quick note that there are some titles and so on included below. Obviously , they are all mostly made up or similar to real ones. For e.g, the Earldom of Oxford was made dormant in 1703, revived with the Earldom of Asquith in 1711 and then extinct from the late 1800s until revived under a different moniker in 1925. So I've begged and borrowed a little, but the point is it isn't meant to reference real people.
With the pace of the script of the Other Storyteller, let us place our hand on the fast forward button and take ourselves to July, at the height of the London season. We enter into the ballroom of a large and fashionable London house, where the guests are arriving for a grand party. See the young debutante, newly minted and attending her first ball. She glances, wide eyed, at the gentlemen coming in. Which one, she wonders, will catch her eye? Is her future in this very room? See the young Lord lounging lazily by the fire, more interested in the fine cut of his suit that any available young lady. See the clutch of hassled Mamas, strategically eyeing the room, the young women now on their second or third season mostly hoping to get it all over with, and the Papas seeking the card room.
Mable De Vere, Countess of Oxford, took in the room calculatingly. With the great lady's permission, let us enter a little into her thoughts.
Elizabeth Mortimer is here, clasping her husband's hands like a silly schoolgirl. I always thought she was rather too much of a flake to be a serious wife. Goodness knows what he sees in her, such inappropriate behaviour. I wonder what the Duchess of Asquith looks so very pleased about. I wouldn't be too happy if my husband kept the hall boy in his bed and never came into mine. I am glad to see the Harclays, Colin was so sure that all that estate trouble would keep them away. I must try my best to spend some time with Lady Ruth before I go home. She's always well in the know about things. Gracious, Susan Flintshire is looking old. Well Susan Flintshire has always looked old. Quite a pruny baby, if I recall. Oh dear, why are there so many more Americans every year? Ghastly people. Although, I must tell Bertie FitzCharles. Some American doubloons may be just the thing to see them through the next few years, and that daughter of his is getting to a rather wilting age.
Delighting in her own wit, Her Ladyship waves across the room at her daughter -in – law, and goes to her. Susan MacClare, Marchioness of Flintshire walks past her with a polite smile and spots her Aunt Violet coming in.
"Ah Aunt Violet, I've been hoping to see you. We're so sorry not to have come to the at-home at Grantham House last night. Shrimpie had to work quite late, as usual."
"We managed quite well without you. Sybil did so well today. Oh she is such a dear girl. Shall we find somewhere to sit, away from the madding crowd?"
Violet and Susan steer themselves to a table in the inner room.
"Cora wrote to me about Edith's engagement. Isn't Anthony Strallan at least as old as me?"
"Yes, but Edith seems very keen. She may not do very much better, and Locksley is a fine old house. Your Uncle Charles often enjoyed the hunting out there."
"And Mary is to be settled as well…to the lawyer."
"To the heir of the Earl of Grantham. Don't be snide, my dear. Your mother could never carry it off and neither can you."
Susan is not to be deterred so easily. It is the subject of Mary that has had her seeking out her aunt.
"Shrimpie and I were at a soiree at the Turkish Embassy in April."
"Did you? That sounds dreadful." Violet's face is completely serene.
"It was quite interesting actually. The cultural attaché told me the most amusing little story."
"I've never enjoyed foreign tales. I always thought Ali Baba and his forty thieves ought to have done away with Aladdin in a more final manner."
"The setting was a local one. Had he known my connection to the family, I don't think he would have been so forthright, but it would appear that one of his countrymen had visited Downton."
"Yes, a bit of a rogue I hear. A rather unstable young man, at least Robert thought so. Told some rather tall tales at the dinner table. But at least he made an amusing dinner guest! Robert said he could certainly sing for his supper!"
Susan looks directly at her aunt, who returns the stare with determination and authority. Surrendering to the fact that her aunt is a formidable opponent, Susan decides that perhaps the better target is Cora.
"Well. I thought it might interest you, but as you say, you've never enjoyed foreign tales. If you'll excuse me, I will need to see that Anabelle hasn't overheated herself. She always does let herself getting carried away."
The Dowager twitches her cane. She rather wished she were a cobra so she could spread her hood and scare off her smirking niece. Susan had always been a bitter child, and now she was a sour adult. It would not do for a member of the family to spread the story around. The Dowager squares her shoulders and raises a silent cry of vengeance against all Turks, past, present and future.
Xx
Mary and Matthew enter the room together, one of their first proper society outings as a couple. The girl inside Mary is deliriously happy. To be in London with a man she adores, sure of her position as Countess of Grantham. It is truly a dream come true. She does note the odd look or two given in her direction, a titter, a smirk. She clings to Matthew's arm, knowing that her engagement to him may have helped dispel some of the issue. Matthew always makes her feel secure, but she feels annoyed that she is so reliant on that security. Mary's problem is that she does care very deeply what other people think of her. Matthew is not oblivious to the titters and the snide smiles. It only makes him less endeared to the class that he now belongs. He is tired of artifice but knows he must play his part. What is it that Cousin Violet says? Life is a game in which the player must appear ridiculous. Very well, I shall be Pedrolino.
"I'm afraid we are in the eye of the storm, my darling.", whispers Mary, bringing him out of his reverie.
"Well you are a storm braver, if ever I knew one." He squeezes her hand and smiles roguishly.
"Then let us seek shelter. I see Charles Blake coming toward you with determination. Perhaps he has finally managed to mobilise the revolution. Ought I to hide my jewels?"
"Don't be flippant. I think Charles is the man to see estates like ours into the modern age. I'm thinking of asking Robert to take him on as a kind of consultant."
"You never told me this… Oh hello Charles, how lovely to see you."
"Hello Lady Mary, Matthew. I thought you might like some reinforcements. I've seen Lady Grantham, but where is the rest of the family?" If truth be told, Mary has been keeping herself a little apart from her family since the spring, hence her choice to arrive at the ball independently of the family.
"Edith and Anthony are at Hilton House tonight, dining with his relations. They may come later. Mama and Papa should be here soon. Sybil felt a need of a long rest after this morning's exertions."
"Well I hear she did fabulously. I am looking forward to her ball. And Matthew, is your mother not here?"
"I am afraid there are very few things that would induce Mother to attending the full season. She will be here on the weekend for Sybil's ball."
"Lovely. Before I forget, I hear you are both to be congratulated. I wonder why a more formal announcement has not been made?"
"Oh we didn't want to steal Edith's thunder."
"Of course, come and join my table, won't you? I've got Henry Talbot and Lord Asygarth, so we can be sure of a diverse conversation. I know you hate to be bored, Lady Mary."
"Is Mr Talbot here? How lovely. I did promise him a dance while I was in London.", and Mary smiles to think that her ardent pen pal will be another friendly face.
"So Talbot is to have the first dance is he, o betrothed?"
"Don't fuss, darling. You won the prize." Mary smiles at her fiancé coquettishly, and proceeds towards the table.
Watching them, Charles Blake wonders at the difference a loving match can make. Perhaps, he too, ought to follow his heart.
Xx
It is a little later in the evening, and Cora is enduring a rather uncomfortable twenty minutes with Susan. Spinning and spurring with an expertise that would have impressed Violet, Cora is slowly wearing down.
"Oh Susan! Enough. Don't you know Mary well enough to know that the story can't be true?"
"I do know Mary, my dear, and she has always been unpredictable."
"The truth of it is is that he did go to her room that night. But nothing happened, she screamed and alerted Robert, who threw him out."
"So he did go to her room? How did he know where her room was?"
Cora falters. " I don't know. But with a man like that, I am sure he has his ways. Oh Susan, we're family, can't I rely on you not to give this story any more credence? Mary is so happy with Matthew, everything is tidy now."
"Nothing is settled till the Vicar has pronounced them, my dear. You know as well as I."
Xx
In the car ride home that evening, Cora is terribly silent. Robert, having spent the whole evening listening to Shrimpie's account of the details of the entente cordiale between England and France is feeling hopeful. Perhaps the stories of rumblings of war are just rumours. He wonders if he and Cora should take a little trip to the Continent in the new year. It would cheer her up.
"At the risk of sounding like Mrs Bennet, I wanted to spend the evening crying 'Two daughters engaged!' ", he laughs and looks to his wife, who manages a weak smile.
Sybil is silent too. While she enjoyed some of the drama of the court and all of the dancing of the evening, she is coming to a slow realisation that she wants something of a different life. She feels all to aware of the waste and purposelessness of their way of doing things. Also, her corset is jolly tight.
She says goodnight to her parents and heads to the library. The library at Grantham House is a little more up to date than the one at Downton and she means to seek out a book for Branson. It has become quite a little game between them, trying to surprise and delight each other with books and pamphlets. How she wished she had more time to actually sit and discuss things with him. Perhaps the time had come to organize a reading group in the servants hall. Giggling suddenly at the thought of how Carson's eyebrows would quiver at the idea, Sybil collapses into an armchair and loses herself in some Thoreau.
Xx
"Cora, tell me, are you unwell?" Robert slips off his bedroom slippers and prepares to join his wife in bed.
"No, darling. I spent much of the evening with Susan. That is all."
"Well that'll do it. "
"Robert. You must speak to Mary and Matthew about making a formal announcement. She's not even wearing a ring. I don't like how in flux this all is."
"Don't be silly. They're mad for each other. I like that they want to take their time."
"Mama doesn't like it. I don't like it. Things can change in a long engagement. Mama is hoping to.."
"Mama is hoping to what? You know I don't like too much meddling. I'd forbid it if I could but the last time either of you listened to me…"
"Oh don't be self righteous Robert. Didn't you see how people looked at Mary? She hasn't had half the invites she received last year. Matthew is still middle class in everyone's eyes, we must support them. We must support Mary. Their status is tied to Downton's future too. "
"Of course you're right, " Cora has played the right card, " will no one rid us of this pestilent Turk?"
"Robert."
"I'll speak to Matthew in the morning."
Xx
A half hour's walk down the Mall, a handsome young gentleman checks into the Savoy.
"If you'd be so kind as to arrange for me a late dinner. And perhaps some quarters for my man? I am afraid he doesn't speak any English." He smiles winningly at the concierge.
"Of course, sir. Will there be anything else?"
"Perhaps some company, for after dinner? You can arrange?"
"Certainly, sir."
Ding Dong. The Turk is back.
