Chapter 13

Barrow tried his best to ignore the feeling of dread that had settled in his stomach. He was standing in the dining room, overseeing the vain attempts to save the carpet. Sarah and Angela, the two housemaids, were currently kneeling on the floor, around the dark stain that was once fresh milk. The group had been in their current positions for over two hours, resorting from gentle dabbing to full-on scrubbing; grating the rags against the carpet like there was no tomorrow. Barrow rubbed a hand across his face and resisted the urge to heave a sigh. Good grief, they were going to lose their jobs all because of a kid...

"How're we doing?"

Mrs. Hughes's gentle voice made him jump. She hadn't intended to startle him, but he had been lost deep in his thoughts, and hadn't heard her enter. She gave him an apologetic smile at his reaction.

Once he had recovered, he shook his head and lowered his voice. "We're going to be sacked," he said in a monotone voice.

Mrs. Hughes sighed. While she knew Barrow was exaggerating, she saw the condition of the carpet. And while Barrow's job and hers were secure, if nothing could be done against the stain, Sarah and Angela would not be in the family's good graces.

"Have you tried sprinkling corn starch on it and letting it soak it up?" she asked the girls.

"More times than I have fingers," Sarah answered, not ceasing her scrubbing. "And it was all for naught. It's ruined. What'll we do now?"

"Well," Mrs. Hughes said, more to Barrow than the girls. "We can shift the table to the left a bit. That should cover it for now. That won't make the room too off will it?"

Barrow shook his head. "No, I don't think so." He sighed. "I'll go and fetch and Andy and we'll do it now."

"What shall we tell his Lordship?" Sarah asked as Barrow exited the room.

"The truth," Mrs. Hughes said matter-of-factly. "If we can live through it."

William ran a shaking hand roughly through his hair. "I don't understand why you couldn't just keep quiet about it," he said, in a tone that suggested he was fighting to keep his temper under control.

"I didn't say a word!" Maggie cried defensively. "How was I to know George would find me the other night?"

"But when Sybbie told him today and he questioned you, you could've denied it!" William's face flushed with anger as he leaned against one of the chairs in the kitchen of the cottage. "Now he's going to tell, and I'm a dead man!"

"George isn't stupid. He'd never have believed me if I'd denied it."

"But you could've tried!" William exclaimed. "You didn't even try to hide it! Margaret, how could you be so senseless?!"

Now Maggie rose from her position on the couch and crossed her arms. "I beg your pardon?!" She took a step towards him. "I did try, William. I got up every Tuesday morning at the same time as the scullery maid so that I could get down to the post office and intercept your letters before they could ever reach the house and the servants could find out. I nearly got killed the other night trying to bring you food while it was pitch black and pouring buckets out so that no one would see me." She didn't choose to point out that she had nearly lost Sonny, an American thoroughbred that had cost Cora's mother nearly two thousand American dollars to send overseas. She figured it wouldn't quite help her point. "I lied to my brother about you, and I told him and Sybbie two different stories. If they got together and had sharing time between them, it's not my fault! And if you think it is, then you've lost it!"

William's gaze hardened, and his face grew taught. "Oh, for pity's sake, shut up and get down off your high horse!" He turned towards the window, then turned back on her with a vengeance. "You realize George will come after me now..." He scoffed. "I wouldn't put it past him to come here and kill me...or at least beat the bloody hell out of me!"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. He's not going to come after you. Much less kill you." Seeing the look on William's face, Maggie tried to lose some of her irritation. "Look, I'm sorry, alright? I tri-"

"Oh, 'I tried! I tried!'" William cried, mimicking her. "Darn it, Margaret, next time try a little harder!"

At that comment, Maggie gave up on trying to keep her temper in check. "What makes you think there'll be a next time?" The question was icy, reserved, and suddenly the tension in the room intensifies.

"What?"

Maggie gave him a venomous look. "I want you out of here by tomorrow morning."

For a moment, William was silent. Then he scoffed. "You can't do that."

"Can't I? This is my family's property. I can do whatever I please."

"Maggie, I h-"

"That's not my name. It's Miss Margaret. Isn't that how servants are supposed to address their masters?"

William gave her a look that said he was dealing with a spoiled child. "You are not my master, and I am not your servant. I'm your equal."

Maggie scoffed. "Really? In what way?"

"Personality...nearly age...I would say intelligence, but your clearly not very high in that area..." His face lost its rudeness and took on a more serious expression. "I have nowhere else to go," he said, not pleadingly, but in a voice he hoped would make her show at least a small amount of pity. "I can't stay at the pub, it's too risky."

"So leave."

"I haven't got any money!"

Maggie headed for the door now, placing her hand on the handle. "I want you off the estate by tomorrow morning. If I find you here, I'll call the police. And I'll make up some sob story, and you'll be arrested." She yanked open the wooden door. "Good luck when you get back." (1)

Then she slammed the door closed behind her as she left. William grabbed the wooden chair he was leaning on and roughly shoved it against the kitchen table. The wood scraped against the floor, but William didn't even hear the noise as he raked his hands through his hair.

"Mag?"

Sybbie's soft call received no answer as she focused her gaze on the hayloft of the stable. With a sigh, she stepped gingerly up the ladder, then carefully eased herself up onto the ledge. "Maggie."

The 14-year-old was sitting in the far corner of the hayloft, and was completely concealed from view if someone were looking up from the ground. She pulled her knees tighter to her chest, ignoring her cousin's presence.

Sybbie huffed and reluctantly climbed fully onto the ledge, grateful that she had been sensible enough to change into pants before coming out to the stables. She crawled across the loose piles of hay (as she would have to bend uncomfortably far down to walk,) then settled back against a firm bale across from her cousin.

"Maggie, you really should come back now," she urged gently. "Your mother's terribly angry, and this is only going to make it worse."

Again, Maggie didn't answer, keeping her gaze focused on her left hand at her side, where her fingers fiddled with a strand of hay.

"Maggie-"

"William's gone." The statement wasn't pitiful, or hurt. It was stated in a sort of half-sad tone, as if Maggie wasn't truly sure of what she was feeling.

"What?"

Maggie took a deep breath, and her gaze flickered to the 20-year-old. "When I left, I went to the cottage, and I told him everything. How upset George was, and how we fought...and he was angry with me. Because I couldn't fix it." She looked back at the ground. "Anyway, we argued...we both said some awful things, and I told him to get out. So, he's gone now."

Sybbie leaned back against the hay bale behind her. "Two fights in one day...you do take the cake."

Maggie didn't say anything.

Sybbie scooted forward so that she was closer to her, and leaned forward. "I just want you to know," she said softly, a trace of guilt in her voice. "I never would've told George about you and William if I'd known he didn't know. You have to know that." Maggie's gaze finally met hers, and Sybbie shook her head. "It's just, when we were talking...he sounded as if he knew, and-"

"Sybbie," Maggie said firmly, though her tone was subdued. "I'm not angry with you." She looked away guiltily. "And I'm sorry I yelled at you."

Sybbie shook her head. "It doesn't matter." She sighed. "I've told my father," she said quietly. "And he's going to keep quiet about it."

Maggie nodded.

For a moment, both girls were silent, each lost in their own thoughts. When Sybbie spoke again, her voice was soft and gentle, as if she was afraid Maggie wouldn't tell her anything if she questioned her harshly.

"What happened between you and George?" she asked. "This morning, in your room."

Again, Maggie looked away. "He was angry," she said with a dull shrug. Seeing her cousin's look, she continued. "He...he accused me of doing something. With William."

"You mean last night?"

Maggie's eyes met hers again. "How did you know?"

"This morning, when I told George," Sybbie explained. "We were in his bedroom. We saw you come in. That's how he knew."

Maggie exhaled slowly, but remained silent.

"Why were you there all night?"

Maggie's head lifted. "I wasn't there all night."

Sybbie gave her a confused look. "What?"

"I took the food basket from George's room while you were all at dinner," Maggie explained. "So that I wouldn't wake him by getting it later. Then I went back to my room and slept until three in the morning. Then I went to William at the cottage. I had to Sybbie, I hadn't slept the night before."

"But why were you there until nearly seven this morning?" Sybbie asked. "You know what that looks like..."

"Nothing happened," Maggie said with a slight shake of her head. "We talked. I'd wanted to get back before the servants woke up but I couldn't. But I swear all we did was talk."

"So nothing happened?"

Maggie firmly shook her head, but she looked almost desperate for Sybbie to believe her. "Nothing happened."

Sybbie couldn't help but feel relieved at that part. While she had disagreed with George, a part of her, (a small part, mind you,) had been just slightly doubtful of Maggie's innocence. But hearing it from her cousin assuaged her fears, and she didn't hide the barely audible sigh of relief that escaped her.

Maggie didn't share her enthusiasm, however. "Sybbie...he told me something."

Sybbie turned serious. "What?"

Maggie released her knees and crossed her legs in front of her. "He was going to tell me the day he got here. But everything went wrong and he never had the chance. But last night, we had time." She moved her gaze from straight ahead to her lap where her hands lay. "He received a notice, from the War Office, just before he left London to come here. He's being moved."

"Moved?"

Maggie nodded. "Switched, so to speak." Her eyes met her cousin's, and her face took on a sort of lost look; a look Sybbie had only seen the one time she had ever seen Maggie cry.

But Maggie's eyes were dry as she spoke. "He's being moved to the RAF."

(1) Back to the front, even at this point there wasn't much of a front. I felt like that sentence could've meant back to the front or Yorkshire, so I put this here in case of any confusion.

And becoming part of the RAF was almost like signing a death sentence because it was THE MOST DANGEROUS JOB! Will William die? Will George and Maggie reconcile? Will George tell Mary? WHAT WILL HAPPEN?! BTW, sorry for the long wait you guys! I know that was kind of extreme, and I know this was kind of a boring chapter, but please review! Updates for all my stories, (which you should totally go to my page and check out,) will probably be a bit longer in wait now, because I'm starting school tomorrow, but any free time I have will be devoted to this, so don't worry!

Reviews are my life!

-downtonabbey15