September 18th, 1940
If not for Mary's request, I would be lying beside her at this very moment relishing her company and the comfort of our bed instead of hunched over this desk with pen in hand.
"You must find it, Matthew," she pleaded as we made our way out of the dining room. "I want to give it to George for luck when he leaves in the morning."
She did not have to elaborate on what "it" was.
Though she spoke softly, there was no mistaking the urgency in the tone of her voice. I looked squarely into the brown eyes that I still find myself lost in after two decades of marriage and promised Mary that I would deliver "it" to her before the day was out. At that, she looped her arm through mine and smiled. I was pleased to see that this smile was genuine, unlike so many that had been manufactured for my and George's benefit since he enlisted in the RAF.
"I knew I could count on you," she said as we set off to join our guests in the Saloon.
Returning her smile, I covered her hand with mine and replied, "Always, my darling…Always."
The tiny stuffed dog was exactly where I thought it would be inside an old chest that I had brought with me from Manchester. Ultimately, it became the receptacle for a variety of items I have collected over the years that I could not part with. One is this very journal. When I came upon it tonight lying next to the miniature clay horse that George had sculpted for me for my 41st birthday, I felt compelled to pick it up.
Holdng the small diary in my hand, I thought of Ruth Head, my neurologist's wife, who so graciously welcomed me into her home when I was discharged from the London Hospital. As I ran my hand over my name on the journal cover, I remembered how optimistic she was that Christmas in 1921 that it would be there one day and smiled.
...
Mary and I separated as we entered the room in order to divide our attention between the guests who were scattered about. In no time, the party was in full swing, the sound of merriment floating up to the Gallery testament that a good time was being had by all.
The furniture had been strategically situated earlier in the day to allow for dancing and the lovely waltz playing on the gramophone brought many guests to their feet. Mary and I have shared in many of the hosting duties since Robert and Cora entered into their seventies, but we deferred the first dance of the evening to the Earl and Countess of Grantham.
All eyes were on the still happily married couple as they glided around the room, executing the dance beautifully. Shortly, my in-laws were joined by Tom and his wife Catherine, and before long, the floor was filled with couples relishing a much needed respite from the War.
Taking in the smiling faces before me, I was glad that Mary and I had not canceled the party due to the situation in London. We made our decision based on Robert's reasoning that we would be handing the Germans a victory if we did since their intent is to strip us of any normalcy in our lives. And that we must fight at every turn.
The scene before my eyes brought back many happy memories of Downton of yesteryear. It warmed my heart to see the dance floor filled with friends and family who have been a part of my and Mary's story, some for three decades. The occasion even prompted an appearance by some of the servants who left our employ many years ago. We hear news of them often from Mr. Molelsey, whose position at Downton has run the gamut from valet to footman to valet and now tutor. As such, he has accumulated a plethora of knowledge about Downton's employees, past and present which he is more than willing to share.
...
Mr. Carson and his wife arrived at our front door precisely one hour after dinner ended. I freely admit that addressing our former head housekeeper, Mrs. Hughes, as Mrs. Carson did not come easy. Mary and I, as well the rest of the household, could not believe our ears when the two announced that they were engaged.
Learning of the news, my father-in-law nearly choked on the tea he had been drinking and launched into a prolonged coughing fit. Cora had rolled her eyes at him before making her way to Mrs. Hughes to offer her congratulations, while Mr. Carson stood over the Earl with a bleak expression on his face. Each time Mary and I would hear the butler ask, "Sir, are you quite all right?" we would burst into laughter. Our amusement prompted the red-faced Earl to glare at us both while pointing to the door, clearly not finding any humor in the situation.
Tonight as my eyes searched the room to locate my wife, I felt Tom poke me with his elbow to get my attention. When I looked his way, he directed me with a nod of his head to the spot where Robert was offering the former servant a glass of champagne. We two stood transfixed as Carson took the glass of sparkling wine from the Earl's hand, bowed his head and said, "Thank you, your Lordship." Then both men flinched and looked about the room as though it were foreign to them.
Tom hit me on the back and said, "Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle."
It was abundantly clear that Mr. Carson would have been more at ease serving Lord Grantham's guests than being one. In fact, he would have likely remained home in the cottage that he and his wife have shared these past 15 years were it not for the fact that he loves George nearly as much as he does Mary. I could see that love plainly in his eyes as well as pride when Carson shook the "young master's" hand.
I overheard Elsie Carson telling George that she could not believe he was now 19 year's old as it seemed like yesterday he was tugging on her skirt and asking if Mrs. Patmore were baking his favorite cookies that day. Then I saw her hand George a box wrapped in silver foil. He made quick work of the wrapping, revealing a lovely pewter picture frame. A year ago I would have had no doubt that a photograph of Mary, Victoria and I would rest inside that frame, but now I wonder if we will be supplanted by another.
...
Anna and John Bates also made an appearance, which delighted Mary to no end as she values any time she gets to spend with her former lady's maid and dear friend. The couple joined the celebration late and quickly apologized that they would not be able to stay long as their son, JR, was manning the front desk of their hotel in their absence and chomping at the bit to see George off.
Robert beamed when he saw Mary and me chatting with the two and quickly joined us. As my father-in-law stood next to his erstwhile valet, I could not help but notice Bates' hair was now as white as his. I took noticed, too, that Bates relies much more heavily on his cane than he did when employed at Downton. The age difference between John and Anna is considerable and glaring when you see them side by side, but so is their commitment to one another. Both led to the happy couple welcoming their son into the world the day before John Bates' 57th birthday and the start of the new year.
Anna teases that she timed the birth to coincide with her husband's special day as she knew it was the best gift she could give him. It is clear to me that glorious day along with many others may not have taken place but for the efforts of my good friend from London, Joseph Cosgrove. The Scotland Yard detective was pivotal in proving the Bates innocent in the murder of Mr. Green, the man who had raped Anna nearly two decades ago. He had suspected the culprit was one of the women that the valet had assaulted over the years and was proven right. Anna and John, as well as the Crawley family, will be forever grateful for his hard work on our behalf and hold him in our highest esteem.
...
I know that Mrs. Carson had once advised Daisy to "Go as far in life as God and luck allow," and she has done just that as at present she is the owner of a thriving farm. No doubt Sara Bunting, who was once the maid's tutor, would be proud. Tom's friend with liberal views clearly did much more than aggravate Robert's ulcer during the time she spent at Downton. The teacher set Daisy on the right track and she has never veered from it
When the maid turned cook arrived at Downton early this morning with George's favorite cake in her hands, Mary and I were both surprised and touched. Surprised that she would remember George's birthday and touched that the ingredients needed to bake it had to have taken a good chunk out of her food rations.
I remember how she wept when she learned she was the sole beneficiary of Mr. Mason's farm. "He told me I was the only person left on earth that was special to him," she said between sobs. Mrs. Patmore (God rest her soul) had nudged her assistant on more than one occasion to go to visit her father-in-law. When Daisy finally did, her relationship with him blossomed into one that would have made William very happy.
Though agriculture suffered badly during the Great Depression, Mason's farm kept afloat thanks to the contract Daisy secured with Tom's able assistance with the Bardney Canning Factory. The company began its operation by canning peas in 1933 and has expanded their product line ever since. Over the years, the ownership has changed hands but their contract with Mason's Farm has always been renewed. I have no doubt that is because each new owner has found Daisy Kent to be knowledgeable and honest in all her dealings.
She shared with Tom recently that the owner of the cannery prefers discussing business with her rather than her husband, although she can tell that the women who work at the factory are disappointed when she turns up instead of him, which came as no surprise to my brother-in-law or me.
...
Jimmy Kent, the footman who filled the gap when William had passed on, like Daisy, benefited from an inheritance. Rumor has it that Lady Anstruther felt responsible for Jimmy getting sacked from Downton and included the footman in her will to assuage her guilt. When the "merry widow" died from complications of pneumonia, Jimmy was notified that she had left him a tidy sum. He was interested in getting a return on that money when he and Alfred Nugent had a chance meeting in London and he learned of Daisy's good fortune.
The young widow was quite surprised when Jimmy showed up at Mason's Farm with a pocketful of cash and a desire to buy into Mason's. Whatever his motive was at the time of his arrival, Jimmy and Daisy were married six month's later. Thomas Barrow was enlisted as his best man and Alfred, a groomsman. Mrs. Patmore, Downton's head cook, served as Daisy's matron of honor, and Mr. Carson walked her down the aisle.
Jimmy's business investment has paid off nicely as has his personal collaboration with Daisy, the latter producing two lovely daughters with strawberry colored hair and freckles.
...
I wish that Alfred Nugent's story had such a happy ending. All who heard the news were shocked and saddened to learn that Alfred, yet another footman who had been employed at Downton, was among the 436 civilians killed in London on September 7th in the first Luftwaffe attack on the population at large.
Mary and I represented the family in attending the former footman's funeral service in Crewe. When we arrived, we spotted a clearly shaken Miss O'Brien consoling Alfred's mother. The woman who had served as lady's maid to my mother-in-law was surprised that we had come and offered us her sincere thanks.
When the service ended and we rose to leave, she requested a moment of our time and inquired after her Ladyship. Mary shared that her mother had been well and left it at that.
There is no doubt in my mind that she would have had more to say to Miss O'Brien if not for the present circumstances. Mary never forgave the maid's betrayal of her mother in quitting her mother's employ in favor of Lady Flintshire, her father's cousin.
As we drove home from the service, Mary and I reminisced about the day she had persuaded Mr. Carson to hire James Kent, the more handsome of the candidates for footman to be added to the staff, as Alfred resembled "a puppy rescued from a puddle."
The memory was bittersweet as she echoed Mr. Carson's parting words that day in the deepest voice she could muster, "But Alfred is very good, you know. He's very willing… even if he is Miss O'Brien's nephew."
My mother-in-law's replacement for Miss O'Brien has proved more loyal and a welcome addition to the household, especially for Mr. Molelsey. It is plain for all to see that he and Miss Baxter have cared deeply for each other for many years, but they never have joined the ranks of the servants who have tied the knot.
Mary learned recently from Thomas that Miss Baxter was never able to secure a divorce from her first husband and that is the reason she and Mr. Molesley remain unattached. We were both surprised to hear Miss Baxter was married, but Cora took the news in stride. Apparently, this is not the first secret that she has uncovered with regard to her lady's maid.
Thomas, too, has been acting very secretively as of late. Though, I hope that he continues whatever he has been up to as it has changed his disposition for the better. Molesley shared with Robert and me that Thomas has become friends with the owner of a bicycle shop in Thirsk and visits him regularly. He added there has been speculation among the servants as to whether those visits are the reason for the Head Butler's improved mood. Robert raised his eyebrows and smiled in my direction before cautioning Mr. Molelsey not to spread idle gossip.
...
The younger generation who had gathered to honor George was ably represented by a handful of chaps who shared his first year at Oxford with him as well as some of his mates from Eton who chose Cambridge instead. George remarked how odd it felt at Oxford when he found himself opposing a former teammate from Eton in a cricket match or race. All the young men present were the same age except for one, a Cambridge student who took leave from the university in his final year to join the Army.
I heard Mary gasp as if she had seen a ghost when she spotted the soldier being ushered into the Great Hall and it was plain to see why. It was only when the young man drew closer to us that Mary and I could see the subtle differences between Major Bryant and his son. We chatted briefly with Charles Bryant, II before George and Sybbie came to greet him and guide him into the Saloon.
Mother and Mrs. Hughes did not see eye to eye when it came to Ethel Parks' decision to give up her illegitimate son to his grandparents. In the end, the servant did relinquish Charles to the Bryants. There was no doubt that she did so in order to give him a better life than she could provide. Mrs. Bryant allowed Ethel a glimpse of her son now and then under the pretext that she was a former cook in their household, and she and Mr. Bryant honored Ethel's request that Charles never be told she was his mother.
I cannot help but think how unfair it is that Ethel Parks, alone, bore the consequence of her illicit union with Major Bryant, even having to prostitute herself in order to feed their child. Charles Bryant died in battle for king and country and I commend him for his service. Yet, the fact remains that he seduced a young woman far below his station in life and left her to fend for herself when he learned she was pregnant. Then he refused to acknowledge, much less support, his own child. As I see it, Ethel Parks is the hero of the two.
Charles Bryant, II became friends with George at Eaton when they were on the same crew in the Rowing Club. The two lost touch after Charles graduated but their friendship was renewed coincidentally through Sybbie. She met him at Oxford when he helped her recover some notes she had dropped that were being blown about by the wind and her connection to George came to light soon thereafter. I suspect that his presence tonight, however, had less to do with my son than his beautiful cousin as the young man spent more time with Sybbie than he did his Eaton mate.
I know that my mother would have been as impressed with Major Bryant and Ethel's son as Mary and I were had she been able to attend the party tonight. Unfortunately she could not come as she sprained her ankle yesterday and Richard still does not want her to put any weight on it.
The good doctor has proven to be a wonderful husband and I feel certain that Mother has no regrets that she broke her engagement to Lord Merton. Mary's Godfather is a fine man but his sons remain boorish snobs who would never have accepted Mother as Lord Merton's wife and made both his life and hers miserable had they married.
...
Leaving Sybbie and the young soldier to enjoy each others' company, I searched for George and found him sifting through the stack of records by the gramophone with Alison Cosgrove, Lilian and Joseph's daughter. I took a few steps toward them but my son's expression stopped me dead in my tracks. His eyes were fixed on the lovely young woman's face as though he were memorizing every detail of it.
It was not surprising to me to find that George found the Cosgrove's only child attractive as I doubt any young man wouldn't. She is every bit as lovely as her mother, having inherited her hazel gray eyes and ivory complexion, which is even more striking when combined with her father's dark hair and stature.
Once Alison looked up from the record in her hands, my son averted his eyes immediately. I could not help but smile as I remembered how many times I had managed to stay one step ahead of Mary in this manner. At least, I think I did. Looking beyond him and Alison, I found Mary standing about five feet away, her eyes fixed on our son and the object of his affection. She, no doubt, had just witnessed the same scene that I had as she shared my smile.
George put the record that Alison had chosen on the gramophone, then took her hand and led her into the center of the room to dance. As the first verse of Vera Lynn's rendition of "We'll Meet Again" reached my ears, it became clear why she had picked this particular song for George to play.
"We'll meet again...Don't know where, don't know when...But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day...Keep smiling through...Just like you always do...Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds, far away..."
The song reminded of the day Mary came to see me off at the Downton Station as I headed back to war. I remembered how hmy heart lurched when I caught a glimpse of her on the platform as the train pulled away, knowing I might never see her again. The memory drove me to be near her and I left George and Alison to their dance and headed for my lovely wife
Mary has always stood out in a crowd and tonight was no different. She looked stunning in the sleeveless, wine colored gown and bolero jacket that showcased her slender figure. No one who was not a close intimate of hers would guess she is nearing 50 year's of age. The only hint that she is old enough to be the mother of a 19 year-old are the few strands of grey that intertwine with her lovely chestnut locks.
As we joined the others on the dance floor, she commanded the attention of many of the gentlemen in the room, most notably Lord Gillingham's, who followed her every step. That is, until he realized that I was watching him; whereby he fixed his gaze immediately on his wife, Mabel.
At that exact moment, Mary drew my eyes back to her as she asked, "Have I told you lately how happy you make me?"
I smiled and replied, "I will remind you of that when you berate me in the middle of the night for stealing your bed covers."
"I think you had better," she retorted. "There is nothing worse than waking in the middle of the night chilled to the bone due to your thievery."
Mary flashed me a cheeky smile but it faded quickly and her mood turned dark. I searched her eyes and found that whatever she was pondering was causing her great distress.
"No, that is not true, Matthew," she said flatly, all levity gone from her voice. "There have been moments much worse than my sleep being disrupted by the cold and finding you wrapped in my blanket."
I wanted to stop dancing and lead her to a place where we could speak privately, but knew that if we walked off before the music ended, we would draw attention to ourselves.
"I have woken in middle of the night and reached for you but found you were not there. After a second or two, I would remember that you would never be there again, and then I would feel as though my heart were being ripped out of my chest."
There were many nights during the first few months after I returned to Downton that I would hear Mary call out my name or feel her reach across the bed to be certain she was not alone. Once she found purchase, she would apologize profusely for waking me. I would tell her there was no need to, and we would hold each other close the rest of the night.
More often than not, Mary's fear and my desire to give her comfort would lead to passion, and we would make love with the wild abandonment of those who realize there was no guarantee that this was not the last time.
Mary was silent for a few moments in deep thought. Then she said, "And I have woken in the middle of the night knowing that George was not asleep in his bed down the hall or at the university, but instead off at some training camp learning how to shoot Nazis out of the sky."
I wanted more than anything to take her in my arms at that very moment, but since that was not possible, I focused my attention on the only part of our bodies that touched and began circling my thumb over the top of her hand.
"I'm sorry, darling," she said softly. "I'm fine."
I nodded and managed a weak smile even though it was clear to me she was not.
...
Restless nights have plagued me, too, since I learned that George enlisted in the RAF. I often lie awake contemplating whether or not this war could have been avoided.
Winston Churchill said," Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it." There are many who believe his words ring true now.
In 1920 when the final tally of our losses in World War I was made public, we learned that close to one million who served in the Army were either killed in battle or lost to disease, 40,000 perished in the Royal Navy and RAF and two million returned home injured. Paraplegics and amputees were a common sight in 1919 as were men wearing tin masks to cover faces so badly disfigured that they would frighten children.
We also learned how war can cripple a nation's economy. It cost over £3 billion to keep the war machine running from 1914 to 1918, and taxes and war bonds alone did not cover the expense. We had no choice but to borrow to fill the gap and were heavily indebted to America by the end of the war.
No, I do not see this conflict rooted in our failure to learn from history as the consequences of what now is labeled World War I led to our firm resolve that it be our last. The League of Nations was formed specifically to ensure countries would resolve their problems peacefully going forward. Yet no matter our good intentions, I can see now that the stage was set for this conflict even as the Treaty of Versailles was being signed.
I cannot help but play devil's advocate and ask myself if Britain were the defeated nation, would we have agreed to our Army being cut to 100,000, the Navy to 36 ships, and our Air Force banned? Would we have considered £6.6 billion in war reparations fair? Would we not have balked at losing 13 per cent of our land and 12 per cent of our people? If we had learned that those who won the Great War had wanted to inflict further punishment upon us and were only denied doing so by majority rule, would we not have felt anger, bitterness, and resentment toward our conqueror.
I saw with my own eyes the devastation that the Germans caused and agree that their consequences should have been severe. Yet, if I put aside my emotions and rely solely on logic, I cannot help but acknowledge the part the treaty played in the Nazi party coming into power.
When the terms of the treaty became public, the German populace was outraged that it had been signed, calling those who did so the "November Criminals." It could be that the very instrument put in place to prevent another war led to one as it became the stepping stone for Hitler to win the hearts and minds of the German people.
...
Mary smiled as she took my arm and guided me to the red sofa that Cora and Robert were sharing with Tom and his wife, Catherine. If memory serves me, this particular chair has been reupholstered at least twice because my father-in-law has refused to replace it. His reluctance to part with any object associated with the past has been maddening at times. Tonight, however, I am glad he did not part with this one as it is familiar when so much else is not.
If memory serves me correctly, some year's ago, Mr. Carson discovered George, who had a knack of escaping his Nanny's watchful eye, making use of this sofa as a springboard to propel himself into the air. Fortunately his daring solo flight didn't result in any serious injury as the head butler caught him before gravity took over.
From our position on the sofa, I was glad to see that Tony and Mabel were leaving early as I was hard-pressed not to privately call Lord Gillingham out on his behavior. If it weren't for the fact that his daughter Gertrude is such good friends with Victoria, I would have been inclined to permanently remove his name from our guest list. But taking my daughter's feelings into consideration, I had no choice but to join Mary in seeing them off.
As we made our way toward the Foyles, I noticed that Evelyn Napier was watching Mary closely, too, but with a much different look in his eyes than Tony Foyle's. The Viscount of Branksome relinquished the torch he carried for my Mary a long time ago, and his eyes were filled with nothing but admiration for his old friend and sister-in-law.
..
It seems Evelyn was destined to marry one of the Crawley girls as he and Edith will be celebrating their 14th wedding anniversary this year. Many in the family were surprised that he had chosen her to become his wife because he had shown little interest in Edith into the mid 1920s. In retrospect, I think that was partially due to his loyalty to my wife.
I learned early on in my relationship with Mary that Evelyn was aware that Edith wrote the letter to the Turkish Ambassador which fueled the rumors surrounding Mr. Pamuk's death. And I would imagine that Edith's betrayal of her sister along with her general disposition at that time, greatly influenced Evelyn's negative opinion of her.
It is my belief that that opinion held until he returned to Downton after spending a lengthy period abroad. Once back, he found Edith a changed woman, stronger and more confident in herself. And it no doubt eased his mind to find that by then the ice between Edith and Mary had thawed.
I was not present when the incident took place that forever changed Mary's relationship with her sister, but have heard the story enough times to know it by heart. During a family picnic at the lake, George and Sybbie were taking turns tossing a ball to Horus. The Labrador was giving them a merry chase before he dropped the ball back at their feet to start the game anew. The children's Nanny was in close range of her charges while Mary, eight month's pregnant with Victoria, looked on from the picnic site with Mother about 10 feet away.
Edith was picking wildflowers with Marigold nearby when a quick series of events turned the family outing into a nightmare. Sybbie tripped and fell while chasing Horus which prompted Nanny to pick her off the ground and examine her for any injury. While she was tending to Sybbie, George continued chasing Horus closer and closer to the lake. This time, when the little chap threw the ball, it rolled into the water and the dog jumped in to retrieve it. George was unable to stop his forward momentum and toppled into the lake after him.
Mary watched the horrific scene unfold and was helpless to stop it. She rose as quickly as she could in her condition and ran toward the lake as did Mother, but Edith was already there. She, too, was watching the children, and as soon as she saw George heading for the lake, she sent Marigold to Nanny in order to rescue him.
I shudder to think of what could have happened to George if his aunt had not dived into the water seconds after he did. Mary said that it felt as though time had stood still until she saw Edith emerge with George in her arms. He was sobbing and coughing, clearly shaken by what had taken place. But miraculously he had not swallowed a great deal of water.
Mother called Richard as soon as she returned to the house and he came immediately to examine George. Fortunately, he found no signs of drowning present and assured us our son was fine. Both I and Mary let out a collective sigh of relief. Then she whispered to me that she was glad Isobel had married Dr. Clarkson instead of her Godfather, as Lord Merton would have been too busy quoting what he read about drowning to be of any real help.
My sister-in-law came to George's room after changing into dry clothes and having comforted Marigold and Sybbie (who were quite worried about their cousin.) Mary left my side as soon as she saw her and pulled her into what I would imagine was only the second embrace in both their lives. When they broke apart, I joined Mary in thanking Edith. By then, George's trembling had begun to subside and he shouted, "Thank you, Andith." And that moniker has been his special name for my sister-in-law ever since.
I imagine that the change in the way Mary and Edith interacted in public allowed Evelyn to entertain the possibility of a relationship with Edith, even if only one of friendship. In 1926, he was one of the most influential and admired MPs and Edith the head of a thriving publishing company. They both were successful in their respective positions, affluent and listed in Burkes.
As if these commonalities were not sufficient, Edith and Evelyn shared the misfortune of failed romances and were eager for a successful relationship. Violet suggested that Edith not let any grass grow under Evelyn Napier's feet after he proposed to her. Her advice proved unnecessary, however, as Evelyn insisted on a short engagement and he and Edith tied the knot three months later
...
It still feels impossible at times that Cousin Violet is no longer with us as she seemed larger than life. The Dowager Countess was fierce, especially when it came to protecting those she loved. On one side of the coin, she was opinionated, obstinate, sarcastic and manipulative; while on the other, intelligent, witty, kind, and generous.
During her long life, Violet Crawley gave freely of her advice, her time, and her love. If not for her intervention, I doubt that Robert and Cora's marriage would have survived Sybil's death. Mr. Molesley would have been conscripted into service during World War I, his life put in grave peril if not for her informing Dr. Clarkson that he had a problem with his lungs. Had she not petitioned Richard on his behalf, William would have died in a hospital in Leeds surrounded by strangers instead of at Downton with his father and wife at his bedside. In fact, the former footman would not have had a wife at all if not for her as Mr. Travis had balked at performing the ceremony and only relented when the Dowager Countess reminded him of was who buttering his bread.
Violet was the voice of reason as well as an ally to me when I discovered that Downton was being mismanaged and sought her guidance. I can hear her now telling me in no uncertain terms that I must do what was best for Downton though many noses would "be out of joint."
Family always held the trump card for the Dowager. As far back as when she discovered Mary's involvement with Pamuk, she did not judge her. Instead, she looked for a way to shield her eldest granddaughter from the pain of scandal. The same held true when she learned that Marigold was Edith's child. Violet accepted that her loved ones behaved badly at times. A pragmatist, she accepted what could not be changed and did what was possible to minimize the fallout.
Most of all, I will be forever grateful for the role she played in my marrying Mary. When Violet came to my room to tell me that Mary was still in love with me, I found I could no longer deny my feelings for her. I had convinced myself while convalescing at Downton that she took charge of my care because she pitied me. But once I learned Mary felt more that sorrow for my predicament, my engagement to Lavinia rested on shaky ground. It crumbled beneath my feet the night before my wedding as I divulged my true feelings to Mary and we kissed. I will always regret that Lavinia was witness to that moment. But never that kiss.
In her unorthodox visit to my bedroom, Violet advised me, "You will live 40 or 50 years with one of these women. Make sure you choose the right one." I am very glad that she lived to see that I did.
On May 24th, 1934, the woman who I often compared to a force of nature quietly passed away in her bed at the ripe old age of 91. It was fitting that my mother, who had come to be her closest friend and companion in spite of their opposing views, was with her at the end.
Mother had insisted on spending the night at the Dower House when Violet complained of mild chest discomfort despite Richard's finding her heartbeat strong when he examined her. The Dowager insisted the reason for her pain was the new cook's recipe for lamb stew and demanded her good friend stop fussing over her so that she could get some rest. Then she retired for the night.
When my mother entered her room the next morning, Violet at first appeared still asleep. However, upon drawing closer to the bed she discovered her long-time companion and sparring partner had passed. She was happy to find that Violet left this earth with a smile on her face and her own mimicked it upon discovering the reason it was there. Pressed between Violet's hands was a photograph of a very young Robert and Rosamund in a Faberge' frame.
...
Mary and I were in America with George and Victoria when Violet took her last breath. We had made the trip across the Atlantic, which proved to be quite eventful, to first visit Mary's Grandmother and Uncle Harold in Newport and then went on to Chicago to attend the World's Fair. The exhibitions were touted as the presentation of "A Century of Progress" and each was a marvel to behold.
When we learned of Violet's death, we booked passage on the first ship we could find, a French liner that would be leaving in a couple of days from New York. We did not tell the children immediately why we had to cut our trip short and Victoria, then only 10, was reluctant to leave as she was quite taken with the "Enchanted Island" exhibit. Yet she relented when she saw how anxious her Mama was to return home.
Although we could not arrive in time for Violet's funeral service, Mary's return was clearly a comfort to Robert, as I believe mine was to my own dear mother. We were welcomed warmly, too, by Edith and Evelyn as both were needed back in London but had delayed their departure until we got back to support Robert and Cora. The Napier family left the morning after our arrival satisfied that the Earl and Countess of Grantham were left in capable and loving hands.
George and Victoria were disappointed that their cousins could not stay at Downton longer. They missed Marigold since she moved to London and enjoyed spending time with Vivienne and Alexander, Edith and Evelyn's children by marriage, as well. As for their eldest daughter, no one who has seen the family together would guess that Marigold is not Evelyn's biological child as he dotes on her as much as he does the children that Edith bore him.
Edith's husband confessed that he had suspected that Marigold was her child from the first moment he laid eyes on her, unlike our father-in-law, who lived in denial of the strong resemblance between mother and daughter for quite some time. It was difficult for Robert to accept that his daughter had a child out of wedlock. However, as he did with Mary when he learned of her dalliance with Pamuk, he forgave his second daughter's indiscretion because his love for her far outweighed his disappointment.
I have wondered over the years if I had not lost my memory the day George was born, if Edith would have been saved the heartache of giving up her child as she did to prevent a scandal. There is no doubt in my mind that had I returned to Downton the day George was born, I would have done everything in my power to prevent Michael Gregson from continuing his relationship with my sister-in-law. Yet if I had managed to break the two lovers apart, Marigold would not exist and that would be tragic.
It is debatable whether it was Robert or Evelyn who was more put out when they discovered Marigold dancing with Jeremy Butler, a friend of George from Oxford's University Air Squadron Though it was clear that the two were equally pleased when the dance came to an end. Then it was my turn to brood as the young man claimed Victoria for the next dance. Mary teased that I looked like a farmer protecting his hen house from a stray wolf and I likely did. No matter, I kept a close eye on the amount of space between my daughter and her partner until I was distracted by Tom motioning Sybbie to his side and burst into laughter.
...
I was quite relieved Tom decided to shelve his plans to live in America, even though I could relate to why he was contemplating the move as I, too, have struggled at times with the life I was not born to. That common ground enabled me to share with him what had made it easier for me to cope with my change in circumstance since receiving the Earl of Grantham's letter that fateful day in Manchester.
My suggestion was that he capitalize on his status as Robert's son-in-law in righting what he saw wrong in society, citing the Law of Property Act passed in 1925 as an example of how persistence and the right connections could bring about change. Though it took over a decade, the entail that prevented anyone but the future Earl of Grantham from inheriting Robert's estate was finally abolished, his title no longer linked to it.
By the time my pitch ended, I saw a glint in Tom's eyes that I had not seen before and sighed with relief. My final words on the subject detailed the laws that were being considered in Parliament that I knew would be of interest to him along with the part Evelyn and I played in getting them to the floor for a vote.
Our conversation turned to Sybil then and we each speculated on what her reaction would be to this changing world if she were still with us. Tom said he was certain she would have rejoiced that all women could now vote. I countered that she would have rejoiced that corsets were no longer worn and he said that was true because she had always hated them.
Spotting Sybbie's stuffed mouse on the floor, he picked it up and added that he believed Sybil would have been as enamored with Mickey as their daughter was as she found fantasy a welcome escape from the harsh realities of the real world. He became quiet then, staring blankly at the cartoon character as his eyes welled with tears
When his loss would get the best of him, and especially when Sybbie were near to witness it, Mary would ask Tom to take a stroll with her and comfort him as best she could. But though my wife's devotion and support helped him, it was not until Tom met Lilian Pomeroy's sister that his heart began to truly mend.
...
Catherine Moore left Cork in 1932 to start a new life for herself and her two year-old son, both having been abandoned by her husband when the child was still an infant. Due to her circumstances, Catherine was able to petition the Catholic Church for an annulment of her marriage. Once done, she joined Lilian in London. Like her sister, she had chosen nursing as her vocation and with her sister's help, she quickly secured a position at the London Hospital.
Tom was introduced to Catherine and her son Daniel at George's 11th birthday party. Mary had insisted Lilian bring her sister and nephew with her to share in the festivities so that the family could meet them. No doubt romance was the last thing on Tom and Catherine's mind that day when the two were asked to take charge of "Pin the Tail on the Donkey" for the younger children in attendance. Yet when Tom noticed Lilian's comely sister helping Sybbie with her braid that had come undone cupid hit its mark, and the two were married a year later.
Catherine was warmly welcomed into the family by all of us who loved Sybil as we were certain she would not have wanted Tom to be alone and it soon became clear that she would not only make him happy but be a loving stepmother to Sybbie.
Tom did not want to live at Downton with Catherine because it held too many memories of him and Sybil. Fortunately his dilemma was solved quickly by my mother-in-law, who suggested to her husband that he offer the couple the Dower House.
Thinking Cora's suggestion an excellent idea, Robert presented it to Tom and Catherine upon their return from their honeymoon, adding he believed it would make his mother happy in her final resting place to see a child (and perhaps more than one down the line) running through the halls. Though she did her best to hide it, those who knew Violet well were aware that she was quite fond of them.
That is exactly what we Crawleys found when we paid the Bransons our first visit in their new home. No sooner had our small group entered the house than Daniel rushed toward us with glee. Then we all erupted in laughter as the little boy, no doubt at the urging of his new step-sister, greeted the Earl of Grantham with, "Hello, Donk."
...
The sound of children's laughter as well as tears has filled the halls of Downton since we are housing 10 ranging in age from 3 to 11 who have been evacuated from London in "Operation Pied Piper." Each one arrived on our doorstep with a suitcase and government issued gas mask, which is a reminder of the madness that has overtaken us.
The program operates under the auspices of the Ministry of Health and has been responsible for thousands of London's children being moved from the city to the safety of the countryside. Mary and Edith have worked closely with the government officials responsible for transporting the children. And Mr. Molesley, on leave from his teaching position in the Village, is ensuring the children do not fall behind in their studies while tutoring them a few hours a day.
I think the younger children have had an easier time with their transition because they do not comprehend why they are here and have no real concept of time. The older ones, however, are aware that they could easily lose their parents in one of the bombing raids that wreak havoc on London daily.
Their apprehension and sadness is heart- wrenching to witness. To be sure, the only time they truly look peaceful is when they are asleep. And I was grateful that sleep was not disturbed by the sounds emanating from the party two stories below their bedrooms.
...
Although Downton was filled tonight with our family and dear friends, some were conspicuously missing. This is the first Crawley event of importance that has not been attended by the Heads or Cosgroves in nearly two decades, and they were sorely missed.
The bond that I formed with my neurologist, Henry, and his gracious wife Ruth while I suffered amnesia was strong enough to stand the test of time. The two took on the role of family for me after I was released from the London Hospital and took me into their home. They, along with Joseph and Lilian Cosgrove, have participated in countless Crawley celebrations in the last two decades from Rose's presentation at Buckingham Palace in 1923 to George's graduation from Eaton last year.
It is hard to believe that 17 years have passed since Rose made her debut in London. I remember clearly that Dr. Head was not impressed when he noticed he was sharing the dance floor with royalty as well as his telling me when the music stopped that his only concern throughout his waltz with my mother was that he not step on her feet. I chuckled at that before Henry put an abrupt stop to my levity by adding "It is difficult for someone with Parkinson's to glide gracefully."
That was how my old friend chose to inform me that he was ill. His wife Ruth told me years later that he kept the news from me as long as possible since he knew what my reaction would be. Always selfless, he did not want to take away from my joy at being reunited with my family at Downton.
The entire Crawley family attended Lilian and Joseph's wedding, including George who was enlisted to serve as the ring bearer. The congregation that gathered to witness the two become man and wife appeared entranced with our little chap waddling down the aisle. All down to Mary, who leaned out of one of the pews near the altar and beckoned him to her.
After adjusting Joseph's tie, I overheard a woman behind me remark that she had never laid eyes upon such a beautiful child. I then noticed that many in the crowd shared her sentiment and were fixated on George. I beamed with pride as I reached Mary But she, although delighted that our son was being admired, worried that George might steel Lilian's thunder.
Once the bride came into view, however, Mary's fear was allayed. Lilian never looked more beautiful, and as she made her way to the altar on Henry's arm, she quickly became the center of attention.
Henry's disease was in its early stages and only those who knew him well noticed his gait was off. It is ironic that she became his final study, meticulously recording each of his symptoms with the hope it would help others down the line. No doubt there were times he wished Dr. Rivers, who had worked with him for three years in their study on nerve regeneration, could have been there at his side.
I am certain that his assistance would especially have been appreciated when Henry's hand tremors made it impossible for him to write. That became one of Ruth's duties, along with a variety of other tasks that she took upon herself to make life easier for Henry.
When her husband required more care than she could give without assistance, Ruth found herself in a quandary. She knew Henry was uncomfortable with strangers seeing him in his condition. Yet she was near exhaustion. During one of our phone conversations, she shared her dilemma with me. And I advised her to broach the subject with Lilian, who I hoped could recommend someone Henry was familiar with at the London Hospital to be of assistance.
Lilian provided Ruth with more than a recommendation. Shortly thereafter, she and Joseph moved into the Heads' home in Eaton Square so that Henry could receive the care he needed without feeling self-conscious. I think Lilian and Joseph's only concern at that time was Henry's welfare. It is clear now that neither of them gave any thought to the length of time they would spend living with the Heads. They would stay until no longer needed.
The criteria for their moving never met, Joseph and Lilian still reside in Eaton Square 15 years later, though sadly they have shared their home this past year with Henry, alone.
...
Joseph called to relay the sad news that Ruth had died on the same day Prime Minister Chamberlain announced on the BBC that "a state of war existed between Britain and Germany." Mary and I traveled to London immediately to offer Henry our support on what was undoubtedly the worst day of his life.
We found him strapped in his wheelchair for his safety, the progression of his disease on full display and heartbreaking to witness. Though we were accustomed to his jerky motions and nervous ticks, this was the first time we saw Henry's face rigid, appearing as though set in a mask.
Knowing how fond Mary was of Henry, I assumed it very difficult for her to see him in this state. Her sharp intake of breath upon seeing him proved my assumption to be correct. Composing herself quickly, Mary crossed the room to join the man who had saved me in Whitechapel many years ago.
I looked on as my darling wife dropped to one knee in front of Henry's chair and took his trembling hands between her own. Then she looked into his eyes and said softly, "I know."
Henry squeezed her hand, one of his tears escaping those that had welled in his eyes, and Mary did not let go of him until Lilian asked her to rise so that she could administer his medication. I pulled Mary close and kissed the top of her head as I wondered, and not for the first time, how it were possible that I could love her more.
Whitechapel has born a heavy brunt of the German bombing as the Luftwaffe initially targeted London's seaports, leaving many docks burned to the ground. Subsequently, the flat that Lilian called home when she treated me as Patient #9 at the London Hospital has been flattened as are many that surrounded it.
Even Whitechapel Road, which runs directly in front of the hospital, has been destroyed by a direct hit. If not for the firemen Churchill has called, "heroes with dirty faces," this community, along with countless others, would undoubtedly be reduced to ashes by now.
Lilian is torn between the duty she feels she owes to the London Hospital and her loyalty to Henry. She is aware of the shortage of nurses due to the ever mounting civilian casualties. At the same time, Lilian cannot leave Henry as his condition has deteriorated.
Joseph is busier than ever at Scotland Yard dealing with the criminals who take advantage of the daily raids to loot local businesses as well as tracking down German spies. My prayers are with the Cosgroves; my fervent hope that they will safely ride out this storm. Unlike Cousin Rosamund, who has taken up permanent residence at Downton since the bombings began, they have vowed to remain.
My two dear friends have told me that their plight is made easier knowing their only child is safe at Downton, especially now since Belgravia has been attacked. Five days ago, Buckingham Palace was bombed, the attack prompting Queen Elizabeth to declare, "I am glad we have been bombed. It makes me feel I can look the East End in the face."
And life goes on.
...
I could tell how thrilled Cora was tonight to have all her grandchildren under Downton's roof to celebrate George's birthday, her lovely smile widening as she viewed each of the gifts the second generation of Crawley children had picked for their cousin.
Marigold chose "Finnegan's Wake," no doubt knowing of George's fondness for James Joyce. Vivienne gave her cousin a camel colored cashmere scarf and Alexander, a silver flask engraved with George's initials (which was no doubt procured for him by Evelyn.) Sybbie catered to his sweet tooth by giving George a tin filled with wrapped Cadbury chocolate squares, almost impossible to find these days.
I saw Victoria approach her brother with what appeared to me at first to be a letter in her hand. As I drew closer, I could see that the cream colored parchment contained words written in calligraphy and in the center of the page, a large "V".
Then George read out loud the excerpt of Prime Minister Churchill's address which Victoria had so beautifully transcribed for him.
"You ask, what is our aim? I can answer in one word: victory; victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory, however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival."
There was silence in the room for a few moments as we took in Churchill's eloquent words. George then made his way to his sister and pulled her into a quick embrace that prompted more than one onlooker to dab their eyes, especially Mary.
I pulled my wife close and swallowed hard as I heard George tell Victoria that her gift would not leave his pocket until this war was won.
As I watched the scene before me unfold, I knew this was the reason we had done everything in our power to avoid this war. Yet at the same time, the reason we must fight it.
...
I know now that Robert's choice of a name for the Labrador that would become George's constant companion was not only appropriate, but uncanny, as "Horus," the son of the Egyptian goddess Isis, is also the god of the sky.
George said he had hoped I did not feel disrespected that he chose to enlist in the RAF instead of the Army as I had. Quickly, I assured my son that was not the case, adding that I believed his choice was destined from the moment we attended our first Hendon Air Show together when he was four year's old.
I will never forget the look of awe on his face when a fleet of biplanes flew overhead in formation. That Christmas, his Hornby electric train set collected dust as his favorite toy was a small model plane called a FROG, aptly named as it "flew right off the ground."
George's fascination with planes and air flight grew as he did and has never wavered. He realized his dream of flying when he joined the Oxford University Air Squadron only a month after he entered Kings College. His voice would be filled with excitement when he would call home on weekends after one of his flying lessons, leading Mary and I to conclude that George would eventually enlist in the RAF. But up until the time Britain was attacked, he honored our request that he would remain in school until conscripted.
At that time there were many at home and abroad that referred to the state of affairs with Germany as "the phony war" since the Germans had managed their conquests in Europe with no major battles and Britain had not been engaged at all. That all changed on July 10th, when one of our shipping convoys was attacked by Luftwaffe fighters and bombers in the channel. When Mr. Barrow called me out of the library that evening as I had a phone call from George, I knew we could no longer hold him back.
...
The party came to an end about 12:30 and I was glad to bid the last guest who was departing a safe trip home as I was anxious to see Mary. She had already retired to our bedroom and was no doubt waiting up for me and the item she had requested I bring her.
I found my lovely wife sitting at her vanity rubbing cream into her hands when she noticed me enter the room with her childhood good luck charm in my own. Mary rose quickly, making her way to me with a gleam in her eyes.
"You found it!" she exclaimed with glee. Then she threw her arms around my neck.
"My darling, surely you are feigning surprise. You had to know that I would," I replied.
"Perhaps I did, but I am still quite happy to see it," she countered.
She stared then at the tiny stuffed dog in my hand for a long moment before taking it. Seeing her expression change, I could tell she was thinking of the day she gave it to me for luck as well as the reason she was holding it now.
"I cannot lose him, Matthew," she said emphatically. "I know that I simply could not bear it because the pain of losing you is still vivid in my memory."
I pulled Mary into my arms and guided her head to the spot directly over my heart.
"I know this is hell, darling, and I wish that I could promise you that you have nothing to fear...But if I did, I would be lying to you…and that is something I will never do. Yet I implore you to not lose sight of the fact that whatever the future brings, you will not face it alone. I believe with all my heart that our strength combined can withstand whatever may come. And I want very much for you to believe that, too."
Mary lifted her head and pushed back a stray strand of my hair that had fallen onto my forehead before she replied, "Well, since your strength has enabled you to turn back the Grim Reaper, I think perhaps I should believe you." Then, she kissed me and set off for bed, yawing loudly as she made her way.
After making sure that Mary was sleeping soundly, I crept down the hall to George's room. Though I was fairly certain he, too, would be fast asleep as the day had been long, I felt compelled to see him safe and sound in his room one last time before he would join the battle.
The door squeaked ever so slightly as I opened it and while I cursed under my breath, George's voice rang out.
"Father?"
I think perhaps that the reason I recollect all the words that followed is because I feared this might be the last conversation we would have under this roof. Even now, I fear that it might be so.
I apologized for waking him and he said no apology was necessary as he had not been able to fall asleep, claiming he was still wound up from the excitement of the party.
"Quite understandable," I said as though I believed that were the reason he was still awake.
After a brief silence, George cleared his throat and then went on to say, "Father, I know that we will have time to talk during the car ride to Catterick in the morning but have been hoping to find a moment where we could do so privately…and if you aren't dreadfully tired, this seems like a good opportunity."
"I think the excitement of the party is affecting me, as well. I am not tired at all," I replied, stifling a yawn and taking a seat at the end of the bed. "I would be happy to speak with you as long as you like."
I saw George smile then by the light of the moon coming through the window, and though I cannot deny he does resemble me in many ways, his smile is Mary's.
Leaning toward me, he said, "Have you fulfilled your mission in finding the toy dog that Mother gave you when you went off to battle?"
"How did you….?"
"I guess what Uncle Tom says is true," George replied before I could finish my question. "He has told me that I am quite clever as I am the byproduct of two intelligent people."
I could not help but chuckle then. "Leave it to your Uncle Tom to describe you as a byproduct. I think he has spent way too many hours in agricultural meetings."
We both laughed heartily, and then the expression on his face changed. I could tell by it that our conversation was about to turn serious.
"I want you to know that the flight commander who has been training me these last three months has told me that I have been his best pupil."
"I would not have expected otherwise," I said.
"I am not telling you this because I am bragging about my skills, Father. The only reason I have mentioned my commander's praise at all is because it is important to me that you know I will have a very good shot at surviving this war."
My eyes began to sting and I swallowed hard, determined that I would not allow anything further until I left the room.
"I know you are no braggart, George, and it makes me very happy to know that you are confident that you will return to us…Very happy, indeed."
"I need you to know, too, that if against the odds I do not make it back home, that I have thanked God many times that you did not die in that accident the day I was born...because you have been the most wonderful father a son could ever hope for."
I was still determined that I would remain composed for George but my son did not make it easy.
"George…."
"Please, Father, let me finish. I know I have been doing most of the talking ...but there is just a bit more I need to say."
I nodded my head and said softly, "By all means, go on then."
"If the worst does happen, though, I want you to tell Mother that I admire her strength and determination to succeed no matter what," he blurted. "...And tell her that I love her dearly…as I do you and Victoria. I would like her to know that there has not been a day since she was born that I have not been grateful that she was my sister."
He smiled then and added, "Well, perhaps I was not glad of it the day she broke the wing off the Spirit of St. Louis model plane that took me a week to assemble."
At that, we both laughed, and intent on keepng the mood llight, I said, "I will, of course, honor your request, George, but in lieu of your exceptional skills, I am confident that I will not have to relay your messages."
George smiled once more before taking the conversation in an entirely different direction.
"I have spoken to Uncle Tom regarding Charles Bryant as it is obvious he is head over heels for Sybbie…Charles is a gentleman who comes from good stock and I believe his intentions toward her are honorable. I did not want Uncle Tom to lose any sleep over him," he explained. "I learned tonight that Charles and Sybbie have something very sad in common as he, too, never knew his mother. She died when he was a baby...although Charles wasn't as fortunate as Sybbie in having a loving father like Uncle Tom. His own was killed at the Front in World War I. Charles was raised by his grandparents," he finished on a solemn note.
At that moment, I felt as if Downton had come full circle.
He was silent then for a long moment gathering his thoughts and then warned me to keep a close watch on Jeremy Butler should he ever come to visit Downton. "I spoke to him about the attention he paid to Victoria at the party this evening as I have found him to be somewhat cavalier in his dealings with young women. Rest assured, Father, that I made it abundantly clear I would not tolerate him treating my sister in that manner... Still, you must be vigilant."
I assured him that he had no need to worry on that score and smiled as he tried and faled to stifle a yawn.
"I am more tired than I thought," he declared before jockeying about on the mattress in search of a comfortable position to lie down.
Once found, he sighed and said, "Good Night, Father. I'll see you in the morning."
Grateful that I would, I rose slowly, taking one more look at him.
"Good Night, George. Sleep well."
Then I left the room, closing the door softly behind me.
...
I have spent a considerable amount of time walking down memory lane this past week Even now, images of George still fill my thoughts. I see him as a newly born baby looking up at me with a quizzical expression on his face as I introduce myself to him, a toddler with fair hair and blue eyes grasping hold of his Mama's necklace, a lanky teenager, waving excitedly to Mary and me from the window in his room on his first day at Eton. The entire walk back to car, we lamented leaving him as we would miss him so Yet there was tradition to be met since he would be Earl of Grantham one day.
Now there is no certainty that he will be.
As I break from writing, the details surrounding the clay horse in my storage chest comes to the forefront of my mind. I was in the library reading through a tenant contract when Mary brought then five-year old George in to deliver his birthday gift to me. My beautiful wife took a seat and smiled in my direction while George remained in the spot where he and his Mama had parted.
"Go ahead, darling," she said to our little chap. "Give your Papa the present you made for him."
George appeared somewhat anxious as he handed me the box he held in his hand. I commented on how lovely it was wrapped. And he smiled at Mary before telling me that she had helped him with that. Carefully, I removed the bow and wrapping and placed both on my desk for safe keeping. Then, I opened the box and lifted the clay horse out of it. As I eyed it over, George asked nervously, "Do you like it, Papa?"
The horse appeared to have five legs (although Mary explained to me later that what seemed a fifth leg was the horse's tail) and one of its ears stood higher than the other. Yet I considered it the most beautiful piece of art in the entirety of Downton and I told George as much.
"I told you Papa would love it, George," Mary said as she joined us and kissed the top of his head.
George smiled widely beaming with pride. As he did, I noticed he had lost another tooth.
The sun will be up in less than two hours. I would not bother retiring at all since there is precious little time left to sleep before morning begins in earnest. The only reason I will slip into bed is so Mary will find me at her side when she opens her eyes.
We will dress and join the family for breakfast Then Tom will bring the car around to drive us to Catterick. I am glad that Mary suggested he take on his old role as chauffeur for us one last time for this special trip as he has a way of lightening the general mood when the need arises. And no doubt it will today.
I have dreaded this moment ever since George informed us of his assignment. Dreaded it, feared it, and done everything in my power to not dwell on it. But, I have failed miserably. I can hear Dr. Rivers, the psychiatrist who treated me when I suffered amnesia, telling me I must find a way to accept that which is beyond my control. "If not your life will be diminished by anger, frustration and fear," he cautioned.
This past week, I have found myself in the throes of all three, and it has taken a herculean effort on my part to hide my distress from Mary and George.
It frustrates me to no end that my age and the damage my spine sustained at Amiens prevents me from active duty. I know now some of what Robert felt when he was denied service in 1914. It seems my only contribution to this war will be the food that our farms provide to the military and shelter to some of the displaced children of London. That is, with the exception of George. And truth be told, I cannot claim that contribution as mine alone as I share it with Mary.
We two have provided the War Department with a valuable commodity since it is their firm belief that that the Battle of Britain will be won or lost in the skies overhead. The role that George will play in the outcome of that battle has instilled anxiety in me that I have not known since I found I had no feeling in my legs.
I am filled with anger, too. It simmers near boil, ready to overflow each time I hear the projected tally of those killed that day in a bombing raid on London. I find myself in its grip when I pass by a recruiting station and see the young faces of those enlisting as I am reminded that this war, like those in the past, will be fought by many who have barely reached adulthood.
I become enraged when the Chancellor of Germany becomes the topic of conversation because I have read Mein Kampf and can see its contents coming to life. German Jews have been stripped of their citizenship and there are Polish prisoners singled out by the Star of David. No doubt, should Germany win this war, countless innocents will suffer because of their heritage, and I cannot help but fear for those I love who share Cora's bloodline.
Hitler must be stopped.
The change that is upon us now may prove to be the hardest to navigate by far. Not only do we face each day with our country at battle and under siege but must go through the motions of daily life knowing our son is at risk of losing his. Thankfully we do not face these horrors alone.
Tom will wait in the car while Mary and I share our remaining moments with our son. She will press the tiny stuffed dog into his hand as she did mine at the Downton train station when I headed off to war. George will thank her before he places it in his jacket pocket beside Victoria's gift. Mary will ask that he bring it back to her without a scratch and our son will promise to do his best to honor her request. The two will share a private moment that will end with Mary placing a kiss on George's cheek and wishing him, "such good luck." She will turn quickly then so he will not see her tears and head back to the car and Tom's support.
I will grasp George's hand in mine and tell him that I could not be more proud of him. We will stay locked that way until we have had enough time to read the unspoken words in each others' eyes.
And then, I will let go.
...
If not for Mary's request, I would be lying beside her at this very moment relishing her company and the comfort of our bed instead of hunched over this desk with pen in hand. I must thank her when we are, once again, able to speak of more than war and George because her request led me to find exactly what I needed.
On this most difficult day, I can see clearly that the common theme in these many pages has been change. Some change has been welcome and some has not, but no matter which, it has been constant. That gives me hope as I am reminded that this, too, shall pass.
Knowing the Battle of Britain was close at hand, Winston Churchill said,' Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duty, and so bear ourselves, that if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will say, 'This was their finest hour.'
The cost to admirably fill those minutes will be high.
No doubt when this chapter of my and Mary's story comes to an end, we will wish it could be edited. Yet no matter how it unfurls, I have faith that together we will find a way to turn the page.
...
AN: This story took many weeks to research and I think the same number of months to finish. If you enjoyed it or have constructive criticism, I would love to hear from you. Reviews keep fan fiction writers writing!
As for the real possibility that Matthew could have survived his accident, just this week there was an article in news of woman who woke (that was supposedly dead) in a funeral home. Matthew's survival is based on fact and could be cannon.
I am going to be posting some one shots that will take place during 20 year period from the time Matthew returned to Mary in this AU. I hope you will follow me so you will not miss any of them.
My goal from the start of this tale has been to prove Matthew could have survived his accident and to bring him back to those he loves. I think I have completed my mission.
Only the Downton characters and those from Eaton Square are fictional Dr. Head and Rivers and, obviously, Winston Churchill are not. The events that do not directly pertain to Downton are historical facts.
I thank my tumblr friend, americangirl for jumping in as my beta at a moment's notice. Although she was not given much time, she gave me very sound advice.
Disclaimer: I give Julian Fellowes full credit for the characters he created that are part of Patient #9 and the rest goes to me.
I am msmenna on tumblr, too.