Author's Notes: Sorry it took so long to update. I had a case of writer's block and some personal things that happened. Hopefully, that is all sorted. It is very hard to go into the next phase of the story.

Reviews would be much appreciated. I do not own "Downton Abbey".

Chapter Twenty-one

Lady Rosamond Painswick had the misfortune of taking care of both her cousin Susan and her husband as Susan mourned the loss of her daughter's bright future. Rosamond wanted to spend the day in bed so she had an excuse not to hear Susan's complaints on the duke being dead at the most inconvenient time. It took all the fortitude Rosamond can muster to get up.

She found Shrimpie had already gone to his club, and Susan was up and about terrorizing the servants with her constant meddling. She was already ordering Rosamond's butler about cleaning the silver.

"Susan, dear," Rosamond swooped into the room. "The silver is perfectly fine."

"No, it is not. I never saw so many spots," Susan complained. "Your butler or footman are not doing their job."

"They polish the silver every day." It took much effort for Rosamond to remain calm.

"Well they do a poor job then." Susan flippantly said before sitting down. "Oh what a sad day it is."

Rosamond didn't find this a very sad day. As one who lives mostly in London, she was privy to most of the gossip, and the late Duke of Crowborough's preferences were an open secret. She knew the state of Phillip's marriage before the sad death of his wife, and she knew that Rose was basically a mare to bear the one male heir to the Crowborough line. Heaven help Rose if she gave birth to all daughters.

"My poor Rose is probably sitting at Grantham House crying her eyes out." Susan fanned herself. "I'm in near tears myself to think that Edith Crawley is now mistress of Ridgemore."

"Oh is that a terrible thing?" Rosamond had to ask as she was quite fond of her nieces.

"Yes, it is. The only good thing about it is that Mary will be put down from her pedestal."

Well, that was one thing that we should all be grateful," Rosamond sardonically said.

"Don't get me wrong about Edith. I must admit she would make a fine duchess, but to think a few years ago the only man she could capture was a silly magazine editor. There were rumors."

Rosamond's head shot up with those words. She knew she had to tread carefully. Susan was a skilled gossip. There was nothing that gets past Susan unless it was about her own children.

"What type of rumors?"

"You know more than I do." Susan sighed.

Rosamond knew that even if Susan knew the whole truth it wouldn't matter anymore. There were peeresses all over Britain who did far worse than Edith before their respectable marriage. So far, the child in that farm was still unknown, and not even comment on. Still Rosamond knew a cobra when she sees one, and Susan is a cobra.

"I must admit that poor Edith did have a troubled pre-marital life. I mean the two men who she got close to all abandoned her, and when one did come back, he was basically insane. I had to take the girl to Switzerland in order for her to forget about that horrid magazine editor."

"Oh I heard it wasn't just to forget about that magazine editor."

"Yes, I know what you are thinking." Rosamond smooth as silk. "The only reason a society woman goes to the Continent is to escape prying eyes."

"I have good authority that there was a child born in Switzerland."

"On whose authority," though Rosamond can guess. Susan was notorious in her hunt for gossip especially when it came to her cousins.

"I have my sources,"

"Actually you don't dear. You are hoping that I would divulge all secrets to give you some satisfaction." Rosamond acidly replied. "Some things are best kept private."

"Well, be that way," Susan got up in a huff leaving Rosamond to breathe a great sigh of relief.

Andrew Strallan, Duke of Crowborough took a cab to Mr. Murray's office where the Crowborough family solicitor was waiting for him. The two men shook hands before sitting down.

"You know that you are the last male heir to the Crowborough, and thus you have the title and the estates of the dukedom of Crowborough."

"Really," Andrew said. "My great-grandfather had four sons. Surely there was a male heir who could take the title instead of me."

"The Duke of Crowborough did at one time drawn up a will to skip the baronet Strallans. He took a liking to a cousin, and he made it so this man was to be the heir. Unfortunately, the young man was killed in the war." Murray told him.

"Any other male heirs even if they are in the nursery." Andrew persisted.

"I'm afraid the war wiped out all the male heirs before they could have children." The Crowborough solicitor sighed. "You and your son are the only ones who can inherit the title."

"Just wonderful," Andrew muttered. "Just how much debt do I have to pay?"

"We won't know until the will is officially read which I can schedule for next week." The solicitor wrote down some notes. "There is much land not to mention artwork and jewels. I don't think you will have any problem paying the death duties."

Andrew can only think of was the move. He never lived in the south coast though he did have a sister-in-law living in an estate in Hastings. Lady Juliet Sampson married a baronet, and she lived in a large estate right next to Ridgemore Hall. Lady Juliet was far different than the other Southwold girls caring little of London society. She raised five boys and one girl, and she was more down to earth that people were quite shock to find her a duke's daughter. Andrew didn't mind living close to her.

He left the solicitor office and went back to Berkeley Square. Kumar greeted him telling lunch was ready.

"Where is Lady Edith, I mean the Duchess?"

"She went back to Yorkshire, Your Grace," Kumar struggled calling his employer "Your Grace".

Andrew could guess why. Edith was not happy when Andrew told her that it was most likely that they have to live in Sussex pretty much most of the year. Andrew felt he had a responsibility to the tenants of Ridgemore Hall that they must have a master who would be concern for the welfare. He also told her he might sell Locksley.

He knew at first that he said they make Locksley their main home, but the more he thought about it, the more unrealistic the plan was. Locksley was a lovely country home for a baronet or a gentleman farmer, but it was not a ducal home. They were now at the pinnacle of society, and it was expected of them to entertain royalty and other luminaries. Ridgemore was grand and beautiful. An invitation to Ridgemore would be more valued than even an invitation to Downton.

Edith could not see reason. Andrew could guess why. Ridgemore was hundreds of miles from her firstborn child. She had risked much to bring the child into the neighborhood where people knew her, and Andrew had to admire her for her maternal instincts. Still, it was probably be for the best that she will be separate from Jane. People are starting to get suspicious that Edith was paying more attention to some farmer's adopted daughter than to her nephew. Then again, Andrew wouldn't see anything wrong with it as the boy was already showing signs of willfulness and being incredibly spoiled rotten.

Andrew told Kumar that he won't be eating lunch, and he hailed a cab to drive him to Victoria Station. He got the next train to Downton and began his three hour journey. It was almost evening when he arrived at Downton. He walked the three miles to the Drewe Farm.

The sun was setting as he arrived. Tim Drewe was doing the last of his chores when he saw the duke walking towards him.

"Ah, Your Grace," Tim Drewe greeted him in his earthy accent. "The Duchess was here a while ago to visit her goddaughter."

"I see the news of my elevation to the dukedom has reached Downton." Andrew replied with a hint of annoyance.

"Yes, Mrs. Crawley came home this afternoon so the news spread quickly after that." Drewe gave the details. "We were very sorry to hear that Lady Rose is not married, but the village is pleased that Lady Edith is now a duchess. She has been through so much."

"Yes, I am pleased that the village thinks highly of the Duchess." Andrew cleared his throat. "Was she any way upset?"

"I think she was holding back the tears, but she bravely said that Jane is better off here and she is looking forward to moving to Sussex."

"Good," Andrew was relieved that Edith was at least starting to accept her situation.

A car was waiting for him when he came to the gates. He had called his footman to bring over the car to the Drewe Farm at the station. His footman drove him back to Locksley where Edith was waiting for him in the small drawing room.

Andrew did everything to make the drawing room less cluttered, but no amount of modern furniture can hide the fact that it was tiny. The whole house while larger than most homes in the area can't hide the fact it was only the house of a gentleman than a Duke.

He didn't have time to get dressed for dinner so he ate in his room alone. His dressing room was also a bit snug as the bed took up most of the space. After dinner, he peeked into Edith's boudoir. Her room was slightly larger with her airy, modern yet feminine furniture giving the space an appearance larger than it really was. Edith was already in bed fast asleep, and Andrew was about to shut the door when a slight squeak gave him away.

"Andrew, aren't you in bed yet?" Edith drowsily asked squinting her eyes at the sudden light.

"No, I just ate my supper," He replied sheeply. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"That's all right."

"I will sleep in the dressing room if that is fine with you." Andrew struggled to say those words. He never liked the tradition of husbands and wives having their own rooms.

He got ready for bed and closed his eyes. It was going to be a long few months.

"So the funeral is next week," Lady Mary Crawley told her parents the next afternoon.

They were all back at Downton though they knew that they will travel down to Ridgemore for the funeral. It was a rather depressing thought for all of them.

"Carson, have they found Thomas yet?" Lord Grantham asked his butler who was standing by the door.

"The police suspects that Thomas may have left the country." Carson calmly told the family.

"Oh dear," Cora mumbled with small effort. The pain was getting worse.

"My dear, are you all right?" Robert asked his wife with some concern.

"I was just thinking of poor Thomas."

"He may in fact be a murderer, Lady Grantham," Carson pointed out.

"We don't know that." Lord Grantham frustratingly said.

Carson shook his head and left the room. The servant's hall was alive with chattering whether Thomas was a murderer or not. It seemed the general consciences was that he didn't do it, but Carson never trusted that devious under butler. Mrs. Hughes, on the other hand, just entered with a telegram in her hand.

"Mr. Carson, I need to speak to you privately."

Carson went with Mrs. Hughes to her private sitting room. The housekeeper bid him to sit down before she told him her news.

"Mr. Carson, we receive some news that Thomas was found dead in Whitechapel."