Author's Note:Well as I promised! I sat tapping this out in the baking Florida sun for you guys but it was a pleasure! This chapter is a build up to the next one which is the big historic event that you'll all find out about at the end of this one!

So read it and tell me what you think! x

Chapter 26 – Blood, Toil, Tears and Sweat

May 8th 1940

Joseph Crawley took a deep breath of determination, collecting himself together before knocking steadily on his father's study.

"Come in." Matthew's relaxed voice drove the stake of guilt even more firmly through the young man's heart, remembering the harsh words which had been spoken just a few days ago. Joseph had spent the remaining time of his leave, carefully avoiding any confrontations with his father. Whenever Matthew walked into a room, he'd walk out, whenever Matthew sat down, he stood up and any forced conversation between them usually revolved around the whereabouts of one of the family members. But the more Joseph dwelled on the prospect of leaving, the more he felt the shame of his disrespect, eat away at him, until eventually he had to give in and apologize. He tentatively pushed the door open and shuffled inside.

October 19th 1936

"Papa are you in here?" Joseph knocked on the door once and slowly pushed it open. Matthew turned around instantly, his eyes red rimmed and bloodshot as if he had been crying all his tears out. Crying and crying until there was nothing left.

"Joe." Matthew nodded stiffly, his voice a mere whisper.

"People keep asking where you are… I'm – I'm sorry did you want to be alone?" Joseph sputtered in embarrassment, one hand clasped around the handle, ready to leave, the other fidgeting with his black tie.

Matthew quickly shook his head, "No, no come in. I suppose I just needed a small break from everyone asking me about -" He broke off, tears pooling the corner of his eyes. "Oh God." He moaned, as though in pain, leaning on the couch with both arms, head hung in defeat.

Joseph swiftly shut the door and strode towards his father, placing a strong hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be all right Papa." He said with forced reassurance embedded into his voice. "I know how much you loved Grandpapa and – I know how frightened you must feel about being the Earl of Grantham now."

Matthew didn't say anything, just continuing to stare bleakly at the floor.

"I know because – I'm next in line now aren't I? You're Lord Grantham and I'm Lord Downton. So that means we're like a team. All of us." Joseph bent his head so his father could catch his eye. "And I promise I won't let you down. I'll help you and Mama with whatever you want. You have my word."

Finally Matthew lifted his head up to stare at his eldest son who was barely even sixteen, yet already becoming a man. A man that Matthew hoped, would measure up to his maternal grandfather in everything. Matthew nodded with a small smile of hope.

"All right then Joe." He whispered, using his son's shoulder to help pull himself upright and together. "Let's go and face them then. Together."

"Joe." Matthew's cerulean eyes flickered with surprise tinged with affection for a brief moment but it was gone within an instant. He turned back to his work, "Can I help you with something?" He asked in a clipped voice.

Joseph released a long held sigh. "I don't want to argue anymore Papa." He said, straightforward and to the point.

Matthew paused. He rested his pen down and glanced towards his son.

"Please," Joseph continued, a hint of desperation hemmed into his voice, "Can't we forget our argument ever happened and just – part on good terms?" He stared at his father, pleadingly, "I should hate to think I left here unhappy because of what happened between us."

Matthew's head snapped up. Almost instantly his own words which he had fired at his wife, months ago, came screaming back to haunt him.

"You do not want to send our son off to war on unhappy terms."

"We are supposed to be a team after all." Joseph murmured, his eyes guiltily flicking to the floor, "Some team player I am? I let all my friends at the RAF down but worst of all, I let you down." He looked at his father, "I'm sorry."

Matthew couldn't help the smile of relief from spreading across his face, "You are a wonderful team player."

Joseph smiled sheepishly, "So am I forgiven?"

His father tilted his head to the side in disbelief at the question. How can he even ask that? "Why waste nineteen and a half years of good memories only to be wiped away by a few choice words?" And he stood up with his arms open in a welcoming embrace.

Joseph breathed a grateful sigh before accepting the hug with as much firmness that he could muster. "I'm sorry Papa."

"No I'm the one that should be sorry." Matthew said in a hoarse voice, pulling away so he could look at his son. "In a way you were right Joe. This war isn't like the last one, not by a long shot." He frowned in recollection, "We didn't even know what it was we were fighting for. There was no real cause, not like now. I think back then, the men and their families were affected more than anything – but now, this country and every single person in it are falling apart. There's a new kind of evil out there that are spreading their venom upon everyone. Children being forced to grow up much too soon, thrust into something that isn't even their fight. Like you and your brother. The more I think about it, the more I realize that the last war was a dress rehearsal for this one."

"That's what I was thinking too." Joseph said softly, "And I want to – thank you for being a part of that. It definitely helps us now."

Matthew raised his brow and reclined back in his seat. "I thought you said you do more than just pace up and down a trench and – how did you put it? Lobbing grenades over the top and hoping it hit something?"

Joseph pursed his lips in response. He knew he deserved that.

"But I suppose you wouldn't have trenches now would you?" Matthew asked wryly.

"No." Joseph shook his head, "If we were in a trench the enemy tank would run over to us and pull us out."

Matthew nodded mechanically, "It definitely seems like another world compared to mine. You know, if I could, I would move heaven and earth to keep you at home."

"I know you would Papa. But I wouldn't want you to." Joseph said with resolution. "I may be indecisive but one thing I'm not is a coward."

May 10th 1940

Matthew and Edward Crawley sat in their usual seats in the library, discussing the latest news about Winston Churchill replacing Neville Chamberlain as their prime minister.

"I say good on him!" Edward stated firmly, flipping back in his seat and draping one leg casually over his knee, "It's about time this country received a good shake up! I mean really, Chamberlain's practically the reason we're in this mess."

"I don't think we can blame Chamberlain on everything Ed," Matthew replied in an even voice, over the top of his paper. "He tried his best the poor man, we can't fault him for that."

"True," Edward sighed with indifference, "It's just a shame his best led us headlong into a war." He threw his hands up in neutrality, "But, but if you want to keep defending weaklings like him that's up to you."

Before Matthew was about to retort, Rebecca entered the library with a small smirk playing about her lips. "Eddie, Lady Clarissa's waiting for you in the foyer."

Edward's face morphed into mortification, "Again? Jesus, that girl never gives up!" He jolted out of his seat, making a motion to run but without even breaking eye contact with his newspaper, Matthew shot out a hand, grabbed his son's elbow and forced him back down.

"You're not running away this time." Matthew ordered calmly, still focused on his paper.

"So I'm supposed to force myself to make conversation with her am I?" Edward demanded, his face growing red with anger, "And you can stop smirking as well!" He fired at his sister who was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Rebecca elegantly sat down in her favourite corner, smoothing her skirt absently and saying with the utmost glee, "I have no idea what you're talking about, I'm just happy it's such a nice day that's all. Maybe you can ask Clarissa to go for a walk!"

Edward just scowled at her. "I'd like to ask her to go somewhere all right." He stood up roughly, "And I know exactly where -"

"Edward!" Mary poked her head around the door, her eyes wide with excitement, "Lady Clarissa's waiting for you in the hallway." She frowned slightly at her daughter, "Becky didn't you tell him?"

"Oh I told him." Rebecca chortled, not even looking up from her book. "And I told him it was such a nice day for him to take Clarissa out for a walk."

"Now that is a splendid idea Rebecca!" Mary trilled. Edward glared at his sister who had to bite down on her lip to stop herself from laughing, as did Matthew. "Come on Edward, get a move on, you can't keep her waiting."

Edward groaned, trudging towards the door, "Mama why do you keep forcing this? You know it'll come to nothing."

"I don't believe that." Mary said with defiance, "I believe you and Clarissa are meant to be together."

"Oh well that gives me great comfort." Edward responded in a clipped voice as they shuffled towards the foyer where Clarissa was waiting patiently. As soon as she saw him, her eyes flooded with excitement and elation.

"Hello Edward." She gushed, "I'm so glad you're feeling better – I tried to call here yesterday but your butler said you had – the flu?"

"Yes." Edward choked, very pointedly ignoring his mother's glower, "You know Rebecca wasn't feeling very well either and I suppose I just caught the same thing she did. I'm – better now." His voice trailed off feebly as he knew the consequences behind those words.

"Oh good," Mary said with emphasis, "That means you can take Clarissa out for a walk. I'm sure she'd love to see Chestnut again."

"Of course I would!" Clarissa said quickly.

"Well, in that case we should probably go." Edward replied in a voice completely devoid of emotion. Once again Clarissa missed the lack of enthusiasm in his voice for she beamed and allowed him to lead her out of the house.

"So did your brother get off all right?" She asked nervously, "I feel absolutely mortified about what happened here the other day."

"Don't be," Edward said, sewing reassurance into his voice, "My father and brother argued like many a time before. They made up before he left so you have nothing to worry about."

"Oh thank goodness," Clarissa breathed in relief, "I should hate to think they fell out because of me."

"Do you always cause arguments?" Edward asked as lightly as he could.

Clarissa just laughed, forcing him to stare at her in astonishment. It wasn't supposed to be taken as a compliment. "Not if I can help it."

They took a few more paces before Clarissa asked with interest, "How's your training going? Or am I not supposed to ask that?"

Edward shot her a peculiar glance, "Why – why would you not be allowed to ask me that?"

"George doesn't like talking about what he's been up to." She replied in a sad voice, "And he's changed a lot since he left." Without warning she stopped abruptly and grabbed his arm, "Promise me you won't change Edward. Promise me you'll come back exactly as you were. Are."

Edward gaped at her in complete alarm. He must've been staring at her like that for at least three whole seconds before sputtering, "Oh – of course I won't change." He gingerly eased his arm out of her strong grip. "But – um, you know I might not come back exactly as I was?"

Now it was Clarissa's turn to frown. "What do you mean? I thought medics only tended to the wounded and didn't have to fight."

Edward released a very patient breath. He knew he couldn't tell her about the S.A.S. It was an honourable yet classified position which he had accepted without hesitation and he had signed the National Secrets Act. He hadn't even told his father. Yet.

"Yes but I'm still in danger aren't I?" Edward said in a hollow voice, "I'm still going to be amongst all kinds of -"

"Oh let's not talk about it!" Clarissa interrupted with a smile, "Let's not ruin a pleasant afternoon together!"

"No, no let's not do that." Edward replied in a voice laced with sarcasm. She just laughed and took of running towards the stables. Edward flicked his eyes up towards the crisp blue sky, muttering acidly, "All right Great-Granny, you can stop laughing now." He tore off after Clarissa who was already tiptoeing towards Chestnut.

"Be careful!" Edward panted, catching up with her and leaning against the stable door to catch his breath, "He's not used to strangers."

"That's all right," Clarissa cooed, stretching out her hand and gently nuzzling the horse's nose. "Yes, you're a good boy aren't you?" Chestnut dipped his head in response, allowing her to caress his magnificent mane.

Edward watched in complete amazement and curiosity. Chestnut had never been this friendly towards a stranger before. Never.

"I think he likes you." Edward said blandly. "It looks like I have competition."

"I love animals." She shot a small grin at him, "But you already knew that."

Edward bit his lip in embarrassment. That damn cat would probably haunt him into his grave. "I am still – quite sorry about that cat. We were all just children back then."

"Do you remember all the times we used to play out here?" Clarissa asked with fondness.

Edward nodded sheepishly. Was she so intent on making him feel guilty about his stupid childhood stunts. "I'm sorry I threw your doll onto the roof. George and I had a dare you see."

"That's all right, you did try to climb up onto the roof and get it back for me." Clarissa said with an amused smile. "I think that was extraordinarily brave for a ten year old. You must've felt quite bad."

Edward just nodded stiffly, hastening to mention that actually the only reason he attempted to risk his own neck was to stop her from throwing a tantrum. "Unfortunately my parents didn't seem to see it that way. But that doesn't matter, I was quite a rebellious child. I suppose I still am."

Clarissa shook her head dismissively, still stroking Chestnut, "You're just misunderstood."

"Why are you here?" Edward blurted out before he could even stop himself. Clarissa turned around in surprise. "I – I mean why are you here with me? There are so many other, wonderful young men out there. Men who can give you everything you ever want. Men who aren't risking their lives in a few months so – why do you want to be around me?"

Clarissa narrowed her eyes at him, "Where's all this coming from? Maybe I don't want those men."

"Then more fool you." Edward said with a firm kindness, "Because I'm not even the heir. I'm the second son, Joe is the one that's going to inherit all this. Georgina and Rebecca are girls and can have the pick of the field like you can. They can marry well and join another aristocratic family but Benji and I, we're forced to make our own way in this world."

"Good." Clarissa said curtly, turning away from Chestnut but avoiding all eye contact with Edward.

"Excuse me?" Edward replied in disbelief, "Did you just say -"

"Good." Clarissa repeated. "I said good Edward. Think about that."

And with those words she traipsed past him, out of the stables, leaving him to stare forlornly after her. He heaved a sigh and shook his head, feeling a surge of sympathy for the poor girl. Clearly she wouldn't take no for an answer and as a result she'd only have her fragile heart broken.

It didn't matter for him.

People who didn't have hearts, were in no danger of having them broken at all.

May 13th 1940

"We are in the preliminary stage of one of the greatest battles in history... That we are in action at many points — in Norway and in Holland —, that we have to be prepared in the Mediterranean. That the air battle is continuous, and that many preparations have to be made here at home."

The voice of their new prime minister, Winston Churchill, belted out those heartfelt words from the depths of his soul. Breaking through the speakers of the wireless and echoing around the library. Georgina was kneeling beside her mother whilst Rebecca sat on her usual window seat, her legs tucked underneath her, book open on her lap but for once she paid it no attention. Benjamin sat next to her, muttering to his toy soldiers, oblivious to everything around him.

Matthew sat in his usual armchair, trying to remain dignified throughout Churchill's speech while his mother pretended to arrange the flowers in the corner of the library. Edward paced back and forth in agitation, not really sure what to make of it all.

"We haven't heard anything from Joe in a while; you don't think he's in trouble do you?" Mary asked her husband anxiously.

Matthew just smiled in reassurance but his calm face was nothing more than a mask, shielding his distress from the rest of his family at Joseph's sudden silence.

"I would say to the House as I said to those who have joined this government: I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat."

"Oh he's offering that himself is he?" Mary huffed in controlled anger. Benjamin looked up with interest at his mother's tone.

"We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. We have before us many, many long months of struggle and of suffering."

Edward abruptly stopped pacing.

Mary's heartbeat accelerated at those last words, her entire body growing cold with dread. Georgina reached over and clasped her hands over her mother's, squeezing them in comfort. Isobel shot a distraught glance at her son whose head had fallen into his palm, his eyes closed in what seemed to be defeat.

Rebecca caught her brother's eye and gave him a broken smile. Suffering. That was such a painful word. Hadn't they already suffered enough?

"You ask, what is our aim? I can answer in one word: Victory."

All the Crawley's snapped their heads towards the wireless.

"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."

Churchill finished his speech with a thunderous round of applause but Lady Mary just continued to glare icily at the wireless. "Is that the best he's got?" She hissed. "Victory?"

Matthew tilted his head towards her in exhaustion, "Mary."

"How many of his sons are actually fighting?" Mary asked in a shrill voice, "He talks about suffering but what does he know? I mean really!"

"Mary," Isobel interjected patiently, "There was a reason why Churchill was elected to replace Chamberlain. He's a smart man and he knows what he's doing."

"I hope so." Mary replied frostily.

"Why was that man talking about blood?" Benjamin asked, sounding slightly unnerved.

"It's just a metaphor Benji." Edward answered absently, continuing to pace again. He chuckled darkly to himself, "Or so he thinks."

"Edward!" Matthew chided.

"What?" Edward shot back, "Mama's right. To him, it's just a metaphor but – actually, blood, toil, sweat and tears are being offered just not from him! I mean, we might as well stop dancing around on eggshells! We haven't heard a peep out of Joe since the day he left!"

"Edward stop it!" Rebecca scolded, her eyes growing wide with fright at the truth of her brother's words. "Can't you see you're upsetting everyone?"

Edward turned towards his sister with scathing eyes, "Oh well, you're a fine one to talk miss prim and proper."

"Enough!" Matthew barked, forcing everyone to shut up, "There's nothing any of us can do except wait. We can only wait."

May 26th 1940

Mary gently knocked on Rebecca's door, pushing it open gently. Rebecca's bed was empty and no one appeared to be in the room. Just as Mary was about to leave, she heard a retching sound emerging from the ensuite bathroom.

"Rebecca!" Mary exclaimed in alarm, rushing to the bathroom where the door was left ajar. Rebecca was on all fours, bending over the toilet bowl, her hair swept into a careless ponytail.

"Oh my poor darling!" Mary crouched beside her daughter and swiftly helped clean her up.

"I'm fine Mama, please stop fussing." Rebecca murmured, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth as she waited for the dizziness to subside.

"Darling you hardly ate a bite at dinner, would you like me to bring you some toast?" Mary asked with concern.

At the mere mention of food, the wave of nasuea hit her again. Rebecca coughed what little watery remnants she had left into the toilet. She managed to lift her head up to glare at her mother. "No!"

"I don't understand," Mary said in puzzlement, helping her daughter to her feet, "You don't seem to have a fever."

"I'm telling you, something is wrong with the meat!" Rebecca protested, rinsing her mouth. "It's been smelling off for weeks and tonight that pork smelled even worse!"

"Our meat rations are fine thank you very much." Mary retorted coolly. "I check them myself when they're delivered. The pork you - didn't eat tonight is from one of the pigs from our farms I'll have you know!"

Rebecca quirked her brow and stalked back into her room, "Well clearly Mrs Plum has a secret scheme going on, so I'll watch out if I were you." She slid into her covers and reached over to pick up 'Persuasion,' from her bedside table.

Mary sat down next to her, reaching out to smooth her golden curls, "You're probably just worried about Joe." She said with a tense smile, her hands clutching the bed covers. Ever since Joseph had left, they hadn't recieved a single letter from him and the whole family were waiting for that - call. "Rebecca I know exactly how you feel." Mary muttered, fighting to keep her growing distress from rising to the surface. "You can't eat, can't sleep, you can't do anything properly."

"That's sounds about right." Rebecca breathed with uneasiness, chewing on her bottom lip. "Because I think I've also been missing -"

"Mary!" Matthew's hysterical and horrified voice tore through house. "Mary!"

Both Mary and Rebecca released frantic gasps, clutching at each other. Mary glanced at Rebecca quickly before leaping off the bed, Rebecca following suit. On their way out, they hurtled into Georgina who was just about to leave for her night shift.

"What's going on?" She asked in alarm, "Papa sounds terrified!"

"I don't know." Mary whispered, clasping both her daughter's hands while fear pumped through her body. She shakily descended the staircase where Matthew was waiting at the bottom, looking as though he was about to be sick.

"Papa!" Edward strode out of the library, his face etched with worry, "What's going on?"

Matthew tried to open his mouth to talk but he couldn't seem to form a single sound.

"Matthew?" Mary prompted, her fragile demeanour about to shatter into a million pieces. "What is it?"

Finally Matthew turned towards her, his eyes glistening with terror. "I've just received a very – careful call from the war office. They have the list of Divisions stranded at Dunkirk. The second and fiftieth Division are pinned down, the first, fifth and forty-eighth Divisions are under heavy attack."

"Matthew's missing."

Mary swallowed over the familiar lump of dread rising in her throat, feeling a morsel of grattitude that it was Matthew relaying this news to her. Her beloved Matthew, not Edith.

"Pinned down?" Edward managed to choke.

"From what I could understand – they were cornered." Matthew replied in a raspy voice, "All of them. And they're being forced to retreat."

"Cornered?" Rebecca whispered in fright, tyring to push out the picture that was rapidly forming in her mind. "The Nazis have – have cornered them?"

Georgina clapped her hand to her mouth. Edward's face paled.

Mary shook her head, tears burning the back of her eyes, "Oh my God." She whimpered, feeling Georgina's hand supporting her back and vaguely feeling Rebecca clutching her arm.

Matthew gave her a look, so full of love, so full of regret, but all he could do was force his head into a nod and say, "Joseph is trapped at Dunkirk."

to be continued...