A/N Thank you everyone for your continued support. We are entering the final furlong where everything comes together. You may wish to have someone to hold your hand as you read this it is going to be a bit of a bumpy ride as we hurtle onwards.
Following Sir Richard Carlisle had not proved entirely easy. With a lack of money he watched in annoyance as the man got into a waiting motor car and drove away. It was only with some ingenuity and a large amount of cheek that Tom Branson managed to persuade one of the traders to take him into the city. With sheer luck, and slow moving traffic, he managed to keep the vehicle in sight until it finally stopped at one of the more exclusive hotels. Thanking his benefactor, Tom jumped down from the cart and made his way back in time to see Sir Richard alight and instruct a porter to deal with his luggage.
Branson pulled his cap down over his eyes. It was unlikely that Carlisle would be looking for him, or would even recognise him. The man never did take any notice of the staff at Downton. Even so, it would not do to take any chances. If Richard Carlisle's visit had anything at all to do with Sybil, Tom intended to find out exactly what it was.
It was going to be a relatively small explosive. That was what Matthew reasoned. He did not want to think where James had come to learn how to make such a thing. He had waited, concealed by the shadows as James approached the front of the Fenian Men's headquarters. With a quick glance up and down the street he bent down to set the device. Quickly, he retired to the other side of the street as Matthew instinctively covered his ears. If that was a small explosion Matthew would hate to be around a large one.
His ears still ringing, he watched as the house's occupants spilled out into the street through the smoke. He saw James preparing to throw a flash towards them. The world was suddenly filled with bright light. Luckily Matthew had closed his eyes and turned his head, but still the light permeated his eyelids. There seemed to be a great deal of shouting as the men spotted James and took off after him.
Creeping towards the servant's entrance, Matthew pushed the door. With only a small amount of pressure he managed to pry it open and stepped into the darkened room. Without light he moved as silently as possible towards the upper layers of the house. There would not be much time and he needed to ensure that he found something concrete to save Sybil.
Stopping at the top of the back stairs he listened for any signs that anyone had remained behind. Here it was lit and he would have to be especially careful not to be compromised. He tried to remember the outlay of the house. James had told him that Holmes kept an office towards the rear. With a tentative glance around he headed in what he hoped was the right direction. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the clang of an approaching Fire tender. He would have to be quick.
In the sitting room at Eaton place, Cecily Carlisle looked uncomfortable, although she was trying her very best not to show it. Lady Rosamund put down the telephone receiver and waited while the butler took the device away on a silver tray, coiling the lead behind him.
"It appears Richard is not in Yorkshire." She said to her two guests.
Mary nodded. "I cannot say I am surprised." She turned to Cecily, "Clearly he is using your absence to take his trip to Ireland."
Cecily pursed her red lips and tried not to take the comment as a personal slight, it was quite difficult. "So what do you propose we do, follow him?"
Rosamund brightened considerably. "Oh a trip to Ireland would be divine. I would be so nice to get away from the humidity in the city."
Mary looked at her aunt with a mixture of distain and incredulity. "This is not an excuse for an outing." She snapped.
Rosamund pouted. "There is no reason why we shouldn't enjoy some of the scenery… once the work is done of course."
"We are not going to Ireland." Mary said firmly.
"Then how do you propose to save Matthew?" Rosamund asked.
Mary fixed her aunt with a steady gaze. "We are going to talk to Granny."
Nanny Stevens crouched down in front of the sullen little boy. He glowered over his fingers, his thumb firmly stuck into his mouth.
She reached out tentatively and patted his shoulder as though he would burn.
"It must be very difficult, with your… um father gone?" She said in what she hoped was a kindly tone.
Michael shrugged his shoulders.
Yvette was aware she was also being closely watched by the twins from the other side of the room.
"Michael does not want to talk about Uncle Tom." George said.
"I am talking to Michael." Nanny snapped. She could not help herself, children were just so frustrating. When she and Richard finally married she would make sure she had as little as possible to do with her own until they could hold a sensible conversation.
"Why don't you two go and see if Mrs Bird has made some biscuits today?"
"We aren't allowed biscuits after tea." Lily-beth said, it was obvious they had no intention of going anywhere.
Now they decide to abide by the rules. Nanny thought irritably. "Well why don't you go and see if Smith knows when Lady Mary will be home?" She tried.
"Mama will be home this evening… Mr Moseley said so this afternoon." George said doggedly.
"So you were listening at keyholes? I think you should both go to bed early for your punishment."
"We weren't listening; he told Lily-beth when she asked." George continued.
"I asked." Lily-beth reiterated.
Nanny looked up in frustration to see the twins staring at her. There was something eerie in their steady four year old gaze. She could tell they had no intention of leaving their cousin to her tender mercies.
"I just want to talk to Michael about his father." She decided as a last ditch effort to feign honesty. "We are all very worried that he has gone away. If Michael was able to tell us where he was going, perhaps your papa will be able to find him and bring him back?"
Michael's eyes seemed to light up at that prospect.
"Gome." He said through his thumb.
"What's that Michael?" Yvette said, resisting the urge to snatch his hand away from his face.
"Pa, gone gome…" he said again.
"He's gone home? Back to Ireland? Did he… did he say why he was going home?"
That things would have come to this; she was trying to coerce information out of a child.
Michael shook his head and looked down.
"It isn't going to help Mr Crawley find your Pa if you don't tell me Michael." She said, forcing the boy to look at her.
"He doesn't know!" George almost shouted. He didn't know what was really going on here, but there was something that told him this shouldn't be happening.
"There is no need to take that tone Master George." Stevens said automatically, her eyes scanning Master Branson's face. It soon became clear that his cousin was quite correct.
"Very well." She said releasing the boy. "Quickly, let's see which one of you can get ready for bed the quickest."
She wanted to see if she could catch Richard at the London office before he returned to Yorkshire.
Things were not going entirely to plan for Sir Richard either. He had not expected an entirely warm welcome, but he seemed to be being stonewalled at every turn. No matter what he said, how he bullied or pushed, his presence in Ireland was causing some people to become very nervous, people who should instead have been showing their gratitude.
He paced the hotel room in frustration. This was not how things were supposed to go. Did these people not realise the damage he could do, the difficulties he could cause them as their stories became public? It seemed that since the birth of the republic and the split in the country, they had forgotten who had helped them.
There was a knock on the door. The boy held out a note nervously. Reaching into his pocket, Richard deposited a coin in his hand before the messenger ran away.
It was a message from his contact with the Fenian Men, once again a refusal to meet with him. This was becoming infuriating. He crumpled the note and threw it across the room.
He let out a sharp breath. He would have no choice but to increase the pressure. In addition he had so far failed to locate Crawley and his friend. It made him furious when things did not go to plan and for the moment there seemed to be very little he could do. But that was not the way he operated. It was time to take matters into his own hands.
The Dowager Countess of Grantham allowed herself a small smirk as she replaced the telephone receiver for the final time. Not for the first time she was impressed by her eldest granddaughters thinking. Downton Abbey would indeed be safe in her hands. She of course would never admit it, but her thinking had been all wrong in this. She had used the tried and tested method to get her own way, which of course mainly involved using any knowledge or contacts against her target. Mary on the other hand had realised that there was nothing more likely to turn someone into a prospective ally than having a mutual enemy. Sir Richard Carlisle's visit to Belfast had provided the perfect focal point. The important people already realised that Richard was a danger; he had used his aces too soon. He was more of a threat to their infant nation than an ex socialite aristocrat. All Violet needed to do was point this out to the wives and mothers of the relevant people. Simple.
Matthew searched through the papers on the desk. There were many, most of them were irrelevant, he thanked his years in law school for being able to read so quickly and pick out relevant information. Eventually he managed to pick out a file which looked to tell him exactly what he needed to know. There was a noise from outside of the building, clearly someone was returning. Stuffing the file into his shirt, he looked around quickly. Someone was coming…
He listened as the running footfalls came closer. Extinguishing the light Matthew waited with only the glare of the moon to see by. The door opened. Without even pausing Matthew lashed out with a fist as the newcomer came into the room and crumpled to the floor. Without even pausing to check who had surprised him, Matthew ran from the room and out into the street.
