The family returned home just as the police were arriving.
"What's the meaning of this?" Lord Grantham asked Carson who met them all at the door.
"Several things happened while you were out, My Lord. Miss O'Brien and Mr. Molesley have both gone missing and we've found some possible evidence pertinent to Lady Flintshire's murder." The butler explained calmly and quickly, out of earshot of the ladies. "The police have come to help us search and to collect the evidence."
"We'll try to stay out of your way, Lord Grantham." Detective Alexander assured the perturbed Lord. "We'll search the family rooms first." The detective motioned for four of his men to head upstairs.
"Thank you, Detective. We've all had a very long day and I think the ladies are ready to retire for the night." Carson escorted the ladies into the library where a light tea waited for them. Robert was thankful that George and Nanny had spend the day with Mrs. Crawley at Crawley House and were staying over tonight.
"You think Mr. Molesley or Miss O'Brien are hiding in the family rooms?" Robert looked up at the departing policemen with consternation.
"They could be anywhere."
"You don't think they are together, do you?"
What a revolting thought. Carson shivered, as he returned to the conversation, but held his tongue.
"We don't have any reason to think that, milord." The detective answered.
"I'm sure Mr. Molesley will show up, My Lord." Carson offered. "The staff had the night off and he wasn't given any specific time to be back, I only recommended that they all be back before dark."
"It's well past dark." The Earl noted.
"Which is the only reason we're concerned."
"We'll organize a search of the grounds once we've finished with the house." Detective Alexander said. "Until then…"
"Detective!" A constable with a flushed face rushed into view at the top of the gallery. "You're needed upstairs immediately."
"Excuse me, gentlemen."
Carson and Lord Grantham joined the ladies in the library. Lady Cora was sitting closely with Lady Rose, soothing the poor girl's raw nerves. She'd done relatively well at the dinner, finding some comfort in the bland normalcy of Yorkshire society. The sight of the police had upset her anew.
Ladies Edith and Mary sat calmly sipping tea that they did not want. It was not long before Detective Alexander requested that Lord Grantham and Carson join him in the Grand Hall.
"I'm afraid we have found Miss O'Brien."
"And?"
"She is dead, by her own hand, apparently."
"Good God." Robert hoped the detective would not go into too much detail.
"I am afraid I must ask Lady Grantham to give up her bedroom for the night."
"Give up…"
"It is now a crime scene; a rather gory one. It will take some time to process."
"She killed herself in our rooms?"
"In the bathroom, to be specific, she slit her wrists in the tub."
Lord Grantham winced. Those were precisely the details he did not want to hear. Cora could never know, or they would have to get a new bathtub or maybe even move rooms.
"I shall have Mrs. Carson prepare a room, My Lord." Carson moved to the cord and rang for his wife.
"What of Mr. Molesley?" Carson asked the detective.
"He's no longer a priority. I'm sure he will turn up."
"He has turned up," Elsie confirmed as she emerged from the green baize door. "Says he was walking and lost track of the time. I think you should speak to him, Mr. Carson."
"Oh, I will, but, as the detective said, he's not the priority anymore. Would you please have a room prepared for Her Ladyship? The police will be in her rooms for the foreseeable future." His look told her not to ask questions now.
Though this request was a shock to Elsie, but she did not show it. "Of course, Fontenoy would be best. Give me ten minutes." Fontenoy was smaller than their normal room, but had the advantage of an en suite bathroom, unlike many of the guest rooms. Also, it was not too far from Lord Grantham's room, being the guest room closest to the family rooms.
Elsie hurried away only sparing a quick look at her husband who nodded reassuringly.
Lord Grantham looked uncomfortably at the detective. "The other rooms are available now?"
"I should think so. We'll need to talk to people again tomorrow, but people may turn in for the night. I think we know who killed Lady Flintshire."
Carson looked uncomfortable at this statement and cleared his throat.
"Is there something you want to add, Carson?" Lord Grantham knew his butler's mannerisms.
"It's only that this seems remarkably similar to the resolution in London. A suspect committing suicide seems to be a good way to get the police to close a case. Besides, Detective, you said Miss O'Brien had an alibi."
"It wasn't an ironclad alibi; we could have gotten the time of death wrong. Need I remind you, Mr. Carson that you were the one who was so sure it was Miss O'Brien."
"While I believe Miss O'Brien could kill, she is not of the personality to kill herself, Detective. No more than Thomas was." Carson insisted. "I don't mean to stir up trouble, but please promise me you'll look very closely at the scene and not assume anything."
"I promise you that, Mr. Carson. Thank you for voicing your concerns."
After a small scramble below stairs, Fontenoy was ready for Lady Grantham and the other ladies retired to their respective rooms. They'd only been told that Miss O'Brien was dead and that evidence had been found in Lady Grantham's rooms. Most of them had put two and two together, however, and Lady Grantham was wondering if she would ever be able to sleep in her own room again.
Mr. Molesley was waiting for Mr. Carson in the butler's pantry when Mr. Carson finally came downstairs.
"It isn't like you to disappear like that, Mr. Molesley. At least not since we've returned to Downton." Carson alluded to Mr. Molesley's habit of running around London searching for Miss Baxter.
"I understood that we had the rest of the day off." Molesley answered defensively.
"Yes, but I asked everyone to be back by dark."
"I thought that was only a suggestion."
"I am used to my suggestions being taken more seriously. These are dangerous times, or they were dangerous."
"They still may be." Molesley mumbled enigmatically.
"Do you know something that may be useful to the police, Mr. Molesley?"
"Me, Mr. Carson? I don't know anything, but if I do, you shall be the first to know."
"You make me quite nervous." Carson dismissed the uncooperative footman.
Mrs. Carson was waiting outside the door and came in as Mr. Molesley left. "Are we all returning to our own homes tonight, Mr. Carson? Only, Mr. Bates was asking." She looked at her husband playfully, but was disturbed at his response.
"I think we should all remain as we are, love. With the change of rooms, I think Anna should be on hand for Her Ladyship."
"You're telling half-truths again, Mr. Carson."
He motioned for her to come further into the room and close the door.
"Don't you find all of this rather convenient? Another murderer decides to do themselves in?"
"There is no pleasing you, Mr. Carson. Just as you are proven right about Miss O'Brien, you come over to my theory about Lady Flintshire's killer being linked to London as well?"
"Could you name two people less likely to kill themselves out of guilt than Thomas and O'Brien?"
"No."
"And in the space of a month, they both do precisely that? It doesn't add up."
"Do you suspect Mr. Bates again? I am fairly certain he and Anna were not in the house today."
"How would we know who was in the house? You and I were the only ones here to see who might come and go by the servant's door. We weren't exactly vigilant. It could have been anyone." He was struggling to get facts straight in his mind. None of his suspicions made sense. "You once joked that it might be Mr. Molesley or Mrs. Butte, but both are plausible."
"Yes, precisely, that was a joke. I also suggested Daisy."
"But Mr. Molesley was missing all afternoon, which is odd. And Mrs. Butte admitted that she was up in Lady Grantham's room earlier."
"She is Lady Grantham's maid, I would be suspicious if she didn't admit to being there."
"Mrs. Butte was O'Brien's alibi, she found the missing stocking and…" He hesitated to even mention this last. "She said something odd when I asked her where we might find Miss O'Brien."
"And you accused me of being paranoid. I think the most obvious answer is probably the truth. Both Thomas and Miss O'Brien must have been more disturbed than we ever suspected." She stepped close to him and put her hands on his chest, rubbing soothingly. "Leave it to the police. You don't have to protect everyone all on your own, love."
"I'm certainly doing a poor job of it."
"Let's go home. Let Anna and Mr. Bates go home. Stop worrying."
"You think I'm being ridiculous." He placed a hand on one of hers on his chest and frowned down at her.
"Listen to yourself; you're honestly proposing that Mr. Molesley or Mrs. Butte are behind these terrible things?"
"It could be Mr. Molesley and Mrs. Butte." He remembered His Lordship's words and how odd the footman had acted.
Elsie thought he was joking and started to laugh, but stopped when she realized that he was serious.
"I don't think anyone could have done all of this alone." He reasoned. "Mr. Molesley and Mrs. Butte have been very close since Miss Baxter died. Maybe they were close before and we just didn't know it."
"Charles," Elsie was beginning to truly worry about him. "Miss O'Brien's suicide convinced me that it was O'Brien that killed Lady Flintshire and that it wasn't related to the London events. Don't go looking for trouble."
"Fine." He acquiesced. "Tell Mr. Bates that he and Anna can return to their cottage tonight. If someone is trying to get away with Lady Flintshire's murder, they'd be stupid to hurt anyone tonight."
Pleased with his decision, but not his reasoning, Elsie gave him a soft kiss on the lips and nodded before leaving.
It was after midnight when Charles and Elsie arrived home. The stress he felt was evident in his exhausted posture that he finally let himself slump into once they were inside. He made sure to lock the door behind them.
"You wash up, Charles. I'll be right up. I need to put away these things Mrs. Patmore picked up for me in town today." She set the satchel of food on the table and opened the pantry. Elsie hummed lightly to herself as she stored the spices and staples. She stopped humming as she looked more closely at the pantry. Something was wrong. Only someone as meticulous as Mrs. Carson would have noticed, but things had been moved. Someone had been in their house.
Just then, there were noises from upstairs. There was a crash, a door slammed and something heavy fell to the floor above her head. Heedless of any danger, Elsie ran towards the sounds. Someone was still in their house.
TBC…