It was ten o'clock when Mary finally awoke on Saturday morning. Matthew was still fast asleep. She got up quietly and rang for Anna from the dressing room.
"I'm going out for a ride," she informed her when she arrived with a cup of tea and a slice of toast. "I need to clear my head."
"Did you not sleep well?" Anna asked, concerned.
"Neither of us did," Mary said, sitting down at her dresser and reaching for the teacup. "And Matthew had a nightmare. He hasn't had one in weeks. Oh Anna!" Mary's face was anguished. "We had such a wonderful time with our wedding and the honeymoon. I was just starting to think with all of that and the war over that maybe everything would be normal again, and now…" she threw her hands up the air and let them fall helplessly on her lap.
"A shame, that's what it is," Anna remarked, as she started to brush out Mary's hair. "You and the Captain, you should have come back to a happy house after your honeymoon.
"And instead we've had maids dying, Miss O'Brien leaving, and this funny business upsetting her Ladyship," she pursed her lips. "And now your dear friend Lieutenant Napier has been taken ill!"
"It hasn't been easy," Mary's face was pensive. "And what's happening with Evelyn is especially difficult for Matthew. Right on top of everything else!"
Anna could see she was fighting back tears. It must have been a bad night indeed for her to have awoken so agitated.
"Take some deep breaths, my Lady, she said in a calm tone. "And your ride in a little while will do you the world of good." She put her hands on Mary's shoulders and gave her a gentle pat.
"Any more word from Bates?" Mary asked eventually, as Anna began the task of pinning her hair.
Anna shook her head. "Nothing. Not since that call I told you about, on Wednesday."
"Well then. Let's hope some of the leads about Papa's whereabouts that Matthew got yesterday pay off," Mary replied frowning. "I do think it is very unfair of Papa to be putting Mama through all of this worry! Especially when she is still so frail after the 'flu!"
Anna said nothing, but through the mirror Mary saw Anna give the slightest nod of her head to show that, even though it wasn't her place to comment, she did agree.
When her hair was done, Anna helped her into her riding habit. She quickly swallowed down the last of her tea, bade Anna goodbye, and left for the stables.
The jumbled thoughts and emotions that had kept her tossing and turning all night were still there as she urged Diamond first into a canter, and then into a gallop across the paddocks towards the hills behind the lake.
Sadness and apprehension when she thought of Evelyn, and the look that had been on the Doctor's face when he barked at Sergeant Barrow to call the ambulance. Distress at her mother's uncharacteristic tears at Friday's dinner. And nervousness, and, she had to admit, more than a little fear, at the spectre of Sir Richard somehow being involved in her father's predicament.
Eventually, the concentration required of her to guide the horse at speed across the uneven ground forced her attention to the here and now. She breathed deeply, enjoying the cool, damp air rushing past her face. She felt her body moving and correcting along with the animal as they sped across the fields and through the forest along the soft muddy paths. She exalted in the effort it required of her, and the warmth in her skin from the exertion.
Slowly the jumbled thoughts started to still and crystallise and her head began to clear. Near the top of the hill, she reined Diamond in until the horse was walking at a sedate pace and she took the time to gaze at the scenic countryside below her.
The Abbey looked small enough to be a doll's house from this distance. The lake was a silver streak, and the forest and wooded areas scattered across the estate were textured smudges of black and green. The flush of new grass marking the lawns and paddocks was so bright it lit up the grey morning, and Mary gave a sigh of pleasure at the panorama.
When she arrived back half an hour later, her cheeks flushed and her clothes spattered with mud, she was feeling a lot better. Unfortunately, her calm state was not to last. Carson met her in the front hall, an expectant look on his face.
"My Lady," he began. "I'm sorry to inform you but I've had an urgent call from Major Clarkson. He needs you and Sergeant Barrow down at the hospital as soon as you can. Some sort of paperwork problem that the Army Corps needs to be sorted immediately."
"Oh, dear," Mary said, dismayed. "I'm supposed to be here with Captain Crawley entertaining his visitors this afternoon. Did Major Clarkson say how long I was needed?"
Carson shook his head. "I'm sorry, my lady. He was just very insistent you get there as soon as possible."
"Very well. Carson, please ask Anna to come to my dressing room immediately. And tell Sergeant Barrow I'll see him at the car in twenty minutes."
0-0-0-0-0-0
It was almost midday when Matthew finally awoke. He rang the bell and was surprised when Anna turned up.
"Good morning Sir," she said cheerfully. "I hope you're feeling better after your sleep. Lady Mary told me you both had a bad night."
"We did," Matthew sighed, a shadow crossing his face as he recalled what had happened. He looked at Anna, puzzled. "Where is Sergeant Barrow?"
"Major Clarkson called him and Lady Mary down to the hospital urgently. They left about fifteen minutes ago. Some sort of paperwork problem apparently! Lady Mary says she is very sorry. She hopes she will be back for your visitors but she wanted me to warn you she may not."
"Oh dear," Matthew frowned. "I do hope she can get back. She and Mrs Pearson hit it off really well when they were organising Daisy's dress."
Anna nodded and made a placating noise. She opened the curtains and then turned back to Matthew. "Sir, Sergeant Barrow said he has arranged for your mother to come in and assist you in his absence. She has been on duty this morning, and her shift finishes quite soon."
Matthew immediately brightened. "Oh! A lucky coincidence she was on shift. I was hoping I could get to see her today."
Anna smiled. "And in the meantime, Sir, would you like me to bring you some tea and toast?"
"Tea and toast would be marvellous thank you. And you might as well bring some in for mother too."
"Of course. I'll get that fixed for you now," and Anna turned to leave.
Isobel arrived as expected, fifteen minutes later, still in her nurse's uniform. They greeted each other warmly. She, too, was pleased to have the opportunity for some time alone with her son.
Matthew urged her to sit down for a few minutes with her cup of tea, concerned at how tired she looked.
"Mother," he said gently, "Are you all right? How was the ward this morning?"
"Busy," she sighed, nursing her teacup. "Mary probably told you. We've had a group of new patients all of whom are quite severely impaired. And whilst they're well enough now to be out of the hospital, it's taking a lot to care for them. So even though the overall numbers are down, there's more than enough to do for the team of us that are left." She gave another sigh and frowned at Matthew.
"I guess I thought the pace might have been easier by now. We'll be closed in six weeks after all!"
"What will happen to those men then?" Matthew asked, concerned.
"They will have to be transferred to one of the larger military rehabilitation hospitals, which for most of them, will mean being a long way from their families.
"It is far from ideal," she shook her head. "I try not to think about it too much," she finished sadly.
Matthew reached across and patted her arm. "Mother, you are doing all you can," he said. "You make a huge difference to your patients. And I'm sure you will to these men too, even if it's not for long."
Isobel said nothing. Matthew sensed she was close to tears. It was no wonder. The war was supposed to be over. But what was 'over'? There was no 'over' to the nurses like his mother still caring for wounded servicemen. And there never could be 'over' for the men themselves, when their lives had been irrevocably changed. And here they were, closing down when, in her eyes, there was still an unmet need for care and rehabilitation. For the person of conscience that she was, it was hard to countenance.
Their conversation reminded him suddenly of Evelyn, and he inhaled sharply. "Mother," he said cautiously, "Any word on Evelyn?"
"Not as yet, my dear," she answered. "When Sarah-Jane called last night, she said he was comfortable, and being monitored hourly. She said she would call us again today with an update, so I expect we'll hear more later."
"Well, I guess no news might be good news," Matthew said hopefully. Isobel said nothing, but she forced herself to nod and smile. Matthew had enough on his plate to deal with today, she decided, without her adding to it by outlining just how tenuous his friend's situation really was.
She stood up and resumed her nurse persona. "Now, my dear, are you wanting to shower? Time is marching on, and I know you are expecting guests this afternoon."
A while later, when he had returned from the shower, ready to dress, their conversation turned to Cora and Robert. Matthew was initially cautious in what he divulged, but it was quickly apparent that Isobel knew even more than he did: she and Violet had spent several afternoons supporting Cora when her daughters had been unavailable.
"The matter that Cora keeps bringing up is Robert blaming himself for Jane's death," Isobel mused. "It is very strange indeed. She's furious that he cared at all of course. And very angry with Jane for getting involved! And then she gets angry at Robert. She's imagining all sorts of terrible things. Had he hurt her? Was she pregnant with his child? Pregnant women are always more at risk with influenza. Did he take her somewhere and expose her to try and deliberately kill her?" Isobel shook her head. "Those sorts of extreme thoughts are driving Cora quite mad," she finished grimly. "Violet and I have had a real battle to try and keep her from thinking the very worst."
Matthew fumbled with his shirt buttons, a troubled expression on his face.
"Matthew? What do you know?" she asked bluntly.
He snapped his head up and stared at her, his eyes dark. "I know… something Mother. I'm not sure if I should divulge it though. Mary hasn't told Cora yet. She wants it kept from her at least until Robert had been found and has the chance to give his side of the story."
"Very well. Please don't tell me then," Isobel said in a firm tone. "Cora herself can choose whether she does later," she added. The troubled look was still on Matthew's face. "Matthew?" she asked. "What is it?"
He looked at her, his jaw working slightly. "Mother, there are some other things I can, and in fact, I need to tell you," he said slowly. "As they also affect me, actually the whole family, and maybe even you," he finished.
"Oh?" Isobel handed Matthew his necktie.
Matthew proceeded to tell her what he, with Charles's help, had uncovered of Sir Richard's likely involvement.
"This is a very nasty business," Isobel said worriedly. She removed Matthew's waistcoat from its hanger and passed it to him. "It is difficult enough when a marriage is tested in this way. But to have someone deliberately trying to bring harm as a result?" She frowned. "You know, my dear, I never liked Sir Richard Carlisle. Such a vindictive man! I could see that in him the first time I met him."
"At least we have some idea what he's up to now," Matthew said grimly. "Better the devil you know." Matthew stopped buttoning his waistcoat for a minute and stared at his mother.
"You don't think he'd try and implicate me in the Marconi affair do you?" he asked.
"How?" Isobel questioned. "You were only based at the Attorney-General's Office a mere two months!"
"The problem is, Mother, the firm provided services to Sir Rufus's office over a far longer period than the short time I was on placement there. And if you remember, I didn't last long with them. I didn't like their ethics. What if I had been complicit in something without realising?"
"What sort of work did they have you doing?" Isobel asked intently.
"That's a good question," Matthew rubbed his forehead with his hand. "It is hard to recall, the workload was so relentless. I think it was mostly public law advice when I was with Sir Rufus at his office."
"And the rest of the time?" Isobel pressed.
"It was mostly deals. And maybe some share offers. I do remember a couple of mergers and I think I might also have done the work on an acquisition."
"None of that sounds remotely criminal to me!" Isobel answered, helping him into his suit jacket. "I don't think you need be concerned, my dear. And besides, the Marconi affair is well in the past now."
"I do hope you are right, Mother," Matthew said worriedly. "I just can't shake my unease." His hands trembled again, causing him, once more, to fumble with the buttons.
"How about another cup of tea Matthew?" Isobel said, concerned at the level of her son's disquiet. "I'll ring the bell. And I would very much enjoy the chance to go outside with you and sit on your terrace. I haven't had that opportunity yet!"
"What a nice idea," Matthew forced himself to smile, recognising his mother was trying to cheer him up.
Isobel found Matthew his coat, and then she went to retrieve her own from the nurse's cloakroom. When she returned she helped him into his wheelchair, and he showed her through their sitting room out onto the terrace.
"How delightful!" Isobel exclaimed, gazing appreciatively about the generous space, with its flower-filled urns and elegant wrought iron furniture. "And I do love the outlook," she said, taking in the view across the manicured lawns to the sheep grazing peaceably on the paddocks beyond.
"The terrace is my favourite part of our suite," Matthew remarked. He gave a sudden grin. "I'm even growing fond of the topiary, you know," he said gesturing the tightly clipped buxus that adorned the row of stone planters marking the edge of the terrace.
Isobel chuckled. "Your father would be pleased to hear that! When you were very young, he painstakingly tended a topiary garden in our first house. He had all sorts of shapes. There was even a rabbit! When we moved, his biggest regret was that the new place didn't have any established box that he could clip. And by then he was so busy with work and being a father, he never got around to establishing his own."
Matthew chuckled at the thought of his father hard at work on a topiary rabbit. "Oh dear. I wonder what he would say now? Would he want me out here creating some mad shapes?"
"I wouldn't feel any pressure, my dear," Isobel said, her lips twitching slightly. "Brown might have something to say if he found one of his perfect topiary cones had suddenly transformed into a rabbit!"
They both began to laugh, and they were still laughing when Anna arrived with the tea tray, and some buttered fruit loaf. She placed it on the patio table, glad to see that Matthew had relaxed. She had a message from Mary to pass on.
"She asked that you offer her apologies to Mrs Pearson, and said she should be back around four o'clock," Anna reported.
Matthew thanked her and gestured his mother to sit down. Isobel poured the tea. She handed Matthew a cup and pulled her coat a little tighter in the cool air. "So, my dear," she said expectantly. "How was it this week, back to work full time?"
"To be honest, it hasn't been easy," replied Matthew. "Some complex cases, and trying to concentrate on those whilst looking into the Robert situation was pretty tough."
"How about physically?" Isobel enquired.
"Not too bad," Matthew paused and looked at his mother thoughtfully. "But you know, Mother. I don't think I would be managing if I didn't have the fitness I'm gaining from the sessions with Sybil."
"They're making that much difference?" Isobel said, interested.
Matthew nodded. "They are. And Sergeant Barrow too. He is very good with the stretching and massage. Thanks to Sybil's training of course. But it has really helped."
"I'm pleased," Isobel said. "There will be very few with your level of injury able to work as you do." She frowned a little, continuing, "Although I must admit I was worried, even with you being as recovered as you are. I wasn't sure you would manage the full hours. But if you have survived this rather torrid week that bodes well!"
Matthew gave her a wry grin. "I guess it does. And perhaps it's also proof that Sybil is onto something with this different approach to the therapy."
Their conversation reminded him what else he had wanted to talk to his mother about: his upcoming appointment with Dr Jones.
"Is there anything I need to prepare?" he asked. "After waiting for months and months it's suddenly here, and I'm not sure I'm ready!"
"All you need to do, Matthew, is make a list of any questions you have for him," she said reassuringly.
"Which I have started to," Matthew interjected.
Isobel nodded. "Good! While you and Mary were away, Sybil and I did some organising. We've booked a hotel with a suitable room near the hospital in Shepherd's Bush, and Sybil has set up a couple of additional appointments for you. The first one, which is the afternoon we arrive, is with a gentleman who custom-builds medical equipment, including wheelchairs."
"So she found someone," Matthew said, pleased.
"She did. In the end, she got the recommendation through that association of physical therapists she has become involved with," Isobel replied. "And the other appointment is to review your programme. That will be after your appointments with Dr Jones so that what he says can be factored in."
"I don't know how to thank you enough for all of this, Mother," Matthew said, gratefully. "I wouldn't have known where to start. But you and Sybil have just got on and done it all!"
Isobel smiled. "It's our job to do that, my dear," she said reassuringly. "And besides. We both want to see you get as much benefit as you can from this opportunity."
"There is something else I'd like you to organise," Matthew said. "Mary and I decided last night we would like to stay on for the weekend and enjoy a bit of London. We are both keen that you join us! Can you make it work?"
"I would like that very much," Isobel said, genuinely touched by the offer from her son and daughter-in-law. "It will work as I am not on shift that weekend. And it will be very nice to do some sight-seeing. As long as I'm not the spare wheel, of course," her lips twitched.
"Never, Mother!" Matthew laughed. "And I'll be the first to tell you if you are!
"But that does remind me," he went on. "We will need to find somewhere to stay. Neither of us wants to see Grantham House opened for such a short period, and Rosamund's downstairs guest room is not available as she has an American friend staying."
"How about I see if I can add a few nights to our booking," Isobel mused. "That would probably be our most straightforward solution," she paused. "And are you going to visit Reggie Swire? I know he was wanting to see you."
"I am. And perhaps you should come too," Matthew replied.
0-0-0-0-0-0
The Pearson family arrived on foot. Carson, who was watching out for them, saw them hesitating, as if unsure if they should use the servant's entrance or the front door. He alerted Matthew and went outside to greet them.
"Good afternoon. Mrs Pearson, is it?" Carson enquired with a smile. She gave a tight nod, clearly nervous. "A pleasure to meet you. I am Mr Carson, the Butler. Captain Crawley is expecting you. Come this way."
Molly and Ryan looked around in awe as they walked up the darkly panelled entranceway to the great hall with its high windows, artwork and patterned rugs.
"It's like a cathedral," Ryan said, his voice hushed. Something caught his eye, and he gasped excitedly. "Molly! Look at the dog!" and he pulled his sister towards the marble statue of the dog and his master that graced one of the alcoves at the foot of the richly carved wooden staircase.
Molly shook his arm away, taken by the paintings instead. "Mam," she said in a hushed voice. "Look at how the clouds glow!" She walked over to the Turner painting and stared at in in awe.
"It shows great use of colour doesn't it?" said a familiar voice, and she turned to see that Matthew had wheeled quietly up behind her. "Mr Matthew!" she squealed happily and she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.
Carson couldn't help smiling at her enthusiastic greeting. The tale of Captain Crawley rescuing Molly from the puddle had been much talked about in the village, with Molly herself partly responsible: her stitched knee had attracted many questions from curious children when she returned to school.
"You have so many pretty paintings here," she said to Matthew. "I can see that this one is by Turner, and that one is Monet, but can you tell me who did this one?"
"Yes, that one is Degas, said, Matthew. "The Dancing Class."
"Ohh," Molly sighed. "Look at all the pinks! And how the dancers are moving."
What an impressive knowledge of art for one so young! Matthew thought.
"Do you like to paint Molly?" he asked.
Molly nodded. "I like it very, very much!" she said happily. "Oh, and Mr Matthew," she was suddenly hesitant, "I… I brought a drawing just for you. To say thank you," she finished shyly.
"A drawing you have done yourself?" Matthew said, touched. "That is the very best sort of present I could possibly get. I will very much look forward to seeing it," and he gave her a warm smile.
Matthew realised with a start he hadn't yet greeted Molly's mother and quickly turned to do so. Then he motioned them all through to the drawing room for afternoon tea.
"It is so kind of you to invite us here, Captain Crawley," said Mrs Pearson as she took a seat on the cream and gold brocade sofa. The children sat down beside her, awed into silence by the elegant furniture and ornaments that graced the richly appointed room.
"How about you call me Matthew," he smiled. "I'm only weeks from my discharge now, and it is a real honour for me to be able to meet Jack's family.
"Lady Mary sends her apologies," he continued. "She is dealing with an urgent paperwork query for the army at the hospital." Matthew shook his head. "Between us being away, and her mother falling ill, some of the financial reports hadn't been completed properly."
"Oh dear," Esther replied sympathetically. "I do hope we get to see her." She paused, looking at Matthew, "But if I am to call you Matthew, you must call me Esther."
"Of course," Matthew smiled, and Esther continued.
"I wanted to be able to thank Lady Mary again for the opportunity to make your friend Daisy her dress," she said fervently, adding in a lower voice that not only had she greatly enjoyed it but that it had also meant she could afford Christmas presents for the first time since Jack died.
"Excuse me, Mam," Molly said excitedly, catching her mother's quiet mention of the word 'present'. "I almost forgot! Can I give Mr Matthew his thank you now?"
"Yes, of course!" her mother said straightening up.
Molly opened the leather school satchel she had brought with her and took out a small charcoal drawing. She presented it shyly to Matthew. The drawing showed the village church in the background, and in the foreground, she had drawn herself and Ryan playing 'catch' on the village green. It was beautifully drawn and very realistic.
Matthew whistled. "This is a very, very good picture Molly!" he said genuinely impressed and touched. "I will see about getting it put in a frame for the wall of my office."
"You will put it in a frame?" Molly said delightedly.
"I most certainly will. It will make me very happy to see that picture of you both in the village when I am busy at work!"
Molly beamed, and Ryan looked very impressed. "Mr Matthew," the slight, dark-haired boy asked suddenly. "Do you think Molly might be an artist when she grows up?"
"I think children with talents and the ability to work hard, like I hear the both of you have, can do whatever they set their minds to," Matthew replied firmly. "And if that means Molly being an artist, then absolutely she can. It is lovely what she has drawn for me."
"Wow, Molly!" said Ryan. "An artist. I wonder if I could be a cricket player?"
"You might need to be something else too!" Matthew chuckled. "But tell me, Ryan. Do you like to play cricket?" Ryan's face lit up and he nodded enthusiastically.
"Well then," Matthew replied, "Perhaps after tea, you and I could go outside and you could show me what you can do."
"I'd like that very much, Sir," Ryan beamed.
Matthew turned his attention back to Esther. "Am I correct in understanding that you have moved here from Manchester?" he asked.
"Yes, we are originally from Manchester," Esther answered. "But when Jack died, I couldn't manage the rent on the widow's pension so we came to live here with my sister and her family."
"How are you finding Downton?" Matthew inquired.
"It has been easier for us with the support my sister has been able to give, although we are a little cramped with two families in her small home," Esther said. "That part time job I have managed to get with Mrs Dunne has also helped."
There was a knock at the door, and Carson arrived with the heavily laden tea tray.
Ryan and Molly both gasped in delight, their eyes immediately on the cake stand. Dainty sandwiches were arranged on the top tier, and slices of rich fruit cake, and scones with plum jam and freshly whipped cream graced the remaining tiers.
In addition to the Royal Albert tea service, the tray held a jug of homemade lemonade and some pretty glasses for the two children.
Matthew grinned to himself. Once again his favour with Daisy and Mrs Patmore was paying off: they had put on a delightful spread they knew the children would enjoy.
"Carson, this is wonderful," Matthew said. "Please make sure you personally thank Daisy and Mrs Patmore from me for what they've prepared, I've suddenly got a real appetite!"
Carson smiled and gave him a wink, knowing Matthew's statement was given as an invitation to encourage the children to eat as much as they liked.
Which they both did: When Mrs Pearson started to protest and said "Ryan! That's your third piece!" Matthew raised his eyebrows at her, and said with a slight smile, "It's all right, Esther. I'm sure Mrs Patmore would be disappointed if any food went back to the kitchen!"
Matthew poured the tea and handed Esther a cup, and he started to tell them about Jack, and what it had been like to serve with him. He shared the happy times, and the events that had led to Jack being made a Corporal, where his calmness and coolness when a routine patrol came under fire had helped save lives.
The children had lots of questions, wanting to know what the trenches were like, what they got to eat, and where their Dad would have slept. Ryan wanted to know what it was like to fire a gun and use a bayonet. Matthew answered as lightly as he could, avoiding some of the more gruesome realities Jack and every other soldier at the Front had been forced to deal with day in, and day out.
The children finished eating and Matthew noticed that Ryan was starting to fidget.
He turned to Mrs Pearson. "Esther, there are a few other things I'd like to share with you about Jack, but I think it's time the children got to roam a bit. Would you be comfortable if I got Mr Carson to look after them for a few minutes? And then I will take Ryan outside."
"Of course," she nodded, so Matthew rang the bell.
When Carson arrived, Matthew suggested he might want to show them around, and as the children trooped out, he added in a low voice, "and don't forget to introduce them to Mrs Patmore and Daisy. I'm sure the children would love to thank them in person for the delicious afternoon tea!" Carson gave an approving nod. "Of course, Captain Crawley. Mrs Patmore and Daisy will enjoy that very much!"
"Oh, and when you come back, bring my cricket bat and a ball for Ryan, would you?" Matthew added.
"Very well, Sir," Carson replied, and he followed the children out.
With the children gone, Matthew told Esther a little more about who Jack had been as a soldier, and how in the months before he died he had become more and more recognised for his leadership.
"There were several instances where his actions stood out," Matthew said. "One occasion was when Jack's patrol got sent into a dangerous part of German territory as a result of faulty army intelligence. Somehow he managed to keep them together, and safe, and they managed a quite miraculous escape after three days behind enemy lines." Matthew looked at Esther solemnly. "I recommended after that incident that my CO promote him to Sergeant," he paused and swallowed. "Unfortunately, the day I got word his promotion had been approved was the day that Jack was killed."
A tear rolled down Esther Pearson's cheek. "My Jack, to have been made a Sergeant!" She gave a quiet sob.
"It is possible to obtain a copy of his army file if you would like," said Matthew gently. "I would be happy to inquire on your behalf. They could send you his badge, and the papers approving his promotion."
"I would really appreciate that, thank you Captain... I mean Matthew," she smiled suddenly at her own reluctance to use his first name. "It's not what I would usually do with someone... someone like you from the house," she explained looking a little embarrassed.
"I faced the same challenges once," Matthew smiled. "When I first arrived here from Manchester. I was completely overwhelmed by all the different forms of address and it took me quite a while to get them all sorted!"
"So I'm not the only one!" she laughed, and Matthew was struck at how attractive she was when she was relaxed. How she and Jack would have been a very fine couple.
"And how are the children finding the move?" he asked.
"They have settled relatively well, all things considered," Esther answered. "The villagers are friendly, and we've been very impressed by the school. Molly has had a very good teacher this year, a Miss Bunting."
Esther's face fell, and she said quietly, "I wish I could keep Molly at school. She's been offered a place at the Grammar in Ripon, but I will struggle to keep her there right through. It is very hard without Jack. The part time work I have is not enough to make ends meet."
"I can only imagine," said Matthew gently. He wished Mary hadn't been delayed at the hospital as she had told Matthew that she and Lady Branksome had some ideas to suggest to Esther for some sort of business in ladies fashion: The elegance and fine workmanship of Daisy's dress had not gone unnoticed amongst the ladies who had attended their wedding.
"Esther, about that," Matthew began. "Lady Mary was keen to talk with you about some business ideas for your dressmaking."
Esther was surprised and pleased. "Matthew, how very generous," she said humbly. "I would be honoured to listen to any advice she might give. Lady Mary is greatly admired for her impeccable sense of style."
They made small talk for a while, discussing some of the village happenings, and Esther asked about their honeymoon. Eventually their conversation returned again to the children.
"Molly appears to have a real interest and talent in art," Matthew commented, nodding towards the charcoal sketch propped against the lamp stand on the side table. "I thought I could ask Lady Grantham, if she is available, or Mr Carson if she is not, to show her the art upstairs in Lord Grantham's gallery when I take Ryan outside. Is that something she might like?" he asked.
"She would like that very much indeed," Esther said fervently. She was quiet for a moment, and then she said, "Matthew, you are so very kind to us! And especially to Molly!" she choked.
Matthew paused, taken aback by her reaction. "What is it, Esther? Have things been hard for Molly?" he sensed.
"I was so very grateful for how kind you were to her when she cut her knee," she said, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. "So many people have been rough with her when she has reacted like that to situations... they haven't understood. And it's made things worse."
Matthew looked at her puzzled, and waited for her to go on.
"Molly and Ryan had a younger brother, Peter. When he was three, and Molly was seven, he, he was killed in front of her. Kicked by a horse. In the head! There was a lot of blood. And Molly saw it all."
Matthew gave an involuntary gasp. "Your poor little son. And poor, poor Molly!" He felt a lump come into his throat.
"But instead you held her and soothed her," Esther went on, and a tear ran down her cheek, "and that helped Molly get through it. Do you know, she did stay strong for Dr Clarkson when he stitched her… when she started to get worried that nice nurse,"
"Mrs Bartlet," Matthew interjected.
"Yes, Mrs Bartlet, she said to Molly "now remember all the nice things Captain Crawley said, Molly," and she was able to calm herself down."
Matthew gave her a thoughtful look. "I think," he said slowly, his voice shaking slightly, "that what happened to Molly is a bit like shellshock. I think maybe I saw that was what was happening for her. So I did for her what others, like my mother, have done for me. To help me through it these past months."
Esther looked at him directly then, compassion in her eyes. "You understand her," she breathed. "Because you know what it's like."
Matthew nodded.
They sat in silence for a minute, and then there was a knock at the door. It opened, and Alfred stepped through and to the side at attention. "Captain Crawley, Lady Grantham," he announced formally. Cora walked in smiling.
"Good afternoon, Cora," Matthew greeted her. "Please allow me to introduce Mrs Esther Pearson. Esther's husband Jack was a corporal in my regiment. Esther, this is Lady Grantham."
Esther bowed her head and shook Cora's outstretched hand.
"It is an honour to meet you Lady Grantham," she said politely.
"The honour is all mine, Mrs Pearson," Cora said warmly. "And I have already had the pleasure of meeting your most delightful and extremely well-mannered children!"
Cora's effusive greeting put Esther at ease, and the two women quickly fell into a lively conversation. Matthew poured himself another cup of tea, and sat back, pleased to see Cora making an effort, and so clearly enjoying meeting someone new. This can only be a good thing he thought to himself.
Carson arrived back a little while later with the children. Ryan was proudly carrying Matthew's cricket bat and a red cricket ball.
"Look at this Mam!" he burst out excitedly. "This is a real, proper cricket bat! Look how it's made!"
"That's wonderful Ryan," Esther answered. "And I hear you are going to go outside now and show Mr Matthew what you can do?"
"He is indeed," said Matthew smiling. He looked at Cora. "Cora, Molly is very keen to see some of the paintings here. I wondered if you wouldn't mind showing her about while I take young Ryan outside."
"It would be an honour," Cora said to Molly. "Mr Carson told me that you like to paint. Would you like to see our gallery? I have a della Francesca you might enjoy."
Molly's eyes widened. "You have a real one? A real della Francesca?" she breathed.
"We do, Molly. And how about I show you it first of all," Cora said kindly. "Mrs Pearson, what appeals most to you? The della Francesca, or playing catch out of doors?"
Esther smiled. "I'll come with you if I may, Lady Grantham. It's not just Molly who will enjoy seeing the work of such a famous artist!" The women stood, and Esther and Molly followed Cora out.
Matthew turned to Ryan. "Are you ready to go outside?" he grinned.
"Yes Sir!" Ryan said, and Matthew gestured him to the door.
Mary was walking home from the hospital, enjoying the afternoon sunshine. As she approached the gatehouse, she heard voices and laughter.
Rounding the corner and walking up the drive, she saw Matthew, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and a young boy she recognised from the wedding as Ryan, playing catch together on one of the long paths that led across the garden.
Walking closer, she saw that they were discussing cricket, and the different techniques for bowling and catching the ball. Intrigued, she perched on the edge of one of the garden walls and watched.
Ryan was explaining what the schoolmaster had taught them, and Matthew was adding to it. Mary, listening, realised with some amusement that Matthew didn't think much of the instruction coming from the schoolmaster, but that he was trying as best he could to be diplomatic whilst also giving Ryan quite contrary advice on how the ball should be handled.
Ryan went a distance from Matthew along the path, and Matthew threw the ball at him and he caught it.
"Try the overarm throw I showed you," Matthew called to him.
Ryan readied himself, and lifted his arm, and threw. Matthew caught it deftly.
He shouted out "Ready?" to Ryan, and then gave a powerful throw that Ryan had to run to catch.
"That was a hard one Mr Matthew!" Ryan called back.
"Well give me your best throw in return!" Matthew shouted, and Ryan did.
They continued for a while, and then Ryan gave a wild throw that went well over Matthew's head and towards the other end of the rose garden.
"Uh oh," Ryan shouted and he began to laugh.
"Race you to it!" Matthew shouted back, and with that they were both off. Matthew stopped his chair where the ball had left the path, and Ryan dived past him, shrieking with laughter towards the ball, which had come to rest under a rose push. He crawled out, ball in hand and dirt on his shorts, and stood up beside Matthew. "You're fast," he said admiringly.
"Actually I'm not. I cheated. I had a head start because I was a lot closer," Matthew said breathing hard. "You're the fast one!"
Ryan grinned, still panting. After a minute he said, "Mr Matthew, Molly got a ride in your wheelchair. Would I be allowed one too?"
"Well, if you really want to," replied Matthew. "It's not very exciting, I have to warn you. Not nearly as exciting as a bicycle."
"Molly said it was fun," Ryan said obstinately.
Only a child could think a wheelchair was fun, Matthew thought to himself, a little amused. "all right then. Hop on!" and he held the wheels steady.
Ryan scrambled into Matthew's lap. "Can we go fast like you did before?" he asked.
"Well, probably not with two of us. But how about you help me and we might get some speed up," said Matthew, and he turned the chair back in the direction of the driveway and showed him what to do.
They were almost at the end of the path when Matthew finally noticed Mary, perched on the wall. She stood up, and walked towards him smiling.
"Mary!" he said his face lighting up at seeing her. "You finally got away!"
"Yes, in fact I've been sitting here enjoying watching you for a while now. And I see you have someone I need to greet," she said smiling at Ryan.
As if on cue, Ryan scrambled off Matthew's lap, brushed himself down, and wiped his hands on his shorts. Then, with a serious expression, he bowed slightly, put out his hand, and said "Lady Mary, good afternoon."
"Good afternoon, Ryan," Mary said kindly. "I do hope you have been enjoying your time with Mr Matthew."
"Yes, very much! He's given me a ride, and he's been teaching me a new way to bowl, and we've been practising catches as well," he said, his words tumbling out with boyish enthusiasm.
There was a shout from the direction of the house, and they looked up to see Molly skipping towards them. "Ryan!" Molly was calling. "Come here! You have to see this!" she called excitedly. Ryan looked around at Matthew, who gave him a quick nod, "Off you go, we'll follow you all right?" and he raced away towards his sister.
Mary walked alongside Matthew as they made their way back towards the house. "You amaze me how you can catch from your chair, you know," Mary said.
"Well, it helps that Ryan can throw accurately," Matthew replied. "It might have been a bit different if he couldn't!"
"Considering that I have enough trouble catching a ball at all, and you can manage it sitting down, I'm still impressed," Mary countered. "So tell me, how has it been?"
"Very pleasant," Matthew replied. "They are a really lovely family. I can see why Jack was so very proud of them all. And Esther is keen to hear what your ideas were. It does sound like things are very tough for them. That little bit of work she does have is not enough to make ends meet."
"Of course it won't be," Mary said grimly. "And especially not with children to provide for." She thought for a moment "I will see about meeting her in the village perhaps. I'm free on Tuesday, although I'll need a little time to get us packed for the trip of course," she mused partly to herself. "And do tell me, how is Molly?" she turned to look at Matthew.
"Delightful! She drew me a beautiful charcoal sketch to say thank you for helping her out. You know, Mary, whilst I am no artist myself, it seems to me she has a real talent. I couldn't believe how much she knew of the artists whose work we have in the Great Hall." Matthew stopped suddenly. "What is it?" Mary said turning to face him.
"I've got a favour to ask," he answered. "Would you mind if we gave Molly that new box of watercolours you bought? I'll obviously get you another. It's just I would like to do a little something to encourage her with her drawing."
"That's a lovely idea! I think there's a new block of paper there too," Mary said, remembering.
"Thank you my darling. It will mean a lot to her," Matthew said, pleased.
Mary leant down and gave him an impulsive kiss. "What was that for?" he asked.
"Seeing you enjoying yourself," she answered, smiling. "Especially after our rather trying week."
He took her hand and kissed it, and then he held it against his cheek. Mary hummed with contentment. When they arrived back at the house a few minutes later, they found Esther in an animated conversation with Cora, discussing some of the artwork they had seen. Molly, meanwhile, was trying to interest her clearly disinterested brother in the background story to the Turner painting that had taken her fancy.
Ryan nudged his sister when he saw Mary come in. "Say hello to the lady," he whispered in her ear.
Molly quickly turned and gave a little curtsy. "Good afternoon Lady Mary," she said shyly.
"Hello Molly," Mary said warmly. "It is lovely to see you again. I am glad we could have you and Ryan and your mother here for tea at long last."
Molly smiled. "I liked it very much Lady Mary. Mr Matthew has been very kind. And Lady Grantham and Mr Carson too," she finished.
Mary greeted Mrs Pearson, and then turned back to Molly, aware the young girl's eyes were still on her.
"Mr Matthew tells me you like to draw," Mary said. "I'd like to hear more about that. And the sorts of paintings you like. And I do hope Lady Grantham managed to show you a good range of what we've got here."
"Lady Grantham showed me lots and lots," she said her eyes lighting up when she realised that Mary was genuinely interested. "My favourite is the Monet and the Haystacks. It has such lovely hot colours. I wish I could learn how to make things glow with the paint like he does."
"It is very clever how that is done," Mary agreed. I think it's a technique that uses light brush strokes, called impressionist painting," she explained. "And of course it is also about the types of colours he mixes too."
Molly talked animatedly with her for quite some time. When Mary asked whether she'd visited many art galleries, curious to understand where she'd gained her considerable knowledge of European and English artists, Molly replied that she had learned most of what she knew from the city gallery in Manchester and the art books she had found in the library there.
"It's been a bit harder in Downton," she said her face a little more solemn. "The library we have at school only has two books about art," she explained.
"I can imagine," Mary said, nodding. "It is one of the disadvantages of a small village compared to a big city like Manchester where you were before."
The grandfather clocked began to chime for five o'clock, momentarily silencing them all. Esther cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, children, but it's time we were going home. I've got to prepare the meal tonight as Aunt Betty is out looking after your baby cousin Tom until late."
Both the children looked disappointed, but they wordlessly began to gather up their belongings. Matthew flashed Mary a look, and she turned and went quickly to the library to fetch the box of paints for Molly.
"I can't thank you enough for such a lovely afternoon," Esther said smiling at Matthew and Cora. "And Mr Carson too!" she turned to him gratefully.
"It's been our pleasure," Matthew said.
"And we would love to see you all here again soon," Cora added.
Mary returned then, and Matthew addressed the children.
"Ryan, how about you take my cricket bat and the ball with you, so you can use them for your practice," he said.
"But Mr Matthew, it is your special bat!" said Ryan. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm very sure," said Matthew. "I have no need of it now! Look after it, and it will serve you well."
Ryan beamed.
"And Molly, my dear," Matthew continued. "Mary and I have a little something for you to help you with your art."
Mary handed her the box of watercolours and the block of snowy white paper. "It is wonderful to see a young woman so interested in painting and drawing," she said. "Art is something I've always enjoyed, and both of us will look forward very much to seeing more of what you create."
Molly was overcome. She couldn't speak for a minute, and then she said breathlessly, "Thank you so much Mr Matthew, Lady Mary... this is very, very special!" She beamed all the way out to the front door, and when it came time to say goodbye, she threw her arms around Matthew and hugged him tightly.
Mary watched her mother out of the corner of her eye. Cora was wiping a tear away with her handkerchief.
Molly stood back, still smiling, and Matthew said gently, "We'll see you here again soon, Molly," and the children waved and set off into the dusk with their mother.
0-0-0-0-0-0
There was laughter at dinner that night for the first time in more than a week. Having the Pearson family to visit had done wonders for both upstairs and down. Alfred and Carson had smiles on their faces when they served, and Cora was relaxed and talkative.
"You gave those two children a delightful time today, Matthew!" she said. "You are so very good with them. Far more natural than Robert ever was," she said, an edge of bitterness creeping into her voice. She paused, and then forcing herself to smile again, she went on. "Molly clearly thinks the world of you. She would not stop talking about you when I was showing her the paintings! And you made that little lads day, giving him your cricket bat."
"Thank you, Cora," Matthew said. "They are very easy children to like!"
"They are lucky to have you taking an interest," Cora continued. "Especially with their father gone," she paused suddenly, looking at Matthew with a strange expression on her face. It's as though she wants to say something else Mary thought. I bet it's about us not being able to have children, she surmised with a pang. Cora seemed to reconsider. She gave herself a shake and changed the subject.
"Esther Pearson is a very interesting woman," she remarked. "I was surprised at her considerable knowledge of the art world, and she certainly has a flair for fashion. That dress she was wearing – whilst the material was not of quality, the design was exquisite. And she told me she designed it herself!"
"She and Jack were both educated," Matthew said quietly. "Grammar schools. And Jack was a clerk in a printing firm in Manchester before the war. I expect he would have ended up a manager there, had he lived." He swallowed and looked away, and Mary instinctively put her hand on his under the table.
"And now she is struggling to make ends meet. Like so many other war widows," Cora said frowning. "There must be some way she can be better employed with that talent than just helping at the haberdashery."
"Our sentiments exactly, Mama," Mary replied. "Matthew and I have discussed a few ideas, and I arranged with Esther today to meet her for tea in the village on Tuesday morning." She paused for a minute, looking at her mother thoughtfully. "Mama, would you like to come?"
"I would, my dear," Cora answered unexpectedly. "I like the idea of helping a war widow. And this talk of clothing design has reminded me of a conversation I overheard at one of my recent committee meetings: three of the ladies were lamenting how little choice there was in designer dressmakers up our way: whilst some women will always prefer to go to London for the very best, there is a group out there who would gladly avoid the travel and support someone of good repute within North Yorkshire."
Matthew and Mary were both staring at Cora intently.
"Are you saying there are not the people out there already offering such services?" Mary asked.
"Well, I'm only going on what I heard. But the ones who were talking had lost their preferred local person to the war. In their cases they were men, you see," she explained.
"And yet it is one field of work where being a woman is acceptable," Mary observed. She smiled at her mother. "I'm glad you would like to come, Mama. You have good ideas, and your committee networks could well end up being a source of clients for Esther if she decides a business is what she wants to pursue."
0-0-0-0-0-0
Mary was quiet as she finished readying herself for bed that night. Anna had left and Matthew was leaning back against the pillows reading the latest edition of the Law Quarterly Review. He looked up and put it aside when Mary sat down in front of her dressing table and began to unpin her hair. Knowing it was something he liked to watch, she had taken to unpinning and brushing her hair out herself of late.
"Mary," he said softly. "Would I be allowed to brush your hair one time?"
She turned to look at him, and gave a small smile.
"How about tonight?" and she stood up and walked across to him, her silk gown flowing about her and accentuating her curves in a most alluring fashion. She handed him the brush and sat down on the edge of the bed.
"What's on your mind?" he said as he began taking the long brush strokes needed to get through Mary's waist length dark brown hair.
"Just humbled, once again, by the warm and generous man I'm so very lucky to call my husband," she said softly, recalling the happy faces from the afternoon. "You gave them all such a wonderful treat."
"It was very nice to spend time with them finally," Matthew agreed. "And to be able to talk with them about Jack."
"Mama was right, you know," Mary said. "Those two children adore you! I loved watching you play with Ryan. You will make such a wonderful father you know."
"I did enjoy it," Matthew admitted. "And I like that I can be a father figure to them with Jack gone."
Mary sniffed. "It made me think about us… and…" her eyes filled with tears.
Matthew stopped brushing her hair. 'Mary?" he said gently. "What is it?"
"Matthew…" Mary said tremulously. "It's just seeing you playing so naturally and happily with Ryan made me realise how desperate I am to have your children," and she began to cry.
Matthew sighed, and he pulled her back against him and kissed the top of her head. There was nothing he could say. It was the most painful reality of their marriage. That he couldn't give her children. It was a reality that would continue to be hard for both of them to accept.
"I'm sorry," Mary whispered, when at last her crying eased.
"Don't be. I'd much rather you were honest about it," Matthew said kissing her forehead again. "It's the part about my injury that I find the hardest to deal with too."
He was silent a moment, and then he said, "Mary, maybe we can. I mean, you know... with what has happened lately." Despite her upset, Mary giggled slightly and Matthew had to smile too. "You are the one who keeps saying the doctors might be wrong," he added. "I am definitely going to ask Dr Jones about it when we see him this week."
"Mmm," Mary sniffed.
Matthew was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "And besides. I know it's not quite the same. But I'm sure you and I could fall in love with any child we adopt. So if that is our only option, and if you want to, adoption is something we can do."
Mary nodded. "I do want to," she whispered. "Like we've discussed. Perhaps not straight away! But I really do want you to have the enjoyment of being a father," she said turning in his arms to look up at him. "And with you in my life, I'm sure I'll somehow cope with being a mother."
Matthew had to chuckle at that, and then she laughed too, and they held each other for a long time before Mary finally sat up again and allowed Matthew to resume brushing her hair.
0-0-0-0-0-0
In Mary's dream, someone was knocking. An insistent knocking that kept getting louder. Roused from sleep, she felt Matthew stir beside her. No, it wasn't a dream. Someone was knocking on the door. She sat up, and reached for her robe.
"Mary? Who on earth…?" Matthew said confused. "What time is it?" he sat up and pulled himself back against the pillows. Mary was already out of bed, tying on her robe.
"I'll get the door," she answered and she disappeared. Matthew turned on the bedside lamp and checked the clock. It was just after midnight. He heard voices, and then a few seconds later, Mary returned with Sergeant Barrow directly behind her, also in his gown
"Sir," he said immediately. "I've had a call. I know where Lord Grantham is. And I thought it best I tell you now in case you want to get the dawn train and pay him a visit."
"Thank god," Matthew breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much for this Sergeant. Would you mind readying some things now so we're organised for the early start? And alert the others too. They'll need to be ready as well."
"Now?" Sergeant Barrow raised his eyebrows a little uncertainly.
"Yes, now." Matthew said firmly. "Thank you Sergeant. And try and get a little sleep once you've finished," he finished a little more kindly.
"You've found Papa?" Mary said climbing out of bed after Barrow had left and going to stoke the fire.
Matthew nodded. "We have, thanks to the Sergeant. Quite a bit has come to light since I talked with him yesterday," he said grimly. "But on a positive note, it's meant we've finally been able to confirm Robert's whereabouts."
"Should I be coming with you?" Mary asked, rinsing her hands at the sink. She dried them and climbed back into bed.
Matthew shook his head. "You need to stay with Cora. I have a sense she will want your support, once I've managed to find out from Robert what on earth is going on."
"I suspect that you are right," Mary answered. "You will call as soon as you know, won't you?"
"I will indeed." Matthew answered. He turned off the lamp, and they both lay back reclining against the pillows in comfortable silence. Neither of them wanted to talk. It was enough just to know Robert had been found, and that Matthew would be going to him on the morrow.
The room felt deliciously warm, and the glow from the freshly stoked coals lit up their faces. Impulsively, Matthew sat up. He unbuttoned his pyjama top and took it off, wanting to feel the heat of the fire against his skin. He sat back, enjoying it. Ever since his injury, he had found his experience of such sensory pleasures had considerably heightened. He had supposed once, that perhaps it was his body's way of compensating for some of what it had lost.
He reached across for Mary's hand and turned it over, tracing his fingers in gentle circles about her soft palm. Another sensory pleasure. He hummed and his pulse began to quicken.
Mary looked sideways at him, her eyes shining. Oh, God, she loved it when he took his shirt off. Loved his manliness. She studied him, his body that was so changed from before the war. Lithe. And chiselled. She could see the outline of each and every muscle across his chest and shoulders. Heavily scarred. But she realised then, with a start, that she no longer saw his scars when she looked at him. She just saw Matthew.
Matthew reached up and pushed his hair back from his face. And oh my, he was so damn graceful. Her body tingled. She remembered the first time they danced. She had never known a man to move so beautifully. And here he was, still graceful. In spite of everything.
She was panting slightly now, her body hungry for him. Wordlessly, she sat up and took off her nightgown. Fixing her eyes on his, she positioned herself across his lap. Cupping his face gently in her hands, she began to kiss him very softly and deliberately.
Her desire for him was intoxicating. Matthew broke out into a sweat. He growled and seized her bottom, pulling her tightly against him, delighting in the feel of her soft skin and round breasts pressing into his chest. She moaned with pleasure and rolled over with him on top of her then, and the two of them wrestled with his pyjama pants to get them off, giggling as the task proved trickier than it needed, simply because neither would let the other go. Pants out of the way, they began to move against each other, their bodies hot and slick, their kissing more and more frantic. Their lovemaking was rough and needy. Mary felt him hardening against her, heightening her own excitement. She grasped his hips, pulling him even more tightly to her centre and he shuddered and murmured in delight. The warmth and weight of him against her made her crazy, and when she went over the edge shrieking, her body arching and bucking, her hands were clutching his hair so tight it was almost painful. Spent, she lay still under him, twitching a little and breathing hard.
"Let go of my hair," Matthew demanded softly.
"Sorry," she murmured, releasing his silky blond locks from her hands. "Too busy devouring you."
"I noticed," he whispered, pushing himself up on his elbows to look at her. "Was it good?"
Mary snorted. "Good?" She gazed up at him, her eyes smouldering. "It was heavenly," she said softly. "How about you. Do you want any thing else? She ran a finger seductively across her mouth and flicked her eyes down his body.
He grinned and kissed her forehead. "No. This has been fun enough," he answered, groaning slightly as he rolled off her. He positioned himself on his side, his head resting on his elbow. "But you could kiss me again," he breathed, eyeing her rosebud lips. Smiling, Mary turned to him and gladly obliged.
0-0-0-0-0-0
"Captain Crawley! What a surprise," Bates said with a polite smile, having been informed by a manservant that there was a gentleman in the entrance asking for him.
Matthew saw immediately that Bates really wasn't surprised to see Matthew here in the lobby of the ornately appointed Trumps gentlemen's club. I bet he's wondering why it has taken us quite so long to find them, he thought amusedly.
"I'm here to see Lord Grantham," Matthew replied. "If you could ask him to come downstairs please, I've booked one of the lounges here."
"Of course, Sir," Bates answered. He turned around and limped back up the carved wooden stairs. It was more than five minutes before he returned, alone.
"I'm very sorry Captain Crawley," he said looking a little uncomfortable. "Lord Grantham says he is indisposed and unable to see you."
"Very well Bates," Matthew said pleasantly. "You can tell Lord Grantham that I will wait for him right here in the lobby until he is able to have an audience with me. All day. And in fact, all night if that is necessary."
Bates had to suppress a smile at the younger man's determination.
"Very well Sir. I will give him your message," and he disappeared upstairs again.
As Matthew had confidently predicted, Bates returned a few minutes later, closely followed by an angry Robert, who strode down the stairs clearly put out. "Matthew!" He hissed. "Just what do you think you are playing at?"
"I think I'm the one who needs to be asking you that, Robert," Matthew said a little grimly. "If you don't mind, how about we save the talk until we are inside of the lounge," and he gestured Robert to the doorway off the lobby opposite.
Robert huffed. He looked angrily from Bates to Matthew and back again. Finally with an exasperated noise, he stalked across the lobby and opened the door.
Matthew nodded at Bates to make it clear he needed to speak to Robert alone, and followed him in. He spun his chair around and shut the door firmly behind them.
"Why are you here?" Robert demanded, pacing in front of the crackling fire.
"I am here because you owe your family an explanation Robert," Matthew said evenly, wheeling his chair deftly across to where Robert stood. "And also because I am party to some information that may assist you in finding a way out of your current predicament."
"I don't owe you an explanation!" Robert said hotly. "I have business here I have to attend to, and when that is done I will return home!"
"For god's sake, Robert," Matthew said exasperatedly. "You've been gone more than a week with not a word! Your wife is distraught! And you damn well need to hear me out! I have information I believe will help!"
"I have no interest in what you might have Matthew," Robert raged. "You had no right to follow me here! Now if you don't mind, I would like you to go," and Robert began to walk back towards the door.
Someone else spoke then, in a loud and imperious voice and Robert froze.
"You may think you can brush your son-in-law off, and I must say I am disgusted at you for it," thundered the voice. "But you wouldn't dare brush me off, would you?" And Robert stared in shock as Violet pushed herself up from her seat in the corner and walked towards him, fury on her face. She lifted her stick and waved it at him.
"Sit Robert. Now," she said coldly. "It's time we all had a nice little talk." And stunned into submission, Robert sat.