I am so deeply grateful to those of you who read and review this story. S/T are endgame, but it won't be straightforward. I hope that that's okay. I wrote Charles in a way that made me fall in love with him too, so I have to deal with him fairly as well, yes?

April 1919

Mr. Moseley, senior, has died. He had a rousing evening listening to the undergardeners singing "Pack up your Troubles in your old Kit Bag" in a round. He settled in for a lovely dinner, well supplanted by some choice asides from the kitchen. The cook at Locksley was deeply fond of the old man, and often sent round some roast veg or a nice piece of cured pork for the Moseley's supper. Gardeners and chauffeurs do not traditionally eat with the servants. After dinner, the two Moseley men treated themselves to a thimbleful of brandy from their special stores, and passed the moments till bed time reading in companiable silence. In the morning, when Moseley the younger went to wake his father, he found the old gentleman seemingly asleep, with a soft smile on his face. But oh, so still. He sat for a moment, shed a small tear, and went to call the doctor.

The news of the senior Moseley's death has a profound effect. Well known and loved in the village, the little cottage at the end of the gardens at Locksley becomes almost a kind of shrine, with many from the estate making a pilgrimage of condolence. Even the Dowager, bringing along armfuls of roses from her garden ( for she is not above point making even at the time of grief), stops by with her sympathies. It is also a strange thing for people so used to mourning young death, to finally be able to stop and remember a life well lived. The funeral has a softness, a sweetness. As the coffin is lowered into the ground, Moseley heard a mad little trill from a nearby bird and felt happy that his Dad was somewhere in 'the good place.'

"Shall we walk you to the hall, Mr. Moseley?", asks Anna Bates coming up alongside him.

"No that's quite alright. I should go and thank Sir Anthony and Lady Edith before I go."

"I'm afraid they've already left. Lady Edith was none too happy about Sir Anthony being outside all this while, even though the weather is warmer. Lady Mary can hardly stop herself from rolling her eyes, and I don't much blame her."

"We mustn't be too snarky about it, Anna. If it were me, you'd have me in bed covered in blankets until the day I died.", laughed Mr. Bates

"Well, now I get to walk to the hall with both of you. I must thank the family for arranging the funeral.", said Mr. Moseley, thinking he needed to keep the peace.

"As well they should, you've served them well, man and boy.", said Mr. Bates.

"They may not thank me for what's to come. I've been thinking that the time is right for me to leave service."

"What do you mean, leave service?", asked Anna. For both her and her husband, the prospect still seemed so far away.

"Mrs. Clarkson has offered me a full time teaching post. I turned it down because Dad was so happy at Locksley, but now I can move. And I think I want to."

"I think it's marvelous, Mr. Moseley. But how do you suppose the family will react?" wondered Mr. Bates.

The family reacted predictably. Mary wondered why Isobel hadn't thought to check in with her about new hires, but agreed that it was a good, practical choice. Then, she snickered mildly at the inconvenience it would cause Edith, until the baby in her womb kicked her reprovingly. Sybil and Matthew were both just chuffed at another victory for the common man. The Dowager rolled her eyes at them and mildly suggested that the staff at Locksley were at their leisure to leave since the house would soon be staffed by all those Strallan children. The Earl and Countess of Grantham hoped fearfully that it would not mean an exodus of staff seeking places outside service.

Edith was a little upset, and wondered briefly if Mary had put her mother-in-law up to it just to make Edith's life more inconvenient. Her irritation was quelled by Anthony, who seemed genuinely delighted for Mr. Moseley. They gave him their assent and various assurances of assistance for his move. After Moseley left the room, Anthony turned to his wife,

"The doctor has recommended gardening as excellent therapy for me. Surely, with the undergardener to help me, I could take over the role from Moseley."

At which point, weak heart or no, Lady Edith almost upended the pot of tea on her husband's head.

"Are you a madman, Anthony Strallan?"

"You can't wrap me up in a bandbox for the rest of my life, Edith!"

"If it means prolonging your life, then yes I will." Sighing loudly, Edith turned back to stirring her tea.

Sighing equally loudly, Anthony tried to figure out which emotion he felt in greater degree; irritation at her coddling or deep affection at how very much she needed him. He then sighed softly, suddenly reminded of the terrible gap of years between them, and the sure knowledge that he would likely not be Edith's only husband.

Xx

"Are you shocked?", asked Lady Sybil of Lady Mary.

"Why would I be shocked? Perturbed, yes, but not shocked. Have you made sure that there will be no unwanted epilogue?"

"I was prepared."

"Well now I am shocked."

"I am a nurse, Mary. I know about these things."

"Of course darling. I am shocked that you went with intent to be in flagrante. Had you and Branson previously indulged?"

"No. I just felt a determination that he should be the one to know me before… anyone else."

"It is not a kind thing to have done to Charles, but I suppose he'll never know. Why did you do it?"

"Because now, I'll always belong to Tom, and him to me. Now I can marry Charles knowing I married Tom first."

Mary rubbed her magnificent eyebrows.

"Well my darling, all I can hope is that marriage will cure you of such melodramatic sentimentality."

"Will you keep my secret, Mary?"

"Do I have permission to tell you that you have behaved idiotically and that you have betrayed Charles' trust in you?"

"Charles only sent me so that I would come to him with the chapter closed. He hasn't been completely altruistic."

"This is hardly the time for moral relativism! Accept your mistake."

"Would you?"

"I don't make mistakes."

"Oh, Mary." The tone was almost a rebuke. Sybil, who is utterly good-natured would never ever be too harsh with her sisters. But the tone is enough to make Mary desist.

"Very well, I shall be as silent as the grave. But you must promise me that the Branson chapter is at an end."

"Yes, it has to be."

Later that evening, Mary does divulge a portion of the conversation with her husband.

"So Branson has thrown his lot in with Irish Republicans has he? Well that is certainly the end of things for him and Sybil. Even I cannot support her becoming a part of all that.", he said worriedly.

"I think, though, it would be good if we could keep an eye on him. For Sybil's sake?"

"Why , Lady Mary, you do have a heart!"

"Matthew don't be odious. Will you assign someone?"

"Yes, I rather think it prudent."

Mary settled herself into bed, an increasingly difficult task as her pregnancy weighed quite heavily upon her now. She sighed softly.

"What is it?"

"Darling Sybil. She's always had that combination of strong will and strong heart. When we were younger, we found a poor, wounded rabbit on the grounds. Nanny insisted that she leave it with the gardeners for care but Sybil was so determined that she be the one to care for it, that she convinced Edith and I to help her sneak it into a guest bedroom. She tended to that thing for two whole weeks until it was well. She's lucky Mrs. Hughes made vegetables and milk mysteriously available in the kitchen, and that she never gave Sybil away!. Edith and I would have not taken the trouble but for Sybil everything is love, and everything is duty. Charles and Tom are symbolic of both these things, in their own way. No wonder she is torn."

"Very well put my dearest. Perfectly put, in fact. Now are you not lucky that there was only ever one blazing romantic hero in front of you?"

"Does it strike you that I am in a mood to be humorous? I shall be cross."

"How terrible, then, that cross Mary is one of my favourite Marys. I loved and guessed at you, you construed me."

At which Lady Mary laughed hysterically at her husband.

Xx

May 1919

Charles Blake is greatly perturbed. He has in his hand a letter from a friend serving out in New Delhi of an atrocious event in Amritsar, one that will be known in history as the Jallianwala Bagh massacre. By 1920, Winston Churchill would condemn it as one of the worst chapters in the history of British India, but already the furore in India is incandescent, and a famous Bengali poet has returned his knighthood.

"I say, Crawley,", he says to the man seated in the desk next to him, " you must read this. I wonder why we haven't heard more of it from the India secretariat."

"Hmm,", said Matthew perusing the letter, " Well we know something happened, just not the extent of it. This is appalling. Can it be true?"

"Why would Clow lie to me? Poor chap seems quite traumatized. He's deeply devout, you know."

"I dare say the soldiers and the general involved were also devout, and see this as part of their duty."

"Such duty must be damned."

"Don't be too radical, old boy."

Charles shook his head. "Damn my memory! There is a fragment of something here, something similar. Is it from a letter? Did I hear it from someone?"

Matthew has an orderly bring Charles a bracing cup of tea, but the latter remains in a blue funk all day. Suddenly, at around four p.m, he starts from his chair and frantically scribbles of a letter. Matthew closes up his desk and says, "Done, I think, for the day. Shall we go? Come on, let's go home for a quick snifter. You can stay to dinner. Mary's too exhausted to fight if you aren't dressed properly."

But Charles continues to be erratic and distracted as they walk out of Whitehall and make the car journey home. Barrow, greeting them at the door whispers to Anna later that Lady Mary was frothing at how 'Italian' Mr. Blake was behaving all night. Sybil is on a night shift, and there was no one there to calm Charles down. On his way out, he almost knocks flat Nanny, herself just returning from her half day. "Sorry, sorry, sorry", mutters Charles, striding away. Barrow helps Nanny Porter to her feet, and, with that uncanny ability that he has, sees the quick flash of unrequited affection that colours that young lady's face as she gazes after the heir to Ballygoyne.

It must be said that Barrow, as the butler, and therefore Lord of all that is surveyed at Montrose Place, has caught enough of whispered conversations and dramatic tableau to know that Lady Sybil's heart is split in twain.

But, having developed a great loyalty for Matthew and Mary , he does not speak out on these things, but gathers them to his heart, and dwells on them. Of course, Barrow will always be a man of – shall we say- caution and sometimes he collects information as insurance. For that rainy day, you know.

Xx

The poem Matthew quotes is Rosetti's "I loved you first: but afterwards your love."