December 1933
"I say, Mummy…." Thirteen-year-old Elinor tried to sound subtle about bringing up her favorite topic once more. "Colonel Waterford told me Sweetbriar has such agility over the oxers. You feel almost like flying."
Frustratingly her mother refused to take the bait. Mary simply kept on eating her breakfast.
"I wish I could go flying," Seb said, scooping his last forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. "Maybe have my own aeroplane. A Westland PV-3 like the Duke of Hamilton and David MacIntyre flew over Everest. I read about it in Boy's Own. They almost died because of …of hy uh… hyo …hypo…poxia or something. They couldn't breathe."
"Hypoxia. And don't talk with your mouth full, Sebastian." Mary reminded her son.
"What nonsense!" Elinor said. "You can't possibly own your own aeroplane." She twisted back to her mother. "Colonel Waterford said she's spirited and bold. Sweetbriar…I know you'll like her."
Seven-year-old William piped up, "I want a Meccano No.7 drag line excavator…Daddy said he look for one at Hamleys."
"We're not talking about that!" Elinor burst out in a high pitched whinge. "I was speaking to Mummy about Sweetbriar. No one cares about smelly aeroplanes or digging toys."
"Aeroplanes aren't smelly! Horses though…Ewww." Sebastian pinched his nose in disgust. It had turned out speed was what Seb sought rather than a love of equines, having turned from rocking horses to toy cars and now to aeroplanes.
"Ugh. Horses are beautiful. You're smelly!"
"Elinor." Mary levelled her not to be ignored parental tone at her daughter. "Do try to be nicer to your brothers. They're dreaming about Christmas gifts. Just like you." Elinor had made it clear as crystal to anyone who'd listen she wanted a horse now that she was almost fourteen. A proper horse, she'd say. Not a pony anymore.
"Yes, Mummy." Elinor said, chastened, even as she threw Sebastian a side eye.
She'd never let on but Mary smiled on the inside. Her darling eldest daughter not only had to put up with three brothers, she was at that dramatic age where absolutely everything was of deathly dramatic import.
"Let's finish our breakfast, shall we."
The children dutifully returned to eating.
Lang appeared at the doorway to the small dining room upstairs the younger Crawley's used for their own family meals.
"Yes, Lang?" Mary glanced over.
"Mr. Crawley is on the telephone m'lady."
"Daddy!" William declared, jumping off his chair. "Can I talk to him? PLEEEASE Mummy?" He ran after Mary into the sitting room.
Sebastian and Elinor gave each other a smug glance. At least they could agree that it was entirely childish to demand to speak to their father on the telephone.
As much as they might want to.
Matthew and George were away in London for the past week. First for their bi-annual checkup with the ophthalmologist and then to complete business with St. Dunstan's. George helped out at Downton Hall during school holidays and he was entrusted with acquiring needed supplies from the store rooms at Regent's Park. His father had to take meetings on funding measures with the Swire Trust solicitors, so George was dropped off by taxi at Regent's Park. He was to meet up with Matthew the next day after spending the night in the guest quarters of St. Dunstan's.
Mary anticipated their return. She picked up the receiver. "Hello darling. Have you finished your engagements? Mama's having a few people over for dinner tonight and I told her you'd be back in time."
"Just about." Matthew answered. "I'm about to go to St. D's to fetch George. We're planning on taking the afternoon train to Downton Station."
Mary felt a tug. "Yes William. Daddy will say hello."
Matthew smiled. His youngest son loved talking on the telephone.
"Daddy!"
"Hello my boy!"
"It's been raining all day. I've not been able to go fishing with Grandpapa like he promised but he said we would try again tomorrow."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe we can all go together in the morning."
William smiled broadly at the idea of his father joining them. "I'll be very careful not to catch my line on yours."
Matthew knew that was a reference to the last time they went with Robert down to the pond. He really had been just going through the motions of fishing as he didn't want to hit anyone with his rod by flinging it about, literally blind. But William, in his eagerness, had entangled his line into his father's and as a result the boy caught nothing.
"I'm sure everything will be fine. Can you put Mummy back on the line?"
After some scratching sounds Mary said, "Darling, I'm back."
"How's little Violet?" he inquired. When Matthew left their youngest child had a cold.
"Better. Pink cheeked and happy. I swear she's grown just in the time you've gone."
Ten-month-old Violet, named for her late, dearly beloved granny, had been unexpected. Mary thought she was done having children after William, but after an exhausting pregnancy earlier in the year she gave birth to a slightly underweight but healthy baby girl.
"What is it William?"
Matthew heard a pause, then nothing. Then his wife came back on the line, laughing.
"He wants me to make sure you went to Hanleys. His birthday being on Saturday."
Matthew then shared in Mary's mirth. "Irascible tyke. Tell him nothing, but I did find exactly what he wanted. The manager and George were most helpful."
"No names, no pack drill." Mary answered back. "Of course."
"George sends his hellos. See you this afternoon. Give our love to everyone." Matthew felt for the hook and replaced the receiver.
XX
Matthew took a cab to St. Dunstan's to pick up his son.
"Thank you, Hanson," he said getting into the taxi the doorman had held for Mr. Crawley after calling down about needing a ride to Regent's Park. The Army and Navy Club always did their best for him while never showing his affliction was an imposition.
The ride took him to the Park. He got out and walked the rest of the way up the walkway, using his cane to make sure he stayed on the pavement. He knew his way around St. Dunstan's as he'd either worked for or with them for almost twenty years. He made his way quickly up the walk and inside the building.
"Father, good morning." George approached as Matthew stopped as soon as he heard his son's voice. He held out his arms and George embraced him.
"Have they taken good care of you?"
"Yes. I've had a marvelous time. There was an exhibition yesterday about the progress made by the Germans using guide dogs for the blind."
"Yes, I've heard about that from some of the therapists at the Hall." Matthew also knew that a die hard contingent of the blinded were completely opposed to using dogs given themassociation of dogs with street beggars. Also proud St. Dunstan men didn't want, in the middle of harsh economic times, to be seen using dogs that would make them even more conspicuous as useless burdens.
"Are you ready to go, son?"
Ian Fraser approached. "Hello Matthew. We've been expecting you. George has something to tell you, don't you?"
George informed his father, "We can't finish off the supply list just yet. There's been a hiccup at the storehouse in Raglan Street. Also since most of the workshops have been transferred to Brighton, some of the things we need for the telephony training are now located there. Mr. Pearce and I will take the train tomorrow to finish off the list and then return to Downton from there."
"What?" Matthew's brow raised in concern. He knew that St. D's had to reduce their space at Regent's Park but he didn't know that George intended to finish his duties to the absolute letter. "Can't Pearce do this himself?"
"I'm responsible. Mrs. Sanderling gave me the list. I want to go. Please Father."
Matthew heard George's determination. "I'm not sure. Your mother is expecting us. I could go with you I suppose…"
"No, please. Let us do it. You take the train today. I'm not a child remember. In January I'll be fifteen. We'll be fine."
Matthew wasn't sure at all. George was in his second year at Rugby school and had returned for the Christmas holidays the week before and had asked if he could help out at the Hall. Matthew had no real objection so George had been entrusted with a few duties inside the workshops. As they had to go to London for their eye appointments, Gwen Sanderling had given George a list of supplies to bring back. Stan Pearce, one of the newer employees at the Hall, would help. George and Stan had begun an odd sort of friendship, Matthew had noticed. Pearce teaching George the in and outs of the electrics and wiring required to set up the telephone equipment used to teach the men at the Hall to be telephone operators. At first Matthew worried about George's monocular vision would impede his dealing with the delicacy needed to attach the wires, but Pearce seemed a patient teacher and George responded to him.
Matthew wanted to show faith in his son, so he agreed. "I will be at the Hall tomorrow when you arrive."
George was best pleased. "Thank you, Father. Give Mummy, Elinor, Seb, Wills, and baby Violet all my love."
Matthew and Ian Fraser walked outside after seeing George safely back to the office where Pearce and other St. Dunstan employees were crating some of the other items for shipment to the Hall.
"We'll take good care of him, Matthew. Don't you worry." Ian said.
"I know. It's hard to let go. He's not said a lot about his time at school and I've been worried that maybe we made the wrong choice. But he's cheered up considerably since working at the Hall. I'll let Mary know when I get back."
The two men shook hands. Matthew held up his arm to signal a taxi that would take him to St. Pancras rail station.
XX
"Your son makes his affliction almost invisible," Lady Swinton said, condescendingly polite. "Noble of him not to make a show of it."
Isobel, sipping her cocktail, barely contained her desire to throw the drink in the insufferable woman's face. Even after all this time people remained convinced Matthew should act for their benefit. His blindness being their opportunity to show charity to, you know, those less fortunate. Tsk…tsk… And as Matthew would observe to her privately, "that way they can completely ignore the ones truly in need."
Just as Isobel thought it, Lady Swinton put it into words.
"Not like those undeserving with their cups and their pencil selling." A definite disapproval tone change. "I feel quite ill at ease when doing walkies with the corgis. I wish they weren't in the village. I suppose your son can't help supporting them."
Isobel walked away as soon as she could. There was no use trying to explain that many of those 'undeserving' were soldiers who had fought for their country in the war past and now suffered and starved on the dole because of the economic collapse of 1929.
Matthew did his best to help. The Swire Trust now extended its work beyond Downton Hall and the blinded to include funding local mobile cafes and food dispersal centres both in large cities like York as well as smaller towns and villages. More of the cottages had been renovated and given over to government agencies housing the poor. But, as was made clear by his meeting with the solicitor the previous day, they had reached the end of immediate resources. Any further advances from the principal and he threatened the long-term soundness of the trust.
He told his mother that information tonight when he returned in time to join the family for the dinner party. She was in the salon when he arrived downstairs after quickly changing from his travel clothes to the tux Lang had cleaned and pressed.
Matthew took his mother's arm and they walked together into the music room where the other guests mingled. "As with so many things, we're stretched to the limit." Internally acknowledging that of course they were far better off than most. Such as tonight where Cora and Robert had decided to host a holiday party for their closest neighbours in preparation for the New Years shooting. Why either were necessary was a mystery to Matthew but he had long since given up trying to figure out how to get through to Robert. Mary and Tom seemed to have ways to make him understand, so he left it up to them.
Even amid the chatting voices Matthew heard his wife's approach. The distinctive swish of her dress was always a welcome sound to his ears. He turned. "Darling."
She kissed his cheek. "You made it down just in time."
"Lang as always had everything prepared."
"I didn't see George upstairs. Was he in the nursery with the other children?"
Matthew shook his head. "He staying in London at St. D's with Stan Pearce from the Hall. There was some trouble getting all the supplies. They'll make a stop in Brighton tomorrow and be on the afternoon train to Downton Station."
"But..."
Matthew shook his head. "I've already been chided by our eldest child, my dear, for expressing apprehension. He's almost fifteen and should be allowed some independence as he told me himself. He's not alone. Mr. Pearce is with him."
Mary's eyes narrowed. She knew very little about the employees at Matthew's charity Hall. "What do we know of him?"
"He's from Spitalfields. Served in the war with the London Rifle Brigade. Sanderling hired him earlier in the summer. George has struck up a real friendship with him. They'll be fine."
Mary was about to say something when her mother caught her attention to ask her over to speak to another guest.
Isobel spoke up. "I'm glad you've allowed George to take on some responsibilities. He needs it."
Matthew gave a knowing smile. "You've always said I'm overprotective. I am trying to stop but it's not easy."
Isobel knew that her son and her eldest grandson were very close. Their shared vision issues bringing them even closer. Though George's monocular vision did allow him more freedom of movement than his father's condition, he was naturally a shy, bookish boy. So venturing out beyond school and home seemed a good thing to his grandmother.
That moment Lady Swinton arrived. Matthew greeted her and made some requisite polite conversation. Mary touched his shoulder and guided him away towards Cora to greet other guests.
Isobel sipped her drink and surveyed the room. On the surface it seemed as if the family was managing the economic downturn with aplomb. But that was the trick, she knew. Cousin Violet would have said, "nothing succeeds like excess." Then wink and add, "or at the very least give the appearance as such."
Oh, how she missed their old sparring matches. Succumbing to cancer earlier last year, Violet had been laid to rest in the family plot at St. Michael's and All Angels. Her death coincided with the need for even more cost-cutting measures. With Robert's reluctant approval, the family had sold both the Dower House and Grantham House in London to consolidate all their finances in the family estate in Yorkshire.
Crawley House had been gifted to Isobel at Matthew's marriage to Lady Mary in 1918, But Lord Merton, upon moving in after his marriage to Isobel in 1921, had bought the property outright and so that had consolidated the estate even further.
Robert lamented the loss of land that had been in their family for generations. But at least he understood that in Matthew and Mary's careful accounting, they saved the house and farms for generations to come.
Mary Crawley saw Isobel's attempt at hiding her antipathy. "My apologies for leaving you in her company." Mary leaned over to whisper to her mother in law. "Lady Swinton's husband is a dear man. Papa wants Lord Swinton in the new year's shooting party. How he puts up with her is anyone's guess. She's the foulest sort of snob."
Isobel appreciated Mary's knowing look of 'I could also be accused of a milder form of that, but I'm now reformed.'
"She's no worse than my step-children, unfortunately. Which is why Dickie and I rarely see them." It was regretful that no bridges had been mended there, Isobel thought. But she wouldn't let it destroy her happiness with Richard.
Mary changed to a more pleasant subject. "Matthew told me Lord Merton has been very generous. He's agreed to take Mr. Fforbes-Hamilton's seat as a Swire Trustee?" The older man had died unexpectedly earlier in the year and Matthew needed a replacement. Matthew brought the paperwork from the solicitor and the bank back to London for his step father to sign. In order to be accepted you had to add an influx of cash or property that would then be used to benefit the various charitable endeavours created by the trust. Given the fragility of the current banking system, Barclays Bank wanted the money up front. Lord Merton had more than understood much to Matthew's relief.
"So much better it goes to help those hurt by this Depression." Isobel observed. "My charitable efforts are tied up with organizing Matthew's food dispersal centers. The need is strong."
"Papa feels quite constrained by the limitations we've had to place on the estate which unfortunately resulted in some employees being let go. We have let them keep their cottages rent free but that incurs more debt onto us. Tom and I have tried to show him the benefits of economizing but the numbers just get all jumbled in his head. I have to say I am not the best with maths either but I see the consequences if we do not. So many families already turned out." Mary shivered. "I've always ever so thankful Matthew decided to add his money to the estate. It's made all the difference."
"He appreciates all your hard work. The Crawley's are a formidable team. Larry and Amelia have run through most of the inheritance already. They act as if everything is normal. Amelia must have her new winter wardrobe. Dickie might have to put them on an allowance."
"Matthew's more and more determined on retrenchment. Elinor has her heart set on a horse for Christmas. Matthew is adamantly against. Not only because of the cost but her age. He still thinks she's too young to handle a real thoroughbred."
"And you disagree?"
"I was the same age when Papa got me Diamond. Until the army took him away, we were inseparable. Matthew doesn't understand that kind of devotion. We grew up together. I think it will be good for Elinor to have the responsibility attached to taking care of a horse. Cleaning the tack, brushing him down, mucking the stable. I did it all. Papa wouldn't let me ride otherwise."
"Perhaps he just can't justify the cost given the circumstances."
Mary raised an eyebrow. "Hard to explain the world economy to a horse mad child."
Another example of the insularity of their aristocratic lifestyle, Isobel might have said. Elinor could use a turn at the food dispensing center to see true deprivation. But fifteen years of dealing with her daughter in law had taught Isobel to hold her tongue for fear of sounding strident. Mary did things in her own time. She was her own woman. An excellent mother. A loving wife. And Elinor was a dear child. A bit spoiled as the only girl for so long, but with a good head on her shoulders. She would make her way in the world, Isobel believed, with the assured grace of her mother and the kindly influence of her father.
Isobel asked instead, "Where did Matthew disappear to? I don't see him anymore."
Mary glanced out the side door of the music room. "Coates called him aside. He's wanted on the telephone. I did think he'd be back by now. Would you excuse me."
Mary walked out the room and into the saloon. The telephone was on a stand near the fireplace. Matthew was just ringing off.
"Thank you for telling me, Trevor. No … no it's not your fault. We'll…" he paused, "we'll deal with it in the morning."
His hand slipped as he tried to feel for the handle. The receiver fell and the telephone dropped off the table.
"Damn…" he muttered just as Mary approached.
"I'll get it." She gave his forearm a supportive tap.
"Thank you." Matthew felt for the armchair he knew was right by the telephone stand and sat down with a grunt.
Mary replaced the telephone upright and the knelt by her husband.
"What's wrong?"
He looked up, his eyes staring into the middle distance. "Trevor has just found out from another of the new employees that Stan Pearce has an arrest record in London. Grievous bodily harm and manslaughter upon someone who rent outed part of a room in a house where Pearce lived with his wife. He's known to have a temper it turns out, according to this person. Something from the war…."
He reached out for Mary's hand. She entwined her fingers to his. "He'll have to be fired, of course. Lying to the Hall about his past. Trevor is most upset."
"But he's with George, isn't he?" Mary's voice quavered. "Shouldn't we do something?"
"George is at St. Dunstan's in the guest quarters. He's fine. The Fraser's are taking good care of him. They'll travel back tomorrow just as planned. I'll be at the Hall with Trevor to break the news to Pearce."
"He won't get violent, I hope? Not in front of George."
Matthew heard the unspoken accusation in her tone. How could he have let this happen? In trying to give George some independence, had he actually dropped him into unexpected danger?
"I'll deal with it. Nothing will happen to George, be assured."
But Mary couldn't help it. Her mind wandered to all kinds of ghastly scenarios. Though she hated to think it, maybe Lady Swinton was right to fear the presence of so many London poor in their midst.
What did they know of any of them?
XX
So there's the first part of a two part Christmas The Gift fic… because I can't seem to let go of this version of the Crawley family. The next chapter will be about all good Christmas themes of trust, goodwill, redemption, and charity. George's friendship with Mr. Pearce and his relationship with his father will provide the means by which the family learns important lessons. Thanks for reading, reviewing, liking. Always always appreciated! Also Ian Fraser's My Story of St. Dunstan's was as usual invaluable in writing this chapter.