A/N: Welcome to a good old-fashioned (literally) cross-over like the fanfic of yore. I'm currently writing a highly involved original work about war and serious stuff. So, this is just for fun since I heard a writer say it's imperative to finish something, even if it's just for you. Titanic 1997 and Downton make me happy, so here! Suffer through the lockdown and remember the joy of fanfic.
Hard Times, Come Again No More
1992 Hampshire, England
On a cloudless day, with the crispness of autumn in the air, Anna Bates sat on a bench looking down the path to the entrance of Downton Abbey. Her hair was white and she clutched a cane to her. Though, she hardly did much walking at her age. The cane was decorative like that of the long-gone age she still held to. She starred off and imagined the path leading to Downton was still dirt. That the year was 1908. She watched a horse-drawn carriage drop off a younger version of herself, suitcases in hand, fears and dreams in her head. What would the Crawley family be like? They were royalty to any village girl who would never hold and polish a diamond tiara, let alone wear one.
"Grandma, what sort of work did you do here when you began?"
Anna, aged 106, looked to the young woman sitting beside her who had just clicked on a voice recorder. She was Sophia Maven and one of Anna's many great-grandchildren. She was bright and attractive with auburn hair and light blue eyes. A face that made her work on television fitting. She had made a successful career as a news reporter. At first, when she pitched covering a story on her 106-year-old grandmother to the station, they questioned her reasoning. But, when Sophia clarified Anna had worked in a castle, survived the sinking of Titanic, lived through the world wars, and the financial ruin of the Great Depression, they were eager to see what stories she had to tell. They settled for Titanic since it would be fitting to air for the 80th anniversary of the disaster.
"I worked as a maid," Anna began. "Waking up before the sun, before the family, to be sure each room was always shining with the glory of the grand house."
"A house? They called that a house?"
"We called it home," she said with a laugh and warm smile, remembering. The house was still well-kept by the family who owned it now. Today, it mostly served as a backdrop for weddings, history-inspired gatherings, and various posh socials. Would the modern gatherers ever know of the hearts that once beat within those walls so many years ago? "The butler who worked here, his name was… Charles Carson, be sure to include his name. He was a great man. He was tough and wouldn't allow even the slightest bit of laziness. But, he cared so much for this place and he loved the family. He said they were his family. People don't think us servants even knew the Crawleys, but that's not true. We were friends. I knew the girls well."
"You mean the Crawley Sisters," said Sophia with renewed interest. The story of the sisters had become a tragic and famous story. There had been many books written about them and stories inspired by their tragic lives. Mary; headstrong and aristocratic, Edith; melancholy and aloof, and Sybil; passionate and sympathetic. "You knew them very well?"
"I did. I was promoted to Lady's maid in 1910. I became very close to Lady Mary. I was six years older than her but we shared a similar way of thinking. I couldn't help but wonder, in an odd way, if we were a bit alike. An existance like hers was a very lonely one. She didn't have many people to confide in. I was among the few she spoke to. How we laughed and joked! She was sharp but carried the world on her shoulders."
"Do you remember when you first found out you'd be accompanying them on Titanic? What did you think?" Anna paused at her words. She gazed back to the stony walls in the distance. A pleasant breeze swept around them causing the leaves the shuffle overhead. Suddenly, she was twenty-six, standing before the house. She watched the hall boys who packed luggage in a shining automobile. What did she feel? She stood in the middle of an opulent parade. State of the arch grandeur. A gilded time where only the old could remember war, pandemic, or famine. But, in the distance, it was as if thunder rolled. Like the titillating music they played in the halls. Ragtime. To Anna, America sounded like that jaunty music. Foreign, new, and exciting. A tune most wanted to dance to. The maiden voyage of Titanic sounded splendid beyond dreams. Still, there was a feeling of dread she could not ignore. What if the thunder grew closer? What if the dream floundered? The world would burn at the slightest hiccup.
"Grandma, I'm sorry, didn't you hear me?"
"I did, darling. I did."
"Maybe you want to take the wheelchair inside?" Anna looked to her a bit startled. She was not expecting to be welcomed inside, it had been years. Sophia assumed it was a look of worry. She did not know what sort of memories a walk inside would awaken in the elderly woman. "I-I'm sorry, we don't have to if you don't want t-"
"No, no. I do. I just, I never thought… never thought I'd go back inside. But I do. Oh, I very much do want to go in." Sophia laughed with giddiness and helped Anna back into her wheelchair. As they made their way down the path to the entrance of Downton Abbey, Anna felt something she thought she wouldn't feel again, while she lived at least. Time blurred and twisted as if they years had not passed at all. As they got closer, she could see the familiar details of the astonishing house. She saw ghosts in every window. Lord Grantham in the morning light reading the paper. Sybil in her room with her dolls. Mrs. Patmore preparing tea for the servants. Carson polishing the silverware. They had not left. How could they? Downton Abbey was all they had known. Their crowning glory. A castle in a fairytale. Home.
Sophia knocked on the front door.
Carson opened the front door for Lord Grantham as he stepped out, his family following closely behind.
"I don't understand what all the fuss is about. Why must we all go? It seems like such a long, exhausting, journey," said Mary tugging on a glove.
"Really, you're acting like it's a slave-ship, or something," laughed Edith dryly.
"A slave ship, that's indeed what it is," Mary agreed with Edith, an oddity. "I'm practically in chains." Sybil was next, she smiled kindly to Carson.
"I'll miss everyone so much. What will they do when we aren't here?"
Grantham laughed with a look to Carson. "I'm sure Carson will keep them in line and give them something to do."
"Oh, Carson, don't make them work too hard," said the Countess, Cora, with a loving smile to the man. "Let them have a night or two off, if you can spare it?"
"Assuredly, my lord," came the man's booming voice to Lord Grantham. "I'm certain Miss Smith and Barrow will serve you well enough. As for the rest, they are prepared for their normal workload. Any time off will be used with discretion, as always, my Lord."
"Very well," said Grantham with a nod to the two servants mentioned standing by the car. "Though, I do wish Bates had arrived on time. I trust Barrow with the duties of valet, but, I wanted to be here when Bates began."
In the near distance, Thomas Barrow broke his stiff posture to give Anna a snarky and surreptitious eye-roll.
"You hear 'em? He'd rather have that Bates man than me. Bates, who doesn't know his Lordship, never worked in a house like ours, and probably don't know 'ow to wind a clock properly."
"Be quiet, you," she said with a pleasant smile that rarely left her, no matter how sour the person she spoke to. "He chose you, didn't he? Can't you be pleased with things, just once?"
"I'll be pleased when I'm made valet permanently. Who knows, after this trip, he might change his mind on takin' on Bates."
"Always trying to climb the ranks… The moment you accept things is the day you'll discover happiness."
"Oh, so you've accepted things then? You don't yearn for nothin' more?" Anna looked away from him with a smile that unnerved him. He laughed at her without humor. "You're a little saint, you are."
Sophia pushed Anna into the grand entrance welcomed by young Sir Henry Redford who now owned the property. He was a handsome man in his 30s and eager to assist Sophia with her story. They had spent weeks with email correspondences and Sophia was keen to meet him. In person, he was just as kind and informative on every aspect of the manner.
As Sir Redford welcomed them, Anna took in the sights of the entrance. She was amazed by the bright red carpet, the tall pillars reaching high above, the staircase and second-floor railing beyond them. Memories flooded back and she saw the house as it was in 1912. Glistening, alive, in a golden dream-like haze. Maids and vibrant chatter filled the halls where now there was only silence.
Sir Redford guided them through the foyer and the sitting room. Sophia could hardly believe the level of wealth and décor. Everywhere one looked they were reminded of the family's great fortune. Every end table was ornately carved. Every molding on the wall was masterfully appealing. The warm colors of each room gently blazed like ember and glowed like burning cedar. Sir Redford showed them to a door leading to the servant's downstairs quarters. He opened it and Sophia was taken back by the harsh contrast. Anna looked down the dark corridor to the familiar space below. Sophia turned away, grimacing at the sight.
"You really went down those steep stairs with arms full of tea?" she asked, pushing Anna onward.
"I walked up and down those steps more times in one day than I could count, darling."
Anna smiled at the thought. She saw a vision of her younger-self passing them in the opposite direction, heading back down the stairs. The Crawley family had gone through after dinner. The day was over and she could hear the servant's piano growing louder with each step downward. There was laughing and dancing as Thomas showed one of the maids the latest dance he'd seen at the hall. He enjoyed how easily he could make girls swoon over him. Something Anna and the older servants light-heartily joked about. That night, Anna had joined in and danced with Thomas, the trials of work melted away.
Sophia pushed Anna into the library at the lead of Sir Redford. To Sophia, the space was empty and peaceful. But, as soon as Anna crossed the entrance, she saw the room filled with reporters and flashing lightbulbs in 1912. How could it be true? Were they really gone? Who would the Crawly fortune go to? Who would take over the real-estate? Their voices echoed through time and the memory was so vivid it was hard for Anna to handle. Her head fell into her hands, Sophie took notice, and stopped them in the middle of the room.
"What is it, grandma? Do you need to rest? We can stop if you'd like or go outside for some air?"
"No, dear. I- I'm sorry. I was just reminded of… oh, never mind. It doesn't matter now." Her voice broke but she held back tears. She had cried too much. She had promised herself long ago she would never shed a tear over Titanic again.
"No. I'm sure it still matters," began Sophia turning on her recorder, "please, you can tell me." Anna paused. Suddenly, as she sat in the middle of the room (a room she was never allowed to sit in), she realized she could tell. That the weight she carried for so long could be let go. For years, she'd wondered why she was chosen to be the last one living. But suddenly, it was as if the ghosts of the sisters were beside her. Mary, still in her young age and radiant beauty, reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. Her voice was assuring her it was okay to tell their story. Tell, or no one would ever know.
"I'll go get some tea, perhaps?" said Sir Redford before leaving the pair alone. Sophia nodded and gently placed a hand on her great-grandmother's shoulder. Anna looked up to her startled.
"What is it?" Sophia asked. Anna sighed and placed a hand on Sophia's.
"There is… something I never told the reporters. Something… a secret. A secret I promised I'd take to the grave. But, some stories are meant to be told. Especially, ones of such bravery."
"Yes, grandma? What are you talking about? What secret?" she turned on her recorder and waited with anticipation. Anna sighed and looked out the window. It was time. But, God help her, was she strong enough to relive it all?
"When I arrived in New York… after the sinking, those bloodthirsty reporters gathered around. They wanted to know everything. Who had died? What did I lose? I told them. But it was a lie… She didn't die. She had lived through the sinking and used it as means to start her life over and getaway…
Sophia couldn't believe what she was hearing. The story of the Crawley's fate was a legend. Yet, there were many conspiracies. That one of the Crawlies had lived, after all. The rumors were disregarded by most and left to fable. But… was it true, after all?
"Who, grandma? Who lived? Why did you lie?"
"It's not only who lived, it's the happenings on that ship. I've never been truthful with anyone."
"But… I don't understand. Why not?"
"One can't afford to be honest when they know the fate of a renowned diamond…" Sophia's mouth became unhinged. Her mind was racing. My god, this story was going to catapult her piddling career into the stratosphere. History would be re-written because of her.
"Holy shit!" she laughed unabashedly. "Are you serious? Please! Please, tell me."
Anna smiled the same smile she had given Thomas Barrow eighty years ago.
"Yes, my dear. And I'll tell it all… as I heard it or as I saw it myself. As best as I can recall… But how about that tea first?"
Anna sat before Sophia and Sir Redford as tea was placed on the table between them (with Sophia's recorder beside that). She began her story after a sip of the chamomile.
"Obviously, I accompanied the family only as a servant. The maiden voyage of Titanic was regarded only for the very wealthy or the lucky. I was somewhere in between. Not going to start my life over. Not going on holiday, either. When I recall the day we embarked, a conversation I had with Lady Sybil comes to mind. I now see the day through her eyes. Of course, since I was accompanying three of the wealthiest, most suitable, unmarried women aboard a never-ending floating evening-party, I assumed trouble would find us. I certainly wasn't wrong. But, I didn't know just how right I would be, either…"
1912: Southampton, England April 10th
just past 11:00 am
Sybil looked out the window of the car to the bustling pier as her sisters argued over trivialities. Titanic had begun boarding and people of every social station walked the dock. She had always wanted to board a ship and set off for adventure. Never did she think her father would allow them holiday aboard a ship like RMS Titanic. Perhaps Olympic since she was always in the papers and gaining more attention than this ship. But Titanic was special in a different way. It was the largest ship ever built. And today, it was the maiden voyage. Such trips were whispered to be bad luck. Sybil did not understand. How could something as irrational and imperceptible as superstition touch such a grand design? The door of their car opened and she was the first to step out.
She looked to the ship as it sat in the bay. It shone in the sunlight of the clear April morning. She tried her best to take in every detail of the moment. She did not want to forget it. Not for as long as lived. Just then, a strong gust of sea-side wind knocked her hat from her head. She gasped as it hit a passing man in the back of the head. As her family readied themselves to board (and as Mary and Edith bickered over who would get which bed in the suite) she began to approach the man. At first, the stranger was confused by the assault and took offense. As if he was used to aggression targeted at him unwarranted. He looked around for the culprit but only saw a beautiful, young, well-dressed, woman smiling to him sympathetically.
"I do apologize, sir. The wind took it." He looked confused until she pointed to her hat at his feet. He looked down, only just realizing what had happened. He laughed a bit then and she did too.
"Oh, I see." He picked it up and brushed it off, ogling at the bulk, and useless decadence of it. "I thought you girls used hatpins as weapons? This whole bloody thing could knock a man off his feet." Sybil laughed, a bit uncomfortable by the man's language, but still charmed non-the-less. He was young with sandy hair and light eyes. His accent was Irish and his clothes were worn. No, she had never met a man like that.
"That, I now realize. A least you looked ready for a fight."
"Well, you know. Being Irish and such. I've got to be ready at the drop, of well, a hat." He laughed for a moment before re-thinking what he said and handing over the hat a bit embarrassed.
"Where has Sybil gone?" asked Cora looking to Edith and Mary who were now in icy silence. The girls did not answer but Anna was quick to worry. She looked around the dock, and, just as she spotted Sybil, Thomas Barrow was already darting to her aid.
"Thank you," said Sybil as the strange man stepped closer, handing her the hat. "Forgive me, I haven't properly introduced myse-"
"Can I be of any assistance, sir?" asked Barrow, suddenly appearing between the pair. The man blinked and stepped back. He laughed knowing after looking to where the valet had come from. A shining automobile. So, that's why her hat was so fancy.
"I'm sorry. I was just retrieving the girl's ha-"
"Lady," corrected Barrow curtly taking an intimidating step closer. "I can assure you, Lady Grantham doesn't need anything from the likes of you."
"Really, Barrow," Sybil gently intervened. "He was just helping me. I-"
"Barrow?" called Lord Grantham.
"Sybil!" gasped Cora at his side.
Sybil had no choice. She looked sadly to the young man and nodded her head in thanks. Barrow turned his back to the man and outstretched his arm, indicating her demanding family, and they walked away from the Irish stranger. Anna watched curiously as the stranger gave Sybil a prolonged stare of longing before walking off toward the boarding area.
"Sybil," whispered Cora in scandal, "what on earth did that man want?"
"I lost my hat, mama. He had retrieved it for me. That was it! Really, you all act as if I'm utterly incapable. I felt so rude…"
"Daughter, for God's sake, don't go running off," commanded Lord Grantham. "We are in Southampton not on holiday at the bay! All of you, do not leave mine and Barrow's side again." He looked to Barrow with a nod. Barrow, who had taken back his position at the Lord's side nodded in return, as obedient as a soldier.
Lady Mary sighed and eyed around the dock. Anna looked to her, wondering what was on her mind. Sybil always observed society with curiosity and a great longing to be a part of something. Mary, on the other hand, observed the crowd like Marie Antoinette on the day she became a head shorter. She wouldn't let on, but she was full as just as many romantic notions as the youngest of the Crawley sisters. The problem was, she was equally full of realism. Sybil never considered failure or what people would think. Mary was chained to such thoughts. Still, she yearned for something to complete her life. Someone to love her that she would choose on her own.
And then, against the odds, someone in the crowd caught her eye. Anna noticed, and tried to see what she was looking at, but couldn't determine who or what it was. Mary blinked and looked away. Soon after that, they boarded the ship.