They worked for nine, ten, eleven hours a day. They considered as many and various possibilities as they could and weighed them all for their practicality, for their likely efficacy, and most of all, for the safety of their officers.
After six days straight, they felt they had the best plan of campaign that they could offer Maresfield. They presented it to him late one afternoon, and he listened to them as they explained their suggestions, asked a few very pertinent questions, and thanked them very earnestly. He then went to present it to the War Office, and the top brass. Anthony did not envy him that duty. He and Cartwright sat down to wait for his to return.
"Cup of tea, sir?"
Anthony looked at the clock.
"It's half past six at night, Captain. I don't expect Maresfield back any time before eight. I was actually thinking that we deserved something a little stronger."
Anthony brought the bottle of Bruichladdich single malt from under his desk. "What's your Christian name, Cartwright?"
"Sir? Er, Frederick, sir. But everyone calls me Fred."
"Well, Fred, if I may" Anthony poured them both a generous dram "my name's Anthony, but you knew that anyway. Here's to peace."
"Yes, sir...er, Anthony. Peace." He saluted Anthony with the glass and took a sip. "Gosh, sir, that's really good."
"Well, I like it. What's your usual tipple?"
"Bass in a bottle! My allowance doesn't let me stretch to much more."
"We've been working side by side for what seems like forever, but I haven't had time to get to know you, Fred. I regret that. Tell me about yourself."
"Not much more to tell than you inferred on our first day together."
"What do you hope to do after the war?"
The young man looked down, and took another sip before he answered.
"My father wants me to take a medical degree, train to be a doctor, and join him in practice."
"That's obviously not what you want though" said Anthony, gently.
"No. I would feel...unchallenged by a provincial doctor's life. But what can I do? I can't afford to...to continue my studies at King's. I'd like to take a higher degree, but…"
"Go on…"
"I think there might be real worth in some of the mathematical theories and models that are being discussed in European universities...or were...before the war I mean. I should very much like to study in Paris or even in Göttingen, should that be possible, sometime in the future, I mean." He took another sip. "What about you?"
"I will return to my country estate in Yorkshire, become once more the lord of the manor and...get married."
Fred looked at him, the smooth whisky gradually reducing his shyness and revealing more of his innate shrewdness.
"Any particular lady, or will any do?!"
Anthony chuckled and then sighed, in a not very melancholy way.
"A very particular lady. We almost got engaged on the day war was declared. The engagement was proposed and accepted by letter the next week, although I didn't receive her reply because, by then, I had been taken captive by the Germans and pressed into forced labour, which lasted for three and a half years. A superb placement for intelligence gathering. Not so good for conducting a romance."
Fred was hanging on Anthony's every word.
"Golly! But she...I mean, she still…"
"She waited for me, though she had no way of knowing whether I was dead or not. We are to be married next time I have leave. And if Maresfield convinces Haig and his friends this evening, that might be sooner rather than later." He took another thoughtful sip of his whisky. "I'm terrified."
"Why?!" Fred seemed shocked at that.
"Because I'm a quarter of a century too old for her. And then there's this." He sarcastically saluted his right arm with his glass.
Fred didn't react as Anthony had expected him to. He got up and paced to the window and back.
"Do you love her?"
Anthony shrank back a little at the young man's vehemence.
"Well, do you?" he insisted.
"Yes, I do."
"Does she love you?"
"So she says. And...I...believe her…"
"You don't sound sure."
"Well, she's so young...she could have anyone. Why choose someone so old and crippled?!"
He spat the last word with venom. Cartwright sat down.
"Anthony! You are a man I admire. We've worked really hard, really closely. I will trust you. I, too, am in love...with a lady I can't hope to deserve."
"Nonsense! You're young and brilliant and you've a good heart and good expectations. Exactly the kind of man I hope Edith finds eventually."
Fred knocked the rest of the whisky back.
"Ha! Ha! I'm afraid that's rubbish. I am untested, inexperienced, unqualified, and, frankly, an absent-minded-professor-in-waiting...without the achievements. I don't even know what subject it is I study: mathematical philosophy or philosophical mathematics, and if Ellis doesn't give me a second look...it would be rightly so."
"And who's Ellis?" asked Anthony, his sympathy engaged.
Fred hesitated.
"She's….she's Ellis Maresfield!"
"Maresfield's daughter?" Anthony thought that was mildly amusing.
"No...Maresfield's sister." Fred lifted the bottle and Anthony nodded, dazed, to permit Fred to refill their glasses. "I know she thinks I should find someone else, someone I can grow old with, but the thing is...the thing is...I want the time I can have with her...rather than a longer time with anyone else...because...she's... she's immensely clever and she's caring and funny and... and because she's her!". Then he added more quietly "And I love her."
Suddenly, Anthony saw the age-gap problem from Fred's...and Edith's...point of view.
"Does the Major-General know?"
"Good God, no! He'd probably court martial me!"
"Actually, knowing Maresfield, he probably would, if he thought Ellis didn't want you. But, does she want you, do you think?"
Cartwright stared into the amber liquid.
"I don't know. I really don't know. She seems to like my company. When I've dined with them, she...they're both very hospitable. We meet at the London Library sometimes, or go for tea..."
"Mmm."
"We can talk about anything! And she understands me, or I think she does. She seems interested in my studies, just as I love hearing about what she's reading about, and she has wide-ranging tastes. I just can't convince her that love looks past anything irrelevant, age included...love is just love."
He shook his head and took another sip.
Just as Anthony had figured out something to say, Maresfield threw open the door and marched in.
"Well, they agreed. Everything goes into operation at dawn the day after tomorrow, to give you tomorrow to issue orders. Well done, gentlemen. I am proud to command you. And speaking of commands…" He looked at his watch. "...I think we could all do with some dinner and a good night's rest before tomorrow, don'tcha think? Pack up everything you need from here and come over with me to my humble abode. Elly won't mind."
.
Dinner was late, and a bit overdone because it had waited, but still delicious. Ellis Maresfield turned out to be what would've been called in Anthony's boyhood a bluestocking. She attended some of the London University public lectures for fun. Just looking at her and Fred together, their heads bent over a shared discussion, Anthony could see the same dynamic that Edith and he had. Age notwithstanding.
It really was the same as when Weaver had pointed out the dynamic between Nelson and Emma, injury notwithstanding. Why had he been so blind as not to see it?
He became aware of his superior officer's voice.
"Anthony!"
"Sir?"
"What's worrying you, old boy? I know that look of yours, when you are well away with the fairies! Spill the legumes!"
"Do you regret not marrying, sir?"
Maresfield looked at him very carefully over his moustache, and lowered his voice.
"Are you getting cold feet over your sweet lady? You've been married before, you know the drill. There's nothing to be frightened of."
"No, it's not that, though if you say there's nothing to worry about, I'm sure you're right. I just wondered if you had any regrets."
"There was one young lady…" Maresfield lost all his bluster. He looked strangely naked without it. "But I was only a lieutenant and I was posted to South Africa for a tour of duty. Her father would not assent to a marriage before I had attained my captaincy. So I worked like billy-o and climbed the ranks.
"But it was still too late. When I returned, I found she'd married a major the previous year."
"I never knew. I'm so sorry."
"All spilt milk under the bridge now. Elly! Did I hear you right? Is there Apple Charlotte for dessert? Anthony here has a tooth sweeter than Juliet's roses!"
Anthony was clever enough to take the hint, and kept his own counsel until they were alone.
.
At the breakfast table in Crawley House early the next day, Isobel looked up at the hovering figure of her butler.
"What is it, Molesley?"
"Sorry, ma'am...sir. There's a telegram, for you sir."
Molesley knew that this was probably the bad news his master had waited for. He watched Matthew with sympathy as all the colour drained from his face, and he had to put down the slice of toast he had been holding before he dropped it.
"Thank you, Molesley" he said, quietly.
He looked at the brown paper envelope for what seemed like hours before his mother said "Would you like me to find the letter opener?"
He shook himself. "No, no, thanks. That won't be necessary."
Bravery is being terrified and doing what is right regardless he thought and it starts here.
He tore it open and read. Then read it again.
Isobel was not a dull woman.
"When do you leave?"
"I don't understand this. There must be a mistake."
"What is?"
"These orders...look!"
"Is that allowed?"
Matthew didn't answer but passed the paper over to her.
To: Capn. Matthew Crawley
Crawley House
Downton
**You will report for duty at 0800 on 12th October at the office of Gen. Thomas Winstanley, Dover. You are seconded to the Intelligence Corps. More orders will be issued to you on arrival.**ENDS
Isobel looked up at her son.
"You're not going to France" relief washing over her in waves. Then they both reached the same conclusion simultaneously.
"Sir Anthony!"
.
Once again, please accept my apologies for the delay between chapters. My last remaining uncle died this afternoon. I am now officially the oldest person in the family.
I do so hope you are all keeping well and safe.
I have the honour to remain your humble and obedient servant,
Baron