A/N: Well, here we are, the last chapter is upon us.
First of all, I would like to once again thank my beta, BoxyP, who made this work so much better than it could have been with only my eyes as editors. Secondly, I would like to thank all of you who read, liked and (especially) commented the work. It was finished before I started publishing, so I would have reached the end whatever reception I'd have received, but you made my weekly postings a lot more pleasant than they could have been.
I wanted to give you a few details about the creative process behind the story and the titles, but I'd rather put them at the end than at the beginning. For now, enjoy the last chapter!
Chapter 23: To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield - part II
30 October, 1925
He had kept to his routine, mostly, and was very unlikely to deviate it from it much; work occupied most of his days, and even though he had much more reason to be in London for the arranging of Hexham House and its repurposing (paintings had to be moved around and pieces of furniture were relocated accordingly to better fit the new function they would have to serve), Bertie was now secure in his knowledge that his marriage prospects with Edith were perdurable, and thus allowed himself less freedoms to travel. He preferred to stay more in Northumberland, even if that meant having to ensconce himself in a single room to prevent the renters and their guests from seeing him. He had kept his promise to Elizabeth and Margaret and brought them to London with him for a weekend of shopping, even though he had mostly left them with Edith while he attended a meeting with Mr Bell. Mr Carr had finally been found guilty and had been made to pay back all the money he had embezzled, as well as give up the shares in the mines he had acquired illegally and the profit he had enjoyed through their acquisition.
The newspaper coverage of the case had been large enough and, for once, Bertie had encouraged it rather than minimise its extent. He had wanted to send a clear message that he would not be made a fool of, and that had been the safest and least expensive way to do it; indeed, he hadn't had to do anything more complex than come out of the courthouse on the day of the ruling and walk past the journalists with a dignified look. Mr Bell had approved of the situation and Bertie had asked him for a viable list of honest and capable administrators to go through. He had come to a decision; though it pained him to admit it, he wouldn't be able to fully deal with all the workload he had always taken upon himself, the added burden of the mines, and his role as Marquess of Hexham. Because he was unwilling to capitulate to becoming a purposeless Lord of the Castle, however, he had also decided that he would not give up as much control over his affairs as Peter had done, but rather he would entrust the running of Hexham House, Butteryhaugh Hall and the mines to three advisors, whose work he would supervise on a weekly basis, and keep his full authority over the grounds, farms and tenants. It wasn't what most people would have counselled him to do, but Bertie had no intention of truly transforming into a proper peer and renege his identity as a land agent. He hadn't lied to Edith when he had told her that was who he was, more than anything else. It was what defined him, and he was reluctant to let go of it, because it might mean that he would lose a part of himself, and he didn't believe he would profit from that, however much freer he might become from it.
His mother, at the very least, had not expressed any form of dissent to his choice, and neither had Edith, who had just asked him if he would mind it terribly if she kept her own control over the magazine in a similar fashion to the one she was exercising at the time. He didn't, of course, and not just because he would feel a hypocrite if he were to mind, but because he truly liked her when she was working on the magazine, her intelligence and competence shining through and filling him with pride and humility at the thought that such a strong, independent woman had allowed herself to be courted by him. Never mind the fact that she reciprocated his love. Not only would he have never asked her to quit her job, but he would have encouraged her not to, had she even contemplated doing it.
During his time at Brancaster, he had taken to spending at least an evening each week with Harry and his family, and joining Harry for lunch as often as he could. It was as good an excuse as any to be out of the way, and to encourage his mother to actually install herself in the section of the castle that would function as her own private apartments. She had a kitchen there, amongst everything else, and Bertie had taken to finding himself there for most of the meals he had to consume at home, despite Mrs Brennan's wishes to provide and cater for him. It gave him a sense of being still a simpler man, Mr Bertie Pelham, rather than Lord Hexham. It wouldn't last for long, certainly not once Edith came to live with him for good, but it was enough for now.
It was there that Charlton had found him the week before, to deliver a letter from Lady Grantham, inviting him and Mother to stay at Downton. Bertie had discussed the matter of introducing his mother to Marigold with Edith, and she had admitted to finding it a good idea, but she hadn't wanted Marigold brought to Brancaster, where the girl would be scared of the unfamiliar environment, and Bertie had agreed. The more people Marigold knew before moving over, the better it would be. For that same reason, Bertie had thought it a good idea to bring Yearnshire along for the visit. He wanted to give Marigold an ally amongst the servants of Brancaster, even though he was quite certain that all of his employees would love her immediately, and he also wanted to see if his people, who had known him for quite some time, would figure out Edith's connection to the girl. He knew it wasn't exactly common for servants to involve themselves in the raising of their employer's children, but he had gotten the impression that the three children at Downton were very much allowed to roam within the household. Besides, even if Marigold wouldn't see Yearnshire during their sojourn at Downton, at the very least the man could make himself useful by lending a hand to Mr Carson and Andrew, who remained – with Mr Bates – the only two permanent male members of staff at the Abbey.
Mother had been very contemplative on the train ride, retreating into a book rather than giving Bertie any comment on any subject whatsoever, but Bertie himself felt apprehensive about Mother meeting Marigold; the little girl was very shy, and Bertie didn't think his mother had truly – completely – digested learning of her parentage. She was brusque by nature, and hard to like on the best of days, even though she was quite affectionate in her own way – Harry's children being the only proof of her being capable of expressing affection in a less-than-frigid way. Bertie somehow didn't think Marigold was going to be receptive to Mother's type of effusiveness. Cautioning his mother, of course, would be more detrimental to Marigold's cause than anything else; much like the Dowager Lady Grantham, Mother disliked being told what to do and think.
Bertie disembarked first from the train, helped his mother to the platform, and then searched the back of the train for Yearnshire, who had travelled in third rather than first class, though Bertie had offered to pay for a full ticket. He saw Edith before he found the man, however, and could not resist the temptation of walking towards her and kissing her; the platform was half-empty, and he had missed her – much as he did whenever he was parted from her. He didn't allow his lips to linger too long, though, knowing better than to push his luck with his mother behind him.
Yearnshire drove in front with Edith, and Bertie was pleasantly surprised when she engaged the man in conversation. Yearnshire was a good conversationalist, in general, and he had seen enough of the world to be able to adapt to whichever topic was being discussed.
When they arrived, Lord and Lady Grantham were outside, waiting to welcome them, and it felt quite odd to Bertie, since it was the first time anyone but Edith had bothered to come see his arrival. Thankfully enough, only Andrew had come out to meet them for the luggage, and Yearnshire quietly disappeared with the footman towards the servants' entrance.
He followed his mother inside, Edith at his side, and made his utmost best to look as if he wasn't as worried about the coming hours as he had been when first he had come to Downton. Luckily for him, he had just enough time to go to his room to freshen up before luncheon was served; despite being placed close to Tom, his attention had to be focused on his mother at all times, because he didn't trust her enough not to make a cutting remark if left unsupervised. It was all the better that Lord Grantham had seen it fit to squeeze Mother between himself and Bertie, because Mary was in a bit of a mood. She was upset at Henry because her husband was taking repeated trips to York and London without her and, more importantly, without telling her what the trips were about.
"I don't see that there's a reason to be upset," Henry declared. "I'm just stretching my legs and meeting some old friends."
Mary, of course, wasn't the only one who didn't believe him. However, by the fact that both Tom and Edith went to a great deal of effort not to look at Mary as he said it, Bertie surmised that whatever Henry was scheming, the both of them were in on it – Tom more so than Edith, if Bertie knew his fiancée well enough. Edith was trying her best to hide her knowledge, possibly on account of wanting to avoid a confrontation with her sister. Either way, Bertie certainly didn't care about it enough to get upset over her secrecy. What he did care about was that Edith was keeping to her newfound resolution of managing her relationship with her family better, this time around. It was easy to see that she was making a conscious effort, though it was simpler to navigate a conversation with Tom and Henry for her than it was to weather her parents while at the same time trying to make sure Bertie's mother was content and at ease.
Bertie himself struggled on a daily basis to figure out how best to approach his mother, so he didn't begrudge Edith the occasional slip into submissiveness at the lunch table, sending encouraging smiles her way whenever it was clear that she was struggling. Still, if one good thing for Edith had come of Mary's marriage with Henry, it was apparent that it was Henry's support of the younger Crawley sister. He was very much a friend of Edith's in his own right, and a staunch supporter of her cause, even against his wife's less than stellar attempts at what Bertie thought was an exercise in holding back her sharp tongue.
"You must tell me the next time you're in London, Henry, maybe we can catch up properly," Bertie said in an attempt to redirect the conversation. "I'd invite you to Brancaster, but it's a bit of a logistical nightmare at the moment with the renters in for the season, and the dinners I must ," he stressed the word ironically, "necessarily organise when I have the Castle to myself. Hopefully things will calm down after the last of the guest has gone."
"You could have, at the very least, cancelled the last letting," his mother said before taking a bite of food.
"Don't worry about me," Henry said to prevent any embarrassment. "I'm more comfortable in a swanky club in London, at any rate. And you can treat Edith, for a change, instead of always using Lady Rosamund to meet up."
"Oh," Edith said, ironically. "Are you suggesting we need a chaperone?"
"Absolutely," Henry stated with exaggerated seriousness. "Your fiancée is a marquess, Edie, you don't want to give anyone an excuse to make trouble."
The remark, though made innocently, hit home on more than one front, and Bertie noticed his mother's hand still on its way to her mouth. She didn't say anything, of course, and continued to eat and chat as if nothing had ever happened immediately after that, but he knew her well enough that the passing remark would stay with her for a long time. Edith herself didn't appear to take any kind of offense, and Bertie had to admit that when her virtue was questioned, she didn't bat an eye; possibly, in her mind, having spent a night with a man who had been willing to change his nationality to marry her didn't equate to being unvirtuous, and though Bertie might profess that he would never do anything of the sort, he had not found himself in a similar situation, and thus was unable to judge her – even had it been in his nature to be judgemental. The fact that Marigold had been born from that union also meant that there could be no true regret on Edith's part; there was no mistaking the love Edith felt for her daughter.
After the meal and the conversation let down, Bertie accompanied his mother upstairs when she asked to get changed before she was treated to a walk in the gardens. He followed her to the bedroom she was staying in, much to her displeasure, and closed the door behind himself when he did.
"I do need to get changed."
"And I shall leave you to it," Bertie reassured her. "But I need to ask a favour of you first." He waited for her to nod once before proceeding. "I know what Henry said at the table upset you, and I'm not asking you not to worry about my reputation, because I know that would be futile. But I would like for you to promise me that you'll do your best not to think of that when you'll be meeting Marigold later today. She doesn't deserve that."
His mother looked at him for a while, without any of the gravity he was used to, but with enough focus that Bertie knew she was making an important consideration. "Do you really love her?"
Bertie contemplated his own answer to the question. He had felt a tenderness towards Marigold since the first time he had seen her, sleeping with her head turned towards them, a small bunny as her bedfellow, her features relaxed. He had met her with the intention of liking her ever since Edith had asked him if she could bring Marigold along with her once they had been married. He had certainly never felt any resentment towards her, not even in that second when he had felt the ground shift beneath his feet as Edith admitted regretfully the girl's parentage. But did he love her? He remembered the feeling of holding Thomas in his arms the first time, the fierce protectiveness that had overcome him, and the wish to make the world a better place so that the babe might live sheltered and happily for the rest of his days – and may they be long days. He hadn't held a newly-born Marigold in his arms, and would never be able to, for there was no turning back time. And unlike with Thomas, and all his godchildren, the fact that Marigold wasn't his child meant something; it meant that Edith had loved another man as completely as Bertie wanted to be loved by her for the rest of eternity, and Marigold would always be a surer reminder of Edith's love for Michael than any inheritance the man might have left her. For those reasons, Bertie found himself thinking that he shouldn't love the girl; he might grow to like and cherish her, even to the point where he would protect her as fiercely as he did any future children he wanted to have. In spite of all that, there was no denying it. Not to himself and not to his mother; yes, he did love that girl. He loved her more than he had ever loved Harry's children. And, more importantly, he wanted to be loved by her just as much as he had hoped to be loved by Edith in the very beginning of their relationship, with all the insecurities that characterised him more than he liked to admit to anyone. He ached to be her father.
"More than life itself," he replied eventually. He smiled at his mother, the thought that her question had been responsible for this sudden realisation leaving him with a sense of relief and gratitude towards the woman who had brought him to the world and raised him to be the man he was today.
His mother nodded once. "Then that's how much I'll love her. Now go, I need to get changed before they send someone to check on me."
Bertie didn't need to be asked twice.
As he came out of the room, he met Edith, who had been to her room for a parasol. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm being happy," he answered to her utter bewilderment, before he made way for her to pass him and followed her downstairs, her hand safely ensconced in his.
A/N: I wrote this story for a few different reasons. Obviously because I love Edith and Bertie, but especially love what Bertie meant and represented for Edith and therefore I thought it right to give him some depth - something that the TV show didn't really do.
The original idea was to write a bit of a prologue with Bertie's story before meeting Edith, and then going into their lives after the S6 Christmas Special, but the more I wrote, the more I realised I needed to delve into canon to truly give Bertie a voice that I could then apply to something that would leave canon behind. For that reason, I needed characters. And this is where the Armstrongs came into play. We got to see a man with a serious mustache at the wedding (Bertie's best man), and then two flower girls who played with Marigold and Mrs Pelham at the reception, and so I thought that was a good opportunity to bring someone new into play - someone who was outside the Crawley family and could give us an insight into who Bertie was before he became Lord Hexham, someone who even in a follow up to Ulysses could be part of the story.
The reason why I stopped where I did? Well, I didn't think much of the wedding needed to be written - it's too happy and uncomplicated, and I didn't think it needed to be analysed. Also, my continuation to this story began with Edith and Bertie right after the show left them (in that car going to the train station). I liked the idea of being able to now explore things from another person's POV, aside from Bertie's. Unfortunately the scenes I had written got deleted, and then I got a job as a teacher and my life got swallowed whole by that. I might gain some of that work-life balance I didn't really get this past school year as the new one approaches, but I cannot make any promises and this is why I decided not to write a continuation but rather leave the door open for follow ups in the form one-shots or short multi-chaptered stories.
I was also curious to see what the film had in store for Edith and Bertie and got promptly disappointed, so anything that should come out from me will not consider their story in the film as being canonical. None of that useless angst, thank you very much.
Now, on the matter of titles. All the titles of the chapters (as well as the main story title) are the courtesy of one of my favourite poets, Lord Alfred Tennyson. All bar one: In the Heart of Darkness (a clear reference to Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad, which I thought exemplary of the loss of direction of a man and the complete inability to regain touch with reality).
Most of the titles derive from Tennyson's Ulysses ('I cannot rest from travel', the title of the prologue, 'there lies the port', ' 'T is not too late to seek a newer world', 'Though much is taken, much abides', 'hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will', and 'To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield'), whereas the remaining two ('Sweeter manners, poorer laws' and 'Love is the only gold') are taken respectively from 'In Memoriam' and from Tennyson's play 'Becket' (Act IV).
The reason why I chose Ulysses as a title is that Tennyson's poem talks about a man's search for his own nature, his struggle to find purpose in life, and his attempts at identifying his goals. I thought this was precisely what I wanted Bertie to be, ever since those first few paragraphs in the prologue. Tennyson's Ulysses is an entreaty to all to not abandon hope and to be the best that they can, and so I felt it apt that his words should follow the curve of Bertie's voyage through life until his marriage with Edith. And even more apt, was the fact that the last title should be the very last line of the poem.
There's a chance I might be breaking some copyright laws by posting the whole poem for you here, so I'll give you a direct link to a page with the whole poem if you're interested, instead:
poems/45392/ulysses