AN ORIGINAL PLOY
October, 1924. At Brancaster Castle for the grouse and the week that follows the Crawleys' return.
Chapter 1 Mr. Henry Talbot Asks Questions
The Date is Set
Robert and Cora were dressing for dinner. With a groan, he sank onto the bed, slumped, eyes closed. Alarmed by his drained appearance, Cora rushed to his side.
"Robert! Is it your heart?"
His eyes fluttered open again and he waved her off. "Not at all." He sat up and made an effort to look alert. "We came to Brancaster as a treat. Shooting in Northumberland at Brancaster Castle. It was to be an indulgence. I allowed myself to be swept back into the past." He sighed.
Cora, relieved, managed a sympathetic smile. "The past is gone."
"So people keep telling me," Robert said heavily.
"And it hasn't lived up to your expectations?"
"With Sinderby shouting at his butler, and my … this … heart business preventing me from shooting. Now the news about Anna."
"Anna is innocent," Cora declared, sitting beside him and reaching for his hand.
"So we keep telling ourselves and each other. Why doesn't anyone else see it?"
"We'll be home in a few days, with Lord Sinderby behind us. Then we can tackle our other problems. And all is right between you and Edith now. That's something."
She had said just the right thing. Robert brightened. "It is, indeed. Thank you, darling." He leaned in for a kiss and lingered over it.
"Let's go down."
* R * R * R * R * R * R * R *
Demonstrating more social awareness than anyone in the Crawley family would have given him credit for, Lord Sinderby had had a gramophone put in the drawing room and invited the younger people to dance the evening away. They had needed little encouragement. Rose and Atticus, enveloped in the rapture of newlywed bliss, had eyes only for each other. Edith had partners in Tom and then Bertie Pelham in turn. And Mary was dancing with Henry Talbot.
Initially aggravated by what she considered a display of ill manners – pushing in on the Brancaster shoot – Mary was inclined to forgive Mr. Talbot. He was tall and handsome and he danced well. And she enjoyed the advantage his behaviour had given her, though not as much as she would have done in times past.
He did not have her whole attention, though. Over his shoulder, she saw Tom hand Edith off to Bertie Pelham, and then make his way to the sidetable to help himself to a drink. As Mary watched, Lord Sinderby's butler, who had been presiding over the evening from a discreet position by the wall, edged his way over to Tom and addressed him. Adept in the art of deciphering body language, Mary smiled at the obsequiousness of Stowell's approach. Since the family's arrival at Brancaster, Stowell had been unconscionably rude to Tom. Less forgiving of a servant's transgression than she was of an offence committed by one of her own caste, Mary had deployed an effective weapon against the overstepping butler. Barrow had done his work well and Mary was pleased. She smiled.
"That makes it all worth it," she murmured, more to herself than to her dance partner.*
As they had not spoken much beyond the dissection of his social misdeed, Henry Talbot's interest was drawn by this remark. "Makes what worth it?"
Mary's attention returned to him. "It's too long to explain. Suffice it to say that the butler is back in his box." There was a triumphant air to her words.
His eyebrows arched just a little. "That sounds rather snobbish."
"Not in this instance."
Mr. Talbot considered. "What was really going on this afternoon with that woman, the one with the little boy in tow?"
"What makes you think there was anything going on?" Mary was capable of skilled deceit, but for the moment she was more interested in Henry Talbot, so she didn't try very hard.
Entering into this game entirely, he frowned thoughtfully. "All right. Why was Lord Sinderby in a panic? Why did Lady Rose take over? Why did your father pretend to know the visitor when he clearly did not? And why was Lady Sinderby in total ignorance throughout?" He rattled off this litany and then fixed Mary with a very clear-eyed gaze.
She smiled. He was good at this. "Naturally, I'm not going to answer any of your questions. But I'm impressed you should ask them. Well done."
He returned her smile. "That was the first mystery," he said.
This puzzled Mary. "What? What's the second one, then?"
He came over thoughtful again but the casual tone that had permeated this exchange had dissipated. "There's something else and it appears to be a Crawley affliction. You all seem to be slightly downcast today. Is it your father's health?"
Mary's mood sobered at this. "Partly." She could admit this. Her father's health had given her another opportunity to needle Mr. Talbot about crashing the shoot.
"But not entirely."
"No. That is, yes, we are worried about him, but that's not our only concern. But it's nothing to trouble you with."
"Oh, please do. Is it something you can tell me?"
Perhaps it was the weight of the thing. Mary sighed. "Yes. It's not a secret. You see, my maid, Anna, has been arrested and charged with murder. We heard today that a trial date has been set."
Imperturbable thus far, Henry Talbot's eyes widened at this. "I don't know which part of that statement is most remarkable. Tell me more."
Well, she was into it now. "Anna was attacked by a horrid man. He … raped her." Mary never shrank from unpleasant truths. "Some time later, he fell under a trolley on a London street and was killed. Later still, witnesses came forward to suggest he might have been pushed."
Mr. Talbot's expression, like Mary's tone, had gone from playful to grave. He was listening intently now.
"He had a history of violent assaults on women," Mary went on, "not that anyone knew it. And Anna was in London on the day of his death, with me, but not with me."
"So … it was possible."
"No." Mary said this firmly, almost sharply. "Not possible at all. If you knew her as I do, if you knew all the circumstances, you'd be as certain as we are."
"But…." She had mentioned charges and arrest, after all.
"But … she was alone part of the day in London, so the police have made out that she had motive and opportunity. It's a wretched case that's gone on and on, and we have the sense that the Scotland Yard inspector in charge of the case has … fixed … on Anna and isn't really looking very hard elsewhere. Oh, let's have a drink."
They left the dance floor and Mr. Talbot fetched the drinks and then joined Mary in a corner, at a distance from the others.
"It's difficult," Mary said, taking up the story from precisely where she had left off. "The man who should be looking for evidence of the real killer is hounding Anna. And we who know she is innocent can do nothing about it."
"Is there any evidence?"
Mary convulsed impatiently. "Oh, one witness claims she was the person he saw on the pavement. A plainclothes detective saw her visit the site of the incident in Piccadilly Circus. And we have no witnesses to prove that she wasn't there. But it's all so insubstantial." Mary was tense and her tone irritable. "It all boils down to motive and opportunity, which they believe they have."
"This troubles you deeply."
She almost snapped at him and then caught herself. "It does," she said, and her expression softened somewhat. He was being kind.
"Even though … Anna … is your maid." He spoke carefully, his voice devoid of any judgment on social status.
Mary understood this, but wanted to explain, too. "Anna works as my maid. We have been together for ages. She's also my friend, my ally, and the repository of many of my secrets."
Henry Talbot's lips curled in a slight smile. "Lucky her."
"Don't be impertinent." Mary recovered her equanimity. "I suppose you think it foolish to be so invested in a servant?"
But Henry Talbot was not to be drawn on this. "Not at all. It puts rather a different cast on your disdain for the butler here. So, you aren't a snob."
"Well, I am. A bit. But not about Anna."
Mr. Talbot Asks More Questions
At mid-morning, a week later, Robert and Mary were in the library. Carson came in on them.
"You have a visitor, my lady."
Looking up from a sheaf of papers she and her father were perusing, Mary frowned a little.
"We're not expecting anyone."
"It is Mr. Henry Talbot." Carson delivered this information in a very deliberate way. He did not know this Mr. Henry Talbot, who had only recently made the family's acquaintance. Hence his reluctance to show the man in without permission. Mary gave it to him.
"Tony Gillingham followed me home on the same train," she told her father lightly. "It's taken Mr. Talbot a week." She looked up as the man himself strode into the room. "This is a surprise," Mary declared, rising, with her father, to greet him.
"Not an unwelcome surprise, I hope," Mr. Talbot said.
"Of course not."
"Do you have business in the North?" Robert asked politely.
"He has an aunt here," Mary said.
"I do. But I'm here to see you."
Robert began to gather his papers. "I'll leave you to it."
"That's not necessary, Lord Grantham. I've come about your maid."
He could hardly have remarked on anything more startling.
"I beg your pardon?" Robert said.
"Anna?"
"Yes." Henry Talbot took the chair to which Mary directed him and Robert sat again, too. "A thought occurred to me, but I wanted to look into it before I said anything."
"What do you know about Anna?" Robert asked warily. He did not approve of sharing the business of the house with just anyone.
"I told him everything, while we were at Brancaster," Mary said.
Appeased by this, Robert relaxed. "There've been some developments."
"Has anything changed?"
"Yes," said Mary. "Bates, Anna's husband, who is also my father's valet, has confessed to the murder and fled the country."
When Mary had first imparted the story to Henry Talbot, he had been astonished by the details. Now, she had shocked him once again. "That is a development."
"But he isn't guilty, either," Mary said swiftly. "He's just done it to spare her."
"Did it work?"
"Not really." That dispirited air descended on Mary again. "They've released Anna on some sort of bond, but she's not in the clear. Not by a long shot."
"And her husband, your valet?"
"His confession is false, of course," Robert replied. "But it's on the record."
"Bates has a bit of history with the law himself," Mary added. "It's a long story."
"But you stand by him?"
"Absolutely." Robert and Mary spoke together on this. "All to say, it's still a mess," Mary went on.
"What's your interest in this?" They had given Henry Talbot no confidential information, but Robert did not know this man. Nor did Mary, for that matter.
Mr. Talbot heard the caution in his voice and moved to address it. "It's only that if the case is as ramshackle as you suggest, the opinion of a … substantial figure … might put it to rest."
The Crawleys exchanged glances.
"Do you have an in at Buckingham Palace?" Robert asked delicately.
"Not at the Palace." Henry Talbot shook his head. "But I am acquainted with someone whose opinion in the matter might carry more weight."
Now it was for Robert to be astonished. "I didn't think there was anyone whose view was of more consequence."
"Let me be clear," Mr. Talbot said. "I presume, as a matter of course, that what you are interested in is justice. Your maid is innocent and you would like to bring to an end the unwarranted legal harassment she has endured. It is not a matter of exerting influence which might make the matter go away, right or wrong. Am I correct?"
With less discreet handling, Robert and Mary might have been incensed at the implications of such a question, but both understood the precision with which Henry Talbot spoke.
"That is so," Robert said gravely. "If Anna were guilty, we would support her, but we would not interfere. It's this unfounded campaign against her by what I can only describe as a narrow and mean-minded Scotland Yard inspector that is so troubling."
That seemed to settle the matter for Mr. Talbot. He sat back. "I think I may be able to help you there."
"How?"
"My father made some interesting friends over the course of his career at Westminster. I think one of them might be useful in this matter. With your permission, I'll ask him."
"And who would that be?" Robert asked.
* Author's Note: The italicized dialogue is taken verbatim from Downton Abbey, Season 5, Christmas Special and are the words of Julian Fellowes. I am borrowing them here to set up the scene.