—3—

The final group to arrive was Tom, Isobel, and Violet. Violet's children stopped by to help them unpack, with Mary tagging along. The "extra mattresses" that'd been promised to the family never showed up, so Tom selflessly took the pull-out sofa for his bed.

"Poor you," said Mary, when he told her. She banged her fist against the sofa cushion and flinched. "Ow. This is really going to hurt your back."

Tom shrugged. "I don't see a better solution. Would you rather your grandmother take it?"

"It would knock some vanity out of her, I'm sure," Mary deadpanned. "But no, you're right. Let me know if there's anything I can do to make it easier for you."

"You could always start by throwing me that pillow over there."

Mary obliged, tossing a nearby pillow to Tom, who caught it in midair. She then turned her attention to the older Crawleys, talking amongst themselves as Isobel tried and failed to instruct Violet through a cooking lesson.

"Just turn that knob – no, not that one – right now make sure it's on 325 degrees. There, see?"

Robert and Rosamund stood by the kitchen window. Watching their mama and Isobel was incredibly amusing, especially since neither of them had ever seen Violet even come close to entering a kitchen, let alone use the stove.

"I never would've thought…" said Robert under his breath, so the older women couldn't hear. "Mama cooking. The world really has turned upside down."

"New changes and all," said Rosamund, under hers, reminding her elder brother that things weren't the same as they once were.

It had been four days since Robert moved in, three since Rosamund. Robert was having trouble adjusting to their new lifestyle, but Cora constantly encouraged the changes, which made it bearable. She and Rose seemed to be the only ones who found the experience exciting – save for Tom, who, other than having to sleep on a rock-solid couch, wasn't having a completely terrible time.

"Wh – what is this used for?" asked Violet, tapping the coffee pot with her nail.

Isobel picked up the coffee pot.

"It's for making coffee. Don't tell me you've never seen one before."

Violet raised an eyebrow to say she hadn't.

"Mama, Papa, the Queen is on TV," shouted Mary, interrupting.

Everyone came to gather round the small television, recently plugged in by Robert (it took him a good half hour to find the electrical outlet).

Mary watched open-mouthed as the ex-Royal Family was shown moving into their new neighborhood. The place looked even worse than Blanch Plaza, if it was possible.

"Mary, dear, has your jaw broken? Because I seem to recall teaching you to never gape like that," tsked Violet. Mary snapped her mouth shut.

The television camera zoomed in on the Queen and her family. All of them looked quite annoyed at the endless cameras and probing questions the reporters were asking, such as "How does it feel to be poor?" and "Can we expect a riot?" There was even an American reporter at one point.

"Oddly enough, the Queen looks a bit like…" Robert turned to his sister.

Rosamund realized everyone was now looking at her, presumably thinking the same thing.

"Oh, seriously now," she said, gesturing to the screen. "You can't possibly…"

"He has a point," said Tom, nodding. "The resemblance is uncanny. Almost like you were the same person."

Rosamund scoffed.

"Don't be ridiculous."

The morning after, Violet stood in the hallway of #2 Blanch Plaza.

"Isobel, come here, I can't work this."

Although Isobel would've preferred Violet ask more nicely, she dutifully came to assist her. The telephone was the issue: Violet hadn't once in her life used one, despite them being around for nearly eighty years.

"Whom are you trying to call?" asked Isobel, taking the phone from the Dowager. Her finger hovered over the dial pad, waiting to punch in the phone number Violet voiced to her.

"Rosamund. I'm inviting her for tea."

"But not Robert or Cora? Shouldn't you ask if they'd like to join?"

Violet sighed. "Spare me the lecture, dear, and just work the… the thing."

"Phone," Isobel supplied. She dialed the number for #4 and waited for someone to pick up. A few seconds later she heard noise at the other end of the line.

"Hello?" came Edith's voice.

"Edith, it's Isobel. Cousin Violet wants to speak with Rosamund."

"Oh." Edith sounded disappointed. Isobel felt sorry for her; she felt no one ever called asking for the young woman.

There was some background noise, some of which included Rose loudly exclaiming, "Bloody house arrest!" before Rosamund finally reached the telephone.

Isobel handed the phone over to Violet, who stared into it like it was a nuclear bomb about to blow up at any moment.

"What do I do with this?"

Isobel guided the receiver to Violet's mouth and the earpiece to her ear.

"Hold it like this and speak as if you were having a natural conversation."

"There is nothing natural about a mechanical talking-device."

"Hello?"

The sound of Rosamund's voice reminded Violet of her daughter's presence on the line.

"Rosamund, it's your mother."

"Yes, Mama, I know who you are." Rosamund's tone was on the brink of annoyance, but she held it together for her mother's sake.

Violet stiffened. Isobel could barely hear the conversation but could easily tell that Violet had just been the subject of her daughter's wry humor.

"Well, Rosamund, I would like you to come for tea today. Shall we say, eleven o'clock?"

Rosamund noticed her mama didn't ask her if she wanted to come. Rather, she just assumed. Still, as she'd been taught her whole life, she accepted graciously.

Mary's first instinct when she opened the front door to see Richard Carlisle was to swear. He looked the same as when they broke up two years earlier, a nasty event that left Mary shattered for months before she'd picked herself up and married the true love of her life, Matthew.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, attempting to remain composed whilst appearing frosty. She was known for such traits, after all, and couldn't let him think she'd changed her ways.

Richard took off his hat and held it with both hands in front of him. "It seems we've found ourselves neighbors. The Prime Minister has taken all my money and valuable possessions, payment for trashing him in the paper."

Mary fidgeted with the door knob, praying this man wasn't really standing before her, and it was all some elaborate trick – perhaps April Fools had switched dates?

"How–?" she wanted to know. She was still too shocked to say much more. Plus, she didn't really want to be speaking with this man, let alone be pleasant while doing it.

Richard pointed to his council house, across the street and a few doors down. He was close by. Too close, Mary thought.

"That's mine down there."

He turned back to face her. "Mary, I know we didn't part on the best of terms. That was mainly my part, I suppose." He grimaced at the memory. "But knowing you're going to be my neighbor…"

He offered his hand for a handshake.

"I was hoping we could make amends."

A/N: Robert's little "the-Queen-looks-like-you" speech is a play on Samantha Bond being cast for both roles. I couldn't resist that one. ;)

What do you think of Mary's new neighbor and his peace offering?

Thanks for continuing to read so far!