Ethel did not know where she would go, after losing the baby, almost a week later. She offered to continue to help with Mr. Crawley but he was planning on moving back into the main house at the following the week. What would happen to her then?
A week after she was well rested and recovered, Isobel had talked to Lady Grantham and she was willing to take her back, and she could continue with her care with Mr. Crawley, but was not to get in the way when nurse was doing her job.
"Mr. Matthew will need waiting on." Cora told her, privately in the drawing room. "and I don't want to bother the other servants when Mrs. Crawley says you've already done well with it. Also there will be a trained nurse living here for six weeks. So I'm offering you a position as housemaid, same as before, except, you'll make up Mr. Matthew's rooms and the nurses, but you're not to get in her way. And you're to wait on him, bring him what he needs. You won't be given any other housemaid duties. Though I might give you some mending to do.
"Yes, my lady. Thank you, my lady." Ethel said softly and curtsied politely.
"There will be a lot to do to get the rooms ready."
Ethel left the room, weepy eyed when no one else could she her. She accompanies the quiet drive back to Crawley house with Mrs. Isobel. She discussed with Ethel that she can have her learn skills to help run a household. She will need a job once Mr. Crawley could do some things for himself again. But Ethel is barley listening.
When Mr. Crawley told her he was sorry, she said it was alright. "It wasn't meant to be."
She starts to mend on his shirt. He's tired so she invites herself to leave so that he can rest. He asks her to stay. So stay, she does. He doesn't want to sleep for he fears the nightmares. She knows just what will help. She comes back with a few books. One of them hides a flat, flash like bottle, the pages hollowed and cut out to fit it's shape. He is shocked. There is no label but it clearly alcohol. He refuses it, however. She leaves it just in case, continuing on with her sewing. Not even a minute later, the room becomes like a three ring circus. There are so many people in and out of this room, asking how he is, if he needed anything.
She was about to chase them off with, "that's what I'm here for." But Mr. Crawley does that for her. It's from lack of sleep, that and he's tired of people pampering him, and touching him all the time.
And then Lady Mary comes to see him.
Ethel shoots daggers at her back as she's asked to leave. She was jealous of her. Because if anyone was going to look after Mr. Matthew, it was her. They were two broken people and had a understanding. They were stronger because of the broken places.
Few of the staff were still not that very kind to her but they had no choice but to put up with her. The few that didn't seem to care were Anna, Bates, and Molesley. But it turned out that it had been a big misunderstanding that Ethel was still in 'that life', being a prostitute. Though they were all deeply saddened and sympathetic about her losing the child. Taking care of Mr. Matthew had taken her mind of it.
"I don't pretend to be better than anyone else but Mr. Crawley was never unkind to us, was he?" Ethel said, sitting at the servants table, continuing to mend Mr. Crawley's shirt. She had never seen him shout at anyone. He had at several people trying to help him.
" No." Molesley was the one to speak, "He's a good man. The worst moment I've ever seen him...I don't like seeing him like that." He was frequent to Mr. Crawley's tyrants.
"Mr. Crawley shouldn't be treated unfairly because he's come back different." Carson said, "He did a great service for this country, he deserves to be respected. Regardless of any position. It will be a long recovery and it won't be an easy one. Perhaps what we should all strive for is some kindness towards him." His gaze goes to Thomas. But even Thomas agrees.
Mary had snuck to his room, after the revolving door of people, hoping to get a chance to talk with him. They barely said anything to each other, well anything of great importance. He knows she wants to ask him about the war, how she could help him. Every time he would have this uncomfortable air around him. How can he get better if he never talks about it? There are things he is hiding, things he doesn't want her to see or know.
He'd occasionally have his moods, occasionally chasing out the servants, not literally of course. Even eighteen months later, the day of the armistice, that's supposed to be a day of peace. She had come up, after Bates had helped him in to bed.
It wasn't proper. But Mary hadn't cared. She had heard that just now, Lang had ran from Matthew's room in a freight. He had probably had said something unsavory to the man.
"I know you're accustomed to doing things your own way, but do you have to upset everyone in this house? What's poor Lang ever done to you?" She said all this is a teasing manner but it was tinted with frustration.
"I didn't do a blasted thing. I behaved toward him with the same civility I'm showing you." He's given an offended look. "Upstairs, Downstairs, should be treated with the same respect. We're all the same in this." This war.
She knows it's on his mind. But the war was over. Maybe he meant, in this life.
"It wouldn't have to do what he said to you at breakfast?" Lang had dropped a tray and Carson had looked about to have a coronary. They all thought he actually did, when he almost collapsed but it had been a false alarm. While all of this had been going on, Lang had bent over, whispering something to him. It had seemed to cause Matthew a great deal of distress.
"Of course not."
She had to take his word on it. So she dropped the topic.
"If that had been Carson, I wouldn't have been surprised if he hit you with a tray." She goes on saying that she was worried about him. "Dr. Clarkson says he'll be alright. False alarm." Matthew just sits, with a vexed expression.
"All he did was open the door and the man went to pieces. He looked at me and dropped his tray." The tray hadn't made a sound, stifled from the carpeting. Matthew had been startled by the tray that had been dropped in the dining room. No one had noticed, that he was thankful for. But the second tray Lang had dropped on the carpet, had not. "I've no idea why, do you?"
"All I know is that Carson had to put him to bed. He's the one that should be staying in bed. He's overrun. I'm sure if I demand him too, he will. He'll listen to his Lady Mary."
"Is that what he calls you?" Matthew was grinning from ear to ear. Mary felt her own ears grow hot.
"You're enjoying this far too much."
"Didn't you want me to? To start to enjoy things again. Partake in your usual customs?" He was having her on but she could detect that he was holding back on what he was truly feeling. She didn't know how much he wanted too. He couldn't explain it to her when he himself didn't understand him. He tried not to be angry but he was.
"How does your back feel?" She sat down gently on the bed. He would complain about it at times.
"I don't know if I'll be able to sleep now."
She drew herself up with a sigh. "I might not either. Mama's getting a cough." They were saying it was this new Spanish flu that's going around and that it was deadly. She hoped it wasn't that. She said nothing about it. She didn't want him to worry about it.
"It seems all I'll ever do is lie in bed." He shakes his head back and forth, then looks up at the ceiling.
"Not all the time. You just can't go out right now. With this weather. Don't want you getting a cold."
He groaned, "you sound like my mother."
"None of that attitude now."
"You see my point. I have a never ending cycle of people taking care of me. I don't need you to."
"Yes. You do. No one else is going to get you out of those moods of yours."
"You should know by now to enter this room at your own risk."
"I did. And I thought you were asleep."
"And I was. The fuss you're making is unnecessary."
She regarded him with a stern expression. Then her face softened and she gave a sigh. "I suppose if our roles were reversed, and I'd fallen off Diamond and injured my back, having people wait on me all the time, hand and foot, touching me, I wouldn't be in a pleasant mood."
"Admit it, you'd love it. Getting pampered like a princess, that you are."
"By who, you?" She instinctively gave him a flirtatious glance. He hadn't noticed or had chose not to, for he didn't acknowledge it. He turned his head away from her.
"Everyone is grateful that you're here." She courageously took hold of his hand. He let her. One small thing at a time. He'd surely get there. But it seems when he does, we're back to where we had started. I have to try harder.
"Anything you want to talk about..."
"No. There isn't." He then looks at her and smiles. "I would want to...but I can't. I wish I could understand it all...to explain it to you. It's very hard."
"I'll give you all the time you need."
"Thanks for understanding, Mary." He stares into her eyes. Wanting to reach out and touch her hair, kiss her. She does. She leans in, her lips firmly on his. He lets her love wash over him, like a wave, a cocoon. Here he is safe. Here, he forgets. This is a different type of forgetting. The sorrow temporarily washes away, like footprints on a beach. Then there are new ones. Only to be washed away again.