Second Chances

by EmelineCarter92

After Matthew's return from the war, he struggles to adjust, suffering from shell shock, not just the paralysis. Many characters, upstairs and down, have a great importance in Matthew's recovery, during 1917, late 1918 and beyond. War has a way of distinguishing what is important and what isn't. Missing scenes from my For Ever and Ever series.

21. August 1924-October 1924

August 1924

Matthew had finished gathering some things from the office. Even though he hadn't used the office for a few years now, he used it as storage. He had packed up the sensitive documents himself and put them into boxes. He had assistance loading them into the car of course. He couldn't carry them, having to use a stick, especially when having to step up or down, if there wasn't a railing. He loved this sort of freedom, though still limited. If he was out longer he'd have to use the wheelchair, he'd been neglecting using it as he thought that he didn't need it. He was just grabbing a few things.

He saw Tom down the street, near the school, his usual spot where he would wait for Miss Bunting. Seeing Matthew, he came over and helped the chauffeur load the few boxes into the boot.

"I haven't seen your friend Miss Bunting around, lately. Robert's outburst put her off, I take it?" He beamed at that pleasant thought. No. He shouldn't take pleasure in that. She was Tom's friend. It wouldn't be right. He should forgive her, even if she had meant to hurt him. It was called being a better person.

"She got a new teaching position. I just saw her off."

"I'm so sorry, Tom. You seemed to like her."

"It was for the best. She reminded me of who I used to be, full of anger and hatred. I couldn't go back to that. And she's not my friend. You are. You're my brother." He placed his hand briefly on his shoulder. "She said we let them change us."

"The 'We'll never let them change us, boys? Never!"

"Said that I was protecting a dying breed."

"Perhaps. That won't be for quite some time."

"Exactly what I told her. They'll be needing people like us." Tom's smile turned into a frown. "But things have changed."

"Oh. Have you decided then?"

"Not quite yet. Still need more time to think about it." He turned to Matthew thinking, just what was going on with him. "We've been spending more time together but we never really actually talk." When they did it was mostly business. "I'm not going to ask you to talk to me about it, if you don't want to. You were going through some things. You still are."

"Please don't make excuses for me, Tom. I've barely been a decent friend to you." He turned his attention to the people milling about, then back to Tom. "Do you know somewhere we can talk in private?"

They went to a little footbridge, overlooking a creek, back behind a vacant lot. This would be an ideal spot for a cottage or a house to be built. He could imagine a family living here, the children wading, and fishing in the water.

"I understand a bit what you're going through." He said to Tom. "feeling like you don't fit in. I feel like the worlds going on without me, even though I'm trying to change with it." The rip roaring twenties. It felt like they were going on without him, like he didn't belong, with all the advances and fashion, it was like some strange foreign world.

"I don't think I could ever go back to Manchester. It isn't my home anymore. I'm too different now, than the man I was."

"I know what you mean."

"Do you think you could ever go back?"

"To Ireland?" Tom was taken aback by such a question, not the question itself, but he hadn't really thought about it. He replied, in full honesty, "No. I don't feel like I'd belong there either."

Matthew nodded, it was good to know, that he wasn't the only one. "I feel like I'm not supposed to be here." Tom gave his friend a worried glance. Surely he wasn't thinking about...He shook his head, disguising it as an itch, scratching the back of his head. Matthew Crawley was too proud for that. And he had so much to live for now than he had before. "I faced death every day. Many times, I came close." There had been many chances, instances where he thought he might be killed.

"Does Mary know about any of this?"

He nods again. "I think she knows. Sometimes I don't have to say anything."

"It was like that with Sybil. Anywhere I go, and I feel her, I'll be home. That much I know." They took a moment of silence, remembering those they had lost. Tom inhaled and exhaled a breath of fresh air. "Right." He said, patting his friend on the back. "Let's get you home. I don't want you collapsing on me."

---

Miss Patmore had inherited money from an Aunt. She wanted Matthew's advice on what to do with it. She wanted Miss Hughes and Carson to hear her ideas too. "It's a few hundred quid, more than I ever saved. She was married to a barber and he did well but they had no children."

"How nice of her to choose you." Miss Hughes said.

"I think it's the memory of my dad more than anything."

Matthew nodded in understanding as he listened. People he had known in Manchester had thought of him fondly, only he had thought as such because of his father.

She was thinking that she could use the money to invest but didn't know in to what.

They were expanding on the village, building more farms and cottages. He suggested it to her. "They could bring in a lot of money over the next several years."

"I wanted to invest in one of the cottages as a bed and breakfast." Matthew raised an eyebrow. Had she already thought this out? Had she wanted to see him for some other reason? He dreaded what the real reason might actually be. Miss Patmore then turned to Carson and Miss Hughes, 'that's what I brought you in for. I might hand in my notice if it doesn't fall through."

"I really cannot say on the matter. But it is your money to do with what you please." Miss Hughes said. She would be sad to see her go and it showed in her voice.

"This next bit I was hoping to go over with Mr. Crawley. Alone."

Miss Hughes caught Carson's look of disapproval. She cut him off before he could say anything, telling them they ought to be getting back to work anyway. "Come along, now Mr. Carson. They have matters to discuss, which I'm sure will bore you. Mr. Crawley is a man of the new world. They're going to replace old goats like you"

Once they were left alone in Carson's office, Matthew asked, "What else could I do for you Miss Patmore?" as he sat down.

"There was something else I've wanted to speak to you about. You've heard about my nephew Archie."

He closed his eyes. So this was really the reason she wanted him down here, to try to convince the board to put her nephew on the memorial. He was hoping the subject wouldn't come up. He never had spoke to anyone about it other than Mary and Robert. He felt used, although he had already known she was going to ask sooner or later. Miss Patmore meant well. He would try his best to help her. If he was Archie, he'd want someone to stick up for him. But he wasn't like Archie. He hadn't run away and met his end by firing squad. God, how many times he had wanted to run away. His mind almost had.

It was the day that Levine had died. He stood frozen to the spot. He couldn't move. They literally had to drag him back to the trenches. He was feeling listless, like he weighed nothing as everything around him started to blur. The shouting and firing and explosions sounded muted, as if it was all coming out through a hollowed out tube.

"What happened?"

"Levine was blown up right in front of him, that's what happened!" It sounded like Edwards, his Second Lieutenant. Edwards who would be dead just within hours. He was vaguely aware of the hands around him, guiding him, resting him up against the trench wall. There was someone calling out, pleading with God or cursing him.

Whoever they were, they were panicking, fearing they would be without a Captain.

"He's gone." The same voice wails.

Another voice but strong and steady, "I heard about this. It's the neurosis."

"No. He's just in shock. He'll come round." A hopeful but doubtful voice, that could have been Edwards.

He couldn't recall much of what was happening or what was wrong with him.

He understood now of course, that his mind had been trying to run away. But he had had a duty, to his men. Their cries, their please for him to come back to them.

"Crawley?" Someone gently put a hand to his face.

"Patrick?"

"No. It's Edwards."

Patrick's dead. He remembers thinking it. His mind had tried to pull away again. He had almost let it, had wanted it to. He had wanted to be anywhere but there, in that moment.

He could hear their voices but not what was going on around him. Nor could he see. Nor did he care.

"We should give 'im something to drink. Bourbon."

William.

"No, he's going to need something stronger than that, kid. He might need more than that." He feels the gentle hand again, this time on his shoulder. "Come back to us, Captain. You need to give your orders. Your men need you." A canteen is pressed to his lips. "Here, drink this, it'll make you feel better."

He takes a drink of it, nearly choking on it.

"Easy, now. That's it."

His mind feels like it's coming out of a fog. He sits up straight.

"Are you with us?"

He was now. Gives a nod.

"What are the orders, Captain..."

"I...I.. " For a second he didn't know, couldn't think, a painful dreadful second. He had to make a decision, and whatever decision that was, would seal the fate of his men. Without thinking about it, he says it out of instinct, "fall back. We need to fall back." It was hard to believe that it was his voice, filled with courage, something that he was far from feeling. He didn't know what he was feeling. All he knew was survival.

"You heard him. Fall back! Fall back" His voice was almost drowned out, as a shell landed inside the trench, burying the two of them under rubble. William and the others must have gotten clear enough, judging how William had found him and Edwards an hour later.

He rubs his eyes at the foggy memory. Though what had transpired next had been clear. At least from the point where William had found him, shifted the debris off him, then assisting Edwards, waiting with him to die, up until William jumped in front of him during the second blast, saving his life. He had to stop and think for a moment. Something wasn't right with that memory. He had thought that it had been a piece of Levine he had found in his shirt, after days he had been soaked in his blood, he had been finally able to shower and change at headquarters. That must have been someone else, then. Memory was a funny thing when it came to war, what the mind chooses to forget, choosing when and what to remember. He had nearly lost his mind, twice that day. He now believed that it started, this deep wound to his psyche, after he had killed that German boy, then the repeat of seeing another friend die in the exact same way had almost sent him over the edge. They had been able to call him back, the first time his mind had tried to run away. What had the second time? What had prevented it then, while he had been trapped under all that ruble? His will to live, for Mary, his duty? Why had Miss Patmore's nephew been able to psychically runway, when he couldn't? He quickly came up with an answer himself.

It was not the same for everyone, when it came to shell shock. It affected one's self differently. "It's like any other wound. But it's different for everyone."

"But you at least have known how he felt. What he was going through. What it felt like."

He nodded, sadly, covering his eyes, rubbing them again. "You could try writing to the war office."

"I wouldn't know how to write a letter like that."

"I could write it for you."

"What good would that do? Lord Grantham said there were rules in place."

"There are. I'll tell you what, I can tell you what to write. It needs a more feminine hand to be convincing and sympathetic. If you write to them, more and more families will, over the years. In time, we'll be understood. Things will change, Miss Patmore." Maybe not in our lifetime. "Sometimes you need to take the first step."

---

September 1924

Edith had received the most devastating news. Robert didn't know who else to talk to about this. When he opened the door to the library, he wasn't alone. Matthew had pulled his own resources, his old contacts, to help find Gregson, after he had disappeared a few years ago.

"Edith's received some terrible news." Robert announced as he entered. "Gregson's dead, I'm afraid."

"How terrible that is to hear. And was it this Herr Hitler?"

"Apparently, at least his gang of thugs. During the so called Bierkeller Putsch in Munich. It took days for the police to get the city back under control and by then any trace of Gregson was buried or what was left of him."

"It's horrible to think about."

"At least they locked Hitler up for five long years."

"He most likely won't serve five years or anything like it." Matthew stated. Of course he would know. He was the lawyer. This Hitler sounded like he could cause more trouble. It seemed futile to think of it now.

"There is another thing. Edith inherits Gregson's publishing company."

Matthew didn't attempt to hide his smile. At least something good would come out of this. A woman owning her own publishing company, good on Edith! "I at least expected that."

"I hope somehow it helps her get through this. It was very generous of him." He continued on when Matthew didn't reply. "I suppose they loved each other."

"How is Edith really taking it?"

"She's gone for a walk. She wanted to be on her own. It came to no surprise of course but there's always a shred of hope, isn't there?"

Over breakfast the next morning, Edith hadn't come down. "I don't know what she's so worked up about it. She hasn't laid eyes on him for almost two years." Mary said. "And they were broken up by then."

"She just got the news yesterday. For her it feels like it just happened." Matthew said. Years after the war, when he had learned that some of his comrades in arms had died, it had felt exactly like that. "She still loved him." He had loved Patrick, his friend. Not the same kind of love, but still. He had never properly grieved when he had received Patrick's letter (a letter from the grave.) that was to be delivered to him upon Patrick's death not until Mary had read it to him. It was as if he had just written it and had still been alive. He had written it in the hospital weeks before his death. Matthew had watched his write it. He offered to post it for him, but Patrick held it out of reach, to keep him from seeing what it said, and continued writing.

'For my eyes only. I made preparations and am going to leave specific instructions. You won't get this until something were to happen to me. When you do, deliver it straight to Mary. There will be a letter for you as well..."

"Patrick..."

"Don't." His friend had squeezed his arm, his fingernails almost digging in, from fighting back the pain he was in.

"That's not going to happen. I saved your life. You owe me." He was joking now.

"No." He starts to cough. He manages to clear his throat. "I forgot to congratulate you on your engagement...I told you she deserved better than me. I hope you forgive me for taking advantage of you."

"Patrick not..." They couldn't do this here.

"You see why I'm bad for her? Take care of her for me. I know you will. I knew you would love her."

"How could you possibly have known..." How could he have known, predicted that he would fall in love with a complete stranger as soon as the sight of her?

"I just did. You're my best friend. You know me better than anyone, and I know you." His grip eased. "If it weren't for you...you made it easier to survive...here." He was getting slower in his speaking. "You helped me make the best of it. Now enough of this sob fest. Get back to your duties, Captain. I need some rest." His last words, his last spoken ones, he suddenly remembered after all these years.

Even though he had known it must be true, he still hadn't believe he was dead until they had buried his body. For Edith, there would never be that.

---

Francis Fitzalan-Howard, 2nd Baron, died on 22nd September 1924, his son was announced as Baron Howard of Glossop the next day. Matthew wondered if it would happen that fast for him, he'd come into the title. He knew he'd become Earl the moment Robert dies. He was referring to how ready he'd be, if he'd come into his own naturally. What kind of Earl would he be? How would he be received? He didn't voice his last two worries to Mary.

"You mustn't worry about it. Papa's got a lot of good amount of time left." She gave him a kiss.

"What was that for?" His eyes fluttered up to her, admiring her beauty.

In Mary Crawley fashion, she kept him guessing. He headed downstairs for lunch while Anna came in to dress her for the day. She had a letter for her. They got to talking about Gregson.

"I know it's terrible but what does she suppose he was doing? Living in a tree?"

"You mustn't make jokes, mi'lady."

"Only in here. I'll be as solemn as a church when I go down."

"He's been dead for a while now but it feels like it was yesterday to Lady Edith."

"That's what Mr. Matthew says. Sometimes it's scary and eerie the way you two think alike." Anna and Matthew were the same age. That could be it. Anna had come to work at Downton when she was sixteen, Mary had been ten. It just struck her that maybe the reason she was compatible and inseparable with Matthew was because of Anna. She and her husband were so alike. She had married her best friend. The male version of Anna. "I am sorry, truly. He was a nice man. Though what he saw in Edith..." She opened the folded piece of paper. "The York and Ainsty are holding a point-to-point at Canningford Grange on Saturday and a friend of Tony's persuaded him they should ride in it. I might join them!" It had been so long since she had been able to ride, since Katie's birth, eight months ago. And she had been too busy lately. She hoped she wasn't too out of practice.

"Are ladies allowed to race with the gentlemen?"

"They changed it just before the war. Papa thinks it's terribly fast."

Rose had gone to York earlier in the week to check up on her refugees she had been tutoring. It was sometimes tiring and sad when they talked of the old days in Russia before the war. The day matched the mood. It was pouring down rain, when she ran into him.

He was tall, with dark brown hair. She could smell his cologne. When she laid her eyes upon him, she couldn't help taking a second look.

Our eyes locked across a crowded room and wham! It was as if the entire crowd vanished and it was just the two of us. We gravitated to each other and it felt like the heavens opened up and a chorus of angels sang.

His name was Atticus Aldridge.

Rose came up to Mary's room after Anna left. "How do you know when you're in love? It was love at first sight for you and Cousin Matthew?"

Mary had to pause for a second, wondering what possibly could have brought this on, before answering. "I wouldn't put it like that. You can feel a lot of things at first sight, and some of those things are incredibly intoxicating, overpowering. It takes compatibility to make a healthy relationship work. Love, by itself is not enough." She was saying all this of course as not to get her young cousin's hopes up. It wasn't that way for every one. "But you can not love someone you do not know. Not for who they really are." It was like she was just starting to get to know him. Lord knows she tried to get through his walls and barriers. He had told her as much as he could, about the war. There was still something unspoken. "I wanted very much to hate him, when he insulted our way of live, calling it ridiculous, but I couldn't. Before you marry, make sure there is no secrets between you."

Rose wasn't the only one to be struck by love. Lord Merton had proposed to Isobel but she said she would have to think about it. Life with Lord Merton, sounded like a new adventure, it might be the last one before the end. On the other hand, she felt that she had more in common with Richard.

Robert and Lady Sinderby had rekindled their relationship but they wanted it to remain secret. Over lunch he almost couldn't contain himself, hinting at it by announcing that he would have joyous news before too long.

"The drawings for the ideas on how to renovate the run down houses?" Matthew asked.

"Not quite but that is part of it."

"Why is there such a building spurt?" Rose wondered.

"Because the war showed how half the population was very badly housed." Mary said, her voice filled with slight annoyance. It was constantly having to refer to it when talking about change. A slip of habit. Perhaps to convince themselves that it had meant something. There had to be a reason for it. Change, was the best thing to come out of it she supposed. Though a few years ago, she hadn't thought that they would still be mentioning the war, even five years later. It never went away, would it in another five, ten? Maybe for those who were not in it.

"They were shocked by how unhealthy some of the new recruits were." Robert replied.

Mary watched as Matthew's eyes went down to his plate. It would never be over for him. He can't escape it, not even by it's mere mention. She knows he must be thinking about it. "I heard there's going to be a point-to-point at Cannigford on Saturday." She wanted to change to a more cheerful topic.

Rose lit up, showing interest. "Atticus was talking about that."

"Atticus? Atticus Aldridge?" Robert asked.

"Yes! How'd you know? Is he any relation to Lady Sinderby?" Recalling that her last name was also Aldridge.

"He's her son. It's a wonder why you haven't come across each other until now."

"Well, you and Lady Sinderby haven't been seeing much of each other lately." Mary reminded him. Which little did they know he had been seeing her again. "And Rose wasn't here when she brought her son to dinner."

"That's just the luck, isn't it? But I wouldn't have met him like I did if we had met earlier." And wouldn't have fallen in love at first sight.

"The Sinderby's bought Cannigford Grange before Lord Sinderby died." Robert said.

"Why don't we all go, make a day of it?" Rose asked, looking forward to it.

"Yes. We could ask Granny and Isobel and take the children." Mary thought it a marvelous idea as she said it, though she wasn't sure how it would go over with Matthew. And then there was going out in public, he was used to it by now, but he didn't like being stared at, at times. She would have to bring his lap rug, as his legs got cold easily and that would decrease the unwanted attention, and pack some toys for the children so they would stay out of trouble. The food would be provided. She was growing rather excited and looked forward to it. It would take his mind off things.

They discussed it later in the evening. As she had expected, he didn't agree.

He thought horses rather pointless, since the invention of cars and other means to get around and he didn't trust them. Mary disagreed, saying horses were more trustworthy than most people.

"You're most likely to die in a car crash or falling in the bath." His face was grim. "Not you per-say. It's less likely to fall off a horse."

It wasn't his dislike for horses. He couldn't quite look at one the same way again, after what they had to do to them, in the war, to survive. He feared if he got too close, they would stare right through him and know. Horses were the most perceptive creatures on the planet, besides mans best friend.

"Tom isn't going. Why aren't you dragging him to this?"

"Because Tom doesn't want to go, and he's not my husband. It'll be fun. The children will love seeing the horses."

"The children can't see the horses here?"

"It'll be nice to get out. Tony's going to be there. He'll be competing but afterwards I don't see why he wouldn't stick around to chat. I want you to try and get to know him. Tom might not be here much longer. It''ll be nice for you to have someone else to talk to." They had some things in common that she had been sure they would hit it off at the start but he hadn't been interested. Maybe this effort would work this time round. "You'll find out you'll have far enough in common than you think."

"I'm sure!" He smiled for her benefit.

"Good!" She smiled back, and didn't even notice.

He didn't want another friend.

---

"Come and look at these!" Later that afternoon, Robert had Mary, Matthew and Tom gathered in the library, even Lady Sinderby. She after all would soon be in charge of seeing over the estate as well, but they were not aware of that yet of course. They were curious as to why she was there. Robert told them convincingly that she knew a great deal in such matters. Mary just shrugged her shoulders at Matthew, signaling they should just go along with it.

"This is just the kind of work we're looking for, isn't it? Mary asked, as they gathered around the blueprints for the new buildings, laid out on the table.

"I knew you'd say that." Robert said.

"Why?"

"They'd cost the most."

"These would be a lot cheaper."

"But nastier."

"A lot of the renovated cottages will be occupied by lifetime tenants." Matthew stated. "We'd have no real income from them for twenty years." By which time he'd be dead, he bleakly thought. He would like to do more for Downton before then.

"So instead of Mr. Wavell's horrid houses, we'll make our own?"

"Matthew's just trying to protect the estate."

"What's the matter, darling?" Rachel was bent down next to Isis, having noticed that she didn't seem to be doing so well. "I wonder if she'd picked up a germ."

"Or she's probably eaten a dead squirrel." Mary suggested. "She's quite fat. She could be pregnant."

"I doubt that. She can't be." Robert replied.

"I suppose we should go for the cheaper option," Mary pointed at the drawing closest to her, in haste. "but it's a shame. Anyway I must fly. I've got an appointment in York in an hour."

"Where do you have to rush off to in a hurry?" Robert asked.

"Aunt Rosamund is taking me to a fashion show."

Matthew walked with her to the door. "Make sure to bring something back worthwhile, preferably something easy to take off?"

She smiled up at him lustfully, intending to fulfill that promise.

---

The day of the race, was clear and sunny. Robert was watching through his binoculars while the rest of the family was sitting underneath the tent in the shade. The children's nannies brought Sybie and George over to their grandfather for a closer look. Matthew was sitting in a chair next to Robert. George went over to sit on his lap. Sybie went over to her Grandfather.

"Can I have a look, Donk?" Sybie asked her grandfather, tugging on his coat.

Robert lifted her up and put the binoculars up to her face. "Can you see Aunt Mary?"

"Yes."

Matthew asked if he could hand them over once he was done. George would make a fuss if he didn't get a turn.

"I think she's splendid." Isobel said with approval. Her son definitely deserved a woman like her.

"I think she's cracked." Chirped Violet.

"It's good to do some crazy things when you're young." Isobel had been rebellious in her youth before she had met Reggie. He had come into her life and wouldn't leave. A few years of dating, they were out at dinner with some medical student friends of his. One of the men commented that he was a lucky man. She didn't understand. His friend had a more attractive woman. Why was he lucky? Well it turns out that his hot young thing had seemed like a dream come true at the beginning, she seemed to adore his kids, was eager to please and could talk for hours. Fast forward and she drove their kids away, pushed him to the brink of financial ruin, was sloppy and lazy and he began to notice that she only talked about herself. He jokingly said to watch out cause my woman was worth stealing. She looked around at their friends and noticed how people gravitated towards him, how he was always helping and seemed so warm and genuine with everyone, she had wanted to settle down. Matthew's rebellious nature growing up had been due to them pushing him toward something he didn't want.

"As long as you survive them." Lady Sinderby sounded a bit nervous. She felt a little intimidated in Violet's presents., hoping that she wouldn't sense that Robert and her were back together, least of all, engaged.

"Some people do crazy things all their lives." Violet remarked.

Rather than reply to her future mother in-law, she went to go find a seat.

It felt so thrilling, so freeing, to be up on her horse again, watching everything speed by. As the horse approached the obstacle, preparing to jump, she got this euphoric feeling. It began to dwindle down as the race ended, with her finishing in fifth place.

"You're not in the least disappointed that you're not the first woman to win?" Matthew asked her gleefully.

"No. I enjoyed it at much as I do the hunt."

Robert came round from the corner of the tent, he was still holding Sybie. George was with the nanny. "Well done. Thank God, you're all back in one piece."

"If I hadn't know any better I'd think she allowed them to win." Tony said. He'd been walking beside Mary.

"This world's not ready enough for our Lady Mary." Matthew replied.

"They wish. I don't believe in letting people win." Replied Mary.

Tony asked Matthew if he would mind if they got away from the sweltering heat. He had some ideas on some of his investments that might interest him. Mary smiled watching them sit and talk. Well, she failed the race, at least she didn't on this. And she didn't even have to ask. It didn't seem to last very long though, as Tony rejoined them.

Lady Sinderby made her way over to the small group of people gathered. Atticus introduced her to Tony and Mr. Blake. "The rest of the family you know and of course Lady Rose."

"Lady Rose, so lovely to see you!" Rachel said, affectionately. "Why don't you all come back to the house to bathe and change?"

"I'm going to leave in till we get back to Downton, thank you." Mary said, giving her father an out. She knew this would be slightly awkward for her father.

"I can't tempt you to stay for dinner?"

"Not today when we're covered in dust." Robert said. "Why don't you and Atticus come to Downton tomorrow for dinner?"

Mary, who was sipping a glass of lemonade, gave him a glance, that said, your funeral. Robert caught her expression as she walked past. But he could relax, she hadn't caught on. They all thought that things were awkward between them because of their breakup, not that because they were desperately hiding something.

"We'd be delighted." Rachel clasped her hands together.

"If she's coming to dinner because of Rose's young man, things must be far more advanced than I realized, and not to mention awkward." Violet said to Isobel, having overheard. It was rather hard not to.

"Oh, I don't quite think so." Violet gave her a look that said, do you know something that I don't?

---

Rose's father came to stay at Downton after separating from his wife, Susan. He was helping Violet search for Prince Kuragin's wife. Kuragin and the Princess had been separated, not by will, while they had been escaping Russia as refugees. Shrimpie put his investigation skills to use that he had learned from his Pinkerton cousins from America. He tracked her down, her last known whereabouts to just outside of Hong Kong. If she wasn't to be found, or didn't want to, Kuragin asked Violet to run away with him. But of course she couldn't. It wasn't just her reputation to uphold, they were no spring chickens anymore and not foolish young people in love.

Susan had tracked down her husband. It wasn't hard. He didn't have many places to go. She demanded he stop his nonsense and come home when she heard about Atticus and Rose's relationship, commenting about her daughter's behavior, that she got from him, certainly not from her. "You are a fool to indulged her. Have you ever stopped...?"

Shrimpie came to Rose's defense. "Have you ever stopped? Stop making everyone so bloody unhappy all the time!"

She wanted Rose to come back with her, that it wasn't to late to save her reputation. "He can't marry her."

"Who said anything about marriage? Atticus and I are just seeing each other."

"And that is just enough. But I know of someone, who would be willing to, after all this." Susan addressed to her husband that she wanted to talk to her daughter alone. He gave a hmph and departed. Rose gave him a desperate look that said, don't leave me alone with her, but he already rounded the corner.

"Come, sit with me darling." Rose had no option but to obey. "You remember Phillip Dawson, that works at the bank? He's a reasonable and intelligent man. We've spoken at length about it, and he's willing to marry you. He's a widower who loved his wife deeply. He's not looking to replace her but needs a mother for his son."

Rose shot right up, "Is that what I'm only to be good for? A mother to his son, just a job to fill? I'm to be handed off, to a man I don't even know."

"He's worked for us for years."

"But to spend the rest of my life in a loveless marriage, like you and father? Mother, how could you?"

"How could I? How could I? How dare you ask me that question, after disgracing us by going off with married men and those who are beneath you, in front of all of London. How dare you! You will do exactly as I say now without hesitation, or I'll lock you up in a nunnery somewhere or cut you off."

"You're just a sad dried up old cow, who will get nothing once he divorces you. I know he wouldn't want that for me. I will not be forced to marry a man that I don't love and who doesn't love me, sold into slavery or like a piece of furniture. It's 1924, not the 1800's. Women are becoming liberated now. And it's not up to you. You have no say in what I do or who I marry. It's up to Papa."

Rose found herself an hour later, sitting next to her father on the sofa in the library. "You wouldn't force me to marry a man that I didn't love. Would you, Papa?"

"I do not want the same path your mother and I had chosen for us." She also finds herself resting her head against his shoulder as she had when she was a little girl. Sometimes she still longed for those days, but without her mother of course.

---

Robert announced his engagement to Lady Sinderby that night at dinner. "I have a little announcement to make. You might like to know that Lady Sinderby and I decided that we should get married. Naturally I thought it would be the last thing to ever happen."

"I forced him into it."

"She wooed me into it."

Mary swallowed, nearly choking on her food. She never imagined him saying words like that, though she had noticed the way they had looked at each other, how her father straightened his posture and looked at her whenever she spoke.

"And I'm terribly pleased she did!"

They toasted and cheered for the newly engaged couple. Rose and Atticus were talking excitedly to each other. It was evident there was a spark between them.

"Atticus seems quite taken with your niece." She said to Robert. He didn't correct her that she was his cousin. "I would be delighted if something were to come of it."

"Have you decided at last if you were leaving?" Matthew was asking Tom.

"At last is the right phrase but I want to make sure I do the right thing. I don't want to disrupt Sybie's life then regret it."

"You know we all want you to stay."

"That's what makes it more difficult."

---

The dinner party made it's way to the drawing room afterwards as usual. Isobel was having a conversation with Robert and Lady Sinderby, congratulation them. "I'm so glad that the two of you found each other again."

"Speaking of which, do you have an answer to Lord Merton's question?" Violet butted in.

"What question is this?" Robert asked, interested.

"I had to turn him down."

"Really?" The Dowager Countess was surprised. "I wouldn't imagine you letting that slip from your fingers, settling for a country doctor."

"We haven't decided on anything. We're just friends at the moment."

"I'd like to see how long that lasts, as he's been constantly pining for your affection since the day you arrived here." Violet went on her way.

"I hope she didn't sway you towards anything." Robert nodded toward the direction of his mother as she retreated.

"Cousin Violet does mean well. But no. I came to my own decision. Richard and I have more in common. Like we decided to remain friends as well. And he helped Matthew a great deal."

"I heard somewhat about that." Rachel hadn't known how she should talk to him when he was in the wheelchair. Should she bend down? She had asked before she was to formally meet him for the first time. Atticus had told her to just stand up straight. He worked with some older men that had been wounded in the war, and had to use wheelchairs, they hated that. And she had heard from Robert that he had suffered from nightmares. "He seems to be getting along rather well now." She looked over at him, chatting happily with Mary and Tom. Both fine young people as well. She would be gaining Mary and Edith as stepdaughters. How Robert talked about Sybil, she wished she could have gotten to know her. Their meeting was very brief at New Years Eve of 1919. She would also be gaining another son, in Matthew, in a way.

"Oh, yes, he's come a long way! There's still a stigma around mental illness, I suppose there always will be, but there's been progression in numerous fields, and a more understanding of shell shock since the war, in the last recent years."

"I would like to meet this doctor Clarkson you speak so well of."

After the guests had gone home, Robert joined Mary and Tom in the library. He was talking about how he never thought he'd find someone again, even though he knew it had to happen eventually. It was demanded of his image. Mary said she couldn't possibly think of loving someone else if anything happened to Matthew. He had gone up to be after everyone had departed.

"That's because it hasn't happened to you yet." Tom said. Mary knitted her eyebrows together at him. "And hopefully never will, not for a long time."

Mary left the room to check on Matthew and the children.

"What about you? " Robert asked Tom, as he sat down on the chase lounge next to Isis. "We don't want you to be alone forever, you know."

"Just as I find someone that shares your family values."

Robert laughed. "Someone who feels friendly towards us, is not the same thing."

"No."

Isis gave a small whine. Robert was getting worried about her. She hardly moved from her spot in the last few days. He bent over to give her a pat. She didn't even seem to have the energy to lick his hand. "You're really not yourself, are you, old girl?"

"I've written a letter to my cousin in Boston. His family is doing very well there."

"I see. There's no use for a last attempt to change your mind?"

"I do love all of you, you know. It'll be hard to go."

"On both sides."

"I won't be telling the others, till after the wedding."

"That might be a good idea." That would spare some of Mary's resentment to use as ammunition.

---

Mary went up to the nursery, where she found Matthew. He was going over to each cot, touching the children's hair gently.

"I think probably the best moments are when they are all ready for bed in their pajamas, with a glass of milk." He said. "I feel guilty about leaving them." They wouldn't be taking them with to London for Robert and Rachel's wedding in a few days. The date had been set for the third week of October. "I'm not used to leaving them for so long, even though I've grown used to the customs of this place."

"We'll make up the time with them when we get back." She went up behind him and put her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder, looking at George and Josephine then over to the nearest cot where Katie slept. She lifted her head and began to lift his head toward her. She lifted her head and began to lift his head toward her. "For now, more time for us." As she said them, about to kiss him, they were interrupted by a ruffling sound in Katie's cot.

"Just seven months ago she was so tiny and wasn't able to keep her eyes open it seems, spending most of her time sleeping just as it was for the others when they were small."

"Those were the days." Mary yawned. "I still owe you." She went over to tend to her daughter before she could wake up her siblings and her cousin. Then she would tend to Mr. Crawley.

At the same time, Atticus was proposing to Rose. They rushed out into the corridor, giggling. When he caught his breath, that's when he asked her.

"Atticus, it's so soon! How can we know if we're sure? If we're right for each other?"

"When you defended me in front of those refugees. Isn't that practice enough, that we can face what ever comes our way? If Lord Grantham and my mother can do it, so can we."

"Yes. Yes, I'll marry you. But first we'll need to divulge all our secrets to each other."

"Our secrets?"

"Everyone has them. It's what my cousin Mary said. That there should be no secrets between a marriage. By revealing them, and the person still stays by your side, you know you can trust them. That they're it for you."

"I want to be it for you."

"Just so you know, I am an advocate for woman's rights and I'm not going to stop going to meetings. If that embarrasses you..."

"Not at all, I think it's very interesting. I see no reason to disrupt your political views, our religions aren't even the same so it would make sense. You're entitled to your own opinions. As long as you don't get yourself arrested." They both smiled and laughed. She then stopped to think, what if this is too good to be true?

"I don't know why you're doing this." She said.

"Because I love you." In that moment she knew they were right for each other.

---

Robert, Edith and Matthew were the only ones down for breakfast. Robert was surprised to see him, as he normally took breakfast up in his and Mary's room. He just assumed that it took an effort for him to get ready, for it was the wife that usually took breakfast in bed, not the husband. He wished there was a way he could make things easier on his son in-law but he would refuse the help. He was stubborn in his found independence, and the consequences that accompanied his injury, was simply never discussed. His requirements were confidential except to Mary, and his mother, who had been a nurse. Rachel had once suggested that they could hire one for him, not a live-in one but one who could come a few days out of the week. It would open up some free time, Mary could get out of the house. Both Matthew and Mary objectified. As long as they were living here, they didn't really have the need for one, and Mary took care of what he couldn't, which was very little.

"How is your column coming along?" Matthew asked Edith. "Do you have many more ideas for the company yet?"

"Matter of fact..."

"You're still not going on about that are you?" It was all they ever talked about. "I wish you didn't encourage her." They didn't reply, their eyes simply lifted toward him. He gave a sigh. "As long as it's nothing that'll embarrass me."

As the day wore on Robert was growing increasingly worried about Isis. He had Carson try to get a hold of the family vet a few hours. He was in the front room, pacing. When finally the butler walked in. "Carson have you been able to reach Mr. Stapley?"

"He's away till Friday, My Lord. Would you like me to find you someone else?"

"No. No. I'll take her down myself Friday afternoon."

Rose came through the front door, looking chipper than ever, since Atticus had proposal last night. She didn't want to tell anybody just yet and steal Cousin Robert's and her future mother-in law's thunder.

"Has the gong rang yet?" She rushed to catch up with Robert on the stairs.

"No. Why have you bothered to change? It'll just be you, me, and Mary and Tom."

"Is Cousin Matthew not joining us?"

"I'm afraid he's feeling a bit under the weather. Nothing serious."

"I hope so." She gave a sigh of relief. It was frightening to think that if he simply got sick he could die. She wondered how Mary could do it. She supposed if you loved someone you can do anything, take on anything. How terribly sad it would be, for the children especially. Enough of that.

"They were up all night with the children. It no doubt tired him out."

Rose tried not to blush. They were probably doing more than that. She couldn't wait for her wedding night. "And Edith?"

"She's still upset about Gregson. She has a lot on her mind with the publishing company." Edith had sought Matthew out on advice, about what topics she should write about in the columns, as they both shared an interest when it came to controversial topics that made the headlines. As much as it displeased Robert, it seemed to be helping with her grief.

"It's a good distraction as any at the moment." He said to Rose. "Where have you been?"

"It might have something to do with Atticus. We met halfway in Ripon."

"It is getting serious then?"

They stopped on the landing. "Fingers crossed."

"I still think you should write to your parents."

"Oh, daddy won't try to stop me."

"No. I don't believe he will." He turned to his cousin, that he thought of as a daughter, just as he had thought Matthew and Tom as sons. "Even so, it won't be as easy for you than it will be for me. Don't pretend that it'll be plain sailing." He continued up the stairs.

Rose put a hand to her chest, inhaling a deep breath, letting it out, hoping she was doing the right thing.

Of course the right thing wasn't always the easiest, as facing the path not taken in the past, and discovering if it were right to go down it now. As the Dowager Countess would know. Violet found herself faced with a difficult decision. Kuragin wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. His wife, unable to be found, meant that she might not want to be found.

"The last few years had been ugly. I don't want what remains to be ugly. I know my own feelings. You do too."

"I can't make a decision now." Violet almost spluttered. It felt like she was making excuses.

"I won't change." Neither of them could deny the connection they had when they first met but they had been married to other people.

"Don't proclaim your intransigence as if it were a virtue." She was more concerned with how things would drastically change. She had grown fond, and dare she say, dependent on Isobel and her friendship. She had two eligible bachelors, Violet only had one, there most likely won't be another. Not to mention her son was getting married and it was obvious that it wouldn't be far too soon enough before Rose was next. She scolded herself that it wasn't a competition. But it was in the Smith blood on her father's side. They had always been competitive. And sometimes too much for their own good.

---

In the afternoon Robert had a meeting scheduled with Jarvis and Murray. Matthew had always been as strong headed as Robert and that's what made them clash, when it came to the ideas for securing and running Downton. With Jarvis, it had been more so a feeling of being threatened, by the younger generation and their new and progressive ideas, how quickly they were making partner, when it had taken years, decades, to get were they were. In short, Matthew's type of lawyer was driving lawyer's like Jarvis and Murray extinct, which was part of then tension. And Jarvis had clearly been uncomfortable with Matthew's condition, at one point saying that he looked tired. But Matthew had not backed down, solidified in his ideas that could secure Downton's future.

Jarvis had decided to quit, obviously humiliated that he had been 'bested by a cripple' as if he could not have a mind of his own.

"I don't need to be treated delicately." Matthew had shot back. Robert had heard their voices as he approached the library but did not enter it's doors. "I don't need pity. I am not living a life of suffering here, nor am I 'tired' as you put it. If you really think you must make an issue of my disability, then make it yours, not mine. Because I'm fine with my issues and I should be treated professionally, as any able-bodied person. So if you really think it needs to be an issue, then you can educate yourself. If you have a problem with it, that's your problem, not mine!

Robert, though they had their differences, was secretly proud of him for telling off Jarvis, holding his own. It was as if he was his old self again.

Matthew wanted to spend time with his children before they left for London. It would only be for a few days. Still, he hated to part from them. It was as if they were extra limbs. It was hard to imagine now, his life without them. He had grown up as an only child. He had had siblings but they had died before he was born. And his children would know at least three of their grandparents. He already thought of Lady Sinderby as a grandmotherly figure to them. He wished that his father had been able to meet them, and Cora, though they hadn't always gotten on. They should be here.

He had grown up knowing only one grandparent, who hadn't been particularly friendly, as Eleanor had thought his mother not good enough for his father and by extension him. He had long ago forgiven her. That's what his father would have wanted, had believed.

He began to wonder what it would be like if they had another child. Maybe in a year or so, they'd have another, a little brother for George. He would be content with a girl too. That would mean being outnumbered by girls. They already were. He and George had bonded over that.

He had so many hopes and dreams for them. He wanted his children to be kind and forgiving and knowledgeable of the world. They were already emphatic, loving and caring. He wondered if it was because they were intuitive to his condition, that they somehow knew. One thing he learned quickly about being a parent was that children were smarter than they would have you believe.

Katie would get the other children to bring her books. She could not talk yet and she was managing to get them to bring books to her. She would be a reader like him.

One day, they couldn't find Josephine after she had wandered off from nanny, thank goodness it had been inside the house, but it was a maze, searching for her would be like looking for a needle in a hay stack. But Mary instantly thought to check the kitchen. When she had been down in the kitchen earlier in the week, with Josephine, she had taken an interest in the pots and pans. Miss Patmore gave her a wooden spoon to bang on them, happily on the floor. Sure enough, the less than two year old had moved a chair over to the stove climbed on top of the stove and had arranged two pots, one on top of the other. Though however cute it was, she was given a talking to by her Papa, as he was the only one she appeared to listen to. She would be two years old soon. A daddy's girl. Katie was too and Josephine sometimes got jealous and would storm away.

"At least she doesn't lash out, like I did with Edith." Mary once stated.

"Katie's too small to do things by herself right now." He had explained to Josephine. She simply said, ok. And was nicer, helping with her baby sister. His two little princesses. And then of course, his little prince. He would always pick up his toys to make sure they were out of the way. He had been shy to come over to him when he was sitting in wheelchair, at first, at a year and a half. When George had gotten used to it, he would curl up and chat away and sometimes fall asleep. Matthew would have to ring the bell or go find someone to take him from his lap. Now at three, he rarely wanted to sit on his lap anymore as he was getting bigger. When he wasn't occupying his chair, George would wheel it round in it or push it round, pretending it was a race car. Mary scolded him, telling him it wasn't a toy. But Matthew didn't mind, as long as he wasn't too rough with it.

George was the only one to wake when he entered the nursery. It would be father and son time today. They would go down to the library and play. He didn't need to tell him to only grab one toy. He grabbed his green truck, walking alongside his father, at his pace, his little fingers curled around his.

Matthew got himself situated on the couch as George played with his truck, using the furniture as if they were roads. He even used his legs. "Can you feel this?" He asked with curiosity. Matthew shook his head. Before he could answer his son, the curiosity was gone. George turned his attention toward his wheelchair.

"Can I play race car?"

"Go ahead."

"I won't go too fast." He only got a few feet when the wheels caught on the rug, where it was sticking up in the middle. It made him drop his truck, causing it to roll under the settee. "Uh oh. Daddy, can you help get my truck?"

"If you want help, you'll have to bring over my chair. I'll use my stick to get it."

"Daddy, just walk," he replied.

"I can't."

He encouragingly replied, "Try harder!"

Matthew chuckled and explained that he already tried hard. "My legs are tired."

"How can your legs be tired?"

He had sacrificed most of his energy walking down all those stairs, all the way from the nursery to the library, to be able to walk with his son. He had to find an easier way to explain it. "When you walk for a long time, your legs can get really tired."

He frowned. "Mine are not tired."

"I'm older. Come, " He motioned with a wave, "bring the chair over. It's harder to bend down when I'm standing."

He got quiet, wheeled toward him, and asked, "Why?"

Matthew hesitated.

Even though he had answered this question a hundred times to strangers explaining to his child felt different. Instinct told him to be straightforward as he could, so he told him that he had been in an accident and hurt his back. "Because my legs don't work like they should all the time, I use a wheelchair."

George had a lot of follow-up questions, so Matthew threw in some details, he had been taken to hospital in a special military ambulance, which George thought was cool. He couldn't explain to him yet that he had been in a war. He was still far too young. Content with that, the three year old climbed down from the chair and pushed it over to him. As Matthew got into it, George watched with amazement,

"Wow, your arms are very strong!"

Matthew smiled as this interaction warmed his heart, "I have to use them more than my legs." He grabbed his stick that was resting against the sofa, lied it across his lap and wheeled over to the settee. He slid the stick under it, sweeping back and forth but it was too short to reach. George's arms were too short to when he tried, and it was too low for him to crawl under.

He surprised his father yet again with his empathetic nature and came over to sit on his lap. "That's alright, daddy. Let's play blocks. We can sit at the table and stack them."

Just then the doors opened and Robert and Mary, followed by Tom entered. They were talking about the estate. "Ah, Matthew. There you are. We've been trying to find you." Robert said.

"I told you he would be in here." Mary reminded him.

Ignoring his daughter's quip he went over to his grandson, greeting him, "Georgie."

"Hello, Donk."

"I think it's time to go back up stairs with nanny, Georgie." While he was explaining to his son, Nanny West entered. "The adults have business to discuss."

"Ah, I wanted to play blocks. Later?"

"Yes."

He put him down from his lap as Nanny West picked him up to carry him back to the nursery. Something he couldn't do. She was doing it intentionally. "I can't quite shake the feeling, the things she does are on purpose." He had told Mary. Mary thought he was being paranoid, that it was natural for a parent to want to protect their children. He just wasn't used to having nannies around because he never had them. He had let it slide that time.

"There you are Master George! What did I say about wandering off?"

"It's actually my fault. I demanded some father and son time, since we'll be away for a few days. The girls were asleep. Hopefully I'll get to spend time with them before then." West gave him a disapproving look. As soon as they came back he would fire her. He now knew what her intentions were. She was trying to make it clear that the children shouldn't be associating with people like him, even if he was their own father.

"Come along now."

George demanded to be put down, and West had no other option than to obey. He hurriedly tried to keep up as she hurried him along.

"Tell Carson to fix the rug." He called back over his shoulder. This prompted laughter from the adults, including Matthew.

"What's wrong with the rug?" Mary asked. "I understand that it's hideous. I've been staring at it for a better part of a quarter century."

"You're great-great grandfather picked out this rug." Robert didn't see anything wrong with it. It wasn't tattered or frayed or anything.

"Exactly my point."

"It's uneven." Matthew explained.

"That could be a hazard." Robert said, his eyes scanning the rug for the flaw.

"No need to worry about it for now." He assured his father in law.

"George ware you out?" Mary asked. She didn't have to. She knew he wasn't able to move from his spot for the moment, hence he didn't need his chair, and he wouldn't trip over it because he'd be sitting for a while.

"Yes."

"I hope you're not too worn out." Robert was a bit worried about his son-in law but he was also anxious about the upcoming events, caught up in them to worry too much. Matthew was fine. "There are a lot of things I would like to over see before we leave for London. The preparations are already made for the wedding, so we don't have to worry about that."

Matthew wanted to go over the work on the cottages while they were in London.

"If we're to renovate them then we ought to start on them, as soon we get back." Robert agreed. "What I don't know is how we'll find the money."

"We'll think about it while we're in London." Matthew said.

Mary protested, "Nonsense, he shouldn't be worried about all that before his wedding. He means us." She directed to her father, warning him not to get any ideas. "Him and Tom, and I." He should be focused on his upcoming nuptials.

Robert nodded. That was one less thing off his mind. Rachel's father was still alive. He was in his nineties. He had to make a good impression. Golly. It made him sound like he was a young man, foolishly trying to win her father's approval. But Rachel would be worth it. He was ready to feel what he had with Cora again, when the girl's were growing up. He would be gaining another son too.

She looked over at Isis over on the floor. It seemed she had hardly ever moved from her favorite place the last time she had seen her. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught something, green, under the settee. She went over to it. Bending down, she reached underneath and pulled it out. "What's George's truck doing under the settee?"

"He'll be so happy you found it, dear."

He took the truck up to George. George and Josephine and Sybie were playing blocks. They had been scattered all over the floor. When George saw him, his eyes immediately lit up and he knocked the stacks down, clearing the mess away with one swift motion, tossing the stray blocks way across the room. Shouting while doing so, "Grr, I'm a Hurricane"

"Hey!" Josephine shouted at her brother for destroying her tower. One stray block hit her in the arm, the pointed edge coming into contact with her funny bone. She began to cry, where she sat on the floor. Matthew quickly wheeled over to her, wishing that he could pick her up. With all his strength, that he had recovered and his will power, he reached down as far as his arms could reach. Successfully, he picked her up, scooping her into his lap. As she grew bigger he wouldn't be able to do this.

"Yay! Daddy did it." George cheered.

"Did what?" Mary was standing in the doorway. She made her way into the room.

"He picked up Jophie." He couldn't say Josephine.

"Jo." Josephine corrected him or it could have been no. She paused between a sniffle. She was going to be the one who thinks she's in charge of everything one day. Lord over all her siblings. She was exactly like Mary.

"What happened?" As she looked at Josephine, Josephine quickly hid her face against Matthew's shoulder.

"A block hit her when George was clearing the floor."

"You can't just throw blocks about George. Someone could get hurt! You're lucky you didn't hit, Katie!" Katie, just nine months old, was sitting up, silently in her cot, surround by her books.

She checks her oldest daughter over. "She isn't hurt. "

"I could've told you that." Matthew said. He had already checked. Sybie, who had been silent during the whole debacle, and fortunate not to have gotten hit in the crossfire, had come over and asked if she was alright.

"It was a accident." George apologized. "I'm sorry."

"I know but you need to be more careful." He spoke to his son, gently.

"Not hurt!" Jo put her arms around his neck. She was smiling now. "Papa hold me!"

"Oh, so that's what she wanted. You're as tough as nails little one." Mary said, affectionately. "You're going to need it."

"Well, we didn't fail thus far."

While the older children went to bed, he stayed up with Katie, holding her till she fell asleep. Just in four short months, he wouldn't be able to hold her like this. He wanted to make the best of it. He might never get to again if they didn't have another child. He wasn't quite ready to let that feeling go yet.

---

After the honeymoon, Lady Sinderby, now Grantham, (they all had to get used to that but she insisted on being called Rachel by the family) invited the Crawley's to Brancaster Castle in Northumberland, which she had rented, to attend grouse-shooting party. However, the butler Stowell has an axe to grind and a scandalous secret threatens to derail the holiday as well as the disapproval from Rose's mother.

"Do you have any English blood?" Susan asked.

Robert stiffened but kept his cool. Must he always be doomed with the presence of bad company at dinner?

"It is true that the parents of Rachel's husband and our family arrived in the 1880's." Rachel's father stated. His statement showed general dislike for her first husband.

Some competition. Robert thought.

"My mother was German, though she spend most of her childhood in St. Petersburg." Rachel said.

"I always thought of you as nomads, drifting around the world." Susan said.

"Talking about drifting around the world, is it true that you're starting your honeymoon at the Melfords in Coningsby?" Violet asked Atticus and Rose. It would be a good diversion to shut Susan's trap. Once it was open, it was hard to keep closed. Susan was the type to make everyone miserable when she was. A trait Mary had, but was able to hold back. She had matured since the war, having to take care of Matthew.

"Oh, yes." Atticus said, happily. "Lady Melford is Mother's cousin."

"Really?" Susan said as if she didn't believe it. "I never knew that."

"I know you wanted the synagogue blessing." Rachel's father turned to Rose.

"I'd like to respect both sides."

"Well, you don't understand our customs. Then again why should you? He should have told you that." He nodded at his grandson.

"I thought we could have a dinner on Wednesday night, for all of you." Rachel said to break the ice. "So you could meet some of the relations."

"And show them how lucky they are." Mary said. They all laughed at the comment.

"Have you got many of them staying?" Violet asked.

"We're crammed to the gunwales. Atticus has to stay at the Halnaby Hotel."

"I love the Halnaby." Mary leaned over to Matthew, hinting. They could stay there as well, be out of other people's way and they would have time to do other things without being disturbed.

"I want you all to know that you'll always be welcome at Canningford, as long as it remains Atticus' home." It would be his once he and Rose were married.

"How kind." Susan sounded almost exasperated as if she was tired of all the kindness and chivalry. "Do you find it difficult to find staff these days? Since the way the economy has been since the war?"

"Not very. But then we're Jewish, so we always have money and we pay well."

Violet was really starting to like her. At least she'll know who will be the Queen of rhetorical and sly remarks when she's gone. After dinner Isobel helped Violet up the stairs.

"You know if...I don't get an early night...," Violet said, almost out of breath as she climbed them, I'd never make it through the week. Is Doctor Clarkson coming to the wedding?"

"I don't think so."

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"You've changed your tune?" Isobel was caught a little off guard. Violet sounded genuine.

"Well, one is not given many chances in life, and if you miss them, they may not necessarily be repeated." As she made her way to her room, Isobel watched after her, sensing she wasn't talking about her anymore, rather than herself.

---

They went out hunting for the grouse season the next morning at Brancaster Castle. As usual Matthew stayed behind, not fearing that it would cause an episode but because he didn't care for it anymore. Mary couldn't fault him.

Rachel had invited a few guests for their hunting season. One of which was Bertie Pelham. Edith stood by him while he was shooting.

He remarks he has very few ambitions in life, for he is very content where he is.

"I grew up in Brancaster as a child. When my father died, I had to leave the army. Took up most of my time shooting, before I was made agent of Brancaster Castle."

Edith was intrigued.

"Sorry to lay it all out on you like that. What do you do?"

"I own a newspaper."

Bertie was equally intrigued.

Mary was introduced to one of the occasional acquaintance of the Aldridge's. She didn't catch his name. "My husband used to be a good shot, almost up until the end of the war, considering."

"Ah, a young war widow. The war has left us far too many."

Mary blinked. "He isn't dead." Put off and becoming disinterested with the hunting, she headed back to the house, taking the car.

Robert apologized to his wife for his cousin, "She says things before she thinks them. She's just like Mary sometimes in that way."

"I disagree. She shows much more restraint. Which makes her a far better and kind person."

Robert chuckled. He used to think that he'd never hear kind and Mary in the same sentence. " We have Matthew to thank for that."

The next evening, the butler Stowell treats Tom with rudeness and disrespect. He refuses to serve him, walking away when Tom asks for sugar and going right past him when serving bread and wine at the table. As Rose explains to Mary, Stowell is "punishing" Tom because of his background, because he is Irish and a former chauffeur. And does not approve of Tom's "bettering himself" Stowell divulges the secret of Lord Sinderby's love child with a woman named Diana Clark and threatens to tell Robert. Before it can be known Rose, Mary, and Tom, work to put a stop to it.

"We better act fast before everything hits the rocks." Tom said.

"Everything seems to be hitting the rocks." Mary tried to say it a bit harsh but it came out a bit hurt. And Tom knew it.

"That's a bit sad." He said.

"I mean it. Sybil was my only ally and she's gone. And Rose." Now that she was going to be married soon, and would be starting a family of her own. "And you're about to take Sybie with you." The only part of her sister. Even though she was trying to guilt trip him, she knew it wouldn't work.

"You still have an ally. Your strongest one." He gazed proudly in Matthew's direction as he made his way over to them, putting his hands on Mary's shoulders, given them a good squeeze. "You won't be alone."

"What's this about being alone?" Matthew asked.

"Tom is settled on leaving us."

"Mary, he must live his life." Her husband chided in a cheerful manner.

"There's no changing my mind, I'm afraid." It sounded like Tom was backing Matthew up, if she hadn't known any better.

"Thanks to you." She said to Matthew. "When you're busy I'll have to spend my reading time with Edith. If you read in the paper that I'm on trial for murder, it'll be your fault too." She turns to Tom.

"Which Matthew would have the skill to bail you out."

"Even I don't think he's that skilled."

"He got Anna out on bail."

'As I said, even I don't think he's that skilled. And Anna was innocent. I wouldn't be.""

"Have ye little faith in me?" Matthew asked.

"I always have faith in you." As she said it, Matthew wasn't paying attention. He was off somewhere else, daydreaming, (he hadn't meant to blame him about convincing Tom to leave. Tom's mind had already been set. And friends sometimes went their separate ways. It had still been long and coming. There had been some distance between him and Tom for quite some time but were still close enough to have each others backs. She knew that this would be hard for Matthew, that it would be like losing a friend all over again because she felt it too. He wasn't bothered by that or thinking of the war by his expression. He was happy.)when he was called over by Rachel to meet one of her relatives.

"I'll have to sit down first." Mary hears him say.

Rachel replies, "Yes, of course. No trouble..."

When Miss Clark arrives with her son, Rose quickly defuses the situation, coming to the rescue, introducing Diana as her friend.

Rose began to rethink about her own upcoming marriage to Atticus, having second thoughts. If people can be so nasty, Rose thinks to herself, what kind of life would I have with Atticus? It was Johnny all over again. And she didn't want to end up like her parents. She asked her fiancé if he would like to go for a walk, she needed to talk to him about something. He knew just the place.

"I'm not sure we have enough in common to make a go of things." She confessed to him. He had taken her to a park where he had played as a child.

At the same time, Mr. Molesley, Daisy and Baxter were walking through the park when they saw Rose and Atticus start arguing, he tried to grab her to keep her from running away from him.

"Can't a woman change her mind?" She was saying, angrily. "You saw my parents. They're miserable." The last bit was unheard by passers by.

"Should we go and help?" Daisy asked.

"Let's leave them to it." Replied Molesley.

"I don't know. You're never safe till there's a ring's on your finger." Baxter said, nervously.

"Do you want to be safe, Miss Baxter?"

"I might." Her voice was light and fluttery. She didn't completely object to the idea.

Daisy gave them a peculiar look.

Tom confided in Mary and Matthew that he'd stay in the village for work, till he saved enough to go to America. He would at least stay until after Christmas.

---

Everything resumed the moment they returned to Downton, the moving forward with the cottages, juggling spending time with the children. Then there was the unveiling of the war memorial on the 25th of October. Miss Patmore didn't want to attend as it would be too painful. Carson understood. It would be painful for them all. He spoke to Lord Grantham about it when they were going over the denials of the ceremony and seating arrangements. He wanted to make sure that Mr. Mason was appropriately accommodated as his only son had served under their roof and had sacrificed his life in the war.

In the meantime, he had to go over the arrangements for having Isis's tombstone made, (she had died a few days after they had come back) it had been a family tradition since his father. The pets of Downton, even the horses had their own little cemetery back beyond the stables, a path leading up to it. He recalled a memory of walking down that path so many times, and with the children. His father's dog that had been with them for ages, had passed. Mary, about only four or five accompanied him to visit her 'favorite' dog.

"Papa, do dogs go to heaven? What about cats?" She eyed one, lumbering out of the stable, probably tracking the trail of a mouse.

"I've heard the phrase that all dogs go to heaven." He had replied. "I don't think cats do. If dogs didn't go there it wouldn't be much of a Heaven, would it?

When Matthew suggested they get a cat, Robert's reply was no, just as quickly as he had refused when Rose had suggest they get a radio. Robert would take the radio any day, at least that had use. There were cats in the barn, but that's what they were for, to catch mice, and that's where they were to stay. He eventually relented. "It's to stay in the barn where it belongs. I'm not letting one of those ferocious things in the house."

"You just don't understand them. Isn't that what you've all been telling me about horses? I was thinking of a companion for the children."

"HE wants a companion to keep him company on dreary nights when he's too enthralled with his work." Mary drawled. It was a habit she sometimes found annoying and it showed in her voice. "Papa's just sore about them because Great Auntie's cat scratched him once."

"A dog would be more sufficient. And it was a lot of blood."

"You're exaggerating. I was there." Mary rolled her eyes.

"A cat saved my life once. So there's that." Matthew said, confidently, as if he had won an argument. It had actually been a whole herd but he wasn't going to divulge that. It sounded a bit ridiculous even though it did happen. "It would solely be in my presence."

"That we can agree on."

Daniel brought (snuck) the dog that he had been taking care of for a few years now, into the house. Most of the servants, especially the younger ones, adored the unexpected company. He thought it would cheer Lord Grantham up. Their fun was quickly over when Miss Hughes stepped into the servants hall.

"Why does it smell like wet dog in here?" She eyes the dog that Daisy was trying to hide behind her, poorly disguised as a table cloth.

Lord Grantham was called down of course, he didn't want to seem affectionate to the dog. "He can stay, but just this once." The mutt eventually followed Robert up. He was grey and matted and looked more like a sheepdog. The dog he would name, Thunder, immediately took to Isis's spot. Robert tried to shoo him but he just whined and wouldn't budge. "He might not be of good breeding I'll tell you that. But I have no doubt you'll be loyal." He bent down and scratched the dogs head.

---

Nanny Wallace brought the children up to bed. West had been fired when she was caught calling Sybie a half breed. It would have gone unnoticed if Daniel hadn't addressed Mary with his concerns. He had been upstairs filling in for Molesley as Matthew's valet for the week, as Molesley was taking care of his sick father.

Daniel would occasionally keep a close eye on the children as they would pass him with their nannies on their way to the nursery. He had been watching the old nanny, sensing something not right about her as Matthew had. She seemed to leave Sybie alone unattended for hours and not giving her enough to eat and she would say unpleasant things about Mr. Matthew in front of the children. He informed Mary about it and she had instantly dismissed her, discreetly. The old hag was shaking in her boots. That had been enough for her. She had apologized to Matthew, feeling guilty that she hadn't believed him, saying that he had been right about her.

"You were right about her and I was wrong."

"Lady Mary Crawley, announcing that she's wrong for once?" He could hardly believe what he was hearing.

"When it comes to our children, of course." Her brow wrinkled. "I'm their mother. At least I think of myself as one to Sybie. I should have known something was off."

"Parents don't want to assume the worst. It doesn't make you a bad mother." He turned on his side, kissing her lips. She then lied against him, her head on his shoulder. "We're still keeping nanny Wallace?" He asked.

Wallace was young, about their age, maybe younger. She was respectful and kept with the times.

"I like her. At least she's nice." She changed her position, curling up on her side, her head still on his shoulder, almost in the crook of his neck. She lifted her head. "And don't think this situation allows you to do away with nannies completely." As she lied her head back down, he started running his fingers through her hair. She was letting it grow long again.

"No. I was only asking because, I was thinking about getting another one."

"Really?" She bent her head back so that she could see him.

"I was thinking about Tally. I've seen her with the children and they seem to like her."

"Why not? We'll give her a test run."

She was very good with the children and they loved her stories, though not as much as their papa's. He did the voices.

It was nice watching how they interacted and got along with each other. George's bond with his cousin Sybie was as special as it was with Jo. There was no question that he would be inseparable with them growing up. It was still early to determine Katie's part. Jo watched after her closely after it had been explained to her why it seemed that Katie was getting all the attention. She couldn't do everything on her own yet because she's too small. Jo must have thought that it meant she should be protected at all costs. But as siblings do, the peace sometimes didn't last for long. They would eventually start fighting. It was never anything psychical. She and George could get into a shouting match. Katie, only nine moths old, would join in. If you listened carefully, it would appear that she trying to be peacekeeper, although it was only babbling.

Just like Sybil. Mary thought.

It would often result in her getting a headache. It made her think, she was not quite ready to have another one yet. Perhaps in a year or two. At least there was no shouting matches today. All was well.

While she and Matthew watched them play, Mary talked about when she was their age, that she had horrible nannies. They talked about numerous topics, the estate, family. Feeling a bit nostalgic, Matthew decided to go through his old things, his keepsakes, he had brought with him from Manchester. She helped him get the box down from the closet and set it on the vanity chair. "In the almost four years we've been married, I can't believe I haven't shown you before."

"Mmm hmm. That sounds interesting. Tell you what, I'm going to go with Nanny and help put the children to bed first."

When she didn't come back for a half hour, he wondered what was taking her so long. Maybe she just wasn't that interested in his old life? Then the door opened.

As she entered the bedroom, she told him she had a surprise for him and produced it from behind her back. Mary had found a grey kitten roaming around the barn earlier in the day. She scooped it up and brought it inside.

He came over, all smiles. He scratched it behind the ears. No where near the same as a baby but it will have to do for now. She thought, looking up at him. She marveled how easily a man could soften at the sight of something so helpless and cute.

As he went back to the box, going through it, she was sitting on the bed with the kitten, stroking it's fur as it wondered about. She would retrieve it, set it back in the center if it got to close too the edge. He wanted to name the cat Tene. He pronounced it Teenie.

"Why Teenie? Why not Tiny?" She asked.

"After my Aunt Tene. Everyone called her Tene. She signed her name T- E-N-E. Even her husband, called her that, he was called Cordie. I always associated her name with her size, especially in a family like hers comprised of taller people. When I was old enough and learned that her real name was Nannie Elvina, I could hardly stop laughing with her about the name. She was a major influence in my life after my father died. She sewed in a very exclusive dress shop. She collected quilts and gave lectures on them often."

"How does one give a lecture about quilts?" Mary was listening with intrigue now, though anyone else would have acted bored with the subject.

"She could lecture anyone on just about anything. And win an argument without a fight."

"Sounds like I would have loved her." They could have won arguments together, teaming up. Maybe she would had even learned more from her, lessons on how to get Matthew to listen. She would have loved to know her secret. Any way, she got that impression that she had known how.

"I wasn't aware that your mother or father had a sister. I know your mother had a brother."

"My father was an only child, yes. She was my Great Aunt actually, on my father's mother's side. The Seawards. My grandmother's name was Eleanor. The name died out with her father's line."

Eleanor. He must not have had a good relationship with her to have refused it to be part of Katie's name.

"They were rumored to be pirates." He continued. Mary jerked awake, upon hearing this, her eyes opening. She must have drifted off for a second, not because she was bored, the children were running her ragged. The kitten's purring, (she had curled up next to her, making a nest in her arms) was therapeutic and had almost lured her to sleep. Luckily Matthew hadn't noticed. "before they established their honorable fortune. But it was eventually squandered away. I think I have the letter somewhere." He had known of a letter containing a contest to a will, of someone's grandfather's land that was in the will but couldn't be dived out to the family because there was no land. The family threatened to sue, because the lawyer had stated there was no land. The family found out it was because the grandfather had lost it after some very bad business deals and he hadn't updated his will before he died.

She got off the bed, not worrying about the kitten tumbling from the bed, as it was resting. Lucky fuzzball. She made her way over to him, where he was going through a box. "Descended from pirates and princes's. What an interesting life you have, Mr. Crawley."

He didn't find the document. It was probably lost to time, like everything else, just a memory. He took out an old photo that was between an old book. He didn't remember it being there. It was of him as a baby, with another child sitting beside him, an arm around him, supporting him. He looked to be about six months old. The other boy or girl in the photograph, that could be three or four, had brown hair.

"Aw, you were so adorable. What happened?" Over his shoulder, she looked at it more closely, "Who is that boy or girl you're with?"

He turned it over. There were no names on the back, only a date, 1886. "I have no idea. Has to be a cousin of some sort. I'll have to ask mother."

---

AN: I caved and decided to put Lord Grantham with Lady Sinderby. I've been re-watching season 5 and I couldn't help but noticed their chemistry and potential for a relationship. Though she is not in the main story, For Ever and Ever, I'm sure she's in the background somewhere! I also decided to not do the Marigold story line, probably an unpopular opinion, I didn't like it, to be honest. She deserves better and just be with Bertie without all the drama.