July 27, 1914

Matthew Crawley flexed his hands at his side as he wandered the sitting room, lost in thought.

"Oh Matthew, do stop pacing like that."

He stopped, hardly realizing that's what he was doing. "I'm sorry, Mother. I can't seem to keep still lately."

She sighed with an understanding smile. "You love her, don't you," she said. It wasn't a question but rather a statement of fact.

Matthew should have known that his mother knew precisely what ailed him. He'd been waiting for weeks for Mary to return from London. The rest of the family had come back to Downton, but Mary had chosen to stay a bit longer. "Yes," he told his mother. "I do."

He came to the settee across from where his mother, flopping down in a rather dramatic fashion that was outside his usual character.

"I can't understand why she's not come back yet. With Cora pregnant and my prospects in jeopardy, shouldn't she want to be here? For her mother, even if she wishes to continue to hide from me."

"Far be it from me to defend the girl when she's toyed with your heart like a cat with a mouse, but I can imagine she would not want to be anywhere near that house just now," Isobel said.

Matthew looked over at her curiously. "Why would you say that?"

"She is the eldest daughter of a man who has always wanted and needed a son. It isn't right and it isn't fair, and you know I don't approve of any bit of it, but the fact is that Mary has been a disappointment since the moment she was born. Do you really think that she would wish to be surrounded by the eager anticipation of another child who might prove to be exactly what her parents have always wanted, to remind her of all that she isn't and will never be?"

He hadn't thought of it that way before. But Mother was right, of course. If Mary were a son of Lord Grantham, there wouldn't be any trouble at all, not with another child being born or with anything else. Matthew himself would have been even more superfluous to the equation. Still, it was important that he at least try to understand things from Mary's point of view. As Mother said, Matthew did love her very much.

She added, "I know you miss her and I know you're eager to get her response, but wouldn't it be best to take back the proposal at this point? I mean, rather than letting her continue to string you along?"

That was the last thing Matthew wanted to consider. "I want to believe she wouldn't do that. But perhaps you're right. Perhaps she would just tell me to wait until the baby arrived, until she knew for certain if she was getting what she bargained for with me," he said bitterly. It wasn't what he wanted to think of Mary. Perhaps it was what he once thought of her, before he knew her. But in the two years he had been at Downton, he had spent countless days and evenings with Mary Crawley, learning all her likes and dislikes and her habits and her mannerisms. And he knew better than anyone alive, he'd wager, that she was not as heartless as she might like to pretend. She had a magnificent heart, full of feeling but hidden away. All Matthew wanted was to hold that heart and to protect it for the rest of his days. All he wanted was to have her heart the way she so irrevocably had his.

He needed to talk to her. They had been parted for too long, and he did miss her. Living in limbo like this, waiting for her to determine what his future could be, it was all driving him absolutely mad. The possibility of no longer being Robert's heir was far less concerning to him than whether Mary would agree to marry him. Whether he was a future Earl or whether he was just a solicitor, it didn't matter if he could be with her. Perhaps he'd already gone mad. Perhaps it was madness to feel that nothing at all mattered but Mary.

Robert Crawley knocked softly on the door and entered his wife's bedroom. His whole body trembled with the adrenaline and panic and upset that this afternoon had caused him. Even now, seeing Cora lying in bed and awake, smiling at him, he still felt terribly out of sorts.

"Doctor Clarkson said you wanted to see me," he said shakily.

She reached her arms out to him. "Darling, come here, please."

He went to her side, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking her hands in his. He lifted each one to his lips in turn, watching the way her eyes sparkled happily despite how drawn her face looked. "Are you alright?"

Cora smiled again. "I'm alright. The baby's alright. I'm just quite tired. Doctor Clarkson wants me to rest in bed for a week."

"Then you shall rest in bed for a week," Robert insisted. He ordinarily did not think too highly of doctors. Medicine was a ghastly profession. Needing a doctor was the height of indignity to his mind. But when something was really wrong, something like this where his beloved wife and their unborn child might be in danger, he intended for everyone to follow the doctor's instructions to the letter.

"I'll let him explain to you what happened, but I think you should know that Bates saved my life. I was in the bath and I could have easily drowned if he had not reacted so quickly," Cora said.

Robert nodded. "We owe him a great debt." Robert had felt a great affection and loyalty to his valet for quite some time, even with all the mess of the theft conviction and whatever else. Bates had been a friend and comrade during the war and was now a friend and confidante once more. Robert now had Bates to thank for Cora's very life. The possibility of the alternative was too terrible to even consider.

Cora took one of her hands away from him and placed it on her belly over the bedsheets. "If it's a boy, I want to call him John. To honor the man who ensured our son could live."

It was indeed a great honor, naming the son of the Earl and Countess after a servant. But in this circumstance, Robert would hear nothing about how improper it might be. Besides, surely one of the former Earls had been called John so no one would question it. Robert smiled at Cora and said, "Of course. I think that's a fine idea."

She squeezed his hand in thanks. "We shouldn't keep Doctor Clarkson waiting. Pour him a drink in thanks and ask him your questions. I think I should rest a while. Could you send O'Brien up for me, please?"

Robert hesitated, unsure how to broach this subject. "I'll send Mrs. Hughes," he said evasively.

Cora frowned. "Why Mrs. Hughes?"

He could practically see the thoughts turning in her head as she surely thought about how she'd not seen nor heard from her lady's maid since before this awful incident had occurred. But it wasn't fair to leave her with that curiosity. "O'Brien is gone."

"Gone? What do you mean she's gone?"

"She quit on the spot. She left you in the bath and stormed out, telling Mrs. Hughes she was leaving. Anna saw O'Brien leaving your room looking upset and she came to check on you. It was she who called for help, causing Bates to rush in from where he was putting my shirts away," Robert explained.

The hurt was plain on Cora's face, and it made Robert's heart ache. But she shook herself slightly. "You'd better send Mrs. Hughes up, then."

Knowing they could discuss things later, when she wasn't so tired and when Doctor Clarkson was not in the library waiting, Robert decided to leave her. He pulled the bell and then leaned over Cora to kiss her cheek. "I'll come back up and see you later, my love. I can't tell you how relieved and grateful I am that you're alright. That you're both alright."

Cora smiled up at him again, tired but beautiful. "So am I."

And with that, Robert left her to rest.

July 28, 1914

Charles Carson backtracked when he realized that the housekeeper's sitting room was not empty. "I'm surprised to find you here," he said stopping by her doorway.

Mrs. Hughes looked up and her shoulders immediately sagged in defeat. "It's been less than a day without Miss O'Brien and I'm already run ragged."

After the terror of the day before with Lady Grantham suffering a seizure and being rescued by Mr. Bates, the household had rallied together to help take care of the now-bedridden Countess and fill the gaps left by Miss O'Brien's abrupt departure. Dinner guests had been cancelled for the evening with notes being sent to Crawley House and the Dower House to inform them that they could not be received that evening. Mrs. Patmore had prepared a tray for Her Ladyship, and Lord Grantham, Lady Edith, and Lady Sybil had taken a small meal in the dining room, all more concerned about Lady Grantham than their dinner.

Today, things had been back to normal but for the changes to Lady Grantham's life and tending to her. The emergency had passed, however, and now they all had to find their way through.

"Surely Anna could help, since Lady Mary isn't back yet," Carson suggested.

"She has offered, but lest we forget that Anna is our head maid and looks after Lady Sybil and Lady Edith already. Her load isn't exactly lightened too much due to Lady Mary's absence," Mrs. Hughes reminded him.

Carson hummed. "True indeed. And I suppose not needing to dress Her Ladyship hasn't made things easier?"

"I could dress her just fine, even for a few weeks, if need be, but knowing she's recovering and in bed means that I've got to be ready to attend her every time she rings. She has mostly slept or read a book, but everything needs to be brought up to her on a tray, and she can't get up and do things for herself in the way I know she normally would," she groused.

He certainly had sympathy for the additional duties that had landed on Mrs. Hughes with O'Brien's sudden departure, but for his part, Carson was glad to see the back of her. She was a fine lady's maid, to be sure, but she was an abysmal woman and her absence had made the servant's hall a significantly easier place to be. One fewer schemer in their midst. And now that Bates was the hero who had rescued Lady Grantham, O'Brien would have surely been insufferable if she were here.

Mrs. Hughes let out a somewhat defeated huff. "I'm sorry to gripe at you about it. It isn't so bad, really. If I've got to play lady's maid to anyone, I'm glad it's Her Ladyship. She's not a bad patient, as far as aristocratic ladies on bedrest go."

Carson could not help but let out a small chuckle at that.

"What's that meant to mean?" Mrs. Hughes asked in amused interest.

"You haven't seen Lady Grantham when she's with child," Carson said. "She has not been known, in the Crawley family, to handle pregnancy entirely well."

"Oh I can't imagine she's difficult at all."

"No, not difficult. But her behavior in the past has hardly been proper. Though with the Dowager Countess now no longer residing in the house, perhaps things will go easier."

"I shudder to think."

"It's not so bad," he assured her.

Carson smirked. It wasn't his place to tell tales, of course. Not even to Mrs. Hughes. Though perhaps he would tell her one of these days. It had been quite an interesting time at Downton Abbey with the then Viscountess floating from room to room with a mixture of serene joy and unrestrained enthusiasm. She'd been quite young then, of course, and she had certainly mellowed with age, but Carson would never forget the way the elder Lady Grantham had disapproved of her daughter-in-law's behavior as she prepared for motherhood each of those three times. Lord Grantham and Lord Downton both never heard the end of such complaints the second the Viscountess left the room. Carson had never thought that approach to motherhood was at all appropriate for a woman of her position, but her being so young and so American, he had been forced to allow some leniency. Still, there had been something rather nice at seeing her so blissfully happy, as though nothing could ever bother her ever again. If she were to be like that again with this pregnancy, Carson could not help but think it might be rather nice.

Violet Crawley rang for the tea she'd asked to be prepared just as her butler announced the arrival of Lady Edith.

"Oh thank you for coming, my dear," Violet greeted, embracing her granddaughter and kissing her cheek.

"I was surprised by the invitation, Granny, but I'm glad to be here," Edith replied.

"I'm afraid it is not an entirely social call," Violet explained.

"Oh?" Edith asked suspiciously.

The two ladies sat down and took their tea. Once they were settled, Violet said, "I was supposed to see you for dinner last night, but the note I received simply said that Downton Abbey was unable to host guests. I nearly insisted on arriving anyway just to demand the meaning of it. What's happened?"

"I'm surprised Papa hasn't told you himself, though I suppose he's been a bit preoccupied," Edith answered, shaking her head. "Of all the things, Mama had a seizure in the bath yesterday afternoon. Bates rescued her and Doctor Clarkson was called, and she's alright now, and so's the baby, apparently. But she's on bedrest for the next week. I don't even know if she'll be up to host the garden party, but I do hope we won't have to cancel that."

Violet had expected some sort of emergency, as nothing less than that would prompt Carson to allow dinner to be cancelled. But she had thought the emergency would have been some problem in the kitchen or something like that. Not Cora having a seizure! Violet had seen Cora only yesterday, just before O'Brien had prepared Cora's bath. Oh what a frightful thing. "You're certain she's alright?" Violet asked with concern.

Edith nodded. "That's what Doctor Clarkson said. He came to see her this morning and assured us all that she was doing well to rest but that everything seemed just fine. We're to make sure that nothing needlessly upsets her."

"In that case, I'm glad I already told your other grandmother to wait until the baby arrived before coming to visit," Violet said dryly.

A tiny snicker fell from Edith's lips at that.

"Well I do hope for your sake that the garden party isn't cancelled. Sir Anthony Strallen remarked about it to me just last week, eager to attend. He asked after you while you were in London."

Edith blushed and took a sip of her tea to keep from grinning to widely. It was lovely to see dear Edith enjoying a bit of attention. Violet herself could not see any positive attributes to Sir Anthony; the man was kind but quiet and dull as a rock. Though, as Violet had told Cora, any port in a storm can seem attractive. Perhaps this attention from Strallen might give Edith a bit more confidence to catch the eye of someone more suitable for her.

Ah well, Edith was nothing to worry about. Just now it was Cora who needed looking after. And Mary, but she was still hiding away at Rosamund's in London. "I shall come by tomorrow to visit with your mother, I think, if she's able to receive me. I should like to give her my best wishes and to discuss the garden party. I imagine she'll need some assistance in organizing it. And she was going to help me find a new lady's maid, too. I should like to look at the responses she's received."

"Mama is going to need a new lady's maid herself. O'Brien walked out on us yesterday in the midst of it all, too."

Violet was shocked to hear that faithful O'Brien had done such a thing. "Oh that's most distasteful. Now I suppose we shall be competing for the best applicants."