July 29, 1914

Anna Smith entered Her Ladyship's bedroom as quietly and gently as she could. It was a small help that Her Ladyship did not need to be dressed while she was recovering in bed, so Mrs. Hughes could manage downstairs in the morning and Anna could dress Lady Edith and Lady Sybil so the young ladies could go down to breakfast and Anna could then retrieve Lady Grantham's breakfast tray. After all of that rushing around, Anna could finally sit down and breathe for a moment until her tasks were renewed.

The Countess had not rung for Anna, but she went up to collect the breakfast tray anyway. She worried about leaving her alone too long, just in case. But of course, she needn't have worried just now.

"Hello again, Anna," Lady Grantham greeted kindly. She did most everything kindly. She was a kind, gentle woman.

"Hello, Your Ladyship," Anna replied with a smile. "If you're finished with the tray, I thought I could take it now."

"I am finished, yes."

Anna came over to pick up everything. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"I would like another book or two to occupy me today, but if you could send Lord Grantham up to see me when he's able, I can ask him for recommendations and he can get something from the library for me."

"I'll make sure Lord Grantham comes up to see you after breakfast."

"Thank you very much, Anna. I appreciate all that you and Mrs. Hughes and the rest of the staff are doing. I know me being in bed like this isn't convenient at the best of times but now having no lady's maid, I hate that I've created so much more work for you all."

Anna felt her stomach twist in knots. It wasn't Her Ladyship's place to be worried about things like that. But of course, it was, once again, terribly kind of her. "We're managing just fine, Your Ladyship," Anna assured her. "I think it's more important you rest and recover rather than worry about us."

Lady Grantham gave a little chuckle at that. "Alright, I'll not worry about you. I'll just thank you all once again."

"You are welcome," Anna replied, picking up the tray and turning to leave.

"Oh, before you go, Anna…"

She turned back around. "Yes, Your Ladyship?"

"I've not gotten a straight answer from anyone, and I wonder if you might know," she said.

"Yes?"

"Why did O'Brien leave?"

That was not a topic Anna felt comfortable discussing. Not with Her Ladyship, at least. But now that O'Brien was gone—and had already sent her sister to collect the rest of her things last night—there didn't seem any harm in telling the truth. "She was very offended by the idea that you were intending to dismiss her."

Lady Grantham frowned. "But I wasn't intending to dismiss her. Lord Grantham certainly wanted me to, but I never would have allowed it. Why would she think I was intending to dismiss her?"

Anna hesitated, not liking gossip. But in for a penny, in for a pound. "I believe it was your discussions with the Dowager Countess about placing an advertisement in The Lady and discussing various candidates for the lady's maid position. It all seemed quite plain to Miss O'Brien, at least the way she spoke of it."

The Countess gaped at Anna. "But that was for Mama! I mean, the Dowager Countess! Her lady's maid is getting married and gave her notice, and I was helping her find candidates for a replacement! I thought O'Brien would be helping me to determine the best qualifications, I had no idea she thought I was going to dismiss her. Oh dear, is there any way to get in touch with her?"

The truth of the situation was suddenly all too plain. O'Brien, the horrid cow, had jumped to conclusions and obviously assumed everything was about her. Oh, that scheming witch! And now Lady Grantham was getting upset again, and her condition simply wouldn't allow for that. Anna quickly tried to calm the Countess. "I don't think it would do much good, My Lady. You see, Miss O'Brien was terribly upset, even if it was a misunderstanding, and she allowed her own wrong assumptions to overtake her. She left your bedroom by slamming the door, and she was nowhere to be found when you were in the bath. I came in because I saw her go down the main stairs. Not even the servant's stairs, Your Ladyship. She quit on the spot to Mrs. Hughes and it caused quite a scene downstairs. And all the while, she left Your Ladyship alone, and I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't come to check on you," Anna babbled.

Lady Grantham looked at Anna quite seriously. "If you had not come in and called for help, Anna, I would have almost certainly lost my baby and I myself might be dead. You and Bates saved my life and the life of this child. Lord Grantham and I both owe you more than we can say. But I do understand what you've said about Miss O'Brien. Even if it was my mistake in being unclear with her and allowing her to think incorrectly, her behavior as a result of that mistaken belief is her own fault. And her treatment of me and, I'm certain, the rest of the this house, has been less than what one would expect from one in her position. And so I am content to let the matter go at this point. O'Brien is gone and shall not be welcome in this house ever again."

"Yes, Your Ladyship," Anna agreed. She felt a strange twinge of pride at Lady Grantham in that moment. Whoever they found to serve as her lady's maid would need to be worthy of such a wonderful mistress. Until then, Anna was happy to help however she could.

Edith Crawley sat in her bedroom, reading a book by the window. It was a bright summer day, but she did not feel like going out or doing much. In truth, she was far too distracted by her own thoughts to be able to manage anything else.

Sir Anthony Strallen had asked after her.

It was too wonderful to think of. Edith could hardly believe it. No man had ever shown much interest in her before. Oh she had not been ignored during the London seasons in the three years since she had been presented. Men asked her to dance. She was invited to balls and to the theater and the symphony and a walk in a garden here and there. But there had never been any man to ever make Edith feel as though he actually liked her or cared for her in any way. More often than not, Edith only got any mention because she was Lord Grantham's daughter and because Mary was already occupied.

Try as she might, Edith could never measure up. It did not matter that Edith's pale hair was soft and shining and her curls perfectly arranged. It did not matter that she had a clear, supple complexion. It did not matter that she fit into beautiful gowns and looked elegant and proper in every way she was supposed to. It did not matter that she was well-read or curious or polite or gentle. No matter what she did, no one ever seemed to notice or care. Even her own parents seemed to consider her an afterthought. After they praised perfect Sybil and perfect Mary, Edith always seemed to be referred to as "And you too, Edith," as though she existed only as a brief interruption between magnificent Mary and sweet Sybil. Edith wasn't like her sisters, and she knew it. She tried so much harder than they ever did, and she seemed to get half as far.

But now, finally, an upstanding gentleman of the county was interested in pursuing her, it seemed. Sir Anthony Strallen liked to talk to her. Sir Anthony Strallen liked to take her out on drives and to concerts in York and to dinner. Sir Anthony Strallen liked her!

As usual, there was something wrong with anything that was of importance to Edith. Everyone thought him too old. Edith didn't mind his age, and in fact, she appreciated that he was mature and knew so much of the world and of life and could speak on such interesting subjects and teach her what he knew. Everyone thought him boring. Edith had never been bored in his presence, though perhaps the same people would also think Edith herself to be boring. But all of that simply proved that they were well-matched. Didn't it?

Edith could not deny that he was old and he was a bit boring. She did not mind those things, however. How could she? He liked her. And no one else ever had.

John Bates sat down in the servant's hall to rest his bad leg, glad to be off his feet for a few minutes. His Lordship had gone up to see his wife after lunch, checking on her once again. Bates was glad to see such devotion. A man who loved his wife, Bates thought, should be utterly devoted to her care and happiness. Though perhaps Bates was a bit jaded in his beliefs, as he was dearly hoping that he might one day find a way to marry a woman he loved and wanted desperately to be devoted to her care and happiness.

But in his current circumstance, Bates knew that wonderful dream might never come true. He would be satisfied, however, in his service to Lord Grantham and in being Anna's friend.

As if Bates were not disheartened enough at the moment, he was joined in the servant's hall by none other than Thomas Barrow. Thomas had been a thorn in the side since the moment Bates arrived at Downton. But it had been the pair of Thomas and O'Brien together that had been truly dastardly. And now they were all rid of one of the vicious villains.

"How are you holding up, Thomas, without your partner in delinquency?" Bates goaded.

Thomas glared at him. Unsurprisingly. Thomas was always glaring at him. "Miss O'Brien has gone on to greener pastures. I wish her well," Thomas replied in that quiet, slimy tone of his.

"From what I heard, she didn't even get a reference when she left. Hardly seems possible she can expect anything at all without a reference from her place of employment. Particularly when she's been here more than a decade," Bates pointed out.

"It's none of my affair what she plans to do," Thomas answered haughtily.

Bates let out a puff of air as a small laugh. "Too right."

Thomas changed the subject, continuing his usual nastiness. "And how are you doing, the hero of all?"

"I'm pleased I was able to help Lady Grantham when she was in need. I feel lucky I was nearby. Though you'd have been able to rescue her even better, if you'd been there," Bates mocked.

"I think Lord Grantham would mind less if I were the one to carry his naked wife out of the bath," Thomas fired back.

That was not entirely an incorrect point. Everyone knew of Thomas's preferences, even His Lordship. And Bates, being a man like most others, was not immune from the charms of a beautiful woman, unlike Thomas. Still, if what Bates had witnessed in that emergency had bothered anyone, it had not been made known to him. And he certainly would not volunteer it. "The only mention His Lordship has made to me has been gratitude," Bates answered carefully. And that was the truth. Lord Grantham had taken every opportunity to remind Bates of his appreciation for rescuing Lady Grantham and ensuring their unborn child was safe. Thankfully, it seemed to have caused His Lordship to overlook Bates's criminal past. Though, again, Bates would not be the one to remind Lord Grantham of the unsavory facts.

"Thomas, go help William polish the silver," Mr. Carson barked, entering the servant's hall.

Thomas got up from where he sat by the fireplace. "Yes, Mr. Carson. I was getting bored of being in the presence of the hero anyway," he said snidely.

Bates just rolled his eyes.

Mary Crawley thanked Branson as she accepted William's help out of the motorcar. For all that there we problems to face here at Downton, she was glad to be home. She liked being at home with her family and with the staff she knew and loved so well. Mary walked inside the house feeling a calm wash over her.

"Welcome back, My Lady," Carson greeted in the foyer.

"I'm happy to be back, Carson," Mary answered with a smile. "Am I in time for tea?"

Carson nodded. "Thomas has just brought the tea to the library, My Lady."

"I'll change after that, then. You can tell Anna my cases have returned, but I'll not need her assistance until the gong, I think," Mary instructed. She did not wait for Carson's answer as she hurried to the library to see her family.

But Mary was greeted with an unfamiliar sight. There, sitting on the settee, were Sybil and Edith. That wasn't unusual, of course. Nor was it unusual that Papa was standing by the writing desk with a teacup in his hand. What was jarring to Mary was the distinct absence of Mama.

"Oh Mary, you're back!" Sybil cried. The youngest Crawley put her tea down and rushed over to embrace her older sister.

"Yes, I'm back," Mary answered, kissing dear Sybil's cheeks. "Where is Mama?" she asked, not wasting any time.

"Rosamund said you had left already when I telephoned," Papa said uncomfortably.

Mary frowned. "Why did you telephone Aunt Rosamund? Was it about me?"

Suddenly everyone in the room looked nervous and awkward. No one was answering her.

"What's happened?" Mary demanded. Her mind started spinning with the terrible possibilities. Something about Granny. Something about Matthew or Isobel. Something important and upsetting enough that Mama was not at tea and the rest of the family were clearly upset about it.

"Mama had an accident," Edith explained, being the first to say something.

Mary's heart was in her throat. "What sort of accident?"

Papa stepped forward. "She's fine now. She suffered a seizure in the bath. Anna and Bates were there and called for Doctor Clarkson immediately. Your Mama is resting in bed for the week."

"Is she alright?" Mary asked worriedly.

"She is," Sybil assured her. "And the baby, too."

For one kind moment, Mary had forgotten about the baby. The subject of potential changes to her life and her future. But now it was all brought back. The baby. The fact that it might be a boy and Papa would finally have a proper heir. The fact that Matthew might not be the heir any longer. The fact that Matthew had proposed and Mary still did not know what to say or do.

Mary looked around the room at her sisters and her father. There was another Crawley on the way. Another child to take attention and importance. But Mama was alright, and she would not suffer the heartbreak and trauma of losing her child before he or she was born. And Mary supposed she should be grateful for that.

"May I go up and see Mama?"

Papa gave a gentle smile. "I think she would like that."

Mary nodded. It was time to face her fears and put her own feelings aside. Strange. She wasn't sure she had ever done that before.