August 10, 1914
Cora Crawley sat up in bed as her breakfast was brought to her, and she watched the new maid curiously.
"There we are, My Lady," Baxter said, placing the tray over Cora's lap.
It had been a long time since she'd had a new maid. O'Brien had been with her for over ten years, and since she had left two weeks ago, it had been Anna and Mrs. Hughes taking care of her. Familiar faces. It reminded Cora rather acutely of when she had first come to Downton Abbey, when she and Robert were first married and she had been allowed—encouraged and required, even—to have breakfast in bed each morning. It was odd, at first, to have some brand new person seeing her in her nightgown and in her bed. It felt vulnerable in a way that Cora was not entirely comfortable with in the beginning. Nor was she comfortable with it now. She hadn't felt herself since the seizure, and now there was a stranger in her room on whom she would rely.
And, of course, knowing that it was Thomas who had recommended Baxter did not entirely help. Baxter's references and Thomas's good word were helpful, but Thomas was not entirely trusted by the staff or by Robert, and that made Cora wary.
Baxter stepped back and said, "Now, I think I've remembered everything. Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore of course know your preferences. But I'll just stay here while you check."
Cora was suddenly struck with an overwhelming fondness for the woman. She was gentle and humble in a manner that O'Brien never had been. O'Brien was always so sure of everything, which had in turn given Cora confidence. Baxter certainly wasn't so certain, but Cora found it rather endearing.
The breakfast tray looked just as it always did, which was indeed a good sign. So far, Cora's preferences had not changed, but from her prior pregnancies, she knew that there might come a time where she could not abide bacon. For now, though, it was just fine.
"It seems perfect," she told Baxter. "But what's this?" She picked up the glass of unfamiliar liquid.
"Well, I know Americans often drink orange juice with breakfast, so I thought you might like it," Baxter answered hesitantly.
"That is so considerate, Baxter," Cora answered. She'd resigned herself to living without orange juice long, long ago. But for the first twenty years of her life, Cora had enjoyed a glass of orange juice every single morning. "Thank you," Cora said with a smile.
Baxter smiled back, giving a very pleasing appearance to the dear woman's face. She nodded and went to leave Cora in peace. Robert entered from his dressing room as she was leaving, and Baxter greeted him politely.
When Baxter had arrived the day before, Cora had sat down with her after her interview with Mrs. Hughes. Mrs. Hughes and Carson were happy to employ her, so Cora had no reason to overrule them. But it was important, Cora thought to give some information to the new lady's maid. After all, Baxter was not coming into an entirely typical house to serve a typical Countess. The first thing she told Baxter was about the pregnancy, that Doctor Clarkson would be coming every week to check up on her, and that more attention than would otherwise be warranted was now necessary to ensure the health of Cora and the baby. Baxter had been warned of the pregnancy by Mrs. Hughes, and she seemed unbothered by the additional burden it would be to wait on a lady who was with child. The other thing that Cora thought Baxter ought to know was the closeness that the Earl and Countess shared. She told Baxter rather bluntly that her husband slept in her bed each night and Baxter might find him there if she came in early in the mornings, and that he often would come sit with her while she had breakfast or while she was getting dressed for dinner, and if that was going to be a problem for Baxter, she should not accept the position. Baxter had blushed slightly but assured Cora that it would be no trouble at all and thanked her for the forewarning.
"Good morning," Robert said to Baxter as she left.
The door closed behind her, leaving Cora with her dear husband, all dressed and looking quite fine. Cora had a sip of her orange juice while she admired Robert's appearance.
"You're looking very jovial," he commented.
"Just Baxter reminding me of times gone by," Cora answered, smiling and having another delicious sip of orange juice.
"You're pleased with her?"
"I am, thank heaven. I don't think I could get by without a lady's maid for too much longer in my condition."
Robert nodded. "And you're feeling well this morning?"
"Quite well. Feeling all the better to see you," she answered. "So, what's your day looking like?"
With a fond smile, Robert came to sit on the edge of the bed, placing his hand on Cora's leg beneath the bedsheets, and he told her what he planned to do.
Matthew Crawley waited until after breakfast. He waited until he knew that the household would have all eaten and people gotten started with their day. But Mother had scolded him last night, and he knew he could not wait any longer.
He should have know that his mother would set him to rights. She had a way of looking very plainly at things, and though she had strong opinions most of the time, he had never known her to give advice that was unwise. And when she reminded him that he loved and trusted Mary, regardless of her not knowing the truth Mary had told him, all the worries fell away. He simply had to speak to her.
The footman William answered the door at the abbey and led Matthew into the library. Cousin Robert was there with his dog.
"Hello, Matthew. What brings you around today?" Robert asked.
"I've come to call on Mary, actually. I was hoping she might join me for a walk," Matthew answered.
"Has William sent for her?"
Matthew nodded. "I did mention to him, yes, and he asked if I'd like to see you while I wait for her reply."
"Well, I'm afraid you've not caught us on the best day," Robert told him.
"Oh?"
"Cora's new lady's maid started yesterday, and she seems quite serviceable, but it is early days. And I worry, in her condition, that she be looked after properly. And on top of that, Pharaoh's arthritis is acting up. He was doing better with the warmer summer weather, but it's still hot out and he's limping."
"I'm sorry, Robert."
He sighed, "He's getting on, but with the uncertainty of Cora's health and the baby on the way and war with Germany and certainly Austria-Hungary any day now, it's all just a bit much."
"Hopefully we can have some direction to life sometime soon," Matthew said, hoping his words were encouraging rather than dismissive.
"I do hope so."
The library door opened again and Mary walked in looking ever so lovely in a pale purple summer frock. "Mary," he breathed.
She regarded him cautiously with an arched brow and lips pressed into a thin line. "Matthew," she greeted. "I'm very pleased you came to call."
"I was wondering if you might like a walk through the garden," he ventured. Suddenly his chest felt tight and his hands were sweating. Mary would often surprise him or put him on the back foot, but he was never nervous about being with her before now. Perhaps because now he was so very worried about what would happen with this conversation. He wanted to set things to rights between them, but in the last week since the garden party, they'd not seen nor spoken to each other. He had no idea how she would react to what he wanted to say.
The pair of them went outside, bidding Robert a good day and best of luck with his dog. Matthew put that all out of his mind as he and Mary stepped into the sunshine.
"Mary, I'm sorry I've kept away," he began, somewhat bluntly.
"I suppose I'm surprised you returned at all. I was under the impression that you had no interest in ever speaking to me again. After what I did, I suppose I can't blame you for that," she said bitterly.
Matthew stopped and turned, taking both her hands in his. "No, Mary, you mustn't think that. Not of me. It was shocking, yes, but I do not blame you or judge you or hate you in the least."
Her jaw dropped. "You…you don't?"
"I love you with all my heart. And you told me the truth. You did not want to accept my proposal without me knowing the truth. How could I possibly fault you?"
"But the truth is…"
"That truth is in your past. It does not dictate our future."
"Our future?"
"Our future," he answered definitively, "if you love me and forgive me for my foolishness."
She shook her head in disbelief. "If it doesn't put you off me, why did you stay away?"
"I am not a perfect man," he admitted. "I will confess that my surprise got the better of me. And now we are at war, and the world is uncertain. I lost sight of what matters. And what matters is that I love you. I love you, and I want more than anything in the world for you to be my wife, if you would have me."
Mary just stared at him, shocked. Obviously she had not anticipated this outcome. But how could she think he would not still love her? That there could be anything in the world that would stop him loving her? Matthew only hoped to have a lifetime spent proving his undying love each and every day.
"I need an answer, Mary. Now that I know the truth, now that we can agree to put it behind us, I can't continue to wait," he said. "If you love me, please don't let your mother's baby come between us. I may not be able to offer you the position of Countess of Grantham if a boy comes along, but is a life of love not enough?"
"Of course it's enough!" she exclaimed. "Matthew, I don't care if you're the heir or not. I love you, and I…"
"You what?" he pressed, stepping forward.
"I don't understand how someone so good and kind and wonderful could have fallen in love with me."
"But I did," Matthew reminded her.
"And Lady Mary Crawley with ice in her heart has fallen deeply in love with a good, kind, wonderful man."
Matthew could not stop himself from breaking out into a beaming smile that nearly hurt his face. "You love me," he marveled.
"I love you and I accept your proposal, Matthew."
Well, at that, there was nothing left but to kiss her and kiss her and kiss her until they could no longer breathe.
August 15, 1914
Anna Smith sat down in the servant's hall and sighed heavily. It was not often that she ever felt overworked or overtired. She had been a maid for a long time now, and head maid and dressing the three Crawley daughters for the last three years. She knew how to keep up her strength and not let her exhaustion show.
The last few days, though, had been utter madness. It was unlike anything Anna had ever experienced before. Lady Mary and Mr. Crawley were engaged to be married at long last, and the bustle of getting ready for the wedding was already beginning. Lady Edith had been engaged to Sir Anthony Strallen for more than a week, but there didn't seem to be any hurry there. Lady Sybil was excitable about both engagements, being the sweet, loving sister she was, but was also chattering nonstop about everything in the newspapers about the war. The servants did not pay too close attention to such things for the most part, but it was hard to ignore that Britain was at war with German and now with Austria-Hungary, and Germany was battling in Belgium and France already. Soon the whole world would be involved, it seemed.
And if there weren't enough going on inside Downton Abbey and in the world at large, Anna herself was engaged in her own turmoil that did more to run her down than anything else. Mr. Bates had been gone for a whole week, now. He had left with a kiss to her cheek and a promise he would return without the burden of an estranged marriage. He had not said that he wanted to marry her, but Anna knew that he would not put himself through the terrible task of finding and paying his wife nearly all his savings if he did not want to be free to marry Anna when he got back.
It was terribly romantic, really. Anna only wished that it weren't necessary. Why couldn't she have fallen in love with some nice young man without a complicated past? Someone who wasn't married, hadn't been to prison, wasn't dishonorably thrown out of the army for a crime his wicked wife committed after his terrible drinking had caused her such distress? Someone who had not overcome so much in life and had yet more to face?
She sighed, knowing it was useless to think that way. Mr. Bates was kind and clever and funny and warm and wonderful. The most wonderful man she'd ever known. And Anna knew that he wouldn't be that way if he had not come through so much. Mr. Bates was so wonderful because he had gone through so much and had come out the other side with the determination to make a better life and to be a better man. And he was. He was the best of men. And Anna wanted him so much, she often felt she might burst. She would never be truly happy if she weren't with him.
"Anna, is Lady Edith's frock still in the sewing room?" Mrs. Hughes asked, entering the servant's hall and seeing her sitting there.
"It is, Mrs. Hughes. I'm sorry, I'll get it now," Anna answered, hopping right up.
"Get it and then change for the evening. It'll be time for the gong before you know it."
Anna did as she was told. It was her job, after all. There would be time enough when she was lying in her bed and staring up at the ceiling, exhausted but unable to find rest, for her to miss Mr. Bates.
August 18, 1914
Edith Crawley smiled into the sunshine. The wind whipped around her hair, but it didn't bother her a single bit. Right in this moment, Edith had never been so happy in her entire life.
"I do so love to see you smile like that."
She turned to see Sir Anthony sneaking looks at her as they drove down the road. They went on a drive like this nearly every day, now that they were engaged. Oh, engaged! It was too wonderful to even really imagine sometimes. "I shall have to smile always," Edith said, "if you love it."
"I love you," he told her.
Edith's heart filled with joy. "I love you," she answered. "And I smile every time I think about it. About how happy we shall be in our life together."
Her words were met with silence. Sir Anthony pulled the car off the road and onto a little country land and turned off the engine. "Darling, I wanted to talk to you about the wedding."
Panic clutched her. "You're calling it off. You don't want to marry me!"
"No, nothing like that," he assured her, taking her hands to calm her down. "No, I only wanted to say that the war has changed things."
Edith's brow furrowed in confusion. "What things?"
"Well, you know I was just in Vienna and Munich this past spring. The hopes of my trip with the other dignitaries have been dashed. But I am fluent in German, and quite knowledgeable about the Kaiser. I have been asked to assist on the political side of things," he explained. "I got the letter from Sir Edward Grey just yesterday asking me to join him in some talks."
Sir Edward Grey was the Foreign Secretary, and Edith knew that Sir Anthony was close with him, having been part of that delegation to the Continent not six months ago. He was a terribly important man, her fiancé, and while she was confused about what this meant for their future, she was quite proud of him. "So you must go," she reasoned, parsing through all he'd told her.
"I'm afraid I must. I shall be in London for a time, and after that, I don't know. But I know that it won't be possible for us to plan the wedding that you so very much deserve until after things are sorted. I want you to have the perfect day in the perfect gown, and I want to take you on a honeymoon to the four corners of the globe, and I won't do it while the Germans are steamrolling over all of Europe," he said.
"I suppose I can't argue with that," she replied, disappointed.
"I had hoped we'd have more time before all this came about, but I suppose that's what I get for waiting until the garden party to propose. I didn't know we'd be declaring war the same day." He, too, sounded disappointed.
Edith gave a sigh of determination. "Well, you're here now, and we still have a lovely life to look forward too when this mess is all sorted. Let's not spoil a lovely day and a lovely drive being sad about what we can't have. We must focus on what we do have instead."
"Quite right, my dear," he answered. He smiled at her, his expression absolutely besotted. Edith felt herself blush under his gaze.
Everything would be just fine. They were going to be so terribly happy.