CHAPTER 1 – THE NEWS
The telegram has reached him near the Somme in March 1916.
PAPA IS DEAD STOP YOU'RE THE EARL NOW STOP FUNERAL PLANNED MARCH 15 STOP LET US KNOW IF YOU CAN GET LEAVE STOP IF NOT LET US KNOW HOW YOU WISH TO PROCEED WITH EVERYTHING STOP MARY
xxx
Branson was waiting for him at the train station.
"My condolences, my lord."
Matthew started, instinctively wanting to protest the address – but Branson was correct, wasn't he? As Mary stated in her telegram, he was the Earl now, however surreal and wrong it seemed.
He got into the car with a sigh.
"Thank you, Branson. You didn't have to come; I could have walked to Crawley House."
Branson fidgeted a bit before starting the car.
"I beg your pardon, my lord, but they are expecting you at the big house."
"Surely it will be alright if I have an hour or two of rest first?" asked Matthew peevishly. He did need rest. And a shower. Definitely a shower. As was his habit when getting leave, he did spend the first few hours of it in a hotel in Calais, trying to scrub off the trenches from his body, but he still felt unclean.
Branson swallowed but continued bravely.
"Of course, but I know that they are all lining outside as we speak, to properly welcome you in your new home... And it is mighty windy today, my lord."
Matthew wiped his face tiredly. Of course they would.
"I'm sorry, Branson, you are perfectly right. Let's go to the big house then and not keep everyone waiting in the cold."
Branson nodded and drove towards the Abbey while Matthew braced himself for facing the welcoming committee.
xxx
The reception line looked somber with the girls in black and the servants with mourning bands. He did not see Cora and Violet, so it was Mary who stepped forward to greet him first.
"Welcome home, Matthew. Please allow me to introduce your staff to you."
She said it in her usual composed and carefully enunciated voice, but he could see the strain on her beautiful face and his heart contracted with compassion for her.
God, he loved her even more than when he left her over a year and half ago.
"My most sincere condolences, Mary. I'm so sorry," he said thickly, stopping his traitorous hands from reaching for her only with supreme effort.
She swallowed and looked aside quickly, visibly fighting tears.
"Thank you," she answered quietly, then straightened herself and proceeded with the formalities. Not for the first time he admired her strength under even extreme pressure.
He gave his condolences to Edith and Sybil – Edith tried valiantly to smile, with little success, and Sybil hugged him fiercely, tears falling down her face – and then accepted his own condolences from Carson and Mrs Hughes.
"We prepared a bedroom for you, my lord. Of course, if you prefer another after touring the house, we will make changes at once. Let us know when you want to have your things brought over from Crawley House and how you would prefer to have them arranged."
Matthew startled again.
"Surely there is no need for me to move here straight away!" he protested, taken aback. Robert was not even buried yet!
Carson gave him a look.
"It would be highly unusual for the Earl of Grantham to live somewhere else, my lord."
Matthew set his mouth stubbornly.
"Be it as it is, I wish to spend tonight with my mother. I will think about arranging the matters here tomorrow, but I am not sure if I move in straight away – there seems to be little point in it considering I must go back to France in six days and that we have a funeral to take care of."
"Very well, my lord," said Carson to that and proceeded with formal introductions of the staff. Matthew struggled to commit the names of all the maids to his memory while noticing that there seemed to be fewer male servants that he remembered.
He was greatly relieved when they finally went inside. The wind really was rather beastly.
Mary led him to the library, asking Carson to send tea and sandwiches.
"I'm sorry Mama did not join us. She hasn't left her room since Papa's body was taken away."
"Of course," he hastened to assure her. "It's perfectly understandable. She must be truly shaken; you all must be."
He hesitated for a moment, fearing upsetting them but desperate for answers.
"What happened?"
It was Mary again who answered, in measured, detached tone which did little to hide her obvious grief.
"It was a burst ulcer. He suddenly started vomiting blood during dinner and promptly collapsed. It was ghastly. We attempted to take him to the hospital immediately, but he died before we managed."
Sybil covered her mouth with her hand and excused herself, leaving the room sobbing.
"I better go after her," said Edith hurriedly and followed Sybil out of the library, leaving Matthew alone with Mary.
"It does sound horrible," he said, seeing the scene she described in his mind and aching for them all. To lose their beloved husband, father and son in such a way! "I'm so sorry."
"It was," said Mary hollowly. "The blood was everywhere. I don't think I will ever be able to forget it."
She visibly steeled herself again.
"It's a good thing you managed to come so quickly. The funeral will be a day after tomorrow and it will be a circus – we expect hundreds of mourners and the Buckingham Palace confirmed there will be someone from the royal family present, although it is not yet confirmed who – and I am afraid you will have to lead the funeral procession and of course accept the condolences. Murray will be here tomorrow to go through the will, the investments and all the necessary steps to have you confirmed as the 8th Earl. I think meeting with Jarvis can wait until the day after the funeral..."
"Mary," interrupted Matthew. "I know there is plenty to arrange and see to, and very little time before I have to go back. But it can wait. Tell me, how are you?"
She took a shivering breath.
"I've been better," she admitted shakily. "But somebody needed to take charge and it actually helps me to not fall apart. Mama is inconsolable. Granny does not feel well. You saw how fragile Sybil is, and Edith is useless, as usual. Somebody had to see to the funeral preparations, the servants and to the transition of everything to you."
"Mary, you must know that I have no intention of throwing any of you out," said Matthew firmly. "This is your house and will be as long as I am alive. I have no need to move in immediately and certainly no wish to displace you or disturb you in any way."
Mary sent him an exasperated look he was so familiar with.
"But it is your house now, Matthew. I am grateful for your tact and your kindness – you cannot know how much – but ignoring facts is not going to help anything. The sooner you accept the responsibility which has been thrusted upon you, the sooner we all can adjust to the new circumstances and carry on."
"What would you like me to do, then?" asked Matthew, feeling frustrated. "Move in immediately? Throw your mother out of her bedroom so I can take over the Earl's chambers? Order you all to relocate to Dower House?"
"Of course not," snapped Mary. "But right now everything is in a limbo and everyone is unsure or scared. You have to show them that they don't have to be."
"I thought that was what I was doing," said Matthew exasperated. "Seriously, Mary, it isn't easy for me either. I expected to have decades before I had to deal with any of it. You may have to guide me a bit if you wish me to proceed in a certain direction."
Mary sighed and looked at the carpet for a while, before raising her eyes to his resolutely.
"I'm sorry," she apologised. "I know it must be difficult for you too. I think you're right; you should go to Crawley House and have some time to take it all in. You came straight from the front; you must need rest. But come back tomorrow, please, and meet with Murray. When you know the extent of your inheritance, you might feel better equipped to make decisions regarding it. And..." she hesitated for a moment. "Since you are going back to France... you need to think who you want to put in charge of Downton in your absence. Jarvis will see to the tenants and crops, but I know he will be uncomfortable making any decisions by himself. Then there are investments of different kind, but I expect those can be dealt with by correspondence."
"Thank you," he said gratefully. "I promise I will come back tomorrow and will try to be more ready to deal with everything. And please let me know if you need me to do anything specific or if I can help you with anything. It must be even more difficult for you than for me."
Mary shook her head.
"Yes and no," she said slowly. "It is all nightmarish, that's for sure. But I am not afraid. I trust you, Matthew. I know that you are a good man. I feel sure we will figure it all out in time."
He could only nod, touched by her faith in him.
"There is one thing," Mary said hesitantly. "What are we to do with Bates? I know that you have Molesley, but I wondered if it would be possible to leave him as your mother's butler and for you to keep Bates as your valet? Papa said he is truly excellent, despite his disability, and I hate to see him let go at such a time. He won't find it easy to get another job. It took him long enough to gain acceptance here."
"I guess quarrelling that I don't need a valet will get me nowhere?" asked Matthew sardonically. Mary only raised her eyebrows in confirmation. "Then yes, I will talk with him tomorrow, but you might let him now at once that he doesn't have any reason to fear for his job. I'm sure Molesley will be disappointed to miss his chance to work at the big house, but he's been working for mother only for nearly two years and I am sure they are used to each other."
Mary smiled at him in gratitude.
"Thank you," she said. "You really are a good man. How about the tour of the house after you eat? You may decide which rooms you would like to take, as Carson suggested. Even if you don't bring over your things before the end of your leave, we can get it arranged for your next one, so you can feel more comfortable here."
Matthew sighed, but nodded, reaching for the sandwich. He might just as well get on with it.
xxx
The first question he asked Murray was who his heir was.
"I'm afraid there isn't any, Lord Grantham."
He barely stopped himself from flinching at the address. Robert was the Lord Grantham, not him. Except he was now, of course.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his mind whirling. He remembered the terms of the entail very well. If there weren't any remaining heirs...
"I am. I researched the matter thoroughly as soon as I received the news of your volunteering for the army. There are no surviving male heirs in the Crawley line."
Matthew looked at him intently.
"Then do I understand it correctly that the title will expire, but I am free to will the estate, including Lady Grantham's fortune, to whoever I wish?"
"Unless you have a son, yes. When you do, the will would be disregarded."
Matthew smiled mirthlessly.
"I do not think it likely that I will manage to sire one before I die in the current circumstances."
"I hope you are too pessimistic, my lord, but of course I would strongly advise you to prepare your will as you wish, so the estate is secure. Many people depend on it."
"I'm very aware of it, Murray," he remained silent for a long time. "I wish to double the settlements for Lady Edith and Lady Sybil. As I understand, both Dowager Ladies Grantham's dower portions are generous enough to ensure they can live in circumstances befitting their station in life – am I right?"
"You are, my lord. You mentioned Lady Edith and Lady Sybil. What about Lady Mary?"
"I want her to be my sole heiress, as she always should have been for her father," said Matthew firmly. "Unless I somehow survive and have a son, which as I said I find highly unlikely at the moment, I want Downton and the bulk of her mother's fortune to go to Lady Mary."
Murray's eyebrows rose.
"Are you sure, my lord?"
"I am. I cannot imagine a better person to take the responsibility. And to that end, I want to give her full power of attorney to act in my stead while I am in France. Since the estate will most likely be hers quite soon, she should be the one in charge of it when I'm unavailable."
Murray frowned but nodded and made several notes.
"As you wish, my lord."
"The will has to be prepared promptly, as I have to sign it in four days at the latest. You may use my existing will for the decisions concerning all my assets from before – my mother is to receive the Glendale House in Manchester and all my private investments. The only change I would like to make is to give her Crawley House in Downton Village for life, rent free."
"I will see to it at once, my lord."
"Thank you, Murray. Now, let's review the shares the Levinson's money is invested into."
xxx
He was thinking for the whole night how to break the news to Mary – whether to do it during a family gathering or to tell her first privately. Telling her with everybody present would be easier for him – much easier – but he decided with heavy heart that it wouldn't be fair to her. He knew full well how significant, life changing it would be for her – he owed her the courtesy of learning it first, in privacy.
He imagined her reacting in many different ways, but he never expected the vehement protest he received.
"I don't want it!" said Mary, glaring at him.
"But why? I thought it was all you ever wanted and it's only right that it should be yours."
"Not like this!" she hissed. "If the price of me getting Downton is your death, then I don't want it! You must come back, marry and make your own heir and this is only right."
Matthew sighed heavily.
"It doesn't depend on me, you know. I don't have a death wish. I want to come back. But if I don't, I want to give Downton to the rightful owner and this person is, and has always been, you."
She shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes.
"I don't want you to ever speak like that again. You must come back, do you hear me, Matthew? Anything else is out of the question."
"But you will look after Downton when I'm away? I gave you complete power of attorney. You will be in charge of the estate, the farms, the investments – all of it. I made sure that Murray and Jarvis are aware of it and will not question any decisions of yours."
Mary straightened; her expression determined.
"That I can do. I will take care of everything for you. But don't misunderstand me – it will be in full faith that you will come back and take over from me as soon as the war ends. I will accept being your agent for now, since there doesn't seem to be anyone else to do the job, but I won't become your heiress – because you won't need one."
Matthew just sighed.
xxx
The news were much better received by the rest of the family.
"It is a relief we won't have to get used to some stranger in case anything happens to you," said the Dowager with satisfaction, ignoring the glare sent by Isobel. Cora didn't and hastened to cover for her mother-in-law's lack of tact.
"Which of course we dearly hope won't happen," she said firmly. "We are all praying for your safe and quick return from the war. I am very grateful for your thoughtfulness in making Mary your heiress, but I hope it will never come to pass."
Matthew smiled at her in thanks. It was nice of her to reassure her like that, even though he suspected none of them would be too broken up if Mary did end up inheriting Downton and Cora's fortune after all. He liked to think they would mourn him – they did seem to adopt him as a member of the family by now, even Cousin Violet – but they could hardly be unhappy with Mary getting what should have always been intended for her.
"When do you want us to move out, Matthew?" asked Cora, making him blink in surprise.
"Surely there is no need for it now, unless you want to," he answered. "I am going to be absent for foreseeable future, except for occasional leave here and there; there is no need to make any changes on my account. And even when I'm back, I consider it more your home than mine."
"But it isn't," said Violet chidingly. "If you come back, you will marry and then it will be your wife who will be the Countess and the mistress of this house. Cora would just be in the way then, and the girls cannot live with you unchaperoned."
Cora rolled her eyes, but Matthew answered before she could have.
"Since it is at present unknown when or if I come back, and it is highly unlikely I will marry any time soon, there is still no need for any hasty decisions. I think it's only right that you remain here, Cousin Cora, as well as Mary, Edith and Sybil, especially since Mary is going to be in charge of the estate. We can discuss the further arrangements when the war is over. Nothing needs to change beforehand."
xxx
He was lying in a huge and comfortable bed in his new bedroom and despite its comfort he found himself unable to sleep.
The bedroom itself was nice, with deep green walls and beautiful views of the grounds. The side doors led to a spacious dressing room, slowly being filled with his suits and shirts, although he did not foresee needing his civilian clothing much in the near future, and from there to his own well-appointed bathroom. The rooms were on the opposite end of the family wing from Cora and the girls, so he hoped he was unlikely to wake them up with his frequent nightmares. This was the biggest advantage of the move for him; the last thing he wanted to repeat was the fright he gave Mother on his first night back.
He could not believe Robert was gone.
They did not even know each other for so long – they only spent about two years together and then cut all contact with each other except for occasional short letter – but Matthew truly felt they had bonded in that time. He knew that his cousin looked at him as the closest thing to a son. He didn't see Robert as his father – he could never replace Dr Reginald Crawley for him – but he was very fond of him and looked up to him. Even when he decided to go back to Manchester to deal with his heartbreak – a plan which was then switched to volunteering for the army – he planned to remain in contact with Robert and continue to prepare slowly for inevitable takeover of Downton. He just never imagined it could come so soon.
He did not feel ready. Not in the slightest.
xxx
Matthew sighed when Bates adjusted his Sam Brown belt and took his bag to carry it downstairs. It was still mostly dark outside and, despite approaching spring, bitterly cold. He was not looking forward to the mud and cold awaiting him in the trenches when he arrived there in the evening.
Come to think of it, he didn't think there was anything in the trenches a man could look forward to.
He was just putting on his trench coat, handed to him by Bates, when he noticed a black clad figure hurrying down the stairs.
"Oh good, I managed to catch you," said Mary brightly, ordering Bates to hand her own coat to her.
"What are you doing up? I don't think the servants are awake yet, other than poor Bates here and Branson."
"I'm accompanying you to the station, of course," answered Mary adjusting her black hat and walking with him towards the waiting car. "You didn't think you could sneak away back to France without a proper goodbye, did you?"
To be honest, Matthew thought he made all his goodbyes last night, at a more civilised hour, but he was not going to object to having Mary's company for half an hour longer.
He tried very hard not to think that if only she loved him enough to accept his proposal before the war, they would have spent the night together. Now was definitely not the time to dwell on it.
They rode in silence, looking out to mist covered fields, their hands next to each other on the seat yet not touching. Matthew was still glad for her proximity.
He told Branson to wait in the car; there was no need for him to carry Matthew's only bag to the station. Mary walked with him though, looking pensive.
"I wanted to give you this," she said when they reached the platform, taking a small toy dog out of her bag. "It's my lucky charm. I've had it always. So you must promise to bring it back... without a scratch."
"Won't you need it?"
"Not as much as you. So look after it. Please."
"I'll try not to be a hero, if that's what you're afraid of."
"Just come back, safe and sound. Did you manage to rest a bit, despite the circumstances?"
"I did. I obviously wish I was back here under any other circumstances, but my stay wasn't all bleak."
He looked seriously at her, unable to stop himself from saying at least a little bit of what he felt so strongly.
"Mary, if I don't come back..."
"But..."
"No. If I don't, then do remember how very glad I am that we made up when we had the chance. I mean it. You send me off to war a happy man."
He smiled at her as he prepared to ask for a favour that he hoped would ease his mind a bit.
"Will you do something for me? Will you look after Mother, if anything happens?"
"Of course we will, but it won't."
"I don't need to ask you to look after Downton – I know there is nobody better or more suited for this task than you – but Mother has only me and I need to know she won't be left alone."
The train whistle stopped him from saying more, probably for the best. They took each other hands and he felt Mary's soft lips on his cheek as she kissed him quickly.
"Goodbye, then. And such good luck."
"Goodbye, Mary. And God bless you."