PROLOGUE

Road to Downton Abbey, September 1921

Robert Crawley, the 7th Earl of Grantham, was blissfully happy.

Riding in the car from the hospital where he had just met his grandson – his heir! – for the very first time, he tried to recollect other moments when he was brimming with happiness in similar fashion. The day he had realized he was in love with his wife. The day his eldest child, his first baby, Mary was born. The days his other daughters were born as well, after he got over a sliver of disappointment that neither of them was a boy. The day his heir, whom he had come to love like a son, had come back from being missing and the day he had stood again after being paralysed for months. The day his daughter and his heir had finally gotten married. But now… Now he felt his happiness was complete as it was never before. His cup was full.

He looked adoringly at his beloved wife, sitting by him in the car, and squeezed her hand. When she looked up at him, he noticed that her eyes were wet.

"Our second grandchild, Robert. Isn't it wonderful?"

"It is, my darling," he answered feelingly, although with a twinge of his conscience. As much as he adored Sybbie – and he was completely and utterly besotted with his granddaughter – little George was his heir. He finally had an heir from his own blood! His very own grandson!

Cora gave him an indulgent look which said plainly that she was aware of his thoughts without him voicing them out loud. Oh, how he loved her!

He was just bending to kiss her when he heard Stark's scream. His head snapping upwards, he barely stopped his own scream when he noticed a lorry barrelling straight at them. He just had enough time to try to shield Cora with his body as much as possible when the out-of-control vehicle crashed into them.

CHAPTER 1

Downton Abbey, February 1922

Anna looked incredulously at Miss O'Brien empty bedroom. Surely she could not have…? She noticed the letters on the mantelpiece – addressed to Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes and her ladyship – and hurried to deliver the ones addressed to the butler and the housekeeper.

The impromptu meeting was started in the butler's pantry.

"I cannot believe it," Mr. Carson's voice thundered. "For Miss O'Brien, to abandon her ladyship, after so many years, at such a moment! When she is still grieving his lordship so deeply!"

"I can hardly believe it myself," agreed Mrs. Hughes, her mouth flattening in disapproval. "I never had such good opinion of Miss O'Brien – although I must say I never could fault her work – but to sneak away like that, with no notice and leave her ladyship in a lurch when she is so fragile, well! I expected better of her, after she nursed her so faithfully through Spanish flu."

Her Ladyship's bell rang, as if she sensed that they were discussing some matter concerning her.

"Oh, but who will go to her? And who'll give her the letter? Maybe we should first give it to Lady Mary to read, so she can make sure it is not too distressing?" fretted Carson. The thought of how distraught her ladyship was bound to be at the news was distressing him to no end.

"I can do it, until we find the replacement," volunteered Anna reassuringly. "Lady Mary won't mind."

Mrs. Hughes nodded in approval and handed Anna the letter for her ladyship.

"Give it to her directly," she ordered, over Carson's disapproving frown. "She would not be happy if she noticed it was open by somebody else. I don't think Miss O'Brien would write any insults in there – she left to work for the late Lord Grantham's cousin, she would not try anything to jeopardise her new job."

Anna hurried away upstairs with her ladyship's tray, slowing down only to give incredulous Thomas the news. With him informed, she was sure the whole of downstairs would be aware of this development before she came back to fetch the tray for Lady Mary and his lordship.

Her heart clenched in compassion when she entered the dark bedroom – the curtains were still drawn – and noticed her ladyship standing by the window in her black silk robe, staring melancholically at the crows in the early morning mist.

The new Dowager Countess of Grantham looked up at Anna with surprise, the question plain on her face.

"Good morning, your ladyship," said Anna quietly, settling the tray on a side table. "I'm afraid Miss O'Brien could not come."

"Oh, she isn't ill, is she?" asked her ladyship concernedly, making Anna inwardly cursing O'Brien with a language her mother would definitely not approve of.

"No, your ladyship," she answered, straightening and handing her the letter. "I'm afraid she left."

"What do you mean, left?" exclaimed Lady Grantham with astonishment, reaching for the letter impatiently. Her eyebrows rose when she read it and soon an expression of betrayal bloomed on her face.

"I just can't believe it," she said woodenly.

"None of us can believe it, your ladyship. We are all astonished she would do so."

"I can't believe Susan has done it to me. And after I agreed to keep our arrangement for Rose despite losing Robert!"

"Miss O'Brien did say that she got on well with Lady Flintshire when we were up in Scotland," said Anna while pouring tea for her ladyship. She was determined to take the topic away from Lord Grantham's demise. She knew from both Miss O'Brien's grumblings and Lady Mary's worries that starting the morning with reminiscing about her late husband usually meant that her ladyship would not leave her room for most of the day.

"So I gather!" exclaimed Lady Grantham and raised the letter again. "'Lady Flintshire has booked my ticket to India and it seems too good a chance to miss.' When I was going to take her to America when I feel well enough to stand my mother's company!"

Well, better rage than melancholy and grief, thought Anna handing her ladyship her cup. Cora took it gratefully, needing the calming effect of her morning ritual, greatly disturbed by the absence of her maid of eighteen years.

Eighteen years! O'Brien's departure was of course nothing to the pain of Robert's death, but the very shock of the sudden loss of someone who had been her constant companion for so long made her feel again desperately alone and infinitely sad.

Oh, Robert! Why did you have to leave me like that?

There were still many moments when Cora bitterly regretted that the lorry had not taken her too. They had been there together, in the car, Robert embracing her so tight it had hurt. Then there had been the deafening screech of metal being destroyed and bent, the force of the collision throwing them against the door of the vehicle, and then a deafening silence. Cora had opened her eyes to ask Robert if he was alright and instead had seen his eyes glassy and unresponsive, blood flowing from a wound on his head and staining her gown, pieces of broken glass all over him.

She did not remember much of the aftermath other than thinking, while holding him so tightly that they had had to pry her fingers of him, that they had just been so happy, so very happy.

She sighed, letting herself collapse tiredly against her pillows. She did not feel it was one of the days she felt strong enough to leave her bed.

"Please inform Lady Mary and Lord Grantham about the situation. You may give them the letter," she said, handing it over. Her heart clenched using Robert's title to describe Matthew. Six months had passed since that horrible day and yet it still felt wrong. Cora forced herself to use it though. She knew she could use just Matthew's name while talking to the servants – it would not be proper, but nobody would really mind in the circumstances, she was sure – but she told herself sternly that she had to get used to it. Robert had accepted and embraced Matthew as his heir fully, from the very beginning. He would want his rank to be acknowledged and all the honours due the 8th Earl of Grantham given to him.

"Of course, your ladyship. Will you need anything else? Maybe I should ask Lady Mary or Lady Edith to come to you?" asked Anna, taking the letter.

"No," said Cora listlessly, staring again at the overcast sky outside. "I just want to be alone for some time."

xxx

Anna took the tray for Lady Mary and Lord Grantham – goodness, wasn't it strange to call Mr Matthew that, despite six months passing by! – and went back upstairs. She passed the servants hall when the interrogation of Alfred regarding his knowledge of his aunt's plans was going on in full force and walked slowly up the servants' staircase, balancing the heavy tray with ease of long experience.

Lord Grantham was still asleep, but Lady Mary was already awake and nursing her son, the most likely reason she was up. It was usually Lord Grantham who was more likely to welcome the dawn with a smile. Anna hid a smile of her own at the thought that it was only Lady Mary's love for her baby that forced her out of bed before she received her tea.

"Good morning, milady," she said cheerfully, carefully setting the tray well outside of the range of Viscount Downton's grabbing hands. He was just learning to sit up, but he could be surprisingly agile in his determined pursuit of objects he was not allowed to touch. "I see little lord woke up hungry?"

Lady Mary rolled her eyes, despite cradling her feeding son tenderly.

"I'm going to wean him off soon, at least in the mornings. Nanny West says he is starting to eat his porridge and mashed apples well enough to stop relying on me for his breakfast."

"He might still want a cuddle with his mama," pointed Anna, pouring Lady Mary her desperately needed tea.

Lady Mary put the baby down, safely placed between her and her husband, and adjusted her nightgown with a smirk.

"And he will get one. After I have my tea."

She eagerly accepted her cup from Anna and looked with mock scorn at the baby, sleepily snuggling to his father, who was starting to stir himself.

"Good morning, my lord," Anna greeted him cheerfully, opening the curtains. Lord Grantham blinked and then smiled adoringly when he noticed the infant cuddling to him.

"Good morning, Anna," he rasped and then raised his adoring gaze at his wife. "Good morning, darling. I can't believe I didn't even notice Nanny West bringing him here."

"He was not wailing, thank heavens. I hate being woken up like that. Nanny West learnt to follow his cues hastily when he desires breakfast."

"I understand his desperate desire for your company," said Lord Grantham huskily then, remembering Anna's presence in the room, blushed scarlet in embarrassment. Anna and Lady Mary stifled their giggles.

She sobered up quickly though, remembering the letter in her pocket and the distressing state she left her ladyship.

"What is it, Anna?" asked Lady Mary with a frown. Lord Grantham sat up at his wife tone, careful not to disturb his sleeping son.

"I'm afraid Miss O'Brien left before down. She had accepted a position as Lady Flintshire's lady's maid and is on her way to India by now," she was not surprised at their twin shocked expressions. It was rather shocking news. "She left the letter for her ladyship, who asked me to inform you and let you read it yourselves."

Lady Mary read the letter with a frown, then, scowling, gave it to her husband.

"I can't believe it," said Lord Grantham. "Hasn't she worked for your mother for fifteen years?"

"Eighteen," answered Lady Mary crisply. "And I can. Sneaking off like a thief in the night, that's O'Brien to a T."

Anna said nothing, but fully agreed.

"Was there really no warning?" asked Lord Grantham disbelievingly.

Anna pursued her lip thoughtfully.

"Now I think of it, she had a telegram yesterday, my lord. That must have been it. But she did not say a word to any of us."

"So what happens now?" asked Lady Mary, glaring into her tea in irritation.

"I will take care of dressing her ladyship, with your permission, milady, until a replacement can be found."

"Of course you have it, Anna," answered Lady Mary immediately, then sighed. "How is Mama taking it?"

"She's rather distressed, milady, although I am not sure if more by Miss O'Brien's desertion or the fact it was Lady Flintshire who offered her the job."

"Stealing Mama's lady's maid after dropping Rose in our laps is Cousin Susan to a T," said Lady Mary dryly. "Suppose we can send Rose back in payback?"

"I don't think Rose knew anything about it, Mary," protested Lord Grantham immediately, always quick to jump to their young cousin's defence. "Besides, she has been really jolly good about respecting the fact we are a house in mourning."

"Yes, she barely whines for London or some company twice a week," murmured Lady Mary, but raised a hand in a pacifying gesture before her husband could quarrel further. "But yes, as much as I would like to punish Cousin Susan, I do not think Rose deserves having her mother's company inflicted on her again. She has been rather good about everything."

She sighed again, then straightened, ready to face the practicalities of the problem.

"Anna, as I said, you have my full permission to take care of her ladyship and to do go to her first if she requires it. I will advertise in The Lady later today and hopefully get some responses quickly. The title of Dowager Countess of Grantham should hopefully attract quality candidates."

"I think it will, milady," answered Anna and, after making sure neither Lady Mary nor Lord Grantham needed anything else, went back downstairs. She was curious if anything came from Alfred's interrogation.