Agent's House, Downton Village, May 2nd, 1922

"But won't you need a nanny for Sybbie at night?" asked Cora with concern as Tom was proudly giving them tour of his new house. She looked at the nursery, finished with cheerful cream wallpaper peppered with forget-me-nots and filled with Sybbie's toys and her little bed, but lacking any sleeping accommodation for an adult. "Won't she be afraid to sleep alone?"

"I will be just next door," said Tom reassuringly, pointing his bedroom. "I will be with her if she but calls or cries. But Nanny Lewis says she is a good sleeper, barely waking up at night except asking for warm milk sometimes in the evening."

Cora pursued her lips worriedly but didn't offer any further objections. She knew she would be overruled and, to be honest, seeing Tom happily bustling around and proudly showing off room after room, she started to have doubts whether she had done a good thing convincing him to stay at Downton. He seemed so much freer and more confident here.

The house was quite nice, in fact. Since the land agent position was often given to a relative or close friend of the current earl, the building was spacious and comfortable, similar in size to the Crawley House and also surrounded by a garden, even if it was currently rather neglected and overgrown after being left unattended for over a year. Tom had already arranged for a boy to do some works under Mr Molesley Sr's watchful eye, so it was expected to change very shortly. He had also hired a housekeeper, a cheerful widow in late 40s, to take care of cooking and cleaning. To Cora's surprise, she was going to keep living in her own cottage and only coming during the days.

"Why would I need her at night?" asked Tom with amused surprise. "I can well make myself or Sybbie a sandwich if any of us gets hungry in the middle of the night. It's easier to find someone if I'm not expecting them to live in, and it will be cheaper too, not to pay the board. Mrs Hobb was quite pleased with the arrangement and I am too."

Cora sighed and told herself that if Tom found himself in over her head caring for a toddler on his own, he could always hire someone later. And Sybbie would be spending her days at the Abbey.

But seeing Tom move on with his life, she was struck by the thought she did not even consider what direction her own life should take now. Mama was giving her plenty of disapproving hints about her remaining at the Abbey – although quite vague on the subject where Cora would be expected to move, considering that the Dower House was clearly occupied – but in the light of Mary and Matthew's reassurances that she didn't need to make any hasty decisions and she was perfectly welcome to stay with them for however long she liked, she just was pushing the matter off till now. She made it clearly that Mary was not the mistress of the house and, since she was so incapacitated by her grief for so long, the transition went very smoothly. By the time she was finally able to rejoin the world of the living, everybody was clearly used to the fact that it was Mary who was in charge and should be consulted on everything. So while Cora felt reasonably sure she was not a burden to her daughter and son-in-law, she was suddenly realising that she was also devoid of any purpose – and now, when she was both feeling more of herself and observing Tom rebuilding his life after his terrible loss, she was starting to feel bothered by it.

There were many possibilities, of course. Her dower portion, even if just a small fraction of her dowry, was still generous enough to easily afford her a very comfortable lifestyle in any place of her choosing. She could ask Matthew for the use of one of the houses on the estate or even lease on one of the smaller estates also belonging to the Earl of Grantham and stay in the neighbourhood, close to her grandchildren. She could rent a house in London and join the busy social scene there with Rosamund. Or she could go to America and see all the unbelievable changes her mother was describing in her letters.

The only thing she needed was to make a decision.

Library, Downton Abbey, May 2nd, 1922

"Old Mr Drewe is dead," announced Tom, joining Matthew and Mary in the library.

Matthew lowered his newspaper.

"I'm sorry to hear that, although I guess it will make matters easier. When's the funeral?"

"Tomorrow. Will you go?"

"I think I should," said Matthew firmly. "Even though we were going to foreclose the lease, he has been our tenant for decades and I think his family for actual centuries, haven't they?"

"Yes," nodded Mary, putting down her teacup. "The Drewe family have been tenants since the reigh of George III. But be it as it may, the rent's not been paid for ages. We've served all the papers. It's time to get on with it."

"It will be good to farm the land ourselves, placed as it is in the middle of our existing fields," agreed Matthew. "But I am happy we left him in peace while he was on his deathbed. Do we know who his heir is?"

"His only son, Mr Timothy Drewe. From what I've been told, he's working as a pig man for Lord Scarborough," answered Tom, pouring himself some tea as well.

"Then hopefully he is settled enough that he will want to close his affairs here and vacate the farm quickly."

"It is a bit sad that the farm will change hands after such a long time in the hands of one family, but the world moves on, and we must move with it," mused Mary, picking up her own cup again and settling more comfortably against the pillows of the sofa.

Matthew handed his newspaper to her.

"Talking of the world moving on, I suppose you've seen this."

"The engagement is announced between the Viscount Gillingham and the Honourable Mabel Lane Fox,
only child of the late Lord Osweston," Mary read aloud and rolled her eyes. So much for his great love. "Oh, thank heavens. Best decision he could make, although I'm not sure if I admire her decision making skills so much."

"I thought you liked him?" asked Matthew, but she could tell by his twinkling eyes that even though she completely forgot to tell him about her meeting with Tony in York, he knew or suspected enough to tease her now.

"Well, I don't like him anymore, but he is thankfully Miss Lane Fox's problem, not mine," she said imperiously and drunk a sip of tea.

Cemetery, St. Michael and All Angels' Church, Downton Village, May 3rd, 1922

Old Mr Drewe was evidently well liked, because his funeral gathered quite a crowd. After the service was done and the mourners were dispersing, Matthew paid a quick visit to the graves of Robert, William, Lavinia and Sybil since he was here anyway. He finished his prayers and reflected with sadness that there were too many graves of his loved ones at this cemetery, considering he had only been living at Downton for less than ten years, and all of them for people who had been taken well before their time.

Truth be told, he was not fully reconciled to the loss of any of them.

He paid his respects and left the flowers he brought, when he was approached by the Mr Drewe's son, who waited respectfully until he was done.

"Lord Grantham," he greeted him in a gravel, firm voice.

"Mr Drewe," answered Matthew, taking off his hat. "It was a very good service. Your father would've been pleased."

"Thank you."

They both put their hats back on and started walking together.

"Do you have far to go?" asked Matthew politely, straining for a topic. Small talk was not his forte, especially with grieving people he had never met before.

"I'm staying at Yew Tree Farm."

"Of course," answered Matthew hastily, embarrassed a bit at his faux pas. The man had to go through all of his father's possessions before the foreclosure was complete. "Let us know when you're ready to leave. There's no hurry."

Mr Drewe took a fortifying breath.

"The thing is, milord, I... don't want to move out. I want to take on the tenancy."

Matthew stopped in his tracks.

"What?"

"If it's still possible," he said, with an air of a proud man who clearly hated begging for anything.

"I'm sorry to be the one to say it, but I don't believe it is. The notices have been served. The case is closed," answered Matthew kindly, but firmly. He hated such situations – he understood completely why Robert had used to avoid them like a plague – but Downton had to be self-sufficient to survive and letting the tenants stay forever without paying rent had clearly not served Robert well.

"You mean, you want to farm the land yourself. Then it's all settled," commented Mr Drewe bitterly and Matthew couldn't help but feel a bit offended at the implied accusation.

"Mr Drewe, it's no good painting me as Simon Legree. We gave your father a long time to get straight and left him in peace at the end of his life."

"He never told me about the debt. Or I'd've tried to help him. Because my ancestors have farmed at Yew Tree since the Napoleonic Wars. Surely, that's got to mean something?"

Matthew sighed. It didn't to him, not really. But he looked back at the cemetery and Robert's gravestone, visible over the low wall.

It would have meant a great deal to him.

"Come tomorrow morning, if you wish. But honestly, I can't see what good it will do."

Mr Drewe tipped his hat to him and Matthew walked away to Crawley House. He thought that a tea with Mother would do him a lot of good right now.

Sitting room, Crawley House, May 3rd, 1922

It was strange, thought Matthew, accepting a cup of tea from Molesley and helping himself to a pastry, how familiar and alien it felt to be back here in this cheerful blue room with its view of the blooming garden and Mother sitting opposite him. On one hand, he felt quite transported back in time, to a life which was definitely not simple – he had always managed to complicate it for himself, hadn't he? - but one in which he had carried less responsibilities. He was happier now than he had been for years – how could he not be with such an amazing wife and son, after he had spent so long fearing he would never be able to have neither Mary nor children – but there were times when being the Earl of Grantham weighted on him heavily indeed. Like today.

But on the other hand, this was clearly not his home anymore. He still loved to visit Mother there and spend time just with her, as they had used to be for so many years. But he felt it keenly that as nice as those visits were, he was a guest now, and he usually found himself walking back to the Abbey with a spring in his steps and whistling a happy tune, eager to cuddle his adorable baby and kiss his beautiful wife. However much he often wished that Robert was alive and he could have remained a simple solicitor for the next thirty years, he would have not traded his life with his family for anything in the world.

He smiled at Mother, his thoughts clearer and more cheerful than he had come with, grateful that she knew him enough to give him a moment to order them.

"What troubles you?" she asked, after she sent Molesley away.

Matthew sighed and told her the whole saga of Yew Tree Farm and the Drewes.

"And what do you intend to do?" asked Isobel curiously, pouring him more tea.

"I am torn," he confessed. "The old Mr Drewe has not paid the rent for years, really, despite the notices and talks. In the last few years he started to neglect the farm too, probably due to his failing health. His son says that his father never told him of his troubles and that he would have helped him if he knew. I think I believe him; he really made a strong impression on me. But the fact remains that the rent was unpaid, all the notices were duly served and the foreclosure is perfectly legal. What's more, despite the fact that we could use this land marvellously, due to its central location, we halted the foreclosure once we learnt that Mr Drewe was deadly ill and we let him die in peace. So both decency and legalities have been observed in this case. There should be nothing to make me feel guilty."

"But you are?" asked Isobel shrewdly. Matthew sighed again.

"Maybe not guilty as such," he said slowly, trying to put his scattered thoughts and feelings into words. "But as I said, young Mr Drewe made a strong impression on me. I feel uneasy sending him away, even though I have no real reason for my conscience to bother me over it."

"But you have not sent him away," pointed Isobel, offering him another piece of cake which Matthew could not refuse. Mother did know his favourites well. "You said that you asked him to come by tomorrow."

"Yes, but I don't know to what purpose," answered Matthew after swallowing a bite. The cake was really delicious. Good thing he wasn't coming here every day, he would get as big as a barn. "I thought it all through and I do not see how I may justify a different decision."

"Just listen to him with an open mind. You will know then whether granting or denying his request is the right thing to do," said Isobel simply and Matthew once again mentally added Mother to his list of things he could be grateful for in his life. Sensible advice and cake – no wonder he liked visiting her.

Matthew's study, Downton Abbey, May 4th, 1922

Matthew invited Mr Drewe to sit in the chair opposite his desk, which he did, although clearly astonished by the courtesy. He looked at Mr Drewe intently.

"Tell me why you want the tenancy? Aren't you well settled right now? That was what your father told me."

"I am, my lord," admitted Drewe, looking Matthew straight into the eyes. "I am the pig man for Lord Scarborough, and it is a good position. But Yew Tree Farm is my home and my legacy, and I want to carry it on and leave it to my children, should they want it."

"Can you pay the arrears?"

"Not all at once," admitted Drewe, "But I'll pay and it won't take long."

"You want to reverse the foreclosure and take the lease, but you still can't pay all the arrears. It doesn't seem a very enticing offer," pointed out Matthew.

Drewe straightened proudly.

"I'm a Yorkshireman, m'lord. This is where I belong. We've worked this land in partnership with the Crawleys for more than a century."

"In partnership with the Crawleys," repeated Matthew musingly, experiencing the first doubts on the issue.

"I don't mean to be impertinent," added Drewe, clearly fearing that he gave offence.

"I do not hear it as impertinence," Matthew assured him immediately. "I was just thinking that partnership with our tenants is something which we want to develop further. I don't know how much your father or other tenants told you, but we are working on giving the tenants more say in how the estate is run, in the matters which affect them of course. And while we are trying to concentrate the land in our hands to farm it directly, for better efficiency, we truly want a working partnership with the tenants who are willing and able to remain. Because we won't be able to farm everything ourselves and we do need good, competent people to help us in our task."

"Then will you let me come home?"

Matthew looked at him closely.

"The remaining arrears is fifty pounds. Do you maintain your claim that you will be able to pay it off in a reasonably short time?"

"Yes, m'lord," answered Drewe steadfastly. "I have some savings and I know I can get the farm to bring more money quickly. My father could not farm it properly in the end, and he was quite set in his ways too. But I learned new things when I worked at other estates, and I'm going to put them to good use."

"Please bring your proposal of repayment terms for the arrears to the agent's office tomorrow around noon so we can review it with Mr Branson and, if we agree on terms, we can sign both the lease and the repayment agreement."

"Thank you, m'lord. I'll be there. You won't regret it," said Drewe firmly.

"No. I don't think I will," answered Matthew sincerely and hold out his hand.

Drewe took it without hesitation.

Dining room, Downton Abbey, May 4th, 1922

The fate of Yew Tree Farm remained the main topic of conversation at dinner.

"So you'd like Mr Drewe to stay on," noted Cora with interest.

"Since he wants to repay the debt, I think it only fair. Besides, he talks of the partnership between the farmers and the family, and I like that," answered Matthew, serving himself more chicken.

"Well, I think it's splendid," announced Isobel, giving him a proud smile, which made him smile fondly in return.

"Says the Queen of the Rebels," muttered Violet, making Isobel thank her pointedly.

"And you agree, even though he has no right to renew the lease?" asked Mary with disbelief and Matthew sighed discreetly. Sometimes he thought that he convinced her about the necessity of treating the estate as a business it was a little too well.

To his surprise, it was Cora who came to his defence before he could think of one.

"No right legally, no. But we think he has a moral right."

"It's a pity it should be Yew Tree. It would've filled a hole in the land we're farming," noted Tom, cutting his chicken with gusto. Matthew thought mischievously that he probably was trying to get his fill of Mrs Patmore's dinners before he moved to his own house in two days.

"You've managed without it till now," countered Isobel dismissively.

"But you haven't said what you think. Which side are you on?" Mary asked Tom.

"Well, the farmer's, of course. I've not abandoned all my socialism. Even though it feels like it sometimes," answered Tom placidly.

"But Matthew, taking over the Yew Tree Farm was your idea!" protested Mary in confusion, feeling unexpectedly left alone with the position she had thought all three of them agreed on.

"Yes," answered Matthew calmly. "And I still think it's a good idea. But I was reminded about Robert today and while we disagreed a lot, there were things he did teach me and which I respected about his views. For him, Downton was always about the people. Adding Yew Tree Farm to the home farm would be advantageous, but not doing so will not bankrupt us or even change our plans drastically. And having a good tenant, a famer who believes in a partnership between us and may convince others to do that as well – it is worth changing my mind on this particular issue."

He looked at his wife imploringly, willing her to understand his position, even if it did contradict his previous stance which she adopted in his support. He relaxed with relief when she rolled her eyes with a smirk, which he knew was more teasing than mocking.

"How can I quarrel with you when you invoke Papa's best qualities against me?" she asked, playfully lifting her wine glass to him. "The only road left open to me is to bow to the wisdom of the Earl of Grantham."