DOWNTON ABBEY 1926

Episode 5. Chapter 1.

Monday September 6, 1926

Downstairs Breakfast

Downtown Abbey was always awhirl with activity at daybreak with maids and footmen alike sweeping through the main rooms - polishing, dusting, vacuuming, opening shutters, laying the table, collecting glasses left out by the family the night before - and the senior staff members darting between floors, supervising work as well as attending to their own more specific duties. But the second week in September opened with an even greater level of energy. Mrs. Carson had been easing out of the early morning responsibilities, leaving those in Madge's capable hands, but on this Monday morning she was there at dawn. Perfection demanded the attention of every available eye. Mr. Barrow was also above stairs, monitoring the footmen - both of them.

The staff assembled for breakfast, standing respectfully by their chairs until Thomas came in, sitting only after he sat. It was a gesture of deference that he enjoyed every time. Before they could lapse into conversation among themselves, he cleared his throat. He had announcements to make.

"A few of you have already met him, but I would like formally to introduce Lewis Stairs, our new footman." It was evident that the butler took some satisfaction in making this pronouncement. They all knew he'd been advertising for some time without success. And the new footman had already made an impression. He was good-looking and experienced, and had gone about his duties this first morning at Downton without troubling anyone else.

The staff exchanged warm words with the new recruit, the maids eyeing him hopefully until Mrs. Carson's reprimanding glare cut them cold. Madge had yet to perfect such a skill.

"I would also like to thank Mrs. Carson," Thomas continued, "for her willingness to extend her hours this week in order to make sure that Downton is at its best when Mr. Alanson Houghton, the Ambassador of the United States...," Thomas's tone reflected the honour that such a visit bestowed on Downton; Mr. Carson announcing the arrival of a duke would have sounded the same. "...comes to Downton on Friday."

Mrs. Carson acknowledged Thomas's consideration with an appreciative nod. They had always rubbed along well enough with each other, certainly better than Mr. Carson and Thomas ever had, but for Thomas to take this special notice was a bit of a departure for him.

"And Mr. Molesley will be joining us as footman for the dinner on Friday night, as planned," Thomas went on. Miss Baxter smiled faintly at this. "That will be the most formal of the meals. On Saturday the party will attend the races in Doncaster and we're not quite sure yet whether any of the family will remain at home. The dinner on Sunday will be a small family affair."

The staff absorbed these remarks and then followed his lead in digging into their breakfast, reaching for the plates of eggs, sausage, toast, and other foods that Mrs. Patmore and Daisy had set before them.

"I'm wondering who stole away our Mr. Barrow and replaced him with that charming substitute," Mrs. Patmore said, as she and Daisy retreated to the kitchen for more food.

"He only wants everything to go well," Daisy said. "So mind you keep the salt and sugar straight next weekend," she added mischievously.

The cook glared at her. She did not like to be reminded of her errors - few and far between as they were, of course! - and the catastrophe that had been the salted raspberry meringue served to Sir Anthony Strallan still rankled, although less so since he had been banished from the Crawleys' social circle for abandoning Lady Edith at the altar.

"What do you think of Lewis, then?" Mrs. Patmore asked, taking a new direction. Mrs. Patmore had an aesthetic appreciation for a nice looking young man and thought her assistant ought to take more of an interest.

Daisy shrugged. "Another footman. You'd think a man these days would have more ambition."

"Like you, I suppose," Mrs. Patmore said acidly, shaking her head. "Have you come to any conclusions yet, by the way?" She'd held off pressing Daisy on her plans, hoping they would dissipate, or at least that she would cool off and assess her situation more sensibly. "Has anyone answered your letters?"

"I've had a note from Gwen, just a brief one. She's tending to her ailing mother-in-law. She said she'd get back to me. And," she went on more forcefully, "I've also heard from Miss Bunting." She took one of the remaining trays and disappeared into the servants' hall with it. When she returned she added, "Miss Bunting agrees with me about the Crawleys. She says they acted despicably, but what more could you expect from their kind."

Mrs. Patmore was glad that Daisy had the wherewithal to lower her voice as she spoke. You never knew these days when one of the family might make an appearance. Nor would Mr. Barrow tolerate that kind of attitude - not any more. But it was a different aspect of Daisy's words that startled the cook.

"Why'd you tell her about the Drewes, you nit! She didn't need to know that."

"I think she did. How else could I have explained my quandary?"

Mrs. Patmore's eyes rolled at quandary. Daisy and her high-falutin' vocabulary! When would she learn that it was character not vocabulary that mattered in the world? "You were supposed to be asking for her advice on your future, not recruiting support for a campaign of moral condemnation and social revolution!" Her exasperation glanced off Daisy. This used to be easier, Mrs. Patmore told herself. "Did she say anything helpful?" she demanded.

"She said she'd give it some thought," Daisy said, "and that in the meantime, I ought not to give them the satisfaction of quitting in a huff."

Mrs. Patmore parsed that statement, weighing the advantages and disadvantages of a sarcastic rejoinder, and then decided that, as Miss Bunting's advice so far was almost consistent with her own, she would hold her tongue. "Well...good." If it wasn't quite the more concrete direction she had hoped for from that educated woman, it at least forestalled precipitate action on Daisy's part and that was something.

At the table, conversation revolved around the impending visit.

"What a great fuss over an American!" Madge said. She was one of the senior servants now, or almost so, and addressed her comments to them.

Mrs. Carson, separated from Madge by Daniel Ryder, contemplated a reproof. "Ours not to wonder why," she said circumspectly. She did not think it appropriate to take too hard of a line with her housekeeping assistant, but it was clearly necessary to remind her, however obliquely, that it was not the place of the downstairs residents to question the goings-on upstairs.

"It's like he's royalty, though," Madge went on, the housekeeper's subtlety lost on her.

"Well, he is, in a way," Daniel Ryder said amiably. "The American are the new royalty."

"Isn't that a contradiction in terms?" Mrs. Carson asked, giving him a sharp look. "American royalty?"

"Royalty of wealth, not birth. And the only reason they're not running the world, or most of it - yet - is because they can't be bothered," he went on. "It's in our interests, the interests of Britain, to cultivate their good will. In any future conflicts in Europe or, indeed, around the world, it would be well to have the Americans on our side."

Ryder's disquisition drew Thomas's attention. "That sounds like Foreign Office talk," he drawled, eyeing the other man carefully. "I thought you were with the Colonial Office. At one point."

"I was," Ryder said lightly. "But it's all one fabric, Mr. Barrow."

Thomas exchanged glances with Mrs. Carson and let it go.

She was slightly unsettled by Mr. Ryder's remarks, as she was by almost everything he said. It occurred to her, as it often did, that socially he should be with the people upstairs. What was he doing here? But no satisfactory answer to that question had yet presented itself. Brushing this off, Mrs. Carson leaned toward the butler.

"Well done, Mr. Barrow." She nodded toward the new footman. "Where did you find him?"

Thomas smiled proudly. "An old butler's trick, Mrs. Carson. The advertisements were drawing no one right, so I contacted a few other butlers asking for recommendations. Mr. Erskine at Strathmere in Northumberland put me on t'lad here. He came with sound references and interviewed well. And he knows what he's about." He paused. "Although it is early days," he added cautiously.

Mrs. Carson stifled a smile at this. Mr. Barrow, she thought, sometimes reminded her of someone she knew well.

The Bateses had also joined the staff for breakfast, something that they, like Mrs. Carson, did only infrequently. They were pitching in, too, so as to ensure that Downton looked and functioned at its best for the diplomat's visit. In the past, the social hierarchy of the servants' table had often had them sitting opposite each other, but Mr. Barrow was more flexible than Mr. Carson had ever been and so long as the significant line between senior and junior staff was maintained, he was less concerned with particulars. So the Bateses sat beside each other.

"His Lordship is very excited about the Ambassador's visit," Bates murmured to his wife. "I never thought I'd see the day when he would be so enthusiastic about an American."

"He is married to an American," Anna said, her tone both amused and reproving. "And he's always a gracious host, even if the guests are not so deserving."

"Well, we can hope there won't be a repetition of the German fiasco," Bates said. "Or a Grey episode," he added, alluding to the conflicts that had erupted whenever one of Lord Merton's sons had come to Downton.

"Or anyone's ulcer bursting," Andy added, reminding them all of that dramatic moment when Lord Grantham had vomited blood all over the pristine white table cloth and Minister for Health Neville Chamberlain. Andy drew several disapproving stares for having recalled the incident, and over breakfast at that. His attention returned to his food.

A few minutes later Thomas stood up and everyone rattled to their feet along with him, Daniel Ryder included. It was not, perhaps, incumbent upon him to follow this convention, but not doing so would have set him apart.

"On with our day, then," Thomas said, looking around at them all, and then he withdrew to his pantry.

Upstairs Breakfast

"So this is our new man, Barrow?"

No doubt Barrow was looking for an opportunity to introduce the new footman and Robert, knowing this, gave it to him. Cora, Mary, and Henry looked up politely.

"Yes, my lord," Barrow said immediately. "This is Lewis."

Lewis, who was as tall as Andy and as broad and dark as Barrow, and in age somewhere between the two, executed a formal one-half bow to his employer.

"Welcome to Downton, Lewis." Cora always made an effort.

The footman nodded to her and then retreated into obscurity once more.

"It's good to have Downton running at strength," Robert said with satisfaction. He had not forgotten his opposition to the butler's recommendation for additional staff, but he was pleased now in a different way.

This moment of limelight to the attending servants passed and the conversation at the table moved on.

"We gain a footman," Robert went on, "and we lose a driver. Stark is retiring at the end of the month."

This was news. Cora and Mary were startled, Henry less so. Henry had his own car and was dependent upon no one for transportation.

"We shall have to advertise directly," Mary said forcefully. "We can hardly run an estate with only one drive between us, Papa."

Cora shot an exasperated look at her daughter and then focused on her husband. "It will be a challenge to balance all our schedules," she said.

"I thought we'd give it a try," Robert said carefully, "and see how it goes."

"It won't work," Mary said with such finality that her father wondered why she thought him the reluctant one in the face of changes.

"I can drive you sometimes," Henry told her. "Or," he added, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "you could learn to drive."

Mary didn't even favour him with a look. "No," she said abruptly. She wasn't ready for that in so many ways.

Cora decided that this wasn't the moment to discuss transportation needs and smoothly shifted the topic. "Having Mr. Houghton here for on the weekend of the St Leger Stakes was an inspiration, darling."

Distracted, Robert beamed. "I thought so. The Foreign Office were pressing for an earlier date, but when I heard that Mr. Houghton enjoyed racing, I held out for September."

"I'm excited about it, too," Mary said. She wasn't going to let go of the chauffeur question, but the St Leger was a compelling subject. "Coronach has taken the Derby and the Eclipse Stakes. He's favoured at the St Leger."

"But unlikely to win," Henry put in. "Only two other horses have won all three."

He drew surprised looks from Mary and Cora.

"And I thought you were a car man," Cora said, teasing him.

Henry shrugged. "I am. But I read the sports pages thoroughly." He grinned to himself, turning back to his breakfast. Mary cared for horse sports and he had begun to take an interest.

Robert was not at all surprised by Henry's informative intervention. He expected all gentlemen to share the interests of their class to some degree and horses were part of that.

"How formal is the formal dinner on Friday, Papa? I thought Ambassador Houghton was coming to Downton to get away from that sort of thing."

"He's looking for an English country weekend," Robert said. "So we're going to have a small formal dinner, the race at Doncaster on Saturday, a bit of shooting on Sunday afternoon and then an en famille Sunday night."

"We've invited Isobel and Dickie," Cora said, responding more directly to Mary's query. "We couldn't really have anyone else without seeming to favour one couple over another. We have any number of friends who would like to meet the ambassador. And Tom is coming, too."

"And Granny." Mary said this carefully and then looked at each of her parents in turn. They had not discussed Granny, although Mary did not think that her grandmother's health had gone unnoticed. It was not the family practice to dwell on adversity, or even to address it until necessary. Clearly they had not yet reached that point for Robert came over impassive and took a sudden interest in his breakfast and Cora said, a little too heartily, "Of course Mama is coming. That goes without saying, Mary."

Conceding to their approach, Mary subsided.

"Tony and Mabel Gillingham will be joining us at Doncaster," Robert said, perhaps hoping to distract her. At one time Robert had hoped that Mary might make a match of it with the easy-going Viscount Gillingham. Mary's rejection of him was less shocking than the revelation that she had spent an intimate week with him in Liverpool before making up her mind. Robert's discovery of this secret had obliged him to re-think his attitude toward his eldest daughter and to appreciate, as he had not entirely done so before, her hard-edged practicality.

Mary was not at all perturbed by the news. She had been more than relieved when Tony had accepted her decision and resumed his relationship with Mabel Lane-Fox and she remained fond of him. "Good!" she said with feeling. "They're both great horse enthusiasts." She glanced at Henry. "You'll like Tony," she told him. Her eyes met her father's briefly, he shaking his head a little at her boldness, she smiling defiantly in return.

"It's a shame Edith will miss Ambassador Houghton," Cora said, missing this exchange between father and daughter. Neither Robert nor Mary had made her privy to this indiscretion. "But they'll be down the next weekend, all three of them." Almost reflexively, Cora glanced Mary's way, anticipating a cutting remark.

"What? I'm glad Edith and Bertie and Marigold are coming to visit." Mary and her mother stared at one another for a long moment. "She is my sister, Mama."

"Yes," Cora said with a sigh.

Mary smiled with a superior air at having surprised Mama. She had her own reasons for looking forward, as she so rarely did, to a visit from Edith.

They had all finished their meal and were preparing to rise.

"What are you doing this morning?" Henry asked Robert out of politeness.

"Walking with Carson, of course," Mary said, smiling in her father's direction. "Unless Granny's project is keeping him too busy." The awkward moment over Violet had passed. This reference to her fell smoothly into the conversation.

"I should object if it did," Robert said firmly. He enjoyed his weekly walks with his former butler for many reasons, not least because he could talk to Carson about almost anything and without fear of criticism.

"Is Carson interviewing you for the book, Papa?"

Robert frowned in mock indignation. "He's writing a history of the family. I'm not history. Yet."

They all laughed at that and separated to go about their day.

Thomas and Lewis

As the family departed, the footmen stepped forward from their unobtrusive posts to clear the table. Thomas watched for a moment. Lewis, he noted with satisfaction, went about his work with a practiced ease that reflected his experience. Andy, Thomas noticed, glanced over at Lewis a few times and looked as though he were trying to catch up. The butler was not perturbed by Andy's unease which was only a natural reaction to the new circumstances. Thus far at Downton, Andy had been almost coddled along. Mr. Carson had demanded a certain standard of work from him, to be sure, but Andy had known no real competition. Molesley, for all his defects from Thomas's perspective, was a generous colleague who never exposed a fellow worker at a disadvantage. And the rest of the staff had taken to Andy from the beginning and had had patience with his few shortcomings. His genial manner and eagerness to serve had also endeared him to the Crawleys, insofar as they had noticed him. Lewis, Thomas suspected, was unlikely to be so careful with Andy. And that, to the butler's mind, was not wholly a bad thing. Informal rivalry had certainly always kept him on his toes.

Thomas was about to leave the dining room in the footmen's capable hands when he noticed Lewis stop to examine the silver sugar bowl. His expression made no secret of his displeasure.

"Lewis?"

The footman's eyes shifted to the butler. He held up the dish. "There's a scratch here, Mr. Barrow."

This did interest Thomas, who strode across the room to take the offending item from Lewis. He examined it closely. His eyes scoured the surface of the sugar bowl twice before he saw it, an infinitesimal blight on the underside. It was the kind of blemish only Mr. Carson would have noticed. It irritated Thomas, for he had not noticed it. But Lewis had.

"Well spotted, Lewis. I shall attend to it myself."

Lewis nodded at the acknowledgment and returned to his work. Heading for the servants' staircase, Thomas congratulated himself on hiring such a perceptive footman. It would be useful to have another pair of sharp eyes about.

Robert and Carson

The sight of Lord Grantham and Mr. Carson and their dogs - the lively yellow lab and the handsome ruffled collie - on the pathways of Downton had become a familiar one to the villagers and tenant farmers. His Lordship in his walking tweeds had, as always, a casual air about him. Though Mr. Carson, no longer the butler of Downton Abbey, also wore walking clothes, his demeanour retained some semblance of the post he had once held in the stiffness of his bearing. It was a reflection of the social relation between the two. However comradely their Monday morning routine, these were still two men from different levels of society and their clothing and manner, as much as anything else, showed this. And yet that it was an amiable relationship was apparent to all, adding to Mr. Carson's already formidable reputation in the village.

This morning they were, naturally, engrossed in conversation about the American Ambassador's visit. It could not be otherwise. It was the event of the season.

"It is a great honour for Downton, my lord," Carson declared, "and a coup for you as well."

Robert glanced at his companion. "Are you turning republican?" he asked mischievously.

Carson knew what His Lordship was about but responded coolly, for being called a republican was even worse than being labelled a liberal. "The United States are a reality with which we must deal, whether we like it or not. Downton must play its part."

Robert forbore to congratulate Carson on his acceptance of the right of the United States to exist, something even King George III - who had lost the "Plantations" in the first place - had been obliged to acknowledge. "We've not much of a part," he said instead. "The ambassador is coming to Downton largely, I think, because I have a reputation as a good host." There was an almost self-deprecating note to his words. They were walking side by side but out of the corner of his eye Robert saw Carson draw himself up in a way that presaged a pronouncement.

"The designation a good host is not to be underrated, my lord. It encompasses the qualities and skills that every good diplomat should hope to have."

"Hmm." Robert hadn't thought of it that way, but Carson's words pleased him. "It'll be a challenge for Barrow," he said.

"One that he will relish," Carson said emphatically. "It will give him an opportunity to show off."

This remark brought a smile to Robert's face. For all his sober demeanour and rigid formality, Carson was a showman by nature and in some corner of his heart and mind had seen Downton as a great stage, its ceremonies and spectacles performances which he, as the butler, had directed. It was an insight into Carson's character which Robert had been granted only after the curtain had come down for the last time.

"You've come along," Robert said mildly, thinking of the butler's depression in the early months of his retirement, as well as his long-standing critical assessment of Barrow.

"I've been working on it," Carson said circumspectly, and then added, "I'm beginning to find some absorbing diversions."

Robert almost laughed aloud. Only Carson, he thought, could describe the joys of marriage in such aloof terms.

"I've been to the cricket matches around the county the last few weekends," Carson went on, with a sudden animation. "I've never had time for them before!"

"What?"

"In Ripon and North Allerton and..."

"Cricket! With Mrs. Carson?"

"No, no," Carson said brusquely. "With Daniel ... with Mr. Ryder. My assistant. It was his idea, as a matter of fact."

"Good golly!" Robert was astonished, on a number of counts. "That sounds like fun!"

"It is."

"Well." It was another side to Carson. Of course Robert knew his former butler had a passion for the game. He had always participated with vigour - and no little skill - in the annual match between the house and the village. But going to matches at the weekend? "He's working out well, then. Your assistant."

"Very well, my lord," Carson said forcefully. "He is a very fine young man."

"Hmm." Robert subsided. Carson's words were hardly effusive but his tone was exuberant. Robert had hardly set eyes on the man who elicited such praise from a normally reticent Carson. Perhaps he ought to look in on the fellow one day. "How's the ... history of the Crawleys ... coming along then?"

That this was another subject close to Carson's heart was immediately apparent. "It's early days, my lord, but I'm enjoying the idea of it - finding and organizing the material, creating a narrative framework, reading about the past - not the distant past, but a past that I remember. Of course, I've only tapped the tip of the iceberg so far. I would have begun chronologically with the first earl, but Her Ladyship the Dowager asked that I start with His Lordship, your father."

"I wonder why that was," Robert mused, in a way that indicated he did not wonder at all. "I want to say that I hope it isn't dull work, Carson, but dullness precludes scandal, so it may be preferable from the family's perspective."

Carson made a dismissive sound. "His Lordship was an admirable man, my lord. And his papers show it." His tone brooked no contradiction, not that Robert was going to offer one. "There was his association with the household of Prince Alfred, and his work in the House of Lords in promoting the Public Health Act..."

"I'd forgotten that."

"... and, of course, he was deeply involved in estate matters - the school, the church, founding the hospital - as well as working with the farmers to improve production. Her Ladyship the Dowager has been very forthcoming with regard to access to all of His Lordship's papers."

"What about Her Ladyship's papers?" Robert asked. "Has she been forthcoming with those?"

Carson either missed or ignored the impudent note in the other's voice. "Her Ladyship wishes to be interviewed," he said.

"Yes, she would." Robert nodded, thinking it so much easier to control the story that way. His mind turned in a different direction. "Tell me, Carson, how do you find Her Ladyship?" They had been making their assessments of Mama, he and Cora, of late, and he thought Mary was growing more concerned as well, though they had not as yet spoken of it together. Carson had a different perspective to offer, but it was no less valuable on this question. Robert waited.

Carson paused. And then the pause grew longer.

The silence was answer enough. Had there been nothing on which to remark, Carson would have issued a blithe "Never better" or "As ever." That he said nothing suggested to Robert that the state of Her Ladyship's health was troubling Carson, too, though he did not feel he had the wherewithal to comment on it.

Robert chose his response carefully. "If there comes a time when you think there is anything I ought to know," he said quietly, "I hope you will be able to come to me, Carson."

Carson's loyalty to the family transcended the generations, a fact of which Robert was very much aware. But Carson remembered, too, what it was to be a son who loved his parents. "I will, my lord."

Author's Note: I have been away from this for a while and am only slowly getting back into it. There should be a steady stream of chapters ahead, though at intervals of days, rather than hours. Alas! There are a few of those complex and challenging-to-write dinner scenes ahead. After Chapter 5 is complete, things ought to move more rapidly. Thank you for your patience. EC