Downton Abbey 1926

Episode 11

Chapter 6

Sunday November 21, 1926

Elsie and Daniel

That afternoon in the graveyard, Elsie had scuttled after her husband, believing in that moment that he had the greater need. On Sunday morning, duty drew her in a different direction. She got up early, knowing Charlie was awake but feigning sleep, and slipped out of the cottage. It wasn't unusual for her to rise so early. Sometimes she wanted to take breakfast at the Abbey, though that was no longer part of her regular hours, just to keep an eye on things. This morning, however, she wanted to put in an hour or two that she might slip away again a little later.

Thomas had said that Daniel was taking the nine o'clock and she half-wondered if she would meet the butler himself heading for the train station at that hour, wanting to make his own goodbyes or, perhaps, apologizing for his indiscretion the night before. But there was only Daniel there on the platform. Only Daniel and no one else. Elsie was grateful for the privacy.

He was surprised to see her, rising from the bench by the station where he'd been sitting, his bags by his feet. "Mrs. Carson."

"You shouldn't be sitting out here," Elsie said, scolding a little. "You'll catch your death of cold." It was a bit brisk and she tugged her muffler just a little more tightly as she spoke.

Daniel shrugged. "I prefer clear air."

She gave him a look at that. At his wordless invitation, they both sat.

"How did you know to find me here?" he asked curiously. "Mr. Molesley?"

"No. Mr. Barrow told us. He … came to the cottage last night after he'd spoken to you." She paused. "I gather you've not seen him since."

"No."

"I'm afraid he …. Well, he was very angry with Mr. Carson, and he …." She looked Daniel in the eyes. "He made matters perfectly clear."

"Ah."

Silence prevailed for a minute or two.

"Thomas meant you no harm," Elsie said, anxious that that should be known. "I've known him a good long time and I've only seen him so overwrought on one other occasion. He didn't … couldn't … understand Mr. Carson's capacity for delusion. He thought you must have told him, that that was why you were leaving."

"It's not."

"I know." They enjoyed another meditative silence. "He cares for you, Thomas does. I could see that." Elsie sighed. "And so does Mr. Carson, if only he could see it."

"Well."

Well, what was there to say?

"Have you written him a note of some sort?" she asked delicately.

"Yes. I left it in the small library with a few of the papers on which I'd been working. It's … quite business-like."

Of course it would be. Daniel had not known when he wrote it that Charlie knew. Not that he could really have addressed it directly anyway. All this subterfuge. Elsie shook her head.

"He won't come this morning," she said. "I know he won't, and it pains me, too."

Daniel glanced at her. "Does he know you've come?"

Elsie shook her head. "There's a bit of frost between Mr. Carson and myself at the moment," she said circumspectly.

Daniel frowned. "Not on my account, I hope."

"Why not?" And there was momentarily a bit of anger in her voice. "Why not on your account?" And then she sighed again. "Some things take a bit of time to settle. There'll be no permanent damage done."

He came over relieved. Elsie considered him, noting the dark hair, the dark eyes, the straight nose in profile, the firm chin. "I'll miss you," she said forthrightly. "I'll miss your conversation at the breakfast table and the way you brought everyone into the conversation."

"Except Lewis," he deadpanned.

She laughed. "Except Lewis! Yes!" Her heart leaped a little at this flicker of humour. "And I'll miss you at my dinner table, too, my lad. We've never had anyone quite like you in our personal lives, Mr. Carson and I." Well, what personal life does a servant have? "You brightened our days." Her mind slid away to memories of Charlie coming home from the cricket games a few months ago, exhilarated not only by the sport, which he'd always enjoyed, but also by the company he'd had.

"And to think you were uncertain of me at the beginning," Daniel mused. He was teasing her now and it made her realize that she had her own relationship with the man, independent of Charlie's association.

"I was only ever afraid that Mr. Carson might be hurt."

"And now he has been." Daniel's face tightened.

"I thought it was my business to protect him, but I was wrong. His hurt is of his own making and so must the remedy be."

In the silence that followed this, they heard the train at a distance but approaching. Soon enough it came chugging into sight. Elsie turned to Daniel and took his hand. She was both heartened and saddened when he gripped hers in return.

"I want you to know that I'd hoped for things to turn out differently, Daniel. I'll miss you," she said again, and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek, suppressing an impulse to brush away a lock of hair that had fallen over one of his dark eyes. That was too intimate a gesture.

"Thank you, Mrs. Carson. That means a lot."

She held his hand until the train had pulled up beside them, enveloping them in a billow of steam. Then she let go and got up and walked away without a backward glance.

"Mrs. Carson. You look downcast."

She looked up to see Dr. Clarkson coming toward her. "So I am," she said, not yet having summoned the energy to pretend otherwise. "Good morning, Dr."

"Are you seeing Mr. Carson off?"

It was a logical question, given her demeanour and that she was clearly coming from the train station. "No. A … friend." It wasn't really an apt description of Daniel Rider but it was the closest thing.

Neither of them moved and Elsie couldn't imagine why she had forgotten how to put one foot in front of another.

Dr. Clarkson was watching her closely, making an assessment. "Is there anything I might do to help?"

Well. She wondered.

Mary and Edith

Mary never called. Edith fairly ran to the telephone, trembling. It could only be one thing if Mary were calling.

"Granny?!" she gasped into the mouthpiece.

There was an eternal and yet infinitesimal pause on the other end, and then Mary said, "No. It's not Granny. Well, it is. She's still with us. No change." She regrouped. "I'm sorry, Edith. It wasn't my intention to alarm you."

Edith was breathing again, slightly reassured. "Of course. Only…." She did not go on.

"I know," Mary said. And it sounded as though she did. "Edith, we've been talking – Mama, Rosamund and I – and we each of us, we … we want to be more involved in Granny's care."

A chill feeling swept Edith again. "Then, it's coming."

"Yes."

Yes. Well, could she say she was surprised?

"And I want you to join us. To have the opportunity to join us. If you want to do so."

Edith might have reacted defensively to Mary's words. Of course, I want to! But Mary sounded so different that the old pattern couldn't quite reassert itself. "Of course, I want to," Edith said readily, and without rancor. "What precisely did you have in mind?"

"I'm not quite sure," Mary admitted. "I don't really know what's involved. You'd know better than me. You and Sybil were the useful ones when Downton was a convalescent home."

Such an admission from Mary was astonishing, but these were troubled times, with greater matters with which to contend. Edith did not dwell on her sister's shift in character. "I have some things to set in order here," she said instead, focusing on the practical.

"The thing is, we've arranged a bit of a … a training session. On Tuesday. Perhaps you aren't as much in need of such instruction as I am …," again an unfamiliar Mary was on display here, "but…."

"I'll be there," Edith said. For such a revolution in Mary, time must be of the essence.

"I'm sorry for such short notice."

"I think it comes with the territory."

A few seconds elapsed in silence.

"Well. Good. And, Edith, why don't you bring Marigold? She'll enjoy visiting her cousins."

Edith nodded, though Mary could not see her. "Yes. I will."

Mary rang off.

Edith held the receiver to her ear for a few seconds and then absently replaced it. A current of helplessness, almost despair, swept over her. What will we do without Granny? And then a second, greater wave obliterated the first. She had the rest of her life to come to terms with that loss. Right now, Granny needed them.

Edith began calculating what needed to be done so that she and Marigold might be on their way to Downton early Monday morning.

"I need to speak with Bertie," she announced to herself.

Thomas and Miss Baxter

"I wish you'd tell me what's wrong."

"There's nothing wrong," he said in a monotone. The standard response. Never admit hurt. Never admit vulnerability. Just push through it and carry on.

"It helps to talk about things."

"Does it." He spoke in a way calculated to put her off, but she would not be put off. He kept forgetting that about Miss Baxter.

"It does."

"Well, it's not helped me."

Thomas was smoking. In the butler's pantry. He was breaking his own rule in doing so, but to hell with that. What had he been preserving it for anyway? Keeping it like Mr. Carson had done? Mr. Carson. If he never set eyes on the man again, it would be too soon. Thomas had blown out his anger the night before and then lapsed into paroxysms of remorse. He preferred anger. It was an active emotion. One was a victim of remorse.

"I doubt you've really tried it," Miss Baxter ventured.

He glared at her. "I have. And where has it gotten me? Nowhere." Like all absolute positions, especially those taken in hurt or anger, that was not true. But Thomas was in no mood to rationalize with himself. "What good would it do?" he asked, mostly to himself, resigned.

"Sometimes there's something that can be done."

"This can't be fixed."

He saw her take a deep breath. She was preparing to make a pronouncement. "Some things can't be fixed," she agreed. "But…you can change how you look at them so they don't hurt you anymore."

"Have you managed that, then?" He didn't know why he was engaging with her at all.

She nodded. "You know my history and who … who I was involved with, what I let myself do."

He inclined his head a bit. Go on.

"I can't…fix that. I can't ever give back the jewels or even pay for them."

"What, then?"

"I couldn't let my past govern my life forever."

This was a bit of a dicey subject between them as it was Thomas who had spilled her secret to Molesley and tried to blackmail her over it with Her Ladyship as well.

"It's not the same for me," he said, looking away.

Her shoulders fell a little. "I'm sorry, Thomas."

He knew she meant it. "Thank you," he said.

She left him alone then and he brooded on it still further. Even if he wanted to, to whom could he confess his perfidy? No one else, not the pragmatic Mrs. Carson, nor the empathetic Miss Baxter, could understand what he'd done. Daniel would have understood. Daniel, who fought a duel – a duel! Thomas smiled at the thought of it – in defense of another man's honour. Thomas leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes, thinking.

Wait. He sat upright again. There was someone who would understand, from the inside. From his desk drawer, he withdrew some writing paper and then picked up is pen.

Dear Erich ….