Inspired by the teaser trailer for Downton Abbey; A New Era
He turned the corner, a hat pulled over his hair and dark sunglasses hiding his piercing blue eyes. It was all so familiar to him, but he did not know why. This locale was beautiful, out of a dream and somehow, he knew he had been here before, but he did not know when. That was because he did not remember most of his past. He only knew that he had awoken in a strange hospital in Cornwall and that some locals, descendants of Dr. Dwight Enys had taken care of him because he resembled their ancestor with his blonde hair and blue eyes.
His whole past was just a blank. He knew the basics, he spoke English, but his accent was a cross of Manchester, Yorkshire and Posh. It was hard to determine where he was from. He had searched police reports and papers looking for reports of missing persons. But alas, no one had reported him missing. It seemed that whoever he was close to did not care that he was gone.
Even the people in the hospital could not really tell him how he had gotten to Cornwall other than that they had found him badly beaten at the side of the road. He was told that he had scarring on his back consistent with war injuries. Perhaps he had served in the great war. Maybe he was a war hero? Or maybe he had been a deserter and that was why no one knew him. His whole life was a mystery.
Almost eight years had passed since the day he had woken with a blank past. Since then he had recovered, physically at least. And he had taken on the name of the person his caretakers said he resembled, going by the name of Dwight Enys, but not a doctor. Doctor was familiar to him, but not as a profession. He seemed more suited for the law, so he had taken courses and managed to get himself certified as a solicitor. He had worked in Cornwall. Now he was here in the south of France and he really did not know why other than that his newfound community had encouraged him to seek a few weeks of respite and somehow this area called to him.
When he arrived, he knew he had been here before. The vistas were familiar and somehow, he sensed when he had been here before he had not been alone. Now as he stood on the streets of Cannes admiring the day players, he caught sight of a beautiful regal woman. She was tall and lovely with dark hair and dark eyes. But there was something sad about her. She was staring at a painting in a window of an art shop. He wanted to go over and stand with her but something inside him said he should not. In the past years with his history a blank slate he had tried to move on and have a life. He had dated a few women but while they were intrigued, they could not reconcile themselves to being with a man who did not know who he was.
Then he had tried to pretend he was someone with a history, but it never felt right, and the women always saw through it. So almost eight years after waking up as someone new he was still by himself without a wife, without children. He thought it was for the best. He was an invisible person. He would die that way. He was the cat that walked by himself. Why did that expression seem so familiar, like he had said it before?
Over the years he had had flashes of memory. He would remember being stroked by his mother, but he could not see her face. He had dreams of a dark-haired woman with her hair falling all around his face and shoulders. He knew he had been intimate with this woman but he could not see her face. Whoever she was she must not have really cared for him, if she never looked for him. Now looking at the regal woman he imagined that she was that woman. He could almost see her face smiling at him through the curtained har. And now he realized that part of his dream always contained the sound of the ocean in the background.
He decided instead of going up to the woman, he would shadow her for a while and see where she went.
-A-A-A
Mary glanced at the beautiful artist rendition of the riviera in the shop window. This trip to the south of France had taken the whole family by surprise. Granny with a secret past, this was worth investigating. Mary had come to France with her parents, Edith and Bertie and Tom and Lucy. The children were left home at Downton as it was thought the trip would be too much for them. Mary regretted that already. She had no one here to distract her from her troubles and from her memories. No one in the family seemed to notice that she and Henry had grown apart. Henry spent more and more time at car shows abroad and had even missed Tom's wedding. Divorce was still unacceptable for their kind of people, but she was miserable, so she supposed having long separations was the best option.
And then she had come here to the south of France. She had been assaulted with memories of her honeymoon with Matthew. She had not considered it before she agreed to come on the trip. But everywhere she walked, everywhere she went brought back a lovely memory of the three weeks they had spent in bliss here together. On one hand it made her feel wonderful thinking of that special time she had with Matthew and her heart was filled with joy. But then she would be reminded that he had been gone for almost eight years, taken in deadly car crash on the day their son George was born. And she was filled with a terrible sadness of what their life would have been like together had he just stayed in the hospital with her and not gone to Downton to tell her family the news in person. Why did she encourage him to go, tradition be damned! Look what had happened. She still did not forgive herself, or him for that matter. He had left her alone!
When she thought rationally, she knew he did not do it on purpose. It was just that she realized after all these years how she still missed him terribly. Matthew had been her soulmate and when he died, he took half of her with him. After her initial depression, she had tried to be a good mother to George and always reminding him of the great war hero who was his father. They visited Matthew's grave on Matthew's birthday and she would have a special tea with Isobel and George and they would speak of Matthew and how much Matthew had wanted him and how much he loved him and how he would surely be looking down on him and making sure that George would always be the best.
George was the spitting image of Matthew, but resembled Mary in personality. He was feisty and stubborn and had the eyeroll down pat. But Matthew had been stubborn too. Mary hoped that ultimately George would mirror his father's personality as well. Matthew was a much better person than she was, and he had brought out a side to her that she had kept hidden and was now hidden again.
As Mary continued to stroll the streets of the quaint village, she closed her eyes for a brief moment and transported herself back to the day she and Matthew had walked this very street and stared at art and later that week Matthew had gone back and purchased the beautiful painting that still hung in her bedroom today. He had surprised her with it and she still remembered the adorable grin he had on his face as she unwrapped it. Mary opened her eyes and shook her head. She saw a man that so resembled Matthew across the street staring at her. She realized that she must be imagining it since she was just daydreaming of Matthew.
But when she opened her eyes the man was still there. Even with a hat and sunglasses, if she did not know that Matthew was dead, she would think for sure there he was. Only this time he was crossing the street and approaching her. Mary shook her head again and pasted on a brilliant smile on her face. The man stopped as he came within a few feet of her. He seemed to be studying her features, but he did not say a word. Mary opened her mouth to say something but found that she could not. And then he started to speak.
"Excuse me. I don't mean to be rude. And you will probably think this is out of line. But you look so familiar I thought perhaps I had known you."
The melodic voice that was so familiar it was etched in her brain. How could he have the identical accent and lilt as her deceased husband. Mary was speechless and then he took off his sunglasses and revealed his piercing blue eyes. They bore into her soul and then Mary swooned and fainted.
A/N: I know I am so behind on updating my regular stories. And I really want to do that, but life has been so busy. Not too busy to get excited about the new Downton Abbey trailer – it looks fabulous – I can't wait. It was also exciting to see that Violet is still prominent in the story and that there was no sign of Henry. I don't wish him ill, but I never liked him with Mary. And since Matthew Goode apparently really does not have time to play Henry, here is hoping to the end of Henry and the resurrection of Matthew! There is also a tribute to Poldark in this story inspired by the close resemblance of Dr. Dwight Enys and Matthew Crawley. They really could have replaced Dan Stevens with Luke Norris when Dan wanted to leave, but then again, the chemistry between Michelle Dockery and Dan Stevens is unmatched. How I wish they would star in something else together!
Should I leave the story here or add a part 2?
