AN: I am sure many of you thought I had abandoned this story. Rest assured, that is not the case . Though it may take a while, I will finish it.
Life has been hard and I am hoping next year will be much better than this one. No matter, though, writing Matthew and Mary always brings me comfort.
I hope you will enjoy this chapter and leave me a review. Your comments mean a great deal to me.
Next chapter will bring Martha's birthday party, some revelations, and many surprises.
Till then!
Happy New Year!
XX
There were tears at Pennsylvania Station, the last architectural masterpiece that Matthew would see before leaving New York for Newport. Massive in size, the train depot's architecture brought the Acropolis, St. Peter's Square and the Bank of England to mind and as he passed through its ornate arches to the waiting room reserved for those headed to New England, he found the interior as magnificent as the grand depot's exterior.
That did not surprise him.
This was New York, after all.
Yet at that moment, his eyes were not focused on the grandeur that surrounded him.
He only saw tears.
Not the type that streamed down a thespian's face on cue at the climactic moment, those accompanied by choking sobs and hand wringing.
Nothing as dramatic as that.
Mary and Rose were Brits, after all.
Still, as the two women broke apart and took a step back, their cheeks were damp and eyes glistened.
He saw that Anna, too, was dabbing at her eyes and nose, but could not be certain if it was because of the circumstances or her cold had worsened.
Deciding it was likely a bit of both, he turned away from the women for their sake as well as his own. It pained him, too, to leave as he would dearly miss the Aldridge family. Still, he would keep his emotions in check.
He was a man, after all.
Yet when he caught sight of his daughter and Vickie with their arms wrapped around one another and little Daniel anchored to George's leg with tears streaming down his face, his eyes stung and he swallowed hard.
"Nooooo…..," the little boy wailed, "Don't go, George…Please…please ….don't go! We can climb the rocks again…I'll be good. I promise I won't let go of your hand…and we can play catch and fly my kite…. and…and…Just stay here with me, George… Please…Please don't go away….Please…"
Clearly upset by the turn of events, George's face crumbled and he turned to him for support.
Matthew responded quickly and headed for his son, but he was cut off mid-way by Atticus, who offered him an apology as he rushed to his own.
Crouching down beside Daniel, he spoke soothing words in his ear while gripping the boy's arm and gently pulling on it to pry him off his cousin.
However, the tyke was determined to keep him from leaving and held on tight, shaking his head violently back and forth in response to his father's pleas.
At that point, Rose joined her husband and attempted to reason with the overwrought child.
"Come now, Daniel. I know that you are upset, darling, but you know that George must leave…I have explained to you that he is to visit his grandmama. She hasn't seen him in a very long time and misses him very much. He is going to spend some time with her now. We agreed that we must share him, darling. Remember?"
The little boy nodded his head but still held on tight.
Then George took matters into his own hands.
Catching sight of the porter piling his baggage on the trunk they would take to Newport, George called out to him.
"Excuse me, Sir…Would you please wait a moment. I need to retrieve something from that leather bag on top ."
The man stopped short and turned to the adults for approval.
Matthew caught his eye and nodded his head, "Please give my son a moment to find what he needs. I assure you it will not take long," he said, while wondering what the boy was up to.
George bent over Daniel and whispered something in his ear, and in the next second, the child released him and took hold of his hand. Then the two of them headed for the porter.
Nicely done, George….but now what?
As the two boys made their way, he locked eyes with Mary, and reading the same question in her eyes, shrugged his shoulders.
It appeared that Rose, Atticus and Smitty (whose formal name had been dropped after the third Cosmopolitan downed at the Stork Club the night before) were as perplexed as they were, the three of them following George and Daniel with narrowed eyes and creased brows.
Then his son's plan became clear.
Reaching the porter, George unzipped the top bag and pulled out the Marx four- propeller biplane that had caught his eye at FAO Schwarz. Rose had insisted on buying it for him as a memento of their visit and he had barely let it out of his sight since.
Now he held it out to Daniel with a smile, which widened as the little boy took hold of it and ran off to show his parents what he had been given.
"Cousin George says that soon we all will be able to fly in a big plane that will take us across the ocean to visit him and…and I'm to bring this little one with me so we can fly it together," he rattled off with excitement.
While Atticus gushed over Daniel's gift, Rose sought out George and mouthed 'Thank You.'
In the next second, the announcement that the train to Providence would be arriving in five minutes on Track 12 jolted the porter as well as Matthew, Mary and Anna into action.
The remaining minutes flew by in a flurry of activity as the men shook hands, women pecked one another on the cheek and Rose came to his side and whispered in his ear, "Rest assured, I will not forget your advice, Matthew."
Taking her hands in his, he smiled at her and planted a kiss on her forehead.
"All aboard for Providence," rang out in the terminal amidst the sound of screeching metal and whistling steam as it spouted from the locomotives like a tea kettle when the water reaches a boil.
The members of the Aldridge family stood close together with Vickie at her mother's side and Daniel, his father's, the little boy grinning at George as he held the plane he was gifted tightly to his chest. Beside him stood Smitty with Hope in his arms, paying no mind to the fact that the baby had a fistful of his silk tie in her mouth and was gnawing happily on it.
Matthew took one final look at the happy family, memorizing as many details as he could. Rose wore the same red hat had she did upon their arrival at the pier, Vickie had ringlets in her hair and both Atticus and his son had matching cowlicks standing on end.
He flashed them one last smile, turned, and taking hold of Victoria's hand, lead the way to the train that would transport them to Rhode Island.
A few steps away from the door opening, Matthew felt his daughter squeeze his hand and looked down.
"What is it, sweetheart?" he asked.
"I was just thinking that I am lucky, Father. Seeing the way cousin Daniel feels about George and how he…Well…It was very good of him to give up that plane, wasn't it?" she said, making it clear by her tone that the question was rhetorical. "It was a kind thing to do and…and… it got me to thinking of the kind things that George has done for me and…I…I think I am quite lucky to have him as a big brother." She paused a moment and then added hurriedly, "But you must not tell him that I said that…I don't want him to remind me of it when he does something that annoys me. "
Matthew grinned He knew that George felt the same way, but like his sister, would keep silent, fearing his praise might come back to haunt him. He also knew that when his children were older, they would have no such difficulty expressing their love and gratitude. As for him, he was grateful that they would have each other in good times and bad, especially after he and Mary were gone.
Looking down into his daughter's big blue eyes, he smiled and said, "Don't worry, sweetheart. My lips are sealed."
XXX
Two Cadillacs awaited them outside the Providence train station, one sedan a stunning royal blue convertible, which Matthew deduced belonged to Mary's Uncle Harold, and the other a more sedate two-toned, red and black hard top. No-one would be crammed on top of one another during this ride as they were in New York. Martha Levinson made sure they would ride in style and comfort.
As the drivers secured their luggage to the back of the vehicles, Matthew was reminded that although Mary's American grandmother often did not conform to the established rules of etiquette, she would follow them to the letter in her duties as hostess, especially when it came to her family.
To wit, they would all be treated like royalty while under her roof
After the events that had transpired in the last ten days, he actually found himself looking forward to being pampered. He closed his eyes and envisioned himself stretched out on a chaise lounge with the sun overhead, being lulled by the sound of ocean waves breaking on the shore.
"Father, are you asleep?" broke him out of his musings and he shook his head and opened his eyes.
Finding his daughter on her knees looming over him, he smiled and replied, "No, Sweetheart. I'm awake. Just resting my eyes."
"I see," she said and scooted down beside him. "I'm sorry to interrupt your rest…It is just that I didn't want you to miss seeing the bridge we will be crossing. I know how much you liked the ones we saw in New York…the ones that hung by …..by….um…"
"Cables," Mary spouted
Victoria flashed her mother a bright smile and then continued. "Cables …and it….this bridge, I mean…goes on and on, Father. The end of it is so far off that I can barely see what lies on the other side…and the color of it is different than the other bridges… It is green."
"Green? Well, that is odd. I don't think I have ever seen a bridge that color before, Victoria."
"Nor have I," Mary chimed in, stretching her neck to get a better look at the structure.
With that, the driver, an affable chap named Brian Baker, who had shortly cropped blonde hair that accentuated his large ears, stated he, too, knew of no other crossways that particular color other than this one.
He went on to say that Mount Hope Bridge had been painted green to harmonize it with the landscape and it was the first to incorporate artistic lighting in its design.
"It accentuates the beauty of the span at night, Sir."
"Ahh…I see," Matthew said, taking in the high towers as they passed under the Gothic arch above the roadway. No doubt it is a lovely sight once the sun goes down."
"It is, Sir. Very lovely," Baker replied while checking his rear-view mirror.
Matthew turned his head and saw that the car carrying Anna and the boys was directly behind them. That pleased him as they would all arrive in Newport at the same time.
In fact, he found nothing to complain about except the view from his position in the car. The bridge was comprised of two lanes with traffic moving in opposite directions, so the oncoming cars made it impossible for him to see the bay they were crossing over.
Victoria, on the other hand, had no such problem as she had taken over her mother's seat and at that moment had her nose pressed against the side window, her eyes wide as she took in the steep drop to the water below.
"This is the narrowest point of Narragansett Bay, Mr. Crawley, connecting Providence with Aquidneck Island. Newport lies at its southern tip with the bay to its west, Rhode Island Sound and the Atlantic Ocean, to the south, and the Sakonnet River, east."
"Thank you, Mr. Baker. After our voyage across the Atlantic, I find I enjoy the view of the ocean and the waterways that lead to it much more than sailing upon them. That is why my wife and I opted to travel by train and auto instead of steamship when the Fall River Line was proposed. Although it would only have been an overnight excursion, traveling by sea held little appeal at this point in time."
The driver chuckled and shared that he understood completely as he was prone to seasickness.
At that, Victoria moved away from the window and lay her head against her mother's shoulder.
"I can't remember her, Mother, but she appears quite different from Granny Violet in the photographs I've seen, especially in the way she was dressed. I don't know exactly how to describe it."
Mathew turned to Mary with raised brows and a glint of humor in his eyes. "I can think of a few adjectives that would describe Martha's style of dress, but I think it better that I leave that to you, dear."
Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head before turning to their daughter and replying, "Your Great-Granny Violet prefers a more sedate, conventional wardrobe… while your American prefers a modern style…more dramatic in color and design…one might say glamorous. Do you understand what that means, Victoria?"
The little girl cocked her head and gave the question a few moments thought. Then she replied, "I think you are saying that she doesn't dress like an ordinary person. Is that it?"
"Quite right, sweetheart," Matthew replied. "In fact, I can't think of one thing that is ordinary about her."
XX
Reaching Newport, Matthew found that the only things that it and Manhattan had in common were they were land masses surrounded by water and the landscape of each, captivating.
Instead of skyscrapers, this island boasted glistening white beaches, rugged cliffs, windswept meadows and woodlands spotted with rare trees - Copper, Fernleaf and Beech mingled with highly cultivated gardens that incorporated French parterres and Italian Fountains.
Then there were the summer cottages, which brought a quote by Oscar Wilde to mind and Violet Crawley as he recalled the moment in time that she shared it with her American counterpart.
'America is the only country that went from barbarism to decadence without civilization in between.'
He smiled, remembering some of the verbal duels she had fought with Martha Levinson over the years and then wondered if Violet's cold had run its course as she was still under the weather when they had left for America.
Not to worry, he told himself. Mother will be hovering over her with bowls of steaming water and camphor until Violet is back in fighting form.
Any trepidation he had regarding Violet's health put behind him, Matthew's thoughts then returned to the palatial mansions that dotted the southern tip of the island.
Built during what Americans referred to as "the Gilded Age" for the elite in their society, it boggled his mind that they were referred to as "cottages" There certainly were no cottages in England that bore any resemblance to these massive, opulent structures.
As they drove down Bellevue Avenue, Matthew recalled the edition of the "The Sketch" that had so beautifully displayed the architectural masterpieces across the pond. He and Mary had cozied up on a sofa in the library one rainy afternoon with the magazine between them, flipping through the images of the magnificent estates and commenting on each. Then they had decided to each choose the one that would have fit them best had they been an American aristocrat.
"The Breakers does appear to the be the crown jewel," she had said "The Great Hall is certainly fit for royalty with all that gilded wood and marble and the fifty-foot ceilings are impressive... as are the magnificent views of the ocean, but I find the bedrooms lacking…much too small."
He had looked at her as if she had gone mad and she chortled before pointing to the image that contained Mrs. Vanderbilt's bed and declared, "It seems meant for a child , Matthew. I could never be comfortable in a bed that size and there is no room for you at all. That would not do."
They both laughed at that before moving on to another of the Vanderbilt's estates, Marble House, so named because it was comprised of three kinds of gold marble, inside and out.
"It is beautiful but too cold for my taste…aesthetically and from the standpoint of providing physical warmth," Matthew declared. "You know how cool it an get at night when near the ocean. All the marble would give me a chill. No doubt the fires would have to remain lit all season from dusk till dawn."
They had moved on to Rosecliff then, commissioned by silver heiress Theresa Fair Oelrichs and modelled after the Grand Trianon, the garden retreat of the French Kings at Versailles.
"I rather like the lines of this one and the white terra cotta is perfect. I like the heart-shaped staircase, too. Quite novel isn't it? It says here the house is surrounded by gardens of a thousand roses. Oh, look Matthew…Aren't they magnificent?"
"Yes, darling…quite lovely… but I'm not keen on the fountain. It becomes the focal point of the estate instead of the house, which truly is stunning."
They went on that way, pointing out what they liked and did not about the grandiose estates - The Elms, a French-style chateau that included a ten-acre park with an elaborate sunken garden; Rough Point, built for tobacco tycoon James Duke in red sandstone and granite that was styled after an English manor; Kingscoat, designed in the Gothic revival style; Chepstow, an Italiante style villa, and Chateau-Sur-Mer, a landmark of high Victorian architecture.
After looking over the collection a second time, Mary had cocked her head and settled on Rough Point, which had momentarily surprised him until he saw the photographs of the stables.
He had chosen Rosecliff in spite of the fountain that he had found distracting. The architectural design won him over as did the smaller size of the mansion, a mere 30 rooms on three floors.
Having said that, Matthew's first glimpse of "Fairview" led him to second guess the choice he had made.
Like Rosecliff, it was smaller in size when compared to many of the other estates that graced Bellevue Avenue. It appeared that Mary's grandfather, Isidore Levinson was a practical man, who like him, saw no need in upstaging one's neighbor with a preponderance of rooms that would rarely be used.
A smile spread across his face as he took in the sprawling H-shaped brick structure in the French country style with sloping roofs and flared eaves, tall multi-paned windows and a white balcony over the floor length window to the right of the entrance door
"I would not mind summering here at all. It is quite lovely, isn't it?" Mary said, in sync with his appraisal of the house.
Matthew's eyes fixed on the chimneys next, each jutting out of a pale grey roof that was nearly an exact match in color to the cobblestone driveway that led to the house.
His exploration was cut short then by the sound of an automobile coming up behind them, and bringing his eyes back to the road, he was pleased to find Anna and the boys had arrived.
Stepping out of their car, he was met with a shrieking sound reminiscent of a fox with its foot caught in a trap and he mumbled, "What the devil," before extending his hand to Mary.
That ear-piercing sound was quickly followed by another and he rolled his eyes at his wife as he helped her to her feet, recognizing the voice of the woman who was making the ruckus.
"What have you done to the Privett hedges?! The flowers are falling from the stem as soon as they bloom. This is unacceptable, Xavier.…Unacceptable. You must get to the root of the problem before we lose them all. Do you hear me?"
"No doubt everyone within a mile's radius can hear her, "Matthew muttered before turning to Mr. Baker and thanking him for his service.
Victoria bounced out of the open car door next and took off at a fast clip to join her brother and JR, who had just exited the convertible with Anna in tow, blowing her nose into a wide handkerchief as she rose to her feet.
"Poor Anna. It appears her cold is getting worse instead of better," Mary said, shaking her head. Then she tugged at his sleeve and said, "Come…let's make our presence known. It might spare the gardener further lambasting for the moment."
"Hopefully, it will spare our ears," he quipped, seeing Anna and the children headed their way.
The front door opened then, revealing a tall man with a receding hairline who Matthew assumed was Martha's butler, and he took Mary's arm and led the way to the house.
"Welcome to Fairview, Lady Mary…Mr. Crawley. I am Mr. Wilson. Mrs. Levinson will be thrilled to learn you have arrived. She has been a bit anxious since the cruise mishap."
At that, the rat-a-tat sound of heels on a hard surface drew everyone's attention and silence ensued.
She still has a heavy foot and some pep in her step, Matthew thought.
Confirming both his observations, Martha turned the corner then, the tied ends of the floral print silk scarf that held her hair back from her face whipping behind her like the tail of a kite.
The first thing that he noticed was she had lost a good deal of weight since he last saw her, the print top that matched her head scarf and pale blue slacks doing little to hide it.
Probably some newfangled diet, he thought and then wondered why anyone would deny themselves whatever food they desired at such an advanced age.
Next, he was taken back by the vivid red color of her hair, much deeper than he remembered, which was likely due to the fact that her hair had been dyed very recently.
"Finally!" she cried out as she made her way to greet them. "I was expecting you at least an hour ago and after the Olympic fiasco…."
Quickly bridging the distance between her and her granddaughter, she drew Mary in and planted a kiss on her cheek. "You are a sight for sore eyes, my dear. I am so happy you've come." Then, taking a step back, she turned and said, " I'm happy you all have come."
"I'm sorry we are late, Grandmama. Our train was delayed by an expectant mother on board going into early labor. The poor dear and her husband were beside themselves with worry that she would give birth before help arrived."
Martha's eyes widened, "And did it?"
"Yes, thank God…just in the nick of time, too, from what we heard from one of the passengers in her car."
Martha sighed. "Well, I'm sure you will agree that that is enough drama on this trip. Fingers crossed the rest of it is a breeze," she said.
"One would hope," Matthew said. "I'm a bit worn out by all the excitement."
She smiled broadly at him and pulled him into a quick embrace.
"It is wonderful to see you again, Matthew…and I can appreciate your being fatigued. You have been put through the wringer, haven't you?" she said before planting a quick peck on his cheek.
Then she proceeded to eye him over as though he were an entry in the Prized Pig contest at the County Fair and she the head judge.
Matthew could feel the blood rushing to his face and his eyes sought out Mary's, pleading for intervention.
"I didn't think you could be any more handsome than I remembered you to be, Matthew, but you've proven me wrong. Those flecks of gray in your temples and the fine lines on your face add to your appeal. And those eyes! I'd forgotten just how blue they are," she gushed. "I confess that even at this ripe old age, I am not impervious to your charms….In fact, if I were 50 years younger…"
"Grandmama, you must stop," Mary cried out. " You are making Matthew blush… and there are children present…who, by the way, have been looking forward to becoming reacquainted with their great- grandmother."
That did the trick, and he let out a sigh of relief as Martha moved on to George and Victoria.
Turning toward the children, he saw that George's face was blank under Martha's scrutiny but Vickie was staring at her with wide eyes and a quizzical look on her face.
She has never seen anyone with that color hair before, he thought. No wonder her eyes appear to be popping out of her head. The question is will she outright ask her what happened to her hair? What am I saying? This is Victoria. Of course, she is going to ask.
At that, he caught Mary's eye and cocked his head in Victoria's direction with the hope she could somehow redirect their daughter's gaze.
Thankfully Martha had her sights set on George and saw nothing else at the moment.
Placing her hand under the boy's chin, she held his face in place for a moment and then exclaimed, "You, young man, are going to be a heartbreaker."
Still managing to appear unperturbed, George managed a smile and held it while she affectionately pinched his cheek.
I must ask him to share how he does that as it will come in handy during the next few days. Then he locked eyes with George and relayed, Well done, Son.
"Mary, he is the spitting image of his father….near an exact replica," Martha exclaimed. " I can't wait to see what he looks like in another few…," she began and then abruptly stopped, a queer expression passing over her face before she wiped it clean with a smile and turned to her great-granddaughter.
"And you! Why, you are as cute as a button," she said. Then tilting her head to the side, she studied Victoria's face for a long moment before proclaiming, "Your eyes are your father's but the rest is Mary and a bit of Cora in the shape of your mouth."
"I have been told my hair is the exact same color as my mother's, and speaking of hair, I've been wondering…..," Victoria began and stopped short upon seeing Mary shaking her head in her direction.
Martha didn't pick up on the interaction, but instead continued making comparisons between mother and daughter, ending with, "My hope is that you have also inherited your mother's gumption and spirit, Victoria."
At that, Matthew replied, "In spades, Martha. I can assure you that you needn't worry on that count. She is quite formidable, even at her young age."
Martha nodded her head and said, "Good. Keep it that way, Victoria, and you will go far in life."
Though the child nodded her head and smiled, her gaze drifted once more to her great-grandmother's head and this time she took notice.
"What is it dear? Is something…..," Martha began and stopped speaking as her attention was drawn to the sound of dogs barking.
Matthew's eyes, as well as the rest of the group's, followed her line of vision and widened as two fawn-colored pups came tearing around the corner, one losing traction on the polished floor and careening across it as if it were ice into a potted plant with a thump.
Victoria squealed with delight at the sight of them and was headed for the one that managed to navigate the flooring better but stopped in her tracks when she heard her great-grandmother bellowing.
"You two have been digging in the garden again, haven't you? And now look what you've done. Muddy paw prints everywhere," she cried out and huffed."
The two animals hung their heads, and their tails, which had been wagging upon their arrival, ceased all motion and drooped between their legs.
Victoria quickly moved to her great-grandmother's side and pleaded, "Please don't be cross with them. I'm sure they didn't mean to make such a mess. I would be happy to clean it up, if you like. I don't want them to be sad."
Martha's expression softened immediately and she crouched down and ran her hand over the closest dog's head. "Neither do I, Victoria….and though I appreciate your kind offer, one of the maid's will have this mopped in a jiffy."
She summoned the second pup to her then and commanded the two of them to "Sit" and "Stay" before she addressed the group.
"These mischievous little mutts are Jack and Dempsey, cleverly named because of their breed. They are boxers you see…and were given to Harold by the boxing champion.
At the sound of their names, the animal's spirits rebounded and their tails happily beat the soiled floor.
Mary smiled. "Where is Uncle Harold? I assumed he would be at your side when we arrived."
"You would think so, wouldn't you?" Martha replied. "But, no. It is hard to pin him down. The older he gets, the more he moves about. I get tired just listening to his plans for the day. But don't fret, Mary. He will be with us soon. He sailed to Block Island this morning to pick up his friend, Merian Cooper, who co-produced "King Kong" with him. Coop, as we call him, will be staying with us a week or so before he and Harold head out on their next adventure."
"I see," Mary replied. "Uncle Harold certainly has some illustrious friends. I am looking forward to meeting Mr. Cooper and any other celebrities that will be joining us"
Martha flashed her a mischievous smile and replied, "Harold enlisted the world-renowned hostess, Elsa Maxwell, to plan my birthday party, my dear. Let your imagination run wild."
Remembering what had read in one of the London paper's Society columns about the famous party planner, Matthew assumed the guests would include many socialites and movie stars and was contemplating which ones when his daughter caught his eye. Seeing that she was chomping at the bit to lay her hands on the dogs, he interceded on her behalf.
"It appears Victoria would like to personally meet Jack and Dempsey, Martha. As long as they are friendly, I know I can speak for Mary in that we have no objection. Would you be so kind to arrange the introductions," he said in a playful tone.
She smiled and replied, "They are two sweethearts, Matthew. All bark and no bite…I promise."
Then she turned to Victoria and said, "You can play with them to your heart's content, Victoria, though I would be careful they don't soil your pretty dress. They are both in dire need of a bath at the moment."
Not heeding the warning, Victoria got down on her knees and the two dogs circled her with delight until she sat down and they jumped into her lap.
"As you can see our daughter has no aversion to mud, Grandmama. Her love of animals, especially dogs, outweighs the rest. When it comes to Victoria, soiled dresses and frequent baths are commonplace at Downton," Mary said.
Martha laughed before turning to Anna, who stood a few feet away with JR at her side.
"Where are my manners?" she said, and reached her hand out to the erstwhile lady's maid. "I'm happy to see you, Anna, especially as a guest here at Fairview. Mary has brought me up to speed on your current situation, and I must say that I applaud you and your husband for bettering your station in life. If I recall correctly, you and my son-in-law's former valet now own a hotel. Do I have it right?"
Anna nodded her head and smiled. "Yes, it is nothing fancy but it provides a good life for our family and we are very proud of what we've accomplished.
"As you should be…and so should your child, who I assume is this fine boy standing beside you."
"Yes, Mrs. Levinson, I'm happy to introduce you to our son, John Robert."
"But everyone calls him JR," Vickie called out as Dempsey licked her face.
The lad held out his hand and Martha grasped hold of it and said, "I am happy to meet you, JR. It is not every day that the child of a valet and lady's maid is born in their employer's bed. You created quite a hullabaloo at Downton."
At that, said maid's jaw promptly dropped.
"Grandmama!" Mary cried out.
JR's face crunched up in confusion and he spurted, "Sorry?"
Matthew wished he had already conferred with George about managing a blank expression as he knew his face was contorted.
He then caught a glimpse of Victoria's tightly knit brows and knew what was coming.
"Whatever do you mean?" she cried out. "I don't understand."
"Nor do I," Mary interjected, her eyes giving Martha a clear warning to cease and desist.
The older woman hesitated a moment and then waved her hand in the air and replied, "You will understand when you are a bit older, Victoria. It isn't important….but what is right now is my getting you all settled in your rooms so you can wash the dust off...or in your case, the mud, before lunch is served."
That was music to Matthew's ears and he smiled broadly at his hostess as she summoned a comely maid named Claire to lead the way.
She then excused herself, stating the gardener was awaiting her, and took off in the direction she came from with the dogs at her heels.
Poor man, he thought. Well at least the gardener had a small respite from her haranguing him.
"And Claire, once you are done with our guests, please find Jean and have her get Jack and Dempsey into a tub I don't want Harold to see them this way," she called out over her shoulder.
Mary and Anna fell in line behind the maid, followed by the boys, leaving Victoria to him.
Come on sweetheart," he said, holding his hand out to her. "We don't want to hold up the others."
Victoria nodded and reached for it, her long fingers locking with his like a matching puzzle piece.
She looked up at him then and said, "Father, was I born in someone's bed, too?"
He sighed. Victoria was quite like a dog with a bone. Once she got hold of it, she wouldn't easily let go.
"Hmmm….I think…In fact I am sure that is a question that your mother would be able to answer much better than I, Victoria. Perhaps you should ask her later, though, after she has had a chance to, as your great-grandmother put it, 'wash the dust off.'
She giggled and replied, "If you think so, Father." Then she changed the subject and said, "I think we are going to have great fun in Newport. Don't you?"
Matthew contemplated the week ahead and for a split second felt as though he were back on the Olympic with the alarm bells going off. A wry smile formed on his face and he replied, "Oh, yes. Loads of fun."
XX