I LOVED HER FIRST

Chapter 5 With Interest

Economy. His Lordship did not like to use the word because it suggested a crass concern for money more reflective of middle class sensibilities, but in two years' service as the butler of Downton Abbey Mr. Carson had a gained a proficiency in the unspoken language that governed the relationship between the master of the house and his butler, and understood His Lordship's meaning without an explicit statement. The estate was by no means in financial difficulty - the infusion of American capital at the critical moment as the decade began had seen to that - but the great depression had taken its toll and His Lordship wanted to advance with caution. And yet Mrs. Dakin was insistent on a more generous wage for the incoming head housemaid. It would be worth it in the long run to secure such a capable employee, the housekeeper had insisted. Mr. Carson was wary on financial grounds, but admitted to himself, if not to Mrs. Dakin, that if the new hire raised the intellectual level of conversation in the dining hall then it would certainly be worth it to him.

"Mr. Carson."

There was Miss Mary, standing in his doorway, her appearance in the early afternoon beginning to become a habit. He smiled at her, as he always did, but was a little puzzled by her dress, for she was wearing her hat and coat. If she were about to set out with either Nanny or her parents, she ought not to be down here. But he had heard nothing in her parents' conversation at the breakfast table to suggest a journey and Nanny usually took the children out before lunch.

"Miss Mary," he said, and beckoned her in. Sometimes she skipped in without waiting for his invitation, but in her more serious moments she waited for a more formal welcome. He watched her approach with some satisfaction. She was a bright, vivacious child who brightened his days with her sparkling countenance and lively, often mischievous, ways. But she could be dignified, too, as she was now, moving sedately into the room and climbing into the visitor's chair. Here she sat still, her hands folded in her lap.

"Are you going somewhere?" he asked.

She nodded gravely. "I'm running away, Mr. Carson."

He did not react, except to nod gravely in return. He did not know how to speak with children, so he spoke to her as he would anyone else. This was clearly going to be a serious conversation. He put down his pen and folded his own hands before him.

"Are you now."

She nodded again. "And I've come to ask you if I may have some silver to sell in the village."

He was impressed with her foresight. "That is a sound financial plan," he said. "Let us examine the possibilities." He stood up, took his keys off the hook, and led her to the cupboard wherein several of the more valuable pieces of silver were stored. He opened the doors and they stood for a long moment, considering the contents within.

"Silver is quite bulky," he said. "Have you got a bag?"

"No." She looked pained at her oversight. Then she looked up at him. "Can you give me a bag, Mr. Carson?"

"I might be able to find something," he said. He reached for a long-handled silver serving spoon and looked it over carefully. "They'll need to be polished up properly first. Tarnished silver doesn't bring nearly as much as when it's all clean and bright."

She understood the part about polishing. She had occasionally seen him doing just this.

He ran his thumb over the family crest emblazoned on the head of the spoon and then glanced at her. "That's the emblem of the Earl of Grantham," he said, showing it to her.

She knew this, too. Mr. Carson had explained the meaning of the different elements of the crest to her.

"It might be a little embarrassing to His Lordship if you were to sell some of his silver," he said slowly. "Someone purchasing it...well, you never know. They might make their own claim to being the Earl of Grantham."

This elicited a dramatic reaction. "But Grandpapa is the Earl of Grantham!" she cried indignantly, glaring at him as if he had asserted such a thing for himself.

He shrugged. "I know it," he conceded. "And you know it. But someone might say otherwise, especially if he had the silver to back it up."

Such a thought had clearly not occurred to her. She frowned.

"Now," he said, "I suggest we have a little chat about all this before you do anything drastic." He returned the spoon to its place and then held out a hand and she took it, allowing him to lead her back to her chair. He resumed his own seat and then considered her thoughtfully. "Why do you want to run away?"

She heaved a great sigh. "Every day Nanny takes us for a walk in the park."

He nodded, aware of this daily ritual.

"But...," she clasped her hands before her and levelled an appealing look at him, "I want to run about, Mr. Carson! And Nanny says we must walk quietly like little ladies."

That was, he believed, a valid complaint, and he was about to address it when she went on. "And when Edith and I are playing with our dolls, she can never make them do what she wants. I just tell them and they behave for me. It makes me so..." She did not have the words to express her feelings.

"Frustrated," he supplied obligingly.

"Frustrated!" she repeated, believing he knew what she meant.

"Anything else?" He did not know. Perhaps she had a catalogue of grievances.

The irritation that had gripped her with the remark about her sister faded to a wistfulness. "I wish I could see Mama and Papa more," she said.

Well. He understood that. "These are serious concerns," he said. "But why run away?"

At this, Miss Mary sat up quite straight. "Because then they will all miss me," she declared.

"I daresay they will," he agreed warmly. "And if they do, they all might change their ways?"

She nodded emphatically. Clearly this was what she was after.

"But if you're not here, how will you know?"

This took the wind out of her sails and she stared at him in confusion.

"I think you might tackle your problems differently. Running away is seldom a sound option. I know. I've done it myself."

This seized her attention. He had thought it might.

"You ran away?"

"I did. It was a long time ago and I was a bit older than you are now. But, yes, I ran away from my life, my world, at Downton."

She was staring at him now, mesmerized. "Where did you go?"

"Oh, I went to different towns and cities. Only I had no silver to sell. Eventually you'll run out, too. You can't carry enough for a lifetime. So I had to get a job."

"A job?" This was an unfamiliar concept to a child of the aristocracy.

"I had to do something to make money. So I sang and danced before crowds of people."

Miss Mary's face lit up. "What fun!"

He could admit his shadowy past to her. She did not judge him for it. She could only see the thing itself. "It is hard work when you have to do it every day," he said. "I don't mind hard work and I...did have fun." That, too, was something he could not have readily admitted to anyone else. "But I missed my family. And my friends. And Downton itself. And it wasn't always so very pleasant. So I came back." He would not revisit Alice even for Miss Mary Crawley. She did not need to know everything. And what he said was the truth, so far as it went. "And I've been happy here ever since."

He watched her carefully. She seemed to be considering things.

"And... I should miss you very much if you were to run away," he said in a kindly voice.

"Will you?" She was perhaps a little surprised at this.

"Every minute of every day." He said this with all sincerity.

This evoked a pleased little laugh from her.

"I have an idea," he announced with an abrupt earnestness, and he leaned forward a little to give force to his words. "With your permission, I could speak with Nanny about your walks." Nanny would be unlikely to welcome his intervention, but he was willing to try it nonetheless.

"And Mama and Papa?"

He sighed. That was a trickier matter. They would almost certainly see it as overstepping the mark. "His Lordship and Her Ladyship...your Papa and Mama...love you very much, Miss Mary. I can assure you of that. You will, no doubt, see more of them as you grow. Sometimes there are things we simply must accept and that may be one of them. And, as for Miss Edith and her dolls, she must manage them the way she sees fit, even if you don't find it very satisfactory."

It was not clear to him that she found his response very satisfactory. A little frown creased her face and she appeared to be struggling with what he said, perhaps not really understanding it.

"When your other worries become too much for you, you may always visit me," he said, hoping this would be of some solace to her. "I shall always be here for you," he said.

This brought a smile to her face again.

"And, in the meantime, might I suggest that instead of taking His Lordship's silver to sell and running away, that I give you a sixpence to spend in the village instead?" Did this constitute bribery? he wondered. Or was it just an incentive?

Her eyes went round at the prospect, but she did not lose her sense of gravity. "All right, Mr. Carson," she said with comic deliberation, "but you must charge me interest."

He was charmed. They had discussed the idea of interest when he had once explained his accounts ledger to her. It impressed him that she had remembered this technical detail.

"Of course."

"And you must write it down in the book," she added, pointing to the ledger before him.

Obligingly he drew the volume toward him and picked up his pen. "Debtor: Miss...Mary...Crawley." He wrote out the words as he spoke them. "Amount: 6 p. Date: September 12, 1896." He then pushed the ledger to the far side of the desk that she might see it and approve. Putting the pen down again, he fished in his pocket and drew out a sixpence, which he held up between thumb and forefinger for her to see.

Eagerly she slid off her chair and came around the desk to receive it. She plucked it from his hand and then held it up before her eyes. He watched, entranced. Then her eyes came up to his and she beckoned for him to lean down to her. He did as bidden. She reached up, put a hand on his chest, and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, Mr. Carson."

It was the first time she had paid him such a compliment and now his face lit up with a delighted smile. Miss Mary only smiled more broadly herself, pleased by his reaction, and then her gaze dropped to the coin once more, her thoughts consumed with the possibilities it held for her in the village shops.

He recovered his bearings. "Mind you put that somewhere safe until you have the opportunity to spend it," he advised.

She nodded solemnly. "I will."

Her plans to run away forgotten, she happily accompanied him back upstairs to the nursery, chattering about how she would spend the sixpence. Once there, he took the opportunity to suggest politely to Nanny that small children ought, occasionally, to be allowed to behave as small children. She might have construed this intervention as something beyond his competence, but he had won some small degree of discretion with her for his judicious indulgence of the child, and she at least listened to him. Whether or not she would act on his advice was another matter, although he thought he might hear about it again from Miss Mary if she did not.

In his office once more, his attention returned to the accounts and his eyes fell on the entry in the ledger. At once he felt again the gentle touch of the child's lips on his cheek. What a simple gesture that was, and yet at the same time how profound. He was pleased that she had found it possible to confide her childish troubles in him. He doubted she would ever know how gratifying he found her trust in him.

With the kiss in mind, he took up his pen again and made an additional notation in the ledger, in the final column of their transaction: Paid in full.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own, nor do I profit in any way from the use of, the characters, settings, implied plot lines, or ideas drawn from Downton Abbey. These all belong to Julian Fellowes.