Hey! Here's a new story of one of my favorite shows. Downton Abbey is so well done, and I've been reminiscing on it as of late. I apologize for an inaccuracies, it has been quite some time since I last watched the show. Please enjoy and leave me a fav/follow/review!
Disclaimer: I do not own any Downton Abbey characters or content
It was a quiet Tuesday morning in Yorkshire. The sun's yellow rays cascaded over the rolling green hills of the English countryside. Standing proud in its glory was the great Downton Abbey. The grand estate was beginning to bustle as midday approached.
Sitting in the dining room were Tom, Lady Edith, Lady Mary, and Lord Grantham. They ate their breakfast in peace, chatting about the upcoming polo match in Ripon. Mr. Carson and Thomas were at the ready for their every beck and call.
"Where is Mama this morning?" Edith asked.
"She was summoned at the hospital," Lord Grantham smiled fondly, "but assured me she would be back for luncheon."
"This hospital business is quite demanding," Mary raised her tea cup to her lips, a hint of condescension marking her tone.
"I say good on her," Tom's distinct Irish accent was marked with pride.
"Indeed," Robert nodded in agreement.
Mr. Molesley silently entered the dining room, wielding a sealed envelope. Mr. Carson took the parchment and read the address before approaching Lord Grantham.
"Your Lordship," Carson presented him with the letter. Robert took it and carefully cut the seal. He eyed the letter for a few moments, the others silent and awaiting the news.
His Lordship's eyes widened in surprise.
"Well?" Mary pressed, "What is it, Papa?"
"A senior advisor from the office of Sir John Marriott has written informing us that he and his wife will be in York this coming Friday."
"Sir John Marriott?" Edith asked.
"He is a member of British Parliament," Tom spoke, "a representative of the Unionist Party. His constituency encompasses the County of York."
"Why, Tom, have you substituted your inclination for Irish politics for those of our own?" Mary smugly remarked, earning an amused smile from her brother-in-law.
"Regardless," Robert intervened, "This is a great honor for our family. To host a senior advisor of a representative of our nation's Parliament!"
"Host?" Mary's brows furrowed, "Papa, you do not even know this man, yet you invite him over for dinner?" her jaw clenched, displeased.
Edith rolled her eyes, sipping her tea.
Mary took no care to notice, "What is this gentleman's name?"
Robert eyed the penmanship further, "Mr. George Fox."
"And what is the purpose of his courteous visit?"
Robert cleared his throat as he read the letter verbatim, "To His Lordship, Lord Grantham. Sir John Marriott has expressed a keen interest in the modernization of the estate of Downton Abbey. As his senior advisor, he has placed upon me the responsibility and pleasure of recording the necessary techniques to maintain the status of such grand domains. My wife and I are expected to arrive in Yorkshire this coming Friday for the duration of one night's stay. If your Lordship would be so kind as to demonstrate the fruitful management of your estate for Sir Marriott, both he and I would be in your deepest gratitude. Signed, Mr. George Fox."
"That's splendid!" Edith smiled.
Robert's expression was one of great pride and happiness, "Imagine that! Downton being an example for all British households to follow. Carson, what are your thoughts on this proposal?"
"A most humbling honor, sir," Carson's eyes reflected pride and his chest was puffed out with praise. After all, Downton's survival was dependent on its staff, and he managed the staff. To know that the estate under his supervision was to be recognized so deeply by his great nation's government was more than he could have ever asked for. Furthermore, the grand households in all of Yorkshire were to follow by his example!
Even Tom was smiling, "I'm sure this favor would make a great impression on Sir Marriott. To please a Parliament member would be in the estate's best business and financial interest."
"Good thinking, Tom!" Robert clapped him on the shoulder.
"Tom," Mary opposed, setting down her tea cup, "I would think you would not be in support of this."
"Why shouldn't he be?" Robert's brow furrowed, "Tom understands the benefits of this opportunity."
"We cannot wantonly open our doors for every man behind the letters we receive," she remained stalwartly pessimistic, "Tom?"
He averted her gaze, clearing his throat. Mary nodded curtly. She knew she had lost this battle. Both Robert and Tom had made up their mind against her and Edith would be of no support. In fact, she would find greater glory in seeing Mary flounder.
"Alright," she conceded, tight-lipped. Edith smirked, observing her from the side of her gaze, "it seems the decision has been made already."
"It is settled then," Lord Grantham stood, letter in hand, "I shall write to Mr. Fox immediately."
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Friday
Mr. Carson strode into the Servant's Hall. Thomas, Anna, Mr. Bates, Andy, Ms. Baxter, and Mr. Moleseley stood from their seats at the table in their respectful greeting. They sat after a moment, attentive.
"Good morning," said Mr. Carson, his deep baritone voice echoing through the hall as the staff bustled through, "His Lordship's guests will be arriving today. Mr. and Mrs. George Fox."
"Who's he?" Daisy asked from the doorway.
"The senior advisor of Sir John Marriott," Thomas spoke between his cigarette.
Daisy still looked dumbfounded.
"Sir Marriott is the Parliamentary representative of Yorkshire," Mr. Bates offered.
"Don't see what business he has meddlin' 'round here," she shrugged.
Mr. Carson ignored her comment, "Mr. Fox detailed in his letter that Sir Marriott was very impressed with the preservation of Downton Abbey in this era of modernization. He should be arriving any moment. His Lordship, Lady Mary, and Mr. Branson are to accompany him to the estate farms, while her Ladyship, the Dowager Countess, and Ms. Crawley are to entertain Mrs. Fox here at the Abbey until they return."
"Will I be attending to Mr. Fox?" Thomas asked, eager to learn the secrets of Sir Marriott's office.
"He is arriving with a valet," Mr. Carson clarified, much to Thomas' disappointment, "So there will be no need. Now, let us resume our duties."
The staff quickly finished their breakfast and scurried out of the hall, ready to begin their day.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo
A car pulled into the Abbey's long, gravel driveway. Standing in wait for their guests were the Lord and Lady Grantham, Ladies Mary and Edith, the Dowager Countess, and Ms. Crawley. The staff stood beside them, at the ready, as Mr. and Mrs. Fox exited their black vehicle.
He was a tall, skinny man with a gaunt face pulled back by thin skin and a wide smile that held far too many teeth. His beady eyes were highly alert and flitted across the remarkable architecture of the Abbey's exterior before darting from the faces of the family before him. He had the likeness of a fast-talking salesman, Mary noticed to her dissatisfaction.
Mr. Fox was joined by his wife, a dazzling, fiery redhead who seemed much too young for her counterpart. Her hair was cropped short and pressed close to her porcelain skin. She appeared cunning and seductive, adorned in a vibrant red revealing outfit and a feather boa that must have caught the eye of the next county. Mr. Carson immediately disapproved. He scanned his line of staff, assuring that none of them were amiss by this spectacle. The Dowager's snide comment was shushed by Ms. Crawley.
Mr. Fox's valet was a bulky man with a stocky build similar to Mr. Bates, but without the walking cane. He was young and strong, bred like an ox, but hiding behind a permanent scowl. Despite his grim expression, he displayed politely cold manners.
"Mr. Fox," Lord Grantham stepped forward, meeting the senior advisor, "It is a pleasure to welcome you here at Downton Abbey."
"Lord Grantham," Mr. Fox shook his hand firmly, maintaining his stretched smile, "We thank you for the invitation. We were just delighted to receive your correspondence, as was Sir Marriott."
"We?"
"He means me, your Lordship," Mrs. Fox stepped forward, interlocking her arms with her husband's. Her gleaming smile was charming, her eyes bright, "to be hosted at such an esteemed estate is an honor."
"The honor is ours," Lady Grantham stood by Robert's side, "These are our daughters, Mary and Edith."
Edith smiled kindly, but Mary stood tall and stoic. She didn't crack so much as a smirk.
"And no loving husbands for your darling daughters?" Mrs. Fox asked, her musical voice filled with compliment that cleverly concealed derision, "Surely that cannot be true."
"Surely, Mrs. Fox," Mary spoke, cold as a stone, "That is none of your business."
Cora flashed her a look of disdain. Mary knew her mother would not approve of her behavior, but she received a praising nod by the ever faithful Mr. Carson.
"My mother, the Dowager Lady Grantham," Robert continued, "and our cousin, Ms. Crawley."
"A pleasure to meet you all," Mr. Fox nodded in greeting.
Ms. Crawley was warm as always, greeting them. The Dowager was still left blinded by the ghastly crimson attire of Mrs. Fox. She was respectful nonetheless, reminding herself they hailed from the office of Sir John Marriott.
"I am sure you are weary from your journey. Let us go inside, our staff will show you to your room," Robert concluded.
"Splendid," Mr. Fox continued grinning, hungrily admiring the ornate exterior of Downton Abbey once more, "I will admit, I am eager to lay my eyes upon the remainder of this magnificent residence."
"Then let us not delay any further," Cora smiled warmly, "Please, come inside."
They retreated inside, followed by the staff. Mary remained distant, observing their new guests with great investigative interest. A look from Anna suggested that her faithful lady's maid was equally disconcerted with Downton's new arrivals.
Dinner that evening was a stirring experience.
Mr. and Mrs. Fox seated themselves comfortably, feeling the grips of the red wine in their glasses as the evening continued. That afternoon, Mr. Fox was shown the vast estate and investments of Downton, while Mrs. Fox was entertained at the house.
The Foxes' valet, Mr. Stillman, remained erect at all hours in the Servant's Hall or had disappeared into Mr. Fox's dressing room upstairs. Mr. Carson was clearly irked by Mr. Stillman's rude demeanor, along with his undignified probing of the private rooms of the home Should any of the Ladies of the home were to retire to their private quarters for a moment, it would be completely inappropriate, and a poor reflection of Mr. Carson's ability to maintain the staff, for Mr. Stillman to be in the upper chambers of Downton Abbey without Mr. Fox present. He was unfriendly and wore a constant expression of displeasure.
"Mr. Stillman," Mrs. Hughes attempted conversation at luncheon, "how long have you been valet to Mr. Fox?"
"A time," was his only short response.
Nobody prodded further.
Mr. Carson's disapproval only strengthened as dinner progressed. Ladies Mary and Edith, the Dowager Countess, Lord and Lady Grantham, Mr. Branson, Mrs. Crawley, and Mr. and Mrs. Fox all sat around the dining table eating Ms. Pattimore's delicious roast beef.
"What a lovely estate!" Mr. Fox repeated for the third time, "Marvelous, absolutely marvelous!"
Lord Grantham dipped his head in gratitude once more, "I thank you for your kind words. I hope Sir Marriott will echo similar sentiments towards Downton."
"Yes," Tom nodded, "its ultimate success in these changing times would not be without its dedicated staff," he met the gazes of Thomas, Mr. Carson, and Mr. Molesley in the dining room. Mr. Carson beamed.
"Nor the shrewd managers of the estate and its assets," Mary added, "Tom, my father, and myself have combined wisdom, experience, and youthful vigor to ensure the estate's survival."
"It clearly shows," Mr. Fox raised his wine glass in a cheer.
"Tell me, Mary," Mrs. Fox set her fork at the edge of her plate, her voice sweet like honey, "what urged you to act as a key member of the estate's management?"
"I find that to be none of your business, Mrs. Fox," Mary took a careful bite of her roast beef.
"Mary," Robert soothed the blanketed tension, "please excuse my eldest daughter."
"Mr. Fox," she looked directly at the Parliamentarian's executive officer, "please do elaborate on Sir Marriott's vision of future grand estates in this era of modernization."
Mr. Fox's smile stretched to the near point of tearing, "He intends to model his restructuring formulas based on the successful example of leading estates such as Downton."
"How lovely," Mrs. Crawley cooed.
"Yes," Mary's lips were pressed into a fine thin line, "but surely you can provide more detail into his proposed restructuring. All we have gleaned from your letter and visit is that Sir Marriott intends to base his vision on thriving estates like ours, yet, no other comments have been revealed. Can we expect more from our Parliamentarian?"
"Mary," Cora spoke under his breath, "enough."
"Let her speak," the Dowager raised a brow, "I am equally as intrigued."
Mrs. Fox slid her well-manicured hand into her husband's, her gaze was dead set upon Mary. Mr. Fox cleared his throat, "No comments from Sir Marriott's office at this time, ma'am."
"I see," Mary set her silverware on her plate, "well, I am positive there will be much to discuss once you return to London bright and early tomorrow."
"Quite," Mrs. Fox responded.
A quiet fell upon the room, until Cora cleared her throat, "Shall we retire to the drawing room?"
"I don't trust them," Mary seethed, "not one bit."
"I agree, My Lady," Anna nodded, brushing her Ladyship's brown locks, "even worse is Mr. Fox's valet."
After an awkward dinner, a tense evening in the drawing room concluded the night. Mr. Fox evaded nearly every one of Mary's questions regarding Sir Marriott's business. He was constantly protected by Mrs. Fox, who expertly manuveured Mary away from all answers. Robert and Tom were both convinced on earning Mr. Fox's favor, so that he may relay those sentiments to the Parliamentarian. Cora and the Dowager Countess' main concern was to maintain the facade of an impeccable household. Edith was indifferent, enjoying Mrs. Fox's volley with Mary.
In truth, Mary felt alone, save for Mr. Carson. Yet, the loyal butler would never speak an ill word against Mr. Foxx to maintain decorum to avoid any risk of offending Sir Marriott and his interest in Downton Abbey.
Now, secluded in her bedroom, she could speak freely to Anna. She was glad to know her thoughts were reciprocated by her closest ally in the household.
"His valet?" Mary was careful not to raise her voice too loud, "Mr. Stillman was his name. He was rather quiet."
"Or rude. The man barely utters a word in reply," Anna continued brushing, "And Mr. Carson, Ms. Hughes, the remainder of the staff, and myself were all quite disturbed in the amount of time he spent wandering the upper chambers without Mr. Fox."
"Without Mr. Fox?" Mary was outraged, "What business does he have perusing our bedrooms without his Lord?"
"Odd fellows, My Lady," Anna shook her head, "we'll all be glad at their departure tomorrow morning."
"I intend to see them out as soon as possible," Mary huffed, "George is asleep, yes?"
"Yes, My Lady. Sleeping soundly."
"Good," Mary felt some relief flow through her, "I will take him for a walk tomorrow. It will be a reprieve for the both of us."
Anna clipped her Lady's locks in place and bid her goodnight before closing the door behind her.
Mary slipped under her covers, a lone candle flickering about the room. It's dim glow cast long shadows along the wall. She turned on her side, away from the door. The space in the bed beside her reminded her of the painful loss of her late husband, Matthew. At least his spirit lived on in George, her only light following the dismal time after Matthew's passing.
Her eyes rested upon the waxing moon, mind reeling with sorrowful memories and conspiratory thoughts about the Foxes and their suspicious valet, Mr. Stillman.
Creak.
"Anna?" Mary spoke up, "Did you forget something?"
No response followed. Mary attributed the sound to Downton's aging wooden framework.
Come morning, she would immediately demand the departure of their guests. She would keep her son away from these crooks to protect him. Then, she would recruit Tom and make him see sense. Surely her brother-in-law would follow reason. The Foxes were a fraudulent couple, taking advantage of the lavish hospitality of the Crawleys-
A gloved hand pressed a cloth against Mary's mouth.
Her eyes went wide. She screamed, but no sound came out.
Mary thrashed and kicked, as another strong arm pinned her to the mattress.
Terror washed over her. She attempted to catch a glimpse of her attacker, but her vision began to swim. There were spots dancing across her gaze, as she felt her limbs grow heavier. Her fight ebbed away, the chemicals in the cloth taking hold.
Her last thought rested upon her family and most of all her son, George. She prayed to the heavens that they would not hurt him, as her world went black.
Chapter 2 coming soon!
Leave me a fav/follow/review