Hello, readers! Thank you for your patience! I apologize for the brief hiatus of this story, it was a hectic few weeks and I also needed time to gather my thoughts as to the final direction of this story. Good news, I have it! Therefore, my updates will be much more frequent now. Once again, I appreciate all the support and I'm looking forward to the final chapters! ~themodernteen
"Anything?!" Lord Grantham stormed into the drawing room.
Chief Constable Captain Redford followed the fuming Robert just a mere step behind, "Nothing yet, Lord Grantham, but I assure you that my officers are strictly searching for any evidence-"
"Damn the search!" Robert turned on the officer in a rage, "Members of this family and estate have been captured! My daughter, my grandson!"
The Constable shrunk under the enraged, worried Lord Grantham. He continued his tirade, "You will not return to this house until I have word that my family is in safety. Is that understood?"
"Yes, My Lord," Constable Redford bowed in farewell and scurried out the door. Mr. Carson, who was tending the entrance, closed the door at Mr. Redford's leave.
Robert sunk into a divan, head in his hand. Mr. Carson produced a glass of brandy, which Robert denied.
"Thank you, Carson," Robert sighed deplorably, "I am in no drinking mood."
"Perfectly understandable given the situation, My Lord."
"May God bring them safely back home," Robert placed a white knuckle under his chin, "Send for Cora, please, Carson."
"Right away, My Lord."
Carson completed his task diligently. He was just closing the doors to the drawing room, leaving Lord and Lady Crawley to themselves. He could hear Lady Cora's inaudible cries as Robert updated her to Captain Redford's investigation.
Trying to conceal his own emotion, Mr. Carson put up a brave face as he entered the Servant's quarters. All of his staff worriedly searched for any feeling in his eyes, any semblance of information.
He stopped at the dining hall threshold, the forlorn faces of his staff stared at him with a mixture of hope and dread.
Carson cleared his throat, "No progress has been made from the police investigation. The search for Lady Mary, Master George, Mr. Branson, and Thomas continues. Keep them in your prayers, but let us resume our duties as normal."
"How can we?" Daisy wrung her hands worriedly.
"Because it is our responsibility, Ms. Daisy," he dipped his head firmly, "we are Downton Abbey's spine. Should we slip, the entire estate would fall. Let us not forget that this manor has weathered many storms. We shall weather this as well."
His words were met with no response.
Ms. Hughes stood, dusting off her frock, "You heard Mr. Carson. Back to work."
The staff obediently listened and proceeded to their station. Mr. Carson gave Ms. Hughes a thankful nod and found refuge in his office.
A slight knock on the door alerted him that Ms. Hughes was to enter. She silently closed the door behind her.
Mr. Carson wearily sat behind his desk.
"You spoke very well out there," she complimented him, "do not worry for the staff, we will proceed and succeed. I assure you."
"Thank you, Ms. Hughes," he sighed.
"Are you alright?"
He felt comfortable enough in her presence to feel slightly vulnerable, "If only I had acted on my suspicions of Mr. and Mrs. Fox! I knew Mr. Stillman was not to be trusted-"
"Do not blame yourself, Mr. Carson," she said firmly, jaw set, "We all had our suspicions, but nobody could have predicted this. Let us now focus our efforts on keeping Downton afloat, as you said, and surely we will see Lady Mary, Master George, Mr. Branson, and Thomas returned to us."
A charged silence hung in the air for a moment before Carson nodded, "Alright."
0o0o0o0o0o0o
"Whoever is out there, listen to me! We need help, we are injured!" Mary called to the ceiling of the cellar. They were still bound, separated from one another in the dusty compartment they awoke in.
Thomas was hunched over on his side. He was pale as a sheet with a cold sweat and crimson staining his white shirt, but it was a hopeful confirmation to see his chest rise and fall slowly with each breath.
"Thomas, can you hear me?" Branson pushed, trying to rouse him, "wake up, man!"
"There's no response from above," Mary scoffed frustratedly, glaring at the cellar door only a tantalizing few short feet above them. She pulled against her bonds, yearning to reach for the handle.
"I assure you they're listening," Tom said darkly, eyes on Barrow, "they will make themselves known in time."
Mary gave a worried look at Thomas' form, "May it be sooner rather than later."
"I could tend to him, if only I was free of these blasted restraints!"
"Struggling will do no good except wear yourself further," she argued, "our only resort for assistance comes from them," she nodded towards the cellar door, "we must contact our captors."
Tom nodded. He cleared his throat and shouted, "Whatever your desire from this family, you will not receive it if one of us is dead!"
There was a slight creak from above.
Mary and Tom brightened.
"Our man down here has been injured and is bleeding profusely! We need to tend to him immediately if he is to survive!"
Mary contributed, "I doubt Lord Grantham would be in a generous mood knowing one of his own has been left to die!"
They heard inaudible voices of what sounded like arguing. A male and a female voice, probably Mr. and Mrs. Fox. It was followed by a deep, gruff voice. Probably Mr. Stillman.
Tom and Mary held their breaths, waiting for an action.
After a few moments, the lock of the cellar door unbolted and the door lifted. Sunlight blasted into their dark space, momentarily blinding Tom and Mary. Heavy boots descended the wooden staircase.
Next chapter coming soon!