Granny was gone.
"Gone. What do you mean gone?" Robert boomed at the small man. Well he wasn't quite; he was bent down, virtually making himself smaller.
"She's left. Said she needed to leave the country."
"Did she say where she was going?"
"No..." Spratt began.
"But why?" Mary asked. "What business does she have leaving the country?"
"Isn't it obvious. To get away from me." Rachel couldn't blame her.
"I'm sure there's many other factors that come into play." Robert said. His wife exchanged a glance that said she wasn't convinced. "We've had two recent health scares and then there's the hospital and not getting her own way. She's like a child when she's cornered. Isobel might know where she went.
Edith entered. "Isobel? She's not there. I was over there earlier this morning. Clarkson said she went out..."
"You could have told us at any given moment instead of adding to this needless worry." Mary replied haughtily.
"I've only just heard."
"She must have gone with her." Robert sighed, tightening the belt of his house coat.
"I'm sure Granny will be fine then." Mary folded over the paper she was pretending to read. "It'll sort itself out."
There were no telephone calls or any other notes that surfaced later in the day. Matthew was going to pay a visit to Crawley House to 'get it straight' from Clarkson. He and Mary were in their bedroom. She was helping him get dressed. It required a process since he couldn't stand up and dress at the same time, needing his stick for stability and balance.
"He could have told us himself! And spared us all this trouble." He was referring to her helping him change. Often he would do it himself. She smoothed his hair and kissed him. He didn't know why she always did that, touch his hair. He had been frustrated about it at first, though not outwardly, when she had started to do it frequently. Perhaps it the softness of it, a way to be close to him, another display of affection. Psychical actions were easier for her. He had come to like it (when his legs had been completely paralyzed she would always fiddle to adjust them or his lap rug, though not as much anymore. He preferred her touching his hair.); it did make him feel close to her. Usually it would be accompanied by her massaging his scalp which made him feel tingly and relaxed. He had really weird turn-ons. He supposed it was his body's way of making up for other sensations. Speaking of sensations, she started to massage his chest.
"That feels so strange and yet, so good."
"Well, I've had practice on you for years."
"But not now. I have somethings I have to attend. Perhaps later."
As he sat up she handed him his shirt and he started to put it on, angrily working the buttons.
He's thinking about storming over there, theoretically, and confronting Clarkson.
To calm him down, she said, "Do please go easy on the man. I'm sure there's a miscommunication in there somewhere. He's still trying to fit in and the Crawley's do tend to stick together. It would be only natural if he felt pushed out.
He knew that feeling. He had felt that way when he first had arrived here fifteen years ago, at least by Mary. He had to find his way in, to be worthy of being a Crawley, not just by name. And her reaction had been warranted. He had been the unwanted interloper, who had thought that he was better, came to take her way of life away, her family fortune and her home, that he had insulted. The sea monster.
How things had changed since then. He had had no one to help him fit in, he had to make it and it had also taken a war to fit in. And even by then it hadn't mattered. It had taken life and death for them to discover what was so precious. It shouldn't have been that way. But he was glad that it had. He couldn't even express into words...he couldn't quite forgive how Clarkson had treated him when he was injured. He did have some genuine warm feelings toward the man but would never be a father to him. No one could take that place. Although Robert had come startlingly close.
"She didn't mention anything about going anywhere." Clarkson said. "I woke up and she wasn't here. She did leave a note."
Matthew sat down on the sofa while Clarkson retrieved the letter. He handed it out to him but Matthew put up his own arm.
"No, it's alright. I don't know why she would just leave without telling me or anyone else where or why?"
"It would appear she needed to help a friend who was in a crisis."
"That could be so but his mother was never one to flee from her problems, let alone encourage or condone anyone else to. "She hasn't left you then?" Matthew teased and Clarkson gave a chuckle.
"I think this is just the thing she needs."
"Why would mother just go across the country with your grandmother, and without a word." He asked her in bed that night. It wasn't all that was on his mind. Clarkson's response to it all had been rather curious. You'd think that he would be at least bit furious. At least he would have if Mary had done the same.
"To keep her out of trouble." Was her response. It was said to keep him from worrying. He knew her.
"You know what I..." She cut him off, putting her arm around him, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Goodnight, my love." She gave him a kiss. He couldn't argue with that.
The next afternoon they had Charlie and his wife over for tea. Charlie Rodgers was Henry's former racing friend. About a year ago Charlie had become paralyzed from the waist down after a racing accident. Aunt Rosamund joined them. She had come to visit, to talk to Papa about Granny's last minute trip, no doubt.
"Chuck was thinking that we should go dancing this weekend." Mary said. Chuck was the diminutive Charlie's wife preferred to use, her name being Charlotte.
"How does one go about that in a wheelchair?" Aunt Rosamund asked with curiosity. She had no judgement behind her words nor were there any malice.
"He may not be able to use his legs for dancing anymore, but you should see him glide over that floor." To others from the outside looking in it might seem odd to be excited for. But even any small feet was to be grateful for.
"Matthew can't do much of dancing. More so leaning against me." She really did love the closeness. She was his stick. "He just graces the dance floor."
"There were several kids in my Polish-Italian neighborhood that were cripples." Charlie was speaking to Matthew. "I never thought anything of the word, it was a word that someone could use without having to know anything else about the other kids. Was one deaf or walked with a limp. I'd overhear someone outside my three-flat saying something to another person like "Don't mind the way Wayne walks, he's a cripple."
"I didn't know you were Polish." Matthew flashed his contagious smile. It had gotten Charlie to smile. He and Matthew then broke into laughter.
Mary had her back turned, putting more sugar in her tea, frowning heavily. As it was a nice change that he could joke about 'being crippled' now, it all the same made her feel uncomfortable. She listened to the conversation.
"You're Polish?" Aunt Rosamund asked.
"My parents are."
"So you're Jewish?"
"No, my parents are." Charlie said again with good humor behind it. This prompted teetered laughter. "I was born in Britain. So I'm British though, not English. You see my grandparent's names were Rocheski. It was shortened to Rodgers when my parents came over."
"Lady Grantham, my brother's second wife, is Jewish." Replied Rosamund. Something was wrong the way she empathized on the word Jewish, not as if it were a sensitive topic, almost something secret, unspoken. Mary's great-grandfather, Cora's father's father had come from Poland and had been Jewish. That didn't necessarily meant that his wife had been. Little less known was her ancestry on her maternal grandmother's side.
Mary put a smile on her face and turned back around, "Anyone want some more sugar? Lord knows I'll need some. Someone's been keeping me up all night anyway."
"How far along are you?" Chuck asked.
"Not very long now."
"Charlie and I have a son. Griffin. He's about a year old."
"Oh, how wonderful. It must be quite the handful." Rosamund replied. The young woman across from her was almost glaring. "As I'm told children are at that age." Rosamund course-corrected herself. She didn't want to make it sound that she was indifferent towards them.
"It is quite. But we manage, with Charlie's mother. I suppose we haven't told anyone because they often judge us. They don't know that we had him before the accident and it isn't fair to...sorry." She sniffled, putting her head down. Aunt Rosamund handed her handkerchief to her. "Thanks, I don't always seem to have one."
Mary observed that her friend seemed so fragile at times, she couldn't imagine her changing blood soaked bandages at field stations, or having the strength required to take care of Charlie. She supposed they had Charlie's mother but even that must put a lot of strain on them. Mary didn't even now if she herself would have had the strength if Matthew had been more like Charlie. Shockingly she felt glad, horrified at herself for even going there. But she had. There was no un-thinking it now.
"No. It's quite alright. I completely understand." Mary said. And she did, thinking of Tony's words, how he asked if the children were Matthew's, like he didn't believe it. He had been the only one to think that. Or were most people afraid to ask and kept it to themselves? Many people didn't seem to be afraid, however complement on her new pregnancy. She had overheard a few people say that she was selfish for having another baby so soon. And there were the other half that said she was doing the right thing, they were getting on with their lives.
Chuck continued, "So it will be nice to get out. And it's been a while since we've been dancing..."
Mary sucked in her breath and put a hand to her stomach.
"If you're not up for it, we don't have to go." Matthew said from where he was sitting.
"Of course." Chuck added. "We don't want to do any jostling and have baby come early." She recalled that not long ago that Mary had lost one.
"No, it's really no..."
"It's really no trouble. We can take Matthew, maybe invite Tom and Edith."
"I thought your friend Henry would be joining you." Rosamund said.
"He isn't one much for the dancing scene. Besides, he's practicing for an upcoming race. If it is too much..." She directed at Mary but was cut off.
"Nonsense. I did a fair amount of jostling when I was pregnant with the first one." She was given raised eyebrows and quizzical looks. "At my cousin's hunting lodge in Scotland." She quickly added, then she nodded her head in Matthew's direction. "HE tried to keep me from dancing."
"When was this? I didn't see you."
"Because you weren't meant to see me. I wasn't feeling well so Anna helped me to bed. I felt better after I lied down for an hour and went back down when you went to bed."
"It's settled then!" Chuck said excitedly. "We'll trip the light fantastic! Maybe we could go out to dinner afterwards."
It had been nearly two weeks since Violet and Isobel had left. One early August morning Granny arrived at the house. Matthew was waiting for her.
"I'm glad that you've gotten my letter. Mother isn't with you?"
"She went straight home to get some rest."
It was the beginning of fall, the spring weather already beginning to evaporate into the frosty chill of autumn. The somber mood one would expect to accompany such dreary was not present. There was a lot of joy to be held. Four more months till the arrival of the new Crawley family member!
Family would also be arriving. Rose (who was pregnant with her second child) and Atticus would be visiting from New York, bringing with them their one year old daughter, Vi. The children were excited to get to see 'Auntie Rose" and their new cousin they hadn't met, even Katie who couldn't remember Rose, was looking forward to it.
"It will be like having another sister until my real sister comes!" Katie exclaimed. For a time she believed that Jo had been replaced by a changeling after their Nanny 'Briny" a.k.a Tally had been reading her fairy stories that were traditional in her native Ireland.
When Katie was two she couldn't say O'Brien and it had come out Briny, and so she would always be Briny to the children for the rest of her life.
Mary understood that they were a way for the twenty-five year old, who had lost her mother at the age of four, to hold onto her. They had both come to a compromise, to only read them to the older children. It took convincing from her papa that her sister hadn't been replaced.
"We don't know if we will have a brother or sister." Jo said. "We'll get what we get."
"I'll still be a big sister again!" Katie beamed with pride.
"Well, think of it this way. It'll be fun. You won't have that many cousins. I never had any." Mary stated.
"Any at all?" George asked. "How could anyone not have a cousin? It would be so boring." He gave an exasperated sigh and plopped down on the armchair, his hair flopped as he did so, spreading out his arms. He was such a miniature Matthew.
"Any that were close and not distant." Her Uncle Harold had recently married and his wife was pregnant as well, at his age! Thank goodness they weren't coming. The house was more than big enough but she had never had any interest in her American relations. And Aunt Rosamund had never had any children.
"When are they supposed to get here?"
"Try not to be so anxious, darling." Matthew cautioned her. His obvious worry was about the baby. They had lost the last one, their youngest son's, Andy's twin sister a year and three months ago. Some had judged them for having another one, that is was far too soon or selfish of them, but his mother had thought it just what they needed that it would help soften the loss and to help all of them to heal and move on. He had filled his time with the children and his niece when he and Mary weren't together or out with friends, Henry and Charlie and his wife Chuck. Charlie had been paralyzed after a racing accident eight months ago. Knowing another couple similar to their situation had improved their relationship, leaving more room for them to grow.
Suddenly he turned his head to Sybie. "Wouldn't that be fun, Sybie. Spending time with all the cousins?"
Sybie wasn't all that thrilled about it, giving a shrug. She was still a rather reserved child. The only two people that she wasn't that way with besides her father, were her Uncle and her cousin George.
It was going to be a full house with plenty of rooms to spare. Over two hundred rooms and Mary couldn't remember if she had seen all of them in her thirty-five years. She'd be thirty-six in October, Edith had just turned thirty-five and Rose twenty-four. She seemed a far cry from the rebellious young girl that had first arrived at Downton in 1921. Six years ago. Had it really been that long ago? Seven years since her younger sister Sybil had died. She tried to imagine what she would be doing now, what she would be like. It was nearly impossible. Maybe she would have had a long string of children herself.
Edith was married to Bertie Pelham, the Marquess of Hexham, meaning they both outranked the Crawley's. It had been a slap in the face to Mary at first. Edith announced her pregnancy near the end of August. The baby would be born in late January or early February, two months after Mary's. With her new responsibilities as Marchioness, she still made time for her nieces and nephews and still had the newspaper business which she and Bertie were running successfully.
Mary was proud of her sister moving up in the world but would never adhere to it in person.
Sybie knew she was different, since she was three. Everyone around her seemed to have a special name. Aunt Mary was often called Lady Mary. She had asked if she should call her that.
"Gracious, no. George doesn't call me that, does he? And I certainly don't call him Master George. You're a part of this family."
But often she didn't feel it.
The girls were Miss Josephine and Miss Katie, and George was Master George. She was just plain Sybie. Not referred to in a nice way either. Nany West had made her wait till the others had eaten. It hadn't mattered how hungry she was. She would have to tidy up the toys or clean up after them, give baby Katie a bath. She didn't mind it really, everyone had to do their bit to help out that was what her Da told her. But what she didn't was why only she had to and not George or Josephine.
The other children had gotten presents from everyone, their grandparents, even the nannies, including Nanny West. She was long gone now but that dreadful Nanny West, who was sure to give her cuddles when Aunt Mary or another adult was near by. Sybie had hated it. But it wasn't all bad.
She got presents from one set of grandparents and her Aunts and Uncles. And also Auntie Isobel and Uncle Clarkson , who were not really her Aunt and Uncle. Da's parents were still alive, they were talked about sometimes and it was clear to her that they had not want anything to do with her.
She loved the presents she got from Uncle Matthew more than Father Christmas himself; she hoped that wouldn't stop him leaving her gifts. She loved her Uncle Matthew the most, he was kind and gentle. He had more time with them than Aunt Mary or Auntie Edith, often came to the nursery to play with all of them.
One night she had heard Nany West talking to someone. Normally she tried to keep out of the way and mind her own business so she wouldn't do anything wrong. She always ended up doing something wrong. She was minding her own business when she heard her say,
"I don't see why we should wait on her hand and foot. She's not one of them. The children shouldn't be subjected to people like her, and their father..." West made a scoff. "shouldn't be allowed to play with them. I'm surprised it doesn't frighten the poor dears, being forced to accept that it's normal. He could go into a state, what then?"
"What's wrong with Uncle Matthew? He's nice and he loves me."
"Of course he is and I'm sure he does but don't let that fool you. They are not normal."
That had made her cry. And what hurt the most was hearing from people that she shouldn't be miserable, that she was lucky. Only if they knew. Never had she wished that she wanted her mam so much.
That memory made her think about her mam again. The adults talked about her sometimes too but not about when she died. They had only said she had died giving birth to her and Uncle Matthew had been there to help her. She wondered what she had been like. She would go to the only person she felt that she could ask.
"Uncle Matthew, what was Mam like?" He looks a bit startled.
He knows where this conversation would go. Sybie had asked him before about her mother's death, it had been exactly a year ago. He couldn't answer her then. He should be able to now. She was six, almost seven. She was old enough to know.
"She was kind and she never said a harsh word to anyone."
"That's what everyone says." She sounded a bit disappointed, hoping he would give her more. "I know she died giving birth to me and you were there with her."
"A lot of people were with her. She wasn't alone. What made you come to me?"
"I can't ask because it will make Da sad and no one wants to talk about it." He nodded in understanding and motioned for her to come over. She sat down on his lap.
"Did I make mam die?"
"I firmly believe that things happen when they are meant to and that we cannot blame someone for another's death. I was there but I felt I couldn't help her enough, though the doctor and everyone else said there was nothing anyone could have done."
"Da says that too."
"And he's right. You're not to blame of your mother's death, any more than I am, anymore than what happened to me." His niece had a quizzical look on her face. "Believe it or not I wasn't always like this."
"You weren't?!" She could not fathom the information, conceive that he had once been a full walking person. He could walk but not a lot.
"I had an accident. Long before you were born."
"Some people are born like that."
"Yes. And that doesn't mean we have it any less hard. It always is. Not just the stuff we can't do. People are not always nice.
"Is that why it was hard for you to help mam?" She looks up and his eyes are wet. He tries to turn his head away but she won't let him. "It's ok, Uncle Matthew. You're not to blame." He smiled and she watched it reach his eyes. The kind of smile reserved for a special few.
A kind, gentle heart like her mother. He couldn't wait to tell her how much her mother had helped him recover, had given him hope. And then there were the things he couldn't. Sybil had given him hope during the very bleak times, had reached the deep dark corners that sometimes not even Mary could have penetrated.
"I don't think for one moment that your Da blames you. You are a gift, a part of her that lives on." He touched her nose affectionately.
"I want to be a doctor someday. So I can help people." Like you. She left out. She was old enough to tell he didn't like it. She wanted to find a cure so that he could walk more. But he wouldn't really be Uncle Matthew, would he? She would have him no other way, she decided. Though she would still become a doctor to help others.
Tom opened the door to the dinning room, "There you are, my little munchkin."
"I'm not a munchkin." She ran over to her father and gave him a hug, before running out.
"Dinner will be ready shortly." Tom stated and made to leave the room, before Matthew called his name.
"Tom. Can I talk with you a moment? I want you to be the baby's Godfather."
"Me? Aren't Godfather's supposed to be a good influence? I'm only teasing. Of course!"
AN: This is more of a preview of a new story I am working on. A sequel between Second Chances and For Ever: Love Eternal. It will eventually have Carrie's birth and her siblings growing up, leading up to more detailed events of WWII. I have several ideas. But don't know where to start. I still feel something is missing. Suggestions are welcome! I hope you all love the family I have created for Matthew and Mary as I do.
