Before they were to move out to their own home in London, Robert wanted to organize a going away party for them. It also doubled as a going away party for Anna and Bates. They were also moving to London but not as part of Mary and Matthew's staff. Bates had to see through his mother's affairs after her recent passing. Matthew offered to help him with the legal aspects of her will, in which she left them her flat, and to get their shop up and running. The store below it had been for sale and Bates took the opportunity to rent it, in danger of going out of business, run by none other than Madge, a former maid of Downton and her husband. Bates used most of his mother's money to put into the shop to cover the overdue rent. Matthew helped him pay for it and Bates insisted he would pay him back. Being humble, Matthew couldn't accept, he was about to say but Mary had cut him off. They would need the extra money until Matthew could start his new job at the firm. His former law partner, Johnathan Buckley, had moved his offices to London and the offer still stood to take him back, with accommodations. Matthew's office would be on the main floor so that he wouldn't have to use the stairs everyday, though he'd mainly work from home.
Daniel and Tally would be purchasing a flat, so they could come to work for them. Tally would remain the children's nanny, and Daniel would be Matthew's valet.
They moved into a five bedroom house, five bedrooms upstairs, and a bathroom and a study on the first floor, which Mary and Matthew would use as their bedroom and would double as Matthew's office.
To ease the children's transition to the move and adjust to downsizing and a new school, which meant having to meet new friends, (the children didn't have virtually any, they stuck together in their own groups. Hopefully the downsize would help with that. The young men that died in the first war would have had the children they would have been friends with.) They would visit Downton occasionally, especially for holidays. They wouldn't be able to do it often due to Matthew's back. A lot of traveling back and forth wasn't good for him.
Mary would often make the trip to Downton with the children on weekends once or twice a month. Matthew would come with them once every few months. They had a live in nurse that occupied one of the five bedrooms. Jo and Katie shared a room, as did Andy and George. Caroline had her own room. Jo had wanted her own room, and had even thrown a tantrum about it. She had to share a bed with Katie because two beds wouldn't fit, unlike Andy's and George's room.
That same night that Mary and Jo had argued, Mary had heard a thump coming from upstairs. Katie was sprawled on the floor.
"Katie fell out of bed." Jo said.
Mary heard Matthew calling, "Is everything alright, darling."
"Yes. Katie just rolled out of bed. Everything's fine now."
She turned her attention back to her oldest daughter. Surely she wouldn't have intentionally pushed her sister out of the bed.
The children where usually well behaved. That's when she and Matthew thought of the idea of visiting Downton, to help them get used to the downsizing.
They essentially all felt cramped but they would move to an even bigger house once Matthew made enough. Mary suggested that she could get a job,, at Bates's. He hadn't taken her seriously at first.
"No. I'm serious. I was thinking of putting in an application. It'd be an easy commute. It's only a few blocks away. I could even walk."
"I don't think all that is necessary, darling. I'm sure they'd hire you on the spot." He kissed her cheek. He suggested riding lessons for Jo.
"Where is this coming from?" Mary asked, surprised. He disapproved of horses. He never said why apart from them being far too skittish. When he had told her he did ride, when they had first meant, he had said that to impress her or to hide his embarrassment. There was more to it than that.
"At Evelyn and Adeline's wedding she asked if she could have the cake toppers that were horses."
"That's right. Adeline grew up with horses like I did. She has a deep fondness of them. And I often took the children out to see the horses when we were at Downton." A few of them were bound to pick up her equestrian streak. George was almost an excellent ridder. She wouldn't want him to lose all his skills. "Instead of having George and Jo wait every month or two, I could ask if it was alright if we could visit their stables."
"Evelyn has his own stables?"
"He uses them more for the hunt. I'm sure they wouldn't mind. I don't want George to lose the progress he's already made. Did you know Adeline is thinking of opening a horse ranch to help veterans bond with the horses?"
"No. I did not."
"Some won't be able to ride them but the bonding is supposed to be therapeutic." She caught a glimpse of his eyes, a swirling pool of blue, that held no emotion, almost going dark.
"I think it's a good idea." A pause. "That Josephine has an activity she can focus on instead of focusing all that pent up energy on her brothers and sisters. We can find something for all of them, to help them adjust."
"What are your plans for today?" She asked, changing the subject.
"I was going to go with Tally to take Josephine to the park."
"Just you two?"
"It's papa's turn with her today."
"Alright. I'll take the others with me. Be sure not to spoil her."
Mary took George, Katie and Andy, pushing Caroline in a pram to Bates's and Anna's new shop. She had not yet been to visit it, wanting to see it in action. They had their three year old son with them, sitting like a young well behaved gentleman, coloring. Andy curiously walked over and asked what he was doing. Mary didn't hear Johnny's reply as the bell jingled over the door.
"Can I join you?" Andy climbed up onto the chair next to him.
At least one of them was making a friend.
Matthew got situated on the bench observing his daughter's play. Even though they were both mostly "indoor" people who like to read or play games indoors, going to the park was always fun. She was chatting with a small group of girls. After a short time she came back over to him.
"Having any fun?" He looked up from the paper.
She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. Her attention turned to a sound of a giggle. Across the way on the jungle gym, a blond girl in a periwinkle blue dress was using the railroad ties as a balance beam.
"That girl is very pretty Papa."
"Yes, she does have a pretty dress on."
"I'm not talking about her dress."
He looked up once more, his brows furrowed.
"The others girls were too but they..." She stopped herself short. They were older and had made rude comments about her papa but they didn't know he was her papa.
"Not everyone that is pretty doesn't mean that they're pretty as well as they are on the inside. I want you to remember that."
Jo gave a quick nod before turning her head back. "Maybe I can go play with that girl."
"Stay where nanny and I can see you. Tell me whenever you want to leave."
She went over to the girl. "Can I try?"
The girl contemplated, then became very excited. "It's very hard at first. Try imagining you're a tightrope walker at a circus. It's so much fun! I'm Leslie Taylor!"
She was about seven or eight. Jo was quick to discover that her new friend was a bit of daredevil.
Jo would later write in her journal with the pen her papa had given her; she called it her 'special pen."
She climbed SUPER high stuff at the playground. She would climb above the monkey bars, and everywhere else that he could climb up on. And these were places that we SUPER hard to reach too. Until her mother yelled for her to get down.
They then turned to a game of tag and hide and seek. The group of girls for some reason decided to join in. Maybe they were impressed in Leslie's climbing skills as well and saw what fun they were having.
It was exhilarating but not as exhilarating as being up on a horse, just like mama described it when she was ridding. Mama had been waiting to be healed up enough from her baby sister's birth, before she could ride again. She didn't want to learn from her mother. She wanted an instructor, an actual trainer. She wanted to be better than George.
Before dinner, Mary arrived back home and had good news to share with them. "I got a job at Bates's shop!"
"That's fantastic!" Matthew exclaimed. "You see, I told you. What will you be doing?"
"Cutting fabric."
"That's all?"
"What do you expect? This is only a trial run."
"You didn't tell them, did you? I see the sketches you make for the girls. You don't just draw figures, you sometimes draw them in entire outfits. You could be the next Coco Chanel."
"I wouldn't go that far. I'm helping cut the fabric first before I can start designing. Besides, it will probably only be temporary. I was made to be a Countess, after all."
"If that is what you want." She could be both, he thought to himself. She could be anything she wanted.
In the summer days, Jo and Mary went up to Evelyn and Adeline's stables. Jo was a natural, just as George and her mother was, though Jo had an easer time and special way with horses. Matthew would sometimes come when he was able. Andy was with the Bates's on a play date with Johnny. Caroline and Katie were up in the nursery with Adeline's nieces and nephews. Adeline and Evelyn were told that they could never have children.
"It could be the both of us." Adeline had said when she and Mary were taking tea. She thought it could be her. Adeline didn't have children with her first husband, though they hadn't been married for long when he died eight months after signing up for the war. And Evelyn had had the mumps when he was fourteen. They had sometimes gone back and forth with who's fault it was. Children weren't really much of their thing, they came to discover. As strange as it might seem, her horses were her children.
"I am so sorry." Mary apologized. She knew how hard it could be. She and Matthew had struggled for a time. It wasn't till a year and a half into their marriage that they had George. And the other's had come almost right on the heels of the other. Now, not matter how many times she and Matthew had lain together, months after Caroline's birth, she hadn't been able to get pregnant again. They were middle aged now. She was thirty-seven, Matthew nearing forty-four.
"Don't be. We fill our time with other things." Adeline listed off the numerous charities and how the equestrian workshop set up process was coming along.
Katie came down from her nap, her hand in nanny's.
"Miss Katie had something to ask you, Lady Mary."
"Can I go out and see the horsies,mama?"
"I don't know. You'll have to ask Lady Adeline if she has one you can ride."
"I think I have a Shetland pony that's calling your name." Adeline took her hand and led her out.
Matthew loved seeing his daughter ride. Her head held high. It was the only place she could be herself. Learning to ride could be a perfect tool, not just for adjusting to the move but to gain her confidence.
I don't think there is a 'golden child' They all have their distinct personalities, strengths, talents, characters etc. They are all precious and 'golden' in their own ways. We do not favor one over the other, which Josephine often felt when it came to her sisters.
Adeline came out to join them, Katie hand in hand, Mary behind them. As Mary walked over to stand by Matthew, Adeline introduced Katie to one of the ponies.
"You're a big girl already, but not big enough to ride. If you're a good girl, I'll let you sit on him."
"I am a good girl. My papa tells me so."
"Well, in that case..." Adeline grunted a little bit with the effort of lifting her on to the pony.
Matthew grabbed Mary's hand that rested on his shoulder. "She's so good with them."
"Katie might be a natural too."
"I meant Adeline. With the girls."
"Yes."
"I must admit, she's undoubtedly brave."
"Unlike someone." She was referring to Andy and his fear of horses. As soon as a glimpse of them, he'd run off. He ran straight to Nanny, embracing her above the knees.
"It's going to take some time. You can't force him if he doesn't want to."
"I know I just wish...Edith and Sybil and I used to always ride, sometimes to get away from nanny and our school work, except when it came to learning French, I always made sure I didn't miss that. But it was the only time the three of us really got along and didn't fight."
"You're referring to Edith."
"I don't want Jo to be the same to her sisters as I was with her." Mary often clashed with her oldest daughter because of their personalities, except when it came to one thing, ironically.
Jo dismounted her horse, running over to them excitedly. She asked her mother about getting her own ponies for her birthday, that she could keep them at Downton. "And when I'm old enough, maybe I can enroll in the competitions. It's too late this year. If I practice all this summer up until next, I can take part next fall!"
"We'll see. When you're older."
"Thanks, mama."
Their new neighbors were holding a block party. Lillian Taylor introduced herself, apparently knowing who they already were.
"Lillian Taylor. But most people call me Lily. You must be Mrs. Crawley."
"Lady Mary." Mary corrected.
"I think my oldest is about the same age as your oldest daughter."
"I think you're right. They met at the park. They got on straight away."
Mary and Lillian had another thing in common. Both of their mother's were dead.
"It's still hard to imagine that they will never know her." Lily said. Her husband then came over. He was a big man, not fat, but tall, and muscular. It was a wonder how she was not intimated by her husband's size. "His mother's convinced that his family's descended from Vikings." She looked around but didn't seem to find whoever she was looking for.
"Where is your husband? Will he be here shortly?" Lily misinterpreted Mary's expression. "He's not...I'm sorry, I should have asked if he was..."
"No. He's alive. He was injured in the war. It makes him tired most days."
"Well, I hope we will be able to meet him soon. We have groups that meet every weekend, for the husbands and wives. We have a knitting group for the married women and a bible study for the men. Sometimes they go out to the pub."
Mary smiled politely. "I think he might enjoy it. Though he's not really a pub man."
"That's alright. Most of the husbands aren't. Mostly the single ones go. We're having a birthday party for Leslie next month. All the parents are invited."
Mary would meet with Lillian every weekday for breakfast before her day of work at the Bates' shop, and they would walk in the park with their youngest while the older children were in school. Matthew had come along this time; parked in his wheelchair by the bench, while Mary and Lilly pushed their prams. Caroline was almost already a year old and before they knew it would be too big for it soon. She was curled up, fast asleep.
She told Lilian about her daughter's stillbirth, which she had never discussed openly, and finding out she was pregnant with Caroline a year later.
"That is a bit selfish, isn't it? A child cannot replace another child."
"We hadn't planned on it. It actually helped us to heal." In fact it had been just what the doctor ordered, if possible. And they were welcomed with a surprise.
"Are all the children his?" She glanced curiously over at Matthew, saying it right within ear shot of him.
"I can see where you might think that's acceptable to ask someone, given your various children, but yes, my husband is the father of all my children."
They still had their daughters play with each other for their sake. That didn't stop the whispers or judgements and speculation about her husbands injury. Why he was rarely seen.
Did his condition sometimes render him too fragile? Was he shell shocked?
She knows it's what they're thinking. But they did respect him for his legal work, that was about it. No one asked or questioned about the children's parentage. She suspected that Lilian had something to do with it, to keep the peace. But it was already far too late. She had stepped too far over the line.
"I can't believe the nerve of her." She slapped her gloves down on the table, imaging that the surface was Lillian's face. "Never in my life have I heard something so incredibly rude."
"You don't always know who your true friends are." Matthew replied.
"At least I have Adeline and Chuck. They're the only one's who seem to understand."
"Not only them. Aside from Charlie, Evelyn and Tom do. And Bertie."
"Evelyn and Bertie are your friends, not mine."
She gave a sigh as she took out her earrings. Looking over at the desk she could still see that he was hard at work.
Matthew was virtually a shut in, doing his paperwork from home. She wished he would get out more, but it was difficult for him to go out with London's constant rain. She tried to offer moving back to Downton, but he wouldn't hear the end of it. Their own life and how they chose to live was much more important. He said.
He grunted, leaning over his paperwork to disguise it.
"Is your back sore?" She came over, rubbing and massaging it to release the tension.
It wasn't only because of the weather that he stayed in, it was because of the pain that she could see he was constantly in. He didn't want anyone else to see it. He was finding a way to manage it on his own and he would never talk to her about it.
He was an educated, well groomed, articulate, and reasonably prosperous and was still treated no better. Everywhere they go, they will always face prejudice. People did treat him differently when he was using his stick than when he was using his chair. In the chair they tried to ignore him, when he was using the stick, they made casual conversation but grew hesitant when he stood up from his chair and walked, not expecting it.
But that should not matter. To her it doesn't. But it still hurt her deeply when they ignored him or talked over him to talk to her. To take his mind off it, she would engage him in conversation.
They were at Leslie's birthday party, sitting at a table by themselves, while the children were off playing.
"If you get tired, we can leave. Just tell me when. We can say you're not feeling well, which would be true..."
"I'm feeling quite fine." He took a sip from the cup in front of him, nursing it slowly. "You know how I first felt about going out to big outings. People stared. People whispered. They still do. It was very hard. It is impossible to hide. I know when I'm being watched and commented on. I've gotten used to it."
She smiled at him from across the table. Though a part of her thought that she never would.
Mary cooked most of their breakfasts and dinners. Courtesy of Miss Patmore's cooking lessons, she had been a fast learner. Nanny was still responsible for the kids' lunches. One day Mary was home in the afternoon from work. She brought home some fabrics that she was planning on experimenting with. Jo took interest in them, asking about them.
"I'm trying to come up with what to make of these."
"This would make a pretty dress." Jo took a square of purple cloth and crape ribbon. "Here." She held them up for her mother to see.
"You know what, I think we can do something with that!" She asked Jo if she could fetch her sewing basket. She brought it back in no time. Mary was surprised when she grabbed her own sewing materials and sat on the couch across from her. Mary started sewing with her.
Every few seconds Mary would look up at her daughter. This was the first time that it felt like they were actually bonding, that they could be civilized and co-exist in the same room. Or was she imagining it?
Jo could feel her mother staring at her. It felt like it she was waiting for her to make a mistake. She wanted to shout at her for doing it but held back. She was starting to like this, that her mother was paying attention to her and not arguing. She's just as surprised as I am. I'm just better at hiding it. She's trying to figure out what I'm doing.
"I'm making a sample."
Out of nowhere she said, "I'm not terribly concerned with what people say about me. But I will not have anyone say anything unkind about my children."
Jo looked up. Her mother's lips were pressed into a straight line. Someone had obviously said something "unkind" about one of us. . .probably me come to think of it. It's not that I'm paranoid. It's just that I was the one who provided the most "ammunition" for "unkind" comments. I have no idea who it was or what the person said was but I was puzzled. She wouldn't take that from anyone about her kids. But she still thought I was incredibly mean to Katie.
Thought I did hate her the first time I saw her, in my mother's arms. I was jealous of how everyone was all concerned and in awe of how tiny and beautiful she looked, and how nice her head of hair was. She had red 'peach fuzz' on the back of her shoulders. Eww. They said it would fall out and her hair. The peace fuzz did but not her hair. I only wished it had because people were always commenting on her hair.
The very first memory I have of her birth is when I woke up in the morning to see that mom wasn't sleeping beside me. Mama was going to have the baby and late at night and was shifted to the hospital.
Everyone would tell me that mama had gone to the hospital to get us, George and I a brother or sister. And as a two year old, all I could think was I would get someone to play with, I believed it would be a girl. I remember having taken a ball to the hospital too. The day when mama was supposed to come back home, I had been bathed, my hair neatly brushed and was busy thinking what games I would play with her.
And when mom entered I saw a small, doll like figure wrapped in a piece of warm cloth, and what astonished me was it would move by itself and sometimes cry too! Everyone told me that "figure" was my sister. I had never had a baby sister before. I wondered why she wasn't getting up or running or playing with me at all. Everyday I would wait for her to get up, but she didn't. Like papa couldn't get up on some days when his legs were really bad. But Mama explained she was just a baby, she had to learn all those things when she was big enough. Papa had said that I should be nice. She's too little to do things on her own. I didn't understand why papa couldn't do those things sometimes. He was grown and had already learned those things as a baby. Of course I understand now.
She would lie on the bed, surrounded by all my family and cry. She would pee in the bed and no one would tell her anything.
I was too jealous of the attention she got. One time when I got to finally hold her she peed on me. It soaked through the nappy. The adults just laughed.
But the more she peed on me, the more attached I got. Slowly she did start running about, and one day I was playing hide and seek with her. She was so stupid, that she would hide in same place I just hid minutes ago. I would laugh my heart out thinking about this stupidity. She would sometimes sit quietly while I made her wear my frock, and put tiny clips and hairpins in her hair, and make her look just like me with kohl, lipstick and powder. And in no time, we were fighting like animals and then again laughing heartily with each other. We would spend long hours doing school projects, teaching her mathematics, which were lost on George. I don't think he'll ever be good. We would play badminton in the evenings and spend our nights playing card games.
Just in the blink of an eye, she was growing up. Now it was Carrie's turn to be initiated into our little group. Though I felt closest to George and could tell him anything, someone I could ride horses with.
It had rained a lot one evening and we like preparing paper boats for playing in the rain puddles.
We would prepare paper boats. Daniel would help us put a special coat on them so they wouldn't sink or get wet. Papa would sometimes help us too. He would always ask if we had our wellies. I always wish he could come with us.
As soon as it stopped raining ,our Aunt took us down in front the row houses and we started keeping the boats in rain water, to see if they were still there in morning or had sailed away.
The family was visiting Downton for the last days of the summer holiday. The weeks speed by. There were parties eagerly attended by the British Embassy(courtesy of Bertie being an active member) and members of the peerage and their children. They attended mostly for luncheon. There were different matters of parties including at Brancaster. Shooting and hunting parties. They used the swimming pool, (which the doctor recommended would be good exercise for Matthew's legs.) while the children used a tin bath to play around in nearby, splashing each other, and lounged under the shade of the oak trees in the heat of day during the garden party.
Laura discovered the shooting range. She went with Tom to investigate the extensive armory, joined by Bertie.
"You maintain your guns in excellent condition." She said to him.
"Some of them were Peters. I don't get enough time for shooting practice, being a new father."
Mary, Matthew, Evelyn and Henry entered the armory, as Laura was saying, "I'm a bit rusty myself. Haven't done any shooting in...well any real shooting in a long time."
"I'd be eager to join you." Responded Mary. "Since I'm not pregnant anymore, I can finally catch up on the things I missed out on."
"Watch out." Tom warned her, "She's a crack shot. She's beaten some very good men at shooting and billiards. And you should see how she rides!"
"I'm looking forward to it." Mary didn't break eye contact with the other woman, challenging her.
"Matthew would you like to join us?" Henry asked. "I hear you're a good shot as well..."
"My daddy is more than a good shot, he has to be to have killed all those Germans!" The adults all turned to see George in the archway. "He took out a whole German machine gun nest when they were missing for six weeks! They were surrounded by them at all sides!"
"I've heard of such actions but none of them as heroic and brave as yours." Evelyn said.
"Yes. Tom has told me all about it." Laura said to Matthew. "You were so brave."
Matthew just continued to sit silently and listen to the same old mantra, though he felt a slight gratitude and thankfulness. George was beaming; proud of his father.
"Can I come shooting too?" He asked, sounding both desperate and excited.
"Maybe in a few years." His father said. "You're still too young."
"But I feel old enough." George started to leave the room, his posture slouched.
"And stand up straight. You know what nanny says."
"It's not proper. I know." He sighed and disappeared out of sight.
Matthew and Mary turned their attention back to the others. Henry was talking now.
"Just imagine transporting wounded soldiers to a hospital with shells coming at you or when you get there only to find out that the hospital's filled up and you have to try to get them to a nearby field hospital and the only route is under heavy fire."
"Is that how you got into racing?" Laura asked, curious.
"It's just about as dangerous. I wanted to feel something similar to it but never was able to capture it. Since I'm getting older I decided to give it up."
"Living dangerously you mean?" Laura was being as easy going as ever and Mary felt that it was too easy going.
"We should be heading out now so that we can catch enough day light." Bertie said. Evelyn were first to leave the room, followed by Tom, Henry and Laura.
Mary was staring after her, as if she didn't trust her and that she needed a close eye on.
Bertie turned back to Matthew, "Will you be joining us?"
"Yes. We'll be there with you in a moment."
They went out into the corridor.
"How are you..." Mary started to ask him, as soon as Bertie's retreating back rounded the corner.
"It's me that wants to ask you." Matthew grabbed her wrist and brought his voice down in a whisper. "Why do you have to be so hard on her? You've been giving her this look..."
"What look?" Mary asked innocently.
"The one you give Edith when you're about to tare her head off."
"I'm just looking out for my brother in-law. I only want what's best for Tom."
"She just might be. And you can't stand it!" Matthew was enjoying it. "No one would be good enough for your sister's husband."
"She was flirting with Henry."
"She was having a conversation with Henry. If you call that flirting I don't know how on earth you managed to get me."
Their playful banter could be misunderstood by someone who didn't know them well enough.
Laura was just around the corner. She had been on her way back to the sitting room, thinking she'd forgotten something, digging around in her purse to double check, when she had heard their voices. She hurried off down the hall to catch up with the others.
They had a good, extravagant meal, which Matthew ate very little of. He didn't want to risk an accident before or during the ride back to Yorkshire, which would delay them. It would probably be late when the arrived back. They made it back to Downton just before noon the next day. Miss Edmunds would be staying with them for one more night.
Tom snuck to find Laura's room, only by luck. There was something he needed to talk to her about. He asked if he could borrow her for a walk. They stopped at the stone structure.
"I can't marry you." They both said at the same time.
"Oh, thank God." She breathed in a sigh of relief. "I mean, don't think me cold and crass. I do care about you and have grown so close to Sybie, maybe too close. I can't be second place."
"What are you saying?" He asked, wondering where she was going with this. Of course, he would always put his daughter first, if she couldn't, then they wouldn't be right for each other. He would want someone who loved and cared about Sybie just as much as he did, someone to be a mother to her and love her as her own. But he hadn't asked Laura, maybe it would be asking too much of her.
"I won't be a substitute for Sybil, I'll never have that. I'm too jealous."
"You? My sister in-law's the one with the jealous streak. She does mean well. She only wants the best for me."
"That's exactly what I mean. I wouldn't be marring you but Sybil. I don't want to be the wife of Sybil's widower, your family always comparing me."
"Sybil is dead. I think I haven't been myself until now. I've been afraid of you Laura. You made me feel young and crass, and yes, a little bit stupid."
"I was afraid too. I saw no way of shaking you out of that reserve you always seemed to be in, as if she's still here, as if she never left you. Sometimes you seem to be talking to someone else. I held back. I went away and came back, wondering what I would find. I told you I can't marry Sybil's widower."
"And I've told you she's dead. I've only now just came back to life."
"I could never ask you to leave this place. With the paper, I'd have to find a place in London. And your whole life's here, your daughter's. I would never up-root her life. She means the world to you."
"She does."
"And that's why I cannot stay. I do adore her and she's come to mean the world to me too. But I'm not ready to be a mother. But I very much would like for us to be friends."
"I don't see any reason we can't be." They stood in silence, looking over the grassy downs. "But I don't think I'll be able to see you often. With the business taking off and going up to London to go over the estate with Matthew, it will take up most of my time. " She nodded, both of them realizing. "Well, I guess that's that then."
"I guess this is goodbye then."
Unable to sleep, Matthew went out for a walk, using his wheelchair. He saw that he was not the only one up. He saw them over by the stone gazebo. She kissed Tom on the cheek, it was not as a lover but as a friend's departure.
In the morning, George was going out with Mary, Tom, and Henry to the car dealership. Matthew planned on investing in the dealership to bring in some extra income.
They were about to leave out the door; Tom making sure his nephew's coat was bundled.
"We're heading over to the garage. George wanted to go see the cars." Mary said.
"How is the dealership going?" Matthew asked Tom.
"Great! I got some paperwork for you to look over. It'll keep you busy while we're out."
"Take all the time you need." After they left, he started reading through the stack of papers. He almost gotten to the last few pages when he felt the building pressure in his bladder. He reached over to grab his stick without looking but his hand grasped air. It was lying on the floor. He maneuvered himself into a sideways sitting position to try to reach it with his foot, but it was too far away. He looked across the room where his wheelchair was, where George had left it, racing around the room with it while he timed him. He had forgotten to bring it over to him when he was done with it.
That had been one of their number one rules.
He couldn't be mad at his son; he had forgotten about it too.
He tried standing up, pulling himself up, using the arm rests. Unsupported, he was unbalanced, and it felt like he was going to fall. He let himself fall backwards into the armchair, in free fall, as he had been taught by Sybil and Clarkson, if he felt unsteady standing up from his chair or one was nearby, he should let himself fall back into it.
He doesn't know how long he sat there, but his pants were still wet when they returned.
George spoke excitedly about the cars he saw and Henry letting him sit in them. Matthew used the papers to cover his indecency. As he continued to talk, this time to his mother, Matthew got Tom's attention.
"Tom. I need your help."
"What is it?"
"I had an accident. I couldn't make it in time." Matthew flushed with embarrassment and Tom looked down. If his old friend was embarrassed by the mishap too, he did not show it, completely unfazed by it.
"Why is your chair so far away?"
"George was racing around in it. It was stupid of me. I couldn't reach my stick. It fell over. I...don't want him to see me like this." They both glanced at George.
"I'll take care of it. Leave it to me."
As George turned his attention back to his father and started coming over, Tom picked up a glass of water and flicked what remained of it's contents onto Matthew's lap.
George stopped dead in his tracks with wide-eyed surprise as his father shouted and jumped slightly, like it was cold. Strange because he thought his father couldn't feel anything below his waist.
"Oh, sorry, mate. I'm a complete klutz."
"Don't worry about it Tom." Mary said. She had been momentarily surprised too. "One of the maids will take care of it."
"No. I made the mess. I should be the one to clean it up." Tom asked if he could have some towels. George offered to grab some.
Tom grabbed Matthew's stick and handed it to him. He left with him to go upstairs.
George grabbed some towels and whipped down the chair. He noticed the smell of urine because of his sibling's nappies but didn't say a word. He got a feeling his father didn't want anything said about it, and if it had been him, he wouldn't want anyone to say anything either. It was no big deal.
Tom had helped change Matthew's clothes. Matthew was still laying down on the bed while Tom stood at the foot of it. The conversation turned to Laura. He had debated weather or not he should ask Tom about her. They had to have something to talk about, something to connect them again. Matthew did want to be his friend again, though Tom had never felt that their friendship had ended, that nothing had changed. He needed to build his trust again, at least in himself. He wouldn't loose anymore friends, the war was long over. The war that had raged within him for the past ten years, he felt that it was finally ending. It had been long over as well but he had refused to let it go, it had made him fear connecting with anyone else besides his own wife, with the exception of Bertie, Evelyn and Charlie because he had no connection to them before the war. Mary had changed and so had he. He had been able to be a husband and father, now it was time to be a friend again, a real friend.
"How are things coming along with Miss Edmunds?" Perhaps he was overstepping. Just in case, he quickly added, "I don't need to pry..."
"No. You're not. It's better that you should know. Anyway, who else is there that I can tell? "
"Mary."
"She'd be more than thrilled to get rid of her."
"She just wants what is best for you."
"I know she does. You both do. It would be best if Laura and I remained friends." They started on his exercises only to stop after two leg lifts on each leg.
Allowing Tom to help him and confide in him was a start.
"Can I ask why? And was it a mutual decision?"
"Yes and yes. Sybil was the only love of my life and I'm alright with that. As Mary is yours."
"God, yes! I don't know what she would do without me."
"It would take her a long time. But she's stubborn and strong. She's not fragile as she looks, our lady Mary."
Tom shut the door behind him, thinking only of Laura. He couldn't stop mulling over their conversation. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head, finally deciding it was for the best as he headed off down the hall.
Mary had gone downstairs to talk with Anna. She had agreed to help out at Downton for the weekend while Bates had everything managed at the shop.
A pair of wet trousers were laid out on the table in the laundry. She could smell the distinct scent of urine.
Anna walked back into the room, startled to see her.
"Lady Mary! Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Are those Mr. Matthew's trousers?" She asked even though she knew that they were. Anna stood frozen, unable to answer, as if she said anything, she would get into trouble. "Anna, tell me."
She confronted Matthew about it, she had just come from talking with George, something had been troubling her oldest. "Why didn't you tell me?" She demanded, worry filling her voice. "I shouldn't have left you alone."
"I don't need a babysitter every time you leave the house."
"That's not what I meant. I should have made sure you had your chair nearby, at least that you had your stick within reach. How could I have..."
"You didn't forget. We all did."
"I still don't understand why you and Tom had gone to great lengths to keep this from me."
"It wasn't you we were keeping it from you. Tom asked Anna not to tell anyone probably out of respect and she probably misunderstood not to tell you as well. I didn't want my son to see me like that."
"We should tell them. The children should know. George at least."
"Must we?"
"Yes. It'd be better to explain it to him now. In fact, I've already told him..."
"You what?"
"He asked about it. He already knew. I told him it's part of your condition and nothing to be ashamed about. He took it exceptionally well. He might have a few questions for you. Not about that."
George came into the room, after Mary let him in, after he had knocked. Already the little gentleman. Mary shut the door behind her on her way out to give them privacy.
"I'm sorry about your chair and your stick daddy."
"It's alright. It wasn't your fault, Georgie. Adults can be forgetful too." He patted the mattress. "Come here. Mummy said you had some questions for me."
He helped his son onto the bed. George sat down beside him
"Mother told me your back was broken." He didn't want to mention to his father that he knew about him wetting himself and make him embarrassed. He had put it together, asking his mother, though he already knew, that because his father's legs sometimes couldn't work, and he needed a wheelchair or a stick to get around, that he couldn't make it to the bathroom sometimes. His mother had said yes. She didn't want him to mention it anyway as 'he still feels sore about it. And you mustn't tell your siblings. They're too young to understand yet."
He had sighed and had said ok. Then he asked if Jo could know.
"If you trust her."
"I can trust her." He and Jo could tell each other anything; she was just as good as any boy. "I do have something to ask daddy."
"Make it quick. You still might be able to catch him if he hasn't already gone to bed."
Matthew pondered what his son was trying to ask.
"It was fractured. An incomplete fracture, actually..." He paused, giving a frown. His son wouldn't understand that. "I can still walk but not long distances..."
"I know that. Will it ever heal?" It had been a very long time since daddy had been hurt. He never seemed to get any better. Sure, George missed that he couldn't do the things most of the daddy's at school could do with their son's; carry him on his back, run and play football with him but that was better than not having a daddy at all. Some of the older kids didn't have a father, as they had died in the war.
"No. Some injuries never do."
"Like the one in your head. It's not a real wound. Mummy said. Just that the war makes you sad sometimes and you have nightmares."
"Yes. Just like that."
"You did a good thing, daddy. Some times good things are punished. Some things are worth being sacrificed for."
He could only put his arms around his son.
My dear boy, I hope you never have to find that out for yourself.
The summer turned into fall. Through November till the new year they would be staying at Downton. Molesley would help the children keep up with their education so they wouldn't fall behind.
After dinner one evening, (an hour before they had gone out shooting, just him and Mary for old times sake. It really had been like old times, no worry of the sudden crack of the gun or rustling in the hedges and shrubbery bringing back unwanted memories. But any moment they could return. But not here. Not today.) Mary was helping Matthew upstairs so that he could rest, when it happened. Never in her life had she heard him raise his voice, never even shout at their children.
Andy had quietly run up the stairs behind them, sneaking up behind his father, making a loud noise that had startled him.
"Don't you ever do that again! You don't sneak up on people like that! What is wrong with you?"
Andy, wide-eyed and tearful, ran off to his room.
"I'm sorry. I never...I've just been under a lot of...pressure."
"The anniversary tomorrow. We can have papa cancel or you don't have to attend. You can say you're not feeling well."
"No. That would be rude of me. I'll go...talk to him." He went into the direction of the nursery which Andy and Caroline still shared.
Why was daddy so mad? Why did he yell at me? It was as if something had replaced him, like a monster. And he had just ran away like he did with horses, leaving her with it. Was she safe with it.?
He heard it enter his room. He put the blanket over his head. Maybe it would go away if it didn't see him.
"Andy, I'm sorry."
It sounded like daddy. He sounded so sad. It could be a trick. Slowly he took off the blanket. Looking into his eyes, he knew it was his daddy again. He crawled over the blanket to sit next to him.
"I'm sorry that I scared you. I was scared too. That's why I acted like I did. I didn't mean to shout at you. It's like something takes over." He moved his son closer to him, playing with his hair, while he was playing with his stuffed bear, flicking it's ear then, tossing it. Matthew retrieved it for him and handed back to him. "I know you probably don't understand me..." Andy repeated the motion again, "but it can't hurt you. I won't let it ever hurt you." He put his arms around his son. "But never ever sneak up on daddy like that again, promise?"
"Ok. Pwomise." He put his arms around his father.
"Alright. Let's get you ready for bed." He maneuvered himself into his chair and went over to the wardrobe.
"Blue pajamas, daddy!" He started bouncing on the bed on his knees.
"Alright. Blue it is!" Smiling to himself, he fetched the pajama's from the drawer, wheeling back over to the bed.
He changed Andy without any difficulty.
"Papa?" A small tired voice came from the doorway. Matthew turned his head toward the direction. There stood Katie. She rubbed her eye and gave a yawn. The girls called him Papa and the boys called him daddy. They hadn't taught them to. It seemed to be a preference of theirs. "I can't sleep. Can you tell me a story?"
He looked over at Andy. He was fast asleep. Caroline was awake. He lifted her out of the bed as she held out her arms to him and placed her on his lap. The bed was low enough for him to do so. They went to Katie's room adjacent from the nursery.
She wanted him to tell her the story about how he and her mother had met and fell in love.
"Mama hated you at first. She called you a sea monster but the sea monster turned out to be better than Perseus. He was just misunderstood."
He gave a smile. "I thought you wanted me to tell the story."
"Oh. Right."
"She didn't hate me. We pretended to hate each other because we were afraid."
"Everyone wanted you and mama to get married but you didn't want to marry each other. But Mama fell in love with you, even more when you were injured because you sent her away but she still stayed." She thought for a moment. "I wouldn't want anyone to control my life either. I want to find someone to love me the way you and Mama love each other. But I want to find out what I want to be first. You taught us that we can be anything we want. And I want someone who loves me and respects me and let's me do what I want. If they don't they won't be right."
"I have the smartest, most beautiful daughters in all of Yorkshire. Whoever loves you will be the luckiest. I'm the luckiest man in the world."
"You're the nicest papa in the world!" She put her arms around him, careful of Caroline who had fallen asleep on his chest. "If you die papa, I will be all alone."
"Nothing's going to happen." He hated that his children had to worry and fear something happening to him. "And you wouldn't be alone. You'd have your brothers and sisters, and your mother." He saw the face she pulled. "Your Mama might seem cold at times but she has a warm heart and she loves all of you as I do. How else could she love me? That was how it was with her own mother. Just be patient."
She nodded. "But it won't be the same."
The door opened.
"Mama." Katie whispered.
As she came into the room, Matthew asked her for help to remove Caroline from his lap. His arm was starting to fall asleep.
"I've got a better idea." Then she said to Katie, "Papa can tell you another story once we put Caroline back to bed."
"No. That's alright, Mama. I'd like you to read one to me, if that's ok."
"Well," She started, sounding bewildered, "I suppose..." She glanced at her husband. Matthew gave her a nod.
"I'm getting quite tired myself. I've got a busy day tomorrow."
They went back to the nursery, Caroline still on his lap.
"Just hold on to her. I'll help you up." He held onto her tightly, as Mary linked her arm around his right and helped him stand. He shuffled the few steps over to the cot instead of the bed. The bars would help with support. He was holding her without having to from his wheelchair! He placed her into the cot, Mary's arm still around him.
"If only we had thought of that before." He said.
They glanced down at their sleeping children, then at each other. Their love and passion showed in each other's eyes as there had been when they were younger, but only they were much wiser. She kissed his cheek, and then his lips, caressing his cheek with her thumb, as she had the night before their wedding. His eyes were closed as they were then. Was he thinking of the same memory? She helped him back into his chair.
The next afternoon, he took Katie out for lunch, before the days events. The sun shone off her red-blonde hair making it appear even more red. Everyone commented on what a beautiful young girl she was becoming. She had just lost her baby fat, her features narrowing. She would no doubt catch a many young man's eye when she became a young woman. It was every father's worst nightmare. Though he wasn't sure how intimidating he would be to any potential suitor from the vantage point of a wheelchair. It did make certain people uncomfortable though. Maybe he could use that. What he didn't understand is that he could be quite intimidating, partly why Josephine always wanted to please him but she knew she had nothing to fear, she had him wound around her little finger. He'd do anything for her and so she naturally wanted to please him. All three of his daughters would be beauties in their own right. But he didn't have to worry about that for thirteen years or so. He hoped to be around that long, or at least long enough to see his daughters down the aisle, his sons happily married off and a grandchild or two, and he'd make sure they would be well looked after, only then would he be content to leave this earth.
They took a short walk through the village. He followed behind her in his wheelchair. He cautioned her not to go too far ahead. Nanny walked a safe distance behind him that if she were to run off she would be able to catch her but she wouldn't. She was raised better and knew it wasn't safe and he wouldn't be able to go after her.
She stopped in front of a shop window. Not just any shop window. It was the dance school, run by his former secretary, Elise, watching the ballerinas dance gracefully.
"What do you say you give it a try?" He asked as he wheeled up beside her.
Katie wrinkled her nose.
"Maybe not then."
Robert had arranged a special dinner for the tenth anniversary of the armistice. A few generals and captains and a few selected veterans from the village in attendants. Matthew smiled and nodded politely in response to their conversation.
After dinner, the plates in the process of being cleared away, Matthew dismissed himself quietly without saying a word. No one appeared to notice him.
He backed up his wheelchair, wheeling along the long table, barley stopping halfway, catching Mary's eyes.
I'm fine. He mouthed but his eyes, she noticed, were sparkling with something dangerous.
It was then that Robert noticed him leaving.
"Matthew, aren't you going to join us for drinks in the drawing room?"
"No. I'm afraid I've got something to take care of. It might take some time. There's no need to wait up for me."
"Alright." His father in-law had a curious and worried expression, then Matthew wheeled away.
He had been meaning to call Private Atkins's family for some time now. The boy had been one of his bests. He had been putting it off for years, unable to, the feeling of remorse and guilt too great. Now, he felt he was ready.
"Mr. And Mrs. Atkins, this is Captain Crawley. I was in charge of your son's unit. He was a great soldier, one of the best. But I made a promise to keep my men safe, that they would make it home. I broke that promise. None of them came home. If you never forgive me, I'll understand." He paused, waiting for a reply.
"This is his brother. Our parents died several years ago. They were never the same after his death. I want to..."
It was too much. Not only the death of the young private and the other men were his fault.
He caught the boy as he fell off the ladder, sinking back with him into the mud, a gaping black wound in his stomach where blood oozed out.
"I'm dead sir, aren't I? I'm a dead man." He grabbed hold of the boy's hand.
"No. I'm going to get every last man home. I promised that. Just you hold on."
But it was obvious the boy was a goner. A dead man, a dead boy, here it was all the same. A boy who had never known a woman's love and never will.
"It'll be alright. Chin up." The boy tightened his jaw at the order but it could be from the pain. "Atta boy Atkins." That was what they called him. "You've done your mother proud." He finally said, at the realization, there would be no saving him. He knew. He knew how important mother's were. The dead and dying always called out for them. Always the mothers. "You're a good soldier. I'll tell her you're one of the best." When he looked back it was only into the blank lifelessness of the private's eyes. He tried to rouse the young lad but it was no use. How many times had he stared back at those eyes?
"Retreat, sir. Call the men back."
It was Sergeant Ellis, his arm dangling awkwardly by his side.
The sounds came back, whooshing into his head as if he had been struck by a shell, and again he heard the voice. It was his own, shouting for the men to fall back, bearing the weight of his wounded sergeant against him, staggering home toward the trenches because the trenches had become his home. As he held the sergeant to him, having gotten him to safety, he knew he would have to go back out to the battlefield. He would go out into the night with the stretcher bearers to bring back the wounded, even if it meant prying their torn, mangled bodies tangled in the barbed wire.
But for how many he saved more seem to die. They seemingly outnumbered the living. They were all dead now. He wasn't afraid of death, it was the dying right before the end, before the blissful ecstasy before the sweet release, the release of the soul into the next life.
It was dying alone, on the cold unforgiving ground.
That was why that one day he hoped he would die in her arms, safe and warm.
God, why am I still alive?
For your wife, for your children, your mother. But what was it worth if they couldn't kiss their wives, hug their mothers and their children? For Atkins there would never be that.
The phone slipped from his grip and he gave into the tears. Blinded by them, he could barley see Mary coming over to him, but could feel her hand on his shoulder. As he hung his head in shame, he was semi-aware of her picking up the receiver, dangling from its cord.
Mary heard her husbands' words as she came into the foyer. She saw that he was on the phone, not directly observing his face, but it was clear he was not speaking to whoever was on the other end. She didn't need to look at him to know that he was in distress, that he was having a flashback. She had heard him mutter something that sounded like, always the mothers. Then 'fall back" his voice slightly raised.
She watched the receiver fall from his grasp and he dissolved into a silent weeping as his mind slipped back to the present.
With years of experience already underneath her, she immediately knew what to do, resting a hand on his shoulder, letting him know that she was there. She then went over to the phone, picking it up.
"Hello? This is his wife. I'm with him now. Thank you. I appreciate it. It'll mean so much to him."
He barley remembered how he got up the stairs, only recalling getting into bed, as she helped lower him onto it.
He heard her walk around the room as he fixed his eyes on the ceiling.
How long had she been there? How much had she heard?
It doesn't matter. She's already seen the worst of this.
Mary grabbed articles of clothing, cobbling together an outfit. He was usual articulate, having his outfits already put together for the next day but all the bits and bobs were haphazardly thrown into the drawers, at a level he could reach while in his wheelchair.
It was the anniversary. He would want to be left alone and probably sent Molesley away.
She had grabbed something comfortable and could easily pass as respectable if they were suddenly called back downstairs. He would want to go.
Mary loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. That was as far as she went. She took off his shoes, sitting on the bed beside him. All the while he hadn't refused and let her start undoing his clothes. She smiled at such an intimate a moment.
He was staring up at the ceiling. He was not away; she could tell that he was still there with her.
He brought himself to ask, "What did he say? On the phone?"
"He wanted to thank you. His brother spoke of you a lot, about how he respected you and how brave you were. How your bravery gave the men courage to move forward."
"I wasn't...Then I am a fraud." His voice cracked and broke, tears once again flowed.
"No. You're not. What matters most is that it mattered to them. That it was real to them."
"I'm sorry. I'm not the man that I was. I can't be him for you."
"You don't have to..."
"I'm a blubbering mess. I can't stop feeling like crying whenever I think of them, about the war, feeling numb. And I wonder when it will stop. How can I be fine, then the next something else reminds me and...When will it stop, Mary? Another ten years, twenty?"
"We don't know. It could have been a delayed reaction." She was referring to going out shooting the day before. Or perhaps yelling at Andy had been and with the rest, the dinner party, talking about the war and the numerous shooting parties over the summer, it could have just caught up with him. "Or like before." He had had several episodes last year, a year after their baby died.
"I thought I would be fine, that I've moved on."
"We know that you would have relapses. It doesn't mean that you haven't. Grief makes the shell shock worse, we know that." And guilt and stress. Try as they might to pretend, they were both still grieving their daughter. He had put off his grief for her for a whole year, and it could still be catching up to him as well. She had to remind him of that. "We've just been through a dark and difficult time the past two years. We're only just starting to come through it."
Matthew nodded. "Our little girl." He did not dare utter her name, could not say it. He had only been able to once, when he had told Mary what he had named her, and when he had mentioned her to Josephine before the move. He hadn't uttered her name since. It was still too painful. As if not associating a name with their lost baby, born asleep, would dull the ache. However, it did not eradicate the emptiness that was there.
Mary gave a nod in response. "It'll get easier but it won't be easy."
"I feel this dark void in me that will never be filled." His forehead creased as he frowned. "In the place where she should be."
"I feel that way too!" She said with surprise. Though it shouldn't be much of one. They had both lost their child. Beth's stillbirth had forged a connection, a stronger bond between them (and at the same time had threatened to tare them apart), in ways that they never would have imagined, not even what the old Lady Mary Crawley would have never imagined.
"Here." He took her hand and placed it to his chest. His heart beat was still a bit erratic but was starting to steady. She laid her head on his chest, not moving until it returned to it's normal pace.
After a moment, he sat up and turned to her. "Mary, there's something I need to tell you. It wasn't a mistake. That she was sent to Graspie's. I had her sent...I told them to send her. I didn't want you to see her." If she hated him for it he'd understand.
"Thank you. I'm glad that you did."
Their eyes locked, their shared pain reflecting back at each other. She put her arms around him, kissing each other as he stroked her hair. Still in an embrace they lowered their bodies down onto the mattress, their eyes caressing each other's bodies, knowing each other without saying a word. They could stay like this forever.
"What did she look like, our daughter?" She asked him.
"She had brown hair and looked just like you." He kissed her temple and held her tightly as a tear escaped her eye, kissing it away. Not shedding any more tears, they just continued to hold each other. They had gotten through the worst of it, just starting to see the light in that dark void like tunnel.
They had their other children to help them through it, children so kind and bright and generous, they couldn't have asked or wanted anything better. They spoke of their achievements and the fine little people that they were becoming. George was a mature seven year old. Josephine was mature for five, almost six years old but she had a jealous streak she had inherited from her mother that she had at that age. Katie was always a bright ray of sunshine, trying to make everyone happy, though she spent most of her time still buried in her books, and only at four years old; Andy was starting to become quite fearless but hadn't yet gotten over his fear of horses, Caroline was quite the talker, even though they weren't real words most of the time, and George, already a gentleman and a charmer, the peerage taking a interest in him, their expectations and confidence high for the second in line to the Earl of Grantham.
George
September 1929
Being the oldest is the greatest. I can help daddy. I reach things from shelves he cannot reach, while he was in his wheelchair and get things he needed. I always make sure the wheelchair or his stick is nearby so that there's no repeat of last time. I don't ride that much in his chair anymore. I'm too big for that. Jo helps too but daddy doesn't like it when we do. I do it better than her anyway. She's six, almost seven and I'm eight years old. I can do things better than my siblings, their too little to do anything yet. I make decisions about what we would do, I felt strongly that I was right. I know I can be a good Earl someday. But I do not want it if Donk and daddy have to die first. Maybe Andy could have it. But Granny Violet said it doesn't work that way. The adults talk about their adult things, about Daddy tried to break the end tail. Whatever that is.
We're visiting Downton today. Ever since we moved we visited as much as we could but it's not the same. Jo complains that she misses the staff and that we know have one maid and Katie would screech about something, making Caroline start to cry. That's our baby sister. Only she's not really a baby anymore. She's one. I wish I had someone to play with. She and Andy are too little to play with me yet and Jo spends most of her time with the horses. All the more time for me. It's nice to have a big space again to get some quiet.
I hear daddy talking about he had something special planned.
He went over to where Andy and Johnny were. The Bates had come to visit also. The two younger boys were fighting over taking turns on a rocking horse. Yet not scared, only of a real one.
Robert invited Lady Wroughton and her son's to dinner. They were the children's ages. Her oldest son Roy was eleven years old. Only eleven years old and an Earl. His father Lord Phillip, had died several months ago, and had been a close friend to Robert among the peerage. He thought he could help them out. Have the children make friends. Her other son Ivo was Katie's age.
Roy took to playing with Katie, who looked annoyed that she had a shadow following her. Ivo went over to where Johnny and Andy were, by that rocking horse again.
In October Jo had her first jumping competition. Mary found her own competition with the other mothers, when it came to complimenting their own children.
" I taught all of my own children riding and horsemanship, beginning at age three. For ten years I specialized in teaching riding and horsemanship to small children, using size-appropriate horses that I trained." One of the women said.
"I taught my son George at the age of four. Jo started learning last year."
"It shows." She turned back to her other friends. "My adult children all said it was their equine experience that had the greatest positive influence on their adult work ethic, many of their social skills and their overall approach to learning. I truly believe that helping children learn horsemanship, safety and appropriate behavior on and around horses is one of the best things you can do for a child."
Afterwards, Matthew told her not to let them get to her. "Jo did great. Any parent would be proud. We need to encourage them, winning isn't everything."
After the competition was over, Jo stayed behind to brush Spartan's coat, before going to find her parents. She watched the other kids cheering the first place winner. Leslie came over to her, complimenting her jump. The other girl's friends abandoned her to congratulate Jo, most of which where boys. The other girl looked as if someone had thrown rocks at her. Jo smirked at her and continued with Spartan's coat.
"What's his name?"
"Her name is Spartan. In Greek mythology Sparta was the wife of of King Lacedaemon, the son of Zeus. He named a city after her." They gave her blanks looks. "I have another horse, Pepper but she's only for ridding."
When their parents came to collect them, Jo searched the crowd, first finding her grandfather Donk and Granny Rachel, then her father's wheelchair and her mother sitting next to it.
Jo ran over to them. "Mama, papa, look. I got second place!"
"Well, would you look at that. Looks like she figured it out all on her own." Mary said proudly.
November 1929
Caroline was almost two years old and already talking up a storm, almost in full sentences now. While her other siblings were in school (Andy was still a year too young to start school. He spent time at the Bates' to play with Johnny)and her mother working, she bonded with her father and the nurse.
He still wasn't happy about that. But it made Mary feel more comfortable leaving him alone, knowing that someone would be there in case he were to fall or something were to happen to Caroline or the other children. They sometimes came home from school early before she came home from work.
The eleventh anniversary of the armistice was coming up. The village was putting on a memorial concert, being unable to last year, not having enough funds. Matthew didn't appear to be worried or bothered by it as she was. He appeared to be handling it better than last year.
He had volunteered to sing. The memorial service would be at Downton Hall, that meant spending the weekend at the Abbey. The children were obviously relieved and enjoyed the thought of an extended stay. Josephine missed all the servants but George tried to course her into saying that it was because she missed the Grannies and Grandpa Donk and Rachel. She crossed her arms and ignored him throughout the concert. Their argument was all but forgotten when their father started to sing.
"He has a pretty voice." Katie said.
"Only girls can have a pretty voice." Jo corrected, showing of her proper grammar skills, eager to start an argument with her rather than George. She wouldn't want to further fall out of his good graces. "Men can have pretty GOOD voices."
"Shh...I'm trying to listen."
"You wouldn't have a hard time listening if you weren't spending all your time buried in a book!" Katie had brought a book with her, she always brought one wherever she went. "Which is rude and disrespectful to all the poor soldiers who died." She turned back around to face the front.
Katie closed her book. Hanging her head, she said a silent prayer, hoping they would forgive her.
He sang Danny Boy. He started to struggle for the words toward the end. Mary then jumped in, not before he had gotten to where what could be a stopping point. announcing the next song.
It was so beautiful to Caroline. Her daddy's voice, especially mama's were so pretty together. She didn't care what Jo said. It had brought tears to her eyes with how beautiful it was. She wanted to tell her papa what a good job he did.
Backstage, she saw him crying. Saying nothing at first, she climbed up onto his lap. Then, "Why are you sad?"
He explained to her that when people cry, it's not always because they are sad or hurt. "Some people cry when they're happy or angry."
"That silly." He could see the cogs in her little brain turn as she was silent. "Or when something is very beautiful."
"Uh...yes."
"You sang beautiful daddy! And Mama sang pretty too. Want to know a secret?" She whispered in his ear.
"What?"
"I know what your nickname."
"You do?"
"Matthew Crawley. And I know Mama's. Hers is Lady Mary Crawley and mine is Car-o-lee." She still had a little difficulty when it came to her name.
The slurring of her name had sounded to him like, "Carrie."
And the true nickname for her was born. He would always still call her Caroline.
"But it's sometimes Clemen-tee but only when you sing. I also know Andy's and Katie's and George, Georgie." She held up three fingers in front of his face, observing his vision, distracting him from his thoughts, good thoughts.
He took hold of her fingers and asked, "How many fingers do you have there."
"Five."
He smiled. Children could be so literal. "How many are you holding up?" He released them and she counted.
"One, two, frwee."
The certain parted as someone stepped through. "What's going on back here?" Mary asked.
"Our daughter is an excellent counter."
"Is she!" Mary was ecstatic. She had been passing some of the milestones that took the others much longer, such as talking coherently, using the toilet. And now she could count. George still struggled with math. "I'm so proud of you, darling. Now why don't you go and find nanny or Donk and grandmama and show them."
Caroline slid off her father's lap and ran out, eager to show off her new found skill.
"What are you thinking?" He blinked up at his wife. It wasn't like she was a prodigy but she was succeeding on a level that the majority of her peers weren't.
"It's obvious she's far ahead for her age. I'd say maybe kindergarten level?" Mary shook her head "It's much too early for her to start school."
"Maybe we should have Molesley tutor her a bit. But he's got his other students."
"Since he'd bend over backwards for you."
"But..."
"I'm still worried. She still slurs and babbles some of her words." She sat down at the vanity, setting down her gloves, giving a sigh. "I think we should try to get her in to see a speech therapist."
"Children learn at their own pace. We don't have to worry about it till she starts school. If it doesn't go away before then, we'll check into it."
It's scary to think that there could be something wrong with your child. But this is nothing, compared to all the women not able to have children, who would want a child regardless, this is a small stone in a large pond compared to that.
Her grandparents of course could not stop talking about it, once they got home. The adults were all in the drawing room. Mary had to be frank with Rachel and her father, not to brag about one child's achievement's in front of the other. She and Matthew wanted them to grow up with a sense of confidence and that they were all equal, and that there was no favoritism over one or the other.
Late in the night, Mary couldn't sleep. Neither could her father. They ended up staying up till three in the morning. She asked for her father's advice on what to do about Carrie, her doubts on weather she was a good mother or not.
"Sometimes I feel that Matthew is the good parent. He's more cut out for this, I'm not. Thirty-six, and I don't have it figured out by now."
"It's almost been a life time and still I haven't figured it out." He laughed and poured himself a drink, offering one to her. She turned it down. He set down both glasses, studying her for a moment. "You're more than good enough. No matter who you are or what you do, I will always love you."
Those were the last words he said to her.
The maid was running down the halls, two hours later. Mary had finally drifted off and was in a deep sleep when she was awoken by Matthew, shaking her. There was pounding on the door.
"I can't get up." He said. "You'll have to answer it."
Mary mumbled in response. She tugged on her robe. She was not angry at him really. Before bed they had tried but failed at love making. Her hormones were still running rampant or she was close to her monthlies. She knew that neither reasons were an excuse. I'll try making it up to him later somehow.
"I can't really get up." He came to his own defense. "Not before I've done my stretches. We've been married for how many years now?"
She answered the door. "What is it Mavis?"
"It's your father, my lady. Lord Grantham..." She looked up at Matthew as if she was addressing him, then looked down at the floor, then cautiously at Mary.
Clarkson arrived. And at 5:30 a.m. the 7th Earl of Grantham was pronounced dead, of a heart attack in his sleep. He had been discovered in the library, slumped over at his desk. Where Mary had left him.
It suddenly all made sense why Mavis had appeared to have addressed her husband as Lord Grantham. Because she had. Matthew was now Earl.
