April 1945
Kate believed that in her heart that her parents were the heart of Downton Abbey. She did not believe it could be replaced or replicated. She had seen her other siblings finding love, apart from Andy, he was hardly the type to be settling down right now, being only nineteen, and what he had been through with the war. It was clear he had to deal with some things. Not everyone can just jump right back into the life before. She had always thought that she wouldn't marry again.
Almost a year after Jack's death, she started nursing an old childhood friend of theirs. The Earl Wroughton, Roy Raynor. He had always had a thing for her, according to her siblings, that he was in love with her. Kate just didn't see it and thought they were having her on. She wouldn't say that Roy was strikingly handsome, while Jack had been average in looks. Jack had been a head shorter than her and had dark hair. Roy was tall and had blonde hair and grey-blue eyes.
She had gotten a letter from Roy's brother, Ivo, that he had been seriously wounded.
Matthew saw that whatever was in the letter was a bit distressing to his daughter. "What you've got there Katie girl? Is everything alright?"
"It's from Ivo Raynor, Lord Wroughton's brother. He's been wounded. He's in hospital in London. Roy. Ivo's thinking of trying to have him moved to Downton to further convalesce, once it's safe to move him."
"It must be very serious then." Her mother said.
"Of course, we'll have him." Her father interrupted. "You did play together as children. This is as much his home as it is to any of us. I'd want him to be able to have the best comfort available."
"Thank you, Papa." Kate got up to kiss him on the cheek.
Once she arrived at the hospital, it was almost completely packed with soldiers, arriving in the hundreds, she was told. The Matron thought she wanted to volunteer as a nurse. She considered it. It would give her something useful to do.
"I'm actually here to see a friend. Lord Wroughton."
"Yes, this way."
She followed her through the wards.
"What happened to him? I heard it was severe."
"Shrapnel to both legs. He might be a little groggy. Shot him up with a lot of morphine."
Is it really that bad?
"He's just gotten out of surgery." Matron continued, having must seen her worried expression. "His second. He had one at the field hospital. Messed up one of his legs pretty bad. If it gets infected, we'll have to amputate."
Kate didn't ask if she meant one or both. She didn't want to know at the moment. It would get in the way of cheering him up.
They approached a bed at the end of the room, in the corner, directly below a window.
It didn't even look like him. Of course, it wouldn't. The last time she had seen him was a year ago, before he left for training, the night of her coming out party. His head was wrapped in bandages, a little bit of blood had seeped through at his right temple. And there was a nasty cut that ran down his face, almost to his jawline. It would leave a white raised scar, and hair would scarcely grow back there. His left leg was incased in plaster, while the other was kept raised, the cloth of his pajama's cut away so it wouldn't touch the skin. It was yet to be bandaged. The flesh had been sewn and stapled back together like some Frankenstein's monster. The way it was patched she could tell a lot of muscle and tissue had been blown away. She fought the urge to cry. She told herself to pull herself together. She was a nurse for goodness sake. But it was different when it was somebody you knew.
"We're running behind on rolling bandages. We're so understaffed, the nurses are needed in the wards. But it will need to be covered and soon as possible to avoid infection."
"I'll do it." She volunteered. Matron looked at her suspiciously. A moment ago, the poor girl had looked about to faint, then again, she said that she knew the man.
"I trained as a nurse in Ripon." Kate added. "I helped with the soldiers there."
Matron called over a nursing sister to help her. The sister came back with the materials, handing them to Kate.
She wore a brave face as she went over to him, seeing that he was awake. Then she stopped. He was just staring up at the ceiling.
Was it just the shock due to the surgery? The sister suggested as such.
He remained quiet as she dressed the wound. Kate tried not to make it too constricting as not to hurt him. He wouldn't feel pain now but coming off of the morphine, that would hurt more than the Dickens.
Then, as if he suddenly sensed her, becoming aware of her presence, he said her name, "Katie."
"I just go by Kate these days."
"How good..." His brow pulled down as he frowned. There were more lines there than she had remembered. He was older. He was, twenty-nine, thirty? He looked puzzled, his speech a little slurred. It seemed to take him an age to find the words. The morphine was definitely working. "ell me. They've taken my leg. I know...they...'ave."
She kept herself from being shocked, her nurse training finally kicking in. "No. They haven't."
"Tell me...the truth. I can take it."
"They didn't take your leg. Look." She urged him. He hesitated, fearing to. After a second, he did. "See. Both legs."
He gave a sigh.
"How good..." He said again. "too see you...am sorry about Jack."
"I'm coping. Life must go on."
"Yes. Especially..."
She felt the grip of his hand loosening as he drifted off to sleep. She'd stay till he woke again.
She would often visit him. They'd just talk and play card games and chess, when he didn't want to talk. She would read to him, and the paper, though sometimes when it had to do with the war, he'd pretend to be asleep.
The next month, the war was announced over. She had run through the ward, almost scolded by matron, paper in hand. Like always he tried to ignore it. But when she repeated, "it's over. It's actually over!" His eyes had snapped open, unbelieving.
"It really is, Roy!" She held it out to him, but he wouldn't take it.
His eyes began to water, and he started to sob, his body shaking.
"Oh, Roy, don't cry." She sat on the bed and put her arms around him.
"It's just...I'm having a hard time believing it. You wouldn't lie..."
"No. I wouldn't."
"I believe that." He smiled and laughed. It was good that he was. "But I find it hard to rejoice."
"Yes. A lot must feel that way." He was right. As she answered him, the euphoria was already starting to fall away. The wounded were still wounded. The dead were still dead, and her brother was still missing.
"It's wonderful news of course it is. But look at me, and all the other poor chaps. Well, at least there won't be any more dead or wounded."
"No. No, of course there won't." Not only him, but her brother, and so many others would bare the reminder of it.
Roy's leg still constantly caused him pain. He joked about how he'd have rather had his leg amputated rather than dealing with the pain. But she knew that he was actually terrified of the idea. And rightly so. Amputation was drastic and risky even with today's standards and anti-biotics.
When she came back to visit him, the weekend before they'd be moving him to Downton, they put him on something else to ease his discomfort. It had made him act stranger and out of it.
"Katie...Katie..." He'd say her name and squeeze her hand. She thought he wanted her to do something for him and he was too tired or it was too hard for him to think of the words.
"Yes?"
"So glad...it's wrong."
"What's wrong?"
"Thinking about you a lot. I'm not...'s not proper...I am.. when I first saw you..." His eyelids were dropping. "Everything...I loved about you..."
"You're sick." She got a washcloth to wipe his forehead. He was asleep. Or so she thought.
He was sick. He had spiked a fever in the middle of the night. They moved him so they could keep a closer eye on him, in case the fever turned out to be something more.
Her heart almost stopped, skipping an earth-shattering beat, when she didn't see him in his bed when she came the next morning. She felt as though someone was squeezing her throat, that she barley seemed able to get the words out, stumbling over her them, anxiously. "Lord Wroughton..when...when did it happen? When did he die?"
"Die?" The nurse looked frightened as a mouse to match her mousey features, "Oh, no. He's not dead. He's just been moved. The doctor wanted to go over what was best for his leg. Got a fever in the night, he did. We don't know if it's septic or just a normal fever. Unpredictable these things. So he's been moved to keep an eye on."
"Where...?"
"He's in ward D."
She was already running. He looked so pale and weak. She felt a hand on her arm. Sister Raylan.
"I think you should prepare yourself. I'm sorry. He means a lot to you, doesn't he?"
"We...we're just friends."
The next day he was much better. The fever had broken. Though he was still a little weak. They were playing a game of chess.
"What I said the other day, I was rather quite out of it, whatever I said, I was probably talking nonsense. Can't remember."
"Yes." She was utterly hurt but for the life of her she didn't understand why. He loves me as a friend. That was all he had meant in his fevered state. Yes, that had to be it. If he remembered any of it at all, there was no need for him to feel embarrassed. She wanted to tell him that but devised against it. She didn't want to ruin it, whatever this was they had, by making things more complicated.
It's not like she was in love with him. The way he said her name made her insides quiver with something warm and scary. She played it off.
7th July 1945 Caroline gave birth to a girl. The countless hours of hard labor had been worth it. A wrinkled, pink faced, and healthy baby was brought into the world, wailing at in in protest.
Mary rushed out into the hall to retrieve her husband.
"Matthew, we have a granddaughter!" He made a move to pull himself up from his chair, "don't move. I'll wheel you in." She positioned the chair close to the foot of the bed then handed him the small bundle. As soon as she was placed in his arms and he peered down at her, tears tracked slowly down his face.
He never thought he'd live to see this moment. They asked him in unison,
"Are you alright?"
"Are you alright, Papa?"
For a second, he was speechless. He found himself unable to form words. Before finally managing to say, "more than alright!"
It took a while for Carrie to even think of a name. It didn't feel right, with not having Miles there.
"I'm sure he'll be alright with whatever you call her. He'll be happy to have a healthy baby." Her mother stated. "Simply baby wouldn't do." She turned to her husband who was still invested in the newest family member. She teased him that he had enough time with her, that it was her grandmama's turn. "You can spoil her later."
"I'll wait till he comes home to name her."
The doorbell rang. All of them stopped what they were doing. A sense of doom hung in the air.
Kate offered to get it. She was taking quite a bit and Matthew wheeled out to see. There stood an officer in the doorway. Kate holding a telegram.
Matthew felt his heart sink into his stomach, his gorge rise.
He's come to tell us. He's come to tell us one of my sons are dead.
The officer nodded, tipping his hat. Surely if it was bad news...the thought was interrupted by Mary coming out into the hall. She asks something.
"A telegram came." Kate said, turning to her mother. She could not look at her father. Somewhat she felt guilt and shame. That he had hoped too much. Which is preposterous to even think and feel that way about him. She knows how much this will hurt him. She feared for him, that it would destroy him, more so than her mother. Not that her mother loved her sons any less. She did not want to see his expression when she reads the news. She knows what would be there. She had seen it on so many parent's faces. An expression beyond devastation.
This was one of his sons. Her brother.
"George?" Mary asks. She turned her gaze to her husband. She hadn't wanted to look. Surprisingly he wore no expression.
"I didn't open it yet. Maybe we can, in the sitting room?"
Matthew stood up from his chair.
"Darling, are you sure..." Mary went over to him, placing an arm on him for support. He gave a nod.
"Caroline needs it more than I do right now. She needs to stay off her feet."
They all gathered in the sitting room.
He's ready for it, ready for the pain, for his heart to be ripped out. He doesn't know if Mary would be able to pick it back up. He tries to prepare but he won't be ready.
He had his eyes closed tightly, expecting the blow. He's trying to block out the pain. Mary doesn't have to do much observing to know that it was eating at him from the inside like the cancer had, taking its place. What would take it's place once it was known what happened to one of their children. What if it was George? Their first born? Her mind went back to the memory of his birth. How happy he'd been, like he 'swallowed a box of fireworks'.
Those fireworks would explode, destroying him from the inside out. It would rock the house of Downton, shake it's foundation. There would be cracks. He'd fall ill again, and then who would help her look after the children, help look after her? Would he be unreachable, that she'd spent all her time consoling him, and not their living children?
A distant wailing. A siren of warning. It took her a moment to realize that it was their grandchild who was in the next room. It was as if she knew that something was wrong.
Kate opened the letter with agonizing patients.
"George had been captured. He was in a German prisoner of war camp, that's just been liberated. He injured his leg and they had to amputate. I suppose because of the conditions there..." Kate stopped reading as she thought she heard a faint sound coming from where her father was.
Matthew sank down on the armchair of the sofa but quickly regained his composure.
"It says he's in hospital in..." Kate continued to read off. "He'll be there for a while till he can be sent home."
Josephine came in from riding to find her sisters and her parents in the drawing room. Carrie was holding her newborn baby, who was soundly asleep in her arms.
"Family meeting?" She asked, pulling off her gloves.
"A telegram came." Her father started but couldn't finish. He didn't know how to tell his daughter without upsetting her. Usually, he did know how. And he knew how to calm her, but now, he was at a loss. This shouldn't feel like a loss. In a way, it was like his own all over again. Will George ever be the same? Will he go through what he had? George is stronger than him.
"George was hurt." Her mother was the one to speak. "It's not too serious." But her voice eventually dropped off, not sure how to continue.
"His leg's been injured." Kate informed her. "He'd been taken prisoner."
"He'll...he'll be alright."
"Of course, he will. They'll have to watch for infection." Her sister continued.
"Where...where is he? Does it say what hospital?"
Kate tells her. "I could go, help him get better."
"You know that's not possible, darling." Mary started but was cut off.
"I'll go with her." Matthew said, his voice without a waver. "She'll come with me to see him. We can stay near him."
"You most certainly will not! Do you know how unclean those places are? They have nurses there to take care of him. He'll have the most excellent care. You need to build your health back up for when he comes home."
"Mama's right, Papa." Kate finally agreed with her mother. "You could get an infection, it being so close after you stopped the radiation. And even if you hadn't, it would've been too risky. He needs to get better so he can come home."
Jo was still quiet. The new information sinking in. Her eyes fell on her newborn niece or nephew. "Can I see...?"
"It's a girl." Carrie said. "You have a niece!"
"And I'm an Auntie. It's hard to imagine it."
"It's even harder to imagine that Mama is now Grandmama."
"Was I meant to hear that? What is your dear Papa, chopped liver?"
"Are you saying I'm old?" Matthew asked with a smile.
"Most certainly not, Papa." Carrie almost blushed.
"Can I hold her?" Jo asked, sounding a bit unsure.
"I just got her to sleep. You'll wake her."
"Actually, that's a good idea." Kate made her way over, arms stretching down toward the bundle in Carrie's arms.
Carrie tried to edge away.
"What are you doing? You'll wake her. She's so peaceful now."
"We have to wake her up. It's time for her feeding."
"Yes. You must listen to nurse Crawley." Their mother said in a matter-of-fact voice.
"What better way to celebrate the news than with a baby." Josephine said as her sisters left the room. Her parents were awfully quiet. They never were. They were keeping something from her. "What aren't you telling me?"
"They had to...they had to amputate...his leg." Mary nearly choked.
"We must not fall to pieces over this." Matthew was speaking now. "This wouldn't be what he'd want. The important thing is, he's alive. And he'll be alright. We need to remain positive, so that he'll get better." Josephine went over to hug him and he put his arms around her. "It's going to be hard for him. And I know it will be on you."
"For all of us." She pulled back, took hold of his hands, and smiled. Then her smile dropped as the thought came to her. "Has anyone told Sybie or Miss Weston, Aunt Edith...Uncle Bertie...Jay..."
Jay. He's always been so close to Geroge. It will be so destressing for him, especially hard.
"I was just getting on to it." Her father said, your aunt and uncle are getting their new house ready. Jay's away at school but I'll be sure that he gets..." Jay was at his first year of University already.
"You don't have to worry about my dear sister, darling, or any of that. I'll tell them the news as soon as I can. I was going to write to them once they've gotten back."
Jo decided to leave the room, "I'll check to see how the others are getting on." But they didn't seem to hear her, as they continued talking, starting to argue. As she walked down the long hallways, they no longer felt warm. They were a breathing, frightful thing. She felt as if there was a shadow, hanging over her, watching her back. She couldn't shake the feeling. They were keeping something else from her.
Edith was going over Holcomb Castle. It wasn't as extravagant as Brancaster Castle or Downton but she was grateful for the downsize. All that great open space, though filled with servants and soldiers had been so lonely. She wasn't lonely anymore since she had met Bertie twenty-one years ago. They had now been married for almost twenty. She who loves last loves longest. She had always wanted a husband and children but that had almost slipped away from her. She had thought of herself as unattractive, the 'ugly' sister all her life. Now thinking back, she thought she had been ugly on the inside, having stooped down to her sister's level, always trying to one up her.
Now she had the life, not quite how she pictured, but it was hers, she had wanted. A husband who loved her and thought her beautiful, inside and out, a vision, as he put it. And a son.
He was now seventeen. He had received an early scholarship to the law school his uncle had attended. Not so long ago he had been just a young boy, impressionable by his older cousin, that he had tried and failed to join the army. Just last year in fact. The last she heard of her nephew Andy he decided to stay in the army to help clean up the mess. He didn't know if he'd make a career of it or not, that was back in June. His whereabout of his brother was still unknown.
She didn't see how things could go back to normal. So much had changed yet nothing was the same.
Two months ago, Germany had surrendered, though the allies were still at war with Japan, people were still celebrating all over Europe.
Jay would be coming home from school to stay with them soon. A cause for further celebration. She tried to take her mind off the thought that all would be well, that things would go back to normal. The world had barely recovered from the first war, her brother in-law and many others had barely or had become unrecognizable. They boys returning would find it hard to return to a changed world, as much as the boys who survived the first. But they would not be thinking about the hard times ahead. Hitler was dead but the war was far from over, it seemed. And here she was, focused on decorating. It distracted her from her nephew's possible demise, that he wouldn't be found, at least till everything had settled down but it still crept into her mind. He could well be dead. The person it would ultimately destroy the most, was his father. She turned back to the swatches.
She was thinking about taking out the old furniture, fixtures and wallpaper. But she knew Bertie would be reluctant to part with any of it. He was so old fashioned and as bull headed as her father had been. He would have been eighty-nine.
Her thoughts went back to her family. She hadn't heard from them in quite some time. Though the war was over the mail still took ages. Mary had intended to send a letter once they had settled into their new home.
They were in the process of moving. It might have been delivered to the wrong address or the letter could come within a few days. The post hadn't yet come today either.
When it was brought in late, she instantly recognized her sister's scrawl on the envelope. Instinctively she knew she should sit down for this.
Her niece had given birth to a healthy baby girl, with no name yet. George had been in a prison camp, and was in hospital, his leg amputated. He would be sent home once he was well enough. And Matthew was ill.
Cancer.
She curled her fist not meaning to crumple it in her hand.
"Sitting down on the job?"
"What?" Her eyes flitted to her husband, almost not registering him.
"You seem distracted, dear." Bertie looked from her to the letter in her hand, "Is that from your sister?"
"Yes. There's not very good news, I'm afraid. But some good as well."
"I think we all could use some. Edith, dear? What's wrong?"
She told him.
"How can so much good news be accompanied by bad?" She asked her husband. "Oh. Bertie!" He put his arm around her, reminding her of his own sacrifice. She'd never feel both arms around her again. But that seemed a rather small sacrifice. Now George was without a leg and Matthew...her best friend had cancer.
Initially, there would a necessary period of 'platitudes'.
We all need to say, and I think that he needs to hear, that we were sorry. It would be pointless saying 'it will be ok' because it won't be.
"Mary said there was a chance, but these treatments are so new...They just had their first grandchild. Their son returned to them." It wasn't fair, after all her best friend and her sister had suffered through.
"Pack your bags."
"What?" Edith nearly took a step back.
"We're going to Downton."
"What about Jay? He's away at University."
"We'll write to him. He'll understand. We need to be there for them. We'll send for him when we can."
Once they arrived, she went straight to her brother in-law, to see how he was and to get him out of bed. He didn't look sick just exhausted, mentally, and his hair was a bit greyer than the last she had seen him.
"You ought to go out for a walk with me. It's a rather nice day."
"So I see." He glanced at the sliver of light coming through the partially drawn curtain.
"If you're up to it, that is."
"Have you been to see my granddaughter?"
"Not yet. I had to see you first."
"She's beautiful."
"I don't doubt it. Being a grandfather looks good on you."
"Just wait until it's your turn."
"You should come see her with me. But first to get you some sun. I've come to get you out of bed anyway, so there's no way out of it."
"You shouldn't really fuss over me. While George is recovering...sitting in a hospital not that far away, I can't even go see him. This blasted radiation weakens me, my already damned weak immune system." He coughs and she grabs the tissues beside the bed. She waits a second till it subsides.
"And? What are you going to do about it?" He raised his eyebrows at her. "Do you want to just sit there and do nothing or rage that life has dealt you a very crappy hand. Because I think it's about time you've earned it." He took her hand and he squeezed it, smiling.
"I'd rather rage." The two old friends chuckled. It felt good to laugh with him again. How long had it been?
She pushed him outside in his wheelchair, under the bright warm sun.
"Mary and I are going to see him tomorrow." She said.
"Tell me how he is."
"I will."
"No matter what transpires in the next few months or...hopefully, years, just know that you have the biggest support system railing behind you."
"I'm counting on it."
Mary was with Carrie in the day Nursery. It had been a few weeks since George had been found. It would be another six months (since he went missing) before he could be sent home. Mary had soley been going to visit him on her own. She was grateful Edith went with her on her first visit. Seeing her son like that, his left leg gone, it tore at her heart. But he's alive. He is a living testimony, because he should have never made it, but by the grace of God, he did. She still couldn't help to think what sort of life he'd be coming back to. And with Matthew ill, she didn't know how to hold the family up, if he became worse. She knows he will. She pushes it to the back of her mind.
"How was George when you saw him?" Carrie asked. Her voice sounded far away.
She must have been thinking about him too. "Not very talkative." Mary replied. "With all the morphine they have him under." She hadn't been sure if it had just been that.
"I'm so glad that Miles works for the Horse Guards." Carrie displayed her relief. "and didn't have to go to the front. With Jack and what's happened to George and everything. I'm glad that Papa was too old to go, and had his injury so that he couldn't have volunteered."
Mary pressed her lips together, quickly hiding it by taking a sip of tea. "When is Miles due back?"
"I think by the end of the year." He had not yet seen his daughter. She looked nothing like her real father, thank goodness. She had the Crawley blonde hair and grey eyes. Although the blonde hair could fall out and become darker like Miles' and her eyes had yet to change to their permanent color. They were all betting on blue. Her hair was so blonde that she appeared almost bald.
Morrison, the Butler came in, "Telephone for you, My Lady." Mary stepped out into another room to answer it.
Mary listened to the doctors words carefully.
"Mhmm. I see." There was a pause on the other end or had the doctor said anything else?
Then he asked, "would you like me to speak with him?"
"I'll tell him. Thanks." She had time to wipe her eyes on the way back to the nursery.
"Who was it Mama?"
"Papa's results have come in." Carrie waited patiently. All Mary could do was shake her head before she could reply, "No change. That doesn't mean it's necessarily bad but things can..." She ran over and hugged her mother, before turning her attention back to the baby.
"I want to name her Mattie, after Papa."
"Would it be short for something?"
"No. It's just Mattie." The baby cooed and wrapped her fingers around her mother's. "You certainly like that name, don't you? Yeah, I think it suits you."
"It's not fair that I get my son back only to lose my husband." Mary said to Adeline. They were taking a walk through Downton's grounds.
"If there's anything we can do..."
They continued to walk on in silence. After their walk they went to the woman's drawing room to take tea. Mary stared out the windows, not drinking her tea.
"Just be here." Mary suddenly said. Adeline took her hand, squeezing it.
"Of course. But if you need time to spend with your family, just say the word."
Mary made an agitated stance but then eased.
"How many times do I have to tell you, you and Evelyn are family no less than Tom is. Evelyn and I've known each other ever since we were in nappies."
"Least we forget." They raised their cups as they had done many times before.
"Speaking of Tom, how is he? I heard his daughter got caught up in an explosion when her hospital was bombed."
"She was a bit shaken up for a while. Did you know that she's getting married."
"Oh? Our darling Sybie?"
"To a doctor. He was caught up in the same explosion. He nearly died. I heard she saved his life. She's gotten some award. The wedding is to be this weekend I'm told. I swear Matthew is more upset about it than Tom, that he can't be there. They've been spending a lot of time together going over the matter of the estate."
"It's not in trouble, is it? You know I would help out. Evelyn and I have more than enough."
"No. It's nothing like that. Even if you did offer again, you know I wouldn't accept a handout. But no. I'm not sure Matthew's just making sure that everything's in order will be enough."
Adeline knew her friend enough to know that it wasn't the money that she was worried about.
"Matthew will fight this."
"I know he will."
Jay arrived late in the evening, went straight to his uncle's room, past the paraded greetings and surprise from his parents.
"My, how much you've grown!" His uncle exclaimed. Every time I see you, I've forgotten that you're old enough to shave. Is there someone special yet?"
"Uncle... I'm focusing on my studies first. I'll be the youngest in my class to graduate law school!" He sat beside his uncle's bed.
"I say a congratulations are in order."
"Don't congratulate me just yet. You have to get better first."
"Jay..."
"You're supposed to be there when I graduate, get married. If you give up now, I won't speak to you again." They were silent because they both knew he'd make good on it.
"Ah, so there IS a girl."
"No. I mean...not really. I don't know."
Nathaniel came in after Jay left. The boy was twelve years old now. "The doctor will make you better, Uncle Matthew. I know you're not really my uncle but you're the only one I have." He drew the boy into a hug. A hug for his son as well.
Mary and Matthew had not discussed what course of action to take next, after she told him the doctors' findings. Then onward they never breached the subject. They could only sit and wait till things got worse or better. A few more rounds of treatment might eradicate it completely. Life had always been a series uncertainties. But not all uncertainties were heartbreaking or life shattering.
He was blessed with a grandchild. Mattie! He knows he shouldn't take pride in her being named after him. Pride cometh before the fall and all that. Mary was a little self-conscious about being a grandmother, though she tried every chance to sneak away and spend time with her. Time, she didn't get when she was younger with her own children, stuck in her traditional ways back then. Grandmama's duties are different." She had told him when he had caught her. And they had laughed. He had never seen her more beautiful, in this new role. He imagined what it felt like for her, what she would have to say, "Being a grandparent doesn't make you feel old after all; it makes you feel glad to be the age you are. It makes you feel you've actually achieved something."
The feeling was different for him than it had been when he had first become a father. He had always been looking forward to grandchildren, especially since Caroline had gotten married. She had already been pregnant, but that didn't matter to him. No words could ever accurately explain the emotions he had felt. Ecstatic to say the least, would have been an understatement. A new life and a love beyond words. Being present at her birth, he had such a strong attachment. Seeing this child and falling in love immediately was an experience like nothing else. He wanted to protect her, never stop holding her. He wanted to be there for every moment, big or small. Every milestone. Always. But he might never be.
Grandfather! The new role he took honor in because it was a role not everyone had a luxury to have. He had thought he would never live to see that day, since his diagnosis. His father hadn't lived to know his grandchildren. He wished he could have known them, feel the joy of his first grandchild, had gotten to know George.
She was planning her next trip to see George and wanted him to come with her. Out of the few times she had been able to see him, she had never asked, because she had refused him to go, fearing it'd take a toll on his health. And he had accepted that. He had wanted to stay well enough for when George came home (it wouldn't have done any good for George's recovery) But now, was she accepting that this might be the end, that he ought to see his son, before the worst happened?
When they arrived at the hospital, he could feel the anxiousness, the anxiety, radiating off Mary. He wanted to say something, to reassure her, but he couldn't. It would be lying to her.
He wanted to go home and lie in their bed, with his arms around her. He had to get his bearings. He'd comfort her afterwards. George was waiting. They had both been longing for this moment, their son returned to him, though not in one piece. Knowing he was safe, that was enough for him right now. It would be difficult for him most of all. George and everyone else had to be put before him. He was old. Well, not quite. Sixty was still relatively young. His son had a life ahead of him, he would have to find it. And for his three-month-old granddaughter, her life was just beginning.
Mary had been fearing that he could be in the same state as before. The same state that her husband had been in the first few days he received the devastating news that he was paralyzed and would never walk again, never had children. They had been wrong of course. There was no being wrong about this. George would never walk, or so she had thought at first. Recovery would be long and hard. The amputation sight had to heal before he could be fitted for a prosthetic, then he'd have to get used to it before he could start learning to walk with it. It would take a long time before he could get back to a semi-normal life. That hadn't seemed to bother Matthew. They had their son back. Back here psychically, Mary thought, what would be replacing him? Matthew, had been replaced by something else when he had returned. But he was still her Matthew but not quite. She had learned to love this different part of him, the man he had become. A little jaded and prickly around the edges, that had smoothed out over time, more reserved than he had been before. And at the same time he was kinder, it made him take things at face value, not see them as so black and white. That she had to be thankful for. He was still her Matthew in a way, just a bit different. He would always be her husband. And her son would always be her son, no matter how he has changed. She would still mourn the people that they used to be.
Just how much will he have changed? It still kept nagging at her. What if he was like before? She thought of Olivia. Maybe if they couldn't 'wake' him up, bring him out of it, maybe she could. She didn't want him to see his son like that, like he had been. Please, let his father be enough.
"Officer Crawley, you have visitors." The nurse led them to his bed, drawing back the curtain. Mary held in her anticipation. She was relieved that he was awake.
"Dad, why are you in your chair?"
A question, prompted by the morphine. He probably things he's at home. Matthew knows how to answer. He knows what not to do, look at Mary, or the injury sight.
"You know I'm getting old." He smiled at his son, not looking at his leg that ought to be there. "We had to travel a ways." There are so many things he wants to tell his son. He knows what he will be thinking. The loss in not a are still who you were before. All of that will have to wait for later. My son. He wants to bend down and kiss his son's forehead. But he doesn't. He wouldn't want to be coddled. He's a grown man. Under the influence of morphine are not, he would not want to be treated as if he was a baby. You'll always be my baby boy, my first born. It took every ounce in him to not cry. My son. My boy, how can I help you? By being here. Simply just being here for him. He waits for anything from George. But his mind is foggy from the sedative. It must wear off soon as he had been able to respond. He hadn't seemed too incoherent. George doesn't say anything more. He closes his eyes. It's then Matthew turns back to Mary.
"I think he's still out of it." He was unsure but he was hiding it. He knows the feeling, of being in between one place and another.
"I can ask the nurse when it should wear off."
He feels his son gently squeeze his hand. "Mary, wait."
George tries very hard to listen. He closed his eyes because it's hard to focus that way. He thinks, that voice belongs to his father. He can't believe that they're both here. Wherever here is. He could be at home. This wasn't his bed though. He could be dreaming. Dad never came to see him. Mum had been worried he'd get sick. But Mum having visited him before could have been a dream as well. If they were real, he was determined to like. He wanted to wake up.
He opens his eyes again. He reads his father's expression, or there lack of. He was hiding behind a smile. He saw where his gaze refused to go. This had to be real if he could characterize every detail.
"I know they amputated my leg." As he says it, he feels the pull of darkness.
Matthew's face threatened to crumble but he held fast. "You'll be alright."
I know that now that you're here.
George didn't want any visitors at times, when it was a bad day, which was quite often. Now that they were lowering the dose of morphine. Quickly he changed his tune when it was Sybie, (she'd been only able to visit a few times, she was still helping in France) even Olivia, he didn't protest. He needed to see a friend.
"My dear, friend, what did I do to deserve you?" He gave Olivia a weak smile and pulled himself up into a sitting position.
"It's really great to see you too." She pulled up a chair, sitting next to him. They got caught up on old times, she talked about what she had been doing to help the war effort, making care packages from the soldiers that were still prisoners of war.
"You can't leave out books."
"Of course, how could I not? Not what the Germans banned of course."
His voice dropped into a serious tone, but it was also boyish, and filled with worry, a hint, perhaps of panic and quilt. "Johnny was there with me. I didn't look out for him. I said I would. I went to see him one day in his block, they said a young boy died of fever. I don't know if it was him."
"There was no way of knowing if it was. I'm sure things will be known soon."
That's what he was afraid of. He didn't want to know the fate of his friends. Or Sophia, and her daughter, wailing, red faced on the porch, as Germans swarmed the house. He dared not think, but he did hope that they were taking prisoner as he had and had survived. It was a small stone in a small pond of hope. But it was something, better than letting his mind drown in a deep sea of despair. He let himself think that. That they were safe. And she had a life of her own now, free. Now he must live his.
"Was my mum and dad here?"
"Yes. Your mother was here. She's been to see you four times in the three months."
"I must have been out of it for that long. Have you been to see me since then?"
"No. This is my first time."
"My dad was here too, wasn't he? I wasn't dreaming that?"
"No. He was here too."
With that he was satisfied. He was too worn out now to ask anything else. He sunk back into the pillow and back into sleep. He didn't fear sleep for he did not dream. When he did, it was of her, his darling Sophia. To him sleep was a blessing. Sleeping had been a curse for his father when he had come back from the first one.
He isn't doing well. He's ill. He remembers being told. He knows what that meant for someone like his father.
Father. Would he be alright?
This time he dreamed that he was a little boy again, in his father's lap. Three years old, pushing his father's chair around, trying to reach his truck that had fallen under the settee, with his stick. He didn't know if it was real. But for now, he didn't care. He was free of pain.
Jo walked past her parent's bedroom, stopping as she heard her father's voice. She expected for her mother to reply back but no one spoke back. She peered through the crack of the door.
He was praying. She'd never really seen him to do it.
"I never asked for forgiveness, for the things I've done. I'm not asking for a miracle." He stopped, straightening as he hear the sound of the door.
She knelt down and prayed with him, silently.
"What is it that you have done Papa?"
"Things I've done in the war." He wasn't telling her the whole story.
"Papa, I have to tell you something." She didn't have the exact words to tell it, as all words evaded her. She showed him, pulling back her petticoat, to reveal her swelling stomach.
"This is wonderful, wonderful news!" He looked back up at her. "How long are you?"
"A few months I expect."
"Nick must be thrilled."
Jo shrugged. "Nick and I haven't been speaking."
"Everything alright? He hasn't been mistreating you I hope."
"No. He's a gentleman. He's been very kind. I love him. Just not in that way."
"If you're unhappy, I can help you get a divorce. You can come back here and you and the baby will be looked after."
"People will talk."
"They do about Carrie."
Yes. Why wouldn't they by now. With how long it was kept hidden. But the whole world was still in mourning. The gossip didn't have that much of a hold as it would have. War distinguishes what's important and what isn't. Let them think it's just that, gossip. He thought about what his youngest would think.
"But that's Carrie. She doesn't care what people think. I do."
"You can go to America and stay with your Aunt Amy and Uncle Harold or Cousin Rose and Atticus. You could have a better life there. Either way it doesn't matter. I won't see it."
"Don't talk like that Papa."
"You know, I might not." She could see the moisture in his eyes. "Has your mother told you?"
She shook her head. She found herself praying to a God she didn't know if she could believe in anymore. She had knelt for his benefit. Papa would always believe in God, even though he gave him the cancer that was slowly killing him.
"She's been taking me to get treatment near George. We won't get the results back for a week now."
She nodded subtlety. "How is he, our little Georgie?"
Before he could make a reply, her mother had entered.
Andy had finally been discharged from the army. He was furious for a while when his mother told him his father had cancer, he had had it for a while. He asked, demanded his mother to answer when he asked what was wrong with him.
They had been sitting down to dinner. Afterword's his father had been talking to Sir Hugh. When Sir Hugh called his father, Lord Grantham, he saw his father's face dissolve into confusion.
"I'm not Lord Grantham, Robert it." Then he started to sway, his eyes rolling up into his head.
He's about to fall.
He and Uncle Bertie grabbed him by the arms while Kate grabbed his wheelchair. They both eased him into it. He started to come round. He had fainted for a few seconds but seems he doesn't remember. He helped his sister get him upstairs and into bed.
When Andy came back down, he confronted his mother.
"What's wrong with father?" His mother did not answer. "And do not try to fool me by saying it's just bronchitis. It won't work this time."
"It's the side effect of the radiation treatment. He has cancer. We didn't want to tell you when you were still fighting."
"Did you plan on telling me at all?"
His mother looked right through him.
"We get the results next week."
A week later, after weeks of anticipation, and anxiety, the results were in from the doctor's office. Matthew had been the one to answer the telephone and was glad that he was the one who did. The nurse on the other end was being vague, while she sounded charismatic. Over charismatic people had something to hide, was one of Mary's motto's. He didn't want Mary to expect the worst. The nurse didn't discuss the results over the phone, his doctor wanted to see him and go over it in person.
"Who was on the telephone, darling?"
"It was the nurse from Kent."
"Is it George? Has something happened?" She was hopeful that he'd been making a better improvement.
He shook his head. "The results. She asked if somebody could come with me. I don't think if it was good news I would be seen so quickly. "
"Oh, my darling! You know I'll be with you every step of the way. You remember what you'd always tell me, there is always a silver lining."
He nodded "But for this?"
"Even for this. We just have to keep looking for it. Whatever the outcome is." She squeezed his hands, desperately she wanted him to see. See what? That it would be alright? She couldn't promise that exactly. Live, I want you to live. She had told him all those years ago, when he had seemingly given up, after his injury.
That doesn't apply to this. He thought. Or does it? Yes, of course it does. They could still make the best out of the time, the little time he might have. Keep looking. Just like she had tried to keep looking for the real me, after the war had changed me. He wondered when it was she had stopped looking, and accepted the man he was, in order for him to move on. That had been the first step toward accepting and loving himself.
Mary was such a pure, beautiful soul. The first instant we caught each other's gaze, though we used to deny it, we connected. Looking into her eyes filled me with comfort and calmed my fears, even to this day. Mary loved me so much, and I loved her too. But I had hated myself even more for it back then. The love, I had felt unworthy of. It is easy to explain yet hard to understand for some. It's feeling shameful about who you are. Feeling guilty or embarrassed about who you are, deep in your core. You feel 'different'. Damaged or flawed in fundamental, irreversible ways. You don't love yourself. Alas, there's no return policy in life. We're stuck in this skin forever, and the hate, the self-pity – it gets us nowhere.
I didn't believe I was worthy. She could see the man I was, beyond the shit-storm that was my life. She saw through my shame and self-hatred.
Mary, had to think that I was perfect and wonderful at all times. She had been my entire support system.
Now he needed her support more than ever, and the children, but they had enough on their mind. He wouldn't let himself fall down that deep dark rabbit hole, the pain and depression, like a dark, heavy, thick blanket, that he had finally shaken off all those years ago.
When they were young, to bring him down to earth, she'd remind him how much life there is to live "right now, in this moment. This moment, between the two of them. She'd kiss him, hold his head in her hands, tousle his hair and look deep into those blue eyes she loved so much and say, 'I love you for exactly who you are, right now'. He is enough. Those first few bleak years after the war, she had told him to choose life.
Words like that wouldn't do now. Life, and live, were too delicate a word. He might not have much of a life left to live. There was no choice over this. He wanted to chose life. But if it is his time to go, he must accept it.
There had been the questions, concerning his health, in the beginning. Being a paraplegic, even a particle one, there were risks. Such as a common cold could kill him if it turned in to pneumonia. His life expectancy, even after he had regained his countenance, and no longer had to use a catheter, they had thought it would be cut in half. He hadn't been expected to live past his forties.
He was fortunate to have made it to sixty. He said to Mary.
They sat together in the doctor's office, holding each other, muttering, whatever happens.
They held each other, laughing and crying tears of joy, as the doctor gave them the news.
"The tumor's shrunk enough to have the rest it removed with surgery. We can start as soon as possible."
"Our son in recovering in a hospital near here, can my husband have the surgery here so we would be able to see him."
"I can see what I can do, Lady Grandtham. I don't see why it wouldn't be difficult. He'd just need a few days' rest. But there still is a slim chance this surgery won't succeed. We might not be able to get it all."
Matthew's face slightly crumpled.
"Unless you don't want to give me the go ahead?"
"No. We'll go ahead with the surgery." Matthew said. "Seeing as this is our only last resort."
"What about infection? Because of my husband's partial paralyzes he's more susceptible."
"We've taken that into consideration. We'll keep him on antibiotics and will be monitoring him closely the whole way."
"Let's go to the day nursery. Mattie's about to be up by now." He said when they arrived home. It will be a good distraction. It would brighten his spirits, not entirely sure about the surgery, seeing as it could fail, wondering if it would be necessary to but his body through that trauma. He must think of the silver lining. It could give him several more years.
"What were you and Jo, talking about earlier?"
"We're going to be grandparents again." Her eyes sparked at this, and he returned her gaze with a smile. "There's your silver lining." They came to the nursery door and entered. He wheeled up to the cot, while Mary pulled up a chair, but didn't get the chance to sit down, as Matthew caught her hand.
"You taught me how to live again, and to accept myself, and made me oh so very happy, and richer in my mind and body and my soul than I ever could have imagined! I know why God, brought me back. For this." He smiled down at his granddaughter, then pulled on Mary's hand, signaling her to bend down. He kissed her cheek, then the top of her head. Mary felt the warm tear drops fall onto her head, but she did not yet look up. He clung to what was most precious to him.
They cleared him for surgery, to make sure he had no existing infection, to have the remainder of the tumor removed.
They cleared him for surgery, to make sure he had no existing infection, to have the remainder of the tumor removed. As the doctor explained the procedure, he asked,
"Would you like to have the shrapnel removed as well?"
"No." Matthew said abruptly before the doctor finished his question.
Mary looked from to the doctor from her husband, "What shrapnel?" Matthew was sitting uncomfortably, rubbing his hands together, pressing the old scar on the palm of his left.
"Your husband has pieces of shrapnel pressing up against his spine."
"Darling?" She gave her husband a confused. Why on earth wouldn't he tell her? Keep this from her for so long? She could only think of one. "That's what's been causing his pain?"
"Yes."
"Are you in pain now?"
"I'm always in pain." Her heart froze and stuttered. "That's what chronic means, darling."
Why didn't he tell her? Almost thirty years of silent pain, a silent hell. There's your answer. He never wants you to see his pain. That was what Isobel had told her. He could not help it, it was his nature, ingrained in him. It's not just the psychical pain, he hides. It's never been.
"The choice is entirely his." The doctor said.
"No. I don't want it removed."
"Very well then. We'll go ahead with the scheduled procedure."
"Thank you."
When he left, Mary turned toward him.
"Why didn't you tell me?" She wanted him to say it.
"Why would it matter? It would be too dangerous to remove it. Dr. Jacobson said..."
"That was twenty odd years ago. There have been numerous advances now..."
"No. It would be too risky. And with the surgery..."
"The doctor didn't seem to think so."
"Didn't think so being the key word."
"We still ought to ask him."
"The sooner I have this out of me, I can focus on getting better. Why add to the stress on my body?"
"You'd be too weak to handle two surgery's if you change your mind."
"I won't. I could end up paralyzed if one wrong move was made. And I don't want..."
"That's why you wouldn't?"
He nodded. "I don't want to go back to that." He drew in a breath that sounded like a sniffle. "Even if I could, I wouldn't want it removed. It's a reminder."
"A reminder of what?"
"What I've done." Before she could ask, and she knew he was purposely blocking her out, he added, That I will take to my grave."
She believed him. The doctor came to get him.
The surgery was a success. He was out of it from the morphine. She told him the cancer was gone. They had gotten it all. But all he seemed to care about was that he was surrounded by his family.
He spends several days in the hospital. When he was cleared to go home, Mary checked them into a hotel instead, so that she could visit George while they were nearby.
Kate and Caroline were invited to a show at the theatre, but they didn't want to leave their father's side. He told them to go and have fun. "Dear, why don't you go with them?"
"Are you sure?" Mary asked. "What will you do?"
"I'll rest or find a book to read. Make sure you lock the door and take the keys with you. I don't want to end up wondering the corridors in my dressing gown, shooting at imaginary Boshe." It had happened before. Once when the children were very young. Caroline had seen him. He was pretty sure she had forgotten all about it.
"Do you think it will come to that?"
"It's a possibility." She nodded, taking the keys off the nightstand. She gave him a kiss on the forehead before she left, sighing as she locked the door behind her. She hated locking him in like a prisoner. But she knows he's right.
