Scotch and Cigars

Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.

Robert Crawley, also known as the Earl of Grantham, left House of Lords with a sigh. He had been raised to consider serving in the Upper House to be one of the highest honors in England, and Robert had always taken that responsibility seriously. But ever since the government had changed in 1911, given far too much power to the House of Commons, Robert had felt cut off from so many of his duties. He supposed a lot of the other lords felt the same, but it didn't really help him.

Robert still often thought he'd lost something when he exited that building. The pride of his father, perhaps? The legacy of his ancestors? But there was nothing he could do about it. He could almost hear his wife, Cora's gentle voice, encouraging him to focus on the present.

Walking toward his motor, he knew Cora was probably correct. After all, it had been over ten years since the government change. And Robert had suffered far worse things since then. But all they could do was press forward.

"Robert!" Dickie Grey, also known as the Lord Merton, called out to him as he was about to climb into his motor. The tall, thin man had been Robert's best friend in his youth, although in recent years they'd grown further apart. But hearing his old friend's voice still made things less bleak.

"Hello, Dickie," Robert said with a nod. "Good to see you."

"I heard about the death of Mr. Mathew," he continued, bringing up something else Robert had lost, far worse than his rightful power in the House of Lords. "And I'd like to offer my condolences. Especially so soon after the death of your Sybil." Robert's heart ached again as he thought of his youngest daughter, who had died in childbirth only two years ago. "Could I interest you in a drink at the club to say… You understand that I'm very… Especially about Mary…" Dickie looked straight ahead as he spoke, unable to speak about such things face – to – face.

Robert nodded, understanding that his friend found such topics difficult to speak of, as Robert did as well. Perhaps when they were younger, it would have been easier, but then perhaps not, as they were too innocent for such topics then. "I will meet you at the club, Dickie," he said finally, climbing into the motor.

OOOOOOOOOOO

The club was as familiar to Robert as a second home, as he spent every night that he met with the House of Lords and was too late to return home, here. It was decorated with traditional hardwood and smelled of good liquor and proper cologne. Other Lords greeted him with a nod as a servant removed his overcoat.

Dickie arrived at a perfect time, as Robert may have heard a feminine voice coming from one of the rooms that he'd rather not think about. A couple of lords had been known to keep company of loose women, and Robert didn't wish to know which one was behaving dishonorably tonight.

He was at the club to see his friend Dickie, and spend a quiet night in his room while he prepared for tomorrow's session of the House . Nothing else. They both met each other's eyes and immediately headed for the lounge.

After ordering two scotch, Dickie sat down in the smoke – filled room in one of the empty black armchairs. Robert placed himself carefully in a nearby armchair and pulled out a cigar. Other lords smoked and drank in the distance.

But Dickie shook his head, handing Robert one of his own cigars. "This was my idea."

Robert took it gratefully, reminding himself what a fine gentleman his friend had always been, even if they didn't see each other so often. They both lit and inhaled the sweet, relaxing smoke for several moments. What should he say about Mathew? Was Dickie expecting Robert to say anything?

The blond man appeared in Robert's mind again, causing another ache in his chest. Mathew had been the perfect heir for the next Earl of Grantham. The young man's plans had saved the estate, which Robert admitted after speaking to his cousin Shrimpie, also known as Lord Flintshire.

And there was the family Mathew had planned on having with Robert's daughter, Mary. She and Mathew had a beautiful wedding about a year and half ago, full of dreams for the future. How could that all have been cut so short, on the same day their son was born, by a ridiculous automobile crash?

Inhaling another puff of cigar smoke, Robert wondered how he could explain this all to Dickie. He could barely explain it to his valet, Bates, and they'd served in the war together.

"Your scotch milords," a waiter interrupted Robert's thoughts, with two glasses on a tray.

Robert sipped his drink as he stared off into the distance, wishing this were easier. But perhaps Dickie didn't expect him to speak about it? He inhaled more smoke.

"From what I saw of Mr. Mathew, he was a fine young man," Dickie finally said, cutting through the silence.

"The finest," Robert said, not certain what else to voice. He took several sips of scotch and inhaled more smoke. "Almost like…I would've liked to, ah… have in my own son." Almost? Mathew was exactly what Robert had always wanted if he ever had a son, way before the young man had become his son - in - law. As honorable and loyal as any man could be. He shook his head, wondering if it was possible for two Englishmen to have such an intimate conversation. Especially two people who hadn't spoken closely in many years.

There was more silence as the two men simply drank and smoked for several moments. What was the point of this, anyway?

"I must admit, I'm especially concerned about Mary," Dickie said, and Robert nodded slowly. Dickie was Mary's godfather, so naturally he was rather anxious about how the girl was coping with the death of her husband.

Robert worried about his daughter, too. As much as his heart ached for Mathew, it was nothing compared to Mary's pain. He didn't wish to think about how he would feel if he ever lost his wife, and now Mary was forced to live without her husband for the rest of her days.

They both inhaled more smoke and took several drinks of scotch. "She and Mr. Mathew seemed, well… rather happy when we came to Downton for the wedding, and I wonder…" Dickie's voice trailed off, as he took another drink.

Taking a large drink, Robert said, "Quite," with a nod. "She and Mathew were happy. It's… ah,.. why I worry about her now. Her grief is so intense, and she seems so fragile." He could still hear his Mary's screaming about how her husband was dead, almost in hysterics, at the dinner table. She'd recently begun wearing colors during the day again, but Robert wasn't certain he could trust her grief was coming to an end.

"So, when you say 'happy,' you mean like," Dickie paused and took another drink of scotch, "you and Cora, as opposed to 'happy' like your parents, or 'happy' like Ada and I?"

Inhaling more cigar smoke, Robert paused at that question. Dickie must have consumed more drink than he'd thought to discuss the wide meanings of "happy marriages" in English aristocracy. It was true that all the couples Dickie had listed had different relationships with their spouses. Dickie and Ada had been wretched together, something that still caused Robert a bit of guilt, considering he'd helped organize the match for his friend. * Robert's parents had a solid friendship, but never anything deeper than that. And he and Cora had a deeply loving marriage for the last thirty – two years.

Yet all of them were described as "happy." They had to be. The aristocracy wouldn't tolerate anything less.

But perhaps Dickie had the right to ask that question, Robert decided, taking another large drink of scotch. After all, he voiced it out of concern for Mary. And Robert would never think less of someone who wished to help his grieving daughter. "Yes," he said with a sigh. "Mary and Mathew were happy like Cora and I are happy. It's what worries me so."

Nodding, Dickie inhaled more smoke from his cigar. "I'm certain it's, ah…. difficult for her now," he said slowly. He picked up his scotch and took another large drink. "But someday she'll be glad she had that kind of relationship. Trust me, Robert."

Inhaling more smoke himself, Robert thought about that for several moments. He was still extremely troubled about Mary, but perhaps Dickie had a point. No one would understand the value of having a loving relationship with a spouse than someone who had never had it.

And as worried as he was about his daughter, Robert was also filled with warmth toward his wife as he considered Dickies words. He and Cora still had a loving relationship, and he was eager to show her how much he appreciated that again.

Finally, Robert took another drink and said, "Thank you." This meeting may have started awkward, but it he supposed it helped in the end. Despite his continued worry for Mary, but Robert had begun to hope that Mary would improve someday, and he was once again reminded of how lucky he was to have Cora.

*See my story "Not Exactly a Year" especially the chapter(s) "Rosamund's Turn."