Downton Abbey:
Guy(s) Night
by Mirwalker
Chapter Three: Aftermath
As the senior staff had expected, the Earl of Grantham had slept neither well nor long, and so neither had they, really. He found that Bates had left him a note in his dressing room, inviting him to ring at whatever time he was up. (While it was his right to ring at any hour, the indirect permission gave him clear conscience to call, lest he hesitate on fear of waking them, or think them not capable of serving when needed.)
And so, when his bell rang in the servants' hall, Bates was ready to head up to him, passing kitchen staff well into a larger than usual breakfast, and house maids already about lighting, heating and cleaning the main rooms.
"Are you sure you'll be alright on your own for breakfast service?" Mrs Hughes asked as she fell in step with Mister Carson exiting his study to confirm the summons and note the time.
"I expect so, even with the larger attendance," he acknowledged her unspoken concern. "I felt it better to let William sleep a little now, during the moments of lighter demand, so that we can have him and Thomas up to assist with seeing off the Dowager Countess and the Crawleys."
She nodded at that wisdom, pausing at the foot of the service stairs to confess, "I'm certainly glad the rain seems to have let up this morning, as keeping them all attended and occupied for a second day might well have been too much for us."
"An occasion to which I insist we would have risen bravely," he assured.
"Aye; but I'm still grateful we won't be put upon to prove it," she smiled, and headed up to check how the main rooms were coming along.
"Well enough; thank you, sir. How did his Lordship sleep?"
"Not well, Carson, I must admit," shared the Earl, as he served himself from the already ready buffet in the morning room. "Though Bates says there was no further incident or appearance of anyone…"
"True, milord. And unless his Lordship or the family has plans this morning which will require a footman, I've given Thomas and William the opportunity for a quick nap, so they'll be back in best shape for the remainder of the day."
"That should be fine, Carson. I imagine our guests will want to be on their way home as swiftly as possible; and things here should return to normal from there. I expect we'll need to survey the house and grounds for any damage from wind or water; that is, if the weather continues to improve…" He glanced out at the lingering grey, if dry, morning.
"Very good, milord. May I ask whether your Lordship has decided what action, if any, to take… beyond the house itself? Given what Mr Bates did discover." While he'd not admit to his own curiosity about the bloody handkerchief, he did have a legitimate interest in whether his staff would be impacted by whatever the master might intend.
Putting down his first swig of tea, Robert nodded mirthlessly, having not resolved that puzzle overnight either. "I'm not sure what we can do, to be honest. What do really have to tell, and to whom? My daughter thinks she glimpsed a figure outside a window, in the midst of a terrible storm; and we happened to find a muddied scrap of fabric that could have blown in on those same winds…"
"Good points, sir. I suppose the embroidered initial had…"
"What did you find? What initial?" asked the unexpected, and unannounced Lady Edith, as she swept in and made directly for the tea service.
"Good morning, Edith," Robert reverted to the daily script, with a dirty glance at his instantly regretful butler, and a forced smile to his middle daughter. "You are up early today."
"So are you," she responded observantly. "I didn't sleep well, given the fright we had last night." She placed her cup at her seat, and moved to serve herself a small plate and some additional information, to start the day. "I noticed the lights stayed on much of the night; did someone stay up?"
Robert and Carson shared a knowing look, which the butler took at an indication he could take that question, as an opportunity to redeem himself. "Sharp-eyed, as always, your Ladyship. I hadn't meant to concern you, but given the weather, I had the footmen check occasionally for any wind or water damage to the house. I didn't want any leaks to welcome us all this morning…"
Robert nodded him a 'well-played' behind his newspaper, as Edith took her seat, unconvinced.
"And you said you'd found something, an embroidered initial on something? What was that?"
Carson was immediately busy tidying the breakfast spread.
Sighing, Robert folded the paper, cut into his eggs and continued to focus on those objects before him. "On their soggy sojourn at your bequest last night, one of the hall boys found a kerchief the storm seems to have blown onto the front drive." He put a bite into his mouth, and continued reading to signal how insignificant the report was.
Reading their discomfort as withholding from her, Edith pushed doggedly, if cheerfully. "And the embroidery you mentioned?"
"Oh, for goodness' sake, Edith," her father set down his utensils in frustration. "Amongst the many leaves and limbs invariably strewn across the estate," he nodded out the windows, "was a man's handkerchief with a 'G' monogram. I'll admit to having lost it myself on the grounds at some past point, if you'll please drop this fixation with your tempest-addled figment."
She seemed a little shocked by his stronger-than-expected response, but realized that it meant she was actually on to something. In fact, "Papa, you don't monogram your kerchiefs. None of us does."
Both men paused at having that obvious hole in their dismissal noticed so easily.
"I do wonder who our mysterious 'Mister G' is," Edith pondered aloud, her mind racing with possible explanations for the mystery figure and his motives, now that there was physical evidence that someone had been outside. "I suppose it's too soon for the morning paper to have anything about the storm or its effects?"
Not wishing or able to pursue the point any further, Robert merely nodded that was the case, and went back to dicing his eggs and ham.
"Good morning all," said Mary as she and Sybil arrived. "Well, it seems the busy morning has woken many of us early. Our apologies to you and the staff, Carson."
"No need, your Ladyship; we are always happy to be of assistance."
"And Edith, how did you sleep," her older sister asked with derision, as she made her plate, "knowing the bogeyman was outside calling for you?"
"Papa said the staff checked, and didn't find anyone," reminded Sybil, trying to be reassuring.
"Well, they didn't see the sun out there either; but here it is this morning nonetheless. And don't mock," Edith defended, thrilled to have possible proof against her chronic disbelievers. "Papa's just told me they did find something unexpected after all. A monogrammed handkerchief…"
Her sisters paused at that surprised development, and looked to their father for further explanation.
He rolled his eyes at the subject that would not die, and seized on movement at the door to change the subject. "Ah, Matthew! Cousin Isobel?" he stood, surprised to see her, as were the girls and the butler. "Mrs Hughes would have been more than happy to have a tray brought to your room."
"Good morning, all. There's no need for room service," Isobel demurred with a wide smile, oblivious or indifferent to the expectation that, as a married—if widowed—woman, she would take breakfast in bed. "With due compliments to the kitchen, we did come for the company, not the cuisine. And I can only get the former by joining in."
Stoic nods ringed the table and room.
"Will the Dowager Countess be joining us?" she asked as Matthew directed her to the morning self-service.
"I doubt we'll see Grandmama at all, to be honest," sighed Mary. "She'll have had a tray in her room, and then will have Carson whisk her out to the car quietly. She wouldn't be caught dead before an audience, even family, in the same frock two days in a row…"
As both the guest Crawleys stood at the buffet in exactly the same clothes they'd arrived in the night before, their host shot an 'unnecessary' look at his eldest daughter, and changed the subject. "You'll all be happy to know that we had no developments overnight beyond rainfall. The staff reported nothing for our vigilance, thankfully."
"Just an apparition who carries handkerchiefs monogrammed with our family initial…" corrected Edith, flush with vindication and curiosity. She'd been correct, and now had a mystery to solve.
"Well, well, look who's finally decided to wake and pull his weight today," O'Brien teased on entering the service stairwell as a bleary Thomas trudged past.
"I worked all night, thank you very much" he reminded, stifling a yawn. "Precious sleep hours dedicated to walking in silent circles, 'cause her Fraidy-ship has a vivid imagination and craves attention."
"Don't we all?" she smiled as they reached the kitchen. Handing him the tray to return for her, she suggested knowingly, "I know I want to hear all about your late night… circles. But I must now face my own adventures with the Dowager." Showing no excitement at the prospect, she turned back up the stairs.
Wondering whether she knew to ask about his night's adventure, or just suspected he'd enjoyed his unsupervised run of the house, he stepped into the busy kitchen, well into breakfast cleanup and luncheon preparations. Daisy grinned up at him across her mixing bowl as he set down the tray, grabbing an uneaten strip of bacon off it as he did.
"Ah, thank you, Thomas," Mrs Patmore almost intercepted him. "If you'll set that over here, we'll be able to all but wrap the morning dishes. I imagine you and William will be hungry, and can't wait on midday?"
"I would much appreciate even a quick plate of morning leftovers, if that would help get them out of your way."
"So helpful you are…," she smirked. "Daisy, make him a plate from the warming dish, won't ya?" Rolling her eyes as them both, she plucked the tray from between them, and headed off to disassemble it as she assembled the last of luncheon in her head.
"Thank you, Daisy," Thomas said, with his warmest smile, as she blushed and fetched the hodgepodge pan from the stove's side compartment. "As William is likely to get up closer to tea, any chance I might get a little extra to hold over this tired night watchman?"
"I shouldn't," she demurred. "It's half his…"
"True, but he was able to enjoy some of your delicious cookies much later than I was. And he is still sleeping; so how hungry can he be?"
Happy to please the twinkling eye turned her way, Daisy quickly whipped up a bowl of porridge and a plate of toast. "I'll bring some tea in a moment."
"You take great care of me…, of us," Thomas winked, and headed to the servants hall. Slurping up some less portable oatmeal for himself, he took advantage of having the room to himself to make and pocket some jam, butter and bacon sandwiches with the toast.
Daisy set a tea service beside him, and seemed to tarry in his grateful smile, until Bates' voice from the corridor sent her scurrying, "Ah, Thomas, there you are. Mr Carson had just sent me to wake you, as our guests are likely to be departing shortly. He'd like to give William a little while longer…"
"…But I'm to be woken immediately? That's gratitude."
"He'll be happy to know that I have found you, and so spirited as well," Bates deadpanned.
Thomas fired back a sarcastic smile of thanks.
Bates leaned in before circling back to the hallway, "He might also be rather displeased with what I did find when I opened your door to see why you weren't answering…"