Downton Abbey:
Guy(s) Night
by Mirwalker
Chapter Fifteen: Good Word(s)
Sunday, 10 November 1912
"I don't like leaving the church before the service is over. It feels wrong," Daisy worried as she trudged back up toward the grand house beside Mrs Patmore.
"I know," the cook agreed honestly as she marched with a worldly mission. "But we stayed through the gospel and sermon at least; so we've heard the Good Word for the week. And there's no way we'll get the soufflés done in time for luncheon if we didn't come back a little early. I warned Mrs Hughes in advance; and no one saw us slip out. The good Lord knows it weren't meant as slight to Him; and there's better measure of our faith than time-in-pew…"
Daisy did not look comforted about the risk to her eternal salvation.
"I understand Mr Crawley has to get back to Manchester this evening for his job in the morning; and I don't mean to speak ill of him or anybody," she reassured ears physical and mystical, as they walked along the front of the house, toward the side entrance. "But I do wish they'd not offered them luncheon knowing we'd be gone all morning. Perhaps Mr Carson hasn't quite got the dining room ready yet, and we'll have a little more time to prepare…"
Daisy had to stop abruptly, as Mrs Patmore turned suddenly to place her face against the window they were passing.
"Let's just see…," the cook squinted to see through the panes and across the short distance to the set table. Unable to make it all out clearly, she twisted and turned, hoping for a better angle or light. And it was in such a long glance down the length of the table that she saw him: the blurry, lanky figure with golden curls and a disfigured face, staring back at her from a corner of the room.
Understanding himself seen, he stepped toward her, raising one arm and opening his mouth as if to speak.
But before he could do any more, Beryl Patmore had let out her own ghostly moan and was well on her way to a gravelly repose.
"I told her we should nah have left church early; it weren't right. Not right," Daisy sobbed into Thomas' jacket, on which she had not released her grip since the rest of the staff had returned to find her fretting over the woozy cook beside the house.
The other men had hastily helped Mrs Patmore around and down into Mrs Hughes' sitting room, while the rest of them gathered in the servants' hall. Bates and Anna were trying to calm down the cook, as the butler and housekeeper took William up to welcome the family, and to break news of the fright-delayed meal. The younger staff sat quietly by, not sure what do with their leaders otherwise engaged, and none of the regular Sunday morning routine available to occupy them by habit.
Everyone looked up nervously as William bounded down the stairs and peeked in, "Her Ladyship's asked for tea service for 'em all, least 'til they sort out luncheon."
Everyone looked to Daisy.
Thomas looked at William, "What are they sayin'?"
William was bug-eyed and swallowed as he reported that, "I've never seen His Lordship so angry, and not about luncheon, but about 'everyone seeing things that don't exist.' If it weren't for the Crawleys visiting and all, I don't know what he'd do."
Everyone tried to imagine what that scene would be like, each probably in a mix of fear and morbid curiosity.
"Her Ladyship was clear on the tea," William reminded, again looking at Daisy, and then to Thomas as the ranking member of staff present.
"Go and see if Mrs Patmore is up for tea, or luncheon beyond," he dismissed William, before gently prying the cook's de facto assistant loose from his arm. "Daisy, I'm sure Mrs Patmore is fine; and I know you are. We need you to pull yourself together, and help me pull together tea for seven." He led her stiffly down to the kitchen as William stepped into the sitting room down the other hallway.
Several long, awkward minutes after William had been dispatched for it, he and Thomas entered the sitting room with two trays of tea and biscuits. As the second footman set about distributing the refreshments, the first footman whispered a stream of updates to the butler and housekeeper who stood pale and stiff just inside the door.
"Milord, milady," Carson stepped forward as Thomas began working saucers and cups in the other direction, "I have just been informed that Mrs Patmore has washed up, and resumed her post in the kitchen. If the company are willing to forgo the soufflés, everything else should be ready to begin within a few moments."
All the most finely appointed people in the room, except one, smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. That one, the one, however, refused his tea and instead finished off the stiffer drink he'd poured himself earlier, on his way in. With a loud inhale, he decreed, "Excellent news, Carson. Perhaps everyone would like a few moments to freshen up before we sit down, and enjoy our hard-earned meal together."
As his wife stood to start that progress, and Matthew jumped to his feet in politeness, the Earl continued his pronouncement. "Then, once our dear guests have returned to the peace and quiet of their home, the rest of us will search this house from attics to basements. Every, single room and rack is to be opened and checked for unexpected persons or evidence thereof. And anything, anything out of the ordinary is to be brought to me immediately. We will turn out, finally and absolutely, any whisper of any belief in any stowaways or spirits at Downton. Am I clear?" he looked for some confirmation from each member of his staff present and his immediately family. His unhappy gaze landed finally and fully on Lady Edith.
Opposite her, Isobel tried to share a supportive glance, without catching the furious father's eye.
And behind Mrs Crawley, Thomas focused all his self-control not to bolt away to the bedroom, bath or outbuilding to learn for himself why Ian had allowed himself to be seen again, and whether he'd gotten away safely as planned. If he were found here in the house, Daisy's fears of hell to pay would fall upon them both. And no good words today would save them.
tbc...
A/N: A smaller chapter after previous longer one; more soon!