Downton Abbey:
Guy(s) Night
by Mirwalker
Chapter Forty-One: And Ye Shall Receive
Wednesday, 11 December 1912 (cont)
Thomas wasted no time in requesting personal time away for the coming Sunday and Monday, to "visit his own family" in London. Best to give as much notice as he could, to maximize the chance of success. And though Mister Carson was not as cross as he could have been just after dinner service, he was much less amenable than Thomas had hoped he would be.
"I know both Lady Mary and Lady Edith are very grateful for your traveling assistance of late; and his Lordship, remarkably lenient given your involvement with Mrs Crawley's… escapades against his wishes. However, I do not take that disobedience lightly, and…" he raised his voice against potential protest, "more importantly, your flurry of sick days and day trips has left the rest of the staff to pick up your duties, however willingly and ably handled."
Thomas wrung his hands at his side, frustrated that the butler was heading off arguments and angles he'd prepared to apply in support of his ask.
"Moreover, we're only just coming into amongst the busiest times at Downton, as you well know. And as first footman, who might harbour aspirations for grander posts, your presence is needed all the more. So, please send your family our best wishes for a Happy Christmas, and do try to focus on your duties within the house, and the good company of your fellow staff at this festive time." Even if they sounded like excerpts from a droll textbook, the last lines were delivered authentically—Mister Carson fully believed in the complete and obvious sufficiency of service.
Thomas considered arguing further, that his travel hadn't been his own, that he would work extra hard once he returned from this mere two day London trip before the thick of festivities; but the head of staff gave every indication there was no more to be said, by either of them. He had hardly looked up from his ledgers, where wine labels and tick marks were as black and white as a footman's status regarding time on and off the clock.
"I understand, of course, sir; but I'd told my parents I would ask." Knowing Ian would be nervous and disappointed, Thomas also trusted him to be more than capable of successfully reaching and settling into the basic of a London routine on his own. But that didn't mean Thomas wouldn't give most anything to be there with him through as much of that as possible, as soon as possible. So, given Mister Carson's Gibraltar-like ability not to yield once set, he turned to securing the next most likely permission-–at least short of convincing the daughters they needed another well-staffed London visit. "Might I be able to offer instead that I'll join them for a few days after the holiday season, in the new year?" A logical and a very reasonable alternative.
This stated intent to further impose on the well-oiled domestic machine interrupted the butler's scribing.
Thomas wasn't initially sure whether the pause was the result of his persistent impertinence, or the lack of a ready rebuttal.
Perhaps as both, Carson glanced up and offered a consolation non-commitment. "Mmmm. Well, I will have to consider yours along with worthy requests from all the other staff. We cannot very well have downstairs empty simply because the calendar's changed and the ornaments boxed. I shall let you know of my decision in due course."
As close to a "yes" as the staff statesman was likely to give; and also an "unless I can figure a good excuse against"… "I shall trust in your sagacity, as always. Thank you, Mister Carson," Thomas smiled.
That earned him a raised eyebrow, an uncomfortable nod and a hurried wave of dismissal.
"I thought that's how it'd go," Ian acknowledged, hanging his head.
"Hey now. In the past month I've been away more often than I have in most of me years at Downton put together. So it's no surprise he said no. But," Thomas lifted up the unhappy chin, "It also means I'm more likely to get a day or two more after New Year's, than I would've now. It's not Christmas, I know; but it'll mean even more time together in London for our patience."
Ian forced a smile as he tightened his welcome embrace. "And all this is only if you don't give notice before…"
"One Herculean task at a time, my lovely," Thomas rocked him gently, before peeling away with a kiss. "If you'll let me settle in, I've brought a mince pie, and a pile of biscuits. Mrs Patmore is trying one of Mrs Crawley's recipes, making sure she gets it right afore Christmas proper. And I know a young man with a passion for sweet baked goods that is second only to his taste for rakishly handsome gents in dapper clothes. Or out of them…"
Thursday, 12 December 1912
"Thank you, Molesley," Mrs Crawley nodded as he settled tea cups between her and the afternoon visitor.
Lady Edith merely nodded to them both, not feeling the need to fill her day with what would be an overwhelming stream of spoken gratitudes.
As each stirred or selected a morsel, the lady of the house waited until the sitting room door had closed behind the butler to say, "I am sorry it's taken so long to contrive a conversation, just the two of us. I'd so wanted the chance to see how you are given the news from Manchester, and to apologize again that I wasn't able to host you while we were there. The house there really was in no shape to receive." She leaned in, as if to share a particularly private admission. "I'm afraid with only Matthew there some of the week…"
They chuckled politely, if honestly, at the housekeeping implications for the bachelor professional.
"And I am sorry that I imposed on you that Saturday," Edith shared in turn, head and hands contrite. "I just knew that you and Thomas were on to something; and I simply couldn't bear the thought of not being there. Selfish, I know. You would have been well justified to hand me over to my parents on a platter…"
"Which would not have served either of our interests well," Isobel reminded. She did not feel it necessary, or wise, to volunteer that she had already been acting on the instructions of those same parents in the first place. "I had merely hoped to protect you from any unpleasantries in the city, and from your parents' wrath here in the country."
"And so you were wise and kind, with no need to apologize to me," Edith continued the honest pleasantries. "And in fact, I owe you so much for your support, including your raising the issue at the Sunday luncheon after, to prove I wasn't seeing things, at least on Guy Fawkes Night… I was vindicated, and Mary's had to let it drop."
Isobel could see how that victory was at least as important to the young woman as was proof of her sanity. As an only child, with only one child, the sibling rivalry was not part of the older woman's personal experience; layering on the social stakes only made it truly baffling. And speaking of, "Well, we could sit and trade polite apologies and appreciations all afternoon," Isobel pointed out. "I really wanted to see how you were with the news from Manchester, beyond its supportive testimony in the family court."
Her feelings about the new topic were obvious in Edith's sigh and slightly more relaxed posture; she even took up her tea. "I remain grateful for your interest and assistance, of course; Thomas' as well. But for myself… I am relieved, most of all. Even I didn't want to believe what I'd seen that night; but I'd seen it! And the evidence mounted."
Isobel nodded supportively.
"I also feel sorry for the old baron; I do. For the young man to repay his patronage with such behaviour; and to implicate us, me… Disgraceful really. But I suppose letting the gentleman know so, would only prolong the embarrassment for him."
"It's kind of you to consider it still…"
Edith's spirits rose on the compliment, in the safe space, and with the afternoon caffeine. "I only wish we were able to explain my seeing the man again on the gallery, or… or Mrs Patmore seeing him in the dining room."
Isobel grimaced at that still inexplicable extension to the story.
"I suppose I was so caught up in the odd excitement, that I convinced myself and spooked poor Mrs Patmore… Even vindicated, I fear the staff and family think worse of me for the hysteria I caused. Never mind Mary, mama and grandmama must."
Isobel couldn't explain the later visions; and Edith had been a bit reckless in advocating for herself. But the objective observer couldn't, and wouldn't, let the shadow of the formidable family females crush the spirit of this fledgling self-sovereign. "My dear, I will not feign to understand the full scope and impact of the social structures into which my son and I have been drawn—not on us, and certainly not on you who've lived it your entire life. My continued missteps might well be my best Christmas gift to… some of your elders."
She leaned in. "But for the same struggles, it's clear to me that the Crawley women are not just dainty beauties. Your matriarch is no trifle; your mother is a pragmatic transplant in her own right; and… well, Lady Mary isn't the only Grantham daughter who knows her own mind and has some spirit, is she?"
Edith blushed at the truths and compliment shared.
"As the Dowager Countess and your sister are only too happy to remind me, I've only married into the family—and only a distant branch at that. But as your cousin, however close, perhaps as a friend, and for what little it's worth as that outsider, I applaud your curiosity and critical thinking. And I will continue to do whatever I can do support you in pursuit of that intellectual independence."
"Aren't you the revolutionary…" Edith smiled, excited and nervous at the frank and flattering analysis.
"Only quietly, as my presence is still precarious. In fact, to avoid any etiquette outrages, I'd hoped to inquire with you about the pending Christmas rituals… What should we expect by way of Downton merry-making over the next few weeks?"
Edith beamed. Seeking her expert opinion was probably the only way Mrs Crawley could have heaped further praise upon her. Beyond an ally around the stormy visitor, perhaps she had found a friend and mentor as well. "It would be my pleasure," she blushed again and took a biscuit. "Christmas at Downton. Where to begin...?"