Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, February 1917
Mary gulped in air, taking deep breaths, her chest rising and falling as she breathed deeply. She placed her hand on her damp forehead, smoothing back some loose strands of her hair that had fallen forward. Wearing her hair down was a rare pleasure, something she did often in Manchester when Lady Philomena wouldn't spare her lady's maid to help Mary prepare for bed. Since coming back to Downton, and now to London, Anna had dutifully braided her hair most nights. Though Mary did enjoy the simplicity of leaving her hair down in bed, it did pose a problem as her husband took great pleasure in dishevelling it.
Mary laughed between gasps of breath, her pulse still racing, a slight ache spread across her thighs and down through her calves. She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself, still laughing all the while.
"You do realize that laughter is probably the second least desired reaction that a man wishes to hear after he's made love to his wife, don't you?" Matthew said, licking his lips as he lay next to her, his eyes closed.
"And what would the least preferred response be?" Mary asked, sighing pleasantly as she grinned at him.
"Some would say snoring, but I disagree. One can always try and convince oneself that a woman snoring is the result of the sex being so powerful that it literally rendered her unconscious," Matthew smiled, eyes still closed.
Mary laughed again. "You would put a literal meaning to 'the little death' then, would you?"
"Precisely," Matthew nodded. "I would be far more aghast to be met by a yawn. One cannot exactly twist such a reaction to mean anything other than one particularly horrid meaning."
"That the sex was boring?" Mary smirked.
"Exactly," Matthew said. "But again, laughing is hardly welcome either. So, explain yourself, wife."
Mary moved over and rested her head against his chest. She took his hand in hers and placed them on his stomach, idly playing with his fingers.
"It's just this whole situation – you, me, us, married, living in London with our son – you must admit that after what happened to send me to Manchester, this was a rather impossible scenario," Mary said softly.
"Perhaps, but that doesn't make it a comical one, does it?" Matthew replied.
"Oh, for God's sake," Mary rolled her eyes. She lifted her head to look at him and he opened his eyes and looked at her quizzically.
"You were magnificent," Mary said pointedly. "I may not be able to walk properly in the morning and I am quite certain that I saw stars at one point. There, will that appease you?"
"Shockingly, no," Matthew grumbled sarcastically.
"You didn't marry me because I am forthright with my feelings, Matthew," Mary retorted, settling back against his chest. "And it is entirely rude to openly question how I feel about our lovemaking. Besides, I would have thought that I was more than…vocal…enough to be rather clear in how I felt about your performance."
Mary blushed fiercely, glad to be facing away from him as she gazed down his flat stomach.
"Fine," Matthew chuckled. "I suppose I have all the evidence that I require. Now, back to your musings."
"I just…" Mary began again, shaking her head. "I just can't believe it. I keep expecting something to happen to turn all of this to ashes. But even when I think about what could go wrong, I can't imagine anything so dire. If we had to leave London, I wouldn't be sad about it. If we had to relinquish control to Papa, so be it. Now that I know you won't be called to the Front and George is healthy, what more could I ask for? And yet we do have more; so much more."
"You've been so used to defeat for so long that you are having trouble absorbing what victory feels like," Matthew smiled, running his hand along her back.
"I suppose so," Mary nodded. "I suppose…we've won."
"Well, there is still the matter of the War that's going on," Matthew said lightly.
"I know that," Mary rolled her eyes. "I meant us, and I'm not even thinking about Downton. We're married and we have a son, and nothing can change that. Nothing."
"I'll remind you of that the next time George spits up on one of your expensive blouses," Matthew smiled.
"He's an angel," Mary shot back. "When it comes to ruining my clothes, his Papa is far more often at fault than he is."
"Well you aren't wearing anything right now," Matthew said, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. "Perhaps we should take advantage."
He rolled her on to her back as she laughed again, her arms circling his shoulders and pulling him down to her for a kiss.
"You know, laughing after sex is one thing, but laughing during sex is much, much worse," Matthew said between kisses.
"Mmm, then why don't you do something about it then?" Mary teased.
"Yes, my Lady," Matthew smirked, moving on top of her and kissing her once more.
Crawley House, Downton Village, Yorkshire, England, March 1917
"I am very pleased to see you, Sybil, but I must admit I am rather surprised," Isobel smiled as Sybil sipped her tea.
"I'm sorry that I haven't been by more often," Sybil nodded, balancing her tea cup and saucer in her hands. "But with both Mary and Edith now married and living away from Downton, I find I have more time to myself now. I thought it long overdue that I paid you a visit."
"Well, thank you," Isobel smiled. "I'm afraid we don't have much time, unfortunately. I'm due to go over to the hospital in an hour."
"Ah," Sybil nodded, looking down at her teacup.
"Sybil?" Isobel frowned slightly.
"Well, I don't suppose that you would consider me going with you, would you, Cousin Isobel?" Sybil asked nervously. "To the hospital, I mean."
"Of course you may come along, Sybil," Isobel smiled in surprise. "However, doesn't Cousin Cora have any plans for you this afternoon?"
"Nothing that can't wait," Sybil muttered.
Isobel smiled and put her teacup back down. In her time at Downton, she had learned the differences between the Crawley sisters and she found such nuances amusing. She always knew Mary was quite strong willed to have endured what she had in life, and now having met all three of the daughters, she could see that they had similar traits. Mary was just better at hiding her feelings. Sybil was an open book by comparison.
"Are you finding life without your sisters is not to your taste, my dear?" Isobel asked carefully.
Sybil met her eyes and shrugged apologetically.
"I just can't help but feel I should be doing something…something of value. There's a War going on, and Mary is supporting Cousin Matthew and raising their son, and Edith is with Sir Anthony, and I…I'm just here," she said shakily.
"Your life has changed from the direction everyone expected it to go," Isobel nodded.
"The boys who I danced with at my debut, they've all gone off to fight," Sybil explained. "Some of them…some of them have died."
"What a terrible thing," Isobel nodded in understanding, her heart clenching slightly at the thought of how despondent they would all be if Matthew had been assigned to the infantry and gone to the Front, rather than be working in British Intelligence in London.
"I'm not saying that I regret that I'm not married yet. That's not it at all, despite what Mama or Granny may think," Sybil shook her head. "But I feel as though I'm…I'm stuck, somehow. I don't know what to do with myself or how to fill each day with anything other than choosing dresses and reading and paying calls. I just feel so useless. Wasting my life while the soldiers sacrifice theirs."
"Well there is plenty to be done, if you are up to it," Isobel said lightly. "Cousin Cora was mentioning she may organize another fundraising concert shortly at Downton."
"No, I don't mean selling programs or finding prizes for the Tombola," Sybil shook her head. "I want to do a real job. Real work."
"Well, if you are serious, what about an auxiliary nurse? There's a training college in York. I know I could get you onto a course. It may be something of a rough awakening, but if Mary can do the job so admirably, I'm sure that you can as well. You would need to learn certain things before you go, of course, such as making your own bed, scrubbing the floor, basic cooking skills," Isobel said.
Sybil's face immediately brightened and she nodded eagerly. "I can do that! Well, some of it, anyway."
Isobel smiled in return. "Why don't we go and see Mrs. Bird and we can go over a few things? I'll show you some more when we get to the hospital and I'll ask Major Clarkson to place a call to York for you."
Sybil put her teacup down and stood up, beaming at Isobel. Isobel smiled and touched the young girl's chin affectionately before ushering her through to the kitchen.
Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, March 1917
"You suggested what?" Mary asked, her eyes widening in alarm as she stared at the telephone.
"I merely said I thought that she could make a fine nurse," Isobel explained, her voice echoing slightly over the phone. "We had a few mishaps trying to teach her how to boil water and clean dishes, but I think Sybil is very eager to learn."
"She's certainly eager, that's true," Mary said, rolling her eyes. "Mama and Granny will faint when they hear, and I'm not there to back you up, Isobel."
"I can handle them," Isobel laughed. "Besides, we've already made the call to York and gotten Sybil a place. Surely they wouldn't forbid her from going?"
"I don't know," Mary shook her head. "Deep down they were never too bothered about what would become of Edith and I, but Sybil is the baby of the family. It was bad enough when she went to the by-election years ago. Ever since then, they're afraid she'll turn into a revolutionary."
"I'm not encouraging her to do that. I'm merely helping her become an auxiliary nurse," Isobel huffed. "The talent for such a vocation must run in the family."
"I was merely a nurse's assistant, Isobel," Mary smiled. "I never took any course."
"You most certainly did. I was your teacher," Isobel retorted.
Mary laughed, then gasped slightly as she felt hands across her waist and Matthew's body slide up against her back.
"Whoever you're talking to, get rid of them," he whispered into her ear.
"Mary?" Isobel asked.
"I'm still here," Mary managed, closing her eyes as Matthew's hands moved up her front and cupped her breasts through her thin blouse.
"Please, Mary. I want you," Matthew begged against her free ear, moving down to kiss her neck.
Mary swallowed as she felt him press firmly against her.
"I was hoping you could talk to Robert," Isobel said slowly. "Cousin Cora is bound to call him about this. The less he objects to it, the more likely it is that they'll let Sybil go through with it."
"I don't know," Mary hissed, struggling to keep composed. "Papa doesn't take very kindly to anything I have to suggest, and he still blames me for planting the seeds of dissent in her."
"Do try, please," Isobel said. "I don't want them to be at odds. Sybil will be away a fair bit, and when she comes back she'll be working at the hospital. I can't have her being uncomfortable at home. It will affect her ability to work properly."
"I'll…I'll try," Mary said.
Matthew began unbuttoning her blouse, his fingers sliding against her bare stomach as he moved up her body.
"You can recruit Matthew to Sybil's cause," Isobel suggested. "Perhaps Robert will listen to him."
"That's a good idea," Mary agreed. "I'll raise it with him when he comes home from work."
"Thank you, Mary," Isobel said. "I knew I could count on you. Good bye."
"Good bye, Isobel," Mary said, fumbling as she hung up the phone.
"That was Mother?" Matthew said in shock, removing his hands from his wife and stepping away from her.
"Oh, so now you aren't so brazen, are you?" Mary said, turning towards him, her blouse half undone, her eyebrow quirked at him.
"Why didn't you warn me?" Matthew frowned. "She could have overheard us!"
"Darling, I don't quite know how to explain this to you, but I'm quite sure that your mother is well aware that we've had marital relations," Mary smirked, stepping towards him.
"I would still rather prefer it if she not listen to my attempts at seduction," Matthew rolled his eyes as Mary came into his embrace.
"Whatever happened to you wanting me desperately?" Mary teased, kissing him softly. "Not so randy anymore, are we?"
"I never said that," Matthew growled. He lifted her up suddenly, causing her to yelp in surprise. Her arms went around his neck and her legs wrapped across his waist as he carried her over to the sofa.
"Matthew!" she said quickly as he kissed her neck. "Not here! Someone could come in!"
"I locked the doors," Matthew smirked, sitting down and settling her in his lap. "Most of the servants are out running errands or buying groceries. The rest of them are wise enough to know that I do not wish to be disturbed."
His fingers quickly unbuttoned the rest of her blouse and Mary gasped in shock as he pulled it from her body.
"Matthew, we're in the library in the middle of the day!" Mary said weakly, her hand moving between them to grasp him through his trousers.
"Yes, Mary," he smiled against her shoulder as he lifted her camisole. "I'm afraid it would take too much effort to locate a spare room at the nearest hospital, so the library will have to do."
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, March 1917
Cora frowned. She glanced over at Violet for support. Finding her mother-in-law's usual bored expression looking back at her, she focused again on Isobel.
"I'm sorry, but if Dr. Clarkson needs free labour, I'd prefer him not to find it in my nursery," Cora said plainly, putting her teacup and saucer back down on the table.
"But, Cousin, Sybil isn't in the nursery," Isobel said patiently.
"No," Violet said, looking at Cora. "And in case you haven't noticed, she hasn't been there for some time."
Cora looked over at her mother-in-law and curled her lip in disappointment. She hated being outnumbered.
"You know what I mean," Cora said brusquely.
"Well, no, not really," Violet shrugged. "You can't pretend that it's not respectable when every day we're treated to pictures of queens and princesses in Red Cross uniform, ladling soup down the throat of some unfortunate."
"Yes," Isobel nodded, then glanced over at Violet quizzically. "Something like that."
"But Sybil won't be ladling soup," Cora shook her head. "She'll have to witness unimaginable horrors, and she's an innocent."
"Mary was an innocent when she came to me in Manchester," Isobel said carefully. "I thought her innocence actually protected her. She was able to approach each task and carry out her work without being disillusioned or cynical. She gave each patient her best because everything was so new to her. I imagine Sybil will be the same. And I won't permit her to face anything alone, Cousin. I'll be with her, as will other nurses and Dr. Clarkson. She won't be thrown into the trenches."
Cora sighed, looking away for a moment.
"Sybil must be allowed to do her bit like everyone else," Violet added. "You must trust that you've raised her to take on these challenges and thrive."
"Just as Mary did," Isobel agreed.
Cora turned and looked at her, her fierce glare softening slightly.
"Do you…do you truly believe that Mary succeeded thanks in some small part to me, or was it more despite what I did to her?" she asked quietly.
"I truly believe that she has an inner strength that allowed her to accomplish what she did, to not only survive, but to overcome. That came from someone, and not to offend Cousin Robert, but I don't believe she learned it from him," Isobel replied.
Cora sighed.
"Fine," she nodded.
"Thank you, Cousin," Isobel smiled, looking over at Violet, then back at Cora. "Sybil will be so pleased."
"I'm not in total agreement with this plan, however," Cora said swiftly. "When Sybil is done her course, she'll return here, not to the hospital."
"But how will she work if you keep her trapped at Downton?" Violet frowned.
"She'll work here," Cora declared. "Cousin Isobel, haven't you been telling me that the hospital is overcrowded?"
"Yes, but I don't see how that permits Sybil to remain here instead of working with Dr. Clarkson," Isobel frowned in confusion.
"We'll open some of the rooms here for convalescing soldiers," Cora said. "We can use one of the ballrooms and parts of the ground floor. I won't allow the upstairs or the library to be taken over, but some of the more stable and manageable cases can be brought here and we'll put them up while they recover."
"You'll need beds and linens and supplies," Violet said. "The furniture will need to be moved, the walls covered."
"We can arrange for all of that," Cora scoffed. "Robert will think it a grand idea that we're supporting the soldiers, and it will play well across the county and in Society. 'Earl's family takes the wounded into his Country Home'. It does have a heartwarming ring to it."
"That's…brilliant, Cousin," Isobel shook her head in surprise.
"Sybil can be part of the team that works here under your supervision and that of Dr. Clarkson and the staff that he assigns here," Cora continued.
"And you can keep a watchful eye on her," Violet chuckled.
"If she's to leave the nest, I don't think it's asking too much to insist she only fly a short way at first," Cora said haughtily.
"There will be all…sorts…of men here, Cousin," Isobel said carefully, her hopes soaring at the suggestion but feeling the need to be clear. "We won't bring the more dire patients over, but most soldiers are not nearly as…polite…as you're used to."
"The hospital area will be properly cordoned off from our part of the house," Cora replied. "Besides, I can't be picky about who stays here when each of them has put up their life for my protection, can I?"
"No, you can't," Violet said easily, looking over at Isobel in surprise.
Room 40, Admiralty Building, Whitehall, London, England, March 1917
"Just think about it," Nigel said. "How do you defeat your enemy in warfare?"
"Have more soldiers than he does at the end of it," Reverend Montgomery said easily, sipping his tea.
"Yes, if these were Roman times, but there are battles all across Europe and through to Africa and beyond. Total victory is impossible," Matthew said.
"Exactly," Nigel nodded. "The victor will be the side that forces the surrender of the other."
"So how do you force your enemy to capitulate?" Reverend Montgomery asked.
"Particularly when each side is comprised of multiple nations? That means multiple governments, leaders, and ideas," Matthew said.
"Precisely," Nigel pointed at Matthew in acknowledgment. "You need a show of force, something so grand that it shall convince your enemy that resistance is futile."
"But what would that be? The sides are rather evenly matched. The moment that one army gets a particular weapon, the other steals it and manufacturers something similar," Reverend Montgomery stated.
"You strike at the heart, the vulnerable underbelly of the enemy," Nigel said. "You hit them where they live."
"Berlin," Matthew said.
"Yes," Nigel nodded. "It's far too reckless a stunt for this government to try, but that's what I would do. Bomb their capital. If we show that we can reach them there, they'll be terrified. They won't be able to sleep at night."
"And how do you expect to do that when we're barely keeping them from invading France? Paris is more likely to fall than Berlin based on geography and distance alone," Reverend Montgomery said.
"I don't know. I'm merely an analyst," Nigel smiled. "But that's what I would do. Hit them there."
"The Army may not be able to reach them, but a small force perhaps could break through surreptitiously," Matthew mused.
"And how do you know that the government isn't planning such a coup?" Reverend Montgomery said. "Enough daydreaming. Get back to work."
They all turned back to their desks and took up the next pile of communications that had come across.
"Why do we assume that we're untouchable here?" Matthew asked out loud. "Is it because we're an island and not as reachable as France?"
"That's precisely why," Nigel replied, not looking up from his papers. "However would they reach London? They couldn't get through our defences, even if they were able to cross over."
Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, April 1917
"Welcome home, sir," Bates said, taking Matthew's coat and briefcase from him.
"Thank you, Bates," Matthew nodded. "Is Lady Mary about?"
"She's upstairs, I believe, sir," Bates replied. "She told us that dinner will be served later tonight. She's been on the telephone for most of the day."
"I see. Thank you, Bates. I'll see you at the gong then," Matthew said, walking quickly upstairs.
"Bates said that dinner has been pushed back?" Matthew asked as he came into the bedroom.
"I'm not up for it, yet," Mary sighed, adjusting herself in bed. "It's been a rather tiring day. I needed to get off my feet."
"Anything in particular?" Matthew asked lightly as he went into his dressing room and removed his blazer jacket.
"Just coordinating deliveries for the convalescent hospital at Downton," Mary called, her eyes closed. "Most of the suppliers are based here, so of course Mama felt the need for me to become involved."
"Well, you do have a way of convincing people to do your bidding when you wish," Matthew laughed, removing his shirt and trousers.
Mary turned over and opened her eyes, smirking as she watched her husband disrobe in his dressing room.
"Mama just wants to avoid dealing with the logistics, and she doesn't want Isobel to think she's incapable, so she delegated the task to me. It wasn't difficult. The beds and supplies were ordered already. They just want to make sure it's all delivered and set up in time for Sybil's return," Mary said.
"I still can't believe that your Mama agreed to it all – Sybil becoming a nurse and opening up Downton. It's very unlike her," Matthew smiled.
"It makes her appear generous and allows her to keep Sybil under watch. Believe me, it is exactly like her," Mary huffed.
Matthew came out of his dressing room wearing his robe. He smiled as he came to bed and settled under the blankets next to her.
"Aren't we rather decadent?" Mary smiled lazily at him. "In bed in the late afternoon without a care in the world?"
"I wouldn't say that," Matthew smirked. "Though today was a rather good day."
"Truly?" Mary asked. "How so?"
"We received word from Washington," Matthew said quietly. "The Americans are going to declare War on Germany tomorrow. They're finally coming over."
"Oh, Matthew!" Mary exclaimed, sitting up slightly and opening her eyes wider. "That's wonderful news! They could be just the reinforcements that we need!"
"I expect it will be slow at first," Matthew warned. "Mobilizing an army takes time. It could be months before we actually see them at the Front. But the very idea that they're joining our side will hopefully strike fear into the Huns."
"Is that why you've come to bed so eagerly then?" Mary raised her eyebrow at him, her hand moving below the blankets and pulling the tie of his robe open. "You'd like to celebrate would you?"
"Well you are half American, darling," Matthew said pointedly as he moved towards her. "I feel it's only proper to thank you for saving us Brits."
Mary laughed as he removed his robe, revealing his naked body. She opened her arms and took him in, kissing him as he moved on top of her.
"Rather convenient that I delayed dinner, then, isn't it?" Mary sighed as he kissed her breasts through her blouse, his hands pulling her skirt up her legs.
"Very convenient," Matthew whispered, smiling as he heard her gasp as he pulled her drawers down her legs. "I need sufficient time to show you the depths of my appreciation, darling."
Mary arched her back, her hand moving down and curling in his hair as her hips moved of their own accord.
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, April 1917
"Have you heard from Sir Anthony?" Sybil asked as she carried a load of towels into the room.
"He's in good spirits," Edith shrugged, carrying the carafes of water. "He doesn't mention much about the War in his letters. I probably prefer it that way."
"I wish you would stay here with us," Sybil said sympathetically. "I miss you, and Loxley must be terribly lonely."
"The servants are kind," Edith shrugged. "They're nice to me and do what I say despite my inability to give my husband any children."
"Don't blame yourself for that," Sybil frowned as she placed a towel on each bed. "You barely had any time together before he was called up, and you knew there would be issues with his being older."
"I suppose," Edith sighed, placing a carafe on the small table beside each bed. "When will Mary be bringing George back?"
"I've made her promise to come back for the concert in the Summer," Sybil said. "She's enjoying life in London quite a bit, but she was intrigued when Mama told her we were opening up Downton for the soldiers, and I think she wants to see how we get on."
"She's more than welcome to come help," Edith grumbled. "She was the first nurse in the family."
"I don't know if it's a good idea for her to be here or not," Sybil smiled. "She wouldn't be nearly as understanding about some of the flirting that the men get up to."
"If any of them have heard of her story, then she would be in for a constant barrage, yes," Edith laughed. "Though I still don't know how I've become so used to it. Private Lindsay asked me for a kiss after I delivered his book yesterday."
"And what did you say?" Sybil whispered in shock.
"I told him that I was a married woman, of course!" Edith blushed. "He mentioned something about giving him an incentive to get through his therapy exercises."
"And what did you say to that?" Sybul smiled.
Edith blushed as she took hold of the book cart.
"I told him to finish his exercises for a week and afterwards…I would see…" Edith muttered.
"You naughty temptress," Sybil laughed.
Edith turned bright red. "I am not! I…I mentioned it to Anthony and he said I should do what I can to comfort the soldiers, within reason of course."
"He didn't!" Sybil said in shock, her mouth falling open.
"He gave me explicit instructions on what I am permitted to do for the soldiers and what I…" Edith stopped herself and swallowed.
"And?" Sybil asked, intrigued.
"What am I to do for him when he returns on his next leave," Edith whispered, looking away from her sister.
"My, my, Sir Anthony is far more bold than any of us gave him credit for," Sybil said.
"He is," Edith nodded. She looked over and Sybil and the two of them burst out laughing.
Room 40, Admiralty Building, Whitehall, London, England, May 1917
Matthew frowned as he ran his pencil over the page in front of him. He glanced over at the German codebook again, then looked back at his work.
"That can't be," he muttered, checking over things again. When he had gone through the message several times, he finally picked up the page and got up from his desk.
"Do we have a map?" he asked no one in particular, coming over to the large table along one wall of the room.
"Here you are, Mr. Crawley," a woman said, bringing a rolled up map to him. Matthew unfurled it and placed it on the table, weighing down the corners with books. He ran his fingers along the map, beginning in London and moving out towards Belgium.
"Reverend Montgomery," Matthew called over his shoulder. Reverend Montgomery and Nigel came over and joined him at the table.
"What is it, Matthew?" Reverend Montgomery asked.
"This is a communication regarding mechanics and supplies being sent to Belgium, to Ghent in particular," Matthew said, passing the decoded message to Nigel. "It's parts and labour for aeroplanes."
"That's not unusual," Reverend Montgomery frowned, looking at the message himself. "Engine bearings and fuel tanks. What's so peculiar about that?"
"The airfield that the Germans use in Ghent is for a squadron of bombers," Matthew said, pointing to the spot on the map. "The extra fuel tanks could be to increase their effective range."
Nigel looked at the map, then frowned.
"You think they're arming a squadron to attack London?" Nigel asked.
"That's impossible," Reverend Montgomery shook his head.
"Why?" Matthew asked. "They've been sending Zeppelins at England for years. An aeroplane is much more manoeuvrable, and faster besides. I'm willing to speculate that the load would be higher as well, allowing them to deliver more bombs to the target."
"Even if they had designs on coming here, they would never make it," Reverend Montgomery scoffed. "The winds and the low cloud ceiling would deter them, not to mention our own aeroplanes and defences."
"I'd like this passed up the chain nonetheless," Matthew said. "I am prepared to take full responsibility."
"Easy, Matthew," Reverend Montgomery smirked. "Of course, I'll send it up the chain. Since when have I ever censored one of your messages?"
Matthew swallowed in embarrassment.
"I don't want you to panic, is all," Reverend Montgomery said.
"Thank you, sir," Matthew nodded sheepishly.
"Good work, Matthew," Nigel said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Let's hope that you're wrong though."
Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, May 1917
"Mama called for you today," Mary said, taking a spoonful of yogurt.
"I spoke to her," Robert said curtly. "She told me the billiards table needs to be resurfaced. Apparently one of the soldiers ruined it trying a particularly acrobatic shot."
Matthew smirked.
"It's all part of the War effort, Papa," Mary smiled. "They need to have some diversion and entertainment, you know."
"I am well aware, Mary, yes," Robert said tightly.
"Sybil and Edith are both performing admirably," Matthew interjected. "Mother says they are very good and even Dr. Clarkson has remarked on how adept they are."
"I hardly think that fluffing pillows and bringing tea are skills that should be overly celebrated," Robert scoffed.
Mary rolled her eyes.
"I suppose it's still preferable to the alternative," Robert continued. "The thought of either of them touching blood or seeing wounds is abominable."
"You can't protect them forever, Papa," Mary huffed in exasperation. "Edith is a married woman, for God's sake, and Sybil is a fully trained nurse now."
Robert glared at her.
"It's my duty to protect them, for as long as I have breath left," Robert snarled. "I don't abandon my children simply because they've reached adulthood."
"No, age isn't a factor on how much you are prepared to fight for us," Mary retorted. "Only your level of disappointment."
Robert's mouth dropped open in shock.
"Perhaps we should go check on George, darling," Matthew suggested.
"Yes, that's a good idea," Mary said, still fuming at her father.
"No," Robert said firmly. "Matthew, you can go on up. Mary, stay here."
"What?" Mary frowned.
Robert ignored her and turned his head towards Bates.
"Bates, please bring in a bottle of port and two glasses for Lady Mary and myself," he ordered.
"Yes, my Lord," Bates nodded, moving to fetch the requested items.
"Robert, we've all had a long day and…" Matthew began.
Robert raised his hand.
"Matthew, go up and see your son. Mary and I are going to sit and talk, and neither one of us are going to leave this room until we've had it out, once and for all," Robert said sternly, looking at Mary.
"I don't think that is necessarily…" Matthew said.
"Darling," Mary said, meeting her father's gaze. "Go ahead. I'll be up later."
Matthew sighed and glanced at the two of them locked in a staring contest.
"Very well," Matthew said, rising from the table. "But please let this be worth something in the end."
"That will depend on Papa," Mary snarled.
Matthew left the room and closed the door behind him. Bates brought the decanter into the room and poured a glass for each the Earl and Lady Mary.
"Leave us, Bates, and close the door behind you," Robert commanded, his eyes still looking at his daughter.
"Lock it," Mary added.
Bates complied quickly. As he came down the back stairs to the servants' rooms, Anna looked at him in concern.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"His Lordship and Lady Mary are about to have a right duel," Bates sighed, smiling at her.
"Oh my," Anna exclaimed, her eyes widening. "I hope she goes easy on him."
Bates laughed and touched her arm lightly, escorting her back to the servants' dining room.
Robert raised his glass. Mary did the same. They each took a long drink, then placed their glasses down as they appraised each other.
"You think this will work, do you?" Mary asked. "We'll argue for an hour and at the end of it, I'll come sobbing into your arms and we'll be reconciled, is that it?"
"No," Robert shook his head. "I don't expect much to change, but I won't live like this any further. As much as you will not believe me, I do not enjoy living under the same roof as you knowing that you despise me so. Perhaps that will never change, but if this is to be our relationship from now on, then at least I shall clear my conscience knowing that I did everything in my power to set things right, regardless of the outcome."
"Everything in your power," Mary laughed. "You think you can make up for years of negligence in one evening, do you?"
"Negligence?" Robert repeated. "That's hardly appropriate, Mary."
"Isn't it?" Mary asked, her eyes fiery. "Do you know the number of times that Matthew's father scolded me in the years that I knew him? None. Not once. He was the head of their family. It was my duty to obey him, just as I was raised to obey you. He never raised his voice against me. He never showed any disappointment with me, and I assure you, there were moments where I did disappoint him. Now you tell me whether the manner in which you have treated me is anything short of negligence in light of how I was treated in Manchester!"
"I will never be able to measure up to your father-in-law," Robert said quietly. "Or to your husband. I know that now. They're both saints in your eyes. They could never set a foot wrong. They saved you from the horror that I imposed upon you. Now you have your husband who worships the ground you walk on. You don't need me anymore. I'm the devil in all of this."
"Don't pity yourself. It's pathetic," Mary scoffed. "You think that's what this is all about? That I think Dr. Crawley and Matthew are perfect men? Hardly! If you think that Matthew and I often argued in front of you, you should see the number of times we argued in Manchester, you should see how often we still argue with each other in private. He's far from perfect, but I love him completely and he loves me, regardless of how often we may irritate or infuriate each other. Dr. Crawley had vices. His vices are what killed him. A part of me can never forgive him for that, and Matthew feels the same way. But we love him. We love him, faults and all because he never judged us."
"So that's it," Robert nodded, finishing his port, then refilling their glasses. "It's because I pushed you, and had ambitions for you, and wanted you to do better, that's my ultimate failure with you, is it?"
"Why did you never have such expectations or Edith or Sybil?" Mary demanded. "My path was clear. I would marry Patrick, have a son and ensure your family line continued. Why did you leave Edith and Sybil to Mama and not get as involved in their upbringing? Even after you sent me away, you did nothing to push Edith towards Patrick. Why not?"
Robert frowned. "Your Mama was perfectly capable. There was no need for me to…"
"It's because they didn't matter," Mary said caustically. "I was the eldest so everything fell to me. All of the duty, the obligation, the future of the Crawley name and the Earldom. Patrick could have married anyone, but you wanted him to marry me so you could have control. You didn't think that Edith or Sybil were up for the task of keeping him in line and being Countess. That was my mission, and when you thought that I had slept with the Turk, you thought I ruined your grand plan."
"Don't be ridiculous," Robert said, his voice wavering.
Mary laughed, then sipped her port.
"That's why we can never get past this, Papa. Do you see it now? We can each apologize and beg forgiveness or try and be civil as much as we wish. But in the end, I resent you for treating me like a pawn instead of as your daughter, and you can't think of me as anyone other than the rebellious teenager who defied you. I'm married to your heir, and I've given you a grandson, but you still expect me to disappoint you somehow, don't you?"
Robert swallowed tightly. He refilled their glasses again.
"I suppose that a part of me wants to see you fail, if only because it will show that you still needed me. To see you and Matthew so happy and doing so well, with George also, it's a constant reminder that you've reached this point in spite of me, rather than because of me," Robert said, looking at his glass.
Mary took a deep breath.
"If you expect me to correct you, I won't," Mary said quietly. "The moment I left Downton for Manchester, I learned to rely upon myself and no one else. I have many people to thank for lifting me up – Matthew, Isobel, Dr. Crawley, even Sybil and Granny to a degree."
"But not me," Robert said bitterly, looking up at her.
"I suppose I'm thankful that you didn't throw me out after I came back," Mary shrugged.
"That was your husband's idea, not mine," Robert huffed.
"I know," Mary smirked.
Robert chuckled mirthlessly.
"If you're worried about me excluding you from George's life, I won't," Mary said. "You're his only grandfather, and you're still the Earl. He needs to have a relationship with you, hopefully a better one than we did."
Robert nodded.
"I'm not worried about that, though I do appreciate you saying it," he said. "I'm worried that as time goes on, you'll need me less and less, and I won't have any relationship with you. I know that you probably think I don't deserve one, but I do worry about that."
"Oh Papa," Mary rolled her eyes. "I'm back and I'm not leaving. I couldn't avoid you entirely even if I wanted to, and I do not want to, as strange as that may sound to you."
Robert looked at her.
"Let's…go slowly," he suggested. "Each day, each moment that we see each other will be as though we are seeing each other anew. I know you can't forget our past, but I'll try not to let it affect the way that I talk to you and treat you, if you'll do the same. Hopefully, with time, we can reach an understanding that is above civility and courtesy and is closer to what a father and daughter should be."
"I won't promise that I'll not disappoint you again," Mary shook her head.
"I won't promise that either," Robert said. "You're not the first Crawley to make a mistake, and I need to remember that."
Mary looked at him suspiciously, then slowly nodded her head.
"What if I had found Matthew earlier?" Robert asked. "What do you think would have happened if I had brought him to Downton before everything went to dust?"
"I'm not sure," Mary said. "I was certainly far more humble when I met Matthew than I was before I went to Manchester. I can't say if we would have gotten along in the beginning if he would have been yet another man come to take away what I thought was my birthright. I can safely say though that he and Patrick would not have gotten along."
"Because they would have both been competing for your hand," Robert smiled.
"Papa!" Mary frowned.
"I'm an old man, but I'm not that old," Robert said pointedly. "No man can even look at you without Matthew scowling. I've seen it. It's a wonder I didn't notice it before."
"My husband is entirely secure," Mary said. "He knows where my loyalties lie, and he also isn't going to keep me locked away in a cage just because other men may smile at me from time to time."
"I know," Robert nodded. "But he does like to remind people of who you are married to, doesn't he?"
"We both do," Mary said, raising her eyebrow.
Robert chuckled.
"Good night, Papa," Mary said, rising from her chair.
"Good night, Mary," Robert said, getting up himself. "I'll be staying at Sandhurst for the next while. I'll see you in a few weeks time."
"Very well," Mary nodded. She turned and slowly left the dining room, her heart feeling strangely light as she made her way upstairs towards Matthew and George.
Room 40, Admiralty Building, Whitehall, London, England, June 1917
"I'm going to get some lunch," Matthew announced. "What about you?"
"Go ahead," Nigel said, waving his hand. "I'm going to head home early today."
Matthew made his way down the hall and outside. The sun was shining overhead and it was unseasonably warm. He wandered down the street, debating his meal options. He preferred to eat away from the other military staff, usually at a pub or sandwich counter close by. The hour he took for lunch helped him detach himself from his job. He sometimes would take the short walk home and have lunch with Mary, or they would take George out for a stroll in the park. He had to admit that being so close to St. James Square was a benefit of working at the Admiralty Building.
He debated whether to run home now as he kept walking. Mary didn't appreciate when he would just pop in for luncheon. She preferred to have advance notice so that she could have a meal prepared for him. She also generally objected to him coming home unannounced as he tended to be rather amorous over the lunch hour. Even though they had enjoyed several delightful liaisons in the afternoons, Mary liked to know ahead of time what was in store for her when her husband came home.
He smiled to himself as he recalled their last tryst. He knew that he was pushing the lengths that the servants were prepared to feign ignorance of their bedroom activities, but he could not help himself. The fact that Robert was seldom at home and they essentially had the run of the Grantham House to themselves at all hours was a heady combination.
Matthew looked up at the bright sky, musing to himself on what he might suggest to his wife when he got home this evening. He was grateful that Mary was so willing to indulge his desires. Surely many wives of her social class would find it uncouth and repugnant for their husbands to be so voracious, but outside of some light scolding and mock insults, Mary was just as eager as he was, and it delighted him.
Matthew frowned as he noticed dark shapes in the distance. There were few clouds in the sky, making it possible to see for miles, it seemed. It was rare, but sometimes the military would fly training exercises near the Capital, though Matthew had trouble recognizing the craft that were approaching. He squinted, shielding his eyes with his hand to get a better look. There was a line of black shadows in the sky, looking like large birds, but they obviously weren't birds. They had to be aeroplanes, but what were they doing so close to London?
Matthew's eyes widened as his memory flared.
"God. Mary!" he gasped, before turning and sprinting down the street towards Grantham House.
Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, June 1917
"He's asleep, Milady," Anna nodded, coming into the library.
"Finally!" Mary smiled. "I thought when he had such a large feeding this morning, he would go down easily, but apparently he had other ideas."
"He was rather wide-eyed when Nanny took him up," Anna nodded as she began to dust the table on the far side of the room. "He seemed interested in something."
"He takes after his Papa in that," Mary smiled. "Sometimes Matthew can't sit still over luncheon."
Anna blushed as she continued her tasks in silence.
Mary rose and walked over to the other side of the room. She picked up the telephone and asked to be connected to the Admiralty Building. With George asleep, perhaps she could convince Matthew to come home for lunch, or some other distraction.
"I'm sorry, Lady Mary. Mr. Crawley has already stepped out," came the reply.
Mary thanked the receptionist and hung up the phone. She sighed as she wandered towards the door. It would just be her for lunch it seemed.
Matthew burst through the door, causing Mary to jump slightly. He spun and his eyes bulged when he saw her. Before she could react, he reached her and grabbed her by the shoulders.
"Mary! Oh, thank God!" he said, hugging her close.
Mary frowned, her arms pinned to her sides. "Matthew? What is it? What are you doing home?"
"Anna!" Matthew called, releasing his wife and looking into the library. "Stop that, now! Round up all of the servants and bring them downstairs immediately. Everyone."
"Yes, sir," Anna said, frowning slightly at the strange request.
"Matthew, what's going on?" Mary asked in concern as she followed him quickly upstairs.
"Get George and bring him and Nanny downstairs," Matthew ordered. "Quickly, please."
"All right," Mary said slowly, following him through to the nursery. Nanny was confused by the request, given that George had just begun napping, but they bundled him up and brought him downstairs, despite his protests.
"Bates, please make sure everyone is here," Matthew called as they moved downstairs. "Gather in the servants' dining room and I'll explain."
"Yes, sir," Bates said, rounding up the rest of the staff. Grantham House was barely staffed as it was, particularly given that it was only Mary and Matthew living here mostly. As Bates counted everyone, Mary soothed George and rocked him in her arms as he slowly fell back asleep.
"I'm sorry for my haste and for alarming everyone," Matthew announced as he remained standing. "There is unfortunately another bombing attack against London that is coming imminently, and we'll need to stay down here until it's deemed safe to go upstairs."
"During the day?" Mary asked, shocked at his announcement.
"Apparently," Matthew said grimly. "I saw them approach in the distance. There were rumblings of a potential attack weeks ago, but no one expected such an attempt to work."
"The lads will get them, sir," Bates nodded.
"Let's hope so, Bates," Matthew replied. "In the meanwhile, everyone remain down here. You can go to your rooms if you like, but no one is to go upstairs."
There were murmurs of agreement and consent as Matthew motioned for Mary to follow him out into the hall.
"I didn't have a chance to warn your Aunt Rosamund," he said quietly as she joined him.
"It's all right. She's at Downton helping Mama plan for next month's concert. I hope her staff have the good sense to remain indoors," Mary said.
"Let's hope so. I don't want to risk going upstairs, even to make a brief call. It's impossible to know what targets they may be gunning for, but since Whitehall is so close by, we're at risk here," Matthew said.
"God, Matthew," Mary said, hugging him tightly. "I'm so glad you're here. I was thinking of going out to the park this afternoon."
Matthew looked up as he heard a low rumble in the distance.
"That's it," he said, putting his arm around Mary and bringing her back to the others. "Everyone please crouch down and sit still. There may be shocks for a while."
He and Mary sat down and Nanny handed George to Mary. Matthew put his arms around her and she leaned into him, holding their son and looking around nervously as they waited.
The rumbling became louder and closer and the ground seemed to shake.