Chapter Seventy Four
Domestic Reaction
Despite the very best efforts of the family, along with a concerted attempt made by both Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes, to prevent the content of Sybil's hurriedly despatched telegram from reaching the domestic staff, in but a matter of hours it had done precisely just that.
Below stairs, in the Servants' Hall, with the singular exception of Thomas, all of the staff were aghast to hear of the disappearance of Mr. Branson over in Ireland; horrified to learn that, in all probability, it was most likely that he was now dead, and but a matter of time before mere supposition became confirmed fact.
Miss O'Brien had been dispassionately curt in her assessment of the present situation.
"Well that's that then" she said dismissively, before adding primly that, thankfully, Lady Sybil was still young enough to remarry, "and this time to someone of her own class" before casually resuming her darning. While regretting her characteristically unsympathetic tone, Mr. Carson was, however, inclined to agree with Miss O'Brien's laconic assessment of the situation, given what he himself had read in the newspapers about the Irish Republican Army and its nefarious activities. "If Mr. Branson has been abducted by those thugs", then Mr. Carson doubted very much that there would be what he termed "a satisfactory outcome" to the matter.
At that, clearly much affected by the news, Mrs. Hughes had risen to her feet, excusing herself from the table, openly tut-tutting, and saying she had certain matters to attend to. A short while later, in the privacy of her own sitting room, she would have been found forcefully observing to Mr. Carson - who had gone in search of her - that he could at least "show some open concern for the poor boy", that it would enhance his standing with the rest of the staff were he to show that he was "human after all". Mr. Carson declared that he had no need to "enhance his standing with the staff" but, notwithstanding his words, from his facial expression, it was obvious, at least to Mrs. Hughes herself, that her terse observation had struck a chord with the old butler.
Despite being largely pre-occupied with her own troubles, Anna was visibly shaken by the news of Mr. Branson's disappearance. After all, despite whatever else anyone else had said about the conduct of the erstwhile chauffeur, she herself had always had a soft spot for both Lady Sybil and Mr. Branson. Since the war, Anna could see that society had changed; the old structured order was breaking down, and if Lady Sybil Crawley had fallen head over heels in love with the family's former chauffeur, and he with her, well, good for them.
While Mrs. Patmore freely admitted that she had never really "got to know Mr. Branson that well" while he was in service here at Downton, she said that he had always seemed "such a nice young man". Then, saying she had to check the contents of the vegetable racks in the larder where the estate gardeners left supplies from the kitchen garden on a daily basis, despite Daisy saying that she had already done so, with the gait resembling that of a lumbering hippopotamus, Mrs. Patmore ambled hurriedly from the Servants' Hall. Once out of sight, ensconced in the larder, among the aubergines, broad beans, carrots, courgettes, and new potatoes, possibly mindful of the fate of her own nephew during the war, Mrs. Patmore had burst into tears and it was there that Daisy found her, upwards of half an hour later, seated on a chair, still sobbing.
As for Daisy herself, well, she took a rather more practical approach to the matter of Mr. Branson's disappearance. Back in the Servants' Hall, while carefully observing several pans of vegetables merrily boiling away simultaneously on the range, as well as well as keeping a kindly eye on Mrs. Patmore, openly concerned for Lady Sybil, Daisy asked guilelessly whether or not Lady Sybil would "come back here to live" prompting Mr. Carson to observe that no-one knew what, if anything, had become of Mr. Branson; that there was no use speculating on what might be. Suitably abashed, Daisy said nothing further and returned her steely gaze to the bubbling plethora of copper pots upon the range.
Seated at the long table in the Servants' Hall, and to all intents and purposes busying himself polishing cutlery for use at dinner, it was now that Thomas chose to observe caustically that Mr. Branson had only himself to blame for what had now happened. In Thomas' opinion, the former chauffeur had clearly got too big for his boots; thought himself "far better than the rest of us", considered that he was "too good to be in service" and "had got so far above himself" that he dared to propose to Lady Sybil. Doubtless she was no better than she should be and was, said Thomas, in a certain condition, as there was no other way on God's earth that she would otherwise have agreed to marry the former chauffeur. "Pride comes before a fall" concluded Thomas, earning him a stinging rebuke for his insensitivity from Mr. Carson who had just emerged from his admonitory chat with Mrs. Hughes. It was just as well that Mr. Carson was not privy to Thomas' considered opinion as to why it was that Lady Sybil had "found it necessary" to marry Mr. Branson, otherwise Thomas might well have been given his marching orders there and then without the benefit of a reference too.
A short while later, upstairs in the Drawing Room, over morning coffee, Edith was sitting with her mother and Mary trying to decide what, if anything, could be done to try and find out what had happened to Tom, when there was a quiet knock on the door and Carson entered to advise that the Dowager Countess had telephoned from the Dower House and wished to speak with Lady Edith.
"Thank you Carson. Would you please tell Her Ladyship that I shall call her directly"? Carson nodded and then withdrew.
Edith sighed ruefully and rose to her feet.
"I expect that will be about taking tea with her this afternoon over at the Dower House, although now, given what's happened, there doesn't really seem much point in driving over to see granny. Not now that darling Tom ... Please excuses me". Not known for openly displaying her feelings, Edith broke off what she was saying and hurriedly left the room, before giving free rein to her emotions, leaving Mary and her mother to stare at one another in complete amazement.
"... and in any case, I really don't see why it is that Edith has to go and see granny this afternoon. And what on earth does darling Tom's disappearance have to do with it anyway?" asked Mary curtly as she watched the retreating form of her younger sister from the comfort of the settee.
"I was wondering the same thing myself" said her mother. "To be honest, Mary, I'm really not sure. I thought you might know". Her mother looked enquiringly at her eldest daughter. Mary shook her head.
"Well, whatever the reason, it's clearly important to Edith that she does go and see her grandmother" said Cora. "When's she's ready to tell us what this is all about, I suppose she will then do so".
Mary grimaced.
"I somehow doubt it Mama; Edith being Edith".
Cora nodded, and then smiled.
"Quite", she said.
"Now I suppose all we can do is wait and pray that darling Tom will be found safe and sound. God knows what Sybil will do if ..." With tears welling in her eyes, Mary broke off what she was saying, looked up at her mother.
"Don't give up hope; at least not yet" said her mother patting her knee. "At least not where Tom is concerned; I intend speaking to your father this morning to see what he can do to help find out what has happened to your brother".
"After last night, I don't think Papa will be prepared to do anything to try and help darling Tom" said Mary sadly.
"If I have any say in the matter, then yes, he most certainly will" said Cora determinedly. "But if he refuses to see sense, to act honourably towards both Sybil and Tom, as he should have done a very long time ago, then we will just have to do what needs to be done all by ourselves. I expect your grandmother and cousin Isobel will be prepared to lend their support too".
In the entrance hall, leaning against a pillar, Edith sobbed openly, tears streaming down her face. Before their trip over to Ireland for Tom and Sybil's wedding, both Mary and Edith would have retreated to the privacy of their own bedrooms before giving way to their emotions. Not anymore; at least for Edith, no longer caring who saw or heard her crying, which was how a short while later Anna found her. Thereafter, both sought to console the other
At length, the two of them sniffing audibly, reflecting ruefully that neither of them ever seemed to have a handkerchief when they most had need of one, while Anna went upstairs to continue with her day's duties, having likewise composed herself sufficiently, Edith crossed the hall, and walked purposefully over to the table by the main door.
All things considered, taking afternoon tea with granny at the Dower House was the very last thing Edith wanted to do. After all, tea with granny was as much a permanent institution as Derry and Toms, Dickins and Jones, or even Harrods up in town, and just as immutable; as much a cloying, stultifying ritual as dining in the evening with her parents and other immediate family members here at the Abbey.
Edith picked up the telephone, steeling herself for the forthcoming conversation. Once the operator had put her through to the Dower House, her grandmother came on directly.
"Hello granny ..."