Daisy woke up early that morning, and bundled a few treats in a basket. The day before, she had asked Mrs. Hughes' permission to make a few things for her father-in-law.

The day before

January 1920

Elsie Hughes gave her permission, and didn't even seem to mask her delight that the young kitchen maid was forging a bond with poor, lonely Abner Mason. "You go ahead and make a few treats for your father-in-law. I daresay, he'd appreciate it, the poor man. I figure it's lonely for him now that William's gone." Daisy nodded. "I think I'd make it up to him," she said. So after the servants' dinner, she went and baked some scones for her father-in-law. Daisy remembered William telling her that his father liked his scones with some nuts and blackcurrants in it. That one conversation they had about food brought a smile to her lips.

"And my mum, she makes the best mince pies ever. Well, along with Mrs. Patmore's, of course," William said. "Then there's her scones. She puts blackcurrants and walnuts in it. Dad likes those scones."

"What else does your mum cook?"

"Lots of things, I'll bring you some mince pies on my next day off," William promised.

William did, in fact, bring her these pies. They made a picnic of sorts out of it, and Daisy remembered that William glowed with happiness for days. Daisy sighed as she rolled the dough. She may have loved him after all, but she still felt bad about being unkind to him for a long time. I should feel lucky, Daisy thought, that I have been loved by a man until the day he died but what good would it have been if he died so young? Shaking her head to clear it of sad thoughts, Daisy cut the dough into thick, round patties, and placed it on a baking sheet topped with paraffin paper to keep the scones from burning and sticking to the sheet. Her thoughts accompanied her all through the evening as she washed the dishes and other things while waiting for the scones to bake.

I would make the best of things, Daisy promised her late husband, looking up at the ceiling. She was sure William was watching over her, like he always did. Before the war, William made sure that he was there if Thomas teased or bullied her—which he always did. She did her best to avoid Thomas now, since the day he made an unkind remark about the death of William's mother. I wonder what my mother-in-law would have been if she had lived, Daisy thought.

Daisy's eyes fell on the clock. It was already time for her to take out the scones. Outside in the kitchen, she could hear people in the servants' hall talking and laughing. The rest of the servants were very much taken with a newfangled toy—a board with a pointed knob of sorts that could point on letters. Thomas and Miss O'Brien said you could talk to the spirits if the knob points to the first letter of the first name of the person you wanted to "talk" to. Daisy wondered if she could "talk" to William that way, but she remembered that Mrs. Hughes disapproved of the new toy.

Having finished taking out the scones from the oven, Daisy proceeded to lay the scones on the rack on the kitchen table, and covered them with cheesecloth, to protect them. She took one and bit in it to taste—and it was very delicious. Daisy closed her eyes and murmured a prayer for her late husband and mother-in-law. She decided to rest for a while, and put away the other things on the sink for her to wash later on. Mrs. Patmore would understand.

Daisy noticed that some of the servants were still in the servants' hall, and they were still absorbed by the planchette—the newfangled toy. At that time, Lily, one of the housemaids, was able to "communicate" with her beau who died in the Somme more than three years ago. Miss O' Brien just finished "talking" to her favourite dead brother, who was killed at the battle of Mons, at the start of the war. Presently, Mrs. Patmore bustled in from her work table, having finished the very tedious task of meal planning. "Still at it?" she asked Thomas and Miss O' Brien rather pertly.

"The secrets of the universe are boundless," was Thomas' equally pert reply.

Stealing a sideways glance at Daisy (who sensed that her direct superior was up to something and glanced at the cook briefly), Beryl Patmore said to Miss O' Brien, tapping her on the shoulder, "Are they indeed? All right, shove over." The lady's maid, puzzled, indeed moved over, letting the fiery-haired cook sit on the chair she vacated, but not before quipping, "You've changed your tune."

Breezily, Beryl replied, "Have I?"

Since Lily departed for the servants' quarters, Miss O' Brien took the now empty chair next to Miss Shore, Lady Rosamund Painswick's lady's maid.

"Now, let's get going. Who's out there? Here we go." Beryl moved the little pointed knob of the planchette.

"W?" Mrs. Patmore mused, while Daisy hovered behind the cook. Her mouth formed a little "O", before she breathily murmured, "William? Is it really you, William?" Mrs. Patmore, feeling more confident with her ruse, moved the knob to "Y", meaning "Yes." Thomas, unable to make neither head nor tail of what the cook was on about, frowned with puzzlement, but said nothing.

"Oh my Lord. Oh my God, William, is it you? What do you want?" Daisy quaked. Is this happening right now? Is William talking to me right now?

Mrs. Patmore ignored Daisy and kept on moving the piece. "Go...to...farm. Make...Dad...happy." Beryl finished. Thomas, while moving the piece with her, finally put two and two together and decided to go along. Miss O' Brien seemed to have caught on. "Go to the farm, make Dad happy," Beryl repeated to Daisy. "You can't say fairer than that." Thomas was trying to keep his face straight, as he knew by now that Mrs. Patmore was pulling the kitchen maid's leg, and Daisy was buying the whole thing.

"Is it usually so specific?" Miss Shore asked in wonder.

"Not usually, no." Sarah O' Brien knew a ruse when there was one, and knew that the cook had orchestrated it for Daisy's own good.

"Ooh," Beryl sighed in triumph, rising from the chair. "This stuff is thirsty work." Then she waddled back into the kitchen. Daisy followed suit, and went back to the kitchen to wash the other things she used in baking the scones. After washing, Daisy placed the scones in a thick blue checked cloth, and later on in the basket, to be laid away later in the pantry where it would keep until the next day. Finished with her personal task, Daisy finally performed her routine task during the night, putting the small screen by the oven. Untying her apron, she hung it by the screen.

"Do you think that was William?" Daisy mused wonderingly at Mrs. Patmore, as they were both winding down for the night.

"Who else could it have been? Who else would've known you've been asked to the farm?"

"That's true," Daisy reflected.

"So, will you go?" Beryl persisted.

"I feel I should, don't you?"

"Oh, I think so, hmmm." Beryl tried hard not to lace her words with obvious triumph. Daisy nodded, and walked out of the kitchen. Beryl waited until Daisy was out of earshot.

"If only to spare my fingers," she whispered, rather nervously, switching off the kitchen light.

Daisy had had a pleasant drive on her way to Malton. The bus she rode was clean, and the people there seemed to be preoccupied, therefore allowing her to her own thoughts. She wondered what kind of house William lived in before the war, apart from Downton. Was it big? Comfortable? Warm?

After the bus ride, Daisy had to walk past a large moor to get to William's home. It was ironic that it took his death for her to be able to see it. It was easy to see why her late husband often looked forward to his day off—the large brick farmhouse looked cosy and comfortable. Daisy couldn't remember a time when the home she had live in before her family had given her up looked like that. It was often cramped and cold; she remembered that the damp had caused her younger sisters Susan and Izzie to almost die. Daisy no longer knew what happened to them. Nobody told her—and it saddened her to think that her family didn't spare a moment to think about her anymore. Then again, nobody in her family knew how to write—save Daisy herself, thanks to Lord and Lady Grantham. They allowed her to go to school until she was twelve, old enough to be a kitchen maid.

One day, Daisy promised herself, she would go to Ripon and visit the house she had once lived in. She wondered what she would do, what would she say to the family who had given her up. Work occupied her mind for the past fourteen years of her life at Downton, that she had no time to scribble a line, let alone a letter. And besides, what would she write to them? With a jolt, Daisy remembered that she would be turning twenty-two in two weeks. Time went by so fast. It seemed yesterday that she wore an armband for a husband she married on his deathbed, with great reluctance. Now, almost two years later, she was visiting her father-in-law with peace in her heart, knowing that she had loved William after all. She walked to the doorstep and knocked on the door, using the old knocker on the door.

Abner Mason was surprised and delighted to see his daughter-in-law standing on his doorstep. He had hoped for almost two years that this would happen, that Daisy would look upon him as a father. He remembered William telling him and Constantia that Daisy was given up by her parents because they couldn't afford to keep her. Abner couldn't imagine giving up a child in that way. He couldn't imagine giving up a child of his own, period.

"Daisy! Do come in. Hope you had a pleasant drive to the station," he said, beckoning her to enter the house, which she did. It was a cosy, inviting place, just as it was on the outside.

"It—it was nice, thank you. And here's a basket of treats for you. Scones—William told me once that you liked them with nuts and currants."

Abner beamed at Daisy. What a thoughtful girl. "Make yourself at home here," he said, ushering her into a chair by the fire.

Daisy noticed that her father-in-law was about to start breakfast when she came. She put the basket of scones on the table. Half a ball of butter sat on a scalloped pink saucer; a small platter held bacon. On a wooden board sat a loaf of bread, and an earthenware teapot stood next to it, as well as a brown mug. A canning jar of sugar stood at the middle of the table and next to it was a small jug of milk. The table was covered by a blue checked table cloth. Although the table was abundant, Daisy could imagine that Abner Mason eating his solitary breakfast in the room, day after lonely day. Tears prickled a little at the corners of her eyes. Daisy promised herself she would visit her father-in-law more often for William's sake. She could hit herself for being so selfish.

Abner Mason took the basket that Daisy had left, took a plate and another mug and a teaspoon for Daisy. He motioned for her to sit and make herself comfortable, so she did. His daughter-in-law tentatively tried to make conversation.

"You shouldn't have gone to all this trouble. Not for me."

Abner looked at his daughter in law. "No?" he asked dryly. "Not when you're the nearest thing to a child of mine left on earth?"

Daisy looked at him now, her blue eyes clouded with worry and doubt. "But I don't deserve it. Not when I were only married to William for a few hours. You were there, you saw it."

Abner saw his daughter-in-law's eyes and took a deep breath. He could understand a little why Daisy was unsure of his welcome. He now remembered William telling him and Constantia that Daisy didn't have much love at home. Unlike their family. Where there was never a cross word, and there were hugs and affectionate words.

"You may not know this, Daisy, but William had three brothers and a sister."

The young girl's eyes were wide. "What?"

Abner ploughed on. "All dead...at birth, or not long after. I think that's one reason why William married you. So that I wouldn't be alone will all my bairns gone. Without you, I'd have no one to pray for. I think William knew that."

"Oh."

Daisy was astonished. She saw once more how good William was. She had always known that her late husband was the nicest person on earth, but this allowed her to see more of his kindness, even after his death. Her heart swelled. She couldn't explain it, but she felt something shift inside her. Could it be that old Lady Grantham was right, and that she, Daisy Robinson, now Mason, loved William all along? Perhaps she was. After all, if she didn't love William, she wouldn't have replied to all his letters, wouldn't get so worked up when he was missing, wouldn't be so relieved when he turned up at Downton with Mr. Crawley, and for a brief moment, had a flash of pain the same day William was injured. And most of all, if she didn't love him, she would have packed him off to war, and wouldn't have agreed privately with her father-in-law (of course at that time, he wasn't then) when William was grousing about not being able to go and fight at the start of the war.

Daisy was so caught up in her thoughts that her father-in-law had to call her attention. Finally Mr. Mason spoke again.

"So, will you be my daughter? Let me take you into my heart, make you special? You'll have parents of your own, of course."

"I...I haven't got any parents. Not like that. I've never been special to anyone."

"Except William." Abner Mason supplied for his daughter-in-law.

Daisy smiled shyly, and agreed. Finally, she could! "That's right. I were only ever special to William. I never thought of it like that before."

"Well, now you're special to me." Abner met Daisy's eye. Daisy's smile was surer now, less tentative. She nodded.

"You can call me Dad, if you like," he added.

"That would...that would be nice," Daisy replied. "I think...I would."

"I understand it will take time to get used to it," Abner said thoughtfully. "Have you decided to take William's pension?" Daisy nodded. She decided that it was out of the question telling him about the reason why she did so. "Mrs. Hughes told me that William would like it if...I did. And I think he would. Wouldn't he?"

Abner nodded in agreement. "Quite right. He would want you to be taken care of. And it would be nice to have some kind of nest egg."

Daisy and her father-in-law had a lovely time getting to know each other. It made her more resolved to visit Abner Mason as often as she could. It would be nice to have family, Daisy thought. And he's asked me to call him Dad. Who knows I just might.

When Daisy arrived at the back doorstep of the kitchen Downton, she sat down and thought about the things that happened for the past few days. Her deciding to take William's pension. The Dowager Countess assuring Daisy that she loved William all along. Mr. Mason asking her to be his daughter, instead of just being his daughter-in-law. She closed her eyes, and without warning, she was overwhelmed into tears. It was provident that Mrs. Patmore found her sitting on the bench. She had just come from Mr. Stillwell, the cheese man.

"Daisy, what on earth are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at Mr. Mason's still? And why are you crying?" Mrs. Patmore wasn't shrieking, Daisy realised. Instead, the fiery-haired cook sat down next to her and put around her, like a mother would for her daughter. "What's going on, love?" Beryl Patmore asked her kitchen maid.

"I've just been to Mr. Mason's farm. He was ever so nice, and—and he's asked me to be his daughter."

"So why did that make you cry?" asked Beryl.

"Not because I'm sad," Daisy explained. "I'm happy. I'm happy because I have a family. But...but...I wish William had lived. I think it would have made him happy too—us three at the farm. But at least Mr. Mason isn't lonely anymore—won't be. And-thank you for making me take the pension. I'm glad you made me. I think you know why. Also, I do think that you and old Lady Grantham were right."

"About what, love?"

"That I do love William after all. Not in the way that he would have wanted me to, but I do love him all the same. Old Lady Grantham made me think things over. She saw me crying while feeding the fire, and I had to explain to her why. She said that me marrying William—feeling the way that I do 'bout him and marrying him all the same—sounded a lot like love. A good deal of it. An' I've thought about it—and him—if I didn't love him, I wouldn't have replied to his letters when he was away fightin'. An' if I didn't love him, I wouldn't secretly wish that he'd give up about going to fight in th' war. But I'm proud of him for going anyway. Remember when I said that I was like walkin' over me grave? That day, I felt like something happened bad to William that day—and I felt terrible, like someone's cut one of me limbs an' it hurt terribly. And then later on, we found out that William was injured along wit' Mr. Crawley. I miss William very much, Mrs. Patmore. An' I thought that...I've got to make up for the two years that I didn't visit Mr. Mason after William died. When I went to the farm, it made me see that Mr. Mason was lonely. Someone—a neighbour cleans his house and takes care of his meals—but it's not the same when you have someone to really talk to. Like you and me. Or Anna and Gwen, when she used to be here."

It was Beryl's turn to weep a little, and so, she dug into her coat for a handkerchief. "Oh love. I'm glad you finally realised you love William."

Daisy nodded. "I'm glad too. Why are you out here?" she asked the older woman. "Oh," said Mrs. Patmore, "I've been to see Mr. Stillwell. About the cheeses if in case the Servant's Ball will come to a go."

"Is there already any word about Mr. Bates?" Daisy asked. She made a mental note to give Anna a hug later on.

"We're hoping to hear good news," Mrs. Patmore said, rather glumly, and Daisy didn't blame her. Save for Thomas and O' Brien, the Bateses were well-liked by the staff, and were sorry that Mr. Bates was in jail.

"Why don't we come in and find out?" Daisy asked.

Beryl Patmore smiled. "All right. That's my girl."