The cool kiss of snowflakes on his face stirred Robert from a sluggish sleep. Robert frowned, still unable to open his heavy eyes, as the sound of children's voices filled his ears. Shaking the clouds of sleep away, Robert pushed himself up off of the cold, hard ground. He looked around, thinking of the night before. The lake was calm, accepting the snow as it fell languidly down into the water, no sign of the man he'd saved. Perhaps it was a dream? Or the man insane? Robert looked around frantically, remembering his case and the documents within. There was no sign of it and Robert pounded the ground furiously, tilted his head up and yelled at the cloudy sky.
"Oi, what are you yelling at, mister?" Robert turned quickly, three young boys staring at him curiously from across the lake. Robert scrambled to his feet and attempted to straighten out his damp and wrinkled clothes. He studied the children, trying to place them but they were unfamiliar.
"What are you boys doing out here?" Robert asked. The lake was far from any of the farms and the children knew not to wander the estate.
The tallest boy crossed his arms in defiance. "We've been granted a break in studies and we've come out here to explore. What are YOU doing here?"
"What am I doing here? This is my property." Robert huffed, the exchange adding to his already foul mood.
The boys looked at one another with mirth, laughing at one another. "Oh, well excuse us your lordship!" One of the boys bowed deeply. "Why don't you allow us to escort you to the manor! Perhaps you can sit in on our geography lesson." With that the boys picked up a few rocks and threw them at Robert.
"Stop that this instant!" Robert bellowed, ducking away from the onslaught.
"You better get going before we tell Headmaster there's a drunk on the grounds."
The boys laughed and then ran away, leaving Robert bewildered. Headmaster? Robert quickly began the long trek to the house. Of course the children had been playing a game with him, but the dull thud of a headache and his lingering depression over the latest setback had left little room for good humor. Guilt fueled his footsteps, imagining the sleepless night Cora had probably spent when he'd failed to come home.
Robert cleared the woods, Downton looming ahead, and he stopped short. The front yard was full of screaming boys chasing one another, tumbling around, playing tag. A few women in plain dress stood around, observing the boys at play. Robert stayed in his spot, watching silently, when he felt a presence by his side. He startled when he turned and realized it was the man from the night before.
"Sleep well?" Hamish asked.
"What's going on here?" Robert demanded.
"Isn't it obvious? They are playing." Hamish replied casually.
"Yes, yes, I can see that!" Robert spat. "But why are they playing on my front lawn?"
Hamish turned to Robert, the laughter gone from his eyes and looked at him. "Because it isn't your lawn."
Robert took a step closer to the man. "Now, I think I've had just about enough-"
"Don't you remember?" Hamish asked. "You wished you'd never been born and so it was granted. Downton is no longer yours. It's the Yorkshire School for Boys."
"What?" Robert gasped. "You're lying!"
Robert turned and ran toward the house, weaving his way through curious looking boys who paused in their games to look at the disheveled man who had appeared from the woods. One of the teachers saw the stranger and came rushing to him. Robert halted in his steps, recognizing the pinched face of Miss Bunting.
"Who are you and what are you doing here, sir?" Miss Bunting asked, stepping in front of Robert and blocking his progress toward the house.
Robert straightened his back. "I'm Lord Grantham, ma'am! And if you'd excuse me I am trying to get into my house."
To his surprise, the young woman let out a sarcastic snort. "Lord Grantham, you say? I'm sorry, but a Lord Grantham hasn't lived here since 1902. And the current Lord Grantham lives in London."
Robert stared at the woman, and then looked up at the house. It looked similar and yet so different. It looked older, decaying slightly, all of the money and care that he had invested in it clearly gone as it was overrun by the boisterous living of boys. In front of him Miss Bunting crossed her arms.
"You should be getting on your way before I have the headmaster call the police." She waited while Robert took one last look at the house before turning.
He walked away, feeling his empty stomach roll. He looked around for Hamish and found him waiting near the edge of the woods. Robert joined him and then looked back at the house, all of his memories playing out in his mind, his chest tightening.
"What is this, Hamish?" Robert whispered.
Hamish put a hand on Robert's shoulder and guided him toward the gates leading out of Downton. As they walked he began to speak. "Your father ran the estate into the ground, as you already know. But since you were never born, there was no American money. Your father began selling pieces of the land, trying to hold off the inevitable. The shame led to his death in 1889. James inherited the title and what was left of the estate but he couldn't bring it back and finally sold the remaining property and the house to a private investor for little money, in 1902. They turned the house into a boys school."
Robert looked at the ground as they walked, trying to digest the story Hamish was painting him.
"Are you alright?" Hamish asked softly. "It usually takes some time for people when they see the world without themselves in it."
Robert shook his head. "I don't know what I am right now. So, is James living in Grantham House?"
"No. The current earl is." Hamish replied. At Robert's questioning look, Hamish continued. "In this reality James still met his end on the Titanic. Your being here or not didn't influence that."
"So who is the earl now?" Robert wondered.
"Lets take a trip to London and find out, shall we?" Hamish asked as they passed through Downton's gates and walked in the direction of the train station.