Robert remained quiet during the train ride to London, the countryside flashing by, it all looking the same yet slightly altered. His thoughts tossed around in his head feverishly, the hinges of his jaw throbbed with tension. All around him people chattered on excitedly, Christmas packages adding color to the drab train car. Robert was grateful that Hamish passed the ride without needing to engage in small talk, allowing Robert his silence as they sped toward London.
Once at the train station, Hamish took the lead and Robert followed, heading in the direction of Grantham house. Robert tried not to speculate on what he would find there but despite his trepidation there was an almost fanatical need to see who had taken his place.
Hamish walked up to the front entrance, ringing the doorbell and Robert quickly followed after him, unsure of how the man planned on getting into the house. The door was answered by a severe looking gentleman.
"Good day sir. We are collecting donations for the refugees. Might the house be able to spare any dry goods or old clothes?" Hamish implored, convincingly.
Before the dour faced butler could answer, a young man came striding confidently into the foyer. Robert inhaled sharply and then covered up his gasp with a cough as the gentleman gave him a strange look before turning to the butler.
"What's this about, Brown?"
"These men have come to collect items for the refugees, your Lordship." The older man answered without taking his probing gaze off of Hamish and Robert.
Robert stood there, unable to stop staring at the man before him. He was older than Robert remembered, twelve years older to be precise. But he was still unmistakably Patrick. Seeing the man before him, Robert felt a strange excitement twist at his gut. He had always been fond of the boy and had been saddened by his death.
"Oh." The sound of Patrick's confused voice interrupted Robert's thoughts. "Well, I'm sure her Ladyship has something that can be donated. Why don't you wait here and I'll check."
Patrick left them and Robert tried not to look around too noticeably. The house was like the landscape surrounding Downton, familiar yet achingly different. Small details varied between his life and whatever reality this was. The sound of a woman's voice caught Robert's attention and he tried to swallow the frown that descended on his lips at the sight of the current Countess. He should have known it wouldn't be Mary, but for some reason he had hoped.
"This is all I could find on such short notice." The young woman said, handing Hamish a sack of dry goods and a few worn coats. Hamish thanked the couple and then nudged Robert out of the door.
Once outside, Robert turned to his companion. "How did Patrick survive the Titanic?"
"He didn't." Hamish replied. "In this world he never boarded the ship. Since he wasn't promised to Mary he met and married his wife two years before the ship sailed. She was expecting their first child that April and James took the voyage alone."
Robert nodded slowly, a question growing sour in his mouth until he had no choice but to give voice to it. "And what of Mary? Edith? All of them?"
Hamish had directed them into the park across the street and found a bench. He sat on it, contemplating Robert until he too took a seat.
"Your daughters don't exist, because you don't exist, but I think you worked that out for yourself. As for Matthew, he stayed in Manchester, never the wiser that he was next in line for the earldom after Patrick, before Patrick's wife bore a son. He tended to his law practice until the war and then he enlisted. He died at the Battle of Amiens."
"What?" Robert cried. "How can that be? He survived it!"
"No," Hamish said, shaking his head. "Don't you see? If there is no you then there is no Downton and there is no William the footman. William was with Matthew because you arranged it and William saved Matthew that day. In your reality, not in this one. In this one he was alone and took the brunt of the shell."
Robert took a shaky breath, the weight of grief settling on his chest. It was like losing him all over again.
"Tom's in jail." Hamish offered and Robert leaned on his knees, waiting for Hamish to continue. "He never left Ireland. Stayed and became more embroiled in the rebellion. Without Sybil's calming influence, without your family to show him the humanity of the people he'd learned to despise, he became a hardened socialist."
Robert breathed deeply, feeling as though the world was slowly spinning away from him. He looked up in time to see two women step from a car in front of Grantham house. The regal limp of his mother was unmistakable, as was the shock of red hair on his sister's head.
"At least they seem the same." Robert observed.
"Ah yes. The Dowager. Formidable still. She's lived with Rosamund these last years since Downton was sold off. I'd say Rosamund isn't too happy about it but…"
Robert choked out a laugh, trying to imagine just how those two were getting on. The laughter died soon enough, his heart unable to uphold the charade.
"Are you going to ask me?" Hamish wondered quietly.
Robert shook his head viciously, feeling the sorrow that had been steadily building throughout the ordeal tear open. He didn't think he could take what Hamish wished to show him. His home was gone, his daughters never brought into the world, Matthew lost even earlier. He was barely able to stand these revelations but he would be able to shoulder his hand in creating this reality if she was happy. To find out otherwise would destroy him so he kept shaking his head, hoping the man would leave him be and allow him some peace.