1904

In a fit of rage at her sister, Mary had made the error of braking Edith's doll- much to the younger girl's anguish, and this was supposed to be Edith's thought through revenge. Only it had unfortunately gone mistakenly awry. What had, at first, been an immaculate plan devised by herself and Patrick to give her the deserved comeuppance by trapping her in the stable stall for a few minutes, had turned into anarchy when the bolt that Edith had slipped down over the door had got stuck and Mary had worked herself into a panicked frenzy. Clearly, she did not take to being locked in a dirty little stall with a horse more than twice her size.

To their credit, Patrick and Edith, upon realising their horrible mistake, made a great effort to undo the bolt- if anything just to try and avoid the inevitable trouble they had landed themselves in by accidently putting their respective younger cousin and older sister in a fair amount of danger and discomfort. But the bolt was effective, stiff and unyielding no matter how hard they tried to undo it to release their captive. When this didn't work, Patrick, being the eldest at seven, attempted to appeal to his cousin's better nature by calming her down- which only invoked Mary's anger all the more causing her to yell at him through her tears. Naturally, all the commotion became apparent to the horse, who reared up and frightened Mary even more making her cling to the door as she wailed. It had not meant to go this far.

Matthew had placed himself in the stable attic hours ago to sit in the hay and read in peace, a traditional afternoon for him due to his shy nature preventing him from really wanting to play with the others. Only he'd fallen asleep against the bales next to him, book slumped loosely in his lap, simply to be woken be the uproar of Edith and Patrick's cruel prank. He opened his eyes quite suddenly and blinked several times to rid his eyes of their slumber, screwing his fists to them to rouse himself fully. Strands of straw poked through his dishevelled golden hair and he clumsily brushed the excess off his little shorts and grey knitted jumper. He stumbled as he stood, leaving his precious book forgotten as he climbed precariously down into the main stable. He too heard Mary's distress and gave the bolt a try- throwing all his weight behind his efforts, which, considering that Patrick, who was a year older and that much bigger also, had failed, was rather gallant if misplaced.

He couldn't open it, so instead he moved a mounting stool and placed it next to the large door to the stall making a half-witted, but wholehearted attempt to climb over and grab her. When this elaborate plan also didn't work out, he moved the stool back and scrambled back to the door. "I'll go and fetch Mr Carson," he called, racing out of the stables at as fast a pace as his little legs would carry him in direction of the house.

Carson had grown accustomed to the Butler's office. Sitting in his subtly more grand chair, more grand than what he'd grown used to as a footman anyway, he had originally felt like an interloper, but over time he'd felt less so. He'd afforded the recognition in being addressed by his surname over the last months, since being elevated to acting Butler and eventually it would come that the children of the house would only ever know him as such.

Since the second child was born, another girl, Carson had become slightly wary over the worry that perhaps a Butler shouldn't have favourites. He believed that it was somewhat unprofessional in its proximity to the family to be so close in feeling to any of its members, but Miss Mary had stolen his heart from the second she laid her big brown upon him as an infant and since then would steal hours away from nanny by running away to sit in the Butler's pantry where he would allow her biscuits and teach her numbers and answer her inquisitive questions because the curious little girl was never appeased by nanny. She liked to clamber onto his lap and sit happily at his desk while he taught her about things as dry as the wine ledger- which she found fascinating- and more interesting skills like letter writing- which she enjoyed immensely. In fact, now and then, he would receive little notes with the date written at the top in clumsy writing followed by two or three sentences that swelled his heart a little bit more every time- no matter how mundane or poorly spelt they were.

He loved her like she was his own daughter, his own flesh and blood, yet he had no idea how she had managed to beguile him while still so young, weaselling her way into his heart and staying there.

That afternoon brought another of the wine orders to the servants' entrance door, meaning an evening ahead of him filling in the ledger before storing each bottle safely into the basement below the big house. He had sat down, resignedly, to get the job done when a disturbance on the staircase from the upstairs main hall demanded his immediate attention.

"Mr Carson! Mr Carson!" The calling of a faint, rather breathless, falsetto voice sent him wandering out of his office to find a small boy padding down the staircase, tired and bedraggled in appearance yet also endearing in his smartish-shabbiness. Matthew's small tie was still neatly in place around his white collar, tucked underneath his grey-knit jumper from which his shirt sleeves poked haphazardly out the end over his small hands. His little brown shorts were cut above his muddied and grazed knees and his grey socks- that were supposed to reach to just below the knee were only successful on one half, for the other sock had fallen around his ankle in his haste to reach the house. The small boy panted wildly, staring at the Butler with wide, piercing, blue eyes beneath his unruly and messy blonde hair.

"Master Matthew," Carson addressed, surprised at his presence but smiling at the sweet nature and loveable disposition of the boy.

"Mr Carson, we need your help," he announced, quite resolutely. "Mary has got stuck and we can't get her out."

He raised an eyebrow, suspecting an omission of some kind of foul-play between the children.

"May I ask where she is stuck and who you mean when you say 'we'?"

"Patrick, Edith and I," he answered innocently. His tone immediately alerted Carson to the fact that, should the manner in which she had got stuck prove to be suspicious, Master Matthew was entirely devoid of any fault or lapse of judgement. "She's stuck in the stables," he continued, "and I don't think she likes it."

No, Carson thought, I don't suppose she does. Realising, how young the little girl was, and also how small, he decided to act quickly judging by the fact that she was probably terrified out of her wits.

Matthew followed him back to the stables, his trepidation palpable by his anxious footsteps.

Mary was in tears by the time they arrived and Matthew stood meekly by Carson's side when he opened the stall door with relative ease and lifted the poor girl out as if she were as light as a feather pillow. Patrick and Edith, he noted, were nowhere to be seen. Mary clung to him tightly as though her life depended on it, squashing her newly erupting torrents of sobs into Carson's unsuspecting shoulder. He couldn't say he blamed her for her fright when he saw the rampaging horse she'd been locked in with; the animal had clearly been stressed by the panic and could have easily maimed the little girl, caused her serious injury or damn near killed her. He couldn't say be blamed Miss Edith or Master Patrick from fleeing either, as the partners in crime would certainly be in a whole load of trouble. Although, if Carson were honest, although he didn't know the younger sister well, only in passing really, he knew her character well enough to realize that she was more than likely provoked. He also knew Miss Mary well enough to know that she was not above provoking her sister, and suspected that this cruel and callous prank was meant as penance for some previous deed. Only this time, differing from the sibling's usual quarrels, it had gone a great step too far.

Once inside, Carson sat Miss Mary down on his desk so her legs dangled off the edge while her nerves died away. He removed his handkerchief from his breast pocket to dry her tears and sent the kitchen maid to fetch a her glass water. Matthew stood by, bashfully at the side, not saying a word, too shy to even make so much as eye contact with anyone. Mary's dress was torn and her ordinarily perfectly brushed and kept long locks of chestnut brown hair were now uncharacteristically mussed and unkempt. She sniffed, the blotches of red around her eyes receding as she calmed.

"Now," Carson started, his voice gentle and kindly, "Miss Mary and Master Matthew, one at a time, I would like to hear your account on what happened. I will share both accounts with The Viscount Crawley and allow him to pass judgement, once he's heard what Master Patrick and Miss Edith have to say as well." He had to suppress a fond smile and put on a more disapproving countenance when Miss Mary scoffed at the mention of her sister and cousin. "Does that sound agreeable?" He asked the two children. Matthew nodded hastily at once, but his shy behaviour was not shared, in the least, by Mary who scowled- an action her granny had always reprimanded her for due to its unladylike expression of feeling. Catching the eye of the Butler she so greatly loved, she softened, mumbling her ascent before sniffing again.

"Scotland is a beautiful place," Reggie reasoned, seeing Robert's face cloud over with a more dejected countenance. "We'll be nearer to Isobel's family and I believe the move will be good for us." He couldn't deny how long-winded and arduous the decision to leave Downton had become over the recent months but, the truth was, since their most recent miscarriage, times had constituted a change of scene and a fresh start for the family. They would be saddened to leave their friends as much as their home, but nevertheless, the conclusion they'd come to was that it was for the best.

"I agree," Cora said, keeping her more despondent feelings regarding the subject hung back, "Scotland is lovely, but what about Matthew? He's only just six years old, wouldn't this be upsetting for him?"

It had been a dilemma they had contented with, and one they'd thought through very seriously for the good of their dear son. Originally Isobel had sparred with the idea for fear of upsetting the child- he'd be torn from his home, his school, his friends and his way of life; Downton was all Matthew knew and he was content there- surely this was a fact to be reckoned with. Eventually, she came around to her husband's way of thinking, as although it might unsettle Matthew at first, the move would eventually be in his benefit.

"We realise it will take time," Isobel explained, "this is the only way of life he knows. But, like we all must, we believe he'll adjust over time."

What had previously been a joyous gathering of friends in the library, turned quite sullenly and suddenly into an unearthly and downcast silence. The news of his oldest and dearest friend's departure had hit Robert harshly square in the chest. He'd met Reggie at school and they'd grown close during their Eton days. Of course, Robert had returned to his ancestral home to learn the ins and outs of Earldom whereas Reggie had gone on to University to study medicine but, quite by accident, Reginald Crawley had been offered a job at the hospital in the village- where he had met Isobel during her training as a nurse. Since then, Robert had gotten used to having his closest friend nearby at a moment's notice. For a second, he thought an angry outburst would overcome his judgement, but he loved Reggie- and Isobel and Matthew- and was determined to be happy for them.

"Well, we should have a toast!" He announced, grinning.

When Carson came up, following the bell from the big library, he brought with him drinks to which the four adults toasted to half of their party's upcoming new life.

"I was wondering, sir," the Butler asked, "If I could have a word with you regarding the children."

"Yes of course, of course," Robert gushed, "if you would remind me before the dressing gone."

"Very good sir." Carson nodded stiffly.

"Oh, and let Mrs Patmore know that Doctor and Mrs Crawley will be staying for dinner."