1904 (3 months later)
"Mr Carson? Can I come in?"
Miss Mary stood, straight and proud in the doorway just as had become their little ritual in early afternoon. Carson took in her appearance, his greeting smile turning, furrowed, into a more curious expression at the sight of her wearing an elegant blue coloured coat and matching hat, holding a pillow case filled with oddly shaped objects in tow. She looked as though she were about to be brought out by nanny for a walk to the village or perhaps a drive into town with her parents, but if she were she should not have time to regulate her visits to his pantry. However, Carson had been informed at breakfast that the Viscount and his Lordship would be taking a trip round the farms on the estate round about this time and he was well aware that nanny would never take the children out into the village this side of luncheon.
"Of course, Miss Mary." He momentarily ignored his puzzlement to allow her in and the little girl walked in solemnly- quite the opposite to the customary way she gleefully skipped in- and stood resolutely before his desk, her usually sparkling and lively countenance fixed in a deliberately serious expression that amused him- he wondered, with affectionate interest, what mischievous plan she would have this time to brighten up his day. Except, today, she stood with a very dignified manner, hands clasping her pillow case in front of her while she waited for him to take his seat.
"I've come to you with a business proposal." She said eloquently.
He tried to keep his surprise to a minimum, only allowing one eyebrow to slowly creep up in intrigue.
"And what, prey, is this business proposal Miss Mary?" He said, trying to match her solemnity of tone to avoid causing her annoyance or aggrievance as, whatever it was, it clearly mattered very much to her. She may have been a child, but her thoughts and feelings were no less valid or poignant than those entertained by any adult.
"I've decided to run away, Mr Carson."
Carson nodded gravely and placed his pen gently down atop his desk.
"I see," he pressed, softly urging her to continue.
"And I wonder if I might take some of the silver to sell." She looked at him, the soft smile and gentle eyes she always saved for him gracing her youthful features.
"Well," he said, considering the matter, "that might be awkward for his Lordship."
Mary thought about this, wondering what her Grandpapa should have to say about the scenario. She stayed silent, shuffling her feet slightly in thought as she couldn't come up with an adequate response. She frowned.
"May I ask why you want to run away?" Carson asked, sensing her uncertainty.
Mary heaved a great sigh and dropped her pillow case, edging around the wide wooden desk and clambering up onto the Butler's lap and settling herself to be leant against him, side on, before conjuring a reply.
"I'm lonely." She murmured, breathing deeply before elaborating. "Mama and Papa have important things to do all the time and nanny says I need to leave you time to work. Patrick has left. Reggie used to show me the frogs in the river but he's gone now and so's Matthew and I have no one play with."
Carson was aware, following Doctor Crawley's departure, that Miss Mary had missed the daily visits of her godfather, but he hadn't known the girl to have ever really have had a strong bond of friendship with Master Matthew. As far as he knew, the boy was shy and often came too afraid to join in with the games of the others.
"You miss your friend." He concluded.
"We used to sometimes read together. He was kind to me when smelly old Edith locked me up." She explained, a pained expression lacing the words that caused him to supress an amused smile. He decided to allow the comment to go unreprimanded, just this once, due to the sad jut of her bottom lip that broke his heart.
"How about we write Master Matthew, Doctor Crawley and Mrs Crawley a letter to send to Scotland, like I showed you?" He proposed. "Then I give you sixpence to spend in the village instead of the silver." Carson wondered vaguely if this incentive constituted, however good intentioned, as bribery. She immediately excited at the prospect, lighting up but hiding her grin to maintain her earlier sense of calm meaningfulness and gravity.
"Very well," she said, "but you must be sure to charge me interest."
Charmed by her antics, Carson fished in his pocket for the right coin and eventually pulled one out and placed it gently in the palm of her small hand. He closed her delicate fingers over it and patted her hand, indicating for her to keep it safe. Mary's eyes lit up with the thoughts of the endless possibilities the village shops now held for her.
She grinned at him, braced a hand below his shoulder and kissed him on the cheek.
"Thank you, Mr Carson," she whispered to her conspirator.
The butler's heart grew ten sizes, returning the girl's gesture with an enchanted smile.
He brought a fresh piece of paper before the both of them on the desk and placed the pen in her other hand, guiding her to the top right-hand corner to where she should write her name.
"So let's get started on this letter shall we?"
Sometime after Robert and his father returned from their tour of the estate farms, perhaps at two or three o'clock, the newly installed hall telephone rang, causing her Ladyship to very near jump out of her skin and send her reluctant son to answer it. Violet Crawley was much less of a supporter of the modern brainwaves in technology than the younger generation and did not take kindly to having her moment of serenity in the afternoon interrupted by the obnoxiously loud blaring of the telephone.
Robert picked up the receiver and held it to his ear, speaking to answer the caller into the mouthpiece at the same moment that Cora wandered out of the adjacent room in the hope of escaping the unamused complaints of her mother in law.
The one-sided conversation she overheard from her husband seemed to be cause for concern.
"Missing?! … Good lord… no, no I haven't… and you're certain?... he's not simply hiding somewhere?... good god… of course… of course… I'll see what I can do… I'm sure… how long?... oh dear… absolutely… of course… I'll do whatever it takes… please let me know… I'm sure he'll turn up… I'm sure he's alright… I'll make some calls… of course… goodbye Reggie."
Robert's face was pale and long when he placed the receiver to rest on its hook. He brought his hands up to cover his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, lost in deep thought as the stress began to set in.
"Darling," Cora inquired, "what was all that about?" Whatever it was it seemed rather serious, and must have been to perturb her husband in such a hasty manner.
Robert puffed out a deep breath. "Apparently, Matthew's gone missing," he said, wholly aggrieved and rightfully distressed over the news.
Cora gave a gasp, immediately hushed by the gloved hand that flew to cover her shocked lips. She pictured the innocent and timorous little boy with his unconfident exuberance and rather introverted disposition, and immediately became deeply fearful.
"They don't think he's been taken, do they?" She asked in horror, eyes wide with unrelenting trepidation.
"They don't know what to think." Robert answered solemnly. "They've informed the authorities where they are, but I'm going to put in a few calls- and ask Papa to as well- to see if there isn't any influence I can use to pull together all the proper awareness." Robert turned to pick up the receiver again.
"I do hope he's found soon. He'll be so scared once it gets dark," Cora voiced, praying for the little boy's safety.
Matthew sat pensively in the window seat of the only empty compartment he could find on board the train. With the little money he had managed to save over the years held in one of his little cotton socks, he had summoned all the courage he could muster to purchase a train ticket from the lady who manned the small station on the outskirts of Inverness. He had tried his best to prepare for the journey, donning a thick woollen hat that was hand knitted by his granny. He stared out at the frosty highlands as he sped past them, a white tinged green blur through the glass. After a while, he wiped the condensation from the window with a mittened hand and pressed his little nose to the cold glass. Within a few seconds a large conductor in a deep blue uniform and smart cap made to slide the compartment door open. The man eyed Matthew warily and said, very kindly in a deep Scottish accent, "have you got a ticket on you lad? Or should I ask your parents in the next compartment?"
Matthew pulled his face away from the window and tugged off his hat, grinning sheepishly at the man before reaching into his large duffle pocket and pulling out a crumpled piece of card. He handed it to the man with his outstretched mitten, looking a little bashful.
The man looked at it and frowned. "Sorry lad, I'm afraid this isn't the right ticket for this journey. It won't get you past the ticket master when you get off."
Matthew didn't really understand what he meant, but he had enough whereabout to fathom that the news wasn't good. His big blue eyes widened and he shifted in his seat uncomfortably, his small body filling with a nervous adrenaline.
"How about," the man said, "I get hold of another one for you and we'll say no more about it?"
Matthew smiled and nodded anxiously.
The man took a long moment to search in his wide uniform pockets for an appropriate ticket, finding one after a few minutes and stamping it before handing it to Matthew with a friendly nod.
"There you go, don't lose it."
"Thank you, mister." Matthew said, his falsetto voice endearing him further to the conductor who took a moment to ruffle his hair affectionately before sliding the compartment door shut behind him when he left, passing into the next one with the light-hearted call of 'tickets please'.
Matthew placed his hat on the stretch of seat next to him and leant back against the plush cushion, closing his tired little eyes when they became heavy and the countryside beyond the speeding train became steadily darker.
The next thing Matthew knew, was that the Scottish accent had returned.
"Wake up little lad, or you'll miss your stop."
Matthew roused slowly, his vision unblurring enough for him to see the darkened station beyond the window, and the dimly visible station sign grown in flowers on a grassy bank that read: Downton.
He rubbed his eyes with his tiny fists and thanked the man, before scrambling off the train and onto the platform.
The wind whipped him and he shivered violently, the strings of his mittens that were attached to his coat sleeves blew sideways and as the train left the station, he realised he'd left his hat on board.
Frightened, cold, tired and bedraggled, Matthew embarked bravely on the long walk through the expanse of the desolate village on path to the big house. The vulnerable feeling of deep set unease consumed him, even in a town where everyone knew him, and he used what little energy he could summon after his arduous day to race through the woods leading from the church to the Abbey due to an acute terror brought on by the moonlit darkness and hollow screeches of the nocturnal wildlife. It was almost pitch black in the trees, the light stemming from the crescent moon and littering of stars being the only thing guiding him, until the lights of the house came into sight.
By the time Matthew reached the doorstep, he was shivering and shaking, tears clinging to his cheeks as he panted. He barely possessed the strength for an audible knock, giving it his best effort by pounding his tiny fist against the thick wooden frame and then waiting; praying someone was awake and would hear him.
The household had retired to bed hours ago, but the lack of news on Matthew's discovery had cast a pall over the occupants, sending Robert and Cora to bed without any real hope of rest. The knock astounded them both, Cora thinking at first, that is was a figment of her imaginings- simply wishful thinking on her part that someone had come to tell them a report of Matthew's safe return to his parents. The startled countenance of her husband lying next to her, however, told her otherwise.
Robert clambered from the bed first, tying his robe securely about his waist before heading, hurried, down the grand staircase and through the main hall and entrance hall to the door. Normally, he wouldn't think of opening the door himself- that was the duty of the Butler or Footman- but he saw little point in awakening anyone at such a late hour and he was eager to discover what word the visitor brought.
Only when he brought the door ajar, he was, naturally, taken aback by the sight that beheld him. Stood on the doorstep, shivering and shaking so much it was a wonder he could stand, was the very little boy whose whereabouts had plagued them all with such deep-set dread and panic for the last hours. He had tears in the corners of his eyes, his blonde hair was sticking up messily at all angles, and he had nothing with him- nothing but a train ticket clutched in his little mitten-clad hand.
"I lost my hat," he sniffed, his lip quivering.
Robert stooped down at once and picked the little boy up and into his arms, closing the door and stroking Matthew's shuddering back with a fervent tenderness.
"My dear boy, it's alright," Robert soothed. He glanced through the door into the main hall to exchange a wide-eyed look with Cora, who moved over to them, carefully took Matthew from Robert's arms with the purpose of carrying him upstairs, allowing Robert to telephone Isobel and Reggie at once and notify them that their son was alright.
Cora brought Matthew into a spare room in the family wing on the second-floor gallery- a beautiful double room with light blue walls, blessing the atmosphere with a homely warmth that was comforting to the eye- and sat him in an arm chair, wrapping a blanket around him and leaning in lovingly to kiss his golden head. Matthew's chin trembled with sobs as Cora went about quickly making up the bed in order to settle the boy sooner. Robert came in a moment later, a pair of pinstriped pyjamas held in his grasp that must have dated back from when he, himself, was a boy. He helped Matthew to change slowly out of his frostbitten coat and cold clothes to replace them with the warm cotton shirt and trousers.
Cora sat on the edge of the large bed, much larger than a boy of his size would ever need, and brought Matthew gently to a position on her lap, rocking him while Robert stroked his hair until his tears dissipated and he lay back against her chest, heavy eyes drooping tiredly from the sheer exhaustion of the day. They tucked him softly under the warm covers and Cora smoothed a gentle hand over his forehead as his lidded eyes opened and closed repeatedly to look up at them.
"My dear, how on earth did you get here?" Cora asked him, her voice soft and quiet.
"I got the train." He mumbled drowsily.
"Why?" Robert asked tenderly, looking kindly at the tired little boy.
"It's always warm here. I was cold." He looked up at Robert and Cora, eyes drooping even further as he struggled to stay awake, "will you stay? Just for a bit?" He yawned.
Cora kissed his forehead and they both answered his sleep-induced question just as he drifted off into slumber. "Of course, dear."
They stayed with him for a short while, talking under hushed breath as they sat at the edge of his bed to watch over him.
"He came all the way here because he didn't like the cold." Robert said, mildly bemused. He pondered on the thought for a little while, before laughing slightly and adding, "he flew south for the winter, like a duck."
"Our little duck." Cora smiled.