Previously:
Law Office of George Murray, London, England, August 1914
"There must be something I can still do! I just need time! Arrange a meeting with the creditors," he said. "I'll sit with them, explain the situation. They must be made to understand why Downton matters, why it must be saved!"
"I do not believe your sentiments are shared, my Lord," Murray said.
They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Murray's secretary came into the room.
"I'm sorry, but an urgent message just arrived for Lord Grantham. It was sent to his club and they had it brought here," she explained, handing the note to Robert.
"What now?" Robert mumbled as he unfolded the note. His eyes went wide as he read the brief lines. "Good God in heaven!" he whispered.
"Arrange the meeting for next week, Murray," he said quickly, turning to leave. "I must head back home immediately."
"Yes, my Lord," Murray nodded, watching as the Earl of Grantham walked briskly out the door.
Chapter 26:
Downton Abbey, England, August 1914
Matthew sighed as he walked up the driveway. He had chosen to forego his bicycle as well as the motor today. It was often a point of contention with Mary.
"The Earl of Grantham should not be seen travelling about the Village on a common bicycle. It's unseemly," she would say. "Either drive your car to work or have Branson drop you off at the train station."
"I'll have you know that my bicycle is far from common," he would retort playfully. "It's manufactured by the same company who's bicycle won the Tour de France last year. Besides, I'm not the Earl of Grantham yet."
Matthew rolled his eyes ruefully at the memory of their teasing exchanges. Not surprisingly, Mary had not mentioned his cycling at all since her parents' pregnancy announcement.
Truthfully, Matthew was not overly bothered by Cousin Cora's pregnancy. Years ago he did not even know he was related to the family at all, let alone a part of the Grantham line of succession. Now that he and Mary were happily married, whether he would inherit or not was inconsequential.
But he knew that such a view was naïve. He would gladly spirit Mary off to London or Manchester, even back to France and give her a life there, away from Yorkshire, away from family politics and duty and expectations. They would do what they wished, come back to Downton for visits, host Sybil and Edith and anyone else who wished to come see them. Do the Season as a true couple, separate and apart from Cousin Robert's shadow. He could convince Mary, he was fairly certain, but what use would that be? How could he in good conscience step back and allow fate to dictate the family's path? How could he stand by and force Mary to watch her family fall into ruin?
Ruin. It was such a harsh word, an extreme situation that seemed out of a tragic play or horribly dour novel. Robert was the Earl of Grantham for Heaven's sake. Every door in London was open to him. They were welcomed with respect and reverence by Lords and Ladies across England, and Downton Abbey and Grantham House were two of the more opulent properties in the land, even among the aristocracy. How could Robert Crawley of all people fall into ruin?
The gravel crunched beneath Matthew's deliberate steps as he cleared the slight rise. Downton Abbey loomed in front of him, dominating his vision. And that was ultimately the problem, wasn't it? The image of their opulence was simply that – a vision. Ultimately everything had a cost. Their lifestyle had a cost. And that cost had to be paid for in cold hard pounds, not in fake smiles and pleasantries. Cold hard pounds that Matthew was now almost certain that Robert had far less of than anyone thought.
So lost in his own deliberations was he that Matthew barely noticed Carson's posture and frowning expression when the butler opened the door. Matthew automatically reached out to hand his briefcase to Carson as he crossed the threshold, his mind turning to finding Mary as quickly as possible.
"Mr. Crawley," Carson mumbled and bowed his head, taking the briefcase from Matthew.
Matthew stopped and turned his head to the butler.
Carson had mumbled his greeting.
Carson never mumbled anything.
"Carson? What is it?" Matthew asked, his eyes narrowing as he now noticed the slight red tinge of Carson's eyes. "There's something the matter. I can see it in your expression."
Carson straightened his shoulders and raised his chin. He swallowed slightly, then met Matthew's eyes.
"Mr. Crawley, forgive me, but yes, something is indeed very much the matter. It's not my place to tell you, sir. I'm sure Lady Mary will inform you straight away."
Matthew furrowed his brow. Confusion and panic began to mount inside of him.
"Matthew? Oh, thank God you're home." Mary came walking briskly into the Great Hall. She thanked and excused Carson and took Matthew's hand, leading him to the library urgently. She closed the door behind them and came into his arms suddenly, burrowing her face in his shoulder.
"Mary, what is it? What's happened?" Matthew asked. He eased her back slightly so he could look at her. She looked to be healthy, and in one piece at least. He noticed her cheeks were flushed. She had been crying.
"Oh, Matthew. It's Mama. She fell." Mary cried.
Matthew took her back into his embrace, holding her close, his eyes widening at this news. He did not dare ask the question that immediately came to mind. The air around them seemed cold and still, the house eerily quiet.
Law Office of Alexander Lewis, London, England, April 1909
"Lord Strathcona," Matthew bowed as he came into the boardroom.
"Mr. Crawley," the older gentleman smiled. "Matthew, isn't it?"
"Yes, my Lord," Matthew nodded, sitting down and spreading papers out in front of Alex's client.
"Please, Matthew, it's Donald. If that's what your boss calls me, then there's no reason for you to stand on ceremony," Lord Strathcona said.
"Oh, Alex isn't my boss," Matthew chuckled. "I'm just here assisting him, as I do from time to time. He's just getting up and going in this new venture so I try and lend a hand when I can. I'm just starting out myself really. My practice is actually with a firm in Manchester."
"A lawyer that works for free? Imagine that," Lord Strathcona laughed. "There must be a fancy Latin term for that."
"I don't know," Matthew smirked. "Is there a Latin term for 'dumb fool'? If so, it must apply to me as I've apparently missed the point of becoming a lawyer."
Lord Strathcona laughed merrily.
"Now, I've completed the papers for you," Matthew continued, flipping the pages in front of him. "If you'll make sure everything is in order, you can sign here and here and we'll get them sent off. Your share certificates will be issued and mailed to you, and that is that."
"Excellent," Lord Strathcona said, perusing the documents quickly. He signed his name with a flourish on the lines that Matthew pointed to, and returned the documents back to him.
"Congratulations," Matthew smiled. "You will soon be one of the first shareholders of the newly formed Anglo-Persian Oil Company."
Lord Strathcona rose from his chair and shook Matthew's hand. "Well that was easier than I thought," he smiled. "Thank you, Matthew. Very well done. You know, you should consider looking into these shares for yourself. I know it may seem strange to you now, but mark my words, oil will be a very precious commodity someday."
"Thank you, Lord Strathcona," Matthew smiled kindly. "I will certainly consider it. Good day."
"Good day, Matthew," Lord Strathcona nodded as Matthew escorted him out. "Good day, and good luck to you, young man."
Matthew watched as Lord Strathcona was helped into the waiting car. He turned and went back into Alex's office, the words of the aristocrat still on his mind.
"Very well done, Matthew," Alex smiled, leaning against the doorway to the boardroom. "Donald is not so quick with his compliments. He must have been rather impressed with you."
"I can't see why," Matthew laughed. "All I did was point to where he was to sign."
"You did far more than that, and we both know it," Alex shook his head. "Rest assured, Matthew. That transaction could very well be quite instrumental in the life of this burgeoning law practice someday."
"As long as it pays your rent for this month, I'll be pleased," Matthew smirked.
"It will do more than that. Now, I have a meeting with some lawyers from Yorkshire about a rather interesting proposal. Shall we meet at my club for dinner?" Alex asked.
"That will do nicely, Alex, thank you," Matthew nodded.
"I'll see you later, then," Alex smiled.
"Oh, Alex, one more thing," Matthew called. "Would you mind if I looked into the company that Lord Strathcona just invested in?"
"Please do," Alex smiled. "I've looked at it myself. A bit of a risk relying on these ventures that are so heavily focused in that part of the world, but you never know, it could turn into something."
"Thank you, Alex," Matthew smiled. "Yes, it could be something someday."
Downton Abbey, England, August 1914
"Milady," Anna called softly. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Her Ladyship is asking for you."
"Of course," Mary said, stepping back from Matthew and wiping her eyes.
"I'll be in our sitting room. Let me know if there's anything you need," Matthew said.
Mary nodded and left the library with Anna. Matthew sighed and looked up at the ceiling. He collected himself and went upstairs to their sitting room.
"Robert?" Matthew frowned in shock as he came into the room.
"Matthew," Robert said in surprise. He rose from the chair. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were home. I was just taking a moment."
"Of course," Matthew nodded, standing still. "You're certainly welcome here."
Robert looked down at the floor before raising his head and meeting Matthew's gaze.
"Mary told you?" he asked quietly.
"She did," Matthew nodded. "Do you know if…"
Robert shut his eyes and nodded. He sighed audibly then looked at Matthew again.
"Clarkson's confirmed it. Cora's resting now. She wanted to be alone but I sent the girls in to be with her. I'll go back in myself once I feel up to it," Robert said sadly.
"I am so terribly sorry," Matthew said.
Robert nodded resignedly. "Yes, well, I suppose I should be thankful that you're here. At least I still have an heir. I have someone to pass all of this on to someday."
The Earl turned and looked out the window to the grounds below. Matthew was frozen to the spot. He did not know what to say or do. Robert's shoulders were slumped and he appeared to be ageing before Matthew's eyes.
"You know, when you asked me for this wing, I thought it was poetic in a way," Robert said, his back still turned from Matthew. "The Third Earl almost went bankrupt. Spent money on gambling and women. Papa never wanted to set foot in this part of the house when he was Earl. Opening it again for you and Mary seemed right. A new start. A new beginning. I thought we could get away from the past finally."
"It's a lovely part of the house," Matthew agreed, somewhat confused by Robert's line of thought.
"It is," the Earl said quietly. "There's parts of this house that you still haven't seen, Matthew. Rooms and passages, attics and hideaways that haven't been used in years. There's parts of the grounds that I haven't been to in ages, it's so vast."
Robert turned back to Matthew, his expression forlorn. "It'll all be yours someday," he said sadly.
"Robert, I…" Matthew began.
"I best get back to Cora. Please look after Mary and the girls, if you could, Matthew. I must focus all of my attention on what's important and I fear I won't have time for everyone in the coming days," Robert said, walking past Matthew to the door.
"Certainly, Robert," Matthew said, watching as the Earl disappeared down the hallway.
"You can count on me," Matthew sighed.
The French Restaurant, Midland Hotel, Manchester, England, August 1912
"So there's nothing that will change your mind?" the older gentleman asked, his face a mix of anger and sadness.
"I'm afraid not," Matthew said calmly. "As I told you, I've enjoyed my time here but there is some family business I need to attend to in Yorkshire, so we'll be moving."
"It just seems a waste," he replied. "You've done very well for yourself in Manchester, Matthew. You've made a lot of money for being such a young lawyer. Your idea for percentage billing is genius. We won't be able to convince our clients to adhere to such an arrangement without you. Your future in Manchester is very bright, you know. I thought you'd be putting down roots here. I thought that would be what your father would want."
Matthew grit his teeth behind his closed lips. How dare this man mention his father? "My father always held family above all else," he said curtly. "He would be the first one to urge me to go."
"Well I suppose that Mr. Lewis will take care of you," the older gentleman bit back. "He always was your mentor."
"Alex has been very generous with his time," Matthew agreed carefully. "But he's not the reason I'm leaving. I told you, my family in Yorkshire needs me."
"Just tell me how much it's going to take, for God's sake," the older gentleman said in exasperation. "Don't give me this rubbish about riding to your family's rescue in Yorkshire. You've worked for us since law school and we haven't heard one word of any family in Yorkshire. No, I know what's going on here. Mr. Lewis and his prestigious law firm have finally seduced you. Well, we won't take this quietly, Matthew. Tell me your number. Tell me how much it will cost me to make you stay."
"What's going on here," Matthew said coldly. "Is that I have family business in Yorkshire to attend to. It has nothing to do with money. It has nothing to do with Alex. I have something waiting for me in Yorkshire that is very dear to me, and no amount of money will deter me."
The older gentleman shook his head, his eyes smouldering.
"Very well, Matthew," he relented. "I am sorry to see you go. Good luck to you, then. I hope whatever it is that is in Yorkshire is worth it."
"It is," Matthew said firmly.
Downton Abbey, England, August 1914
"Mama?" Mary asked as she came into the darkened bedroom.
"Mary," Cora said quietly, turning over in bed to face her.
"I know you don't want to come down, and I know you have no appetite, but you have to eat something," Mary said.
"Mary, please. I just need to sleep," Cora said listlessly.
"Mama, everything will look better in the morning, isn't that what you always say? Well it's morning now," Mary said gently.
Cora sighed. "How is Matthew?"
"He's worried about you. We all are," Mary answered.
"That's kind of him," Cora nodded. "I was always glad that the two of you came to an understanding. I find I'm even more happy for it now."
"Mama," Mary shook her head sadly.
A knock on the door distracted both of them.
"Mama?" Sybil called as she opened the door. "Your nurse is here."
"Nurse?" Cora frowned. "What nurse?"
"This nurse," Isobel declared as she swept into the room. She walked across and opened the drapes, light sweeping across the room quickly. Cora shielded her eyes at the sudden change.
"Cousin Isobel, I…" Cora spoke up.
"Right this way, Ms. O'Brien, quickly now," Isobel ordered, motioning to the door. O'Brien came through holding a tray. She glanced about nervously, then placed it on the bed as directed. Isobel dismissed her curtly.
"Now, you can either have breakfast first or take your bath. I would recommend eating breakfast first, before it goes cold," Isobel said, moving to the bedside.
"You aren't intending to feed me, are you?" Cora asked in horror.
"If that's what it takes," Isobel said pointedly.
Cora slowly reached over and picked up a spoon.
"Mary, Sybil, if you could go and pick out some clothes for your Mama, that would be most helpful. When she's done her bath, we're going outside for a walk. Cousin Cora needs to get her energy back if she's to dine with us tonight. And yes, you will be dining with us tonight." Isobel cast a fixed glance at Cora as she opened her mouth to speak.
"Better do as she says, Mama. Cousin Isobel doesn't take any back talk from her patients," Mary smirked.
Sybil and Mary left quickly for their mother's dressing room.
"I thought you were busy with your war refugees," Cora mumbled as she sipped her soup.
"I am," Isobel nodded. "Quite busy. But I still have time for other causes that I deem worthy."
The two women shared a glance for several moments. Isobel then looked pointedly at the tray and Cora resumed eating her breakfast.
Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, July 1914
Mary finished her tale, fiddling with her skirt nervously.
"My God," Alex sighed. "I had no idea."
"None of us did," Matthew said. "What do you know about their operations?"
"Technically what they say is all true," Alex said. "There is a market for goods from both sides of the Atlantic. It isn't illegal at all to buy goods from one country and sell them at a profit in another. In theory, it could be a lucrative business."
"Then why the secrecy?" Mary asked. "Why meet in a hotel restaurant and not operate under a trade name with a visible presence?"
"Mary's right," Matthew said. "Only people who don't want others to know what they are up to act in such a fashion."
"Or people who don't actually have a legitimate business, and want to stop their investors and the authorities from finding out," Alex said.
"Let's hope that's not true," Mary said. "If the money is still sitting in a bank somewhere, then Papa may be able to get it back."
"Well we still don't know how much Lord Grantham has invested with them, but it's certainly possible that whatever he has paid over has been wasted completely," Alex shook his head. "If we're right, then the way these schemes work is to use any new money that comes in to pay older investors. Usually they convince them to reinvest their money and interest back into the business, on the promise of even more profits."
"They said that," Mary noted. "They mentioned that most of their investors end up putting their money back in."
"Precisely," Matthew said. "As long as there is new money coming in, and the investors are kept happy, no one finds out if it's all a hoax and the scheme can continue."
"Oh, Papa," Mary shut her eyes. She exhaled then looked over at her husband. "What are we going to do? We'll lose the art. And perhaps more."
Matthew glanced at Alex. Alex nodded to him.
"You're running out of time, Matthew," Alex said.
Matthew looked down at the floor.
"Matthew?" Mary asked in confusion.
"We may know who your father borrowed money from, Mary," Matthew said slowly. "Alex has been making discrete inquiries for some time now. Now that you've confirmed who your father has invested with, we know of certain lenders who have worked with these men before."
"You mean Papa's creditors and these…men…are working together?" Mary asked in shock.
"There's nothing illegal about what the money lenders are doing, Lady Mary," Alex said. "Their business is entirely legitimate. But they also mention certain investments opportunities to aristocrats to try and encourage them to borrow money. We think what happened was that Lord Grantham and a number of his peers were approached by these money lenders with an investment opportunity, and an offer for a generous loan for that purpose."
"All to be secured by collateral. In your father's case, the art at Downton," Matthew said.
"We didn't know specifically who approached Lord Grantham, but we do know that the art appraisers who visited Downton Abbey and Grantham House do work with specific money lenders, and we also know who is known to have worked with these men you met at Claridge's," Alex said.
"And now that we know, what can be done? How do we get Papa's money back?" Mary asked.
"It may be too late for that, Mary," Matthew said slowly.
"What?" Mary gasped.
"If we're right and these men do not operate a legitimate business, your father's money may already be gone. Besides, we need him to demand the money back himself, which would mean we would have to let him know that we are aware of his investments," Matthew said.
"We also don't know the terms of the investment," Alex said. "It may be that he isn't permitted to withdraw the money until a certain time has passed."
"That would be convenient," Matthew nodded.
"And without any actual evidence that his money is gone, Papa would never agree to approach them. No, going to Papa would do more harm than good," Mary shook her head.
"There may be other ways to fix this situation," Alex said, looking at Matthew.
"How?" Mary asked.
Her husband walked over to her and sat down next to her. He looked over at Alex, then back to his wife.
"Let me explain," Matthew said quietly.
Downton Abbey, England, August 1914
Dinner was a much needed salve for Cora's fragile state. She smiled listening to the banter of her family and even managed to make a few quips of her own. Talk soon turned to the Garden Party to be held at the end of the month. They were all surprised and pleased when Cora led the women through as always, and though she walked gingerly under Isobel's watchful eye, she was glad to be out of her bedroom.
"Cousin Cora is getting better," Matthew said, sipping his port.
"I hope so," Robert frowned. "Of course she'll recover eventually but I think she's putting on a brave face for the girls at the moment."
"Keeping busy may do her good. It's one time where planning a large gathering such as the Garden Party may be a welcome distraction," Matthew said.
"Possibly," Robert nodded. "Matthew, I want you to know that I am pleased, despite everything that's happened, that you're here."
"Robert, there's no need to…" Matthew said.
The Earl raised his hand. "Just the same, I want to make sure there are no misunderstandings between us. We should be able to be open with each other," Robert said.
"I would like nothing more," Matthew nodded.
"Good. Then you will understand when I say that I will not accept anymore of your meddling," Robert stated firmly.
"I beg your pardon?" Matthew exclaimed in surprise.
"Matthew, you're very smart and very eager, and those are admirable qualities," Robert explained. "But I don't have the time to answer your questions or address your concerns or placate your fears. I realize now that I placed far too much on you when you first arrived. You seem to have a solid grasp of the way things are done around here, and Mary can explain the rest to you. That is enough. There's no need for you to look at the Estate books or be concerned with payment of rent and so forth. Jarvis is the agent and I am the Earl. We will deal with Estate affairs and when the time comes for you to take on a greater role, we will let you know."
Matthew blinked in shock. "You're saying that you don't want me involved in the Estate at all?"
"I'm saying that there's no need for you to bother," Robert answered. "Leave it all to me. If I need your help, I'll ask for it."
Matthew stared incredulously as Robert finished his port.
"Robert," Matthew said slowly. "Surely you must understand that the decisions you make affect Mary and I, and the rest of the family, quite profoundly. It only makes sense that I would want to ensure that our future is secure."
"Don't tell me what's at stake, Matthew!" Robert snarled. "You've only been a part of our world for less than two years. Your intentions are good, but your effort is misplaced. Everyone else accepts my authority. It's time that you did as well. Things won't be so tense between us if you know your place."
Robert rose from the table.
Matthew's fingers flexed as he rose. He was grinding his teeth so hard behind his pursed lips that he was afraid he might chip one.
"As you wish, Robert," he nodded, following the Earl through to the sitting room. Matthew's eyes searching desperately for Mary.
Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, July 1914
"Mmm," Mary sighed, turning her head into the soft pillow. She arched her back and stretched her arms out at her sides, the warmth of the blankets around her felt heavenly as she slowly roused herself from sleep.
Keeping her eyes closed, she exhaled deeply, a slight smirk coming to her lips.
"Matthew," she whispered, her breathing quickening. Her heart beat faster in her chest and she swallowed, the now familiar feeling swirling inside of her. She reached for it greedily, whimpering softly as her hips lifted slightly from the bed. Her husband was unrelenting in his attentions. His lips. His tongue. His teeth. All too quickly she gasped and froze, her body holding still as the blood coursed through her veins.
Mary smiled and opened her eyes. The soft sheets and blankets enveloped her warm skin as she took deep breaths to calm herself. Matthew kissed a trail up her stomach, over her breasts and finally to her lips. She touched his cheek as she pecked at his mouth, smiling when he pulled back and leaned over her.
"I've never made love to a millionaire before," she said with a raised eyebrow.
"Don't go publicizing it," Matthew smirked. "It's our secret. Besides, fortunes can change you know. I could lose it all just as quickly as I got it."
"I am well aware," Mary sighed. "I just hope that your plan works."
"We'll know so enough. It would be helpful if Robert's money isn't entirely gone. There's still the problem of his management of the Estate itself. He's losing money on the tenants. He's losing money on the land. He's losing money on the Village. If that continues, we'll be back where we started eventually, even if the plan works. Then what?"
"Well, then my dashing millionaire husband will rescue me, obviously," Mary smiled, leaning up and kissing him.
"Is that all I am to you now? The only reason you're with me is my money?" Matthew said with mock anger, furrowing his brow.
"Of course not, darling," Mary replied sultrily. Her hand moved down his body with a light touch. She raised her eyebrow teasingly at him as her fingers caressed him. "I'm with you for your money and your body."
"You naughty minx," Matthew snarled as he set upon her.
Mary shrieked and wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulling him closer to her as their voices changed from laughter and mirth to a language of a far different kind.
Downton Abbey, England, August 1914
"Mr. Crawley, a telegram for you," Carson announced as he came into the library.
"Thank you, Carson," Matthew said, taking the paper from the silver tray. He glanced at Mary, who put her book down on her lap. They waited for the butler to leave, then Matthew opened the telegram and read it quickly.
"Damn," Matthew muttered. He rolled his eyes and passed the telegram to Mary. "It's from Alex."
Mary read it quickly, her eyes widening. She brought her hand to her mouth in shock.
"Oh no," she said quietly, staring over at Matthew. "What will you do?"
"It was always a risk that they may leave in the middle of the night. We'll need to change the plan," Matthew said, frowning.
They both looked up suddenly as Robert came into the library.
"Papa," Mary said with a polite smile.
"Mary, Matthew, I'm going to London this afternoon. I need to attend to some business, but I should be back in two days," Robert said, going to the desk and picking up some papers.
"You're staying overnight?" Mary asked.
"Yes, I'll just be at the club," Robert answered, not looking up. "I think your Mama is doing quite well, thanks to Cousin Isobel. You can wire me if anything arises, but I'm sure she should be fine until my return."
Mary glanced at Matthew nervously.
"Have a safe trip, Robert," Matthew said calmly.
"Thank you," Robert answered. He nodded to both of them, then left the library.
Matthew looked at his wife. She nodded to him in understanding.
"We'll need to change the plan sooner than we thought," he said.
He reached out his hand and helped her up from the sofa. They left the library quickly, headed up to their wing of the house.
Law Office of George Murray, London, England, August 1914
"Where are they?" Robert grumbled, pacing about Murray's boardroom.
"My Lord, they still have several minutes yet," Murray explained. "Perhaps you should sit down and try to remain calm."
Robert glared at his solicitor, then sat down in a chair facing the door.
"Let them come," he declared. "I'm the Earl of Grantham. I can deal with a rabble of shylocks. They'll just have to accept that I need more time to pay them back, and that's it. If they think they're getting my family's art collection, they will be sorely mistaken."
"Perhaps you should try and be a touch more conciliatory, my Lord," Murray suggested. "You don't want the publicity of creditors trying to seek court assistance to seize the collateral, and moreover you don't want rumours of your loans to be public knowledge."
"I want you to cash in the remaining shares that we have. I'll pool the money and invest it in something else. Something faster, something more lucrative. I'll speak to some of the other Lords. There must be something out there that will get us a higher return so I can pay off these vultures and put my plan back on track," Robert said.
"Yes, my Lord," Murray nodded. "But you do realize that the funds from your investments will not begin to cover the amount that is owed, and even if you did have a further extension, the Estate continues to lose money each month."
"I know that!" Robert snarled. "I just need time to turn things around, Murray."
A knock at the door caused them both to look up. Murray's young secretary opened the door and peeked in.
"Mr. Murray, Lord Grantham, the creditors' representative is here," she said quietly.
Robert exhaled and said a silent prayer. He hardened his expression and rose from the table. He nodded to Murray and stared straight at the door, his chin raised.
"Show the man in," Murray instructed his secretary.
"Yes, Mr. Murray," the secretary answered and disappeared.
The door opened and the creditors' representative walked into the room.
Murray frowned.
Robert's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in shock.
"Lord Grantham," Matthew said, staring intently at his father-in-law. "It seems that you are in a spot of trouble?"