Chapter 13: Peter Pan

Saturday, December 27th was finally upon them. The girls awoke from their slumbers with groggy smiles on their faces. The thin threads of their happy sleep were not yet broken and they could remember, if not the details of their dreams, then at least the happy feelings those dreams had generated.

Lady Mary was thrilled to be attending her first proper night at the theatre. She had been to several pantomimes but they had all been matinees where the children outnumbered the adults in the audience. She was a little put out that Edith was being allowed to attend, but she felt no such bitterness towards Sybil's inclusion. Surprisingly, Mary was cognizant enough to realize the hypocrisy of her feelings, but this awareness was not enough to change how she felt. Thankfully, Mary knew better than to make an issue of it, and she chose to simply accept both her sisters' presence this evening.

Lady Edith almost remembered her dream. She was the tallest, prettiest and eldest daughter of a Duke. Princes lined up before her father's grand house waiting to ask for her hand in marriage. Sybil's excited cries of "Good morning, Edith! Today's the day!", broke her last tenuous grasp on this fantasy.

Lady Sybil awoke equally excited about attending the play and the opportunity to present her gift to her Grandmama. After the adults had breakfasted, they were asked to assemble in the front parlor. Each recipient was prepared to be dutifully grateful and each was pleasantly surprised by the lovely gift they received. All three girls basked in the radiant gratitude of a thoughtful gift well given.

"Sybil, I shall save this blend for when you visit me at the Dower House. You must come for tea very soon after we return to Yorkshire."

"I shall be sure to write to you on this fine stationary, Edith. Thank you for the lovely gift."

"I have not had one of these cigars in over three years, my dearest girl. You chose these yourself? I am very impressed. You've not taken up smoking in my absence, have you?"

The rest of the day, the young ladies could barely contain their energy. The weather was poor so they were confined to Painswick Place. They played at pirates and mermaids most of the morning and afternoon, chasing Lady Rosamund's poor chamber maids from room to room. Cora only convinced them to take a nap by reminding them that they might well be up past midnight this evening.

Carson had spent a relatively quiet and enjoyable day sorting and packing His Lordship's clothing. It was simple work, but there was a large volume of things to be gone through. Everything from Africa had been thoroughly cleaned, evaluated and repaired as needed. Lord Grantham's batman had done an admirable job of keeping things in very fine condition, Carson noted.

The packing was almost done when Carson heard Lord Grantham clear his throat just behind him. "Is it time to change already, My Lord?" The family would be eating a light supper before going to the theatre this evening. Carson had not been sure if there would be a changing gong today. Surely, he had not lost such track of the time. He checked his watch. It was only one fifteen.

"No, Carson. I am unwell. I thought I might lie down for a while."

Carson searched His Lordship's face for signs of fever or illness. He found none. Of course, it was possible that Lord Grantham was under the weather, but Carson suspected that he simply could not face the prospect of attending the theatre. His Lordship had displayed a strong aversion to crowds and society in the few days he had been in London.

"Hopefully, a rest will fortify you for this evening, My Lord."

"Hopefully." Lord Grantham did not sound hopeful.

"The young ladies will be very disappointed if you are not part of the evening."

"That is doubtful." Robert pouted. "Come wake me at five and I'll decide then."

"Yes, My Lord."

-00-

Cora was beyond peeved. How dare Robert do this to the girls? Part of her was sympathetic to Robert's predicament. She knew how dreadfully homesick he was and she could admit that it was cruel of them to allow him so close, and then ask him to wait four more days. Every night since his return he had practically begged to return to Downton. He'd said they could come back just for the play, but she had pointed out how difficult that would be with the girls. Every morning she half expected to find his side of the bed empty but for a note reading, 'Gone to Downton.'

But it was not fair to ask the girls or Rosamund to understand this. Cora held out very little hope that Robert would be recovered enough to attend supper, let alone the play.

"And what if he is not feeling better by six?" Cora asked, exasperated.

"We can go without him." Rosamund suggested.

"I cannot possibly be expected to watch after all three girls without Robert there. Miss Randall is not available and you and Marmaduke are near useless with the children. No offense, Rosamund."

"Absolutely none taken." Lady Rosamund said, sincerely. "Perhaps Mama might come along after all."

"Ha!" was Cora's only response to that suggestion. Adding Violet would be like adding another child to the outing, a strong willed child who did not want to be there. There really was only one solution, but Cora felt they had asked too much of Carson already on this trip. If she were being honest, she'd been asking too much of him for the past two years. But it was his own fault, in a way. He was too reliable and had never complained. "It has to be Carson."

"That is unheard of, Cora. Bringing a servant who is not the nanny with you to a play is simply not done. You cannot possibly be serious."

"I might be able to take Mary with me, but it would break Edith and Sybil's hearts to be left out. In that case, it would be best if none of us went."

"But that would leave me with the box half empty and it will look as though I don't have enough friends to fill a theatre box for the most coveted show of the year."

"I must confess, Rosamund, that had not entered into my thinking." Cora said, unsympathetically. "Would you please send Anders to summon Carson?"

"Are you sure, Cora. Is there no other way?"

"None that I can think of. Carson will be very well behaved, Rosamund, I assure you."

Carson was sitting patiently in the servant's hall, awaiting the summons he had been expecting since his encounter with Lord Grantham. "MR. GRAN…"

"I'M COMING, MR. ANDERS!" Carson shouted the old butler down. He should have felt ashamed to do something so juvenile, but it felt wonderful.

Upon arriving in the drawing room, Carson's better nature was appealed to yet again. The plan was to hope that Lord Grantham would attend the play, but if not, Carson would accompany the family. "I know we are asking so much of you this week, Carson, but I like to think you'll enjoy the play."

"I am sure I would, My Lady, but is it not unusual for a male servant to attend theatre with the family?"

"That is what I said." Lady Rosamund concurred.

"Let me worry about that, Carson." Cora assured him. "It cannot be helped."

Rosamund was still not happy with the plan. "Don't speak to anyone, Carson. If anyone asks, we'll say you are a distant relation from Russia or something."

"Transylvanian Count, perhaps?" Cora teased. "There will be plenty of families there with children and governesses, Rosamund. Why can we not just say he is the children's governess? Or would that be governor? What is the proper term, Carson."

"I believe I would be considered a tutor, My Lady." Carson replied flatly.

Cora bit back a smile, his humor was so droll and often snuck up on her. "There. What is the lesser evil socially, Rosamund? Bringing a tutor or a butler?"

"A cousin from Prague, perhaps?" Rosamund offered desperately.

Finally, Lady Cora had enough of Rosamund's snobbery. Rather testily, she said, "Carson will be fine, Rosamund. We can just say he is related to Marmaduke and no one will expect him to speak at all." To deflect Rosamund's glare from Carson, Cora changed the subject to something equally offensive to her sister-in-law. "I thought I would wear my new gloves this evening."

Overcome, Rosamund left the room in a huff. This evening had been intended as a treat for her nieces but was quickly becoming a nightmare for herself.

As expected, Lord Grantham was not feeling any better when five o'clock rolled around. He put on his dressing gown and came to see the girls in their room. Robert was truly remorseful, but he knew he could not face such a frivolous evening. He gave them each six pence to spend on treats after the play and apologized for missing the evening. Being children, they accepted his apology without hesitation or suspicion. Mary might have sensed the relief from her father at not having to go to the play, but she understood. She was beginning to miss home as well and she had been gone for less than a week.

Just as he was leaving his room, having changed into his tails, Carson was met by one of the Painswick Place hall boys. Thankfully, this hall boy was not stupid and did not suffer under the illusion of Carson's deafness. "This letter came for you yesterday, Mr. Grantham. It's been on Mr. Anders' desk."

"Thank you, Padraig." Carson replied with a forced calmness. It has to be from her. He was tempted to return at once to his room and read his letter, but he heard the bells in the servant's hall begin to ring. One of those would be a summons for him. He dashed back to his room and placed the envelope on the corner of the dresser. He did not wish to read the letter in public nor did he think he could endure the distraction of feeling it in his pocket all evening.

A brief cab ride later, the family group gained their seats in the Duke of York's Theatre with minimal complications. Only one person had made a comment about Lady Rosamund appearing to have hired a body guard for her jewelry. Beyond that, the only notice anyone made of the family was to observe Lady Grantham's bold fuchsia gloves with admiration.

Once the houselights went down, everyone in the theatre, child and adult alike, sat mesmerized by the bizarre goings on happening on the stage; a lost shadow, a canine governess and flying children. During intermission, Carson remained in the box with the girls and some chocolates while Cora, Rosamund and Marmaduke circulated amongst London's elite with their cocktails. Across the theatre, another box was full of children; four boys to be exact. A woman and a man sat with them. Edith noticed that the man looked familiar.

"Look, Carson! It's Duke's Papa! And what a large human family he has too."

Before Carson could stop her, Sybil had called out across the mostly empty theatre. "Hello!" She waved frantically, willing him to recognize her. The boys in the box waved back, just to be friendly. Finally, Duke's Papa did recognize the three girls and their butler and he waved back, smiling kindly to them all.

Satisfied, Sybil went back to folding little shapes out of her program pages until her mother, aunt and uncle returned.

"Such a press of people out there! It's exactly the event that was promised." Rosamund beamed, very happy in her element.

The final Acts were bloodier and sillier than any of the adults had expected; children killing pirates, hungry crocodiles, clapping to save a fairy's life and a man in a kennel. The children loved every moment. Both Edith and Sybil had jumped to their feet to clap for Tinkerbell's life.

Carson watched the box of young boys opposite them with some curiosity. The man and woman had been joined by two more women and another man as the second half of the play had opened. The boys were nearly as ecstatic about the play as the Crawley girls.

Finally, the stage went dark for the final time and the crowd roared its approval. The happy performers took their bows. Calls came for the author to take his bow. Not entirely surprising to Carson, Duke's Papa strode proudly onto the stage wearing the same mischievous smile he'd worn in Kensington Gardens the day before.

"Oh, Carson. Duke's Papa is Mr. Barrie!" Lady Mary exclaimed.

"It would appear so, My Lady."

"What's this?" Lady Grantham asked.

"We met Mr. Barrie and his dog, Duke, in the gardens yesterday. He introduced himself as Duke's Papa."

"Goodness, Carson. I did not know you moved in such literary circles."

"I do not, My Lady. It was the young ladies who made the acquaintance and I would say they were less moving in literary circles than running in literal circles."

Lady Edith and Lady Mary laughed at this bit of unexpected wit from their butler.

TBC…

A/N I know Chelsie readers are super smart, so I know the Barrie reveal wasn't much of a surprise. We'll see what we can do about surprising you some other way...Sorry to defer the letter yet again, but the time is not right.

Please review if you've the time, your comments challenge me and I appreciate them very much. Thanks.