Note: I just corrected Rosalind to Rosamond
Echoes of Destiny: Part 20
A Death Confirmed
The grandeur of Downton Abbey stood juxtaposed against the palpable sorrow that now gripped its halls. Lady Cora's heartache reverberated through the opulent chambers as the family mourned the loss of their cherished daughter, Mary. The news of the Titanic tragedy had cast a shadow over the entire estate, and a sense of heaviness hung in the air.
Amidst this sorrow, fate delivered an additional blow. The arrival of Mary's letter from Queenstown. Lady Cora, her eyes brimming with tears, held the letter in trembling hands.
"Oh, Robert, look," she whispered, her voice catching as she read the words penned by their lost daughter, Mary. Lord Grantham, his face etched with sorrow, took the letter from her, his heart sinking as he absorbed the painful contents.
"I can't believe she was on that ship," Lady Cora choked out, her voice breaking. "I thought for a moment that she had made it safely to New York."
"It's a cruel twist, my dear," Lord Grantham said, his voice heavy with regret. "To receive her letter now, after we learned of the tragedy."
My Dearest Mother, 11th of April 1912, Titanic
I hope this letter finds you in good health and spirits. I wanted to take a moment to recount the journey that has led me to where I am now, aboard the Titanic, and to assure you that Patrick and I are managing as well as one could hope given the circumstances.
The anticipation leading up to our departure was quite overwhelming. The idea of embarking on such a grand and luxurious ship was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. I couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and anxiety as we boarded the Titanic. The ship itself is a marvel to behold, and I must admit, I felt a sense of pride to be among its passengers.
As we settled into our accommodations, I found myself in awe of the opulence surrounding us. The first night aboard was a whirlwind of introductions and social engagements. Patrick and I attended a delightful dinner where we had the opportunity to converse with fellow travellers. It was during that time that I began to realize the vast diversity of individuals on this voyage, each with their own stories and dreams.
Patrick and I are getting along as well as one could expect given our state of affairs. We have always had a unique attachment, and that has proven to be a source of comfort during this journey. We share stories of our childhood and reminisce about happier times, which helps to ease the uncertainty of our current situation.
Please rest assured, Mother, that I am taking all necessary precautions and following the guidance of the ship's staff. The Titanic is equipped with every modern convenience and safety measure, and I feel confident in their ability to ensure our well-being.
I know you must be worried about me, but I want you to know that I am strong and resilient. I am adapting to the challenges of this journey, and I am determined to make the most of this unique experience. I carry our family's values and traditions with me, and I am committed to representing our name with the utmost dignity and grace.
I eagerly await the day when we reach our destination and can once again be reunited. Until then, know that you are always in my thoughts and prayers. Please give my love to Father and my dear sisters, Edith and Sybil. I long to see you all again and share the stories of my adventures.
With all my love,
Mary
Across the vast ocean, in the bustling city of New York, Mrs. Delwimple's arrival aboard the Carpathia marked a turning point. Joined by Mrs. Levingston, Mary's grandmother, they sombrely confirmed the tragic truth of Mary's demise. In their eyes, the weight of grief and the burden of sorrow were evident, as they embarked on their journey to England to deliver the heartrending news to the Crawley family.
Back at Downton Abbey, the estate's future hung in the balance. Lord Grantham, his brow furrowed with concern, entrusted his solicitor Murray with the solemn task of locating the rightful heir to the Earl of Grantham title. Even amidst the sombre atmosphere, the pressing matters of estate management could not be set aside.
Within the walls of the abbey, the Crawley sisters grappled with their individual grief. The youngest, Sybil, withdrew into the solitude of her room, only coming out when required.
Currently she was in the in the drawing room, the Dowager Countess, Violet Crawley, sat in solemn contemplation. "Life has a way of surprising us, my dear," she said to her granddaughter, Sybil, who sat by her side. "We must find strength in each other during these difficult times."
Sybil nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I can't believe she's gone, Granny. She was here in this room a month ago, arguing with Edith, like they always do."
The Dowager Countess patted Sybil's hand gently. "Indeed, my dear. But we must carry on, as she would have wanted."
Meanwhile, Edith, long overshadowed by Mary, navigated a complex sea of emotions – mourning the loss of her sister while privately harbouring a flicker of hope for her own place in the spotlight.
Downstairs, the servants moved with a quiet reverence, their faces bearing the weight of shared sorrow. Mr. Carson, the ever-dignified butler, exchanged a sorrowful glance with Mrs. Hughes, his eyes reflecting the pain they both felt. "A tragedy beyond words," Mrs. Hughes murmured, her voice a soft lament.
Anna, the head housemaid, sighed as she folded a dress with delicate precision. "She was so full of life," she said, her voice tinged with sadness. "I can't believe she's gone."
Daisy, the young kitchen maid, found refuge in the scullery, her tears a silent testament to the impact the tragedy had on the family as well as the staff.
As whispers of Mrs. Levingston and Mrs. Delwimple's impending arrival reached Downton Abbey, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. The household stood united in their grief, bracing themselves for the solemn news that would change the course of their lives. And in the midst of it all, the indomitable spirit of Downton Abbey endured, a beacon of resilience amidst the sea of sorrow.
Mrs Delwimple Returns
On the 7th of May 1912, Downton Abbey stood as a solemn backdrop for the arrival of Mrs. Martha Livingston and Mrs. Elizabeth Delwimple. The elegant facade of the estate seemed to echo the sombre mood that had settled over the grand halls.
As the carriage pulled up to the entrance, Mrs. Livingston stepped out, her face etched with grief. She looked around the imposing estate, her heart heavy with the weight of her daughter's tragic fate. "At last," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible.
Carson, the impeccable butler, greeted Mrs. Livingston with a respectful nod. "Welcome back to Downton Abbey, madam," he said, his tone carrying a note of sympathy.
"Thank you, Carson," Mrs. Livingston replied, her voice tinged with sadness. "Please, have me taken to Cora."
Carson nodded and indicated that Thomas the Footman would escort Mrs. Livingston inside and to her daughter. Meanwhile, Mrs. Delwimple, was led to the small library, by Mr Carson, where Lord Grantham awaited her presence.
"Ah, Mrs. Delwimple," Lord Grantham said, rising from his seat to greet her. "Thank you for coming."
Mrs. Delwimple offered a polite smile, her demeanour a mix of formality and genuine sorrow. "Lord Grantham," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of nervousness.
"Please, have a seat," Lord Grantham gestured toward a plush chair, and Mrs. Delwimple gracefully took her place.
As they engaged in the customary pleasantries, Carson discreetly entered the room with a tray of tea. He set the tray down on a nearby table and poured tea for Mrs. Delwimple, his movements precise and unhurried.
"Tea, Mrs. Delwimple?" Lord Grantham offered, gesturing to the cup.
"Thank you, Lord Grantham," she replied, her fingers wrapping around the delicate porcelain.
Lord Grantham's inquiries about her journey and return voyage were met with Mrs. Delwimple's account of her apprehension about the sea. "The doctor prescribed sleeping draughts to calm my nerves," she admitted, a touch of vulnerability in her voice.
The conversation shifted, and Mrs. Delwimple recounted the harrowing events of the Titanic's final hours. Her voice trembled slightly as she described Mary's selflessness in handing over letters to be delivered to her family. The letters, now in her possession, held the weight of Mary's final moments.
Lord Grantham listened attentively, his expression a mix of sorrow and understanding. When Mrs. Delwimple passed the letters to him, he accepted them with a solemn nod.
"These are for her mother, sister, and even a postcard for Carson," Mrs. Delwimple explained.
Lord Grantham took the postcard, his gaze briefly meeting Carson's. "Thank you, Mrs. Delwimple. Your consideration is greatly appreciated."
As the conversation drew to a close, Lord Grantham inquired about Mrs. Delwimple's plans. "Will you be staying at Downton Abbey?" he asked.
Mrs. Delwimple shook her head gently. "I will be staying with Violet, at the Dower House," she replied.
Lord Grantham nodded, his gratitude evident. "Please extend my regards to my mother."
With a final exchange of courtesies, the meeting concluded, leaving a palpable sense of sorrow lingering in the air. Downton Abbey, once a haven of laughter and joy, now bore witness to the profound loss that had befallen the Crawley family.
Lord Grantham passed the postcard Mary had written to the butler and then went to carry out the solemn duty of delivery Mary's last words to her family.
An Interrogation
In the elegant sitting room of the Dowager Countess's home, Elizabeth and her dear friend Violet were engaged in a tense conversation. Violet's piercing gaze fixed on Elizabeth, her expression a mix of concern and suspicion.
"Violet," Elizabeth began, her voice tinged with unease, "I must tell you about that dreadful night on the Titanic."
Violet nodded, her eyes unwavering. "Please, go on."
Elizabeth's retelling of the sinking of the Titanic was a poignant and heart-wrenching narrative that left the room enveloped in a sombre silence. Gathered around the cosy fireplace, the Violet listened intently as Elizabeth recounted the tragic events with vivid detail.
"The night was calm, almost eerily serene," Elizabeth began, her voice carrying a touch of sorrow. "I remember feeling the excitement in the air as the Titanic set sail, a feeling of grandeur and adventure."
She paused, her gaze distant as if transported back in time. "But that excitement turned to fear when we received word of the iceberg. The ship's atmosphere shifted, a quiet tension settling in. I was in my cabin when the collision happened, the jolt sending a shiver down my spine."
The Violet leaned in, captivated by Elizabeth's words.
"I made my way to the deck, and that's when the chaos began," she continued. "Passengers were in a state of panic, crew members scrambling to lower the lifeboats. I remember the sound of the distress signals piercing the cold night air."
Elizabeth's voice quivered as she described the scene. "I saw lifeboats being lowered with only a fraction of their capacity filled. And then... I saw her."
She turned her gaze to Violet, who was seated beside her, her expression a mix of emotions.
"Violet," Elizabeth's voice softened, "James had already helped me get on to the boat, then she was there, amidst the chaos. She couldn't get on the lifeboat, but she didn't falter. She handed me her letters, her thoughts for her family, entrusting them to me."
Violet leaned forward, her tone firm. "And Mary?"
Elizabeth's voice wavered slightly. "She was injured, Violet." Elizabeth brought up her hands to cover her face, as if she could protect herself from the harrowing memories.
Violet's brow furrowed; concern etched on her face. "Injured? How?"
"She was with Patrick, when it happened. I saw something strike her on the head, and she fell to the deck. There was blood on her face." Elizabeth explained. "It was chaos, and I was already in a lifeboat when I heard the sailor say there was no more room."
Violet's eyes widened in realization. "So, you left Mary behind?"
Elizabeth nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. "Yes, I left her. I didn't know what else to do. The sailor said there were other lifeboats further along the deck, that Patrick would make sure she found one."
Violet's gaze softened slightly, and she reached out to grasp Elizabeth's hand. "My dear, in times of crisis, decisions are often made in haste. You were not to know the full extent of the situation."
"But she was injured, Violet," Elizabeth whispered, her voice filled with regret. "And I left her alone."
Violet's voice softened, offering reassurance. "Elizabeth, none of us can change the past. We can only strive to make amends and seek the truth."
"And then..." Elizabeth's voice trailed off, the weight of the memory heavy upon her. "When the lifeboat was away from the Titanic, he ship began to sink, the water swallowing it whole. I was fortunate to be in a lifeboat, and as we rowed away, I looked back at where the Titanic used to be, and all that was left was debris and hundreds of people crying out for help."
Granny to the Rescue
In the quiet and lavish surroundings of the Dower House, the Dowager Countess, Violet Grantham sat by her writing desk, a sense of urgency tugging at her thoughts. She carefully penned a letter to her daughter, Rosamond Painswick, detailing the possibility that Mary, her beloved granddaughter, might have survived the Titanic sinking.
"My dearest Rosamond, 8th of May 1912
I find myself in a most perplexing situation, one that compels me to reach out to you for assistance. There is a glimmer of hope, however faint, that our dear Mary may have survived the tragedy that befell the Titanic. I implore you to use your considerable contacts in London to uncover any shred of information that could shed light on her fate.
I have heard from my friend Elizabeth that Mary was only injured on the Titanic and not killed, and at the time when Elizabeth last saw Mary, she was still in the company of Patrick, and that a sailor told them that there were still other lifeboats.
I await any information you find.
Your Loving Mother "
With a determined sigh, Violet sealed the letter and sent it off to Rosamond, her heart heavy with both anticipation and trepidation.
Weeks passed, and eventually, a response arrived from Rosamond. Violet eagerly tore open the envelope, her eyes scanning the words that held the key to Mary's possible survival. Rosamond's letter confirmed that Mary's body had not been recovered, offering a glimmer of hope that she might still be alive.
As the end of May approached, Violet decided it was time to share her suspicions with her son, Robert. The two of them sat in the study, the weight of their conversation palpable.
"Robert, my dear," Violet began, her voice steady, "I have been mulling over something, something that may sound like wishful thinking, but I cannot ignore it any longer."
Robert leaned forward, his gaze fixed on his mother. "What is it, Mother?"
"I believe there is a possibility, however remote, that Mary might have survived the Titanic," Violet revealed, her eyes searching his for any sign of understanding.
Robert's brows furrowed in contemplation. "Survived? But we received news..."
"I know what we were told, but there are gaps, uncertainties," Violet interjected. "I believe we should explore this further, discreetly, of course."
Robert's expression shifted from scepticism to cautious consideration. "You think there's a chance?"
Violet nodded, her resolve unwavering. "I do, and I think we owe it to Mary, to our family, to investigate."
"I don't think we should tell Cora, until we have definitive proof, she has gone through so much already", Robert insisted.
"I quite agree. For the moment it is just you, Rosalind and I, who know. No need to be upsetting the household until we know more".
Their decision made, the Crawley family embarked on a journey of hope and determination, united by the shared belief that Mary's story might have a different ending than they had once believed.
In early June, a letter arrived for Violet from her friend Elizabeth Delwimple. As she read Elizabeth's words about how she had just remembered a woman named Marie, a second-class passenger with amnesia, who was reported to be tall, fair complexion and dark hair. Violet's heart quickened. Could this be the clue they were searching for, a path that might lead them to Mary?
The Crawley's may not have known the Wakefield's or the full details of Marie's story, but their pursuit of the truth had taken root. With renewed vigour, they resolved to uncover the mysteries that lay beneath the surface, holding onto the hope that Mary's fate might yet be revealed.
Note: It was only when I was writing the Carpathia section when I realised that Mrs Delwimple would have had a ladies' maid with her, and that Patrick/James would have had a valet. At the time it was generally standard to book the maid/valet in to second class, and they would be given access to their first-class employers. I was too far in to retrospectively added them, and for the story to work I would have had to kill them off anyway.
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