A Scandalous Affair Chapter 5
Lady Mary lay on her cold and uncomfortable bunk, staring up at the bunk above her where her cellmate gently snored through the night. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of anxiety and frustration.
The narrow, dimly lit cell was a stark contrast to the comfort and luxury of Downton Abbey. The iron bars and cold stone walls seemed to close in on her, making her feel trapped and vulnerable.
Mary had two cellmates, women who had been brought in from the same coaching inn. They had given her suspicious glances when they first arrived, eyeing her as if she were an intruder in their world. One of them had gruffly asked, "You're not gonna cry, are you?" before proceeding to relieve herself in the bucket provided. Mary turned her head away, trying to maintain her dignity despite the indignity of her situation. The other woman snickered at Mary's reaction, finding amusement in her discomfort.
As the hours passed, Mary couldn't shake off the shock of her arrest. She knew she was innocent, but the circumstances were beyond embarrassing. Edith and Sybil must have witnessed her arrest, and the thought of her family's humiliation weighed heavily on her.
Mary tried to convince herself that her father, Lord Grantham, would come to her rescue. He had likely received the message from Edith and would be here soon. However, as the minutes dragged on, doubt and worry crept into her mind.
Why was it taking so long? What if there had been some mistake? The thought of being wrongly accused gnawed at her. She had committed no crimes, but the evidence against her was damning.
Resting her head against the cold stone wall, Mary closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would provide some respite from her racing thoughts. Occasionally, she drifted into a light slumber, only to be startled awake by the distant sounds of the police station.
The uncertainty of her situation was maddening. She couldn't fathom how things had gone so wrong. She hoped with all her heart that her father would arrive soon and put an end to this nightmare. Until then, she would have to endure the discomfort and humiliation of the jail cell, trusting that her family's love and reputation would see her through.
The police station was a bleak and unwelcoming place, but Lady Mary found comfort in the sight of her father, Lord Grantham, waiting for her. She rushed into his arms, the relief of being reunited with her family washing over her.
"Oh, Papa!" Mary exclaimed, her voice filled with emotion as she embraced him tightly. Her father held her close, his protective arms offering a sense of security she had sorely missed.
Lord Grantham stroked her hair gently, his own worry etched into his features. "Mary, I was so worried when Edith called and told us what happened," he confessed, his voice filled with paternal concern.
Mary looked up at her father, her eyes reflecting her gratitude for his presence. She had always been Daddy's little girl, and at this moment, that bond between them felt stronger than ever. "Thank you for coming, Papa," she said, her voice soft and sincere.
He then informed her of the arrangements. "Sprat is here with the motor, he is outside and will escort you out," he explained, his tone soothing. "I am going to wait here for Branson."
At the mention of Branson, Mary's anger flared momentarily. "Branson, that idiot," she muttered, her frustration evident. She couldn't help but feel exasperated by his recklessness, which had led them into this embarrassing situation.
Lord Grantham, however, clarified that it was her grandmother's insistence that Branson be brought to Downton. Mary knew her grandmother well and understood that when Lady Violet had a plan, it was usually for the benefit of the family.
Relieved by this revelation, Mary's demeanour softened. She leaned in and kissed her father on the cheek, a rare display of affection from the typically reserved Crawley daughter. "Yes, Papa," she acquiesced, her trust in her grandmother's wisdom providing her with reassurance.
Lord Grantham opened the door and beckoned Sprat over. "Sprat, escort Lady Mary to the motor and send Bates into me," he instructed his mother's servant, who had been waiting with the motor.
Sprat nodded and offered his arm to Lady Mary, who smiled gratefully at him. Together, they left the police station, leaving Lord Grantham to await the arrival of Branson and confront the challenges that lay ahead.
Tom Branson had spent the night in his cold, dimly lit cell, wrestling with a torrent of worry and worst-case scenarios. The uncertainty gnawed at him, leaving him feeling sick with dread. He couldn't sleep, surrounded by the three other men in the cramped cell who didn't seem to share his concern for what the morning would bring.
His mind raced, concocting frightening possibilities such as being charged with kidnapping. Tom desperately wished for some clarity, whether it was to face his fate head-on or to escape it altogether. The night seemed endless, each minute stretching into an eternity.
Finally, the heavy door of his cell swung open, and a gruff voice announced, "Branson, it's your lucky night, you've been sprung." Confusion washed over Tom. How could he be released? Did Lord Grantham intervene somehow? His head spun with questions and apprehension as he followed the officer.
In the stark, bare office, Tom found Lord Grantham waiting, seething with anger. Mr. Bates stood nearby, his presence adding to the ominous atmosphere. Tom's dread intensified, and he couldn't help but feel his heart sink.
Lord Grantham's voice was stern and biting as he delivered his scathing words. "I would have you whipped if it were up to me." Tom flinched at the harsh tone. He was prepared to face the consequences of his actions, but the intensity of Lord Grantham's fury was daunting.
Tom's defiant response, "Then why did you have me released then?" only fuelled Lord Grantham's anger further. The nobleman's rage was palpable as he responded, "You've nearly ruined two of my daughters already tonight. We want to make sure you don't do anything more foolish and complete the job."
Desperation made Tom foolish, and he couldn't help but inquire about Sybil's well-being, "How is Sybil?" Lord Grantham's response was swift and harsh, reminding Tom of his place. "You will call her Lady Sybil, you scoundrel," he thundered.
Realising he should remain silent, Tom glanced around, understanding the gravity of his situation. If he was being taken back to Downton, perhaps there was still a chance to make amends with Sybil, he hoped, though the journey ahead seemed fraught with tension.
Flanked by Lord Grantham and Mr. Bates, Tom was escorted back to the motor waiting outside. Lady Mary sat inside, her gaze shooting daggers at him. Lord Grantham and Bates discussed seating arrangements, ultimately deciding that Tom would sit between Sprat and Bates to ensure he couldn't escape into the night.
As the motor started, it became evident that the trip to Downton would be tense and uncomfortable for everyone involved, each passenger burdened by their own thoughts and concerns.
The journey back to Downton was a sombre one, with Lady Mary sitting in stony silence, Lord Grantham's face etched with frustration, and Mr. Bates maintaining a vigilant watch over Tom Branson. The tension in the motor was palpable, the uncomfortable atmosphere weighing down on everyone.
Upon their arrival at Downton, the imposing facade of the grand estate loomed before them. Tom couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding as the motor pulled up to the front entrance. He exchanged a few glances with Lady Mary, whose anger had not abated in the slightest.
Once inside, Tom was escorted to a small room in the men's quarters. It was a modest space, but it offered the basic necessities—a bed, a chamber pot, and a small window that let in a feeble stream of moonlight. The door was locked firmly behind him, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
As he stood in the dimly lit room, Tom's mind raced with questions. Why had Lord Grantham brought him back to Downton? What was the purpose of keeping him here, under lock and key? He had no answers, only a gnawing sense of unease.
After a few moments of pacing and restless contemplation, Tom decided that the best course of action was to get some sleep. Fatigue had been gnawing at him since the previous evening, and he knew that facing whatever awaited him in the morning would require a clear head.
With a resigned sigh, Tom removed his jacket and waistcoat, leaving them neatly folded on a nearby chair. He settled onto the bed, the feather mattress offering a welcome comfort that contrasted with the cold, hard bunk he had endured in the police cell. In the subdued darkness, he closed his eyes and tried to relax, allowing himself to succumb to the gentle pull of exhaustion.
Sleep didn't come easily, as his mind continued to churn with worry and uncertainty. Yet, gradually, weariness overcame his racing thoughts, and he drifted into a fitful slumber.
Tom knew that whatever lay ahead at Downton would demand his full attention and composure. Resting now was his only chance to regain his wits and prepare himself for the inevitable revelation of why he had been brought back to the estate.
At 7:30 am, Lady Mary and Lord Grantham finally arrived back at Downton Abbey. The estate greeted them with its timeless grandeur, and the morning sunlight barely crept over the horizon, had yet to touch the imposing facade. An air of relief and anticipation hung over the household, as the news of Lady Mary's safe return had spread like wildfire.
As soon as the motor came to a halt, Lady Cora rushed out to greet her daughter with open arms. Worry and anxiety had etched lines onto her face, and her embrace was filled with both relief and motherly warmth. "Mary, my dear, you're safe," she whispered, holding her daughter close.
Mr. Carson, who had been pacing the entrance hall with a concerned expression, couldn't hide his joy at the sight of Lady Mary. His stern demeanour softened, and he let out a sigh of relief. "Welcome home, Lady Mary," he said, his voice laced with genuine happiness.
Lady Cora took Lady Mary's arm, her gaze filled with concern. "Come, my darling. Let's get you inside and make sure you're well." With her daughter by her side, they walked towards the grand staircase, leaving behind the hustle and bustle of the entrance hall.
Once they reached her room, Lady Cora took a moment to reassure Lady Mary once more. "You're unharmed, my dear. Thank goodness for that." Her motherly worry was evident in her eyes.
With a tender smile, Lady Cora left Lady Mary in the capable hands of her maid, Anna. "Anna will help you freshen up, and you can get some rest. You must be exhausted." With that, Lady Cora took her leave, her mind still fraught with concern for her other daughters.
Anna, ever loyal and attentive, immediately set about helping Lady Mary bathe and prepare for bed. She listened intently as Lady Mary recounted her harrowing ordeal, offering words of comfort and understanding.
As Lady Mary's concerned eyes searched Anna's face, she inquired about her sisters. Anna gave her a brief update, including the fact that Lady Sybil had been locked in her room. "She's safe for now, my lady," Anna assured her.
A sense of relief washed over Lady Mary as she absorbed this news. "Good," she replied firmly, glad that her impulsive sister would be prevented from any further reckless actions.
Finally, with Anna's assistance, Lady Mary slipped into her nightgown and retired to her own bed. The soft sheets and familiar surroundings provided a sense of comfort and security she had sorely missed during her ordeal.
Anna wished her a peaceful night's sleep, her voice filled with genuine care. "Sleep well, my lady. You're safe at home now."
As Lady Mary closed her eyes, the worries and fears of the night began to recede. The gentle embrace of slumber enveloped her, and she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. At long last, she was able to rest, knowing she was back where she belonged, surrounded by the loving care of her family and loyal staff at Downton Abbey.
Downstairs in Downton Abbey, Lord Grantham took Mr. Carson aside, his eyes heavy with fatigue and concern. He knew the night had been taxing for everyone, but there were still lingering worries that needed to be addressed.
"Carson," Lord Grantham began in a hushed tone, "I'm going to retire to my dressing room for a few hours of rest. But I need you to wake me immediately if any of the newspapers mention Lady Mary, Lady Sybil, or any of the events of last night. Is that understood?"
Carson nodded solemnly, fully aware of the gravity of the situation. "Of course, my lord. I'll keep a vigilant eye on the papers and send for you if there's any mention of it."
Lord Grantham continued, "Mr. Murray is having someone in Carlisle collect the daily papers from that town and put them on the train. We should receive a call with information on which train they'll be on, so you can send one of the boys up to the station to collect them."
Carson's expression remained steadfast as he acknowledged his instructions. "Very well, my lord. I'll see to it personally."
Satisfied with their conversation, Lord Grantham retreated to his dressing room, where he found Bates waiting patiently. The loyal valet helped Lord Grantham prepare for bed, his hands deftly assisting with the removal of clothing and the donning of a nightshirt.
As Bates worked, Lord Grantham spoke gratefully, "Bates, I want to thank you for your assistance tonight. You have been invaluable."
Bates inclined his head respectfully. "It was my duty, my lord."
Lord Grantham appreciated Bates's dedication and generosity. "You've earned some respite. Take most of the day off, and I won't require your services until dinner this evening. I'll ask Thomas to assist me when I rise later."
Bates's gratitude was palpable as he responded, "Thank you, my lord. I appreciate your understanding."
Before settling into bed for some much-needed rest, Lord Grantham made a brief visit to his wife's room. Cora, his calming presence, greeted him with a soft smile.
"She's fine, Robert," Cora assured him as she settled onto her dressing table chair. "Anna is with Mary, helping her get ready for bed. I saw her to her room myself, and I'll rest before heading down to breakfast later. I suspect breakfast will be a bit late this morning, considering the unusual night we've all had."
Lord Grantham let out a sigh of relief, grateful for his wife's reassurance. "Thank you, Cora. I don't know what I would do without you."
Cora's eyes softened as she spoke of the plan she had concocted. "We've come up with a plan for Sybil, but we won't consider it until we're certain Mary is in the clear."
They shared a tender moment, knowing that, at least for now, their family was back under one roof. Their lips met in a loving kiss before Lord Grantham returned to his own bed, hopeful that the ordeal was behind them and that brighter days lay ahead.
The morning at Downton Abbey dawned with an unusual sense of quietude, a stark contrast to the chaos of the previous night. With the entire household still abed, the servants found themselves with a rare moment of respite.
Up at the big house, the Dowager Countess of Grantham's ladies maid, Denke, was already up and inquiring if her lady had summoned anyone yet. The response was negative; Lady Violet had not made any requests as of yet.
In the servant's quarters, the staff went about their morning routines with an air of tranquillity. For once, the relentless pace of their duties had eased, allowing them to enjoy a slow morning where everything seemed to be right with the world.
Mr. Carson, with the assistance of Mrs. Hughes, had taken on the task of scouring the local papers for any mention of the Crawley family. So far, their search had yielded no news of Lady Mary Crawley. Mr. Carson's anxious anticipation was palpable as he waited for the arrival of the papers from Carlisle and London, hoping for confirmation that no scandal had touched the family.
When the telephone on Mr. Carson's desk rang, he answered it promptly, his voice bearing the familiar butler's authority. "Downton Abbey, Carson the butler speaking." After a brief exchange on the other end of the line, he hung up the phone.
"He put the Carlisle papers on the 8 am train; they should be at Downton by 10 am," Mr. Carson informed a concerned-looking Mrs. Hughes. "It will be a relief when we have them all and can be sure that no scandal has touched the family," he added, his manner reflecting the gravity of the situation.
A knock at the door heralded the arrival of another hall boy, Jason, who poked his head into the room to deliver the London papers. Mr. Carson accepted the papers from him and neatly divided them between himself and Mrs. Hughes, their diligence in searching for any mention of Lady Mary unwavering.
Meanwhile, in the Dowager Countess's quarters, the bell for her room rang out, signalling her ladyship's awakening. Denke, the loyal ladies' maid, promptly prepared a breakfast tray for Lady Violet, the first indication that the house was stirring.
Downstairs, by 9 am, Lady Edith had also rang for a maid, seeking news of her sister, Lady Mary. Anna, the ever-attentive housemaid, assembled a breakfast tray for Lady Edith and prepared to deliver it to her room. Normally, Lady Edith would join her father and sisters in the breakfast room, but today, she felt the need for solitude.
Upon Anna's arrival, Lady Edith's first question was about her sister. "How is Mary? Did Papa collect her?" Her voice held genuine concern for Lady Mary's well-being.
Anna smiled, pleased to see Edith showing concern for her elder sister. "Lord Grantham arrived home at 7:30 with both Lady Mary and Branson," she relayed.
"Papa brought Branson back to Downton, but why?" Edith asked, her curiosity piqued.
"Apparently your grandmother insisted that Lord Grantham bring him back as well," Anna explained, unable to fathom the reason behind such a decision, especially considering Lady Sybil's declarations of love for Branson.
Satisfied with the update on Lady Mary, Edith ate her breakfast as Anna helped her prepare for the day ahead.
Meanwhile, Lady Violet had made her way down to the drawing room and rang for Carson. As the butler appeared with a tea tray, Lady Violet wasted no time in getting to the matter at hand.
"Any news in the papers, Carson?" she inquired briskly, her sharp eyes fixed on him.
"I have reviewed the local Yorkshire papers and the papers from London, my lady. They reported nothing about last night's incident," Mr. Carson reported with a sense of gravitas.
"Good, but we will have to review the evening papers too, Carson. Make sure those are delivered to the house as well," she instructed the butler, her mind ever attentive to detail.
"Very good, my lady," Mr. Carson replied dutifully, handing her a cup of tea. With a nod, he discreetly withdrew from the room, leaving the formidable Dowager Countess to her contemplations.
Mr. Carson, ever the vigilant butler, had been anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Carlisle papers. When they were finally delivered to Downton Abbey, he couldn't contain his anticipation. Clutching the bundle of newspapers tightly, he made his way to the butler's pantry, the room where he often retreated to handle delicate matters away from the prying eyes and ears of the staff.
With trembling hands, he unfolded the first paper and began to read the headline that blazed across the front page:
'Earl's Daughter Arrested in Prostitution Ring'
The words hit him like a physical blow, and he nearly collapsed in shock. His eyes scanned the article, each word etching itself into his consciousness with painful clarity.
'Renowned Earl of Grantham's eldest daughter, Lady Mary Crawley, was arrested last night during a sting operation on a well-known local brothel in Carlton. Lady Mary was found in a room with an unknown man, in this 'Inn of depravity,' who was not her esteemed fiancé, Sir Richard Carlisle, a well-known publisher currently residing in London…'
The story unfolded with sordid detail, recounting the raid on the brothel and Lady Mary's arrest, painting a lurid picture of her alleged involvement. The only detail left out was the identity of the mystery man who had been found with Lady Mary. The bottom of the page displayed two photographs of Lady Mary—one during her arrest, her expression distraught, and the other, a mugshot that showed her looking dishevelled and disheartened.
Carson's heart sank, and his face grew pale as he read further into the article. He couldn't fathom how to break this shocking news to his lordship. The thought of Lord Grantham's innocent daughter being treated in such a manner filled him with a mix of anger, disbelief, and helplessness.
Two other newspapers also carried mentions of Lady Mary's arrest, but the 'Daily Bugle' was the main culprit, responsible for the sensational headlines and the intrusive coverage that would undoubtedly tarnish Lady Mary's reputation.
As Mr. Carson sat there, grappling with the implications of this dreadful news, his thoughts turned to Branson. He couldn't help but think very ill of the young chauffeur who had embroiled Lady Mary in such a scandalous situation. The consequences of this scandal would ripple through the family and the estate, and the blame would inevitably fall on Branson's shoulders.
Taking a deep breath, Mr. Carson knew that he had a grave duty ahead of him. He would have to compose himself before breaking the news to the family. This was a crisis that would require all of their strength and unity to overcome.
Mr. Carson approached Lord Grantham's dressing room with trepidation. He knew that delivering the news about Lady Mary's predicament would be a difficult and uncomfortable task. Gently, he knocked on the door.
"My Lord!" Carson called softly.
Slowly, Lord Grantham stirred from his slumber, blinking as he adjusted to wakefulness. He looked up at Carson with a somewhat disoriented expression.
"What time is it, Carson?" Lord Grantham inquired.
"It's 10:30 am, my lord," Carson replied respectfully. "You asked to be woken about the papers, my lord."
"Ah, yes," Lord Grantham said as he pushed himself up into a seated position. The urgency of the matter quickly registered, dispelling the remnants of sleep. Carson moved to the windows and opened the curtains to let in the daylight, allowing his lordship to read the newspapers.
Carson hesitated for a moment before extending the folded newspaper toward Lord Grantham. He knew the headlines and content within were disconcerting, and he dreaded the moment when his lordship would see them.
As soon as Lord Grantham turned to the front page and read the shocking headline, his face contorted with a mix of dismay and anger. The situation was far worse than he had anticipated. How had the paper obtained Lady Mary's mugshot? He would need to have a stern conversation with Mr. Murray about this breach of privacy.
"Has anyone else in the household seen this?" Lord Grantham inquired sharply.
"No, my lord, just you and I," Carson replied solemnly.
"Good," Lord Grantham replied. "Give a copy to Mama. I will break the news to Lady Grantham myself."
Carson nodded in acknowledgment. "Send Thomas up to help me dress, Carson. I informed Bates to rest, and I will only need him for dressing before dinner."
"Yes, my lord," Carson replied before leaving the room to pass on the orders to Thomas.
Quickly dressing in his robe, Lord Grantham made his way to his wife's chamber, where Miss O'Brien was attending to her. He requested a private moment with his wife, and once Miss O'Brien had exited the room, Cora looked at her husband with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety.
"What's wrong, Robert?" Cora asked nervously.
"The worst has happened, Cora," Robert said gravely. "Mary's story is in the papers. It has been reported in the worst possible way, claiming she was arrested as part of a prostitution ring. They even published her mugshot."
Cora was deeply shocked. She had hoped that Mary would escape scandal unscathed, but a photograph. Her distress was evident in her voice as she asked, "What will we do?"
"As soon as I am dressed, I will go to the study to call Murray and see if we can get a retraction at the minimum," Robert informed his wife. "But first, we need to hear the full account from Murray. Then we can inform Mary of what has happened."
Cora felt a sense of helplessness wash over her. "What are we going to tell Mary?" she worried.
"Let's gather all the facts first," Robert reassured her. "We've faced challenges together before, my dear, and we will weather this storm as well."
He leaned down and gently kissed Cora's forehead, his expression determined. They would need to approach this crisis as a united front and protect their family's reputation. Then, with a nod to his wife, he left her chamber to prepare for the difficult tasks that lay ahead.
Lady Violet set down the newspaper with a mixture of exasperation and concern. The article was every bit as damning as she had expected, and the inclusion of Lady Mary's mugshot had added an extra layer of humiliation. As she sat in her comfortable drawing room chair, she couldn't help but feel a growing anger at the situation.
The article, though cleverly written, was factually accurate. Lady Mary had indeed been arrested, and the details of the sting operation were presented with sordid precision. What troubled Lady Violet most, however, was the prominent mention of Sir Richard Carlisle. It was clear to her that this scandal wasn't primarily about the Crawley family. It seemed more like a calculated attack, one that could tarnish the Crawley name as collateral damage in some vendetta against Sir Richard.
The thought infuriated Lady Violet. If this was a personal vendetta against her family, she could understand it to some extent. She had navigated the complexities of the ton for years, employing her social skills and strategic manoeuvring. But the idea that the Crawley's might be dragged down by some opportunistic money-grubber's scheme was infuriating.
The fact that the article omitted any mention of Tom Branson raised her suspicions. There was a reason for that omission, and she hoped it meant that the true reason for his presence that night remained concealed. She thanked the heavens that Mary and Branson had concocted the story about their motor breaking down on the way to visit the Marquess of Flintshire in Scotland. It was a flimsy excuse, but given the diminished mental faculties of the aristocracy due to generations of inbreeding, it might just work.
The situation might be salvageable if Mr. Murray could secure a retraction from the papers. However, Lady Violet's thoughts turned to Sir Richard Carlisle. He was a shrewd and ruthless man who wouldn't have attained his status otherwise. Would he support Mary in her time of need, or would he abandon her to protect his own reputation? Much depended on what the evening papers would say. She was sure the London papers would pick up the report on Lady Mary's arrest.
Her first order of business was to call her daughter, Rosamund. Lady Violet had an extensive network of contacts, and she knew Rosamund's connections would be valuable in this situation. She grumbled about the infernal telephone machine as she made her way to her son's study. There, she could make the necessary calls without delay.
After a brief but purposeful conversation with Rosamund, during which her daughter grasped the plan immediately, they agreed on a course of action. Rosamund would set things in motion and use her resources, but she might not be able to arrive at Downton until the following day. Lady Violet knew that Rosamund's immediate return wasn't essential to her plans.
Her main focus now would be handling Robert and Cora. She was confident that she could sway Cora first; after all, her daughter-in-law was a practical woman at heart. Once they were united, they could work together to convince Robert. The coming days were crucial to the survival of the Crawley family, and Lady Violet was determined to navigate this storm with her usual poise and cunning.
Note: I am in an airport loading this, I don't know when I will be able to load the next part, but I am very near to the end of this part of the story. I wouldn't mind a review or two :-)