Posted in honor of both the RL British Coronation and my birthday!

Ceremonies

Robert still couldn't believe he and Cora were staying at the Ritz instead of Grantham House, let alone that George VI would be crowned in the upcoming ceremony. Was there no end to the sacrilege against tradition?

"I think Bates did a marvelous job polishing you tonight, darling," Cora said softly as they entered the hotel dining room and Robert's heart swelled. Of course, she was right as always; Bates had polished his shoes and dusted off his suit tonight just as he had in the years past. That was what Robert should focus on, the good things.

He gazed at his wife who was a wonderful aspect of this event and his life and looked amazing in her deep red gown. Robert wished to kiss her fingers or stroke her cheek in thanks, but he couldn't do that in the Ritz Dining Room, not even with the world changing as much as it had.

Instead, Robert simply said, "thank you," in a heartfelt way she was certain to understand. The soft smile and the sparkle in her lovely blue eyes told him all he needed to know.

"Edith, darling," Cora said when they spotted their daughter. She looked amazing as well in a green gown that suited her blonde hair, and her maid had done a lovely job stilling it. Edith and Cora exchanged cheek kisses, while Robert shook Bertie's hand.

"You look well, my boy," he said, taking a moment to admire Bertie's clean suit, worthy of a marquess. He was almost completely bald now, but Edith didn't seem to mind, so why should Robert?

"Hello, Papa," Edith said, exchanging cheek kisses with him next.

"Hello, Edith," Robert said as they withdrew, and he passed to admire her ensemble again. "May I say you look lovely? Being a marchioness becomes you, my dear."

Edith positively beamed, and Robert wondered why it had taken him so long to begin complimenting his middle daughter. "Oh, Papa."

"My ladies, my lords," said the waiter with a couple of bows as he greeted their party. At least there was still some protocol for tradition. The dining room was also appropriately decorated with crystal chandeliers, chairs upholstered in red satin, and silk tablecloths. After leading the four of them to a table, Bertie ordered him and Edith a bottle of champagne.

Robert knew better than to drink that, so he ordered a couple of glasses of white wine. The expression on Cora's face when he did so made the decision more than worth it.

"If you think Edith looks lovely tonight, you should see her gown for the coronation," Bertie said after the waiter left with their drink orders. "I'm told it's perfect for her."

Edith gazed at Bertie from across the table. "It's a nice gown; I will admit that. It's silver, which I chose to match my tiara, although it's satin rather than silk."

Cora nodded. "I've chosen silver for my gown as well, although I've decided on silk fabric. Have you chosen the other jewelry you will be wearing yet?" Their voices droned on until Robert couldn't have cared less what they were saying. He loved both of them very much, but women's fashion was never a topic that could interest him.

Instead, Robert turned his attention to Bertie. "How are your accommodations?"

"Our suite is quite pleasant, and our attendants seem pleased with their loggings as well," Bertie said with a nod. "We even have a view of London in the center room." Robert nodded in return, once again wondering why Mary had declined to come to London. Certainly she wasn't invited to the coronation, but countless people always lined the streets and looked out of windows for a glimpse of the king's carriage, or even positioned themselves outside when the new king stood on the platform.

She and Henry could have booked a suite in the Ritz with a view, just like Bertie and Edith. But perhaps Mary didn't think it was worth it because it was only George VI. Robert could understand that.

He refocused his attention on Bertie. "That's nice to hear; I just wish our London houses didn't have to be sold. It's so much easier to visit London with one's own staff."

Bertie shrugged. "I am afraid I don't mind so much. I wasn't a marquess for much longer than a couple of days before I had to sell Hexham House, so Edith and I are used to staying here when we are in London."

Robert nodded, telling himself he should be pleased that his daughter and son-in-law were happy to be staying at the Ritz rather than the proper townhouse. It's what Cora would say, after all. But it was more evidence that the younger generation was embracing the changes too quickly for him.

Just then, their waiter returned with the drinks and took their dinner orders. Edith and Bertie decided on culet Suffolk lamb while Robert suggested the cucumber imperial caviar for he and Cora. He could almost taste the fresh cucumber blended with the caviar.

Cora nodded in complete agreement, knowing it was one of the Ritz's best dishes. After the waiter disappeared, they all paused to enjoy their drinks.

"So, are you covering the coronation for The Sketch ?" Cora asked as she took a sip of wine. Robert sighed inwardly with relief that they had moved on from discussing women's fashion.

Edith shrugged. "The Sketch will be covering the event, yes, but I've assigned it to another writer; I have too many other duties for the coronation as the Marchioness of Hexham." She gazed at Bertie as she spoke the last two words.

Cora nodded. "It's good that you know how to delegate these things." Edith beamed at her mother's praise, and once again, Robert wondered why it had taken them so long to compliment her.

"I'm certain the person you've chosen will do a marvelous job covering the ceremony," Robert said to Edith.

"Thank you, Papa," she said somehow beaming even more.

OOOOOOOOOOO

But Robert didn't beam the next day as he and Cora, as well as Edith and Bertie and all his peers sat in Westminster Abbey.

Not only was he still a bit sore about Edward VIII's abdication, but the new annex that had been added to Westminster Abbey was far too modern. How could anyone desecrate such a sacred space? And worst of all, there was broadcasting equipment, as someone had decided to transmit the coronation to the general public.

Scowling, Robert wondered when all his beloved traditions would stop being destroyed.

"You look so handsome in that ensemble," Cora said into his ear. Robert glanced at his red ceremonial suit, reminding himself of the privilege and tradition of wearing such an outfit.

Then he gazed at his wife, wondering how she could still love him when he proved over and over that he did not deserve her. His Cora was also more beautiful than ever today in her silver gown, especially as it left her milky back and arms bare. To complete her ensemble, she also wore a diamond necklace and silver earrings that dropped just below her lobes. And it all matched perfectly with her tiara, which she would wear after the king and queen were crowned.

"Can I say how gorgeous you look, darling?" Robert said into her ear. "How is it that every time we attend a coronation, you grow more beautiful?" And indeed, she did, even though the last time they'd attended, Cora's hair had still been dark brown, and her skin had been smoother.

Cora still blushed a bit at such a compliment, even though her cheeks had less skin than they once did.

Just then the music started, and the royal family, both immediate and their many extended relations, entered. The ceremony had begun.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

When Georg VI finally stood in front of St. Edward's chair, the Archbishop turned to the audience and said, "Sirs I here present unto you King George, your undoubted King, wherefore all you have come on this day to do him homage and service, are you willing to do the same?"

"God save King George," Robert said eagerly with Cora and the rest of the audience. At least that tradition continued.

Most importantly, George VI still sat in St. Edward's chair and swore the sacred oath. Robert sighed with inward relief that the man hadn't stammered as much as he often did when he'd spoken as Duke of York. Perhaps he would be an acceptable king, after all.

OOOOOOOOOO

After the epistle was read, the choir sang, and George VI was anointed with the sacred oils, it was time for the official coronation. Robert squinted to see the rituals, but noted the Dean of Westminster wrapped the king in two robes, the Lord Chamberlain appeared touch George's heels with something Robert knew were the Golden Spurs, and then George VI was handed the sword, the Orb, and the two scepters.

Unfortunately, it was impossible to see, especially for a man his age, but Robert also knew the Sovereign's Ring had been placed on the king's finger.

Finally, the archbishop placed St. Edward's crown, which was adorned with jewels from the royal collection, on George VI's head. Edward VIII's dishonorable choice still stung but Robert felt more comfortable than he'd expected with their new monarch.

"God save the king," said everyone in Westminster Abbey, Robert's voice rather firmly.

OOOOOOOOO

When all the homage to the king was finished, the queen disappeared behind the curtain, but Robert knew she was being anointed with oils and crowned as well. Cora and all the other women, including Edith, immediately donned their tiaras.

A delightful warm feeling rose in Robert's chest as he smiled at his wife. She was truly radiant today, and the tiara suited her perfectly.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOO

Tom smiled, a delightful warm feeling in his chest as he entered the Abbey two weeks later.

Since Lord and Lady Grantham had finished their foolish coronation ceremony, Henry had also travelled to Germany as he'd planned, and everyone was relieved when he'd returned with no trouble. Tom was particularly pleased that Henry had bought several new pieces for motors there. The trip had been just as beneficial for Branson and Talbot Motors as Henry had claimed it would be. Best yet, he and Lucy had chosen a painting from Brompton's collection to sell to pay their bills.

Everyone could keep their homes, something his own family was particularly happy with, considering how close they were to the Crawley's of Downton. Erin still attended lessons with their tutor along with Caroline at the Abbey.

In fact, Tom was here to pick her up right now. "Hello, Uncle Tom," Caroline said, a soft smile on her face as he entered the library. She appeared to have some type of needlework in her hand, as she did that sort of thing as often as Lady Grantham. The older woman busied with her own needlework, although she paused to check Caroline's progress.

"Hi, Daddy," said Erin, giving him a hug.

"Hello, love," Tom said, returning it. " How was the tutor?"

Erin wrinkled her little nose. "It was maths today, with lots of big numbers. Why do I have to learn that?"

"You never know what will happen when you become an adult," Tom said, grateful that the current tutor taught more than Mary, Sybil, and Edith's, whom only instructed "girl subjects." Lord Grantham was much more progressive now than used to be, to hire such a woman. "Mum has to use those big sums in order to balance the Brompton account book, and so does Aunt Mary with the Downton accounts."

Erin still shook her head, her light brown hair falling in her face.

Standing up, Lord Grantham patted Tom's middle daughter's head. "But we had fun afterwards, didn't we, darling?"

Erin immediately brightened. "Oh yes, Donk. Snakes and ladders is always so much fun." Tom smiled at Lord Grantham, loving how much he adored all of Tom's children.

"Speaking of children becoming…ah, an adult," Lord Grantham paused again, and Tom waited for him to finish. He'd never believed Lord Grantham would struggle to speak as a young man; as far as he was concerned, the lord was arrogant. But as Tom had become closer to his father-in-law over the years, he'd realized that the man struggled with personal subjects.

None more than a child becoming an adult. Tom was becoming well acquainted with that, as he still didn't know what to do with Sybbie these days.

"I'm afraid our Sybbie is almost eighteen now," Lord Grantham said slowly, and Tom's heartbeat faster because he was stating such a thing. "And…well, it's time to consider her…ah presentation."

Tom shook his head immediately. His daughter would never curtsey to the king.

Lord Grantham continued speaking, as if he didn't notice Tom's protest. "Now that the coronation is over, we should move on to the next important ceremony. One that is in many ways, more important."

"No," Tom said firmly, looking the older man right in the eye. "My daughter has no use for that kind of thing." Just the mere idea of Sybbie submitting to the king was too appalling to imagine.

"Crickey!" Lord Grantham said loudly, as if Tom's comment made no sense. "Of course, she does, and we need to submit her name to the committee as soon as possible if she is to be presented next year."

Tom's heartbeat faster and faster as the other man's comments swirled around him until his skin almost burned and the library felt oppressive. Why had Lord Grantham ruined his happy day? "The committee will never accept her with an Irishman for a father, especially with my past as a chauffeur," he said, spitting the bitter words out like spoiled food.

Certainly, Lord Grantham knew how many of his peers saw Sybbie? Tom still hadn't forgiven one of the first nannies for calling his daughter a "crossbreed."

Lord Grantham's eyes widened, as if the idea had never occurred to him. But then he said sharply, "That matters not, it's still Sybbie!" His hand formed a fist. "She deserves a ball, gowns, and a presentation at Buckingham Palace just like all my girls." His hand punched the air. "I used my position as Lord Lieutenant to allow Cora's mother and brother to attend Rose's presentation, I can do the same for my Sybbie."

Shaking his head, Tom said, "No!" much louder than before. As if his Sybbie being presented to the king wasn't bad enough, now Lord Grantham suggested he use his uppity title to benefit such a distasteful idea? And then there was the ball. Tom didn't know which image was worse, Sybbie standing alone as none of those uppity lords wished to dance with an Irish chauffeur's daughter, or those same young lords' hands all over his Sybbie, as they were far too eager to dance with such a pretty girl. "As I've already said, she's not interested in that sort of thing; she's still thinking of training to become a teacher."

He still had reservations about Sybbie becoming a teacher, both because his daughter would leave their home to do so and because Tom was worried about the some of the English responses to her background. But he'd rather see her attend Hillcroft than be presented to the king and attending balls.

Punching the air again, Lord Grantham said, "Absolutely not! She needs to be presented like a proper young lady."

Tom's body still felt hot as he prepared for a counterattack, but Lady Grantham suddenly placed her hand on her husband's arm. "Robert, perhaps it would be better to discuss this another day?"

Her calm words cut through the tense room, and Tom's body cooled a bit.

Erin's little brown eyes stared at both Tom and Lord Grantham. Tom felt a bit guilty that he'd almost forgotten she was there in his focus on winning the shouting match. "Come," he said to his daughter. "I think it's time to go home."

It would probably do them both a world of good to leave this library.

Erin nodded, but she still stared after Lord Grantham uncertainly.

"Why were you and Donk yelling at each other like that?" Erin asked as she climbed into the motor.

Tom sighed as he turned on the engine. It had been a long time since he and Lord Grantham had such an argument. Sometimes he forgot the man's bad temper and stubbornness. "Erin, Donk and I have very different ways of seeing the world. There is a lot we don't agree." Tom had a feeling Lord Grantham had forgotten that, too. Perhaps Tom had been a bit too accommodating in the past few years in his effort to be friendly with his in-laws.

The words from his family in Ireland that he'd become "too English" over the years settled in Tom's brain again, and this time he agreed with them. If Lord Grantham thought his Sybbie being presented to the king was remotely a good idea, it was proof.

Why couldn't he, Lucy, Sybbie, Erin, and Patrick just return to Ireland? There was no king there, especially since the new Irish Constitution had finally done away with the British crown. It called to him over the sea, even as he drove the motor to Brompton.

They could all live in Dublin, just as he and Sybil had planned when they'd first married. There would probably be room for a motor shop there, and Erin and Patrick could attend the primary school. Sybbie would be free from Lord Grantham, who demanded her to curtsey to the pointless king.

"But why do you think Sybbie shouldn't have a presentation?" Erin said, her words ruining his fantasy.

Tom sighed. How could he be so naïve to think he was done thinking about these pointless ceremonies with the coronation? "I'm not as fond of the king as Donk is, love, and I can't stand the thought of Sybbie being presented to him." He pulled in front of Brompton. "But we should just go inside and say hi to Mum. And I know Mrs. Foster has prepared a wonderful dinner for all of us."

Erin's eyes stared at Tom uncertainly, but she nodded. "Hi, Mum," his middle daughter said cheerfully as Lucy walked into the drawing room.

"Da!" Patrick babbled, hugging his legs as Tom entered their home.

Tom smiled, feeling the rest of the tension leave him as his son's warm greeting. "Hello, my boy," he said as he patted his son's back.

"Hi Dad," Sybbie said more softly, her eyes peaking out from yet another book. It was Great Expectations this time. Tom forced himself to picture her at a teacher's desk with a stack of books near her. What if Sybbie became sick or injured while living on her own? Could she do it or would her father's background cause too many problems?

He still loathed the thought of her leaving, but it was easier than Lord Grantham's plan. On the other hand, sometimes he thought the working-class folks had more trouble with Irish than the Crawley's peers.

"Hello, my Sybbie," Tom said, kissing his oldest daughter's head, glad that she hadn't left yet.

This is the real conflict between Tom and Robert in this story. Should Sybbie be presented or not? It seems relatively simple for both of them, but it is so much more complicated than that, especially as neither of them has asked Sybbie what she thinks yet.