Author's Note: Hello, lovely readers! Long time, no update (I honestly can't believe it's been over a year since the previous chapter was added, I'm so sorry)! But here we are, and a pretty long chapter, too.
Thank you so much for the reviews, follows, and favourites, they're very much appreciated. Hope you all are staying safe out there!
Enjoy!
As expected, upon Robert's return to the drawing room from the library he had been bombarded with questions asking where he'd been and whom he'd seen, but in that moment he hadn't been prepared to offer any answers. The words shared between himself and Tarkin churned in his stomach uncomfortably, and Robert needed to keep them down a while longer. The rest of the family had spent dinner somewhat put off by his secretive manner, casting him knowing glances and sharing not-so-subtle barbs, but he decided it was for the best. After all, he hadn't been at all in the correct mindset to lay all this disturbing new information on the family. If he tried, the words probably would have escaped his mouth in an unintelligible mess. No doubt a furious shouting match would have ensued, and all in front of Carson and the footmen. Mary was typically careful and reserved with anti-Imperial rhetoric in front of the staff, but this was something even she wouldn't have been able to hold in an argue about until after dinner. No, he needed to think of an appropriate response to this.
As he lay awake, staring up at the molded ceiling from the four-poster bed, Robert realized he would never be able to put his mind to rest by simply staying still. The sheets and coverlet felt all too hot, and the air was too cold.
Cora was soundly asleep beside him, her dark brown hair tousled in the pillows and her movements still. Robert took care not to disturb her as he rose from the bed and retrieved his quilted dressing gown from his dressing room. It wasn't entirely proper of him to be roaming the house in only his nightclothes, but it was his home, and – he gazed at the clock in the bedside table – who would be up at this hour? Nobody. Well, perhaps a kitchen maid or two downstairs.
Downton's gallery was lit by the light of Grantham's three moons – one a pale silvery-white, the second a mix of blue and green swirls, and the third a slight reddish tint. Robert's father, the previous earl, had always told him the moons represented Grantham's place in the galaxy. A lush, vibrant planet in between those who could not provide for themselves – the red moon, and those with the technology to transport Grantham's goods elsewhere – the silver moon. It was a mediocre analogy at best, Robert realized, but nevertheless it instilled in him a strong sense of duty – the same sense of duty that pushed him to join the Rebellion. He'd only been Earl of Grantham three years when the Republic had been reorganized into the Galactic Empire, and it hadn't taken him nor his family long to see its oppression throughout the galaxy. Violet had long been separated from the Jedi Order, but the Great Jedi Purge had still shaken her to her core. She'd been practically inconsolable for months, but after she needed no convincing when it came to allying with the Rebellion.
Cora had been a harder sell. It wasn't that she liked the Empire, quite the opposite – but she worried for Mary, Edith, and little Sybil who had still been an infant. It would put them in more danger, she would always say.
"We are already in danger," Robert would always reply. "Every day the Empire grows stronger and their grip tightens. The least we can do is fight back, even in the smallest of ways."
After that, it hadn't taken long for Cora to agree. James came into the fold soon after – and Patrick when he was old enough, and month by month the Crawleys gave more and more to the Rebellion and rose high within their ranks. Mary, with her political savviness, became close friends with the Rebellion-sympathetic senators, and Patrick proved to be a talented pilot.
Of course, that was before…
Robert shook his head, leaning against the rails of gallery banister. How would he tell his family this news? They wouldn't accept it, though they really had no choice on the matter.
In the name of "safety", Tarkin had said. More like an excuse to spy on them and keep them in line. That's what all of this was about – and this rebel group handed the Empire the perfect excuse to do so. At least they didn't suspect the Crawleys had a hand in it – not from what Robert could tell, at least. Though, Mary had been so distracted since she returned to the drawing room. She was probably just shaken from the attack, but it seemed like more than that. The way her eyes went blank, the way her shoulders tensed, and the way her hands clenched; it was so unlike her. Of course, Grantham hadn't experienced anything like that attack in centuries, but Mary wasn't the type to get easily shaken.
The sound of footsteps made Robert jolt in their direction, but it was only Carson, still in his livery and holding an oil lamp.
"I didn't mean to frighten you, my lord," he rumbled.
Robert shook his head. "Of course not. I just… I couldn't sleep."
"Would this have anything to do with the visit from Grand Moff Tarkin and Governor Callen earlier this evening?"
"They laid out some disturbing information, Carson," Robert admitted with a deep sigh. "New security measures to be taken." He paused for a moment, wondering if he could leave it at that, but realized he needed to tell someone before being able to tell the rest of the family. As much as he had wanted to keep the words inside him during dinner, now Robert had to release them into the world. Besides, Carson always had the family's best interests at heart. No doubt he would be able to give some consolation to the whole messy ordeal.
"Tarkin talked of installing multiple Imperial garrisons by the dock, adding more Imperial staff, a Star Destroyer blockade above the planet…" Robert explained, trailing off. "They said they were non-negotiable."
"Good god," Carson gasped. Thought it was dark, Robert noticed the oil lamp shake in his hand. "It's tantamount to an occupation."
Robert nodded sorrowfully. "Yes, just what I thought as well. I don't even know what to tell her ladyship. Or the girls. Oh, God, or the Dowager Countess, for that matter. I imagine she would need to be held back from going after Tarkin with her cane." Despite the situation, Robert laughed at the mental image of his mother beating Grand Moff Tarkin with her cane – or better yet, slashing him with her old lightsaber. The thought was not entirely unpleasant.
"Grantham was already under the thumb of the Empire for so long," Robert continued. "This just seems like it would break everyone's spirits."
"Not your girls, my lord," Carson replied, his voice sure and steady. "They would fight this, remain resilient. Especially Lady Mary."
"That's just what I'm afraid of, Carson. Lady Mary's so outspoken, especially in the Senate. I worry that one day she would become too much for the lot of them." Robert found his hands trembling as the words exited his mouth and had to steady them on the bannister. And it wasn't just Mary he was worried for, but Sybil as well. Though of course, he couldn't explain it to Carson nor the other staff. Mary and Edith didn't even know, and however much he loved his two elder daughters, the fewer people knew about Sybil the better. Especially with the Empire tightening their grip on the planet.
"Lady Mary would never do anything to bring harm on the family," Carson said.
Even going so far as to tone herself down in the Senate? Robert doubted that. "I don't know, Carson. She's so sure of her convictions."
"She knows what's best to protect the family, my lord," Carson replied. "They all do. Don't worry about that."
Robert smiled. "Thank you, Carson. I should let you get to bed now."
The butler bowed his head with a smile. "Good night, my lord."
Robert turned down the hall back to his room, suddenly more self-assured and resolute. The Empire may try to intimidate the Crawley family, but they were stronger than they knew.
Of this, the Earl of Grantham was sure.
The tension left over from dinner last night was still in the air the next morning, Sybil noted as she entered the breakfast room and started dishing herself. Her father was reading the paper, as if pretending nothing had happened, but both Mary and Edith kept shooting him knowing glances between bites.
Everyone in the drawing room had seen Carson pull the earl out in a sort of rush, and he had been gone for a good twenty minutes, delaying the dinner service and no doubt frustrating Mrs. Patmore. No one knew with whom he had spoken, and nor did Carson tell. At least according to Mary, Carson wouldn't tell her, and the butler shared everything with her. So the only person who perhaps knew the details of the mysterious visit was the countess, though she took her breakfast in bed so Sybil had no way of knowing what her mother did or didn't know.
They all had their suspicions of course – whether the guest had been friend or enemy. Sybil, however, worried it had been Darth Vader himself that had visited her father. The thought nearly made her plate tip as she took her seat at the table beside Mary. It made sense – which frightened Sybil all the more. It had been weeks since Jakku, and neither Darth Vader, an Inquisitor, nor any other Imperial officer had come to collect her and arrest the rest of her family for treason. Perhaps that was why her father wasn't speaking about the visit to anyone. He could have been threatened, frightened into submission… all because of her foolishness. Sybil wondered if her grandmother was thinking the same thing as her. She was the only other person who knew of her encounter with Darth Vader, and who could get the truth out of Robert one way or another.
A reprieve in the silence came when the soft beep of a holopad notification chirped. The earl set down his newspaper and reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket to retrieve the small device. As soon as he read the notification, his face dropped to the floor.
Suddenly alarmed, Sybil asked, "What is it, Papa?"
Robert sighed. "I think I'm about to find out." When he opened the notification on the holopad, both Mary and Edith looked at him eagerly, sitting on the edge of their chairs.
"Good lord," Robert sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead with his thumb. "And after last night…"
"Papa, what is it?" Mary asked, her tone transforming to reflect a senator's. Within a second she had changed from Lady Mary Crawley to Senator Mary Crawley.
"Grand Moff Tarkin is coming for dinner, and that means the whole blasted Imperial entourage is too," Robert said in a somewhat defeated but irritated tone. "Along with Governor Callen, of course."
"I don't see why they can't leave us alone," Edith argued.
Sybil agreed with her sister wholeheartedly.
"Right, so we were just attacked and now they want us to host their whole lot," Mary snapped, stabbing the eggs on her plate with her silverware with such force the fork might have gone right through the china into the oak of the table below it. "You should decline the offer; tell them we are too focused on repairing the damage from the attack. Tarkin and Callen both act as if they own this planet, and they don't. They're just sad little men with too much power for their own good–"
"Mary, please," Robert grimaced, tucking the holopad back into his suit jacket pocket. "You know I can't refuse this, no matter how much I wish I could."
"That's just the problem."
"Yes, Mary, I know."
"When did he say he was coming?" Sybil asked.
"The day after tomorrow," Robert said and then turned promptly to the butler. "Carson, can you please inform the staff about this visit? Mrs. Patmore needs all the time she can get to prepare. And we still have that Corellian brandy Tarkin likes, yes?"
"Of course, my lord," Carson replied. "As for the brandy, I believe we have a bottle or two left from Mr. James and Mr. Patrick's memorial service."
Sybil inhaled sharply, remembering the last time a large group of Imperial officials had graced their company. Once again, they would all be forced to smile and put on airs of hospitality and obedience. She only hoped she could control her temper enough so as to not accidentally reveal herself. A cold chill suddenly ran through her, and she suppressed the urge to shudder. Would Darth Vader be coming? Surely not – the man, thing… whatever he was didn't seem like the type to attend social functions. Sybil reached out and felt a few tendrils of the Force to calm herself.
Robert nodded. "Make sure we do, and the Nabooian vintages, as well."
Carson nodded and made his way to the breakfast room door when Robert stopped him once more. Sybil eyed her father curiously. A dinner hosting Grand Moff Tarkin, his colleagues, and Governor Callen was enough to send a chill up even her grandmother's spine, but Robert seemed more scatter-brained than usual. It wasn't as if they hadn't hosted Imperials at their dinner table before; clearly the mysterious visit from last night was weighing heavy on his mind.
"And Carson," Robert began, "please send a message to the Dowager Countess to join us as soon as possible. Tell her it's urgent, I don't care what plans she already has. The same goes for Mrs. Crawley and Mr. Matthew."
Sybil's heart started to race at her father's words, but if the butler was shocked, he didn't show it. Once he had shut the door behind him, she and her sisters all shot their father the same scared look. Sybil didn't know what to say, Edith looked too scared to say anything, but Mary's expression turned to anger.
"Papa, what is going on?" Mary asked, her fist clenched on the table.
Robert sighed and paused before speaking. Sybil found herself inching toward the edge of her seat.
"I supposed there's no escaping it now," he began. "I was hoping to tell you all together at the right moment, that is – you three, your mother, and grandmother, but I can see now I probably wouldn't get out of this room in once piece without a confession."
It was the sort of remark Sybil might have laughed at under any other circumstances, but her heartbeat in her chest so loud she had to strain herself to make sure she could hear her father speak.
"Last night, before dinner," the earl continued, "Grand Moff Tarkin and Governor Callen called on me. We spoke in the library."
"Tarkin was here?" Mary exclaimed, her face reddening. "In our home?"
"Yes, Mary. He was debriefing me on the circumstances and what they know about the attack – which is not much at all." He paused. "He also explained new security measures that would be taken."
Sybil's gaze shot directly to Mary, whose eyes narrowed almost to slits. She then glanced back at her father worriedly – her heart was set to burst. Security measures? What did that mean? The Empire already exerted so much control over the planet, what more did they have left? Still, she was granted the slightest reprieve to hear that it was not indeed Darth Vader who had called upon her father last night. But that didn't mean she was safe – far from it. Tarkin or Callen could have been informed of her Force-sensitivity and confronted her father about it. But if they had – why hadn't an Inquisitor come to take her away? She pushed the thoughts down and tried to not jump to any conclusions, not until her father explained what these security measures meant.
"What?" Mary hissed.
"I don't want to say more until the rest of the family is present," Robert said. "I should go inform your mother about this."
Without another word, the earl rose from his chair and stepped out of the room, leaving Sybil and her sisters alone.
"Well, I don't know what these security measures are but Tarkin better be prepared to be receive hell in the Senate," Mary fumed, the legs of her chair scraping against the hardwood as she rose.
"Mary, we don't even know what they are," Edith argued. "Let's wait for papa to explain before expecting the worst."
"I cannot help but expect the worst! Don't you see what the Imperials are doing?" Mary said, irritation leeching onto her features. "They're clamping down on us, spying on us, extending their grip over the planet. The attack just gave them the perfect excuse to do so. Anything to keep us in line."
Mary did tend to see things in the most extreme light, but this time Sybil agreed with her eldest sister.
"All I'm saying is that we should jump to conclusions," Edith argued.
"Well, I certainly don't want to sit and wait to find out," Mary fumed, throwing her napkin on her plate and rushing furiously out of the room.
"Right," Edith said digging back into her breakfast. "But who cares about my opinions."
"Mary's just nervous about it all," Sybil reasoned. "You know how she gets about these things."
"Oh, I know," Edith replied, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. "If you'll excuse me, I believe Captain Branson and I have repairs to make on the Verdant. The compressor, or some such thing…" she trailed off as she pushed back from the table and left the breakfast room without another word.
Sybil was left alone in the bright, cavernous room. She gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows across from her seat, where the damaged landing platform was visible in the distance. The smoke had long since dispersed, but the approaching storm clouds made it seem as if the platform were still smouldering from the explosion. Repairs were already underway, supervised by more stormtroopers and Imperial soldiers than she had ever seen. Though Sybil herself had not had a chance to assess the damage up close – she doubted her parents would even allow such a thing – she could tell their own workers took nervous and apprehensive glances at the Imperials, as if they would lash out for the smallest reason. The Empire, of course, had spared no expense to repair what damage had been done. Yesterday a massive Imperial dreadnought had been hovering in the planet's atmosphere, delivering repair droids and machinery down to the surface. The dreadnought was still above Grantham, no doubt along with other Imperial Star Destroyers, though concealed now by a thick layer of storm clouds.
Swallowing hard, Sybil turned back to her plate of food. She hated to waste anything Mrs. Patmore made, but she decidedly was no longer hungry.
It had been a most peculiar invitation indeed, Matthew thought, and most definitely a serious one judging from the expressions from the rest of the family that occupied the library, which ranged from anxious confusion to downright fury. He had been in his study at Crawley House trying to compose yet another missive to Governor Callen about the goings-on of the Crawleys (of which he had thankfully nothing to report) when Molesley had entered with a message from Cousin Robert about an urgent gathering at Downton that required the presence of both himself and his mother. He could surmise the situation at present had to do with the Empire by Mary's expression alone – her jaw was clenched, her posture straight as an iron rod, and her right fist in a tight ball on her lap covered by her left hand. He'd seen the same picture enough times in the dining room of his very estate whenever someone brought up anything to do with the Empire. But besides Cousin Mary, both Cousin Edith and Cousin Sybil looked uncomfortable at best and wracked with nerves at worst. Sybil had been clenching her white handkerchief until Cousin Violet had put a stop to it by placing a hand on her granddaughter's. It was strange – Cousin Violet always seemed to be able to temper the anger of those around her, even Cousin Mary from time to time. She had a way about her that spread calm in the air, and Matthew couldn't explain why. But if the Dowager Countess was projecting a sense of calm, the Earl of Grantham was certainly not.
He was pacing the space between the two upholstered sofas where the rest of the family sat – Matthew beside his mother and Cousin Cora and across from Cousins Violet, Edith, and Sybil. Cousin Mary sat on a small ottoman close to her father, her sharp eyes following his the far side of the library, a fire was roaring, offering much needed heat to the otherwise drafty room. The wind had picked up when he and his mother left Crawley House and those dark clouds threatened to spill over the sky. It was as if Grantham itself knew of whatever impending news Cousin Robert had to tell. Matthew glanced out the window again. The sky was well and truly covered now by a layer of thick slate grey.
"Robert, please, enlighten us of the situation before you wear a hole in the rug," Violet said, tapping her walking cane on the floor with a prominent thump. "It was a gift from the Queen of Alderaan for your grandfather's wedding."
"Yes… Right…" Robert stopped pacing and swallowed.
Matthew leaned forward in his seat.
"There are two pieces of news from the Empire," Robert continued, his hands now clasped behind his back. "The first is that Grand Moff Tarkin has invited himself to dinner in two days' time –which of course means he's bringing the whole Imperial entourage including Governor Callen. I've asked Carson to inform the staff and no doubt they're already frantically preparing for it."
Matthew heard Violet mutter something about the Empire thinking they owned the ground on which they walked, and he quite agreed. No doubt this visit had to do with the attack on the landing platform – but seemed much more serious than a welfare check. The Empire had other means to carry out such things. Perhaps it was to assure the Crawleys of their safety within the Empire. Yes – that must be it, for why else would Tarkin ask for such a grand reception. It was then his conversation with Callen at his first reception flooded his thoughts. What had he said on the terrace that night?
I do hope your loyalty to the Empire remains your primary concern. We just want to make sure the other members of the Crawley family feel the same way.
Could the Empire suspect the Crawleys had anything to do with attacking their own landing platform? What an absurd thought indeed. What could the family gain from damaging their own property and potentially their own people? Not to mention the fact that he, Cousin Robert, and Cousin Mary had been caught up in the firefight.
In those first moments after the explosion, Matthew had been such a wreck of adrenaline that he'd rushed off the platform with an injured Callen and Robert before thinking of anything else. After delivering the Governor to an awaiting Imperial transport, he'd finally regained his senses and remembered Mary had been beside him when the bomb went off – and she wasn't with them. He'd shouted and shouted for her until his throat hurt from the smoke and heat, and would have run back into the fray to find her had Robert not held him back and suggested he be checked by Dr. Clarkson for injuries. What had he been thinking? He should have protected Mary instead of Callen. Had Mary been hurt in the fight, he would have never forgiven himself.
But by all appearances his actions that day cemented his loyalty to the Empire above all else, at least in Callen's eyes. Perhaps the governor would him some leeway with these missives, but he doubted it.
"How big does Tarkin want this reception to be?" Cousin Cora asked, breaking Matthew from his own frantic thoughts.
"He didn't say," Robert replied. "But it would be sensible to invite the ministers of cabinet, if only to even out the playing field."
"I quite agree," Cousin Violet added, though it looked like she wanted to say more on the subject.
"I don't," Mary replied. "We were just attacked by God knows who and now the Empire is demanding a reception. What a selfish –"
"Mary," Robert interjected with a more serious look than Matthew had ever seen. "Now is not the time."
Cousin Mary opened her mouth, but upon further thought – and a look to Matthew – closed it without saying a word.
"And what is the second piece of news?" Isobel asked
"Right," Robert nodded slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. "Before dinner last night, both Tarkin and Governor Callen called on me."
"So that explains your mysterious disappearance from the drawing room," Violet said in a dry tone, raising a grey eyebrow.
"What did they say?" Cora asked.
Robert swallowed again. Golly, whatever they spoke of was definitely not good news, Matthew thought. He'd never seen such fear in his eyes.
"They debriefed me on the attack," Robert started. "As of yet, they don't know who the perpetrators are –"
Mary rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Please…" she muttered under her breath, which earned her a sharp look from her mother.
"– but they assured me our own suffered few injuries," he finished. Robert looked like he was about to say more, but instead he strode over to the end table nearest to Violet and poured himself a glass of brandy from the crystal decanter.
"Why do I get the feeling there's more to come," Violet said, again in her dry tone.
"Tarkin and Callen further apprised me of certain… security measures that are to be implemented."
Matthew sat straighter and shot a glance at his mother, who wore the same worried expression as Cora and Violet.
For a long moment, the whole room was silent save for the crackle of fire and the wind picking up against the windows. Matthew shifted uncomfortably in his seat until he could bear the silence no longer.
"Security measures…" he started and turned towards Robert. "But what does that mean?"
At once the rest of the eyes in the room turned to him with sharp glances. His heart suddenly pounded. Had he said something wrong? It was merely a question, and if these measures the Empire wanted to implement were supposed to keep them safer…
"Yes, pray tell, what exactly do these security measures entail?" Mary asked.
"There are to be two Imperial garrisons by the landing platform – housing one hundred Stormtroopers each, with a squadron at all times on the platform itself," Robert started, taking a rather big sip of the brandy.
Mary shot straight up in protest. "Papa, that is unacceptable –"
"Mary, please," Violet said, grabbing her hand. "Let your father finish."
Reluctantly, Mary sat back down on the ottoman.
"Further…" Robert continued. "They are adding more Imperial officials to inspect the cargo and its coming and going, and the ships too, I expect. Before you ask, Tarkin didn't say how many would be added," he said eying Mary. "And lastly, there is to an Imperial blockade of three Star Destroyers above the planet."
Out of the corner of his eye, Matthew saw Violet reach over and squeeze Sybil's hand tightly. The two women did not look at each other.
"What?!" Mary cried, standing up from the ottoman once more. "What did you say? You cannot accept this!"
"These items are non-negotiable, is the exact wording Tarkin used, I believe," Robert said, sounding somewhat browbeaten.
"I, for one, cannot and will not accept this," Mary said. "This is our home, our people… our family! You may be content with laying down and letting the Empire walk all over you, but I most certainly am not."
"Mary!" Cora snapped, casting a harsh look at her daughter. "That was completely uncalled for. Apologize to your father."
For a moment, Mary simply stared at Robert before storming out of the library, the large carved door slamming as she left.
"No, she's right to be angry…" Robert said.
"I should go after her…" Cora said.
Before Matthew knew what he was doing, he found himself getting to his feet. "No, I can go talk to her," he swallowed. "I haven't had the chance since the…" He trailed off.
The family let him go without another word, and he eventually found Mary sitting on the steps of the stone pergola out the back of the estate. The wind swept against his back, ruffling his hair, and the soft sound of thunder echoed his beating heart. The rain was due any moment.
"Did Mama send you to come chastise me or get me back in the house?" Mary asked dryly. Her gazed was fixed on the estate in front of her, many of rooms now alight.
"No, no of course not," Matthew said taking a seat beside her. "I came of my own free will." He chuckled lightly, trying to bring some semblance of levity to the whole ghastly situation. His face fell when he saw Mary's hardened expression, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. Why couldn't he talk to her like a normal person? "I uh… I realize this must be stressful for everyone. You have the right to be angry."
"You must be used to this sort of thing."
Matthew's eyebrow shot up and he gave Mary a curious glance. "How do you mean?"
"Coruscant is crawling with Imperials on every street corner. I'm sure you're used to sharing your life with them," she said the words with such bitterness.
"That life…" Matthew started, thinking back to his life on Coruscant. Before Downton, before Grantham, before any of this. It felt like a million years ago. "That life, it just was."
"But it could be better, Matthew. For so many people. I could make it better," Mary said.
"You against the most powerful force in the galaxy?" Matthew couldn't help but let out a small laugh.
Mary narrowed her eyes, and yet didn't say anything about his remark. An unpleasant pang ripped through Matthew's heart. Regret flooded into him, and he wished he could swallow the words back up. Why had he said such a thoughtless remark? He reminded himself Mary was Grantham's own Galactic Senator. It was her duty to fight for her people and her planet. His brow furrowed, a thought coming to him.
"Surely the best thing to is to go along with the Empire's wishes… even if it's only in outward appearances." For some unknown reason, Matthew felt the need to whisper the sentence. Was he being paranoid? The words bordered on treason, at a time when his own life hung in the balance in his relationship to the Empire. He remembered all too well the threat Grand Moff Tarkin had made that day in his apartment on Coruscant. Losing a third heir… would be too much to bear. Matthew swallowed his nervousness away.
No one was around on the estate for miles. No doubt the rest of the family was discussing the pressing matter at hand, too busy to come searching for them. Besides that, behind them was a vast forest. Stormtroopers wouldn't very well be hiding in the trees. Matthew took a deep breath. Blast, he was becoming paranoid. It didn't help that Governor Callen was still owed his weekly report on the Crawleys. What could he very well report now? Expressing the distain from the family concerning these new security measures would surely not go over well and endanger everyone. He could tell some version of the truth, that the family was distressed. Yes, that should be fine.
"I'm sure that's to be Papa's strategy," Mary said, replying to his remark. "To grin and bear it. To do his duty… a duty you will perhaps one day have to fulfill."
Matthew swallowed. He was still adjusting to the fact that he was heir to… all of this. He wanted to change the subject. "Mary… I feel awful about what happened that day… the day of the attack."
"What do you have to feel awful for?" Mary's tone became harsh, her eyes accusatory.
"I should have gone to you first, when that explosion went off. But Governor Callen was practically thrown into me and I had such a rush of adrenaline that was I wasn't even thinking straight, I just had to get out of there. I tried to run back into see if you were alright, but Robert stopped me. Until I got word you had returned to the house, I was quite the nervous wreck."
"Papa was quite right," Mary smiled softly. "I seemed to have handled myself well enough."
"I hope I didn't fail in my duty," he said.
Mary looked up at him, as if studying his features. "Are you a creature of duty?"
Matthew let out a small scoff. "Not entirely."
Mary smirked. "By the way, you must be careful not to break Sybil's heart. I saw the way she looked at you when you were defending her decision to conduct that relief mission to Jakku. It looked like she had a bit of a crush on you."
He blinked at the statement, remembering that night. The mission must have gone well enough because both Cousin Sybil, Captain Branson, and the ship had all come back in one piece. But when he had approached his cousin after the fact, she'd only replied in clipped tones and short statements. Had something happened that day? Had he accidentally sent her into trouble? An uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach.
"Well, that's something no one could accuse you of," Matthew replied, wanting to avoid the topic of relief missions and the Empire altogether.
"Oh… I don't know," Mary said looking down into her lap.
Matthew fought the urge to roll his eyes at the statement. Instead, he scoffed. "Might I remind you of some of the choicest remarks you said to me when I first arrived? Because they live in my memory, fresh as the day they were spoken."
Mary laughed softly. "You should learn to forget the things I say."
Before Matthew could respond, a wave of thunder shook the sky and rain started to pour down on top of them. The pergola offered little protection, and soon they would be soaked to the skin.
"Come on," Matthew said as he grabbed Mary's hand.
Together, they ran the short distance to the house through the pouring rain. Their re-entrance into the Abbey must have been loud, because the rest of the family joined them in the day room with various levels of astonishment gracing their faces.
Robert called for Mrs. Hughes to bring some towels so they could dry off and to prepare some tea. Apparently, the business with the Empire's new security measures had been concluded, though judging from Mary's expression the fight was not over for her. He only hoped her fervor did not incur the Empire's wrath. It was one thing to have disdain for the Empire behind closed doors, but it was another thing entirely to oppose them publicly in the Senate. Living in Coruscant, there had always stories of one Rebellion-friendly Senator or another mysteriously disappearing. Matthew hoped Mary had the good sense not to do anything rash that could harm her family in turn. Or herself. He expected she knew this, but living in proximity with her these past months was all he needed to know that she was not the type to easily stand by and watch the Empire occupy Grantham.
Thoughts of his impending message to Governor Callen invaded his mind once more, making his stomach churn uncomfortably. While the rest of the family at best had disdain for the Empire, Mary had a passionate fury against them. Best to leave their entire conversation out of his message. But Mary was a senator, a public figure. Surely the Empire would be able to get a sense of her feelings towards them by her behaviour in the senate chamber… or perhaps not. After all, Matthew had never seen her argue in the senate. Those meetings were kept strictly secret – the only information released about them were short Imperial-sanctioned debriefs on the holonews. Not exactly the most reliable source of information.
Perhaps he was thinking too much into the into the situation. Mary had been a senator for years. She knew how to protect her family, and herself. Which was good – because against his better judgement, he was really starting to like Lady Mary Crawley.
Matthew blinked. Had someone said his name? He scanned the faces of the rest of his family, who all looked at him like they were expecting an answer.
"Pardon?" He asked.
"I asked if you would like to stay for dinner. Cousin Isobel said she would like to," Cousin Cora asked cordially.
Matthew smiled. "A lovely invitation, but I'm afraid I have to decline. I have a lot of work that requires my attention." It wasn't a complete lie, but it would be better to compose that blasted message to Governor Callen in private, without his mother in the house. He also had to wrack his brain around the conversation he'd just had with Mary. What had she meant? Did she indeed like him? Ever since he arrived, she'd been standoffish towards him, perhaps at first out of resentment but it always seemed like it was more than that. Now it seemed like they had the potential to become friends, and he hoped that were true, for he would very much like that.
All night, Thomas had watched the family leave the drawing room one by one after dinner, until finally Lord Grantham was alone. Through dinner, the footman had debated when to tell his lordship about what Abram had said about Lady Sybil, but it wasn't until Lady Grantham left to go up leaving him alone when he decided to do it.
He could tell Lord Grantham had a lot of his mind – no doubt he told the rest of the family about the impeding security measures earlier that day, and never mind the fact that the entire Imperial entourage was coming for a reception and dinner in two days' time. Mrs. Patmore had nearly fainted from the news. It wasn't as if they hadn't hosted more grand events before, but this news in such close proximity to the attack on the landing dock was overwhelming. Thomas himself had felt a rush of relief – it no doubt meant he would be able to see Abram again – and then a wave of dread. The Empire was expediting the repairs to the dock, he didn't know how Abram would dream of getting off the planet even with bribing Hayes. He surmised that Abram had devised a plan to escape the night of the dinner, and that meant Thomas had only two days to decide whether he would leave with him. The thought of leaving Grantham put his mind in a tailspin and he instead focused his attention on the earl. He knew one thing at least – he had to tell Lord Grantham about the Empire's interest in Lady Sybil. Thomas grimaced at the fact that his news would not ease the earl's own thoughts.
Tentatively, he placed the drinks tray he was holding on a small end table and approached the earl. It wasn't exactly proper, but neither was the matter he wished to discuss.
"My Lord, might I have a word?" Thomas asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
The earl sighed deeply. "Can't it wait until tomorrow?"
Thomas swallowed. Perhaps it could wait until tomorrow, perhaps it could… "No, your Lordship, it cannot."
"Very well, go on then."
"I have it on good authority that the Empire is interested in Lady Sybil… personally," Thomas said.
The earl's gaze shot up with a harsh look. "Personally? What do you mean 'personally'?"
"I don't know any more than that, your Lordship."
"And who did you hear this from?"
Thomas swallowed again. "Someone close to Governor Callen." He hoped that would be enough to satisfy the earl. He most surely didn't want to give away Abram's identity, though in all likelihood Lord Grantham wouldn't reveal it to anyone else. Still, it was better to not have that information out in the world in the first place.
Thankfully Lord Grantham nodded slowly, knowingly. "And you trust this person?" The earl asked.
"I do," Thomas answered stiffly.
Lord Grantham nodded. "Anything else?"
"I believe all off-world travel is to be monitored."
There was a long moment of silence before Lord Grantham spoke. Only the soothing rhythm of the soft patter of rain against the large windows and the crackle of the fireplace made up the room's din. Thomas wondered for a moment if he should take his leave; what more was to be said, after all?
"I expect this looks bad for us, doesn't it?" The earl said, catching Thomas off guard.
"My Lord?"
"Well, I mean, our precarious position with the Empire endangers all of us, even the staff," the earl didn't look at Thomas when said the words, but instead gazed at the fireplace, his face covered in a soft orange glow. He knew what Lord Grantham meant now – once it became evident the Crawley family's standing with the Empire became tenuous, some of the staff would surely cut and run. Why, after all, would one want to be associated with a treasonous family?
Still, the earl's statement took Thomas aback. Ever since his came to work in the estate as a boy of fourteen, he had never questioned the loyalty of the staff to the family. Nor had he questioned the family's trust and loyalty to the staff. In was commonly known the family harboured disdain for the Empire – that much had been evident the day they received the news the Republic had been reorganized into the Galactic Empire.
After the report on the holonews, all the staff had been convened in the great hall of the Abbey. Even the lowest scullery maids and hallboys like Thomas had been asked to come up. Perched one or two steps up on the grand staircase was Lord Grantham. Beside him was Lady Grantham – hugely pregnant with Lady Sybil. The Dowager Countess had been at the bottom of the staircase, clutching the bannister. They all had been dressed from dinner.
"There's no reason for Grantham not to continue as we are," Lord Grantham had said, his voice steady. "These are frightening times for us all, but we are a strong, independent people."
The earl must have said more that night, but young Thomas couldn't remember a word. He looked at Lord Grantham now, still stoic and staring into the fireplace with an expression of pure anxiety covering his face.
"The staff would never question your loyalty, my Lord," Thomas said softly, but earnestly. "We would all say what we must to protect each other." That much he knew to be true.
Lord Grantham stood and faced him. "Thank you, Thomas. I know I don't say it often enough, but thank you."
Thomas smiled. "It is our duty, my Lord."
The earl considered his statement. "Yes, duty," he said before swiftly exiting the drawing room.
Sybil was surprised, to say the least, when her father entered her bedroom that evening. She would have thought he'd more likely to visit Mary, considering her outburst earlier in the day. He entered the room tentatively, as if the floor were covered in broken glass.
"What is it, Papa?" Sybil asked, setting down her holopad on the nightstand.
Before saying anything, Robert sat on the bed beside her and reached out to hold her hand. This only caused more alarm in Sybil.
"I've had word that the Empire has taken an interest… in you," he said, though the words didn't register clearly for the first few seconds after he had said them.
"Interest…?" Sybil breathed. "What does that mean?"
Robert let out a long breath. "I think you know. I think we have to expect the worse."
Sybil's eyes widened and her heart pounded. "No… no…"
"Sybil, dear, did something happen on that relief mission to Jakku that you didn't tell us?"
She didn't answer.
"Sybil, you know we must know –"
"We were boarded…" Sybil began, tears forming in her eyes. "The ship was boarded. We had excited hyperspace directly into an Imperial blockade. There was no avoiding it."
"Oh, Sybil, I knew I shouldn't have let you–"
"There's more," she added, her voice breaking. She had to get the words out before her father's admonishment began in earnest. "It was Darth Vader who boarded us. There was something about him… I think he knew I was Force sensitive, but he didn't say anything at the time. And anyway," she wiped a tear from her eye, "the mission was weeks ago. If they knew for certain, surely they would have sent an Inquisitor to our door by now."
"Why didn't you tell us?" Her father asked. It was clear he was trying his best not to raise his voice.
"I… I was so scared, Papa."
"Come here," he said, pulling her into a tight hug. "Did you tell your grandmother?"
Sybil nodded into his shirtfront. She heard him chuckle softly.
"I should have expected as much."
"Do I have to go away, Papa?" Sybil found herself asking. "Do I have to hide?"
"No… not until we know more. But as a precaution…" he paused, and Sybil realized he had a pained look on his face. "I don't think you should be conducting any more relief missions."
"No, Papa, please!" Sybil cried.
Her father held up a hand to silence her. "Not for the time being at least. We can't take any chances with you off-planet. There's a good chance all travel will become monitored with this new security measures. And before you protest, you know both your mother and grandmother would agree with me."
"But…" Sybil sniffled away tears. "I can't just stay here and do nothing."
"By staying here you would be protecting yourself and this family. And not to mention every member of staff on this estate. Do you think the Empire would take lightly a great house such as ours hiding a Force-sensitive being?" The words were forward, but her father said them with such softness Sybil still found them comforting. She clung tighter to his suit jacket.
"The Empire would make examples of us all. So, I want you to stay. Stay here for as long as you can. And don't you worry. Your family shall protect you," he rubbed her back comfortingly. Sybil could barely imagine a life away from her family. Just herself and her grandmother's lightsaber. She felt its pull from where it was stored in the hatbox beneath her bed. How desperately she wanted to ignite it, to feel its power and light her hands.
If what her father said was true, the Empire would come to know eventually. And if her family shielded her then, they would all be to blame. Even the servants. Sybil couldn't let that happen to her family. She couldn't let them suffer because of her. Perhaps, when the time came, she would be ready to make her own way in life in order to protect her family. But for now, she relished the comfort of her father's arms.
