30th June 1919
Summer sunlight streamed through the windows of the music room in Downton, Lavinia admired the room she was sitting in. She could barely believe that one day she would be the mistress of this grand estate. The wood of the furniture gleamed, the pleasant scent of furniture polish lingered in the air, the portraits of distant Crawley family looked down on the inhabitants of the room. The distant sound of bird calls drifted through the open windows.
Matthew and Lavinia had arrived at Downton to meet with Lord Grantham and Cora. Earlier that morning, Matthew had informed Lavinia that he and Robert needed to discuss the preparations for the upcoming autumn harvest. Seizing the opportunity to spend time together, Lavinia decided to accompany him, intending to call on Cora to initiate the planning for the end-of-summer garden party scheduled for August. This event marked the conclusion of the summer social season, and Lavinia was keen on making it a memorable affair.
They had walked down the majestic drive to Downton Abbey from the village, together. The morning sun warm on their skin. Lavinia had been happy when Matthew had smiled at her. Hoping he appreciated her enthusiasm for both social events and Matthew helping to manage the estate.
In an unusual turn of events, Lord Grantham and Matthew had decided to join the ladies in the music room this afternoon. Even more remarkably, both Lady Edith and Lady Sybil were at home, creating a rare gathering of the Crawley family. Cora was particularly delighted to have two of her three daughters' home with her, as it was not a common occurrence, these days. She had confided in Lavinia that she missed her daughters terribly and couldn't help but worry constantly about Sybil and Mary. The unexpected presence of Lord Grantham and Matthew added a pleasant surprise to the family gathering.
Lavinia was pleased to see Sybil looking vibrant and healthy during this visit. Her hair gleamed with health, and she had lost the dark circles under her eyes. She was wearing a pretty, blue dress that particularly suited her complexion that afternoon. On Sybil's previous visits home, since that dreadful event in March, poor Sybil had looked terribly wan. Not that Lavinia had written that to Mary.
Lavinia sighed quietly and fidgeted in her chair. These past three weeks she hadn't felt herself. She didn't know what was wrong with her, but she felt dreadfully tired all the time and sometimes she would suddenly come over nauseous, she had also been waking in the middle of the night with persistent feeling that if she moved, she would vomit. She was starting to worry, 'maybe I should go to Doctor Clarkson,' Lavinia thought.
Due to her wool gathering she hadn't noticed Carson enter the room. Carson was looking as tall and stoic as usual, an imposing presence in the room. Her father had a 'man servant', Gordon, a housekeeper, maids and a cook. Her father was a wealthy solicitor, but nothing like the Crawley family. She found the imposing figure of the butler to be much more daunting, even more so than Lord Grantham. Though Lavinia would never admit that to anyone, except to Mary maybe.
"My Lady, the afternoon post," intoned Carson. Carson stooped to allow his mistress to remove the letter from the silver platter he was presenting.
"Oh, it's a letter from Mary!" Cora exclaimed with a mix of anticipation and trepidation as she noticed her oldest daughter's handwriting, on the high-quality paper. Lord Grantham and Matthew both stiffened, Matthew's mouth was set in a straight line, lips thinned, Lavinia noticed. Lady Edith had a look of curiosity on her face, while Sybil lost the look of happiness that only a moment ago graced her features. Lavinia noted a sudden paleness to her cheeks, Sybil turned her face away from the party to look out of the window, partially concealing her expressions.
"That's all Carson," Cora dismissed Carson. Lavinia could see the reluctance in Carson's body, he didn't want to leave. It seemed that Carson was also eager to hear any news from Mary.
"Why don't you read the letter to us my dear?" asks Robert, Lavinia could see the older man clenching his teeth and a furrow appeared on his brow. Lavinia nervously noticed that Matthew, her husband had a similar foreboding look. Lavinia felt her stomach roil in anxiousness. Looking at Matthew's face, Lavinia felt the shade of unhappiness cover her. She shivered.
"Very well Robert," Cora replies with a faint smile on her lips. Cora turns slightly in her chair, to ensure she had the best light to read by. She begins to read aloud.
"Dear Mama and Papa,
I trust this letter finds you both in good health. I anticipate the pleasure of hearing about Downton's triumph in this year's cricket season, with Cousin Matthew undoubtedly contributing significantly. The idyllic scenes of summer at Downton linger in my memory—the trails, fields, and the cherished sights and sounds.
Awaiting your news from Downton eagerly, please extend my regards to Mr. Carson and Anna. The absence of a ladies' maid here in Dublin is keenly felt."
Cora pauses here, imagining how lonely Mary must be in Dublin without her family. The only sound in the room was the rustling of the curtains from a summer breeze and the distant trill of birds.
"In a surprising turn of events, I am pleased to report securing a position as an illustrator at a local publishing house. This opportunity arose through an acquaintance, Miss Button Doran, whom I met during a luncheon at Bewley's. The work proves engaging and personally fulfilling."
Cora pauses here to look in alarm at her husband. "A job!" Robert exclaims loudly, nostril's flaring. "Oh, Robert why is Mary working?" Cora asks worriedly, her face pale. "Surely they have enough money," says Cora. "They should have, Mary has an allowance from her settlement and Murray made sure that Branson couldn't get his grubby mitts on it," said Robert, his voice notable tinged with anger.
Matthew's face was looking strained now, red spots high on his cheeks, Lavinia now knew meant he was angry. Lavinia herself just felt confused, this letter didn't sound like Mary at all. She was also worried by Matthew's reaction; she couldn't help feeling a pang to her heart, at his evident upset.
Lavinia noticed Edith; her brows drawn together in puzzlement. Lavinia was pleased she wasn't the only person in the room puzzled by Mary's letter.
Edith looked about the room confused. Only Lavinia seemed to find Mary's letter puzzling, her fair brows pulled together, eyes anxiously flicking to her husband Matthew and the other inhabitants of the room. Edith's eyes were drawn to Lavinia's hands, her thumb stroking repetitively over her hand.
Edith and Mary had exchanged several letters now. She didn't speak much on Tom, Edith couldn't blame her, why would proud Mary want to discuss the Chauffeur with Edith of all people. But she had written funny, witty letters full of the social whirl in Dublin and her growing friendships with Mrs Holden and Miss Doran. This letter didn't sound like Mary at all. Stilted and cold, not Mary's usual writing style that Edith had experienced so recently.
Edith will be the first to admit that she never expected to enjoy Mary's correspondence. But they had exchanged letters filled with curiosity of each other's working life. Exclaiming over the similarities and differences each experienced as working women, in a man's world. Edith's musings were interrupted by her sister Sybil.
"Go on with the letter Mama," Sybil suggested weakly, looking even paler now. Sybil's mind raced at the coldness of Mary's letter; guilt besieged her for her part in Mary's hasty marriage to Tom. If only she hadn't tried to elope, and the subsequent events that conspired to force Mary's marriage. Mary, so socially conscious must feel degraded in her marriage to Tom. Her poor passionate Tom, to be married to Mary. Sybil was ashamed to think it, but Mary's personality could be cold. Sybil brushed her fingers repeatedly against the muslin of her skirt, trying to sooth her unease.
Sybil loved Mary dearly, she always looked up to her sister. But she wasn't blind to her personality. During the war Mary had strongly warned Sybil not to get involved with Tom, 'Because he wasn't their sort'. Sybil couldn't think of two more mismatched people. Sybil continued to look out the window, trying to focus on the trees in the distance. Trying to banish any tears that formed in her eyes. Maybe she should read the letters Mary had sent her? Currently she had three unopened letters from Mary stuffed in a book of poetry by her bed.
Cora took a steadying breath and continued to read Mary's letter aloud to the family.
"Rest assured, dear parents… this decision was solely my own. Tom has neither influenced nor compelled me. It is a pursuit undertaken for personal satisfaction and a desire for independence."
Robert "snorted," in disbelief at this statement. Cora gave her husband a sorrowful look and continued reading.
"As I have mentioned before, a friendship has been cultivated with Mrs. Holden, a respected woman in Dublin, her husband works as a KC here in Dublin. We met at a riding club in Leixlip. While owning a horse in the city is impractical, I can rent one for our club meetings.
As I previously wrote, Mrs. Holden and I have been actively engaged in charitable endeavours. Our recent charity auction successfully raised £122 for families affected by the Spanish Flu.
Tom is well and immersed in a new project…
Though distance separates us, rest assured that you remain in my thoughts.
Wishing you continued good health and prosperity.
Love,
Mary"
"I don't understand why Mary is working?" Matthew demanded, eyes flashing with annoyance. "I know Branson is a working-class man, and it is not unusual for working-class women to work too. But what is he thinking," Matthew said heatedly, practically marching around the music room, a physical expression of his anger.
"Poor, poor Mary," Cora practically sobbed, delicately patting at her eyes with a handkerchief.
"I am sure it is not as bad as it sounds, Mama," Sybil tries to comfort her mother, not altogether successfully, mainly due to her lacklustre delivery.
"Yes Mama, I have had several letters from Mary in the last month. She was entirely positive in the description of her work. She was telling me about the office she shares, which is large bright and airy. You must remember how much Mary loved to paint and draw when she was younger," Edith interjected, trying to calm the overly dramatic response to Mary's stilted letter.
Robert looked at surprise at Edith on hearing that she had been corresponding with Mary. Robert sat heavily in a nearby chair. "Edith, enjoying a bit of drawing when she was a child is not the equivalent of working as an adult."
Edith pursed her lips before responding, "Papa you are forgetting that I am writing for the magazine now. It is the same thing as Mary working for the publisher," Edith insisted.
"Edith, but you are single. While Mary is a married woman," Cora pointed out exasperatedly, "it's inappropriate for Mary a married woman to be working. What must everyone think?"
Cora stood from her chair and walked to the bell pull in the room, summoning a servant. 'Some tea is what we all need right now', Cora thought. Walking back to her chair, she stroked Sybil's shoulder in comfort. She was not insensible to her youngest daughter's distress.
"Yes Edith, I wouldn't allow Lavinia to work," Matthew stated.
Lavinia couldn't help but raise her eyebrows in consternation at her husband's declaration. Lavinia felt compelled to support Edith's point of view on Mary's letters.
"I have been receiving regular reports from Mary since she moved to Dublin. Mary sounded excited to be working when she told me about her new job," Lavinia said, unfortunately Lavinia had a quiet voice, that could sound timid and easily overlooked.
Robert looked in disbelief at Lavinia, while Cora looked hopeful.
"It's true Mary has been making friends with her work colleagues. Mary has also sent me some lovely sketches since she has moved to Dublin," Lavinia expanded on her correspondence with Mary.
At this moment, Carson entered the music room and all conversation regarding Mary ceased.
"Carson, could you bring tea for everyone?" Cora asked the Butler.
"Yes, my Lady," Carson gravely said with a slight bow to the head before heading back down to the kitchen to complete the task set by his mistress.
"I hardly think you know Mary as well as her parents, Lavinia," Matthew said in a withering tone. "Furthermore, you don't know Branson at all," Matthew continued, effectively silencing his wife. "A refined woman like Mary shouldn't feel the need to work at all," Matthew insisted. "What can her home life be like if Mary feels the need to work?" Matthew wonders, totally discounting the months long correspondence Lavinia and Mary have shared.
Lavinia swallowed a lump in her throat, at so public rebuke from her husband. She looked down at her lap blinking furiously trying not to cry in front of Matthews family. Edith looked at Lavinia sympathetically, before sending a reproving look at Matthew.
The sounds of the room faded from consciousness; Lavinia turned her head to look at the bucolic scene from the music room's window. She was awash with emotion, and she needed to gather her composure.
Lavinia had received many letters from Mary since she moved to Dublin. Mary had told her how she had been having difficulty writing to her parents, how she felt her letters were stilted. Mary confided in Lavinia she had trouble expressing her developing relationship with Tom and the life she was building in Dublin with her new husband. She hadn't realised quite how bad they were. It was now obvious to Lavinia that Mary had inadvertently given her parents a negative view of her life and marriage to Tom.
Lavinia absently let her eyes follow birds flying in the distance as she thought about Mary. Her letters to Lavinia had been full of warmth and excitement with her new life in Dublin. But mainly her letters were full of love for her husband. This might not have been true in the beginning, but they are now. She even knew that she and Tom were trying for a family of their own.
"Lavinia, do you want some tea?" Sybil asked gently, breaking Lavinia's thoughts.
"Yes please, thank you," Lavinia said as she accepted a cup of tea from Carson.
Lavinia took a grateful sip of tea, enjoying the slightly bitter taste. Her eyes drifted to her husband. He still looked agitated; his motions clipped as he drank his own tea. To Lavinia's knowing eyes she can tell her husband is upset over the letter from Mary.
'I have been so foolish,' Lavinia lamented to herself, as she watched her husband fret over Mary. From that first visit to Downton during the war and she met Mary for the first time, she knew Matthew had feelings for her.
But Lavinia was pleased to be the chosen companion of the handsome Captain, it was even sweeter to think she had won what such a beautiful woman wanted. She saw all the longing looks between Matthew and Mary, how could she not when they were so painfully obvious. Lavinia just made sure to hold on even tighter to her fiancé. She loved Matthew too, and he had chosen her.
Looking back at the time she spent at Downton as an engaged woman, she realised just how kind Mary was to her. She remembers all those times when she emphasised the fact that Matthew was her fiancé. Yet Mary comforted her and supporting her over her worries of Matthew at war.
Lavinia was not insensible; she had understood the looks of the older women around her. She remembered pointed conversations with the Dowager Countess and the abruptly halted conversations when she entered the room. Knowing the family so well now, she realised that they must have been trying to persuade Mary to talk to Matthew. Persuading Mary to interfere with the engagement between Lavinia and Matthew. But she never had.
Lavinia looked at her husband, still so handsome, the summer sunlight highlighting his fair hair, his strong jaw and regretted her choices all those years ago. When he was injured and he sent her away, 'I should have stayed away. I shouldn't have come back' she thought. She turned her attention back to the other inhabitants.
The music room with its beautiful piano, it's polished surface gleaming in the afternoon sun. Comfortable chairs and sofas were artistically arranged around the room to promote enjoyment. A stark contrast to the tension currently inhabiting the pretty room.
She caught Sybil's eye who smiled half-heartedly at her, while the conversation had moved on to the goings on in London. Mary's woes momentarily forgotten.
'My selfishness has harmed Sybil too!' she noted as the colour was slowly returning to Sybil's face as she contributed to the current conversation.
Lavinia was always aware of the impending doom of her relationship with Matthew, but she was determined to wed him. Then miracle of miracles; the dreadful scandal of Mary's and the Chauffeur. Suddenly Mary was married and out of the grasp of Matthew forever. She remembers sharing a happy smile with her now mother-in-law, who had never approved of Mary for her son. On hearing of Mary's impending marriage back in March.
Then 'oh happy day' she was married to the man she loved; all threats apparently vanquished. She naively thought with Mary safely married, that her love alone would be enough for a happy marriage. But from the start she felt something missing. Matthew was dutiful and kind as always, but their conversation often felt perfunctory, no depth or emotion to them. Lavinia sighed sadly to herself.
Then Mary's first letter arrived. Mary had been so lonely. Lavinia could practically smell the unhappiness from the pages of Mary's letters. Lavinia then felt the first pang of guilt. So, she wrote back offering what comfort she could.
'Foolish, foolish, foolish,' Lavinia clenched her fists in her lap and concentrated on breathing normally. She noticed Matthew and Lord Grantham leaving the room, off to discuss the business of the estate, no doubt. Lady Grantham suggested they move to her private sitting room, where she had left her notes for the Garden Party.
Lavinia just nodded in acquiescence, still lost in her thoughts. She robotically followed the other women through the winding corridors and chambers of the house. Room after room of refined furniture, paintings, silk rugs and vases filled with fresh flowers.
Lavinia thinks back to Mary's letters, it's like with every letter Mary becomes more alive, while Lavinia becomes paler, as if she will disappear altogether one day. It's as if God is punishing her for her selfishness. In each of Mary's letter she becomes warmer and kinder towards Lavinia, giving her heartfelt advice. Showing interest in her life and relationships in Downton.
But the true dagger to Lavinia's heart, is that as time moves on it appears that Mary is passionately in love with her husband. The way she writes about Tom, the warmth she expresses. The details of their shared life. A partnership.
It shows Lavinia what a paltry relationship she has with her own husband. There's friendliness between them, but not passion. Their lives are lived in parallel and not entwined. Mary's letters are holding a mirror up to Lavinia's life and she is not liking what she sees.
She always felt morally superior to Mary. She often felt Mary to be cold and cutting when she had lived in Downton. But Mary of Dublin, is a much warmer friend than Lavinia could imagine.
She genuinely looks forward to receiving Mary's letters. To see what exciting adventures she is having next.
Lavinia sighs, 'I am stuck here now,' she thinks.
Cora waves Lavinia and her daughters to a comfortable seat so that they can see the notes she has made about the Garden Party.
Lavinia manages a smile and sits next to the current Countess of Grantham, prepared to do her duty.
Below StairsThe servant's hall is starkly lit, highlighting the bare whitewashed walls. The servants at Downton gathered around the large wooden table to enjoy their evening meal. It was usually quiet around the table. The word had soon spread among the servants that Lady Grantham had received a letter from Lady Mary.
When that occurred, Mr Carson would be in a particular bad mood, and nobody wanted to draw down his wrath. It held a particular sting for Carson, as Lady Mary was a particular favourite of Carson's and every time, he was excluded from hearing news of Mary emphasised his place in the household, as the Butler, but still fundamentally a servant.
The hall boys, the lowest of the servants, luckily due to their low status, they had the good fortune to be seated the furthest away from the critical eye of the Butler. They made sure to keep their voices low and eyes focused on the plates in front of them.
The only servant that wasn't on eggshells was Thomas, he thoroughly enjoyed Lady Mary's fall from grace and was willing to stir the pot to raise Mr Carson's ire. He hated being a servant, but he wasn't qualified for any other trade.
Mrs Hughes was keeping a close eye on Thomas, ready to put a stop to his sharp tongue if need be. She knew his unhappiness resulted in unkind words and trouble making to relieve his boredom. At least Miss O'Brien had moved on, so Thomas no longer had an ally to encourage him.
Mrs Hughes took a hearty spoon of the stew; its fragrant smell accompanied the rich savoury taste. Mrs Patmore was an excellent cook, and the servants were lucky that Lady Grantham was generous with the servants' budget. In her youth she had worked in grand houses, where the stew was only a step up from gruel and they only had coarse bread and dripping, instead of the rich butter served with their meals.
Anna took a bite of bread served with this evening's stew, she sighed wearily, 'I suppose I will have to say something,' she thought. Swallowing the bit of bread in her mouth, she shared a quick knowing look with Mrs Hughes. "Lady Edith told me that Lady Mary has a job now in Dublin" she said, knowing it would create a fuss.
"A job?" Mrs Hughes asked, eyes widening in surprise momentarily. Mrs Hughes never thought she would see the day when high and mighty Lady Mary would stoop to get a job.
"Lady Edith told me that she is working as an illustrator at a Publishing House in Dublin. Lady Edith reported that Lady Mary is enjoying the work," Anna explained, hoping this would prevent the rant Mr Carson was no doubt gearing up towards.
'Oh dear!' Mrs Hughes exclaimed, seeing how flushed Mr Carson's face was. His nostrils flared. He seemed so startled that he appeared to have lost his voice.
"A job! Lady Mary is working!" Mr Carson spluttered, "A fine gentle Lady, like Lady Mary, brought up to appreciate the finer things in life is now reduced to working for money," Mr Carson raged, not realising he had just insulted all the working women in the room.
Mrs Hughes who had moments ago had felt compassion for the man, now glared at the man in irritation.
Mr Carson who hadn't noticed the anger he was generating in the women present, continued. "Who are these people she is working with? Are they the right sort of people?" Mr Carson demanded from the table at large. Thomas just 'scoffed' and rolled his eyes. 'Boo Hoo, so the witch had to go out to work' Thomas thought, burning with jealousy.
Thomas was trapped in his working-class life. He was unsatisfied with his lot in life. But the constraints of that working life prevented him the means to improve his life. He was surrounded by luxury; he didn't see anything that made the Crawley's superior to him. The Crawley's were just lucky in Thomas's opinion. But it really burned that Tom Branson was now a journalist and married to a Crawley. Living It up in Dublin. It was totally unfair.
Anna was feeling the sting of Carson's insult, she loved Mary as much as Mr Carson. But Anna was intimately familiar with her mistress and knew the other woman could be difficult and thoughtless at times. Anna missed Lady Mary; she had done many kind deeds for Anna. Anna knew this was because Lady Mary saw Anna as a real person. Anna wasn't sure if Lady Mary saw the workers in her environment as real people.
Anna knew, because Mary confided in her, that she didn't really know what Mr Branson looked like until the morning she married him. This only demonstrated how Lady Mary didn't see those who worked for the family. She worried about her former mistress. Lady Edith had forwarded Mary's warm regards and how she missed having a Ladies maid. She wondered how she was getting on in Dublin.
She didn't view her through the rose-tinted glasses that Mr Carson did. "Lady Edith, says she has to make tea for the men in the office," Anna added. She had thought that Lady Edith had reported that to Anna with a tad too much glee at the time. She was fairly boggled at the thought of Lady Mary making tea. But she wasn't above using the information to prick Mr Carson.
"Making tea," Mr Carson said faintly, colour now draining from his face, shoulders slumping. 'His poor Lady Mary. To be brought so low by that scoundrel Branson,' Carson thought. In Mr Carson's eyes Lady Mary was the epitome of lady like perfection.
"I understand it is perfectly normal for women working in an office to make the gentlemen their tea. You can hardly expect them to make it themselves," Mrs Hughes says, knowing she had put Mr Carson in a quandary. Mr Carson was a champion of the 'status quo' and would expect any of the women here to make him tea, as was the expected order of the Servants' Hall. But to suggest that Lady Mary was part of that order as a working woman, and would now be expected to make tea, no doubt making it feel like Mr Carson's head would explode.
"Really that's it, she has to make tea, and everyone is acting like she has to dig her own privy," Thomas chastised the room, face pinched. "With how everyone was acting at dinner I thought Lady Mary had announced she was having a baby!" Thomas exclaimed and smiled in glee at the apoplexy that thought brought to Mr Carson.
"Thomas!" Mrs Hughes scolded.
"Well Branson's Irish, all of them have a ton of kids and Lady Mary's not bad looking," Thomas pointed out gleefully.
"Thomas I won't have such language at the table, especially in relation to a member of the family," Mrs Hughes snapped. She wanted to move on from this contentious topic of conversation. It would only upset the servants to continue discussing Lady Mary's marriage to the former chauffeur.
The hall boys at the end of the table were shovelling their food into their mouths, heads down, hoping to get through this meal unscathed. They made the wise choice of just concentrating on the delicious stew Mrs Patmore made them.
Right then Daisy bustled in the servants' hall, carrying the large brown tea pot, ready to serve everyone another cup of tea. "Well, I think it is great that Lady Mary is working. Why shouldn't a woman work if she wants to," she opined as she carefully poured steaming tea in the servants' cups, starting with Mr Carson.
"No one is asking for your opinion Daisy, just pour the tea," Mr Carson instructed firmly.
With her mouth set in a pout and a stubborn set to her shoulders, she decided to ignore Mr Carson's words. "Tom was always talking about women's rights and women should have the same say to their lives as men did," Daisy defiantly reminded the servants seated at the table. "He would be a hypocrite if he didn't allow his own wife to work if she wanted too," Daisy pointed out.
She finished pouring the last cup of tea, turned on her heel and Daisy stamped out of the room with a defiant swish of her skirts, back to Mrs Patmore's domain. Daisy was a budding socialist; she was determined to better her lot in life. She came from the workhouse to Downton when she was only twelve and worked hard as a scullery maid. She was determined to better her life. Now at only twenty-three she was an assistant cook. One day she would be the head cook or own her own business. 'Hmmmph, I have a right to my own opinion,' Daisy thought.
Sighing Mrs Hughes thought it would be down to her to calm the troubled waters of the servants' hall. She watched Mr Carson, huffing and puffing. His motions stiff, as he drank his tea in agitated silence. A sure sign at how upset he was.
"Now Mr Carson, even you will admit that Lady Mary is a strong woman who knows her own mind. When has Lady Mary ever done anything she didn't want to do?" Mrs Hughes queried. "Her marriage doesn't count as that was more to Lady Mary's benefit," Mrs Hughes pointed out calmly, before Mr Carson could interject.
"Hmmph!" said Mr Carson as he took an angry bite of bread, not noticing the delicious taste or texture.
"I will concede your point Mrs Hughes. Lady Mary does know her own mind. It must be a great punishment for her to be banished from Downton Abbey and all of her family," Mr Carson lamented.
"Remember Mr Carson, Lady Mary sent us that postcard from Bray. She wrote she was having a lovely time," Anna said. It didn't have quite the effect that she hoped for as Mr Carson, prominent eyebrows furrowed.
"Hmmph! Well, the family will be retiring soon, we need to prepare for the night tasks," Mr Carson instructed. He stood from the table in a barrage of 'Yes Mr Carson', and he retired to his pantry, waiting for the bell to be pulled signalling the family retiring for bed.
Mrs Hughes and Anna shared an understanding look, while Thomas looked annoyed at the fuss still being made over Lady Mary. Thomas had no sympathy for the lady, 'she shouldn't have shagged that bloody diplomat if she didn't want to get caught', he thought uncharitably.
The servants left at the table and breathed a sigh of relief that the danger was over. Anna shared a loving look with her husband, Mr Bates, as they finished their tea. Mrs Hughes absently sipped her tea as she went over the next day's tasks. The gentle clink of teacups against saucers, echoed in the room. While the hall boys noticing everyone's occupations, sneaked an extra slice of bread and stuffed it in their mouths quickly before anyone could object.
At that moment the bells began to chime in the servants' hall and the various maids went to see to the Ladies of the house, as the footmen prepared to collect the debris from the evening meal from the upper rooms. 'At least with just the immediate family at home the task should be much quicker', grumpily thought Thomas, as he stood from his seat.