Chapter 5
Author Note:Julian Fellowes' brainchild, not mine - I wish!
The upstairs ladies were in the drawing room as the late July day relaxed into itself.
"So, what did we miss?" Sybil asked Mary. Mary shrugged.
"Nothing much. Although you'd have had more invitations than I did." the elder brunette said. Edith, whose 'truce' with Walter crossed her mind, bit her tongue.
"Have you thought about Matthew?" Violet asked. Mary silently huffed.
"Of course, but Aunt Rosamund..." she started, sensing a losing battle.
"No!" Violet interrupted, raising a hand. "She's written to me. Pay no attention."
"But Granny, she has got a point. Mary can't be completely naïve." Edith said.
"I don't need your help, thank you." Mary sniped back at her sister.
"Mary, listen to me. If you take Matthew now when his whole future is at risk, he will love you to the end of his days." Violet proclaimed.
"Why, Granny, you're a romantic." Sybil smiled.
"I've been called many things, but never that." Violet responded tartly.
"And what happens if the baby is a boy and Matthew loses everything?" Edith asked.
"Mary can always change her mind."
"But I can't do that to Matthew. It's not how we are together. Now, I'm going upstairs to help Anna unpack." Mary sighed in irritation and left. Sybil followed her to help.
The next day, Walter opened a letter at Fenwick. Beatrice Taylor smiled gently at him over her breakfast of French toast, having a hunch who it was from.
"It's from Sybil." Walter said, a smile slowly donning his face. "She says a Mr. Bromidge is installing a telephone at Downton, and perhaps we should think about getting one put in here at Fenwick." he finished. Beatrice looked thoughtful.
"I suppose that's not a bad idea." she said. "It does look like it's the way forward."
"With Europe in a bit of a stalemate at the moment, it's odd to think about things being 'forward'. But I agree. It would appear the telephone is here to stay."
"And the letter seems to have boosted your morale." Beatrice continued. Walter had indeed been in a downcast mood the last couple of days. And as much as she didn't admit it out loud, Beatrice worried when her friend got like this. A few times she and Anthony had found Walter glued to the settee, stinking of absinthe. But hopefully Sybil's sunny disposition would keep the musician away from the really hard spirit.
"I... I'm glad you're here, Bea." Walter said. Beatrice patted his hand with hers.
"Of course. You know I'm not just here for the guest bedroom." she smiled fondly, hoping to prompt laughter. Walter cracked a smile.
August dawned with sunny weather, and Beatrice and Anthony on the Fenwick Cottage lawn to hear laughter behind the door after they'd knocked on it. Were there other guests in the cottage? After a minute, Walter opened the door, a letter in hand.
"Walter, what's going on?" Anthony asked, following him into the sitting room.
"Anthony Proby, nice to see you remember me!" Walter exclaimed. Anthony shrugged - his friend was right, he hadn't visited Fenwick for a good fortnight.
"Alright, I deserved that one. But what's got you chuckling like that?"
"This letter." Walter grinned. "Sybil basically forbade Lord Grantham to enter Downton's library because a housemaid was being interviewed in there."
"She's quite a rascal, then?" Beatrice asked rhetorically, cheekily swiping the letter out of Walter's hand. "'You should have seen Papa's face, it was quite something. Gwen and I had a right chuckle about it afterwards. I do hope she achieves her dream.' Well Walter, it seems your precious Lady is not so angelic." she teased.
"Your letters did make her seem like the perfect angel. Now she has horns." Anthony laughed. The look on Walter's face was stormy. "Relax, we're only joking."
"Well, she's not my Lady." Walter protested weakly, but it fell on deaf ears.
"You are awfully fond of her, though." Anthony responded, smirking.
"I'm awfully fond of Bea as well. Any conclusions you want to draw from that?"
"It might be a bit strange if you did, Anthony." Beatrice stated. They all chuckled at this, their laughter broken by a rapping at the door.
"Is today the day everybody drops in?" Walter asked, opening it to see Billy Russell.
"Hello Walter. I was nearby and wondered if you were up for a card game."
"I've got nothing else on. Come in, Anthony Proby and Beatrice Taylor are visiting." Walter replied, Billy smiled, shaking the deck of cards he held. They walked in, curious glances appearing on Anthony's and Beatrice's faces.
"Billy hopes to empty our moneyboxes with cards." Walter smirked. Beatrice laughed.
"Walter, we've only met Billy once. But do we need to remind him of our ability?"
"That was a fluke. I'm usually a better player than that." Billy responded. All four laughed, remembering that night in Cambridgeshire. Billy had travelled down south to see Walter, and Anthony and Beatrice had trounced the former at rummy. They were rather better players than his father's contemporaries at Boodles.
"How about blackjack?" Walter asked. The other three nodded and smiled.
The first Tuesday of the month was bright, and Walter continually smiled as he drove to Downton. Despite this, he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. He just didn't know what. Regardless, he was happy to be visiting Sybil again. He pulled up on the drive, and then got out to search the gardens. The first vaguely familiar face he came across was a stern-looking older woman donning a chatelaine. Walter faintly recognised the woman, and using Sybil's stories, connected the dots.
"Mrs. Hughes, I presume?" he asked. Elsie looked sharply in Walter's direction.
"Are you gatecrashing the party, young man?" her Scottish brogue sounded.
"Oh no. I'm Walter Metcalfe, a friend of Lady Sybil's. And Lady Grantham said I was welcome." he replied. The housekeeper's face softened, remembering Cora's words. "Oh, forgive me. I only saw a glimpse of you. Things are a bit up in the air, Mr. Metcalfe. Lady Sybil is under the nearest marquee." the Scot said. Walter headed in that direction, seeing the back of Sybil's head. As if it was kismet, she turned around.
"Walter! So glad you could come!" she beamed, walking up to him. They hugged and Sybil pecked him on the cheek. Neither of them saw Edith's eyebrows rise shrewdly.
"My pleasure. Where's Lady Grantham, I want to thank her for the informal invite." Walter said. A ghost of shock passed over Sybil's and Edith's faces.
"Mama's… not feeling too well." Sybil said. She hated having to bend the truth to Walter, but it wasn't really a lie. "Thomas!" she called. The surly footman appeared.
"Yes, Lady Sybil?" he asked, a weirdly neutral expression on his face.
"Champagne for three, please." the brunette lady smiled. He swiftly walked away.
"Isn't it a bit early to be drinking?" Walter asked. "Perhaps Beatrice was right - you are a rascal." he teased. Sybil laughed melodically, and it was music to his ears.
"When did she say that?" the youngest Crawley asked.
"Last Saturday. She peeped at your letter." Walter stated. Sybil hummed.
"Your champagne, ladies. Sir." Thomas returned, throwing Walter a dirty look that the girls didn't see as he handed out the glasses. Walter shrugged it off.
"So what are we drinking to?" Edith asked neutrally, holding her champagne glass.
"You two burying the hatchet." Sybil said. Walter and Edith looked at each other.
"That's fine with me." Walter said, clinking his glass with Edith's. "Cheers."
"Cheers, Mr. Metcalfe." Edith replied. "I mean, Walter. But these things are gradual."
"I don't expect to get into all three Crawley sisters' good books overnight."
"Just do what I suggested before." Sybil piped up cheekily. Walter rolled his eyes.
"Sybil, let's be honest. Would telling your oldest sister I might inherit a manor house get her to warm to me?" Walter asked. Edith nearly choked on her champagne.
"What?! I thought you were only just upper-middle-class!" the strawberry-blonde gasped. Walter's shoulders shook with silent laughter, then he drank.
"Tenth-in-line to owning the family manor. It's a nice place, but not my style."
"Mary doesn't have to know that." Sybil smirked. Edith snickered at this. Walter followed, knowing that Edith and Mary were rather at loggerheads. Two other friends entered the marquee to chat, and after about ten minutes, an Irish voice cut through.
"I've got news, milady!" Branson said excitedly, whispering in Sybil's ear.
"Oh!" she gasped excitedly, covering her mouth. The brunette rushed off and Branson followed her. Walter curiously followed them at a distance. Sybil and Branson ran straight to Gwen, who was carrying a tray.
"Mr Bromidge has rung! You've done it, Gwen! You got the job!" Sybil beamed. Walter caught them up and loosely smiled at the news.
"Take it! Take it!" Gwen gasps excitedly, shoving her tray at another maid. "Who are you?" she asked, noticing Walter. Sybil grinned - she'd of course written of Gwen.
"Arthur Metcalfe, a friend of Lady Sybil's. And you must be the famous Gwen? She told me about you." he replied. Sybil giggled and group-hugged Walter, Gwen and Branson. None of them noticed Mrs Hughes approaching somewhat scornfully.
"Something to celebrate?" the housekeeper asked. The group hug broke up to face Mrs Hughes. Branson took Sybil's hand. Walter narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"I got the job, Mrs Hughes! I'm a secretary!" Gwen beamed.
"I'm very happy for you, Gwen. And we'll celebrate after we've finished today's work."
"Of course, Mrs Hughes." Gwen said, sobering up and getting back to work. Walter noticed Sybil still holding Branson's hand as the chauffeur turned to her. The musician suddenly, and rather irrationally, felt a spike of jealousy.
"I don't suppose that..." Branson started, only to be interrupted by Mrs. Hughes.
"Mr. Branson, I believe Mr. Carson would like a word."
"Of course, Mrs. Hughes." Branson sighed and retreated. Tension that no-one knew was building seemed to break. Walter heard a voice in his head, that almost sounded like Beatrice, say 'none of us want to be in calm waters all our lives'.
Whether it was sensible to start acting on his growing feelings for Sybil, or if Branson was even a rival for her affections, Walter didn't know. But he'd think that over another time. A look into Sybil's bright blue eyes brought him back to the present.
"You know, I gave your telephone suggestion some thought. There should be one connected at Fenwick within the next week." he said with a grin. "Surprisingly, it's not Mr. Bromidge doing the job." he chuckled. Sybil smiled in response. Ten minutes passed with almost sleepily relaxed conversation, only to be interrupted by Robert.
"Please, will you stop, please!" he shouted. The string quartet stopped playing.
"My lords, ladies and gentlemen. Can I ask for silence?" he continued. All conversations ceased and the servants stepped out of the catering tent to listen. The uneasy feeling Walter had on his drive up to Downton suddenly returned to him.
"Because I very much regret to announce... that we are at war with Germany." Robert finished solemnly. Everyone stood in shock. Walter glanced at Sybil, who had gone pale. He grasped her hand, and her fingers clutched his in return. It was the gesture of friends drawing comfort from each other, for the world had just changed.