Chapter 7
Author Note: Julian Fellowes' brainchild, not mine - I wish!
"Let me get this straight - you did what?" Anthony asked, turning to Billy Russell with an extremely puzzled look. Those two, along with Walter, were in the local pub on the Haxby Park estate, the Rose and Oak. After a tense pause, Billy cleared his throat.
"Signed up to the Yorkshire Regiment." he replied like he was repeating it.
"Billy... you do realise we're not going to be jumping with joy on your behalf." Walter said slowly. "Don't get me wrong, it's fine you want to do your bit for king and country, but you know where we stand. We're worse than conchies to some." he finished. It was mid-September and the British had well and truly entered combat.
"It'll be over by Christmas. I just want to show the Germans where they stand."
"Well we wish you good luck with the training, then. It seems you've made up your mind." Walter stated, his facial muscles resisting a smile. "This calls for another pint."
"Quite a few more, I'd say." Anthony piped up with a wary chuckle. The trio clumsily made their way back to Haxby Park later that night, only to wake with thunderous hangovers the next morning. Driving back to Fenwick Cottage, Walter and Anthony didn't say much to each other. They saw that Beatrice was in the kitchen.
"The magic cure if you'd be so kind, Bea." Anthony said drowsily. Beatrice chuckled.
"Billy put you two through the alcoholic paces, did he?" she asked, getting things together for some Beecham's powders and Earl Grey tea. Walter nodded.
"He did. You know sometimes I think women can be right - us men do foolish things."
"I won't argue and I won't ask." Beatrice laughed in earnest.
"You know, I should have thought of that." Walter said with a smirk. "It's perfect for when Mary and Edith Crawley are plotting each other's downfall."
"Sibling rivalries, eh?" Anthony stated. Beatrice and Walter laughed. After a minute, Beecham's powder and Earl Grey were on the table.
"Beatrice Taylor, you're a saint." Walter sighed contentedly, knocking back the powdery liquid and gently sipping the tea. "Never going drinking with Billy again." he finished. A silence fell over the cottage, the unexpected weight of Walter had said suddenly cropping up in his mind. But he banished it to a dark corner. After he'd had the tea, Walter went to his piano and Beatrice and Anthony opened a chess set.
At Downton, Mary was sitting at her dressing table when Anna's light laugh broke a silence. The aristocrat looked at the blonde with curiosity.
"Anna? What's tickled you? Was it something Bates said?" Mary questioned.
"No milady. I just remembered something from last year. When Lady Sybil shocked you all with her new trousers." Anna half-smiled. Mary coughed out an odd laugh.
"It certainly was a shock." she said. Then the brunette remembered something herself. "Oh, that's a coincidence. No wonder she suggested that colour scheme."
"What colour scheme milady?" Anna asked. Mary turned to the head housemaid.
"When Sybil's friend Mr. Metcalfe invited us to his cottage about a month ago, there was a black, white and blue motif in the décor. He said Sybil had helped pick it out. Her shocking outfit you mentioned had the same colours, if I remember rightly."
"That's funny. If Lady Sybil helped him decorate, it's like they're practically-"
"Anna." Mary cut her friend off sternly. "Not you too."
"What do you mean, 'not me too'?" the petite blonde asked.
"I… thought you were going to say something about the two of them being involved. Don't get me wrong, I want Sybil to be happy in that regard, but I question whether Mr. Metcalfe is the right man for her, if it ever came to it."
"That's not where I was headed, as it happens. Romantic I may be, I was going to say 'practically attached at the hip'." Anna responded. A tense silence opened up after this. Anna knew her employer was a complex character, but Mary's abrasive assumption seemed overly harsh. The housemaid liked to believe the best in people. Anna had only seen a glimpse of Mr. Metcalfe that time he drove to Downton, but if he was Lady Sybil's friend, how bad could he be? The autumn months passed in a barrage of browns and oranges, and soon it was the penultimate week of December. Anna was doing the sisters' hair when they all heard a knock at the door.
"Come in." Mary said. Cora walked in with a smile. "Hello Mama."
"Who's in trouble this time?" Sybil asked with a laugh.
"No-one darling. In fact, all of us Crawleys have been invited to Fenwick Cottage for a Christmas party." the American grinned. Edith and Mary looked at Sybil.
"Don't look at me, this is a surprise to me too." the youngest replied.
"I did wonder if it might be slightly cramped, but apparently not." Cora said.
"When you say 'all of us Crawleys'…" Sybil trailed off.
"Granny and Isobel are included in the invitation." Cora continued. Edith laughed.
"Is he trying to prove something?" the strawberry-blonde asked cheekily.
"Like you were with Anthony Strallan?" Mary sniped. Sybil and Cora sighed in unison.
"Mary, don't you ever stop to think?" Cora tutted. Mary suddenly glared at Cora.
"You know what? I'm done with my hair, thank you Anna." the eldest daughter said abruptly, getting up and walking out of the room. Cora sighed heavily.
"Pardon me for trying to keep things light." Edith said after a weighty silence. "Have you warned Walter what's he taking on by inviting Granny?" she asked Sybil.
"I have, and from what he said, Mama has too." the youngest grinned.
"The Dowager can be quite a character, if you'll forgive me." Anna chuckled.
"Trust us Anna, we know that." Cora said. "Much more than the downstairs do. Actually Sybil, speaking of servants-"
"Walter doesn't have any, Mama. You know Inglethorpe isn't in his immediate future. Fenwick has him and two friends keeping it spick and span themselves. And there's no need for Granny to give him an earful about that." Sybil laughed.
A few days later, Fenwick was being decked out in all manner of red and green festivities with the occasional glittering of gold. Beatrice spotted something and momentarily ceased her decorating, making her way towards a wrapped object.
"Oooh, what's this?" she asked. Walter let out a curse under his breath.
"This." he said, holding the wrapped object. "Is a secret."
"Walter, I've gotten presents from you before." Beatrice teased. "And honestly, I wonder whether it's you or Anthony who's worse at keeping gifts secret."
"I resent that!" Walter and Anthony responded in unison. Beatrice laughed.
"I wonder, it is for a Crawley?" she asked. Walter's ears tinged pink. "I knew it!"
"Don't tell me your heart switched from Sybil to Mary. That would be most foolish." Anthony tittered. "Sybil's nice. Mary scares me. She's Lady Scary Crawley."
"I could easily tell Mary you said that, you know." Walter responded.
"Okay, okay. So the gift's for Sybil." Anthony said. "Do we get to know what it is?"
"Hmm, let me think about that… absolutely not." Walter replied, carrying the wrapped present somewhere and ignoring his friend's insistences.
At around five in the afternoon, two cars pulled up to the cottage. Violet tutted.
"The sooner Sybil's beau inherits his estate, the better." she snapped snootily.
"Mama…" Cora sighed, not wanting to have such an argument again. Walter opened the door, looking at the passengers emerging from their transport. He saw Sybil and smiled. He also got a glimpse of Branson. The Irishman gave him a calculating look. Deciding that can of worms was better left unopened, Walter put a spring in his step.
"Welcome everyone! So glad you could make it." he grinned. Cora smiled back.
"How could we not when you invited us all, Mr. Metcalfe?" the American said.
"The more the merrier, Lady Grantham." Walter stated. Something twitched in Robert's face. "Lord Grantham, is there something wrong?" Walter asked.
"Not at all. I happen to have the same philosophy with Christmas parties."
"Well there we go. Let's go on in and warm ourselves up with ginger beer." the host said, leading his guests through and closing the door.
"I thought you were all for champagne, Walter." Edith said. Walter laughed.
"Champagne can't really warm you through in cold weather, Edith."
"Lady Edith, Mr. Metcalfe." Violet said crisply. Walter looked at the elderly woman.
"Forgive me, Lady Grantham, but I've gotten to know your granddaughters. If they are comfortable with just Christian names, then that's up to them." he responded.
"How forward-thinking." Isobel said. Violet sighed. Things were slightly stilted at first, but the evening became fun once Beatrice made a suggestion.
"Walter, do you remember where you put that box of letters?" she asked.
"Beatrice, we don't live in a Jane Austen novel." Walter chuckled.
"I know we're in Yorkshire rather than at Box Hill, but I want to see what people can do with them." she grinned, proceeding to search. Walter suddenly got an idea.
"Sybil, a moment of your time?" he asked with a gentle smile. Sybil stood up.
"Of course, Walter. What did you want?" she pondered sweetly. Walter led her to the guest bedroom - where he'd hidden her present. Sybil looked around.
"I must admit, I'm a tad perplexed." she said. Walter smiled bashfully.
"I put your present in here." he stated, giving her the package. Sybil unwrapped it.
"A gramophone record. That's very nice." she said. Walter continued his bashful grin.
"Um… l-look at the label." he said, a lump forming in his throat.
"'Sybil's Sonata in Two Parts, composed and played by W. Metcalfe'. Walter, that's so lovely. Thank you." Sybil smiled tenderly, putting the record down and hugging him.
"No problem at all." he smiled back. He noticed something out of the corner of his eye and mumbled something to himself. Sybil's eyes followed, surprised.
"We're under the mistletoe." she whispered. Walter went positively crimson. There was clearly happy tension in the air. After a nod from Sybil, Walter leaned down. Sybil stood on her tiptoes, and her lips were gently enveloped by Walter's. Butterflies erupted in his stomach as the Crawley daughter carefully responded. After a few seconds, they parted, smiling at each other. The happy tension broke naturally.
"Merry Christmas, Walter." Sybil smiled. The brunette hugged him again.
"Merry Christmas, Sybil." Walter grinned back nervously.
"You're my best friend, I hope you know that." the dark-haired beauty voiced.
"I do. I feel like I have something special with you." Walter responded, his throat slightly closing up as his cheeks tinged with pink. Sybil smiled warmly.
"Me too." she beamed, kissing his cheek. "You know, I might not be as worldly as other girls, but that was a good kiss. The lady who captures your heart will definitely be lucky in more ways than one." she beamed. Sybil walked back to the sitting room, leaving Walter to think on what she'd said. Many thoughts were swirling in his head. Baffled though his brain might have been in those moments, one thing was for certain - that kiss was staying a complete secret.