Chapter 8
Author Note: Julian Fellowes' brainchild, not mine - I wish!
February 1915 held Yorkshire in its frigid clutches as Walter picked up the telephone.
"Hello, this is Walter Metcalfe." he said, waiting for whoever was on the other line. "Oh, hello Bea." he grinned - after the new year Beatrice and Anthony had gone back to Cambridgeshire but still kept in touch. "How are things down south?"
"Don't you distract me, Walter. I may be back at Elton Hall but I haven't cut off contact from Downton. Edith says there's been flirting between you and Sybil. Am I one step closer to being Auntie Bea?" Beatrice teased. Walter choked out a laugh.
"Edith's been trying to occupy herself. I don't blame her imagining something."
"You mean you haven't flirted with Sybil?" Beatrice asked with sass.
"It's all been perfectly platonic…" Walter trailed off. Beatrice picked up on the silence.
"You're not telling me something, Walter Arthur Metcalfe. Something important." she said in a crisp tone, bringing up his middle name to hopefully make him squirm.
"Nothing went on, and asking Sybil won't get you anywhere. You're like a thorny plant, you know that." the musician replied, laughing properly as he said this.
"Oh I am not!" Beatrice protested. "And you can't deny you plan on driving to Downton and giving her a Valentine's card! I know you too well."
"Hmmm." Walter responded noncommittally. Since Christmas he had been gently flirting with Sybil, and although a part of him wanted to do a big romantic gesture and ask to court her in earnest, he knew the war wasn't going to be over any time soon. Sure, he'd heard of couples getting involved quickly due to wartime, but despite how he'd first asked her for that drink, that wasn't how he and Sybil were together. Walter wanted his gesture to be unencumbered by war, the pacifist that he was.
"Walter? Are you still there?" Beatrice's voice came through the receiver. "Don't tell me you're daydreaming of a moonlight rendezvous with Sybil."
"Done it already at Christmas." her friend said hazily, not really thinking.
"WHAT?!" Beatrice exclaimed. "How have you kept that quiet for seven weeks?!"
"Kept what quiet?" he asked, his friend's volume jerking him back to reality.
"You and Sybil. Kissing." Beatrice said in a shrewd tone.
"Oh cripes, you weren't supposed to know that." Walter replied.
"Well I know now. I gather this was under some mistletoe."
"Yes." Walter said. "So you needn't read too much into it. I'm being cautious."
"Then you may want to stop blushing around her." Beatrice smiled, hanging up.
Carson handed Sybil the post on February 14th, and she thanked him, not really thinking of it. Opening it in the library, she was surprised by what was on the page.
"Philotes blessed the both of us months past, your blue eyes, just so wonderfully bright. Whenever you let out your lovely laugh, your presence livens up my day or night." she read, her cheeks stretching in a grin.
"I'm satisfied to be platonic friends, and yet I wonder if, it's possible. Is Eros armed, with gifts that he could send? But either way, it's unequivocal that knowing you has brightened up my world. You're more than just the daughter of an earl." she finished. It was clearly a Valentine of sorts, and she was touched by the sentiment. If she remembered her Shakespeare right, it was written in the same rhythm as the sonnets. But there was no signature. The sender had to know her quite well. But the writer put no pressure on Sybil for her to find him and pursue something - he was happy to just be friends with her. Feeling that many kinds of love were in the air, the brunette beauty went for a walk in Downton's gardens on the unseasonably mild day.
The winter months gave way to April. One day near the end of the month, Walter stepped through the doors of Downton, deck of playing cards in hand. He heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, and turned to see the middle Crawley sister.
"Hello Walter." Edith said, an uncertain look on her face.
"Hello Edith. Is something wrong?" he said, guessing there might be.
"It seems the war has struck in our proverbial backyard."
"Oh God." he replied, some colour leaving his face. "Did you lose someone?"
"That's the thing… I'm not so sure. I'm just hoping the injuries are just that."
"Anyone I know?" Walter asked. Edith slowly nodded.
"Billy Russell got a bullet in the hip in Flanders." the strawberry-blonde stated. "And an old… friend of mine, Sir Anthony Strallan was with him. Shot in the arm."
"That's terrible." Walter stated. "And of course you don't know how either of them are at the moment. I do vaguely remember Sir Anthony, or at least Sybil mentioning him."
"He nearly proposed to me once." Edith breathed wistfully. "Everyone was against it."
"Well I can't really offer an opinion there." Walter responded. "But here's my opinion if it was the war that got in the way - it's a beastly thing that gets in the way of love." he finished. Edith's brown eyes looked at him searchingly.
"Walter, is there a need for me to be an overprotective big sister to Sybil?"
"Sybil is very dear to me, but I'm happy just to be her friend." Walter said.
"Because you fear the war might interfere with anything romantic." Edith replied.
"Yes. Now I didn't come over to have you put my friendship with Sybil under scrutiny. I came to trounce you both at poker." Walter smirked. As it happened, he may have set his ambition too high, as things were not looking his way half an hour later.
"Damn it Edith!" the auburn-haired man exclaimed as Edith won her fifth hand in the small library. Anna, who was putting fresh flowers into a vase, nearly dropped them with a gasp. Sybil looked in the petite blonde's direction and mouthed an apology.
"Now now, Walter. There's no need to spook poor Anna just because Edith is winning." Sybil smiled, patting his hand and turning to the head housemaid.
"Sorry Anna." Walter said, following his friend's eye-line. "Perhaps we could swap one blonde for another." he grinned. He didn't know Anna too well, but he liked her.
"Mr. Carson might disapprove of a servant gambling, let alone gambling with the family, Mr. Metcalfe." Anna smiled back faintly. Those around the table burst into muffled giggles - they knew she was right, but Carson's reaction would be funny.
Sybil shuffled the deck and dealt out fresh hands. A crafty grin donned her face.
"Everybody in?" she asked. Edith and Walter nodded, and cards were shown.
"A straight flush! Well done Sybil!" Walter beamed. Edith and Anna shared a look, clearly thinking the same thing. Sybil grinned back at her friend. The door opened.
"Well, what a surprise." Cora said. Anna curtsied and exited the library, jobs done.
"Walter's proving how good Crawley ladies are at poker, Mama." Sybil smirked.
"Grandmama's lessons paid off then." Cora laughed - her mother had taught the girls the game when they were younger, much to Violet's horror.
"It looks like Mrs. Levinson taught them well, Lady Grantham - I'm losing rather spectacularly." Walter half-laughed. Cora smiled - whether it was as friends or more, the musician seemed pretty devoted to Sybil, and she respected that. She wasn't going to go out of her way to be a Mrs. Bennet figure.
"Plus it's taking our minds off things." Edith stated, tension daring to sprout.
"Oh?" Cora asked. "I fear that sounds rather ominous."
"Billy Russell and… Sir Anthony Strallan were both shot." Edith said, her voice raspy as she choked out the name of her almost-fiancé.
"How awful. Do you know anything more?" the countess asked. Edith shrugged.
"Edith is hoping no more news is good news, and they'll recover from the injuries. I don't blame her, as they're both family friends of yours." Walter explained.
"Thank you, Walter." Cora responded. "This may seem selfish, but it's times like these where I'm glad Lord Grantham isn't a soldier anymore. They say this war is much more brutal than the South African one."
"Lord Grantham must worry for Lieutenant Crawley." Walter spoke. Cora nodded.
"He does. Despite everything that happened between Mary and Matthew, he still thinks of Matthew like a son." she said. A pained expression donned her face.
"Mama?" Sybil asked. Cora snapped back to reality and smiled at her youngest.
"I'm fine, darling. Continue your poker game." she said softly, picking a book from a shelf and sitting down. At five in the afternoon they called it quits - Sybil won - and Walter left Downton with a cheek-kiss from Sybil and teasing smile from Edith.
Walter was taking a walk in Harrogate, basking in the May sun, and something with a yellow background caught his eye. He sighed angrily - it was a propaganda poster, one with children asking what their father what he did during the Great War.
"Bloody hell… they really are laying it on thick." he grumbled. Sure, he hoped Billy Russell pulled through and got his next leave, but Walter hated the constant reminders of conflict. Wasn't there any room for pacifism at a time like this? Suddenly he got an idea - it was time to make a telephone call. He walked back to Fenwick.
"Operator, could you please put me through to Agnes Metcalfe of Dartmouth Road, London?" he asked into his phone receiver. After a minute or so, he heard a voice.
"Hello. Agnes Metcalfe." a middle-aged female voice proclaimed.
"Aunt Agnes? It's Walter." the musician smiled. "I might need your help with a cause."
"Walter, my boy! It's good to hear from you." the other voice said. "What's going on?"
"How involved is the Tax Resistance in anti-war efforts? I feel raising money for pensioned soldiers or bereaved families would prove a point."
"We might be able to sort something out. Were you thinking a concert at Fenwick?"
"Something along those lines. It would help set up a new organisation - those who feel war is wrong can donate, funds will be distributed among the needed families."
"Not to sound like Wat Tyler, but that kind of plays into our hands." Agnes laughed.
"That's what I figured - there's a difference between tax and charity." Walter replied. "Plus if you come up, there's a chance I can introduce you to a good friend of mine - Sybil's a great admirer of yours, as it happens. She motivated one of her friends to leave service." Walter smiled. An interested noise came through the receiver.
"Oh, so she's a maid?" Agnes asked. Walter couldn't contain his laughter.
"Quite the opposite, Aunt Agnes. She has maids work for her. But she's quite down-to-earth, not like most nobility." he explained. "And very sweet."
"She seems like a good person to help with your ambition." Agnes mused.
"Oh Sybil will definitely embrace this scheme." Walter smiled. "Now to think of the organisation name... Metcalfe's Mitigators, perhaps?"
"I must admit, that's kind of catchy. I'll call you when I've talked to some of the Tax Resistance and then drive up north." Agnes stated.
"Thank you, Aunt Agnes. I knew you'd be a help in getting this started."