Violet watched as the footman, William, finished pouring her tea and stood up to return to the wall. "William, a moment if you would?"

"Of course, milady," the footman said, swallowing slightly but otherwise hiding his fear well as he stood ramrod straight and at attention.

"None of that, please," she said, waving her had dismissively. Normally she got a small thrill over servants trembling at the sight of her, as it proved that even with her age she was still powerful and strong of will that she could make a young buck shiver in fright. If she couldn't turn heads with her beauty she would ensure they kept an eye on her out of fear. It was petty, she knew, but something she utterly enjoyed. Yet today that isn't what she wanted… not with this young man. "I wanted to know how your hand is."

"My hand?" William asked only to quickly clue in to what she was getting at. "Oh yes, my hand. Very well, thank you. I forget sometimes that I broke it."

"You may forget but I do not," Violet said firmly, reaching out at patting that very hand. "You broke it defending dear Carson and before that you stood with Mr. Crawley against that vile brute who… well, you protected Lady Mary and Lady Sybil. That is something I will never forget, dear boy, and it warms my heart that you were not maimed doing so. Not permanently." She looked up and her lips twitched as she saw Robert enter with Carson on his heels. "Ah, Lord Grantham is here. I won't keep you a while longer."

"Yes your ladyship, thank you your ladyship," William said, straightening up and hurrying out of the room as quickly as one could while remaining polite. Violet merely shook her head and smirked; sometimes the young could be so cute when they were terrified.

"Mama, how good to see you!" Robert said with a smile as he kissed her cheek.

"Come now, Robert, you knew I was coming today and it isn't as if I live across the pond so no need for that." She waited until William was out of earshot before turning to the butler. "The boy, William, wasn't lying to me, was he Carson? His hand is well? If he can't handle the strain I could take him on and send over a boy from my house to replace him. It would be easier for him as I certainly don't entertain as much as Robert here. Perhaps Phillip…"

"Young William is perfectly healthy, Lady Grantham," Carson said politely and with a hint of a smile. "But I will remember what you suggested, should I learn that the injury has returned to cause him pain."

"They can do that, can't they?" Violet asked before turning to Robert, a sudden concern filling her that the young man that had helped Matthew rescue her granddaughter could become injured again. "That is what happened with your valet, is it not? He was shot and the wound healed only to return?"

"Yes, Mama, that is exactly what happened. But Dr. Clarkson is sure that William will be fine and will not suffer from his injury anymore."

She snorted at that. "I suppose we must trust Clarkson. Though, I admit that I have grown to think that it might be time for us to send him to London… my friend suggested the other day that it is entirely proper to send doctors to conferences and hospitals so they might learn of new techniques for better healing. He has done well so far but I do fear letting him grow stale much like bread left upon a counter for far too long. If he is to care for all of us I would have him be as knowledgable as possible."

"Your friend suggested that?" Robert asked with a raised eyebrow. "That sounds rather liberal for a friend of yours, mama."

"You make that sound rather insulting both ways," she complained. "That my friends are all corpses that long for the days of serfdom and that I could never hope to make a friend with modern ideas."

"My apologizes, mama. That was unfair. Who suggested it?"

Violet felt the world slow to a crawl, so that a second seemed to last hours. There was simply no way she'd EVER admit that the friend she'd been referring to was Cousin Isobel. 'I'd never hear the end of it from either of them, because of course Robert would never be able to keep that quiet. That woman would find out I'd actually taken one of her suggestions and use it to gloat from her high horse until judgment day and the trumpets sounding.'

"Lady Margaret," Violet smoothly lied. "You wouldn't know her… she is an old woman, of course, and I know how old women give you quite a terror."

"Mama, I meant nothing-"

She waved her hand dismissively, letting out a little huff. "Oh Robert, don't deny it. You have always been frightened of wrinkles. Sometimes I wonder if that is why you primp yourself in your mirror for so very long." She turned to Carson and said with a conspiratorial tone, "He has been like that since he was a boy, fearing old age. Why, I remember once when the Earl of Rainwood came for a visit and Robert had nightmares for a week. Yes, the man had a face only a skeleton could love-"

"I beg you, please say no more," Robert pleaded.

"I suppose you are right. After all, we have more pressing things to focus on, rather than telling of how you trembled like a leaf at the sight of liver-spotted hands." Robert was so easy to deal with; when he got on the wrong path, or at the very least the path she didn't want him on, all one had to do was hold out a carrot and like a hungry horse he would follow after it, happily trotting back to the correct path. It was rather amusing, all things considered, how like his father Robert was. Patrick had been much the same way; oh, he loved to believe he was in control but at best they were equals and at his worst she knew how to subtly lead him about to the correct answer.

Not for the first time in recently months Violet wondered if Robert having only daughters was a good thing. Mary, Edith, and Sybil weren't easily distracted like Robert was. Mary might let a subject drop but she never forgot, both the good and the ill. Those that treated her with kindness earned a loyalty most would kill for and those that hurt her would realize just how cold revenge could be. Edith clung to facts and details and could bring them up against whenever she needed, using them like shields and swords. And Sybil was like a rabid dog sinking her teeth into a piece of meat when a subject came her way. Violet feared that if Robert had been given a son by Cora the child would have been like him; that being so easily led by cunning women was in the Crawley males' blood. And while that benefited Violet it would not years from now when she was gone and not there to guide Robert or any future heirs along the right path.

'The men of Patrick's line,' Violet thought, her mind turning from her son and husband. 'But Matthew's line seems to breed men of strong wills and convictions.'

Robert and Cora liked to make fun of her when it came to her researching potential matches for the girls. 'Looking in the stud books' as Robert had once called it. Yet they never considered for a moment that she would look into Matthew Crawley, the country lawyer made heir. They just assumed that she would be satisfied with Robert's word. Foolish to be sure. Violet had looked deeply at Matthew Crawley and his father Reginald and what she'd found had impressed her. Not just Matthew… she hadn't needed to research him to know that he was a smart man who knew when to listen and when to heed only his own council. After their first tea time together (which she had to admit she had greatly enjoyed, despite her early reservations, and she needed to invite him to her place soon for another chat; the boy made her feel young again!) she had realized that. No, it had been his father, the doctor who somehow was more radical than his wife ('Isobel was the conservative in the family!') yet managed to achieve so much with his life. Violet wasn't as foolish as people thought her to be when it came to the middle class. It still made her laugh that her family thought she didn't know what a weekend was and took her dry wit for serious befuddlement. She didn't know all the workings of a small house but she did understand more than people realized and she knew that Reginald Crawley had worked hard to become a doctor and that he had known how to balance between being flippant with his wealth and being a miser. It was something that too few of her peerage understood… like Robert.

Yes… having Matthew as heir would be good. With him and Mary to raise the future earls their dynasty would be secured. Both men and women of sharp mains and solid bases upon which the foundation of Downton could settle easily.

"…will be good to see Rosamund again and I hear that she is bringing a few guests to add to our rogue's gallery for tonight's dinner."

Violet raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh? Just who have you invited, Robert? Peasants? Boot blacks? Americans?"

"Nothing of the sort and it was Matthew who helped create the guest list. Sir Anthony Stranton is coming… I believe Cora wishes to make a match between him and Edith though I am against it-"

"I quite agree… the man is far too old for Edith. With Mary finally settled there is no need to settle with Edith. We will find her a proper groom, one better fitting her."

Robert nodded. "I told Cora as much. I also warned her that she was focused on marrying the girls off now and in five years loathe that they are away."

"Yes, it does seem that all parents are far too concerned with getting their children to adulthood only to realize they miss their little ones being little ones."

Robert nodded and continued on. "Lord Merton and his younger son, Timothy, have been invited as well."

"Not Larry."

"Certainly not Larry."

"Very good."

"Instead of Larry he is bringing an old school friend of his, Gen. Allen Lothrop. I've never met the man but from what I gather he comes from an upper middle class family and has made himself quite an important figure within the military."

"Hmmm… but not a prospect for Edith, of course."

Robert waved her off. "No no, he is married. His wife is visiting her relatives in Dover."

"Good. While a military man is good enough and he could very well see himself move into our circle, I'd rather Edith find a younger man and one of more noble bearing."

"Then I am afraid this dinner won't work well for that. Matthew suggested inviting Evelyn Napier, to show that there are no hard feelings, but he declined, as I'm sure Matthew knew he would."

"Polite on both their parts, and smart." Violet smirked slightly and shifted. "I heartily approve. Still, no one else for poor Edith?"

"Not unless one of Roseamund's guests pans out."

"With her who knows," Violet said with a scoff.

Robert though merely glanced at her. "Come now, mama, be fair… you didn't believe Matthew could fit in so well here and he has proven us all wrong."

"Almost magically so," Violet said, something tugging on the back of her thoughts, like a needy child wanting attention. "Have you noticed anything odd about Matthew?"

"What do you mean?"

Violet picked up her tea cup and took a sip before answering. "Nothing vulgar or wrong, of course… just… odd." When Robert stared at her blankly she sighed. "I know you are going to say that I am picking at fabric hoping to find a loose thread but don't you find it even a touch odd that Matthew has so easily fit into our lives? Even James and Patrick needed a bit of time to adjust but Matthew has slid right in. I'd claim it was his breeding but Cousin Isobel came stomping through here like a bull in a china shop… only with less grace. Yet Matthew has been able to so easily fit in with our lives."

"And that is a bad thing?" Robert asked. "You would prefer that he stumble and clomp about? Track mud in and want to dine with the servants."

"Must you always take what I say to such extremes?" she complained.

"Only because you bring yourself so close to the edge," Robert teased.

Violet scoffed. "I merely mean that I find it strange that Matthew has managed to do so much with so little conflict. Sybil and him became like brother and sister after a day, you saw him as a worthy heir after a single meeting, and he has helped Edith become a more confident woman." She'd noticed that her second granddaughter and begun to truly emerge from Mary's shadow since Matthew had arrived and she would have only thought it because of aging if now for Edith many times referencing advice Matthew had given her. "He even charmed me. The only ones that he didn't enchant right away were Cora and Mary and with the latter…"

"And again I ask is that such a horrid thing?" Robert pressed. "This is all we ever wanted… if I could not have a son all the better that my eldest truly love my heir. Mary never loved Patrick, she loved what he would give her. Now… now I would say if Downton was lost to us all Mary would follow Matthew wherever he went. Sybil found a champion in Matthew and Edith a true friend. We have been blessed mama… please don't go looking for dark corners."

"I'm sorry Robert but it is in my nature… there is always a darkness in every person and you can't have a rainbow without a storm." She sipped her tea again. "Mark my words… there is something more to Matthew." She paused before adding, "I only hope that whatever it is… it is for the good of the family."

"You mean the good of Downton?"

"No."

~A~O~O~F~

As he drove along the well used packed road many thoughts were going through Tom Branson's mind. The first was that he was quite happy that it hadn't snowed in the last few days. While he knew many of the upper class loved the snow and looked upon it as a thing of beauty for him and the servants it was an utter pain that served only as an annoyance. Especially when driving. One had to be a hundred times more careful than they had to be on a normal day, as he had to watch for ice patches that would send the car skidding about or deep drifts that would suck the auto right in. Having snow now would only add to the annoyances that normally came with driving, such as holes in the ground or fools who didn't realize just how fast a car could go and thought nothing of walking in front of one. Winter driving was one of the few times that Tom could honestly admit that a horse and carriage would be better, despite what the bloody song said about carriages getting stuck.

His second thoughts were on the young woman that was sitting just behind him. The one that, in another life, he had loved and married.

'If I weren't still feeling like my brain was swimming about in rum I'd rather enjoy telling my mum that little piece of information. I wonder how she'd take it, knowing that her dear Tommy was apparently destined to marry a Lord's daughter.'

Of course he knew it wasn't destiny. Lady Sybil had been clear that she and Mr. Crawley had been sent back in time and were altering the past to make things better, or at least how they thought things would be better…and did THAT bring up ethical and theological concerns that kept Tom up at night. That meant that there was no true destiny but rather what they, beings who while one could suggest had far greater knowledge than mere mortals should have were still mortal themselves, believed was better.

"We are the authors of our own fate," she'd told him when he'd pressed her for answers.

But there was nothing forcing him to be with Lady Sybil. She had even admitted as much to him, that if he felt that the knowledge she had shared was too much and if he wished to leave his position she would not stop him or sabotage him. That she wasn't a god that could control him or rewrite him. He had the right to decide what happened with his life.

And he'd decided to stay.

Because he had to concede… the more he grew to know Lady Sybil the more he could see himself falling in love with her.

The infuriating woman who had dropped the cannonball on his gathered and understood world had been true to her word, he'd give her that. She hadn't pressed him to run off with her on some whirlwind romance. In fact after that first visit at the garage the two of them hadn't had a true conversation between them. Oh, there were times when they talked but it was always in the car and there was something else there and it was the standard conversations a driver would have with his employers. In fact Tom spent more time chatting with Lady Edith and Lady Grantham than he did Lady Sybil. The middle daughter of the Crawley family had found out that he was a fan of history and had excitedly begun to engage him in conversations about this event and that, with Lady Edith at one time suggesting a book he hadn't read before and bringing it the next time she saw him, wanting his opinion. As for Lady Grantham they would mostly talk the standard business of deliveries and chores she needed him to run but occasionally she would ask about the houses he'd worked at and even once asked his opinion on a suggestion Mr. Carson had made concerning the hall boys, wanting to get the opinion of someone closer to them.

'Seems all the Crawleys are friendly with their help,' Tom thought to himself.

More often than not though Tom listened as the family chatted, it easy for them to forget that he was listening. The rich tended to forget that servants had ears and Tom at times found himself with information the likes of O'Brien or Thomas would give their left ear for. Not that he'd ever go revealing their conversations but he could see the temptation. One could learn a lot about a person when they talked with someone they were comfortable with and didn't remember that other ears were listening in. He would have thought it an act by Lady Sybil, a way to drop hints to him without saying them to him directly, but most of the conversations came about because of her sisters or her mother and even once her Grandmother the Dowager and Tom could tell that she was answering honestly and naturally.

And what he had learned… proved that what she claimed was true. Not the time travel part, oh no… if Lady Sybil began telling her family that she was from the future and was reliving her life she'd been sent to an asylum at worst or a convent at best. No, it was the other things she'd told him, about her desires and dreams and how she wasn't like any Earl's daughter he'd ever met or heard of before that were proven true. One only had to listen as her mother or her sisters teased her about the vote and how she spoke up in defense of giving women the right to decide who governed them to know this was no trick. One couldn't fake raw passion. She was something that bucked the established norms, who dreamed of a better world, an equal world. When Lady Edith spoke of Gwen, the maid that Lady Sybil had befriended, she spoke with great optimism and praise for the other woman and how she would prove to all that she could better herself. When discussions came to politics it wasn't with the bored, aloof tone most young women would adopt but the passion of a true champion of women's rights.

More than that… he found that what she had said of their romance, that his future self had fallen in love with her spirit and mind and not merely her looks… was proven true.

Because Tom could see himself loving Lady Sybil.

'But I won't,' he thought to himself. 'Or at the very least I can't. That… that would just lead to chaos.' Lady Sybil, despite being mature beyond her years, still seemed naïve to Tom as she honestly believed she would be able to convince her family to endorse their union. Tom knew that life wasn't some fairytale where the story ended with all holding hands and singing their joy at all their problems being settled. No, life was the Agony Columns in the London Times, where people went from one pain to the next and you had to fight for every scrap of happiness you could. Lady Sybil would probably call him pessimistic… Tom preferred to think of it as keeping his head on straight and his eyes clear.

"What are you thinking about?" Lady Sybil asked, breaking him from his thoughts.

"What was that?"

"You had such a concentrated look on your face… is there something wrong with the engine? It sounds well to me."

"And how would you know what a engine should sound like, m'lady?" Tom asked.

The Earl's daughter squared her shoulders. "You repaired cars in our old neighborhood on the weekends to help earn us a bit extra money. Many times at our house, as it was easier than lugging your tools about. I would watch when I wasn't cleaning and you'd tell me a few things. I admit I will never be able to build one but I at least know when an engine sounds right and when it is screaming like it is about to come tumbling out."

Tom ignored the whole thing about their 'old neighborhood' and focused on the engine part. "Well, you are better than most. I swear, and I mean no offense, but I could throw a metal rod in the engine and your father wouldn't know something was wrong and assume the engine was supposed to sound like that."

Lady Sybil snickered. "Yes, I am afraid that papa is quite rubbish when it comes to modern advances. He is willing to learn, of course, but he is prone to making mistakes. Which is odd because Granny is utterly against keeping up with the times but when she does, dragged kicking and screaming mind you into the future, she does marvelous."

"Some people are like that," Tom reasoned and he went around a bend. "I've known people that would make wonderful butlers but are happy with being valets and I've seen people almost recklessly try and get promotions before they are ready."

"Hmmm," Lady Sybil murmured to herself. "You still haven't told me what you were thinking about."

Tom, not wanting to admit that it had been Lady Sybil that he had been thinking about, instead said, "Just thankful that we didn't get snow yet, milady. It can make the drive all the worse."

"Not just when it's on the ground but when it finally melts away it leaves the road a ruddy mess," she stated with a huff. "Make you feel like you're on one of those bucking bronco grandmamma is always telling us about."

Tom raised an eyebrow at that and glanced back at her. "You have to go riding a lot after a snow?"

"In... in my first life," she said, stumbling over her words.

"...well, go on then," Tom said motioning for her to continue. "You've already admitted that you traveled back in time there is no reason not to spill your secrets now."

She smiled but glancing away at the road Tom could see that the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "It wasn't the fact that it was in my previous life that made me pause... it was why I was on that road." Tom turned back to watch where he was going and to give Lady Sybil the chance to gather herself. He had found that many people were willing to talk more, especially about painful or awkward things, when they didn't have to look someone in the eye. Even better if there were no eyes on them. An upper class man would shut their mouth if he glanced their way but if he kept his eyes on the road they suddenly opened up like he was a bloody shrink. "There were times where we got the notice that someone was being brought in to us and Dr. Clarkson and I would have to race to the train station in the ambulance because... because they didn't treat those boys the way they deserved." Her voice grew softer and Tom actually slowed down a bit so he could hear her. "They'd cram them onto boats and trains on filthy cots that were stained with blood and bile... there were times men died not from the wounds on the battlefield but the diseases and infections they got trying to get home. We would race to get them back to the hospital, so they could actually be cared for with a bit of love but... I remember every bump. Every jolt. Every scream that came because we hit a rut in the road. One time a man was so bad Dr. Clarkson ordered the driver to stop and we moved the poor soldier, no older than some of the hall boys, out into the snow to try and lower his temperature. He was so hot... so hot..." She swallowed and Tom fought the urge to look back at her. "When we lost him... Dr. Clarkson pulled him from the snow and... and have you ever made a snow angel? I used to love to do that, even if mama complained I got my clothes all wet. Lay in the snow and wave my arms and look at what I made when I stood up. When we lifted his body up though it wasn't an angel I saw but a demon, red of blood and twisted and crooked." He could hear her tears falling. "You are the one that believes in the Lord, Tom. Your faith is so important and it's so much stronger than mine. But... that day showed me the Devil was real. He was lying there... mocking me."

Tom didn't know what to say. What could he say? What words, what comforts, could he ever hope to give this poor woman who had lived through hell and now faced a second go?

"And that just proves that God is real too," he finally said. "Because if there such evil... and you could face it and continue on... that must mean something."

"Yes... I suppose so," Sybil said, reaching over and tentatively patting his shoulder.

The two of them rode on in silence after that, not saying a word till they approached the train station and then it was merely directions as they worked to prepare for the arrivals. Tom was rather pleased that he'd timed things out well and Lady Painswick was getting off the train mere minutes after the two of them arrived on the platform.

"Who is this gentlemen we're picking up? I know some other friend of her's is coming later and I need to pick him up in a few hours but who is this gent?" Tom whispered to Lady Sybil, craning his neck to try and spot Lord Grantham's sister. He'd seen a few photos of her in Downton so he knew who to look for but he had a feeling Lady Sybil would spot her aunt first.

"Not her latest paramour, apparently," Lady Sybl said with a giggle. "She was quite clear on that. He is a friend tough, a newspaper owner who she recently has come to know. She invited him to come to Downton for the dinner and Papa agreed to it... I think he is hoping for an article about him that he can show off at the club... Aunt Rosamund!" Lady Sybil quickly darted forward, waving her arms over her head and grinning as an older woman, maybe 3 to 5 years older than Lady Grantham, with red-blonde hair and a look that reminded him much of the Dowager, walked over and allowed Sybil to kiss her on the cheek. "I've missed you!"

"I can see that!" Lady Painswick declared, placing her hands on Lady Sybil's shoulders and looking her over carefully. "You've grown so beautiful..." she stared into Lady Sybil's eyes, her smile dimming slightly. "And you've matured as well..." For a moment Tom wondered if the Earl's sister had figured out her niece's secret but then Lady Painswick was all smiles again. "Come, we must collect my luggage and be off! I so do wish to see Robert and Cora..." She frowned looking about with her brow furrowed. "And where is he?"

"Your new friend?" Lady Sybil teased.

"And only that, let me assure you! It is rare for a woman to meet a man she can have a conversation with and I think you'll all love him. He is quite witty. Oh, and don't worry, he is between us in ages so I haven't brought an old billy goat... ah, there he is!"

Tom watched as a man who was at least a decade younger than Lady Painswick disembarked, his eyes twinkling as he looked about the station. He seemed like a man who had traveled the world and now returned home at long last and was taking in all the changes (or how little things had changed) to the place he'd known so well. He was a tall man with brown hair and a youthful face that made him appear younger at first glance then he truly was. There was a wisdom in his eyes though and Tom could tell this was a man who understood the world, roses and warts all.

"Terribly sorry, I got caught up talking to someone," the man said before accepting Lady Sybil's hand. "A pleasure to meet you."

"This is my niece, Lady Sybil Crawley. Sybil, may I introduce my good friend Sir Michael Gregson."

~A~O~O~O~F~

Author's Notes: Well, between pulling something in my left hand that makes typing utter agony and having a cold that left me with a 100 degree fever and one night hallucinating as said fever broke (something about complex designs and then about a war) I finally have gotten this chapter out. More character stuff, but some small reveals like Violet cluing in more that there is something off about Matthew and Tom and Sybil developing their relationship.

Oh, and Michael Gregson is coming to Downton.

So two Plot Bunnies for today and the first is a rather odd one and it comes from a comment someone made about a Game of Thrones scene that I decided was so funny and would work for Downton Abbey. I would place it either in Season 1 or 2. It is morning and Lady Mary wakes up utterly confused. Her head is killing her, she is in the drawing room rather than her bedroom, she is wearing a man's suit(!) and she has no memory of what just happened. Looking around she spots Matthew who is lying on the floor with a black eye and a shaved head, his dining-garb torn. On the other side is Sybil who has her hair in pigtails and for some reason her face is painted blue. And finally there is Edith who has her dress on backwards and there is a baby lying beside her. There are no servants and Robert and Cora are missing.

What the hell just happened?

Inspired by 'The Hangover' the story would see Mary, Sybil, Edith, and Matthew struggling to remember what just happened and where their parents had disappeared to. Wacky hijinxs would follow.

The second idea is one that occurred to me as I was getting over my fever and wanted to come up with a plot bunny that would feel more in line with Season 2 of Downton (My favorite season). I would place it in season one. It would begin with Cora and Robert getting news from a lawyer that he needed to see them concerning the death of Mary's old wetnurse. None of the family would remember her (obviously) but Cora would state that the woman had been young and just given birth to a child of her own. Cora would be sad that the woman died but not sure why the lawyer needed to see them. When the lawyer would arrive he'd bring with him a priest and the two would reveal that they were asked by the wetnurse to hear her confession, so she might be absolved of her great sin. The priest would state that the wet nurse confessed that two nights after Cora gave birth the nurse wasn't paying attention… and baby Mary died in her crib.

Of course the family would be confused. Mary isn't dead she is sitting right there, alive and while.

Except Mary isn't Mary Crawley. The Wet nurse, fearing she'd be sent to jail for murder… took her own child, her bastard daughter… and swapped her for the dead little Baby Mary. Mary Crawley isn't Robert and Cora's daughter.

Dun dun dun.

Now Edith is the eldest child and Mary is no one in some eyes. Some would instantly see Mary as a liar (even though it wasn't her fault at all), others would believe it a lie, and others would defend her. It would be interesting to see how characters reacted… would Carson still hold Lady Mary in high regard? Or would he see it all as a lie and become bitter around her? Would the likes of Tom see this as a great injustice… and would it be because of what the wet nurse did OR because the Crawleys treat Mary like a stranger? And how would the family deal with the fact that they have been raising a stranger's child? How would Mary stand the fact that her vaulted belief that she is better than most because of her blood… is a lie? That she is the child of a wet nurse who got pregnant out of wedlock?

One of the things I'd do is have Mary decide she couldn't stay at Downton until this was all settled… somehow. And Matthew, being Matthew, would take her into Crawley House. This could lead to some fun stuff too, like Mary deciding that if she isn't an Earl's daughter she doesn't need to behave as one and deciding to embrace her 'middle class roots'. Learning from Isobel how to cook and how to manage a small house.

It would be up to the writer to decide if Mary is really Mary or if the wet nurse's story is true. Or if it even matters.