Mrs. Hughes sighed as she looked over at Anna, hating that she wasn't able to talk with the maid and find out just why she had returned from her dinner with Mr. Bates looking as if she had been given all her hopes and dreams on a silver platter and then asked if she wanted seconds. Of course Anna wasn't smiling now, as the sweet soul could never truly so openly flaunt her own happiness when it was clear someone was upset. And how could she miss something was amiss with the sounds of Mrs. Patmore alternating between raging and sobbing in the kitchen, which everyone was avoiding like the plague? So instead of being able to talk with one of her favorite members of the staff Mrs. Hughes was stuck standing by the entrance to the kitchen trying to decide just how she was going to handle the cook who had just ruined the first dinner thrown by Lord Grantham's heir and his soon-to-be wife?
(not that he'd asked for her hand yet but honestly if Mr. Crawley didn't soon he was as big of a fool as many of them had believed him to before when they'd first heard of him)
"How bad is it?" Mr. Bates asked, stepping up to her and taking off his hat, Anna already retreating to her room. When Mrs. Hughes shot him a look he shrugged. "Some of the kitchen maids were talking when we came up to the house… something about destroying pudding?" They heard Mrs. Patmore let out a curse that made Mrs. Hughes' hair curl just from the fierceness of it and Mr. Bates grimaced. "But I imagine that it is more than that."
"Actually that is about it," Mrs. Hughes said. She went on to tell Mr. Bates about the salted pudding that had been served to the Family and their guests. "The problem is that the pudding was eaten by Sir Anthony, who made his… displeasure… quite known, from what Mr. Carson says. He's rather upset about this, as you can imagine."
"And what did William or Thomas say?" Mr. Bates asked. He held up his hand, apparently sensing that she was about to press him on his statement. "I've worked here long enough to see that what Mr. Carson thinks is a grand disaster for his Lordship is rather mild to the rest of the world and what is a mighty success is merely a normal day that went well. Thomas will only see the negative but he won't take it to the extreme Mr. Carson does and is more likely to focus on what it means for the staff rather than the family. As for William he is rather young so he will most likely not see any issues with what happened and only give the facts. Combined all three and the true picture of what happened appears."
Mrs. Hughes opened her mouth only to click her jaw shut and sigh. "You have a way of seeing things for what they really are, don't you Mr. Bates?"
"Merely able to watch and observe, Mrs. Hughes."
She shook her head at that. That was putting it lightly. Thomas had whispered to enough people that Mr. Bates was a sneak and no one truly believed it as how could someone as nice as Mr. Bates be a sneak? Yet more and more Mrs. Hughes was seeing that there was more to the valet than he let the world see. He seemed to always be in the right place but never intruding. All went to him, trusted him… and as such he knew things that the likes of Thomas would kill to know. She was suddenly struck by an old line she'd heard was from some French book, one that she hated associating with Mr. Bates… but fit him all too well: la plus belle des ruses du diable est de vous persuader qu'il n'existe pas.
The most beautiful trick of the devil is to persuade you that he does not exist.
"Mr. Carson feels that Sir Anthony was utterly humiliated and that the honor of Downton has been destroyed forever. He has gone to his office to fret about how Lady Mary and Mr. Crawley will never be able to live down what happened here and Downton will be blacklisted for generations. He fears for their future children and how they will be doomed to marry far below their station. As for Thomas he is convinced that since it was Mrs. Patmore who made the pudding and that she refused to make the dessert her ladyship requested that the poor woman will be cast out into the cold before the night is over. He is also whispering, though not very loudly, that Carson will get the boot as well for not dealing with the issue when it first appeared. As for William he doesn't quite understand what the problem is as it was just a bit of salty pudding and Mr. Crawley and Lady Mary seemed to find the whole thing rather humorous."
Mr. Bates raised an eyebrow at that. "Lady Mary found it funny? That doesn't sound like her."
"I suppose we are all used to seeing her as utterly emotionless that the idea of her being mirthful is a strange and odd thing."
"So it sounds like the pudding caused some problems but nothing the family can't move past," Mr. Bates stated with a small shrug. "Larry Grey utterly embarrassed himself at Downton but I haven't heard of him being isolated and shunned too badly."
"I suppose you are right," Mrs. Hughes said before they both heard something crash in the kitchen. "But that is only part of the problem, isn't it?"
Mr. Bates glanced at the kitchen, stroking his upper lip with his index finger. "Yes… she's only gotten worse these last few months."
"I should have put a stop to it when she first began in on Daisy. I mean, when she began in on her heavily. She always was tough on the girl but when it went from firm lessons to unjustified harassment I should have stepped in to stop her."
"You aren't the only one that should have said something," Mr. Bates said gently. "We all stood by and let her go after Daisy… didn't see until it was too late that she was being far too cruel." He shook his head, staring at the kitchen once more, Mrs. Hughes noticing that he was gripping his cane so hard that his knuckles were turning white. "If she'd targeted Anna…" For the most part Mrs. Hughes, like much of the staff, saw Mr. Bates as a kind soul, one filled with wisdom and kindness that any member of the staff could go to for advice or aid. He'd rapidly been seen as the kind father to Mr. Carson' stern one, something Carson didn't mind as he understood that a house ran better when there was a clear division between those who comforted and those who held the rod and he was happy to play his part. But there were moments where one saw beyond the smiling face and gentle nature and glimpsed the vicious warrior within. When they were all reminded that smiling Mr. Bates had been a soldier and that he had killed. But then, with strength that came from an iron will, he pulled his anger back within himself and turned to her. "Still, fretting about what we could have done won't help Mrs. Patmore now."
Mrs. Hughes sighed. "You believe that she is in trouble?"
"You don't?"
"…yes, but I was hoping you'd tell me that I was worrying for nothing."
"I wish I could. I truly do. You aren't in a position I envy. Mrs. Patmore is a friend of yours, she has served Downton a long time… but she has mistreated the kitchen girls, she's snapped at other members of the staff, she refused a request from her ladyship, and now she is brought shame to Downton, at least in Mr. Carson's eyes. None of that are things people can simply brush aside."
"Not just in my eyes but everyone's, Mr. Bates," Mr. Carson said, joining them. Mrs. Hughes felt sorry for him as it was clear from his creased brow and heavy-lidded eyes that he was emotionally and mentally drained."I find it pitiable that so few see just how grave this disaster is for the Family."
"It was one mouthful of pudding," Mrs. Hughes argued. "He didn't leave in a huff, did he?"
The butler puffed up a bit. "Only because he has a great respect for Lord Grantham and a greater respect for presenting a dignified front, though I doubt anyone would have blamed him had he overturned the table and demanded to be shown out. That doesn't mean he will forget what has happened and the damage we have done to his character. We have embarrassed a knight of the realm and made him into a foppish clown in some penny-circus and the word will spread that none can trust Downton not to do the same to them!"
Mrs. Hughes stared at the butler, wondering just at what point his little choo choo had gone off the tracks, while Mr. Bates merely said, "Sir Anthony could flip the main table?"
Mr. Carson blustered a bit before taking a breath. "Metaphorically, of course." Mrs. Hughes pressed her lips together as hard as she could in fear that she would laugh and set the stuffy butler off. Oh how she cared for that man but he did not like it in the slightest when he was made fun of, especially when he knew in his heart of hearts that he deserved the mockery. "But the fact remains that because of Mrs. Patmore's actions Downton now finds itself in crisis."
"We're sure it was her who made the pudding?" Mr. Bates asked. "Not one of the kitchen maids? Honest mistakes have happened, after all, and I'm sure his Lordship and her Ladyship would understand."
Mrs. Hughes let out a weary sigh. "She tried to blame Daisy when we first got the news but William stood up for her. Said that Mrs. Patmore herself was making the pudding and that she'd even told Daisy to go away- not in those words, mind you- and let her handle it."
Mr. Carson nodded gravely. "She then tried to blame William himself, claiming that he had done something but of all people it was Thomas who stood up for him, telling her that she couldn't just blame others for her mistakes. After that I told everyone to leave save Mrs. Patmore and informed her in private that I needed to think over things before we would speak." There was another clatter of dishes being washing far to hard, if Mrs. Hughes had to guess, and all three of them winced. "She's been like this ever since."
"Something will need to be done, though I don't know if I have the heart to do it," Mrs. Hughes said sadly.
"That is the role we must play. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Mrs. Patmore has brought this down upon her and she only has herself to blame."
Mr. Bates glanced at towards the kitchen, where the cacophony had once more turned into quiet murmurs and moans of distress. "Well, she has been under a large amount of stress."
Mrs. Hughes shook her head though. "I beg to differ, Mr. Bates. While I do sympathize with having to train new kitchen maids and deal with the many changes these last few years have brought that doesn't excuse her actions."
"I wasn't referring to that," the valet said with a casual air. "I was referring to her losing her sight."
Mrs. Hughes' whipped her head towards Mr. Bates so hard it made her neck hurt.
"What are… you think…" Mr. Carson stammered.
"I don't think, I know," he said with a sad smile. "She's particular with where things are placed in the kitchen; doesn't like it when someone moves something without her knowing about it. You've seen her snap any anyone who comes in before they even have a chance to pick up some sugar or a spoon, warning them to not mess up her domain. Because she won't be able to find it again easily. She works not by sight but by memory." Mrs. Hughes opened her mouth to claim that it was just Mrs. Patmore being her normal stern self only for the valet to cut her off with his next point. "When I first came here she would leave once a week to go down to the village and talk with the local bakers, to see if they had learned of anything new that she might try. And once a month during the spring and summer she'd travel to a farmer's market to look over the spices and such. She didn't go this year and in fact she hasn't left Downton in almost a year. On what days off she does take she spends the time in her room."
Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson shared a look, both wondering how they had missed that. Mrs. Patmore always enjoyed her trips to Ripton and the other small towns in the area, returning with new ingredients and ideas for dishes. While she hated new equipment, feeling that if you couldn't make something with the pots and spoons you already had it wasn't worth making at all, she loved to discover new ways to make her dishes even better. Yet she had found excuses this year, usually about how Daisy was lazy and needed to be constantly watched, that kept her from going. Both felt a flash of guilt at failing to notice how she'd basically become a hermit within Downton.
"She takes her meals in the kitchen after the other kitchen staff has eaten and rarely joins us…" Mr. Carson finally said, his anger and bluster reduced to fragile words. "I know it is common for her to not join us for meals but she used to do so for special occasions. Not anymore. And to dine by herself? I thought… I thought it was just wishing to be by herself."
Mr. Bates nodded. "If you are able to watch her you'll see she is very slow when eating. She's afraid of making a mess. And for all her complaints about Daisy you'll notice that she is putting more on the girl than one would expect. Daisy isn't a cook's assistant yet but she's treated as one. Mrs. Patmore doesn't chop vegetables or work the stove anymore… she just barks orders. And for what dishes she does make she has someone else assisting her. The pudding is the first thing she's handled completely on her own in a while… because normally it is rather simple to make."
Mrs. Hughes felt herself sway slightly. "That's why she denied her ladyship's request for Sir Anthony's favorite dessert… she simply can't make it. She couldn't read the receipe! Oh, the poor dear."
"Yes," Mr. Carson rumbled, rubbing his forehead with one of his large worn hands, "but that merely shifts us from one problem to another."
"I know that!" Mrs. Hughes snapped, instantly holding up her hand. "I'm sorry… that was unkind of me."
"I have a bad feeling unkind will be a title thrown at both of us before the end of the night, unless something can be done. I doubt very much even his lordship, with his understanding and kindness, would keep on a blind cook who ruined a meal." Mrs. Hughes wanted to argue against that, by everything in her soul she did, but she just couldn't. Because she knew he was right.
Mr. Bates shook his head though. "Talk with her but don't do anything drastic. I'll talk with Lord Grantham tonight, see if he can't think of a different route to take."
"With all due respect, Mr. Bates, it should be I who discuss with his lordship the termination of a long standing member of the staff."
"And with just as much respect, Mr. Carson, you know how his lordship is. Thrust something at him and he will react quickly and many times incorrectly. Give him a day or two and he will come to a conclusion that helps all and makes us all wonder why we didn't think of such a solution." The butler glowered for a moment before letting out a sigh and nodding ever so slightly; it was well known that Robert Crawley could be rash when life suddenly shifted only to regret his actions later. Mrs. Hughes was staring at one example at that moment: his lordship had fired Mr. Bates (why for none of the staff had ever learned) only to make a great scene of dragging Bates out of the car he was to take and telling him to go inside before admitting to Carson he'd been wrong. "And with that I believe I will head up now. I'd like to have time to prepare for his lordship finally coming to change and I imagine he will have to discuss with me."
"Of course," Mr. Carson said. "And thank you, Mr. Bates. I hope you do not take my… outburst at your suggest… in a negative light." The valet smiled and shook his head and Mr. Carson let out a sigh of relief and Mrs. Hughes quietly thanked the Lord above that Downton had the likes of John Bates and Anna Smith and hoped that would remain true for main years to come.
"Mr. Bates?" Mrs. Hughes said as the valet turned to leave. "You'll beg my pardon in how rude I and everyone else has been, seeing the state of things. How was your dinner with Anna? You both seemed rather joyful when you returned."
"I should say so," Mr. Bates said with a sly grin. "Anna has agreed to marry me and by this time next year the two of us will be running the Grantham Arms. Goodnight." With that the valet turned and limped away, leaving Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson to stare at his retreating form.
~MC~MC~MC~
"I want to go down there so badly," Sybil whispered, keeping her wine glass close to her lips so that no one could easily read her lips. "Just wrap her up in my arms and tell her that it will be all right in the end."
"You know you can't," Matthew warned her, much to her annoyance. Mostly because she knew he was right. "I know she means a lot to you, that she taught you how to cook, but we have to let this play out."
"I could at least tell Mrs. Patmore that she won't be fired." She watched as her sister chatted with Mr. Bryant, apparently rather interested in a chair that he had been commissioned to make for some baron's daughter. Normally Mary didn't care about furniture, prefering clothing and such (Mary was fond of saying that you could place someone in a squat mud hut and as long as they wore the right jewels and gowns they would still look like a queen) but his work in taking rescued wood of cultural interest and turning it into fine pieces had clearly grabbed her attention. It was respecting the past while making something new… something her sister could respect.
"You'd only make things worse," Matthew said slightly, keeping his tone polite but firm. "We can't solve everything with future knowledge."
"It just drives me mad, to know how the mood must be down there as we stand here chatting and relaxing. They all must be so terribly worried. Ready to think they all of them will suffer because of that pudding." She shook her head, disgusted in the unfairness of it all. "We don't realize how small things for us are grand disasters for them. That what we can laugh off leaves them shaking with fear. Tom was always fond of telling me how this action or that, which I couldn't even remember, caused a panic downstairs. He used it as an example of how our way of life was horrible and must be torn down to create his worker's paradise."
Matthew tilted his head a bit at that, amusement dancing in his eyes. "You don't sound as offended by that as you should."
"I lived in Ireland for over a year and was a nurse for nearly 4 years. Plenty of time for the bloom to come off the rose, as it were. The reverse, I would say, of what happened with you?"
Matthew chuckled at that. "So the lawyer became a blue blood and the Earl's Daughter became an Irish revolutionary."
In a lower whisper Sybil adopted a rather good Irish accent. "I won't be tellin' if you won't, boyo." Matthew clearly forced back a snort of humor and Sybil smirked as she reverted to her natural accent. "You'd be surprised how handy that came. It's hard to shop at the grocer talking like an earl's daughter." She swapped again. "But tell the dosser whose acting the maggot when he should be packin' me groceries ta hurry it up? That works rightly."
"I would pay good money for you to do that in front of your father… or your grandmother."
"I'd rather not give granny a stroke," she said, slipping easily back into the posh tones of high society.
Matthew smiled at that before the corners of his mouth drooped ever so slightly. "How is Tom?"
Sybil was startled by that. Matthew had not agreed at all with her decision to tell Tom the truth. In fact it had led to the first true fight either of them had ever had. In the past Sybil had raged at her parents and with Tom while Matthew had fought with Mary far too many times than Sybil could count, but during both of their lives the two of them had gotten along rather well. But when Sybil had revealed to Matthew that she'd let Tom in on the secret of their traveling back in time Matthew had stared at her, demanded she repeat herself three times, and then he had gone utterly cold before finding her father and telling him that Sybil wished to take him for a walk, to show him a church he had expressed interest in. Sybil had been mildly confused by his sudden actions but his reasoning had become clear once they were alone in the woods: he didn't want any witnesses when he began yelling.
It had worked well for Sybil. She didn't need any witnesses when she yelled right back.
They'd screamed themselves hoarse, unable to find common ground. What had followed had been silence, horrible silence, which hadn't ended with agreement but instead Matthew just walking away. She wasn't used to that; when she fought with Tom or with her parents there were growls and ranting and cold words, maybe someone storming off with a huff (usually her) but within a few hours, maybe a day or two, things would be settled.
Matthew had refused to speak with her for nearly 3 weeks.
She had attempted only once to break him out of his vow of silence. She had approached him in the street, hoping to force the issue. He had, without ever opening his mouth, politely walked her back to Downton, passed her off to a confused Carson, and left, sending word later that he wouldn't be attending dinner that night.
Her anger at his pigheadedness had finally given way to depression. She'd grown used to talking to him, confiding in him… for him to ignore her made her feel once more completely alone. It didn't help that she couldn't turn to Tom, as she had promised to give him space, to let him come to her. She finally told Gwen about the fight (not what had caused it, only that it had happened) and her dear friend had told her that the best she could do was to give Matthew time. She hadn't liked that answer but seen that it was her only choice. And when he had finally approached her and offered his terms she had accepted: they would go about things like normal but she was not to discuss Tom until he brought him up. It had been a bitter pill to swallow, that she couldn't come to him for help until he decided that he was ready to help, but she had accepted it.
And it seemed not Matthew's exile from assisting in her love life was over.
"…coping, I suppose," she finally said. "He's had enough time to accept what I told him. He doesn't think I'm mad but…" she let out a tired sigh. "He doesn't like the idea that his fate is written in stone."
"Tom was always independent," Matthew said. "He could play his role, he could adapt, but he never became the person we wanted him to be… instead he made us compromise. He would dress the part and attend the parties but we had to change too."
"I suddenly have a vision of him burning the union jack at the dining table and then asking Carson for a box for the ashes."
Matthew laughed lightly at that, shaking his head. "Oh, nothing that terrible. In fact he managed to get along well before I… died." He made a face and Sybil did as well; it was hard to think about, the fact that they had both passed on. Sometimes it mad them feel like ghosts who were walking the halls of a home that they were haunting. "It took a while… for the first few months he did all he could to avoid anyone other than family. Your mother and father decided to begin holding dinners again about 2 months after you passed but Tom always took his dinner early and then would hide in the nursery with Sibby. But after about 5 months he began to join us… and it wasn't awkward. Well, the first one was but not because of Tom being there because he was the chauffeur but because he was the widower who was finally allowing himself to live again. But after that he blended quite well. No one looked at him and wondered why he was there. We welcomed him. And he… he welcomed us."
Sybil bit her bottom lip to keep herself from crying. "That's all I ever wanted. All I want now."
"It will happen. Just give it time."
"But that's the problem," she said, watching as granny and Cousin Isobel began to debate something; with the two of them it could be anything. "I'm not sure if he will. I told him that I would give him time but-"
"That was your mistake," Matthew interrupted.
"Pardon?"
"Tom and I became good friends after we began to manage the estate together. Very good friends. And I learned with Tom that you can't press him too hard on things… but you also can't step back and wait for him to make a decision. He won't ever take an action, not unless he is truly desperate."
"That's not right though," Sybil argued. "I know Tom… when it comes to life he is fiery and passionate!" She lowered her voice before anyone noticed their conversation. "He doesn't back down. He stood up to papa-"
"That was a matter of anger. And pride. Of belief. But friendship? Love?" Matthew motioned for her to follow him and they walked out of the room, Matthew chuckling like she'd just told him a joke. No one batted an eye as it was common for the two of them to disappear; if it wasn't clear that Matthew loved Mary with all his heart Sybil was sure her family would believe the two of them were a couple. As it were her parents and siblings had accepted that Sybil and Matthew saw each other as sister and brother and had a close relationship. The two of them moved to stare at a random painting, Matthew sipping from his glass before he continued. "When he first told you he cared about you… how long was it till he brought the topic up again?"
Sybil licked her lips. "I… I think several months."
"And after that? How many times did he bring it up? Just him? Not you?"
"Not often," she said in a small voice. "But… but he was the one that finally said he would leave-"
"Because you gave him no choice. He gains his courage when it comes to friendship and love when he has no choice. But otherwise he waits and watches. And that is what he is doing now."
"But I promised I'd give him time!" Sybil exlciamed.
"And so you have. But now it is time for you to go to him. I'm not saying you need to be as brash as you were… but you can try and be friendly with him. Give him space but know when to go to him."
"You make it sound so easy."
Matthew laughed. "Oh, if I am doing that then I apologize! It will be bloody painful… more so than wooing Mary I'll wager. With her I knew exactly how she would come at me and how to deflect her blows, parrying every strike while also making my own against her heart. It was a fight but I knew every attack she had. You and Tom are going to dance but neither of you will know the steps first and you'll be hearing different music. Sometimes he will lead, sometimes you. That is just how things will be. It will be up to you to know when to start and when to follow."
"…I suppose getting him drunk and having my way with him is out of the question?" Sybil teased.
"Very much so," Matthew said with a smirk.
The two of them glanced towards the pallor, Edith's laughter filtering out to them. They couldn't see her but they could hear the joy that rushed past her lips, unfiltered and unstoppable. It was the laughter of someone who was truly delighted and amused and didn't care if the world heard it because they were just so happy. And the world didn't care because how could one hate such a wonderful sound?
"Edith seems rather pleased with Aunt Rosamund's gentlemen guest. You say that you met him before, in our previous life?"
"I did," Matthew stated. "But only for a short while. Mostly at Duneagle… the chap was rather poor at hiding the fact he had come to see Edith. But he seemed like a decent sort, save for the issue of his wife, which he claimed he was cleaning up. Edith began writing for his paper… it was the first time I'd seen her truly step out of the shadows and into the light."
"Wait," Sybil said, turning to face him, confused by what he had just said. "His wife?"
"He was married," Matthew confirmed, "but his wife had… well, there is no proper way to put this… she had lost her mind. He had her placed in an asylum and according to him the doctors had no hope of her ever growing well. Rather sad, of course, but it did give me pause about allowing him near Edith. No matter how she was he did make a vow… in sickness and in health."
"But he isn't married here," Sybil stated. "Aunt Rosamund told me. And he never has been. Do you know when he married her?"
"Before the war, I believe he said." Matthew's brow furrowed at that. "Yes. Before the war. It was the death of two of her brothers early on, some of the first casualties if I remember correctly, that drove her mad to begin with and she attempted to kill herself with some awful drugs but all those did was destroy what hopes for a return to sanity she had left." He looked towards the parlor, jaw working. "He said they had been married for several years… you are sure Rosamund said he was unattached?"
"Positive!" Sybil exclaimed.
Matthew raised his glass to his lips only to lower it again without taking a drink. "He wasn't a knight when I met him. And he certainly hadn't purchased parts of Sir Richard's empire." He glanced at Sybil, a forced smile on his face. "I think we need to rejoin the party. I have a question or two for your aunt."
"And I for granny," Sybil said, the two reentering the room before splitting off, Matthew heading towards her aunt who was chatting with papa while Sybil found her grandmother sitting alone, her 'conversation' with Cousin Isobel at an end. "You were trying to play nice, weren't you granny?" she asked, taking a seat next to the Dowager Countess.
"Hmmm, it should be me lecturing you instead of the other way around. I'm not sure how to feel about you being so mature… makes me feel old."
"Well don't worry… I heard someone once say 'you are a woman, British, and rich… you'll outlive them all'."
Granny smiled at that. "Well, one can only hope. Now, why have you come to chat with me? What mad scheme are you and Matthew plotting? Don't deny it… no one else may have noticed how you left but I did. You two always sneak off now when you are scheming… though I'll admit I rarely discover what sinister plan you've hatched."
"Nothing sinister, I can assure you. Merely… concerned and deciding on the best course of action." She nodded towards Edith and Sir Michael.
"Ah. The protective sister. And I know Matthew told you and Edith he saw you as family so I shouldn't be surprised he is being overly careful when it comes to you two and your love lives." She pursed her lips as she looked about the room. "Still, why come to me? I see Matthew has the right of it, going to Rosamund, but why not go to someone else? General Lothrop spends much of his time in London, same with the Bryants. They would offer you the knowledge you seek."
Sybil though shook her head. "I'm not interested in what anyone might have heard in passing. I want to know his secrets and you are the only one that will know." Her grandmother gave her a startled look but Sybil merely shook her head with a smile. "Don't pretend you don't. And don't pretend granny that there isn't a guest that comes to Downton that you don't look into long before they arrive."
"My dear, you make it sound like I have an army of spies!" Granny said with a laugh.
"Not spies," Sybil said sweetly. "But I know that unlike my mother you have helped many young women make good matches. Daughters of knights and those new to our station. Those who sought you out because they knew you would steer them not just towards profitable matches but happy ones as well. And in return if you should send them a telegram asking for information about Sir Michael…" Sybil held her hands out, palm up, in a 'what can you do?' gesture.
Granny's smile fell and she stared at Sybil with a critical eye. "And how did you come to this reasoning?"
"Because it is what I would do… and you are smarter than me."
"…I don't know if I like this new mature side of you, Sybil. It is far too easy for me to control the family when all of you are like your father and mother." Still, even with her acidic comment the corners of the old woman's lips were tugging up. "Though I suppose it is good to know that I do have an heir after all. Someone to keep all of them in line. Now, as for Sir Michael your concerns are unfounded. He is a proper gentlemen and I have heard of nothing that would suggest anything unsavory. He Is a bit older than I would have preferred for your sister, should she take an interest in him… and at this point I dare say she has, that much is clear… but nothing scandalizing about the two of them becoming friendly. He earned his title, of course, but for honorable work; he has reported on several important events and uncovered some rather ghastly dealings within Parliament that were quickly dealt with. Oh, I'd prefer a lord, of course, but there is nothing to say that he couldn't earn that kind of title as well… its rare but it can be done, of course! Would be different if it were Mary, the eldest is always expected to go to an old family, but with Mary and Matthew close to being settled I have little problem with some fresh blood. The gossip is rather light about him… he isn't one to go to clubs and his circle of friends are all above reproach. The only true negative is that in his youth he was far too fond of cards in my opinion but with age comes wisdom and rather than sink further into it he has found moderation." Granny nodded her head. "Yes… not quite the match I would have preferred to Edith and I'd never have suggested it but if it makes her happy I wouldn't stand in her way. But don't you think I'll allow you to make a similar choice, my dear!"
"Oh, no knights for me, Granny. Now, I only press because Matthew mentioned in passing that he thought he'd heard that Sir Michael was married. But he admitted he could be wrong… he heard it a long time ago, when papa had taken him to London with him to visit the club."
"And he is wrong," granny said firmly. "If you think for a moment, my dear Sybil, that I would allow a married man to make one of my granddaughters his mistress you disappoint me. I'd have seen him cast out before we got to the second course." She shuffled a little, as she was want to do when she was mulling something over, before adding, "Though it did come close to that. The marriage question. Lady Rose Abenthford told me about it a few weeks ago. You remember her, right? She visited with her family when you were…oh… I'd say ten or so. Lord Viccan's daughter. Well, she said the only bit of true gossip concerning our newspaper man. It seems that Sir Michael had been seeing a Miss Elizabeth Moorehouse quite exclusively a year or two ago but he broke it off quite suddenly. Shocked everyone as they thought he was sure to ask for her hand but apparently he'd become rather busy building up his little printed empire and wanted to dedicate himself to that. It happens, of course… something to watch out for when you marry, my dear. Your husband may decide to take on a new project and become obsessed with it. A few months is fine, even a year, but if it goes on further than that then be worried. Make sure to remind him why he married you."
Sybil frowned. The Miss Elizabeth Moorehouse could very well have been the woman Michael Gregson married in the previous timeline but here the relationship had ended suddenly. She knew that Matthew and her were making changes to history but she doubted very much that having Mary take Matthew on riding trips would cause a newspaper man in London to leave the woman he was courting.
"Do you remember when they broke up?"
"I can't say that I do. Long enough for it not to be indecent for him to be speaking with Edith, if that concerns you."
"Was it after the Titanic sank?" Sybil pressed.
"What an odd…" granny got an odd look of consideration on her face. "Yes… now that you say it I do believe it was. He broke the story, if you didn't know, and it was that tragic event that first got the attention of the king and would lead to his knighting…"
Sybil chatted with her grandmother for another 10 minutes after that, catching Matthew's eye and glancing at Sir Michael early on. The two of them waited until, finally, Edith was pulled away by Isobel before they left their respective conversations and moved to corner Gregson as one.
"Sir Michael, a moment of your time," Matthew said with a smile.
"But of course," Sir Michael said, flustered slightly as Matthew and Sybil led him out of the room. "Is everything all right?"
"Oh, very much so," Sybil said. "We just wished to talk."
Matthew nodded, taking the lead. "You will be spending the night, of course, and much of tomorrow?"
"I planned to, yes. Lady Rosamund said it would be fine and I arranged for my papers to get by without me. Why?"
Matthew flashed a lazy smile. "Oh, Sybil and I were thinking of taking a drive tomorrow and we wanted you to join us. I do so enjoy taking the motor out and seeing just how fast I can go."
Sir Michael went white as a sheet.
"Whipping the wheel about, rushing along bends… there is a thrill to it, you know, to be so dangerous. To know that you are risking yourself by truly pushing the auto to its limits. Of course, there is no danger in it… I am an excellent driver and you would have nothing to fear."
"I… I don't know about that," he stammered and Sybil and Matthew shared a look.
"I suppose you are right," Sybil said casually. "After all… it isn't like Matthew died in a car crash after returning from Duneagle."
"Or Sybil here died in childbirth," Matthew added.
Sir Michael stared at them, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. And then, in the quietest voice, he said, "Or were murdered in Germany while seeking a divorce so I might marry Edith."
~A~O~O~O~F~
Author's Notes: And for those who guessed it congrats… yes, Michael Gregson is the final piece of our Trinity. He also returned back in time from the moment of his death to the sinking of the Titanic.
I knew almost from the start that Gregson would be the final part of the Trinity and thus seeded little things about him, about how he was gaining more power and standing, throughout the story. And finally we can reveal his role.
I know there are people who prefer Bertie and trust me, I get it. He is a wonderful character. But I always felt Gregson was the better fit. The self made man. The one who truly believed in Edith long before anyone else did. Don't worry about… I actually have plans for him and several other characters who aren't going to get their show happy endings but will get happy endings all the same here. There is one coming in Season 2 of this story that is going to be so delicious.
For those curious we have one more chapter to go before we move into the finale of Season 1 and the beginning of the war. Next chapter we'll find out a bit about Gregson and how he reacted to what had happened, Matthew and Sybil will learn what happened after they died, and the Trinity will make plans. After that we are going to do a time skip to the summer of 1914, right before and right after the lawn party. And we'll get to some MASSIVE drama that is going to shape Season 2. If you think it is going to be the same… this is where the story begins to pull away from canon hard and we explore the ramifications of Matthew, Sybil, and Gregson altering time. Sometimes you are the author of your own fate… but sometimes fate doesn't like its affairs being tossed asunder.
Luna Lovegood from my Harry Potter Story:…well, that was friggin' ominious.
Stop breaking the fourth wall, Luna! And you owe me 20 bucks for that pizza!
Ahem.
Onto the plot bunny.
This one would be in Series 4, so Matthew has passed on. Robert holds yet another dinner and one of the people invited is the son of the new Russian diplomat to England. The son would be a brash sort, who insults and mocks people and feels he can do whatever he wants just because of who his father is. He at one point notices a necklace Mary is wearing and, wanting it for 'his woman' tries to buy it but Mary refuses, as it was a gift from Matthew. Later in the night the diplomat's son bursts into Mary's room and demands the necklace, flanked by his servants. Mary tries to fight but he strikes her and Tom arrives only to be savagely beaten. The diplomat's son then steals the necklace but also Sybil's wedding ring (which Tom wears around his neck) and causes the Series 4 fire to cover his escape, telling Tom and Mary that they can't touch him due to his father's power; his father isn't just a diplomat but one of the biggest crime bosses in Russia and a friend to the new ruling party and thus even England won't dare touch him.
The next day as Robert rants and swears he will see the diplomat's son pay Tom, very quietly and coldly, asks for a shovel. This startles the family but Tom merely asks for the shovel and they follow him, while he is still in his pajamas, out to the garden and where Sybil's favorite flowers are growing.
Meanwhile, in London, the diplomat's son summons a fence of his to pawn the ring. But the fence, seeing it, freaks the hell out and demands the diplomat's son get his father there now before he conducts any business. The diplomat crime boss arrives and the fence says only five words: "That is Tom Branson's ring" . The diplomat instantly tells the fence he can leave. The diplomat then tells his son a tale… how years ago, before the war, there was a young Irish radical who helped their family. He was the best assassin the world had ever known. His cover many times was that of a servant and he would use the great estates of Europe as his bases of operation as he murdered all sorts of people with poisons and knives and anything else you could think of. He poisoned a Turkish diplomat. He killed several generals. He once murdered 3 men with a pencil. But then one day he asked to retire. He had fallen in love and wanted to be a good man for her. So the diplomat gave him an impossible task… and he did it.
And then the diplomat's son… barely a year and a half after the assassin's wife died… went to his home, assaulted his sister-in-law, and stole his wife's wedding ring.
Because that assassin… is Tom F$%^ing Branson.
And from the spot where Sybil's favorite roses bloomed Tom, in front of the family, would dig up a chest filled with guns, knives, bombs, and poisons, and tell them he'll get back Mary's necklace now and he apologizes for the mess he's made of his clothes.
If you haven't figured it out by now this plot bunny is basically Downton Meets John Wick. It would have Tom and Mary (because she would insist on going) journeying to London and Tom going on a roaring rampage of revenge.
