Matthew felt a twinge of sympathy for Gregson as he sat in the dining room, swirling the glass of brandy that Matthew had prepared for him, having not yet taken a sip from the glass. He knew what it was like to discover that one wasn't alone in traveling back in time and Gregson had been forced to go through it alone far longer than Matthew or Sybil had. Keeping such great secrets had a way of eating away at someone but they also had a way supporting a person. Motivating them to continue on. It was both wonderful and horrible to have to give up such a secret. To make matters worse he and Sybil had forced him into revealing the truth to them. It hadn't been his choice to reveal his secret, he hadn't been given a moment to prepare. They had thrust it upon him and now Matthew felt terribly guilty about that. Terribly guilty.
'But it couldn't be helped. We had to know.' Matthew swirled his own drink before taking a sip, letting the amber liquid warm his chest. 'To leave that secret out there unsaid would have been an unstable element that we simply couldn't have. We had to know the truth. We just had to.' He glanced at Gregson and smiled slightly. 'The least we can do now is give him a moment to compose himself.'
So Matthew sat and drank. He had convinced Robert that he needed to talk with Gregson alone, that Sybil had come up with the idea of Gregson doing an article about Smithers' woodworking and that it would be the perfect advertising for their business. Robert had quickly moved to get the smaller dining room set up, offering them William but Matthew had quietly suggested that Gregson, as a newspaper man, might be more comfortable serving himself. Seeing the logic in that, thankfully, Robert had agreed and after William had set up the room the footman had returned to the main party so that Michael, Gregson, and Sybil (their excuse being that she had come up with the idea) were able to chat together in peace.
Not that there was much chatting. Gregson was gathering himself, working through the sudden change to his world in that he wasn't alone and that there were others out there who had traveled through time. He was mulling it over, much like Edith did when she was trying to figure out how to write up an article for the Sketch, seeking out the correct path to take. Matthew himself was seated across from him, his glass half empty as he pondered just what this meant for all of them. It added more danger to the mix as a secret only remained a secret when only one person knew the truth. But it also offered more opportunity and Matthew would be a fool not to seize it. As for Sybil she was leaning against a wall, a drink in her hand and one of her father's cigars held in her fingers. She'd taken several drinks (telling them both that she'd prefer a fine Irish Whiskey but the brandy would do) but hadn't puffed on the cigar and Matthew wondered if she'd grabbed it purely to look more rebellious. Knowing the little minx she had.
Gregson finally sighed, setting his glass down. "I don't know where to begin."
Matthew shook his head. "Only two ways, really. One is painful, the other less so but harder to admit."
Keying in to what Matthew was suggestion Gregson went with the former: his death. "I went to Germany to get a divorce from my wife, so that Edith and I could be together. She rightly stated that she wouldn't be my mistress and I knew I couldn't lose her. I had accepted that I wasn't meant to be happy again when it came to love, that I was destined to be alone, and then she came into my life and showed me that what I had thought was love was like claiming a match was the sun. Because my wife in that… life? Time?"
Sybil waved him off. "Grammar is bloody confusing with all this. We need to sit down one day and make our own guidebook for how to talk about such things."
Matthew rolled his eyes while Gregson smiled weakly. "Perhaps."
"You were speaking of why you went to Germany," Matthew prodded, wanting to get the conversation back on track.
Gregson nodded and finally raised his glass to his lips and took a sip. "In England a divorce can't be had just because of a spouse's mental state. But in Germany they do allow such things so my goal was to become a citizen, divorce Elizabeth, and then return to be with Edith proper. My mistake though was being a decent man."
"What do you mean?" Sybil pressed.
"It was shortly after I had arrived in Germany, I believe about a month or so. I had gone to one of their taverns for a drink when a group of Brown Shirts… they are, were… will be?... a mob of young men who claim to be protect German identity but are really just violent thugs. They decided to make as their target a tailor due only to him being Jewish and I tried to calm things down. I was set upon and beaten, my head nearly caved in and my limbs broken." Gregson reached up and touched the right side of his head, clearly remembering what it had been like when his skull had shattered. Matthew knew all too well the need to check for such wounds, as many mornings, if he awoke to find himself lying on his back, he would hurriedly check his chest to ensure that his ribs hadn't been shattered and his chest crumbled into a mess of blood and bones. "I lingered for… I can't remember. Days? Weeks? Months? I would fall in and out of consciousness, cared for by some kind soul. My memories are so fuzzy of that time, my brain destroyed and I rendered little more than a wretched fool who could only moan and not comprehend what was happening to me, not in the moment.
"And then I woke up and I was all better. I could move. I could speak. I could relieve myself-" Gregson blinked and blushed. "Pardon, Lady Sybil. I shouldn't-"
"You could piss and shit," Sybil said with a smirk. When Gregson stared at her in shock she raised her glass in a mock toast. "Earl's daughter… Irish Radical's wife. Cheers."
"You'll get used to her being like this," Matthew said, shaking his head. "Dying has made her more… open to expressing herself."
"How long did it take you to get used to her?" Gregson asked.
"…touché," Matthew muttered.
Gregson chuckled lightly and took another sip of his drink. "I dare say I startled everyone at the paper when I came running out of my office… I hadn't even realized that I'd awoken on the small cot I kept at the paper rather than my home… greeting them like friends I hadn't seen in ages, which for me was very much true. I believed for at least an hour that I was dead and I had ended up in my eternal reward. It made sense then, as I had been taught by my minister that we created our own personal Heaven, should we do well on this earth and keep ourselves free of sin. My heaven would have been the paper with all those who I couldn't save from the draft there and happy. I wasn't startled not to see Edith because I had hoped… still do… that she would live a long and happy life. It was only when the news began to come over the wire, that impossible news that no one would have ever considered, that I knew that I wasn't in Heaven."
"The Titanic," Matthew murmured.
Gregson nodded. "Indeed. I suppose another man would have been shaken to his core… I suppose you were, Mr. Crawley-"
"Matthew," he said, holding up his hand. "I think, considering all we have gone through, we've all earned the right to call each other by our given names."
"-Matthew," Gregson…Michael… said with a smile, one that Matthew returned.
"And if you are about to chastise yourself for your actions after hearing the Titanic sink know that I prayed to the Heavens that it had and celebrated that disaster before setting to work deciding just what I would do with my second chance. So you are not in a room with those that will look down upon you."
Sybil shrugged. "I lost my mind for a few days, thrashed about and acted like a madwoman. And that wasn't even from learning about the Titanic."
"Right," Michael said, it clear he felt better after their comments. "What happened next was not what I had planned. Once the news began to break over the wires I told my reporters to begin getting what information they could, commanded the printers to pulp what we were going to put out for that morning's issue, and then went for a walk to clear my head. I began to wonder if I was going mad, if I had dreamed the last decade of my life, and first needed to situate myself before I continued on. It was madness to go out that early, before the sun had even risen, as who knows what could have jumped me and caused me to end right back where I was in Germany, but at that moment I hadn't honestly cared. By the time I returned to the paper I knew I needed to prove to myself that this was all real. I went to my office and began to write down everything I remembered about the Titanic."
Matthew smiled. "I did the same thing. That disaster changed my life, both this one and previous, and in the life I had first lived I studied up on it quite heavily."
"For me it was different," Michael stated, tapping his skull. "Newsmen need to remember details, in case one story can tie into another. Many criminal enterprises have been shattered because a reporter realized a crime committed in the now had markings of a similar one in years past. Thus the Titanic Disaster is firmly ingrained in my memory and I was able to put down details quickly. I was planning to check it against what was reported when Lowell, one of the men I'd assigned to the Titanic story, came in and saw my notes." Michael shook his head, clearly embarrassed. "He thought my walk had been to speak to an informant and at that moment I had no choice but to write about the Titanic myself."
"And in turn be the first to break the story," Sybil said, moving to sit with them.
"Correct. It put my paper on the map. The temptation soon grew far too great and I began to write about other stories… some of them articles that in my first life I hadn't been brave enough to publish, others that only could come about with future knowledge. Within a year I found myself in control of an empire and kneeling before the king to be knighted."
"Don't feel too badly about the empire," Matthew said with a chuckle. "You broke Richard Carlise and that is something I can toast too."
"I'll drink to putting that man in his place," Sybil said, raising her own glass. Michael, after a moment, snickered and brought his brandy to join theirs, the three toasting the stymieing of the gossip hound.
"It wasn't just my knowledge of events that helped me though," Michael told Matthew. "I have over 10 extra years in the business… I have seen what is coming and can thus move ahead of the curve, guiding it, rather than merely react. Update to machinery I know will benefit us, set up the articles in more pleasing ways, turn certain sections to interests and topics I know the public will love." He looked down and smiled faintly. "Many of the ideas were Edith's. Others were inspired by her. A few I chose because I hoped to make her proud when I finally found her again." His smile slipped. "You… you have no idea how hard it was not to come and find her after a day." He suddenly looked up and his lips twisted into a grimace. "I take that back… you two most certainly know."
"Just a touch," Sybil said, holding her finger and thumb about 2cms apart.
Matthew leaned forward. "And your wife?"
Michael grimaced. "I hated to do it… not because I wanted to marry her but because I knew the pain it would cause her. I still care for her, you understand? But my love for her could not match my love for Edith." He paused, considering his words carefully, weighing them in his mind. Matthew let him. "One wonders, after they have lost a person they truly cared about and then found another to love and cherish, if their new love is truly better than what they had before. If they aren't… grasping at what there is in a vain attempt to reclaim what was taken from them. Did I truly love Edith more than I did Lizzy? Or was I merely desperate to feel something again. But this?" He held his hands out wide. "I was given a choice no other man has been given: to return to Lizzy and save her from madness… or let her go and be with Edith. I can now say beyond a shadow of a doubt that what I felt for Lizzy can't compare to what I feel for Edith."
Matthew nodded his head. He hadn't considered it till Michael had brought it up but he too had been given that option. He could have gone to Lavinia, even been the heir and still gone to her. Wooed her and married her before the war started and then made sure she was someplace safe so that she would live. He could have convinced her that America was safe. He could have gone with her to avoid the fighting. Perhaps bought a cabin somewhere in Canada and the two of them could have lived like frontiersmen like one heard about on the radio. She would have cooked flapjacks and he would have grown a thick beard and they could have lived by themselves, safe in their snow-covered home.
But he hadn't. Other than making a note about saving her life he had never considered going to her, being with her. Because she wasn't Mary.
Matthew smiled, running his index finger along the table. 'How oddly wonderful,' he thought to himself.
Sybil finally set down her cigar and narrowed her eyes. "Well, I think I have been more than patient but I do believe it is time to move to the heart of the matter: what happened with Tom and my baby."
"Sybil!" Matthew exclaimed, horrified at how brazen she was being.
"Oh bugger off, you want to know what happened with George and Mary! Don't deny it!"
"I don't but you could word it a touch better!"
"I think I was rather nice," Sybil challenged. "I gave Michael here time to gather himself."
"That isn't-"
Michael snorted, causing the two to grow quiet. "You truly are like brother and sister, aren't you?"
"Yes," the two of them said in unison.
Shaking his head, the newspaper man turned to Sybil. "I didn't interact much with the family, I am afraid to say, and your husband almost never. And I only visited Downton once." Sybil tried to keep it together but Matthew could tell she'd been struck a heavy blow. "But luckily for you Edith was a proud aunt and loved to tell tales of her niece and nephew." Matthew reached out and took Sybil's hand, giving it a squeeze. "Your husband, Sybil, and your wife, Matthew, became quite the team in running the estate. Speaking of which… wills." Michael locked eyes with Matthew and suddenly the lawyer blushed, realizing what Michael was getting at.
"I will… see to it Monday," Matthew said, Sybil glancing at him in confusion. He shook his head though, silently promising to clue her in later. Mostly because he knew that Sybil would mock him terribly for being a lawyer (and overly prepared fusspot, as she was fond of saying) and yet never having thought to make a will. He remembered his letter he'd written, commenting on that very fact, but realized that such a thing was a poor substitute and that he needed to do better.
"After you passed, Matthew, Edith said that Mary was… like a ghost. She'd expected her to become bitter, vile, to be angry and nasty. Much as she had been in their youth." He held up his hand. "And I know that I am only hearing one side of the story and Mary-"
"Was exactly like that when it came to Edith," Sybil interrupted, nodding her head.
"Completely and utterly," Matthew added with a smirk, only to sober when Michael's words truly sank in. "It was that bad?"
"It truly was. I only saw her after the fact but Edith told me how badly your death affected Mary… affected the entire family. Lord Grantham had been shattered while Lady Grantham had, according to Edith, alternated between sobbing and cursing God for the waves he sent against your family's ship. Your husband, Sybil, was left adrift and Edith admitted that if it hadn't been for your daughter he would have left England within days. You were his dearest friend, Matthew, and your loss so close to yours, Sybil, left him broken."
Matthew pulled out a handkerchief and passed it to Sybil, who dabbed her eyes free of tears. He didn't blame her as he wanted to sob himself. While he knew in his heart that that life was over and done and would never come to pass now it still hurt him to hear how his passing had affected the family. More so now that he had grown all the closer to them. Robert and him were like a kind uncle and a favored nephew (he would say father and son but nothing Robert did would ever replace Matthew's own beloved father) and with Mary…
'Tonight,' he thought to himself before turning his attention to Michael, motioning for him to go on.
The newspaper man though seemed slightly unwilling to continue and Matthew mentally braced himself, knowing that what he was going to say next would be even worse. "Your mother, from what Edith told me, plunged herself into work. I think she wanted to find something, anything, to fill her time so she didn't need to think about your passing. With your wife it was the opposite… she couldn't do anything because all she thought about was you. Edith said that she was listless, at times just sitting and staring at nothing, dead to the world. She couldn't muster the urge to care for your son and it fell to the likes of Lady Grantham, Mr. Branson, and Edith to watch over him during those long months."
Matthew thought for sure his heart would crumple at those words but he forced himself to remain firm and listen.
"Luckily by the time I saw Edith again, as the entire family was in mourning and thus trips to London couldn't be made, she had begun to move past her pain. To focus on the estate, on your son… on living." Matthew smiled at that but then Michael shifted. "And…"
"She began to seek out companionship, didn't she?" Sybil said. Matthew turned to stare at her and Sybil shrugged. "It is expected of our class. Had Edith married Sir Anthony-" Michael, who had begun to take a drink of brandy, coughed and sputtered at that little tidbit before glancing at the door (clearly Edith had never told him about her suitor), "-she would have been expected to marry again after he died. If a widow is a certain age they are expected to marry again. Tom could get away with never seeing another woman after my death, though I would be rather cross with him for dooming himself to loneliness, but if it had been he who died? Even with my daughter I'd be expected to marry again. The same with you if it had been Mary."
Matthew grimaced at that. "I know it is 'till death do us part' but I've always been a firm believer that life after death meant such vows were… forever."
"Oh you sweet naïve man," Sybil teased, patting him on the cheek. "Michael, don't you dare tell Matthew who Mary was seeing." Matthew let out a squawk of protest but the sister of his heart shook her head. "I know you Matthew… you would not be able to hide your anger and hatred if you faced such a man across a dining room table. You barely managed with Pamuk."
He wanted to argue against her but he knew she was right so Matthew didn't say a word.
"Well, I do believe that with this we move on to the most important matter," Sybil stated.
"And what is that?" Michael asked.
"What do we do now?" Matthew and Michael stared at her and she rolled her eyes. "I don't mean right this minute… I mean how does this change our plans… or yours, Michael." She gestured at the three of them. "You were working alone. We only had each other. Suddenly we all have help and that changes the game we are playing. Makes it more complex but also allows us to do so much more. We have become the authors of our own fate, so I ask again… what now?"
Michael tried another sip of brandy, since his last taste had been spat out. "I just want Edith to be happy. I assume the same is true for you two as well… I mean with your loved ones-"
Matthew shook his head. "No, you are right. I want Edith happy. And Tom. And Mary. We want our family to be happy and I think the three of us, working together, can do that." Matthew stood up and rolled his shoulders. "But before we do that, there is something I need to correct."
~MC~MC~MC~
Tom frowned as he went up the stairs, grimacing as he looked down at his warm jacket. He'd been waiting in the garage, sitting by the stove near his bed reading a rather good book on the American Revolution ('those blokes knew how to take on England and give them a kick in the balls') when William had burst in, shivering from the cold and flush from running, and told him he was needed inside. Tom had been puzzled by that; he'd been waiting for the Dowager and Mrs. Crawley to be ready to head out, as everyone else was going to stay the night, but he didn't see why he was needed inside. He'd asked William if he was sure, as Tom didn't want to leave the garage only to have to race back because the excitable fellow had gotten things mixed up, but William had gotten frustrated and actually barked that Mr. Carson wanted everyone in the dining hall. Tom had thrown on his all black driving outfit and hurried after William, racing to the servant's entrance to find everyone, even the hall boys rubbing their tired eyes and the groomsmen letting out cracking yawns, standing gathered around the table, bunched up in tight knots.
Almost all the usual suspects had been there, save for Mrs. Patmore. Gwen, who Tom had chosen to stand next to, whispered that she wouldn't be joining them as she was simply too upset and she promised to tell him later. Thomas and O'Brien had been milling together, thick as thieves like always, while Mrs. Hughes had been near Mr. Bates and Anna, looked bewildered yet happy while the maid had been beaming ear to ear and Mr. Bates had looked ready to dance a jig. Even Mr. Molesley had been there, though Tom wasn't surprised at that as the man had come to see to Matthew… Mr. Crawley ('God damn you, Lady Sybil!'). At the head of the mob had been Mr. Carson, who had been clearly doing a head count as his eyes had swept over the room before clearing his throat.
"Now then, I know this is highly unusual but Mr. Crawley has requested that all of us come up to the main hall." There had been a murmur at that and Tom had raised an eyebrow and mentally wondered if this had anything to do with Mr. Crawley and Lady Sybil traveling back through time. He did hear someone mutter something about sackings and salted pudding but Tom hadn't been able to figure out what that was about and even if there were sackings Tom realized, much to his own dark amusement (and a touch of annoyance) that he was going to be spared no matter was as Lady Sybil would never fire him. Mr. Carson had raised his hands, asking for silence. "I do not know why we have been asked but I will assure you Mr. Crawley was in fine spirits when he asked me to gather you all so I trust it is nothing bad. But you all will be respectful and quiet and show Mr. Crawley the honor he deserves."
That was how Tom found himself at the tail end of a procession of servants, making their way up the stairs while he hated the fact he hadn't be able to dress properly and was in a black jacket with his cap on. At the door he found Mr. Carson ushering them all through, the butler so out of sorts by the unusual request that he didn't even blink at Tom's improper attire.
'Must be serious if he isn't blustering about me not being in white shirt and tie,' Tom thought to himself as he walked into the hall and moved to stand next to William. He noticed that all the guests from the dinner party were there too, looking as confused as the servants were. 'So nothing bad then… Lord Grantham wouldn't allow anything horrid to occur where his rich snob friends could see. Would look bad for him.' He glanced over without meaning to and caught eyes with Lady Sybil, who for once didn't glance away. Ever since she'd revealed the truth to him she'd been avoiding him, clearly trying not to put pressure on him. But today she'd decided to lock eyes with him and flash a cute little smile. 'Careful there, Tommy boy,' he thought to himself. 'Don't be thinkin' the Lord's daughter is 'cute'. That way leads only to badness.'
They didn't stand there for long as within a few minutes Mr. Crawley moved to the center of the room, a wide smile on his lips. Tom hadn't interacted much with the future heir and, if Sybil were to be believed, another time traveler. Which was fine in Tom's book as he didn't quite know how he would manage with Mr. Crawley. It was already bad enough that the man was middle class and thus wouldn't have had as much of a need to keep himself separate from the working class. Great of Tom's goals (and he hoped Matthew remained like that because it would only mean good things for the servants) but not so great for his career. But add into that the idea that he had known Tom not as "Branson the Chauffer" but "Tom, Sybil's Husband" and he'd feared the awkwardness that would come from such a conversation.
Mr. Crawley cleared his throat and everyone grew quiet. "I know you are all confused but… but I'll ask you all to indulge me just a bit." Tom grimaced; whenever his last employer had asked for people to do that it meant a long winded speech that didn't affect anyone and was being done purely so the old windbag could hear herself talk. "I've been thinking about happiness recently and how it is so different from everything else in the world. It is just as precious as gold or silver but unlike those things one doesn't need to horde it like a miser, clinging to it and keeping it for themselves. Because the beautiful thing about happiness and joy is that when you spread it out it expands… and the more people you include in your happiness the more it grows. It doubles, triples… multiplying upon itself."
The lawyer-turned-heir walked over the Lady Mary and took her hand, the Earl's daughter staring at him with quiet hope. Tom glanced around and saw that several other people on the staff had clued in to what was happening and were getting misty-eyed.
"I know that I wasn't what you expected," he told her. "I know that I wasn't the man you dreamed of when you were a child. And I know you were ready to hate me when I first came here." Lady Mary opened her mouth to reply only to blush and snap her jaw shut. "Just as you weren't what I expected in my youth. The Earl's daughter and the middle class lawyer. We have come from two radically different worlds… but that doesn't mean that we can't make a brighter one to call ours. You… have lived your life. And I have lived mine. It is time we started living them together."
And with that, as the servants and family and guests gasped and murmured to themselves… Matthew Crawley dropped to one knee.
"Lady Mary Crawley… will you-"
"Yes." She laughed, falling to her own knees, not caring if she wrinkled her dress or looked silly kneeling there in the middle of the main hall. Instead she clasped his hands in hers and nodded, tears in her eyes. "Yes."
And it didn't matter if those watching had been there since the dance had begun, or had joined in late like Tom, or if this was the first time they had seen the two together. All gathered felt the same thing, the thing Matthew had spoken of.
Happiness.
~MC~MC~MC~
Author's Notes: And thus we wrap up the Winter Party Saga. Not as good as the Frieza Saga when Mr. Bates went Super Valet but… wait, no… that was a crossover idea I had. Nevermind.
Next up we move into the final arc of Series 1. We'll be jumping ahead to the summer, where we will see Matthew and Mary preparing for their wedding, Sybil and Tom growing closer as they help Gwen, Bates and Anna preparing to leave service…
…and a certain unborn baby and a certain War to End All Wars lead to tough decisions. Tough decisions… and great drama. And words said without thought. And friendships and family broken. The timeline is about to make a hard left, folks… if you think you know what is coming, think again. This is where everything changes.
So for this chapter's plot bunny I honestly didn't have anything for a while and I was growing concerned. Had my plot bunnies finally stopped producing? Where they settling into old age and no longer interested in making babies? And then a rather simple idea hit me and I knew we were still in business.
This plot bunny is based on something I have yet to see in a long form fanfiction: Patrick didn't go on the Titanic. He did wait, as Robert and Cora assumed, and thus weren't on the ship when it sank. Patrick lives... and that changes EVERYTHING.
The backstory for this story continues on roughly the same for a while. The only real difference is that Cora turns her attention to Edith (as Mary and Patrick make it official before 1913 that they are engaged) and thus several of the people brought to woo Mary in the show instead come to visit Edith (and maybe she does end up with one of them… wouldn't it be nice if she is Mr. Napier ended up together?). It isn't until Pamuk that things change a touch. He still seduces and forces her to have sex with him and he still dies. But this time things are FAR more dire. Mary gets Anna and her mother because if she is found out it isn't merely scandalizing... Patrick will break off the engagement and Mary will be utterly done for. This makes the Pamuk thing all the more dangerous for Mary.
But she does hide it and by 1914 she and Patrick are wed (and with Edith maybe in a better place the embassy is never contacted). Sadly... the day of their wedding is when England declares war on Germany. Patrick enlists after a few months but Mary hasn't had her operation to allow her to have kids and thus when Patrick goes off to fight she still isn't pregnant.
And then the news arrives. Patrick is dead. Not from fighting though. No... Patrick began to have a relationship with a French woman who was aiding the Germans... and he turned over military secrets to her. Patrick was found out and tried to escape and was shot in the back. He is officially labeled a traitor.
Meaning that Downton is suddenly plunged into scandal as it's heir was a war traitor who cheated on his wife (who couldn't give him a child) and shot dead fleeing like a coward. Basically the worst situation Mary and the family could be in.
But what about Matthew, you ask?
Having never become the heir Matthew continued on with a rather normal life until the war. Unable to trade on being Robert Crawley's heir to get a good assignment Matthew was stuck in the trenches... but then, during a vicious battle, Matthew bravely proved cover fire for his entire squad. His actions saved forty lives. But that wasn't all. When his commander was killed Matthew took command, led the charge that retook the lost territory, and saw the Germans forced to flee, allowing the English, led by Matthew, to capture a town that had been turned into a German Stronghold. Matthew is soon brought back to London (he was shot during the battle but it was a minor wound) and is hailed by the papers as a hero. People line the streets to see him, the powerful want to shake his hand, and the King himself knights Matthew for his services. He is basically the most popular person in England and there is already some political groups trying to convince him to run for public office.
And then the news comes that Matthew is the heir of Downton.
Of course for the papers (including Richard Carlise who Matthew ends up becoming friends with in this reality as there is no taint of Mary and Matthew Will They Won't They and Carlise, while a gossip monger, would be someone Matthew could rely upon) this is horrible for Matthew. The War Hero of England is now the heir to the Downton Traitors? How awful!
ANd this is where the story would truly begin. A Downton in tatters, disgraced, scorned by high society... and a Matthew who is beloved and seen as the greatest man in Britain. A war hero and possibly a future prime minister.
Wouldn't that change the balance of power?
