August 5th, 1914
Downton
Branson set down the phone, a grin forming on his lips. It was so odd, the feeling of being happy for someone else. He didn't think himself a selfish man but it had been ages since he'd been excited for another person. His brother Kieran had once said that he was clannish, that he saw the whole world as being against him and those he considered kin, and that it was hard for him to welcome people into his life. His mother had fretted that he'd never find a woman to love being like that and Tom had made a jest of it, claiming that meant he'd have to marry his baby brother then. Kieran hadn't taken kindly to that and the fist fight the two had gotten into had broken a table and resulted in his mother banishing the two from the house.
Still, his brother wasn't wrong. His nature made it hard for him to truly grow close to others. He had people he enjoyed spending time with, of course… he wasn't an anti-social git that brooded in the corner and kept a little book of all the wrongs that had been done with him. Mr. Bates was a decent sort, solid and quiet and a good companion when he wanted company but didn't want to fill the air with useless chitchat. William he was on good terms on withif the boy was a bit too naïve for his tastes; he promised himself that at Downton he wouldn't try and radicalize anyone, sensing that such a thing wouldn't go over well with the likes of Mr. Carson, but if he were to select out anyone it would be William. The boy blindly believed the world was kind and just but Tom was sure he could open his eyes. Thomas he hadn't liked when he'd first arrived but in the last year the snobby footman had mellowed out a bit. He didn't butt heads with Bates as much and after William had injured his hand the two footmen had come to a silent understanding and Thomas had treated the other lad better. Of the ladies Anna was friend to pretty much everyone and Tom had wished her well when she'd left last month to begin her married life with Bates; she'd invited everyone to visit the Grantham Arms on their day off and Tom meant to take her up on it. And of course Mrs. Hughes wasn't so much a friend as a motherly figure, stern but fair and someone he didn't want to disappoint.
But true friends? People he could feel excited for and engage with? No… that was a rare thing for him. He was a friend to all and yet no one.
Until now. Until Gwen.
When he had heard that Sybil ('Lady Sybil' he reminded himself though by now the chastising had weakened greatly) was helping Gwen become a secretary he had assumed at first it was just a flight of fancy on the part of the lady. He'd seen the elite take an interest in the lower class before, treating them like pets and projects. When the reality of her situation, that she had traveled back in time, had hit him he'd then assumed that it was some sort of plot to win him over, to convince him that she truly could be the woman for him because she cared for her maid. Tom had been angry at that and had quietly talked with Gwen about Sybil, wanting to find out if she was being used by the Earl's daughter. He had been startled to learn just how much Sybil had been doing for Gwen… going far beyond someone trying to fake friendship with the maid would go.
"She's been very careful," Gwen had told him one time when he'd broached the subject. "She knows she can't play favorites too hard, as it would cause problems downstairs. Learned that with Anna and Lady Mary… there was another maid before I came here, older than Anna, who thought that she would get the honor of being Lady Mary's personal maid when she married Mister Patrick. But Mary favored Anna and gave her extra attention and praise… the other maid, I forget her name, took offense and would spread lies and gossip about her, try to get the downstairs against her. Was O'Brien of all people who stepped in and shut that down, not sure why as that seems like her kind of chaos, but she did and the other maid was sent packing. Anyway, Lady Sybil knows to be careful but she has helped me. Bought me a ream of paper once and another time she got me a new hat for an interview. But mostly its been the emotional support… she's been my greatest champion, encouraging me and propping me up with I get down on myself. I've wanted to give up, to believe what others have said about me, that I'll never make it, but Lady Sybil would never hear of it. She told me that I could do it. Made me see I could do it. I… I would never have gotten this far if not for her."
Tom had to admit that was true. Gwen was dedicated, yes, and dreamed… but he knew she one who could be broken easily if she didn't have support. He himself had stepped in a few times when she was down, telling her to buck up and be strong. He knew it was making tongue wag, the servants thinking that he and Gwen were courting, but Tom saw her more like a baby sister than someone to romance and Gwen had told him flat out one time that she had no interest in him after O'Brien had made a particularly strong jab about them.
"I could never be yours even if I wanted you," she'd told him; when he pressed her she'd shrugged. "You love another."
Tom shook his head, not wanting to think about… that. 'We're just friendly with each other, that's all. Sybil-Lady Sybil and I. That's all. Just friendly. Helping Gwen.'
Maybe if he said it enough he'd at least convince himself.
But the truth of it was that he and Lady Sybil had been spending a lot of time together. With there not being any reason to hide what she was doing to assist the maid Lady Sybil had been open with her help, with her main move being to get use of the car to drive Gwen to her interviews. She always told the family that she had business in whatever town they went to, so that they couldn't say no to her request, but whenever Tom dropped Gwen off at whatever office she was scheduled to be at Lady Sybil would merely sit in the car and wait. At first they had been quiet, Tom knowing that she was doing it so they could spend time together, but a man could only stand awkwardness for some long and eventually he'd broken down and begun to talk to her.
'And she is… impressive,' Tom thought to himself. 'Educated without being obnoxious about it. Cunning without being arrogant. Intelligent without being elitist.' At firs their talks had been stilted but by late Spring Tom had come to enjoy their conversations. Because of her unique existence she hadn't truly lived a sheltered life. Instead she had lived in both her world and his and had such a strange and wonderful view of the world that at times all Tom wanted to do was pose ethical and sociological questions to her and listen to her answers. In turn her ideas made him think and caused him to reveal things he had never considered within himself and, from the way she reacted, he'd never told her in that other life.
Tom had come to understand how he had fallen in love with her in that other life.
And that… was a dangerous thing. Because he knew it could happen again and if it did there would be no turning back.
He ignored the demands from the others to know what the call had been about, hurrying up the stairs and darting past one of the hallboys before heading out onto the lawn. He didn't know why the Crawleys were having a party… he honestly didn't care… but they were having one and that made it both easy and difficult to location Lady Sybil and Gwen. The former because he didn't need an excuse to find her (as the servants were constantly moving amongst the Crawleys with ease) but the latter because Gwen had duties and Sybil was surrounded by others and thus harder to pull away. Realizing his only option Tom began to scan for the Earl's daughter.
As he moved swiftly among the white-wearing crowd he spotted the rest of the Crawley family. Her ladyship sitting under a canopy, being treated like a china doll due to her pregnancy. Apparently there had been a near mishap where Lady Grantham had nearly stepped on a bar of soap. O'Brien had been white as a sheet at the thought of it, even though her ladyship had laughed it off, and had spent the last few weeks being overly protective of the countess. Tom got how serious a pregnancy could be but he wondered if her Ladyship realized that for centuries women had given birth in fields, barely stopping their tasks. No need to be coddled like she was. His Lordship was chatting with some snobby snob that Tom didn't know while Lady Edith was moving about, avoiding Sir Anthony who was obviously searching her out. The lovebirds, Lady Mary and Mr. Crawley, spotted him and Matthew nodded politely in his direction; though the man had traveled in time too and according to Sybil had been good friends with him Mr. Crawley hadn't pressed to reestasblish the connection, something Tomw as grateful for. Mr. Crawley was polite and friendly but he wasn't forceful and Tom needed that as he had enough on his plate with Lady Sybil and their apparent connection. The Dowager and Mrs. Crawley were holding their own council with Lord Grantham's sister who didn't look to be in the best of moods; there was a story there that he had no inkling of.
And finally he spotted Lady Sybil.
She was standing under the shade of one of the large gnarled trees that dotted the property, an old sentinel from the times when man didn't foolishly carve up the land and turn it into useless lawns just so they could feel important. She was sipping on a glass of lemonade, dressed elegantly in white from her shoes to her gloves, her eyes slowly sweeping over the lawn party before coming to lock onto him. In that moment he realized the little minx had known that Gwen would get this job and he shook his head; time travel was giving him a headache.
"Got any interesting phone calls?" she teased as she walked up to him.
"If you knew why did we go on all those other interviews?" he asked. "It seems cruel."
"You saw how she was with Matthew when she was practicing how to interview for a job. What did you think?"
Tom grimaced in memory. "I was startled she managed to get a job here," he admitted.
"You know that maids and hallboys are hired more thanks to their parents than themselves. Thomas and William didn't have to interview, nor did Daisy. They aren't like you… you had to learn a skill and then fight for the job on your own. Just like Gwen did here. That was all good practice, so that when time came for this job she would be ready." Sybil shrugged. "I did make things a bit easier for her this time… last time she refused to reveal that she was a maid, thinking that the owner would look down on her being in service. He didn't… his mother had worked in a great house and he knew that servants are some of the most dedicated and hardworking people in the world. In that time she fretted and feared that she had failed and when the man came to install the phones I convinced him to do another interview in the library… and then had to force papa to wait for her to get done. This time I convinced her to lead with that and now we see that it worked." Tom face screwed up a bit at that. "You disagree with this, don't you?"
"You're using future knowledge to influence her. That isn't right."
"She reached the same point in the end. I didn't rob someone else of their position. I haven't pushed her onto a path that I feel is "better" for her. All I've done is help her… give her a bit more confidence, steer her away from trauma she didn't need. She has traveled along the same path I merely smoothed it out."
"But you don't know if you've made things better or worse," Tom hissed, dropping his voice when Sybil glanced around to make sure no one else was watching. "You could have made things worse… how do you know that the pain and embarrassment that she went through in your first life didn't help her?"
"So you think I should have done nothing?" Sybil asked, surprising him by not sounding angry at all. He had expected her to cause a scene, to begin protesting and demanding that she knew best. But she didn't. She was just… calm. Collected. It startled him.
"You should have let her make her way on her own, not changing things."
"So you believe that if something worked just fine in the past I should have made no efforts to better things."
"Correct."
"Because you don't know if your changes will make things worse."
"Exact…" Tom paused before pursing his lips in annoyance. "You were about to equate what you did with my socialist views, were you?"
Sybil patted his cheek, a cheeky little grin on her face. "Yes. Yes I was."
"That… is very cruel. And clever." He shook his head, letting out a weak chuckle.
"Me, cruel? I am the sweetest soul in Downton." With that she clapped her hands. "Now come, we must go find Gwen and tell her the good news!"
"Minx," Tom couldn't help but muttered. He didn't know what was worse: the fact that she had beaten him with his own logic…
…or that he found himself admiring her for just that.
'Well played, Sybil… well played,' he thought to himself as he followed after, for once not correcting himself and calling her 'Lady Sybil'. And when Sybil gave the news and Gwen shrieked and hugged her before drawing Tom close, the Irish radical didn't have to fake his smile as he began to celebrate with the two. Gwen's joy was contagious and as she babbled to Sybil about how wonderful the news was and Tom mentally kicked himself for ever suggesting taking away this joy from Gwen. She deserved this happiness and in that moment he was thankful that he had been a part of giving it to her.
"And just what is going on?" Mrs. Hughes said, cutting into their excitement. Tom blushed, automatically turning back into a little boy, but for once Gwen didn't mimic him and instead she turned to Mrs. Hughes and with a bubbly laugh answered.
"I got the job, Mrs. Hughes! I'm a secretary! I'm going to be a secretary!"
"And when we have time we will celebrate," Mrs. Hughes said, always able to remain unflappable even when in the face and startling news. "But you are not a secretary today and right now Mrs. Patmore needs you assistance. Now, off you go."
Sybil smiled as Gwen went off before turning to Mrs. Hughes. "If anyone says anything please blame me. I'm the one that dragged Gwen and Tom over here to celebrate."
"I'm sure it won't come to that," the housekeeper said politely. Sybil nodded and hurried off, Mrs. Hughes shaking her head. "First Anna and Mr. Bates and now Gwen. Oh, Mr. Carson will not be happy with this."
"We'll manage," Tom stated before nodding in Sybil's direction. "If need be… blame her."
Mrs. Hughes shot him a look. "Be careful, Mr. Branson. She is a kind girl but do understand the dangers of letting the line between them and us become blurred." With that she turned and walked away, leaving Tom to watch Sybil walk over to her sister and say something, her face beaming in delight.
"…I fear its too late for that," he whispered.
~A~O~O~O~F~
Thomas didn't have to fake his smile as he offered a tray of drinks to some old ninny who name he couldn't remember with a title that didn't matter much to him in the grand scheme of things. Despite the heat and him having to wear his dark uniform all the same he for once was in a rather pleasant mood. The lawn party had offered him an opportunity to secure his future and he had seized it.
To be truthful things had been going rather well at Downton. When John Bates and Anna had announced that they were to marry and be leaving service several weights had been lifted from Thomas' shoulders. While he and the valet's feuding had settled greatly, with only the occasional sniping at each other, he didn't mind seeing the man head out the door. The fact that he was taking Anna was a bit of a sadness, as Thomas did care for the maid in his own way, but she was happy and she was nearby if he ever wanted to visit so she wasn't truly gone. It had also meant that a position had opened up and Thomas had been quick to seize it. He had curbed his acidic tongue, been on his best behavior, and even stopped sneaking wine so that there was no risk of him being caught. When Bates had finally hobbled out the door Mr. Carson had agreed to give him another trial run as his Lordship's valet, asking Thomas to only step in and serve as a footman during situations such as this or when the family had a larger dinner. Thomas had finally gained the standing he had wanted and he'd been happy.
But that didn't mean he was willing to settle.
While Mr. Carson brushed aside the talk around the table Thomas had listened. And while Mr. Crawley had failed to convince his Lordship of the dangers that were coming with the rising tensions on the continent he had earned a convert in Thomas. While Carson proclaimed that the royal families would settle this as they always did with treaties and William had proudly stated that he was ready to serve England Thomas had grown to see the future Mr. Crawley spoke of as the truth: war was coming, a bloody horrid one that would destroy a generation. The lawyer had warned of long battles, forced drafts, and a drain on all and received only dismissal. But not from Thomas.
'Lord Grantham and the like have only known a life where every need is met. They do not know of desire that comes from desperation and need. They don't understand the greed that can come from wanting what you believe is yours. And what one will do to grasp what they feel they are due.'
Thomas knew he had to do something. If Mr. Crawley was right then soon he wouldn't have a choice and if he waited and let a draft take him he'd end up with a gun in his hands… and most likely a bullet in his head. He was a schemer and a plotter, not a warrior. The battlefield was no place for him. Even if Mr. Crawley was wrong and the war was some short affair where all involved earned glory then there was no harm in getting a jump on everyone else. Bathe himself in honor while also staying away from the Front. The perfect plan.
'And now the final piece has come into place,' Thomas thought to himself as he walked away from Dr. Clarkson. The doctor, he'd found out, had already been pulled into service by the government and using him as a contact would set Thomas up. He'd be able to weather the war, whatever happened, and gain skills that would allow him to-
"Thomas." He turned and found Mr. Crawley approaching him, for once without Lady Mary hanging off his arm. Whatever had happened in London during their last visit had made the ice queen of Downton rather clingy, in Thomas' opinion, and it was rare to see Mr. Crawely alone these days.
"Did you need a drink, sir?"
"No… I was actually wondering if I might have a word with you in private." Mr. Crawley looked around for a moment before asking in a low voice, "I don't suppose you were talking to Dr. Clarkson a moment ago about his position with the army, were you?"
"As a matter of fact I was," Thomas said, puffing up a bit. "He's agreed to put in a good word for me. I've enjoyed my time at Downton and I won't be leaving right away but best to keep my options open." Mr. Crawley's face fell a little at that and Thomas did his best to hide his annoyance; of course the man would be focused on what this mean for his fancy dinners. "I won't be leaving soon-"
"It's not that," Mr. Crawley said, holding up his hand. "Thomas…" The lawyer rubbed the back of his head, clearly looking for the correct words. "You know that I've been concerned about the war." He pulled a face. "Understatement, I know. But I have been watching and listening and I know that there are rumors swirling. Of ways to avoid the front lines. Claims that if you do this thing or that, if you talk to the right person or sign up early you'll be protected. I'm sorry Thomas, I truly am… but that is a lie. I talked with General Lothrop and he confirmed what I've feared: this war won't be a quick one. The Germans aren't shaking their sabers… they want to dominate the world." He sighed, clearly nervous, and that in turn made Thomas' stomach twist in agitation. "This won't be a few short battles where men go racing gallantly on horse and return with smiles and victory. How did Washington put it? 'The time is now near at hand which must probably determine whether we are to be freemen or slaves. The fate of unborn millions will now depend, under God, on the courage and conduct of this army. Our cruel and unrelenting enemy leaves us only the choice of brave resistance, or the most abject submission. We have, therefore, to resolve to conquer or die'. Conquer or die. Britain will be needing young men to do just that. Much of the former… but far greater of the latter. Signing up early won't protect you, Thomas… it will only see you as the first dropped into that hell."
"But," Thomas said, his swagger and confidence having turned to ash and he desperate to salvage something, anything, "Dr. Clarkson is going to get me into the medical corps. He said-"
"Where do you think the doctors and nurses will be needed the most?" Matthew said sadly, his words filled with all the sympathy in the world. "This won't be a battle where the worst wound a man gets is the one he gives himself in hopes of having a scar that he can use to impress his mates in the pub. We are no longer fighting with bows and arrows or guns that miss 3/4th of the time. Men will be shot, have limbs blown off, and the only way they will survive is through medics who are right there on the battlefield with them. You won't be in a comfortable office checking vitals… you will be in the mud and the muck. The rumors? They are lies to trick young men into volunteering early. I'm sorry."
Thomas swallowed. He wanted to deny what Mr. Crawley was saying, to snap that he didn't know what he was talking about. But Thomas knew when people were lying him or plying him with falsehoods and in this case he knew that the words that were only given in honest hope of helping him.
'Worst, I can smell the lie is just as Mr. Crawley claims,' Thomas thought bitterly to himself. He was supposed to be smarter than this, cleverer than most and able to charm and sneak his way out of any problem. And yet he'd fallen for the same false rumor. It was too perfect and he should have seen that. But he'd been blind by his desire to stake out a new life while also avoid danger. 'And those that spread it are numerous. The brattling heirs of rich men who wish to trick common workers like me into taking the most dangerous assignments. Army officers who need to fill the ranks quick. Men even more craven than I who hope to postpone the draft Mr. Crawley has warned of by plumping up the platoons now. Damn it all.'
He looked at Mr. Crawley and forced himself to remain calm. It would do no good to become angry or to become ill on the Heir of Downton's shoes; both of which he wished to do right then and there. "And I suppose… if I were to back out now… it wouldn't mean I was avoiding the front. I'd just replace those who died, most likely in the worst areas of fighting."
"That is what I've come to believe," Matthew admitted.
Thomas tensed. "Then my choice is a long sentence in hell with the gamble I will only be in a mildly horrific place or delay but be guaranteed the worst."
"There… is another path," Mr. Crawley stated. "That is why I sought you out."
Thomas felt his hopes rise but he forced them down; just moments ago he'd been shown how naïve he was and he refused to make the same mistake so soon again.
"You know that I have worried about this war for some time… it has come from talking with General Lothrop. He is in charge of supplies for the army… ordering, transport, that sort of thing. One of the aspects of his position that he has admitted to having issues with is contracts. The creation of them and the enforcement. My time as a corporate lawyer has given me the knowledge he lacks. I have done some small work for him and clearly left an impression." Mr. Crawley lowered his voice. "The General has offered me a position under him, to work with him to monitor the supplying of the English army. This task is rather important and it means that the General, and in turn myself, are needed here rather than on the Continent."
Clenching his fist Thomas forced himself to remain calm. Mr. Crawley wouldn't have brought this up just to mock him… such jests might be in the nature of Larry Grey or others of his ilk but not with Matthew Crawley.
"I will be one of several people that will be working out of General Lothrop's office and because of my past experience he has given me the right to select some of my own staff. I find myself in need of a secretary. Someone to go with me to factories and warehouses, to take notes during meetings, and assist me with reports. Not a valet… though you would be skilled at it I think I'll be trying to get William to accept that role. No, you and I would be working closely together to monitor and assist the war effort. In country." He stressed that last part.
Thomas wanted to say yes. He wanted to so badly. He wanted to take Mr. Crawley's hand and shake it so hard it made the man's teeth rattle. But he didn't dare… not yet… because he had to know.
"Why?" Thomas asked, his voice fair softer and more vulnerable than it had ever been in years. Long before he had become jaded towards the world. "Why ask me? Why select me? Why care?"
"If I could save everyone, I would," Mr. Crawley admitted. "Were it in my power to ensure not a drop of English blood was spilled I would do so. But I cannot so I will save who I can. As for why I have come to you… I need you."
"Why?" Thomas repeated.
Mr. Crawley held up his hand. "I ask you let me finish before you become offended. You have a reputation, Thomas, of being a liar and a sneak and a cad. Someone who will manipulate and cheat and who looks upon the world and sees cutthroats. And I need someone like that at my side. I am far too trusting… you'd think as a lawyer I would be more distrustful but the fact of the matter is that I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt. I can draw up the contracts and I can enforce the laws…"
"…but you need someone to catch people in the act," Thomas finally said, unable to be angry with all that Mr. Crawley had said about him. Even if it hadn't been true if it meant seeing out the war in the safety of London he'd shout to the high heavens that he was a liar and a thief.
"Exactly. I can deal with the middle class… but I need someone who understands the working class. Someone who knows the tricks and can point them out. Someone who can pull me aside and tell me to count all my fingers before I shake hands with a cad who would steal even them from me. Are you that man, Thomas?"
The valet swallowed before nodding, a true smile forming on his lips. "I do believe I am, Mr. Crawley."
"Matthew," the heir of Downton said, extending his hand. "If we are to be partners in this I'd have you call me Matthew."
"Matthew," Thomas said, returning the shake.
15 minutes later, when Lord Grantham announced that Britain had declared war on Germany, he had never been so thankful for a handshake.
~A~O~O~O~F~
The announcement of the war with Germany had cast a pall over the lawn party. People had tried to continue on but in the end they had ended up just wandering about, everyone weakly trying to keep up the façade of normalcy when all knew that nothing would be the same again. Much of the food had went untouched after that (Mary would have said the servants would eat well but she doubted they would be in the mood for much themselves) and the only part of the party that had gotten a work out had been their supply of spirits, with papa himself drinking heavier than he normally did and far earlier. Even those that had believed that the war would be over quick had grown quiet and introspective and Mary suspected that was because they'd been hoping that nothing would come to pass. Those that had been fully committed to that dream had been especially stunned; Mary had seen Carson walking about in a daze, nearly bumping into Lord Merton and only able to muster up a weak apology before shambling off. For those that had heard of Matthew's dire warnings papa's declaration had been like an ancient bell ringing out a dirge of doom.
It had already been expected that many people would leave before dinner but with the war announcement only Granny, Matthew, and Cousin Isobel had remained at Downton. Mary couldn't blame the rest of the guests for leaving early, as she herself wanted to just gather her family about her and pray that maybe, just maybe, if they wished hard enough the war would be revealed to be some cruel joke. Even Aunt Rosamund had left, begging forgiveness but stating that with papa's announcement she needed to return to London straight away. Mary had a feeling that the real reason was the cool reception she'd gotten from half the family for her words against Matthew.
Despite having no desire to do so Mary knew she had to go through the motions that their lives remained the same and nothing had changed and thus she had allowed Gwen to dress her (though, from what Sybil had revealed to her and Edith, that would be another change as soon Gwen would be leaving them to work for a telephone company) for a dinner she wasn't hungry for. She and her sisters had arrived to find her parents, granny, Cousin Isobel, and Matthew already sitting in the parlor, waiting for Carson to ring the dinner gong. Mama was relaxing in a chair, Cousin Isobel asking her a million questions about the baby that was growing inside her (and for once mama was happy to answer as it kept her mind off the war), while granny sat off to the side, lost in her own thoughts. As for Matthew he was standing with papa, the two of them sharing a drink.
"I am glad I had already talked with General Lothrop," Matthew was saying, swirling his drink. "I have a feeling desire for positions within his staff will be in high demand shortly."
"So you will be staying in London?" Papa asked, brow furrowed. "You won't even go to the continent?"
"There won't be any need," Matthew said with a smile. "Something I'm eternally grateful for. I get to stay here and do my part without stepping foot on a battlefield."
Papa stared at Matthew, jaw working slightly before he took another sip from his glass. Edith broke away from them to chat with Granny while Sybil remained next to Mary, listening to the conversation between their father and his heir. "I would think that you would chomping at the bit to get out there, to fight for king and country."
Matthew waved his hand dismissively at that, his tone light. "I have no desire to die, Robert."
"Oh, I doubt there is all that much danger," papa pressed. "I know you have taken a negative view on things but I truly believe that you've made things out to be far worse than they will. Things are always far more terrifying than they are actually. Once you step foot on the battlefield and feel the thrill of battle and victory you'll find all your fears to have been unfounded." It was Matthew's turn to work his jaw but papa continued on. "And you must see that there are… expectations for you."
"Expectations?" matthew asked, his good mood fading away. Mary shared a glance with Sybil, who shot a concerned look right back at her. "And those would be?"
"To do your part, of course!" papa said, a bit louder than probably even he expected.
"I am doing my part," Matthew countered before taking a moment and calming his nerves. "I am signing up with the army. I will be working for a general."
"A glorified grocer," Robert said dismissively. "You'll be sitting in an office ordering tents and pencils. I mean truly doing your part. Riding into battle, gun on your hip and sword at your side, rallying the troops and fighting for god and country!" Papa's tone grew wistful. "There is nothing like it, Matthew. A horse at full gallop, the battlecries of your men echoing in your ears, the rush as the world falls away and all that is left is the fight. You can't do that hiding in London."
"Ignoring the importance of what I and General Lothrop are doing I hate to break it to you Robert but I would have no desire to march off to die in the trenches." Matthew had raised his voice at that and Mary flinched.
"Robert, leave it alone," Cora said, looking up from her chair.
"So, has anyone heard of the new play they are staging at The Old Vic?" Sybil said, trying to change topics.
Papa though wasn't about to be deterred, taking another long drain from his glass before speaking. "Oh come now, it won't be that bad!" He smiled but Mary could see there was no warmth in her father's grin. It rather reminded her of the same smiles he'd given her when he tried to distract her before Dr. Clarkson gave her a shot. "Trust me when I say that you'll regret not being out there, joining the other young bucks in a sporting adventure. When they have their war stories and all you can do is meekly state that you tucked yourself behind a desk you'll curse yourself for your decision." Papa reached out and patted Matthew on the shoulder and Mary clenched her teeth at the way Matthew flinched. "If you are concerned about your promise to General Allen I can smooth away any hurt feelings. Tomorrow we can head to London and get you assigned to a proper battalion, one that will actually do something. It will all work out, I promise you."
"My apologizes Robert but you have no idea what you are talking about." Papa's smile dropped at that but Matthew pressed on. "I have been talking with General Lothrop-"
"General Lothrop, General Lothrop… he's corrupted your brain, I think. Filled it with nightmares."
"He knows what he is talking about."
"And does he know how this will look for Downton?" papa fired back, all checks on his anger shattered as Matthew batted aside his offer for aid. "There are expectations for you as Heir… to do your part and show a spine of steel and the standing of a leader. This war will allow you to bring honor to this house but if you try and hide you will only bring scorn upon all of us."
"Robert…" granny warned and Mary realized that everyone had stopped talking and were watching the growing argument with horrified interest. Even Carson, William, and Thomas had stopped and were staring.
"Honor be damned," he said hotly as he cut off granny, startling all with his venom. "Honor is worth nothing to the dead and it is a cold comfort to the living. I care not one bit what is expected of me I only care about my family. And I do no good for them dead in a foreign land fighting for a people who don't even know my name!"
"You claim to care for family but you have a poor way of showing it." Papa began to pace, his face red and his every gesture wild and sharp. " You toss aside tradition and invite dishonor on all of us all because of mad dreams that won't come to pass. But of course you don't understand, your kind has no sense of tradition."
"My kind?" Matthew demanded, taking a step forward.
"Papa, Matthew please," Mary begged, finally finding her voice. She moved forward, placing a calming hand on Matthew's shoulder while looking at her father, silently begging him to stop.
But her father didn't want to heed her pleas. "Oh, let's not pretend. You might dress yourself up well and know how to make small talk with us but you are nothing more than a middle class lawyer who has only been allowed to dine at my table by a quirk of fate. You have no understanding of honor or tradition. You don't see how your actions affect us all… you are concerned with only yourself."
"Don't," Mary whispered, trying to pull Matthew away.
"Matthew," Sybil added, joining Mary in trying to drag him away from the fight. A glance towards Cousin Isobel showed that Matthew's mother was about to jump in but mama had grabbed her hand and squeezed it in an attempt to silence her. Things were bad enough as it was with just Matthew and papa feuding but adding Isobel to the mix would only make things worse. There was still hope that cooler heads would prevail if only-
"Oh, is that it?" Matthew said with a bitter laugh. "It is easy to preach about honor and fighting for glory when you won't be the one dodging bullets and watching your men die all around you!" He pushed away from Mary and Sybil, getting right in papa's face. "Tell me, how much honor will you bring sitting in your den reading about the battles and the casualties while sipping your brandy? You can't even read the paper without having it ironed so you don't get ink on your soft hands and you want to lecture ME about hiding away?" Matthew scoffed. "Men like you are why good young men are going to needlessly die."
"You dare talk to me like that?" Papa bellowed, his face so red Mary briefly feared he'd burst a blood vessel.
"Someone has to," Matthew snapped back. "You've surrounded yourself with servants and sycophants who won't call you out when your wrong. The world does not march on based solely on the ill-researched opinions of Robert Crawley!"
"You are nothing but a coward," Robert snarled. "A craven who hides behind half truth and imagined threats."
"I am no craven, Robert, but if the choice is dying with honor or living while old rich men look down their noses at me I'll choose the later every time!"
By now none of the women could stop the fight and they were all left as spectators to this horrid event. Mary looked about the room only to see helpless gazes, her family silently pleading for this to end while the servants prayed in their hearts that they could slip away unnoticed. She just didn't understand how they had reached this point and how it had all gone so badly-
"You are gutless!" papa roared, jabbing Matthew in the shoulder with his index finger. "You will bring shame to Downton!"
"I have done nothing save help Downton since I've arrived here! As your heir-"
"My heir… my heir," Papa let out a mocking laugh, a twisted mockery of a smile on papa's lips. "You are no heir. You are a glorified agent with delusions of grandeur. A jumped up lawyer who knows oh so little about the world. The only thing that does my heart good is to know that soon I will have a true heir, the son I've always wanted… one who isn't a spineless, gutless craven! And with him here I can see the back of you and never have your yellow belly darken Downton again!"
Matthew reeled back at that in shock, the rest of the observers all gasping in distress at papa's words. If her father felt any regret from his painful words he didn't show it, instead merely staring Matthew down with coldness that could rival the darkest December night. Without saying a word Matthew spun on his heel and stormed towards the door, Thomas and William leaping out of his way as he threw it open so violently it smashed into the wall and created a dent in the molding.
"Matthew!" Mary cried out, turning to try and chase after her fiancée only for her father to call out to her.
"Let him go. He flees like the craven he is. I will not have a coward under my roof." At that Isobel stood up, shooting a glare so full of hate at papa that had he been calmer he would have shrunk back in horror. Instead Matthew's mother marched out of the room with her head held high, the proof of her rage being that she didn't say a single word.
"Robert…" Cora murmured, pale as a sheet.
"Leave it. I do not want to talk about it."
"Oh, I think this needs to be talked about!" Granny explained, tapping her cane hard agianst the floor, he face a mask of disgust.
"Papa…" Mary said, turning to her father, tears burning in her eyes. "What-"
"Do not cry for him, Mary," her father said, breathing hard as he began to regain his temper. "It is good that we know this of him now, before he tricked a ring upon your finger."
"What are you talking about?" Edith said, for the first time since the madness had begun finding her voice.
Papa walked over to where the bottles of liquor were and glanced at the servants. Carson snapping out of his shock and hurrying to pour Mary's father another glass but it was Thomas that surprised Mary; the look on his face was nearly as thunderous as the one Sybil now wore. Papa took a sip of it before continuing. "Matthew has revealed his true colors and with your mother pregnant it is clear that a match between the two of you is simply out of the question." He walked over and took her hand in his free one. "But do not fret… you won't be left out in the cold. We'll find you a proper fiancée, a better one that than jumped-up coward. One that is of our breeding, who understands the importance of things. A lord's son and soon to be a war hero, one that will give you all you deserve."
"I already have a proper fiancée," Mary said, tugging her hand free from his grasp. "Matthew."
"Matthew," her father said with a roll of his eyes, draining his glass and motioning for Carson to pour him another. Mary idly wondered just how much her father had consumed that day. "He has nothing. He will not be Earl, that will fall to your brother. He was acceptable enough with his mad schemes and the such when he was the best choice of a bad lot but now that has changed. I had hoped to make it work Mary, I truly did, but now that he's revealed his true colors I won't allow a match between you. I would not have you married to a cowardly lawyer who gleefully mocks our traditions."
"He did no such thing!" Mary pleaded, desperately trying to get her father to see reason. "He doesn't want to fight… is that so wrong? He is still serving in the army-"
"No, he's found a way to slither and sneak his way out of doing what is right. This war is about English values and clearly Matthew has none. He laughed, Mary… he laughed! There is no regret in his choice! Young men all across England are now lining up at recruitment offices to join the good fight, to have a gun placed in their hands so they might defend us all and bring honor to their families. Meanwhile Matthew Crawley tucks himself into a ball and hides! The only threat he wishes to face is if he'll get a splinter and knowing him he'll faint at the sight of that. No… this is the best for us, as we now see what kind of…man… Crawley is. It is time we all opened our eyes and see that we allowed our grief and desperation to delude us into accepting a nobody from Manchester." He moved to take another drink only to find his glass empty.
"Robert!" mama gasped in shock.
"Robert, I think you have said enough," granny hissed. "Perhaps a day or so for cooler heads…"
But one look at her father showed that granny's hopes that he would come to see reason after some rest were naught but dreams and Mary refused to stay quiet and let her father think she agreed with him. "I do not see it that way. As the woman Matthew will marry I am thrilled that I will not have to wait by the window, clutching at my dress and wondering if the next time I see him he'll be alive and well or cold in his coffin-"
"Oh Mary!" Papa exclaimed with a great roll of his eyes.
"No 'Oh Mary!'," she shot, now feeling her own temper rise. "I thought you cared about my happiness, papa. What is it you said to Pamuk? You would 'burn Downton to the group' to protect me?"
"I am protecting you! Saying you from an unhappy marriage with a spineless, penniless craven!"
She scoffed. "Now who is exaggerating? There is a chance… a CHANCE… that I am to have a brother and because of that and Matthew showing some sense in putting me before some pointless war that makes him worse than the Turk? I suppose if Pamuk had been a war hero you'd have looked the other way as he raped me?"
"Mary!" her mother exclaimed.
She was having none of it though. All the old hurts, the old pains were bubbling up and she couldn't stop them from bursting forth. She didn't WANT to stop them. "You claim to want my happiness papa but only when it doesn't interfere with your true love: Downton. You care more for this old house than you do your family."
"That is simply not true!" Papa declared, taking a step forward and gesturing so wildly he nearly spilled his drink. "You don't know what you are talking about! You are allowing your emotions to get the better of you-"
"Me?" Mary laughed, bitter and hard. "I am the one blinded by my emotions? Look in the mirror, papa. When you were chastising Matthew your concern wasn't my happiness… it was about how it would look for Downton. Oh, you tried to dress it up as worrying about 'the Family' but we are just an extension of Downton, aren't we? Another piece of furniture that you can show off! The only thing that has been missing is a son because… because I could never be good enough, could I? I could be the most brilliant, beautiful, and beloved woman in all the world but you would still rank me third, behind first Downton and then a son. He could be a brute or a fool or have no sense in his head but you wouldn't care so long as he had… he had a cock between his legs!" Granny's eyes went wide at that and she heard Edith suck in a breath but Mary didn't care. It felt so GOOD to finally get that old pain off her chest.
"Go to your room, now," her father said, his rage becoming a cold fury. "I will not be talked to like that in my house. When you've thought about your actions and see the error in your ways only then will we discuss the breaking of your engagement to Matthew."
"Then there is no need for me to flee to my room as I won't break it. I WILL marry Matthew."
Her father's face become stony and thunderous at the same time as he marched towards her, towering over her and making her feel small. "You will not," he said slowly, ever word dripping with authority. "I command it."
Another would have been cowed. Driven to tears or tremors. But she was Lady Mary Crawley and she would not be bent. Not by this.
"You command me?" she mocked. "Oh papa… you haven't been able to command me in years, what makes you think you can now?"
"The fact that if you wish to stay in silk and gems you will do as I say," papa threatened, reaching up and fingering the long necklace she wore. "Your allowance? Gone. Your privileges? Gone. I won't back down on this. Now go to your room and come to terms with the fact that you and Matthew Crawley are over."
"Very well, papa," Mary said in a quiet voice, ducking her head… before removing the necklace and hurling it at his feet.
"Mary!" papa roared as she turned on her heel and marched towards the door. "Mary!"
She heard a clatter behind her and turned to see Edith had removed her own necklace and tossed it at their father's feet. Papa, mama, and granny seemed shocked by that but Edith merely nodded before walking over and looping her arm around Mary's, giving her a supportive nod. Sybil, for her part, walked up to her father and without ever breaking eye contact removed her necklace and dropped it to the ground, letting it puddle and join with the others. Papa went red again but he must have seen something in Sybil's gaze for he suddenly took a step back.
The surprises weren't over yet as Thomas was right on Sybil's heels and, to Mary's shock, removed his white gloves and let them drop on the ground.
"I quit, my lord… effective immediately."
Sybil, with a grin, offered her arm to him and with a smirk Thomas took it and led her over to Mary and Edith. The four shared a nod and marched out of the room, the last thing they heard was granny's horrified question:
"Robert… what have you done?"
