July 13th, 1916

Elsie sighed as Mr. Wheeler adjusted his suit jacket. Not the traditional black jacket that a valet like him should have been wearing, but rather a tan one that matched the slacks he'd donned. Beside him was his suitcase, packed and ready, and he had an umbrella leaning against the door as he checked himself over.

"Are you sure you don't wish to stay for breakfast?" she asked. "Mrs. Patmore wouldn't mind."

"No, I have a train to catch. I want to get to Dover as soon as I can."

"But it will be a long walk… if you stay even an hour I'm sure his lordship will get Simmons to drive you once he's up."

"No, he won't," Mr. Wheeler said with a slight smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. It was the type of smile one might wear because if they didn't do something, anything, they would break down crying.

She shut her eyes for a moment. "Aye. He won't. I am truly sorry-"

"It's not your fault, Mrs. Hughes," Mr. Wheeler said, holding up his hand. "I truly mean that. You have been more than kind to me and I appreciate it. Truly, let there be no mistake in that." She saw him glance up and she winced, knowing what he was hinting at without saying a word. "But I truly must be off."

Elsie watched him put on his hat and, almost desperately, she took a step forward. "No one else will see you off though!"

"You have said goodbye, as has Mrs. Patmore and the kitchen maids. That is enough for me."

"But won't you at least make your farewells to Mr. Carson?"

Mr. Wheeler chuckled at that. "All he ever said to me was hello. Why should I give him more respect by saying goodbye?" With that he put on his hat. "Please don't beg, Mrs. Hughes… it isn't becoming of you." With that the man opened the door and left, never once looking back as he walked into the predawn air. The head housekeeper squeezed her eyes shut in frustration, lips pressed together as she grimaced in annoyance and frustration before her shoulders slumped and she let out the weak breath she'd been holding.

Walking back to the kitchen she sat down on a stool as Mrs. Patmore, Daisy, and the few kitchen maids they had left (or needed) worked on making breakfast. "I don't suppose there is any way you have a bottle of brandy lying around?" she said dully.

Daisy blinked, looking at Mrs. Patmore. She opened her mouth before shutting it. "She doesn't really want to know, right?"

Mrs. Patmore gave the girl a surprised smile. "Well, good for you Daisy for figuring that out!"

Elsie watched as Daisy beamed and got back to work. "I'm more concerned that she didn't flat out say you didn't have any." Her dear friend merely chuckled but didn't respond. "Mr. Wheeler left."

"No hope in convincing him to stay I take it?"

"I wasn't thinking that far ahead. I started by merely trying to get him to have breakfast. My hope was to then try and convince him to stay."

Mrs. Patmore laughed at that. "Fat chance of that! I'd say I'd never seen a man leave service so fast but in this house…"

Elsie bit back a groan.

"Oh chin up, we'll find another valet for his lordship."

"…how?" Elsie asked- no whimpered. "Mr. Wheeler was our fourth in two year! And getting him was hard enough, he had hardly any experience. He had served only one man before and only for a year. All the boys are getting drafted to go to war and the men too old to be taken are looking for positions where they might move on to being the butler. William covers well but we know that soon he will be called up and then we are down him as well." Propriety be damned she rested her elbows on the table and stared glumly at the window. "And speaking of William he is our only footmen at the moment since Donald got called up-"

"Bloody good thing too as that boy was all left hands and no thumbs," Mrs. Patmore stated.

"But better than nothing," Elsie said. "There is such a need for footmen that all the normal age for training has been taken and we lost all the hallboys to other estates poaching them. Ethel and Sophie keep fighting over who is the first maid when I wouldn't have either of them be second if the world was perfect. Thank the Lord above for Simmons taking over as chauffer… I will see to it the man is paid whatever he wants if he'll stay."

Mrs. Patmore raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh really? Well I had a job offer-"

"Don't... even tease… about that," she said darkly.

"It isn't all bad, Mrs. Hughes," Daisy said gently. "Yes, we don't have much of a staff as we… had before… but things are quieter now so there isn't much of a need."

"Daisy is quite right," Mrs. Patmore said with a smile, wiping her hands with a towel before patting her on the shoulder. "Things have been very quiet since… well…"

"His lordship drove the girls away by being a giant booby," Elsie said, at the moment so utterly frustrated she didn't care who heard her.

"Well, I don't-"

"Well I do know," Elsie said firmly. "Yes, things were going to be hard… we'd lost Mr. Bates and Anna though I can't be mad at them for their happiness." She honestly couldn't. In the dark days of war and chaos and change the Grantham Arms had become a quiet reprieve from it all. Mrs. Hughes normally didn't take days off but within the last two years she'd done it far more than she had the last ten, popping down to the village to have tea with Anna and Mr. Bates (she couldn't ever bring herself to call him John, just as he couldn't call her Elsie) and once a delightful dinner that had made her honestly consider begging them for a job. "And we were losing Gwen no matter what and Thomas had already decided to jump ship as it were… but then Branson left after that quarrel and any hope of asking Mr. Molesley to possibly assist died when Mr. Crawley left and after that things…"

The problem was that when Elsie looked around she felt as if she were walking not through her home for so many years but some sad mockery of it. The walls were the same, the rooms… but the people were gone. One moment she'd been familiar with so many people and the next nearly all were strangers. New maids, new valets, new footmen. Faces she'd never seen before, names she tried to remember. It was horrible. She was a ghost haunting someone else's home.

"I sometimes feel as if Downton's very soul was torn out that night. Like Lady Mary folded it up and put it in her pocket and took it with her." She sighed, shaking her head before standing up, schooling her features so that all her melancholy faded away and all that was left was the mask. While she did have feelings and emotions and thoughts she also knew that there was a time to give in to despair and time when she had to be strong for everyone else. Downton seemed to be clinging to the edge of the cliff by its fingertips and one stiff breeze would loosen their grip. What was needed was a strong hand, a firm hand to keep the established members of the staff feeling stable and preventing the younger ones from taking advantage. "Well, nothing that can be done about that now. His Lordship will be up soon so if William doesn't remember to help him dress make sure he heads up straight away. I'll trust Miss. O'Brien to handle her Ladyship… have we seen Nanny Walters?"

"Already up and about," Mrs. Patmore said.

"Then that just leaves getting the dining room ready." Elsie looked about, brow furrowed. "Where is Mr. Carson? He should be up by now…"

"Oh he is up," Daisy said politely. "He came in, told us he would take some toast for his breakfast, and then went to his office."

"And he's been in there ever since?" Elsie asked. "What the devil is he doing?"

"What else?" Mrs. Patmore said sadly and Elsie felt her heart sink. Without another word she left, moving through the tight halls towards Mr. Carson's office, not even bothering to knock as she swung open the door.

At first one would have thought that nothing had changed, that Mr. Carson's office remained as it always had and that unlike everything else in Downton these days it had remained frozen in time. A single fixed thing in the madness of the world they now found themselves in. With the continent being torn to pieces, British way of life forever altered, and Downton itself going through one of the greatest shake ups it had ever gone through since its founding Mr. Carson's office at first felt like safe harbor. But one only had to get out of the doorway and see the many crumpled balls of paper that fell from the trash can and onto the floor to know that all was not well in the world of Donwton's butler.

Elsie felt her heart ache as she laid eyes on the sole occupant of the office, dressed in his proper suit and his hair perfectly in place… but his eyes did not rise to greet her. No, he was focused on a well worn letter that he had spread out on his desk, the parchment faded and the corners worn and wrinkled. He had one hand placed almost tenderly on the paper, the other hand caressing his jawline as he scanned the strong thin letters scrawled upon the page.

"Oh, why do you do this to yourself?" she whispered.

But rather than answer her Mr. Carson lifted up the letter and began to read it, not caring in the slightest that Elsie herself had heard what it contained so many times she could recite it from memory.

"My Dear Carson, I write this letter from the comfort of London, where the kindness of two strangers has outweighed the cruelty of my own family. I first wish to apologize to you and how I left without even giving you a chance to say goodbye. There is little I regret when it comes to that evening but my failure to part without giving you proper thanks for all you have done to me shall haunt me for some time.

"I know I have disappointed you. My choice is not the one you would have wanted for me. I know you wished for me to have so much more in this life. You saw me as a queen and I dare say that no man would have met to your standards of what I was due, let alone a simple lawyer. Your dreams for me do not match the life I find myself racing towards. I am sure you have thought of what awaits me and have shivered in dread.

"But I have made my choice and I am happy with it. The love I feel for Matthew, in view of that which I have felt in the past, is like comparing the sun to a candle stump. For too long I have allowed myself to be pulled by one person's desires to another's, unable to find sure footing. I have attempted to build my life on shifting sands and then been told that I must smile and accept things as they were until they suddenly weren't. But I have grown tired of playing the role, Carson. So very, very tired. Much like how to go from child to woman I needed to put away my dolls and toys I find now that in order to move forward in my new life I must put away my insecurities and fears when it comes to what others think. I must live for myself. And I choose Matthew.

"Before you come to believe that he has forced this upon me understand that I have made this choice. He offered me a way out, as did so many others. I refused to take it. More so I fled from such excuses and exits and instead ran to the life he offered and swept it up into my arms. I want you to understand that.

"Papa has made his stance clear. I truly wish that things had been different, that he could have found a way to love me for me, but now that I have taken the first step I can not leave the path. By the time you receive this I will have been married for a week. Matthew and I have been made one and, as I committed in my vows before God, for better or for worse I will stand with him.

"I know this isn't what you wished for me and I know that you must find me rather foolish to have given up so much for one man. But I do not write this asking for your forgiveness… I ask that you find it in your heart to ACCEPT me. If this can be done I ask that you write and let me know.

"I wish you all the best and I thank you for your kindness.

"Yours truly, Mrs. Mary Crawley."

As he finished the final line, let Lady Mary's new title and role drop from his lips, he released the letter and sighed. Every time he read the last words to him from Lady Mary, written or spoken, he seemed to age another ten years before her eyes. Weariness would drip into his veins and weigh upon his soul and leave him diminished.

"Mr. Carson," Elsie began.

"She thought I would be disappointed in her," he said quietly, slowly pushing the letter to the side of his desk. "She thought that I would place the honor of Downton ahead of her happiness. That I would take it upon myself to judge her."

"With how his Lordship acted can you blame her? He is one of the most important men in her life and he was willing to send the man she loved off to die purely to make Downton look better."

Mr. Carson shook his head though. "No… no I doubt anything like that would have happened. His lordship had the right of that. Mr. Crawley is a smart man, talented too… I do not think he would have ended up on the front at all. Would have been placed in a position of command, where he could lead but not be at risk…" Elsie fought the urge to roll her eyes at that. She could practically see his Lordship pulling on the puppet strings, making the butler parrot his own arguments. With the news filling more and more with the horrors of the war and what British soldiers were facing the argument that the war would be some quick adventure had been shoved aside. Yet still his Lordship, and in turn Mr. Carson, had searched for other excuses to continue to label Matthew Crawley a coward. "And he handled it all wrong! His lordship deserves respect and Mr. Crawley raised his voice to him, mocked him… in his own home! What sort of man does that? One of low breeding and little understanding of our ways, that is who." He shook his head, jowls flapping about as he huffed. "It is as his lordship said; he simply doesn't understand how he can no longer think about himself. He must think about all of Downton and how his actions reflect upon it and all that have come before him and all that will come after."

"And does Lady Mary?" Elsie asked pointedly. "Does she think of such things?"

"That is different."

"How?"

Mr. Carson stared at her like a pouting child. "It just is."

Elsie mentally sighed. 'It is no wonder the poor man is so out of it… he is being torn between two loyalties.' She did not voice this opinion, as doing so would only earn her denials and claims that somehow Charles Carson was unlike any other person on earth and able to hold two conflicting opinions and yet somehow make them flow together. She did not envy him. On one hand he had the man he had sworn to serve as well as the honor of Downton. The butler treated any stain against the family or the Great House as a mark against his own soul, treating even the smallest error like a cardinal sin that would see him burn in hellfire. And yet on the other hand was his love for Lady Mary, who he had seen transform from a small child into a woman grown. He loved her as if she were his own child. He had risked his life against that monster Pamuk to protect her honor. And now he found those two sides of him in conflict with no sign of reunification in sight.

"If you truly feel that way… if you feel that Lady Mary has done nothing wrong in your eyes… tell her that already, you silly man. Answer her letter."

"I have tried!" Mr. Carson exclaimed, gesturing towards his overflowing waste basket. "I have tried hundreds of times but I haven't found the right words to say. To let her know that I support her, that I do not blame her for what happened… "

"While not betraying his lordship?" she asked gently.

Mr. Carson nodded miserably. "I cannot go against him… and I cannot go against her." He pulled out another sheet of paper and an ink pen, dabbing it into the inkwell on his desk. "I know the right words are somewhere. I just need to find them." He began to write, forgetting Elsie was there, before letting out a grumble of frustration and crumpling the paper up. "Perhaps I need to look back I what I wrote before… maybe one of them can be fixed-"

"Mr. Carson… Mr. Carson… CHARLES!"

The butler started at that.

"It has been two years," she said slowly, using the same tone and speed she'd used for a new member of the staff who had made a grave mistake but didn't understand what it was. "At this point she believes that you truly do doubt her. Dithering on wording will not help matters."

"But that is the point, Mrs. Hughes, that is the point! It makes finding the correct words all the more important. The right ones to explain my delay, to show that I have not abandoned her in my heart… to make her understand… to understand…" He trailed off and Elsie realized it was useless.

"…his lordship will be up soon, Mr. Carson. You best be ready." With that she left the butler alone. For just as Mr. Carson could not find the words to say to Lady Mary to fix the rift between them… Elsie did not know the words to say to Mr. Carson to fix him.

~A~O~O~O~F~

The rustling of his clothing as he reached for his tea cup. The slight clinking of his knife and fork against each other and his plate. The tiny pops his sausage let loose as he cut through its casing. Carson's strong breathing through his nose. The scrape of his chair as he pushed away slightly from the table. The crackling of the paper as he turned the page.

'Amazing how loud Downton can be when it is so quiet,' Robert thought to himself as he looked about the nearly empty dining room.

Downton had never been a loud place. It was not some wild saloon where people ran about the halls and servants clattered dishes and stomped about the floors. Dignity was shown to it, the dignity it deserved. And yet it had never been like this, so quiet and so loud at the same time. The sounds had changed, the ones he was used to removed so that the ones that remained, the background noise of life, became amplified. It was so very odd and it made Robert far more aware of his surroundings than he'd normally be. It also made himself conscious, feeling as if he himself were being far too loud when he was merely behaving as he normally did. Yet trying to moderate such things only drew his attention to them and made them worse.

Glancing over at Carson Robert fought a sigh; the butler still wasn't sleeping properly. There were bags under his eyes and his face had a weary drooping quality to it. Normally Carson held himself with rigid formality, still as a statue and ready to move at request. Yet today his shoulders weren't quite squared, his head dropped a touch lower than normal, and his reactions slowed and stilled. In the past, had Robert even glanced at him from the corner of his eye the butler would have sprang to attention, asking what he needed. But now Robert could look at him for several sections before Carson showed any sign of noticing. And when he did he was rather mute and Robert merely waved him away, making it clear he didn't actually need anything.

'Worried about the staff, most likely,' Robert thought with a small shake of his head. 'It isn't his fault that the labor force is so small and what few men and women there are available do not meet with Downton's standards. We are down a footman with only William left and once his father ends his foolish demands that William stay here and allow the boy to march off to war as he desires we'll be down to none.' He nibbled on a piece of toast. 'And now we are down a valet. Still, considering how Wheeler was that isn't exactly a bad this.' Robert's frown deepened as he thought of his latest valet. He had hoped that this one would be better than the last three but he turned out to be lacking when it came to his duties. Far too quiet for Robert's likes. It felt like he was conversing with a statue at times with how little Wheeler had responded to him. 'Carrey was too loud, Reinhold too smug, and Chambers was a bumbler. What I wouldn't give for a decent valet who knew how to do his job without holding lofty goals! To know when to speak and when to be silent. Someone like-'

Robert's jaw locked up tight, as if it were his tongue rather than his mind that was about to speak the name of the best valet he'd had. He refused to think of him… he had left and he might as well be a world away.

Of course Wheeler and the footmen weren't the only problems, as it seemed that all positions in the household were in a constant state of flux. Mrs. Patmore had gone through three different kitchen maids, none of them able to properly prepare meals to his liking. They'd cycled through so many hallboys that they could have made an entire separate staff with just those that had been let go because of messes and errors. He wasn't pleased with the maids either, as they were getting sloppy with making the beds and dusting. The same with the gardeners as well; he'd let most of them go in the fall after the growing season after they had failed to place in the Village's flower show. They hadn't replaced the groom yet for the horses, the man having quit after Robert had made demands concerning the horses that he'd disagreed with, and all those that had been interviewed had agreed with Harold rather than him.

Cora and mama thought he was being stubborn. Said as much too.

He wasn't stubborn, however. Merely the only person in Downton who saw the truth of the matter. After all that had happened, with the disgrace that had been brought upon them, he had to do all he could to ensure that everything else related to Downton was perfection. There could not be a single mistake, a solitary failure, surrounding their family. It was the only way he could bring Downton back from the brink.

As he had feared Matthew's actions had brought shame to Downton. His cowardice had made them the talk of elite circle, a matter of gossip and snickered japes. He had seen the looks people sent his way and knew they were thinking about how Matthew had refused to fight. The mumbled comments said under the breath of men Robert respected, the names of his daughters whispered when people thought he couldn't hear them. They were talking about how Mary had let her childhood fantasizes concerning Matthew blind her to his true nature and of how it showed poorly upon Downton. Invitations to dinners and events, already scarce with the war, had dried up completely and he didn't blame his neighbors as he wouldn't want to host a family as cursed as the Crawleys and their gutless commoner heir.

'But I am no monster,' he thought to himself firmly as he looked down at his paper and turned the page when he found the article not to his liking. 'If Mary would only see reason and annul her marriage I would welcome her back. And Edith and Sybil need only to apologize for their youthful indiscretions.' He took a sip of water. 'As for Matthew, should he grow a spine and enlist as is expected I would great him as I would any soldier. I will never grant him my blessing to be with Mary… he brought too much disgrace to us, but I would not cast him aside.'

Sadly there was no sign of any of his wayward daughters or the timid lawyer doing right by the family. Robert had been keeping tabs on them, asking acquaintances in London to keep an eye on his family, and all their reports stated that all of them seemed to be happy. Mary had settled into a life as a middle class housewife, Sybil was forced to be a nurse and live with Matthew's rebel of a mother in order to get by, and Edith relied on the kindness of Sir Michael. All that had seen them claimed they were pleased with their lives but Robert didn't believe it. They were hiding their angst, letting it only be seen in the safe confines of their room. They wore masks out in public and did not let show their pain or regret with their choices.

'How could one ever accept a noisy, dirty, chaotic life as a middle class family against the grandeur of Downton?'

He set his silverware down with a dull thunk that echoed in his ears, his chair groaning as he shifted.

Robert had just begun to rise from his chair when his mother breezed into the room, her face holding the same pinched, disapproving stare that had become the norm for her whenever she spotted him. Considering how often she was at Downton these days Robert got to see it regularly. It was the odd dichotomy that was his mother: she had never seemed pleased to see him during the last two years but Robert had seen more of her than he had before England had entered the war. She took the empty chair to his right and sat down, purposely not greeting him and instead looking over at Carson.

"If you could bring me something light, Carson? It doesn't matter what, I dare say I'll hardly taste it." The butler nodded and went to fill mama's plate. Of course his mother was the only one to demand to be served at breakfast. Only once she was done giving her orders did she turn to look at him. "Robert."

"Mama," he greeted with no warmth yet also no anger or annoyance; he'd learned long before the girls' flight that if he tried to show his frustrations or annoyances his mother would merely come at him with an even more acidic tongue. "We expected you last night for dinner."

"I had far more happier things to deal with than your foolishness and the dreary wreck you've turned Downton into," she replied with the same tone one might use to discuss the clouds in the sky.

Robert shot a sidelong glance her way as Carson set her plate before her, filled with a bit of fruit and some small muffin-like things that Mrs. Patmore had been making recently. "I'd say I've done quite well, mama. The war has hurt Downton's ability to make money but we aren't running a loss like some great estates. I hear that the Weatherbees are near considering selling off jewels-"

"The Weatherbees have always been wasteful," mama stated with a wave of her hand. "I knew there would be problems when Lord Wulguard married that Flouse girl. She had expensive tastes when she was but a child who had not earned the right to be so gluttonous with dresses and gems and it only got worse after she was married." She stabbed at an apple slice and nibbled on it before continuing. "But I wasn't referring to the finances, Robert. When I speak of Downton I mean the people who dwell within it, not the building itself." She glanced at him, lips puckered. "But I'm not surprised you fail to see that one is more important than the other."

While he knew that it would do no good and would, in fact, only encourage her to talk more, Robert's frustrations bubbled up over the lack of respect he was once more getting. "If you have a point, mama, would you please say it rather than being cute?"

His mother's eyes narrowed and in a low voice that he remembered from his childhood and his nightmares she said, "I would watch your tone, Robert. Right now Rosamund and I are the only two women in your life who are willing to speak to you. Not wise to whittle that number down. And might I remind you that Rosamund isn't best company at the moment."

Robert silently agreed with that. When Mary, Edith, and Sybil had fled to London and the household of the Lothrops they had quickly become oddities of interest within London society. The rebel daughters of the Earl of Grantham, one who had married a middle class lawyer and the other two who bucked the traditional positions set up for ladies of their standing. With attention came whispers and tales and the gossips loved nothing more than to make already tantalizing tales all the more dramatic. As such the girls had become innocent quivering maids who had managed to find their bravery in the 11th hour. Matthew the dashing hero who was cruelly cast aside for the sin of loving a woman above his station. And in turn Rosamund, whose part in the entire affair had somehow been revealed, had been transformed into the wicked aunt that plotted to keep true loves apart. A scheming shrew who'd envied her young nieces and wanted to see them in pain and miserable. Some claimed that it was because she herself was alone and wanted the whole world to suffer. Others that it was some sinister strategy to claim Downton for herself. And still more than she longed for Matthew and thought to take him as her lover.

The only reason Robert wasn't seen as the main villain in their tawdry tales was that he was portrayed as being too stupid to have plotted it. That he was the pudding-headed duffer who bobbled about his house, Rosamund whispering her spells in his ears and convincing him to follow along with her mad methods.

As a result of all this Rosamund had found herself blacklisted from London society. Invites to premier events dried up while charities that had once sought her favor now no longer accepted her money, fearing they would be tainted doing so. Friends ignored her letters and would cross the street to avoid her if they spotted her coming their way. That left only Downton as a place where she might actually find a friendly face… if only she didn't bring her bitterness with her. When she came to her childhood home all she could do was gripe about the slights made against her. How unfair things were, how she was being unduly punished, how much she hated the people who ignored her and then in the next breath mourn their loss. It made talking to her utterly exhausting and Robert sought any reason he could find to keep her from staying, or at least staying long.

"You allowed your pride to ruin what should have been the happiest years of our lives," mama said, pulling him from his thoughts concerning his sister. "Even in these dark times, when it seems like all the world is in pain, you were given a chance to grasp a bit of happiness… but instead you batted it away."

"What I see is I rejected false hope and false joy that would only bring a sliver of happiness in the shortrun and instead chose to look farther into the future, to a time when we rue Matthew's cowardice and see it for the shame that it is. When his lack of courage is a stain against Downton and his inability to seize glory has doomed us all. I was able to do that, unlike the girls."

Mama gave a tight-lipped smile at that. "Oh, has matters suddenly changed and we no longer find ourselves in a stalemate with the Germans?"

He didn't respond to that jab. He didn't like to think about how the war had been going… the length of it and the slowness in its resolution. He had assumed, like so many others, that it would be finished with quickly, that just a taste of blood would have the Germans fleeing and that British bravery would win the day. But it hadn't been over quickly. One battle had become two, two had become four, until it seemed as if all of Europe was burning. Every day the papers reported the horrors. The casualties. The deaths.

'Of course papers lie,' he told himself. 'They embellish their tales to sell more paper. Men are dying, to be sure, and perhaps the battle on the Somme has gone on far longer than any expected, but it isn't helped by paper sellers seeking to make their coin with salacious tales. Besides, the ones they are hearing these horror stories from are the ones that have returned. And they are injured and bitter, hating their own weakness. The war will end and with it will come the heroes who will sing their glorious songs.'

His face must have shown something because his mother gave a huff. "I see you are lost. No chance of talking sense into you. I'd ask what Cora thought but I doubt you know, considering she barely can stand being in the same room as you."

Robert glowered at what he considered a rather underhanded jab. When Mary and the girls had left that night Cora had been upset and railed against him and only calmed when he had convinced her that they would come to their senses soon enough when they realized they had nothing to use to support themselves. When the news had come that Mary had married Matthew without his consent he had growled and grumbled at her stubbornness… and Cora had broken down in tears and then told him that she would never forgive him for making her miss her eldest's wedding; his comment that she would be able to go to the next one when Mary came to her senses had seen Cora storm out of the room, forgetting all about British sensibility and return to being a brash American. It had taken time but eventually she had thawed but things had slid back when she attempted to convince him to make peace with the girls.

"Why should I go onto my knees when they are the ones that have scorned me? Let them return and beg for forgiveness… only then will I consent to hear them out."

He didn't know what had happened after Cora had left to talk with Mary, only that when she had returned she had glared at him and told him that he had cost her their family. Those had been the last words she had spoken to him. They now slept in separate rooms and their dinners had become quiet, lonely affairs. Unless they had mama over as a guest it wasn't surprising anymore for dinner to be eaten with only the sound of their silverware clinking against the plates to fill the air.

"William dear," mama said, waving over the footman. He moved to refill her glass but she shook her head. "No thank you. Would you please get Nanny Walters?" He nodded and quickly hurried off, leaving mama to continue nibbling on her breakfast. "Does it not bother you how much you have missed, Robert? Matthew and Mary are building a life together and rather than turning to you to share in those joys they turn to Matthew's employer. And while General Allen is a decent man from the little time I've spent with him he is not their father. But he is now seen as one. As for Sybil she has become a grand success. Oh, it isn't the life I would have wanted for her, dealing with bile and blood, but she is greatly respected by many in London and those that know of her only speak of her with respect. But you do not know that, do you?" She paused then and a glint entered her eye that had Robert fighting the urge to shift in his seat. He'd seen her look at him like that many times and whenever she did he'd then faced a bombshell that had left him feeling like he was a on a ship whose deck was burning right under his feet. "You missed one daughter's wedding, Robert… don't miss another one's."

"Another…" Robert whispered. "Edith?"

"Sir Michael asked for her hand. That was why I was gone yesterday. He contacted me"

Robert's shock lasted but a moment before it gave way to anger. "He did not seek my permission to marry my child?"

"He sought out me, as he knew of all of us I would be the only one Edith still respects," mama bit out. "But he did not ask my permission. Told me as much and I was startled till he explained why. It seems Sir Michael knows your daughter better than you do. He told me that Edith would claw his eyes out if he dared to think of her as property to be bartered. And that Sybil and Mary would be shortly behind to claim their own pounds of flesh."

Robert shook his head in disgust. "Another custom tossed aside carelessly…"

"Is that honestly all you have to say?" Mama snapped. "Edith is getting married and you care only that Sir Michael didn't ask your permission?"

He jabbed his finger at that table. "I do when it shows that the girls have gone wild and turned into savages who care not one wit about tradition!"

"Oh come now Robert, stop being so dramatic. First Cora and now you… and you wonder why Mary and Edith and Sybil acted as they did; they learned from you." When he didn't say a word she huffed in utter annoyance. "They are still honoring traditions and decency they just aren't allowing it to trap them in the past."

"You are arguing against honoring the past?" Robert exclaimed, incredulous. "You have fought for tradition for years! It is why you were against me marrying Cora, why you looked down on so many of my ideas-"

"I was against you marrying Cora because you did so only for her money, not for love or station. And don't you dare deny it Robert, you can't fib to save your life." He knew his cheeks were heating up at that… mostly because it was true. He had married Cora purely for the money and it had only been his good fortune that love had blossomed between then the two of them. "And as for your ideas that would have left Downton in far greater trouble than your father left it. But I remind you that I fought for the family. They have always been my number one priority. I supported tradition because it protected us and aided us… but now it has broken us and left us no family. Tradition becomes tradition because it is passed down… and now you only have one who you might-"

With a snap of her jaw mama went silent and the reason quickly made itself known. Robert turned and watched as Nanny Walters entered, her right shoulder hunched down slightly so she might better grasp the hand of the sandy-haired little girl who looked shyly at Robert before focusing on mama.

"G'anny," the child said, her voice a whisper but her delight clear to hear.

"Oh, come here Lillian," mama said, pushing her chair back so that Robert's youngest daughter could toddle over to her. Where Mary would have marched proudly, Edith scurried, and Sybil ran without a care Lillian shuffled forward on steps so soft they might as well have been on her tiptoes. She had been a quiet child, even when she had been born before the holiday season. She had hardly cried and was never fussy, as if she sensed that something was wrong and didn't want to draw attention to herself. A happy child but careful and soft in all her movements and motions. "My my my," mama said, reaching down and picking Lillian up to set her on her lap. "Aren't we looking pretty today."

Robert held his tongue. He knew that if he spoke out now, with Lillian in the room, it would only end in pain. On the day that Lillian had been born while Cora had recovered in her room Robert had stared down at the solemn little newborn and felt bitterness enter his heart that yet again the Lord had seen fit to deny him a son. He'd said as much when mama was in earshot only for her to grasp his ear and for the first time since he'd been 9 twist it until he nearly yelped. She hadn't said a word but the message was clear and Robert had never spoken in ill tones around Lillian again.

Still, as mama offered the little girl a strawberry from her plate he couldn't help but ask, "Is she old enough to be eating at the table with us?"

"Well, I don't know how long it will be until you drive this one away so I must make time with her when I can." Robert reeled back as if struck but his mother paid him no heed. To Lillian she said gently, "It is such a lovely day… would you like to have an adventure with me and eat outside? We could have Carson prepare us some nice treats and then you could play a bit. Would you like that?"

"Yes'em," Lillian said, little hands folded in her lap. Mama nodded and gently set her down, offering the little girl her hand which Lillian took, saying a soft goodbye to him before the two left.

The rustling of his clothing as he reached for his tea cup. The slight clinking of his knife and fork against each other and his plate. The tiny pops his sausage let loose as he cut through its casing. Carson's strong breathing through his nose. The scrape of his chair as he pushed away slightly from the table. The rustling of the paper as he turned the page.

Downton could be so loud… when one was so very alone.

~MC~MC~MC~

Author's Notes: And while everything is nice in London we have the flip side of the coin at Downton. The ripples of that fight and other changes Matthew and Sybil and Michael made are being felt. No Anna means no strong support for Mrs. Hughes on the maid front and thus Ethel is now feuding with Anna's replacement, Sophie. Bates left earlier and now there are valet problems. The result is a sadder place, a moodier downstairs where there have been so many changes most can't get a stable footing. Aobut the only area that is doing well is the kitchen and that is only because Daisy is too loyal to Mrs. Patmore to leave. But as Robert revealed even there they've had turnover.

As for Carson we finally find out what happened with him and Lady Mary… and the tragedy of a man being pulled in two directions. It might sound unkind, since Carson is a man and not a machine, but I see this much like the situation Ash found himself in during the film 'Alien'. Ash had two directives: protect the crew (built into him) and get the alien to earth (programmed later). And they are in such conflict that it causes him to act as he did. The same with Carson… he is loyal to two people, as defined his entire life around serving Robert and caring for Mary… and with them at odds he doesn't know what to do. And thus we are left with a shell of a man struggling to find a way to please them both.

And with Robert we see just how delusional he has become. Oh silly man... people aren't gossiping about Mary and the girls…

Finally the reveal you all have been waiting for (and bugging me about, lol)… baby Crawley is revealed to be Lillian Crawley, Robert's fourth daughter. A shy, quiet thing who has grown up in a large house and sensed that something is quite wrong but is too young to understand what. Loved by all but also knowing that something is missing in her world, though she doesn't quite know what.

So this time our plot bunny is partially inspired by a reader idea... and an idea that I came up with after watching a trailer for a movie that came out recently on DVD.

It is Season 1 and Anna is off to wake up Lady Mary. Today is Mary's birthday but Anna doesn't think her ladyship will be much in the mood to celebrate. She is still angry about Matthew 'stealing' her inheritance and how it feels like everyone has abandoned her. Even the fact that, to celebrate, his Lordship is holding a grand masked ball has not lightened Mary's mood, for she has confided in Anna that her father and mother have not only invited many in their circle but also many potential suitors... her birthday is being used as a way to sell her off like cattle. So Anna is ready for Lady Mary to be in a foul mode.

What she isn't ready for is Lady Mary to wake up, wearily ask if it is her birthday... and then scream in frustration before leaping out of bed, screeching about how she thought she had the answer this time and how could it not have been that Turk who killed her.

Anna is fearful at Mary's mood and moreso when Mary decides to go to breakfast in her pajamas with her hair a mess because "I don't give two shits anyone what anyone thinks". As Anna trails after her trying to get her attention and get her to calm down Mary suddenly spins around and says "Your Aunt Gertrude used to call you button-eyes.", startling Anna as she NEVER told Mary that. Mary reveals that she did... 12 hours later. And in roughly 14 hours Mary would be brutally murdered by someone.

Inspired by 'Happy Death Day', this bunny sees Mary caught in the timeloop, forced to relive the same day over and over until she manages to survive the night and prevent her own death. And the deaths of others as her killer has no problem killing others. Thus we get a Mary who is at first frazzled and then... well... started to get a dark thrill out of just doing whatever she wants in a loop knowing that it won't be the one to break the curse. Like knocking on Matthew's door and when he opens it he finds her standing there completely naked and she begins to try and convince all of Downton to become a nudist colony. Or demanding that Evelyn has besmirched her honor and getting into a duel with him. Or making out with Daisy in front of her family because hey, everyone is curious.

The one thing I would like to see is the killer isn't obvious. Heck, I'd do it that in one loop we get Pamuk's little seduction/rape and Mary dies and thinks "Okay, it is him" so she beats the tar out of him... only to die. Get rid of the most obvious choice and really make people guess.