"Well Miss. Moorsum why don't you tell me a bit about yourself," Matron Crawley said, shifting in her chair a touch. Jane instantly got the impression that her new employer wasn't used to doing interviews. That wasn't all that surprising, as Jane had never envisioned a nurse to be doing administrative work. In her mind she saw nurses running about changing sheets and giving shots and thumping on chests of men who were near death, fighting off the metaphysical reaper with each strike of their fists. The idea of shuffling papers and holding interviews didn't fit into her vision of what they were supposed to do but she supposed that it was better for one that had been in the "trenches", so to speak, to decide what was needed rather than some man in a stuffy suit that had only seen blood when he'd cut himself shaving.
And yet Matron Crawley, even with that new vision, was still nothing like she had expected.
The name had conjured images of a thick stout woman with a keg-like body and thick arms and a flat worn face. A thunderous woman with a voice that rattled the heavens and hair that was a mix of black and steel. A true battle axe of a woman who could bark orders and make everyone hop to attention. Her new boss though was none of these things. No, the young woman before her was beautiful, with delicate features and a soft build better suited for chaise lounges than field hospitals. Even her voice was breathy, as if she were using all her strength to barely get out a loud whisper. There was an awkwardness to her, with the way she kept fiddling with the buttons on her uniform and shifted in her seat.
Jane fought back a grimace, doubt gnawing at her about this position and if it truly was the right thing for her.
'But you need this,' she reminded herself. 'You need this.'
So she put on her best smile, the same one she'd worn when the conscription letter had arrived, and locked eyes with Matron Crawley. The woman, to her credit, returned the look with a friendly smile and solid stare of her own. "Well, first I should say that it is Mrs. Moorsum."
"My apologizes," Matron Crawley said. "I didn't want to assume."
"It is perfectly fine. I am originally from Manchester-" Matron Crawley's eyes lit up at that and Jane blinked in surprise. "Yes?"
"My brother-in-law, Matthew, is originally from Manchester," Matron Crawley said. "His mother, Isobel Crawley, taught me everything I know about nursing. I would ask if you knew them but I suppose that might be a touch insulting to assume everyone from Manchester must know each other."
"Quite alright," Jane said, quietly pleased that at the very least Matron Crawley actually did have some nursing experience.
"What made you decide to come to Downton?" her employer asked.
"My husband was conscripted in 1916. One of the very first." She grimaced a bit as she replayed what she had just said. "I hope you don't think less of us for him not signing up at the start of the war. It was my choice… I begged him not to go and he agreed but-"
"Had you he would have been gone longer," Matron Crawely said firmly but with an understanding smile all the same. "It's all right… I understand completely. I am not like some that judge others for their choosing family over country. In fact I think it speaks very highly of your husband that he listened to your desires."
Jane blushed at that. "We have a son, Freddy, and I wanted him to have his father around. It is only proper that a boy have a father who can teach him what he needs to know. It didn't seem right for him that Harry would be across the Channel on the continent. Would break his heart. Even now it bothers him, though he does his best to hide it… he knows I worry." She shook her head even as she smiled with pride. "Such a brilliant chap."
"Your husband is still overseas then?"
"Yes. We had hoped that it would be for a short while, that the draft would give us enough strength to push on and finally drive the Germans back, but it seems that we remain stuck in the mud even now."
"War sadly has a way of doing that. It is only later that the historians are able to look back and show us all the moving parts we didn't see when we were focused on the stillness of it all." Her new employer tilted her head slightly in thought. "Where does… Harry?"
"Yes, Harry."
"Where is he now? And who is he with?"
"The Reserve army," Jane stated.
"The Fifth."
"Excuse me?"
"They were the Reserve Army until last October," her new employer stated. "Then they became the Fifth Army under General Sir Hubert Gough." She made a face. "General Sir. That is a rather awkward title, isn't it?" Jane managed a smile at that but she was more startled by the fact that her new employer seemed to know the make up of the army and who led each part of it. Something in her face must of let on to her surprise because Matron Crawley wagged her eyebrows a touch and smirked. "I am very good friends with General Allen Lothrop… it is hard not to retain such things. He fought at the Somme?"
"He did," Jane said, looking down at her hands, squeezing the fingers of her left hand with her right. "He… he was very lucky. He tries very hard to mask how much danger he is in but I can read it in his letters that he stood on the razor's edge between life and death."
"The soldiers I've cared for have told me before that out there it feels like God and the Devil are playing with dice to determine who lives or dies." She grimaced. "I'm sorry. That was rather harsh of me."
"But true nonetheless," Jane said. It was blasphemous to talk in such a way but Jane didn't exactly have the greatest relationship with the Lord at the moment. She knew that she should be on her knees giving thanks that Harry was still alive but she also knew that any day could come the letter that he had fallen. When the Lord cared so little about her and her family why should she care if someone talked so casually about Him? "He made it through that battle but I fear what else might come. The Germans seem willing to throw everyone at us and our only answers are to surrender or do so in kind. I wonder if, when all the men are gone, if they will finally come to their senses or if it will be us next who man the lines."
"Part of me wishes I could claim that we would meet with the German women and solve all of this in a few hours," Matron Crawley said with an amused huff. "And yet I know how fiercely women can fight and worry that it would only make the War last longer. You have a son?"
"Yes," Jane said, feeling a bit better being on this footing. Her new employer was proving to be far different than she expected and just when she felt as if she had a grasp on her and her moods she would suddenly change and behave in new and different ways. "Freddy. He is ten now but will be 11 soon. A brilliant child. I know all mothers think that but this isn't merely my love for him making me see talent where there is none. I have spoken with his teachers and they believe he could do grand things." She looked up at Matron Crawley and gave a polite smile. "That is why I sought out this job."
"I wondered. I got the sense it wasn't out of boredom, not if you were a mother."
"Yes, mother's work is never boring. Do you have children?" Her new employer paled slightly at that and Jane quickly said, "I'm sorry! I shouldn't-"
"It's… it's okay," she said, raising a hand. "No. I am not."
'She's lying,' Jane thought to herself. 'But not out of shame or fear. Sorrow. It's out of sorrow.'
Matron Crawley cleared her throat. "You sought it for Freddy?"
"I did," Jane hurried to say, wanting to get things back on track. "He is… well, he is brilliant in so many things but mathematics is where he truly shines. I believe that he could become a professor and scholar one day and for that to happen he needs the best in schooling. I looked into a few but the cost… Harry's pay from the Army helps us survive well enough but with this job I could pay for Freddy to truly get the education he deserves, that he needs." She folded her hands into her lap once more. "If you are worried about him there is no need to be concerned. My mother has moved down here to watch him while I work… Dr. Clarkson arranged for me to have one of the houses in the village. They aren't in use that much at the moment so it was little trouble finding an empty one. It is actually near his own, so it will be rather nice to have a neighbor I know."
Matron Crawley smiled at that. "I am glad you have everything arranged and settled. But please, if you run into any problems let me know. I can get by a day or so without you should your mother become sick and you need to watch Freddy."
"Thank you but that shouldn't be necessary. Mrs. Bates said that she would watch Freddy if something came up."
"Anna is a good woman," Matron Crawely stated.
"You know her?"
That amused her new employer, who leaded forward and regarded her with interest. "Tell me Jane… just what do you know about me? Other than my position, I mean."
She swallowed at that, hoping that this wasn't her being set up for some sort of trap. "I'll be honest that I know very little, save for your name."
"I thought as much," Matron Crawley stated. "I could tell when I entered I wasn't the type of woman you were expecting. My age, wasn't it?" Jane nodded, bashful, but her employer laughed. "It is quite fine. I must admit that I am surprised myself how far I have risen. I joined to expecting to empty bedpans and now find myself helping to run a convalescence home. But tell me… Dr. Clarkson said nothing of me?"
"He said it wasn't his place," she said. "He said it was your story to tell."
"Cheeky man," Matron Crawely said. "I suppose though he knew how awkward this would all be."
"Awkward?"
"Yes. My name is Sybil Crawley. My father is Robert Crawley… the Earl of Grantham."
Jane's eyes went wide at THAT bit of news. "Then… then Downton-"
"Was my family home, yes."
She took a breath, let it out slowly, and then realized that no, that wasn't nearly enough and let out a longer, stronger sigh. To her credit Matron Crawley merely smiled and wait… "Oh! Should I address you as Lady Sybil than? Or Matron Crawley?"
"Let us go with just 'Sybil'."
"I… no, I couldn't do that."
"I must insist," Lady Syb-Matron Craw-whatever her name was said gently yet with a firmness like steel. "We are going to be working very close with one another and will see each other in the best and worst of lights and it won't do to be caught up with titles." She rose. "Besides… my sisters and I went into exile 2 years ago so I don't know if you could truly call us 'Lady' anymore." Jane sat back in her chair as if she had been struck but… Sybil… merely chuckled. "Yes, you've walked into that kind of drama."
And suddenly Jane was having her doubts but for very different reasons.
~MC~MC~MC~
The first thing Matthew noted as the car rambled up the long road that led to the Abbey was just how busy it was.
Normally the drive up to the Big House was easy enough even in the worst conditions and in fact it had been common for people to walk up the road without a care in the world, making their way too or from the house without a second glance. Matthew had taken the leisurely stroll from the village to the grand estate many times and on the rare occasion he'd encountered a vehicle he'd had more than enough time to shift over to the other side and left them pass. In fact once or twice the auto had stopped and he'd had a polite conversation with Cousin Cora or Mary or whoever else happened to be coming or going.
But today that would never have been possible.
They'd seen it when they'd first gotten off the train and witnessed just how many were disembarking from the station but Matthew hadn't truly put together what that meant until the drive out of the village. All manner of vehicles were making their way up and down the long road, forming long trains of their own. A few were like their own but most were trucks, from the squat stubby ones the vendors liked to use to transport fruits and vegetables and meats, to the large towering close-top trucks that one would find normally only in London, rumbling like dragons and belching out black smoke as they made their way. Once the chauffer had actually been forced to steer their auto to the side of the road so that a truly monstrous vehicle going to opposite way could get past.
Sybil and Matthew had shared a look at that but being around Jane Moorsum had forced them to hold their tongues. Yet now that Matthew had gotten out of the auto and looked up at the swarming chaos that was occurring in front of Downton he could more easily speak to Sybil over the cacaphony. Laborers were grunting as they lifted up crates while their foremans barked orders and men in uniform moved about and examined things, directing them to this room or that floor to unload their cargo. Matthew could hear the distant sounds of hammering and sawing and occasionally a shape would move past one of the upper windows, far too often to be one of the maids going about their business.
"Was it like this the first time?" Matthew asked. When he had come to Downton it had first been as part of his tour for the recruitment drive and Downton had been settling into its new role. After that it had been on a stretcher and he hadn't truly been in the mood to pay attention to anything until the War finally came to an end and he was snapped out of his depression. "This... madness?"
"No," Sybil whispered, reaching up and taking his arm. "If it had been I dare say Papa would have never allowed them through the door."
"What do you think it means?" Matthew asked.
"You mean does it speak well to our hope that he has finally come to his senses?" she asked. "Perhaps... but I will need to see more. This could be Granny putting on a show for us."
"I find that hard to believe... no, wait, I don't," Matthew said with a slight smile. "With your grandmother I could see her doing many things I would never expect." Sybil smiled at that and the two of them made to follow the rest of their group to the house.
"Ah," a tall fellow with a long face dressed in a similar uniform as Matthew's said as he spotted them. "Lt. Col. Matthew Crawley, I presume?"
Matthew quickly snapped off a salute. "It is, sir."
The man returned it. "Lieutenant General Sir Herbert Strutt."
"The Hero of the Somme," Matthew said, squaring his shoulders up a bit more. He remembered Strutt well from both his lives. In each he had been one of the key turning points in the Battle of the Somme that had saved many English lives from falling into a German trap. The first time he had gone through the War he had been one of the soldiers that had been saved, though he had been too bashful to admit it to the man. 'And now I am completely unable to without sounding mad,' he thought to himself.
"Please, please," Lt. Gen. Strutt stated with a slight smile, hand raised in a placating manner. "I get enough of that throughout London. I am merely here to do a final inspection before we get underway."
"Seems like you've been doing more than that," Sybil said before giving a small curtsey. "Principal Matron Sybil Crawley."
"Principal Matron LADY," Strutt said. "If I get stuck with everyone calling me 'sir' then it is only fair you have 'lady' added to your title."
"I don't suppose we could avoid that?" Sybil asked.
"Hardly. Though I'm not surprised… anyone that Ol' Kettle takes under his protection tends to scorn such things."
Matthew raised an eyebrow at that. "Ol' Kettle?"
"General Allen Lothrop," Strutt stated. "It's an old name, before this war and before your time, I would say. They called him that because Gen. Lothrop would look all calm but you could tell when he was getting angry, the pressure building until… well, you can imagine."
"Yes, I can," Matthew said, thinking of Allen's tale of his fight with Robert. "I wasn't aware you and the General knew each other."
"Not close friends," Strutt admitted. "The age difference makes that a bit awkward and he isn't one to seek out those with titles just to make connections. Still, with the army the circle of friends is always smaller than one would expect." He turned and waved to one group of soldiers working on trying to lift up a crate. "There is a dolly over there, by the third truck! Use that, it will be far easier." The men quickly nodded and set down the crate, much to their own relief, and one hurried to get the tool.
"Seems you are doing more than inspecting," Sybil stated.
Strutt nodded, letting out an embarrassed laugh. "I couldn't help it. I am supposed to take the tour with all of you but arrived sooner and I do hate to sit around doing nothing. So I set about organizing the men… don't get me wrong, they were doing a fine job but sometimes it helps to have someone who can see the wider view of things."
"Such is the way with all things in life," Matthew said before turning and waving towards the rest of their group. "Forgive me… I have forgotten my manners. May I introduce Mrs. Jane Moorsum. She is Sybil's new assistant and aide."
"Hello Mrs. Moorsum," Strutt said, offering the woman her hand. She blushed but took it, clearly startled by how friendly he was being. Matthew felt a touch of anger at the military brass who held their noses in the air and acted like they were gods among men and far better than the people they were supposed to be fighting for. Their actions tainted them all and thus people like Jane were shocked when they were kind and down to earth.
"Harry. The Somme." Sybil whispered to him.
Matthew, catching on, spoke up. "Mrs. Moorsum's husband fought at the Somme, sir."
"Did he know?" Strutt asked. "Who was he with?"
Jane swallowed but, to her credit, said in a clear and strong voice, "the Fifth Army now, sir. He's still fighting on the front."
"Still," Strutt muttered to himself. "When was he supposed to be relieved?"
"Two months ago."
"Hmmm." the man said and Matthew already knew that even with Sybil contacting Allen about Jane's husband (and there was never any doubt in his mind that Sybil would happily go to Allen with the information and plead with him to make some inquiries) Strutt would be making his own interests in the man known. It made him smile all the more as Jane looked at him, befuddled by the man's reaction. "Well, it is a pleasure to meet you Jane." He looked over to Tom next, who offered his hand.
"Tom Branson."
For some odd reason the fact that Tom was shaking Strutt's hand made Sybil let out gurgling little coughs. Not laughter but something else, though only Matthew noticed.
"Branson… Branson… ah, yes. You write for The Strand… no, The Sketch, do you not?"
"I do," Tom said, still putting on a charming half smile even as Matthew winced and hoped that Tom's socialist ways weren't going to come and bite them on the ass. While the rest of the London Family didn't mind at all what Tom wrote and in fact most of them tended to agree with some of his ideas (not all of them… even with their disgust with Robert and the upper class none of them, not even Thomas, were ready to grab the socialist flag and begin waving it about in front of Parliament) that didn't mean the rest of English society felt the same way. "I see my employer's desire to widen our readership has worked."
"Hardly. My wife loves it." Strutt gave Tom a challenging look. "She rather enjoys reading your columns to needle me."
"My apologizes then," Tom said with a good natured smile and Matthew relaxed a little when Strutt returned it.
"Think nothing of it. Frankly she feels the same way you do but your way of putting it is more..."
"Tasteful?"
"Involves less cursing."
Tom scoffed at that. "Please don't let my brother Liam ever hear that an English woman was able to curse more than me. I'd never hear the end of it."
"My lips are sealed." Strutt motioned for them to follow him towards the front door of Downton. "Truth be told I am rather pleased to see that your writing truly does reflect who you are. Too many of the rabble rousers are made to appear educated and cultured thanks to an editor's trimming and cutting. You though are just as your columns present."
"I've come to learn it does no good to scream into the wind; your words just blow back at you. I refuse to be the stereotype many make me out to be."
"Something I wish more objectors would learn. With you I feel we can have an actual conversation; with others I rather fear an attack. Lt. General Nickels went to a dinner party a few months back and some footman actually poured hot soup onto his head while screaming about ending the war."
Tom scoffed. "A desperate man... and a foolish one."
Sybil let out a gasping cough and all turned to see her doubled over, struggling for breath.
"Sorry," she finally wheezed. "Something in my throat." Matthew gave her a look but she merely fired off one of her own and he finally shrugged, realizing that he'd not get an answer from her at that time.
Strutt led them through the main door and Matthew wondered if Sybil was feeling the same strange sense of uneasy that was running down his spine. He had thought his first return to Downton would bring about the strangest sensations within him yet now as he looked about the place and how it had been altered not just from when he'd last seen it but from his first life and all that occurred... it was the oddest sensation in the world. Even though the main hall was mostly unchanged the stream of people moving about both the ground floor and the second story landing spoke that this Downton was far different. Workmen moved about to different rooms where Matthew could see heavy cloths draped over antique furniture while men and women in uniform buzzed about hauling beds and various medical equipment into other rooms. Never had he heard Downton be so utterly noisy before; the loudest sound had been the dinner gong but now it was the pounding of hammers and thumping of boxes and equipment being put into place.
"Are you alright?" Tom asked Sybil and Matthew looked over to see she was rather pale and not because of her coughing fit.
"I am. It's just... I feel as if I've stepped into a mirror and now everything is the same yet completely altered."
"Yes," Dr. Clarkson said, walking up to them with a smile, "I can imagine that is a good way to put it, Lady Crawley... oh, I'm sorry. Matron Crawley. Only proper... you earned that title."
"But did I?" Sybil asked. "I know Granny-"
"She played a role in things, yes," the doctor stated with the same weary air so many people who dealt with Violet Crawley adopted. "But I must admit that when i considered the candidates to work with me on this you did make the most sense. You as well, Col. Crawley. And not just because you are familiar with Downton but your work with the military and the medical corps. I hope that had your grandmother not become involved I would have sought you out anyway." He held out his hand and Matthew gave it a hearty handshake. "And Mr... Branson, correct?"
"It is," Tom said, taking Clarkson's offered hand. "I'm here to cover the hospital for The Sketch. Tales from the soldiers themselves, rather than those that think they can speak for them because they know their names and ranks. I hope to put a human face upon the tales coming out of France."
"So long as you do not get in the way and do not press anyone I have no problem with that. In fact it might be rather good for some of them. There had been talk into getting one of those psychologists to work with us… I thought it a waste but I won't deny that sometimes a man getting things off his chest can help greatly. Mrs. Moorsum, good to see you again." Sybil new assistant merely nodded and Clarkson finally addressed General Strutt. "Thank you for waiting, sir."
"Not a problem. I understand things are a bit chaotic right now."
"And will only get worse," Clarkson said as he motioned for them to follow him. "People have a vision of hospitals being peaceful places where nurses more glide than walk and doctors silently make their rounds. Nothing could be farther from the truth." He turned and smiled. "We of course mean to provide that for patients who do need quiet, but the fact remains that much of hospital life can be quite chaotic, at least on the side of the doctors and nurses."
Sybil quickly nodded her head in agreement. "It might be different if we were only dealing with patients that were in more serious states but we will have men that are recovering from surgeries or who have injuries that are less pronounced and less limiting. Thus care for them isn't keeping them strapped to a bed but just as much keeping their spirits up and minds active while also ensuring that they do not aggravate their injuries."
Matthew was glad he was hanging back; his stay at Downton hadn't been like that at all. Of course he had been far too busy brooding and focusing on the ruins his life had become to participate in table tennis games or the bingo night. It made him love that first Mary all the more for putting up with him and what an utter bastard he had been and mentally promise in her memory to treat the Mary he loved now with all the respect and care he could give.
"Exactly," Dr. Clarkson said as they began to move down the halls. "Lord Grantham has allowed us a lot of freedom when it comes to determining how to use Downton to care for the soldiers. Here, let me show you." He led them into one of the rooms Matthew had always called the 'Art Gallary'. Oh, it had some other term, the Smaller Sitting Room or something like that (though 'small' for Downton was all relative; a 'small meal' after all was a 5 course feast), but to Matthew it was always the Art Gallery. While it had chairs that, in theory, one could sit in he had never actually seen anyone sit in the room. No, whenever Matthew had entered that room it was with Robert to showcase some new piece he had managed to waste his money on. Some old artist or, just as likely, some artist who had studied under some great artist. He could see it clearly in his mind: the walls filled with oil on canvas depictions of grassy hills where blurry-faced picnickers lounged in the sun, all of them so similar that they blended together into a blob of green and blue with speckles of vaguely human-looking figures scattered throughout.
But that was how it had been... not as it was now.
The paintings were all gone and the oriental carpet had been rolled up and tucked away. The furniture had been replaced with padded wooden chairs and in the center of the room were two pool tables, the likes of which Matthew had seen in the more rowdy gentlemen clubs in London. A rack of cues hung on the wall and where once had been a massive piece depicting some large sailing vessel fighting to crest a wave (one of the few non-hilly scenes in the Gallery) there was now a chalk board that was clearly meant to allow people to keep score.
"This is one of the game rooms. We like to keep them a bit separate from where the men will rest, so that those that are in desperate need for sleep won't be awakened, but it is still close enough that the soldiers can get to there without wearing themselves out."
"My word..." Sybil whispered and Matthew didn't blame her. In their first life Robert had been rather forceful in what parts of Downton the hospital could take up. One of the libraries (but even then there had been a partition so that Robert could read his paper without actually looking at the soldiers), a few smaller rooms including the second breakfast room, the lesser dining room, and a few rooms upstairs. The nurses had been given a few guest rooms on the second floor and Matthew didn't remember where Dr. Clarkson had made his office but he vaguely remembered him having one. And even those rooms had been kept as close to their original design and purpose as possible; he still remembered finding it so odd that he slept in the library feet from where he and Robert had met to discuss new books that had been added. The hospital had worked around Downton and had been thankful for that.
'But this?'
"As I said, we want to give them something to take their mind off things," Clarkson said, not noticing the internal turmoil Sybil and Matthew were going through. "We've found that men, when allowed to brood on their injuries, are more likely to have slow progression. The mind is very powerful."
Strutt nodded. "Yes... and I imagine this will be good therapy for those that have been made lame to learn how to work with their new disabilities."
"Oh, most assuredly," Dr. Clarkson said. "This, along with the other game rooms-"
"I'm sorry," Sybil said, cutting in. "This isn't the only room changed? Is that what you are saying."
Clarkson, taking her exclamation to mean she disapproved, grimaced slightly. "I know it must be a shock but his Lordship was clear that we must help the men. We kept thinking that he would eventually tell us we were asking for too much but he was quick to agree to all our ideas. He, and the Dowager, were also firm in assisting in paying for the costs, stating that several of the businesses you yourself had helped set up, Col. Crawley, had given them enough resources to do so. Rest assure it will be restored..."
"It isn't that, Dr. Clarkson," Matthew stated. "I think Sybil and I are just startled that Robert has allowed so much. Having this," he waved his hand at the pool table room, "would be an amazing gift to the men that will be staying here. To know he has allowed more... it has left us rather muddled."
"Ah," the doctor said, cluing in at once.
Strutt though frowned. "I don't understand."
Sybil winced at his tone. "Papa and I have had a... falling out of sorts. We, along with my sisters, disagreed on certain things pertaining to the war."
The general nodded at that, even though he didn't have the full story. "Ah, of course. That does happen, sadly. Family tiffs have arisen during this War... after all, what is this war but a family squabble amongst the great houses of Europe."
"I dare say our feud might be a bit more intense than even that war," Tom jested lightly.
Matthew nodded. "Until this very moment none of us would ever have thought that Robert would do so much. Downton... Downton has been so very important to him. To know he altered... how many rooms?"
"Well, there is this room, another for table tennis that also has a few dart boards, and then..." Clarkson made a face and finally shrugged helplessly. "It is hard to give an accurate count. Lord Grantham has kindly emptied several rooms for us that we haven't put into use yet as I didn't think it fair that I was the only one to decide how to use them…"
He trailed off as they entered the library and Sybil and Matthew gaped at the changes made compared to the previous timeline. Gone was the cloth partition that divided the room and instead the entire space had been made ready for the soldiers that would be coming in. More beds were set up, along with privacy currents, and for the beds facing away from the windows many of the paintings from the Art Gallery had been moved so that they might get a glimpse of something other than the wood walls. A few nurses were already moving about with equipment and soldiers were putting the final pieces in place for the men that would be arriving soon. Everything felt… larger. Space given so that there wasn't the restrictive feel that both of the time travelers had become used to thanks to their first round through the War.
"Yes, I think this will do very nicely," Strutt muttered to himself, not noticing how shell-shocked Matthew and Sybil were. "I was afraid Lord Grantham would only make a token gesture but clearly he has sought to do all he can for the men that will be staying here." He turned to Dr. Clarkson. "I am pleased and will be happy to report to the War Office all you have done. I'll make another visit in a few weeks, once the men are settled, but I think we'll be staying out of your hair with all this. You all seem to have it firmly in hand." He shook all their hands and fired off a quick salute before marching out of the door, leaving the group and Clarkson looking about at the final preparations.
"Well, I think we can rest easy now that that is settled," he motioned for the others to follow him and, like Alice being given an early chance to escape Wonderland, Sybil and Matthew happily fled. They made their way back to the main staircase and Clarkson gestured toward the second floor. "Mr. Branson, you will have been given a guess room on the 3rd floor next to Mr… Col Crawley." He grimaced a bit at that. "it will take a while to get used to these titles for all of us."
"And I won't fault you for slip ups," Matthew stated.
"I am just beyond him. The dressing rooms have been converted into offices for all of us… yours as well, Mr. Branson, as Sir Gregson stated you would need to work on your articles in a place of peace and quiet."
"Thank you," Tom said with a nod.
"I'll show you where they are." He gestured for them to follow and they began to trek up the grand staircase. "Matron Crawley, it was decided to give you a new room rather than your old one so that you would be with the other nurses, as well as provide you with an office of your own. If that is to your liking?"
"Very much so," Sybil stated. "Thank you for thinking that… when word gets out that this was my childhood home I will be fighting with enough false perceptions to not need to deal with another caused by me sleeping in my girlhood room."
"You are welcome but to be honest it was the Dowager Countess who suggested it." They reached the second story then straight to the 3rd and Clarkson waved to the right. "We've converted several of the 3rd story bedrooms for the nursing staff we are bringing in and installed at the end of the hall, next to your room, a locking door similar to what is used for the female servants' wing here. You'll be in control of the keys for that, so you will need to get with Mrs. Hughes to retrieve them; she has been handling that for us until you arrived. Mrs. Moorsum, your room is next to Matron Crawley's and an interconnection doorway has been installed so that you might meet with her more easily. Mr. Molesley has seen to it that your luggage was already delivered so I can show you all that in a moment. But I think we should have a meeting now, the three of us-" he gestured at Matthew and Sybil, "-to discuss the day-to-day running of the hospital."
"That is perfectly acceptable," Matthew stated. "Both of us are used to working long hours. We can eat a quick meal, if needed, while discussing matters."
"Very good," Clarkson said, clearly pleased that they weren't putting on airs or demanding to be treated like it was before the war and they were the high nobility and he was the lowly country doctor. "Mr. Branson, you are free to explore the first and second floor… we've coverted the 2nd into recovery rooms for those with more serious injuries as well as the occasional high ranking man who joins us… and Mrs. Moorsum we'll get you settled in your room." Clarkson looked about for one of the staff or nurses to show Jane to her room only for a door to open and a familiar figure to emerge. "Ah, Mr. Carson!" Clarkson called out. "Would you mind-"
Carson, who had been carrying a ledger in his hand, dropped the heavy leather bound book to the floor with a dull thud, his face as pale as icy cream and eyes so wide the black of his pupils nearly overtook everything else.
"…Lady Sybil?" he whispered.
And with that Matthew lunged forward as Carson began to topple, catching the larger man just in time to save a bit of his dignity.
"I get the feeling not everyone knew we were coming," Matthew said dryly.
~MC~MC~MC~
Author's Notes: Not much to discuss here, process wise when it comes to creating this chapter and the plot bunny idea is a rather small one so we'll get done with that before letting guys review the chapter:
Premise is very simple: What is Rosamund's husband, Marmaduke the businessman, had not died young and instead been around for the entire series. How would things have gone with Matthew if there had been someone else who had joined with the Crawley family who had an understanding of working for your money. What would happen if Matthew and him began to bond and some, like the Dowager, began to fear that Matthew and Rosamund and Marmaduke were plotting to steal Downton away from Robert?
