Elsie quietly sipped her tea while leafing through the newspaper, pausing to glance at articles but not really stopping ay any particular one. Mostly because she knew she didn't have time to truly get invested in any of them, as her break would be done in a few minutes. Still, it didn't hurt to take a moment to see if there was anything truly appealing that she'd mentally mark for examining later on. She didn't read the paper often, understanding that it was more of a 'manly exercise', but she would on occasion browse it when there weren't many around.
'Though, not really a good atmosphere for reflective reading at the moment, is it?' As if to prove her point there was a great clatter that made everyone in the servant's hall flinch.
"Honestly now, would you be careful?" Mrs. Patmore bellowed from the kitchen. "You'll destroy the floor if you keep dropping things like that and I doubt his Lordship will appreciate having to spend any more money down here. Especially on something as frivolous as this. Not that it will be frivolous when someone trips in that crater you've made and spills my roasted duck all over the ground! Do you want the Earl of Grantham to be eating duck that has fallen on the ground? I wouldn't serve that to one of my kitchen maids, let alone someone of his standing! But that is what will happen if you keep dropping things."
"Leave the men alone, Mrs. Patmore," Elsie called out, turning her head only slightly.
The cook of Downton stomped in, red faced and wringing her hands in one of her dish towels. "But they are making such a mess and if they damage the floor-"
"Did they actually damage the floor?"
"Well… no, they haven't. But-"
"They are working to help you, Mrs. Patmore," she reminded her. "His Lordship has very kindly sought to update the kitchen and provide you with a new oven, pans, even a new countertop. And these man are needed to get it all installed. So please consider that… and also consider that they might be able to move about easier if you weren't hovering about them like a mother hen waiting for her eggs to hatch."
"I just don't trust them not to muck everything up. Workmen have no place in a kitchen… they bring in dirt on their boots and they have who knows what under their fingernails and the last thing I need is them poking at the flour or sugar."
"Aren't we all out of flour?" Sophie asked with a smile that was about as sweet as a scorpions.
"No but rest assured I'll make sure your meal is the last one's made when it does!" Mrs. Patmore snapped at the maid that had far too much spitfire for Elsie's taste.
Ethel, never one to leave a conversation alone that she could smash her away into, looked up from the novel she was reading (and if Elsie had to guess she'd say it was a tawdry thing that would be better served lighting fires in the house) and said, "You know I read somewhere that that Italians never replace their pans. In fact they don't bother to clean them either. They feel that the years… decades really... of built up food on them adds to the flavor of the dish and that removing that is to remove the soul of the meal."
"Oh, well I'll make sure I remember that the next time I'm cooking for the King of Italy. Or the Pope. Or… or whoever is in charge of Italy." With that Mrs. Patmore stormed off, Ethel merely raising an eyebrow before returning to her reading.
Elsie though stared at the two maids, lips pursed and brow knotted. "I would suggest you heed my advice as well and leave the workmen alone." Sophie opened her mouth but Elsie continued on. "Don't think I haven't seen how you flutter about them like bees to new flowers. You have left your tasks unfulfilled several times now this week alone so you might converse with them and pull them away from their own tasks and believe me it hasn't gone unnoticed by Mr. Carson. And his Lordship will notice soon enough, as will Dr. Clarkson and his staff. And heaven forbid you begin distracting the nurses when they are supposed to care for the patients. If you lead to someone dying under this roof because you wished to talk of fashion or some article you read-"
"We wouldn't bother the nurses, Mrs. Hughes," Sophie stated. "We know they have important work and besides there is very little we'd have in common with them. We keep Downton running smoothly and they have their elbows deep in blood and excrement."
"Watch your language," Elsie warned. "I will not have such foul comments be heard at this table."
"As for the workmen," Ethel stated, leaping happily into a conversation that she would have been wise to remain out of, "I don't see the harm in that. Everything is on schedule."
"And how do you know that?"
"Because if it wasn't Mr. Carson would be complaining that they were falling behind, now wouldn't he?"
Elsie mentally had to admit that Ethel was right on that but she wasn't about to reward the arrogant maid with that knowledge and instead said, "They have important work they need to complete. They are serving their country by helping us care for the wounded soldiers. You delaying them with your shameless flirting does no good."
"I don't know about that," Ethel said. "A man can not live on work alone. Sometimes they need to know that there is something… fun… waiting for them at the end of their shift. One of the men has already asked me to dine with him the next time I have a night off."
"Which man?" Sophie asked, surprised.
"As if I would say," Ethel laughed. "If I gave him up Mrs. Hughes would most likely see him fired or you would try to snatch him away yourself. No… better to keep his name a secret, I think. At least until I am sure he is worth my time."
Elsie truly loathed Ethel and her higher-than-thou attitude. She had met plenty of servants who held themselves above others but usually that was within the structure of service. It was rare to meet someone who thought they were too good to be a maid or a valet yet continued on all the same. 'Mostly because they would get a good kick in the teeth before being tossed out the door if they talked like that before the War,' she thought. But as the fighting had dragged on the need for women to replace men conscripted led to a shortage of maids as many young women found that it was far more profitable to head to large towns, London especially, to work in factories. Others would sign on to act as nurses or secretaries for the Army, something that Elsie couldn't fault them for. She'd become so desperate at one point before finding Ethel that she'd tried to bring Gwen back, offering her twice her normal salary only for the young woman to politely thank her but inform her that the telephone company she worked for had gotten such a large contract with the Government (and she had proven so invaluable to her employers) that she was making more than Elsie herself did. She'd wished her well and then mentally wondered about begging for a job from Gwen; if it weren't for her loyalty to Mr. Carson she would have done just that.
But as a result Ethel knew that threats to toss her out were now rather empty unless she truly pressed her luck. She could talk back and only risk getting the worst of chores but already with them being so short-handed everyone was trading on and off for such tasks already so that wasn't much.
As she sat there smug and proud at her "victory" though Elsie decided it was finally time to reveal to the young woman the solution she had found for her maid problem.
"Oh? And just where will you and this gentlemen be eating then? Certainly not here, as I doubt Mrs. Patmore will be interested in making a special treat for you."
"I CERTAINLY AM NOT!" the cook shouted from the kitchen.
Ethel shrugged and smiled politely. "Of course not. No offense to Mrs. Patmore but I will be looking for something a bit different for this dinner. Something outside of Downton."
"Well, I hope you'll be able to eat quick, that way you don't miss your train." She sipped her tea and mentally counted how long it would take Ethel to-
"Train?" the maid asked, no rather confused. "What train?"
"Why the one to London, of course! Though I suppose you could try Rippon so I should say run very very fast."
Ethel smiled but there was none of her earlier confidence in that upturn of her lips. Sophie, on the other hand, was struggling to hide her grin as she clearly sniffed the blood in the air and like a jackal was ready to pounce once she spotted the kill. "Well… why ever would I need to go that far? The village-"
"Oh, were you thinking perhaps of going to the Grantham Arms? They are, after all, the only true place to sit down and have a proper meal. I can see where you would assume that. But I had a talk recently with Mrs. Bates and she agreed that it was important for the workers who are assisting us to remain focused on their tasks. Especially since you never know who might be married and it would be such a horrid thing to be known as the place that allowed adulterers to dine. As such they will be refusing service to any servants who go down there for a bite unless approved by Mr. Carson and myself. And they will be getting with the foremen of the workers as well, to give them the same news."
Not only was Ethel staring at her with dawning horror but so was Sophie as well. Elsie was under no illusions that the dark-haired maid had been plotting her own romantic interlude with one of the men working on renovating and preparing Downton and been hoping to see Ethel's hopes dashed while hers rose.
"You… you can't do that!" Ethel exclaimed.
"Me?" Elsie said with mock surprise. "I have done nothing. But feel free to take it up with Mrs. Bates. Go… tell her how she is wrong and evil. I'm sure she'll change her mind right away when you give your side of things and won't turn you out on your ear. And I am also sure that she won't go to Mr. Bates…" The maids paled at that; Mr. Bates had gained a reputation during Anna's pregnancy for being one of the fiercest men in the area after some drunken sot who'd been passing through thought it wise to give Anna a pat on the bottom. He'd thought Mr. Bates, being old and lame, would meekly allow it or at most rant from a chair. He hadn't expected the man to surge forth, crack his cane across the back of his head, and then toss him out of the door before chasing him out of the village. It had happened in broad daylight with many witnesses and Mr. Bates' calm "Good afternoon" as he had straightened his jacket and limped back to the Grantham Arms to wash the blood from his shirt had caused the tale to spread all the way to the house. Mr. Carson had nodded his head in approval and even admitted that his Lordship, for the first time in a while, complimented Mr. Bates on his actions.
Ethel and Sophie impotently stewed in the unfairness of it all when the bell rang upstairs. Elsie, deciding that it would be useless to command them to handle it, decided to go herself, especially since the bell was coming from one of the unused rooms.
"Probably one of the workers accidently caught the cord on something," she said to herself as she made her way up the narrow staircase before moving to the main floor. It had happened before, early on when the construction crews had first arrived to begin renovating and converting the house into a convalescence home. A man would be trying to tuck things away and accidently tug on the bell cord and then sheepishly apologize and ask if there was any way to disconnect it (there wasn't, of course, and that only led to more embarrassment). A few times it had been out of curiosity, where someone had pulled on one wondering what it did or wanting to see how it worked not expecting a maid to hurry up the stairs. She'd never caught someone trying to use it to actually summon a maid but honestly she wouldn't have been surprised if it began happening, what with how the maids were constantly batting their eyes at the men as they worked. "Those girls need to grow up very quick," Elsie muttered as she reached the top of the stairs and made her way towards the guest room that had rung. She dreaded what they would be like when the soldiers arrived… probably be slathering makeup and perfume on and strutting about the rows of beds smiling coyly at any man they spotted-
"Oh, Mrs. Hughes, thank goodness," Mr. Branson said, waving her to follow him. "I'm afraid Mr. Carson has had quite a spill and we were hoping for some assistance."
"Of course," Elsie said, following after him only to stop dead as he mind caught up to her body. "Mr. Branson?" she exclaimed, not carrying that she'd spoken far too loud for where she was standing. "What… whatever are you-"
"So it wasn't just Mr. Carson that wasn't informed of our arrival," he said with a good natured huff. "I suppose no one on the staff was alerted? Well, you'll have to tell them as I don't want Daisy to see me and have a fit. She might think I was a ghost, the way her imagination is."
Elsie followed after Mr. Branson in a daze, barely registering that he slowed and offered his arm to her. She accepted it and let him quickly lead her to the guest room where- "Mr. Carson!" she exclaimed, seeing the butler lying on the bed. That alone would have been an utter shock but the fact that his shoes and coat had been removed and Dr. Clarkson was hovering over him left Elsie nearly needing care herself. She marshaled though and hurried over to the other side, taking hold of the man's hand and giving it a squeeze. "Is he all right?"
"Oh yes, I think so now," Dr. Clarkson said. "He didn't hit his head or anything like that, which is good. It's just the shock of it all."
"Will you be okay?" Lady Sybil asked her, leaning down and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"I will be fine, my lady, just-" Her eyes nearly bugged out of her skull and she nearly toppled on top of Mr. Carson as she saw the youngest of the Crawley girls standing before her in a military uniform. "L-Lady Sybil!"
"No one told them," Mr. Branson said dryly from the corner.
"Of course they didn't," Mr. Crawley ('Mr. Crawley!') said with a huff. "Why am I not surprised in the slightest?"
"What… what are you all… is everyone-" Elsie looked about wildly but Lady Sybil gave her a firm shake so that her attention snapped back to her.
"Breathe, Mrs. Hughes, breathe," she said gently but firmly. "Or I will send you to another bed and force you to lie down as well."
"By all means, Mrs. Hughes, please calm yourself," Mr. Carson said with a groan. "I have already made myself a fool there is no need for you to do the same."
Mr. Branson smiled. "How long have you been awake?"
"For a bit now," he admitted, "but I wanted to gather myself before revealing that. I have already behaved in a way unbefitting a man of my station and-OMPF!" He let out a groan as Mrs. Hughes gave him a smack on the shoulder. He gave her a wounded look but she was having none of it.
"You silly man!" she exclaimed. "Giving us a fright when you were perfectly fine."
"Well, not perfectly fine," Dr. Clarkson said, reaching over and checking Mr. Carson's pulse once more. "You still fainted and I do not like the rhythm of your heart. A touch too fast for my tastes, especially after you took that spill."
Mr. Carson paled a bit at that, eyes widening. "Are… are you saying I am unwell, doctor?"
"Oh no, no no no," the physician stated. "At least not in the way I imagine you are thinking."
"well?" Elsie asked, staring at the doctor. "What is wrong with him?"
"I… don't really know if I should say…" he looked at Mr. Crawley, Mr. Branson, and Lady Sybil, his message clear.
Mr. Carson though sat up a bit more. "Doctor, let me assure you that so long as it isn't of a dangerous nature I am strong enough to handle you speaking of my care in front them… if they do not mind."
Dr. Clarkson gave a weak shrug and stated, "The fact of the matter is that I doubt think you would have taken quite as bad a spill if you were a bit more… physically active."
"… I don't understand. Are you saying that I am lazy?"
"Not at all."
"Because I'll have you know that I do much in this house-"
"Oh for Heaven's sake," Elsie exclaimed. "He's saying you could stand to lose a few stones!"
The butler blinked at that; clearly he hadn't been expecting that answer.
"I… what?"
"Well," she said, "clearly you have noticed that you are no longer the same size you were years ago when you started."
"Well… yes, of course." He reached down and tugged at his shirt a bit. "But I don't see why that is a problem. A larger frame is a sign of good breeding, after all."
"Actually we have found that it can cause stresses on the body," Dr. Clarkson interjected, but Mr. Carson glared at him and he quickly shut his mouth with a snap.
"I simply can't believe that. It has been held for centuries that the most dignified were of a… stouter form."
Elsie though shook her head. "And it never occurred to you that the only ones who were saying that were the ones adding weight to their gullets?" She turned to the other three. "Well?"
Lady Sybil, Mr. Branson, and Mr. Crawley all looked at her like startled children caught by an aunt that loved to pinch cheeks, eyes wide and terror written on their face.
"Well, now that you are settled I should get back to seeing to the setting up of the hospital. Matron Crawley, Lt. Col. Crawley, I will see you both in an hour in my office. It is on the first floor in what was the Blue Room."
"Of course, Doctor," Lady Sybil said with a smile.
"Well… now that we have that settled," Elsie said even as Mr. Carson muttered that things certainly weren't settled and he didn't need to lose weight, "I hope you won't leave either of us in suspense and will tell us why you are here."
It was Mr. Branson, much to her annoyance, who spoke first. Not because he spoke, as she did want to know why he was there, but rather because she wanted the others to talk first. "My editor, Sir Michael Gregson, and Edith sent me here to interview the soldiers."
"Edith?" Mr. Carson said sternly. "That is Lady Edith Crawley. I will not-" Elsie elbowed him and he shot her a look. "You hit me."
"I did. And before you think otherwise I did it on purpose to keep you from being foolish. Mr. Branson works with Lady Edith, you know that. They write articles together. I imagine they are quite close."
"Very," Mr. Branson stated with a smile.
When Mr. Carson glowered at that Mr. Crawley stepped in. "It is purely friendship, Mr. Carson. Nothing scandalizing. Edith is engaged to Sir Michael, after all."
"Yes, we heard the news. I wanted to send my well wishes but didn't know where to send the letter."
"I'll make sure it gets to her," Mr. Branson stated before looking at a still gloomy Mr. Carson. "But he is right… it is purely friendly."
"Mostly because I don't share," Lady Sybil said with a teasing smile.
"…my lady?" Mr. Carson squawked.
"I wanted you to know because I imagine someone will see something while we are here and I don't want any gossip downstairs that Tom is doing anything wrong. We are courting." With that she walked up and took Mr. Branson's hand and for a moment Elsie thought they'd need to call for Dr. Clarkson again, Mr. Carson had grown so gray in the face.
"Well Sybil, you certainly were subtle there," Mr. Crawely groused.
And thus the three of them told Mr. Carson and her the entire story. It was touch and go at the beginning, for Elise had to admit at several points that the full story was unknown to her (and Mr. Carson though the silly man would never admit that he was lacking knowledge). While she had learned much thanks to her visits with Anna there simply were parts of their life they had never discussed and thus needed to be filled in by the three.
It took nearly 30 minutes but finally the two had the complete tale and Elsie looked at each of them, brimming with pride. Especially for Mr. Branson and Lady Sybil. The former she had always known was destined for more than a simple life in service and the latter she had watched grow from a wee babe into the confident woman before her. For Mr. Crawley she felt the pride any true Englishwoman would feel to see one rise through the ranks and cloak themselves with honor.
"Well, I am delighted that all has worked out for each of you and I am quite happy you will be here to see us through this time." She looked at Mr. Carson who was working his jaw as if he were chewing on the new information. "And I am sure Mr. Carson is thrilled for you as well."
The man blustered at that, of course, but she was surprised at the indignation in his voice as he responded, "Of course I am! Why would I not be? I will admit that I am not overly fond of Mr. Branson's articles but it is clear from his telling that he takes such a stance so that this Edgar fellow looks all the better as he argued for all of England."
That... wasn't quite what Elise had gotten out of his summary but she decided to let Mr. Carson believe what he wished. And from the way Mr. Branson was fighting back a smirk he had clearly decided that he would be better off allowing the butler to have his delusion.
"As for Lt. Col. Crawley I would like to offer my hand to him, if he deems me worthy of it, for all he has done."
"Gladly, Mr. Carson, gladly," Mr. Crawley stated, holding out his hand and clasping it in Mr. Carson's own, giving it a firm pump. "I am glad that I have been able to serve as I have."
"You misunderstand me, sir," Mr. Carson stated, refusing to let go of the younger man's hand. "It is not your actions within the military that I am thankful for. Rather... there are a great many of us here at Downton that were not there for Ladies Mary, Edith, and Sybil. You saw them through a dangerous moment and ensured they were protected and cared for. And, if I might be so bold... you have made them happy. For that I am in your debt."
Mr. Crawley seemed taken aback but the words and could only manage a nod, swallowing as he did so.
"And as for Lady Sybil... well, I will be honest here and admit that this is not what I think any of us dreamed of for you." He paused. "And yet... if we must have one come into this home and take command... and would rather it be someone who knows of Downton and understands it than a strange. Your presence has blown away many of my fears, my lady."
"I am glad," Lady Syibl said with a smile.
"If that is what you wanted to say then why did you look so utterly put out?" Elsie asked.
"I wasn't put out," he complained. "I was merely... thinking."
"Of?"
"Why we weren't informed that you three would be arriving? Why was it made a secret? From the rest of the staff I can understand but from myself and Mrs. Hughes? We could have prepared a grand welcome for you, the servants ready to meet you, as is befitting both your old stations and your new. To find her just wandering the halls without even myself or another member of the staff to welcome you? Why it... it rattles the nerves. It truly does." He shook his head. "No, there is something missing here that puts everything into place."
Lady Sybil though let her smile fall. "I am beginning to fear this is some sort of play for power from papa."
"Milady, you can't think-" Mr. Carson began but Lady Sybil cut him off.
"I am sorry, Carson, but I do. A way to show his control, that he still can manipulate things and people to do as he wishes. Creating a scenario to cause embarrassment in myself and Matthew as punishment for our rebellion."
At that moment the Dowager Countess herself entered the room, Elsie leaping to her feet. How hadn't sure heard her? One could normally hear the 'tunk-tunk-tunk' of her cane from halfway across the Abbey. 'Or is that only because she wishes for us to hear?' Elsie suddenly thought. 'A cunning old fox like her... oh yes, I can see her purposely making her cane all the louder so we got used to hearing it, so that it became both an harbinger of dread and comfort, depending on if it moved away from us or towards.' She looked at the woman who was standing there with a tight little smile on her puckered lips and suddenly had a vision of the crocodile from Peter and Wendy, calmly showing Hook that it could quiet the clock in its gullet whenever it wished.
Mr. Carson tried to get out of bed only for her ladyship to raise a hand, shooting him a look that was both challenging and withering, so that Mr. Carson had no choice but to sink back down onto the matress. There was no need for her to comment on such things as the message was clear to all and if it wasn't none dared open their mouths and reveal themselves a fool to her.
"My dear Sybil, you are such a contradictory thing. A lady of grace and poise yet you long to be one of those modern women. Still... that suits you. Suits you rather well even if it is hard for the rest of us to fit the pieces together that make up you. For you see we are rather standard people; there is hardly any contradiction in us. You would agree to that, yes?" She didn't let Lady Sybil answer. "And as such you should then be smart enough to admit that your father can not be both stupid and smart at the same time."
It was Mr. Branson who spoke. "I assume there is a reason our arrival wasn't mentioned to the staff?"
"Of course," the Dowager said. "And it is all quite your fault."
"Our fault?" Mr. Crawley asked, more curious than frustrated, thankfully.
"Indeed. You and your refusal to communicate your changing of plans. Were you or were you not supposed to arrive her after lunch had been served?"
Lady Sybil looked down and Elsie could see a faint blush form on her cheeks. "My new assistant was able to arrive early and I didn't want to keep her waiting..." She looked up and a bit of fire returned to her eyes. "But what does that matter? Why wait so long to reveal that we were the ones coming to run the hospital."
"Tell me, Carson, what would you have done had you known that Lady Sybil and Matthew were coming."
"Why... why I had just told them, your ladyship." Mr. Carson shifted up in the bed, trying to find a way to look dignified when he was half undressed and lounged on a guest bed with his shoes off. "The servants would have lined up to greet them, a meal would have been prepared... perhaps a roast with cooked carrots, that was always your favorite, Lady Sybil, and if Mrs. Patmore could have managed to find the ingredients for it that chilled cake you were always fond of-"
The Dowager once more held up a hand, asking for silence. "And I mean no offense to you Carson but I would say all of that would be the very last thing my granddaughter or Matthew would like."
'"Correct," Mr. Crawley said before quickly adding, "It has nothing to do with you, Carson, or Downton. Rather it has to do with the hospital. It wouldn't be..." he searched for the right word and finally said with a shrug, "I supposed proper for us to be treated in such a way. It would ruin our standing with our staff."
Mr. Carson frowned at that, his face deeply set in disagreement, but Elsie instantly understood. "We can't be thinking of you two as Lady Sybil or Mr. Crawley... we have to think of you as the operators of the hospital."
"Exactly," Mr. Crawley said.
It was plain as day to her and she could see the realization dawning on Mr. Carson's face. Lady Sybil and Mr. Crawley were very much in the same position she and Mr. Carson were in. They were the heads of the staff, in charge of all the nurses and workers that would be moving about Downton to keep the hospital running smoothly. Just as she and Mr. Carson couldn't sit down with the family and enjoy a meal in the dining room so too must the two young people standing before her place a division between their past lives and the new rules that were thrust upon them. Were they to behave as if they were lords and ladies then they would lose all the respect and obedience of their staff and that would lead to the hospital's downfall.
"And thus you see the truth of the matter. Your father was waiting to meet with Carson and Mrs. Hughes so that the details could be revealed and prevent their own desire to treat you as you should be from causing a scene that you would take rather negatively." She squared her shoulders a bit and stated, "You truly must stop seeing everything your father does in a negative light and try to see what his actions truly are."
Before Lady Sybil could respond further shocks were added to the hour with the appearance of his lordship himself, looking a touch winded as he rushed into the room.
"Carson! I just heard from Dr. Clarkosn. Are you alright?"
"I am fine, my lord. I will be up to doing my duties within the hour."
"None of that, you will take the rest of the day off."
The Dowager quickly added, "In fact I have invited Robert to dine with me tonight so there will be no need for you to wait on him."
His Lordship had clearly only just heard that information but quickly nodded. "Yes, mama is quite right." Then he turned and Elsie saw the Lord of Grantham tremble ever so slightly as he looked upon his youngest child and his son-in-law. It was like a dog who had been left alone for a long time coming upon their old master and being unsure if he had returned to take him home or to beat him and cast him off. "Sybil," he finally whispered. "It is... good to see you."
"Papa," she said politely. It wasn't as cold as one might have expected but not as warm as perhaps his Lordship would have liked.
"Matthew," Lord Grantham stated, his arm twitching to offer Mr. Crawley his hand but thinking against it, fearful that it would be rejected.
Mr. Crawley stared at him before making the decision for him, offering his hand. "Robert," he said and Elsie smiled at that. Not 'Your lordship' or any other titles. 'Robert'. That was a start.
"I want to make clear now that I understand the situation we all find ourselves in is my doing. Just as I understand that it is something I can not force closure on. Thus I will follow your lead. I will keep to myself as best as I can, so that you might work here without fear of me floating about you, getting in the way and attempting to demand reconciliation. Should it come in weeks or months or until the war ends I will understand. Though…" here his Lordship sighed and looked down at his feet, "please know that I do desire to make things right for us and you leaving without speaking to me again would be…" He trialed off, unable to continue.
Mr. Crawley looked at him before shaking a look with Lady Sybil, and then walking forward and waving for the others to follow. "I am my mother's son, Robert… I do not like to put off that which can be done now. Come… we need to talk."
Elsie and Mr. Carson shared a look as his Lordship practically raced after Mr. Crawley, Lady Sybil and the Dowager watching as the two went off with mixed emotions while Mr. Branson merely chuckled.
~MC~MC~MC~
Author's Notes: So if you follow me on Twitter you may have seen this announcement already: in a while I will be putting this story on a small hiatus. The reason is rather simple: I have been writing this story since Jan 1st, 2018. We are coming on three years straight of writing it and frankly… I need a small break. I want to work on other stories and I just need to recharge. The fans of Justice League: The Second Chance have been begging me to continue that so I will be slipping that into Author's Timeslot. And because Second Chance has much shorter chapters I can work on other projects such as my Lucifer Double Fic Swap Meet, along with other ideas I have. I am also seriously considering a break after I finish Order of Moltres from that story for a little while to recharge there too.
I have written up to Chapter 58 so I will be most likely stopping there. There won't be a cliffhanger but I do want a chance to breath, work on other projects, and attempt once more to get an actual novel published. The fact that I am working on a romance novel probably hasn't helped mattered with me beginning to feel a bit of a burn out. And, to be honest, there has been diminishing returns in terms of fan interaction as of late so stepping back for a while will help with that. Absence makes the heart grow founder.
So per my 3 week cycle we will most likely see the hiatus begin just before Christmas. Now, this isn't to say that I won't do Downton stuff. Honestly I'd love to take a crack at some of the plot bunnies I've come up with, even if it were a series on one-shots that people could adopt. With that in mind if you have a plot bunny I created you'd like me to tackle, mention it!
