Time marched on.
No matter how much one might wish it to stop, if just for a moment, so one could get their bearings, it just continued on.
'In any other age it could be manageable,' Robert thought as he walked along one of the forest trails that bordered the outskirts of the estate, Isis dutifully beside him. 'It feels like, looking back, all the changes I bemoaned were rather small and minor and came at a leisurely pace. Now though?' He let out a huff that was part bemusement and part annoyance. 'I feel like the gentle spring breeze that brought about hints of change has become a fall storm that threatens to lash us all.' He sighed, adjusting his grip on his walking stick. 'And I simply-'
"Oh, hello there, my lord."
Robert looked up and realized that he'd been so lost in his thoughts that he'd nearly run into Brans… into Tom. The man was dressed in a warm suit, not as fine as Robert's own but certainly nice and tailored for the weather, cap on his head and looking rather well suited for the forest around them.
"Hello there, Tom, lovely day out," Robert said, making sure that he said the man's first name and not his last because he had to remind himself that Tom wasn't a servant anymore. He was a reporter, he was a guest of Downton, and he and Sybil were courting. However as soon as he said his greeting Robert began to worry that he'd mucked it up, putting too much emphasis on Tom's first name and might as well have nudged the poor fellow over and over and gone, "See? I called you Tom! I'm being understanding to the situation? Did you see? Did you see?" Robert then wondered if there was any way he could backtrack but couldn't find a way to do so without everything feeling awkward-
"Very much so," Tom said, clearly having not taken any notice to Robert's greeting in the slightest. "Sometimes when an article is working properly I find I need to get away from my typewriter. Sitting there, stressing over it… it only makes the words feel more forced, you know?"
Robert smiled. "Honestly? No I don't but I was never much for writing like you are. Or telling any sort of tale or story. I'm too straight forward. I can repeat something that happened, of course, but even then I tend to make it far too dry." Isis ambled over to Tom and sniffed his hand, the young man leaning down to give her a good pet. "Makes me rather dull, I know, and I envy people like you that can actually weave interesting stories." He leaned on his stick, almost missing the startled look Tom briefly flashed at him over that bit of praise. "Though if I think upon it I suppose stepping away from the problem does make sense. I'm doing the same thing with my walk."
Tom nodded at that and stood up. "Then I'll leave you to your thoughts."
But as he moved to leave Robert suddenly had the desire to not be alone with his thoughts. His ideas and theories and ponderings had been his allies the last few years and frankly considering the misery his life had become he wasn't interested in being left on his own with them now that Tom had appeared as a reprieve.
"I don't see why we can't walk together," Robert said kindly, pointing at a side trail. "Let's take that path and go the long way back to Downton."
"Well… if you don't mind." Tom smiled, though it was rather unsure and hesitant and once more Robert kicked himself for being far too friendly without thinking of how desperate it might sound to the man. Yet to Tom's credit he followed right beside him, leaving the main trail and journeying deeper into the forested lands that made up the western side of Downton. "We've done good with rain this year," Tom suddenly said. "The farmers will be happy with that."
"Oh, they very much are. Jarvis brought it up during our last meeting. We'll be getting a good crop this year which is good as it will help lessen shortages for the village. At least until mid spring next year."
Tom nodded at that. "The question now will be how bad will the winter turn out to be."
"Dreadful if my mother is right… which she usually is." Tom chuckled at that. "She said something about her knee aching… I didn't quite follow as all those old people claiming they could sense the weather by the pains they feel in their joints and limbs has always come off as voodoo magic from the Caribbean in my ears."
Tom snorted. "Do you really think the Dowager would put on a headdress and shake rattles around a cauldron?"
"…only if the king said it was the most British thing to do. Then she'd proclaim that she'd always known such rituals were truly the right of it." The two of them shared a chuckle at that before lapsing into a quiet yet comfortable silence. One that felt that it only needed to be broken because someone had something they actually needed to say and not due to the awkwardness that came when things became too quiet. Robert had experienced both kinds of silence in his life at dinner parties and knew how horrible one could be and how wonderful the other.
When silence was oppressive it was like a lead weight being dropped on a man's chest. It made the air feel heavy and amplified every sound. The normal background noise of a meal suddenly became all one could hear, as if the entire world had disappeared and left only their cacophony. Knives scratching against plates sounded like someone hacking away at the china. The simple chewing of food was distorted into a sow rutting in the grass. The shifting of one's body in a chair no better than kicking over a table and sending all the settings crashing to the ground.
But when silence was wonderful… when it sang of contentment and peace it was the greatest thing in the world. Robert always felt in those moments like he was a puzzle piece that had been finally slotted into his part of the picture. Everything just came together perfectly and contentment filled his veins and chased away everything else. It also made him look at his life and all he had done and all he had accomplished and decide that, at the moment at least, he was happy with where he was. And while he didn't quite feel that way at the moment, what with Cora and Mary and Edith so far from home… he felt at the very least like he was back on the right path.
They had been walking for about 10 minutes when Robert finally asked, "I must admit, I find it rather odd to think of you having problems with your writing. When I think of you working on one of your articles I imagine the words flowing onto the page like water."
"Sometimes its like that," Tom said with a slight smile. "Other times it is like trying to chisel away a diamond using a feather."
"What has caused you problems this time?" Robert asked only to quickly add, "You don't have to tell me, of course. I just-"
"No no, perfectly fine," Tom said, raising his hand before Robert could begin rambling on and truly embarrass himself. "You know what I cover in my articles, correct?"
"I do," Robert said. "I've read all of them." Tom started at that and Robert smiled. "I will admit that at first it wasn't actually out of any desire to read them. I went about it with no small amount of dread. It was… as if I were waiting for the doctor to give me news after a test. I feared what I would find."
"Then why did you read them?" Tom asked.
Robert decided to be honest with him. "At first it was a mixture of wishing to make sure you were portraying Downton in a positive light along with a need to understand you, since you were so close to Matthew and Sybil."
"Understandable," Tom admitted. "I suppose if I had someone living in my home writing about what happened under my roof I'd want to see what was said." He paused. "I can only assume, since I haven't been cast out on my ear, that you approve."
"Very much so. I think you have been more than fair when it comes to Downton and the village. Favorable… but without resorting into false praise. Better to admit the small flaws then cover them up." Tom nodded and they began to go along a bend in the path. "After that it was a desire to try and have something in common with Sybil. I hoped that I might use your articles as I way to start a conversation with her."
It had been hard… oh so very hard… to have Sybil and Matthew back at Downton and not actually spend any time with them. In the last 6 months he'd had only a half dozen conversations with the two of them and none of them had lasted more than a few minutes. Mama had been sure that they would come around quickly once settled back into Downton, feeling that by removing them from all signs of their new lives in London they would be more willing to make inroads with their old lives but Robert had known differently. And time had proven him correct. They were willing to try and bridge the gap but there was simply too much pain at that moment. Pain and time.
So Robert made do. He took what moments he could. Treasured them.
"But it hasn't worked?"
"I haven't tried," Robert said. "Every time I thought about striking up a conversation it just felt… forced. Unnatural. And I didn't want to seem desperate."
"You should try," Tom said. "Perhaps don't be forceful about it, or go in with some script. Merely start by saying hello to her. Perhaps start by heading to her office in the morning and just wishing her a good morning. And it wouldn't hurt to get to know her staff. With Sybil she is a fierce and loyal creature. Show respect to those under her care and she will be thankful. Again, don't be forceful. Start small… very small. But it will help."
Robert nodded, seeing the wisdom in that. "I think I will try that, thank you." His jaw worked for a moment before he said, "But all of that isn't why I kept reading your articles, Tom."
"Oh? And why is that?"
"Because I found I enjoyed them," Robert said with a helpless shrug. "I wish I could put into words how they made me feel… but I am not you. I am no wordsmith. I can only say that I enjoyed them greatly and now look forward to what you will cover. You have… opened me up to a world I never knew about. I've been to war, Tom, you know that. Yet what is happening in France and the rest of Europe… it is so different than what I encountered out in the bush. I know Mary believes that I see war as some fairy tale, with dashing men in uniforms fighting with swords with the sun in their hair and the wind on their faces… but that was what I experienced. Oh, there were terrible times. Horrible times. But it was also an adventure like you'd find in any ripping good tale. I think… I think that is why so many people in this country were so eager for war even as we dreaded it. I dreaded it, of course, as I knew what it would mean for the stability of life. But I must admit…" He sighed, gripping his walking stick a bit tighter, "…part of me, which could never show itself to any of you, wanted the war. Felt we needed the war."
"What do you mean?" Tom asked, genuinely curious.
Robert sighed and decided that honesty had helped him so far in this conversation (the longest he'd had with anyone that had come from London) that it was worth the risk to continue on. "I don't like change, you know that. I am someone who feels that the world has reached a proper… position, let's say. That's not the right word. That things have settled where they should. That's a touch better. That people live their lives and for the most part are content. I know that you disagree, that you see injustice in the world and wish for us to fix them. A noble goal… I just fear that by trying to fix one thing we'll break so many others that the cost will never be worth the reward.
"And that is where the problem arose. When people are settled they aren't grateful for the lives they have. They dream of more. When I was young I felt the same way. Oh, the girls would have you believe that I am the same now as I was when they were children but that is far from the truth. I had dreams, Tom. I wanted to shape Downton just as Matthew did. Perhaps not to the extreme he has with helping the villagers but leave my mark on it. With time though I've settled into my place, become comfortable with my legacy, and found peace. But others did not. They weren't happy with what they had they wanted more.
"I had hoped that war would shake away the dry rot. Break loose the rust. A bit of fear, a lot of adventure, and then a return home with a longing to finally settle down." He paused, stopping on the trail so he could look at Tom. "I remember talking to chap in New York when I went there. It was before I'd set my eye on trying to court Cora, when I didn't know who I wished to bind myself to. He said that young men need adventure so that they might not seek it when they are men of responsibility. He had the right of it."
"Is that why you wanted Matthew to go to the front?" Tom asked.
Robert grimaced. "Yes and I see I was a bloody fool for ever desiring that for him. I just… I just thought that it would help him. Help all of England. Make us grateful for what we had and be willing to settle down again. That every generation needs their war in order to not fall into thrill seeking." He sighed and they began walking again. "Foolish, I know."
"Not as much as you might think," Tom finally said. "I don't agree with you, please don't take my comment to mean that I do. I merely…" He grew silent.
"What is it?"
"I think you might have just helped me with my article."
"Oh?"
Tom nodded. "I've been telling the stories of soldiers. Time on the front, what brought them to serve, and their recovery and journey home. I like to talk with each and every one of them. And you know that I don't want my articles to merely be depressing fare. It would get rather old if all I discussed with their injuries and their misery. I want to highlight that one can come back from war. That they can return to a normal life. But… that is where my most recent problem arose.
"There is a soldier, Captain Parkland, who recently arrived. He took some rather… well, there is no word for his injuries but 'horrific'. Much of his face scarred up, missing several fingers, burns to his body-"
"I remember seeing him coming in!" Robert said. The man had been a horrible sight, looking like he'd been gnawed on by some large African lion and then spat into a fire. He'd warned Carson to ensure that some of more sensitive members of the staff didn't go to where the man was bedded, so as to both not startle them and cause the man pain at seeing their reactions. "Poor fellow."
"Yes," Tom agreed. "I decided that I wanted his story to be the next that I covered and he was rather happy to tell it to me."
"And that is the problem?"
"It is. Because he wants to return to the Front. He wants to keep fighting. And he's rather dismissive of how others are looking to return home. He calls them cowards and traitors and… well, colorful language I won't repeat."
"And if an Irishman thinks one's language is too colorful," Robert japed only to stiffen as he realized the insult he hadn't meant to give.
But to his luck Tom merely laughed at that. "Yes, quite. I promised him I'd tell his story but I found myself unsure of how to. Because I couldn't put myself in his place. With everyone else I've focused on in my articles I've been able to figure out their view of the world and that has allowed me to tell their stories. But Parkland… how could he want to return after he was so injured? It wasn't fear of being seen as a coward or longing to return to his men. He wasn't motivated by a disapproving parent or revenge against the Germans that had maimed him. He just… wanted to get back to the war. He wanted to fight. And I was at a loss."
"And I helped you find your way?"
"You did," Tom told him. "I'd forgotten that there will always be people in this world who feel that war, no matter how savage or violent or the like, is worth the pain and the suffering. That it is something that England needs in order to continue on. You said that young men need adventure. I think, for Parkland, he sees it that every generation needs to fight and die for their country in order for England to be stronger. I don't agree with it… but I can understand that."
"Well, I'm glad that I was able to help."
"…my lord, might I speak openly?"
"Of course."
"You are making a mistake in dedicating your days to merely waiting for Sybil to come to you," Tom said. "And I don't mean that you should actively pursue her either."
"Then what are you suggesting."
"Perhaps you need to do as she has and find something to occupy your time. To pull you out of your normal life."
Robert grimaced. "I tried that before the hospital. Wanted to reenlist. Now I just get invitations to dinner parties that I do my best to avoid."
"That's not what I meant," Tom stated. "What would you expect Sybil to do had she not become a nurse?"
"What do you mean?"
"Just as I said," Tom told him. "What would you have expected of her or Mary or Edith had they not left Downton and merely remained the daughters of an Earl. How would they have spent their time during the war?"
"Well… I'd like to say they would have remained here but we both know that even if we hadn't had our falling out they would have never been able to sit still." He chuckled, shaking his head not merely for that thought but for the fact that once Robert had actually believed that he could get his daughters to behave in such a way. When Tom looked at him let out a bemused sigh. "I was just laughing over the image of any of my children acting as quiet demur women who sit in the corner, content to do some needlepoint until someone speaks to them."
Tom smiled at that. "They'd only do that if one sister dared the other one. And even then they'd do it in such an aggressive manner that it wouldn't fool a soul."
Robert agreed with that. He'd seen Mary when she was play acting at behaving as someone requested… she could be a terror without falling out of step. It was like an aura of danger surrounded her in those moments. The same with the other girls as well, now that he thought about it. There simply was no way that any of the girls would have meekly remained at Downton while the rest of the world changed about them.
"Honestly I don't know why I ever hoped for them to behave like that," Robert stated, reaching down to pluck an interesting stone from the path. It was pink with sparkles and he pocketed it; sometimes he'd find an interesting stone and get polished and cleaned and fitted for decoration on a box or other trinket. All the girls had received something like that on their 10th birthday and Robert hoped that perhaps finding the rock would be a sign of better things to come.
"Yes, I suppose so," Tom stated. "As soon as I met them I could tell-"
"I didn't mean that," Robert said, talking over what Tom was about to say, though it wasn't out of rudeness but merely because he'd come to a realization he should have had decades ago. "Cora. The Dowager. Their American Grandmother. That bloodline… I never stood a chance."
Tom blinked at that before he began to laugh and soon Robert joined him. They laughed and they walked and it felt so good because for the first time in months, no years… Robert felt light and free. No fears, no grudges, nothing. The problems were still there, of course, he wasn't a fool to believe they weren't, but at the moment they had been shoved aside and locked away and even thinking about them didn't make him tremble with fear or despair at the task that laid out before him.
"As I was saying earlier," Tom said, once he'd finally stopped chuckling, "you believe that your place is now to wander about Downton, being its lord and letting all others work. But you aren't a king trying to see over his domain. You are a lord, yes, but a modern lord. And modern lords can do more than sit on a throne."
"What would you have me do then?" Robert asked. There was no venom to his words, and that surprised him as he knew that only years earlier he would have taken grave offense to Tom's comment. But now he merely accepted it as truth because it was the truth. "I don't want to get in the way here."
"Which is why I think you shouldn't become involved with Downton," Tom stated. "There are plenty of other charities and societies and groups that could use your help. Matthew worked in Ripton, didn't he?"
"Get a job?" Robert said, suddenly having a vision of himself working on a dock, cursing with such vulgarity it made women faint, throwing fish nets and hauling cargo from ships and ending up so filthy that if he stepped into a tub the water could be used as ink.
"Volunteer your time," Tom clarified. "There are many ways you can use your skills and talents to help others."
"Such as?"
"The school children down in the village… it is hard to come by teachers at the moment. They should have three or four, spread out amongst the ages. They currently are running with two and one of those is a widow and an old woman and the hours can be hard on her. You have traveled the world, my lord. You have fought in war and studied on university and gone over the history of Downton a hundred times. Why not go down there and teach them of their home? Give lectures so that their teachers might get a break?"
Robert considered that. It was actually a rather appealing idea. The girls had long gotten tired of his tales of their ancestors, the lords that had come before him. They scoffed and called him a silly old man when he began on with a story about this grandfather or that great uncle. But the children of the village… for them it would be new. Exciting!
"I do rather like the idea of people understanding Downton and its lands better," Robert admitted, imagining himself telling them of the great deeds of the Crawley family.
"Do you know why I am so passionate about Ireland's independence?" Tom asked. "Because I am proud to be Irish. I mean no offense but I believe Ireland to be the greatest country in the land and with time it could be the greatest in history. To know your history and be proud of it… that builds loyalty. Dedication. Just like knowing the negative is just as important."
Robert stopped at that and looked at Branson in surprise. "The negative? I thought you wanted to instill pride in the children."
"And the drive to do better," Tom told him. "Think of it like… the tales of Robin Hood. Prince John was not a good ruler in those tales and while they do not instill pride in the monarchy that teach us how a good ruler SHOULD be… and what people must do to be good citizens."
"I suppose," Robert murmured, more to himself than anything.
"There are other options as well," he told Robert. "You have a grand library filled with books… I wouldn't be surprised if you had volumes that had been lost to the ages. Perhaps one of the few left in existence. You could compile a list, perhaps with Carson's help, of every book in your library and then begin contacted universities, the greater libraries, perhaps even Buckingham Palace itself, to see if you possess that which they don't. Copies created, knowledge restored. With, of course, acknowledgement of your aid?"
That made Robert grin. "A wing of a library named after me?"
"Depending on what you have perhaps an entire building," Tom said with a teasing tone. "There are other ideas I have, though they are more nebulous. And I'm sure if you put your mind to it you would be able to find tasks that you might be able to set yourself towards."
Robert nodded at that. "I suppose so… but would that be right, during wartime?"
"The war will end, Robert. I have to hold out hope for that. I can not live in a world where we send young men off to die and then their children march off to take their place, then their grandchildren. And when the war ends there will be a need to begin a new normal. That doesn't mean that it can't be linked back to what was once before." He paused, stopping and looking around the trail. "This forest is old." Robert didn't say a thing because obviously it was old and saying anything would just feel silly. "When was this forest first planted?"
"I haven't the faintest idea. I would image long before my family came here."
"Let's say that it was planted when the first Earl of Grantham was given this land and grew in his lifetime." That was preposterous but Robert had a feeling that Tom was building towards something so he stayed quiet and let him speak. "Is this the same forest your ancestor first laid eyes on?"
"Of course," Robert said at once. Even without Tom's comment about it being a young forest he knew that. "What of it, Tom?"
Tom pointed to a young sapling. "That tree is only 10 years old. Its younger Sybil."
"Yes?"
"So it wasn't part of the forest when the first Earl was given this land. Many of these trees are rather young… I remember Sybil telling me that."
"There was a blight during the reign of the 3rd earl," Robert said instantly.
"How much of this forest is still the same forest your ancestor first saw? And when does it stop being that forest? If I removed every tree, one at a time, and planted a new one in its place would it still be the same forest?"
"…I hate these kind of riddles," Robert muttered. "And I'm not entirely sure what you are trying to get across to me."
"My point is that some people want the forest to always remain the same. They will do all they can to keep every tree alive and mourn the moment it dies before trying to plant one that looks exactly like it. Never mind if the first one had rot or had ugly branches or gave off bitter fruit. Others… love the forest but are willing to try and make it better. Plant new trees. Different trees. Some may make it better, some will make it worse. That is life. But… if you can make it better?"
Robert nodded. "Ah. I think I follow." And he did. He looked around the forest, taking it in, before noticing how low the sun had sunk. "Crikey, we've been out here for hours. I completely lost track of time. I'm sorry Tom, I've taken you away from your work."
"Perfectly fine, my lord."
"…Tom, what are you doing for supper tonight." The moment the words left his mouth he winced and saw they'd had the impact he'd feared, for Tom suddenly looked like a fox cornered by the hounds. "I'm not about to invite you to come to the dining room! Not that I wouldn't mind, of course, but I know… I'm bulloxing this all up, aren't I?" Robert took a breath, thankful that Tom appeared to have calmed down thanks to his ramblings. "I wasn't going to dine at Downton anyway. I have plans to eat with John and Anna… Bates," he clarified though he didn't know why. Tom must have known who he meant. "They would love to have you." He gave a bemused shrug. "They let Isis come… sometimes I feed her scraps right at the table. Just like I would the cats that infested the barracks in Africa."
Tom looked down at his own clothing before shrugging. "Why not? I have been meaning to visit the Bates family. Lead the way, my lord."
"Robert," he said. "Robert."
