Richard Carlisle hadn't reached where he was by simply allowing others to do his dirty work for him.
Oh, he had gotten plenty of people to assist him, either by their own choice or against their will. He wasn't in the trenches day in and day out, reaching into the muck and the shit to gather out the hidden gems that would become the grand stories that would sell papers. He wasn't so foolish as to expose himself needlessly to danger just to get a story; not when there were plenty of people in the country who would sell him their tales for a few coins. But he also wasn't some lord that sat around in his opulent estate scoffing at the idea he might actually put in a hard day's work.
'Balance,' he thought to himself as he stepped out of his car and gave the driver a nod; the man knew that when Richard needed him again he best be quick to open the door and help him make a quick escape. But he didn't need him now and that meant the driver needed to make himself scarce. 'Balance is the key to everything in life.'
He'd been in his office going over his latest plans to update the look of his paper (the public so did love when a paper tried something new and daring… even if it was to complain about it; sometimes Richard changed things purely so he could change them right back and gain a double bounce) when the messenger had come in, panting and gasping as he'd waved a piece of parchment wildly in the air. Richard had quickly put the matters of new typeface and article layout out of his mind as he'd gotten up and gone to Burton, taking the message from him and reading it over before telling his secretary he would be out for the rest of the day, Burton sent off with a few bills for his troubles. He'd grabbed his coat before pausing, thinking things over before giving a nod to himself and hurrying over to a locked cabinet that sat in his office. Finding the key on his ring he'd unlocked the wood doors and pulled out a satchel that was only a touch larger than a full volume encyclopedia, looping the shoulder strap on before heading out once more.
This was something he couldn't leave to others. It had to be done by him. The report he'd received made clear that this story could propel him to the very top of British society… and send several others crashing down. So it was that Richard took matters into his own hands rather than risk allowing someone else to muck it up.
The hotel he'd arrived at was hardly what one would expect a woman of high society to visit. It wasn't some flophouse where the opium addicts huddled in the corners and the rum soaked adulterers dragged their mistresses to bed bug infested rooms and hoped that they didn't catch something that would lead to difficult conversations with their doctors. But it also wasn't the opulent hotel one might expect the rich and powerful to call a home away from home. The hotel was small and plain and used more by the families of solders than the highest of English society.
'Though I suppose that is what makes it so appealing,' he thought to himself as he breezed past the desk and made his way towards the stairs where a man dressed in a faded suit was leaning, looking to all the world like he was trying to sleep standing up. As Richard neared him however the man, without opening his eyes, held up a key with one hand while offering his open palm with the other.
"She's here?"
"Not yet but the American she's meeting with is," his contact said as Richard passed a few bills over to him. "But she'll be here too."
"Good."
"This make us finally even?" the man asked.
"Depends on what this nets me." Richard smiled. "Don't claim this hasn't benefited you. Way you make it sound it's like I never pay you." He nodded towards the bills in the man's hand.
"30 pieces of silver," the informant said… not even bothering to look at the cash Richard handed him before stuffing it in his pocket. He kept his eyes shut and chin pressed against his chest and Richard finally moved on towards the stairs, knowing that the man would be gone before he even reached the next floor. Donovan had gotten into some trouble with the police and Richard had bailed him out… and used him to keep an eye on certain targets. The man was good and Richard honestly didn't want to give him up but knew that if this tip did pay off he'd have no choice but to do just that. It was far too dangerous to press a man that still held him in such disregard to continue his spying. You never knew when they'd decide that they HAD made good on their debts and now you owed them.
"Balance," he murmured to himself as he stepped out of the stairway and made his way down a hall, looking for Room 332C. Spotting it he looked about before quietly unlocking the door and slipping inside, only breathing a bit more normally once he'd locked the door behind him. He wouldn't be fully relaxed until he was back in his office but he did feel better being all alone with no potential witnesses.
Going to the window he slid it open before setting the satchel case down on the bed and cracking it open, smiling as he looked at the odd device within. Built for him by a pair of German inventors who'd felt their homeland just before the War had begun, the device was the future and Richard was rather happy that it was in his hands and not someone else's. He pulled out first a large box-like that held a spool of magnetic tape within, going over it carefully to make sure he hadn't jostled anything out of place during his trip to the hotel. He'd demanded that the inventors go over with him all aspects of the device, drilling into his head just what it could do and the problems that could arise. He understood it now as well as its fathers and he was pleased to see all was in working order.
"A true miracle," he muttered to himself. The ability to record sound of course existed; the phonograph was well known at this point to the point that it was no longer seen as some marvel. But this device was so much better. Using the magnetic tape Richard was able to record conversations easily and play them back for any who wished to hear it. And it was small enough that he could carry it with him, setting it up wherever he wanted… as he was doing now as he pulled out the receptor speaker and a jar containing a gummy sap-like substance. Gathering up a decent amount on two fingers he leaned out the open window and reached around to the window next to his, applying the substance to the brick before sticking the speaker against it so that it was held against the upper corner of the window. It held tight and Richard smirked before moving back inside, closing the window before running the wires back to the recorder, doing one final check before he took a glass from the endtable and placed it against the wall so he might better hear what was happening in the room beyond.
For nearly 15 minutes he waited, his back aching from the strain but refusing to move for even a second lest he miss something. Finally his patience and pain paid off as he heard the door open and he reached over, clicking on the recorder before he focused his full attention on the occupants of the other room.
"Ah, you're here," the culture voice Lady Cora Crawley said. "Shall we begin?"
Richard had nothing against the Crawley family. They had never done him any wrong. He would not gleefully rub his hands together as he brought them to their doom. It was simply business, that was all. The family had risen up in London Society as of late even as they continued to court controversy and scandal. The falling out between the Downton Crawleys and the London Crawleys was well known, as was how the London Crawleys had managed to gather quite a bit of influence within the city. The exiled heir was an important figure in the War Office and had the ear and respect of a General. The middle child was engaged to Richard's rival Sir Michael Gregson and from all accounts helped run his paper with him. And the youngest had become one of the strongest voices in the medical circles of London. The fact that two of the three were now in charge of one of the largest Officers' Hospitals in all of England only showed how their stars had risen.
And what rose… must come down.
No one became that powerful without burying some bodies and Richard wanted to know where they were buried.
It was why he had decided to begin focusing on what uses Tom Branson and Lavinia Swire had towards him and his paper. Not only did they give him information on Gregson (and Branson himself) but also the Crawleys. He'd tried to get some of General Allen Lothrop's servants to turn on him but the man had too much of a loyal following and none of them had even warmed to his offers of friendship; he didn't even attempt to ask them to spy for him. There were a few nurses who worked with Matthew Crawley's mother at the hospital but the problem there was simply the fact that Isobel Crawley didn't have a bit of sneakiness in her body. When she thought something she let the world know about it! If the woman had secrets they were known by half of the known world by now.
It wasn't surprising that it was Matthew Crawley's mother-in-law who was the weak link. She was a rich man's daughter and a rich man's wife. She had lived in a world where she believed that all secrets were easily hidden away without threat of ever appearing. Money bought such security, after all… she believed herself untouchable and that made her lazy.
Richard was quite happy to let her have that delusion.
The original occupant of the room must have nodded because Lady Cora began to speak. "I wasn't for sure if you'd be able to arrive in time. The ocean is tricky this time of year."
"No need ta worry none," the original occupant said, much to Richard's surprise. Whatever was the Countess of Grantham doing talking to a woman from the American west?!
"I thought for sure your husband would be here."
"He and your ma thought it best I meet with ya instead. Less eyebrow raisin', ya know?" Richard made a mental note to look into Lady Cora's family; he only knew that her mother was a wealthy socialite in New York. "Ya bring the money?"
"Some of it," Lady Cora said, her voice moving about the room. "It was hard to convince them to part with it, as they are still quite unsure of this venture but-"
"No names, please," the American said. "I ain't interested in learnin' who the fools are. Makes it so hard ta take their money." She chuckled at that and to Richard's surprise Lady Cora began to laugh as well. "But ya still managed ta convince them?"
"They are worried about the state of the world… and their pocket books. Rather easy to convince them that it is far better to place their money with you and your husband."
"As safe as givin' the old fox guardin' duties in the hen house!" the American woman cackled again.
"Please explain to me again how this will work," the Countess said. "I am still a touch foggy on the details."
"Oh, its as clear as water for us… and clear as mud for the rest of'em. I found a nice patch of land just west of Dallas, near the Trinity River. Prime for oil fields, not that the dang farmers there realize it! A bit of capital to hire the right people and we'll be all set." There was a pause. "Problem is that even with what you've provided us Sam and I won't be able to afford it. That's where your friends come in."
"I thought you said they wouldn't be our partners."
"They ain't," the Texan said. "I got other lands… just barren rock and a few cacti. Cheap as spit. We buy that land up for them, take most their cash as a 'finder's fee' and then buy our own land. By the time the fools realize they'd done bought garbage it'll be too late and we'll be long gone!"
"I will miss Britain," the Countess said, "but there isn't anything for me here anymore."
"Hire yarself some English butler ta keep house for ya. Can have a manor on the plains!"
The two of them talked for a bit longer before the Countess left and Richard quickly moved to pack up the recording device.
They thought they'd struck oil? Oh no… it was Richard who had struck deep.
All he had to do now was stake his claim.
~MC~MC~MC~
"I'm sorry, Richard," Allen said softly. "I truly am. I would never have wished this upon you."
"Nor I," Robert told the man.
Richard Grey managed a slight smile as he looked at the two men, causing them both to furrow their brows. "Sorry, just thinking on how I've somehow managed a miracle in getting you in the same room."
Allen and Robert shared a look before glancing away, clearly embarrassed and uncomfortable. Allen finally cleared his throat and said, "I doubt we'll be dear friends who plan trips to…" He glanced at Robert, "what is it high born elitists do with their time?"
"I suppose the same things you've done with Richard?"
"…you want us to complain about the stupidity of my family?" Allen asked with a smirk. "Believe me, I am willing to do so…"
That earned a chuckle from both Richard and Robert, the former relishing the chance to feel a bit of amusement in such a dark time. Robert looked at Richard who merely shrugged; Allen was speaking truly, as they did often end up discussing his cousins and the lackluster state they'd left the Oakwood estate and name in.
"Well then," Robert said with a sigh, "I suppose most of the upper class go to dinners or attend balls… sometimes hunt or fish-"
"Oh, I do love fishing!" Allen said with delight.
"Truly?" Robert asked. "Fly or simple cast?"
"Simple cast. A chance to relax, maybe read a book while waiting for a bite…"
"Where do you prefer to fish? There is a lake near Duneagle-"
Richard gave the two a moment before he finally cleared his throat, drawing their attention back them. "You were saying Allen about never being close friends?"
The General blushed a bit at that before rallying. "Right. My point is that we are both still your friend and we want to be there for you."
Richard's smile fell as he remembered exactly what had brought them together in his empty dining room, drinking some scotch his grandfather had laid down when he had been a young man. He was dressed in a fine suit but he might as well have been sitting about in his undergarments with how he felt. His eyes were blurry and his brain just ached and there were times when it felt like he couldn't breathe. On one hand he hated that Allen and Robert were there to see his misery yet on the other hand he knew that if they hadn't been there he would have begun to admire the antique guns his father had collected and wonder what the metal would taste like on his tongue.
"I just wish it were under better circumstances," Robert admitted.
"I don't think there are any circumstances that could have been worse than what I find myself in." Resting his elbows on the table despite knowing somewhere his childhood governess was screaming bloody murder over his lack of social respect Richard shut his eyes and shook his head. "I keep wanting to ask you if there isn't any chance this is all wrong. But I can't do that Allen because I know you would hate to give me false hope… and would hate to rub salt into the wounds."
"I would, on both counts."
The old man let out a sigh once again. 'Larry… where did I go wrong with you my boy?'
When Larry and Tim had gone into the army Richard had been given enough time to get used to the idea so it hadn't been a shock. His sons hadn't rushed to enlist like many but they also hadn't been drafted so they had been spared the mark of cowardice that so many others received by waiting. But that wait had also taken the shine off the War and he'd understood the dangers his sons were walking into. He had begged them to be safe and both had promised that all would be fine, that they would return to him with honors that might be added to the family name. And at first it had seemed like they would live up to their word. Tim had gone to the air force and while not flying any missions he had served on a base in the allied controlled sections of France, working under commanders as their aide. He had of course complained in his letters that he should be doing more but Richard had been thankful that Tim was at least safe. Unlike Larry who'd found himself eventually on the Front, in command of young men chomping at the bit to make a difference.
'And they did,' he thought bitterly, 'though they didn't realize just what that meant.'
"There was nothing in his letters home to hint at what was happening?" Robert asked, trying to be as tactful as possible but how could one ever be polite about asking if a man saw his son's madness that would lead to treason and murder?
"Not a word but I doubt Larry would have ever opened himself up to me. We were… never close. Tim and him both were far closer to their mother than I; Tim and I can talk with each other, have something close to a friendship, but Larry? No, never Larry. I was a fool with him, allowing his mother too much time with him and she filled his head with her own dreams and opinions. She felt that we were lords and masters of all because of our blood. A hateful woman, as horrible as that is to say about my wife." He pushed away from the table, needing to walk. To do something other than sit there. "I truly envy both of you."
"Envy Allen, not me," Robert said softly. "I drove away my children and my wife with my foolishness."
"But there is a chance for you to make amends and build something better," Richard argued. "And even if you cannot… at the very least you knew a time with a wife who you loved and who loved you and children that cared for you. I… I never had that." He shook his head as he thought of Larry and Tim's mother. "Our marriage was never our choice. We had to marry, it was expected of us. My father and her father were friends; they wished to bind our houses together so that we might create an alliance that would be the talk of England. We tried to find love… but it never came. We couldn't even manage friendship in the end. She just… she just felt that she was superior to all and that was the same mentality that she fed to the boys." He scoffed. "And what came of that 'alliance'? My brother in law outlived his children and his heir became a lord from the South of England who has let his new estate rot away while he pillages it to pay for his own holdings.
"You though Allen… you shame us all. A wife you love and who loves you with all her heart. Two sons and a daughter who have not only brought honor to your family but who care for you… I see all of you have and wish I had that."
"What is your secret?" Robert found himself asked.
"A lack of wealth," Allen admitted. "Money… it does terrible things. I am not blind to all the benefits of it but the fact remains that it can ruin lives just as easily. Make things far more complex than they ever needed to be. It is why I have resisted becoming Lord Oakwood yet will cling to the title til my dying day, unlike my father… I will not curse my family with it. My oldest has a family… my grandchildren are still in the crib or just out of it. Better they live a middle class life, to learn what it means to have hardship and struggle." He blinked and blushed. "I am terribly sorry, Richard, I didn't-"
He waved him off. "Honestly? I sometimes think about what I would have done if I had been like you, Allen. If I had grown up middle class and not had the need to take up the mantle of Baron Merton." He took up his glass, swirling the drink before smiling. "I think I'd rather have liked to have been a doctor."
"Truly?" Robert said, surprised.
"Oh, very much so!" Richard said, finding this topic far more appealing than discussing Larry. "Not some surgeon in a hospital though… a country doctor. One who saw to his neighbors. Perhaps focused on children… I did better with children than young men. Larry and Tim… when they were little tots I had quite a bit of fun with them. I was the one they ran to when they were hurt, despite their mother's disgust at that. 'Not proper for children to pester their lord fathers with such minor things'. Never mind that I enjoyed it… wasn't proper." He shook his head. "But I think I would have liked that, being a doctor who checked on little ones."
"I would have liked to have been a librarian," Robert said. "I have always enjoyed books. Not merely reading them but collecting them as well. There is something soothing about organizing them. A few times when I have found myself dealing with stress I have taken a shelf or two of books and removed them all, claiming I am looking for something when Carson asks about it but in reality I am just sorting them. To bring order to them brings order to the rest of my life."
"I can see that," Allen stated.
Richard sighed as the room grew quiet; they had avoided for a moment the true phantom that hung in the air and now it was time to attack it once more. "Allen… what is going to happen to Larry?"
His friend shut his eyes at that and the longer it took for him to talk the greater Richard's fear grew. "He has been taken by the military police to London. They will investigate the claims against him. He will be assigned a lawyer-"
"He can't have the family lawyer?" Robert asked.
Allen shook his head. "If this were a public matter then yes. But this is the military… it will be decided by them and only them. Had he been caught doing all he did while on the field he very well…" He trailed off but Richard knew what he was going to say: Larry would have been shot right there until dead. "But he was brought in from a hospital, where he was just diagnosed as paralyzed for life. As strange as it is to think, Richard, that injury may very well end up saving his life."
"You mean to say they will show him pity because he was injured?" Robert asked. "Even if they were caused by his actions?"
"Very much so," Allen said with a nod. "For some it will be pity. But for others it will come down to… logistics, to be honest."
"Logistics?" Robert said, utterly startled.
Allen could only give a helpless shrug. "They won't kill him, not now. The public may bray for blood but it is one thing to kill the heir to an old and established family on the battle field when the blood is still warm on their hands." He stabbed at the table with his fingers. "But to do so on English soil when you will have to look his family in the eye afterwards? Oh no… there may be a few that muster such anger but… more than enough will decide that such a thing is a step too far. That leaves imprisonment… but…"
"He's in wheelchair," Richard said softly. "Bloody hell."
"Exactly. They won't put a crippled man in a prison cell. The pious will scream and screech at the cruelty of it. No." Allen leaned back in his chair. "No."
"Then what can they do?" Robert asked. "They can't let him go. He killed soldiers."
"His lawyer will argue that all we have is the word of a few young soldiers who were lost in the fog of war, the main witness now dead. It does hurts him that the ones to hear William's statement are from Downton which has long ties to the Merton house; they would believe that they would lie to protect him if there were doubt." Richard knew how wrong that was but he didn't say a word. "But the fact remains that William was also from Downton and can't be cross examined due to his death. Even if they prove that he fired at his fellow soldiers it can be argued that he was confused, spun around in the smoke and flames and muck. It is a weak excuse but they will be looking for something to allow him some sort of reprieve. But," Allen paused, "Robert is right. He killed soldiers. His and the men he ordered fired upon. That can't be forgiven."
"Allen… speak plainly," Richard asked desperately. "What will they do to my son?"
"If I had to place my reputation on the bet? Exile."
Exile. It was a horrid word and a wonderful word all at the same moment. His son cast away to never see their home again. To be a lord who never ruled over his own lands. Yet… he would live. He could go to America or Australia or perhaps even the east. China or Japan. He could have a life there. Marry. If the paralysis did not affect his ability to have children then it was possible he could have a son that would be able to return. If not then it would be important for Tim to marry soon and start a family right away.
Exile.
"Richard," Allen said, standing up and placing a hand on his shoulder. "I want you to come to London."
"What?" he said, in a daze from all that had been said. "I don't… what?"
"I want you to come to London. To get away from this place. You'll drive yourself mad if you stay here by yourself. Come to London. You can see me and Cat. Mary is there and I think she would be open to seeing you… it's been far too long since you've seen your goddaughter."
"Perhaps," Richard said before shaking his head. "But no… I would be even more lost in my London house."
"Then don't go there," Robert said. "Stay with me."
"Robert?"
The Lord of Grantham smiled weakly, shoulders slumping. "I have been a coward for far too long. I am going to meet with Cora and I am going to set things right with her. Beg her forgiveness and try and make things right. And then… I'll go to Edith and tell her I am proud of her and all she has managed to do with her life. I will shake Sir Michael's hand and welcome him to the family. Then… Mary."
"She will not be happy to see you," Allen warmed though there was no heat in his words.
"I know. I am going to allow Mary to scream at me and curse my name and perhaps even fling some wine in my face. And when she is done and can only pant I will let her know that I am forever sorry for all I did. And if she wishes to never speak to me again… I will accept that. At least I will know that I tried. That is all I can do."
Richard took a deep breath. "I suppose… I should pack then."
"I suppose you should," Allen agreed.
