"It's coming to an end."
"What is?" Elsie asked, looking up at Ms. O'Brien… and was startled by how pale the woman looked. She was always pale, to the point that more than one guest at Downton had honestly thought her to be a ghost, but this was different. All the color had drained from her and left her so white she could have disappeared in a snow storm, as her mother would have said. "My word!" she exclaimed, moving from her seat at the table in the Servant's Hall and moving around to catch Ms. O'Brien should she suddenly pass out. "What has happened?"
"What's the matter?" Mrs. Patmore asked, bursting from the kitchen with a towel in her hands. "Dear me… you look like you've had a fright! Let me get something to settle your nerves."
"Not a fright, Mrs. Patmore," Ms. O'Brien said, licking her lips. "Not a fright at all. Quite the opposite."
"What is it?" Elsie asked.
"Thomas… he sent a telegram. He wanted us to know since he knew his Lordship was out and it was possible that the hospital staff wouldn't inform us until the cheering began."
"Cheering? What cheering?" Mrs. Patmore asked.
Elsie swallowed and found that now she needed to take a seat. "Are you sure?" she asked, it dawning on her just what Thomas had told her. "He's not playing a trick like the cheeky boy he is?"
"Thomas wouldn't joke about this, you know that," Ms. O'Brien said with a fierce shake of her head.
"No, you're right… he wouldn't." Elsie felt a bubbling of shame in her belly for thinking Thomas would ever make a mockery of THAT!
"Whatever is going on?!" Mrs. Patmore demanded.
"The War," Ms. O'Brien whispered, as if she were afraid saying the words any louder would cause them to not come true, "it's finished. Germany… is going to surrender."
Mrs. Patmore blinked at that before… rushing back to the kitchen.
Elsie and Ms. O'Brien shared a look, wondering what was going on, only to lean back in surprise when Mrs. Patmore brought out a bottle of sherry. Not cooking sherry… actual drinking sherry. Nothing as fine as what would be served at his Lordship's table but sherry all the same. And three glasses.
"Not one word," Mrs. Patmore said, pouring each of them a glass. "Mr. Carson isn't here and news like this… well, it needs to be toasted."
Elsie found herself nodding, managing a smile and a nod as she raised took her glass. "I think… as joyous as this is… we should take a moment to think of those who aren't here to drink with us." She knew that Mrs. Patmore was thinking of her nephew Archie but for her she thought of poor sweet William. His memory made the relief a bit more bitter… but didn't steal it away.
Elsie took a drink.
Then gagged.
"What is this?" she coughed, Ms. O'Brien nearly spitting out her drink. "I've smelt paint thinner that was nicer than this!"
"You don't like it?" Mrs. Patmore asked before taking both of their glasses and pouring it into her own. "More for me."
Elsie just watched her friend drink away at the… well, calling it swill wasn't actually fair because that inferred that she was able to manage even a swallow of it. She couldn't bring herself to scold her for drinking so much at that early of an hour because frankly the news was far too wonderful not to celebrate.
And that… was going to be a problem.
"When news breaks out Upstairs it's going to be like some Indian bazaar," Ms. O'Brien muttered and Elsie found herself nodding in agreement.
"We'll need to seek out Captain Crawley, Dr. Clarkson, and Matron Crawley first. If they are ready for the news then we won't be on our own."
Ms. O'Brien nodded her head at that. "Right… want me to find the doctor?"
"If you could? I'll locate Captain Crawley and Lady Sybil." She chuckled. "Lady Sybil… it will be nice to be able to call her that again."
"Don't be so sure of that," Ms. O'Brien warned. "You have no idea what things will be like after the War is ended. Far too many folks are going to be in for a cruel surprise when they realize that the world has changed and there are plenty out there not interested in it going back to the way it was."
"That… is very true," Elsie said with a nod, standing up. "Mrs. Patmore, would you keep this news from the staff until we return? I don't want them gossiping about it."
"Right right, these lips are sealed," Mrs. Patmore said… before taking a sip of her sherry.
Elsie shook her head.
~MC~MC~MC~
"It's truly ending?" Mary whispered, sitting down in the chair that rested right next to the telephone. The Lothrops had it situated in the hall, much as it was at Downton, and Mary was glad for that as at the moment she truly needed a place to sit and gather herself.
On the other end of the line Matthew let out a happy little sigh, all the tension seeming to flood out of him as he did so. "It is, my darling. Thomas sent a telegram to Ms. O'Brien and I called him first to confirm… he thought that it would already be getting around but I guess there was a small delay."
"But however did Thomas find out?" Mary asked.
"His friend, Jonsey. He is well placed within the War Office and he learned of the news."
"And you are sure-"
"I'm sure," Matthew said, and for once she wasn't annoyed at him cutting her off. "The War will end, Mary. It's going to end."
She leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling, though it wasn't the white texture surface she was gazing at but rather the Heavens she knew lay beyond it. "Thank you," she whispered.
"Pardon?"
"Sorry," Mary said. "I was giving a prayer that this madness will finally be at an end."
Matthew chuckled at that. "I know and I don't blame you. I have been praying myself." He paused. "You know that this doesn't mean my work is done. I wish I could say that I would be right back to London and you but… there will still be soldiers who need to recover."
"And I imagine Sybil will be fighting tooth and nail to keep the hospital running for all long as possible."
"She will. But it is going to get better and in a few months I can leave and return to you."
Mary paused at that. "Matthew… what if… it didn't take the hospital closing for us to spend a great amount of time together."
"Whatever do you mean?"
She smiled, letting out a befuddled laugh. "I… I honestly can't believe I'm saying this but… Papa and I have talked and I do believe we may be on the road to fix everything between us."
"…oh now I truly must say a prayer of thanks for small miracles!"
Mary glowered at that, even if she knew Matthew couldn't see it. "That doesn't mean I can't avoid Downton still, if only to spite you!"
"You wouldn't do that," Matthew teased. "You love me too much!"
"You are honestly betting against my ability to hold a grudge?"
"When it comes to your feelings for me? Of course."
"…oh Matthew," she said in exasperation.
He chuckled in victory and she let him have it. "When do you think you will come to visit?"
"Soon," she admitted. "I'll still return to London but… I haven't seen Anna in a long time and I wonder if Noah will even remember me. And I imagine I will be racing back and forth several times as I don't know when Mama will wish to return permanently… sooner rather than later. But even then I do have a life in London." She thought of Lavinia… and a plan formed in her head of bringing her friend to Downton. She just knew Lavinia would be a natural at the estate and it would be so wonderful to have her friend at her side!
"The world changes and I am thankful that things of shifted so that I might have some victories in it all," Matthew finally said.
"Do be careful; no need to be too poetic," Mary teased.
~MC~MC~MC~
"Can you say dada?" John said, looking at Noah.
"Mama!" his son happily exclaimed reaching out his hands and opening and closing his little fingers.
John turned to Anna and shot her a playful glare. "You are distracting him."
Anna merely shook her head. "You can't force it, John. He'll say it when he's ready."
John grumbled at that. Noah was nearly 2 and a half and could say several words. Mama was his favorite but he also said Num when he wanted food, Yes and No of course (though John dreaded when Noah would reach the stage that 'No' became his favorite) and 'Drat!' thanks to Robert and a cup of tea he'd spilled on his lap.
But no 'Dada'.
And not for a lack of trying either! John did all he could short of getting Anna to stitch the word on his shirts and still his son refused to call him dada. Oh, Noah loved him, of that there was no doubt. His son had begun to walk a month or so ago and often John only had to get near a room before the boy would rush him. But never tackle him for a hug like John had done with his own father when he'd been a wee little pup like Noah. Not his son… Noah realized that his dada had a bad leg and thus would slide to a stop in front of him, look up with his bright eyes, and wait for John to pick him up or lower himself down for a hug.
But never call him dada.
"What's that noise downstairs?" John suddenly asked, tilted his head. He heard… cheers?
"I have no idea," Anna admitted. "It was empty when I left a few minutes ago. Just Lang and Imogen."
"Too early for the lads at the hospital to come by for some lunch," John pointed out, rising with a groan, Noah smiling as Anna picked him up. "Still, let's go make sure-" He stopped as Lang suddenly burst into the room, which was startling because the man NEVER left his post. Lang was good and steady like that, always wanting to keep a careful eye on the bar and be ready if anyone needed a drink. It made it the perfect man to handle things downstairs when John or Anna needed to slip away. "What's the matter?" he asked only to blink when he saw that Lang was crying. "What is it-"
"The War, sir," Lang said with a watery smile. "It's over. The Germans… they're going to surrender! The War is going end!"
John blinked before suddenly rushing forward, wrapping Lang in a hug, the other man instantly returning it in a rare show of compassion and emotion. John squeezed him tight and felt Lang's tears on his shoulder but he didn't care. They had been in battle. They had heard the thunder of the guns and knew what it was like to lose friends to battle. So for once in both their lives they were willing to show the world their joy.
"Lang!" Noah called out, causing John to scowl.
~MC~MC~MC~
"I do think you are the only person not celebrating," Isobel Crawley said with a chuckle. She had run into Allen and his friend Richard Gray just as the rumors had begun to swirl about and Richard had declared that they had to celebrate the ending of the War. Isobel had tried to plead off, as she thought they'd want to have a private brunch, but Richard had insisted she come.
"This is a time of celebration and I insist you join us since you were here when we learned this news!"
That was how Isobel found herself at one of the most expensive restaurants in London, watching in amusement as Allen Lothrop, The General… pouted like a school boy.
Everyone else was making toasts, dining on the finest meals, and loudly calling out blessings on those that had led them through this nightmare. The waiters were clearly a bit tipsy, having decided to have some champagne themselves, but no one was blaming them if they weren't as crisp as they normally were. When Allen had entered and the patrons had seen him in his uniform he'd received a standing ovation as if he had personally marched into Germany and defeated the Kaiser in single combat. The staff had proclaimed that they were giving them their food for free and when Allen had insisted that he must pay, for honor would not allow him to accept such a gift, the staff had begged him not too. In the end he'd agreed and Isobel had enjoyed her first meal in years that was so rich and filling she thought she might fall asleep right at the table. Her time at Downton had built up a tolerance but getting by these last few years on hospital food had apparently dulled her pallete.
And now Allen Lothrop was poking at his lunch a glower on his face as he stabbed at a piece of meat like it had personally offended him.
"Whatever has you so upset?" Richard asked. "Is there something we don't know?"
"No… there is no hidden secret that will ruin everyone's good cheer. There is no need to be concerned about that."
"Then what is it?" Richard asked his old friend. "You are clearly upset Allen… whatever is the matter."
"You don't like how the War is ending?" Isobel asked, wondering if perhaps, as an army man, Allen didn't like the terms of surrender the Germans had accepted.
"I wish it had ended far sooner," Allen muttered. "It was a stupid, pointless thing. So many good chaps died because of hubris."
"Well, we know that's how you feel so you aren't upset because of that," Richard pointed out. "So tell us what the matter is already!"
Allen groaned. "The War is over."
"…and?" Richard pressed.
"There are no more excuses left to me," Allen muttered. "I can't claim I must do something else. That I must be here in London focused on other things. My father won't hear of it."
"Your father?" Isobel asked in confusion. But when she looked at Richard he had clearly gelled onto what had upset Allen… and he was laughing.
"Old man, are you truly that disgusted with claiming the title?"
It suddenly hit Isobel what the problem was. Allen Lothrop's uncle had been Lord Oakheart and, much like Robert, failed to produce a son, meaning that Allen's father had become the heir. And in turn Allen was his father's heir. That in and of itself was an annoyance for the man, for Allen loathed high society thanks to his boyhood years. He'd once told Isobel that Richard was the only person he'd met at school that he wished to ever see again… lest it was at a duel where he got to pick the weapon. Isobel remembered how her own husband Reginald had spoken of his time, with little in terms on money to help him along, and how cruel the sons of lords could be. Add in that Allen had then gone into the military and happily settled into a middle class life and it was little wonder he hated anything to do with titles and the like.
'But then there are his cousins,' Isobel thought to herself. His uncle's two daughters were infamous, with so many stories about what they had done spreading around that sometimes it was hard to remember which ones were true and which ones were fantasies. She knew that one was little more than a loose harlot and the other a drunk and a criminal. They had disgraced the family name and shamed their father so greatly that, according to Allen, the old man had wept on his deathbed over how he had destroyed the family legacy and it was up to Allen to restore it.
The worst possible thing someone could force upon the General.
"My father has kept the title during the War but he has made it clear that it is mine the moment fighting ending. He is an old man… my mother is long dead and my father is alone at the estate. He wants to travel while he still has the time. He can't do that while being a Lord so he is going to pass the title onto me. I very well presume he is going to renounce his hold on it within days."
"What is the first thing you'll do?" Isobel asked.
"Other than try and talk him out of it?" Allen asked sardonically. "Start fresh. I'll have to keep the name Lord Oakheart but I'm renaming everything else." He paused. "I've already informed the Kings of Arms that I want my own Coat of Arms to be completely different from my uncle's. The family used to try and keep some things the same but not for me… different colors, different shield bearers, everything will be my own. I'm thinking stags as the shield bearers. A pale golden shield… the oak of Oakheart will remain but perhaps four blue stars, to represent Cat and the children."
"Why blue?" Richard asked.
"I like the color blue," Allen said, earning a snort from the man. "I'm changing the castle's name. And the village."
Richard scoffed. "The old bloods are going to hate that."
"They are going to hate me," Allen retorted. "I honestly do not care. If I have to do this then it will be done my way, Dickie. Period. I won't be another Lord Oakheart rotting away in that castle. I am going to be myself and that means remolding everything to better fit my life. Starting with the village."
"Won't that upset the people living there?" Isobel asked.
"I checked with them… my cousins have made the town's name little better than dirt so they welcome a fresh start themselves. I'm thinking Deep Grove or something like that. A good solid name. Not something that makes little sense."
"Well Lord Oakheart I do hope I am the first to dine at your table," Richard said, raising his glass.
"Of course Dickie," Allen said with a soft smile. "I'm going to need you to get through this." He paused. "In fact I dare say I will have quite the party to celebrate."
"What are you planning?" Richard said with a groan, it clear that he was used to dealing with the General and his plotting. Isobel was as well; even though the man was her age he sometimes acted like a grump twice as old as her… and then would become a smirking child in the next moment.
"A dinner with the most important people," Allen said, "to celebrate Deep Grove's rebirth. You, my oldest friend. Cat and the children, of course. And the other children-"
"Other children?"
"I have a very large family, Dickie," Allen said. "Franklin and his family, of course. Jenny and whatever suitor she's selected. Jonsey. Matthew."
"Matthew is my son," Isobel pointed out with a smirk.
"He's mine too now. Along with Mary, Edith, Sybil, Tom, and Thomas. I'd still debating if I'll adopt Sir Michael… its already rather incestual to have Mary and Matthew together, along with Sybil and Tom…"
Richard chuckled at that. "Well, I suppose that isn't all that bad."
"You'll be there too, Isobel," the General informed her. "You are part of this."
"Thank you."
"And Molesley. And Mary's new lady's maid."
Richard groaned and leaned back in his chair. "And there it is!"
"What?"
"You can't invite the servants!"
"I already have."
"…you have not!" Richard complained.
Allen merely smirked. "Would Robert and Cora be fine? And the Dowager?"
"Of course," Richard said with a dry huff.
"And when I proclaim the guests of honor will be John and Anna Bates and their son Allen Noah?"
Richard rubbed his jaw. "Allen…"
Isobel though shot him a look. "They didn't name their son after you."
"They just don't like to admit it in public. Upsets Mary seeing as she was banking on a little girl."
Eventually Allen had to slip away to make a phone call, leaving Isobel and Richard sitting alone at the table. "Allen is a good man," she finally said.
"One of the best," Richard said. "When we went to school everyone only wanted to talk to me because I was going to be a baron. Allen… he didn't care in the slightest. For anyone else that would have repulsed them but it drew me closer to him. It made me feel…"
"Like a person?" Isobel asked.
"Very much so," he said with a smile.
"Will you be going with him when he leaves for Deep Grove? To help him settle in?"
"I don't think I should. Allen will want whatever changes he makes to be a surprise." Richard chuckled, shaking his head. "And I don't know if my heart could take watching him take an ax to the place."
"Yes, I could see him doing exactly that," Isobel said with a laugh. "Then what will you do? Robert, from what I've heard, will be returning to Downton with Cora soon."
"I… honestly don't know. Allen has told me to remain at his house; he said it isn't wise for me to be alone at my own townhouse at the moment."
Isobel frowned. "That explains it."
"Explains what?"
"With Sybil at Downton I have found the flat she and I were sharing to be too much for me to manage on my own. Allen offered to let me return to his townhouse. If Mary and Matthew decide to get a place of their own or return to Downton there will be plenty of room…"
"And Allen wants us to be roommates?" Richard asked.
"It would be terribly improper I suppose-"
"I think it would be a jolly good time!" Richard said with a grin.
Isobel was startled by that but began to smile after a moment. "You truly think so?"
"I know we've only met recently but Allen has told me much about you that I feel like I've known you for years. And it would be nice to live with a friend."
"…yes," Isobel said, seeing the wisdom in that. "I think you are quite right."
She raised her glass and Richard clinked it with his own.
~MC~MC~MC~
"Sybil?" Jane said, knocking on the door. "Might I come in?"
She heard some movement and felt a twinge of guilt. Matron Crawley had been up half the night trying to help some nurses deal with a soldier who had gotten an infection at a surgical site. She'd only made it to bed at around 2am and Jane had promised that she would let her rest, as she'd woken up early the day before that meaning she'd been running about for over 24 hours straight. It was nearing lunch time and Jane had been planning to not say a word and let the woman sleep but the news of the war… she had to tell her!
Finally she heard the 'Come in!' and Jane entered to find Sybil in her bed, looking utterly worn out. She was sweaty and flush and she had the covers pulled up tight to her neck even though they were all out of place. The room smelled of sweat and Jane for a moment feared that Sybil was coming down with something. It must have shown on her face because the younger woman shook her head.
"I'm fine, Jane… just a restless night. I couldn't get comfortable, you see."
"Of course. I… I hate to wake you but I knew you'd want to hear this. The Germans… they are going to surrender!"
Sybil stared up at the ceiling and let out a sigh. "Thank God," she murmured. She twisted suddenly. "Matthew and Dr. Clarkson are going to do something special, aren't they?"
"An announcement but not for a few hours. And Mrs. Hughes said that Mrs. Patmore wants to have a special dinner."
"Of course. Thank you Jane… I better rest so I am ready for it."
Jane nodded and left the room.
~MC~MC~MC~
"That was too close!" Tom said as he popped up from behind the bed, using a pillow to cover his manhood.
Sybil cheekily grinned and sat up, letting the covers slide down and reveal her naked breasts. "But that makes it all the more fun," she teased, wiggling her finger at him. "Now then… let us get back to celebrating."
Tom didn't need to be asked twice.
