Tom felt… detached from everything.
He supposed that was a good thing, as it kept him from going into a full panic like everyone else was.
He knew most of the people that knew him would be shocked that he could be detached from situations, as they just saw in as the passionate irish rebel who argued for his beliefs and didn't care what others thought of him. But that was a false narrative and if one actually took a moment to think about it they'd realize just how foolish those thoughts were. After all, how could he have ever held a job if he spent his days screaming about this injustice or that? How could he have been a chauffer to the very people he saw as the main components to a broken system if he had no self control?
One only had to look at his resume to realize he was very good at compartmentalizing. His job past was sparkling, with even Mr. Carson unable to deny how impressive it was. Glowing letters of recommendation from the lords and ladies he'd worked for… a few minor quibbles about his outspoken nature from the butlers but nothing worse than most young people had… and never once had he received punishment while on the job.
Tom understood how to pull himself away from his feelings when on the job. It was his off hours, when things got personal, where he would speak without thinking and push far harder than he should.
That ability to detach himself allowed him to sit in the eye of the storm that had fallen upon the Gray household and observe everything with an almost clinical eye.
People were in a panic. They were rushing about with little order and those attempting to try and rein things in were failing. It was interesting how when it had merely been the General that had been injured there had been worry but people, for the most part, had remained calm. Yes, the Lothrop family had clearly been distraught but that was expected. But the other high born guests had somehow managed to carry on. They didn't forget what had happened but they didn't let it draw them into worry or despair. No hand wringing, no biting of lips, no pacing up and down the floors till they wore a path into the hardwood. They had carried on. Because even though the General had many years ahead of him he was still an old man. And… though Tom knew they would deny it… Allen wasn't one of them. He was friends with Lord Merton, he was a Lord himself, he was wealthy and powerful and could trace his lineage for generations… but he still wasn't one of the elite. He wasn't truly part of high society. He was the outside, the rogue element. He was the odd daisy in a boutique of roses: interesting to look at but standing out all the same.
So they'd carried on when he'd been found injured. If he had died that might have been a touch different but in the end the guests had continued on.
But now Lillian Crawley, the youngest daughter of the Earl of Grantham, was missing.
That… was different.
"We should be looking for her!" Cora said, Edith having wrapped an arm around her mother to keep her from rushing off. Tom knew that if it weren't for her second born holding her in place Cora would have begun running up and down the halls, screaming her head off as she cried out for her child.
"The others are looking for her, mama," Edith said, not for the first time and he was sure not for the last. "They will find her."
"What are you thinking about?" Sybil's grandmother asked, walking up to him. "You have a very pensive look upon your face."
"How everything in life, no matter how complex or simple, changes when children are involved."
"Yes, that is very much true," the dowager said, watching as John sat with Noah, bouncing the boy on his good knee and telling his stories to try and get him to fall asleep. Noah though was worried about 'Lily' and kept looking about like he expected her to suddenly march through the door, annoyed at all the fuss. The Lothrop children were with their mother in their own guest room; she hadn't wanted them to stay in the room with their injured grandfather. Isobel had gone too, wanting to help comfort them as they were just as confused by everything.
His mind drifted to Sybie. It still hurt that she wasn't there anymore, as if felt like he had lost her, and he wondered what he would be doing if she had been at the party as well. Most likely bundling her up and pressing her close to his chest and growling ay anyone that got to close, if he were honest. The last piece of Sybil that he had left… except now things had been reversed and his baby girl was gone but his wife was back (even if they did need to make it official in this new live)…
He shook his head. His mind was wandering.
"I am surprised you didn't go search for Lillian yourself," he commented.
"There are enough parties right now out there and I would only slow them down." She nodded towards John. "Same reason he allowed Anna to go instead of him, though I wager he doesn't like it one bit."
"Anna can take care of herself," Tom found himself saying. "She was the one that figured out which direction Allen's attacker went."
"Yes… though I would feel better if we were all safely back at Downton rather than being here." She looked about the room. "I do so hate thinking the worst of people but…"
"You can't help wondering who is responsible for all this?"
"Indeed. Lillian is so far the only one uncounted for but we both know she couldn't have attacked Allen."
"Even if she could muster it she is more likely to argue with him using facts than to attack," Tom teased lightly before his mood grew sour. "Someone here did this. Someone attacked the General."
"Now, we must be careful," the Dowager said, holding up a hand. "We can not judge the person till we know all the facts."
"What possible facts could there be?" Tom asked. "He was thrown from the second floor and left to die. If we hadn't stumbled upon his body when we did…" he trailed off, not wanting to think about what could have happened to the man that had opened his home to the Downton Exiles during their time of need.
"We don't know what happened. There could be a perfectly valid reason-"
Tom shot her a dark look. "No, there is not. The General would never do anything to deserve such injuries."
"Yet you are so quick to assume any of the people with us could have done that?" She shook her head. "You didn't grow up in our world, Tom, so I won't hold such thoughts against you. But you will soon be joining it." He opened his mouth to protest but the Dowager shook her head. "Yes yes, I know that you and Sybil would prefer a quiet simple life where you make it on your own… but even if you do manage to achieve that she will always be one of us. You could move to China and farm rice and you'd still be an Irishman, would you not?" Now she shot him a pointed stare and Tom finally nodded his head. "It is the same with Sybil. She will do all she can to appear as a middle class housewife but one only has to look at Mary and her attempts at such to know that it is doomed to fail. Just like how Matthew will never be an upper crust elite. I dare say the closest person to manage to change themselves is Cora but even she still has American in her.
"The point remains that you are going to be a part of this world. Not daily…" the way she paused there made him think she was pondering something but she didn't give words to her thoughts and instead pressed on, "…but you will be a part of it. And as such you must understand something: we all have secrets."
"I am aware of that."
"I don't think you are," the Dowager said. "I think you view us all in rather black and white turns. There are good and kind lords and there are wicked and sinful lords. And I will admit that there are plenty of people who seek to cast themselves as one or the other. But… this is not some Dickens tale. We are a blend of good and evil. Even the General has ghosts that haunt him. Same as me… same as Sybil."
"…then the question is were the General's ghosts worse than the ones that compelled someone to attack him?"
The Dowager smirked and patted his arm. "Now you are thinking clearly."
~MC~MC~MC~
"I must thank you for your assistance, Mr. Carson" Oswald said as he moved to yet another one of the servants' rooms, opening it and stepping inside. He bent down and looked under the bed, shaking his head when he saw nothing but a few clumps of dust.
"Think nothing of it," Charles said as he stood in the doorway; honestly there was no reason for him to enter the room as unless she had hidden herself under the bed there was no other places for Lillian to tuck herself away in within the room. Much like with Downton there was a simple bed, a dresser for clothes, and a hanging rack so one might hang their uniforms and not risk them getting wrinkled. A table sat to one side with a basin on it for someone who wished to wash their face in the morning or before bed. He imagined that for the senior members of the staff they might get a desk or a table to work at, if they so chose, and a chair to sit in but otherwise the rooms were designed not for comfort but for need. A place to dress and to sleep, that was all.
"I can not believe all of this has happened. His Lordship must be in a panic." Oswald looked over at Carson. "He has a great attachment to the General."
Charles frowned at the man's tone. It was polite but there was something… odd about it. "You disapprove?"
"Oh, it isn't my place to judge him…" Oswald said quickly.
"But you still do," he said as Oswald left the room and went to check the next one; there was little belief that Lillian would have snuck all the way up to the servants' quarters but Lord Merton had commanded they check every room, just to be safe. Eliminate every possibility so that they might be able to focus their attention on the more likely places the child would have snuck away too.
Oswald let out a sigh. "General Lothrop… he is rather like a beloved childhood toy, in my opinion. He reminds his Lordship of his youth. Of happier days. He has said so himself to me many times. He allows his lordship to gaze back into the past and feel fondest for times that have slipped away."
"And you disapprove of that?" Charles asked as they entered the next room, this one belonging to a valet if Charles wasn't mistaken, due to the better quality furniture.
"I think it has held him back," Oswald said. "Cavenham Park was once the center of society in this part of England. Lord Merton's father was well known for having every lord within a 100 kilometers come to see him and ask for his advice. He was a friend to all and advisor to many. His Lordship though… he has not used the power he inherited to its fullest. He has preferred to keep with a few that he cares for… I fear he will reach the end of his days and regret that. Especially with this business with Master Larry." Oswald shook his head. "The tragedy of that."
"What do you mean?" Carson said as he moved to check under the bed for the room. He had a dark feeling he knew just which part of that event was a tragedy to the other butler…
"That Master Larry must be exiled for all of this!" Oswald complained. "He is a good lad… he made mistakes, yes. I admit that. Everyone admits that."
'Not Master Larry,' Charles thought darkly. That had been the whispers in the papers, the fact that while Lord Merton had issued an apology to all the families of the fallen Larry Gray had been utterly silent.
"But this exile… it is far too strict of a punishment. Robbing him of his birthright, forcing him to live in the savage lands… it shows that justice is dead!"
Charles didn't say a word.
"…I mourn for the lads that died," Oswald finally said, looking at Charles as he finally straightened. "Please don't take this to mean that I don't. I know that one of the soldiers that died worked for Downton-"
"William Mason," Charles said firmly, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders, making sure he said the young man's name clearly. As he had done many times before, whenever someone had asked him about William and brought up his death Charles refused to discuss the matter of how he had died. No… he discussed his life. "His father was a tenet farmer and William would have been rather happy with that life. He admitted as much to me and others. But his mother dreamed of him rising up in the world and he wished to honor her desires, like a good son should. He was very much open in letting all of us know what he still needed to learn, something that impressed me greatly as it is the mark of a good man to be able to admit his faults and seek to correct them. He could play the piano but did not like to sing. He loved dark chocolate and the first time he ever had some… I have never seen such delight on a person's face before. I think of him every time I have a bite myself though I find I can never finish it because it hurts so much to know he will never have any again."
Oswald stared at him. "I… I truly am sorry for your loss."
"Thank you," Charles said, brushing off his trousers. "I know it hurts you what happened to Larry… I can't imagine what it would be like if it were one of his lordship's daughters who were forced to leave the country. It was painful enough when they went into exile and that was on their own choosing."
"Yes, of course," Oswald said. He let out a sigh. "Honestly I am closer to them than I should be. I came to Cavenham Park because of their mother. My mother had been her ladyship's mother's ladysmaid and I came to help her make this place a home. I admired Lord Merton but… but her ladyship was the one I truly respected. Her passing hurt me so…"
"And I suppose it does not help that the General and her didn't get along?" When Oswald looked at him Charles merely shrugged. "Well… people hear things that they then repeat to others. Word spreads, you know?"
Oswald nodded at that. "Yes, I suppose there is no use denying it. You are correct, General Lothrop and her ladyship were not on good terms. She saw him as an ungrateful man who looked down his nose at high society when he had no right to do so. I know he put many thoughts into his lordship's head about how the boys should be raised and that caused friction between his lordship and her ladyship. A meddler, that one, and it has only gotten worse with her passing. There is no one to counter him."
"Yes," Charles said, not quite sure what to say.
"Come, let us see if Mrs. Timmons has finished with the maids' rooms."
~MC~MC~MC~
"Thank you for taking time to help us search," Robert said Jonsey as they, along with Richard, moved through their part of Cavenham Park. "I know you wish to be with your father…"
"My father would want Lillian found," Jonsey said firmly, reaching down to assure himself that his revolver was still tucked in his jacket pocket. "If he were awake he'd demand that we wheel him about so he might assist in the search."
"Yes, that does sound like the man," Robert said.
"We will find her," Richard assured Robert. "I promise you. She probably got scared-"
"Lillian doesn't get scared," Robert said with a bemused huff. "Never have I met a child so steady and serious. When she was born I swear if she could have talked she would have demanded everyone stop making a fuss and let her sleep because it was awfully bright and loud in the world." He smiled at that but it only lasted a moment before the smile fell. "We have to find her."
"We will, I promise you," Jonsey said as they began to search through the library. "Can you think of a place she would have been want to hide?"
"No. She did not like hide and seek. Thought it was rather silly."
"Oh? Now there is a story there," Jonsey said as he looked behind a couch. He knew that keeping Robert talking, so that he didn't focus on the fact that his youngest child was missing, would keep him from falling to pieces. Give a man something to focus on and they could march for hours, as Jonsey's father had once told him. It was the same thing that Jonsey was doing right now, using Lillian's disappearance to focus his mind and keep him from thinking about his father's injuries.
"Mary tried it with her a few weeks ago. She didn't know I was watching, of course." He smiled as he checked in the fireplace; very unlikely, yes, but it didn't hurt to check and honestly Jonsey was surprised that Lord Grantham had actually thought of that. "She explained the entire thing to Lillian, went into great detail, and then told her to hide. She covered her eyes, counted to 20, and looked about only to find Lillian still standing there, looking at her with the most incredulous look I've seen on a person's face, let alone a child. Mary tried to explain again before finally asking if Lillian planned to hide at all and she just-" Robert gave a dramatic shake of his head, "-and Mary gave up."
"Smart."
"Both of them," Robert said before sighing. "That's why I want to find her. And then I want to gather up the girls and huddle in a room until the authorities can arrive." He paused. "Matthew can bring the firepokers."
"Thomas told me about that one. I imagine he would be quite skilled with it."
"He is," Robert agreed.
Jonsey paused. "Who do you think did all this?"
"Pardon?"
"My father. Lillian."
"I have no idea," Robert said. "I just can see anyone hurting either of them." He paused, glancing at Jonsey. "You… you don't suspect me, do you?"
He slipped his hand into his pocket. "No, of course not."
"Because I wouldn't hurt the General." Robert paused. "I know that the two of us fought… we didn't get along, I admit that, especially after that concert. But even if we hadn't tried to find some common ground for Mary and Matthew's sake… I would never harm him."
"People do odd things sometimes, when they feel like they are threatened," Jonsey stated.
"Not that though," Robert pressed.
"I believe you."
"Thank you." The Lord of Grantham paused. "What convinced you? Because I get the sense you believed me before I said all that."
"Hurting my father would do nothing to help you with Mary or the girls. You've already begun mend fences and if you were found out it would only cause far more problems for you. But… in the heat of the moment, another argument? It is possible you would have given him a shove that would have caused him to fall back. Purely by accident but your fear of what it could mean to you would cause you to try your best to cover your actions up."
"But… you don't believe that, right?" Robert said nervously, looking up at Jonsey with a stare filled with utter concern and worry.
"Not anymore."
"Why?"
"Lillian," Jonsey admitted. "Her disappearance… it makes no logical sense. She is your child… why take her? Why hide her? It only draws more attention to everything."
Robert relaxed.
Jonsey… kept his hand in his pocket.
Just in case.
~MC~MC~MC~
"Thank you Thomas," Mary said as she stepped away from the door, turning to Anna and Matthew who were still waiting for her. "They haven't seen her but will let us know if they hear her pass by."
"What makes you think Lillian came this way?" Matthew asked Anna as the three of them continued down the wing of Cavenham they'd selected, leaving Allen's sickroom behind.
"It's the only logical things she could have done," Anna reasoned with a shrug.
"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.
Mary smirked as her former man let out an annoyed huff. "She couldn't have gone back the other way, as that was where the person that attacked the nanny and Allen were."
"Why not go down the stairs?" Matthew asked.
"That would have been the smart move… if we hadn't all told the children they needed to stay up here." Anna had informed Noah as much and it made her smile as she remembered how seriously her son had nodded at that, like a little soldier getting his orders from a general. "Besides, we would have seen her down there if she had done that. She hadn't though which means she must have stayed on this floor. It is possible that she fled further up but I believe that in her haste to get away from whoever it was that attacked the General she continued on down through this wing. We just need to find which room she has gone in."
"And then we can focus on who attacked the General," Mary said as they continued on.
Matthew frowned at that. "I don't like thinking about it. The General-"
"Not thinking about it won't change that it happened," Mary said, trying to keep her voice kind. "He was hurt and we need to figure out who did it. Was there someone here that wanted to hurt him? Or was it an accident? Did he stumble upon something-"
"We are fools," Anna suddenly said, stopping short, nearly causing Mary and Matthew to collide with her.
"What is that?" Mary asked as her friend twisted around and charged back down the hall. "Anna?"
"We let Lillian's disappearance distract us. We were going down the hall, trying to figure out where the General had come from when we became focused on the nanny and the children. But we never finished searching." Anna was now racing along, forcing Mary to nearly run to keep up.
"But Lillian-"
"The others can find her! We need to see who hurt the General… there is a chance that finding his attacker will tell us what happened to her-Oh!" Anna stopped just before she ran right into Tim Gray, who was being followed by Billy Skelton. "Lord Timothy, who has rooms down that hall?"
Tim frowned, looking back down the hall Mary and Anna had gone down before. "The nursery but I doubt Lady Lillian went back there-"
"Beyond that. Who has rooms down there? Which of the guests?"
Tim frowned, brow furrowed. "Well… no one."
"Not no one," Billy said. Tim glanced at him but the Lord of Glenwald shrugged. "I overheard your father talking… your brother has his rooms down there."
Anna shared a look with Mary. "Larry…" Mary said before hurrying forward. "Tim, come along!"
"Lady Mary? What is it?"
"We think the General came this way, before he was attacked. We think he stumbled upon someone, doing something they weren't supposed to, and that is why he was thrown off the balcony. And the only one in the part of the house, other than the children, is-"
"Larry!" Tim said in a panic, nearly shoving Mary aside as he hurried past everyone, forcing them to give chase after Tim as he rushed passed one closed door and another, finally coming to one and throwing it open-
The scream that tore through Tim Gray's lips would haunt Mary's nightmares for days to come.
They found him kneeling next to the prone form of his brother, soaking wet from the rain that lashed through the open window and onto the eldest of the Gray boys. Tim was holding his brother tight to his chest, wailing as the lightning flashed, blood staining the front of his white shirt, making it match his brother's temple.
But no raging against the elements or the Heavens would breathe life back into Larry Gray.
