Isobel found him standing alone in the library.

"You shouldn't be by yourself," she said softly and she grimaced when he jumped nearly a foot in the air. "I'm sorry, I thought you heard me come in-"

"I didn't," Richard snapped before instantly shutting his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't."

"Its fine," she assured him and it is. She expected him to lash out at her… hoped he wouldn't but expected it. When tragedy strikes people look for some outlet to deal with their grief. She had seen it many times during her years as a nurse, when a family was told there was simply nothing that could be done for their family member. There would be tears, of course, but then there would be the shifting to other actions and emotions. She'd seen grown men kick at walls like they were children and women began to clean a room even though it was spotless. She remembered one woman who had begun to sing and at first that had seemed sweet until she'd begun to brag about how great a singer she was and demanded the rest of the family hear her sing rather than focus on their loved one Isobel had been annoyed… only for that anger to disappear yet again when she realized that the woman simply didn't know how to function without having people focus on her. So Richard yelling at her… it was expected. Anger was one of the most common ways people dealt with lose.

"Fine," Richard said, shaking his head. "I am beginning to wonder if that word even holds any meaning anymore. After all… can we say anything in the world is 'fine' anymore? After all we have suffered through. A war that should have never been, millions of lives destroyed, and a country changed completely." He let out a dry little chuckle that petered out like a stalled car engine. "People have said that the world is changed and now I am beginning to wonder if words have been changed as well. If 'fine' now means something completely different from what it once did. I think it might…"

Isobel wanted to ask him how he was doing but she didn't. She knew it had been utterly stressful for him. Distressful as well. So much had changed in such a short amount of time it was a wonder he wasn't even more of a nervous wreck. Condolences weren't worth anything… she remembered how much she had hated it when people had come up to her after the loss of her husband and kept telling her 'I am sorry' like they were to blame for her husband's death. Or the people that told her they knew what she was going through and then would mention the family members they had lost; Isobel had gone through the same after her parents died but with Reginald things were different and the last thing she wanted to hear was someone desperate for attention spouting off how they understood her pain before discussing her own. So she didn't do that with Richard either.

Except… she had no idea what to say to him at that moment.

And… she found that was the only thing she could say.

"I wish I knew the right words to make it better," she said, swallowing as she once more moved towards Richard. This time he, thankfully, didn't jerk away from her. "I am truly sorry that I can't help you. I just…" she shut her eyes. "What words can fix things when you lose a son?"

Richard managed a nod at that. "No parent… should have to bury their child." He sniffed, blinking back tears. "I'm sorry, I really shouldn't-"

"No, you really should," Isobel told him gently. "There is no one here to care. I won't judge you."

That was the permission he needed and almost bonelessly he collapsed in his chair, pressing a hand against his forehead as the tears began to fall.

"Larry… he was a sweet little chap when he was born. Always reaching out for everyone and everything. He liked to tug on my ears. Oh, everyone told me that I shouldn't hover around him, that it was unseemly for a man of my station to spend so much time with a baby. 'Wait till he's older, when he understands what it is like to be a man and a lord… then you two can be together. Leave him for his mother and nanny'. By the Lord Above," he cursed, "why did I listen? Even if only for a little while?"

"We are foolish when it comes to our children," Isobel said. "We at once think we know what is best while also looking to everyone to tell us how our instincts are wrong and we should do something else."

"Yes… yes I do believe you have the truth of that!" Richard said with a choked laugh. "I seemed to actively search out the wrong advice when it came to Larry and Tim… I don't know why I didn't listen to my instincts when it came to the two of them but I never did. I was always more concerned with what others said and making their opinions my own. I saw what my wife was doing to him, how she was filling his head with entitled nonsense but… I just kept dismissing it. 'She is their mother, she must know better than me!' Only… I see now she didn't. And by the time he became a man…"

Isobel knew that it was utterly improper but she couldn't stand just settling in beside him, watching as he broke down in tears. So with a gentle hand she reached over and began to rub his back. Richard started at that but before she could yank her hand away he shifted, leaning into her comfort.

"I think that is the worst thing… what truly has me upset. I… I am not grieving like I know I should." He looked down at the floor. "I've seen men grieve for their children. I was there at the club once when Lord Attenberry got word that his nephew had been killed. He'd raised the boy himself while his brother was serving as ambassador to Sweden. And he just… shattered. Men murmured about it being unseemly but… that was his boy. And he was gone.

"But… I find that I don't mourn for Larry that way. I… I do mourn for him. I do understand he is gone." He raised his hand in the air only, after a moment, to drop it limply back onto the arm rest. "I'm not a doddering old fool who has forgotten his son is dead."

Isobel doubted he ever would. She doubted she ever would forget the sight of Larry's dead body. She'd gone up just to confirm that there was nothing she could do and the moment she'd looked at him she'd known he was gone. His skin had been pale and cold to the touch, and not just because of the open window letting the nearly frigid wind and rain into his room; it had been like walking into an ice chest. No, it had been the way he laid there, crumpled in a way that no one could have remained in for more than a few minutes. There was… blood of course… but surprisingly not as much as one might have expected. Just a small puddle, hardly anything at all. But it had been upon his temple, destroying part of his head, and she had tried to get Richard to leave the room because no one, especially his parent, should have seen Larry like that-

"I feel like… how parents must have felt during the war when they were told their sons were missing in action and as the months dragged on they knew there was almost no hope of them ever returning. They accepted that their child was dead and never coming home and then… the military comes to their door or maybe they just get a letter. The body has been found. And you finally know. You… you finally know they are never coming back. I find myself feeling that way about Larry."

"Because… of the exile?" Isobel asks.

But Richard shakes his head. "Larry was lost to me long before that. His mother poisoned him. It is a horrible thing to say but I wouldn't have been friends with Larry if we met at a club. Wouldn't have wanted him to marry my daughter, if I had one. That innocent little baby I held… he might as well have died in the crib."

All Isobel could do was rub Richard's back as he lapsed into silence.

~MC~MC~MC~

"He didn't kill himself," Dr. Clarkson said softly.

Sybil nodded. "I imagined as much. The fact that Allen had the gun… and it is the gun that killed him?"

"What other gun could it be?" Dr. Clarkson asked. "If it wasn't that means that General Lothrop found another gun, one separate from this." He shook his head and stepped away from the sheet-covered body of Larry Gray. "No, Matron Crawley, that was the gun that killed Larry Gray and I believe when the police look things over they will determine he has no gun powder on him. He didn't kill himself."

"Then its murder," Sybil said softly. "Someone tried to make it look like Larry killed himself but the General startled them."

"I don't care to presume that much but… yes, that does sound likely."

A bolt of lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the room briefly before the thunder came a second later, shaking the entire house. "And it had to be someone in this house."

"It's hard to believe that it could be," Dr. Clarkson stated. "Everyone here… I can't believe they would be capable of murder."

The ghost of Kamal Pamuk suddenly appeared in Sybil's mind. She merely sent a mental sneer at it, warning him to return to Hell and leave her be.

"Yes," she found herself saying. "It is hard to believe."

~MC~MC~MC~

"So do you believe it was Larry then?" Thomas asked Jonsey; his lover had returned to check on him and the rest of the people in the room. Fredrick's sons had been brought there after the discovery that Lillian was missing and Thomas was helping Fredrick's wife entertain them. He'd been weaving a tale about Jack of Jack and the Bean Stalk encountering other characters from fairy tales and deciding to help them make their own tales far better when Jonsey had returned and pulled him aside to give him the news.

"You mean the original target?" Jonsey whispered, so not to let the kids know what was going on. "I do. It makes more sense. Papa went to go check on the kids because, well, that's just something he would do to get out of talking with people before dinner. He hears a noise and goes into Larry's room and catches the killer in the act. He chases him… I think he ran through the nursery and that's how the nanny was hurt. Lillian… I'm not sure how she was involved but I'm guessing she followed."

"Your nephew doesn't know who attacked the nanny?"

"He just said it was too fast." Jonsey looked at the boys. "He's too little to really focus on what he saw, he just knows something bad happened and its making people upset."

"Poor tyke," Thomas murmured, Jonsey nodding in agreement.

"We'll help him." He shook his head, clearly wanting to get back on topic. "Papa chases the killer to the balcony and they struggle and he goes over the edge with the gun. The killer then escapes back to the party and waits for someone to discover Papa."

Thomas though frowned.

"What?"

"It doesn't sit right with me, that's all."

"What do you mean?" Thomas shifted and Jonsey looked around to make sure no one was looking (they were careful when the kids were about to not get too affectionate as little mouths sometimes blurted out things they shouldn't) before reaching up and stroking Thomas' cheek. "Say what you are thinking, my love. That brain of yours… it sees and puzzles out things I miss."

Thomas smiled at that. "When I was in service I pulled off all sorts of schemes. Especially against Mr. Bates. Early on I was trying to get him fired, you know? I thought he was a spy."

"And now you are with a spy," Jonsey teased.

"Quite." Thomas chuckled before growing serious. "Something I learned early on was that if you wanted a plan to go off without too many problems it was best to keep it simple. The more layers to it the more likely it was to fail. And you also had to think about how other people would react, as that instantly made plans more complex than they were in your head."

"Right…"

Thomas though sensed Jonsey wasn't quite following what he was trying to say. "There was a time when I was trying to make it look like Mr. Bates burned a hole in his lordship's dress shirt with the iron. There was one that always seemed to burn just a bit too hot so I swapped that for the usual one that Mr. Bates would use. Don't give me that look." He glowered at Jonsey. "I know it was utterly petty!"

"So long as you know!" Jonsey looked at him after a moment, his laughter dying away. "So… what happened? Why did your plan fail?"

"I accounted for everything… except Anna. She noticed which iron he had and stopped him from using it. I was never caught out but… I knew I wouldn't be able to pull that scheme again." He tapped one hand against the back of the other. "That's the problem with schemes, you know? The more outside forces that are involved the more likely things are going to go wrong. And the worst is if you actually plan for it."

"Plan for it? You mean expect someone to get involved?"

"Especially if they aren't part of the plan."

"…that's what's bothering you, isn't it? The fact that my father was found?"

"Why leave him there?"

"Easier," Jonsey argued.

"Maybe… but the gun? That's what I keep circling back to. The gun. How long would it take to run down and grab the gun away from him?"

"Someone might have come."

"Maybe… but why not alert everyone yourself? Play innocent? You get rid of the gun and cry for help and there is a chance that no one even thinks about going looking about-"

"Lillian," Jonsey reminded him.

"Right," Thomas admitted. "Right… she makes things feel sticky as well." He sighed. "Sorry, I'm just tired and worried and clearly hunting after ghosts that aren't there."

"No, I don't think that," Jonsey assured him. "I think you're just trying to make sure that justice is done." He brought Thomas' hand up to his lips and gave it a quick kiss. "I truly appreciate it."

Thomas nodded by even after Jonsey left the room he kept playing everything over in his head, sure he was missing something.

~MC~MC~MC~

"Well, I simply don't accept that."

Edith rolled her eyes at her grandmother's stubborn refusal to even entertain the idea she'd just presented. "It honestly doesn't matter what you accept or don't; the truth remains the truth."

"That is where we must differ, my dear. I know for a fact that if one carries on they can force the world to their point of view."

"not in this case," Edith told her firmly.

"But Edith, dear," Granny said, trying to win her over to her side, "you must see how utterly ghoulish it is the think that way. To believe such things about your friends…"

"But it remains true," Edith said firmly. "Nearly everyone here has a reason to hate Larry Gray and want him dead."

Granny scoffed at that. "Oh come now dear is it not possible you have been reading a few too many of those pulp detective stories your fiancée puts in his paper? They have you thinking all such of wild ideas…"

"I prefer to think of it as they allowing my view to expand and better see the world. Especially in this case where it allows me to see the danger we are all in."

"Danger!" Granny said with mocking dramatics. "I hardly think we are in danger-"

"The General is injured. Larry Gray is dead-"

"Hardly a loss there," Granny muttered under her breath but Edith heard it all the same.

"-and Lillian-"

"Will be found," Granny assured her, this time her voice far stronger and firmer. "I know that for a fact."

Edith though wasn't as confident. "It has to have been someone here… and everyone has a reason to have done the deed."

"That, my dear, is simply not true."

"It is," William Skelton said, startling both women as they hadn't realized he was so close to them that he could hear their conversation. The man who was known as a touch mad by his neighbors for being far more radical than most when it comes to the management of his lands could only smile and shake his head at Granny's shocked express. "Lady Edith is quite correct… we are a regular rogues gallery situated here."

"Oh really?" Granny said, lips pressed together. "And tell me, just what would be YOUR motive then?"

If she thought she had trapped the Lord she was sadly mistaken. "When he was just between the ages of childhood to manhood Larry's family came to visit my estate for a party. While there he snuck away to visit one of the maids where they… well, to be blunt they got to know each other rather physically." He quickly waved his hand. "Nothing Biblical… but the kind of games that young people play where they don't think about the consequences. Nothing might have come of it… I certainly wouldn't have learned of it if that had been all… had the poor girl not had eyes that dreamed things that never could come to be. She was most certain that Larry loved her, for no man had ever kissed her like that. She told me as much, later one, when the joy had turned to bitterness. There was a man who loved her in the village, who had been courting her… but she sent him away because she waited for Larry. But by the time she realized he would never come for her it was too late; the man who in another life may well have become her husband, the father of her children, and stayed with her till she was old and gray disappeared, seeking a better life elsewhere. In the end she quit because she could not remain at my estate, the ghosts of what might have been haunting her. I set her up with a friend up north and I hope that she will find happiness but I have my doubts. Two people who should have had joy together were instead destroyed by that man." He paused. "You may think that isn't much but there are many that would say they'd kill for that."

Granny actually blinked at the admission. "Well… perhaps that is the case for you-"

"You will find that song performed many more times, if you only you asked. Many times… just with different instruments." He began to rapidly point at guests. "Lady Penelope's nephew lost a tidy sum of money gambling with Larry on horses. To most of us it would be hardly anything but it was the last straw for her husband who declared that he would not see a dime more from him. He was cut out of his will and received not a penny when he passed; Lady Penelope loves her nephew and blames Larry for it." He gestured at a stout gentlemen who seemed to be staring rather intently at his wine glass. "A joy ride Larry took in his youth crippled his prized dog Abner… poor thing had to be put down. Lord Wintermeld never forgave him for that."

"Well… I suppose if they let petty things like that-" Granny began only for Edith to cut her off.

"Of anyone we have the best motives," Edith warned her. "At least those that are known."

"Edith dear how can you say such terrible things?"

"Terrible, yes. True? Also yes."

Granny scoffed. "Larry was a terrible bully to Mary when they were little. To Sybil and you as well. I know that but-"

"William," she reminded her.

Granny scowled. "I… did not want to bring him up."

"Then I will. William is dead because of Larry Gray, Granny. And that affected all of us. Matthew still feels guilt that he couldn't save him from the Front and Sybil because she couldn't save his life. Dr. Clarkson feels that way as well, I wager. Tom worked with William, as did Anna and John. Papa feels guilt that his actions drove William to enlist… and don't think I don't remember how Mr. Mason's loss affected YOU Granny." She shook her head. "And that is only what we know. Clearly there are other secrets Larry Gray hid through his life… we simply don't know what else he was hiding. And… what might drive someone to murder."

~MC~MC~MC~

Joseph looked over Matthew's dress shirts and sighed. "I honestly don't know what to do with all of this," he said.

"Whatever do you mean?" Ms. Baxter said as she checked over Lady Mary's sleeping gown.

"Do we pack or do we act like things will be normal? Or do we prepare for a longer staff? After all, we have no idea what the police might do when they arrive… they might force us to remain her for weeks!"

"A very much doubt that," Ms. Baxter stated. "The General will be looked over and the police will determine who caused his fall. I can't imagine they will need to do much to determine that."

"I do hope so." Joseph sighed. "Oh, I wish I had packed Mr. Crawley an extra dress shirt."

"I don't think people will mind terribly if they see him wearing the same thing twice," Ms. Baxter lightly teased. "I do believe they will have other things in mind-"

There was a knock at the door, causing the two to jump slightly. They glanced at each other, chuckling slightly, before Joseph went to the door. "Yes, can I… oh!" He blinked in surprise. "Mr. Oswald. What can I do for you?"

The butler of Cavenham stepped into the room. "I honestly don't know how to handle this… it doesn't feel right to have all gathered as one for such news but I… I find myself forced to admit that telling the tale over and over… it is a cruel way to die, a thousand times over."

"Mr. Oswald," Joseph began but the butler waved him off.

"No… you deserve to know what is happening. And I must be the one to say it, no one else." He took a long, deep breath, which made his chest puff out before he slowly released it, like a tire with a steady leak. "Lord Larry was found dead in his room."

Ms. Baxter's hands flew up to her mouth as she gasped and Joseph wrapped an arm around her, propriety be damned. "Heavens. First the General and then Lady Lillian." Joseph had searched for half an hour for the little girl before it was decided to have other members of the staff take over; ones that were familiar with Cavenham and thus wouldn't become just as lost as the child trying to seek her out. It made him feel utterly useless even if he saw the logic in it.

Mr. Oswald nodded. "Yes… the police were already summoned because of General Lothrop but this changes things greatly. The servants are all asked to gather in the servant's hall in 20 minutes… we would like everyone to remain together as we try and salvage the evening. Supper will be ready and we will find some things to keep you… occupied…" His mouth twitched at that, like he had suddenly bit into something sour but was trying to hide it. "I… thought you should know," he finally said, the words sounding limp and weak as they trickled from his lips. "I… thought you should know," he repeated and then left, forgetting to shut the door and leaving Joseph to do it.

"The poor man," Joseph said with a sad shake of his head. "That must be-"

He turned to find Ms. Baxter shaking like a leaf.

"Sit, sit!" he quickly commanded, grabbing her hand and dragging her to the bed. It didn't matter that his father was currently shaking his head in shock somewhere, sensing that his son was breaking one of the cardinal rules of being a servant… Ms. Baxter looked ready to topple over at any minute! "Breathe for me, please. Breathe." Ms. Baxter managed a nod and did just that. "Please tell me what's upsetting you."

Ms. Baxter took a few shaky breaths. "They are going to blame me for this."

"What?"

"The attack… on the General. And Lord Larry's death. They are going to blame me for it."

"Why ever would they do that?" Joseph complained. She opened her mouth but he quickly shook his head. "And please don't mention your past."

"But it is because of my past. I am the only one here whose been to jail."

"We don't know that," Joseph pointed out. "There are plenty of servants who hide their past. Maybe… maybe Anna has been to jail." Ms. Baxter shot him a not amused mock and he shrugged. "It is possible. She looks like a fighter." She smiled at that; it was weak and it didn't last but Joseph felt his heart swell that he'd made the woman smile at the very least. "You were here the entire time with me. The entire time, remember?"

That grounded it and allowed her to breathe a bit more easily. "Right… yes. You and I were together since we left in the car."

"Exactly. So there is simply no way they can blame you for any of this without blaming me and well… honestly… I don't think anyone could see me harming a fly, let alone a person."

"I want to tell you that you are being far too hard on yourself but in this case I think that is the best thing in the world if it is discussing the ability to kill."

"Yes, I quite agree," Joseph said with a smile. They sat there for a minute more before Joseph, as much as he hated doing so, stood up. "Well… I suppose we should see what they have gotten us to eat."

"Yes, I think you are right." She held out his hand and he helped her up, only to feel a flutter in his heart when she didn't move to yank her hand away. He wanted to give her fingers a squeeze but he was so scared that he ept his hand just as it was; not too tight, not to loose. Just right. The two of them glanced at each other and opened the door…

…and saw Larry Gray's valet rushing down the hall, carrying a bundle in his arms.