"General… I will never forget your kindness," Mary said, watching out the window as the servants loaded up another chest into the truck that sat at the side of the road. It was one of many… trucks, that was, not chests. For those their number were far too great to be considered merely 'many'. She turned to find the man in question sitting in his chair, reading the paper. "I will never know how to repay you."
"There are never debts when family is involved and, if you don't mind me saying so, you are family to me, Mary. You are my daughter." He set the paper aside and moved to rise only to grimace.
"Then as your daughter let me tell you not to do that!" Mary protested, hurrying over to him and taking his arm. "Or let me help you!"
"I am fine!" Allen protested but he leaned on her all the same. "Its these damn bones."
"Yes, shame on them for being utterly broken," Mary said dryly, helping him so he might hobble hop to the window.
"I need to be active again. I'm getting fat lounging about."
"Hardly," Mary told him. "You do the exercises that the doctor suggested. And then extra ones as well, don't think any of us have missed that." Mary shook her head. "Oh, perhaps Matthew and I should go to Deep Grove with you."
It wasn't just Mary and Matthew who were packing up and preparing to leave. One truck was preparing to head to Downton, where the couple would be arriving later that evening for a dinner to celebrate their return to the estate. The others were for Allen and Catherine, who were unable to put off things anymore. Allen was no longer merely 'The General'; he was Lord Oakheart now and his newly renamed estate, Deep Grove, waited for him.
Allen smiled at that, patting her hand. "I would love nothing more than that, my dear, but considering your father and I are still growing into our new friendship I don't want to give him any reason to hate me. Far better you stick to the plan. I will have Catherine with me and Jonsey and Thomas are coming to stay for a month once they have things tidied up in London."
"I'm surprised the War Office could afford to lose Thomas for that long," Mary said as she watched Baxter and Molesley direct some servants on which chests and boxes should be loaded next. "From what I hear he is becoming utterly indispensible."
"He is," Allen said with a smile. "Which is why he can get away with the holiday. They don't want to risk angering him and causing him to move on to the private sector. It helps I am his boss and can give him the month off and Bertie will manage things just fine."
"He is staying on then?" Mary asked; Matthew had mentioned that Bertie was the estate manager for his cousin and with the War over was most likely needed back soon. "I know there was some debate…"
"We've convinced him to remain for 6 more months in exchange for a far better pension. I would keep him on forever if I could but Thomas is already looking for replacements and I think he'll manage well… he has a sharp eye for talent."
Mary nodded. "Indeed. It is odd to think about, you know?"
"What is that?"
"Oh, just how people can surprise you. Carson was rather firm with papa about how much he disliked Thomas. Thought him a sneak and a scoundrel putting on a façade. And yet he comes to work for you…"
"Certain people are built for certain things. That is the simply fact of life. It is why I am quite sure that all the Lord Oakhearts that came before me are spinning in their graves at the thought of me being the one to take over the lands."
"If they are then they can just keep spinning because you will do quite well," Mary assured him. "Do you know when you will be up for guests?"
"Other than family? Half a year. The first month will be getting settled in and the five after that will all be about me taking care of the mess left behind. My father has done well seeing things through the War but he didn't want to do much knowing I would take control so everything is rather stagnant at the moment. Rooms must be redone, full lighting installed, the plumbing…"
"So it will be more like 3 months, knowing your drive," mary teased.
Allen though shook his head even as he smirked. "Hardly. There is much work to do… and believe me, I wish I could have you all there in a few weeks rather than a few months. Still, I must do things proper, show I am going to be a good neighbor." He looked at Mary. "Have you decided yet on your arrangements?"
Mary shook her head. "Matthew and I are discussing it. Originally we wanted to buy a house, live as the middle class, and wait out papa's death before we moved back to Downton. Now with things mended between us that hardly seems fair… or proper."
"You were looking forward to it."
"Is it wrong that I was?" she asked softly. "I know what is expected of me and yet-"
"You remember who you are talking to, correct?"
Mary rolled her eyes. "Quite. But no… we must live as the nobility we are and shall become. And thus the decision: Downton or someplace else. Especially with Edith and Michael having decided…" She trailed off.
"What of Tom and Sybil?" he asked.
"Even more unsure than any of us. Tom can easily support them both and I'm not sure if Sybil wishes to remain a nurse. It was fine during the War, it was her doing her part, but now that it's over the need for her to continue is gone. And, as much as she might deny it, I think she is rather looking forward to being a wife. They have time though, their wedding won't be till after Edith and Michael's."
"There will be less time than they think. One only gets so much."
Mary turned so she didn't reveal the smile she wore at that. Because for her… she had already gotten far extra.
~MC~MC~MC~
"It feels almost… ghoulish… to have covered this," Edith said as she looked over the paper. Perhaps it was vain to read one's own paper but Edith liked to make sure everything was set perfectly.
"If we hadn't we would have been accused of playing favorites," Michael reminded her. "It is no different than it was with Larry."
"I know," Edith said softly, folding the paper up and setting it on the table so that she couldn't see the headline discussing the latest events in Tim Grey's murder trial. He was still trying to claim his innocence, even with the General awake and able to reveal that he did indeed grapple with Tim and it had been the young man who had tossed him over the balcony. Even if he wasn't guilty of killing his brother he had tried to murder a war hero and now a peer of the realm. "This didn't happen last time."
"Not that I reminder, though I admit I wasn't as focused on the goings on of your part of Britain as I am now."
"It is so odd to think about, you know," Edith said with a slight smile. "I remember this time. I was so unsure of myself… the hospital had given me a brief taste of how to live as a modern woman rather than a pampered lady and then it ended and I found myself… trapped once more in that gilded cage." She paused, looking over at her fiancé. "Did I ever tell you what I was doing between the War and writing for your paper."
"I don't believe you did."
"I was engaged."
Michael raised an eyebrow at that. "Truly?"
"Are you jealous?"
"Not especially," he said. "You have not sought out this man, whoever he may be. I think you would have told me if he had died so that can only mean that he lives but you wish not to see him. So either he broke the engagement or you did. I can see either… he wounded you and you decided to become a different person or you realized you weren't happy with your life and chose to do something else, to radically alter your path."
Edith let out a weary sigh. "I wish it were the latter as that would make me sound all the stronger. The former… it makes me so weak and pitiable."
"It was the former though," he said softly.
"It was," Edith admitted. "I was… desperate to find a position. I remember being so upset when Matthew rejected my advances. So odd to remember me attempting that twice… I much prefer how he let me down this time."
"Oh?"
"Our first lives he was… ignorant of what I was trying to do. I'm rather glad about that as I was utterly awkward while trying to get him to notice me." She laughed even as she winced at the memory. "I was such a child, bumbling about."
"What did you do?" Michael asked, leaning forward.
Edith groaned. "He wanted to look at some of the old churches that littered the lands, other buildings too. While doing so I mentioned how wonderful it was to imagine men and women worshiping together. I… don't remember the exact words but I was rather forward in my fumbling with trying to equate being in a church to lovemaking."
"As someone who knows how good you've gotten at that I am glad you got over that original belief."
Edith smirked, arching an eyebrow. "Careful there, darling, you don't want to tease me too much. It is dangerous to provoke the lioness."
"Maybe I want too," he said leaning forward and giving her a kiss.
"There will be plenty of time for that tonight," she informed him. "There will be enough buffers between all our rooms that we will be able to do whatever we wish."
"Tease." He leaned back though, surrendering to her logic. "And this life?"
"He knew what I was doing and suggested I become a modern woman. I think he was actually trying to push me in your direction."
"I always knew I liked Matthew," Michael teased. "But I think we've rather gotten off the point. Your first fiancé?"
"Right… Sir Anthony," Edith said and she couldn't help but let a bit of sourness enter her voice. "I was, as I said, feeling rather desperate. He was the first man that ever showed me much attention though I now understand why. Mama and papa… they failed Sybil and I greatly when we were growing up. Sybil didn't notice it as much, because she was always so sure of herself, but they focused far too much attention on Mary and making sure she was wed proper. I'm not quite sure why… I don't think it was merely the order of our births. I think it more they felt guilty that even though by all logic she should have been papa's heir it was Patrick who got the title. And they were so utterly worried about making sure everything was settled for her that they forgot about me. As such they didn't introduce me properly to those that might have cared for me… they either focused on Mary or when they did remember me they chose men that would naturally be drawn to Mary rather than myself."
"Something I am grateful for," Michael told her.
Edith smiled at that before continuing. "Sir Anthony… he was older than papa. I would have had maybe 20 good years with him before he passed on. There are plenty of women who are fine with that, who wish only to have a child or two and then be done with their husbands and run their own lives. I had accepted that as my fate. Everyone was concerned that I would be his nursemaid but I was looking farther ahead. With his estates secure I could travel, seeing the world. Oh… it is terrible to enter into a marriage with that mindset, I truly understand that… but I had it all the same."
"But he broke it off," Michael said. "Did he discover your thoughts?"
"No," Edith said softly, looking down at her hands. "I… I never did learn why he decided to leave me. He just stated he couldn't do anything and left me at the altar. I know that Papa wanted to once ask him but-"
"I'm sorry… he LEFT you at the altar." Michael reached forward, grasping her hands in his own. "Did… did he abandon you on your wedding day?"
Edith only managed a weak nod.
"Oh…"
"It's fine. Very much so. If he hadn't I wouldn't have met you and I have several years now of us being together to dash those bad memories away!" She gave his hands a squeeze. "I am fine."
"…I need handcuffs."
"Pardon?"
"I am going to have Matthew handcuff himself to me. He won't leave Downton, Mary would have his hide and he is terrified of her."
"Michael, I don't-"
"You would spend that night before fearing history will repeat itself. I won't let that happen. I will handcuff myself to Matthew… or better yet to Sybil. That way she can fight off anyone that tries to abduct me."
Edith pressed her lips together, fighting off laughter, until she finally gave in and gave him a kiss. "And that, my love, is why I am thankful that silly old man left me."
~MC~MC~MC~
"Well well well," Finn O'Leery said with a smirk as he sidled up to man currently sitting at the bar enjoying a draft, taking the stool next to him. "I didn't expect to see you here, Tommy boy."
Tom Branson merely chuckled, eyes never leaving his dark glass. "Been busy, Finn."
"So I've heard," the man said, looking over the pub. The Tight Spot was a small but homey establishment where the dock workers and the middle class office gents could rub elbows with each other without feeling like one was being snobbish and the other were uncouth louts. Mostly because they were all born and breed Irish and didn't give a fuck what one did to put money in their pockets so long as they could handle their liquor and knew when to show proper respect for the motherland. "Those papers you write for are quite good. Make wiping me bum all the easier."
"Then your arse must be nothing more than scar tissue at this point."
"HA!" Finn laughed, clapping Tom on the shoulder and giving him a good shake. "Same ol' Tom! Quick as a whip! I always knew you were going places."
"You just assumed it would be a jail cell, I wager," Tom said with a light chuckle.
"Heavens above I have missed you," Finn said. "Everyone has."
Tom turned in his seat to stare at the patrons. Off to one side a few men were providing proper Irish music, just loud enough to be appealing without being so ear-bleeding strong that one had to yell to be heard. A group of fellows were cheering on two lasses who were in the middle of a drinking contest while several others were in the back smoking near the fire. Later on there would probably be a fight or two because Finn knew that despite being right bastards the English were right that you couldn't get this many irish-blooded lads and ladies together without one fight. Hell, he and Tom had been in a few themselves, both against and together. Sometimes each during the same fight!
"Things have been a bit crazy with my life, haven't been able to stop in as much as I wanted."
"I noticed. You still not interested in my proposal?"
"Not at all and I recommend you get out of it. Not going to end well."
"Oh, its just lads grousing about how unfair it all is! English lords settling on our lands-"
"I know, Finn. I know." He took a long drink of his beer. "But it ain't gonna end well, you know that. The lads running it… they ain't interested in talking. From what I hear the ones in Dublin aren't like you and the bolks down here. They want action."
Finn shot him a look. "And you don't want action?"
"Course he doesn't!" Peter Rockson declared, plopping down on Tom's other side. "Our ol' friend Tom has gotten soft!"
Tom merely looked down at Peter's stomach, which had become exposed when he sat down and his shirt had shifted up.
"Ha! Yeah, put on a few," Peter said, giving his belly a shake. "But I meant soft in other ways."
"Unlike you Peter my pecker still works," Tom declared, earning laughter from several of the men seated near them.
Peter scowled at that before joining in, wrapping his arm around Tom and giving him a shake. "Aye, and that is what has made you soft, from what I hear." He leaned over Tom and said to Finn, "Ya hear our boy here is moving up in the world? Marrying an English lord's daughter."
"Fuckin' hell, ya want your pecker to melt off!" one of the older gents declared from a table nearby. "Everyone knows ya can't stick it in an English quim… we're too big for them and hit the acid!"
"Nah, you just split'em in two!" one large set lad with a shock of red hair shouted. "That's why the English have such small ones!"
"I heard it's the opposite," Peter said. "Their insides are all ice. Like tryin' ta plug up a frozen stream. One good hit with a hammer and it shatters."
"We can hit your cock with a hammer right now!" Finn laughed. "See what happens!"
"You'd need a sledge!" Peter declared and everyone, even Tom, laughed at that. "Seriously though… tell us it ain't so. You ain't gettin' with some uptight English lady and living like a prized pet in her manor, are ya?"
"Not quite that-" Tom began only to receive groans.
"Ain't there enough fine Irish lasses out there for ya?" Peter asked. "Ya had to get with this… what's her name?"
"Sybil," Tom told him.
"God, even her name is rich!" the heavy set man declared.
"Sounds fuckin' French," the old man said.
"Its Greek," the pub owner declared, sliding Finn a new drink.
Peter rolled his eyes. "I don't care if it comes from the moon! Our dear old Tommy has been bewitched by an English devil!" He gave Tom another shake. "Next thing you know he'll be coming in here sayin' 'Top of the morning, spot of tea?' and then askin' only for white wine!"
Tom chuckled at that. "Suppose you think I should call it off and get with a proper lass? Maybe one of those two?" He nodded towards the drinking contest where the older of the two women had fallen out of her chair, moaning and tapping the floor with her hand to show that she was done. Those watching cheered as the challenger, a young slip of a thing with dark black hair, stood up and raised her competitor's glass and downed it.
"Would be better than what you have with that English tart."
"Hmmm… you're right!" Tom said before standing up, much to the shock of his companions. "Oi! Get over here love and give us a kiss!"
"Why the fuck not!?" the winner declared, coming over and wrapping her arms around Tom and giving him a kiss that had many in the pub hooting and hollering. Finn, Peter, and the ones in the bar could only stare in shock at sweet and honorable Tommy kissing a lass who was not his English tart.
"Fuckin' hell, Tom," Finn murmured. "You better hope that lass you are shaggin' never finds out 'bout this."
"I already know!" the woman Tom had just kissed declared with a grin as she walked up to Finn. "Or," she said, the Irish broque she'd been using all night switching to a cultured English accent, "would you fine men prefer me to talk like this?" She paused before slapping the top of the bar. "Fuckin' too bad! I'm celebratin'!"
Peter blinked before letting out a laugh. "Hell, ya corrupted her Tommy!"
"Damn right he did!" the lass said. "Sybil Crawley."
"Peter Rockson. Finn O'Leery over there. Don't worry about the others." Sybil nodded and accepted the stout the owner of the pub brought over, taking a long health swig of it. "…ya got any sisters, Syb?" Peter said, utterly in love.
"I do," she declared. "But sadly for them they are marrying good steady Englishmen. I'm the only one with the sense to find me an irish lad!" She wrapped an arm around Tom and laughed at that.
"You… are drunk," Tom told her.
"Course I am! I'm celebrating!"
Tom nodded, looking at Finn. "We are going to stay with her family for a few months… her sister Edith is getting married."
"Virgin Mary bless 'er!" Sybil declared with a lazy grin before shaking her head. "But that ain't what I'm celebratin'."
"And what are you celebrating?" Tom asked.
Sybil opened her mouth only to put her fingers to her lips and let loose a harsh whistle, getting everyone's attention. "All of ya listen up! I got something important ta say!" She waited for everyone to look at her. "Tom and me are movin' up the wedding! Don't tell me folks, they'll get the performance and all that… but Tom and I are getting' married ta-night and all of ya are comin'!"
Cheers rang out but Tom looked at her, startled.
"We are?"
"I found us a proper Catholic priest to do it. We'll have an Irish wedding tonight, one for us and all those here… later we'll do the big English one."
"And… why are we doing that?" Tom asked, it clear he was worried Sybil had drank far too much.
"Because you'll want us wed when you hear this next bit," she told him playfully before declaring, "And more than that… Tom here's gonna be a papa!"
The bar went silent.
"What?" Tom whispered. Sybil merely grinned. "You mean… you are?"
Sybil nodded her head rapidly. "Last night for me to get good and properly drunk unless I want the babe drinking Guinness right out of the womb."
Tom looked at her before letting out a cry and hugging Sybil tight, spinning her around, everyone breaking out into congrats.
"Drinks on me!" Finn called out.
"Fuck no!" Sybil said once Tom set her down. "My papa, Lord Grantham, gave me a bit of spendin' money like I'm a child… think how it will make him go white when he learns I used it to get some good irish lads drunk!" She slammed the money down and the bar burst with such loud cheers the rafters shook.
"We're… we're gonna have a baby," Tom whispered.
"We're goinna have a baby," Sybil confirmed. "We're gettin' married tonight and we're gonna have a baby."
"I… I knew it was close… but I… oh!" He swept her up in a kiss.
Finn raised his glass. "To Tom and Sybil!"
The lads joined in.
