The van hurtled along narrow county lanes towards the village, Larry gripping the wheel with both necessity and nerves. He took chances at corners with his speed whilst driving in the dark, much like he had done when he'd first arrived in Downton, though this time it was vital he avoided crashing: Chris might not have been able to afford him being delayed.

Larry drove through the village and as he passed Richard and Chris's shop, he slammed on his brakes, having had a last-minute thought. Jumping out, he ran across the road and up to the door. It was past five, and the shop closed, but Larry hammered on the door anyway. Richard appeared a moment later, an expression of concern that changed into confusion upon seeing him.

"Larry what on earth—?"

Larry pushed past him into the shop, not wishing to be rude but also unable to afford his usual pleasantries. "Sorry Richard." He closed the door behind him. "I can't stay long, so I'll cut to the chase. Is there anyone else here?"

Richard hesitated, eyes narrowing with concern once more. "No, Thomas isn't due back until later. Why? What's going on? Are you in trouble?"

"No. No, not me. Look, long story short, Chris's sister Helen knows."

"She's called the police?" Richard asked, horrified. "Chris can't go through that again."

"David's at the farm. As of when I left, he was safe, but he's coming undone with worry over Chris. Chris told him to leave him and his sister to it and he naturally, fears the worst. I'm on my way over there now to check on him." Larry nervously fiddled with the firmness below his jacket where he had hidden the chequebook. "And to sort things – if necessary," he added, giving Richard a meaningful look that he hoped he'd understand.

Richard ran a hand through his hair and took a few paces back. "Do you want me to tell Thomas?"

"Only when he gets back. I think it would be best he knows, but not everyone else at Downton. After all, Chris might be okay, relatively speaking, and an unnecessary fuss won't be helpful either way."

"What do you mean about sorting things, Larry?"

Larry revealed the chequebook. "It's all I could think of."

"Larry!" Richard hissed in a whisper. "You cannot bribe the police!"

"You think I've never done it before?"

"I don't care if you have Larry. That would have serious consequences for you and maybe even Sebastian. Have you thought about that?"

"We do whatever it takes. It's always an uphill battle. Besides, don't worry about me Richard, I can give an incentive big enough to keep them quiet," he said, hoped the faked confidence in his head sounded more convincing than he felt. He knew it was risky bribing anyone, let alone the authorities, but Larry hadn't considered the breadth of the fallout should his plan backfire. He hoped more than ever that he wouldn't need to find out.

"You be careful, okay?"

"I'll try. You too." Larry opened the door again but looked back at Richard. "It might be best you and Thomas keep a low profile for a few days, until we know the immediate danger has passed, since we're all connected in a way?"

Richard answered with a reluctant nod. "Yes. Thank you, Larry. Now go."

Larry ran back to the van, started it up with extra vigour and sped off down the road towards Chris's cottage.

…

The cottage sat in darkness. Only lights from Chris's solitary neighbour's house provided any background lighting after Larry turned off the engine and the van's lights died. Night had truly set in, the sky mottled with clouds, which made the evening darker still. The track he'd driven down vanished into the night after only a few yards and he had to squint to make out the dark grey outline of the hedge beyond. With a slow push, Larry closed the van door. There was no sign of the police or anyone at all, which could have been some comfort, but the prickling at the back of his neck and the eerie backdrop urged him to be silent.

Larry took slow, firm, deliberate steps towards the garden gate. He kept the chances of clattering loose pebbles lower that way. In such a hurry, he had neglected to think about the necessity of a torch. He cursed under his breath as he misjudged his footing in an unexpected pothole. Someone had left the gate unlatched, causing it to creak and moan on its hinges. Larry hoped, as he found the path of the front garden, it had been a careless mistake and not a sign of someone leaving in a hurry or against their will. None of the windows showed any signs of inhabitants. Curtains remained open and as Larry peered in through one window, he could make out several details that left him anxious: a crumpled coat or blanket on the floor, a bottle of wine or another form of alcohol empty that lay on the table on its side, two teacups and other crockery left untidy. Larry may not have known Chris as well as Richard and Thomas did, but he got the impression he was not someone to leave his place untidy.

Something rustled in the bush behind him. Larry jumped back from the window, eyes and ears straining towards the sound. Only long black shadows from the edge of the cottage and twisted spine-like branches from the several small apple trees in the garden were clear. Any other details remained hidden in the impenetrable gloom. The breeze blew higher up, over the roof and treetops, brushing the highest branches, where all below remained still. Larry told himself the noise would have likely been an animal, perhaps a hedgehog or mouse, but it was enough for him to realise he was out of his depth. Anyone who could have seen him would have suspected he was up to no good: parked up in a deserted part of the countryside and peering through windows whilst creeping around. "Like a thief in the night," he whispered to himself. None of it was something he'd normally do. Most winter evenings he would be relaxing in his drawing room, or working in his study whilst his staff prepared his evening meal. Sebastian would have been there too, by his side.

Sebastian wasn't here. He was alone.

Larry approached the front door and gave it a gentle push. The door only rattled as he pushed it again whilst trying the handle. Locked: a good sign. The police don't lock up after arresting people in their own home. Larry took a deep breath and then slowly out again. If he were to lay a wager – and he was absolutely a man who would do such a thing – he'd say Chris was still home.

"Chris," Larry said, his voice croaking after not speaking for a while in the cold. He cleared his throat and tried again, louder, whilst knocking on the door. "Chris! Chris, it's me Larry. Are you here? I need to talk to you."

Larry stepped back and waited. Something clattered to the ground inside. Larry's heart skipped a beat as Chris unlocked the door.

Chris peaked around the corner, holding the door ajar. "Larry?"

Larry let out a sigh of relief. "Good, you're here. That's brilliant!"

"Is it?" Chris asked, his voice hollow.

"It is. It means you're not ... elsewhere."

"No, they haven't come yet, but they might, so you should go, Larry. No point in you getting into trouble as well." Chris faltered, pulling the door back fully. "David ... is he ...?"

"Safe at the farm with Matthew, but worried about you. I'm here to check you're still around and a free man." Larry tried his best to keep his tone upbeat, to seem more like his usual self, if only for Chris' sake.

Chris nodded to himself, closing his eyes for a few seconds. "She's not done anything."

"No, and I think enough time has passed to say she won't."

"She hates me."

"Chris—" In a rare moment for him, Larry couldn't think of anything to say in reply. "Can I come in?"

Chris stepped aside and locked the door behind them both. A clock ticked somewhere in the small hallway as they stood in the near darkness. "Why are you here, Larry?"

"I told you; David was worried. He sent me. Chris he was beside himself with panic. I drove here, and I'll tell him you're alright. I mean ... I know you're not alright, but I'll tell him you're—"

"Thanks. I get it."

More silence followed. Larry cleared his throat. "Since the immediate danger has passed and now, we can think of how to sort out the rest of the mess your sister has caused—"

"No. Don't blame her."

"Sorry. Since we can now focus on how to move forward," Larry began, rephrasing his words carefully, "I think we can afford to put a light on?" Larry smirked at himself in the darkness. "As much as I enjoy the prospect of being alone in the dark with another man, especially a dish-looking fella such as yourself, I would like to see what I trip over before I do."

Chris huffed, though Larry didn't think he was mistaken about hearing a small smile within it. "Hang on." A dim yellow light filled the living room next to them. "There you go. Now you can see me for the mess I am. But Larry, don't you ever stop with the flirting?"

"Nope."

Larry had been right. Chris smiled faintly. It was a glimmer and faded like an ignited spark. As much as Larry wanted to correct him, Chris was a mess. Purple-grey shadows hung under his tinged red eyes – the dried salt streaks on his cheeks showed it was not solely a result of spending time in the dark. Normally, Chris kept himself relatively smart, but he'd done not try to tuck in his shirt or straighten its creases. His shoulders slumped forward as though they carried a heavy weight, his movements sluggish, and spoke of a man who'd given up all hope.

"Sit down, Chris."

"Why?" Chris asked, his voice monotone and empty.

"You look as though you're about to keel over. When did you last eat?"

"Larry, I'm not hungry, so that doesn't matter."

Larry turned away and bit his lip in thought. "Well, I'm thirsty and in need of a drink. Where is your wine cellar?"

Chris let out a half-hearted laugh. "What do you think this is Larry, Downton Abbey?"

"Yes, a poor attempt to cheer you up, my friend. I'll fetch us a drink." Larry headed to the kitchen without letting Chris say another word to stop him. After some rummaging, he found a half empty bottle of whisky in a cupboard. He returned, holding the bottle in one hand and two glasses between his fingers in another. He set about pouring half a glass for them both. All the while, Chris sat rigid, back straight, perched on the edge of his seat, feet firmly on the ground – ready to run. "I told you; I don't think anyone is coming," he said, pushing the glass into Chris' stony hand.

Chris shot another glance at the window. "I was scared. Not anymore. Since I've been through it all before, there's a measure of comfort in knowing what they'd do to me. You know what scares me the most? Apart from David suffering the same, is not the police but being alone again."

"You're not alone here. Quite the contrary – you've got a good deal of friends and David, of course."

"Yes, but it's a different sort of loneliness." Chris slumped back in the chair. "I grew up with a big family and I've been alone in that respect – not having them around – for years. I've always told myself it didn't matter losing them, but having Helen and little Chris here these past several days has made me realise it did matter after all, and how I didn't know just how much I needed them."

Larry took a drink. "I can relate."

"Really?" Chris asked, looking doubtful.

"I have no biological family. My mother died a while ago. I was the only child, and I never knew my father."

"But you know loads of people and you have Sebastian?"

"Have or had?" Larry said with a deflated sigh. "Seb is my only family, but I could host a party in my ballroom for hundreds of acquaintances of mine, but if Seb wasn't there, I may as well have been on a deserted island alone."

"He'll forgive you."

Larry rubbed his brow, his memories turning to the look of sheer broken hearted betrayal Sebastian had when he'd walked in on him and the other man. Despite the distractions in Downton, the image stayed ingrained in his memory – only Sebastian's forgiveness would remove it. "I strongly doubt that. Do you know what happened, what I did?"

"I do," Chris said. A combination of a wince and frown was noticeable. "Not your finest decision Larry, you were an idiot, but he will forgive you because I'd wager, he's pining for you just as hell as much as you are for him. Helen hates the fundamental makeup of my very nature. I can't be forgiven because I can't change."

"Look at us Chris, it is as though we are competing to see which of us has the most hurt to deal with."

Chris finished his drink. Larry considered offering him another, but after hearing stories of how Chris had drowned his sorrows over previous heartbreaks, he decided against it. "Seems we are," he agreed, revealing a pained, faint hint of a smirk over the rim of his glass before setting it down on the table.

Larry hurried back the rest of his drink as well. "I should get back. I was only supposed to check you were okay. David must be getting more and more anxious every minute I'm away."

"Tell him I'm f—Tell him I'm safe."

At the door, Larry fumbled in his pocket for the keys, eager to waste as little time as possible out on the dark lane where he'd left the van. "You could come with me. David – seeing you would be the greatest reassurance."

Chris hesitated, opening and closing his mouth. "I'd love to, but I need to be sure we're in the clear. I won't take the risk now. It's best I lie low for a day or so, him too. But thank you, Larry, for sorting me out."

"I did very little, I think, but you're most welcome."

After a quick farewell, Larry hurried back to the van, the residual light from the open door of the cottage lighting his way. After Chris closed the door, he climbed into the van and found himself once again in the winter darkness. Heavy breaths shook from him, his eyes squeezed shut with an effort to keep a lid on his emotions. Hands gripped the steering wheel. Larry hung his head forward. "Seb, I'm sorry. Darling I'm trying but I—Seb, I need you."

...

David sat at an awkward angle in a chair by Mr Tomlinson's fireplace, craning his neck and letting the arm dig into his side to keep his eyes, that had grown tired from endless staring, fixed on the window. Fingernails dug into his palms, fidgeting back and forth over his skin, as his heart raced never-ending. Larry should have been back by now. It shouldn't have taken long to check Chris was still home and then return to the farm.

At first David had tried to reason with logical explanations: Larry could talk for England for instance, or perhaps he'd visited Richard on his way back to fill him in – he knew they had been close, and that Larry cared more than he let on sometimes. But as time had dragged on, nothing he could think or anyone else could say seemed to reassure him. David had always been a glass-half-full type of man, but a pessimistic outlook, fuelled by the chaos of the day's events, wove its way into his thoughts.

Ultimately, he prepared for the worst.

"You should eat something David," Matthew said, bringing his own plate of food in from the kitchen table, breaking all rules of table manners by eating with it on his lap. "Emily is a wonderful cook. You'd hate to miss out."

"My father is right, Mr Mortimer," Emily called out from the kitchen beyond, "my roast potatoes are the best."

"Thank you, Mrs Walker, but I don't have any appetite now. I won't appreciate it, I'm afraid," he said in a monotone voice. A movement at the window caught his attention. He jumped up, feeling hopeful, but all he saw was his own reflection. Dejected, he slumped back down again and back to his original stance. "Fuck's sake," he muttered into his hand as he drew a weary movement over his tired face.

Emily, who had joined them by the fire. "Not in front of my son, please." Alfie sat playing happily with Hector's tail, oblivious to the worry in the room.

"Sorry." David glanced down at the boy and the sheepdog, who had rested his head on David's feet. The animal looked up at him, his eyes great black pools of concern. Hector shifted as Alfie tugged at his tail. David tossed the dog a potato from his plate, feeling as though the animal could do with a reward for his patience.

A car door slammed outside. Neither of them moved for a moment, David reckoning Matthew and his daughter were thinking the same as him: it was Larry returning, or the police coming for him.

"Wait here," Matthew stood, holding out his hand, and cautioned him to stay put. Hector, who had just gobbled up the gifted potato, followed his master to the front door, a low growl coming from his throat. The growl soon ceased, and Hector replaced it with excited whining, enough to make David get up and join Matthew by the door to greet Larry, who was busy fending off the hyper dog.

"Is he—?"

"He's fine, well safe anyway," Larry said, taking off his coat, removing his cheque book and pen and placing it in his jacket pocket.

"No sign of the police, then?" Matthew asked.

As he followed them into the cosy living room and sat next to David, Larry cheerily said, "Nope, the sharpies had better things to do than waste their time on you two, or more likely, they weren't informed. Mind if I ...?" he asked, after an eager look at the plate of David's untouched dinner.

"Help yourself. I'm still not feeling up too much."

Emily stood, smoothing out her skirt. "Mr Ferroland, I'll fetch you your own."

"That would be grand, thank you, though I'll give you a hand," Larry said, with his trademarked, charismatic smile. "And call me Larry. Everyone else does."

A moment later, they returned, and David took the chance to fish for more details. Relief that Chris was safe was all he needed, but he was concerned over Larry's phrasing of his answer at the door. "You never had to use your money?"

"No." Larry tucked into succulent roast beef and potatoes. David picked up his plate, the scent of a warm dinner beginning to appeal to him once more. "Like I said, they never showed."

"Good job too." Matthew said, finishing his mouthful. "That's not a game you want to be getting into, Larry – bribing the authorities."

Larry shrugged with an unabashed smile. "It's a little late in my life for that Matthew, been there and done that, once or twice – only for good reasons though, hand on heart, I promise that. But not this time, I'm glad to say."

"You said he's safe but—"

"Hard to say that a man who's just had the fright of his life and suffered a heart wrenching break with his sister is ever going to be fine. That's why I was careful with my words. We talked. He told me what he's most upset about, other than putting you in danger, is the fact that he feels lonely again."

"What do you mean again?" David asked, his voice sounding small. "You said he's been lonely, for how long?"

"It was something we talked about, something we share actually – that's why I was gone a while – he's not lonely because of anything you've done or not done, David, so don't look guilty. You've filled a gap in his life. It's a different sort of loneliness, one he's only recently discovered. He missed the family he grew up with."

"You should have brought him back here." David hated the image of Chris sitting alone in his cottage, whilst he sat around a warm fire with friends.

"I offered, but he said he wants to lie low for a few days, to be sure."

David answered with a single nod and focused on cutting up a slice of beef. He wanted to argue, to tell Larry he should have tried harder to persuade Chris to come home to him, but deep down he knew it was the cautious thing to do, and that Chris wouldn't take the risk.

"Larry, you're lonely too?" Emily asked, her eyes full of genuine concern.

Larry paused, fork in midair, surprised by her personal question. He looked like a startled rabbit, his usual façade unable to hide him in time.

"Emily, that's not our business," Matthew said.

"It's alright Matthew. I mentioned it after all. I have no family now though I'm not unhappy – usually. Seb is my family and since he's ... well, since he's not ..." Larry pursed his lips in a tight smile that never reached his eyes. "You don't know the details, but I did something that means I deserve what I get with that. If I can forgive myself, he'll forgive me and then I'll be ... well, happy as Larry, as the saying goes," he added with an unsuccessful laugh.

"If he loves you, then he'll forgive you, Larry. It's stronger than any hate."

"I hope so."

"But what are you going to do now?" she asked, changing the subject and returned her attention to David. "You must have a plan to fix this mess with Helen and Chris."

David and Larry looked at each other as a wave of tiredness washed over him. "I think we were glad not to be in jail to think any further."

Larry nibbled his lip, taking his time to speak. "I'll admit, I've not thought on it, not got a clue. You can't just change someone's way of thinking."

Emily frowned, fiddling with the handle of her cup, clearly deep in thought. "Unless you can."

"What do you mean?" David asked.

"She needs to know what she's throwing away here."

Larry leaned forward. "What's your idea?"

"It's best not to meddle," Matthew said. "They've been lucky as it is."

"I know, but hear me out, please." Emily sat upright; her cheeks flushed with animation. "Helen named her son after her brother, the one she thought she'd lost, did she not? I did the same with my Alfie. I just wonder if there might be a way to use that similarity to form a connection. David, if you don't want me to, I won't do anything, but I'd like to try."

"Matthew?" David looked at the older man. "Should we?"

"It's a risk, though since Helen knows about you and Chris, you have little to lose." He gave his daughter a fond look. " Emily is a sensible young woman and has a good heart. She knows what she's doing. Anyway, I doubt we'd stop her if we tried."