Chapter 17
Author Note: Julian Fellowes' brainchild, not mine - I wish!
Over the many months of 1924, Beatrice became a guest at Downton again, and in March, the Bransons popped by Fenwick Cottage. Beatrice was at the front door.
"Tom, Sybbie! Welcome!" she grinned. "I know it's not what you're used to." she teased. Tom looked at his host with a smile while his daughter's eyes lit up.
"It's lovely, Auntie Bea!" she beamed. Beatrice's eyes watered, seeing so much of Sybil in Sybbie at that moment. "Have you been to Fenwick before, Daddy?"
"Many times, but I've only stayed here once." Tom replied.
"I seem to remember you messing around with ginger beer. It was rotten." Beatrice laughed. She spoke again at Sybbie's questioning look. "Your daddy and Anthony were drinking a grown-up drink and he did something you shouldn't do with it." the dirty-blonde explained, letting them through. Sybbie walked around and found the living room, instantly finding a comfy chair. She noticed a leather-bound book.
"What's in there?" she asked. Beatrice looked around and saw it.
"Photographs, darling. Why don't I get us some water and we can have a look?"
"I'm not sure there's many of your mama." Tom pointed out.
"I don't mind." Sybbie said. Beatrice sat down on the settee, and Sybbie followed.
The dirty-blonde flicked through the book until she found one photo in particular.
"Remember this, Tom?" she teased. Tom looked at the page and laughed lightly.
"I'll admit that I was wrong. And gladly so." he said, kissing his daughter's head.
"Wrong about what?" Sybbie asked. She recognised Sybil, Edith, Tom and Beatrice.
"That was a couple of days before your Auntie Mary and Uncle Matthew's wedding. You were still in your mama's tummy and I thought you'd be a boy. Your mama and Auntie Beatrice thought I was wrong and that you'd be a girl." Tom explained.
"It's good to be right." Beatrice teased. As Tom pouted, she came across another page. "Oh, this is a blast from the past." she beamed. Sybbie looked at the photo, recognising it had been taken at Downton. A younger Beatrice was clinking glasses with Anthony, and the young girl was quite sure her mother was hand in hand with Walter, even though Sybbie had never seen that clear a picture of him.
"Was this just before Christmas '14?" Tom pondered. Beatrice shook her head.
"Just before Christmas '15. Edith had been in charge of decorations." she smiled, fighting a grin as that was the night she'd seen Walter and Sybil kiss under the mistletoe, but she thought it best not to mention that in front of Sybil's daughter.
"Mama looks really pretty." Sybbie grinned. Tom and Beatrice beamed, nodding.
"That she does, Sybbie." Tom agreed, looking at Sybil's sepia dress that had in fact been a vivid green. "I was quite jealous of Walter back then."
"Jealous?" the child asked. Beatrice was fighting a laugh at the question.
"I didn't talk to him too much. See, I was friends with your mama then, but I wasn't best friends with her like he was." Tom said, telling a half-truth for Sybbie, who tutted.
"Daddy, that's silly. I'm sure Mama would say the same, right Auntie Bea?"
"Too right, sweetie." Beatrice retorted, rolling her eyes at Tom. All of sudden, a window seemed to open and a gust of wind hit Tom in the face. Sybbie and Beatrice laughed, but they didn't hear the deep laughter from someone invisible.
"Beatrice, close the blasted window." Tom muttered. The host did so, but was greeted with a curious face looking at the festive photograph when she returned to the settee.
"Do you know how Mama met Walter?" Sybbie asked innocently.
"I do. They met at her presentation. He walked over with one of her neighbours and asked if he could talk to her, and after fifteen minutes, they were getting on great."
"Presentation? Like a ball? Mama was a princess and Walter was her prince?" Sybbie asked. As the young girl asked this, the light bulbs seemed to flicker and Beatrice could have sworn she heard faint but husky laughter. Tom shook his head.
"A presentation is a bit different, darling. And a ball in London like Aunt Mary goes on about is not like a fairy-tale ball. But I'm sure there's more to this." he said.
"Indeed. After those fifteen minutes, your aunts Mary and Edith thought Walter had taken up too much of your mama's time, and led her away." Beatrice continued.
"Was Walter naughty?" Sybbie asked, trying to piece together her aunts' actions as she glanced at the photograph. Her mother and Walter looked inseparable.
"Oh no, he didn't have a naughty bone in his body. He just wasn't quite as rich." Beatrice laughed. "But a few days later, he came to your mama's ball. That night he wrote and told me about this wonderful lady named Sybil Crawley who had made him laugh a lot and he was thinking they would be great friends." she recalled fondly.
"And was he right?" Sybbie asked with a smile, half-knowing the answer.
"He certainly was. The bestest of best friends. You rarely saw one without the other."
"Like Daddy and Auntie Mary?" Sybbie asked. Beatrice looked at Tom and laughed.
"Kind of. But your mama's friendship with Walter didn't have any bumps." she said.
"Hey! Mine and M- actually, it took a while for us to be friends. When Sybil told her about marrying me, Mary laughed." Tom reflected. Beatrice giggled under her breath as Sybbie flicked through the book and found another photograph.
"Whose birthday?" she asked, spotting a cake with candles. Beatrice smiled loosely.
"Mine. See, I'm wearing a daft hat that Walter got me. There he is, and your mama, and Anthony. I can't believe that was seven and a half years ago." she said, pointing them each out and tracing her writing 'My birthday, 1916' with her finger. A younger Beatrice, Walter, Sybil and Anthony were all smiles, Walter holding Sybil close.
"That's lovely." Sybbie grinned. Beatrice nodded in agreement. "Do you miss them?"
"Every day, Sybbie. All I've really got in this world is you, your daddy and your Aunt Edith. I know I can pop by Downton, but Fenwick is my home."
"Not to sound like the Dowager, but of course you have your garden to tend to." Tom said. "Although I doubt she's ever actually gardened in her life." he laughed. He glanced at his watch. "And on that note, we should probably get going for luncheon if we don't want Carson's ire." he laughed. After a few parting hugs, the Bransons left.
After Edith accidentally started a fire that left her bedroom in a state, Beatrice offered to put her up in Fenwick for a couple of weeks, and the two housemates became even closer. Summer came upon Downton, and Beatrice had been embraced enough by the Crawleys to make herself at home in the small library on her visits. She was doing so when Edith came in there one day, looking for alcohol.
"What's troubled you, Edie?" the visitor asked kindly, using the nickname she'd come up with while Edith was living at Fenwick as she looked up from her tumbler of wine. "Oh Bea, I didn't see you there. It seems there's finally news on Michael. Have you read about that group of German thugs in their brown shirts?" she said, dismay in her voice. Beatrice nodded solemnly, not at all liking her gut feeling about this.
"The private detective thinks those thugs got into a fight with Michael. The point is, I might be close to finding out what happened to him for sure." Edith hiccoughed, nearly certainly close to tears. Beatrice patted her hand in comfort. Up above, Sybil was observing the scene with Michael Gregson. The latter smiled sadly.
"I never knew Beatrice, but she seems to sympathise with what happened to me."
"Bea's the best female friend you could have." Sybil said wisely. "You know, part of me wishes that we'd both lived a bit longer, and met at Downton while I'd called up Bea for a visit. It would have been quite a laugh." she continued.
Some time later, Beatrice was at a Crawley dinner with some new faces - Robert's cousin-in-law Shrimpie MacClare, who seemed nice enough to her, Cora's acquaintance Simon Bricker, and Tom's friend Sarah Bunting. Maybe it was Bricker's flirting with Cora, or Bunting's obvious disdain for their hosts, but those two set Beatrice's teeth on edge. Daisy had been called up to the dining room and sung Bunting's praises. And while the dirty-blonde smiled at Daisy getting a proper education, she sensed trouble. And it was only mere seconds before such a thing.
"Obviously, the lessons have proved successful. I'm pleased to hear it." Robert said.
"Are you, Lord Grantham?" the teacher scoffed in a snobbish manner.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, let it go. You've proved your point." Beatrice snapped.
"Have I, though? Surely all us serfs are good for is menial tasks and being sent off to war, while you toffs are protected from all that." Bunting retaliated. Beatrice saw red.
"The 'toffs' weren't protected." she whispered in a deadly voice. The tension was so thick that everyone heard her tone. "Mine and Sybil's best friend got his body blown in half by a land mine." she growled. "Or did Tom not tell you that was the reason she became a nurse?" she seethed. "Sorry Lady Grantham, but I need some air." she said to Cora, standing up and walking away, giving Tom a blank look.
"Beatrice is right. The upper-classes weren't shielded from the horrors of the war." Robert grumbled in Bunting's direction after a heavy silence. "She's been a loyal friend of the family for quite some time. No friend of ours deserves your attitude. There's another thing I'd be pleased to hear - that you are to leave this house and never come back!" he ultimately yelled, throwing his napkin down with such force that he made the plates and glasses rattle, and stormed out. Those around the table suddenly heard a faint sound similar to a lightning strike, which was odd. But said sound was in fact Walter, Anthony, Agnes and Sybil clapping thunderously from above at Robert's defence of their friend. Anthony looked at Walter daringly.
"Should we do something to the teacher?" the former asked, a twinkle in his eye.
"Oh, I think so." Walter chuckled darkly. "Pity really. I might have respected her at the very least, had she not been so rude." he finished. Sybil nodded in agreement. "You know what, I may have it." he smirked after thinking in silence for a few moments.
"Walter, this isn't going to cross a line, is it sweetheart?" Sybil asked.
"It won't harm her, Sybil dearest. But it will make her think twice." he smiled.
About a week on, Sarah Bunting was in the Downton courtyard. Rumbles of unseasonable thunder hit her ears, and all of a sudden, forked lightning hit the crates, not three feet away from where she was. Her small frame was spooked, jumping sideways, which caused her various books and papers to go flying. Some wind seemed to whistle, almost like it was laughing. The teacher proceeded to pick up the stray papers and books, and still feeling uneasy, she knocked on the servants' door.
"Miss Bunting!" Daisy beamed. There was another rumble of thunder. "Come in!"
"Thank you Daisy." Bunting replied. High above the courtyard, Walter and Anthony were overcome with laughter, with Agnes and Sybil pretending to disapprove.
"Oh come on. She's been a sneaky pain in the neck." Walter reasoned. "Shame. I thought Tom had good taste in women." he chuckled. Sybil rolled her eyes.
"I guess if you wrong-foot Bea, you wrong-foot all of us." she said.
"My point exactly. That woman better watch her step." Walter muttered. Luckily for the spirits, they didn't have to resort to anything more, as Bunting soon left Downton. The seasons moved, sunshine giving way to leaves and then to snow, and then it was Christmas once again.