Big news today for all of us with the official announcement of DA3 - I honestly had no idea if I could manage to get this chapter out today with all the excitement on top of everything else going on. But here we go, got it done just on time. I hope you enjoy some more Rosamund input
"What is my dear brother showing your Mama there? Surely it can't be about the flowers — he hasn't learnt about flowers and their significance within the last month and he certainly never had much interest in that sort of thing when he was younger. Mama tried to teach him a thing or two, hoping it might one day help him find a suitable match. Luckily for my brother, Cora has never been too bothered by all that."
Rosamund was quite casually sipping on her cup of tea, her eyes not leaving her brother and his wife standing near the folly even just once as she addressed her niece who was sitting next to her at the table. She followed them with her gaze as they slowly walked around the side of the imposing structure, Cora holding fast onto Robert's arm while they both appeared to be looking at the ground where flowers were beginning to sprout. Mary could not blame her aunt for finding this odd, but she also did not know about the additions she and her father had had made.
Mary, who had been rather preoccupied with watching George and Caroline play in the sun with all their cousins, then turned to look first at her aunt next to her and then at her parents a few metres away. It always amused her when her father was being addressed as her aunt's dear brother because she never quite knew whether Rosamund was being sincere in her use of the endearment or not. The chances were always quite high that she was being sarcastic, even more so when talking directly with him.
"No, he has not found himself a new special interest, he's showing her another addition we had the builders include to give the folly more meaning, to make it a bit more personal for Mama."
"And what might that addition be, pray tell? The folly itself is quite impressive and beautifully made. I am honestly surprised at my brother's inventiveness with this present. This is already a monument to honour your Mama for several generations to come."
"I think I should just show you," Mary said quietly in reply to this, getting up from the chair with some apparent reluctance. What she was about to show her aunt would not be easy and she somehow dreaded it. A small part of her had hoped to wait a bit before showing this to her aunt, at least until after the party when everyone had gone. There was no way she could predict her aunt's reaction.
One eyebrow sceptically raised, Rosamund followed Mary to the folly. However, instead of following Robert and Cora who had gone to the left, Mary went right and began to round the new building.
"You are really making quite the mystery out of this, my dear!" Rosamund said, the waning of her amusement evident in her voice. Mary could still hear her smile, though, which caused her to be at least slightly hopeful about her aunt's subsequent reaction and not only scared.
Just before they had reached it, she stopped and turned around on her heel. Facing Rosamund, Mary drew in a deep breath and began to explain. "Papa had this folly built for Mama to have something of her own here at Downton, but you know that already. He wanted her to have something that represents her and the influence she has had since she came here, similar to some other structures on the estate that were built for our ancestors before. It was important to Papa that whatever he was going to ask the builders to construct would serve a purpose; he wanted her to have a place to sit and remember, a place to enjoy nature and some solitude should she desire that. He mentioned something about a formative visit to her father's grave when they were in America last year. We asked the stonemason to not only carve the intricate entryway but also to make little plaques and put them around the folly. The one Papa showed Mama when you asked me was the one we had made for Sybil. There is one for every family member we want to remember most, those who have touched and shaped and changed our lives. Granny has one, Grandpapa has one and so does your Papa-"
Mary trailed off when she saw her aunt's expression change. She was sure that Rosamund knew likely what was coming and her heart felt heavy having to say the words. Even after all these years, the hole in her aunt's life put there by her husband's soon and sudden death was still there, unchanged. The rough edges around her heart where he had been torn from her had healed, but the wound was still there, buried deep within her. And Mary knew only all too well what that felt like. She had to forcefully stop herself from thinking about Matthew's name inscribed on a plaque they had already passed, or else she could not have proceeded. She looked at her aunt, looked into the blue eyes that were already threatened to be flooded by the inevitable tears, and reached out to take her hand.
"We also had one made for Marmaduke. So that you can come here whenever you want to. We know that it has been difficult to adjust, with his grave in London and you coming back to live here. We thought maybe this could bring some solace," the younger woman whispered.
Subtly, she tugged on her aunt's hand to get her to turn around and avert her eyes to the small plaque mounted about a metre above the ground.
Marmaduke Painswick
1869-1902
That's all the little plaque read. It was simple. They all were. But the impact each of them had was still indescribable — even to Mary, and she had seen them quite a few times already.
Going against everything she had ever been taught by Nannies, Governesses and her own mother, Rosamund crouched down rather unladylike and reached out to touch the stone. The tears were running down her cheeks, undoubtedly clouding her vision, while her fingers traced the cool stone underneath. Her fingers wandered across the inscription, lingering first on the M and then on 2. The beginning and end of all she had left of him. This plaque here was the only physical reminder at Downton of what once was, many years ago.
A little while later, when Mary saw that her aunt had begun to compose herself again, Mary hesitantly asked: "Can I show you something else, Aunt Rosamund?"
The reluctant nod she got in reply was enough for her and so she waited for the elder woman to get up slowly, almost hesitantly, and led her a few steps more to round the folly.
The brick wall was still empty here, the space reserved for more plaques to be added in future, but unbeknownst to almost everyone but her, the spirea planted by their gardener hid something from prying eyes. Mary crouched down like her aunt had done before and pushed the plant slightly to the side to reveal two smaller plaques lying there, still waiting to join the others.
"I also had these made."
They were simple plaques, even simpler than the ones they had seen before. The one on the left only showed the combined crest of Robert and Cora and had one year inscribed. 1914. The second one, however, was what knocked the breath out of Rosamund yet again.
Robert Marmaduke Painswick
1900
With tears in her eyes once more, and her voice void of any and all emotions, Rosamund whispered after a while: "Mary, what is this?"
"I thought you needed a place to go to remember not only your late husband, but also the child you lost. And I thought that one day, when you are comfortable enough with sharing this particularly dark and difficult part of your life with someone else, we could put these up just like the other plaques. For now, they will stay hidden here, only for you and me to know that they exist."
Rosamund merely stood there and looked at the plaque. Her eyes read the name and year inscribed again and again. It was as if she were frozen in place, as if time stood still while she took it all in, trying to wrap her mind around the words and numbers she was reading before her.
Patiently, Mary waited for her aunt to react. She had known this one would be even harder on her aunt. There was a reason why Mary had wanted to wait with showing these to her; there was a reason why she had wanted to wait for a better opportunity, a more quiet moment. But the feelings were inevitable, they needed to be felt. Mary also thought that it was better to do it all at once instead of only showing her Marmaduke's memorial for now.
"Could you please go and get Robert for me?" Rosamund finally said, still unmoving, her eyes fixed on the name written in stone.
"What is this about, Mary?" Robert inquired as the three of them slowly walked around the folly once more that afternoon. He had told Cora to stay in her seat and simply enjoy the buzz of their family surrounding her, but she had insisted on coming along.
"Just follow me, please, Papa."
Mary showed them to the spot where she had hidden the plaques from prying eyes. Much to her parents' surprise, they joined Rosamund who was crouching down in front of them. Immediately, both her parents looked to where Robert's sister was reaching. Their gazes grazed the plaques, and Mary saw the need to explain the plaque with only her parent's crest on it almost immediately. That was a story she was familiar with, one that was also a part of her own life. She would not explain the second one, that was only her aunt's story to impart.
"You never named him for all I know, but he is as much a part of our family as Sybil still is to this day, and I wanted him to have a space here together with all of them."
Her father did not say anything, but he removed his hand from covering Cora's in the crook of his arm. Instead, he let it come to rest on his daughter's shoulder and squeezed gently. A single look into his aged face told Mary she had done the right thing, and looking over at her Mama only confirmed that. Both of their faces displayed profound grief and sorrow, even after all these years had passed since they lost their youngest child.
It was Cora who ultimately broke the silence that was tinged by their sadness and grief as they remembered their son who never was. "Thank you for this, Mary," she whispered, her voice sounding all choked and raspy when it came out. Turning to her sister-in-law kneeling on the ground, she asked: "But say, Rosamund, who is this plaque for?"
Cora had an idea, an inkling, but she needed her sister-in-law to say it. Just thinking about what she thought this plaque meant made her almost unbearably sad, even more than seeing the crest that would be there to commemorate their lost son for the next decades.
When the redhead did not reply and instead only kept looking at the stone in question, Robert spoke up, his tone slightly more insistent than his wife's had been before. "Rosamund, who is this?"
No matter how hard he tried, he could not make sense of it. He would surely have known if his sister had ever been pregnant or even lost a child, would he not? This would be a massive secret to keep, and for so long, judging by the year inscribed. There had to be a different explanation for this and he needed her to say it.
Rosamund heaved a deep breath and reluctantly stood up. Finally, she faced her brother and his wife, a feat that had taken her lots of strength to accomplish on that sunny afternoon.
Pity. The pity and confusion on their faces along with the shocked surprise, it put her off. She had never wanted pity, not from anyone, least of all from her family — that was part of why she had never talked about it with any of them.
The courage she had mustered up when she had told Mary to go and get Robert had faded and she was not sure at all if she could ever tell them, especially her brother. Cora would understand her, she had gone through almost the same horrific experience. But Robert? Robert was a man, and not one known for being exceptionally adept at reading and dealing with emotions, neither his own nor those of others.
Quietly, she said: "It is a rather complicated story, and I would not want to spoil your day, Cora. Maybe we should just discuss this another time. Maybe tomorrow is a better time?"
"Aunt Rosamund, they are here. If not here and now, then when?"