It was the longest silence in the history of father-and-son silences.
James hadn't been in a mood to say much of anything, barely touching a morsel of his supper after their vexing meeting with the Crawleys.
And John seemed to be wrestling with his own personal demons, hardly looking at James as he absently sipped at his wineglass.
It went on for half an hour like this, and James began to wonder if it would hold over their entire dinner.
He had only just dipped his spoon into his lamb steak and parsnip, before his father abruptly gave in.
"I think you should marry, James," John Moody murmured suddenly. "And soon."
James's soup spoon froze in mid-air, swearing he heard him wrong, but his father's stony gaze was unrelenting across the long dark Mahogony.
Where on earth had that daffy idea come from?
It had to be the Bordeaux sitting between them. John Moody hadn't turned it down once, every 3rd-4th-7th time it was offered.
James cleared his throat.
"Excuse me," he pardoned himself, as he leaned forward to slide the bottle of red out of his father's reach, and safely toward his side of the table. "I reckon that's enough for one night."
"But you will hear me, son," John Moody went on resolutely, the fatherly warmth in his storm-gray gaze a paradox to his austere tone. "I've allowed you leisure to the Australian seas for this long, because I know it is good for building a young man's character. But you are no longer a boy, and it is time you considered your life more seriously."
James sat his soup spoon down on his service plate.
The clink of his silverware against the china bowl noticeably vocal, but only just tamed enough.
"Have I disappointed you again, papa?" James asked quietly. "It was your idea that I go to sea with the Boa. John became a doctor, and Christopher, a solicitor. Is it your opinion that I'll still never live up to my brothers?"
"A career at sea is far more suitable a profession for a younger son. Certainly more respectable than a writer, and I am relieved you came to your senses, on that note," John said. "However-"
"I've worked my hardest, papa," James insisted. "Earned the highest marks on all my drills onboard. Managed to keep on deck all my watches above, and was the first of 3 to get better. Doctor and solicitor, I am not, but I have never failed your expectations once at sea."
John Moody sat down his wineglass with a regretful sigh.
He knew he'd be getting a fight.
After all, wasn't his son not the resilient young man he'd sent him to sea to become?
But John was prepared to keep nothing back, if it meant keeping James out of harm's way.
"You disagree with marriage?"
"I only ask that you let me do it my own way," James said. "I've done all else you've asked of me. What must I do now before I've proven to you all is enough?"
"Mind how you talk to me, boy," John Moody checked him. "You might keep company with a gang of low-born sailors, but I won't have you speaking to me like one of those swabbies, and certainly not at supper."
"I'm nearly ready to sit for my Second Mate's examination," James pursued the argument. "Is that still not enough?"
"This navy apprenticeship was not a permanent solution," John Moody reminded him. "You know it was only a means to help you become a man and find your way. We both knew it was only a matter of time before you returned to Scarborough and studied law."
"I have not paid off my indenture bond yet," James countered. "I can't just drop everything I've done for nobutt to marry."
"And when I am gone, how do you expect to live on a sailor's wages?"
"As an officer, I will."
"For a mere 40 pounds a month?"
"And who's to say that law would serve me any better?" James questioned him. "You already have Christopher in the firm, and you have as much help as you could ask for there. I couldn't do anymore good in Scarborough."
"That isn't why I require you to stay, James."
"Then why is it?" James asked. "Why are you so determined to stop me from going back to sea?"
"How is it you are so determined to never come home?"
"Forgive me, but wasn't that your very hope from the beginning?" James countered. "After all, it hasn't been much of a home to me here since mum died. It's Miss Annie's house now, it is."
"How dare you speak so sorely out of term," John accused his son. "You were an impossibly melancholy child, and your mother, Mrs. Annie Moody, could do nothing to help you. You spent God knows how long in the cemetery and nothing ever pleased you, James. What else were we to do with you?"
"I don't mean to sound ungrateful," James muttered, packing away his long-held resentment for being cast out the house by his father, because Miss Annie felt he was 'too much' to handle after mama's death. "I only mean to say...I did exactly as you asked me to. Whether you accept me as a 'swabbie' or not, a swabbie is what I am now, pa."
"Will you not hear me, son?" John demanded. "I heard about the..."
Only then did John break his firm eye contact, pushed to the limit of the grief he had for so long demanded that James take control of himself.
"I heard about the man who committed the unthinkable sin on your last crossing to Australia," John found the courage to continue. "How he...he...Oh, God rest his poor damned soul."
James sighed, knowing exactly where this was going.
"They dare not say suicide," he said to his father quietly.
"I heard...that he took his own life onboard," John went on shakenly. "Even after you tried to stop him from doing it. No doubt he was driven mad by the brutish realities of being so long at sea."
"Papa-"
"And I can't ever bear to imagine...my son...enduring the same fate...If I ever lost you to the sea, I could never forgive myself, James, knowing it was I who sent you there," John Moody spoke in weighted undertone. "I imagined all along that I was taking the right course, as a father, sending you to sea to finish your education. However, after hearing of that...incidentonboard...and the hurricane that struck your ship shortly after-"
"It wasn't a hurricane. Plenty of stormy weather happens at sea, but it is not the end of all," James assured him. "You shouldn't fret over me. I've been trained well aboard the Boa."
"You were born above such grisly work and throwing your life away on a merchant ship like riff-raft," his father persisted. "How can you insist upon it, James, when you come from a long proud line of-"
"And I am not any one of them," James stood in protest from his seat. "I am not you, or granddad, or my brothers, and you've made it perfectly clear that I never will be."
"Damn it to hell, James!" John Moody forgot his containment, slamming his wine goblet against the table again as he leapt from his chair too. "I already lost your mother! Will you make me wait until I lose you too?"
Hushing his wayward son at last into a stunned silence, as James sank slowly and numbly back into his chair.
And realizing how sorely he'd failed on leading by example of containing one's passions as a gentleman, John Moody cleared his throat, and gradually reclaimed his seat again.
Resuming their topic composedly, as if the last heated five minutes of their conversation had never happened.
"The sea is a dangerous venture, James. I will not risk losing my son to such a gamble. If marriage will keep you safely on land, then married you will be."
"I will not agree to be married."
"I've already chosen a suitable girl for you," John continued. "Sir James and I have agreed on the match. In two weeks' time, his daughter will have her coming-out ball at Downton. An heiress will make a fine woman as your wife."
"You can't be serious," James was lost for words. "You want me to marry a Crawley?"
"Should you agree to the match, Sir James has offered to pay your indenture bond with William Thomas. Since Miss Crawley will not inherit any portion of his estate, he is willing to overlook that you are untitled. However, his only condition is that you leave behind your career at sea. Sailors are not highly regarded among the leisured class, and it is the only tenet Sir James will not compromise with," John informed him. "Though, of course, giving up the sea is of no consequence next to what you will gain by marrying. You will assume all privileges of wedding the daughter of an Earl-in-waiting, and you will remain safely on land where you can focus on your law studies."
"And what, might I ask, did you bargain me over to Sir James for?" James asked darkly.
"In exchange for your marriage to Miss Crawley, Sir James will have the support he needs in Scarborough," John said. "It will prove rather useful to him, should the lords have any hope of breaking the entail binding Downton."
"What have you done?" James whispered, breathlessly incredulous. "This isn't the man you are. You mean to say, you've sold me over for-"
"For your own good, as any father would," John Moody said, reaching into the inner pocket of his dinner jacket for the token Sir James secretly lent him in the library. "Lady Grantham is hosting a garden party in her niece's honor. I have here Miss Crawley's card, as her father's invitation. I'd like you to call on her tomorrow."
John held Miss Crawley's calling card up for the footman attending their dinner, who retrieved it, and walked it to James's side of the table.
James, however, didn't even glance at it once.
"I won't marry her, pa."
"You can't go on living your life in romantics, James. Your mother spoiled you terribly on that account," Mr. Moody said. "Don't be so impossibly irrational."
"You don't understand. I can't marry her because..."
James hesitated to finish his confession. But knowing that now might be his last chance to lay his cards on the table, he bravely pursued the argument for his own happiness.
"Because the truth is, I'm already in love with someone else."
"Dear God, whatever can you mean?"
"Well, I first suspected she was a gravedigger's daughter, but-"
"A gravedigger's daughter, James?"
"I don't know exactly who she is, but I was going into town tomorrow to ask about her-"
"I forbid it," his father declared. "You've earned Sir James's favor. You're all but promised to a Crawley heiress, and you're chasing after the likes of a grave digger's daughter? I won't stand for it, James!"
"And how can I ever stand for this? To be bargained away in your legal contract with the Crawleys like chattel?"
"You will attend that garden party, or so help me, God-"
"Then God help you!" James declared. "Because if you thought marrying me off to some Crawley well-to-do would keep me from returning to sea, I can't say how sorry I am to have spoiled your grand scheme. As I imagine Sir James wouldn't rest easy having a sailor for a son-in-law."
"You're so determined to see yourself miserable, aren't ye?" his father answered. "Since your mother died, you've been having a hard time of it, I know, and now that you are promised a comfortable life marrying Miss Crawley-"
"Do not speak again of my mother," James murmured gravely to him. "You married the first woman who was willing to take you after mama died."
"How dare you slander your own father with such brazen disregard!"
"I'm not like you, pa," James shook his head. "I am not one to forget so easily that I have loved so deeply. My heart belongs, ever still, to the girl I met in the graveyard. And I wouldn't trade that love for all the Crawleys' money or connections in the world."
"Oh my dear boy...It is for this very reason that I believe this decision is best for you," his father persisted firmly. "Your heart is trapped in the past, James. You must let go of it."
"It was you who left me in the past," James informed him, much quieter than before. "And now you'll have to let me go, the same way you let go of mama...I'm going back to the Boa. You won't be able to stop me."
And John Moody watched helplessly as his son marched out of the dining parlor.
"James. You won't walk away from me like this," John called after him, standing from his seat too late to stop his son. "James!"