At last, their moment had come.
James stood beside Millicent in His Lordship's private drawing room, where Sir James had asked them to meet him after dinner.
And when Mr. Carson closed the door behind Mr. Moody and Miss Crawley for utmost privacy, so that none of the staff or guests snooping by could hear their conversation, Sir James sat down his brandy and left his seat behind at the blazing fireplace.
His face as cold and unreadable as a stone as he watched Millicent take James's arm and entwine her fingers with his.
"Millie?" Sir James questioned her. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Papa, I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding between Mr. Moody and I," Millicent said to him. "And now that we've sorted it all out, I hope you'll allow me to explain what really happened-"
"Well, somebody had better!" Sir James declared suddenly, his face reddening bright with fury. "This is far beyond all imaginable! A misunderstanding? I'd say it's all very clear what's happened here!"
Both Millicent and James stared dumbfounded back at him, at a loss for why he appeared so angry when neither of them had even said a word yet.
"Mr. Carson!" Sir James called out to the butler. "I speak for myself and Robert in asking that you please remove Millicent from the same room as this savage ruffian, and confine her to her room until I've the mind to deal with her."
"Certainly, sir."
"I beg your pardon?" Millicent puzzledly questioned her father. "What's the meaning of this, papa?"
"Don't speak," Sir James firmly cut her off. "God forbid that you should ruin yourself more by speaking. Carson. Remove her at once."
"What's going on?" James asked worriedly, as Millicent's hand tore away from his, as she was coerced into being escorted out of the room by the staff.
Just as Lord Grantham, Patrick Crawley, and Edward Getty entered next.
"What is this?" James asked again, his eyes darting around to the Crawley men who surrounded him.
"After all the hospitality we've shown you and your father here," Sir James snapped at him. "How dare you show your face to me after what you'd done to her?"
"I've not the slightest idea what you could mean, sir," James answered. "What have I done?"
"Is it true?" Lord Grantham questioned him. "Did you force yourself onto Millicent in the library yesterday?"
"What?" James answered, sorely taken aback. "Force myself onto her? I did not, sir."
"You rabble scum. How dare you," Patrick damned him next. "First, you violate my sister, and then you lie about it to His Lordship in his own house? Is this the all courageous and respectable Royal Navy you regard so highly, Uncle Robert? You allowed this seadog to stay here as one of us, and he ruined my sister the first chance he had."
"I would never do such a thing to her," James insisted. "I could never hurt her in that way, or any woman, for that matter. I'm telling you, the truth, it is!"
"I saw it all with my own eyes," Getty nodded surely to each of the Downton lords. "The rogue had the poor lamb pressed up against a bookcase as he had his lecherous way with her. I can attest before God that you lewdly molested her!"
"That's not at all what happened," James insisted.
"Then please, explain what did happen, Mr. Moody," Lord Grantham said to him, his eyes pleading with James to cooperate. "I know you and your father very well, dear boy. I want to believe that you are still an honorable young man, and that I would not expect such misconduct from you. I am willing to hear the full story, if it will convince me that you are still the man I believe you are."
"Say something, for God's sake! Save yourself some dignity!" Sir James demanded of James. "Did you or did you not seduce my daughter into that library and convince her to elope with you?"
"Against her reputation? Why would I ever risk such a thing?" James argued back. "I came here with the understanding that you encouraged our marriage, and I had intended to ask you for Miss Crawley's hand properly."
"You brazen scally," Sir James declared. "Did you think, that after putting your sullied hands on my daughter, that I would agree to you marrying her? I have since agreed to see her marry Mr. Getty, who is far more suitable as an equal of her standing. I'd certainly never allow my daughter to marry an uncouth, ill-bread sailor so far beneath her."
James glanced again at Edward and Patrick, noting that Patrick was doing not so well a job to keep that hidden sneer off his face.
"You bastard," James named him. "You know fully it isn't true."
"Will you not confess, dear boy?" Lord Grantham asked him.
"I did not force myself on her!" James declared. "I love her!"
"Dear God," Patrick remarked. "Is that not enough of a confession for you, Uncle?"
"Why, he has become infatuated with her," Sir James concluded, appalled by the passion in the young man's heated confession. "It is exactly as I feared."
"Please, Mr. Moody, just tell us what really happened, so we may avoid any more harm coming to my niece," Lord Grantham gave James one last chance to profess. "Did you take her honor from her?"
"With all due respect, your lordship, this is madness," James objected.
"And I say let the punishment fit the crime," Patrick remarked again. "The rotter deserves what's coming to him."
"Damn me, should I ever let you try!" James's father could be heard booming from the entrance, as he marched into the drawing room with Miss Lavinia Levinson striding in behind him.
"Who let this man in here?" Patrick demanded of the footmen guarding the door. "Wasn't I clear enough that this is a private matter and no one should be let in?"
"As if I wouldn't catch on to this cruel conspiracy pitted against my son?" Mr. Moody preached, turning the whole drawing room into his court room as he slammed down his case. "James is innocent. The only ruffian I can speak confidently of is you, James Crawley! And I am no better, I'm afraid, for willingly letting my son become prey to your corrupt political impetus."
And gradually, James began to see it too.
How clear it was that Sir James had suddenly lost interest in a marriage between James and Millicent, in favor of Patrick's dog, Mr. Getty. Though, rather than admit he had proposed the idea to begin with, and be forced to follow through with it, Lord Crawley was ready to throw James's reputation under the hull to free himself from keeping his word.
It pained James to realize, at last, that Millicent would've never truly been his in the end, so long as Sir James had a higher bidder to hold out for.
"If no one else will defend Mr. Moody's character, I will," Miss Lavinia Levinson asserted herself strongly to the menfolk around her. "I see there's been a little mix-up, and I am here to set the record straight."
Leaving Getty glowering after her.
Damn that American busybody, Miss Levinson!
How very unlucky that everything changed once that meddling Lavinia got involved. No doubt it was her who went and dragged the elder Mr. Moody into this.
"You were not required here," Patrick informed his meddling lady cousin.
"Suppose it's great fun for all of you," Lavinia persisted. "All you big powerful lords ganging up on this one poor man. I'm ashamed of all of you. Let's not hurry to conclusions before knowing the honest truth. There's no need to ruin Mr. Moody over a simple confusion."
And without any fair warning, she stole her place next to James Moody and held his hand in hers.
"The truth is," she went on bravely, though James caught the slight tremor of nervousness in her voice as she stepped between him and the lords. Holding on tightly to the hand of a man she hardly knew, but couldn't allow him or her cousin to take the fall. "It was I that Mr. Getty saw with Mr. Moody in the library. And he was not ravaging me. It was lovemaking."
The room stilled around her in stunned silence.
"W-what?" James whispered to her, unable to guess what she was playing at.
But Lavinia squeezed his hand with hers, as if to remind him of the desperate note she had delivered to him just before dinner.
"You?" Patrick called his cousin's bluff. "I daresay not. The staff who informed me of the incident was very clear that it was-"
"And now that I've confessed what happened in the library, I can't keep hiding the rest of it," Lavinia went on, ignoring Patrick. "The truth about it is, Mr. Moody and I are engaged to be married."
James gradually lost the color in his face.
"M-married?"
"Don't you remember, darling?" Lavinia smiled sweetly at him, though the look in her eyes continued to plead with him. "Yesterday, we were so lost in a frenzy of passion against that bookcase, that you begged me to be your wife and I happily accepted you. You said you couldn't get enough for the taste of me, the way I kissed you back."
"Good God!" Getty exhaled excitedly under his breath, barely containing himself beside a hot and silent Patrick. "How did I ever sleep on a minx like her?"
"I'll admit, after being offered marriage by someone as handsome as Mr. Moody, I got a little carried away in my gratitude," Lavinia said blushingly. "I'm American, after all. I'm still getting used to what is proper and what isn't around here."
"Is that true?" Lord Grantham asked James. "Did you give Miss Levinson an offer of marriage?"
"No, I did not-"
Lavinia squeezed James's hand harder. So tightly, in fact, that his fingers with numb and prickly after it.
And because he was in no better position in saving Millicent's reputation from the damning accusations her brother had framed against him, James had no choice but to trust Miss Levinson and play along for the time being.
"That is to say, I did not wish to announce it publicly," James finally rounded off his statement. "Cutting above Lady Millicent's coming-out ball, that is."
"Well then," Lord Grantham said, a hint of suspicion in his tone, though he would not unravel it further for the sake of keeping the peace. "It seems congratulations is in order then. Have you set a day for the wedding? I should say, considering the circumstances, we should hope for it sooner rather than later."