Edith couldn't breathe. On April tenth she began to pace. On the fifteenth she prayed like never before, and that night didn't sleep a wink. On the morning of the sixteenth, she rang her bell early and Anna soon came to help her dress and deliver her tea tray with her copy of the Times sitting on top.
"Titanic Sinks Four Hours After Hitting Iceberg; 1142 Rescued by Carpathia, Probably 1000 Perish; Ismay Safe, Mrs. Astor Maybe, Noted Names Missing," it read. Edith had desperately searched the names of the missing, not seeing a Crawley, but did that mean anything? Were more saved then from her last life or was that hopeful thinking? The article said that, in response to Mr. Crow and public outcry, the British White Star Line had added more safety protocols, more life boats. Had one of those saved them?
The walk down the stairs to the dining room was longer than it ever had been. Maids going about their day gave her sad looks at her disheveled appearance. William gave her a soft smile as he walked with her to the dining room, carrying a dish to deposit on the table. Even Carson, usually stern and stoney, softened at the sight of her red rimmed eyes.
"Good morning, Carson," Edith said, going through the motions of filling her plate with what little she thought she could stomach. "I suppose you have heard the news?"
"Yes, my lady," Carson said gravely.
"When I read it, it seemed like a dream."
"So it's true," Robert said as he walked in, Isis trailing at his heels. Edith quickly turned away to take her seat.
"I believe so, my lord," Carson nodded.
"We will know some people on it," Robert said, serving himself breakfast with a glance at his middle daughter. "I don't suppose there's any lists of survivors yet."
"No," Edith said. "Only partial lists of the missing so far."
"I understand most of the ladies were taken off in time," Carson added.
"You mean the ladies in first class?" Robert said sadly. Carson nodded. "God help the poor devils below decks. On their way to a better life. What a tragedy."
Edith kept pushing what little breakfast she had around her plate, refusing to look up at Robert even as she felt him looking at her puffy eyes. This dialogue was too similar, too familiar. Surely, her efforts had to have done something.
Mary came into the dining room next, peaking over Robert's shoulder to read the headlines. "So it is true. Do we know anyone on board?"
"Your mother knows the Astors," Robert said. "At least, she knows him. We dined with Lady Rothess last month. There are bound to be others."
"I'm sure, Mr. Crow is thrilled," Mary said, turning away to get herself breakfast.
"Do you? I don't," Edith snapped. Robert's head poked over his newspaper to look at her in concern. "I bet he is quite upset that he was right."
"Temper," Mary retorted, moving to sit on the opposite side of the table. "Well, he was right all the same. The ship, thought to be unsinkable, sank."
"Every mountain is unclimbable until someone climbs it. So every ship is unsinkable until it sinks."
"Good morning, Papa," Sybil said as she came into the room holding a small envelope. Edith felt her heart sink like the Titanic.
"Good Morning. What is that?"
"Just arrived. Telegram." Robert took the envelope and opened it. His face grew pale and lost, reading and rereading the words on the page.
"It is Cousin James and Patrick, isn't it?" Edith asked. Robert looked up and his lost blue eyes met her own. He quickly stood and hurried to leave the table.
"What was that all about?" Mary asked, continuing to eat her meal. Sybil slipped into her seat beside Edith.
"I don't know. Are you alright, Edie?"
"I think I know what was in that telegram," Edith said softly.
"What? Is it actually about Cousin James and Pat?" Sybil whispered back, leaning in as close as she could.
"I think so. About them and their trip to America."
"Oh Edith," Sybil gasped, "you don't think-"
"It's not polite to whisper at the table," Mary said. "Now what it is that has you two in a state. Has everyone gone mad this morning."
"We-" Sybil looked over at Mary then back to Edith. "We were just talking about the telegram."
"And if it has anything to do with survivors or people we could have known on the Titanic," Edith finished.
"What will be will be, no point getting worked up over it now," Mary said. "It's not like anyone we know too closely was on board."
Edith suddenly stood, her chair scraping the floor. "I'm going out to the garden."
"I'll come," Sybil said quickly.
"No, Bil. You haven't touched your breakfast."
"Neither have you."
"I'll be fine," Edith assured. "I just need some fresh air. Alone. I'll come talk to you later."
Edith barely took the time to grab her bag of art supplies and hat before slipping out into the gardens. She attempted to sketch the trees, but a ship appeared. She tried to color the yellow flowers, but an ocean of blues and blacks took their place. She tried to think about anything else, but she was just waiting to be told the inevitable.
"Darling," a voice called her out of her thoughts. Robert stood, looking down on her sitting in the grass. "I have some news."
"Tell me," Edith looked down at the grass and began plucking the blades.
"It's Cousin James and Patrick. They were on the passenger list of the Titanic. They haven't been found."
Edith didn't speak. She continued to pick at the ground. One blade of grass was too long so she pulled it. Another was too yellow so she pulled it too. "Did you tell Mary?"
"Yes, I did. But my darling girl-"
"How did she take it? Well, I presume."
"Edith, Mary cared for him too."
"Not like she should have. And now he's dead. Now he can't find someone who would. At least, Mary has a chance now."
"Edith, please, this isn't about Mary. I want to know about you. You were close to Patrick."
"I was."
"He cared for you. Greatly."
"He did."
"He never meant to hurt you."
"But he did. And I meant to hurt him." Edith grabbed her sketch pad and stood. "It's too late now. He's gone. I just hope he thought nothing of my words and died still thinking Mary loved him."
"She did love him," Robert weakley argued.
"She loves Downton. That's not a fault. I love Downton too. She just loves it more than she did him."
"She didn't mean to hurt him. She didn't mean to hurt you either. Neither did I."
"I know you didn't. But you were wrong and you still are."
"I would do anything, you know, anything to take back hurting you."
"Father, I-"
"Papa," Robert said desperately, reaching out to grab her hand. "Papa, I've always been Papa to you."
"I-"
"Edie!" Sybil cried, running through the gardens without a hat and tears running down her face. "Pat's dead. Patrick's dead."
Edith let herself crumple back to the grass as Sybil grabbed her in a hug. Sybil just sobbed on her shoulder and Edith did her best to comfort her. After a moment, Robert also knelt down into the grass and circled his arms around their shoulders too. And for a moment, Edith let him be Papa. For Sybil if nothing else.
The house went into full mourning immediately at the news. No service was held for two weeks while they waited for the cousins to be found or, more likely, their bodies to be recovered. But now it was past the point of certainty that Cousin James and Patrick truly were gone, and so came the memorial services.
The London memorial was awful. All the lords and ladies who knew Cousin James and Patrick, or even knew of them, came. Such a tragedy, they comforted in one breath. Is Mary the new heir? They asked in another. None of the family answered, and Edith and Sybil made sure to stay close to the boarding school friends of Patrick's and colleagues of James', people who truly cared.
The local memorial was easier. All of the neighboring nobility actually knew Patrick and James. The village and staff cared for them, and their tears and condolences were genuine. As the service came to a close and the Reverend bid them farewell, it felt like an actual memorial and not an event of the season in black.
After service, before the walk back to the house for luncheon, Carson made sure to come up to each member of the family and offer the staff's sympathies. Ms. Hughes broke decorum enough to gently hug Edith and Sybil. Even Thomas strolled up to her and told her to let him know if she needed anything. The house had truly united in the result of this tragedy. Or at least, the downstairs had.
Upstairs, all conversations centered around the next heir and the entail that made him the next Earl of Grantham, master of Downton Abbey, and inheritor of Cora's fortune. Edith could already see Cora and the Dowager scheming to make Mary the heiress over Matthew, not that they even knew who he was yet. To them, he was just some solicitor in Manchester. So Cora and the Dowager never denied that Mary was the next heir when the vultures in London asked, and Mary noticed this as well. Clearly, the older ladies were on her side. Now she just had to get Robert on her side as well. Or so she thought.
"Mary, will you stop listening in?" Edith said, arm in arm with Sybil. It was clear as they walked back to the house from the church that Mary was listening intently to any conversation they could overhear from Robert and Mr. Murrey.
"And will you stop making an exhibition of yourself?" Mary scoffed, looking up and down at Edith's frizzy hair and puffy eyes. "Really Edith, you have been in a state since we heard the news."
"She's not," Sybil defended.
"And so what if I am? Is a tragedy worthy of an exhibition."
"I was supposed to be engaged to him for heaven's sake, not you. And you don't see me disappearing for hours and staring off at nothing."
"The tragedy isn't just Patrick. It's Cousin James and Mr. Astor and all the others onboard. If you don't feel something over that then you should be ashamed. For Patrick most of all."
Mary straightened her shoulders and looked forward. The sisters felt silent the entirety of the walk home, and focused on entertaining the guests for luncheon over their own quarrels.
Arguments between Edith and Mary were becoming more frequent than ever now that Edith had motivation to truly participate in them. Some of the only things that kept her from snapping constantly were Sybil and books, and sometimes even that wasn't enough. When dressing for dinner, Mary would moan about wearing black for six weeks when she should have to wear it for at least six months as a fiance. When at dinner, Mary would complain about no one fighting for her when she had at least two people trying to get the entail overturned and most of the staff supporting her as well.
Edith had been avoiding Cora and the Dowager since "the incident". She did not trust their judgment or want to get involved or hurt by her maconatoons in their quest to fulfill their "duty to Mary". Although, why Mary in particular deserved to be given Downton at the cost of its heritage as the seat of the Earl of Grantham, she didn't know. Had they thought this through at all?
What would Matthew do? An Earl without an estate would be the talk of all of London. Matthew probably wouldn't even pretend to be an actual Earl and would just continue his normal life as a solicitor. The line of Crawley Earls would be at an end, and then how the Dowager, Cora and Mary would complain, maybe not even realizing they themselves were the cause because Mary "deserved" more than a sum set aside for a daughter. This sum was apparently good enough for Edith and Sybil, but when opportunity came knocking, in their imaginations at least, it would be a tragedy for Mary to not get more.
The benefits of foreknowledge were that she neither put stock in their schemes nor feared the future like the rest of the house did. They didn't know who Matthew was except for whispers of a third cousin once removed who worked, worked of all things, the horror. So they prepared for the worst even as Edith couldn't help but be affronted on Matthew's behalf whenever he was mentioned as the thief coming to steal all of Downton.
Edith had done her best to be the opposing force supporting the entail and, by extension, Matthew. She assured Robert that all would be well, and that the new heir could be, would be, a good man. She comforted Sybil when she got caught up in the chaos. She assured the staff that, like with Patrick, it would take time to warm up to him, but nothing would be changing for years to come. Oh, Patrick.
Patrick, James, the Titanic as a whole. It all hung over Edith like a cloud. She couldn't help but wonder if she had done something better, something different, if tragedy could have been averted. The public didn't think so.
Letters of thanks had been sent to her through the Times by several survivors and those who had chosen not to board the ship, thanking Edward crow for his warning. As a whole, Crow was viewed as an oracle of sorts and his old articles and opinions were reread with new verve and seriousness that was lacking before. The Times themselves were demanding a response and a personal meeting to sign a contract making Edward Crow one of their own, exclusive journalists. For now, Edith would pen Crow's obituary for the lost, and deal with the Times and her own family in time. For now, she would mourn the thousand dead as the last Crawley to be dressed in black.