"So you expect this Duke of Crowborough to come in and marry you for your inheritance? An inheritance you do not have. And you are alright with that?" Edith asked, looking on in dismay as she clutched her book on poisonous plants.
"I will have it. Papa will see to it." Mary said firmly as she fussed with her necklace in the mirror.
"I doubt that very much."
"He will."
"And the Duke will propose and all will be right with the world?"
"I should think so."
"You are delusional."
"You look beautiful," Sybil commented, trying to cut the tension while adjusting a flower in Mary's hair.
"Thank you, Sybil darling," Mary smiled before cutting a look in the mirror at Edith. "I'm glad one of my little sisters is supportive."
Sybil sighed and stepped away. Clearly giving up temporarily in her quest to establish some sisterly harmony. Only ever temporarily though, she was too stubborn to do otherwise. That's one thing they all loved about Bil, Edith thought as she tried to send her an appropriately apologetic look.
"We should go down," Cora smiled from the doorway as she came in. "They'll be back from the station any moment."
Edith and Sybil stepped past her while Cora took the time to speak to Mary about being "surprised" by his visit. Honestly, as if anyone would believe that. The only true deception necessary to this whole scheme was the lie that Mary was a wealthy heiress and not just another daughter of an Earl like they were.
It was July now, and the house had largely buried their grief and moved on with life. They kept to the, not yet existing, British staying to keep calm and carry on. Even Edith, grief stricken and guilty though she was, had other duties to distract her.
The Times had been somewhat satisfied with her excuse that Crow was a member of the aristocracy and, thus, would not appear in person or give their true name as they did not want their radical opinions to harm their family or community. Of course, this didn't stop them from publishing that fact, and every one of Crow's following articles was met with speculation about who he was. Every noble with Edward as a first or middle name or had a crow on their coat of arms was suspected to be the Mr. Crow, and God forbid you had both. Their coming guest, as Duke of Crowborough, was one of the suspected men and, like all suspects, he denied it. But people held to their theories.
No one suspected a woman, let alone a, now twenty year old, Earl's second daughter to be Crow. It frustrated Edith as much as it pleased her, but her situation needed discretion. She doubted many would listen to her if they knew she was a young woman. Her pride had to come last in this case. Besides, she didn't want to deal with her family learning the truth. So, for a time, the two pounds per article she received after signing the exclusivity agreement would be balm enough to her pride.
Along with writing articles, Edith had also taken over the majority of the estate rounds from her father. Robert was busier than ever finding and contacting his new heir, associated legal work, and dealing with his wife and mother's complaints. While he still rode out to handle any problem, it was Edith who rode through the county every few days to speak to the farmers and shopkeepers and other members of the community.
Many were greatly concerned about the issue of the new heir or were happy enough to think it was Mary. Edith was quick to correct them that a cousin of theirs would now be heir and he would be coming to stay in the area. Her air of assurance in this matter seemed to comfort a number of them, but many still grumbled that this new heir was "not one of us".
Despite it being the truth, Cora was not pleased that Edith was spreading this news. She was hesitant to truly reprimand, but gently explained that it was harming Mary's chances and her reputation in the community. When Cora had asked why Edith was doing it, implying some level of personal enmity, Edith just sighed and promised not to spread the information farther. The community knew anyway, and the hopes of Mary as heiress would be smashed in time. If only they didn't have to put up with this visit from the Duke first.
The three daughters followed their mother out of Downton just as William went to open the doors of the blue car that pulled up before the line of servants in their crispest uniforms.
"Welcome to Downton," Robert said as he exited the car just before the Duke of Crowborough stepped out.
"Lady Grantham," the Duke smiled. Somehow that smile made Edith feel deeply unpleasant. "This is so kind of you."
"Not at all, Duke. I'm delighted you could spare the time," Cora replied then gestured to Mary who stood just behind her looking beautiful in her grey skirt, purple top and pearls. "You know my daughter Mary, of course, and Edith, but I don't believe you have met my daughter Sybil."
"Lady Sybil," the Duke said in greeting, reaching out to delicately hold her hand.
"How do you do," Sybil said politely. Edith gently pulled Sybil back to her side as soon as the Duke released her hand.
"Now come on in," Cora continued. "You must be worn out."
"Oh, Lady Grantham, I have a confession to make," the Duke said contritely. "I hope I won't cause too much bother. My man was taken ill just as I was leaving."
"Oh, that won't be a problem," Robert said. "Will it, Carson?"
"Certainly not," Carson puffed. "I shall look after his grace myself"
"Oh no, I wouldn't dream of being such a nuisance. Surely a footman…" The Duke was still smiling, and it didn't stop as he trailed off while looking at Thomas. "I remember this man. Didn't you serve me when I dined with Lady Grantham in London?"
"I did, your grace," Thomas said blankly.
"Huh, there we are. We shall do very well together won't we…"
"Thomas, your grace."
"Thomas," The Duke rolled his name around his mouth as if to savor it, still smiling all the while. Edith was not pleased.
Edith hadn't recognized Thomas when he first came to the house. His actor, Robert James-Collier, had been in his mid thirties when the first season of Downton Abbey was filmed, and, while they had many similar facial features, nothing prepared her for his youth. He was scrawny and lanky and no older than Sybil when he first came to Downton as a hall boy. Thomas had clearly grown up in his years at Downton, but he could still be no older than eighteen or nineteen at most. Meanwhile, the Duke was clearly a man in his late twenties, approaching thirty. If they had met when Cora dined with him in London, that had to have been last year if not the year before. Just how had the Duke come to have a sexual encounter with their sixteen to eighteen year old footman?
Edith had been struggling to remember each episode of Downton Abbey the television show, and she vaguely remembered the episode one plot of Thomas and the Duke, Phillip Villiers. Could she do anything to stop it? As an unmarried young woman, sneaking into the men's quarters to stop a homosexual triste between their guest and servant seemed like an action with only negative outcomes for everyone. Could she join the unethical trespassing Mary and the Duke did to sneak into the staff's personal rooms and steal Thomas's letters? She doubted she could nor did she want to. Was it best to intervene?
"Good," Cora nodded, motioning for her husband, guest and daughters to follow her into the house. Sybil gently prompted Edith to follow, her mind filled with nothing but future plot lines, when the current one knocked her and Mr. Bates, her figuratively and him literally, off balance.
Mr. Bates crashed to the gravel driveway catching everyone's attention. While some looked on with embarrassment, others sympathy, and a few amusement, Edith felt horror. She had forgotten. It was a main plot of the first episode and she had completely forgotten that Mr. Bates came to Downton the day of the Titanic. He had been here for months. She had heard people talk about him. And yet, it had never occurred to her as anything different than another hire of a servant. When had she become so immersed into this world? When has she forgotten? What had she forgotten?
Sybil all but dragged Edith inside, stumbling over her feet as she struggled to maintain some sense of decorum. As soon as politely possible she rushed upstairs, pushed aside all her draft articles for Edward Crow from her desk, and reached for a new notebook. There, she began to inscribe all the information she knew of Downton Abbey. All characters, plotelines, twists, and vague dates were written down, clumped together in what few season and episode numbers she could remember. All were written in German, just like her draft Crow articles to keep the maids and family from snooping. Thank God for her immigrant grandmother from her past life.
Edith barely heard the dressing gong and barely paid Anna any attention as she helped her get ready in a grey sheath dress with tiered layers of purple geometric embroidery and matching sheer sleeves with the same pattern. She had picked it out instead of a plethora of floral mauve and black dresses Cora had wanted her to get. How long had she spent picking out evening gowns she would only wear for a couple of months when she should have been preparing for the future? By the time dinner was served, Edith was in a complete jumble and barely caught the first lines of conversation she thought she recognized.
"I'm afraid we are rather a female party tonight, Duke," Cora said. "But you know what it's like trying to balance numbers in the country. A single man outranks the holy grail."
"No, I'm terribly flattered to be dining with family," the Duke smiled and it was returned by Cora, Robert, and Mary. Edith considered her own part in this show, calling out Mary and the Duke for invading the staff's privacy, but did they even do it? She hadn't seen them and she hadn't heard of it as she was in her bedroom. Was it worth breaking her promise to Cora by causing such a stir?
Edith sighed and put down her glass of red wine. If it was the only thing that showed Robert the Duke wasn't worth breaking the entail for Mary over, she would. "Did I hear that you showed the Duke the attics, Mary?"
"I'm sure she was just showing him the house," Sybil said. Cora cast a troubled look between Edith and Mary while Robert looked up at the Duke questioningly.
"Of course," Edith nodded to Sybil, hoping she understood. "I just wondered why, seeing as it's private quarters."
"Are you a student of architecture?" The Dowager asked the Duke, trying to recover the conversation."
"Absolutely."
"Then I do hope you will come inspect my little cottage. It was designed by Wren for the first Earl's sister-"
"The attics," Robert cut in. "Whatever for?"
"Why was this done?" Cora asked lightly.
"We were just looking around," Mary said.
"In private quarters?" Edith asked, clutching the stem of her wine glass. "One would think you could find better places to show a guest than by trespassing in your own home."
"Will you hold your tongue?" Mary snapped.
"I think we will go though," Cora said, as gracefully and quickly as she could standing and ushering her daughters and mother-in-law into the drawing room. "Edith, why did you have to go and cause a stir? You promised not to."
"If you mean I promised not to speak of the truth in a way that could hurt Mary's chances, I don't see how I broke that promise," Edith retorted. "The Duke already knew of this escapade, and it's hardly going to hurt her chances when she doesn't have them to begin with."
"Oh, really," Mary said sharply. "Must you be so hateful?"
"Edith," Cora rebuked, "like it or not, the Duke is probably asking for permission to propose to Mary at this moment. Can't you be happy for her?"
"Edith has never been happy for me a day in her life," Mary sniffed.
"Just because I want you to marry a good man for love and not a fortune hunter for a position does not mean I don't love you," Edith said. "Some would even say the opposite."
"I would," Sybil nodded.
"No, no," the Dowager tutted, "don't you start, Sybil. Mary, you should go out to intercept the Duke when he comes to join us. Makes it easier to pop the question in private."
"I will," Mary said, glaring down at Edith as she stood. "And so will he."
"Now, Edith," the Dowager continued, "jealousy is not-"
"Jealousy is not in any part of my actions," Edith said, standing as well to follow Mary out. "I will retire to bed."
"No, stay," Cora pleaded. "It might not please you Edith, but I want the family together for this moment."
"But there is no moment. And I do not wish to deal with the inevitable disappointment tonight so I will leave you all. Goodnight, Mother, Bil, Grandmother."
Edith walked out of the drawing room, gently closing the heavy wood door behind her and quietly, hoping to avoid any additional drama, made her way to the stairs. Unfortunately, she was not successful.
"Aren't you coming to the drawing room?" Edith heard Mary's voice and quickly hid behind one of the pillars in the Saloon.
"I- I'm tired. I think I'll just slip away," the Duke's voice replied. She could bet he was still smiling. "Please make my excuses."
"I'm afraid I have worn you out. Tomorrow we can just-"
"I'm leaving in the morning. Goodnight…. Oh, you might tell that footman…"
"Thomas."
"Thomas, that I have gone up." The Duke didn't say another word. Instead, Edith just heard his light footfalls as he ascended the stairs. Knowing she would be found one way or another, Edith stepped out of hiding.
"Mary, I am sorry. I know you wanted him, no, you wanted to be a duchess but-"
"Shut up," Mary turned around, her eyes suspiciously red. "At least I COULD become a duchess."
"But you can't become a duchess, and that's the problem."
"You would know. You can't be anything. Anything but a spinster," Mary turned and walked back to the drawing room, leaving Edith standing in the empty Saloon alone.
The next morning the house was somber. Edith didn't bother getting up to watch the duke leave although she did watch his departure and Mr. Bates rehire from her window. She was glad Papa had done the right thing.
Edith had taken extra care to ask after Thomas when she saw him. He was paler than normal, with dark bags under his eyes. If she could she would tell him he could do better, but she doubted he would appreciate the comment or knowledge of his criminal behavior. She wished she had done something even if she still didn't know what that meant.
Instead, she offered him a break from his normal duties by helping her in the gardens, away from the bustle and crowd of the house. Sketching the entirety of Downton from the top of a hill, Edith couldn't help looking forward to the changes Matthew would bring in the coming months. For once, she thought rather selfishly, she wouldn't be the only black sheep in a pasture of ivory. And who knows, maybe the two black sheep could be friends in time.
Matthew Crawley was reading the Times and the most recent article by Edward Crow on the Marconi Scandal over breakfast. It was a ghastly affair that he was glad to see someone in the newspaper business decided to treat with some air of seriousness rather than the sensationalism most papers were consumed by.
One day, Matthew hoped he could meet this Mr. Crow. His mother approved of most of Crow's articles, despite Crow's apparent love of some old traditions and old wisdom. Clearly, he was an aristocrat even with his radical opinions. Matthew wished that one day Crow would be brave enough to put their name and title behind their work. He would love to discuss his opinions in person. Although, with their class difference, even if Crow's identity was known, he doubted he would ever get the chance.
"House post, ma'am."
"Thank you," Mother smiled and took the offered letters from the tray before giving one off the top to him. "One for you."
"Thank you, Mother." Matthew didn't even bother to read the postage as he opened the letter with his knife. His eyes scanned the letter, noting the sender. "It's from Lord Grantham."
"Really? What does he want?"
His eyes read the letter again and again. This couldn't be true. How was he supposed to- He wasn't- Finally Matthew managed to mutter the truth. "He wants to change our lives."