Fic - Downton Abbey - "The Fox Hunt" - part 2
Here's chapter two
“Well?” James asked as Carson strode into the servants. “Is it really him or is it some dodgy con man?”
“Leave off,” Bates said, even before Carson began to bellow. “His lordship isn’t a fool, and neither is Doctor Clarkson or Mrs. Crawley. He let us see the fingerprint report. He would not have disrupted his entire household including Lady Mary without having absolutely no doubt that Matthew Crawley is alive. He’s contacted government authorities to have Mr. Crawley reinstated as one of the living.” He nodded to Carson. “Forgive me, Mr. Carson, for stepping into your role.”
“In this case,” Carson huffed, “I do not mind. James, that sorely injured man who is currently looking at his lordship’s library like he has never set eyes on this house before is Mr. Matthew Crawley. Lord Grantham is certain, and therefore I am certain. I agree with his lordship in that this is joyous news but also difficult news and I relish our role in helping. And why are you sitting in the servant’s hall? Surely you have work?”
Bates waited until James left to ask his next question. “Did his lordship explain the new arrangement?”
“Yes.” Carson sighed as he took a seat at the table. “With little more than a few minutes with Mr. Crawley, I must say it is a wise decision on Lord Grantham’s part. I think Mr. Crawley will need a steadier hand than Mosely as a valet. And Mosely is well pleased with assuming valet duties with Lord Grantham. It is a sacrifice on your part though and I thank you, Mr. Bates”
“It’s not a sacrifice at all,” Bates said easily. “Had… things been different, I had planned to request the change. With Anna with Lady Mary, and me with Mr. Crawley, we would have seen more of each other. And as much as we tease poor Mosely, he is skilled and will tend Lord Grantham very well. You know that as well as I. However, he’s not a steady man and when Lord Grantham said that Matthew was quite out of sorts, it seemed an act of mercy to not inflict him with Mosely. For both his and Mosely’s sake. What room will Mr. Crawley be in?” He somehow suspected it would be awkward to presume Mary would want to share a bed with a man that didn’t remember her.
“The room across the hall from Lady Mary. I had Thomas place his bags there… What little he had.” Carson sighed again.
“Is he that bad?” Bates asked. He’d only had a glance. Lord Grantham had insisted that the staff not do the typical welcome and to just go about their normal duties. The man had seemed off, nervous and almost shaking with discomfort.
“It is like looking at a man who is there but not there.” Carson said, his voice laced with worry. “He didn’t recognize me, and kept calling me Mr. Carson like a nervous footman. He flinched away from his lordship like he thought Lord Grantham was going to strike him. I fear something has cruelly harmed him in some way and I don’t think it was the car accident.”
“Well, at least he is here now,” Bates said, “surrounded by friends and family who want him well. I wonder… how terribly lonely it must have been.” At Carson’s raised eyebrow, he added, “Even in prison, Mr. Carson, in my worst moments, I could hold onto the truth in my heart that there were people who cared about me, that Anna loved me. I don’t know how I would have borne it without that. Poor Mr. Crawley, a more sensitive soul than I, had nothing. I feel sorry for that man. “
“You are often very wise, Mr. Bates.”
~*~
He was afraid to touch anything. It wasn’t a house, it was a castle really, bigger than any estate house he’d seen, and everything in the library looked expensive and breakable. Nothing felt familiar, nothing at all, and he was certain that Lord Grantham was expecting him to say something and he had no idea what. “This is a beautiful library, Lord Grantham.” Feeling like he had to say more, he added, “I like to read.”
“Does it seem familiar?” Lord Grantham said affably. “You spent a lot of time here. And you should call me Robert, Matthew. This is your home, you are my son in law and my heir. I’m not attempting to trick you. Believe me, it’s not that clever of a hoax. The shelves over there have the books you added.”
Matthew looked. The nagging problem was that he did recognize the books, in that he could place the stories but he couldn’t recall the act of reading them. He hesitated and then pulled a book out. “I started to read this,” he said, more to himself.
“The Time Machine?” Robert said, looking at the book. “I know you’ve read it. You recommended it to me. Not really my taste.”
“No… “He hesitated, sensing suddenly that Lord Grantham, Robert, wouldn’t like what he was about to say. “I started to read this about three months ago. I found a copy in the trash outside of a school and I took it and then a few days later someone stole it from me… I never got to finish it.”
“Then borrow it,” Robert said easily. “The only rule I have is to sign books out on the ledger.” He directed Matthew to the ledger and flipped several pages back. “See, your name is here many times.”
It was. It was even his handwriting. “At least I’ll have the pleasure of reading a story fresh.” After a moment he smiled. “That is funny, isn’t it? No need for any new books for a bit.”
Robert laughed. “I was thinking it, but I didn’t want to say it.”
“You should.” It was odd, that he felt suddenly comfortable with Robert, but he did. “It’s all right to laugh. It is quite absurd and ridiculous, all things considered. I mean, I’m apparently married to one of your daughters and I don’t recall which one. You have to admit, that’s quite laughable…. If not very complementary to whoever my wife is.”
Robert smiled more broadly. “You sound more like yourself, Matthew. And it is a bit humorous. I’m glad you remembered that it was one of my daughters. That’s a good sign.”
“But,” and now he felt bad, “I didn’t remember it. You gave it away, just now. The other day, you said I became your heir, but today you said I was your heir and son in law. I can’t be both without marrying one of your daughters.”
“I suppose not,” Robert said after a moment. “Who do you think you married?” Robert took a seat in one of the chairs. “I’m not mocking you, Matthew. If your earlier memories are more likely to reappear so to speak, Cora pointed out the other night that we all will come off a bit badly. I have to tell you, of course. Dr. Clarkson agreed that while we’re not to explain out every detail of your life, it’s unfair to dance around who you married… But I was curious, before I tell you, what you thought.”
Matthew concentrated but very little came to him. Three pretty women, all frowning at him, although….”Sybil.”
“Sybil? Why Sybil?”
“I think she was the only one that liked me.” He shook his head. “And when I say it sounds wrong.”
“It is wrong, “Robert quickly. “It surprises me because I suppose I never considered it at all and yet… it wouldn’t have been a bad match. But no.” He hesitated. “You married Mary.”
“Mary? But she hated me.” He waited a long moment, because what he was going to ask was more than impertinent. “Did… were we forced to get married? Did you insist?”
“No, Matthew, your bride was quite willing.” Robert laughed suddenly. “It just took forever. She is actually quite angry with me that I told her to let you get inside the house before she rushed you with hugs and kisses.”
“But she hated me. Because of the entail. They all did. You were the exception, and you weren’t happy about it because you’d never met me and you didn’t like that I was a lawyer.” He stopped. “I was a lawyer… I went to Oxford.”
“You were a good lawyer for the most part,” said a new voice. It was Mary. She looked only a little bit older than he remembered, and she seemed more hesitant. “And I didn’t hate you, Matthew. I was just angry that… The entail seemed very unfair. But you needn’t worry…. I was quite happy to marry you. Because I love you.” She stepped forward. “Papa, he looks quite well. You made it sound like he could barely stand.”
“Mary…” Robert muttered.
“Yes, I know he doesn’t remember, and I just heard him ask if he was forced to marry me and that he’s quite certain I hate him. Trust me, Papa, I don’t plan to ravish him with kisses in front of you. Matthew, the first thing you need to know, when you are remembering things, is that you should never pay attention to what I say.”
“But you said…” He stopped. It was pointless really. It was like throwing rocks at a well armed soldier. He might irritate her but he could never win since she was better armed. He looked down and away.
There was a long moment of silence. “And now I suddenly understand your concern, Papa. Matthew, do you know when I fell in love with you?”
"No," he said after a long moment, "I'm sure I don't." And if he felt like a fool, it was hardly anyone's fault.
She smiled. "I had just had a row with someone, we were outside at one of the benches and you looked at me and said that if I liked to argue, then you and I should see more of each other. I do not hate you, Matthew, and I certainly wasn't forced to marry you, and if I had been dragged to the wedding altar, you probably wouldn't have survived the wedding night."
"Mary!" Robert said.
"Papa, we weren't forced to marry. Matthew, look at me." Her tone was sharp, but not harsh. He looked at her. She smiled slightly. "Matthew, you are my husband and I love you, and this last year was a nightmare of grief. Just seeing you here alive is enough for me. I can't ... I can't have you thinking that you were forced to marry me. You weren't. I wouldn't have stood for it, Father wouldn't have pressed me, and you wouldn't have stood for it either. You may not recall this, but you're very stubborn."
"Am I?" It didn't sound like a compliment.
"Yes, very." She looked at him, and then at Robert. "And that is why I am not showering you with kisses, even though I dearly want to. You would just pull away, or you would let me because you feel like you must because you've been told we're married. I wouldn't be forced to marry, and you do not remember why we married and I want a willing husband. I cannot and will not force you to feel something that isn't there yet. Because I know you, Matthew, and that means the more I push in, the more I will push you away. It will come, in time, and I will consider it a lesson in patience."
"What if it doesn't?" he asked. "It may not. I didn't know my own name for a year. Even with... Things seeming more familiar, the floodgates have hardly opened."
"The alternative, my husband dead and buried, was much worse." She said it easily. He wondered about that. He doubted that she had considered the reality.
"But that isn't the alternative." He said it without thinking. "Lord Grantham can't be rid of me as his heir, at least not easily, but you could easily divorce me."
Mary smiled. "On what grounds?"
"Abandonment, obviously. Mental defect would also be a way. But harder to get an actual divorce. You definitely have grounds for abandonment though. It seems quite well documented that... What with you thinking I was dead. Mental cruelty might also be a ground for divorce." He waited a moment. "You should at least consider it."
"Look at that," Mary said pleasantly, although her tone had an edge. "You haven't been in the house for more than an hour, and we're already having a fight. It’s just like you never left."
"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I was being too forward." He could feel his nerves start to ring.
"You weren't," Mary said quickly. "You have every right to speak your mind with me. Or with anyone in this house. I think, considering you've been here for little more than an hour that you should be a bit less pessimistic. For someone who doesn't remember being a lawyer, you've argued for my divorcing you quite brilliantly." She turned to Robert. "Has Matthew been shown his room? Dr. Clarkson was quite clear, we're not to tire him out."
~*~
She could see that her father was angry. She braced herself for the tongue lashing as Bates took Matthew to his room.
"Did you really need to do that," her father asked. He was livid.
"Yes," she said easily. "You said it was his spirit that was damaged the most, and I agree. It's as if someone has beaten all of the fight out of his soul. He also was serious about being forced to marry me. I can't have him think that, Papa. He doesn't deserve to not know that. That’s not fair to him at all. And I meant what I said.... I can't force him to be in love with me, and he shouldn't be made to. It will come or it won't. But until it does come, we all have to back off on the point. He was terrified, Papa, terrified of disagreeing with either of us. Someone has been very hateful to him." It worried her. The damage seemed overwhelming.
"Then why did you goad him into discussing divorce?" Her father was genuinely puzzled, she could see.
"To see if Matthew is really in there. And he is. You saw it, so did I. For a moment, he was... Himself. Arguing the finer points of how I could be rid of him of all things, but he is there. I think he’s too frightened right now to let it out unless he is goaded. You haven't said everything Dr. Clarkson told you. What has been left out?" It was like her father to protect her, and she knew he had left something out. “Don’t treat me like a useless woman who can't handle the facts. My husband died a year ago and now he's upstairs unpacking and I haven't thrown any sort of hysterical tantrum about it. What happened to him?"
That something had happened was clear. She didn’t pretend to know what life was like in the lower classes but Matthew was far too nervous for someone who simply had worked as a labourer.
Robert sighed and gestured for her to sit. "Mary...I don't have exact details. Matthew just hasn't said. He may not even really know, from what Clarkson has said. I spared the rest of the family the details because they are unpleasant. As far as we know, he woke upon the hospital cold storage. There were thieves going through his pockets. He wandered out after the thieves and saw an empty box car and got in, because he assumed he was in some sort of trouble. Clarkson checked the train schedule. We think Matthew ended up close to Wales. He told Isobel and Dr. Clarkson that...he had on several occasions ended up in workhouses. Isobel has told, has told us all really, what goes on in those places that the poor are often degraded. Can you imagine, Mary, what your grandmother's reaction to a man, not Matthew, showing up at Downton unable to even give his name, with a bad hand, looking for work? Or mine, for that matter?"
"I think you would be kinder than someone running a workhouse," she said after a moment. "Granny not so much, I agree. And I can see where it might be a bit wearing to constantly hear how a bad hand made you unsuited for work... Particularly if they connected bad luck to being a lazy sinner and they always do, but that doesn't seem spirit crushing." Something had crushed him, she could see it, and it made her angry.
"There is more, and I assure you, I plan to look into it," Robert said carefully. "Dr. Clarkson didn’t make the connection, he was more concerned about the actual injury than what the circumstances meant." He waited a moment. "At some point, around the Christmas holidays last year, Matthew got hired as a footman at an estate. He was demoted, after dropping too many dishes, or possibly someone just didn't like the scars on his hand, to being an assistant groom. Then he mishandled a horse and the lord of the estate had him whipped and turned out."
It made her pause, her heart clenched. "That sounds like something out of a book, Papa." She didn’t know what to think. Such things happened, she couldn’t deny it, but it wasn’t acceptable behavior any more, for a peer to savagely beat a worker. Whoever had done it had taken a huge risk.
"There are scars, Mary." He said it gently, obviously worried. "Someone used a whip on Matthew, and I am quite sure it was a member of the peerage. The details...I think whatever happened was vile and unfair if only because at best, a mishandled horse, a bad footman, a decent employer fires the chap. But... The important question, to me, is who was he working for? If this was 1914, I could believe Matthew could turn up at someone's estate and no one would know him. But a year ago? Matthew wasn't a mystery. He was well known. And frankly if someone turned up here speaking like he does and looking for work, I would ask questions about why he was looking for work on an estate. I don't know where he could have gone where someone wouldn't have questioned his appearance."
"And why wouldn't they have said something?" Mary said, understanding his point instantly. "It was Christmas time last year, we could have had him home with us months ago. He would have been that much more recovered. And instead..."
"Instead, he is scarred in body and spirit, and Clarkson said he was quite adamant about not looking for work at estates, that he understood how unacceptable he was. Which means it’s even luckier he managed to end up in Manchester, since he certainly wouldn’t have gone to any more estates for work after that." Robert gripped her hand reassuringly. "I intend to find out what happened and who is responsible.... But I do think this should be kept between you and I, Mary. Whoever it was will soon know that Matthew is back with us, and that his memory is impaired. I don't want whoever it was aware that I am looking into it."
"What can you do?" She knew what she wanted to do to whoever had hurt Matthew but murder wasn't legal.
"It's not legal to flog one's employees, not even if he killed a lord's horse, which I doubt. Frankly, there’s any number of things about the story that don’t make sense. That it was Matthew who suffered makes it worse but I can't stomach the notion that a peer is out there terrorizing his servants." He hesitated. "I doubt, because of how questionable Matthew is right now, that he'd stand up as a witness in a trial but I will see to it that whoever did this is punished."
"Make sure I'm not there," she warned. "Because I will kill whoever harmed Matthew. I mean that, Papa." She put her hands to her face and began to cry. "Oh Papa, I so want to hold him and make it better and yet I can tell he would just feel like an animal caught in a trap."
Her father hugged her. "He will get better, Mary, and you're right, Matthew is there, inside and I think if we are gentle, he will recover."
~*~
"This is very nice," Matthew said. He set the book down on the small side table. Like the library, the bedroom seemed fancy and expensive. "Have we met, Mr. Bates?"
"Yes, we have, Mr. Crawley, and it's just Bates." Bates gestured to the wardrobe. "I unpacked your things."
"It seems silly," Matthew said. "I have two shirts and I am wearing one."
"It makes for a light day," Bates said with a smile.
It came to him suddenly. "You're Lord Grantham's valet. And you.... Were in jail..."
"You helped get me released," Bates said. "And I was Lord Grantham's valet but Lord Grantham asked me to take you on, while he will be using Mosely, who used to be your valet."
"So you were demoted. I'm sorry." He felt terrible. Being the valet to an earl was an honor. Being a valet to the earl's defective heir was a step down. A big step down.
"In some households, yes, but not here. Had you not had the accident, I had intended to change places with Mosely because my wife is Lady Mary's maid and your schedules usually coincided." Bates smiled pleasantly as he spoke.
"But..." He stopped himself. "I'm sorry.... I have questions but I feel like I might offend you if I ask them."
"Unless you said something unkind about my wife, you will not offend me, Mr. Crawley." Bates said. "As you will eventually recall, I have no right to judge anyone I know. Please ask."
"Won't it reduce your status, among the other servants? I... Worked at a large house, not as large as this... And this is a demotion." He was certain of that, as certain as he was that there was a strict pecking order in the servants hall.
"A valet is a valet. Whether I am your valet, or Lord Grantham's, it's not a demotion. It isn't as though I'm a hall boy. And yes, in some estates, this would mean I was the second ranked valet, but you need not be concerned about that. Mosely is a friend of mind, and Mr. Carson respects me, and Lord Grantham is my friend as well. I can hold my own." He smiled slightly. "What did you do at the large house?"
It took him off guard. "I was a footman. Sometimes, I had to fill in as a valet... There were a lot of parties... I think it was the holidays." He shrugged. "The others didn't like me, because his lordship hired me. They made it clear I wasn't very good at the work." And he had still been in a daze, truth be told. He could fix the time to the Christmas holiday because of the decorations, but it hadn't been until the spring before he could track more than a few days before and ahead. "I wasn’t very good at it. I was always in trouble or being punished for something. I dropped things. I was fired."
Bates nodded. "Some people see new employees as a threat. What name did you use?"
"John." He shrugged again. "People tend to roll their eyes when you say you don't have a name. At that house, I was John Fox..." and that was far too unpleasant of a thought. "That was when they weren’t calling me you there, the stupid daft footman. After there, I just used John Smith at places that needed a name. A lot of places don't."
"I know," Bates said companionably, "but I know I generally found those sorts of places unpleasant. You are very lucky to have found your way back, Mr. Crawley." There was a gong sound. "That is the dinner gong."
"I don't have anything else to change into," he said after a moment. And what he was wearing, while far nicer than anything he'd worn recently, was a casual suit that Dr. Clarkson had bought him in Firsk after just measuring him. Somehow he doubted showing up in his other clothes, that he'd walked from Manchester in, would work.
"Everyone is aware of that.” Bates said it easily. "Lord Grantham has a tailor coming in tomorrow to have you outfitted, but for now, I can make sure you look decently attired. As I said, it's an easy job. Tonight will be very casual for dinner. Just the family. I doubt very much that his lordship will do any entertaining until you're more settled in."
That made perfect sense. Lord Grantham probably wanted to make sure he wasn't going to embarrass the family.
~*~
Tom Branson never thought that his first meal at Downton Abbey could ever be topped for painful awkwardness, but it was almost amusing to see it play out before his eyes. The only part that wasn't amusing was that Matthew looked like a frightened animal caught in a trap. Mary was keeping well away, and Isobel wasn't, and Tom could see where those two would clash soon enough. It was a miracle, he agreed with Robert on that, but he also agreed that it was a more difficult problem than it looked. Physically, Matthew looked well enough. A bit thin and hollow eyed, like when he had leave during the war, but well enough. As Robert had said, his left hand looked a bit dodgy, the fingers curled, but he could hold a glass and it looked no worse than Barrow's bad hand.
But as a working man, he could see where it would have put a man at the end of the line for jobs, even if he had skills. He doubted anyone other than possibly Isobel understood how difficult it would have been. Judging by how his own brother hired at his mechanics shop, people tended to hire family and friends first, and then looked for men with skills and good references. If Matthew didn't remember his name or anything about himself, he'd have next to no skills to bring to the table. A terrible thing really, because if Matthew had simply bankrupted the estate the way Robert nearly had, he still could have gotten work as a lawyer or a teacher or an accountant, even a secretary if nothing else. A come down, but not a huge one for a man raised the way Matthew had been.
Robert was already more optimistic, he'd even said as much before Matthew joined them, that once Matthew relaxed and felt comfortable, he would seem more himself even if he wasn't certain of who was who. He'd also warned them that while Matthew did have moments where he recalled things, it wasn't always accurate or in context. The important thing was that he was remembering things from before the accident. Tom had gone to the village library and looked up amnesia. There wasn't much, and it was a bit technical but he understood that Robert was right, and that it really was a shame that Matthew hadn’t just woken up in the morgue and asked for help. The village people were already in an uproar about it, that their deceased loved ones were likely, if not more likely, to be robbed of their final possessions. If it could happen to Lord Grantham's heir, it could happen to anyone. If Matthew had just been found alive in the morgue, with no memory of himself, it was still a tragedy, but the family would have been spared a lot of pain.
And the death duties. He made a mental note to himself to ask Robert about it. It was unprecedented but with Matthew alive, that was one expense they could be rid of.
"So Matthew,” Cora said pleasantly, "do you like your room? If you don't, just take a look around and find a room that pleases you. We have plenty of space."
"It is a lovely room," Matthew said as he toyed with the remains of his meal. It hadn't escaped Tom that Matthew wasn't terribly clear on the names of everyone at the dinner, but was still aware of what fork went where. From what he had read, that made sense, even if it likely worked against Matthew. Fancy upper class manners and speech would mark him out as either someone who had fallen on hard times, or someone slumming. He suspected that if Matthew was given some legal paperwork, he'd have no trouble with it. Matthew looked nervous though. That was new, and Tom felt a wave of sympathy for him. This is how I felt, he reminded himself, that first night, like they were all watching me. That they were much more likely to forgive Matthew any transgressions didn't make it easier.
"Have you had any...? Flashes of memory?" Robert asked.
"No.... Not really," Matthew said. "This room seems very familiar, and I knew Mr. Bates wasn't originally my valet, but nothing significant."
"You shouldn't worry," Isobel said reassuringly. "Remember, that's exactly what you said seven days ago, that your name just seemed familiar, and then memories began to reappear. It just took a bit of time. You shouldn't pressure him, Robert. It's only the first day."
"It’s a fair question, Mother, not pressure. Lord Grantham was quite nice about my not remembering which of his daughters I married. It's... Not unreasonable for people to ask questions. You ask me questions quite a bit. I won't break." He smiled slightly. "And if I did break, how much worse could it really get? Really?"
Mary laughed. After a minute, so did Tom. It was funny, the way Matthew was. Robert smiled as well, although Isobel seemed to struggle slightly before she also smiled. It struck Tom as odd but then he recalled something Robert had said, that Matthew had been calling his mother Mrs. Crawley. She was likely overwhelmed that he'd called her that, as naturally as he ever had.
It also eased some of the unspoken tension. It was helped that Cora, of all people, seemed determined to maintain the air of a normal day, with talk of the beginning of planning for the winter holidays. Dinner finished and Robert suggested drinks, a rarity when they weren’t entertaining but Tom suspected Robert just wanting the good mood to continue. He personally was tired and he suspected Matthew was as well, that and probably not used to having wine with dinner and then drinks of hard liquor after. He’d been drinking his entire life, he was Irish and beer and whiskey were known commodities but it could catch one off guard if it had been a while and alcohol had always been the first thing to go when money was tight.
“If you leave the glass half full,” he said quietly to Matthew, “Robert won’t insist on refilling it.” Matthew had actually taught him that trick after one too many evenings where he’d barely made it up the stairs to bed. “Otherwise, he’ll drink us both under the table.”
“Thank you,” Matthew said, “My head is swimming already.” He looked at Tom quizzically. “I didn’t want to ask but… aren’t you the chauffer? That Lady Sybil liked?”
Tom smiled reassuringly. Earlier memories coming back first meant that Matthew had probably been wondering all evening why they were eating dinner with one of the servants. “I was the chauffer, and then I married Lady Sybil. I help Robert manage the estate since I know a bit about farming. You helped set that arrangement up.”
“Oh.” Matthew nodded, although Tom got the sense he was surprised. “I don’t recall that, obviously.” He gestured towards Mary, Edith, and Rose, who were huddled up with Cora, Violet, and Isobel discussing the upcoming holidays and how awkward it was going to be to explain Matthew being alive. “Perhaps you can help me? I know who Mary is… But which one is Edith and which one is Sybil? I can’t help but think something isn’t right but I can’t… “He clenched the glass and closed his eyes as if thinking very hard. “I don’t know which is which and I know I should.”
It was an unexpected punch to the gut that he hadn’t been prepared for. He steeled himself, because even after two years, it was still difficult to say. “The woman with the reddish blonde hair is Edith and the blonde haired girl is Rose MacClare, who is staying here while her father, Lord Flinchley, is in India. Sybil… died. She died having our daughter.”
“I… I’m so sorry,” Matthew looked stricken. Stricken and shocked. “When…?”
“Two years ago,” Tom said sadly.
“But…” Matthew seemed to gather himself. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Yes, you should have,” Tom said after a moment. “Sybil liked you. You two were friends. She would want you to remember her, and to remember the things you did with her. I sometimes need to remind myself of that as well, that Sybil would be sad if I only remembered her final moments. You said it yourself, you won’t break. Neither will I. What do you remember about her?” Not what she looked like if he was mistaking Rose for her, but it was hard to expect anything when it had taken almost a year for him to remember his name.
Matthew shook his head as if to deny anything and then smiled. “She was at some rally, and got hurt, and I got into a fight… and you were there, and she was so worried that you would get into trouble, she didn’t even notice that her head was bleeding. Then…. “And then he sighed. “It just trickles away… But I do know you.” He seemed both pleased and worried, if it was somehow going to offend him.
And Tom was not going to have that. “Good. Because we were friends, and I missed you, and I’m glad you’re alive.”
~*~
“Well?” James asked as Carson strode into the servants. “Is it really him or is it some dodgy con man?”
“Leave off,” Bates said, even before Carson began to bellow. “His lordship isn’t a fool, and neither is Doctor Clarkson or Mrs. Crawley. He let us see the fingerprint report. He would not have disrupted his entire household including Lady Mary without having absolutely no doubt that Matthew Crawley is alive. He’s contacted government authorities to have Mr. Crawley reinstated as one of the living.” He nodded to Carson. “Forgive me, Mr. Carson, for stepping into your role.”
“In this case,” Carson huffed, “I do not mind. James, that sorely injured man who is currently looking at his lordship’s library like he has never set eyes on this house before is Mr. Matthew Crawley. Lord Grantham is certain, and therefore I am certain. I agree with his lordship in that this is joyous news but also difficult news and I relish our role in helping. And why are you sitting in the servant’s hall? Surely you have work?”
Bates waited until James left to ask his next question. “Did his lordship explain the new arrangement?”
“Yes.” Carson sighed as he took a seat at the table. “With little more than a few minutes with Mr. Crawley, I must say it is a wise decision on Lord Grantham’s part. I think Mr. Crawley will need a steadier hand than Mosely as a valet. And Mosely is well pleased with assuming valet duties with Lord Grantham. It is a sacrifice on your part though and I thank you, Mr. Bates”
“It’s not a sacrifice at all,” Bates said easily. “Had… things been different, I had planned to request the change. With Anna with Lady Mary, and me with Mr. Crawley, we would have seen more of each other. And as much as we tease poor Mosely, he is skilled and will tend Lord Grantham very well. You know that as well as I. However, he’s not a steady man and when Lord Grantham said that Matthew was quite out of sorts, it seemed an act of mercy to not inflict him with Mosely. For both his and Mosely’s sake. What room will Mr. Crawley be in?” He somehow suspected it would be awkward to presume Mary would want to share a bed with a man that didn’t remember her.
“The room across the hall from Lady Mary. I had Thomas place his bags there… What little he had.” Carson sighed again.
“Is he that bad?” Bates asked. He’d only had a glance. Lord Grantham had insisted that the staff not do the typical welcome and to just go about their normal duties. The man had seemed off, nervous and almost shaking with discomfort.
“It is like looking at a man who is there but not there.” Carson said, his voice laced with worry. “He didn’t recognize me, and kept calling me Mr. Carson like a nervous footman. He flinched away from his lordship like he thought Lord Grantham was going to strike him. I fear something has cruelly harmed him in some way and I don’t think it was the car accident.”
“Well, at least he is here now,” Bates said, “surrounded by friends and family who want him well. I wonder… how terribly lonely it must have been.” At Carson’s raised eyebrow, he added, “Even in prison, Mr. Carson, in my worst moments, I could hold onto the truth in my heart that there were people who cared about me, that Anna loved me. I don’t know how I would have borne it without that. Poor Mr. Crawley, a more sensitive soul than I, had nothing. I feel sorry for that man. “
“You are often very wise, Mr. Bates.”
~*~
He was afraid to touch anything. It wasn’t a house, it was a castle really, bigger than any estate house he’d seen, and everything in the library looked expensive and breakable. Nothing felt familiar, nothing at all, and he was certain that Lord Grantham was expecting him to say something and he had no idea what. “This is a beautiful library, Lord Grantham.” Feeling like he had to say more, he added, “I like to read.”
“Does it seem familiar?” Lord Grantham said affably. “You spent a lot of time here. And you should call me Robert, Matthew. This is your home, you are my son in law and my heir. I’m not attempting to trick you. Believe me, it’s not that clever of a hoax. The shelves over there have the books you added.”
Matthew looked. The nagging problem was that he did recognize the books, in that he could place the stories but he couldn’t recall the act of reading them. He hesitated and then pulled a book out. “I started to read this,” he said, more to himself.
“The Time Machine?” Robert said, looking at the book. “I know you’ve read it. You recommended it to me. Not really my taste.”
“No… “He hesitated, sensing suddenly that Lord Grantham, Robert, wouldn’t like what he was about to say. “I started to read this about three months ago. I found a copy in the trash outside of a school and I took it and then a few days later someone stole it from me… I never got to finish it.”
“Then borrow it,” Robert said easily. “The only rule I have is to sign books out on the ledger.” He directed Matthew to the ledger and flipped several pages back. “See, your name is here many times.”
It was. It was even his handwriting. “At least I’ll have the pleasure of reading a story fresh.” After a moment he smiled. “That is funny, isn’t it? No need for any new books for a bit.”
Robert laughed. “I was thinking it, but I didn’t want to say it.”
“You should.” It was odd, that he felt suddenly comfortable with Robert, but he did. “It’s all right to laugh. It is quite absurd and ridiculous, all things considered. I mean, I’m apparently married to one of your daughters and I don’t recall which one. You have to admit, that’s quite laughable…. If not very complementary to whoever my wife is.”
Robert smiled more broadly. “You sound more like yourself, Matthew. And it is a bit humorous. I’m glad you remembered that it was one of my daughters. That’s a good sign.”
“But,” and now he felt bad, “I didn’t remember it. You gave it away, just now. The other day, you said I became your heir, but today you said I was your heir and son in law. I can’t be both without marrying one of your daughters.”
“I suppose not,” Robert said after a moment. “Who do you think you married?” Robert took a seat in one of the chairs. “I’m not mocking you, Matthew. If your earlier memories are more likely to reappear so to speak, Cora pointed out the other night that we all will come off a bit badly. I have to tell you, of course. Dr. Clarkson agreed that while we’re not to explain out every detail of your life, it’s unfair to dance around who you married… But I was curious, before I tell you, what you thought.”
Matthew concentrated but very little came to him. Three pretty women, all frowning at him, although….”Sybil.”
“Sybil? Why Sybil?”
“I think she was the only one that liked me.” He shook his head. “And when I say it sounds wrong.”
“It is wrong, “Robert quickly. “It surprises me because I suppose I never considered it at all and yet… it wouldn’t have been a bad match. But no.” He hesitated. “You married Mary.”
“Mary? But she hated me.” He waited a long moment, because what he was going to ask was more than impertinent. “Did… were we forced to get married? Did you insist?”
“No, Matthew, your bride was quite willing.” Robert laughed suddenly. “It just took forever. She is actually quite angry with me that I told her to let you get inside the house before she rushed you with hugs and kisses.”
“But she hated me. Because of the entail. They all did. You were the exception, and you weren’t happy about it because you’d never met me and you didn’t like that I was a lawyer.” He stopped. “I was a lawyer… I went to Oxford.”
“You were a good lawyer for the most part,” said a new voice. It was Mary. She looked only a little bit older than he remembered, and she seemed more hesitant. “And I didn’t hate you, Matthew. I was just angry that… The entail seemed very unfair. But you needn’t worry…. I was quite happy to marry you. Because I love you.” She stepped forward. “Papa, he looks quite well. You made it sound like he could barely stand.”
“Mary…” Robert muttered.
“Yes, I know he doesn’t remember, and I just heard him ask if he was forced to marry me and that he’s quite certain I hate him. Trust me, Papa, I don’t plan to ravish him with kisses in front of you. Matthew, the first thing you need to know, when you are remembering things, is that you should never pay attention to what I say.”
“But you said…” He stopped. It was pointless really. It was like throwing rocks at a well armed soldier. He might irritate her but he could never win since she was better armed. He looked down and away.
There was a long moment of silence. “And now I suddenly understand your concern, Papa. Matthew, do you know when I fell in love with you?”
"No," he said after a long moment, "I'm sure I don't." And if he felt like a fool, it was hardly anyone's fault.
She smiled. "I had just had a row with someone, we were outside at one of the benches and you looked at me and said that if I liked to argue, then you and I should see more of each other. I do not hate you, Matthew, and I certainly wasn't forced to marry you, and if I had been dragged to the wedding altar, you probably wouldn't have survived the wedding night."
"Mary!" Robert said.
"Papa, we weren't forced to marry. Matthew, look at me." Her tone was sharp, but not harsh. He looked at her. She smiled slightly. "Matthew, you are my husband and I love you, and this last year was a nightmare of grief. Just seeing you here alive is enough for me. I can't ... I can't have you thinking that you were forced to marry me. You weren't. I wouldn't have stood for it, Father wouldn't have pressed me, and you wouldn't have stood for it either. You may not recall this, but you're very stubborn."
"Am I?" It didn't sound like a compliment.
"Yes, very." She looked at him, and then at Robert. "And that is why I am not showering you with kisses, even though I dearly want to. You would just pull away, or you would let me because you feel like you must because you've been told we're married. I wouldn't be forced to marry, and you do not remember why we married and I want a willing husband. I cannot and will not force you to feel something that isn't there yet. Because I know you, Matthew, and that means the more I push in, the more I will push you away. It will come, in time, and I will consider it a lesson in patience."
"What if it doesn't?" he asked. "It may not. I didn't know my own name for a year. Even with... Things seeming more familiar, the floodgates have hardly opened."
"The alternative, my husband dead and buried, was much worse." She said it easily. He wondered about that. He doubted that she had considered the reality.
"But that isn't the alternative." He said it without thinking. "Lord Grantham can't be rid of me as his heir, at least not easily, but you could easily divorce me."
Mary smiled. "On what grounds?"
"Abandonment, obviously. Mental defect would also be a way. But harder to get an actual divorce. You definitely have grounds for abandonment though. It seems quite well documented that... What with you thinking I was dead. Mental cruelty might also be a ground for divorce." He waited a moment. "You should at least consider it."
"Look at that," Mary said pleasantly, although her tone had an edge. "You haven't been in the house for more than an hour, and we're already having a fight. It’s just like you never left."
"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I was being too forward." He could feel his nerves start to ring.
"You weren't," Mary said quickly. "You have every right to speak your mind with me. Or with anyone in this house. I think, considering you've been here for little more than an hour that you should be a bit less pessimistic. For someone who doesn't remember being a lawyer, you've argued for my divorcing you quite brilliantly." She turned to Robert. "Has Matthew been shown his room? Dr. Clarkson was quite clear, we're not to tire him out."
~*~
She could see that her father was angry. She braced herself for the tongue lashing as Bates took Matthew to his room.
"Did you really need to do that," her father asked. He was livid.
"Yes," she said easily. "You said it was his spirit that was damaged the most, and I agree. It's as if someone has beaten all of the fight out of his soul. He also was serious about being forced to marry me. I can't have him think that, Papa. He doesn't deserve to not know that. That’s not fair to him at all. And I meant what I said.... I can't force him to be in love with me, and he shouldn't be made to. It will come or it won't. But until it does come, we all have to back off on the point. He was terrified, Papa, terrified of disagreeing with either of us. Someone has been very hateful to him." It worried her. The damage seemed overwhelming.
"Then why did you goad him into discussing divorce?" Her father was genuinely puzzled, she could see.
"To see if Matthew is really in there. And he is. You saw it, so did I. For a moment, he was... Himself. Arguing the finer points of how I could be rid of him of all things, but he is there. I think he’s too frightened right now to let it out unless he is goaded. You haven't said everything Dr. Clarkson told you. What has been left out?" It was like her father to protect her, and she knew he had left something out. “Don’t treat me like a useless woman who can't handle the facts. My husband died a year ago and now he's upstairs unpacking and I haven't thrown any sort of hysterical tantrum about it. What happened to him?"
That something had happened was clear. She didn’t pretend to know what life was like in the lower classes but Matthew was far too nervous for someone who simply had worked as a labourer.
Robert sighed and gestured for her to sit. "Mary...I don't have exact details. Matthew just hasn't said. He may not even really know, from what Clarkson has said. I spared the rest of the family the details because they are unpleasant. As far as we know, he woke upon the hospital cold storage. There were thieves going through his pockets. He wandered out after the thieves and saw an empty box car and got in, because he assumed he was in some sort of trouble. Clarkson checked the train schedule. We think Matthew ended up close to Wales. He told Isobel and Dr. Clarkson that...he had on several occasions ended up in workhouses. Isobel has told, has told us all really, what goes on in those places that the poor are often degraded. Can you imagine, Mary, what your grandmother's reaction to a man, not Matthew, showing up at Downton unable to even give his name, with a bad hand, looking for work? Or mine, for that matter?"
"I think you would be kinder than someone running a workhouse," she said after a moment. "Granny not so much, I agree. And I can see where it might be a bit wearing to constantly hear how a bad hand made you unsuited for work... Particularly if they connected bad luck to being a lazy sinner and they always do, but that doesn't seem spirit crushing." Something had crushed him, she could see it, and it made her angry.
"There is more, and I assure you, I plan to look into it," Robert said carefully. "Dr. Clarkson didn’t make the connection, he was more concerned about the actual injury than what the circumstances meant." He waited a moment. "At some point, around the Christmas holidays last year, Matthew got hired as a footman at an estate. He was demoted, after dropping too many dishes, or possibly someone just didn't like the scars on his hand, to being an assistant groom. Then he mishandled a horse and the lord of the estate had him whipped and turned out."
It made her pause, her heart clenched. "That sounds like something out of a book, Papa." She didn’t know what to think. Such things happened, she couldn’t deny it, but it wasn’t acceptable behavior any more, for a peer to savagely beat a worker. Whoever had done it had taken a huge risk.
"There are scars, Mary." He said it gently, obviously worried. "Someone used a whip on Matthew, and I am quite sure it was a member of the peerage. The details...I think whatever happened was vile and unfair if only because at best, a mishandled horse, a bad footman, a decent employer fires the chap. But... The important question, to me, is who was he working for? If this was 1914, I could believe Matthew could turn up at someone's estate and no one would know him. But a year ago? Matthew wasn't a mystery. He was well known. And frankly if someone turned up here speaking like he does and looking for work, I would ask questions about why he was looking for work on an estate. I don't know where he could have gone where someone wouldn't have questioned his appearance."
"And why wouldn't they have said something?" Mary said, understanding his point instantly. "It was Christmas time last year, we could have had him home with us months ago. He would have been that much more recovered. And instead..."
"Instead, he is scarred in body and spirit, and Clarkson said he was quite adamant about not looking for work at estates, that he understood how unacceptable he was. Which means it’s even luckier he managed to end up in Manchester, since he certainly wouldn’t have gone to any more estates for work after that." Robert gripped her hand reassuringly. "I intend to find out what happened and who is responsible.... But I do think this should be kept between you and I, Mary. Whoever it was will soon know that Matthew is back with us, and that his memory is impaired. I don't want whoever it was aware that I am looking into it."
"What can you do?" She knew what she wanted to do to whoever had hurt Matthew but murder wasn't legal.
"It's not legal to flog one's employees, not even if he killed a lord's horse, which I doubt. Frankly, there’s any number of things about the story that don’t make sense. That it was Matthew who suffered makes it worse but I can't stomach the notion that a peer is out there terrorizing his servants." He hesitated. "I doubt, because of how questionable Matthew is right now, that he'd stand up as a witness in a trial but I will see to it that whoever did this is punished."
"Make sure I'm not there," she warned. "Because I will kill whoever harmed Matthew. I mean that, Papa." She put her hands to her face and began to cry. "Oh Papa, I so want to hold him and make it better and yet I can tell he would just feel like an animal caught in a trap."
Her father hugged her. "He will get better, Mary, and you're right, Matthew is there, inside and I think if we are gentle, he will recover."
~*~
"This is very nice," Matthew said. He set the book down on the small side table. Like the library, the bedroom seemed fancy and expensive. "Have we met, Mr. Bates?"
"Yes, we have, Mr. Crawley, and it's just Bates." Bates gestured to the wardrobe. "I unpacked your things."
"It seems silly," Matthew said. "I have two shirts and I am wearing one."
"It makes for a light day," Bates said with a smile.
It came to him suddenly. "You're Lord Grantham's valet. And you.... Were in jail..."
"You helped get me released," Bates said. "And I was Lord Grantham's valet but Lord Grantham asked me to take you on, while he will be using Mosely, who used to be your valet."
"So you were demoted. I'm sorry." He felt terrible. Being the valet to an earl was an honor. Being a valet to the earl's defective heir was a step down. A big step down.
"In some households, yes, but not here. Had you not had the accident, I had intended to change places with Mosely because my wife is Lady Mary's maid and your schedules usually coincided." Bates smiled pleasantly as he spoke.
"But..." He stopped himself. "I'm sorry.... I have questions but I feel like I might offend you if I ask them."
"Unless you said something unkind about my wife, you will not offend me, Mr. Crawley." Bates said. "As you will eventually recall, I have no right to judge anyone I know. Please ask."
"Won't it reduce your status, among the other servants? I... Worked at a large house, not as large as this... And this is a demotion." He was certain of that, as certain as he was that there was a strict pecking order in the servants hall.
"A valet is a valet. Whether I am your valet, or Lord Grantham's, it's not a demotion. It isn't as though I'm a hall boy. And yes, in some estates, this would mean I was the second ranked valet, but you need not be concerned about that. Mosely is a friend of mind, and Mr. Carson respects me, and Lord Grantham is my friend as well. I can hold my own." He smiled slightly. "What did you do at the large house?"
It took him off guard. "I was a footman. Sometimes, I had to fill in as a valet... There were a lot of parties... I think it was the holidays." He shrugged. "The others didn't like me, because his lordship hired me. They made it clear I wasn't very good at the work." And he had still been in a daze, truth be told. He could fix the time to the Christmas holiday because of the decorations, but it hadn't been until the spring before he could track more than a few days before and ahead. "I wasn’t very good at it. I was always in trouble or being punished for something. I dropped things. I was fired."
Bates nodded. "Some people see new employees as a threat. What name did you use?"
"John." He shrugged again. "People tend to roll their eyes when you say you don't have a name. At that house, I was John Fox..." and that was far too unpleasant of a thought. "That was when they weren’t calling me you there, the stupid daft footman. After there, I just used John Smith at places that needed a name. A lot of places don't."
"I know," Bates said companionably, "but I know I generally found those sorts of places unpleasant. You are very lucky to have found your way back, Mr. Crawley." There was a gong sound. "That is the dinner gong."
"I don't have anything else to change into," he said after a moment. And what he was wearing, while far nicer than anything he'd worn recently, was a casual suit that Dr. Clarkson had bought him in Firsk after just measuring him. Somehow he doubted showing up in his other clothes, that he'd walked from Manchester in, would work.
"Everyone is aware of that.” Bates said it easily. "Lord Grantham has a tailor coming in tomorrow to have you outfitted, but for now, I can make sure you look decently attired. As I said, it's an easy job. Tonight will be very casual for dinner. Just the family. I doubt very much that his lordship will do any entertaining until you're more settled in."
That made perfect sense. Lord Grantham probably wanted to make sure he wasn't going to embarrass the family.
~*~
Tom Branson never thought that his first meal at Downton Abbey could ever be topped for painful awkwardness, but it was almost amusing to see it play out before his eyes. The only part that wasn't amusing was that Matthew looked like a frightened animal caught in a trap. Mary was keeping well away, and Isobel wasn't, and Tom could see where those two would clash soon enough. It was a miracle, he agreed with Robert on that, but he also agreed that it was a more difficult problem than it looked. Physically, Matthew looked well enough. A bit thin and hollow eyed, like when he had leave during the war, but well enough. As Robert had said, his left hand looked a bit dodgy, the fingers curled, but he could hold a glass and it looked no worse than Barrow's bad hand.
But as a working man, he could see where it would have put a man at the end of the line for jobs, even if he had skills. He doubted anyone other than possibly Isobel understood how difficult it would have been. Judging by how his own brother hired at his mechanics shop, people tended to hire family and friends first, and then looked for men with skills and good references. If Matthew didn't remember his name or anything about himself, he'd have next to no skills to bring to the table. A terrible thing really, because if Matthew had simply bankrupted the estate the way Robert nearly had, he still could have gotten work as a lawyer or a teacher or an accountant, even a secretary if nothing else. A come down, but not a huge one for a man raised the way Matthew had been.
Robert was already more optimistic, he'd even said as much before Matthew joined them, that once Matthew relaxed and felt comfortable, he would seem more himself even if he wasn't certain of who was who. He'd also warned them that while Matthew did have moments where he recalled things, it wasn't always accurate or in context. The important thing was that he was remembering things from before the accident. Tom had gone to the village library and looked up amnesia. There wasn't much, and it was a bit technical but he understood that Robert was right, and that it really was a shame that Matthew hadn’t just woken up in the morgue and asked for help. The village people were already in an uproar about it, that their deceased loved ones were likely, if not more likely, to be robbed of their final possessions. If it could happen to Lord Grantham's heir, it could happen to anyone. If Matthew had just been found alive in the morgue, with no memory of himself, it was still a tragedy, but the family would have been spared a lot of pain.
And the death duties. He made a mental note to himself to ask Robert about it. It was unprecedented but with Matthew alive, that was one expense they could be rid of.
"So Matthew,” Cora said pleasantly, "do you like your room? If you don't, just take a look around and find a room that pleases you. We have plenty of space."
"It is a lovely room," Matthew said as he toyed with the remains of his meal. It hadn't escaped Tom that Matthew wasn't terribly clear on the names of everyone at the dinner, but was still aware of what fork went where. From what he had read, that made sense, even if it likely worked against Matthew. Fancy upper class manners and speech would mark him out as either someone who had fallen on hard times, or someone slumming. He suspected that if Matthew was given some legal paperwork, he'd have no trouble with it. Matthew looked nervous though. That was new, and Tom felt a wave of sympathy for him. This is how I felt, he reminded himself, that first night, like they were all watching me. That they were much more likely to forgive Matthew any transgressions didn't make it easier.
"Have you had any...? Flashes of memory?" Robert asked.
"No.... Not really," Matthew said. "This room seems very familiar, and I knew Mr. Bates wasn't originally my valet, but nothing significant."
"You shouldn't worry," Isobel said reassuringly. "Remember, that's exactly what you said seven days ago, that your name just seemed familiar, and then memories began to reappear. It just took a bit of time. You shouldn't pressure him, Robert. It's only the first day."
"It’s a fair question, Mother, not pressure. Lord Grantham was quite nice about my not remembering which of his daughters I married. It's... Not unreasonable for people to ask questions. You ask me questions quite a bit. I won't break." He smiled slightly. "And if I did break, how much worse could it really get? Really?"
Mary laughed. After a minute, so did Tom. It was funny, the way Matthew was. Robert smiled as well, although Isobel seemed to struggle slightly before she also smiled. It struck Tom as odd but then he recalled something Robert had said, that Matthew had been calling his mother Mrs. Crawley. She was likely overwhelmed that he'd called her that, as naturally as he ever had.
It also eased some of the unspoken tension. It was helped that Cora, of all people, seemed determined to maintain the air of a normal day, with talk of the beginning of planning for the winter holidays. Dinner finished and Robert suggested drinks, a rarity when they weren’t entertaining but Tom suspected Robert just wanting the good mood to continue. He personally was tired and he suspected Matthew was as well, that and probably not used to having wine with dinner and then drinks of hard liquor after. He’d been drinking his entire life, he was Irish and beer and whiskey were known commodities but it could catch one off guard if it had been a while and alcohol had always been the first thing to go when money was tight.
“If you leave the glass half full,” he said quietly to Matthew, “Robert won’t insist on refilling it.” Matthew had actually taught him that trick after one too many evenings where he’d barely made it up the stairs to bed. “Otherwise, he’ll drink us both under the table.”
“Thank you,” Matthew said, “My head is swimming already.” He looked at Tom quizzically. “I didn’t want to ask but… aren’t you the chauffer? That Lady Sybil liked?”
Tom smiled reassuringly. Earlier memories coming back first meant that Matthew had probably been wondering all evening why they were eating dinner with one of the servants. “I was the chauffer, and then I married Lady Sybil. I help Robert manage the estate since I know a bit about farming. You helped set that arrangement up.”
“Oh.” Matthew nodded, although Tom got the sense he was surprised. “I don’t recall that, obviously.” He gestured towards Mary, Edith, and Rose, who were huddled up with Cora, Violet, and Isobel discussing the upcoming holidays and how awkward it was going to be to explain Matthew being alive. “Perhaps you can help me? I know who Mary is… But which one is Edith and which one is Sybil? I can’t help but think something isn’t right but I can’t… “He clenched the glass and closed his eyes as if thinking very hard. “I don’t know which is which and I know I should.”
It was an unexpected punch to the gut that he hadn’t been prepared for. He steeled himself, because even after two years, it was still difficult to say. “The woman with the reddish blonde hair is Edith and the blonde haired girl is Rose MacClare, who is staying here while her father, Lord Flinchley, is in India. Sybil… died. She died having our daughter.”
“I… I’m so sorry,” Matthew looked stricken. Stricken and shocked. “When…?”
“Two years ago,” Tom said sadly.
“But…” Matthew seemed to gather himself. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Yes, you should have,” Tom said after a moment. “Sybil liked you. You two were friends. She would want you to remember her, and to remember the things you did with her. I sometimes need to remind myself of that as well, that Sybil would be sad if I only remembered her final moments. You said it yourself, you won’t break. Neither will I. What do you remember about her?” Not what she looked like if he was mistaking Rose for her, but it was hard to expect anything when it had taken almost a year for him to remember his name.
Matthew shook his head as if to deny anything and then smiled. “She was at some rally, and got hurt, and I got into a fight… and you were there, and she was so worried that you would get into trouble, she didn’t even notice that her head was bleeding. Then…. “And then he sighed. “It just trickles away… But I do know you.” He seemed both pleased and worried, if it was somehow going to offend him.
And Tom was not going to have that. “Good. Because we were friends, and I missed you, and I’m glad you’re alive.”
~*~