May 2020

Hope you are all staying safe as the world grapples with this scary pandemic... and yes the 1918 'flu does feature in this fic - in fact the events around it are a key part of the plot.

Always appreciate reviews. And I am still contemplating a WWII sequel in the future.

Story Synopsis

As they battle to rebuild their own and others' lives & livelihoods in a country irrevocably changed by war, VAD Nurse Mary Crawley & convalescing Captain Matthew Crawley are swept into a web of scandal & corruption that threatens to rip the Crawley family apart. This mystery and romance weaves real historical events into a DA retelling featuring most characters & some OC's from S2.05. Written for the WWI Centenary.

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When he saw her standing, singing beside the piano, he was mesmerised. It was as if no one else was there. Just Mary and her joy and elation upon seeing him safely returned. Her expression so very warm that his skin prickled.

And as she started to sing again,

"... With nothing to mar our joy

I would say such wonderful things to you..."

her sweet voice pierced his very soul. And of course, he walked to her, took her hand, and joined in.

"There would be such wonderful things to do

If you were the only girl in the world

and I were the only boy."

They held each other's gaze, motionless, drinking each other in, and then his lips found hers, and he tasted nectar, and her arms were around him so fiercely, so tightly that he was compelled to lift her up and swing her around. And as the shouting and cheering and cat-calls from the concert-goers came back into his consciousness, he knelt down, took her hand, and asked her to marry him. And she said yes.

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It had happened again. The same dream. The same blissful happiness on awakening. Then the crushing disappointment as reality dawned. He, cold and uncomfortable in the early morning darkness of the dugout. Promised to Lavinia. She, back in the comfort and warmth of Downton. Promised to that cad, Sir Richard Carlisle.

The regret hit him first. Then the confusion. And the guilt. He groaned inwardly, and turned over, pulling the blankets over his head. For he knew now, had known since the concert, that they were both living a lie.

January 25 1918

Dear Cousin Mary,

We have a reprieve at last and I am finally able to write for the first time in several weeks. Winter is settling in. There is a strange beauty that comes when snow covers the mud. A soft white blanket soothes the rawness of the earth and lets us forget for a precious few hours the horrors that lie beneath. The never-ending wet and ooze that traps your boots. The brutal coils of wire that lie in wait to grab at any bare flesh. Battle detritus. Splintered wood, ruined wheels, broken machinery, weapons and shrapnel. And the dead boys. So many dead boys.

Matthew crossed the last two sentences out. Damn it, the censor probably would anyway.

The cold is biting. It seeps in under your clothes and out on patrol, it's a battle to stay warm. We seem to spend most of it stamping our feet and rubbing our hands together. Our officer quarters aren't so bad. We have a stove, which we gather around to warm our hands. It's tougher out in the trenches. The men scavenge for wood and build small fires wherever they can.

The thought of a warm bed and a feather quilt is a distant memory, and those months spent on the recruitment drive across England I now appreciate were a luxurious reprieve. While there's been some relief in returning here to France and the regiment to get on with the job that is war, there's more sadness. A lot of the lads are gone. Some wounded. Many dead. Many of those remaining just plain tired.

I hope it is not too much me writing to you of such things. It somehow helps to write them down. I could not, and would not write Lavinia of them. She cried when I departed this time and I'd hate her to worry. You, on the other hand, are made of tougher stuff and I feel I can confide in you and tell you what it's really like.

When I re-read my words I see how melancholy they are. But mostly I'm not melancholy. William is turning out to be a superb batman. He's very calm, completely dependable, and lately, he's also shown a real aptitude for strategy. We're involving him in the discussions now, and it's paying off.

Between the battles, we make our own fun. Of late, we've been holding debates. William is the dark horse. He takes a little bit of knowledge an awfully long way, and he has a formidable memory. Whilst plainspoken, his arguments are perfectly formed. It's hugely enjoyable. As long as he's on my team!

Alex continues in good spirits, and I am thankful we are serving together again. He has become as fond of William as I, and the three of us spend much of our downtime together. Alex continues to prove himself as a leader, and he has earned a real depth of respect among the men. Last week we had a day's leave during which we were able to celebrate his promotion to Lieutenant Colonel over a bottle of Krug and a delicious meal in a nearby Auberge. It was a delightful change from rations and billy tea.

I know I've said it before but I will say it again. I am so very pleased that we are friends once more, and I am here, back at the war, a happy man as a result. And did I tell you what a fine singer you are? If I didn't, then here it is. You are a very fine singer indeed and the memory of singing with you that night William and I finally made it back brings a smile to my face every time.

Your most affectionate cousin,

Matthew

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February 3 1918

Dear Cousin Matthew,

I do hope you and William received those extra socks and the thick scarves your mother sent. She walked straight to the village post office with the parcel mere hours after I told her what you'd said of the cold in your last letter! We do worry about all of you over there, especially with the freezing temperatures of the past few weeks. And yes. I cannot pretend that your words do not shock me. But please keep writing them. I sense it must help in a small way that you can put them on the paper. And while they make me very sad, I am not surprised. We're seeing the aftermath of it here, daily now, the hospital expanded as it is. I do wish it would end soon for everyone's sake.

You will be surprised at my latest news. I've just finished my third week as a VAD, talked into it by none other than Sybil of course (and just a little added encouragement from your mother). Our training is happening on the job now – there is such a shortage it is the only way. What is a surprise to myself is how much I am enjoying it. Despite how confronting it all is. The wounds we see range from minor to terrible and some of the poor men are in considerable pain. And the shell shock cases are simply confounding. But I like that I can bring the men simple comforts like getting them clean or giving them medicine, and even just being able to give them a kind word.

I see now why Sybil has found it so satisfying. I suspect she will want to keep nursing once the war is over too; she is so dedicated to it. She is in the midst of exams to become a fully trained nurse, which we are all confident she will achieve of course. Once she has her credentials she will be paid as a nurse for the first time and no longer just a VAD!

Edith's good work is continuing. You will smile when you hear it has been several months now since she and I last had an argument. We seem to have too many interests in common these days – soldier welfare at the core – and it is a far cry from the not too distant past! I must admit I do miss our sparring sessions, but both of us are so busy, and when on a break so tired, the energy one needs to argue for argument's sake just isn't there.

Edith's latest interest is investigating new methods of treating shell shock, as those are the men who most trouble her at the home. She's been following the work of a William Rivers at Craiglockhart war hospital, and Dr Arthur Hurst at Seale Hayne. I just heard the other day the doctors up there have finally agreed with her to at least try some of the different approaches they advocate.

Anthony Strallan writes to her often, and I sometimes wonder if their friendship is developing into something more serious. He has leave due in a month and will visit then.

I was thinking the other day how so much has changed. Do you remember when you first arrived we all thought you very unusual for working a full week? Now all of us are, except for Papa of course! He continues to lament for life before the war. I worry for him sometimes. I sense he is unhappy he has not been offered an active army role, and Mama is so busy managing the convalescent home that they barely see each other during the day anymore.

The hospital management work has settled into a calmer routine. Knowing I can manage it now with just a few days a week is one of the reasons I started the VAD work when I heard and saw with my own eyes how short they were for nurses. And I was bored! I wanted something else to do. I have set up proper procedures for the bookkeeper and the stores officer, and things are much more orderly. I don't know how Major Clarkson coped before without the extra support. It must have been very difficult indeed. The regular income from the Army Medical Corps is making a big difference of course, as it is enabling us to plan and put together a proper budget within which we can operate.

Lavinia visited your mother last weekend, and we joined her for afternoon tea on the Sunday. She is very sweet, and she and Isobel get along very well indeed.

Thank you for your compliment about my singing. I could make the same comment about you! Your mother tells me you used to sing in musicals at school and university. I can't imagine what that must have been like. No doubt very different to the small soirees Edith and myself were encouraged at. I look forward to the chance to ask you more about it when you are next on leave.

Do take care,

Your affectionate cousin, Mary

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March 15 1918

Dear Daisy

It's still cold as charity over here. I'm blessed I am accommodated with the officers, as we have a proper stove and cots and blankets. Most of the soldiers have to make do with their clothes and a blanket roll. If they are lucky, they'll have a dugout above the mud, but many of the lads don't.

The Captain and I have been assigned special work with our commanding officer. I can't tell you much. Except that I am enjoying it and finding it very satisfying being able to use my brain and not just my hands! And quite aside from the job we are doing here, I am learning a lot from them.

They are both very well read and generous in sharing what they know. In between the battles, there are hours and hours where we just have to sit and wait. So we spend it talking. And debating! You wouldn't believe how much they both can talk. About all sorts of things. History, politics and particularly the law. I find the law discussions the best of all. No wonder men with an education get places in life. When you know about your rights you get to exercise them. I see that now.

The Captain and the Colonel were at Oxford University together. If I get through this war Daisy, I'd like to think my future children might have an education like that. I mean, why not? This war will change things. I just know it. I won't be content to go back to only what I had before, and there are plenty of lads around me who think just the same.

I think of you often, and the warm kitchen at Downton and all the others. Give my regards to them all will you. My next leave is the second week of April. Lets set aside a day for a picnic shall we? See if you can fix it with Mrs Patmore now and keep it clear.

Yours truly,

William

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It was an unseasonably warm early spring day, and the kitchen was almost hot, as Daisy and Mrs Patmore prepared the last of the vegetables for luncheon. Lord and Lady Grantham were expecting the company of Viscount and Lady Branksome.

Daisy was in a particularly good mood. In his last letter, William had said he had leave due in a few weeks, and he was hoping that while he was back, they could have a picnic on her day off if the weather permitted. And now she had a little under a week to wait. Daisy had felt a little thrill on reading the letter: she had a sense William had something else in mind: something that might involve a ring.

Her good mood was helped by the news from Mrs Patmore that Mr Carson had agreed to her getting a pay rise, in recognition that she was now, officially, assistant cook, and no longer just kitchen maid.

She hummed, as she trimmed and sliced the carrots and set them aside. Then she took up the bowl of leeks and winter greens, picked fresh from the gardens that morning, and began to slice them. With the vegetables finished, she took the carrots to the stove, and set them in a pot, and then returned for the greens. She had just picked up the bowl when a wave of cold came out of nowhere, and everything stopped. She saw the dust particles hanging still, sparkling, in the shaft of sunlight coming through the square pains of the high kitchen windows. She saw her work-reddened fingers, lifting from the bowl she had held so confidently only seconds before. She could see with startling clarity each scrubbed and tightly clipped nail, the crescent shape of the cuticles, the pink and white colouring.

She watched the bowl lurch and tip. Heard the loud crash and the splintering of china. Saw the carefully sliced vegetables separate and scatter into an arc and fall in a sea of green onto the scrubbed wooden floor.

Then she was on the floor too, the remains of the bowl, broken into three large pieces beside her. She was vaguely aware of someone whimpering.

In the distance, she heard Mrs Patmore begin to shout. "Daisy, what in heaven's name? Daisy, Daisy what is the matter? Are you all right?"

She felt herself being lifted to her feet, and there she was, being settled onto a chair and Mrs Hughes was standing over her asking, "Daisy, Daisy whatever happened? You've given us all such a fright!"

She burst into tears. "It's William, oh Mrs Hughes I just know. William's been hurt!"

Sunlight spilled through the windows of the main ward at the Downtown Auxiliary Army Hospital, putting both patients and staff in a pleasant state of mind after weeks of cold and grey. Isobel was discussing a medication concern with one of the other senior nurses, conversing first with the patient, Major Lewis, and then with her colleague Sister Thomsen when all of a sudden she gave a lurch and a gasp.

"Isobel, are you all right?" Sister Thomsen reached out to steady her. "Here, take a seat." Isobel sat heavily, her face drained of colour, her eyes glassy. Sister Thomsen could feel her shaking.

She tried again. "Isobel, whatever is the matter?"

Major Lewis tried. "Sister Crawley, are you all right my dear?"

"I… I," she began. "Something is wrong, I don't know what," she clasped her hands together tightly to try and stop them shaking.

At that moment a young nurse entered and walked rapidly but quietly across to Isobel. "Sister Crawley, there you are!" she said relieved. "You'd better come. Something has upset Nurse Crawley and she is asking for you."