“Robert? Who was that on the telephone?” Cora asked with a sweet smile, looking up at her husband as he came back to sit down with the family.
“Winston Churchill,” Robert answered, sitting down again with a sigh, picking up his tea cup. “He’s in London next week and he asked if he can use our library for a business meeting.”
“A business meeting, how odd. Why would he want to do that in the Abbey?” Mary asked, tilting her head.
“I think it’s rather forward of him to ask, to be honest,” Edith chimed in. Mary rolled her eyes at her sisters words, as she often did. Luckily Edith didn’t notice this time.
“I agree, but I had no idea how to refuse,” Robert chuckled. “He’s in London next week and apparently this family will be in London as well. He claims it’s the most practical arrangement.”
Sybil tilted her head. “Do you know the family he wants to meet with? How peculiar, to meet with an entire family, instead of just one or two members.”
“The Shelbys from Birmingham,” Robert stated, sipping from his tea.
As he mentioned it, the dowager countess walked into the room, being there for a visit.
“The Shelbys? The railroad Shelbys from Lancaster?” she asks, her curiosity piqued.
But Robert shook his head. “Birmingham, Small Heath to be exact. That’s all I know.”
A week later, the day of the appointment arrived. Winston Churchill arrived at Downton. He was welcomed by the staff and led into the library, to wait for the Shelbys to arrive.
“Robert, old man, good of you to say yes, I understand its a rather strange request. But this was a whole lot more efficient, with me being in London and all,” the politician grumbled, shaking Roberts hand.
“It’s my pleasure, rest assured,” Robert chuckled awkwardly, gesturing for him to sit on the couch nearby. Carson carries in a plate for afternoon tea. After pouring and bowing, he leaves them to their privacy.
Meanwhile, the Shelby family was arriving at Downton. “Posh lot, ain’t it?” Arthur said gruffly as he got out of the car. Tommy hummed in agreement as he lit a cigarette. He looked up at the grand building in front of him, his stoic eyes taking it all in. “No welcome party. Guess that’s saved for their royalty,” he mused, part amused, part irritated.
“Probably for people that they’re actually glad to see, not us grimey bastards,” John joked, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he appeared behind them. “Behave, all of you,” Polly added, lastly stepping out of the car. “This is a proper family, we will not make a fool of ourselves here.”
“Remind me again why you’re here, Pol?” Tommy drawled, earning himself a cold look from here. “Because apparently you are incompetent of behaving like gentlemen. Now, are you going to ring that doorbell, or should I do it for you?” She replies, putting her hands on her hips, raising a brow at him. He cleared his throat awkwardly, then moved to the door.“She told you off,” Arthur murmured, causing John to snicker. “Quiet,” Tommy said, raising his voice slightly. The two looked away, to hide their laughter and Tommy narrowed his eyes, to establish if his dignity was in danger or not. After a few awkward seconds, he knocked on the door.
Alfred the footman opened the door. He blinked a few times, seeing the contrast between their fine clothes and the weapons they were carrying. “A-Afternoon,” he finally blurted out. “Are you expected?”
A muscle ticked in Tommy’s jaw. “I’d say so,” he murmured in his deep voice.”We’re the Shelbys. Here to see Winston Churchill. Thought butlers opened the doors in these houses?”
Alfred stammered for a moment. “Mister Carson is indisposed, sir, but I’ll go and collect him. Please, come in,” he finally said, his voice a little shaky. He stepped aside to let in the strange visitors, gulping when he saw their guns up close as they walked by. He excused himself and went to find mister Carson.
Arthur let out an impressed whistle as he looked around. “They’re well off, aren’t they?” Tommy let out a dry sound. “They are, while hardworking honest people work their fingers to the bone.” Polly had a small mocking smile around her lips. “Here ye, here ye, the man of the people speaks,” she says with a small scoff as she flicks the silver flash in his pocket.
Tommy gives her a look, then rolls his eyes. “Alright, enough, focus. We’re here for a reason.” Meanwhile John sees a brown-haired girl stare at them with big eyes, then disappear to the lower parts of the house when she was spotted. He got a grin on his face, forgetting their mission completely. He followed her downstairs.
“Daisy!” Mrs. Patmore called out. “You can’t be up there, I need you down here! We’re making the cakes for mister Churchill’s visit!”
“Here, mrs. Patmore!” Daisy quickly answered and rushed back into the kitchen. “Why were you down there to begin with?” Mrs. Patmore muttered as she sprinkled flour onto the large counter in the middle of the kitchen, so they could knead the dough. “Just wanted to see the visitors for mister Churchill. One of them is quite handsome,” she said with a small blush on her cheeks.
There was a collective gasp when John sauntered into the kitchen. “Was it me?” he asks with a smirk on his face. “I..eh...” Daisy stammered and mrs. Patmore stared at him with big eyes, her eyes bulging at seeing the gun at his hip. Then her indignation took over.
“Oi! You can’t just barge in here! Did Alfred not show you lot the library? Mister Churchill is waiting!” She exclaimed. John shrugged. “Butler wasn’t at the door to greet us, guess we’re not that important after all. We didn’t exactly felt properly welcomed,” he drawled. Mrs. Patmore let out a gasp of offense, before she marched over to give him another piece of her mind. “Oh it’s alright, I can show him around the kitchen as long as mister Carson is busy,” Daisy quickly intervened. She held up a large plate filled with cookies they had baked earlier. “Cookie?”
Meanwhile Polly noticed that John was no longer with the group and makes a sound of frustration. “Now where did that boy run off to? Must have seen a pretty face, he thinks with his cock if anything!”
Tommy smirks. “Seeing as how no one is making us a priority, I suggest we split up to find him. Before he does something stupid. Like speak.”
As they spread out, Alfred found mister Caron, who was solving a small crisis with the gardener. “So where did you ask them to wait, Alfred?” The man inquired in his deep voice, as they hurried back to the front of the house. “I eh...well...they had guns, mister Carson, I got a little flustered.”
“Guns, you say?” Carson asked as his eyes grew wide. When they arrived in the main hall, it was empty. They looked at each other a little spooked. “I’ll go look around the house!” Alfred blurted out. “I’ll go settle and distract his lordship,” Carson replied with a short, determined nod.
Polly looked around and found herself in the drawing room of the house. Mary, Sybil and Edith were there drinking tea. “Excuse me, ladies, I seem to have misplaced my nephew John,” Polly said with a wolfish smile as they looked at her wide-eyed. Edith stopped shufffling the cards she was playing with. Sybil stopped reading.
“A-Are you mrs. Shelby?” Mary inquired, giving her an awkward smile. “Polly Gray,” Polly smirked. “But I am here with the Shelbys, yes.”
Edith let out a gasp as Polly sat down and she saw the small revolver hanging from her hip. She shot up and backed up a few paces. “Oh, please don’t worry, dear girl, I’m not here to hurt anyone. A woman needs to protect herself when alone, yes?” Polly said casually.
“We’re not used to seeing guns in this house, miss Gray,” Sybil explained. “Would you care for a cup of tea?”
“Nothing stronger on hand?” Polly drawled. Mary hissed at Edith to sit down, which she did. She still stared at Polly as if she were a spectre. “Oh we have whiskey, if you like?” Sybil offered instead. “There, now we’re talking,” Polly grinned.
Meanwhile Thomas found himself exploring the back of the house, walking into a sitting room. Violet Crawley gasped as she saw him, uttering a sound of pure indignation, as her fingers twitched around her cane. “Who on earth are you?!” She demands to know.
A muscle ticks in Tommy’s jaw. She wasn’t afraid of him. He didn’t like it. “Please, don’t get up. Just having a look around,” he dryly says as he takes out a cigarette. He rubs it on his bottom lip before he lights it. “Butler didn’t show. Decided to look for mister Churchill myself. Your staff must be very busy, if they can’t greet your visitors. Thought this was a proper house, eh?”
“My good sir, you are standing in Downton Abbey,” Violet admonished him. “I can assure you, there is no house more proper in London!”
Tommy scoffed, blowing out smoke. “Is that so? So it’s us you look down on then,” he gestured at her with his cigarette in hand. Violet huffed, finding the habit of smoking utterly vulgar. Especially combined with tone Tommy used to speak to her.
“You must be one of the Shelby’s visiting today. How refreshing. A man who looks as though he has already decided not to be impressed.” The dowager eyed him up and down with her judgmental eyes. Tommy narrowed his. He moved so that the gun on his hip was showing.
“And how refreshing for me, a bird that’s not afraid.”
Violet let out a derisive sound. “Afraid? What scares me here, mister Shelby, is not that obviously unloaded pistol you carry, but your utter lack of manners! Now sit down, you are getting on my nerves!”Tommy’s breath hitched. Just for a moment. The utter audacity of this woman. The complete lack of fear. He had no other choice but to respect it. He allowed himself to fall back onto the couch across from her.
“There, that’s better. Now I no longer have to strain my neck to loot at you,” she stated, content.
“Unloaded eh? What tipped you off?” Tommy wanted to know. Violet smirks. “I am an expert in every matter, my boy. Now, are you going to pour us a drink? Or not?” She gestures at the nearby cart, equipped with a decanter of Robert’s best whiskey, and a few glass tumblers.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Tommy grumbles, not amused by her refusal of an explanation. He fills two glasses, then sits down again, setting one of the glass in front of her.
“Bottoms up, as they say,” he says with a mocking smirk, taking a sip from the other. If he wasn’t going to instill any fear, he’d settle for indignation.
“You know, mister Shelby, vulgarity is not a substitute for wit,” Violet dryly states and picks up her glass, toasting into the air before taking a sip. Thomas almost chokes on the sip that he was taking.
“You got some nerve, talking about vulgarity, looking your damn nose down on us lot. Just trying to get by,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Just trying to get by, are you? In an expensive suit like that?” Violet asked, raising a brow.
Tommy mumbled something under his breath, looking away. Violet smirked. “Birmingham, I believe? One hears such lively things about it. Though rarely from people one would invite to dinner.”
“I make sure people work. I’m useful,” Tommy says defensively. “Can you say the same? Lady Grantham?” It sounded mocking, slightly passive-aggressive.
“Its comforting to know you at least know basic etiqutte.”
Tommy puts his glass down a tad too hard, staring at her with murder in his eyes.
“I have always believed that true power requires very little display. You must be quite exhausted,” Violet calmly says, eyeing him painfully unimpressed.
When Tommy is caught off guard by her again, she smirks and takes the chance to answer his question. “And yes. I can. Houses like this provide jobs. It gives people purpose. A chance to elevate themselves. Our staff prides themselves with working here. I do wonder if everyone in your employment prides themselves on the fact.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“Guess we both know the burden of leadership then,” he finally mutters, seconds away from pouting. “I guess we do, yes. Heads of our family, so to say.” An awkward silence fell between them.
“I’ll say this for you, since I’m feeling indulgent. I can surely imagine how some people would be intimidated by you. You play your part very well,” Violet said with a smile, her words lightly only dripping with venom lightly.
Tommy shook his head. “Fooking hell,” he muttered, half amused, half exasperated.
Arthur barged into the drawing room, huffing in exasperation as he saw Polly drinking with the daughters of the house.
“Whiskey. That’s good. Good gods, this place is big! Still havent found that butler, Pol!” He gruffly spoke as he stomped towards the whiskey decanter.
The girls stared at him with big eyes, Edith whispering ‘oh my’ under her breath as she saw he was also strapped with a gun. Polly sat there, in the middle of the couch, surrounded by the Crawley sisters, glass of whiskey in hand, like a goddess adored.
“Are you one of the Shelby brothers? From Birmingham?” Sybil asked, more like a curious little girl seeing a fairytale creature, than a grown young woman of the English upper class.
“Yeah. I am. Who are you?” Arthur barked.
“Sybil!” She replied with a big smile. “And these are my sister, Mary and Edith,” she gestured at the other girls. The fact that none of them seemed very intimidated threw him off course. “I eh...nice to meet you. Lady..eh..Sybil,” he murmured, lifting his glass in a mock toast.
“Do help yourself,” Mary drawled, smiling sweetly, but her jab at Arthur’s manners was rather obvious.
“I eh..yeah..well..” Arthur mumbled.
“Were you born in Birmingham, mister Shelby?” Edith asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the building awkwardness.
“Yeah, born and raised,” Arthur nodded. “Do you enjoy it?” Mary asks, her head tilted. Arthur looks at her, confused. “Do I enjoy it?” Sybil stares, still more giddy than worried about meeting a gangmember. “You seem unsure,” she points out, trying to be helpful. “I aint unsure about it! Polly, what’s happening?!”
Polly lets out a little chuckle, seeing Arthur so utterly disarmed by the questions of these young ladies. “These ladies are just curious, Arthur. A cat can look at a king,” she innocently remarks. Arthur grumbles under his breath. He knows damn well he’s more like a cat in a cage than any king at the moment.
“Excuse me, sir? You’re not supposed to be in here,” Mrs. Hughes calls out, as she enteres the room. She had seen Arthur enter from afar and she knew that mister Carson was having a cow looking for all these Shelby family members. “Forgive me, my ladies,” she then added, giving a small nod to the Crawley sisters.
“That goes for you too, ma’am,” mrs. Hughes states, looking at the both of the expectantly. Polly smirked, liking her confidence. “I’m quite sorry, my nephews ran off and I got lost trying to find them. These lovely ladies kept me quite busy with their questions,” she answered politely, standing up. The Crawley sisters giggled a bit, avoiding mrs. Hughes’s stern look.
“Why don’t you and I have a look around together, eh? I’m sure we can find my nephews together.” she suggests. “I should bring you to mister Carson, so he can take you to the library, ma’am,” Mrs. Hughes tries to counter.“Oh please, mrs. Hughes?” Sybil asks, wide-eyed, with her sweetest smile. “If you and miss Gray find the other Shelby’s and bring them here, mister Carson can take them all to the library at once. It’ll be much neater. And we can ask mister Shelby here some more questions!”
Mrs. Hughes stammered a bit, but then smiled. She always found it hard to deny Sybil Crawley anything. “Right away, my lady. Would you follow me, please, ma’am?”
“Wait, ask me questions? Why do they want to ask me questions!?” Arthur called out to Polly, nervous to be left alone with these women. “Polly!”
Polly ignored him with a chuckle and left with mrs. Hughes. “I do apologize, miss...?” Polly stated, trailing off, since she doesn’t know mrs. Hughes’s name. “Mrs Hughes, ma’am,” The head of the household answered with a small smile. “And that’s quite alright, we shouldn’t have left you on your own.”
“Well, we’re not zoo animals,” Polly said, an amused twinkle in her eyes. Mrs. Hughes chuckles. “I didn’t mean that, ma’am, we would have liked to do things proper, that’s all,” she explains.
Polly smiles. “We appreciate that,” she said, a hint of warmth in her voice. Even though they weren’t the Abbeys usual visitors, this woman was still doing her best to treat them with respect.
As they walk towards the central hallway, Polly glanced at mrs. Hughes. “You know, mrs. Hughes, I think we’re quite alike, you and I,” she mused.
Mrs. Hughes let out an awkward little chuckle. “Is that so, ma’am?”
“Yes,” Polly smirked. “We run things. Behind closed doors. We don’t get the credit. And people don’t look at us for advice. But we know better, you and I.”
Mrs. Hughes smiled, a rare genuine smile. “I think you might be on to something there, ma’am,” she conceded almost shy.
Meanwhile Alfred came running towards them, out of breath. “So sorry...mrs...Hughes...miss...Gray....” he panted.
“Alfred!” Mrs. Hughes hissed, not liking the fact that the Downton footman was panting like an animal. “Sorry! So sorry! Mister Carson...we’ve been looking...” The young man added, earning himself a glare.
“Quite alright, my dear boy, my nephews cause chaos wherever they go, no harm done. Ah...there’s one of them now!” Polly spoke up, gesturing towards the door leading downstairs. John was shown the way by Daisy and she blushed heavily as he pecked her on her cheek.
“Daisy!” Mrs. Hughes said, rather shocked. “Sorry!” The girl squaked before going downstairs again. John was grinning like an idiot. Before Polly was able to smack him around his ears, mister Carson came rushing towards them. “Forgive us, miss Gray, mister Shelby...” Mister Carson started to say, but Polly held up her hand. “Alright, alright, enough of the apologies. We should find Tommy, then head to mister Churchill.”
“Right here, right here,” Tommy muttered as he walked up to them, from the back of the house. Violet was right behind him, her cane emphasizing her footsteps. “Well, mister Shelby. It was certainly interesting to meet you,” she stated, giving him a polite smile.“It certainly was. Ma’am,” Tommy stated, giving her a short nod. Polly raised a brow. This was far more polite than she expected him to be. This woman must have earned his respect in one way or another.
“Right, right, the drawing room first, then the library,” Mister Carson announced in his deep voice, after mrs. Hughes discreetly filled him in on what happened so far.
John, Tommy and Polly followed him as he led them towards the drawing room. “Apologies for the delay, my ladies, there was a kerfuffle in the garden, I was not at the door to greet our guests,” he excused himself to the Crawley sisters. Polly smirked when she saw how spooked Arthur was, surrounded by these young ladies, asking him question after question, staring at him with their big eyes. And Mary, with her cutting remarks.
“Quite alright, Carson, we’ve enjoyed our time with miss Gray and mister Shelby here,” Sybil said warmly. “Although I do wonder if mister Shelby enjoyed his time with us,” Mary remarked dryly.
“Runs in the family then,” Tommy drawled, hearing the sass in Mary’s tone.
The family was led to the library next, where Robert and Winston Churchill were waiting for them.
As the meeting began, Arthur walked out, mumbling he needed some fresh air. He stepped outside and lit a cigarette, since Polly forbade him to smoke in front of Robert.
“Would you mind, sir? Not so close to the house, please, the smell kind of lingers, you see?” Carson called out. He had just spoken with the gardener again, to make sure the earlier crisis was now solved.
Arthur muttered to himself, stomped out his cigarette, then eyed Carson warily when he picked up the bud. “No one here is afraid of me!” He finally huffed, shaking his head. Mister Carson gave him a small smile. “That is not in any way a commentary on you, sir. But we run a tight house here. Proper, you see?”
Arthur nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I can tell. As do we. In our own way. Although I do most of the hard work. Guess I kinda have your job, back home. I aint in charge, but a lot of it falls on me.”
Carson wanted to object at first, but then frowned as he was in deep thought for a few moments. “I believe our methods differ, sir. But yes, in a way I believe we do have a role in common.”
“You lot ain’t that bad. Friendly. So eh...thanks,” he rumbles, staring at his shoes.
Carson smiled.
“Your words are appreciated, sir. Shall I escort you back inside?”
Arthur agreed, following the butler back into this strange house.
A place where Blinders and English elite could meet.
