Hi everyone!

I hope you enjoy my story! Please take a little time to review! It truly makes me happy:)\

Just F.Y.I.,

The characters: (in order of social importance)


-Robert Grantham: Lord of Downton Abbey

-Cora Grantham: Robert's wife and lady of Downton Abbey

-Cousin Violet: The dowager countess and mother to Robert. Granny to the girls

-Cousin Isobel: Mother of Matthew

-Matthew Crawly: Heir to Downton Abbey, husband to Mary

-Mary Crawly: Oldest daughter, wife to Matthew

-Edith Grantham: Middle daughter of Robert and Cora, not married

-Sybil Branson: Youngest daughter to Robert and Cora, wife to Tom

-Tom Branson: Former Cheveau to Downton Abbey, Husband to Sybil (gasp)


-Mr. Carson: Head Butler

-Mrs. Hughes: Head housemaid

-The Doctor: The doctor for the village (does anyone know his name? The internet couldn't tell me)

-Mr. Bates: Valet to Lord Grantham, Husband to Anna

-Mrs. O' Brien: Lady's Maid to Lady Grantham

-Anna: Lady's Maid to all three girls

-Thomas Barrow: Head footman

-Alfred: Second footman

-James: Third footman

-Sharon: Mr. Crawly's nurse

-Mrs. Patmore: The head cook

-Daisy: Newly appointed cook's helper

-Ivy: Newly appointed kitchen maid

"Stop the car!" Lady Grantham pressed her gloved hand against the well washed window of the motor. "I said stop!" She tapped lightly on the glass that separated them from the driver. Reluctantly, the Cheveau skidded the car on the packed dirt way to the side. Her husband, and earl of grantham sighed.

"What's all this about?" He demanded, "Because i am quite intent on seeing my grandchild!" For that was where they were headed. There eldest daughter, Mary, had just given life to a baby, and the doctor had phoned a few moments ago to say its time to come down.

"That, over there," Cora pointed a finger to a unmanned goods wagon a little ways off in the distance.

"Cora, I'm sure its nothing. Onward!" he called to the driver, who promptly started the motor. She turned her whole body to face her husband and gave him a look.

Robert sighed, "Oh, you stay in the car. Just in case its bandits. I will go look, but its probably nothing." He swung open the carefully washed door of his car and got heavily out. Walking to the seemingly abandoned wagon, he sighed. It was probably nothing to get in a lather about. The driver must of just had to relieve himself. He got to the edge of the roadway where it gave way to a steep incline. Indeed, an old man was there, scrambling about.

"I say, do you need assistance, my good man?" Robert called down.

"Yes, indeed i do. You must come. A chap is trapped under his car and bleeding something heavy," That message was so alarming that Robert quite forgot to be miffed at not being addressed 'his lordship'. He started down the hill right away. He was portly, but years in the military had taught him how to be light on his feet.

The sight was awful, and he was quite glad he had warned his wife not to leave the cab. A steaming car lay on top of a sprawled man, it was quite hard to see the poor chaps face with all the blood and dirt and such, but he looked well enough dressed.

I do hope it was no one coming to visit Downton Abbey, Robert thought as he grunted and heaved the car off him with the farmer. The car turned over with a groan and a spray of fuel and earth.

"Good god, it's worse than we thought!" The other man exclaimed, as it was now revealed that the man had several gory gashes along the length of his body.

"Come on then," Robert swallowed the sourceless anxiety that was building in his bones and grabbed locked his arms under the arms of the boy (with total abandonment of keeping his finely tailored Gringles overcoat neat.) , the other bloke at the mans feet. In their haste, they had quite forgotten to take a pulse, and now Robert was relieved to feel the faint butterfly wing pulse going under the man's arms. As they hacked their way back up the hill, he looked keenly into the man's features, hoping for a clue of his organs. Thats when he almost fell over. No! He thought, how could this be? For he recognized the unconscious, maimed man. It was Matthew Crawley, Heir to Downton Abbey.

Mary heard the first shout as she was gazing into the eyes of her baby. They were blue, like Matthews. The nurse told her all babys eyes start out that way, and most likely they would turn out chocolate brown like hers, but Mary hoped they would stay blue all the same. She was sitting in a silky white hospital gown in a crisp white bed (the hospital maid had just changed it). She really did love the hospital. She really loved everything, right now. It was a rather unfamiliar feeling for her.

Her practical bones were rarely full of unconditional joy. The second shout woke her baby, and he cried out in that thin baby wail of his. She rocked her baby against her breast and tried to look out the window at the same time. The loud voice was now accompanied by the clunk of wheel against cobbles as a fast driving cab pulled into the way. Nurses started rushing through her room to the emergency wing. Honestly, Mary thought with a frown, they should not put the emergency room adjacent to the maternity ward. Its just not healthy! People rushing to and for like that. She looked about for Lady Crawley, her mother in law, who she could ask. She had been here a second ago.

There was a step at the door way. Not more nurses i hope, Mary thought irritably, all the priceless feeling of a second ago dissipated. Who were these people interrupting her rest like this?! But no, it was not more nurses. Lord and Lady Grantham stepped into the room.

"Mama! Papa!" She said with a smile, "Come look at the baby." But her parents did not move. Mary felt flattered, She smiled in that sly, knowing way of hers. "You must have been through this before, what with Sybils baby. I mean its not your first..." She trailed off when she looked again at there faces. "What? What has happened?!" She demanded. Her voice could get downright intense sometimes, and at that moment, it was cranked full blast. "Mama! If you do not speak i will have to assume the worst!" Though she was not so sure what exactly the worst was. Thats when Cora started to cry. Pretty loudly too.

"Oh, its just too horrible for words," She crossed over to her daughters bed and sat lightly, and looked into her eyes. By this time Mary was quite frightened. Her mothers eyes were blue like ice, melting ice, now that there were tears it them. "Its Mathew."

Mary sat cold for a second. As chilly and lifeless as if she were carved out of marble.

"Surely you mean the dog," Mary said then. Sybil had gotten a teacup dog for Christmas when she was 11, and named it Matthew. The old wretch still haunted to house. Wandering from room to room, and begging for food occasionally. Cora shook her head slowly. Lady Mary looked at her baby, head spinning. Subconsciously, she was aware of her father coming over. Tears, hot and salty, were spilling down his cheeks, too. Seeing this, she murmured,

"Its bad, isn't it." It felt like her stomach had just been ripped out of her.

"He is alive." Cora tried. Mary thrust the child into her mothers arms.

"I must go see him."

"No," Cora said. "You have just given birth. You need rest." But even as she was saying these things Mary was pushing back the covers.

Mrs. Hughes stirred her tea. She always did love a good earl grey. She checked once more to be sure everything was in order. Pot, saucers, those little cakes Mr. Carson loves. Once a week Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson shared tea. Every Thursday, in fact. She was head of the house and he was head butler. If they ever hoped to run the great house smoothly, they had to collaborate. A shadow was cast over the room, and she looked up to see Mr. Carson filling the doorway.

"Mr Carson,"

"Mrs. Hughes," He came in and sat down in the other chair Mrs. Hughes had placed. She poured him a cup and they both sat in silenced for a moment.

"I've got several applications for that new maid." Mrs. Hughes finally said.

"Oh? Lets not make the same mistake we did with the last one,"

"Or the one before that...or the one before that," Mrs. Hughes said with a chuckle. It was a little on going joke they had. All the maids they had picked seemed to be, well, lacking in one way or another. Ethel had gotten pregnant (Mrs. Hughes still could not forgive herself for letting that come to pass), Edna had questioned the authority, and Jane had just randomly handed in her resignation. Mrs. Hughes could not know the story behind that, though.

"Actually, we may need to start looking for a new footman, too,"

"Oh?" Carson didn't just sack footmen for no reason.

"Yes, it seems that our Alfred has...well...a designer to cook."

"And he told you?"

"Yes, He said 'Mr. Carson, i want to work with food.'"

"No. How could he? We already have a cook. I'm not sure he even knows a wink about cooking. What a foolish boy. At least best to my knowledge. What does he want us to do?"

"I don't know what he wants us to do." Mr. Carson rumbled quietly. He looked deep in thought. Mrs. Hughes sat back, quite perplexed.

"I could talk to him if you wish." Mrs. Hughes offered.

"That, would be helpful, thank you, Mrs. Hughes."

"Where do you think we'll keep the baby now that-" But her sentence was interrupted by the shrill and unpleasant ring of the telephone.

"I'd better get that, please excuse me," Mr. Carson put down his half eaten cake and went into his adjacent office. A moment later He came back, face rather red. Mrs. Hughes stood up,

"What is it, Mr. Carson? Its not something to do with the baby, is it?"

"No, that was his lordship...Its Mathew." Mrs. Hughes smiled. "So excited a he had a little trip? He wouldn't be the first."

"Thats partially right, but it was a mighty big trip and he took it in his car."

"My god Matthew, speak to me." She held clammy hand. No. This was so wrong.

"Matthew," She held his hand to her cheek and let the tears slip down it. He was good looking, even when injured. With a straight nose and American teeth. His hair was her favorite though. She liked the it when the sun shone on it and lit it up like a crown. She crouched by his side by his bed in the cold light of morning and held his hand. She didn't know what else to do. SHe wished all the nurses would clear out. They had no right to witness her tears.

The sharp click of footsteps announced that the doctor had come in. She waited in agony as the doctor made his endless examination. His heart seemed to be beating. His lungs working, so why wasn't he waking up? She crept back over from the chair she had taken when the doctor came in.

"Tell me he'll be alright." She commanded.

"I can't, Lady Mary."

"Then what is wrong?" She demanded. The doctor sighed, bristling at the informal remarks. He was not used to dealing with those over him.

"Its a coma, Lady Grantham."

"That means he'll wake up, though,"

"In most cases, that is the most plausible outcome."

"So you can't guarantee anything for me."

"No, i'm sorry, Lady Mary." She went and sat down, right on the filthy floor. She started to sob quietly, holding her husbands hand under her eyes, as if it were a patch of earth she could make grow with water. The doctor, quite used to but none the less uncomfortable with the emotion of sadness, patted her awkwardly upon the silk sheathed shoulder and made his way to the other side of the metal bed, as if it were a wall he could hide behind. A nurse came back carrying a an operation kit. The tone was very busy, as all the hospital personnel rushed back and forth toting bowls of fleshy water, bloody surgery tools, or rags to stop the flow of liquids.

Lord and lady Grantham tried to concern themselves with the baby after Robert made his call, in order to give Mary a few moments alone. But as hopefully any human with a heart would do, they grew quite concerned with Matthews condition. There wills soon broke, and they too burst through the doors of the emergency ward. By now, the doctor was halfway through with the first of his surgeries, painstakingly sewing the flaps of pale skin back together with inky black thread.

Tears sprung again to the lords eyes as he watched his only son. Mary would look into the face of her husband until she couldn't bare it any longer, whereas she would fix her eyes out the window and watch the trees thrashing in the breeze. When that became too hollowing, she turned back to her husband. A little cry would escape her throat sometimes. She thought they would be together forever. And now...Mary went back to looking out the window.

Anna froze. The bun she was holding slipped out of her hands. Mr. Bates looked up inquiringly. It was a fine summers eve and there didn't seem to be anything obvious that could possibly bother his wife. Anna and Mr. Bates both worked for Downton Abbey, but lived together off site.

"Sorry," She recovered the pastry, "Someone just walked over my my grave."

Sybil and Tom were vacationing from their Dublin home at Downton abbey. This they did quite often, to the great mortification of grandmother. You see, no on approved of Tom. Its because he used to be Downton Abbey's Chauffeur. But they had fallen in love, and when Lady Sybil put her mind to something, there was little hope of dissuading her. They got the news of Matthews accident as they were coming back from a long walk. They aired the there baby nearly everyday. Mary called it obsessive and Edith called it sweet. Sybil called it necessary, as it was true Downton Abbey could get a little stuffy sometimes.

Carson came out to tell them, running at quite the pace for a man of his stacher.

"We'll go to the hospital at once." Tom decided. Matthew was a good friend of Toms. They managed the estate together.

"Let me fetch Edith, Tom." Sybil begged.

"Alright, but don't dotil, dear." As it turned out, Edith wasn't even in the house. The middle daughter of lord Grantham had gone up to Ripon for the day to see her editor about a paper. And a little something else.