I am so sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I was having a MAJOR writing slump, and then things got crazy with school starting up again, but this chapter is a little longer to make up for it.
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LOIS LANE
This is insane. This morning, I was in Metropolis, touring LNN in hopes of getting my life back to some kind of normal. Now, I am dangling out of the second story window of a literal castle, after falling through my mirror, and landing in my great-grandparent’s house. I’ve seen a man that can fly, (actually, I’ve flown with said man, but that’s not important) and this is still the craziest thing that has ever happened to me. It’s exactly the kind of thing that only happens in fairy tales. I mean, seriously, a magic mirror? That so conveniently transported me here, wherever here is, but wouldn’t let me go back through? Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any worse. At least when my life fell apart in Metropolis, I could find a way forward. I was going to get a job at LNN, and I had hoped that Clark would work with me, and things could go back to… well not normal, but close to it, maybe. Of course Clark shut that idea down real quick. You know, I don’t know why he has it in his head that Lex is the root of all evil in Metropolis.Honestly, any time Lex’s name comes up in an investigation, even if it’s just someone who happened to work for one of his companies, which, by the way, is at least fifty percent of the population in Metropolis, Clark gets totally defensive, and thinks it means that Lex is somehow directly involved. And he refuses to work with me at LNN, because he doesn’t want to work for Luthor. You know, I thought I meant more to him than that. It’s supposed to be the two of us, together, Lane and Kent. We’re supposed to be partners, who will stand by each other through anything. But no, because of his stupid petty jealousy, he ditched me. He even said we’re not partners anymore. And this coming from the man who said he– But that’s not important right now. I have bigger problems.
As soon as I’m safely on the ground, the servant girl– I never did get her name– pulls the sheets I’d been using as a rope back through the window, and points to the left. I guess that means I’m supposed to go that way so I can find the back door. She disappears inside, and I make my way around the castle, which is a slow process, especially when I have to be careful not to be seen through any one of the huge windows that basically cover the entire castle, which means stopping in the small space in between the windows and checking the coast is clear before running to the next one. Thankfully, once I reach the end of the wall, there are no more windows, just a small courtyard along the back wall. There’s a door here, too, so I think this is where I’m supposed to be. And now… I guess I’ll just sit and wait? Well that doesn’t last very long. One, it’s cold, and sitting still only makes things worse. If I’d have known I was going to end up outside in the middle of the night I would have worn warmer clothes. But at least moving helps a little, so I end up pacing the length of the little courtyard while waiting for the maid to come back and let me in.
It has to be at least two hours later before I hear footsteps inside that sound like they’re coming towards the door. But that might not be the servant girl from earlier, and whoever it is probably won’t be so understanding, so I press myself against the wall, in the shadows, just in case. The same moment the door opens, there’s a noise from somewhere behind me, but I can’t see anyone, and I don’t hear anything after that. It was probably an animal, or something… right? I don’t have much time to dwell on that, because the next second the servant girl–seriously, I have got to get her name– pokes her head out of the door.
“Miss Lane?” Oh, thank goodness. I step out of the shadows.
“I’m here.”
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting so long,” she whispers as we head inside, into what looks like a kitchen, or at least what a kitchen would have looked like at the turn of the century. “It took a bit longer than expected for everyone to get to bed.” She leads me through the halls into a small bedroom with two twin beds on metal frames. It’s a cozy room, if a bit bare, and definitely very different from the room I found myself in earlier. Although I guess that would make sense, since that was a Lady’s room, and this is a servant’s room.
“This is my room, a temporary solution,” she starts, pulling an extra set of sheets from the closet and making the second bed. “Until we can figure out what to do.”
“Thank you.” I reply, turning to help her with the sheets. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“Well, what was I supposed to do? Throw you out on the streets? It seems to me that you’re stuck here for better or for worse, and besides, if you really are Lady Sybil’s great-granddaughter, that technically makes you a part of the family.”
“Good luck getting anyone else to believe that.” I chuckle, and flop onto the bed as she tosses me a set of flat sheets. “By the way, I never asked for your name.”
“Oh. Anna.” She replies, crossing the room, and lighting a candle on the nightstand. “Anna Smith.”
“And you said you work for The Earl of…” What was the name again? Gillingham? Grantchester?
“Grantham,” she supplies helpfully, settling onto the other bed. “That’s the estate, but the family name is the Crawleys.” I suppose that makes sense. I have read a historical novel or two, so I did know that nobility often had multiple titles. Granted, I’m not sure how much information in those books is actually historically accurate. Except for Jane Austen, but I’m not sure if this is the right time period for her novels. Speaking of which…
“What year is it?”
“1917, June.” Wow, I was way off. 1917… Right in the middle of World War I. This is… fantastic. I mean, this is one of the biggest stories in modern history, and I’m in the middle of it! I could talk to the soldiers, I could get firsthand accounts. I could– wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. I can’t do anything until I have some money, identification, or at least some period appropriate clothes. “If you’re going to blend in,” Anna cuts into my inner rambling, apparently thinking the same thing, “the first thing we’ll have to do is fix your hair, and get you a proper dress. You can borrow one of Lady Sybil’s for tomorrow, and I can sneak a few supplies down here to fix your hair after I’m finished with Lady Mary’s.” Good. That’s a start at least. “You said you’re a reporter?” She changes the subject without missing a beat, throwing me off for a second.
“Uh, yeah. For… well I used to work for the Daily Planet.” If it really is 1917, then she’s much more likely to recognise The Daily Planet than LNN. I guess that explains why she was so confused earlier.
“That’s perfect, actually.” She smiles. “There’s a Daily Planet in London, and with the Abbey being turned into a home for the soldiers, you could easily convince the family you’re a reporter who’s just transferred from America, and was assigned to report on Grantham House.”
That’s not a bad idea. I wouldn’t even have to pretend that much. And it would be a perfect way to get the story, and blend in at the same time. “Lady Sybil’s meant to go down to the village tomorrow,” Anna continues, “to get supplies for the hospital, and I was thinking of heading that way as well, to get some things for the house.” It’s clear she’s thinking out loud now, as she stares at the ground with her brow furrowed, like she’s deep in thought. “You could walk down with me in the morning, and ‘run into’ Lady Sybil. If you told her that you were looking for Grantham House, and that your bags were lost on the train, she very well might let you ride back with her, and I’m sure she’d insist on giving you her old dresses until you could find your things.” That seems almost too simple to actually work.
“And you think she’d believe me?”
“Well you are a reporter.” she counters. “And you were sent to Downton for whatever reason, from Metropolis. So, technically, it wouldn’t be a lie. More like bending the truth.” I think I’m starting to like this girl. “Anyway, there’s no reason they shouldn’t believe you. Plenty of women have been taking over men’s jobs, what with the war on. And if you just transferred, it would be understandable if they haven’t seen anything you’ve written.” Huh. This just might work.
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What Anna forgot to mention was that after I met Lady Sybil and she offered to drive me back to the Abbey (I learned it’s called an abbey, not a castle), I would have to deal with the rest of her family.
The scene that greets us as we step through the front doors is… surreal. The elegance and grandeur of the building contrasts starkly with the chaos of servants rushing around with supplies, taking orders from an older woman dressed in black, while soldiers are hanging around talking, or playing games, and a woman who’s probably nobility– at least, she’s dressed like it– weaves in and out of the crowd in a calculated manner that says that she’s the one overseeing everything. The noblewoman turns suddenly, noticing us by the door, and immediately makes a beeline for where we are.
“Sybil, darling!” she exclaims, kissing Sybil on the cheek in greeting, and I’m going to wager a guess that she’s her mother. They definitely have the family resemblance. “We weren’t expecting you back so soon. And…” she notices me for the first time, “Who is this?”
“Mama,” Sybil starts by way of an introduction. “This is Lois Lane. She’s a reporter from The Daily Planet.” So I was right. This woman is Sybil’s mother. That would make her… Lady Grantham? I think, since Anna said her father is the Earl of Grantham.
“Oh,” the shock on Lady Grantham’s face quickly turns into an overenthusiastic smile. “Well that’s just wonderful! I’ll have Mrs. Hughes set up a room, and if you have any questions about how things are run, you can ask me, or Corporal Barrows.” She motions to a dark haired man in a uniform a few feet away. Barrows. He was the one Anna said to avoid, right? I don’t remember, but he definitely looks like someone whose bad side I don’t want to be on. Especially if he’s the one in charge. “I would ask you,” Lady Grantham continues, “not to disturb the soldiers, if at all possible. This is supposed to be a place where they can rest, and recover. But you’re welcome to help the girls take care of them, and maybe they’ll tell you a few stories while you’re at it.”
“Uh, yeah. That would be great.” This is all still a little unreal, that I actually get to talk to people who lived through the war, that I’ll get to hear their stories, and firsthand accounts.
“Perfect. And you should join us for dinner tonight, and you can tell us all about yourself then. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot more work to do.” And with that, she hurries back into the mess of people, stopping to discuss something with the man she pointed out as Mr. Barrows.
After Lady Grantham leaves, Sybil and I spend the rest of the afternoon helping the soldiers, and listening to their stories, of times before the war, friends they made, and all the feel-good kinds of things that Clark would be writing. It’s… fascinating. You read about these kinds of things in history books, but it’s a completely different experience getting to sit down and talk to people who are actually living through it, and to think about the horrors they must have lived through, even if they don’t talk about that part as much.
Sometime in the late afternoon, as Sybil and I are talking to an energetic young officer about what he wants to do after the war, another young woman who I assume is one of Sybil’s sisters, considering she looks like a carbon copy of Lady Grantham– Lady Mary, maybe, or Lady… what was the other one again? Ethel? Eden?– Anyway, she approaches Sybil, just as we were getting ready to move on.
“Sybil darling, have you seen Mama? There’s some sort of issue between the soldiers and the servants, and I can’t find her.” Just like Lady Grantham, it takes her a minute before she notices me. “And… who is this?”
“This,” Sybil starts before I can get a word in, “is Miss Lois Lane. She’s a reporter from the Daily Planet.” Mary’s reaction is a lot less approving than Lady Grantham had been, as she purses her lips, and looks me over with a frown, before sighing.
“Is this what we’ve come to, then?”
“Excuse me?” Her eyes widen ever so slightly at that, but she brushes it off with scoff.
“And she’s American. Heaven help us.” Seriously? What is her problem?
“Mary,” Sybil chides, “she’s here to report on the House. Play nice.” So this is Lady Mary. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, it’s exactly what I would have imagined nobility would be like, especially in the past. Well Sybil’s scolding worked. Either that, or Mary doesn’t think it’s worth a fight, because she looks between me and Sybil for a moment before rolling her eyes, and turning her attention back to Sybil.
“Have you seen Mama? I need to speak with her.”
“I think she’s in the small library.” Mary nods, and marches out of the room.
As soon as she’s gone, I turn to Sybil.
“Is she always like that?” Sybil doesn’t look up at me, but sighs ever so slightly.
“You caught her on a particularly bad day. Cousin Matthew’s just left this morning, so she’s a bit on edge.” Before I can ask her who ‘cousin Matthew’ is, a bell rings, and Sybil sighs, deeply this time. “Right. That’ll be dinner. We should head upstairs to get ready.” Get ready? Why would we have to get ready for dinner? But Sybil is already headed upstairs. When we reach the second floor, she turns around, apparently realising that I was following her. “You can wait in your room, and I’ll send Anna to you once she’s finished making up Mary and Edith.” O…k. I guess I’ll have to ask Anna what’s going on then, when she comes.
As it turns out, dinner is a very formal affair here, and so everyone who’s invited has to dress up. The bell that rang was to signal the nobles that it was time to get dressed for dinner, and they have their servants help them choose their clothes, and do their hair. So that’s where I am now, in the room Lady Grantham arranged for me, sitting at a vanity that’s probably ten times more expensive than anything I owned back in Metropolis as Anna puts the finishing touches on my hair, and gives me a crash course on proper etiquette.
“Always start with the silverware on the outside, and work your way inward with each course. You’re lucky that because of the wartime, there’s only three courses, instead of ten, so there’s less to worry about there, and the dessert utensils are at the top of the plate for after dinner.” What is it with fancy dinners and silverware? Surely there has to be more important rules than which fork to use. But at least it will be easy enough to remember. “When you first sit down, take off your gloves, and place them in your lap, underneath your napkin.” Start on the outside for the silverware, and put gloves and napkins in my lap. Got it. “The servers will come on your left, and–” A bell rings, cutting Anna off before she can give me any more advice. She sighs. “Right. That’s the time, then. Good luck.”
“Thanks.” I have a feeling I'm going to need it.
Stepping outside the door, I’m almost immediately met with Lady Sybil, who smiles warmly as she passes, and I follow her downstairs.
“I apologise in advance for anything my family is about to say. They’re really not bad, once you get to know them, but I’m afraid they can be a bit snobbish, especially towards strangers.”
“And Americans.” I add, recalling my brief interaction with Lady Mary from earlier.
“Actually, Mama is American, so you won’t be alone there. But I can’t say for the rest of them, especially Granny.” Wonderful.
We file into the dining room with the rest of the family. There’s about… six people aside from me and Sybil: Lady Grantham, Lady Mary, a man I assume is Lord Grantham, Sybil’s father, an elderly woman that must be the ‘Granny’ Sybil warned me about, and two other women I don’t recognise, one older, and one younger with red hair. They all seem to know the seating arrangements, so I guess I’ll just take the last available seat, across from Sybil and next to the redheaded woman. Off of a cue from Lord Grantham, everyone sits down. Immediately, I take off my gloves, remembering what Anna told me earlier, and put them in my lap, before reaching for the napkin in front of me. The other ladies do the same, so I’ll consider that a win.
“Did you make it to the station this morning, Isobel, to see Matthew off?” Lady Grantham turns to the older woman on her left, as the servants file in with the first course.
“Yes,” The woman, whose name is apparently Isobel, replies. “And I wasn’t the only one. Mary surprised us at the station this morning.” She turns to Lady Mary before continuing. “He was very glad to see you.” Mary smiles in return, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“And I him.”
“You didn’t tell us you were going.” Lady Grantham’s eyes widen in alarm.
“I wanted it to be a surprise, Mama.” Mary rolls her eyes. “And anyway, you didn’t honestly think I’d have let him leave without saying goodbye?”
The conversation continues around me, and for once, I am grateful to be ignored. After everyone’s been served, we’re able to start eating. Remembering what Anna said, I reach carefully for the outside fork, but I’ve barely raised it to my mouth before Lady Mary scoffs at me, and rolls her eyes.
“Americans.” Seriously? Barely five minutes in, and already she’s found a problem with me. And what could it possibly have been? I know I used the right fork, on the outside of the plate just like Anna said, which, might I add, I still think is ridiculous. It’s a fork. As long as it gets the food into my mouth without making a mess, I don’t see the problem.
Apparently, my indignation shows on my face, because she gives a satisfied smirk before turning back to the conversation on the other end of the table. I knew this was going to be a disaster. Sighing, I put my fork back down on the plate, my appetite suddenly gone.
“You’re supposed to use your fork with your left hand.” The young woman next to me clarifies softly. Well that’s a stupid rule. This whole thing is ridiculous… but I guess I’m in no position to argue, so I reach for the fork again, this time with my left hand, before she cuts me off. “But– don’t switch it now. That’s worse.” Ah. Right. Of course. If this is what it’s going to be like every night, I might actually have been better off running away and living in the woods. “I’m Lady Edith.” The woman introduces herself with a soft smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met yet. Sybil says you’re a reporter from America?” Well at least Lady Edith seems nice enough, even if her sister isn’t.
“Uh, yeah. I write for the Daily Planet.”
“What kinds of things do you write about?”
“Anything, really. Mostly big news, scandals, threats, that kind of thing.”
“Golly, that must be exciting.” She beams, and takes another bite before asking, “Do you enjoy it?”
“I do.” I answer honestly. “I can’t imagine doing anything else.” She sighs wistfully.
“I wish I had something like that. Something I was good at, that I could enjoy doing.”
“So find something.” Chuckling, she looks at me like I just told her she could learn how to fly.
“You make it sound so simple.”
“Well it doesn’t have to be complicated. If you find something you like, do it. I’m sure there are plenty of things you could do, especially with the war going on, with all the jobs available.” She shakes her head, and opens her mouth to say something, but is interrupted by Lady Grantham, who has decided to acknowledge me now, asking about where I’m from in America, and how I like England, and what brought me to Downton. Looking across the table, I notice the grandmother watching me with an expression that’s extremely difficult to read.
Dinner after that goes mostly well, although there’s still the occasional remark from Mary, and more than one sarcastic, though not truly spiteful remark from the grandmother, but on the whole, I’d say it was a success.
After dinner, everyone heads into a nearby sitting room, for drinks. Just as I reach the door, I see the grandmother stop by Lady Edith.
“Miss Lane is right, you know. You’re a woman with a brain, and reasonable ability. Stop whining, and find something to do.” Huh. I wouldn’t have expected that. Then again, I don’t know what to expect anymore. In the sitting room– or is it the drawing room?– I find Lady Sybil, standing by the window looking lost in thought.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
“Hm?” She looks up, obviously startled out of whatever it was she was thinking about. “Oh. I was just…” she trails off, looking out the window again. A second later, she takes a deep breath. “Is it right that we’re standing here having dinners, and drinking wine, like everything is the same as it was before the war? When there are men who are dying, and starving, and women who can no longer afford to feed their children? It doesn’t seem fair.”
“Life isn’t fair.” Her shoulders slump, and she sets her wine down, before wrapping her arms around herself. I guess that was a little harsh. So sighing, I start again. “No, it isn’t fair. It was never fair. But with the wealth and position comes the power to make real change. You know, Lady Grantham told me that you’re the one who got them to turn the abbey into a recovery home for the soldiers.”
“Isobel was the one who suggested it.”
“But you’re the one who changed their minds.” Finally, she cracks a small smile.
“I suppose that’s true.” There’s another moment of silence, as both of us take a sip of wine, and turns back to the window. It doesn’t last very long before Lady Grantham calls Sybil over to talk to her. I don’t feel like getting involved in any more family drama tonight, so I just sit by the windowsill with my wine, and laugh internally at the strange situation I’ve found myself in. Trapped in 1917 England with distant relatives who happen to be nobility. I couldn’t have made it up if I tried. Actually, this could be a good idea for a book, if I ever get around to finishing one of my novels. I’ll have to remember that when I get back to Metropolis.
A while later, Lady Edith comes over to the window, wiping at her eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, really.” She manages a small smile, but then sniffles. “Just… Mary being Mary.”
“Is she always so…”
“Mean?” Edith finishes before I can settle on the right word.
“For lack of a better word.”
“Unfortunately.” She casts a glance back to where Mary is sitting and chatting with Lord and Lady Grantham, before sighing, and taking another sip of her wine. “When Mary’s miserable, she makes sure everyone else is too. Which means she’s rather worse today, because Cousin Matthew left for France this morning.”
“Ok,” I interject. “I’ve heard the name Matthew at least twenty times tonight. Who is he?” Edith looks back at me questioningly, before her mouth opens in a little ‘oh’ and she nods.
“I forgot, you’re not from around here. Matthew is our cousin. Well, fourth cousin, if you want to get technical, and the heir to Papa’s estate.” Ah. That explains a lot, actually.
“And, his connection to Mary?”
“That’s rather… complicated.” Sounds like there’s a story there. “They were almost engaged, before the war, but she put off answering him when his inheritance came into question. And then once the matter was resolved, he broke off the engagement, because he didn’t want her to marry him only for the estate.” Sighing, she turns to look out the window before taking another sip of wine. “But that’s just Mary I suppose. She’s always cared more about the estate, and the title rather than the people.”
There’s a lull in the conversation for a moment, and then just as Edith takes a breath to say something else, everyone on the other side of the room stands.
“Right. Looks like it’s time to call it a night, then.” Edith turns and joins the rest of the family as they file out of the room, still talking amongst themselves. When they reach the front doors, Lord Grantham stops at the door to talk to the grandmother before she leaves.
“So, what do you think of Miss Lane?”
“Why do you ask?” She replies curtly. “She’s staying here, regardless of whether I like her or not.” Lord Grantham seems skeptical of her answer, because he narrows his eyes.
“That’s an odd answer.”
“These are odd times. And to answer your question, I think it will be good having her here.”
“You like her?” It’s a bit insulting how surprised he sounds, even if I am just as confused. I hardly talked to the grandmother, and the few remarks she made towards me earlier were definitely less than friendly.
“I didn’t say that.” She replies coolly. “I think she’s a good influence. Whether or not I like her is another question entirely.” That’s probably the highest compliment I’ll get from her, so I’m flattered, even if I am still a little confused as to why she thinks that.
“A good influence?” Lord Grantham continues to look baffled, and, ok, I know I’m not the best influence, or the easiest person to get along with, but I was on my best behavior tonight, and even when I’m not, I can’t possibly be that bad.
“Just tonight,” the grandmother continues in a very matter of fact tone, “she convinced Edith that she could do something meaningful with her life, and encouraged Sybil when she was upset over the unfairness of the war. So yes, I think she will be good for the girls.”
“Mary excluded, of course.” Lord Grantham sighs, glancing over at Mary and shaking his head. The grandmother casts a glance in the same direction, and smirks–just barely, but it’s there.
“We’ll see.” And then she kisses Lord Grantham on the cheek, and walks out the door.
We’ll see? There is no ‘we’ll see’ about it. Mary is a pretentious snob. I barely spoke two words to her, and she already hates me, just because I’m American, and I used the wrong hand to eat dinner, which, again, is seriously stupid. There is no way I am ever going to be friends with her.
As soon as the grandmother has left, everyone starts to head upstairs, presumably to go to bed, since it is starting to get late, so I head straight for my room. The minute the door is closed behind me, I collapse onto the bed, and find that I’m actually exhausted from the day I’ve had, because despite the fact that my mind is still whirring with all the new information I learned today, I fall asleep within five minutes.
