Bring Me To Your Stars

The Entail

James Paul Fucking Moody.

The name still left a bitter taste in Patrick Crawley's mouth.

Last Patrick had heard of James Moody, the Scarborough twit was an apprentice sailor signed on to the William Thomas Line...what was the name of that ship from the papers again?

The Boadicea?

Such a shame this blunderbuss Duke of Limbs hadn't done himself the favor by now and fallen overboard, being the sack of pebbles he always was.

He never could throw a decent punch.

Patrick smirked privately from behind his morning paper, as the butler showed their guests into the library.

"Mr. John Moody and Mr. James Moody, my lord," the old willowy cello for a butler, Mr. Carson, announced nobly to the Crawley grandees. "The solicitors from Scarborough, who were sent to you for legal counsel by Mr. Murray."

Lord Grantham, looking into the crackling fire of the silk marble mantelpiece, plated with gold and carved with grape vines hanging over statues of Mars and Diana, tucked away the worry wrinkling his brow as he accepted his guests.

"Send them in."

Carson stepped aside, making way for the Moody gentlemen. "His Lordship will see you now."

Though his nod for the younger Mr. Moody somewhat lingered, before he passed his stony glance to Patrick.

Not out of any special acknowledgement, of course, as the aloof Mr. Carson was a traditional brand of butler, and not at all the sort to break his Code of Butlerness for the whim of showing anyone any favor.

The extra effort he took to leave the room was plainly a warning for both Crawley and Moody.

Should any manner of "disturbance" follow their mutual arrival at the estate, they would be dealt with by Carson personally.

The old Butler was always watching.

And he'd been given enough reasons by both Crawley and Moody alike to be on edge.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, gentlemen," Robert Crawley warmly greeted his guests, though his voice was still heavy with the burdens of his heart. "Mr. Murray was suddenly called away to care for his wife, who has taken ill. I know you and he worked closely together in the past, concerning legal affairs of the estate. There was no one I could trust more in Mr. Murray's absence."

And having come so highly recommended, James's father was eager to make a lasting impression, swinging his arm out in a wide deep Shakespearean bow. In the spirit of your-highnessing that would have been too much for even a royal, let alone, a country Earl.

"Truly, Downton is the crowning jewel of Yorkshire, Lord Grantham. I can speak for both Mr. Murray and myself, that we have always been treated with great hospitality while working here," James's father complimented the Earl. "I am eager to assist you with any inquiry you might have in regard to the entail."

"Downton would be a ship lost at sea without you. And speaking of ships, I've heard the news."

The Earl turned to James next.

"Congratulations on being accepted into the King Edward Naval Academy in London."

"Thank you, Lord Grantham," James answered in that humble way Robert Crawley always admired about the young man.

"Already, he's made a promising reputation for himself at sea," John Moody spoke of his son proudly. "There are rumors of a soon-to-be vacancy aboard the Oceanic. The Boa's captain informed me that he means to put in a good word for James as an officer with White Star Line."