The war -- or rather, The Great War, as they would later come to know it -- arrives in England by telegraph and sets off a whirlwind of paranoia and fear in the house. Men younger than him are the first to volunteer their lives for something they’ve no proper idea of: Thomas, Branson, and William and are gone within the month with a gleam of romanticism in their eyes.
Death comes to the house in the guise of lists, and flesh and blood are now mere statistics. All the maids wear a black band on their sleeve (Daisy cries for weeks, her wails regretful), and Anna can’t read their letters at breakfast anymore.
“You’re not leaving us, are you Mr. Bates?” she asks him, her voice now devoid of all good humor. He just shakes his head and takes her slender hand in his and grips it tight, unwavering.
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Hmm, speaking of:
Downton Abbey; Anna/Bates; maps
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The war -- or rather, The Great War, as they would later come to know it -- arrives in England by telegraph and sets off a whirlwind of paranoia and fear in the house. Men younger than him are the first to volunteer their lives for something they’ve no proper idea of: Thomas, Branson, and William and are gone within the month with a gleam of romanticism in their eyes.
Death comes to the house in the guise of lists, and flesh and blood are now mere statistics. All the maids wear a black band on their sleeve (Daisy cries for weeks, her wails regretful), and Anna can’t read their letters at breakfast anymore.
“You’re not leaving us, are you Mr. Bates?” she asks him, her voice now devoid of all good humor. He just shakes his head and takes her slender hand in his and grips it tight, unwavering.
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Faramir/Eowyn, storms
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Giulia/Micheletto, portraits
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