*April 16, 1912 - Downton Village*
The Renault motor car turned away from the main road, following a narrow lane that curved through the Yorkshire countryside. Josh watched the scenery change from open fields to the more intimate landscape of a village, cottages appearing with increasing frequency as they neared their destination.
"Is this Downton?" Matthew asked, leaning forward to peer through the window.
"The village, sir," Taylor confirmed. "Crawley House is just ahead."
Josh felt an unexpected flutter of recognition as they passed the church—gray stone worn smooth by centuries of weather, its square tower rising above the surrounding buildings. He knew this place, had seen it countless times in another life, but experiencing it firsthand was entirely different. The reality carried weight that no television screen could convey.
The car slowed, turning through a set of gates into a modest drive. Crawley House stood before them—a handsome Georgian building of red brick with white-painted windows, substantial but not grand, comfortable but not ostentatious. It was precisely the sort of home a prosperous professional family might occupy.
"Oh, it's lovely," Isobel exclaimed as Taylor brought the car to a stop.
Josh had to agree. While nothing compared to the magnificence of Downton Abbey, Crawley House had its own charm. The front garden was well-maintained, with roses climbing the walls and a neat lawn stretching to the road.
The front door opened as they alighted from the car, revealing a middle-aged man in butler's attire who hurried down the steps to greet them.
"Dr. Crawley, Mrs. Crawley, Mr. Crawley," he said with a slight bow. "I'm Molesley, sir. Joseph Molesley. I've been engaged as your butler and valet, Dr. Crawley."
Josh noticed the man's nervousness, the way his hands clasped and unclasped as he spoke. This wasn't someone accustomed to such a position, he realized—probably a local man hired specifically for their arrival.
"Thank you, Molesley," Josh replied warmly. "It's good to meet you."
"Mr. Molesley," Matthew said, then looked uncertain. "Or is it just Molesley? I'm never sure about these things."
Molesley flushed slightly. "Just Molesley is customary, sir. If you'll follow me, I'll show you the house."
As they entered, Josh took in the interior with interest. The entrance hall was modest but welcoming, with a staircase leading to the upper floors and doors opening to various rooms.
"The drawing room, sir," Molesley announced, opening a door to their left.
The room was pleasantly proportioned, with windows overlooking the garden and furnishings that, while not new, were well-maintained and tasteful. A fire had been lit in the grate, casting a warm glow over the scene.
"This is charming," Isobel said, moving to examine the view. "And so thoughtful to have the fire going."
"Mrs. Bird, the cook, has prepared tea," Molesley continued. "Would you like it served now, or would you prefer to see your rooms first?"
"Tea would be lovely," Isobel decided. "We can explore properly afterward."
---
*Meanwhile, at Downton Abbey*
In the grand library of Downton Abbey, Robert Crawley stood before the fireplace, his expression troubled as he addressed his mother and wife.
"They've arrived safely," he announced. "Taylor sent word from the village."
"Well, that's something," Violet replied from her chair, her tone suggesting she wasn't entirely pleased by the news. "Though I still say it's ridiculous, housing them in the village like common tenants."
"They're hardly common, Mama," Cora interjected gently. "Dr. Crawley is Robert's heir."
"A doctor from Manchester," Violet pronounced the words as if they left a bad taste. "What can he possibly know about running an estate like Downton?"
"We can't know that until we meet him properly," Robert said diplomatically. "I've invited them to dine tomorrow evening."
"Have you?" Violet's eyebrows rose. "Without consulting me?"
"I didn't realize I needed your permission to invite my own heir to dinner," Robert replied with a hint of exasperation.
Mary, who had been quietly reading by the window, looked up at this exchange. "Perhaps I should call on them this afternoon," she suggested with studied casualness. "It would be the polite thing to do."
Cora and Robert exchanged glances. "That's very thoughtful of you, dear," Cora said carefully.
"Yes, well, someone should assess them before they're presented to the entire family," Mary replied, her tone making it clear this was duty rather than desire.
"I'll go with you," Violet announced suddenly. "I think it's time I met this Mrs. Crawley. One can tell so much about a man by his mother."
Mary's expression tightened slightly—she had clearly hoped to go alone—but she merely nodded. "Of course, Granny."
---
*Servants' Hall, Downton Abbey*
Belowstairs, the arrival of the new heir was the primary topic of conversation among the servants gathering for their afternoon tea.
"A doctor," O'Brien sniffed as she sipped her tea. "His lordship's heir is a common doctor."
"There's nothing common about being a doctor," Mrs. Hughes corrected firmly. "It's a respectable profession."
"Respectable for the middle classes," Thomas interjected with his usual smirk. "But hardly appropriate for the future Earl of Grantham."
Anna, sitting quietly beside Gwen, spoke up. "Perhaps it's a good thing. A doctor would understand about helping people."
"Oh, Anna," O'Brien said condescendingly. "Always seeing the best in everyone. Mark my words, this Dr. Crawley will bring nothing but trouble."
"That's enough," Carson's deep voice cut through the chatter as he entered the servants' hall. "Dr. Crawley is his lordship's heir, and he will be treated with proper respect. Is that understood?"
A chorus of "Yes, Mr. Carson" followed, though Thomas and O'Brien exchanged knowing looks.
"Gwen, Anna," Mrs. Hughes addressed the housemaids. "You'll need to prepare the dining room for tomorrow evening. His lordship wants everything perfect for the heir's first dinner here."
"Yes, Mrs. Hughes," they responded in unison.
As the servants dispersed to their duties, Gwen lingered, clutching a letter she'd received that morning. Anna noticed her friend's distraction.
"Another letter?" Anna asked quietly. "That's the third this week."
Gwen flushed. "It's nothing. Just... correspondence."
Anna gave her a knowing look but didn't press. Everyone was entitled to their secrets, after all.
---
*Back at Crawley House*
Josh had just finished unpacking when Molesley knocked at his door. "Begging your pardon, sir, but you have visitors. Lady Mary Crawley and the Dowager Countess are here."
Josh's pulse quickened. Mary. He hadn't expected to see her so soon, and certainly not accompanied by the formidable Violet. "Thank you, Molesley. I'll be right down."
He paused at the mirror, quickly checking his appearance. He'd changed from his traveling clothes into a well-cut afternoon suit—not too formal, but appropriate for receiving aristocratic visitors.
When he entered the drawing room, he found his mother already engaged in what appeared to be a rather tense conversation with Violet, while Mary stood near the window, her posture suggesting she'd rather be anywhere else.
"Ah, Dr. Crawley," Violet said as he entered, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of his appearance. "How good of you to join us."
Josh bowed slightly. "Lady Grantham, Lady Mary. This is an unexpected pleasure."
"We thought it only proper to welcome you to the village," Violet replied, though her tone suggested inspection rather than welcome.
"How thoughtful," Josh said, his gaze shifting to Mary, who had turned from the window to face him.
She was even more striking than he'd imagined—dark hair perfectly arranged, her afternoon dress of deep green silk emphasizing her elegant figure. But it was her eyes that caught him—intelligent, assessing, with a hint of challenge.
"Dr. Crawley," she acknowledged with a slight incline of her head. "I trust you found your journey comfortable?"
"Very much so, thank you. Yorkshire is beautiful country."
"You sound surprised," Mary observed. "Did you expect nothing but factories and smoke?"
Josh smiled slightly at the subtle barb. "Not at all. But seeing it firsthand is always different from mere expectation."
"Indeed," Violet interjected. "I understand you practice medicine in Manchester?"
"I do, Lady Grantham. Surgery, primarily."
"How... vigorous," Violet commented, making it sound like a disease.
"Mother is also medically trained," Josh added, noting the slight tension between the two older women. "As a nurse."
"Yes, Mrs. Crawley was just telling me about her interest in modern medical practices," Violet said, her tone suggesting this wasn't entirely a compliment. "I was explaining that our cottage hospital runs quite efficiently under Dr. Clarkson's management."
"I'm sure it does," Isobel replied with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Though there's always room for improvement, wouldn't you say? Medical knowledge advances so rapidly these days."
Josh saw the flash of irritation in Violet's eyes and quickly intervened. "I'm looking forward to meeting Dr. Clarkson. It would be interesting to compare notes on different approaches to rural medicine."
"Papa mentioned you'll be dining with us tomorrow," Mary said, smoothly changing the subject. "I hope you won't find our country ways too dull after Manchester."
"I doubt anything about Downton could be dull," Josh replied, meeting her gaze directly.
Something flickered in Mary's eyes—surprise, perhaps, or interest. "You haven't seen it yet. Perhaps you should reserve judgment."
"I prefer to be optimistic," Josh countered. "Though I find reality often exceeds even the highest expectations."
"Or fails to meet even the lowest ones," Mary retorted.
"Mary," Violet admonished gently, though Josh caught what might have been approval in her expression.
Matthew chose that moment to enter, having been summoned by Molesley. His expression when he saw Mary was almost comical—the young solicitor clearly hadn't expected to find a beautiful woman in their drawing room.
"Matthew, may I present Lady Mary Crawley and the Dowager Countess," Josh said, enjoying his brother's momentary discomfiture.
Matthew managed a creditable bow, though Josh noticed the slight flush on his cheeks. "Ladies. An honor."
"Mr. Crawley," Violet acknowledged. "I understand you're a solicitor?"
"Yes, Lady Grantham. I practice in Manchester." Matthew seemed to gather himself, his professional manner asserting itself.
"And will you continue to do so?" Mary asked, her tone suggesting this was some sort of test.
"I... that is, I haven't quite decided," Matthew replied. "There are matters to settle, partnerships to consider."
"Of course," Mary said with a slight smile. "One can't simply abandon one's responsibilities, can one?"
Josh heard the subtle criticism in her words—the suggestion that accepting the inheritance meant abandoning other duties. Clever, he thought. She was probing for weaknesses already.
The visit continued for another quarter hour, with Violet making increasingly pointed comments about the running of the hospital and the importance of respecting established traditions. Isobel, for her part, responded with equally pointed observations about the benefits of progress and modern thinking.
Finally, Violet rose to leave. "We must be going. So much to do before tomorrow's dinner."
"Of course," Josh said, rising as well. "Thank you for calling. It was most kind."
As they prepared to leave, Mary paused near Josh. "Tomorrow evening, then," she said, her voice pitched low enough that only he could hear. "Try not to disappoint us, Dr. Crawley."
"I'll do my best, Lady Mary," he replied equally quietly. "Though I should warn you—I rarely disappoint."
Her eyes widened slightly at his boldness, but before she could respond, Violet called her away.
After their visitors left, the drawing room seemed suddenly very quiet.
"Well," Isobel said finally. "That was... interesting."
"That's one word for it," Matthew muttered, sinking into a chair. "Are they always so..."
"Intimidating?" Josh suggested with a grin. "Probably. Though I think it went rather well, all things considered."
"Well?" Isobel shook her head. "That woman—the Dowager Countess—she practically told me to keep my nose out of the hospital!"
"I'm sure she didn't mean it quite that way," Josh said diplomatically, though he knew that was exactly what Violet had meant.
"And Lady Mary," Matthew added. "She looked at me like I was some sort of specimen in a jar."
Josh chuckled. "She's testing us, Matthew. All of them are. We're unknowns in their world—potentially disruptive forces. Of course they want to assess us."
"You seemed to handle it well enough," Isobel observed, giving her eldest son a thoughtful look.
"I found it rather entertaining," Josh admitted. "Lady Mary particularly. She's sharp—I like that in a woman."
Matthew groaned. "Please tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking."
"I'm not thinking anything," Josh protested innocently. "Merely observing that the eldest daughter of the house is intelligent and beautiful. Surely that's allowed?"
Before Matthew could respond, Molesley appeared in the doorway. "Begging your pardon, but there's a gentleman to see Dr. Crawley. Dr. Clarkson from the cottage hospital."
Josh raised his eyebrows in surprise. Word traveled fast in a small village, it seemed.
"Please show him in, Molesley."
Dr. Clarkson entered—a man in his fifties with graying hair and intelligent eyes behind wire-rimmed spectacles. He carried himself with the confident air of someone comfortable with his position in the community.
"Dr. Crawley, I apologize for calling unannounced," he began. "I'm Richard Clarkson, physician at the cottage hospital."
"Not at all," Josh replied, shaking his hand. "I was hoping we'd have a chance to meet. May I present my mother, Mrs. Crawley, and my brother, Matthew?"
"Delighted," Dr. Clarkson said, though Josh noticed his eyes lingered on Isobel with particular interest. "I understand you have medical training, Mrs. Crawley?"
"I trained as a nurse, yes," Isobel confirmed. "Though it's been some years since I practiced formally."
"Nevertheless, medical knowledge is always valuable," Dr. Clarkson said diplomatically. "Which brings me to the purpose of my visit. There's been something of an emergency at one of the farms—a laborer with a severely infected wound. I wondered if you might assist, Dr. Crawley? I've heard excellent things about your surgical skills."
Josh didn't hesitate. "Of course. Let me get my medical bag."
"I'll come too," Isobel announced.
Dr. Clarkson looked uncertain. "It's rather a serious case, Mrs. Crawley. Perhaps—"
"All the more reason for an extra pair of trained hands," Isobel interrupted firmly.
Josh hid a smile. His mother never had been one to back down from a challenge.
"Very well," Dr. Clarkson conceded. "We should hurry."
As they prepared to leave, Matthew caught Josh's arm. "Be careful," he said quietly. "This feels like another test."
Josh nodded. His brother was right—everything here was a test of sorts. But this was one exam he was confident of passing.
The ride to the farm was accomplished quickly in Dr. Clarkson's small cart. Along the way, he briefed them on the case.
"Tom Bingham, one of Lord Grantham's tenant farmers. Cut his leg badly on some machinery last week. His wife tried to treat it herself, but infection has set in. I'm concerned it may have progressed to blood poisoning."
Josh's mind was already running through treatment options, mentally inventorying what supplies might be available in a rural practice. Sepsis in 1912 was often a death sentence, but with his knowledge...
They found the patient in a dire state—fevered, delirious, his leg swollen and angry red with infection tracking up toward his thigh. His wife hovered nearby, wringing her hands anxiously.
"Thank God you've come, Doctor," she said tearfully. "He's been like this since yesterday."
Josh examined the wound quickly but thoroughly. It was worse than he'd hoped but not as bad as he'd feared. With proper treatment, amputation might be avoided.
"We need to lance and drain the infection immediately," he told Dr. Clarkson. "Do you have carbolic acid at the hospital?"
"Yes, but—" Dr. Clarkson looked surprised. "You're not thinking of amputation?"
"Not if we can avoid it. The infection hasn't reached the bone yet. Aggressive drainage, antiseptic irrigation, and careful monitoring might save the leg."
It was a more aggressive approach than was standard for the time, Josh knew, but not so advanced as to seem impossible.
"It's risky," Dr. Clarkson warned.
"So is amputation," Josh countered. "Mrs. Bingham, I believe we can save your husband's leg, but I need your permission to try."
The woman nodded frantically. "Anything, Doctor. Just save him."
What followed was an intense hour of surgical intervention. Josh worked with the limited tools available, using techniques that pushed the boundaries of 1912 medicine without crossing into the impossible. Isobel assisted capably, her training evident despite the years away from practice.
Dr. Clarkson watched with growing amazement as Josh's skilled hands cleaned and treated the wound with a precision he'd rarely seen outside London's best hospitals.
"Remarkable," he murmured as Josh finished suturing. "Where did you train again?"
"St. Thomas's," Josh replied, monitoring the patient's pulse. "But I've made something of a study of wound treatment. Infection control is a particular interest."
The patient's fever was already beginning to break, his breathing easier. It would be touch and go for the next few days, but Josh was cautiously optimistic.
"He'll need careful nursing," he told Mrs. Bingham. "The dressings must be changed twice daily with strict attention to cleanliness. I'll write out detailed instructions."
As they prepared to leave, Dr. Clarkson pulled Josh aside. "That was extraordinary work. I don't mind admitting you've taught me something today."
"We can all learn from each other," Josh replied diplomatically. "Perhaps we could discuss establishing some new protocols at the hospital? I'd be happy to share what I know."
Dr. Clarkson's face lit up. "I'd welcome that. Actually, I was wondering—would you consider taking some shifts at the hospital? We could use someone with your skills."
"I'd be honored," Josh accepted immediately. Here was exactly the opportunity he'd hoped for—a way to maintain his medical practice while building his position at Downton.
The ride back to Crawley House was accomplished in satisfied silence. Isobel looked pleased with herself, having proven her capabilities, while Dr. Clarkson seemed lost in thought, no doubt reconsidering some of his treatment approaches.
As they pulled up to the house, Dr. Clarkson turned to them both. "I should mention—the Dowager Countess is on the hospital board. She has... strong opinions about how things should be run."
"So we gathered," Isobel said dryly.
"Yes, well. I just thought you should be prepared. She doesn't always welcome change."
"Change is inevitable, Doctor," Josh said quietly. "The trick is managing it gracefully."
Dr. Clarkson smiled. "Spoken like a diplomat. You'll need that skill at Downton, I think."
After he left, Josh and Isobel found Matthew in the drawing room, papers spread across the table.
"How did it go?" he asked, looking up from his work.
"Rather well," Josh replied, sinking into a chair. "We've been invited to work at the hospital."
"Both of you?"
"It seems so," Isobel confirmed with satisfaction. "Dr. Clarkson was quite impressed with Joshua's surgical skills."
"And Mother's nursing abilities," Josh added. "You made quite an impression yourself."
Matthew shook his head. "This place is full of tests and challenges, isn't it? Lady Mary testing our social credentials, Dr. Clarkson testing your medical ones. What's next?"
"Tomorrow's dinner," Josh reminded him. "The real test. Meeting the whole family in their element."
"God help us," Matthew muttered, returning to his papers.
But Josh felt energized rather than daunted. In one afternoon, he'd established himself as a competent physician, made an ally of Dr. Clarkson, and had his first proper interaction with Mary. The game was progressing nicely.
As evening fell over Crawley House, Josh stood at his window, gazing toward where Downton Abbey lay hidden beyond the trees. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but he felt ready for them.
He had medical skills to offer, charm to deploy, and knowledge of the future to guide him. The question wasn't whether he could succeed—it was how much he could accomplish while maintaining the delicate balance between progress and tradition.
The first day had gone well. Tomorrow, the real dance would begin.
---
*Later that evening at Downton Abbey*
The family had gathered in the drawing room after dinner, the atmosphere heavy with anticipation of tomorrow's dinner with the Crawleys.
"Well?" Robert asked Mary. "What did you think of them?"
Mary took her time answering, aware that everyone was watching her reaction. "They're... not what I expected."
"In what way?" Cora prompted.
"Dr. Crawley seems very sure of himself," Mary said carefully. "Not overawed by the idea of the inheritance, at any rate."
"Confident or arrogant?" Edith asked with interest.
"I haven't decided yet," Mary admitted. "He's certainly not lacking in charm. Or opinions."
"And the brother?" Sybil asked eagerly. "What's he like?"
"Quieter. More... conventional. A typical solicitor, I'd say." Mary's dismissive tone made her opinion clear.
"Mrs. Crawley seems to have strong views about medical matters," Violet added with obvious disapproval. "She practically suggested our hospital was behind the times."
"Perhaps it is, Granny," Sybil suggested innocently.
"Don't be ridiculous," Violet snapped. "Dr. Clarkson runs an excellent facility."
Robert cleared his throat. "Speaking of Dr. Clarkson, I heard there was some sort of medical emergency this afternoon. Apparently, Dr. Crawley assisted."
"Oh?" Mary's interest sharpened. "What happened?"
"One of the tenant farmers—Bingham—had a badly infected wound. From what I understand, Dr. Crawley's intervention may have saved his leg."
"Well," Cora said thoughtfully. "That's certainly to his credit."
"Is it?" Mary asked. "Or is he simply trying to ingratiate himself?"
"Really, Mary," Robert said with mild reproof. "The man helped save someone's leg. Surely that's admirable regardless of his motives."
Mary said nothing, but her expression remained skeptical. She didn't trust easily, especially not when her entire future might depend on this stranger's goodwill.
---
*Meanwhile, in the servants' hall*
The news of Dr. Crawley's medical heroics had reached the servants, creating a buzz of speculation.
"They say he saved Tom Bingham's leg," Daisy reported breathlessly. "Mrs. Bingham's maid told me he worked like one of them London surgeons."
"Lucky for Bingham," William commented. "Infection like that usually means amputation."
"Or worse," added Mrs. Patmore grimly.
Thomas and O'Brien exchanged glances across the table. This wasn't fitting their narrative of the inappropriate middle-class heir.
"One lucky case doesn't make him suitable to inherit Downton," O'Brien muttered.
"No," Thomas agreed. "But it makes him harder to dismiss."
Anna, mending one of Lady Mary's gowns, spoke up thoughtfully. "Perhaps it's a good thing, having a doctor as heir. Someone who understands about helping people."
"Don't be naive, Anna," O'Brien sneered. "Men like that always have ulterior motives."
"That's enough," Mrs. Hughes interrupted firmly. "We'll judge Dr. Crawley by his actions, not by speculation and gossip."
But the speculation continued long into the evening, as both upstairs and downstairs prepared for tomorrow's dinner—the first real meeting between the two worlds that would soon be forced to merge.
The stage was set, the players in position. Tomorrow would bring the first act of a drama that would change all their lives.
And at Crawley House, Josh prepared for bed with a sense of anticipation. He'd made good progress today, but tomorrow was when the real game would begin. Dinner at Downton Abbey—the first true test of whether he could bridge the gap between his middle-class origins and aristocratic destiny.
He smiled to himself as he turned out the light. Let them test him. He was ready for whatever challenges they might throw his way. After all, he had advantages they couldn't possibly imagine.
Tomorrow would be very interesting indeed.