*April 25, 1912 - Downton Abbey*
The hunt luncheon was a lively affair, with tables set up on the lawn and servants moving efficiently among the guests. Josh arrived just as the hunting party returned, timing his entrance perfectly to avoid the actual hunt while still participating in the social aspects.
As he made his way toward the gathering, he caught Mary's eye. She was still on horseback, her riding habit slightly disheveled from the chase, cheeks flushed with exertion. She looked more alive, more vibrant than he'd ever seen her.
"Dr. Crawley," she greeted him, her voice carrying a hint of warmth that surprised both of them. "You missed an excellent hunt."
"Hospital duties," Josh explained, stepping forward to help her dismount. Their eyes met briefly as his hands circled her waist, the contact lasting perhaps a moment longer than strictly necessary.
"I hope your patients appreciated your dedication," Mary replied, her composure returning as her feet touched the ground.
"Some more than others," Josh said with a smile. "Though I'm glad I didn't miss lunch entirely."
Robert approached, accompanied by a tall, fair-haired young man and a strikingly handsome dark-featured gentleman who could only be Kemal Pamuk. Josh felt a surge of tension at the sight of the Turkish diplomat—the man whose death would cause such scandal if he didn't intervene.
"Joshua! Glad you could join us," Robert said warmly. "Let me introduce our guests. Sir Evelyn Napier and Mr. Kemal Pamuk, an attaché at the Turkish Embassy. Gentlemen, my cousin and heir, Dr. Joshua Crawley."
Josh shook hands with Napier, finding him exactly as expected—pleasant, proper, and utterly forgettable. But when he turned to Pamuk, he felt an immediate sense of calculation behind the diplomat's charming smile.
"A doctor and an heir," Pamuk observed. "How versatile you English gentlemen are."
"I believe in being useful," Josh replied evenly. "Though I can't claim to understand international diplomacy as you must."
"Oh, diplomacy is simple," Pamuk said, his eyes drifting to Mary. "One merely needs to identify what others desire and use that knowledge advantageously."
The implication was clear, and Josh felt his dislike for the man solidify. This was someone who viewed people—especially women—as conquests.
"A rather clinical approach," Josh observed. "Though I suppose diplomats and doctors share one thing in common."
"And what is that, Dr. Crawley?" Pamuk asked.
"We both believe in preventative measures when possible," Josh replied, his meaning intentionally ambiguous.
Pamuk's eyes narrowed slightly, as if sensing a challenge, but his smile remained intact. Before he could respond, Cora appeared to guide everyone toward the luncheon tables.
The meal passed pleasantly enough, though Josh remained acutely aware of Pamuk's attention to Mary. The diplomat was charming and attentive, his flirtation just subtle enough to remain within the bounds of propriety. Mary, for her part, seemed flattered by the attention, though Josh occasionally caught her glancing his way with an unreadable expression.
As lunch concluded, Josh found himself in conversation with Robert, discussing estate matters and hospital business. It was then that an idea formed—a plan that would allow him to intervene in the night's events.
"I've been meaning to ask," Josh said casually, "would it be possible for me to review some of the estate archives? I'm particularly interested in the agricultural history of Downton. It would help me understand the challenges facing the tenants."
Robert looked pleased by the request. "Of course! Most heirs wouldn't bother with such research. The archives are extensive, though. It might take more than an afternoon."
"Perhaps I could stay overnight?" Josh suggested. "That way I could work into the evening and continue tomorrow morning."
"An excellent idea," Robert agreed readily. "I'll have a room prepared. The blue guest room in the bachelor's corridor, I think."
Josh hid his satisfaction. The bachelor's corridor was perfectly positioned—close enough to the family bedrooms to intercept Pamuk, but separate enough that his presence there wouldn't seem unusual.
"Thank you," he said. "I'll send for some things from Crawley House."
By the time everyone returned to the house to rest and change for dinner, Josh's overnight bag had arrived, and he was installed in the blue guest room. The bachelor's corridor was quiet, most of the guests still resting after the hunt.
Josh took a moment to study the layout, refreshing his memory of Downton's upstairs geography. Mary's room was at the end of the family corridor, with Sybil and Edith's rooms nearby. To reach it from the bachelor's corridor, Pamuk would need to pass within feet of Josh's door.
Perfect.
Dinner that evening was a grand affair, with everyone in formal attire. Josh wore his best white tie and tails, aware of how presentation mattered in this world. When he entered the drawing room before dinner, he noticed Mary's slight double-take, her eyes widening briefly as she took in his appearance.
She looked stunning in an evening gown of deep crimson silk that left her shoulders bare, diamonds glittering at her throat and in her dark hair. As Josh approached her, he was acutely aware of Pamuk watching them from across the room.
"You look beautiful tonight," Josh said simply.
"Thank you," Mary replied, seeming genuinely pleased by the compliment. "Papa mentioned you're staying overnight to explore the archives."
"I hope you don't mind the imposition."
"Not at all," she said. "Though I wouldn't have taken you for an agricultural enthusiast."
"There's a lot you don't know about me yet," Josh replied with a hint of playfulness.
"Yet?" Mary raised an eyebrow. "That implies future discoveries."
"One can hope."
Their exchange was interrupted by Carson announcing dinner. To Josh's satisfaction, he found himself seated beside Sybil, with Mary across from him. Pamuk was several places down, beside Edith—a positioning that clearly displeased the diplomat.
Conversation flowed easily. Josh focused on engaging those around him, particularly Sybil, whose interest in women's rights and politics provided fertile ground for discussion. He was aware of Pamuk's increasingly frustrated attempts to capture Mary's attention across the table.
"You seem very interested in social reform, Lady Sybil," Josh observed. "That's refreshing to see."
Sybil beamed at his encouragement. "Most people think my interests are improper for a lady."
"Progress has never been achieved by adhering strictly to what's proper," Josh replied. "The most important medical advancements came from doctors willing to challenge convention."
"Exactly!" Sybil agreed enthusiastically. "That's what I always tell Papa, though he worries about my reputation."
"A reasonable concern," Josh acknowledged. "But there are ways to effect change while maintaining social position. The key is strategic action rather than blind rebellion."
He noticed Mary listening to their conversation with interest, her expression thoughtful. Pamuk, meanwhile, looked increasingly bored with Edith's attempts to engage him in discussion of Turkish culture.
When the ladies withdrew, leaving the men to their port and cigars, Josh found himself the target of Pamuk's sudden attention.
"You seem quite familiar with the Crawley family, Dr. Crawley," the diplomat observed, swirling his port. "Especially considering your recent arrival."
"We've formed a quick connection," Josh replied neutrally. "Family bonds often transcend time apart."
"Indeed," Pamuk said. "Though I notice your connection with Lady Mary seems particularly... warm."
The implied question hung in the air. Josh met the man's gaze directly. "Lady Mary is an intelligent, fascinating woman. I enjoy her conversation."
"Is that all you enjoy?" Pamuk pressed, a hint of challenge in his voice.
Several of the other gentlemen looked uncomfortable at this breach of etiquette. Robert cleared his throat pointedly.
"I think we've kept the ladies waiting long enough," he announced, rising from his chair. "Shall we join them?"
As they moved toward the drawing room, Josh fell into step beside Napier, who looked somewhat dejected.
"Sir Evelyn," Josh said quietly. "A word of advice—don't discount yourself too quickly. Flashy charm isn't always what wins in the end."
Napier looked surprised. "That's kind of you to say, Dr. Crawley. Though I fear Lady Mary has already made her preferences clear."
"The evening isn't over yet," Josh replied cryptically.
The remainder of the evening passed in the typical aristocratic fashion—music from the ladies, conversation in small groups, and card games for those so inclined. Josh observed Pamuk's increasing focus on Mary, the way he maneuvered to be near her at every opportunity. Mary seemed flattered by the attention, though Josh occasionally caught her glancing in his direction, as if gauging his reaction.
As the evening drew to a close, Josh made a point of yawning visibly. "If you'll excuse me," he said to the company at large, "I think I'll retire early. I want to make an early start on those archives tomorrow."
"Of course," Robert agreed. "Carson will show you to your room."
Josh caught Pamuk watching him with satisfaction—clearly believing he was removing himself as competition. If only he knew.
After going through the motions of preparing for bed, Josh waited until the house had quieted. The servants would have completed their duties and retired to their quarters. The family and guests would be asleep—or pretending to be.
It was time to act.
Josh changed from his nightclothes back into his trousers and shirt, grabbed a book and a newspaper from his bag, and silently made his way through the darkened corridors of Downton Abbey. He knew exactly where to position himself—in the family corridor, just outside Mary's room. There was a convenient chair already in place, probably normally used by Anna when waiting to be summoned.
He settled himself comfortably, arranging the newspaper and book on his lap, and prepared to wait. According to the story he remembered, Pamuk would make his move late tonight, somehow convincing Thomas to show him to Mary's room.
The house was eerily quiet, with only the occasional creak of settling timbers to break the silence. Josh checked his pocket watch by the dim light of a wall sconce—just after midnight. Perfect timing.
He had been waiting perhaps thirty minutes when he heard it—the soft sound of approaching footsteps, someone moving carefully to avoid detection. Josh calmly opened his newspaper, angling it to catch the meager light, and pretended to read.
The footsteps paused, then continued more slowly. Around the corner appeared Thomas, looking startled to find someone in the corridor. Behind him stood Kemal Pamuk, wearing a silk dressing gown over his nightclothes, his expression shifting from anticipation to shock at the sight of Josh.
"Dr. Crawley," Thomas stammered. "I didn't expect... that is..."
"Good evening, Thomas," Josh replied pleasantly, turning a page of his newspaper. "Mr. Pamuk. Trouble sleeping?"
Pamuk recovered quickly, his charm sliding back into place. "I was feeling a bit restless after the hunt. Mr. Barrow was kind enough to show me where I might find a book to read."
"How coincidental," Josh remarked, holding up his own book. "I had the same thought. Though I find the corridor outside Lady Mary's room an unusual place to search for literature."
Thomas paled visibly, realizing he'd been caught in a compromising situation. "I should return to my duties," he said quickly, backing away despite Pamuk's obvious displeasure.
Left alone with Josh, the diplomat's charm hardened into something colder. "You seem very concerned with Lady Mary's reading material, Dr. Crawley."
"I'm concerned with Lady Mary's reputation," Josh corrected mildly. "As I'm sure you understand, being a diplomat."
"This is hardly diplomatic of you," Pamuk observed, his accent thickening with annoyance.
"No," Josh agreed pleasantly. "It's protective. There's a difference."
"Lady Mary doesn't strike me as a woman who needs protection."
"Everyone needs protection sometimes, Mr. Pamuk. Even when they don't realize it." Josh turned another page of his newspaper. "Especially from guests who might forget the proper boundaries of hospitality."
Pamuk's eyes narrowed. "You're very sure of yourself, Doctor."
"I am," Josh agreed. "And I'm also very comfortable in this chair. I expect I'll be here all night. Reading. Very alertly reading."
The standoff lasted several seconds, tension crackling between them. Finally, Pamuk gave a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"It seems I was mistaken about English hospitality," he said coldly. "Good night, Dr. Crawley."
"Good night, Mr. Pamuk. Sleep well."
As the diplomat retreated, Josh allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. Crisis averted. Mary's reputation was safe, and the scandal that would have haunted her for years had been prevented with a simple intervention.
He settled back in his chair, genuinely reading now. He would stay the night as planned—just to be sure Pamuk didn't make another attempt. Besides, there was something fitting about standing guard over Mary, even if she would never know the full story.
The night passed quietly after that. Josh dozed occasionally but remained alert enough that no one could have passed without his knowledge. As dawn approached, he found himself genuinely engrossed in his book—a history of Yorkshire agriculture that Robert had lent him.
The first light of morning was filtering through the windows when he heard a door open. Looking up, he saw Mary emerging from her room, already dressed for the day in a simple morning gown. She stopped short at the sight of him.
"Dr. Crawley?" she exclaimed, clearly surprised. "What on earth are you doing here?"
Josh smiled sleepily, setting aside his book. "Good morning, Lady Mary. I was reading and must have dozed off."
"In the corridor? Outside my bedroom?" Her expression was a mixture of confusion and suspicion. "That's highly improper."
"Is it?" Josh feigned innocent confusion. "I was restless after dinner and thought a walk might help. Your father had mentioned some family portraits in this corridor that might interest me." He gestured vaguely to the walls. "I must have fallen asleep while studying them."
Mary's eyes narrowed skeptically. "In a chair. Conveniently positioned outside my door."
"A fortunate coincidence," Josh replied, standing and stretching casually. "Though I admit, the placement does look rather... deliberate in the light of day."
"Rather," Mary agreed dryly. "Were you guarding my virtue, Dr. Crawley?"
Josh met her gaze directly. "Would it bother you if I was?"
Before she could answer, a sudden commotion erupted from the bachelor's corridor. Raised voices, hurried footsteps, and then Carson appeared at the end of the hallway, his normally impassive face showing evident distress.
"My lady," he said, spotting Mary. "I must speak with his lordship immediately. There's been... an incident."
"What sort of incident?" Mary asked, immediately alert.
Carson hesitated, his eyes flickering briefly to Josh. "I'm afraid Mr. Pamuk has been found in his bed. He appears to have... passed away during the night."
Mary's face drained of color. "Dead?" she whispered, her hand flying to her throat. "How is that possible?"
"Dr. Clarkson has been summoned," Carson replied. "But it appears to have been natural causes. A heart attack, perhaps."
Josh stepped forward, his medical instincts taking over. "I should examine him. As a doctor, I might be able to help determine the cause."
Carson nodded gratefully. "That would be most appreciated, sir. If you'll follow me."
As they turned to go, Josh glanced back at Mary. Her expression was shocked, but also... relieved? It was hard to tell.
"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," she said, seeming to gather herself. "Yes, of course. It's just such a shock. He seemed so... vital last night."
"Death often comes unexpectedly," Josh replied. "Even to the young and seemingly healthy."
He followed Carson to Pamuk's room, where Napier stood looking distraught near the door. Inside, the Turkish diplomat lay in bed, his handsome face peaceful, as if he were merely sleeping. But the unnatural stillness told a different story.
Josh performed a cursory examination, though he already knew what he would find. There were no signs of violence or struggle, no indication of anything but a sudden, natural death.
"It appears to be a heart attack," he confirmed to the anxious faces watching him. "Some men have undetected heart conditions that can cause sudden death, even in someone young and otherwise healthy."
Robert had arrived during the examination, still tying his dressing gown. "This is a terrible tragedy," he said gravely. "Poor Napier—to lose your friend while under our roof."
"I can't believe it," Napier said, his face ashen. "We were talking just hours ago. He was fine, completely fine."
"These things can happen without warning," Josh explained gently. "There's nothing anyone could have done."
But as he spoke, his mind was racing. Pamuk had still died, despite his intervention. The man had been fated to die on this night, just in different circumstances. It was a sobering reminder that some events might be beyond his power to change.
The house was thrown into chaos by the death. Servants rushed to and fro, following Carson's urgent but hushed instructions. Guests were informed with appropriate gravity. Napier took on the responsibility of handling arrangements for his friend's body, showing admirable composure despite his shock.
Breakfast was a somber affair, with conversation muted and many seats empty. Mary appeared composed but pale, picking at her food without actually eating much. Josh watched her carefully, wondering what she was thinking. In this timeline, she had been spared the scandal of Pamuk dying in her bed, but the man's death clearly still affected her.
"It's just so sudden," Edith was saying. "He seemed perfectly healthy at dinner."
"These foreign travel schedules can be very taxing," Cora suggested. "Perhaps the strain was too much for his heart."
"The Turks will want a full report," Robert noted. "Napier is handling the immediate arrangements, but as his host, I bear some responsibility."
"You bear no responsibility whatsoever," Violet declared firmly. "The man died of natural causes in his sleep. It's tragic but hardly unprecedented."
After breakfast, Josh found himself alone with Mary in the small library. She had retreated there, presumably seeking solitude, and looked surprised when he entered.
"I apologize," he said immediately. "I didn't mean to intrude."
"It's fine," she replied, gesturing for him to stay. "I'm not actually sure I want to be alone right now."
Josh sat across from her, studying her face. "You're shaken by his death."
"Wouldn't anyone be?" Mary countered. "He was so young, so full of life. And then just... gone."
"Yes," Josh agreed. "It's a stark reminder of life's fragility."
Mary looked at him curiously. "You were outside my room all night, weren't you?"
Josh didn't bother denying it this time. "Yes."
"Why?"
"I had a feeling you might need protection," he said simply.
"From Mr. Pamuk?" Mary's eyebrows rose. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
"The way he watched you at dinner," Josh replied. "There was something... predatory in his interest. I didn't trust him."
Mary was quiet for a moment, her fingers tracing patterns on the arm of her chair. "You know what's strange?" she finally said. "Last night, before I fell asleep, I had the most peculiar feeling that someone would come to my door. I even considered leaving it unlocked." She looked up at him, her expression vulnerable in a way he'd never seen before. "Isn't that odd?"
"Very," Josh agreed, realizing how close the original timeline had come to playing out despite his intervention. "I'm glad you didn't."
"So am I," Mary whispered. "When I heard he'd died... my first thought was relief that it hadn't happened in my room. Isn't that terrible? To think such a thing when a man has just died?"
"It's human," Josh assured her. "And entirely understandable."
They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Mary spoke again.
"Thank you," she said simply. "For standing guard, even if it was unnecessary in the end."
"I'd do it again," Josh replied. And he meant it.
As he left Downton Abbey later that morning, Josh couldn't shake the sense that despite his intervention, some events were destined to unfold in certain ways. Pamuk had still died, just not in the circumstances he remembered.
It was a humbling realization. He had the power to change some things—to help Bates with his leg, to give Gwen an opportunity, to spare Mary a scandal—but other events might be beyond his control.
The game was more complex than he'd initially thought. But as he walked back to Crawley House under the spring sunshine, Josh found himself more determined than ever to make the most of this second chance—to help where he could, to protect those he cared about, and to build a future for Downton that honored its past while embracing the changes to come.
Behind him, Downton Abbey stood as it had for centuries, weathering tragedies and celebrations alike. It would endure this death as it had endured countless others. And life, as it always did, would go on.