Absolutely! THANK YOU FOR THE PROMPT! I’m setting this in the mid-1920′s; the Bransons have moved out of Downton, but are still living in England, a few hours away from Downton by train.
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“Oh! What about that place? What are they selling? Tom, be a dear and pull the car over please!”
Tom gritted his teeth but forced a smile for his mother-in-law and did as she asked, pulling the car to the side of the road, before turning and looking helplessly at his wife. “This is the fifth time,” he muttered under his breath.
Sybil sighed and glanced over her shoulder at her mother, who had already climbed out of the car without any help, and was hurrying to the little roadside stand, her granddaughter in tow, who seemed to be sharing her grandmother’s enthusiasm for these constant stops.
It was meant to be a simple little drive to the seaside, a chance to enjoy these last days of summer before the weather began to chill. Robert and Cora were visiting, but sometime on the train journey over, Robert’s hayfever began to act up, so he remained in bed, while Cora announced she would still make the journey.
The trip would take just a little under two hours, however it seemed to be taking a great deal longer. It was Sybil’s fault, initially; she asked Tom to drive down a specific road because she knew there was a kind farmer who sold some of the best fruit in all of Yorkshire, and she wanted to get some strawberries to preserve for the winter (something her mother-in-law had taught her to do). Cora had heard of such “road-side fruit stands” but had never stopped at them. Not a mile later, they drove passed another one, this being a book cart of all things. Sybbie, who shared her parents love for reading, squealed and begged her father to stop the car so she could get a book, and Tom indulged her, seeing as this was a special holiday.
But then just a few miles more, it was Cora who asked Tom to slow down when another stand came into view. An old woman was selling glass beads, hardly anything “worthy” of the Countess of Grantham. Yet Sybbie saw the beads and declared, “Grandma, those would look beautiful on you!” and that was that.
The fourth stop had been a peddler, whose porcelain china had Tom inwardly questioning if the man was the original owner, but he didn’t say anything, and plastered a patient smile on his face as he watched his mother-in-law look over the peddler’s wares, admiring various knick-knacks, but never thinking she would actually buy something…until she did.
“Do you think Donk will like this snuff box?” Cora asked Sybbie, who was nodding her head before the question had been completed.
Tom narrowed his eyes as he watched the peddler consider the price of such an item. Cora was not used to “haggling”, in fact he highly doubted that the Countess of Grantham had ever “haggled” for anything in her life! And the peddler looked as if he had struck a goldmine when Cora drew her coin purse out.
Tom cleared his throat and fixed the peddler with a hard look, one which the other man caught, and he grimaced momentarily, before politely lowering the price from what he had originally been calculating.
Now they were at their fifth stop…and still had an hour of driving left before they reached their destination.
“At this rate, it will be dark by the time we get there!” he muttered to Sybil.
Sybil glanced at her mother and daughter and despite Tom’s words (which had a great deal of truth) she couldn’t help but smile. “Perhaps today isn’t about the destination but the journey?” she offered, which caused Tom to frown in confusion. Sybil smiled up at him and squeezed his hand. “Look at Sybbie; she’s having a grand time simply traveling and ‘shopping’, if you will, with Mama.”
Tom looked at his daughter and found himself nodding in agreement. She was giggling and grinning quite happily. “I suppose,” he murmured, putting his arm around Sybil’s shoulders, smiling himself as he felt her lean her head down against his own shoulder.
“Da! Mummy!” Sybbie turned and waved her little arms. “Wait till you see what Grandma bought!”
Tom and Sybil’s smile faded then. “She’s already bought something?” he asked his wife, who had already begun to move quickly towards the stand to investigate the purchase. He groaned, imagining the lecture Robert would give them when he learned all that Cora had bought (and how much she had paid).
“Next time we have one of these drives with my mother,” Sybil muttered to him, “we’re bringing your mother along.”
Musings of a Yankee Countess 