Just a short interim post about a TV show idea... THE UNITED STARS OF AMERICA...title actually STARS OF AMERICA, detailing a time when a terraformed Mars (the place we read about in EL RANCHO TEXACO) a tinkered with Moon... a few asteroids and perhaps the Jovian moon, Europa have all been absorbed by What used to be THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA....
Anthem - Oh beautiful For spacious skies And amber waves of grain Oh sun kissed planets majesty Upon the solar plain America, America God shed His grace on thee And crown thy good With brotherhood As far as Man can see...
The Senate is hereditary.
Unbelievably long space 'trains' knit the worlds together. Each named for a classic train, such as The City of New Orleans... The City of Philadelphia... The City of Los Angeles.. (ok, ok, I know you get it by now...)
Citizens of each world can be identified by their height. Low gravity worlds produce taller people (on average). High gravity worlds breed shorter people.
Probes tentatively observe nearby star systems, discovering a world with a civilization roughly equal to Renaissance Europe and a humanoid, though vaguely vulpine populace.
Not all of Earth has been annexed. An equally strong China, ruled by an Emperor, controls vast swaths of Asia, Most of Australia, Siberia and parts of Africa, plus outposts on the dwarf planet Ceres in the asteroid belt and huge, man made 'hollow worlds' positioned strategically throughout the solar system..
All of this makes for a very complicated polity, indeed.
We follow three families... One on Earth (with grandparents who live on the Moon).... One on Mars and another on Europa (which is rich in fairly intelligent animal life of its own).. Each has a member who is in some way pivotal to the future of humanity....(thus the STARS OF AMERICA has another meaning)
Oh, yeah, by the way, the Imperial Chinese refer to their hollow, globular, 'metallic' worlds as 'Silver Bells,' for each can resonate with an entirely different tone.
And American military space vehicles fall into four primary classes... archangels... clippers... flatboats and Conestogas.
In the course of the show, the first of the vulpine aliens begin arriving in our solar system.... and, uh, that's it... for now... until my brain spits out some new stuff.
<more Downton Abbey new narrative next time>
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The house was quiet. Henry and Tom were off in the midlands talking to materials suppliers. Count Cosimo di Lorenzi was already enroute and would reach London in approximately one week. The artist's renderings were done. Their first car, the B.T. Dragon, progressed nicely. Henry could already feel his hands 'round the dark, polished, walnut wheel.
Robert and Cora slept upstairs. The room was dark, but low voices discussing an international crisis escaped from a small wireless with one, big, pale yellow eye.... Almost everyone else slumbered too. All was snug... windows and doors locked up tight.
But whispery voices broke the silence in a small, main floor, morning room right off the kitchen. Lady Mary sat in a chintz covered chair, opposite John Bates. The space was dim, lit only by the glowing embers in a small, marble fronted fireplace. She hugged an accent pillow and said - He's a mean, vindictive, evil person. You know that. This won't stop him. My God, he knows every newspaperman in London and you know how they are. People hang themselves over tabloid scandals. We got off this time, but there has to be a way to shut him up for good. If not for us, than for the next generation. Family, staff, friends... and sometimes the second two overlap, Bates you know how it is? ... We're all fair game. At least to him we are. He must have been sick at all the opportunities he had to pass up. But he signed an agreement... Had to bide his time and wait... Set it up to look like someone else did it....
And he dredged up the oldest scandal of all. Probably had a connection in The War Office. That's what I think - said Bates.
Poor Lucas - said Lady Mary..... Bates sighed in agreement and added - At least he has a life now, a good life.... But how unfair that he has a family. He's found us after all these years, yet due to God awful 'rules' he can't be a part of it. - she said.
Bates clenched his jaw, remembering how Anna suffered. Then he cleared his throat and whispered - I want him 'gone' too.
What do we do about it? - said Mary.
I know some people in the city. Give me a little time - said Bates...... She nodded.
Now it was an open secret that their quarry dabbled in the occult. Sir Richard often attended lectures and seminars at a certain commodious residence on Houston Street... the 'mother house' of The Hermetic Order of The Golden Dawn. Those familiar with our never ending narrative might remember when our Philadelphia night-folk family visited that place... and, by the way, that place is real. Well, lately the immoral publisher (that's what they called him there) was studying hypnotism... the arts of von Mesmer... Maybe the techniques in question might be used against him? The power of suggestion is very hard to resist....
All you have to do is 'push.'
And Bates could do that with ease.
Perhaps the bastard would leap from a rooftop, or set himself ablaze?
Hypnotism can achieve that....
So can a well planned murder.....
<more next time>
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There were six of them there that day. It was cold and gray, but a snug fire kept them warm and Sprat made sure everyone had enough hot tea discretely 'flavoured' with fine Irish Whiskey. Even the dowager took part. Denker sat just behind her and whispered in her ear---- I think he comes for the cold roast beef.... Lady Violet stifled a giggle. No one paid attention. They were all busy writing. Each 'meeting' began with an activity. Tablets and pencils were passed around. Everyone was busy thinking or scribbling. 'Earliest Childhood Recollections'---- that was the topic. Isobel suggested it last time. She loved the salon and already had two copybooks jammed full of her careful script. A gentry couple, well known for their prize collies, the elderly sister of a neighboring viscount and one of the senior Penningtons (with publishing connections) rounded out the group. Some days there were more, but the early March cold kept many of their mature contemporaries home.
The dowager didn't mind. Every piece in her 'cottage' had a history. To be truthful, she didn't trust some of them. Certain people never learn their way around fine things, even if they grew up with them.... especially that Pennington gentleman. Denker said he was a blowhard, always going on about his 'connections in The City.' Isobel thought he was only trying to impress Lady Violet... an eager suitor of sorts. So she watched him over her tablet, as she wrote something down.
A few minutes later, when the clock chimed, they stopped.... Pencils down! - went the dowager. Now, who wants to go first?.... The man who raised collies told of being in Paris with his parents in either eighteen forty nine or eighteen fifty, just before legendary city planner, Baron Hausman tore down the old medieval quarters to make way for all the modern boulevards and parkways... He said it was like a lost world.... The sister of the viscount shared memories of a crossing to Bermuda during the American Civil War and told of coming back with carefully wrapped bolts of fine sea isle cotton...... Isobel, ever the introspective sort, told of warm, buttery bowls of porridge and a cairn terrier named Robbie. She remembered games of hi-ho-the derrio.... Most recalled a nation plunged into mourning when the prince-consort, Prince Albert, died in eighteen sixty one. The City of London pressured all property owners to paint any wrought iron fencing and trim black in remembrance, giving the capital the coordinated 'look' it has to this day.
The secretary Lady Violet hired to transcribe and polish these memories whispered that they should include more aristocratic details. Readers appreciated those things. But at least they were making progress and getting used to the task at hand. No reason to doubt that a book, or some sort of serialized publication would not be forthcoming.
Then the elder Pennington gentleman turned toward Lady Violet and said - What does our esteemed doyenne have to add?.... She thought for a moment and said - I, Mister Pennington, clearly remember missives from India detailing how a much loved aunt loaded the guns during the siege of Hyderabad during the Sepoy troubles. That's how old I am. Perhaps you did not know?.... Her suitor said - Perhaps I do not care?.... Denker let loose with a judgmental 'humph!' The others feigned interest in their notes, or the sounds of dinner preparations coming from the dining room.
Sometimes subtle hints are not enough...
<more next time>
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You see, Sir Richard and his 'silent partner,' Lord Castle-Ross kept close watch on Lucas. If they lost him, they'd lose the whole thing. What proof would they have? So they tailed him day and night. A few days back, when he stopped Lady Mary in the street, or when he did the same to Lord Robert, they knew about it. Such things only helped move the plot along. But as Carlisle and Castle-Ross were watching Lucas, Mr. Bates was watching them. Few realized the Crawley's employed one of the best 'fixers' around. Most thought he was simply a dedicated valet. Well, he was, though that was simply his cover. John Bates did his job well. No fuss. No noise.
It was easy to find a nice looking creole gentleman of indeterminate race in London, the Empire's a very big place, after all. And when he crossed the lobby of a certain respectable hotel and exited through the front door a certain dapper, business type surrendered his leather club chair and fell in behind. Ten minutes later, the real gentleman in question, Lucas, came down in the lift and exited a side door. That's how he gave them the slip and wound up at Lord Beryl's office. Bates wasn't even there when it happened, but he has people too. Look, if you want to succeed in the world, 'people' are nice to have.
So now Lucas was on a mail flight to Calais, en route to his ship. Seven days hence he'd disembark in Baltimore, spend a week or so being tutored in the fundamentals before boarding a cross country luxury train for Los Angeles. 'Hollywood' is a wonderful place, indeed...
And to say that the Carlisle / Castle-Ross plan was in disarray might be a bit of an understatement, for those in the know swore that Sir Richard Carlisle had what appeared to be a minor stroke, thus freeing his notorious, press-lord friend to gleefully ruin another prominent family. The working classes ate it up. What other revenge did they have?
Life went on at Grantham House and Lady Cora never knew a thing. Tom and Henry commissioned the team at a highly recommended 'machine' shop to draw up plans for their soon-to-be luxury motor car, the Branson-Tolbert 'Dragon.'... Of course they might only make five B.T. Dragons in all of year one and subsequent cars would be by order only, but the estate took care of day to day expenses. Any profits would be immediately plowed back into the business... a sweet deal and it just might work. Long and sleek... a 'sporty' town-car sedan, available in dark, glossy gun-metal, midnight navy blue and ebony. Next there'd be a meeting with Count Cosimo di Lorenzi for coachworks and interiors. Then the fun begins.
Up north, in 'The Abbey,' things were happening too. Lady Violet's literary salon took off. There were weekly teas (like casual dinners) and the dowager really detested the informality of it all, but such was life. Memories poured like wine and before long they had more than enough transcribed reminiscences for a year of monthly runs in some magazine or another. Her mature colleagues hinted at Lady Edith's publication, but the Dowager Countess of Grantham wasn't sure they were ready for such notoriety, though deep down, she rather liked the idea... 'The Age of Innocence' English style, but true in every way... She chuckled to herself. Denker asked if she wanted a charcoal pill and got a dirty look for her concern. What business was it to these salon types how her digestion operated? If only Denker understood such things.
Thus was February, 1926, with The Crawleys... a close call... some exciting business news and a bit of potential media fun.
Martha Levinsohn's as yet unannounced springtime visit was still two or three months in the future... a sudden regret at missing the weddings and a need to see her great-grandchildren, you know.
Once she discovered that Lady Mary was expecting, who knew how long she'd stay? At her age, she'd want to see the birth.
But by then they'd likely all be crazy...
<more next time>
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The meeting didn't take place anywhere near Grantham House. There are special firms that handle things like this and none of them are close to Mayfair or Belgravia. 'Scandal Houses' they're called... discrete suites of offices tucked away on respectable, though nondescript thoroughfares. Robert arrived first, then Bates and finally Lucas. That's how the drivers arranged it. Weakest party enters last, confronted by, shall we say, his 'betters.' Bates could have come over with Lord Robert, but best to keep all parties separate.... Attract as little attention as possible.
They waited in a small conference room. A young woman served coffee. There was a tray filled with savory, open-faced breakfast sandwiches. The ubiquitous 'tall clock' ticked in a corner.... An older gentlemen, Sir Beryl, spoke first. He said - The important thing is to stress the cordiality and sincerity of all concerned. Actual agreements will be kept to a minimum.... And the amount in question? - asked Robert. Is it 'normal' in these circumstances? What kind of life will it afford him?.... Quite a nice life, actually - said the solicitor. If he opts for The States and I think he will, he'll live very well. New York would have never worked. You have in-laws there, your wife's family and there's no way she, or any of her people can ever learn of this...... My daughter and Mrs. Bates are very close. They share everything. How should we handle that? - asked Robert..... The gentleman gestured toward Bates and responded - Well, Mr. Bates will have to sign a nondisclosure agreement.... Bates cleared his throat, nodded and whispered - Of course..... Robert mouthed - Thank you.....
Now, knowing the ways of that household, it's quite possible, a few years down the line, everybody involved will know everything anyway. But it will happen in a natural and subtle manner. Given the loyalty they all have for each other the secret will be safe... just another episode locked in the collective conscience of Downton Abbey...
Then Lucas was brought in. He was scared. He was quiet. He was torn. Robert was his only surviving parent. He wanted to salvage whatever could be salvaged. The other ones, the people who found him first, had other aims. They sought humiliation and ruin. In his heart, Lucas did not want that. In fact, it's the last thing he wanted.
Robert offered his hand. It was accepted.... Sir Beryl said - I believe all preliminary agreements have been signed. You, my boy (indicating Lucas) will be established in Los Angeles. No longer half English and half Zulu, but a wealthy Colombian, raised in European schools. There will be a property somewhere in the new, glossy, western part of town, a car and eventually a 'couple' to keep house. Sufficient funds are already on hand with Bank of America. We've used them before, a highly reliable organization. Who knows? Perhaps someday, hopefully not too far in the future, quiet 'family' visits might take place. I've seen it happen before. The important thing is to keep you away from Sir Richard Carlisle and his cabal. They'd chew you up and throw you out in a minute. Don't doubt that..... Believe me, sir, I don't - said Lucas.... Good - said Sir Beryl. Now, as far as that group is concerned, you'll disappear. You'll cease to exist. I'm told they have photographs?..... They might - whispered Lucas..... Fabrications. Photographers' tricks. Nothing more - said the solicitor. It's almost impossible to prove the genuineness of a photograph in a court of law.....
Then they made small talk. The young woman came back in, transferred the breakfast sandwiches into a warming tray, brought fresh coffee and left...
When they were done, Lord Robert slipped out through one door... After a time, Mr. Bates left by another... and a few hours later, as dusk began to fall, a well dressed, newly minted 'Colombian' gentleman, exited a third.
London keeps its secrets...
Lady Mary knew the details... but no one else did, least of all her mother, Cora.
That night they all had a fine dinner. Lady Rosamund brought friends from the literary world and a professional harpist provided Celtic airs...
If you haven't already watched the video up above, take a look at it now. Mayfair was like that in the twenties too...
A very special place to be...
<more next time>
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It was one of those 'white' days. The sky was white and featureless. The grass was drab and colorless. Winter can be that way. Some days are moist and clear and blue, while others are like this. Lady Mary kept to herself. Henry and Tom went to see an automotive machinist operation across the Thames. They really do plan to press on with this motor car thing. Her father was ostensibly at 'the club,' but that was just a ruse. Lord Grantham was off with Lucas at some solicitor's office. Even Bates was in for the day. That's how important it was. If they could sincerely befriend Lucas... if they could forge some kind of a real link with that young man from South Africa, perhaps all 'the trouble' can be avoided?
How they got him away from his handlers was a master stroke in itself. God bless John Bates. God bless Anna too... home with the new baby and all. If this works, a few thousand outright will be transferred to a discrete little bank in York and a certain highly esteemed domestic couple will be very well fixed, indeed. Look, as far as Bates is concerned the 'domestic' aspect has been a ploy since day one. Even Cora suspected. Thank God she didn't know the rest of it.
So Mary sat there on a chaise lounge artfully placed in a little second story landing tableau, listening to a jazz recording and gazing through an old pair of mother-of-pearl opera glasses at what was going on across the square..... Notorious, tabloid, newspaper publisher, Sir Richard Carlisle oversaw the arrival of his 'things.'.... Probably bought them all in mass from some distressed noble, or gentry family... No, there's no 'probably.' That's how he did it. That's how he is.... And that man was trying to destroy them. Oh, there'd be 'fronts.' He knows everybody in that amoral, sensationalist cabal. None could pin it all on him, but his greasy fingerprints were all over it.
Mary loathed him... To think they'd almost married. God bless Carson. His disapproval was the thing. A butler... especially one as rarified as he, 'knows.'... Mary loved him.... What would he make of all this?
If the morning went well it might all be over... at least the scandal part. Lucas would be set up for life... not in South Africa. He'd never go back there. They'd place him somewhere in Canada, or America, or Australia, or the British Caribbean... There'd be no public acknowledgement, but rather a private arrangement beneficial to all. Would Cora find out?.... How would she take it? Infidelity is infidelity and sometimes she can be so 'American' about things.
Nothing is easy.... To think, a fortnight ago Edith went off with Bertie, Anna had her baby and all was right with the world.
Well, the world turns.....
So she sat there, watching through her grandmother's opera glasses, as a vindictive enemy climbed ever higher, beneath a bone-white sky...
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Cora didn't know. Robert was sure of it. He'd almost forgotten about the whole thing itself. Odd to think of a son as an almost forgotten thing. But that's how it was. One paid people to 'cover up' and life went on. Look at Edith... 'poor old Edith'... even she did that and now she's the wife of a marquis. But the truth doesn't go away. It's always there... waiting to spill out, like wine in a carafe on a table full of drunks.
The War Office knew, or certain men within it knew. John Bates knew. He was one of the first.. Bates knew everything there was to know about almost every member of the Downton household. Look, do you want to know what he was? He was 'the fixer.' All the big men had one.... that person charged with 'hiding things.' Even Bates was hidden. Being valet to Lord Robert, the earl, was only his cover. And now he had 'Lucas' to worry about....
Lady Mary was sure her new found half brother was being manipulated by unseen forces. Her father felt so too. What else could they think? Perhaps it was shared blood? Save for the light brown skin tone he looked so much like one of them. For God's sake, he WAS one of them. Official acknowledgement was remote. 'Racial' prejudice wasn't even considered a prejudice. It was just how things were. Few questioned it. Fewer even cared.
The thing is, they were re-opening Tea Pot Dome investigations in Washington. Mary heard it on the wireless. It was in all the papers. Her Uncle Harold in New York had a close call. They almost prosecuted him in the first g0-round, but Robert, supposedly a blameless, British peer of the first rank, vouched for him. Character witnesses were big back then. But what if it came out that the earl's character was... shall we say, less than sterling? What then? Everything is connected. Life is like a big Tinker Toy just waiting to fall down.
So that's how it was... a season, or at least part of a season, in London... waiting for the next shoe to fall. There were dinners and 'assemblies' (formal dances) ... trips to the theater. Mary and her new husband, Henry, saw the acclaimed, West End production of SHOWBOAT at The Haymarket Theater. She cried during most of the performance. Some parts of the plot came too close to home.
Then there was the gossip. People said a house across the square had been sold. The old owner, a Miss Hammersmith, from an ancient, august gentry family had died. Relations in Canada wanted the cash and a certain notorious newspaperman wanted the house....
Sir Richard Carlisle was coming to St. James Square.... The Merlin behind the magic, revealed...
Oh, he'd never claim credit. He couldn't... But that doesn't mean he wouldn't stir the pot.
Old enemies never really disappear. They just plot and wait.
<more Downton next time>
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