A./N.: You have no idea how hard it was for me to write this chapter ... or you actually may becuase of the time gone by since the last chapter and my focus on other stories lately. But my preseverance paid off at last and I can publish this chapter today. I hope you'll like it and drop me a note.

… and Happy the Corpse the Rain Rains On

While Charles Carson serenely led his new wife Elsie Carson out of the church into a slightly chilly but sunny spring day, being peppered with white blossoms and rice, the sky over the Cork Dockyard was grey and cold. Heavy drops of icy rain fell onto the bleak yard, cloaking everything in even more gloom and depression. Most of the convicts were sick with almost chronic influenza or diarrhoea due to the wet, cold weather and poor quality of their barracks. There was mould in the very air they breathed, further inhibiting their health, while the food they were doled out was barely edible, hardly conductive to restore the convicts' strength to combat the elements. It was made of scraps and barely seasoned, utterly tasteless.

"How fitting," Grigg grumbled hoarsely under his breath, staring gloomily down into his bowl of food. "Revenge certainly lost its sweet taste."

A fellow convict – a very talk-active fellow convict, Grigg might add – chuckled mirthlessly, sitting close enough to hear his mutterings. "It never does feel as good as expected and only gets you into trouble," he agreed bitterly. "Who would have thought my partner would take it badly that I took a little more than my share of the money to get back at him for going behind my back in business, huh? Go figure, his wife told him, when I did it all for her so we could run off together."

Grigg had no desire to converse with the man, so he only gave a noncommittal grunt, spooning up his runny porridge. The once so sociable man had withdrawn from everyone around him, keeping his distance from the other convicts. They all thought him rather stuck up and arrogant. Until now Grigg had always been able to charm the people around him, to manipulate them into doing whatever he wanted them to. He had charmed Charles Carson, enough to leave his secure, protected life and join him on the stage. He had manipulated him into the most ridiculous roles and schemes. Alice had been almost too easily charmed in her eagerness for romance and excitement. She had fallen head over heels for his empty promise and insincere compliments, dropping Charles like a hot potato and breaking his earnest heart in the process. These hardened criminals, though, had little patience for him and his scheming. Most of them simply wanted

Unbeknown by Grigg, he had become very unpopular with his fellow inmates. They were regarding him with suspicion and utter dislike. In their eyes he thought himself superior to them, as somehow better than the common criminal he was. Grigg had always harped on about being a sorely misunderstood artist who was wrongfully sentenced because of some wretched woman. He had driven his overseers and 'co-workers' mad with his grand speeches about not being made for hard labour. Charles Grigg, convict number 19134937, had shirked his work when- and wherever he could, but had demanded more privileges than the rest. He was becoming a problem … and they couldn't allow that.

After their lunch break the convicts slowly drudged back to the docks, shoulders hunched against the rain, caps drawn into their faces. A small group of men hung back a little from the main crowd. They were huddled together, talking quietly but intently between them while keeping an eye on the wards standing close by. Their eyes often darted to the oblivious back of Grigg, glaring daggers at him. There certainly was an atmosphere in the air … a murderous one.

oOoOoOo

Violet Crawley's misty gaze was directed onto the happily married couple, but focussed on something in the distant past. She could see herself in frilly Victorian crinoline dress, veil over her face and white roses braided into her flaming hair. It had been said in the village that there never had been a more beautiful bride in Downton – and while Violet had been inclined to agree, she couldn't deny that today Mrs … Carson had taken her breath away. Her smile had been radiant, her complexion fair and her hair glossy … pregnancy certainly seemed to suit her. Most notable, though, was the happy sparkle in her eyes, the rosy cheeks, and the brilliant smile. Their housekeeper radiated happiness and she was glorious with it.

The formidable old lady was seldom lost for words or moved to tears, but today she freely admitted to being touched and nostalgic. She missed her husband terribly while simultaneously sharing Mr Carson's unadulterated happiness – awash with conflicting emotions.

Nearby she could see her two children, living, breathing prove of the love she had once shared with her husband, now lost. Robert and Rosamunde both held a glass of champagne in their hands and were amiably chatting with each other. That in itself was a miracle on the scale of fishes and loaves! Robert had often followed Charles Carson around the estate, copying some of the older boy's mannerisms and confiding in the boy, building a solid friendship over the hurdles of class distinctions. Today Robert, Earl of Grantham, had given his housekeeper away to his childhood friend and Violet could see clearly that her son couldn't contain his own happiness and merriment.

Even Rosamunde, who had held a youthful crush on the dashing young footman, tall and darkly handsome, was all smiles for the newly-wed couple. Early today Violet's eyes had bulged in utmost surprise when Mary had recounted a story from Anna, saying that Rosamunde had been up in the attics to visit Mrs Hughes. The noblewoman had given the bride her very best wishes and then given her a small sapphire broach as 'something burrowed'. Violet knew the broach very well. She herself had pinned it to her daughter's dress on her own wedding day to Mr Painswick 'as something old', it was an heirloom passed down from mother to daughter in her family. This spoke volumes of the high regard the family had for their housekeeper and of how supportive and united the family stood behind Mr and Mrs Carson.

oOoOoOo

Grigg stood on a railing around the stern of the big luxury liner they were commissioned to build – or at least help to build. The overseers had given him a fool-proof job with the words "even you can't mess this up". He was supposed to paint the gigantic rump of the ship … not alone, mind; others were also rigged along the ship in intervals, busily coating it with whitewash and paint. Only Grigg was more concerned with keeping warm by burrowing deeper into his coat. His brush lay long forgotten next to him, but he seemed wholly unconcerned by it all.

Below him the same small group of men watched him gallfully. They had planned to wait for an opportune moment and teach the upstart a much needed lesson about prison rules and the picking order. The best moment would be when the next shift of guards came and distracted the men of the previous shift with questions if anything out of the ordinary had happened. With the guards sufficiently distracted, they wouldn't look out for trouble and Grigg could be dealt with. Right now he was out of their reach – figuratively and literally.

oOoOoOo

Lady Grantham stood at the edge of the wedding reception, taking in the hustle and bustle around her and making sure everything necessary was at hand. Normally she would be at the centre of the gathering, playing the gracious hostess, but today she was more than happy to stand back and leave the limelight for Mrs Carson.

It was an odd role reversal for the lady and her housekeeper. Mrs Carson had never been a vain woman, never revelling in due praise for her work like Mr Carson did in his 'style and show', but today she was the centre of everybody's attention as was proper on her wedding day. She truly was a blushing bride, shyly accepting the well wishes of her friends and colleagues. Their trusty butler stood steadfastly by his bride's side, supporting her with his bulk by providing a sturdy frame to lean up against – something Cora had observed her housekeeper do frequently as of late, smiling devotedly up at him as she did so.

Her own marriage had started under very different circumstances. She hadn't been in love with her fiancé back then. Simply doing as she had been told and at least confident that Robert Crawley was an honourable man, much better than some of the aristocratic men she had danced with at balls in London. Time had proven that her intuition had been right. Robert was a good husband and a loving father, wooing her in his own careful, understated way. Now her marriage was one of mutual love and devotion. Her wish was that her loyal housekeeper would know the same happiness and love that she knew. Looking covertly up at Mr Carson, Cora was sure that she would.

Hiding a little smirk behind a gloved hand, her eyes sparkling mischievously, the lady of the manor wandered towards the guests of honour. She had a last surprise up her sleeve and she wouldn't be delayed in her wish to see their reaction.

oOoOoOo

Grigg was hanging precariously over the rail of his support structure, trying to reach the brush, in a bucket dangling off a cord tied to the rail, without hauling the whole thing up – every exertion he could avoid with a little ingenuity, he would avoid.

"Just look at that clod …" Jim Parker said to his friend, shaking his head in disbelief at such clumsiness and laziness. "The bloke obviously wants everything served to him on a silver platter and even thinks he deserves it as his right. I hate self-righteous pricks! They give as a bad name."

Which in itself was a rather ironic statement since they were all criminals of various degrees, but contrary to popular belief there's honour amongst thieves and low lives; except when it came to Charlie Grigg. That scum ball had no honour.

At the beginning he had bragged about his deeds, obviously hoping for sympathy and recognition from the other convicts. The rape, for which he had been tried and sentenced, had not been the first. Soon, though, he had realised that his fellow inmates weren't impressed by his crime, but instead rather disgusted.

Jim Parker in particular had been annoyed with Grigg's disgusting smugness. He sat in because he had beaten the man, who had raped his sister, to a bloody pulp und had just been restrained before cutting off some very valuable body parts. Now he took pride in his prison sentence and would do it again any time. For days Mr Parker had waited to give Grigg his comeuppance – and finally the day was right.

Leisurely he strolled down the dock with the long planks for an addition to the rail. He made sure to avoid other workers and managed to come very close to Grigg's rail. It was raggedy and crudely made, sway slightly to and fro with Grigg's movement on top - a very accurate reflexion of its builder. A good kick and the whole thing would shake violently, scaring the lazy ass up there. Before Parker could even draw back his leg and take aim, a warning shout rang out and Parker whirled around. He had forgotten the long, heavy planks on his shoulders, though. With a resounding clank of wood against wood the planks connected with the rail. They shook the whole structure, sending buckets and utensils raining down on the onlookers.

A terrified scream suddenly filled the air around them. Grigg, who had been near the top of the ship's body, had lost his balance, waving his arms frantically to prevent himself from falling, but it was a futile exercise. The more he wrung his arms, the more unstable the structure became, swinging dangerously with Grigg's momentum. With a last plaintive cry Grigg was thrown from the rail by his own movements, tumbling down 10 m and crashing into the unforgiving concrete pavement of the dock. His arms were spread-eagle as if he tried to slow his fall this way or take flight. His eyes were huge and terrified, betraying that he knew what the outcome would be.

For long moments no one around his shattered, broken body moved or made even the tiniest sound. Grigg's eyes stared up at them, empty, lifeless. His limps stuck out at odd angles from his body. More disturbingly was the odd angle of Grigg's neck. His fall had broken it. Parker and his cronies were in shock; they had wanted to teach Grigg a lesson in social conduct, not kill him. Even tough, Parker couldn't help to think that there was a sense of justice; a violent end for a violent, selfish man.