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The sea swayed beneath her, soothing her with a calming sound. So this was 1920. How was she spending it? Hiding away from a sea monster. She looked down over the rail, as if to expect him to jump right out of the depths and grab her that very second. She sighed. Where was Anna? Oh how she felt so sad for her. Not two weeks ago had her husband been taken from this world, locked away for a crime he did not commit. Her situation was not much better though. On a boat, to hide away in New York for god knows how long with only with her ladies maid for company (even if she was a dear friend) and her slightly distant American grandmother. Why does one mistake have to scar somebody's life so dreadfully? I mean, surely if you are sorry for it and you regret it with all your heart, God should forgive you?
Has Matthew forgiven her?
"M'lady, the captain has said we will be arriving in New York soon, should I get your bags together?"
"Yes please Anna" she said, turning towards her and plastering a soft smile onto her face.
So Anna hurried up to the cabin, leaving Mary alone once more alone with her thoughts. Matthew dear Matthew, she thought, he had been quite the Perseus, ridding the family of that horrible man. However, the Sea Monster's wrath was still to come. Would the family be told beforehand? She could only imagine poor Sybil's reaction, and Isobel's. In truth there weren't that many family members in the dark now. But all the same they would be ashamed of her, upset, confused. How she wished she had Matthew was here with her. It was funny, after the servants' ball when he came outside to her, she had half hoped they could have sorted things out, but alas, it was just another regular conversation. Going on about boats, America, England, anything but what she wanted him to say.
Eventually Mary decided to retire back inside away from the deck, and she sat down on the nearest sofa. She ordered a drink and sat peacefully for a while, hoping her worries would just float away. They didn't. Would he have published it by now? She wringed her hands together. The whole of England, glaring down at the cold and careful Lady Mary. What if people in America found out? Hopefully Grandmama would keep them out, she thought.
What about her family? She has fled to America before the scandal has broken to leave her family to deal with her wrong doing. It wasn't right, Papa shouldn't have to go through that. But at least she had closure with Matthew, they were friends once more, and she hoped he would write to her occasionally, keep her in touch with home, and him of course.
She had left. She had gone. The ship had sailed away. Gone. Why had he let her go? He thought he could get used to it, get over her, but as he paced the room, he realised that he couldn't. He had waved her off before she got onto the train, a smile and words of luck, should he have said more? He ran his hand though his hair, frustrated. There was nothing he could do about it now anyway.
Anna and Mary soon found their way off the large vessel and headed for the awaiting car. The chauffeur, who soon introduced himself as Nicholls, helped to load the trunks onto the car, and held the door open for the two women. He started the engine, and they drove.
As they approached what they assumed was Grandmama's mansion, they took in their surroundings. A light cobbled road, surrounded by the vibrant green gardens, water features, statues, acres and acres of open space surrounding a gorgeous mansion. Not as tall and grand as Downton, she admitted, but the great stone steps leading up to the entrance really did make a statement. White bricks made up the magnificent structure, which she was sure was bigger than her own home. She could see why her Mama missed this place, so grand, yet so welcoming. Had Papa ever come here?
As they neared the entrance, multiple figures came into view, standing at the front of the mansion ready to welcome them. Martha Levinson, her mother's mother, stood at the front, with the staff standing to attention either side of her. One of the maids was the spitting image of Edith, Mary noticed as they approached, laughing to herself, if only...
The car came to a halt and the car door was opened to face a collection of curtseys and bows. Her Grandmama hurried to greet her properly, with a hug, a kiss on the cheek and a wide smile.
"Hello, darling! I hope you had a good crossing, how are you?"
"I'm splendid Grandmama, I haven't seen you in years, I love what you've done with the place" Mary gestured at the awaiting building.
"Yes, I am rather pleased with the outcome, though I did have to give a shoddy architect a piece of my mind!" Martha said, her American spirit shining through already, "Anyway , come in at once dear, your English skin wasn't made for this heat"
They entered into a vast white hallway, a hall beckoning down the end of it. She looked to an excited Anna with a look of approval , as they progressed down the corridor, taking it all in.
Luck. That's what she had given it to him for. Luck. It seemed he may need it. He clutched the small dog in him palm, pacing up and down his office. He had published this morning. Endless phone calls to both Downton and Crawley House had been made, asking to speak to Lady Mary Crawley. Of course, every call was made by a complete stranger, as Matthew had found out, as he sat at the phone in his office taking and dismissing all of the calls one by one. They couldn't exactly disconnect the line, what if somebody truly needed to get in touch with them? What would he write to Mary? He knew it was right to tell her, but how? He looked at his desk, countless attempts at a letter. He couldn't ask Mother, she would tell him to fight for her. It was too late for that. In the end, he decided on his words.
Dear Cousin Mary,
I hope you are well in New York and you have settled well in your Grandmother's home. I have heard so much about America, there are many things to see, and in your two weeks living there so far, I'm sure you have already started on seeing them!
I thought I should let you know Mary that Sir Richard published this morning. We have had a lot of phone calls today but I and your father are sure they will die down by tomorrow. I just wanted to let you know that I do not forgive you. Because after all, I do not believe you need my forgiveness, you have lived your life and I've lived mine and it hasn't altered my opinion of you Cousin Mary, just remember that. I think you chose the right time to tell me, I was a prig before the war, and as we both know, war has a way of distinguishing between the things that matter and the things that don't.
I hope you write soon Mary, I look forward to hearing from you.
From your affectionate Cousin,
Matthew.
He had published. Her story was out there now, and always would be. Was she a storm braver? At that moment she didn't believe she was. Matthew had forgiven her. The tears starting rolling down her cheeks, she wasn't sure if they were of sadness, or joy.
She folded up the treasured letter and put it back into her draw for safe keeping, so she could re read the last part again tomorrow. She rose, and slowly crept back to her bed. She lifted the sheets and climbed in. She felt so lonely, how she longed to hear her mother's voice, listen to Sybil babble on about politics, even hear Edith nag. She was that lonely. But most of all she wished Matthew was with her, braving the storm with her- no. She mustn't think like that, it's over and done with. Guilt swept over her once more, as she imagined her Papa, tired and exhausted, stressed, she was so disappointed in herself.
She stared up at the canopy above her and sighed. She tossed, and then turned, attempting to sleep, but she failed. Again. Finally she lowered her legs off the bed and sat up. She walked back to her desk, turning her light on in the process and fumbled for a pen and paper. She located the stationary and she hastily began to write.
Dear Matthew,
Thank you for telling me, sometimes you prefer to know these sorts of thing, I would rather hear it from you than a man in the street. I am truly sorry for the trouble and upset I have caused in the family, and I hope I can make it up to you all one day, if I ever come back. In truth, I am scared. Apart from Anna and Grandmama I am alone. I miss all you terribly and I hope I get to see you all again soon.
Words cannot begin to describe how grateful I am for your forgiveness, thank you for that, it has made my load a great deal lighter. Please continue to write to me Matthew, tell me of home. Tell me of everything, even Edith's annoying stories! I ache to be there now, sat with you all, listening to Granny's opinionated views, and talking of the future.
I look forward to hearing from you again,
Your affectionate Cousin,
Mary.
If I ever come back. What was that supposed to mean? Will she never come back to Downton?
To him?
