Author's Note: I've been writing this story for literally weeks and it got longer and longer and longer! To be honest, I'm not too happy with it. I'm experimenting with a more emotional style of writing then my usual rather detached and ironic style and I'm not sure it works. I've certainly found this a difficult piece to write and am much more nervous about posting it than my earlier one. I've also found Mary a harder (though more fascinating) head to get inside than Matthew, as she is a mass of contradictions between reserve and impulse, haughtiness and rebellion, self-pity and clear-sighted intelligence etc. etc. Yet I think she does make sense. Anyway, I hope I've succeeded in conveying something of her and that you enjoy this story. Your positive comments on my previous effort were so lovely and inspiring! :)
Stubborn.
Childish. Dogmatic. Prescriptive. Resistant. Proud. Rebellious. Controlling. Obsessive. Narrow minded. Selfish.
Any of these terms might describe her better than stubborn, thought Mary with depressing self-knowledge.
But call it what you might, she simply could not do it. She could not marry Matthew. Her determination was all the greater for realising that there was a seed in her that would not object so much if she did.
It was still a tiny seed for the moment, but she could feel it germinating, and growing, and expanding inside her heart every time he did anything at all to prove his worth and suitability for his new role. Every time he sought her eye across the room and met it. Every time her father praised his growing devotion to the estate. Every time he demonstrated his intelligence and humour in his words or actions. In short, every time she saw him and quite often when she did not as well.
Eventually when every other avenue had been exhausted, her father would propose the match again and she would murmer a reluctant sounding agreement whilst inwardly exulting, just as women sold in marriage had been forced to answer since time immemorial.
It was intolerable.
Nor could she rely on any help from Matthew himself. Oh, he had no intention of marrying her at present and that was something to be thankful for, but she had seen the look in his eyes and heard his tone of voice when he had said that her plight troubled him and that he cared about her. All she had was his belief in her antipathy towards him – men could be so blind sometimes – but one day he would become enlightened. And then what defence could she possibly have to fall back on?
"Will there be anything else, my lady?"
Anna's question finally penetrated her consciousness and, startled, she looked into her maid's rather exasperated gaze in the mirror and realised that this had probably not been the first time she had been asked.
"No. Thank you, Anna."
She stood up and looked around. "Where are Edith and Sibyl?"
Anna had seemed in a hurry to get to the door but paused and replied off-hand, "They've already gone downstairs."
"Thank you... Is everything all right, Anna?"
She opened her mouth and then closed it again. Mary thought she discerned a blush and raised one eyebrow as she preceded her out of the room. She was glad of any distraction from her own thoughts.
"You don't have to tell me anything of course," she added in a tone devoid of any interest.
"No, no, there's no secret. It's only I wasn't sure you would approve. It's the fair, my lady."
"The fair! It is still there then?"
"Oh yes, tonight's the last night. There's going to be a big dance after dinner and since I did not go the other day, Mrs. Hughes has said I may go tonight."
"All alone?" inquired Mary.
The blush returned. "Mr. Bates is coming as well, and I think so is Branson."
"A very nice ratio of the sexes for dancing!" said Mary humorously, before it occurred to her that Bates probably could not dance. "I hope you have a very pleasant evening, Anna," she added quickly to cover up the potential faux pas, but if Anna had noticed it she did not say anything and they parted at the top of the stairs.
Matthew was not dining at the Abbey that evening which was both a relief and a disappointment to Mary, and she felt angry at her weakness in acknowledging any disappointment at all.
Nevertheless, the lack of any addition to the family party, for even the Dowager was eating at home that evening, made them all seem particularly dull. Her father was led to comment on it.
"It's when they aren't here that I really feel how much Cousin Matthew and his mother have become part of our lives!" he said genially in a particularly long pause during dessert.
The Countess pursed her lips at this statement and Mary felt a wave of affection for her mother who would not accept things as they were and would continue fighting for her even when she did not deserve it and could not win. Women did not need the vote to be extraordinary.
His remark having fallen into dead silence, Lord Grantham tried again. "I would even go so far as to say that our family circle seems somewhat lacking without them, don't you think?"
"I never felt anything lacking," lied Mary, stung into response. "Anyway, one can have too much of a good thing."
"Well, I like Cousin Matthew!" said Edith.
"Mind you don't have too much of him then: you'll be sick."
"Girls, please!" interrupted Cora. "I would like to finish my meal in peace!"
A sullen silence fell once more.
After dinner was finished they all went to the drawing room together and Mary felt the walls close in around her. Another evening just the same as the previous one. Another evening of listening to Matthew's virtues praised and her own passed over. Unbearable.
When her mother suddenly remarked, "Where is Sybil?" she seized the opportunity to jump up, exclaim, "I'll find her," and leave the room as quickly as possible.
Sybil had not lingered in the dining room. Mary went slowly upstairs and saw her coming out of her room, wearing a long coat and a guilty expression.
"Where are you going?"
Sybil hesitated and then shrugged defiantly. "I'm going to the dance. The fair, you know? It's late but I should be able to catch the last few dances at least!"
"Dance... with commoners..."
"Why yes, I do intend to." Sybil grinned mischievously suddenly. "Come with me, Mary!"
Mary opened her mouth to reply that it was quite out of the question to even contemplate something so inappropriate. To the surprise of both sisters what she actually said, "All right. Why not indeed?"
Sybil's eyes opened wide but she only smiled. "Good! But you'd better hurry. Branson is waiting with the car."
Mary darted into her room and threw on a plain day coat over her evening dress and a hat. Sybil grabbed her hand and pulled her down the stairs. They ran softly across the hall and, with a nervous glance towards the drawing room door, outside to where the car was waiting. Mary's heart was beating strongly and she felt very conscious that she should not be going to the fair like this with the servants and that she should try to stop Sybil. Nevertheless, she found that she was laughing silently. She had not felt so alive for weeks. Not since... well, perhaps better not to go there.
Within minutes they were on their way to the village. Mary found she had plenty of questions for her sister and indeed, for the new chauffeur, such as how precisely he came to be driving Lady Sybil Crawley to a dance in the village without the knowledge of her parents. She decided to deal with that afterwards. For the moment she looked for the first lights strung up among the trees on the village green with as much anticipation as her sister.
A marquee had been erected on the green and boards put down in its centre to make a smooth dance floor. Chairs had been brought out from the inn and placed round the edge, spilling onto the grass outside. At the far end a raised platform had been constructed for the band, which consisted of two fiddles, a flute, a bass, and an accordion. When Mary, Sybil and Branson arrived, they were going at it with vigour in a kind of gallop. Whatever sort of dance it was meant to be, it seemed to involve the entire village (not to mention all the neighbouring farms and hamlets) muddled together in what had probably started off as two circles one within the other, joining hands with their partners and rapidly two-stepping in one direction and then the reverse before doing various turns, stampings and clappings. Unfortunately for the overall effect of the dance on its spectators, a general consensus seemed to be lacking on the direction of the turns and circles.
"You're surely not going to dance, are you?" exclaimed Mary in horror. "It's like – like – it's quite unthinkable in this crowd!"
Sybil grinned broadly. "Only you would come to a dance and then refuse to take part!" She turned pointedly away from Mary and held out her hand. "Mr. Branson, will you do me the honour?"
Mary stared. Mr. Branson stared back at her over Sybil's shoulder then shrugged apologetically. He took Sybil's hand and replied with a twinkle in his eye, "The honour is all mine, Lady Sybil."
Within minutes they had somehow squeezed themselves into the outer circle of dancers and had whirled out of sight.
Mary felt that she ought to be horrified at her sister's lack of delicacy or her chauffeur's disgraceful presumption or that she ought to have tried to stop them in some way. Instead she merely felt a kind of detached amusement. It was all very silly. Why should not Sybil dance with Branson if she liked? What was a dance compared to what else she could do? At least she dared... With a curious subtle movement of resignation that was nothing more than a slight settling of her features, she walked slowly towards the nearest chairs. There was one free in a group of three. She realised that it was next to Bates and Anna.
"May I sit here?" She gestured to the empty chair. A man's jacket was draped over its back.
"Lady Mary," was all Bates said with a nod.
"Of course you may!" exclaimed Anna. "Please join us. I did not think when I mentioned the dance to you earlier that I would see you here as well!"
"Neither did I," replied Mary honestly. "Whose is-"
"That's only Mr. Crawley's. He left it with us after the last dance. It's very hot in there with all those people!" added Anna with a smile.
"Ah, Mr. Crawley's!" Mary briefly laid her hand on the soft fabric of the jacket before she sat down. It was the same grey coat he always wore. She should have recognized it immediately. Perhaps at some level she had.
Her heart had leapt at his name and the unwelcome thought passed through her mind that she had only come with Sybil because she had hoped Matthew might be there. He did live in the village after all.
To distract her from the fact that he was there and would soon be returning to claim his coat, and to stop her from searching for him among the dancers as they passed before her, she asked her companions with more interest than she might have given to servants otherwise if they were enjoying themselves.
"Very much thank you, my lady," replied Anna. "Such a lovely entertainment hasn't been seen at Downton for years."
"No," said Mary, suddenly struck by an idea. "It certainly seems very popular."
Regular dances had not been held in the village since the tradition of assemblies had died out. Perhaps a dance once every two months or so could be arranged in the village hall. It would be big enough, she thought, twisting in her seat to look down the green in the direction of the hall.
"That fellow by the pole over there has been eyeing you for at least ten minutes. He'll ask you to dance if you only look his way," Bates was saying to Anna. "I wish you would; I am quite happy here."
"How often must I tell you, Mr. Bates, that while I do like dancing, I like sitting here with you more!"
She was speaking in an undertone and Mary wished she could not hear her. How strange to think of the ever self-possessed Anna having real feelings and for a man of her father's age! How amusing life was! But at the same time she felt a moment of irrational envy. How easy it would be to love someone if she belonged to that class! She shifted slightly away in her seat, wishing to leave them alone together.
Presently the gallop ended and with much applause, cheering, and general confusion the couples began to disperse from the dance floor to find new partners or remain to talk with their friends.
Mary saw Matthew as he broke from the crowd but immediately looked down as if she had not seen him. He had seen her though and his look of surprise quickly turned to pleasure. Mary liked that about him. Not many people looked pleased to see her at the moment.
He came up to where she was sitting, drawing a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping his brow. His face was flushed, his hair did not lie flat as it usually did, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He looked vigorous, healthy, energised, and completely unlike the Matthew Crawley she had come to know. She liked it. As he approached them, she could see his chest rising and falling still as he caught his breath and an image flashed into her mind of what he might look like exhausted and out of breath from a different kind of exercise. The very thought was enough to make her tremble and go pale and then blush and it took a great amount of will to be able to meet his eye and reply coolly to his pleasantries. She did not think her voice shook however and was proud of her self-control.
"I saw your sister and I wondered if you had also come," Matthew said, "but I was not sure you would. It doesn't seem-"
"It doesn't seem quite my style, you mean? You are right; I'm not sure why I came."
"Well, I'm very glad you did. Will you dance with me?"
He held out his hand with that open, appreciative and hopeful smile that was his trademark. Mary felt her heart melt a little but she had to be tough. The line had to be drawn somewhere.
"Oh... cousin... I couldn't." Mary looked at his hand. She wanted to take it. It was odd, this wanting, quite unlike anything she had felt before, even with Kemal. But dancing like this in public? She really shouldn't.
Matthew eventually lowered his arm, a little foolishly. But he smiled again a second later, saying, "In that case, I shall be happy to rest a while. May I get you a drink? A beer?"
Mary laughed. She couldn't help it. "Beer? Really, cousin Matthew!"
"I suppose beer is beneath Lady Mary Crawley even when she has deigned to come to a village dance."
Mary glared at him though not without fondness. He was goading her, she knew that, and it was working. "Several hundred years ago we would all have been drinking more beer than water," she replied evenly. "I suppose if there is nothing better to be had..."
He looked at her sideways as he walked away from the marquee towards the inn. He looked triumphant. Subtly so, but she could tell.
Mary stared straight ahead. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Bates. He looked as if he was trying not to laugh. She wondered where Sybil was. She wondered what beer tasted like.
Part Two coming in a couple of days!