Failed meetings of expectations
Summary: How could Emma have known that curiosity killed the cat? How could Matthew have known that he was laughing at the wrong moment? How could Mary have known he was looking through a glass darkly? How indeed could they have known that their fate was determined on an ordinary Saturday afternoon in October 1913? This is the third instalment of my little "series" of connected Downton Abbey stories.
Disclaimer: Downton Abbey and its characters and story plots belong to Julian Fellows the production and TV company. This is just for fun and no intended to make profit of it.
Author's note: I'm fully aware I'm tampering with canon time line here, and I know it easily could have been early Summer 1913, but somehow I feel this story needs to be set in Autumn. So pretending for pretends sake, let's say the fateful dinner and the stupid bet between Mary and Edith still happened in S1x05, but at a later date and unconnected to the flower show. And Matthew was born in 1888 in my world. Furthermore you will find terms or actions that are justifiably frowned upon nowadays, but bear in mind, this is 1913 and back then they are perfectly acceptable.
And you will see Matthew on a white horse. Oh, please, I imagine you groan. And I agree with you. This cliché has been overly used through time and by myriads of more or less talented writers. My only defence is to quote Matthew: 'It... simply happened. Do I regret it? No. I know I should, but I don't'. But I pledge myself to not succombing to temptation again. But we also know the path to hell is paved with good intentions. :-)
Funny thing, I had never envisioned turning this all into a "series". But the characters have a mind of their own and are from time to time rather unruly and hard to manage.
Not beta'd and English is not my native language.
Isobel Crawley slowly let the letter sink down on the desk in her parlour and her right hand put down her reading glasses while her gaze wandered out of the windows in front of her. The morning fog had been dissipated by a surprisingly strong sun, which made the leaves glow brightly in yellow and red hues here and there. A squirrel rushing up a tree distracted her for a moment from the content of the letter: A visible testament to the fact that more than a year had passed since they had come to Downton to make a new life for themselves.
Her frown showed her annoyance with the letter's content and the little choice it gave her. What could she do? Even if she hastened to compose an answer, by the time the letter would arrive in Manchester, the Madisons would practically be on their way to the station. It was too late, which was rather convenient for them she thought uncharitably. But even if there had been sufficient time for a measured reply, Isobel was indebted to the family. After Reginald's death his very dear friend and colleague Dr. Horatio Madison had taken it upon him to protect the distraught widow and the adolescent boy and helped them whenever needed and requested until Matthew had been old enough to take over as head of the family on his 21st birthday.
Nodding to herself, Isobel rang for her maid and instructed her to prepare another room for her guests. Next she pulled out a fresh piece of paper and composed a few lines and rang for Molesley to take it up to the big house. For now there was nothing more she could do. Isobel had to wait after she had taken her luncheon until the big house rang - finally. Cousin Cora would be delighted to have her over for tea.
After the usual round of platitudes and mild exchange of information/gossip about what had happened since last week when Matthew and she had been up to the big house for their usual Friday evening dinner Isobel felt it was time to breech the topic she wanted to talk to Cora about. Enjoying the fine weather despite the slight chill in the air the ladies decided to go for walk. They hadn't come far when Isobel asked the crucial question.
„Cousin Cora, could I prevail on you to accommodate Matthew over the weekend?"
Cora was taken aback but moved her hand to encourage Isobel to disclose her reasons for this unusual request. In a wordless reply Isobel showed the countess Ruth Madison's letter. Approaching a bench the ladies sat down. After a minute or two Cora returned the letter to Isobel.
„I'm afraid, I don't quite understand, cousin Isobel. Why do you want Matthew out of the house, when your friend and her daughter arrive? Unless... is there an old story between Matthew and this girl they want to add a new chapter to?"
„Well, to help you understand my concerns let me go the long way to explain, please. Matthew and the Madison children grew up together as if they were siblings. Usually he was over there or we had the brood over at ours. When he left for university, Emma was still just a slip of a girl barely in Sybil's age. And when he came back after his graduation he met a very beautiful, gentle and agreeable woman, who naturally caught his attention and he fell for her. And she wasn't indifferent to him either. I think they could have been happy enough together, but Ruth nipped it in the bud before it could become more than a walk or two between them. She didn't want her daughter to waste her best years waiting for Matthew until he would be eventually firmly settled in his law firm as a partner and able to provide properly for a wife and family in a couple of years. Naturally Matthew was deeply hurt, when he learnt that his suit was not welcome due to his then limited prospects as a junior lawyer despite of his well-known good character."
"I see. And now that Matthew's prospects have dramatically altered as the heir of Downton his suit would be most welcome? They took quite a gamble to wait an entire year before they make a move."
"Cora, no, that's not it. Please don't misunderstand me. I was quite angry with them on Matthew's behalf, I can assure you, and there was a time I wanted to throttle Ruth for hurting my boy so very much, but the Madisons are essentially good people and Emma is quite happily engaged to be married by now as I understand."
„Isobel, then I truly do not understand…. Do you fear Matthew will do something imprudent, while the girl sleeps under his roof? For sure you can't truly think that. Matthew is every inch the gentleman."
„Certainly not! Let's call it a mother's instinct. I'd just feel more comfortable with Matthew out of the house."
"Does he know she's engaged?"
"Yes. I told him."
"May I ask how he took it?"
"Remarkably well, considering. Please pardon me for being frank, cousin Cora, but I think Mary has a lot to do with it." Isobel chuckled. "She really lit a fire under him. You can't know this, but he's changed remarkably since he came here. I look back and think he's slept for all of his 25 years and only woke up recently. They'd be a good match, Cousin Cora."
"If only she would allow herself to see it, too, instead of holding on to her stubborn and childish grudge." Cora laughed ruefully. "You know, Cousin Isobel, we would be very happy to see Mary settled with Matthew and not just because he's Robert's heir. He's a good man, better than most we considered for Mary since Patrick died. He would give her the freedom and stability she needs to blossom."
"And she'd bring out his full potential to become a truly great man and a worthy earl."
"That's very true, cousin Isobel. But let's concentrate for now on this weekend first instead of dreaming up a future that may never happen, because they are both cursed with the Crawley vices: Pride and Stubbornness. You know we'd love to have Matthew over regardless. I'll instruct Mrs Hughes to have a nice room prepared for him in the bachelor's wing. Perhaps it's high time anyway. It's going to be his home one day after all, so why not lay claim on a small part of it already now? A set of clothes for change, his riding outfit, his tails, some books and trinkets…. Besides, Robert will be delighted not to be the only man at the breakfast table for a change. And Matthew spends his Saturdays here anyway to learn from him."
The ladies stood.
„Cousin Cora, I'm very grateful. Thank you."
„Good day, cousin Isobel."
„Good day."
Isobel was quite surprised when on Friday afternoon Branson rang the bell. Her ladyship had instructed him to pick up Isobel at Crawley House to take her to the station and to drive her and her guests back to the house afterwards. Inwardly she smiled. So Cora was not above showing off a bit to let the Madisons know just what they had thrown away. Nevertheless she much appreciated her kind concern to facilitate the transfer of luggage instead of having to make do with a porter from the station.
When mother and daughter arrived she greeted them warmly and was quickly enough concerned about Emma. The girl looked tired and did she detect a note of anxious nervousness? But before she could mule over her impressions Ruth distracted her and soon both women sat comfortably in his lordship's car chatting and exchanging views on the long and uncomfortable trip. The connection between Manchester and Downton was really ghastly considering it was already 1913! Maybe this explained Emma's paleness and nervousness.
"Where's Matt?" The girl couldn't contain herself anymore.
Isobel's mouth twitched. So her instinct hadn't betrayed her.
"Emma Jane!" Her mother admonished mortified.
"It's quite alright. He asked me to give his regards to you and apologises, but he won't be able to meet you. He's still at work, dear, and then he will be off immediately to the big house for the weekend. Lord Grantham has a dinner party tonight and as his heir Matthew will naturally attend the event."
"Oh. Does he spend much time over there?"
"Well, I usually see him Sundays in church. He spends his time with his lordship to learn about the estate on his weekends."
"That's a pity to be deprived of his charming company, but we will quite manage on our own, when it's just us old girls. Though Emma will find it quite dull after a while I'm afraid. Are there any interesting sites to visit?"
"Well, we do have some lovely churches in the villages nearby and some quite nice walks in the meadows, fields and the forest surrounding Downton. And Oak Ridge offers a marvellous view over the area. You can see for miles if the weather conditions allow it. If you prefer exploring the village, the sweet shop has a nice range of sweets. And I'm convinced Mrs. Dennison's teashop offers the best scones in Yorkshire. Even Mrs. Patmore, his lordship's cook, is envious. Molesley's father has the most splendid flowers. It's a pity you didn't visit us earlier in Summer. Now the bloom is quite gone I'm afraid. But still, his garden is quite a sight even in Autumn. I'm sure we can make it interesting enough for you."
"Please, Mrs. Crawley. I'm quite happy to stay with you. I know it was a bit of a last minute arrangement to have me, too. Whatever you have planned with mother, I'm sure I will like it well enough."
The ladies fell quiet for the moment, until Branson stopped at Crawley House to discharge his precious cargo.
Saturday afternoon Downton saw Mrs. Crawley and her guests visiting the village, stopping here and there and finally have tea and cake at Mrs. Dennison's before they were seen walking towards Oak Ridge. The ladies had a good time, chatting lively and speculations were running wild, whether the young girl was supposed to be the next Countess of Grantham. At least they would be a beautiful looking couple one agreed. But if so, why wasn't Mr. Crawley in attendance? And that opened another round of speculative questions about Lady Mary. Wasn't it her duty to marry the heir? Although who wanted to be married to that haughty, heartless bitch, whose cold glare could make a man's dick fall off from frost bite the farm hands joked at "Five Foxes". It would be only good and fair, if Mrs Crawley looked elsewhere for a bride for her son to keep him whole and in good health.
At the "Grantham's Arms" discrete bets were placed on young Lady Sybil. She was a kind and big-hearted girl with enough passion and liveliness to make a man want to stay at home. Next year she would turn many heads in London during her first season. That was an indisputable fact. But now Mrs. Crawley once more shook up the natural order of the village and the big house by bringing home such an exceptional beauty as rarely seen and showed her around. Was Matthew Crawley purposefully kept away by the big house on order of the dowager countess who would rather put a match to the house than to see it go to some stranger and her granddaughters pushed to the side? The village was held in breathless suspense.
If Ruth Madison noticed the attention bestowed on Mrs Crawley and her guests, she didn't let on. And neither did Isobel Crawley, who had never given a penny for gossip in her life.
Oblivious to these riveting questions the man of the hour urged his horse on, while secretly despairing of his cousin. One day Mary would take a tumble and break her beautiful but reckless neck. Heart firmly lodged in his throat he watched breathlessly as Mary masterfully took another jump with a triumphant cheer. A gentle kick into his Lipizzaner mare's sides and they sailed over the same tree trunk two seconds later and kept up their hot pursuit of Mary. He would catch her, he just knew it. This time he would reach Grantham's Brook first, no matter what! This time he would come out on top and Mary would be forced to eat her words. He could ride! Well enough! He swore and ducked just in time under a low oak branch and used his moment to change his seat slightly, leaning his body over his horse's neck to minimise the wind's resistance even more. He would get her, maybe not on the rise to Oak Ridge, but definitely on the descent. And if not there, then surely on the mile-long stretch to the brook.
He heard her merry laugh. And it made him smile in return and shout an empty threat of what he would do, if he caught up with her. Perhaps he would get a kiss out of her? What a sweet prize to claim!
"Oh my, what a grand house. It's a veritable castle! Isobel, why didn't you say it was this grand? I imagined a manor. But I had no idea. Matthew's so lucky." Ruth Madison gushed as the ladies stepped out to a small clearing and sat down on the bench strategically placed to give the tired walker a beautiful view over Downton Park and the house. The setting sun was reflected by a multitude of spotless windows and made it sparkle like a diamond.
"Come Em, sit down for a moment. There's room enough for all the three of us", she encouraged her daughter.
"Mrs Crawley, look!" The young blonde exclaimed and pointed towards two riders in full speed heading up to them.
"Oh, that's Diamond and Sapphire or better Mary and Matthew. Sapphire is a gift from his lordship. When they met, it was love at first sight." Isobel added deliberately opaque who she was referring to.
"Diamond and Sapphire?" Mrs Madison asked sceptically. Certainly no one in her circle of friends and acquaintances in Manchester would ever name animals after jewels. And no one would believe her either, if she told. These toffs sure were fanciful.
"It's a quirk of cousin Robert. The dogs are named after Egyptian motives, because he's pretty much fascinated by everything Egyptian. The children's horses are named after precious stones to show his love: Diamond for Mary for being the first daughter, Topaz for Edith for her bright hair and Ruby is Sybil's for her passionate nature. And when he gave the mare to Matthew, it was kind of obvious how she should be called – Sapphire for his Crawley Blue eyes and to announce his position to the world. Matthew is more than just Robert's heir. He's the much beloved son fate has denied him. We better clear the path or we will be trampled over when they come up here in a minute or so."
She raised her arm and waved to warn them. But did they see her in time?
Mary turned around in her sattle and reined Diamond in a bit to let Matthew catch up.
"Did you see your mother?"
"Yes, I think we better slow down and greet her."
"What a lovely excuse for loosing you have this time, Matthew. Once more you're saved by your mother's apron."
The horses slowed down to a trot that tapered out into a walk. Horses and riders were trying to catch their breath.
"That's hardly fair, Mary. I can't very well ignore Mother. That would be a show of poor manners."
"And certainly you always thrive to be a gentleman." She mocked him with the gentlest of bites.
But Matthew had long gone passed his initial shame over the incident, as he liked to call it, to take offense. Nowadays he looked back fondly upon it, because it was the first time Mary and he had met and in his most private moments he took the liberty of imagining how things could have gone, if the ladies' roles had been reversed and they had remained undisturbed in the darkness. He would have kept her warm in his arms.
"Of course. Don't you see the trail of monster scales behind me? I'm shedding my skin." He bantered back.
"To become what? A beautiful butterfly?"
"I take this as a compliment from you."
"What? That I'd think of you as a butterfly?"
"No, that you think of me as a beautiful butterfly."
"I'm afraid that that's hardly worth distinguishing, cousin Matthew. You see, butterflies are beautiful by nature. Delicate, tiny, but fickle as they fly from blossom to blossom and hardly ever settle down for more than a second, yet they are so easily caught in a net and if they do, they usually end up pinned as a trophy on a carton for display."
"Is this a warning, Mary? That the chase is better than the catch? Well, I like to think I wouldn't mind end up snagged on a pin if the right butterfly collector had caught me in her net."
"Careful, Matthew. You have no idea how many nets will be cast in your direction coming the winter season and your presentation as heir and key to Downton and the Grantham fortune. Papa thinks you're ready and aunt Rosamund says society is most curious about you. If you don't pay constant vigilance, you might end up dead on the wrong collector's carton."
"In that case I better buy a good pair of scissors to free myself or…. stick close to you next season."
"Only if you save me a dance."
"I'll save as many for you as you like."
To his utmost thrill Mary blushed faintly and urged Diamond to a faster trot. But before they could continue their flirtatious banter, they had come up to Isobel and her guests and reined in their horses.
"Mother, we didn't expect to find you here. Mrs Madison, Em. It's nice to see you again."
Matthew jumped off his horse that exhaled loudly and pushed her head against his shoulder. Smiling he reached into his pocket to pull out a deserved treat.
"Just a minute, my girl." She pushed again. He laughed and turned to kiss his mother hello, before he shook hands with Mrs. Madison and bowed to Emma.
"Mary, may I present Mrs Madison and her daughter Emma? Mrs Madison is friends with mother and Em and I grew up together. Mrs Madison, Emma, this is my cousin Lady Mary Crawley."
Mary nodded regally from up on Diamond. There was no reason to dismount.
"Sapphire, love, you did so well. We caught up with Mary and Diamond, didn't we? And next time we will beat them."
With a small content smile he fed her the carrot and scratched her between her ears, rubbing and stroking her elegant neck for a second or two before he diverted his attention back to his "sister" and erstwhile love. He contemplated his feelings as he looked at her with small smile. To his dismay there was no lingering pain or longing, which made him wonder how deep or shallow his love for her had really run. Oughtn't he to be more distraught? Hadn't he wanted to marry and spend the rest of his life with her? That had to count something. It must! And if he could look at her after a year gone by and feel only mild affection, what did that say about his feelings for Mary? Was Mary, too, a passing fancy, only to be cast aside like Emma, when he met the next alluring girl during the winter season? Was he deep down unable to commit to one woman alone? Was Mary right when she called him a fickle butterfly? The mare shook her head as if in agreement, while munching her carrot. A snort from Diamond, who was getting restless, jarred him out of his uncomfortable moment of self-awareness and doubt, torn between what he really felt and what he felt was his duty as a man of honour to feel.
"Em, I heard you're engaged. My heartfelt wishes. So, tell me, who's the lucky chap that found mercy before your eyes?"
He fiercely concentrated on Emma, maybe to convince himself, that there were still deep feelings for her. Isobel Crawley frowned. Exactly this situation she had tried to avoid for her son's sake. She knew he would focus all of his attention towards his first love out of guilt over his seeming betrayal of Emma because of his feelings for Mary in an attempt to make it up to her. And by doing so he would only confuse the poor girl and make her feel guilty in return for loving another man. She sighed. The children had been denied a natural closure and her son had been forced to retreat instead of giving him time to let him realise on his own terms that he had confused love with familiarity fuelled by a healthy dose of lust. At least that was what she liked to think now after she had seen Mary's impact on her son.
"Sam Thompson, Matt." Emma smiled proudly but abashed.
Matthew froze in mid stroke.
"Say that again." Matthew's voice had turned cold and cutting.
"Samuel Thompson, the son of Sebastian Thompson. You know the merchant and clothier. You know him, too, I believe. Why?"
"Mary, would you take Sapphire for a moment?" Matthew threw the reins to her before she could reply and took Em by the hand to lead her a couple of yards away out of earshot of their mothers and a lady with narrowed eyes.
"Is this really true, Em? Sam Thompson?"
"Yes. But I don't understand, Matt. Why are you so upset? Sam is a good man. His parents belong to the upper society in Manchester and are incredibly wealthy. Mama is so pleased with the match. He loves me, you know. And I love him, too." She added gently, trying not to hurt him too much by praising another man, when they had spoken of a possible future together not so very long ago.
"And are his parents pleased, too?" She flinched under his sarcasm.
"Well, he hasn't told them yet. His great-grand uncle died a few months ago. Sam says now it's not a proper time to tell them about me."
"Em, whatever you do or whatever he says… PLEASE DON'T EVER allow him the slightest licence until you're properly married. Do you hear? Promise me." He squeezed her iberty with you wrist.
"Matthew, what's gotten into you all of a sudden? You're hurting me!"
"PROMISE ME, EMMA!" Matthew roared and alarmed the ladies. Mary almost lost the reins on Sapphire, when the horse shied and she had to struggle to keep Diamond under control, too. She sent Matthew a dirty look, which he blatantly ignored.
Mrs. Madison was about to come over to intervene, when Matthew's cool glare in their direction stopped her and his mother in their tracks. For the first time she really looked at Matthew Crawley and was surprised by what she found. He couldn't have possibly grown? He stood straighter and displayed an easy, commanding confidence he had previously lacked. He looked like... a young earl and she couldn't help but obey his silent command. Her hands clasped tightly in front of her and she strained her ears to understand what was said between them, but Matthew only led her daughter even further away from her.
"I don't understand. We're engaged to be married. He properly asked my father and papa consented. We only wait until his mourning period is over in a couple of weeks and then he will tell his parents and present me. Sam is an honourable man."
"Do you know how often Sam Thompson has been an honourable man, Emma?" He spat.
"What are you saying, Matthew?"
"I'm saying that I know of at least three other lovely daughters of upstanding parents, who were secretly engaged to Sam because a relative of him recently died. All three are now married to some distant relative in some remote hamlets. Emma, I know this must come to you as a shock, but..."
"That's not true!"
"It is! It's all a game to him, you see."
"I don't believe a word you say. You're just jealous, because papa accepted him and not you." She turned away from him.
"God, Em, I wish it was so, but I know it's true. Have your papa ask Tom Mercer on High Street, he knows it, too. We were all together in Cambridge, don't forget that. Em, Sam boasted he bedded them and left them. I met these girls. They were beautiful and warm-hearted; innocent like you. And he ruined all of them with false promises of marriage. And when their parents demanded he married them he refused. If a girl couldn't keep her virtue before the wedding, how was he to know she would stay faithful afterwards? And if he could get them, who else had them, too?"
"No, I don't believe you. He loves me! Do you hear me, Matthew? HE LOVES ME AND WE WILL MARRY! HE PROMISED!"
"OH GOD! Am I too late? Please, please tell me, I'm not too late. Emma, please!"
She cried out in anguish and Matthew caught the sobbing girl in his arms.
"Oh, Emma." Matthew sighed. A single tear rolled down his face, unnoticed. "Dear, sweet Emma. Maybe you'll find another man, a truly honourable man who will look past your indiscretion. It was not your fault. You didn't know any better. How could you? You hear? None of this is your fault." He rocked her gently and kissed her on her front to calm her. She raised her arms and laid them against his chest, held secure in his embrace.
"Mama was so very much pleased with me to get engaged to the son of the wealthiest merchant in Manchester. She said I'd have to be as nice as I could, when I caught his interest. What am I going to do, Matthew? You see, I'm afraid I'm …I'm not quite sure, yet. I hope... Mother doesn't know. Matthew, can't you marry me? I promise, I'll be a good wife to you. We would be a little family."
"Oh, Emma, I can't. You know I can't."
"Why not, Matthew? Think about it. Just us in a small cottage in a small village just outside of Manchester in the countryside, you going to work, me taking care of the house and our children. Just as we envisioned it. We'd be so happy together." She looked up at him with hopeful eyes. Tears hung in her lashes.
"Emma, stop it." He tore himself from her. "You know I can't marry you. One day I will be the Earl of Grantham. It would be bad enough, if I had a child out of wedlock, but if it wasn't mine on top, unthinkable. It's impossible, quite impossible! I would bring shame onto the entire family. I've got three unmarried cousins to think of. Not to mention how poorly I'd repay Lord and Lady Grantham's kindness."
"But if you weren't…."
"But I am! God knows, I didn't choose this. But I am their future and Downton is my home now. And my life isn't just my own anymore. I'm so, so sorry, but please try to understand this."
"My God, do you listen to yourself? You're not the Matthew Crawley I used to know. Despite of what you may think of me now, when I came to Downton it was to meet with a dear friend and see how he's doing. But instead I've met with a stranger. And look at you, wearing clothes of such a fine quality you'd never be able to afford on your own, if you were still a junior lawyer back home. And instead of riding your bicycle, you come along on a high horse, talking all lordly. Where's the Mancunian who said he would never let anyone change him? They put you in a golden cage, don't you see, and now you dance to their tune. And what's your reward for becoming their puppet in this dream world? Her majesty over there?"
"No. Yes. ... It's complicated."
"I see." She stepped away and wordlessly accepted his handkerchief to dry her tears.
"Mr. Crawley, I'm terribly sorry, if I made you uncomfortable just now. I wish you a pleasant afternoon and a happy life with whomever you will find worthy of becoming Countess of Grantham. I don't think we will ever see each other again. Know I will always value your friendship and kind affection when we were children. Good day."
Ramrod straight she turned away and was about to walk back to the small party, who had watched their... discussion... attentively. She read the questions in their eyes and averted their gaze. She couldn't tell her mother. It would kill her and her father... she shuddered to think of it. She had heard of certain women or failed medicine students – back street abortionists. Her father prosecuted them with all his power his position as highly regarded doctor provided him with. They were filthy and more often than not the unfortunate women bled to death or were never able to be with child again. But she would have no other choice, if she was indeed pregnant. But no, she was silly to let herself get spooked by Matthew. She would talk to Sam first and he would be so happy and they would marry quickly and quietly and live in a small cottage in a small village in the countryside close to Manchester. In the morning he would go to work at his father's office and in the evening he would tell her all about his day. And she would tell him how the children were doing. He loved her. He would do right by her. Perhaps Sam had failed horribly in the past, but she would turn him around. Her love would make him a better man.
Matthew's hand caught hers.
"Emma…. Good afternoon. May you find happiness, too. You so very much deserve it." He drew his thumb over her knuckles in a last caress good-bye. Emma withdrew her hand and walked back to their mothers. Matthew watched her leave with them and then turned away to collect himself. Had he done the right thing? If he had, then why did he feel so wretched? Forlornly he clutched his slightly damp handkerchief in his hand.
Mary didn't know what to make of all of this. Just such a short time ago, she and Matthew had been so exuberant... did she dare call it...happy? She watched him slightly slumping over as if he was suddenly carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. She nudged Diamond and steered him with Sapphire towards Matthew. Best they returned home.
This entire day, the last few days really, had brought enough excitement.
First she learnt that Matthew was to spend the night at the big house, for the first time ever. Apparently his mother would entertain some friends over the weekend and Crawley House was allegedly too small to host all her guests over the weekend. Then it was revealed that Matthew would get his own room at the Abbey. Mary was grateful to Sybil for asking in her usual excitable manner that never stopped once to think of propriety, which room was set aside for him. At first she had been angry to learn the "Dove Room" would be his. What made the "Dove Room", named for the neutral blue-grey colour of the walls, special was its location. While it was still well in the Bachelor's Wing, it was as close as possible to the Family Wing. Another proof of Matthew's elevated station. Not even James or Patrick had had rooms this close to them, not to mention rooms specifically assigned to them for their exclusive use, although they had been in and out of the house for years. As far as Mary could remember, it had never been in use before for exactly this reason: it was far too close to the family. Another advantage, Robert pointed out, was, while its furniture was Spartan and the walls naked, it gave Matthew the opportunity to decorate it as he wished. One of these weekends Robert would open the stores and the attic for Matthew to choose paintings and another set of furniture, if he wished.
Mary still blushed hotly, when she recalled, how she sneaked into Matthew's room one day after he had brought a suitcase over.
Her timidly curious eyes fell on the washstand and took in the brand new shaving kit and a comb, a tooth brush and tooth powder, an opened tin of pomade, the aftershave cologne, a flannel and towel from the Abbey's linen closet – so soft, they had to be new and unused. She picked up the small bar of soap to smell it. It smelled... masculine and reminded her of her father. The cologne smelled just like Matthew. She had learnt his scent when her father had wanted to know, if Matthew needed dancing lessons and had recruited her help against her wishes. To their regret had taken only one waltz for her father to determine that whatever polishing Matthew needed, dancing lessons were not part of it. To their surprise, whatever they quarrelled about, on the dance floor they found each other and enjoyed each other's presence. Naturally they hadn't talked about this, but they had an unspoken understanding about it. The bristles of the shaving brush felt surprisingly soft. It suddenly occurred to her that she had never been this close to a man's privacy in her life.
Next she strolled over to the small desk. An old model aeroplane had found its place next to a writing set. Was Matthew interested in aeroplanes? The pen showed his initials – MC, the same as hers. Her fingers followed her eyes as she next took in the titles of a couple of books on a shelf – Dickens, Trollope, Shakespeare's Sonnets, Jules Verne. On a whim she opened the latter one and found a dedication to his owner – For my beloved Son – The Mind knows no Limits but the ones It sets for Itself – Father, New Year 1900.
Feeling as if she had defiled something holy, she carefully closed it and put it back. Taking a fortifying breath she tackled the last piece of furniture – the closet. The doors squeaked quietly. The closet was parted in two compartments. The left one held several drawers, in the right half hang his tails, a striped dressing gown, a suit and a bit apart from those his riding outfit. She lifted a sleeve to her nose. It smelled very faintly of horse very much like her own. On a whim she decided she would engage Matthew the following afternoon again for one of their races, if her papa permitted it. He still had to win one and it was delightfully wicked to go against him. They never pre-determined the winner's prize to make it more interesting and give them a greater incentive to win, as they never knew what the other might want, if they won.
One hand on the knob of the uppermost drawer she froze for a second, when she heard Mrs. Hughes' voice in the hall in front of Matthew's door, before she hastily closed the doors and rushed to hide against the wall next to the door. She held her breath, trying frantically to calm her racing heart, when the door opened. She pressed herself even more into the wall and then the door closed again from the outside. She had heard Mrs Hughes' telling Thomas, she would come down immediately. Apparently cook was unjustified hard again on the kitchen maids. Slowly she let her breath out. That had been close. It didn't bear thinking about, if she had been caught in Matthew's room! With a last glance around to see, if anything betrayed her presence, she scurried out.
The two times since they started their races and she had won, she let Matthew one day groom Sapphire, when she had wallowed in the mud and the last time she had asked him to bring a little something from Ripon for her. When he brought a small box of her favourite truffles only Carson could have told him about, she was spooked and yet flattered. It was no small feat to tease something out of Carson and for him to go to such lengths and then to have enough presence of mind to give them to her in an unobserved minute to avoid speculation about him courting her; although he had immediately swiped one truffle for himself with a cheeky grin, when she opened the box ... This was why she had decided to let Matthew catch up with her on the last stretch and let him win this time, if only narrowly. She felt she owed it to him for the chocolates and for snooping around in his room. It had been wrong of her to do and she wanted to make it up to him, even if only in secret. When he swung himself wordlessly into the saddle, she knew he wasn't in the mood anymore to continue their race. And neither was she.
Matthew turned Sapphire around. Wordlessly Mary followed him. From time to time she glanced at him, but his withdrawn face discouraged her from asking questions, predominantly in her mind: who exactly was the girl to Matthew and what was their fight about?
Actually, it had been quite a shock to her to see that girl and her familiar conduct with her cousin. And a memory superposed the picture of them. It was dark. The sounds of pleasure they made. His hands on Eleanor's body... What happened that night after she left? Mary had never been bold enough to actually ask her friend and Elli in turn had never indulged any information. And shortly after that wedding Lady Eleanor had left for a two year long trip around the world. Mary had got infrequently short letters from all over the world. Her friend had travelled to St. Petersburg, then down a Russian river she couldn't ever hope to be able to pronounce, dined with the Sultan's wife in the harem at the Top Kapi palace in Istanbul, seen the pyramids, crossed Africa to bath in the Victoria Falls, had tea in the tents of Arab Sheiks, dined with the Governor-General in Delhi, saw the Chinese Wall, had visited Tokyo and sketched the Fujiyama, travelled through Alaska, talked to gold miners in California and booked a passage to South America in the re-built San Francisco. She had weathered Cape Horn and travelled up the Amazonas as far as possible, listened to the strange nigger music in New Orleans and now she was heading back to Europe to be the sparkling star everyone would talk about during the winter season.
And she would meet Matthew again. Would they want to renew their acquaintance? Elli said she never enjoyed the same man twice, but that did only apply to middle-class studs as her friend called the young and virile men she met and seduced. Now Matthew was a most eligible bachelor and thus on more equal footing with her. What if they got married? Her father probably wouldn't mind too much and give up his silly idea of marrying her off to Matthew, which would be a decided advantage on her way to gain full control over her life. Eleanor was a Rothschild grand-child and would inherit on her 25th birthday a shockingly huge amount of money, shockingly huge enough to cover any transgression that may come to light. That would be the downside of it all. Mary frowned. She didn't feel comfortable thinking about having Elli as her cousin-in-law. She forced herself to acknowledge the reason for her uneasiness, even if it meant to be disloyal to her one true friend she could be herself with and say anything that came to her mind the moment it did. She wouldn't and couldn't trust Elli to stay faithful. And whatever Matthew's shortcomings were, he didn't deserve to be cuckolded and the Grantham line needed to be conserved and continued at all cost without troubling questions about the paternity of the next heir. No, any other girl would be preferable - except that blond piece she met today. Mary almost snarled. How she hated blond girls with their big guileless beyes! Echoes from her childhood rang in her ears.
"Edith, look at you. What a beautiful ribbon you have in your hair. It shines like gold. You've turned into quite the young lady. And what about you, Mary, have you been at the stables again? There's a smudge on your left cheek. Girl, you will be the death of me yet!"
"Lady Mary Louise Crawley, what on Earth are you doing up this tree?! I will immediately call for Morris to bring a ladder and get you down. ... I don't care if you tried to save a cat! ... Just wait until we're inside. I will give you a spanking that'll teach you to behave like a lady! And you better hope I won't tell your parents what you've done!"
"Robert, it's already been three years since Cora's been pregnant with Sybil. When will you finally face the fact that she has failed. But what do you expect marrying an American? Eventually they all prove to be a disappointment. If only Mary were a boy... now, I wish for you to invite your cousin James to stay with you for a while. He's got a son."
"Mary, you shouldn't embarrass your cousin Patrick. Boys don't like smart girls."
"Why can't you be more like your sister? Look, how beautifully Edith plays with her new doll. Isn't she a darling angel?
"Look everybody, Mary looks like a crow with her dark hair."
"Oh darling, don't cry. Papa is here. All is well, Edith. Mary, can you walk on your own? I can't carry you both."
"I'm going to write to her father." Matthew's contemplative words jarred her out of her memories.
She pulled hard on Diamond's reins, which the horse commented with an annoyed neigh. He wasn't used to a hard hand in his mouth from his mistress. So Matthew was no better than all the rest. How very predictable! As soon a blond squeezed a tear out of her eyes, they all lost what little brain they had. Hot fury ran through her veins, making her blood instantly boil.
"What!? Whatever for? Are you… you're not going to get married to her, are you? She didn't… she cried. I mean, if I were in her shoes, I'd be ecstatic."
"Mary?!" His eyebrows shot up, heart pounding. He pulled Sapphire to a full stop.
"Oh, you know what I mean. She'd marry well above her station and one day you won't be among the poorest aristocrats in the realm. She's not the most advantageous match you can make, though, coming next season. And I don't know how pleased Papa would be."
Matthew felt disappointment crush his mad second of wild hope. But naturally, she hadn't meant anything more by it. Most days he considered himself blessed, when she tolerated his company for an hour. He nudged his horse to catch up with Mary.
"No, I can put you at ease. It's not that kind of letter. Such a thing needs to be done in person, if you want to be any man of honour." He hesitated. Should he tell Mary that his interest lied elsewhere? Mary wasn't stupid. She would figure it out and she had already far too much power over him. He couldn't risk exposing his heart even more at this stage of their stormy relationship. He feared with good reason she would most cruelly mock him and decided to keep quiet for the time being. He just didn't want to get hurt so much again. "Besides she's already engaged. Unfortunately to a man I consider the worst kind of dirt under the soles of your shoes. There are some rather unsavoury facts about this man the family needs to know. I told Emma, but well, now you know why she cried. Understandably she's most upset under the circumstances."
For a moment Mary played with the thought to tease Matthew that his charming conversation brought a girl to tears, but reconsidered. The matter was too serious for flippant words.
"What has he done?" She asked with true interest.
"Mary, I'm not sure, I should talk to you about this kind of things. Besides, I would betray confidences."
"See, that is precisely the reason, why so many women get trapped in most unfortunate circumstances, because it's not appropriate to talk to us about sensitive matters and due to these dreadful gentlemen agreements that prevent us from making informed decisions that concern the rest of our lives!" Mary exploded. "You know, we do have the right to know, if a man is for whatever reason unsuitable, instead of keeping everything hushed up. So what has he done that's so abominable that you can't talk to me about it?"
Matthew hesitated, clearly identifying some sort of crossroads in his conduct with Mary. If he told her, he would betray confidences of a dear friend, if he didn't, he would lose much of his hard won regard from Mary because she would clearly put him in the same league with all the other men Mary was so angry with. Eventually he decided to reveal some partial truth to her.
"He preys on innocent girls. He wins their hearts, gets engaged to them, but only in secret out of consideration for the death of some distant relative, so he says. But he never intends to honour his word. I know at least of three girls he… deceived in such a manner."
"Well, that's certainly not honourable and I would imagine the girls end up quite humiliated. But this is certainly not worth the level of contempt you feel for him, unless … I see. She's trusted him and fell, didn't she? Is she...?"
Mary trembled. This hit entirely close to home. She could be this poor girl. She WAS this poor girl, but she got lucky. No one knew about her night of shame and Pamuk died before he did any lasting damage.
"Is this why she's here? To appeal to your kind and honourable heart? You know Papa won't stand for it! The scandal….."
"Don't you think I know that and that I didn't consider the family first? I admit my heart goes out to her. She was as innocent as the other girls I know of, perhaps even more so. She didn't flirt or tease to make a man think he would be honestly welcome only to be sent away, as if he was some sort of notch on a girl's garter belt to have and dismiss again. She's true and open in her affections. She doesn't play games. She's the most genuine person I know. And he ruined her for some twisted sense of sportsmanship or whatever he thinks of it. Just because he can. Just because he's the only son of Manchester's wealthiest merchant. Quite the catch, don't you think? And once more a girl ends up sacrificed on the altar of a mother's ambition. And I can do no more than to write to her father. Not that it will do much good, I figure. He won't be the first desperate father to appeal to the Thompsons to make Samuel honour his word for once. But he won't. He never did so before. Mary, it makes me so, so angry. He's got no right! If he wants…. needs… well there are certainly other possibilities to indulge in." Matthew shut his mouth abruptly.
They both blushed scarlet. Matthew couldn't believe he had said that. Mary couldn't believe he had said that. But slowly, a mouth twitched. Another answered and then they were caught up in the hilarity of the situation and the horses' ears twitched forth and back at the unfamiliar sound of their masters giggling like mad.
"I apologise, Mary. That was out of line. Please forgive me." They had calmed down, but some levity stayed with them.
"Don't worry, Matthew. I just chalk it up on your tab. Though I have to say you've racked up quite a tally by now. I'm most curious how you can ever hope to wipe it clean."
"Do I have to? Besides, you laughed, Mary. I refuse to be the only bad one here."
"No, not the only one, but certainly the worse. Papa is still recovering from the last time you were a bad boy. You know, you came dangerously close of becoming the 7th Earl of Grantham, when you pulled that stunt to support Sybil's quest for Women's Rights by wearing trousers."
"Come on, it wasn't so very bad, was it?"
"Not so very bad? Even Carson lost his countenance. And I've NEVER witnessed that before. You know very well you rocked their world, Matthew Reginald Crawley."
"Well, I'm not sorry. Her Majesty passed more than a decade ago. This is a new time and I'm my own man. And I'm not about to let my views be dictated by some outdated understanding of gender roles. Not even by cousin Violet."
Mary's mouth dropped open. She liked to think of herself as rebellious and a free spirit at heart, but to hear her thoughts so vehemently returned was a heady sensation. If Matthew really practiced what he preached... her pulse quickened. Just who was Matthew Crawley really? Quite against her will she found herself fascinated by him once more, which seemed to happen more and more often. She struggled to find a safe topic.
"I've never seen that particular shade of bright red before. I like the colour I have to say. I wonder, if I... Matthew, stop staring at me!"
"Why? I'm just picturing you in that shade of red."
"MATTHEW!"
"Mary, you're completely dressed in my mind. I thought you launched a serious question and I try to answer as best and truthful as I can. Am I wrong?"
Caught off guard Mary shook her head.
"Then I have to say, no, this bright shade wouldn't suit you. I think you're most beautiful when you wear darker shades like the finest Bordeaux wine."
Mary blushed, which caused Matthew to blush, too. Just a short while ago he had let down his almost fiancé and now he was flirting most outrageously with Mary! Good God, what was wrong with him? He had never felt so bold in her presence before and he came dangerously close to become even bolder. He was glad that they were still on horseback. Otherwise he'd likely act on his obsession with her and shove her against the nearest tree and kiss her breathless to see, if there was as a passionate heart beating beneath her polished exterior as he imagined. If only she gave him the slightest invitation or hint, she might welcome his advances. And damn all to hell what came afterwards.
That thought stopped him cold. How would that make him any different compared to Sam Thompson? God, he had always tried to be oh so careful. But what, god forbid!, if he still hadn't been careful enough? He had responsibilities, now more than ever. He felt cold sweat break out and vowed to remain chaste until his wedding night. No more weekend trips back to Manchester pencilling in a discrete hour at Mrs. Leigh's with his best friend Philipp Finley as late evening entertainment after the theatre or a concert. He would not risk the chance again to get a girl in trouble, no matter who she or what her profession was.
"Remind me to never call you a dull boy again. Then again, I already know that."
Nervously Matthew licked his lips. "Mary, about that night..."
"Don't. Eleanor's my best friend, you're my cousin. I really don't want to know what happened."
"Is she now. I thought as much, when she told me you wouldn't tell what you've seen. Nevertheless, I'd like you to know that nothing happened, Mary."
She arched her brow. "Well, nothing more." He amended. "I couldn't. ... It didn't feel right."
"So...?"
"We went inside almost directly behind you and Patrick, said good-bye and I left the fete."
"Do...do you regret it?"
"I'll be honest with you. No. I know I should, but I don't. It ... simply happened."
"Do you think less of her for it?"
"Do I think less of her... I don't know, Mary. I never asked myself this question. I think... I know... I suppose... Mary, I knew I was not the first man she had ever kissed the moment we were on the terrace. I did know even before, when we talked. And that made my own actions somehow alright or at least less dishonourable or questionable, do you get what I mean? Besides, you know there's this great ideal of being absolutely chaste for your spouse, and that it rules you even more than us, but let's be realistic for a moment. Few experience their first kiss after they said their vows. I suppose you have to give yourself and your future spouse some leeway as long as you know where to draw the line. Would I have ..." he searched for a delicate expression to spare Mary "... spend the night with her? I think when I stepped out it was definitely in the cards for me, but I changed my mind, as soon as I was on the terrace. Even before we kissed. She was a lady after all."
"Did you love her?"
"What?! No, of course not. It was... a weak moment for us. Do you think less of me for it?"
"No. But what if you had been the first man to ever kiss her?"
"Then... that would have changed everything between us. Mary, the brutal truth is: there are girls you have fun with and there are girls you marry."
"You speak a lot of leeway and the reality of things. But what if you, let's say, wanted to marry a woman who has done more than kissing? Would you want to know and would you still want to marry her?"
Why did Mary look at him so intently? What did she want to hear from him?
"Is this still about Eleanor or Emma?" He inched his way to an answer.
"No. Yes. It's so easy for us to get entangled with a man, who doesn't draw the line where he should. And I feel compassion for Emma. She trusted and fell in love with the wrong man and now she ends up paying for the rest of her life. I don't know what I would do, if I were in her shoes."
"You? Mary, what a vivid imagination you have! As if you could ever fall victim to the wrong kind of man. You're far too smart for that." He chuckled amused. "But back to your question: Yes, I think I would definitely want to know about her past. Would I still want to marry her? I truly don't know. I can only hope I would love her enough, maybe beyond sense and reason, to want to be with her on any terms. Mary, why do you ask me all these questions? You know, I may be your papa's heir and he may well like me, but if he knew, what we're talking about, I fully expect him to get out his shotgun and hunt me down." He knew, he was only half joking.
"Because I feel, I can ask you these questions to gain the male perspective on things nobody else I know would answer me, let alone let me ask them in the first place. I thank you for that, Matthew. And rest assured. No names, no pack drill." She drew her finger along her mouth with a small smile.
"Well, I value my life far too much to sell you out. So... I think we have another secret between us. At this rate we might end up being friends, Mary."
"Ooh, dangerous." She teased, maybe a bit too cheerful and maybe to hide from his words.
"Very! If you're not careful, you will end up liking me after all." He teased happily back.
"Heavens! In that case I'll better see that I get back home and away from you as quickly as possible." She kicked Diamond to speed away. "Last one at the stables is a rotten tomato." She shouted back at him.
"You... just you wait and may God help you, when I catch you, Lady Mary Crawley!" With a command from his legs Sapphire shot after Mary's too bright laugh.
Ende
The fourth instalment is called "A dying man's musings" and already online. It was designed as a stand-alone, but it fits into my little universe quite unexpectedly.