A/N - This idea first came to me while watching a special before Downton's final episode. In it, several members of the cast performed or talked about what the show meant to them. One of the performers was none other than Julian Ovenden, the actor who played Charles Blake. His singing talent immediately gave me an idea – Charles Blake as a jazz singer.
The rest of this fic formed around my dislike for the relationship between Mary and Henry Talbot. I have nothing against Henry as a character, but I hate that even when Mary ended their relationship, everyone around her refused to believe that's what she really wanted. The fact that this meddling is permissible because Mary becomes so nasty following Henry's departure was also bothersome. I found myself longing for Mary's opinions to be respected, both by her family and by Julian Fellowes. So I play that fantasy out in this fic, paired with the added fun of Charles singing in a club - you'll just have to read to see how it plays out!
I do not own Downton Abbey or "It Had To Be You" (which was written by Isham Jones and Gus Kahn in 1924). There are several versions of the song from over the years, but as I wrote I imagined it (anachronistically) in the style of Frank Sinatra's 1979 version. I hope you enjoy!
It Had To Be You - A Downton Abbey fanfic
It was a cloudy London night - was there any other kind? The street outside of 35 Belgrave Square was empty, the Painswick residence and its occupants undisturbed by traffic noise or the din of crowds, and yet Lady Mary Crawley's nerves were as frayed as if an entire grand party was parading past her window. The desperate run up to London and the adrenaline therein had finally ebbed, leaving behind only fatigue and impatience. No, there would be no sleep tonight; only waiting to hear the results of Doctor Ryder's emergency surgery and whether or not Anna and her baby would be alright. She settled down in an armchair with an audible sigh, nursing yet another cup of tea as her fingers trembled and fumbled with the china uselessly.
The drowsy grey night gave way to a bright morning and still Mary endured, although she could hardly keep her eyes opened. She had a small breakfast before taking up her post in the drawing room once more and resuming her previous hobby of wringing her hands in impatience. At last, after several uneasy hours, it was confirmed that Anna and her baby would, in all probability, both be fine. Mary's relief could not have been more palpable, her shoulders visibly untensing as she thanked the doctor and sent him on his way. With the crisis averted and Anna resting, Mary felt that she too was able to rest.
But even then, sleep was not easy coming despite her exhaustion. Her hands still shook, regardless of the good news, and her mind still swam with doubt and uncertainty. Maybe it was the idea of a new life coming, forever changing the lives of Anna and Bates; maybe it was Gwen Harding reminding her of Sybil's goodness and the fact that, with the crisis behind her, she was allowed to go back to the doubts she had had before the flight to London consumed her mind. But whatever it was, as Mary finally sank into bed, one feeling seemed to gallop in her mind, more than joy, more than relief: the feeling that she was on the wrong path. It was the same all-encompassing, crippling fear that had barbed through her over a decade ago when she had waffled and let Matthew walk away. Back then it was a feeling like being slowly paralyzed by poison, knowing she was careening towards disaster and yet couldn't stop it. Now it was a slow crawl, a steadily building dread that left her unable to stop fidgeting or her hands to stop shaking. Around her, birds were singing and the sun was shining, but for her it was like the world was slowly being brought to an end.
What is wrong with you, Mary Crawley? she thought to herself crossly as she laid there, What on earth is wrong with you?
But how to bring this nightmare to an end was a more difficult question with an unpleasant answer piercing through her as, after many hours, she finally fell asleep.
She only slept a few hours, but it was enough. She awoke that afternoon, still plagued by her previous doubts and uncertainties, but more ready to face them than before. With Anna still resting, she quietly and carefully dressed herself and prepared for a silent day of inactivity. The house felt quiet with Aunt Rosamund up at Downton and Anna laid up, and so she drifted around the house aimlessly until later that afternoon when Mead entered and told her she had a phone call. Probably Papa and Mama calling to see how she had got on, to make sure everything was alright. She was not expecting Henry Talbot's voice to greet her when she picked up the receiver.
"Henry?" she said, trying to hide her utter shock, "How on earth did you know I was here?"
"I telephoned Downton and when they said you were up in London, I wanted to call right away. Are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine. The story I told my parents is actually a bit of a cover story. It's my maid, you see."
"Oh. Oh dear. Is she alright?"
"Yes, she is. Or at least she will be." Mary said, and realizing the delicate nature of the issue, purposely steered clear of specifics, "Nothing to trouble you with."
"Well, I'm glad to hear all is well..." Henry replied in his usual drawl before pausing. After a beat of silence, he continued on, "Listen, if you're up to it...would you maybe like to - I dunno - have dinner this evening? With me?"
"Goodness, haven't we just done dinner a few nights ago?" she said with tiny smile that of course he couldn't see.
Henry laughed in response, "Yes, I suppose so. But what about tonight?"
"Well, alright then." she said, "Where am I meeting you?"
He gave her an address, but not much more before setting a time to see her. Loath as Mary was to admit it, Henry was part of the problem she was having. The idea of having a serious relationship with him made her feel like she was turning inside out. But despite not wanting to go long-term with him, she had to admit she was enjoying the process and having fun during the running of this race. Besides, with the horrible night behind her, she felt as if she needed someone to talk to, something to do to keep her mind off things. Otherwise she would go insane. She would just have to be clear with Henry where they stood.
Easier said than done, she said to herself as she retreated upstairs to search for something decent to wear.
It turned out the address Henry gave her belonged to a fairly posh club called the Royal Automobile Club. Standing at the front door, Henry could not have looked prouder if he had owned the place, and although Mary found the idea of a "car club" a strange one, she nevertheless nodded appraisingly as she entered.
She had to admit that the place was terribly grand. From the large columned archways framed with electric candles, to the brightly painted pastoral scenes below the gilded ceiling, to the band playing ragtime, the entire place buzzed with an electricity it had been difficult to find at times since the war. Henry described it as a temple for car lovers and an accurate description it was - and yet even as they walked underneath the glistening chandeliers, Mary found herself thinking that such a beautiful place was serving as a monument to death. But of course that was nonsense. Cars disinterested her far more than they horrified her - but the terror was still there nevertheless. She attempted to push the thought out of her mind and enjoy the club and the evening for what they were.
And the evening was friendly enough. Not romantic. Not normal. But friendly and enjoyable once she managed to ignore the fact that she was in a palace of automobiles. The truth of the matter was, Henry was one of the first men she had met in a while who didn't fear her or find her strange. But she knew too that, in the long run, she would have to become a very different person in order to be with him - and that was something she just wasn't prepared to do. And she certainly didn't want him to become a different person either. But she also enjoyed being in his company and wanted to be amicable with him, not tear asunder with him completely because of their differences. The thought of how to make a clean break of it and still be friendly was weighing on her heavily, despite the chipper exterior she tried to put on.
And there were times as she and Henry chatted that Mary could feel that same mounting feeling of dread as before creep back into her, the feeling that she would be trapped in a situation from which there would be no escaping. But interestingly enough as the night wore on and the band continued to play jovially, she noticed that she was not the only one struggling under the weight of these difficult revelations. As their forks clanged against their plates and their glasses were emptied, Henry seemed to be pondering through every bite, awkwardly weighing and calculating and retesting his own thoughts, measuring them against some standard to which she was not privy. At long last he set down his fork and leaned forward slightly.
"Mary..." he began with some hesitation, "If you had asked me two nights ago what I was expecting to get out of this...out of us...I would have said I was going to make an attempt at it, make a dash for the finish line, if you'll excuse the racing metaphor. I would have said it made sense, that it was right..."
Mary set down her glass, the drink in it unsipped as she raised an eyebrow in question, "Oh? And now?"
Henry laughed uncertainly, as if everything he was saying was foreign, but needed to tumble out of his mouth lest he choke on the words, "Oh Mary, I like you. I like you a lot. And I've been having such a marvelous time doing...this - laughing and talking about life and taking you to swanky clubs. And I'd like to do it as long as both of us are able. But I think I'm realizing now that...that I love you but not like..." he huffed, seemingly unable to express what he was thinking, "...it's that I want you to be the godmother to my children, just not their mother, if that makes any sense at all."
At once Mary felt like a weight was lifted off her chest and she heaved a sigh of relief, "It may surprise you, Henry, but I once said something very similar about someone too. So it makes sense completely."
"But you're not angry?" he asked cautiously.
"Angry? Of course not," she said, lifting her glass once more, "I think I've come to the same conclusion. I want to be friends, Henry, very close friends. But I think our lives are going in different directions and although we can be a part of each other's, I don't think they could entwine."
He nodded along with her assessment and looked both relieved and a little sad as he did so. After all, this was the right thing for both of them, but that didn't make it simple.
"What will everyone say?" he wondered, perhaps more to himself than to her, "After all the times I've shown up for this event or that, I suppose this will look rather feeble."
"Nonsense," Mary said with a wave of her hand, "You and I are both strong and independent. It will simply be two people who knew their own minds and knew they wanted to have a marvelous time together. Who will still have a marvelous time together. And you'll be very welcomed at Downton as a close personal friend."
"Well, I am jolly glad to hear that," he grinned, holding up his glass, "A parting drink to the past, then."
"And a celebratory drink to the future," she countered, clinking her glass against his before they both drank.
They set their glasses down as dinner came to an end and both gave a little laugh. To the future - the idea seemed an odd one, an unpredictable one. After all, who knew what future they had just drunk to? And yet the thought didn't strike her with as much fear as it had just that morning.
As they sat there, the band began a new tune. It was melodious and sweet, slow enough to sway to and yet cheerful enough to add to the young, gay atmosphere. Henry looked over at her and smiled, holding out his hand.
"A parting drink and a parting dance, what do you say? Out with the old and in with the new?"
Mary returned the smile and took his hand, being gladly led to the club's dance floor. She had never felt lighter in her whole life, knowing that both she and Henry could be free, but that they would also be friends until the end of their days. She hadn't even dared to dream things could work out as well as they did. She thought of it as they danced together chastely to the sound of jazz, a sound that filled her with a longing for the past, the present, and the future, for the ability to live life as much as possible.
"So what now?" Henry asked after a moment, as if reading her thoughts, "What's next for Lady Mary Crawley?"
"To be honest, I don't much know," she admitted, "I'm the agent at Downton and I love what I do. I have my son George to look after. I have a good life, a happy life. But I haven't done much planning for the future. I suppose it's because the future always seemed to smack me down whenever I dared to look too far ahead. Or maybe because I always dreaded the future after the injuries of the past."
"Yes, of course, your husband. I remember you mentioning him when we were at Brancaster."
Mary nodded, "I don't know if you know this...after all, why would you really? But Matthew - my husband - he was killed in a car crash about four years ago."
At once, Henry drew himself up to full height, standing ram-rod straight,
"Of course, I had read about that back then. I suppose I didn't put two and two together until just now. I'm dreadfully sorry, Mary."
She smiled her thanks gently, "I've had a very hard time of it, but I've soldiered on."
"Lord, no wonder you were hesitant about cars. I'm a fool to have pushed you." Henry admonished himself, looking past her in self-pity.
"No, no, please, none of that." she said, "It's not you at all. You love cars, and why shouldn't you? No, I'm glad you do and I'm glad it's a part of who you are. I just wouldn't have been able to deal with it long term and I would have hated to think you'd have given it up for me. Just promise me you won't write to me about any of the details of your future races, alright?"
"Alright," he conceded with a smile. After a beat he plowed on, "But do you ever think you'll marry again?"
She nodded, "I would very much like to. But it needs to be with the right person."
"Matthew must be a very tough act to follow." Henry commented, "You must love him very much."
"I do. He's the love of my life." Mary said, "And you know, you're the only person I've met in a very long time who said you love him. Not you have loved him or you did love him. No one else seems to understand that I love him still and will always love him. Other than my brother-in-law Tom, of course. But otherwise you seem to be the only person who understands."
"Well, I know that when you love someone deeply and unapologetically - no matter who they are or how long you love them - they stay with you. I don't think there's anything wrong at all with carrying a torch for someone like that."
"Are you speaking from experience?" Mary asked, with a little smirk.
"Ah, even I have secrets that I'm not ready to give up," Henry said coyly, "Not even to you."
They laughed once more as the tune they were dancing to suddenly was given the added benefit of words that began softly in the background and swelled to a greater timbre as they swayed.
"Just promise me if you do decide to marry again that you'll invite me to the wedding." Henry said at last.
"Of course I will, but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were-" Mary began her statement, but as the voice of the singer came to her ears and she turned to face the band as she and Henry danced, the words ended as abruptly as they formed, "Golly! The singer, I...I know him!"
The band had faded to the background as the singer took center stage. From the slicked-back hair to the dignified stockiness in the shoulders to the hidden mischievous depth that rested in the eyes, it was a form that Mary had come to know well...a form that had once leapt over a fence to save a dying pig, a form that later sat next to her covered in mud as the two laughed uproariously. Yes, despite the fact that she hadn't seen him in over a year, Charles Blake as he stood before her now was totally unchanged, like he had just stepped right back into her life where they had left off. And yet of all places, he was here, on the club stage with the jazz band swinging behind him. But what Mary was not expecting was the voice that came from him when he stepped up the microphone and opened his mouth to sing:
Why do I do just as you say?
Why must I just give you your way?
Why do I sigh - why don't I try to forget?
"You know him?" Henry asked in surprise, "How extraordinary! How do you know him?"
"He's a friend, a family friend." she said, still slack-jawed in astonishment as they danced and the natural rhythm of their steps ensured she was facing Charles one second, and away from him the next, and then facing him yet again, "He came to Downton several times. He once saved our prized pigs from dying of thirst. I had honestly given up much hope of ever hearing from him again, save in the odd letter or two."
She gaped at him in astonished delight as she danced. Charles too seemed to have seen her, but in true fashion, hardly any emotion flickered across his face. He merely lifted his left hand and slightly waved in her direction, the corners of his mouth ticking up in a tiny smile as he continued on:
It must have been
That something lovers call fate
Kept me saying, "I have to wait"
I saw them all,
Just couldn't fall 'till we met.
"Well, I'm guessing you didn't know he was a jazz singer too, judging by the look on your face." Henry said with a laugh.
"No. No, I most certainly did not." Mary responded.
If nothing else, Charles Blake had always kept her guessing and was keeping her on her toes even now. But she couldn't hide the delight that sparked through her at seeing him up there, enthralling the crowd with his easy sense of rhythm and strong, dignified voice. If she wasn't there in person, hearing this voice come from his lips, she might not have believed it; and yet seeing it now she found herself incapable of forcing the smile off her face. Especially when he took a step closer to the microphone and cradled it in his hands, as if he was speaking intimately to one person alone. And perhaps, although Mary thought she must be mad to think so, it seemed like that one person was her.
It had to be you, it had to be you.
I wandered around, and finally found
The somebody who...
...Could make me be true,
And could make me be blue
And even be glad, just to be sad
Thinking of you.
Some others I've seen,
Might never be mean
Might never be cross
Or try to be boss
But they wouldn't do.
For nobody else gave me a thrill,
With all your faults I love you still
It had to be you, wonderful you,
It had to be you.
"Well, life is just full of surprises, isn't it?" Henry grinned at her as the band took over once more, freeing Charles to come down from the stage. He made his way over to where they stood, his steps purposeful yet graceful.
"May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice dripping with that old suave-yet-cavalier tone, as if he hadn't been abroad in Poland for a year, as if he hadn't just crooned his way back into her life.
At once, Mary looked at Henry, who had just stepped back from her grip as Charles sauntered up. He nodded and raised his eyebrows up at the two of them appraisingly.
"Of course, be my guest." he said, holding out his hand in invitation as he moved to walk away. But before he did, he leaned in and said, "I'll see you at Downton soon."
"Yes, absolutely." Mary responded, "Very soon. Good night. And thank you."
And with another grin, Henry was off through the shimmering decadence of the club.
"I do hope I didn't just interrupt something." Charles responded as he and Mary took up the position that had just been cast aside.
"Oh, no, nothing like that. Just a friend - a good friend." Mary said, but felt herself staring back at Charles in disbelief. Were they really just going to chat like all was perfectly fine and normal? Like it wasn't divine and surreal to suddenly be back in his company after so long with hardly a word?
"Oh. Well. That's good for me..." he said, his voice like honey and his eyes full of teasing laughter. After a second, however, he sobered, "...But how is it for you?"
"It's neither good nor bad," Mary shrugged as they danced, "I've said it before, but...I'd rather be alone than with the wrong man."
"And everyone else has been wrong?"
"It's not that exactly, it's just that...they haven't been right." There was a second of silence in which Charles' lack of information almost drove her insane. At last she broke down, "And now enough of that. What about you? How was Poland? How was the trade delegation?"
"Oh, you know how those things are. It was long, detailed, monotonous, boring trade talk in Not-England. I'm happy to be back."
"I noticed I didn't get a letter while you were gone..." Mary said searchingly.
"I...well, I wasn't joking when I said I thought you'd be married be the time I got back," he murmured, "I figured I shouldn't push in."
"Nonsense, you would always be welcomed in my life, even if I was married. Even so, I'm not married, so here we are."
"Here we are." he echoed.
Another small silence followed, "Why didn't you tell me about this?" she asked at last, moving her head to indicate the band.
Charles chuckled, "Well, I won't play coy, that's not my style. What you're looking at here...well, this is me. This is what I do."
"I thought you did government studies." Mary teased.
"Well, that's what I'm paid to do, but this is what I live for. This is where my passion lies. I'd do it for nothing if I could, but the rest of the band would bludgeon me to death and rightly so." Charles laughed.
"I envy you," Mary sighed, "I'd like to think I have something I'd be willing to do for free."
"You have George, and the estate," Charles suggested.
"Of course. I adore George, and Downton is my entire life; I love working as the agent. But thinking of you, government worker by day, jazz singer by night - it's rather glamorous and modern. Sometimes I wonder if I could break out the way you have."
"I'm surprised to hear that be a point of envy for you."
And then a thought occurred to Mary.
"Charles...what's the real reason you didn't write me while you were in Poland? We were partners in crime there for awhile, even matchmakers the way we helped push Tony and Mabel together-"
"Ah yes, how are Tony and Mabel?" Charles interrupted.
"They're fine. They were almost involved in a scandal thanks to my indiscretion, but that's passed now," she remarked off-handedly before realizing Charles had just steered her away from the main objective of her statement, "And don't change the subject! We're not talking about Tony and Mabel, we're talking about us."
Charles gave a tiny snort of laughter as his only response.
"What's so funny?"
"Oh, nothing. Not funny exactly, it's just...I never thought I'd hear you and I be referred to as 'us' in my whole life."
Mary blinked for a moment, feeling a small smile play at the corners of her mouth.
"Anyway," she plowed on, "What's the real reason you stayed away? Because if it's for the reason I think it is, I'll be very disappointed. Surely you have more faith in me than that."
For a moment, Charles looked slightly embarrassed by her statement, and shuffled awkwardly as they danced as his only response.
"You're right, and I am sorry." he finally said, "But honestly, is this what you really want? A part-time jazz singer who bounces from club to club and band to band as he's needed? Is it what your family would really want?"
"For someone who knows me so well it's like you don't know me at all!" Mary admonished gently, "Don't you think it's for me to say what I want? And as for my family, I love them, but they don't get the deciding vote in how I live my life."
"Of course, what was I thinking? I'll be more thoughtful next time." he responded, his tone full of jocularity, but his words only half a joke.
"Who says there'll be a next time?"
"Not to sound to braggadocious, but I think there might be." Charles responded in his usual cheek as both he and Mary smiled.
"So...is the song right?" Mary asked as they swayed, "Did it have to be me?"
"It doesn't have to be, not if you don't want it to..." he replied slowly, "But I think I'd like it to."
"What changed your mind?"
"Quite simply, I made a mistake. Before I left, my primary goal was to help you iron everything out with Tony and Mabel. I thought that I would be freeing you up for better things...and for better people than me. After all, what can I really provide? I have a title and a seat in Ulster waiting for me - provided they don't find another relative above me in the meantime - but as you said yourself, I'm an outsider. And not like the dashing outsider in a romance novel who sweeps the lady off of her feet. So I thought we would just be good chaps until days' end. Turns out it only took me going to Poland to realize just how much I want to be around you."
"Well, I can't act like I've never made any mistakes, because God knows I have. I almost made one recently that I was luckily able to just rectify today," she glanced back in the direction Henry had disappeared as if to punctuate this statement, "But Charles, being here and seeing you again - it's made me realize something."
He raised his eyebrows in inquiry and she plowed on.
"I believe people are sometimes afraid of us..." she hazarded, "I believe sometimes people want to be able to control us because we're too volatile to predict when we're left to our own devices. I think in the past, regardless of how strong I am or how independent I like being, I think I still give people too much control over how I live my life. Sound familiar?"
"Oh yes..." he said sadly, "I think it's the reason why, of all the people I know in my life, only you know about this." he gestured vaguely around them, "But I'm glad I shared it with you."
"And I'm glad you shared it with me too." she said, "So, in future, I think we need to stop listening to what other people tell us to do. We're very different from other people, you and I. But that doesn't mean we're wrong. Just because you have a bit of a cheek on you and I have a tongue that could clip a hedge doesn't mean we don't deserve to be happy...to find love. And besides, when both of us are on form, we have a cracking good time."
He laughed and she followed suit, feeling at ease for the first time in awhile.
"Look, Charles, I don't pretend to know what the future holds," she continued, "I don't even pretend to know what I want - not yet. But whatever the outcome - whether we end up happily married or just friends - I think we deserve to make a go of it, whatever 'it' is. And I intend to."
With that, she leaned in and kissed him, silencing the words he was going to speak before his lips could even make them. He seemed surprised and yet his body reacted automatically, his hands raised in surprise for only a second before they came to settle around her waist. When at last they broke apart, it was enough - nothing else needed to be said. They stood for a moment, looking at each other, the dim light of the place just disguising the grin Charles wore.
"And now away with you, you've got a song to finish." Mary instructed, giving his shoulders a playful shove, "And Charles - know that you and I are actually much more similar than I imagined when we first met. You aren't an outsider; if anything, you understand me better than most people. So remember in future that on the whole I'd much rather be understood than swept off my feet. Besides, I'm a singer too."
She smiled at him and he stared back with that same grin and a look of slight disbelief, as if he couldn't believe this is what the night had brought him. But he nevertheless did as she said and mounted the stage once more. As he did so, Mary stepped back, away from the dancing bodies of fellow patrons, and watched Charles from afar. He cradled the microphone as he had before, his easy sense of confidence returned, but this time his eyes never left hers.
For nobody else gave me a thrill,
With all your faults I love you still
It had to be you, wonderful you,
It had to be you.
The band brought the song to a conclusion, the patrons around her clapping as they did so and Charles taking a much deserved bow. From her place in the audience, Mary gently clapped her gloved hands together, beaming proudly at Charles, who looked back at her and gave her the slightest of nods, a gesture she returned. And then, before another song could begin, she gathered her coat and made towards the door she had entered through.
Her very flesh was alive with emotions as she left the club. Just that morning she had wondered how she would go on, knowing she and Henry weren't suited and yet not knowing how to get out of it; she knew her family didn't think they were a match and yet knew too that they would try and convince her to make a go of it, to conquer her fears and try. They weren't doing it out of malice or ill-intention, just a misguided idea of what their love for her gave them a right to do and the thought that she was too fickle to understand herself, when the opposite was true. She would love them forever for all their tries to help her be happy, but they were advocating things she didn't want. Just that morning, however, she might have surrendered, been crushed under the weights of their opinions, unable to mount a resistance on her own.
But now she had found an extra ally - just like Tom was her ally for the estate, Charles was her ally in personality. They were of a similar mind, her and Charles. Both fiercely individual, committed, opinionated, very smart, very strong...very stubborn. They had the ability to bite down to the bone with a remark, yet had come through their own common animosity to form a united front. It had taken seeing someone of her own mind to affirm that her mind was indeed valid.
And she really did believe what she said to Charles - that they deserved to be happy, regardless of whether or not others approved of their decisions and in spite of the mistakes they made. It was that refrain that made her smile as she hailed a taxi on the busy street, running her hands over her mouth as if to recreate the kiss she had exchanged with Charles. Was it a romantic one? She didn't yet know. But whatever the future held, it would be hers to create, not anyone else's.
At last a cab responded to her hail and she climbed in it, giving one final glance back over the Royal Automobile Club - a temple to death that had suddenly become her palace of life, glistening with beauty in the darkness. She gave the cabbie the address and gathered her coat about her as they set off, remembering something she had said over a year ago, standing on the estate with Tony - that she didn't want to spend her life regretting the past and dreading the future. Well, she certainly didn't dread the future anymore. It was hard to believe, but it was true. With a smile, she silently hummed the tune that had made it all possible as the cab drove through the streets towards Belgrave Square, winking into and out of the moonlight.