Chapter One

The music was pounding in her ears, speaking to her hips as they indulgently swayed back and forth to the delight of the audience in the back room of the gala. The lights were dark, and as the song she was singing ended, the room erupted into applause. She blushed and began to make her way off of the room's makeshift stage of dinner tables pushed together- a feat in her short and tight Marchesa dress, not to mention her Louboutin's.

"One more song!" One of the men in the room pleaded with her.

"Really, I must get back to the main room—" Mary began to respond.

"I'll double my donation for the night."

Mary's mouth dropped open (this was one of the highest rollers of the evening), but she quickly regained her composure. "Write me the check first so I know you're not bluffing." She smirked at him in challenge.

He whipped out his checkbook, and Mary accepted the small piece of paper, hiding it in her dress as she made her way back to standing. Once more, Mary let the beat in her heart come out in her song. She flirted with the audience members just a little too much, most likely due to the buzz she had acquired from her glasses of champagne throughout the night. She did a little spin on the table and everyone cheered as she launched into the chorus.

Even through the high of singing and the buzz of alcohol Mary noticed that some people had started taking their phones out to record her. Well, let them, she reasoned. She was having a better time since she could remember. She felt free- from the family company, from having to be the perfect daughter, and from—

"Mary? What on earth are you doing?" His strong voice caught her off guard. One of her spiked heels fell between two of the dinner tables forming the 'stage' and she unceremoniously fell forwards and landed at the feet of her audience. She looked up and her eyes met a myriad of cell phone cameras.

Fuck, she thought. The press is going to have a field day. Her buzz was definitely gone. She was back in reality.

"Mary?" He reached his arm out to her and rather unceremoniously lifted her onto her feet before dragging her out of the room. His stride was large and Mary had to hop a little to keep up with him. He finally stopped them in the hallway outside the ballroom.

"I'm sorry, Richard, I was just— "

"You were making a fool out of yourself, Mary. And at Grantham Industries biggest charity event of the year!"

"I know, I was only—"

"Your father is going to be furious with me. I was supposed to keep an eye on you tonight."

"I'm a grown woman. You're my fiancé, not my babysitter. Yes, I know Papa will be furious, but I can handle him." Richard looked away, peeved. To appease him, Mary straightened his tie and pecked him on the cheek. "I know you want to impress Papa."

"I shouldn't have to say anything for me to impress him. Carlisle Publishing speaks well enough of itself, I believe."

"Yes, your hard work has paid off. Now, let's go in and tomorrow I will deal with Robert Crawley's wrath. Tonight, we collect donations for the poor and cheerfully smile at everyone who looks our way." Richard rolled his eyes and walked inside with his irritatingly self-assured swagger. Sometimes Mary wondered why she was still with him. She rolled her eyes and followed him, waiting to remain on his arm for the rest of the night.

"I have no words." Robert Crawley, CEO of Grantham Industries, unceremoniously threw the morning's paper on her desk. His voice was cold and unforgiving. "'Party Heiress' makes her splash return, it says here." He flops another down on her desk. "Mary Crawley lets out wild side at Grantham's biggest charity event of the year- and our cameras were there for it all." He plops a final one on the top of the pile. It's simply a picture of her right after she fell. She looks horrible. Her hair is in her face and her dress is nearly risking much worse headlines about the previous night being published.

"I had hoped you wouldn't see those." Mary sat tall in her chair.

"How could I not? I received emails from many old friends this morning asking if you were alright. I had multiple calls from newspeople asking for a comment on your behavior."

Mary hesitated. "What did you say?"

"I said nothing, of course. Why give them anything more to talk about? You already gave them more than enough." She could no longer meet her father's eyes. She felt the full sting of remorse.

"I am sorry, Papa. I behaved in a very uncouth manner. I shamed the company."

"I know that you want to take over one day Mary. God knows you're the only one I would want to succeed me. Edith and Sybil never had any interest in the company, but you were in and out of the office since the day you were born. After Cora- er, your mother, passed, we both used this place to cope." There was a sad silence.

"And now you're either going to put off retiring for as long as possible or not even choose me to take over." Mary stood up abruptly. She had to make her father see sense.

"You can't choose anyone else over me. I had to fix three of Jeremy's mistakes this week alone! And Martha, don't even get me started on her."

"Mary. Relax. I still want you to be CEO. And I wouldn't mind retiring soon. But I must know you will behave in a way that lives up to our company name. Our family wasn't always one that dined in splendor and held a grand charity gala around the holidays. When I started this business alongside your mother, we were living in a one bedroom flat outside of London."

"Yes. I know this story. You and Mama were living in Boroughbridge and having dinner in Jessica's Diner like you did every Sunday night."

"And we wrote our business plan down on a napkin…"

"…That is still framed in your office today. But what does this story have to do with me taking on the company?" Robert sighed at Mary's obvious impatience. His beloved daughter, ever the pragmatist.

"Every year, I take a letter I've written to your Mama, updating her on how the company and our family is doing, to our old flat. You know this. I bought the flat back after the company took off and we were living quite comfortably. When I make my visit to Boroughbridge, I put the letter in her dresser drawer, and visit with the friends who knew us before we were 'The Crawleys'."

"Sorry to be impudent Papa, but again, what does this mean for me?" Mary's eyes searched her father's but could not find a clear answer.

"It means, I want you to take the letter to the old flat to deliver to your Mama this year." Mary cocked her head to the side quizzically.

"What?" Her tone was one of surprise.

"I need to know you will act in a mature way. I need to know you will take this company as seriously as I do, and as your mother did." He took a shuddering breath. "It was her life's work." Robert was beginning to tear up, and Mary took his hand as her eyes began to fill with tears as well.

"I'll do it. I'll make you and Mama proud."

"I know you will." There was an awkward silence as they pretended not to notice the other's intense emotions. "Now, I'll need you to leave tonight." Mary nodded. That wouldn't be a problem. She would just have to let Richard know. He wouldn't be pleased that it was right around Christmas. He had planned for them to leave in three days in order to spend Christmas in Majorca. She thought it was a bit extravagant, but her fiancé was a man who knew what he wanted. Well, he should encourage her to complete this assignment. He had always wanted her to take over the company ever since she met him. He couldn't stop supporting her now. Mary turned to her desk to start setting up her plans to leave but her father stopped her.

"There's one more thing. Sometimes, when your Mama and I would go on trips, we would only give ourselves one hundred dollars to spend, so we could remember how things used to be for us. After she passed, I carried on our tradition by only taking one hundred dollars with me to deliver her letter to her dresser each year."

"And you want me to do the same? I admit, it's a challenge, but if you and Mama could do it then I'm sure I can."

"You can and you will if you want to run this company, Mary. This may seem like a silly way to prove your worthiness as a successor, but I assure you it's what matters most to me and this company." He finished and patted Mary's hand. She looked at him. She was a little nervous to do something so out of her comfort zone, but she was confident in herself.

"I promise to do exactly what you ask."

"Good," Robert replied, and kissed her forehead. Mary's eyes widened slightly at this unusual show of affection from her father, then looked back at her desktop. "Now I'll let you get things settled with Richard. Remember, you leave tonight. The tickets are already in your bag. Good luck, my dear." And with that, he walked out of the room.

"What do you mean you're leaving tonight? Our trip is in just a couple of days!"

Mary stopped her packing and looked at her fiancé incredulously. "Really, Richard, I thought you would be glad for me! Isn't this what you've always wanted? If I can pull this off, I become CEO. We will become the power couple you've said we could be from the beginning!"

"And your father has to do this over Christmas? It's the only time all year I get a break. It's the only time we get to truly just be with one another." Richard sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand. "Fine. Go. But I expect you to be back here tomorrow."

"Why wouldn't I be? It's only a quick trip, drop off the letter at the flat, and then back on the train to London. Now, can you give me my tickets? They're in my bag on the table there."

"I thought you only got one hundred dollars?" He asked her.

"I do," she answered while sliding on a heeled boot, "But Papa gave me the tickets so I could at least get there and back. With the tickets, there should be an envelope with a hundred dollar bill in it. "

"Um, Mary?"

"What, Richard? I really have to be on my way to the train station. Thank God Papa got me first class seats, I don't know what I would have done otherwise."

"Well you won't have to worry about first class."

"What do you mean?" Mary walked over to Richard, who had the tickets in his hand with a slight smirk on his face. Her eyes widened and she grabbed her tickets to and from London and Boroughbridge. "Oh no. This has to be a mistake. I'll call Papa." Richard's eyebrows raised dubiously. "You're right. This is just another part of his test. Well, I must make do. I guess I'm…off to the…bus station then."

"It seems you are. I'll see you tomorrow then. And no later."

"I will be staying the night at some inn, drop off the letter in the morning, and get on the bus back. I should be back in the flat in time for dinner. I'll barely be gone for more than twenty-four hours." Mary began checking to make sure she had all of her necessities packed. Satisfied, she made her way towards the door.

"Do you really need two suitcases for an overnight trip?" Richard called out mockingly as Mary opened the door.

"Papa's motto is always be prepared, Richard. I'll see you tomorrow." She shut the door behind her and took a breath. "Now where in the world is the bloody bus station?"

Eventually, thanks to an Uber, and some directions from the man behind the desk at the station, Mary was able to find her way to wait for the bus alongside thirty other people. She handed the driver her ticket and found a seat all to herself near the back of the bus. Mary sighed and looked out the window, saying a quick goodbye to London for the day. She hadn't been to Boroughbridge since her mother died. There were too many unpleasant memories, or perhaps too many happy memories turned bitter. Sybil and Edith couldn't bear to go back either. Sybil had made them promise that they would all go back together one day. Mary hoped her little sister wouldn't be too mad at her for breaking that promise as it was only because of her father's orders that she had. Mary also hoped Edith wouldn't portray the situation as Mary breaking Sybil's promise intentionally, but Mary doubted that.

Before Mary could truly come to terms with the fact that she was going to be back in the town where her mother and father were first married, she was there. The ground had a thin layer of snow, and the streetlights had wreaths around them. She remembered this place, barely. She had tried to block out as much of the sadness as possible, and that had included this town. But now Mary smiled hesitantly as she stepped off the bus and into the snow. She could imagine her mother here.

Walking over to the man handing out suitcases, Mary noticed just how cold it was here compared to London. These buildings didn't offer any protection from the wind the way the ones in London did. She tried to tip the baggage handler, but with only a hundred-dollar bill to give out, she knew he wouldn't have change. She felt indignant when he simply said 'Happy Christmas' sarcastically and brushed past her, but quickly deflated once more after remembering how ridiculous it was of her to be carrying around a hundred. Why, oh why could her father not have given her five twenties or ten tens instead? Mary checked her wallet for her credit cards. What her father wouldn't know wouldn't hurt him. Of course she had her own bank accounts! She was a grown woman, wasn't she? Mary rummaged through multiple times before accepting…

They were gone. Richard must have nicked them while getting her tickets. She bet her father had asked him to do so. Sometimes Mary wondered who Richard cared about impressing more, his fiancé or her father. At moments like this, she leaned towards her father.

Well then, she would simply have to buy something and ask for change at the register. A couple stores down the way she spotted a rather dirty-looking fast food chain. She reluctantly turned to make her way there when a ball hit her suitcase. Normally, she later reflected, this would most likely have just knocked over her suitcase, maybe popped it open. Half of her clothes would have been a little damp, and she could dry them wherever she was staying.

Instead, due to the snow, the suitcase slid across the sidewalk and onto the road where it was promptly run over and smashed in two before Mary could even make it halfway to the scene. The car stopped, and Mary dragged her other suitcase along as she made her way to rescue her other destroyed property. So invested was Mary in examining the extent of the damage to her favorite Prada dress, that she didn't even notice the driver of the car getting out to help her collect her clothes.

"I'm so sorry about this." The blond stranger leaned down to help her collect the set of dresses that were covered in slush and spread all over the roadway.

Mary was not in the mood to be charitable. How was she supposed to replace all of the clothes she had lost with only one hundred dollars in her pocket? "Perhaps if you had been watching the road better, you wouldn't have made such a stupid mistake."

"Excuse me?" His voice was one of disbelief. She looked into his eyes. A clear blue disarmed her for a moment (but she wouldn't admit that for many years to come), and she remembered why she was so angry.

"You've ruined my clothes. Do you even know how much it will cost to replace these?" Her tone was fiery, and she was surprised when he responded with equal ire.

"Don't blame me! What was your suitcase doing in the middle of the street? That's a stupid mistake!"

"I did not 'leave it' in the middle of the street. One of those kids kicked a ball into it and it slid into the street- where you obviously weren't looking- and then you ran over it."

Grabbing the last of Mary's many dresses and trying to stuff them into the hopelessly broken suitcase, he huffed. "I already said I was sorry. I have helped you collect your clothes. I can't do anything else for you."

"Well you could certainly start by paying me to replace what you have ruined."

"As it was not my fault entirely they were ruined, and as they are brands I could never dream of being able to afford, I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline, Ms…"

"Crawley."

"Sorry. Ms. Crawley. My name is Matthew, by the way."

"Hm. There is one more thing you could do for me, Matthew." Matthew braced himself for the worst. "I need to get to the Boroughbridge Inn. It seems to be the only one in this town. How would I make it there?" Mary knew she could stay in her parents' old flat, but spending the night surrounded by memories of her deceased mother was not her idea of a good time.

Matthew's eyes were surprised at her request. He assumed someone like her would have somewhere better to stay than the inn. "As a matter of fact, I'm heading there right now. Why don't you get in the car and I'll drive us there?"

"How do I know you aren't lying to me? There's always the chance that you're a serial killer who runs over women's suitcases to lure them to their demise."

"I assure you that's not the case. Trust me, Ms. Crawley. I will deliver you to the inn safe and sound." Mary hesitated. "It also doesn't help that the only other way for you to get to the inn is to walk. We don't have buses here in Boroughbridge."

"Or taxis, apparently." Matthew smiled at that. "Uber?" Mary tried. Matthew laughed, eyes sparkling. Mary's eyes narrowed. "Why are you laughing?"

"It's just that anyone who's been here knows the service for the telly is nonexistent. You won't be using any apps here."

"I have been here before. It's just been a very long time." Matthew's eyes dimmed somewhat as he saw the seriousness of her expression. He stood up. They had been blocking that lane for quite a while. He reached his hand down and helped her up.

"Why don't you get in the car," he asked gently, "and I'll put your stuff in the back." Mary nodded and waited in the warm car while Matthew put her suitcases away in his trunk. This assignment was already turning out to be more of an ordeal than she had expected. At last, Matthew got in the car, and they started towards the inn.

The ride was silent, but not too uncomfortable. Mary got a closer look at Matthew. His blond hair and blue eyes were beautiful, she had to admit, but he seemed tired. Stressed. She guessed he was also having a rather hectic holiday season. When they reached the inn, Matthew got out with her and brought her bags for her despite her protests. She thought he would leave her at the door and be on his way, but after opening the door for her he followed her in. He passed her and walked behind the desk for check-ins.

"Welcome to the Boroughbridge Inn, Ms. Crawley. How can I help you this evening?"