January 1913
Matthew and Mary
"I have a proposal to make."
"Go ahead"
"Marry me."
"So your proposal is an actual proposal."
"Yes."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't love you."
"I don't love you either. So we are on even terms then."
"Why do you want to marry me if you don't love me?"
"Because I think we'd do well together. And we'd both get what we want."
"And what would that be?"
"You'd get your father's estate and your mother's title. I'd get a wife who knows what it means to be part of the aristocracy."
"Since when do you care what being part of the aristocracy means? You are so proud of your middleclass roots."
"Yes, I am. But I can't be a good earl if I only act according to middleclass values."
"Who are you parroting now? Granny?"
"No. Those are my own thoughts. Think about it. Please."
"No. I don't want a marriage of convenience. Not if I can help it, anyway."
"That's a lie. You'd have married Patrick if, in your own words, 'nothing better had turned up'."
"How do you know I said that?"
"I talk to Edith a lot. Or rather, she talks to me. She has told me a lot of things about you."
"I bet not a single one of them was good."
"True."
"Then why don't you marry her?"
"I don't like her. No, that's wrong. I like her as a cousin but I couldn't marry her."
"What's the difference between her and me then?"
"With you I could live without flinching every time a saw you at the dining table. Even if you were my wife."
"How very romantic."
"I know this everything but romantic."
"You don't say."
"What about your parents?"
"What about them?"
"They didn't marry for love. But they are content, aren't they?"
"No, they are not."
"No?"
"No. If you refer to my parents as being 'content' with each other and in their marriage you are making the understatement of the century. And not just this century. The previous one as well. They are wonderfully, blissfully happy. They love each other very, very much."
"There you have it then."
"You think that would happen to us?"
"It's possible."
"I doubt it."
"Think about it. Please."