Title: The Rightful Heir
Pairing: Lady Mary Crawley/Matthew Crawley
Rating: Mature (some parts explicit)
Spoilers: Season 1 & 2 trough the Christmas Special
Disclaimer: Any names off characters you recognize from Downton Abbey are not mine. All original characters do however belong to me. Fanfiction is in my opinion the ultimate form of flattery to a screenwriter :)
Summary: When Matthew lost his courage and never asked Mary to marry him, she left. Trying her luck in America the Crawleys don't expect her to come back, but she does. In 1925 Parliament passes the new inheritance law, and everything changes. When Mary returns a 2nd time it is clear that things will never be quite the same again. Will Matthew be able to convince her to stay this time?
Special thank you to the lovely Tambear for catching missing commas, odd grammar and offering excellent suggestions & advice!
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The Rightful Heir
Chapter 1: The Beginning of a New Life
Mary had left. He had never thought that she actually would, but in the end she did. For weeks after, Matthew woke up gasping, covered in sweat, heart beating wildly. Every time he hoped that the nightmare was just that, but it was worse, it was real.
His mother had begged him to accompany her to various social events to cheer him. In the beginning he had refused, but as Isobel persisted, he had reluctantly agreed. The first time he had almost turned on his heel and left once surrounded by young women, none of which were her. Only his honor and upbringing made him plaster on a smile and engage in conversation. After that event it took Isobel weeks to talk him into attending another one, and only because it was impossible to refuse.
It was a beautiful warm day in early June when a glowing Lady Edith Crawley walked up the aisle on her father's arm in the old church in Downton village. Matthew had tried to avoid the event, but only his untimely death or perhaps admittance to an asylum for the mentally unstable would have been a good enough excuse. He had packed only enough for two nights, and closed up his flat in Manchester, letting his landlady know that he would be back in three days. She had smiled at him and fondly patted his cheek.
"Enjoy your trip, Mr. Crawley," she said and steered him out of the door. "I hope that your cousin's wedding will be as grand as it sounds."
Matthew chuckled and nodded. Mrs. Brown, his landlady, had treated him as the son she had lost in the war from the day he moved in. When he worked late in the office he often found a basket by his door with sandwiches and sweet treats, or perhaps meat pies and a cold beer, when he returned home. It always surprised him how she seemed to know instinctively when he was on his way home. When he thanked her the next day she would just smile and pat his cheek, administering motherly concern for his working habits.
"You need a wife by your side, Mr. Crawley," she said with a knowing smile. "Someone who can look after you and make sure that you eat and sleep."
"I am not sure that I am cut out to be a good husband," he said with a heavy sigh.
"No one is, Mr. Crawley," she said in a gentle tone of voice. "All you can do is try, and your wife will love you for it."
Matthew ran his hand through his hair and nodded. "Perhaps you're right."
"Now hurry up, or you will miss your train." He laughed as she pushed him out the door. "Please give my regards to your dear mother."
He smiled at her over his shoulder. "I will. Goodbye, Mrs. Brown."
The door closed behind him and Matthew quickly headed in the direction of the train station.
Downton Abbey was decorated in all the colors and scents of early summer. As much as it reminded him of a day in April back in 1919, it was also very different. It was hard to believe that it was only a little over a year ago that Downton had been struck with tragedy and death. Today the house buzzed with excitement and energy in anticipation of the upcoming nuptial between Lady Edith Crawley and Sir Anthony Strallan.
"Hello Matthew."
Matthew's eyes widened at the sound of her voice. He slowly turned around and there she was.
"Mary," he whispered.
Mary walked over to him and kissed his cheek. "You did not think that I would be absent from my sister's wedding, did you?"
The look on his face showed that he had in fact thought exactly that. She chuckled and linked her arm with his.
"How's America?" he asked, quickly changing the topic.
"Large, loud, crazy. To sum it up, absolutely fantastic!" She said and laughed.
"When you did not return, we thought you would stay forever."
"I still might," she said and shrugged. "I like it there."
"I knew you would."
"Oh?"
"You never were allowed to have a life here, Mary, not really. You always had so many responsibilities on your shoulders."
She stopped and they looked at each other. "You know that is not true," she said very softly. "There only ever was one."
"To marry," he said with a knowing nod. "And now? In America?"
"It doesn't seem as important. Don't get me wrong, grandmama is still pushing men on me at every opportunity."
They laughed at the thought and continued outside. Walking across the front lawn they instinctively headed towards the bench under the old tree. They sat down next to each other, close but not so close it would seem improper.
"Anyone you…"
"Matthew." Mary rolled her eyes at him. "I go on dates of course." She laughed at the thought and smiled cheekily at him. "It's the fashionable thing to do in New York these days. We go dancing and visit shady little speakeasies in the village, drinking all sorts of strangely named cocktails and liquors. Quite different from garden parties and ballrooms I can assure you."
He laughed and took her hand. "I'm glad that you are having a good time. It's lovely to hear you laugh again, Mary."
She smiled and stroked her fingers over his. "It feels good." she looked away and her eyes got a faraway look. "My story never reached New York, you know."
"I'm glad. It didn't really cause too much of a stir here either. It was, after all, old news, and you were gone. The war did change things. When you see young men with missing limbs and families torn apart because of the war, some aristocrat's youthful mistake seems much too trivial to ponder for long."
She nodded and then smiled again. "And you? Is that what you think?"
"Mary. Darling Mary," he whispered. "I don't know what hurt most at the time, the fact that you felt that you could not confide in me, or the thought of you suffering alone for all those years. The fact that you had given yourself to another man only hurt my ego for a misguided moment. I had no right to judge you, and you certainly do not need my forgiveness. You are still the most amazing woman I've ever known and that will never change."
Mary chuckled and nodded. "Thank you. I will remind you of those words some day when we're old and gray, sitting here with blankets over our frail old legs, smoking and drinking whiskey, reminiscing of the old days, while Edith's and Sybil's grandchildren play on the lawn behind us."
"Oh Mary," he said and sighed, his eyes closed tightly.
"I'm not staying," she said abruptly.
His head snapped up and he stared at her. "What? But surely…"
She shook her head. "I can't."
"Someone is waiting for you," he said, noticing the sharpness of his statement.
"No one is waiting for me," she said and smiled sadly. "You of all people must understand how painful it is to be back here, with all the ghosts and memories attached to this place."
"I do." Matthew sighed and glanced over his shoulder at the grand house. He had needed to move away too. She was right, it was too painful. He looked at her and smiled fondly at her. "Promise me that in five years if you haven't married, or settled, that you will come back. I meant it when I said that you will always have a home here, Mary."
"I know you did, and it is very generous of you. Still it is a promise that I don't know if I can keep."
"Mary! There you are."
They turned at the sound of Lady Grantham's voice. Cora was hurrying closer. She smiled and opened her arms to her daughter, embracing her as she welcomed her home.
"It is good to see you again, Cousin Cora," Matthew said and kissed her cheek.
"Matthew, handsome as always," she said and smiled fondly at him. "How are you?"
"I can't complain," he said and made a face.
"Come, tea is ready. I cannot wait to hear about New York, Mary."
Mary rolled her eyes at Matthew over her shoulder as her mother linked her arm with hers, almost dragging Mary back inside.
Matthew had ended up staying a week. Much of that time had been spent with Mary and Sybil. He had been shocked the night of Edith's wedding when Mary had grabbed a bottle of aged whiskey and then ushered him and Sybil down to the small library. Sybil and Tom lit candles in the room as Mary tossed pillows on the floor. She stretched out and poured generous glasses for all of them before setting the bottle aside.
Matthew eased down next to her and Sybil and Tom cuddled close together across from them.
"Mary!" Sybil exclaimed when Mary pulled out a silver cigarette case and a holder from her small beaded purse.
"Oh do pipe down, Sybil," Mary muttered. "All the ladies in New York smoke. It's not some lower class affliction anymore."
Matthew watched Mary expertly secure her cigarette in the holder and then close her lips around it before lighting it. She puffed once, exhaling some smoke. Their eyes met and she smiled at him.
"Would you like one?" she asked him and held out the cigarette case to him.
Her initials, MJC, were engraved on the outside. He wondered briefly if it had been a gift from some American suitor. The case opened easily and he pulled out one, placing it between his lips. Looking across to Sybil and Tom he arched his eyebrow in question. Tom held out his hand, but Sybil grabbed his wrist and pulled it back.
"Over my dead body," she muttered.
"One won't hurt me," Tom teased.
"Probably not," she said and her eyes narrowed a little as she faced her husband. "But you can forget kissing me until the taste is gone."
"No cigarette it is," he said with a heavy sigh.
Mary and Matthew laughed at the forlorn look on Tom's face. Sybil caressed his cheeks and kissed him firmly on the lips. Mary laughed harder, but Matthew just stared at them and a blush started to creep up as the kiss progressed.
"Enough, darling," Mary said and shook her head. "If not, you will turn this little gathering into an outright orgy."
Matthew coughed nervously and pulled at his collar. Mary laughed and sat up, grabbing his tie. Cigarette holder secured between her lips, she quickly loosened the knot and pulled it free, then unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt. He just stared at her.
"Breathe, Matthew," Tom joked.
Matthew shot him a dirty look which only made Tom laugh. Mary's fingers stroked gently over the side of his neck and Matthew coughed nervously.
"Much better," Mary muttered and eased down on her pile of pillows again, taking a deep pull from her cigarette.
The bottle close to empty, and the four of them were laughing at something Tom had said. Matthew was a bit fuzzy around the edges and could not quite remember what was so funny about it, only that it was.
Mary had turned and now had her head in Matthew's lap. He played with a lock of her hair, twirling it around his finger.
"I don't understand why the two of you don't just get married," Sybil said with a heavy sigh.
Matthew stared at her and then down at Mary.
"Sybil darling, it's not as easy as that."
"Of course it is!"
"You don't understand," Mary sighed. "In any case, I'm returning to New York next week."
"Do you have to?" Sybil made a face. "What about Matthew?"
Mary looked up at Matthew's handsome face and stroked a finger over his cheek where a tiny stubble had emerged.
"Matthew will be fine. He's Papa's heir, and as such, he will always be looked after here."
"Matthew must marry," Sybil persisted.
"Why?" Mary said with a surprised laugh. "By the time Matthew is old and close to death's door I'm sure that things have changed enough that your son will be entitled to inherit."
Tom burst out laughing at the thought. "An Irish lad, the son of a chauffeur, becoming the Earl of Grantham? Your grandmother will roll over in her grave and come back and haunt us!"
They laughed at the thought, but Matthew felt a chill inside. "Please stay, Mary," he whispered.
"I can't. Not yet."
Sybil's head lolled over Tom's arm. He chuckled and pulled her up. "Time for bed, Mrs. Branson."
Sybil giggled and kissed him firmly. "Good night Mary. Take good care of my sister, Matthew. Make sure she doesn't fall asleep down here."
"Good night, darling," Mary said and rolled her eyes.
Tom and Sybil closed the door behind them. Finally alone, the room now seemed oddly quiet and Matthew swallowed nervously.
"Are you tired?" he whispered to her.
Mary shook her head causing Matthew to gasp as her cheek touched him intimately. She burst out laughing and did it again.
"Mary!" he exclaimed, his eyes wild.
"Did I wake the beast?" she teased.
"You know you did, not that it is proper to talk about."
"Neither is drinking whiskey and smoking."
Matthew tried to move away from her a little but she wanted none of it.
"Please, Mary," he pleaded with her.
"I'm leaving next week Matthew," she whispered. "This might be the last time you and I are alone."
"We can't, Mary." His voice was barely a whisper.
Mary sat up and pressed her hand against his chest until he eased down. She stretched out next to him, curling her leg around his.
"Who will stop us?" she whispered against his lips.
"It's wrong," he persisted. "We're not married."
"Matthew!" she snapped. "It's the 1920s; people do have intimate relationships without being married. Besides, I do not intend on marrying."
"Ever?" he whispered, his eyes wide at this discovery.
She shook her head. "I plan on settling out west. There is a new artist and movie making town growing up in California. Hollywood they call it. It's filled with free spirits and land is cheap. I intend on buying property there and join them. My knowledge of art and culture should prove itself useful there."
Matthew felt tears in his eyes. "I will miss you."
She leaned closer and pressed her lips against his. "I know, darling, but don't you see that it's for the best?"
He didn't answer. Instead he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. Hands moved swiftly over muscles and curves, dipping in to feel a scar or a finely chiseled collar bone, only to stroke through soft hair the next. When they came together a shiver went through them both and Mary whimpered softly. He moved slowly against her, marveling at finally being able to love her. The feel of her, so tight around him, velvety soft, hot and slick. Her sweet voice whispering his name as she tightened around him when she fell over and into the abyss. Matthew buried his face against her neck groaning in pleasure, and then looked up and into her dark eyes as he fell apart.
Afterwards they lay tangled together, breathing hard. He stroked her hair, letting it slide through his fingers, only to catch a lock and bring it to his lips, kissing it before letting go. She touched his cheek, sliding her fingers over his stubble and into his blond curls, bringing him closer until their lips met. When he eased into her this time it was slower, less frantic as they moved together, both knowing the other, as they aimed to bring each other as much pleasure as possible.
Mary left for London a few days later. She had been right. He had not been alone with her again since their heated encounter on the night of Edith's wedding. He held her gaze for a long moment before she climbed inside the car that would take her to the train. His eyes blurred with tears as he stood watching her disappear down the driveway.
Unable to stay at Downton once she was gone, Matthew packed and returned to Manchester. Just as after last time she had left, he was plagued with nightmares, only this time he would wake up tasting her on his tongue, the feeling of making love to her as real as if it had just happened. He cried and punched the pillow, cursing Downton Abbey.
To be Continued…
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*** TEASER ***
The story continues in Chapter 2: The Silent Years, 1920-1925. Mary is gone and the people left behind must adjust to a Downton without her. Matthew finds himself getting closer with the Dowager Countess. There are ups and downs at Downton. As months become years the Crawley family worry that Mary might never come back. Then in one bold move by Parliament, everything changes, and Matthew feels hope return.