I have always loved watching Mary and Anna's friendship on this show, but it was only recently that I began to really like the idea of them being together, (in an alternate context anyway). I guess I could consider them a guilty ship of mine. Anyway, I decided to write this as a small tribute to the alternative idea of them as a couple. Plus, I realised there were very few fanfictions about them, let alone good ones. I will try to keep in tact with the general storyline of the show, but I will be making some alterations (I can't have the idea of MaryxAnna flourishing when MaryxMatthew is in the picture because I love them both, you see?). Basically, this story will be focused mainly on the imaginary idea of Mary and Anna. Also, unlike some of my other fanfictions, it really is just a bit of fun so try not to take it too seriously :P Otherwise, I sincerely hope you enjoy it :)
Pre Season 1
Chapter 1
"I've prepared the red gown for tonight, is that fine milady?"
"Yes it will do very well, thank you," Mary replied to her maid as she helped her out of her day dress to prepare for the evening. Anna turned to the fastenings on the corset and began fixing where had come loose throughout the day. Mary grew quiet as her thoughts had been clouded and distracted for a good part of the day. The idea of the whole prospect was still dawning on her, she wasn't sure she was entirely ready for it.
"Patrick was here again today," she said finally. "He'll be at dinner. We've been deciding whether we should go public about the whole affair before he goes to America."
Anna continued to tighten her corset and listened attentively. "Do you think you will?"
"I don't know," replied Mary, honestly. "I would prefer for it not to be set in stone just yet."
"You mean you're not sure about it?"
"You know I've said before I would only have married him if nothing better came up. I'm sure Edith would have been much happier with him anyway."
Anna smiled, it had been obvious to everyone that Edith had always been the one to prefer Patrick.
"But the truth is I don't think I would be any happier with any man. They're all the same."
"You think don't think well of men?" Anna asked, puzzled.
"I hope I don't sound too harsh, although perhaps if I'd had a brother I'd think differently. I acknowledge they are not all bad, I just would rather prefer it if I didn't have to spend the rest of my life with one of them. If it were up to me, I wouldn't marry at all."
Anna paused in her work tying the fastenings.
"Anna?"
"Sorry, milday," she stammered and quickly finished the knot.
"But I guess in life all we can do is what we think is right, rather than what feels right."
Anna pulled the dress off the hanger and helped Mary into it. "I wouldn't say that, milady. Sometimes we need to do what we feel is right than what we think is right."
The two women looked at each other. Their gaze lingered momentarily as they each considered what the other had said. This conversation seemed to have sparked something deeply concealed in either woman's thoughts, completely ignorant in the other. While Mary assumed Anna's advice had been in regards to Mr Crawley, she could only wish it referred to something else.
It was true, Mary was dissatisfied with men, not because she thought badly of them, but rather she would have preferred to not make it her business to involve herself with any of them. For the sake of her parents, she made herself a bachelorette and was clever and rational about seeing a match for herself. But in her heart, she knew what she really wanted. No soul could ever guess it, but it was women who were the object of Mary's desire.
She was a born aristocrat with a good title and a good position, yet she knew she had been nothing but cursed in her life. As a female, she could neither inherit her father's property, nor enjoy the pleasures of life respectably in the same ways men could. She had little choice in what she said or did and there was especially very little she could do with her time. And with her added burden, even her only real employment of taking calls and meeting suitors gave her very little pleasure. She recalled, time and time again, praying to God, though she was not particularly religious, to release her, from at least this burden, so she might at least satisfy her parents and herself in marriage. But she soon realised what she was, and saw she was nothing but doomed to a life of infinite misery.
Mary smiled and dismissed Anna before sitting quietly in front of the mirror. She closed her eyes and breathed to herself. No, she could not let it happen again, especially when she was unofficially engaged. But Anna's face as she had said those words still lingered in her thoughts. There was no way in hell it had meant what she hoped and she constantly reminded herself of it. Brushing up her face and hair, she quickly got up and hastily left for dinner.
...
Anna walked quickly down the servant's stairs to help the rest of the staff prepare for dinner. She quickly turned to head to her room and called after Gwen who was leaving that she was just changing her cap and apron. She closed the door and leant against it.
She felt so strange. Her head was aching and her breath was heavy. Her palms were red and moist with sweat. She clutched at her apron and breathed heavily. She was both confused and confronted by her symptoms. She could feel her heart was racing at a million miles an hour while her stomach galloped like she had swallowed a box of fireworks. She clasped her eyes shut and tried her utmost best to breathe normally with no success. She didn't know how she felt. She didn't know even remotely how to describe how she felt. It was bizarre, and it frightened her.
Her mind retraced her steps to Lady Mary's chamber whence she prepared the Lady for dinner. There was something very strange that had sparked out of their conversation. She always knew Lady Mary to be somewhat modern in her thinking, even if her commitment to her family was somewhat very traditional. But it was not her talk of marriage that had sparked this; that she knew. It was her face. That look she gave just as Anna was to leave. It said so many things without speaking a single word. It was not the usual friendly but none the less detached acquaintance the Lady normally exercised. It was warmer, there had almost been a mutual respect – like she had been treated as an equal than a servant. But again, Anna knew it was definitely more than that. It had unsettled her thoughts and she felt very ill at ease.
...
"I just think we should wait, that's all."
"But why? What's wrong with going public about it now?"
"I don't know, what if you meet someone in America?"
"Mary, we both know that's not what this is about."
The dinner had snailed by. Mary and Patrick had remained quiet scarcely speaking a word. The rest of the family had given them both a wide birth, except Edith, who insisted on sitting with Patrick and questioning him at any last chance she might have before he left for America. Her voice whirred in Mary's ears like white noise as she sat, barely eating a mouthful, waiting anxiously for the dinner to be over. She had promised to give him an answer tonight. She knew it wouldn't be favourable to him, but it felt right.
"Mary, I just have to know. Are you going to marry me when it comes to it or not?"
"Patrick, I know you're just as nervous about this as I am. You can't say you're not. If we just wait until you're back from America, I know it will make things much easier for both of us."
He sighed heavily just as a set of footsteps was heard behind them. They looked round to see Edith enter the main hallway. "I'm sorry, I'll–"
"It's quite alright," Patrick interrupted her. "Your sister and I are done. Good night, Lady Mary," he kissed her hand before turning to Edith and acknowledging her with a slight bow. Then he walked to the front door where a footman returned his hat and coat as he left the house.
Edith observed Mary's exhaustion and scoffed, "you don't even like him. Why are you doing this?"
Mary shot her a glare. "We must all endure things we don't like. And you must learn to as well."
She stormed off impatiently, just as Edith called "is that the only way you can be happy? To see those around you miserable?"
Mary quickened her pace and headed upstairs to her room. She pretended to ignore Edith's last remark, but she knew there was an element of truth to it. Edith was definitely the one who liked Patrick the most, so why didn't she let her have him? Why did she insist on making life unbearable for not only her sisters but herself?
Among many things, she didn't want her sister to inherit the estate. She was the first born daughter. If any of her father's children were to inherit it, it should definitely be her. She couldn't bare Edith being the Countess of Grantham. It would only be humiliating to see her younger sister in such a better position than her. But there was a greater reason, she knew, for her dislike of Edith. She envied her, in so many regards. Not only did Edith actually love their cousin who was to inherit, she was capable of feeling affection towards men – something Mary knew was barely possible for herself. She knew Edith envied her for her beauty, her talents and her popularity. But deep down she knew her envy for Edith was far greater.
She rang the bell and sat waiting for Anna.
Anna. Such a sweet girl. There was just over a year between them in age and she was already the head housemaid of Downton. But she had said to Mary that she had her heart set on one day becoming a proper lady's maid. She was the sort of person who valued nothing over kindness. She would not admit it, but Mary knew she was closer to her than any of her sisters or even her mother. She trusted her unconditionally.
She clasped her eyes shut at the thoughts which began to spill into her head. No, she mustn't. She buried her face in her palms and tried to think of nothing – to make her mind as cold and senseless as her public character. She despised enough how such thoughts and emotions afflicted her like a disease. Normally, she could cast them away, but this time it was different. This time, it wasn't going away. Her mind filled with immoral thoughts and her body began to quiver with their impact.
She held herself tightly, her nails digging bitterly into her bare skin. While she had always been aware of her condition, this particular occasion was especially painful. Anna. Her maid! Of all the victims in the world she could have possibly afflicted, it had to be the most guiltless and undeserving of recipients. Though what made matters worse was the nagging suspicion that somehow, these emotions were somehow of her doing. Her grief concealed her and her eyes began to swim heavily, the shame of her heart blinding her.
"Milady?" Anna entered the room. Mary quickly lifted her head out of her palms. Anna looked at her a little shocked. "Are you alright, milady?"
"Quite fine, Anna, thank you," Mary replied. She wiped her eyes subtly, praying that Anna would not notice their change in colour. Or at least, notice her subtlety and be kind enough not to comment. "I'll change for bed now."
