JUNE 3, 1953
"Today was a most perfect day, wasn't it, Mary?" Lavinia sweeps through the door of her London
home. Usually an ardent fan of Dior, patriotism trumps chic as Lavinia Swire wears a Norman Hartnell's
strapless gown of sea-green chiffon. Flashes of gray now show through perfectly coiffed tresses of
reddish-gold. Lavinia's hair and makeup as well as Mary's are the creation of Elizabeth Arden.
"Yesterday was a perfect day, my darling." Lady Mary Crawley breezes through in a white,
beaded, strapless creation by the same designer. Her luxurious, dark silky hair now with flecks of gray cut
short into one of the chic styles of the early 1950's. This English aristocrat with a fondness for Chanel
and her suits never thinks twice for only an English designer will do for this momentous occasion, in
celebration of the coronation of their newly crowned sovereign, the beautiful, twenty-seven years old,
Queen Elizabeth, II.
"There used to be a time I could dance until dawn. Now, I barely make it past midnight." Mary groans.
"Who would have thought that not only have we survived World Wars I and II, the Spanish Flu,
(nearly dying inspired Lavinia to live life to the fullest.) the abdication, as well as the bombing of
London? Now, we have a beautiful, young queen to take us into a new age. It's all so gloriously
wonderful, Mary!" Lavinia looks at Mary with joy.
"George looked quite handsome in all of his regalia. Barbara was a vision for an American
Republican." Mary gently teases.
"You adore Barbara and you know it. Besides, when are you going to stop denying that you are
one half American, yourself?" Greenish-gray eyes lovingly challenge soft brown.
"Americans are too tempestuous in their emotions." Legendary brows lift to make a point.
"You ought to know." Lavinia pulls Mary into her arms and begins to kiss her passionately.
"Mary?" Lavinia rasps breathlessly.
"Yes." Mary feels the tip of Lavinia's tongue glide across her bottom lip.
"I want to make a night of it. I want to sleep down here. We can place fresh linens on the
sofa. Then we both change into something much softer and sexier. You change into that lavender
negligee and I'll change into my white." Desire meets desire.
"I rather like the idea." Mary holds Lavinia close.
"Could we listen to a bit of Frank Sinatra?" Mary whispers.
"Of course, there's a bottle of champagne chilling in the frig." Lavinia traces kisses across
alabaster shoulders.
"You go first because I know that you don't want makeup all over your pillowcases." Mary
takes Lavinia's bottom lip into her mouth.
"The same I must say for you." Lavinia extracts herself from Mary's enticing arms making
her way up the stairs to change.
Mary leaves the formal sitting area returning with clean linens, blankets, and pillows. After
preparing the sofa, she leaves again to emerge carrying a bottle of champagne along with champagne
flutes. Completing the setup of libations, Mary sifts through a catalogue of 331/3s vinyl albums. Locating
those albums that fit this night or morning of romance, she places the selections on the high fidelity
stereo. The velvet singing of their favorite crooner, Francis Albert Sinatra envelops the low illuminated
space. Mary then uncorks the bottle of champagne, filling each flute with liberal amounts.
"Will I do?" A soft, husky voice adds to this sensual scene.
Lavinia floats into the sitting area in a cloud of white chiffon so delicate, so sheer that she wants
to leave everything to Mary's imagination.
"Darling, you are exquisite." Raw desire laces Mary's voice as she takes Lavinia once again into
her arms.
"I'm glad that you approve. Now off with you. Lavinia seductively whispers into her lover's ear.
Lavinia watches shimmering beads flow up the stairs. Everything is set. Everything is perfect.
Taking one of the filled flutes, she turns to the makeshift bed. Romantic music and champagne
inflaming already hot blood. Matching mules fall to the floor as Lavinia relaxes tucking petite feet
beneath her.
Moments later, Lavinia with eyes closed, champagne lowering inhibitions, a deep rich voice
breaks the spell.
"Well?" Mary turns seeking her lover's approval.
"You are breathtaking". Lavinia softly declares as she rises taking Mary fully into her arms,
kissing her with unencumbered sensuality.
"Dance with me." Greenish-gray eyes seek brown.
Mary takes Lavinia into her arms loving the feel of her lover's head upon her shoulders. They
dance so close, so intimately for a song or two. Frank Sinatra embracing these lovers by singing,
"Embraceable You". Mary glides Lavinia across the floor enamored after three decades of how beautiful
this woman remains in her eyes. Gray now appears throughout Lavinia's hair as well as her own. Neither
ones figure is as taunt or tone as in 1919 or 1923. Tiny crow's feet from around those eyes of greenish-
gray and brown. Tiny lines form around mouths that are softer and seemingly fuller to the slightest touch.
Each woman graces a nearly flawless complexion. Alabaster and porcelain skin nearly free of any
blemish or imperfection. Years of being wise enough not to run off to Nice or other parts of the
Mediterranean to tan or sunbathe enables each woman to look much younger than her five or six decades
of life belie. Faces are fuller, eyes softer, bodies not as resilient, but healthy, sturdy still in remarkably
superb shape for two older, mature women.
Lavinia removes the sheer lavender floor length jacket Mary wears. Mary does the same to
Lavinia. Lavender and white chiffon drift to the floor.
"You are a goddess." Hungry kisses scald, marking Mary across her alabaster chest and shoulders.
"And you are the nectar poured from Ganymede's goblet." Mary lathes kisses upon Lavinia's
neck and shoulders.
Taking Mary by the hand, leading her down to the sofa, Lavinia snuggles as close to her
companion of three decades as possible. Lavender and white chiffon enmeshed together in such
close and intimate confines.
"What about the children? You know that they drop in at all hours." Mary worries.
"Georgie and Barbara, Edith, Sybbie, Tom, Rose and the rest all have rooms at the "Dorchester",
remember? Lavinia is loves the way she feels so pressed into Mary's arms.
"Oh, yes, I'd forgotten." Mary looks deep into her lover's eyes.
Nestling in one another's arms, they find a brief respite in sleep. Yet, an hour or two later, they sit
up sipping champagne while kissing, fondling, and nibbling one another. Unable and not wanting to
sleep, they speak openly to one another.
"Lavinia, are you happy? Have I made you happy these thirty years?" Soft brown eyes look into
greenish-gray.
"You've made me very happy. Why?" A slight frown forms upon a nearly wrinkle free face.
"Because, my darling, I can't imagine my life without you these thirty years. You helped me
to move on with life after losing Matthew. You helped me to raise George. What would I have done
without you to help me run Downton? You were and will always be Countess in all but name only.
"Mary what a beautiful thing to say, thank you." Lavinia kisses Mary softly upon her lips and
neck.
"Now, what has brought this on?" There's a look of challenge in Lavinia's expression.
"Oh, I don't know." Mary shrugs alabaster shoulders.
"You do know. We're feeling our age, that's all. We witnessed the coronation of a beautiful
young woman. A young woman whose Prime Minister is old enough to be her grandfather. Winston
Churchill is what, about eighty now? It's time for us to step aside and allow these new Elizabethans to
take the reins.
Mary sighs. She knows that Lavinia is right. Downton Abbey is now a thoroughly modern estate
for the Twentieth Century. Her beloved Matthew's vision is now the template for other entailed or non-
entailed estates to follow. Mary longs for freedom. She longs not to follow the path of her father, her
adored" Papa" who very nearly ruined the estate by refusing to cede control to his quite competent and
modern daughter.
"I agree. The children are doing well. I say let George and Barbara have at it"
Mary beams as she comes to an inevitable conclusion.
"What do you think?" Excitement enlivens brown eyes.
"Oh, Mary lets. But what we should we do next?" Lavinia thrills at the thought of the idea of a
new adventure in the autumn of life.
"We remain here, in London." The blitzkrieg took care of Grantham House. This is perfect."
Mary explains.
"Are you sure? You know that George and Barbara prefer for us to be with them at Downton."
Doubt shrouds Lavinia's mirth.
"I know. But this is home for me, now. George and Barbara must make Downton a home for
themselves. Mary becomes ever more resolute with her decision.
"You want this to be your home?" Lavinia gazes at Mary with wonder.
"Yes, I want this to be my home. I want for us to enjoy everything London has to offer. You are
the city girl after all. Besides, I want for us to be as loud as we bloody well please when we make
love. If we want to walk through the house in the nude without the first worry of propriety, then fantastic.
We can wear what we damn well please, when we damn well please. Burning incense, drinking Indian
tea, sharing the hookah, spending exotic days, afternoons, and evenings with you, talking to you, arguing
with you, making love to you, Lavinia." Mary offers her heart to Lavinia and it is astounding.
"I like you in trousers." Lavinia murmurs.
"And I like wearing them. Still, there are times that I'm not sure how feminine I am."
Mary wonders.
"After all of these years, you continue to doubt your femininity? I thought that you were
stark, staring mad after I responded to your mention of the women in Paris wearing boyish hairstyles.
'I'm not sure how feminine it is'. Lavinia remembers.
"I'm not sure how feminine I am." Mary recalls.
"All the while you stood next to that wretched Richard Carlisle." Lavinia marvels.
"It was quite the lavender moment, as you wore that lavender dress." Lavinia's eyes emit heat and
passion.
"And I wore that same dress when you caught me kissing Matthew." Mary truly adores
Lavinia.
"Then again, I love that androgynous quality about you. You cut a dashing figure wearing
white tie and tails." Lavinia fondly looks back.
"Sir Marion Joseph Collier could make an appearance. Be warned though, he's not as angular
or muscular as he used to be." Mary beams at the memory of her daring to dress and behave like a
gentleman at a masked ball hosted by her parents.
"But his friend, the Italian gentleman from the pen of Rochester always maintains a rigid
presence regardless of circumstances.
"True." Mary swoops down kissing Lavinia with heated passion.
"What time is it?" Lavinia whispers.
" It's about two or two thirty in the morning." Brown eyes hold a wanton gleam.
"When we gather the strength to get up and we tidy up a bit, lets wear something else as beautiful
and diaphanous that next time will float to the floor." Lavinia yawns, snuggling close
into Mary's arms.
"Miss Swire, you are full of naughty ideas." Mary responds equally as drowsy.
Mary and Lavinia drift off into a peaceful and contented sleep. Exhausted and
exhilarated from the crowning of a new sovereign, to the deliberate decision to remain in London just
the two of them to enjoy the autumn of their lives together.
The telephone that modern marvel of convenience and the destroyer of intimate
moments rings sending Lavinia bolting and begrudgingly out of Mary's arms.
"Hello?" A sweet, groggy voice inundated with interrupted sweet dreams answers.
"Really Aunt Vin, you and Mama at your age, at this hour." Barbara, George's American
wife teases.
"Barbara, good morning, my dear, what time is it?" Lavinia discreetly yawns.
Feeling the lack of from a warm and willing Lavinia Swire next to her and hearing Lavinia's
voice on the telephone, Mary observes her lover in the luminance of the day. Her eyes glide up and down
her companion of three decades. To Lady Mary Crawley, Lavinia looks more glorious with each passing
day.
"It's ten o' clock? Goodness, we didn't notice the late hour." Lavinia beckons Mary to join in
on the telephone conversation.
"Good morning, darlings." Mary shares the telephone receiver with Lavinia.
"Good morning, Mama and Aunt Vin, isn't it a wonderful morning?" George remains
excited about the coronation.
"Yes, darling it is a wonderful, morning." Mary looks at Lavinia with love.
"Say, Mama and Aunt Vin, we're all taking the one o' clock train back to Downton. Will
we see you, then?" George's merriment shines.
"Well, here's the thing, George and Barbara, your Aunt Lavinia and I have decided to remain
permanently in London." Mary awaits the protests.
"London, but why, Mama, you and Aunt Vin know that you are more than wanted and welcomed
Reginald and Violet love and adore you both. Please reconsider." George pleads.
"George and Barbara, please listen. The two of you are in the spring of life. The coronation
made things brilliantly clear for us. Downton is now yours and Barbara's to make as your home, my
darling boy. Your Aunt Lavinia, Aunt Edith, Uncle Tom, and I brought Downton into the 20th Century.
Now it's yours, Barbara's, Reginald, and Violets's along with your cousins to bring the estate into the
21st. It's time for we Edwardians and Georgians to step aside and allow this new age to take hold of
things." Mary calmly explains.
"But Mama, Aunt Vin…" George doesn't understand.
"Your Mama and I aren't getting any younger, dearest. We want to travel, to relax, to enjoy one
another's company while young enough and healthy enough to do so." Lavinia sagely reasons.
"So, the decision is final." Barbara accepts the choice.
"Yes, yes, our darling children, the decision is final." Mary closes the discussion of further
protest.
After a few moments of pleasantries, Mary and Lavinia place the receiver back onto its cradle.
"Freedom, Mary, sweet freedom." Lavinia whispers into Mary's ear.
"I want to spend the entire day and another night down here." Lavinia suckles Mary's earlobe.
"Superb idea, my darling." Mary crushes her mouth into Lavinia's.
"Hungry?" Lavinia eases her tongue into Mary's mouth. Tongue dances with tongue.
"Famished." Mary murmurs.
"What would you like?" Greenish-gray eyes glisten with desire.
"Who is more like it." Brown eyes darken to a rich chocolate.
"Really?" Tiny crow's feet crinkle as Lavinia smiles.
"Really." I need a certain ginger-haired wench to taste." Mary kisses Lavinia. "Sample."
she kisses Lavinia for the second time. "And enjoy." She kisses Lavinia for the third time as she leads her
friend, lover, and companion for thirty years to their makeshift nest of love.
Their time alone, together begins.
THE END