Birthright, as a story idea was born in New Orleans in the company of R. Grace. We were chatting and brainstorming while on vacation together for new Matthew and Mary Fanfic ideas, and then voilà! Although we had that original notion right off the bat the execution of the storyline and focus of the plot, took a lot longer to develop. Besides this, we both have other all consuming AU stories we have been crafting.

My deepest appreciation goes to R. Grace as we hammered out the basics of this story together! However, then I required more help in regards to how to write canon Lady Mary. Since so many elements have been changed, I sought the help of a creative consultant, who could advise me about her, 'voice,' I am in debt to Carissa for this help and polish! I find it easy to write Matthew but a challenge to write Mary and thus, it was Carissa's push that has kept me motivated with this new project, which is completely and utterly different from, 'This Modern Love.'

So, without further ado, now I am proud to present this first chapter!

"My dearest," Dr. Reginald Crawley said to his wife.

In his arms, he held a swaddled baby. Isobel he could see was still woozy from the emergency cesarean. And yet her eyes were hungry for confirmation that they had finally started a family of their own. He smiled at the richness of his wives tender gaze. The frantic pleas she had made during the long delivery still rang in his ears. But now the first light of the day was shining through the hospitals bay windows. It had been a very long night, but now there was a new dawn.

"Meet our son," he said gently placing the small bundle into her arms, careful of her swollen stitched belly. The baby's fingers grabbed hers instantly, and she stroked the wisps of blond hair. Dr. Crawley presumed her small laugh was at the twist of fate; she had been sure she was carrying a girl. It was a certainty that had never ceased to amaze him through the agonizing months of her latest pregnancy. This was one scenario, however, where his tenacious wife did not mind being wrong. He was filled with an overwhelming, crushing love for her as she held their new son. It tore at him deeply that he had come so close to losing her. But at last they had a child of their own, a beautiful and healthy baby boy.

"Gift of god,"...Isobel said quietly using the name meaning they had chosen if they were blessed with a boy.
Dr. Crawley watched his wife breastfeeding the greedy newborn. She silenced the babe's sudden cries by instantly understanding the reason for the demanding shriek. He was a robust child; there would be no need to fret about his future. And although a stoic man and a dignified professional he still felt tears cloud his eyes at what he had done. The hospital delivery had made their dreams come true. Dr. Crawley put a hand through his grey hair. The joy was palpable on Isobel's pale, but glowing face.

"There now," he said with loving compassion as he watched his wife weep as the sensation of nursing their child continued. She smiled through her tears with euphoric grace. "I told you I would make everything work out for the best," he said with reassurance as he leaned down to kiss his wives head.

*1912*

Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham sat in London at the Savoy sipping his cup of Earl Grey tea. It had started with a telegram. With the loss of his cousin James and his son Patrick, the next heir had not been easy to locate. It had been a grim business. And he was still not completely sure how his eldest child, the Lady Mary was coping with the loss of her fiancé. She had told him she wanted to mourn him as only a cousin. However, sometimes her denials spoke to him about the volume of her feelings, more than any seemingly candid words or actions. And his wife Cora encouraged this perspective. With this loss, went Mary's assured prospect of inheriting Downton through marriage. It was a deep blow indeed.

Robert tried to shake his head out of his private musings. He was here to meet his third cousin's boy after all. Mr. Matthew Crawley was a young bachelor and a solicitor that lived with his widowed mother in Manchester. The home of his new heir gave him pause. He had known the last Earl of Walthym, the great benefactor of that city. That rebellious man had set a dangerous example. In parliament, he loved to start quarrels and always wanted to debate political matters. To Robert, this meant; he didn't take his duty seriously. Walthym was a fop and playboy who simply wanted to waste everyone's time. A socialist mania of public property occupied Manchester. The city council of Manchester had even opened the territory that Jeremiah Marling, Earl of Walthym had decreed into municipal greenery, renamed Heaton Park. It was the end of an era for an estate that had existed since the 14th century.

An almost violent shiver corrupted through Robert's frame when he thought of Downton becoming a public estate. Every Tom, Dick and Harry being permitted to trample through his land once it was renamed and called a park. Its acres divided up for municipal benefactors rather than for his blood kin. It was preposterous. But it had happened in Manchester. And so this was his main source of apprehension about the young solicitor from such a strange town. He would have to appeal to his sense of family, honor and duty. Robert knew he would have to stress the importance of legacy when explaining this inheritance. He presumed Matthew would not understand country life as Manchester's urbanization and the industrial factories were astonishingly vulgar. And yet he could hardly insult a man's home. Robert drummed his fingers on the tablecloth. He smiled thinking of how it was probably made in Manchester's cotton mills.

Robert sipped his tea and grimaced, the drink had cooled while he pondered these dull thoughts. As a waiter approached, he noticed the young man he presumed must be his heir. And he smiled. Surely this innocent fellow would fit neatly into his pocket. Robert approved of the prim tidiness of his chosen suit and he could see he had an elegant pocket watch on a chain. His blond hair gave him the appearance of youthful vitality. Although he was not a plump young man, he was of a sturdy build just the same. And then to his surprise, Robert saw an older woman walking just behind him. Murray had stressed the good fortune that this man was a bachelor. But the only explanation he could think of was this young man now had an older fiancée. This was highly irregular. And yet despite this reservation, he rose from his seat, to greet his guests with enthusiasm.

"Mr. Crawley," he said with gusto. "It is marvelous to meet you at last. I've enjoyed our correspondence immensely."

His new heir nervously seemed to be caught off guard. And Robert was relieved already by his lack of arrogance or pomp. He knew from his penmanship he had a carefully controlled stroke to his writing. And Robert had always believed that a lot could be inferred from the technique of a person's penmanship. The presentation spoke volumes about their personality, background and education. And with Mr. Matthew Crawley he had seen a conventionally elegant script.

"Lord Grantham," The young man said after a slight pause as they shook hands. "Thank you for meeting me. I hope you don't mind my mother joining us," he said tactfully introducing his mysterious companion.

"Mrs. Reginald Crawley," he said with a pleasant smile.

As they sat and chatted, Robert came to believe in divine providence. Despite the unorthodox decision of including his mother in this meeting, this young man was everything he desired in a protégé and heir. It was a marvelous turn of events, better than he had dared hope.

"Cousin Robert," Isobel Crawley, said using the term he had already offered to his new relations. "Matthew has discussed your offer to live in, Crawley House, near your estate with me," She set down her tea cup as she spoke. "I want to thank you as I agree with my son that we can leave our past behind in Manchester. We will retain the house for it contains so many memories of my dear husband, but a change would do us both some good."

"Yes," Matthew continued some trepidation apparent in his tone, "My heart is in Manchester but perhaps my head can be useful elsewhere," his tone was boastful for the first time Robert observed. "I've already accepted a position at a law firm, in Ripon."

Robert couldn't hide his shocked reaction. It seemed that his new heir did have the same daring assertiveness as his mother. Other than that, they were remarkably different.

"The Estate," Robert said pushing the conversation forward. "My boy," he added, hoping it would make his demand sound more appealing. "Will require you're every aptitude and necessitate rigorous study as my heir. There is much to learn and no time for making law your hobby."

He watched the way this young man respectfully dipped his head at this opinion and yet continued undeterred to inform him about the law firm Harvel and Carter. Robert blamed Manchester. And yet he couldn't help but enjoy the company of this young man. Isobel's keen gaze caught him forming this positive estimation of her son, and he didn't mind sharing a smile with her. She did indeed have a fine son, and he would have a proper heir, in this first-rate gentleman.

Almost exactly one month later Robert walked down the grand staircase with Isis on his heels. There was a pronounced spring in the earl's step. His new heir and mother were to arrive this day at long last. He had received a confirmation telegram from Matthew the previous day. Robert was impressed with this thoughtful attention to detail. As he sat and ate his breakfast, he was relieved he had these happy circumstances to consider as the grim details of the Balkan wars dominated his newspaper. Soon enough he was greeted in succession by all three of his daughters. Out of the corner of his eye he watched his eldest daughter Mary until his youngest Sybil spoke. His middle daughter Edith was quiet as was typically her habit. Often she was so quiet he would be surprised she was still at the breakfast table when he looked up from his newspaper.

"Papa," Sybil said eagerly. "Will our new family be joining us for dinner tonight?"

He had to admire her noble heart in accepting people with such little reserve. This question seemed to intrigue both his other daughters, as well.

"Yes," he said as his eyes left his newspaper and he meet her expression of excitement. "And your grandmother will also be joining us so we can all get acquainted."

"I really don't see what the rush is," Mary said returning her teacup to the saucer after she took a delicate sip. "Wouldn't it be more considerate for them to dine with us at a later date?"

"So, you have not changed your mind about riding down to greet them?" Robert asked with disappointment.

"I think your Mama's idea is a splendid one. It is a beautiful day for a ride, and I would appreciate such a welcoming gesture from my eldest daughter," he encouraged.

"I'm afraid not Papa," Mary said. Her tone was speckled with determination. "My horse does that care to be constrained by being told where to ride. She prefers her own direction without interference."

"Very well," Robert conceded his eyes returning to his newspaper. "We won't greet them until tonight." He sighed again in frustration but held his tongue.

I welcome all reviews, comments, analysis and evaluations! Please don't be shy I love fanfic discussions. As per my tradition of including supplementary visual aids on tumblr - you can find me as wdedalus.