A/N: The idea for Rumor Has It first dawned on me while I was watching Gossip Girl and surfing the net for photos of the Downton cast (great multitasking, I know.). All of sudden, I came across a picture of the Downton ladies during their disco photo shoot, and it got me thinking... What if I put these characters in a modern day high school scenario? I mean, just like in Downton Abbey, the girls on Gossip Girl depend on their reputation to stay on top. Then I saw that hilarious cover of Rumor Has It by Carson on Jonathon Ross, and I just couldn't resist! It was like a sign! So, I got to writing and this is what I managed to spew out. I shan't deny how much fun I had during this process, and I hope you have as much fun reading it. Although I plan for the story to mainly center around M/M, there will appearances of S/B as well as most of the other beloved characters from the show.
*Sadly, I do not own the characters of Downton Abbey or the concept of Gossip Girl.
~ Rumor Mill ~
As the leaves change colours, it's time we changed out of our sundresses and shorts and donned those cute new cardigans. Welcome back to September, my dears. And what better way to kick off the new school year than with an alcohol-enthused, glittered-up party? Word on the block is that Lavinia Swire is holding another one of her fabulously ostentatious parties. Anybody who's somebody is going to be there. Did you receive that pearl trimmed invite in the mail?
Matthew Crawley stared blankly at the undefined, pink drink in his hands. The bubbles within the substance, which had once vibrantly fought to break free of their confinements, now clung to the edges of the beautiful but heavy crystal. Occasionally one or two would casually float to the top and burst into oblivion, but it wasn't the same as the hundreds that had been eagerly making their way to escape when the bartender first poured the beverage in.
It was the signature drink of the night and, like everything else at the party, mirrored perfectly the taste of its hostess. After enduring a bland conference with a bunch of newspaper tycoons and his stepfather, he had been so excited to escape from the boredom and mingle with his own kind. However, upon his arrival, he could not help but feel that of which he was trying to avoid. He could not deny that the party was an utter success. His girlfriend Lavinia certainly understood the meaning of lavish. There was the generic live band with its hair flips and midair splits, an overflowing fountain of chocolate fondue and an open bar. The whole thing intricately followed the book, deserving an approving nod from even the most critical. But, for some odd reason, it failed to stimulate him. He was bored.
He stole a glance at Lavinia. She was in deep conversation with Evelyn Napier, though he didn't know how. The guy was an absolute bore, always talking about cars and NASCAR. Perhaps he should feel concerned about his girlfriend's fascination, which was enough to delay her noticing his arrival, but he strangely didn't. Instead, he shrugged the matter off and turned his attention to the rest of the room. She'll find him when she's done.
"Matthew! Aren't these drinks just divine?" Edith Crawley hiccupped, wobbling over and holding a familiar carbonated, rosy beverage. She clearly had had enough experience with it to know what she was talking about.
He smiled awkwardly. "Edith, are you sure you should be drinking?" The Crawleys and the Crawleys (no relation whatsoever) had been family friends long enough for Matthew to know about Edith's complete lack of alcohol tolerance.
"You're right…" She stared at her drink and frowned. "But, it's just so darn good, and everyone else was drinking it… Have you tried some? Here, try it!" She shoved the champagne glass in his hands towards his face. Matthew grimaced, suffering from the aftertaste. Unfortunately, it tasted just as it looked.
"Oh good God! You look like you just swallowed something absolutely awful. Maybe I haven't gotten a proper taste yet," She brought her own to her mouth.
"Ah, I think you tasted it plenty, Edith," Matthew plucked the drink out of her lax grip and gratefully passed hers and his to a nearby waiter.
The girl frowned and looked like she was about to argue, but was quickly distracted by her surroundings. "Doesn't Patrick look absolutely dashing this evening?"
Matthew matched her line of sight. Sure enough, across the room lounged Patrick Gordon surrounded by a flock of adoring girls. Matthew couldn't help but feel a pang of admiration.
"Who looks absolutely dashing?" An all-too-familiar voice approached him from behind. Matthew turned around to meet to the curious and amused face of his girlfriend.
"Hello, darling!" She gave a quick peck on his cheek. After watching Patrick being absolutely fawned over, he felt a little disappointed by her greeting.
"Great part-AY, Lavin-IA," Edith slurred.
"Thanks, Edith! You look great tonight," Lavinia cooed. Matthew looked at his girlfriend in disbelief. He never understood the meaning behind the words of girls. Edith clearly didn't look great, and he was sure Lavinia knew it too. The girl's face was covered by a cake of make-up that seemed to do the opposite of flattering her plain features. Her dress was ill-fitted and had ruffles in all the wrong places. Truth be told, she looked like she had borrowed from her grandmother's closet, and her recent intoxication didn't help either.
"Yes, you certainly outdid yourself this time, Liv. I think you're giving the Queen herself a good run for her money," Matthew grinned.
"Terribly clever," she said, rolling her eyes. Her response felt anticlimactic.
They were on quite different levels when it came to wit. Matthew was one who had it naturally, and Lavinia – well, she often found it annoying. Whether it was because she didn't have it herself or just didn't find the act entertaining, she was often agitated when Matthew spoke in such a manner. Knowing that a frustrated Lavinia ensured displeasure for both sides, he often avoided talking like so in front of her. But tonight, for some unexplained reason, he didn't feel like himself and seemed to act against his better senses.
"So, who is this dashing mystery man we were all discussing?" Lavinia found her way back to the purpose of the conversation.
"Edith, seems to take a fancy out of Gordon over there."
"Edith!" Lavinia gasped. "What's the matter with you? You know Patrick is never looking for a serious relationship."
Edith's already red face darkened into a whole new shade. "I know… But, just look at him!"
The trio stood there, observing the specimen. Despite Patrick's obvious bad character, no one could deny his odd but fine features. Prominent cheekbones, wisps of auburn hair and those eyes – those emerald cat-like eyes that were suddenly fixed on them. They quickly turned away, pretending to cough and stare at some interesting subject on the other side of the room.
They waited until the coast was clear. "How's Sybil doing, Edith? I thought she was coming tonight, but I can't seem to see her anywhere," Matthew asked, trying to break the tension.
"I'm sure she's around here somewhere! Perhaps striking up a conversation with Evelyn, I heard he had a soft spot for her…" Lavinia chimed in immediately. He smiled at the expression on her face, satisfied that his question had drawn the correct response from his girlfriend. It was good to know that she still cared about his interest in other girls and was not herself captivated by the allure of Evelyn Napier.
"Yes, she's probably here somewhere; she wouldn't miss out on this invite…" Edith trailed off in thought. Of course, Lavinia knew it was perfectly normal for her boyfriend to inquire about his friends. But, still, the topic was making her increasingly uncomfortable.
"C'mon Matthew, let's make some rounds!" Before Matthew could argue, she dragged him away from the still puzzled Edith.
WHERE R U?
Sybil Crawley read the misspelled text from her sister. Rolling her eyes, she tossed the phone into her bag. She was supposed to be at Lavinia's obnoxious party, but instead she was sitting in a tiny, quirky café in North London. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee tingled her senses. This was far more satisfying than getting illegally wasted at some overrated party.
"Back already, are we now?" A thick Irish accent greeted her. It was Tom Branson.
"Uh… uh… Yes-ss," Sybil managed to blurt out. She avoided his steady grey eyes. Why was she so inarticulate all of the sudden? She always had a strong voice at her monthly amnesty conferences! And there she would be speaking in front of hundreds of people. But this wasn't just any person, this was Tom Branson. His dirty blonde hair was cleanly cut so you could see his large grey eyes. He was the kind of guy who didn't care about what he wore but still looked good in anything. Today, he sported faded blue jeans and a nonsensical t-shirt. Probably something related to a radical political party she never heard of, Sybil thought to herself.
"Why aren't you out having a good time? Isn't that what people like you do? Partying every other night and burning money like firewood," Tom said bitterly. He clearly held a grudge.
Sybil flinched a little; his words stung. "Not all of us are like that…" She protested.
"Well all the ones I've heard of or know, except you, of course. You're an odd one. You seem to be the complete opposite. 'Got all these doors open to you, but, instead, you spend your days in a dingy café."
"First of all, I do not just sit around here all day. I have life too. I actually just recently discovered human rights and have developed quite a passion for it…" Like he would care, stupid, Sybil reminded herself. He probably had better things to do than to stand around and listen about her pathetic attempts to get involved in the community.
"And second of all?" Tom smiled. He looked quite entertained by her rebuttal. It was the first time she had fought back against his stubborn opinions, and he liked seeing this new side of her.
Of course, Sybil viewed it as cordiality. He obviously was trying to suppress laughter, laughter at her silliness. "And second of all, is it safe to complain about your workplace environment here?" She changed the subject, unable to bear his sympathy. Although, she thought she saw a flicker of disappointment.
"Don't worry about it. Besides, I won't be a waiter forever," Tom said confidently. "But, for now… What would you like?"
"An Irish coffee!" Sybil cringed at how fast her response was. She sounded so desperate.
"Virgin, I presume?"
"WHAT? I'm not… I mean… I am… I – " She reddened. Why would he ask such a thing? She barely knew him, and the topic was clearly beyond personal.
Tom chuckled at the stuttering, flushed girl. "I meant virgin for the Irish coffee. You're clearly underage. Didn't you know it has alcohol in it?"
This was it. Sybil never thought she'd actually die of embarrassment. However, here she was, ready to crawl in a hole and wait to die. Her ploy to impress Tom had turned a full 180o. Where were the classy graces that had been passed down to her from generations when she needed them?
"Oh… Yes, I knew that…" The chime of her phone interrupted her.
"Mhm, sure you did," Tom chuckled, shaking his head and walking away. Could this day get any worse? Sybil thought bitterly.
She pulled her phone out of her bag. It was glaring with a new post from the Rumor Mill. Edith had set her phone to receive alerts from the website. It was basically a gossip column that revolved around the privileged young community of London, meaning her classmates. Her sister had explained to her that it was important to be in the know about the people Sybil went to school with. But, most of the time, the stuff posted on it was pure rubbish and superficial. Stuff about parties, pregnancies, arrests… One could do way more useful things with the number of viewers the website held, like spread awareness on poverty, third world countries or local politics. She was about to ignore the message when a name caught her eye.
Mary.
"Oh yes, Matthew and I are very excited for my first debutant ball!" Lavinia mused. She was so busy discussing her fall social plans with Anthony Strallan that she did not notice how dull the topic seemed to Matthew.
"Liv never misses out on an opportunity to be in the spotlight these days," Matthew joked. Lavinia shot him a rancorous look.
"Nor I. I love a good show where girls get to flaunt their best assets." Anthony's attempt to echo Patrick Gordon failed terribly and further rubbed salt in the wound.
Luckily, however, the awkward conversation was brought to a halt by the melody of Lavinia's phone. Then Matthew's. And Anthony's. Soon the whole room was filled with the unified tune of technology.
~ Rumor Mill ~
Sorry to sour the celebration mood, but I just received an anonymous tip on London's very own Mary Crawley. Word on the street is that she just hopped off the train from Yorkshire, and, judging by the size of her Louis Vuitton luggage, she's not just visiting. She's thinner, her eyes are darker, her hair is shinier; in conclusion, she's dropper and deader gorgeous than ever, which means she's here to steal the hearts of our boyfriends, our parents and our teachers. Maybe L should watch out because, not only does she have competition for queen bee, but, last time we heard, Matthew had a little crush on our returning veteran. Though, can we really blame him? Anyways, the real question we're all aching to ask is what made her leave in the first place? And why is she back?
"No way!" Ethel Parks cried out.
"This can't be true. I thought she was deported or something," Daisy Robinson exclaimed.
"She wasn't deported, dummy. She was sent off to live with her grandmother in her family's hometown. Anyways, the Rumor Mill never lies. If she's back, she's back. And they got a picture to prove it!" Patrick scrolled down the screen to reveal a picture of the ghost herself – porcelain skinned, long legged, with a haunting look on her face.
"So what does this mean?" Daisy demanded. She was completely clueless, as usual.
"It means, Daisy, that things are going to get a whole lot more interesting around here." It was Thomas Barrow who responded this time. He had somehow integrated himself into the flock of girls surrounding Patrick.
Across the room, Lavinia just stared at the screen. Judging by the size of her Louis Vuitton luggage, she's not just visiting. Everything suddenly seemed so surreal. The laughter of the crowd was stifled, the gossiping murmurs were muffled, and even the blaring music seemed to have stopped. The whole world was spinning around her. Not only does she have competition for queen bee, but also, last time we heard, Matthew had a little crush.
She stole a glance at Matthew. His clear blue eyes were glued to the picture of Mary and now seemed hazy. Her hands were shaking. She's here to steal the hearts of our boyfriends, our parents and our teachers.
Mary had disappeared without a trace two years ago. Lavinia still remembered that day. They were supposed to get brunch, but, when she rang the doorbell of her luxurious house, the maid answered and told her that she had skipped town, gone to Yorkshire. No note, no reason.
She also remembered how quickly she thought she had gotten over it. Without Mary, there was nobody to eclipse her, and she quickly became the shining star of Downton Academy. However, now, staring back into the sad eyes of the girl in the photo, her stomach knotted in a billion ways. She knew she wasn't quite over her abandonment.
Matthew stood there, transfixed at the photo of the girl. Even on the Internet, Mary seemed to see right through him. He always wondered how she did that. How she could read his mind before he even opened his mouth to speak. How she could sense the quickening of his pulse every time she got close.
Was it possible that she had gotten even more beautiful? He wondered, if she saw him, she would still feel… The same feelings that were suddenly renewed in his own heart. They clouded his mind, trickled down his spine and numbed his toes. They covered him whole.
What is wrong with you? You have Lavinia remember?
Lavinia. He remembered the first time he saw her. She was running up the marble steps of the school – after Mary. She looked adorable with her natural frizzy red hair and thick black-rimmed glasses, which were all gone now. The outfit she wore was an obvious attempt to copy her friend; however, somehow, she just couldn't wear it as well. Maybe it was because of the way Mary presented herself, Matthew couldn't recall a single day the girl slouched.
The first time she talked to him was when Mary was throwing her first set of daggers she called insults at Matthew. Lavinia had tried to placate Mary and shield him from the agony.
"I heard you were the new student?" Mary acknowledged him that day. It was the first time she had talked to him since his arrival at Downton two months before, even though she sat right in front of him in Literature. They were studying Greek mythology.
"Well… Not that new, not anymore," Matthew stuttered. He had completely been taken by surprise when the girl started to talk to him. Perhaps she was going to confront him on his staring. He would not be surprised if he had drilled a hole on her perfect back with his eyes, but he couldn't resist. There was something about her that always caused him to gravitate towards.
"You transferred right? From a state school?" Mary spat those words out like they were poison. The look on her face showed obvious disapproval.
"Uh yes, Mother thought this place would be a better fit for me," He felt unsure and uneasy about where the repartee was going.
"Your mother lacks perception," Mary snapped, eyeing him from head to toe. "You clearly don't belong here."
Matthew felt self-conscious all of a sudden. Something he never accredited himself with. He had never been one of those boys who dressed to impress; he had always felt perfectly comfortable in his hoodies and track pants. It was practical. He didn't like to bother changing into something as uncomfortable as jeans after lacrosse practices in the morning.
"Okay class, please turn to Chapter 2 on page 191 of your books," Mr. Carson commanded. "We're going to start the story of Andromeda today, one of my personal favorites."
"Besides, the only reason you can afford to go here is that your mother is the new Mrs. Carlisle. Everyone in the school knows. It was splattered across the front page of Hello! Magazine." Mary added before turning around to face the board.
"Mary, that was a little uncalled for," Lavinia whispered across from her. She shot Matthew an apologetic look.
"Ah Ms. Smith, would you care to give us a summary of the story." Mr. Carson smirked, enjoying the pain he caused on his poor victim, Anna Smith. Anna was a timid blonde recluse. Her bangs always hid one side of her face from view, and she often sat alone with a sketchbook and charcoal during lunch hour.
How could she be so cruel? What did he ever do to her?
"Uh… um… well, Andromeda was a girl. She was a princess"
"Yes, I rather assumed she was a girl and that, since she was a girl, she was a princess and not the male counterpart. But, thank you for pointing the obvious out, Ms. Smith." The class roared with laughter. Anna further buried herself in her textbook, shoulders hunched up in shame.
Just because she was rich, powerful and pretty, didn't mean she could just trample on other people like dirt.
"Let's pick on someone else, shall we? Ah you, Ms. Crawley. You seem rather comfortable in your seat. Could you elaborate on Ms. Smith's rather descriptive synopsis?"
He didn't deserve this kind of treatment.
"Andromeda's father was King Cepheus whose country was being ravaged by storms. And, in the end, he decided the only way to appease the gods was to sacrifice his eldest daughter to a hideous sea monster. So, they chained her, naked to a rock –"
"Goodness, Ms. Crawley, we may all need our smelling salts in a minute! Please keep it family friendly?"
"But, the sea monster didn't get her, did he?" All eyes were on Matthew, amazed by the courage of the new student. They nervously shifted to Mary and waited to see her response to her stolen spotlight.
"No, just when they thought she was the only solution to her father's problems, she was rescued," Mary gave a tight smile, but she did not turn around to meet the boy's eyes.
"By Perseus," Matthew had cut in. Watching her wreathe in silent wrath had been rather entertaining.
"That's right! Perseus, the son of a God. Rather more fitting, wouldn't you say?" She twisted to look back at Matthew, eyebrows raised and sure that she had won.
"That depends, I'd have to know more about the princess and sea monster in question," he responded indignantly.
The class fell silent. For a second, he thought he saw a flash of shock set on her face. However, it quickly disappeared, and an amused smile played at the corners of her mouth.
That was the moment Matthew knew he had won her over. He had made the cold and supposedly heartless Lady Mary smile – well, kind of – and it was amazing how quickly they became friends after that, despite their vast differences.
After all, she had been brought up in a family of wealth and privilege, while he was raised by a middle class family in the suburbs. He was a liberal, and she was a conservative. He liked to spend his personal days holed up in a library, whilst she enjoyed shopping on Bond Street with the paparazzi at her tail. They constantly bickered whenever they were with one another, like an old couple Lavinia would joke. And any bystander would quite agree with her. They would argue about where to eat, what to listen to – the most trivial things sparked their belligerence. But, others never understood how it was. It was like arguing was their way of communication; it was their thing. For some odd reason, this was what made them closer, closer to the point that he could not get her out of his mind. It seemed the more flaws Matthew found in her, the more perfect she became in his eyes. However, even though he saw her as more, their friendship remained the same. He didn't want to risk it – sure that she had not felt the same way.
Until the night before she left…
He had tried to find her and talk the morning after because it was obvious they had things to sort out, but he found Lavinia crying on the steps. Repressing his own hurt, Matthew reached out and comforted his other friend. They had brunch that day. And coffee the next. And dinner after that until meeting outside of school became a daily ritual.
What started out as a support group over equal loss gradually turned into an unbalanced exchange of affection till one night, after a viewing of My Best Friend's Wedding (Lavinia's choice), she kissed him. He was shocked at first, of course, because he had never seen Lavinia in that way before. He loved her, yes, but he had always felt it more like a brother to a sister than anything else. Nevertheless, when she kissed him, she unleashed emotions he never thought he could feel towards her. It was a bold move, especially for Lavinia, and she left him open-mouthed.
The following day, at school, she walked up to him and slipped her hand into his, informing everyone that they were an item. Matthew was too overwhelmed and confused to argue. Reflecting on it all, he actually didn't have much say in the matter. Things just fell into place after that. And he just went along with it.
Mary Crawley pushed the heavy door of the train station and stepped onto the dirty streets of London. She was greeted by the smell of fresh rain and gas exhaust. Yep, it was London all right. Noise pollution filled the air, and hurried businessmen bumped past her, completely oblivious to the girl standing in the middle of the sidewalk with five suitcases in hand. For once in her life, she felt invisible, and there was something novel and comforting about it.
They should really invest in some doormen, she thought as she wiped the imaginary germs off of her sleeve. The air was cool but warm enough to be without a jacket, leaving her new silk blouse exposed to external contact.
Shimmying her way through the sea of people, she finally made it to the curb. Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to wear the blouse after all; she frowned down at the newfound furrows on her shirt. Without the impenetrable bulwark of bodies, the sunlight streamed down on her. She squinted, not remembering London being so sunny.
Once her eyesight adjusted, Mary gave one elegant wave and stopped three taxis. Relishing in her triumph, she picked the one closest to her. The driver immediately got out – people were so compliant to her. But, instead of helping her with the bags, he turned his back to open the door of the backseat. To her astonishment, her youngest sister slid out.
"You didn't think you could arrive quietly, could you? Even that stupid Rumor Mill spotted you!"
"Well, one could only hope…" Mary stared slightly open-mouthed at her sister. She has changed quite a lot in the last two years! Sure she saw pictures, but they were all so practiced and proper. Here, Mary saw her 15-year-old sister in her true form. It was clear that she had blossomed in the last two years. But it wasn't her sister's newfound curves that surprised her, but her newfound fashion. If one could call it fashion…
She wore ripped distressed jeans that showed off her left knobby knee in an unflattering manner. Her upper half thankfully was better covered with a simple white tank top and an oversized open cardigan, but still wasn't any better. The travesty was completed with a pair of 'vintage' cowboy boots that were scuffed to the point that one could barely recognize their true colour. Mary swore that any one who didn't read the society section could pass her sister up as a hobo.
"What the hell are you wearing?" She finally formed the words.
Her sister laughed charmingly, and, for a brief moment, Mary caught a glimpse of her kid sister again. Sybil sympathetically patted Mary on the shoulder. "I missed you sis, but you've missed out on quite a bit!"
Mary was about to speak when the driver banged on his horn. "Are you two going somewhere or what?"
"Can't you wait a second? If it will make you feel better, keep the meter running." Mary sneered.
"It's okay! We'll talk on the way," Sybil said, steering her sister towards the car.
Well, that concludes Chapter One of the saga. What did you guys think? Should I keep on going? Please submit a review and let me know!
I apologize for any Westernisms in this... I tried to research as much about the UK school system as I could, but that still can't change the fact that I don't actually live there unfortunately. :( That being said, if any one of you lovely readers is interested picking my story apart, please contact me! :)
