When Mr. Patrick Crawley left Downton for the last time - although no one knew then that it would be the last time - Lady Mary retreated upstairs and rang for her maid.
It was mid-morning, and Anna had hoped to have the guest rooms turned out before luncheon, but she answered the summons and found Mary seated at her dressing table, hair half down around her shoulders. She must have begun the process of undoing it herself, but now she sat motionless, looking into the mirror.
"M'lady?" Anna asked, tentatively, closing the door behind her. "Are you unwell?"
Mary turned and stared for a moment, as though she had forgotten about summoning Anna in the first place. Then she said, "I – that is, I feel -" and Anna could sense her deciding whether to tell a lie. That was her choice. It didn't matter to Anna why the lady desired to avoid other company. She put her hands to Mary's long hair, and began to feel for the remaining pins. Mary reached up to squeeze her fingers. "I just want to be alone for a while."
Reaching for a hairbrush, Anna raised an eyebrow. "That's why you called me up here, then? So you could be alone?"
"Oh, Anna, you don't count." Anna gave Mary's hair a few gentle strokes and gave her time to come to the correction herself. "You don't count as an intrusion. That's what I meant."
As if on cue, a knock came at the door. Mary looked up at Anna and shook her head. Another knock, then Lady Grantham's voice. "Mary?"
"Mama, I'm – that is, I'm not –"
"Your father just wanted to know –"
Under her breath, Mary said, "I know what he wants to know. It's what they all want." With a sigh, she gestured at Anna to get the door. Mary was unwilling to ignore a query from both parents. Or perhaps she just lacked the energy to keep postponing the inevitable.
"Your Ladyship," Anna said, opening the door. Then, "Lady Edith," as the middle Crawley daughter followed her mother inside.
Mary tossed her head and made an indignant noise at her sister's appearance. Clearly this had not been part of the invitation she thought she was extending.
"If you don't want me here, I'll leave," Edith said, sensitive as always to a perceived slight - although in this case there was no charitable interpretation for Mary's reaction.
"Don't bother," Mary said. "If I tell you to go, you'll listen at the door –"
"I will not!"
" – and pounce on Mama as soon as she leaves to demand an account of the proceedings."
"Mama!"
"Now Edith," Lady Grantham said, in her eminently soothing voice. "It is your sister's room. And Mary - We only wanted to be certain you were well."
"Of course," Mary answered. "Only that and to ask what passed between me and Cousin Patrick."
Her mother took the next moment to gather her words carefully, which meant she lost a conversational race to the never-circumspect Edith. "You and Cousin Patrick went out walking together this morning, don't try to deny it, everyone saw."
"Why on earth would I deny it?" Mary said. "I took a walk around the grounds with my cousin, as I have many times before."
"Was anything said?" her mother prompted.
"Hardly anything at all." She made a face. "Patrick Crawley isn't exactly England's most scintillating conversationalist."
"The way you talk about him is so horrid," said Edith. "Especially for a man you're going to –"
Mary whirled on her. "Going to what? Were you going to say 'marry'?"
"Well?" Edith said, petulantly. "We all know that's where this is headed."
"If you all know so much about my future, then why must you rush in here to demand whether anything was said? Why pretend that what Patrick and I discuss even matters?"
"Of course it matters," said the Countess. "We all know there is an understanding, but certainly the timing is for the two of you to decide."
"Oh, I have a say in the timing now?" Mary said. "Very well, then. Patrick and I spoke, we understand what everyone understands, but nothing will be set in stone until he returns from America. Is that adequate, Mama?"
"Indeed, it sounds very sensible. Cousin James and Cousin Patrick will be seeing to business in America, and they may be detained for some time. Very well. May I tell your father?"
"You can tell Papa whatever you want, if it means that I may have a bit of peace."
Anna decided it was time to step in. "Your Ladyship, Lady Mary has been feeling unwell."
"And you had come up to help her, dear Anna. I fear we've intruded on your time."
"No bother, of course, M'lady," said Anna.
"No, we should go." She leaned down to kiss Mary's forehead. "Feel better, dear."
She left, and Edith trailed behind her, lingering a moment to tell her sister, "Anna, unlike you, might be doing something valuable with her time."
"Get out," Mary called.
Edith obliged, and Anna shut the door after her.
Mary resumed unpinning her hair. Anna went to help her, and Mary looked up. "Sometimes I think you are the favorite daughter in this household."
"Now, now, don't be foolish." Running the brush for a long stroke through Mary's hair, Anna said playfully, "That's Lady Sybil."
"Of course. Everyone loves her, she's so sweet. I could be sweet if I didn't have any other responsibilities."
"Could you?" Anna said, doubt in her voice.
"You're very saucy today. Bring me my nightgown." As Anna retrieved this garment from the wardrobe, Mary said, "The beastly thing is that I don't feel poorly at all. It's a beautiful day, I'd like to enjoy it now that deadly dull Patrick is gone. I'd like to go riding without my future husband pulling up alongside every two minutes to ask if I'm exerting myself too much. Or I'd like to walk down by the lake for an hour or so without coming home to an interrogation about what was said."
"Why don't you? I can get your riding clothes."
"I can't very well go now. Not after we've told Mama that I'm unwell."
"Do you care so very much about everyone's opinion?" Mary hadn't exactly displayed that concern on a regular basis.
"Oh, you've already got the nightgown out." She held up her hands and let Anna pull it over her head. Once the garment was in place, Mary said, "I ought to lie down here at least until . . ." She seemed to work a calculation in her head, then said, "Do you know what Mrs. Patmore is making for luncheon?"
Anna laughed at Mary's undisguised calculation, balancing the commitment to her façade against the possibility of a particularly tasty pudding. "Come here, M'Lady." She pulled back the duvet and invited Mary toward the bed. "You get your rest, and I'll bring a plate up to you."
"Oh, Anna, you're too good for me." She slid under the covers, and Anna turned to go, but then Mary took her hand. "Wait. You don't have to go just yet, do you? I meant it when I said that I don't feel your presence as an intrusion."
Anna had been thinking of her own work rather than Mary's privacy. But she wasn't eager to leave, either. She brought herself to sit on the bed, the duvet separating her from her mistress's body.
"Tell me, Anna. You heard the whole conversation. What do you think?"
"About you and Mr. Patrick? Well, I have to wonder. Do you want to marry him?"
"I don't see how that enters into it. There's an understanding, there's the good of the family, keeping the estate together –"
Anna couldn't resist suggesting, "If the only issue is keeping Downton in the family, certainly Lady Edith would marry him." Mary made a face, and Anna laughed. "There you are, then, Lady Dog in the Manger. You don't want him, but you don't want Edith to have him."
"It isn't that. No, don't laugh, it isn't. Edith wouldn't like him as much as she thinks. Once the novelty of winning wore off, she'd realize how dull he is and spend her whole life blaming me that I didn't decide to close my eyes and think of Downton." She shook her head. "No, Anna, this is best. Patrick will go to America and we'll settle everything when he comes back."
"Now, Mary, you know what everyone will say."
"That I'm leaving my options open in case I meet a richer man while he's gone. And then when Patrick comes back – assuming he hasn't caught an heiress of his own – Edith is welcome to him. That is my master plan."
"Is it?"
Mary rolled her eyes. "Of course not. There would be a scandal, and it would just destroy Mama. I'm not that kind of woman, however gossip chooses to paint me." A mischievous smile crossed her lips. "Unless he were very rich, of course."
"And very handsome."
"Optional."
"But not undesirable."
"I suppose." Mary sighed. "Sometimes I envy you, Anna. No one cares if you get married."
Anna gave a little laugh. "No one particularly asks if I want to get married, either."
"Do you?"
"I've never found anyone I felt I could be married to," Anna said carefully.
"I'm not at all surprised. I don't think I've ever heard of anyone getting married because they wanted to. And if they did want to, I don't understand why."
"Love isn't enough of an answer for you?"
"Hardly." Mary sighed. Then she turned a curious look on Anna. "Does this mean you've never been in love?"
Anna felt her face reddening. "I don't know why you should say that."
"If love is enough reason for marriage, but you've never felt you could marry? Then I must conclude you've never been in love."
"There was someone once. They married someone else."
Anna averted her face, and Mary reached up to pat her cheek. "Any man who would prefer another woman to my Anna sounds ghastly and I'm glad we have nothing to do with him."
"You're kind," Anna said. Mary could be kind. "But that isn't the entire truth. I don't know if I should say more."
"You know you can tell me anything."
Anna hesitated. The relationship, such as it was, had begun and ended with her previous position – the owners had been forced to sell, Anna had come to Downton, and her partner had chosen marriage over finding another position. They had been discreet, but she didn't think it had been entirely unknown. Having one's private life secretly known but not discussed, however, was not the same thing as telling one's mistress about it. However, Anna did believe she could trust Mary implicitly.
More than that, though – she felt that Mary might really want to know this.
"The truth is, M'Lady – the person I loved was a woman."
Mary's eyes widened. "Oh," she said. "I'm so sorry, Anna, I didn't mean to pry, only. I must admit, I had no idea such things – in England. In France, of course, or – what is it they say about Boston?" Then, "Anna?" Mary sat up, the duvet falling from her shoulders. Anna was suddenly very aware of the body underneath Mary's nightgown. She had dressed and undressed the other woman so many times, and everything with Lucy had been so long ago.
Anna thought she had put it all behind her.
Mary's hand rested on Anna's shoulder. "Is this all right?" she asked.
Anna nodded.
"And this?" Mary leaned in toward her. Their lips met, and Anna thought that she wouldn't be getting the guest rooms done before luncheon after all.