Mary hated being the youngest.
She always got the last say in everything, and Edith was so annoying. She thought that just because she was oldest, she could boss everyone about.
Mary didn't like that. She didn't like Edith, for that matter, or her habits, or the way she looked down on everything that Mary did.
But most of all, Mary hated Matthew, the chauffer. Which was really what had brought this whole thing on. Well, hate was the wrong word. No, she disliked him at the present moment.
Scrap that, she did hate him. He seemed to think that just because he took her as she was and they could talk as equals, that she was in love with him.
Which she was. But still. He should learn not to assume things. In some respects, although he was an irish lower class nobody, he was as bad as Ediths beau, Patrick, the heir to the earldom. Patrick was so… patronising. He called her ' Little lady', and patted her head, although she was nineteen. He treated her like a child.
But she did have an escape from that, it had to be said. Matthew had asked her to run away with him…and she wasn't sure that she wanted to refuse.
Anyway, she still had time before she chose what to do. Besides, she couldn't run away before Christmas. But it wouldn't be long before a war started somewhere, she had heard it on the news, and Matthew wanted to enlist and then refuse, and rub it in their faces.
Maybe the only way to stop that was to run away, Christmas or not…