Gloves on, hair coiffed, pearls in place- Mary Crawley drifts down the spiral staircase already yawning, prepared for another night of eye-rolling. Another dinner party. Another night hiding behind a wine glass and a jam tart. Another night of strange "gentlemen" groveling at her feet. Good God, Mary thought. How many more card games must I endure?
Mary takes a bite of kidney soufflé as the latest troll sits across from her, eyeing her collarbone, his pink lips curling into compliment mode. "Lady Mary, you are looking well. Why, the last time I saw you was during your presentation at court. You looked like quite a young girl, but now! My goodness. You've certainly...ah...blossomed." His voice lowers, his eyebrows rise to his hairline, and Mary's soufflé rumbles uncomfortably as it settles in her middle. She looks up at him and smirks, gripping her knife. "Is that so?" she manages to reply, hoping he'll detect the ew in her eyes. "I don't remember seeing you at court." He chuckles, wipes his mouth, and continues to stare at her.
Who is she kidding? No man will ever understand the dark, amber-flecked glare of Mary Crawley.
