A/N Now then... this chapter might be a little... um... well... um... how can I put it...? Um... George and Lily-beth weren't delivered by the stork or found in a cabbage patch... Do you catch my drift?

I do not advocate the use of technology in a cold shower... but you might want to stick a wet flannel in the refrigerator for a few minutes in preparation. Please do not read this if you are a) easily shocked b)young enough to still believe the above is how babies are made or c)you like your stories without the slightest suggestion of smut. If any of the above applies, please feel free to go and do something more wholesome and join us again for chapter 3.

To all of you who reviewed, favourited, alerted, or just had a little look while waiting for the bus. Thank you kindly, your support is so very very greatly appreciated.

Enjoy x


"Ah Matthew." Violet said as the Downton heir entered the drawing room and tenderly kissed his wife's cheek in greeting.

"Cousin Violet, what an unexpected pleasure. Will you be joining us for luncheon?"

"No… but that does not mean you are allowed to look so relieved." She said indulgently. She used her cane to get slowly to her feet. "I have promised to join Robert and Cora. Who knows I may even be able to locate my errant great-grandchild at the same time?" She chuckled.

With a final pointed look towards Mary, the Dowager Countess made her way to the door. "Don't worry, I shall see myself out." She said with a regal wave of her hand.

"Is luncheon nearly ready?" Matthew said, sitting in his favourite chair and opening the newspaper.

"It won't be too long."

He nodded and began to read. Standing by the window, Mary glanced at her husband happily engrossed in the daily news. With a mischievous grin, she moved over to the small footstool, making sure of course that it was within his eye line, and lifting her foot, raised her skirt just enough to playact straightening her stocking.

"I see things are still difficult in Ireland…" He said absently. As he turned the page Matthew glanced at his wife… the newspaper and Ireland were immediately forgotten. She checked the other stocking, this time allowing Matthew an even greater view of her long slender leg. He was competely transfixed.

"Do you know? I swear since the war, the quality of these things has completely deteriorated!" She exclaimed innocently, before making to walk past him, her hips swaying.

Matthew grabbed her hand and pulled her onto his lap.

"Why Matthew Crawley, pray what are you doing?" She asked with a giggle.

"If my wife feels that she is in someway being forced to wear sub standard garments, then I think the least I can do… no indeed… it is my duty, as her husband, to investigate."

"Well if it is your duty Matthew…"

His hand began to explore the contours of her calf under her skirt. "This seems to be in order." He said briskly, making her laugh.

Nimble fingers began to creep slowly higher, past her knee and along the smoothness of her thigh, their eyes locked together in mutual desire as his touch became much more intimate.

"And what is your considered opinion?" She whimpered.

"Quite... perfect…"

Mary leant into him as they came together in a passionate kiss. Practised lips parted and tongues entwined. Her fingers locked together in his hair; she pulled him closer, as if such a thing was even possible.

Breaking apart he buried his face in her neck as she arched her back. "Oh God Matthew…" She moaned.

There was a short, sharp knock before the door opened and Smith walked in. She stopped in horror, before mumbling something and turning away.

Mary leapt from Matthew's lap and straightened her skirts whilst trying to regain her composure. He stood quickly and strode over to the window; his back to the unfortunate maid so as to hide the rush of blood which had risen to his face and... elsewhere.

"Yes Smith… what is it?" She snapped.

"Um… I …. Um…. Mrs Bird… um… asked me to tell you…. um… luncheon…" The poor girl tailed off.

"Could you please tell Mrs Bird to hold off on luncheon for another hour?"

"Two." Matthew said quietly.

Mary could not help but smile at his comment. "For two hours please Smith."

"Very good my lady." The girl bobbed once and bolted out of the room.

Alone again Matthew caught Mary's eye and they both burst with embarrassed laughter.

"Well that was awkward." Matthew said eventually. "On her first day too, the poor girl! Do you think she will be horribly shocked?"

"I expect so. I will talk to her later." She took his hand. "But at this precise moment, I believe there was an duty to be undertaken, and it should definately be completed somewhere a little more private."


Smith returned to the kitchen completely flustered, her face red with embarrassment. Anna and Mrs Bird looked up as she closed the door.

"Whatever is the matter?" Anna asked.

A small smile of realisation crept across Mrs Bird's face, which she quickly changed for one of mock disapproval.

"You did tell Sarah about the ten second rule didn't you Anna?"

The blonde maid's hand came to her mouth. "Oh no! I completely forgot."

"What's… what's the ten second rule?" Sarah said, still obviously in shock.

"When you are about to enter a room and you think Mr Crawley and Lady Mary are alone, it is a good idea to knock and then wait for a count of ten before you go in." Anna explained. "I am so sorry; I should have mentioned it, but…" She looked to Mrs Bird for support.

"But you would think after five years the novelty would have worn off by now." The cook said sharply.

"I suppose we are just so used to it." Anna said apologetically.

"We should be." Mrs Bird began to put things away. "It was a lot worse when they first married. I'm not surprised they had twins, in fact, it's a wonder that we are not up to our ears in Crawley children!"

Anna couldn't help but smile at the memory, before her guilt returned for the shaken lady's maid. "I am so sorry." She said. "How bad was it?"

"Um..." The young woman was not sure what to say.

"How long am I to delay luncheon?" Mrs Bird asked wearily.

"Two hours." Smith managed.

The two older women exchanged a glance. "That bad." They said together.


With Miss Elizabeth left safely in her nursery, Yvette Stevens stomped back towards the Abbey. She always left her encounters with Lady Mary Crawley in a foul temper. How was it that she felt perfectly justified in complaining about the behaviour of that little horror, only to have it turned around as if it was her fault? The child was completely out of control. When she got a hold on him, this time Master George Crawley would be fully and properly punished.

Thomas Barrow was equally unhappy with his lot in life. "I'm just saying it's unfair. I was his lordship's valet, then old hop-a-long comes back and suddenly I am out on my ear. He's not going to get away with it, I know that much."

"At least you still have a job. Perhaps you should be grateful for that, considering some of the stunts you've pulled over the years." O'Brien snapped, taking a drag from her cigarette.

"Talk about Pot calling Kettle."

Rounding the corner to the servant's yard, Stevens noticed the Lady Grantham's Maid and one of the footmen surreptitiously smoking. They looked up warily as she approached.

"I don't suppose you have seen Master George running around?" She asked.

"The brat's gotten away from you again then?" Thomas said waspishly.

Unbeknownst to him, the same 'brat' was currently hiding behind the packing cases in the yard. He had been waiting for the two smokers to go back into the house before making good his escape.

The nanny took a cigarette out of her apron. "Any chance of a light?"

Thomas handed her a box of matches, a look of surprise passed between the two Downton staff as the nanny inhaled gratefully.

"He was off like a whippet. I swear that child needs to meet the wrong end of a birch and perhaps that will teach him some manners." Stevens threatened.

Behind the cases George gasped involuntarily, before clamping his hand over his own mouth.

"What was that?" The nanny said, her sharp ears listening for any repeat of the sound.

"You're getting paranoid Miss Stevens." O'Brien said.

"I could have sworn…" She said looking around.

"If the little monster had come past we would have seen him." O'Brien said, before crushing out her cigarette. "But I am sure you are welcome to hang around here and see if he turns up." With a fleeting look at Thomas she returned to the house.

"I don't think she likes me very much." Stevens said, her eyes narrowing against the smoke.

"I wouldn't worry about it; she doesn't like anyone very much." The footman replied.

Stevens shrugged.

"So how are you getting on in the den of iniquity?" Thomas asked.

The nanny raised her eyebrows.

"What?" He said, "It's no secret!"


Reclining in the crumpled white sheets, they lay curled together, Mary with her back to Matthew, his arms cradling her.

"We agreed this could not keep happening during the day." She said dreamily.

"Hmmm?" He brushed her hair aside and nuzzled the nape of her neck, the sensation of his breath causing her to shiver involuntarily.

"We said, it was not right, with the children getting older…"

Featherlike kisses were being placed carefully along her shoulder and up towards her ear.

"Uh… huh…" He murmured.

"And we have been married for five years…"

"Five years… yes…" His hand began to roam over her skin as the pressure of his kisses increased. She wriggled backwards against him and was rewarded with a low groan of pleasure.

"And if one is to make a resolution to do something…" She gasped as his attentions became more insistent. "…should always endeavour not to break it." She finished breathlessly.

His lips nibbled her ear lobe. "I quite agree…" he whispered, she could feel him smiling. "Even so… Shall we break it again?"


Matthew sat on the edge of the bed and buttoned his waistcoat. His wife, now wearing her robe, curled up by the pillows, her hair, tied loosely, lay over her shoulder.

"Should I ask Anna to come up?" He asked.

"Yes… no, could you ask Smith. I suppose I ought to talk to her."

He merely nodded in agreement.

"I had a letter from Sybil." She said.

"Really?" He turned his head to look at her. "How are they?"

Mary frowned and played with the sheet. "She doesn't really say, but from her tone I can tell she is worried."

"You only have to look at the newspaper to see things over there are going to get a whole lot worse before they get any better. Just out of a civil war, the country is virtually starving." He agreed.

"The thing is… she was wondering if she could send little Michael here… just until things pick up? Sybil will of course stay with Branson; she writes that there are so many people sick from malnutrition and disease that she is needed. Granny and I thought that it would be an excellent idea for him to stay with us… Papa is still a little reticent about having a Fenian grandchild and it would be unfair to have the boy rattling around in that big house with no-one to entertain him. We do after all already have Stevens and with the twins…"

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "I see. Was that what this afternoon was all about, a plot between you and cousin Violet to get my approval by hook or by crook? Not that I am complaining." He teased.

"Of course not…You wouldn't have said no anyway, would you?" She retorted in the same playful tone.

He leant across and kissed her gently. "Would I have had a choice?"

"He will be arriving the day after tomorrow. Granny is arranging for her and Edith to meet him at Liverpool. They will stay overnight, and then drive him back here."

Matthew shook his head, he couldn't help but smile. Some things absolutely never changed. The Crawley men might be allowed to feel that they had their fingers on the pulse of the family but it was the ladies of the house of Grantham who plotted and schemed to enable the heart to remain steadily beating.