II
It didn't have to be perfect but he would've preferred it if it could be helped. He wiped clean every wine glass and inspected it against the light of the candles, making sure no discolouration, residue, or fingerprints were left on their surfaces. He had been described as obsessive compulsive many times before by friends and past co-workers alike, certainly his meticulousness can be interpreted that way. But in the end, a messy and inexact table arrangement bothered him little. He just had his own way and he was not embarrassed by his preferences.
In fact, his fastidiousness was anything but an inherent quality of his character, rather it was learned in his many years in medical school. His lack of organization and focus had cost him a couple of wasted semesters. If those hard lessons and trying times had turned him into something of a clockwork robot, he didn't mind. He reasoned, it must have been better than the alternative.
This was the first time that, Matthew Crawley, man of many (or perhaps just one) mysteries, had opened his home for a purely social gathering in over a year. And he wanted it to be done right. He had made a few Persian dishes and a chocolate truffle cake for dessert. He had carefully selected the wines, the right set of cutlery, the appropriate napkins, all of which he had retained from a much happier time in his life.
He lived in a modest condominium unit in the heart of the city. Certainly, the rent for the place was not cheap, but it was still well below his means, given his new job. But space, luxury, and comfort were not defined by price tags for Matthew. No, there were times in his life when money was short and the pleasures of life had to come from elsewhere and his need for order and good design forced him to think outside of convention.
It was around seven o'clock when the first of his guest began to arrive. First, arrived John Bates and his wife Anna, as per their custom. John and Matthew had met while Matthew was working with Doctors Without Borders several years ago. John was a private military contractor who had served in Iraq and Yemen. John's company had offered some pro bono services to DWB while their outfit were under federal investigation. It was good PR. Their encounter in Somalia was brief, but Matthew and John quickly formed a deep friendship as Matthew, against advice, had saved John's leg from amputation following a raid turned siege by one of the local militias. It was during that time that John met his future wife, who had been working as a nurse. In a way, Matthew had indirectly introduced them.
"How are you?" John asked as he shook Matthew's hand.
"How's the leg?" Matthew asked back with a devilish smile on his face.
"You want me to thank you every time?" John remarked sarcastically.
Matthew jovially patted John on the back as he made his way in.
"Keeping him out of trouble?" Matthew asked Anna as they both watched as John settled himself into one of the Eames chairs in the living room.
"Yes doctor," Anna answered with a hint of playful tease in her voice.
"Not a doctor anymore," Matthew replied with a signature melancholy smile.
Anna patted him on the shoulder comfortingly before making her way into the living room and taking a seat next to her husband.
"Would you took like something to drink?" Matthew asked as he made his way into the kitchen.
"Whatever you have already uncorked," John answered.
"No thanks, I'm driving tonight," Anna said.
Matthew circled around the divide between the kitchen and living room, made his way past his immaculate dinner table, and handed drinks to both of them.
"Mascarello, 2005," Matthew said as he handed the glass to John.
"And ginger ale, for the designated," Matthew said with a smirk while handing the second drink to Anna.
"Going Italian these days?" John said as he took a swig. "It's good."
"Thought I'd switch things up," Matthew said. "I mean, that's the advice you've all been giving me, right?"
"I love what you've done with the place," Anna remarked as she leisurely made her way around the living room looking at the photographs on the walls. "It was rather... sparse before."
"It wasn't easy, I'll admit. It's mostly my own work at the moment," Matthew said as he looked around, "this was always more Lavinia's place than it was mine."
An uneasy silence befell the three of them as that heavy name was introduced.
"So, who's coming tonight?" John asked as he took a swig of his wine.
"The usual," Matthew answered cryptically.
"And who might those be?" John asked, "You don't exactly have usual visitors."
"Rose is coming," Matthew said.
"You don't exactly have any usual visitors other than her," John amended his previous comment. "And isn't she busy with her new job?"
"She's bringing a friend," Matthew commented, "Tom is coming, Madeleine as well."
"Is she the mark?" Anna asked with a devious flare in her voice.
"What? No, there is no mark," Matthew replied, "you know when I hooked you two up, I was hoping you'd clean him up a bit, not have his dirty soldier mouth rub off on you."
"You didn't hook us up," Anna said as she leaned over and kissed John on the cheek.
"That's right," John agreed with his wife, "we found each other. Despite your many repeated attempts, you don't get to take credit for our love, Dr. Crawley."
Matthew rolled his eyes in dismissal just as there was another knock on the door. Matthew made his way over to the door and opened it. Tom Branson rushed in, shoved a bottle of whiskey into Matthew's possession, gave him a hug, and whispered "well done" into his ear. Slightly confused as to what he meant, it wasn't until Madeleine showed up appeared next at the door, did he understand the covert whisper. She was wearing in a rather form fitting white cocktail dress with matching white heels. Matthew may not exactly have been receptive to her advances in the past, but even he had to admit that she was quite stunning in that moment.
"Hello, Matthew," she said warmly.
"Hello, Madeleine," Matthew said as he received a kiss on the cheek from the girl as she made her way in.
Matthew poured drinks for everyone as they got settled into his living room. From the kitchen he observed his guests. These were his friends. The thought gave him pause for a moment. But in the best sort of way. He had been trapped by her memory for so long, and they were respectful and gave him time, but when time had run its course and his condition didn't get any better, they made an effort to drag him from his self-imposed exile and force him back into the world. It was not a pleasant process but in the end, he supposed, he was thankful for their encouragement.
But it did come at a price. He had to get a job. And he wasn't allowed to return to his old job either. Tom wouldn't let him. Matthew knew that it was for the best that he didn't return with Tom to Tibet, or Afghanistan, or Syria, or wherever he went these days, but he did miss it. But of course, all men of his type grow to miss that sort of work once it had been ingrained into his memory and the character of his person. Everything else felt like a dream after the rush and panic of the last several years.
"Do you need some help with that?" Madeleine's voice came from behind, snapping him out of his musings.
"No, but you can have one," Matthew replied as he flashed a polite smile.
Madeleine picked up a glass from the kitchen counter and took a sip before leaning against it and shuffling in closer to Matthew. She wasn't exactly subtle and this was wasn't the first time that Madeleine had tried this trick. Matthew wasn't so easily intimidated, even when he was cornered. However, in the end, Matthew believed that she meant well, even if her tactics were a little on the blunt side. Had she taken him a little more seriously in college and had he not met Lavinia in the intervening time, perhaps they could've had something. Matthew didn't think they were at all incompatible but it always seemed that circumstance and life, for one reason or another, made that dream impossible.
He wasn't that bumbling pre-med student anymore and she wasn't the girl he used to idolized.
"How are you doing?" she asked, affecting her most most concerned voice she could. It wasn't fake, it was just a little too obvious.
"I'm doing well," Matthew replied politely.
"I wish I could believe you," Madeleine replied as she took another sip of her wine.
"Yes, you and everyone else," Matthew replied with a crooked smile.
"They all care about you," Madeleine said. "You know that right?"
Matthew nodded admittedly.
"I know… this isn't the right time for you," Madeleine said as her shoulders slumped and her gaze dropped down towards her wine, "not that there was ever a right time… for us. I do want you to be happy and it hurts me to see you like this."
"I can't pretend like everything's alright," Matthew replied, "just because you want me to. It's what drove Lavinia away in the first place."
"No, I know," Madeleine said understandingly, "I'm not asking you to pretend or to fake it. Just… just a part of me wished I could fix you. I know it's stupid."
"I think we already had our chance," Matthew said with a conciliatory smile.
"And I was too drunk and loud to notice," Madeleine added with a hint of longing and melancholy in her voice.
"We all made mistakes back then," Matthew said.
"Do you ever think that Lavinia was a mistake?" she asked.
"If you're asking if I ever wondered what it could've been like for us… I thought about it all the time," Matthew answered.
"And?"
"And… I had a vivid imagination," Matthew replied coyly.
Matthew and Madeleine made their way from the kitchen to the living room with drinks in hand. He passed a glass of wine to Tom before giving him a just try it look.
Tom hesitantly took a sip before saying, "alright, it's not bad."
"So, maybe we can teach an old dog, new tricks," Matthew teased.
"So we should hope," Tom replied with a raised eyebrow.
"Don't forget, you forced me to retire," Matthew shot back.
"Wouldn't you rather be taking pictures of pretty ladies in a nice airconditioned studio than spending six months at a time in some ditch somewhere outside of Gaza?"
"I know it may be hard to believe, but I rather liked the photos I took there," Matthew said as he leaned forward.
"You'll learn to like the photos you're taking now," Tom said dismissively.
"It's not quite the same," Matthew said as he gently shook his head.
"Is there any difference between Anne Hathaway and Abu Basir?" Tom asked rhetorically.
"I'm surprised you know who Anne Hathaway is." Matthew returned.
"You make me sound like such an uncultured troglodyte." Tom's eyes narrowed and shot disdain Matthew's way. "I write for the New York Times for Christ's sake."
"You're a war correspondent and a natsec wonk," Matthew retorted. "Not to mention a functioning alcoholic and an adrenaline junkie."
Tom did a double take, he couldn't decide if Matthew had just insulted him or merely described him. But of course, that had always been his forte.
"He's just bitter," Tom said as he looked at Madeleine. "He's just bitter that I made him give it up."
"Alright, that's enough you too," Madeleine replied with a giggle.
Madeleine couldn't help but laugh. There was something magnificent about the way they sparred. At once they were trying to outwit each other in the fashion of writers of their stripe always did, but within that was a schoolyard streak of juvenile pettiness that could not go unnoticed. It was hard to tell whether they were Hemingway and Fitzgerald, or Itchy and Scratchy.
"So, where's Rose?" Tom asked as he pivoted subjects.
"She'll be here," Matthew replied.
"Late as usual, I see," Tom replied with a derisive smirk.
"Oh come on, it's a party, she's barely late, and she's bringing a friend," Matthew said in her defense.
"Oh god, not another one," Tom said as his smirk grew ever more self-satisfied. "What is it this time? Another hostess? Yoga instructor? Friend from a pole dancing class?"
"Her boss," Matthew interrupted.
Suddenly all of the little side conversations died down and their collective attention focused on Matthew. They seemed surprised. Tom seemed utterly shocked.
"Her boss?" Tom asked incredulously, "I didn't realize she was working."
"Shrimpie's getting old, he knows that. He needed Rose to get serious. He said he would cut her off if she didn't get a job," Matthew explained.
"And what is this job that a 20 year old, college dropout, trust fund baby could get that would satisfy her old man?" Tom asked with a hearty chuckle.
"Well, one step at a time," Matthew said apologetically.
"So, who's she working for?" Tom asked, shifting his tone from derisive condescension to genuine curiosity.
And as if they conjured her, simply by mentioning her too many times, there was a timely knock on the door. Matthew rushed over to the door with a little more enthusiasm than he had originally intentioned. He supposed that he was more excited to see her again than he was willing to admit.
But why should he feel embarrassed or even be the least bit reluctant to admit that? She was a famous actress and a drop dead beauty in the way that he liked best. She wasn't showy or loud. Her beauty came from her natural grace and the effortlessness of her allure. Of course, Matthew recognized that much of her appeal was due, in large part, to her fame and the fact that she was a presence within his mind long before they had ever met in person. One cannot escape that kind of thing without living as a hermit in the modern world. But beyond all of that, despite all of that, she was just so unflinchingly beautiful. And what exactly was so embarrassing about the fact that his rational senses, his self-confidence, and his professional acumen, had momentarily been tripped up by the presence of a movie star?
He opened the door and not a moment later, Rose strode him and gave him a big friendly hug. She was dressed to the nines, as per usual, in her signature sequin look, a tad too much makeup and heels that made her a half foot taller, which always threw off Matthew as he was so used to looking at her from a certain angle.
"Hello, Matthew," Rose said in her usual cheerful voice. "Sorry, we're late."
"Oh, so you brought Mary along after all," Matthew said with a mixture of surprise and delight in his voice.
"Why, wouldn't I?" a voice came from behind Rose. "I said I'd come, didn't I?"
Matthew looked up and there she was, dressed in an elegant beige evening dress and a navy blue blazer. She stared into his eyes, intractably, as if picking up just where they had left off earlier in the day. His mood had softened, especially in regards to her. But perhaps, hers did not.
A/N: There you have it, a little bit about Matthew. I realize that he was quite the enigma in the previous chapter but it was mainly from Mary's perspective and Mary actually didn't know anything about him, so her mystery was your mystery. So apparently I've become something of a known quantity now, so let me just take this opportunity to thank those of you who are trying to keep my honest, The Collected Letters is not ending or on hiatus, I just needed to write something else for a while. The holidays are coming up which means I'm consuming a lot more content (obligatory Oscar-bait movies that my friends all want to see, catching up on actually good movies that I missed in the last few months, on a Neil LaBute kick right now, hence the infamous Lavinia chapter in The Collected Letters, nonstop Far Cry 4, that new Taylor Swift album I can't seem to stop listening to), and while I have a rule that I never write myself in as a character in any of my stories, I can't promise that the content I'm consuming right now might not influence or seep in, because there's just a lot of new ideas and concepts coming my way at this moment.
As for what this story is, if you are getting the sense that nothing is happening in this story, you would be right. Nothing is really going to happen, I mean there will be a plot but it is rather circumstantial compared to the character interactions (mainly MM). It's probably just going to be a series of conversations and some sexy business. So no, this isn't The Collected Letters in modern times. And their relationship will develop much faster in this story. It's not an anthology of oneshots, there will be a definite through-line, but plot doesn't drive this story. Sorry, for those expecting an analogue of their classic Downton romance. It doesn't quite work in the modern world. And yes, the character relationships are not quite the same as they are in the canon. As in Anna isn't Mary's lady's maid anymore because no one has a lady's maid anymore. Also some characters are American. I wish they weren't but unfortunately, I'm from the Yankee side of the Atlantic and I'm not comfortable faking British in modern times. But if it makes you feel any better, Tom is still Irish and Bates is still English.
Alright, enough rambling, what is this? A DVD commentary track? As always I appreciate every review, follow, and favourite. Seeing how you guys react and respond is pretty much all of the fun.
