I must thank you all for the lovely responses to this story. There is a long way to go, but I'm pleased you think it's off to a good start. One caveat: I won't be posting Chapter 3 for a couple of weeks, so please don't think I've abandoned this story or you!
Matthew sat alone in the Abbey library nursing his second brandy. "Fifteen years," he whispered. In his mind 1912 seemed like yesterday. He remembered vividly reading the letter from Robert that would change his life. My life. Such as it is. So many things were different from what he had envisioned.
Normally, he was not one given to reminiscing or taking stock of things. He seldom gave himself time just to sit and think. Now, though, his mind was roiling. He worked hard for the estate, his work as a partner at Harvel, Carter, and Crawley kept him busy, and he generally accepted his lot in life. He couldn't say his life made him happy, but he was not discontented. Still, there always had been something missing, something that fed the feeling of emptiness he tried desperately to ignore.
Mary.
Mary, who had the strength to leave.
Mary, whose passion once matched his own.
Mary, who inhabited his brain.
He filled his days with work—for the law firm, for the Abbey, for his sanity. Because of some questionable investments made at the end of the war, Robert had endangered the solvency of the estate. At the urging of Murray, the estate's long-time lawyer and trustee, Robert turned over the financial reins to Matthew four years ago. He promptly fired the land agent, oversaw reforms to spending and investment, and had the estate's finances in the black at the end of a year. His business acumen contributed to Robert's peace of mind, but it didn't completely assuage Matthew's disquiet. Being named a partner in the law firm increased his work load, but he could lose himself in the demands of the job, so he didn't mind the long hours.
His personal life hadn't fared so well. Lavinia's sweetness, which at first he found so appealing, became cloying. Her devotion to her father transformed into dependence on her husband. Her insecurity about her role as the wife of the heir turned into a total lack of self-confidence. She cried in his arms; he responded with exasperation. What he thought would be a marriage of comfort and serenity turned into one of frustration and acrimony. Matthew thought it odd that they never argued. Perhaps it was because their marriage was dispassionate. He couldn't help thinking how different his life would have been if he and Mary had married.
A life filled with passion.
A life filled with desire.
A life filled with love.
He still could remember how it felt to hold Mary in his arms the night they danced their final dance. There was no silver lining for us, he thought sadly. How he ached for her, still, after seven years.
Unable to deal with her self-imposed burdens, Lavinia finally left him—while Robert and Cora were in London for the Season. He didn't tell them until their return late the previous evening, and he had yet to tell Violet (although he suspected she had gotten wind of it—she had her ways). He had arrived at Crawley House for lunch two weeks ago to find Isobel pacing in the parlor and Lavinia packing upstairs. His mother accepted the news with no comment other than to note she was surprised it hadn't happened sooner.
If he were honest with himself, he wasn't particularly surprised, either. Their marriage never lived up to what either of them expected. They were childless, and he finally had retreated to his dressing room to sleep a year and a half ago, the result of Lavinia's increasing unresponsiveness and depression. The silence between them was palpable. He had tried to make her happy, but perhaps she sensed his heart wasn't in it. She also was overwhelmed by the responsibility of being a countess-in-waiting and lacked the fortitude to rise to the challenge. She gradually retreated from him and from the family until hardly anyone seemed to notice her absence. She had been a haven of tranquility during the war, which led to his impulsive proposal, but one look at Mary when he brought Lavinia to Downton to meet the family told him he'd made a terrible mistake. He acknowledged his proposal was a direct result of Mary's hesitation, but by the time he knew the reason for her hesitancy, it was too late. He was duty-bound to marry Lavinia, and he resolved to make a go of their marriage, despite knowing he was marrying the wrong woman. What a coward he had been! Robert had related to him how he and Cora hadn't fallen in love until at least a year into their marriage. Matthew supposed giving his marriage to Lavinia seven years was long enough for both of them.
He didn't ask her to stay.
It's no use, Matthew.
We don't love each other; I'm not sure we ever did.
I never was meant to be a countess, but I hope to regain some self-worth.
This is what I want. Be happy.
It would be expensive, but he discovered he could file a private bill in Parliament to dissolve the marriage, which would supersede the existing law requiring a charge of adultery against either Lavinia or him. There would be scandal, of course, but not to the extent there would be if they followed the normal channels. She had returned to London and took refuge in her father's house. Certainly, her life would be more affected than his. For all intents and purposes, he had been living alone for quite some time.
He wondered what Mary would think when she heard the news.
Robert and Cora did not take the news well. Although they were aware of the division that existed between Matthew and Lavinia, it had not occurred to them that the marriage would dissolve. They turned a blind eye to the tension and never mentioned it or offered advice. They were of the generation that endured bad marriages, so the split came as an unpleasant shock. Both were concerned that no heir had been produced; nevertheless, the idea that Matthew and Lavinia would divorce never had entered their minds.
"Good God. You can't be serious!" sputtered Robert, furious that Matthew seemed resigned to this outrageous situation. He didn't particularly like Lavinia, but for Matthew to agree to a divorce was beyond the pale. In his mind Matthew was the son he never had, so watching him make a mistake of this magnitude was insupportable. He would be the next Earl, for God's sake! How could he allow this to happen?
Matthew never had seen Robert so angry.
"Oh, dear, Matthew. This just can't be possible," gasped Cora, thinking of the social repercussions that would ensue. She had noticed Lavinia's increasing reticence over the years but never thought she would take such a drastic step.
Matthew stood before them, feeling rather like a scolded schoolboy, yet standing his ground. They pled with him to think seriously about the ramifications of divorce to his name—to his family—but he was adamant.
"There's no point, don't you see? She was miserable, as was I. This is for the best. I will not discuss it any further. This is our business, not yours, and I'll thank you to keep your opinions to yourselves."
Robert was red-faced, and Cora was ashen when Matthew left for Crawley House. Slightly ashamed that they were more upset about the split than he was, he was intent on putting the confrontation behind him. He hoped they would accept the inevitability of the divorce. As he walked across the grounds, he realized he'd barely given Lavinia's absence a second thought during the past two weeks. He would continue to work with Robert on improvements to the Abbey and get on with his life.
But two hours ago, everything changed.
Once again, nothing ever would be the same.
He finished his brandy, walked to the telephone, and picked up the receiver.
I realize this seems like a tidy solution to the M/M problem. Trust me, it's not….