Previously:
London Suite, Shangri-La Hotel, At The Shard, London, England, September 2014
Alex looked at the phone for a moment, then slid it into his pocket. "I'll look through it. Did Lord Grantham have anyone go over it yet?"
"Not that I'm aware of," Matthew shook his head. "He didn't volunteer the information and I didn't ask. I think he's still taking it quite hard. He couldn't even look at the items with me. He had one of the footmen show me to where they were being kept."
"I can't say that I blame him," Alex shrugged. "Losing Patrick probably dredged up bad memories of what happened to James."
"How could it not?" Matthew agreed. "Still, it isn't as though Robert could have done anything in either case."
"He probably doesn't see it that way," Alex replied.
"Of course he doesn't," Matthew said. "But the days when he could keep us all safe behind the walls of Downton are gone forever, if they ever even existed at all beyond his own imagination. His family is far too ambitious to be locked away, and in our world, once you try and build something worth having, you invite all manner of problems. It's inevitable, really."
"That drive back must have been longer than I thought," Alex smiled. "You've gone all existential on me."
"Hardly," Matthew smiled, finishing his drink. "I just think there's very limited value in dwelling on the past, particularly the bad memories, so I choose not to."
"Fair enough. Anything in particular that you want me to look for on Patrick's phone?" Alex asked.
"See if you can trace his steps over his last days," Matthew said, looking at his empty glass thoughtfully. "Find out if there's anything on that phone that will help us figure out who killed Patrick."
Chapter 3:
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, August 2004
"Did you get it?" Patrick asked eagerly as Matthew came over to the picnic table.
"Yes," Matthew said, rolling his eyes. He handed the bag to Patrick and sat down beside him.
"Beautiful," Patrick clapped, taking a small pouch out of the bag and passing it over to his friend sitting across the table from them. "What's the damage?"
"I'll add it to everything else," Matthew grumbled. "You're lucky that I was able to track this down. You know we're not allowed to deal in this stuff."
"We're not allowed to sell it," Patrick corrected him. "Nothing in the rules about buying, is there? Besides, this is such a piddling amount, it won't matter. Go on, Larry," Patrick smiled, drumming his hands on the table in anticipation.
"Why me?" Larry frowned.
"Because I can't roll for shit," Patrick shrugged. "And neither can Tim here."
"What about Matthew?" Larry asked, nodding towards him.
"Please," Patrick scoffed. "You think Matthew knows how to roll a joint? Now come on!"
Larry grunted and went about preparing the marijuana cigarette.
"Where are you going next year, Matthew? Decided yet?" Tim asked as they waited on Larry.
"Cambridge," Matthew answered. "I was accepted at Trinity."
"Hey, good for you," Tim smiled, nodding to Matthew.
"Yes, fantastic, Matthew," Patrick laughed. "Trinity is perfect for you. You and all the other choir boys and virgins."
Matthew frowned.
"Come on, Patrick, don't be a git," Tim warned him. "Whether Matthew's a virgin or not is none of our business."
"I don't care if he is or he isn't," Patrick said, watching as Larry finished the joint and lit it with his cigarette lighter. "I just know that he is."
"How would you know that?" Matthew demanded.
Patrick took the joint from Larry and took a long drag. He pursed his lips and blew a plume of smoke into the air. "Because you've never told us about having a bird. In all the years I've known you, you haven't had one girlfriend. If that isn't proof that you're a virgin, I don't know what is."
"He doesn't need to have a girlfriend to have a shag," Larry shrugged, accepting the joint back from Patrick and taking a puff.
"What, you think Matthew's screwed some girl just for the hell of it?" Patrick laughed heartily. "Come on! He's saving himself for marriage, he is."
"No, I'm not!" Matthew retorted. "Has it ever occurred to you that I don't feel the need to brag the way you do?"
Patrick shrugged and took another hit before passing the joint to Tim.
"Anyway, why is this about me?" Matthew frowned. "Who says you've done it?"
"Half the girls at Heathfield," Tim joked, taking a smoke.
"You know what, Matthew, maybe I've got you all wrong. You live in Manchester. Girls over there could be pretty easy," Patrick reasoned.
Matthew rolled his eyes.
"All right, fine," Patrick laughed. "Give us a name and we'll leave you alone."
"A name?" Matthew asked.
"Yeah. A name. Tell us the name of a girl you banged and we won't bring it up again," Patrick said, taking the joint once more.
"How do we know he's not going to make one up?" Larry asked.
"I can tell when he's bullshitting," Patrick smiled. He looked intently at Matthew. "Well? Let's hear it, Matthew. Just one name from your list of conquests."
Matthew swallowed, forcing himself to keep Patrick's stare. If he looked away, it would seem as though he was lying.
"Mary," Matthew blurted out finally.
Patrick's mouth fell open. "Mary? As in, Mary Mary? My cousin?"
Matthew looked at Tim and Larry. Both of them were staring at him, their eyes wide with surprise.
"Yeah," Matthew shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage. "Mary."
"When was this?" Patrick asked incredulously.
"Last summer," Matthew said. "You were off in Hong Kong with your father."
"Wow," Patrick nodded. "I'm impressed, Matthew. I know a load of guys who have been trying to get into Mary's pants for years."
"No doubt," Larry agreed. "I even seen college blokes try and have it off with her. She just keeps shutting them down."
"For a 17-year-old, she's got some attitude," Tim smiled.
"Forget 17. Mary had attitude at 7," Patrick laughed.
"Well, just don't go around talking about it," Matthew said quickly. "It was just a one time thing. I don't want it getting out, you know, since our families are so close and everything."
"Oh, sure, no problem," Patrick smiled. "It doesn't leave this table. She'd probably slap us to hell if we said anything. But tell us, though, was she any good?"
"Patrick," a voice called.
They all turned. Matthew blushed fiercely when he realized who was standing there.
"Mary!" Larry smiled. "How are you?"
"Fine, Larry," Mary said, barely glancing at him. "Patrick, they've rang the gong. You best put that out and change your clothes before Carson gets a sniff of what you've been up to."
"Sure, of course. Thanks, Mary. Let's go, lads. Larry, do something with this roach," Patrick muttered getting up from the table.
Patrick set off for the house, with Tim and Larry trailing behind him. Matthew followed, walking alongside Mary.
"What's for dinner tonight?" Matthew asked lightly.
"Chicken, I believe," Mary replied. "I hope you weren't smoking with the others. That would be rather juvenile of you."
"No," Matthew shook his head. "I've never really had any interest."
"Of course you haven't," Mary laughed to herself before turning serious. "Now, about your revelation about the two of us having shagged…"
Matthew's eyes bulged. "You heard that?" he exclaimed, unable to compose himself in time to deny it.
"I did," Mary nodded, not looking at him. "Strange that I don't recall ever sleeping with you. You must have been quite awful in bed for me not to remember it."
Matthew blushed. "It was just talk amongst the lads, Mary. I didn't mean anything by it. It was only, you know, a joke."
"Of course it was," Mary said lightly. "And I trust that you won't allow this 'joke' to be repeated ever again, will you?"
"It's already forgotten," Matthew mumbled.
"Good," Mary nodded. "Because we both know quite well that you would never, in your wildest dreams, ever come close to having me, don't we?"
Matthew dug his hands into his pockets and stared at the grass as he continued walking. Mary quickened her pace and left him behind.
"Obviously not," Matthew mumbled to himself. "The very idea is a complete joke."
London Suite, Shangri-La Hotel, At the Shard, London, England, October 2014
"You're back," Alex said as Matthew came in through the door. "I was beginning to get concerned."
"Traffic along the Mall was a mess," Matthew muttered, throwing his shoes on the floor and unzipping his cycling jersey. Alex flipped him a bottle of water and he caught it in one hand. He flipped open the cap and guzzled a long sip as he walked towards the television.
He stopped short and lifted his head, frowning before he turned around and looked over at the garment bag hanging over the back of a chair.
"What's that?" he asked suspiciously.
"Your tux," Alex said, not looking up as he perused his tablet. "For that party tonight."
"What party?" Matthew frowned, looking at Alex.
"The Pink Ribbon Ball for Breast Cancer Campaign," Alex replied easily. "Lady Grantham is one of the patrons."
"I didn't realize Cora was so involved in cancer research," Matthew shrugged.
"Not that Lady Grantham; the other Lady Grantham," Alex corrected him.
"Ah, I see," Matthew nodded. "And the family is going?"
"I think so. Lady Mary will be there, certainly. Anna mentioned that she hoped you wouldn't do anything too embarrassing," Alex smirked, still looking at his tablet screen. "I think she's afraid that things have gone so well in these first few weeks that a disaster must be looming."
"Things haven't gone that well," Matthew rolled his eyes. "The only reason Mary and I haven't properly gotten into it over anything is because we've been conveniently out of the office at different times. It's almost as though our schedules are deliberately organized to ensure we aren't within close proximity to each other, if it can be helped."
"Strange coincidence, that," Alex said, still not looking up.
Matthew chortled at his weak explanation.
"Well, I'll make an appearance at the reception, but I won't stay for long. These things are usually terribly boring," Matthew said, going over and opening the garment bag and glancing at his suit, wondering which shoes to wear with it.
"Don't you want to stick around and socialize?" Alex asked, finally looking over at him. "Lady Grantham may have a man or two lined up for Lady Mary."
"I can assure you, Alex, when it comes to Mary, she's very capable of lining up her own men, and knocking them down as well," Matthew huffed. "It's not worth watching. Did you find anything on Patrick's phone?"
"He was up to Town Hall 9 in Clash of Clans," Alex replied, looking back at his tablet.
"Well, that solves it then. He must have been killed by a rival Clan leader. Find out which teenage video gamers had it in for him and we'll find our killer," Matthew rolled his eyes, taking another sip of water. "Did you find anything useful, Alex?"
"Nothing jumped out at me, but there were some recent entries on his calendar and in his contacts list that merit some investigation," Alex said. "I'll let you know if anything becomes of it. Are you quite certain that Patrick was murdered?"
"No," Matthew shrugged. "But I'm also not certain that his death was an accident either."
"And why don't you raise your concerns with Lady Mary or Lord Grantham?" Alex asked.
"No need to bother them with this until we have something to tell," Matthew replied, turning and heading for the bedroom. "I'm going to shower."
"I'm heading back to the office," Alex said, packing up his tablet and standing up. "Have a good time tonight."
"I'm sure that I won't," Matthew called as he went into the bathroom.
The Natural History Museum, Kensington, London, England, October 2014
Mary sighed as she waited in line. These events always seemed to involve lines, regardless of who you were. Lines and waiting. The cars waited in line to drop off their esteemed guests. The paparazzi waited in line, or more accurately, gathered in swarms, to take their pictures. The guests waited in line to have their pictures taken before going through. This was all a necessary evil to maintain her place on the celebrity pages and across the Internet. If she wanted to be seen, then she had to wait in line.
Not that Mary was really a celebrity, or wanted to be. Her family had always been part of the social elite, but their business was built on being inconspicuous and remaining in the background. Still, she needed a certain visibility, both to attract the rich gamblers who came to her casinos, and hold a sufficient public and political profile to advance her plans. The wealthy needed to know her face. The powerbrokers needed to know her name. It was a delicate balance that she had been navigating since she was a child. Great care had gone into selecting her designer dress and expensive jewellery for the evening, as well as her hair and makeup. She was a businesswoman, not a socialite, and she needed to be seen as elegant and glamorous, not trashy and attention seeking. She was a concerned member of the British elite coming out to support a worthy cause championed by her Granny. A gorgeous and sophisticated concerned member of the British elite, that is.
So she endured the waiting. Her mind was elsewhere anyway, going over the events of the day, the first day of the trial. She didn't know what to think. Murray had delivered his opening as rehearsed, the witnesses were examined and cross-examined, and there had been no surprises. Phil would testify later in the week. So far, very little had happened and it made Mary nervous. Matthew's calm demeanour had done nothing to allay her fears either.
"I'm sure it won't be much longer," Evelyn said, peering past the people in front of them and down the red carpet. "There's only a few more before we reach the photographers."
Mary smiled politely and nodded to him. Sweet, boring Evelyn. He often accompanied her to charity events, his quiet and unassuming nature allowed her to shine more brightly, and he knew enough people in their circles that she could leave him for long stretches to go and mingle with the more important guests that she wanted to talk to. If this was a political fundraiser or a Society Ball, she would either attend alone or with someone more to her taste. But, for warm and fuzzy charity gatherings where she wanted to appear more normal, Evelyn fit the bill.
When it was finally her turn, Mary released Evelyn's arm and nudged him away. He walked past the cameras unnoticed and over to the next line. Mary stepped forward into the glare of the lights. She stood at an angle, allowing the different photographers to capture her dress and figure from all sides. They shouted her name and asked her to look this way and that, and she ignored them, turning her head here and there, smiling kindly all the while. When she deemed she'd posed long enough, she walked briskly away, rejoining Evelyn on the other side.
"You were stunning," Evelyn smiled.
"Thank you," Mary replied, offering nothing more.
"I hope your sisters didn't have as much trouble with the crowds," Evelyn said.
"Oh, they came through a while ago," Mary said. "I'm glad they went in before me, actually. Anyone coming now will be stuck for an hour behind that mob."
"Mary," a voice called.
Mary turned and blinked as Matthew arrived next to her. His hair was immaculately styled, slicked back but not overly done. She looked quickly down his frame, noticing the tailored Armani tuxedo and the silver pocket square, which accented his blue eyes.
"Matthew," Mary exclaimed. "How long have you been waiting? I didn't see you in line."
"Oh, I've just arrived," Matthew nodded, glancing over at Evelyn before looking back at Mary. "I was able to skip through the line. No one wants a photo of me, thankfully."
"Indeed," Mary said. She reached out and took hold of Evelyn's arm again, giving Matthew a brilliant smile.
"Oh, where are my manners?" she grinned. "Matthew Crawley, the Honourable Viscount Branksome."
"Evelyn," Evelyn said, shaking Matthew's hand.
"Pleasure," Matthew nodded.
"Matthew doesn't particularly care for these types of events. He detests dressing up and mingling," Mary laughed, leaning a bit closer to Evelyn.
"Oh, it's not so bad," Evelyn offered helpfully. "If you can stay awake through the speeches, it's all smooth sailing from there."
"I'll remember that," Matthew said. He glanced at Mary's hand still tightly wrapped around Evelyn's arm. "Well, I think I'll head in and say hello to Lady Grantham. Nice to meet you, Evelyn. Mary."
"Matthew," she said, watching as he turned and left. She loosened her grip on Evelyn's arm.
"Why don't you go in and see who's here?" Evelyn suggested. "I'll get you a drink."
"Yes, I think I will," Mary smiled at him. She released his arm and strode purposefully through the doors.
Matthew stayed awake during the speeches…barely. He knew it was rude to look at his smartphone, so he had kept his attention on the speakers, even as his eyes grew heavy. Violet Crawley's clipped tone snapped him back to wakefulness, but her speech was sadly too short and Matthew had to drink several glasses of water just to keep occupied.
Eventually, the speeches ended and the floor was opened for dancing and mingling. Suppressing the urge to beat a hasty retreat, Matthew forced himself to pay his respects to Violet, and to share a quick word with Sybil and Edith.
"Have you at least tried to talk to people?" Sybil asked, sipping her drink.
"Of course," Matthew said indignantly. "I spoke with a few blokes just now."
"Have you at least tried to talk to people who aren't the wait staff?" Sybil teased.
Matthew ran his hand through his hair sheepishly and smiled at her.
"Where's Mary gone off to?" Edith asked, looking about the room.
"I'm sure she's around here somewhere, probably with Viscount Branksome fawning all over her," Matthew muttered.
Sybil laughed and shook her head at him.
"What?" Matthew asked.
"Nothing," Sybil sighed. "For your information, Evelyn is an old family friend. I'm surprised the two of you never met until now. Anyway, you don't need to worry about him. Mary's never fancied him, not even remotely."
"It's no matter to me who she fancies," Matthew scoffed. "I couldn't care less."
Sybil and Edith shared a knowing glance and sipped their drinks as Matthew looked around the room.
Crockfords Casino, Mayfair, London, England, October 2014
"I thought you'd be at the Ball with Mr. Crawley," Anna frowned, leaning against the doorway.
"No, Matthew can handle a Ball on his own," Alex replied, looking up from his desk. "I thought you'd be there with Lady Mary."
"If Mary knows how to do anything, it's how to navigate her way through a Ball," Anna chuckled. "She's been to more Balls in her lifetime than I can count."
"I'll bet she has," Alex smiled.
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Anna frowned.
"Nothing. It means that I agree with you," Alex said easily.
"You're not in any position to agree or disagree with me," Anna huffed. "You don't know Mary. Not the way I do."
"I didn't realize that personal knowledge was required to opine on whether the eldest daughter of the Earl of Grantham had attended her fair share of Balls," Alex said, looking at Anna quizzically.
"Just because she goes to Balls doesn't mean she isn't a capable businesswoman as well," Anna said.
"When did I ever suggest otherwise?" Alex asked, smiling a bit too widely for Anna's taste. "I quite admire how Lady Mary finds time for such a busy social calendar amidst all her business endeavours."
"You know, you're just like everyone else that we come up against," Anna rolled her eyes. "You see a woman in an executive position and it must be because she's someone's daughter, or she slept with someone, or she's the requisite office eye candy. It never occurs to you that she earned her way to where she is on her own merit."
Alex furrowed his brow for a brief second. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't Lady Mary go into the family business straight out of university?"
"Yes, after she graduated at the top of her class from London Business School," Anna countered. "The point is she'd be just as successful whether her last name was Crawley or not."
"But it certainly helps that she is a Crawley, doesn't it?" Alex smirked.
"You'd be surprised," Anna shrugged. "Sometimes I think it's a burden that she could do without. It distracts people from her true value. Just like how we always had to deal with Mr. Patrick and his staff, even though it was obvious they hadn't a clue what they were doing, or how to go about running a successful operation. They had just as much of a say as we did, even though they didn't deserve it, all because Lord Grantham said so."
"Well, then it must be a relief that you no longer need to work with them," Alex nodded.
"I wouldn't say that, not yet," Anna said coldly. "I haven't made up my mind about Mr. Crawley, or you."
"What is there to decide?" Alex asked. "You've known Matthew almost as long as I have."
"I know he was overseeing operations in Manchester and I've seen him once or twice a year when he came to London. That's it. I don't know anything about how he works or if he even knows what he's doing," Anna stated.
"He does," Alex nodded. "I'm sure that Lady Mary told you about the little demonstration he gave at his welcome dinner last month? He didn't make those numbers up. In the past six years, we've destroyed our projected targets every year, obliterated them in fact."
"Congratulations," Anna said sarcastically. "It isn't all about making money, you know."
"Aren't we in the gambling business? Making money is the only thing that matters," Alex said.
"Of course you would say that," Anna rolled her eyes.
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Alex asked lightly.
"This isn't just a city business, despite what you think," Anna said. "The Crawley name goes back generations. It's a corporation now, but it was a family first. A family that took care of its own, through plague, war, even insolvency. Mary isn't in this for the money. She works as hard as she does because this place isn't just a pile of bricks, and this company isn't just a set of financial statements to her. It represents her family legacy."
Alex frowned slightly, considering her words.
"Not that you or Mr. Crawley would care anything about that," Anna shook her head.
"Is that so?" Alex smiled. "Because we're a couple of computer nerds who hide behind monitors and gleefully wring our hands as the money pours in, is that it?"
"I didn't say that," Anna retorted.
"But you were thinking it," Alex stated. "That's what affronts you and Lady Mary so much, isn't it? You work yourselves to the bone, not just to make this place a success, but to carry Patrick's woeful operation along with yours, and honour the Crawley name. Now here comes Matthew, the golden boy riding in on his gilded stallion, and with a few clicks of his mouse, he suddenly can do no wrong, cash is King, and all the blood, sweat and tears that Lady Mary has poured out over the years means nothing in all this."
"You said it yourself," Anna replied. "The two of you love making money."
"That doesn't mean Matthew didn't have to work for everything he's got," Alex said. "Or that he's completely ignorant to the Crawley family traditions."
"I'm going home. Good night," Anna shook her head, turning away from the door.
"Anna," Alex called.
"Yes?" Anna turned and looked back at him in annoyance.
"Matthew may not be related to the Crawleys, but he practically grew up with them for all the times he went to Downton," Alex said firmly. "He never asked to be brought here. Lord Grantham invited him, presumably because he trusts Matthew with the very family legacy that you speak of. You might want to remember that."
Anna turned and left, her heels clicking across the floor as she made her way to the elevator.
The Natural History Museum, Kensington, London, England, October 2014
"Ah, there you are. Just the man I've been looking for."
Matthew turned around and blinked in surprise as Mary smiled at him. He put his phone away and gave her his full attention.
"Really?" he asked.
"Of course," Mary nodded. "You weren't leaving already, were you?" she asked, looking at the coat check token in his hand.
"Oh, no," Matthew said, putting the token back in his pocket and smiling at her.
"Good," Mary said crisply. "Come along. I want you to meet someone who you should know if you're going to be working with us."
Matthew shook his head as he followed after her.
Mary brought him across the room to a high-top table where a man stood waiting for them. He resembled most of the other well-heeled gentlemen in the room, except he was a bit older than most. His gelled hair and hawkish eyes made it look as though he wore a permanent scowl. The man smiled as Mary approached, then cast an appraising look at Matthew.
"Matthew Crawley, Sir Richard Carlisle. Sir Richard, Matthew Crawley, our new Managing Director," Mary said, making the introductions.
"Sir Richard," Matthew nodded, shaking the older man's hand.
"Mr. Crawley," Richard said. "Or should I perhaps call you Matthew?"
"Whichever you prefer," Matthew said politely.
"Sir Richard owns the Daily Express, as well as several television networks across the world," Mary explained, looking from Richard to Matthew.
"Ah, so you're the Carlisle in Carlisle World Media Group," Matthew noted.
"The one and the same," Richard nodded, smiling at Mary. "I am known to dabble in other industries though."
"Sir Richard is a rival," Mary smiled. "His company owns the Grosvenor Casinos brand."
"Ah," Matthew said. "And how is business?"
"Quite good, thank you," Richard nodded. "Though I suppose I should be afraid. Your arrival is meant to make life difficult for me, isn't it?"
"Oh, I doubt that," Matthew chuckled, glancing at Mary. "There's surely enough room in London for all of the various factions, isn't there?"
"Perhaps," Richard nodded. "Though someone does have to be at the top of the table."
"I've always felt that the Grosvenor Casinos are exactly what a chain should be," Matthew said. "Once you've been in one of them, it's as though you've been in all of them."
"Thank you," Richard replied, his eyes narrowing. "And how are you finding London?"
"It's as I remembered it," Matthew replied. "Perhaps a bit more cutthroat than before."
"An astute observation," Richard smiled. "Although on nights like these, it's nice to keep in mind that there's still room for charity, when it's convenient, of course."
"You're charitable when it's convenient for you, are you?" Matthew asked.
"Oh, I never do anything unless it's entirely at my convenience, Mr. Crawley," Richard smiled.
Matthew smiled tightly at the remark.
"Can I interest you in a drink?" Richard asked, raising his own glass of Scotch.
"Oh, no thank you," Matthew said, raising his hand. "I've about had it, I think. Good evening, Sir Richard. Mary," Matthew said, bowing his head and walking away.
"That's Patrick's replacement?" Richard asked, watching Matthew disappear into the crowd.
"Yes," Mary said, her eyes glancing over to where Matthew had wandered off to.
"Surely your father can't favour him over you, can he, my dear?" Richard asked. "I can't imagine Matthew Crawley knows how to navigate around our world."
"Nothing's decided as of yet," Mary said lightly. "And Matthew is rather clever, actually."
"He doesn't show it, though I suppose stranger things have happened," Richard frowned. "Now, about this trial that you're involved in. Is there no prospect of settlement?"
"Are you asking for your own personal interest, as a casino owner, or as a newspaper man?" Mary asked, arching her eyebrow at him.
"All of the above," Richard smiled.
"No comment," Mary smiled. "You already know the trial's started. I'll leave it at that."
"Well, I'll be going then," Richard nodded. "Have a lovely evening, Mary."
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. Mary stood still, giving Sir Richard a polite smile as he turned and left.
"There you are," Evelyn said, coming to Mary's side. "Fancy a walk? I wanted to look over the auction items."
"A brilliant idea," Mary said, smiling as she took his arm. As Evelyn escorted her towards the long tables displaying the auction items, she looked across the room briefly, seeing no sign of Matthew.
Infinity Skypool, Shangri-La Hotel, At the Shard, London, England, October 2014
Matthew cut through the water, angling his arms so his hands sliced through the surface with each stroke. The pool was only eleven metres long, and was designed for casual swims and wading around enjoying the magnificent views from the 52nd floor of the building, rather than proper laps. At well past midnight though, Matthew wasn't interested in the views. He counted off the laps in his head, kicking through the water and trying not to hurt himself when he reached the shallow area and flipped around to go again.
After 50 laps, his legs and arms burned exactly how he wanted them to. He pulled himself up out of the pool and sat on the deck, struggling to catch his breath as he looked at the lights of the London Eye sitting motionless in the distance. Eventually his breathing calmed, even though his anger and frustration still festered.
"The pool is closed, sir. You shouldn't be in here."
Matthew rolled his eyes and grunted as a towel was handed to him over his shoulder.
"Thanks," he mumbled, taking the towel and lazily drying his hair as water continued to slide down his body.
"Must have been some Ball for you to come here to work things out," Alex said.
"What makes you think I'm working anything out?" Matthew asked, still looking out the window. "Maybe I just felt like having a swim?"
"If you say so," Alex smiled. He walked over and sat down on one of the lounge chairs placed at poolside.
"What happened to you tonight?" Matthew asked. "You said in your last text that you had a date."
"I had to reschedule it for tomorrow night. I was working late," Alex replied.
"Hope she wasn't too disappointed," Matthew smirked.
"Not as much as she will be when she finally meets me," Alex said.
Matthew looked up at him curiously.
"Think she's got what you want?" he asked.
"I'd be willing to bet money on it," Alex nodded.
Matthew chuckled and went back to looking out at the panoramic view of London.
"You don't want to talk about it," Alex declared.
"No, I don't," Matthew shook his head.
"And you don't think anything will change?" Alex asked.
"No, nothing," Matthew said tightly.
"Including you?" Alex inquired.
"Yes, including wretched, stupid me," Matthew sighed.
"So what now?" Alex asked.
Matthew got up from the deck and wiped his arms and legs quickly with the towel. He put on his robe and slippers and threw the towel into the laundry hamper.
"I'm due back in Court in the morning," Matthew said on his way out the door. "Good night, Alex."
Crockfords Casino, Mayfair, London, England, October 2014
Mary frowned as she stared at the computer screen. The words were becoming blurry, she'd been at it for so long. The trial was effectively over, with closing arguments tomorrow. All indications were the Judge was going to render his decision shortly after. Their fate, win or lose, would be decided in the morning. She sat in the courtroom with Murray and listened to Phil explain how he didn't cheat, had only taken advantage of the circumstances available to him and his accomplice, and essentially implied that it was Crockfords' own fault for not properly protecting themselves. The message was a simple one and Mary knew it well - they'd fucked up, and now they should pay for it.
"If Murray worked half as hard as you do, we'd have nothing to worry about."
Mary looked up from her desk and laughed ruefully at Matthew standing in the doorway of her office.
"What are you still doing here? I thought you'd have gone home long ago," she asked, turning back to her computer monitors and going over her notes from the past two days of the trial. Murray had prepared a brief as part of his closing argument, with cross references to the documentary evidence and the witness testimony. She'd already read it a dozen times and had a list of questions and comments that was on to the second page.
"I'm waiting on the results of some games from over in North America to finish; baseball playoffs mainly," Matthew shrugged, coming into her office. "I had dinner sent up for you."
Mary looked up and arched her eyebrow as Matthew placed a plastic take-away container on her desk. She looked at it suspiciously as he placed cutlery and napkins down beside it.
"Go on," Matthew smiled. "I'll even have the first bite to prove to you I haven't poisoned it."
Mary shook her head and opened the lid slowly. Her eyes lit up at what she discovered.
"A fry-up? Wherever did you get this?" Mary asked him, smiling at the eggs, sausage, ham, potatoes and tomatoes arranged together.
"I had the kitchens whip it up," Matthew explained, taking a seat in front of her desk. "Surprisingly, I didn't have much convincing to do to have them cook you breakfast at eleven o'clock at night."
"You've put the fear of God into them," Mary smiled. "You should hear some of the things they say about you. Apparently you're a bona fide slave driver."
"I've heard worse, dragon lady," Matthew smiled.
"Ah, yes," Mary smirked. "I eat small children and change boyfriends the way most people change clothes. Everyone wonders how Anna has lasted so long given what a horrid boss I must be."
"And yet you do nothing to correct that perception," Matthew noted.
"Why would I?" Mary asked. "I don't have a heart. Everyone knows that."
"Perhaps because it's to your advantage that they view you that way?" Matthew said, raising his eyebrow.
Mary became engrossed with her food.
"Mmm, I love breakfast, I must say," Mary nodded, savouring the taste of a rather intricately composed bite of ham, potato and egg.
"I know," Matthew smiled, sipping his Coke. "Anna told me."
"You asked her what food I would want at this hour?" Mary asked in surprise.
"Who else would know better? You haven't eaten since we had sandwiches for lunch outside the Courthouse," Matthew said.
Mary blinked. She knew he was right. She just didn't expect him to have paid attention.
"I was rather put out when she texted me that you loved a good fry-up," Matthew continued. "I pictured you throwing it at me and how messy it would be."
Mary laughed. "You needn't worry. I wouldn't waste perfectly good food on you. Besides, we wouldn't want to ruin your bespoke Armani suit, now would we?"
"Not so soon after I've learned to tie a proper double Windsor," Matthew smirked, looking at his smartphone as he sipped his drink.
They sat in silence for several minutes. Mary continued to eat and look over her trial notes while Matthew read reports from his websites on his smartphone.
'Get out of here' his mind railed against him. 'What are you even doing here anyway? Nothing will come of being nice to her. You tried that before, remember? Nothing will change.'
"What do you think about tomorrow, Matthew? Honestly?" Mary asked, slumping back in her chair.
He looked up at her and shoved his doubts to the side yet again.
"He was a very credible witness when he was on the stand," Matthew said. "Which is no surprise, because he genuinely does believe that what he did wasn't cheating. The only opinion that matters though, is that of the Judge. The Judge may have little sympathy for the big casino corporation, but I can't see too much empathy for the millionaire gambler either. We've got a chance, Mary. You have to believe that."
"I do," Mary nodded. "And what have you been reporting to Papa?"
"The truth," Matthew said nonchalantly. "That things are going as we expected and that we're in with a shot."
"Murray's probably telling him that I've been making a nuisance of myself," Mary muttered, shaking her head.
"Actually, Robert told me that Murray was singing your praises. He told Robert that you've been sharp throughout and entirely attentive."
"Goodness," Mary smiled. "What a testimonial."
"I'm not surprised," Matthew replied. "It's along the same lines as what I've told Robert as well."
Mary blinked, then looked down at her hands.
"I just wonder where it ends?" she said softly. "Even if we do win, there will be an appeal, and who knows how this will play in public? I tend to think people won't see us as trying to protect our reputation. They're more likely to see us as greedy bastards who lost to a smarter player and now won't pay him his winnings."
"Oh, I don't know," Matthew shook his head. "If this inspires others to come out and try to take us down, that might work to our advantage. The more people who think they can win when they step in here, the better."
"As long as we don't get played for fools again," Mary muttered.
"Well you won't let that happen, will you?" Matthew said.
Mary looked up at him, finally allowing herself to smile after several seconds.
"No, we won't," she said finally. Her eyes met his and returned his stare.
"Wrap this up, Mary," Matthew said, getting up from his chair. "Murray is the one presenting our closing argument, not you. Finish eating, go home, and go to sleep. I'll see you at Court in the morning."
Matthew turned and walked towards the door.
"Matthew," Mary called. Her voice stopped him and made him turn around at the doorway.
"Thank you…for the food," Mary said quietly.
"Any time," Matthew nodded. He left and went to the elevator.
Mary watched him go. She didn't look back at her computer monitors until after the elevator doors had closed behind him.
The Connaught Hotel, Mayfair, London, England, October 2014
Amy wandered down the brightly lit hallway, glancing at the plush carpet and the fine wallpaper. She loved when work brought her to The Connaught. It was rare that she had a client who could afford this place, but one night here gave her enough memories to last a few months, to say nothing for the money. She played with the key card as she arrived at the suite. Whoever this guy was, if he could afford a night in The Prince's Lodge suite, he must have some serious cash. Even if he was rubbish in bed, she would at least have a wonderful meal, the best drinks, and a warm bath before leaving in the morning.
She came in and found her client already in the large bedroom. He stood looking out the window, his back to her. He was tall, with black hair and an athletic build if his square shoulders and tight butt were any indication. His suit looked expensive. Amy idly hoped he was a decent shag.
"Take off your coat and go sit on the bed," the man said.
Amy blinked in surprise, then quickly recovered. The man got straight to business. Fine. She could handle that. Small talk was overrated in these situations. So he didn't want the girlfriend experience. So much the better.
She eased out of her coat and walked over to the large four poster king size bed. She sat down and watched her client, who still had not turned around.
"The dress as well," he said.
Amy smirked as she undid the zip on the side of her dress and took it off. He liked to be in control. Well, she had no problem with that. He had booked her for the night. He got to call the shots.
She crossed one long stockinged leg over the other, hoping he appreciated the red bra and panties she'd picked out. She left her heels on, just in case he was the type who liked his women that way.
Alex turned around and looked her over, his eyes travelling from her black pumps, up her stockings, across her pale skin, past her green eyes and finally to the red hair that adorned her head. She looked young, he thought, but then again, what age was appropriate for this type of work? He had to admit that she was far prettier than he expected, though she was a bit on the skinny side. He couldn't see a mark or flaw on her skin, save a dusting of freckles above her cleavage and across her arms.
"So what'll it be?" Amy asked sultrily, giving him a wide smile. "You can put it anywhere, you know."
Alex walked over to the bed. She parted her legs as he stood in front of her, arching her back and pushing her breasts towards him. He was gorgeous. The fact that such a good looking bloke was paying her for it made her shiver with excitement.
"I want you to do everything I say, all night if that's how long it takes," he said, gazing down at her.
She looked up at him, moving her arms behind her back in obedience.
"Yes, sir," she drawled.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Whatever you want it to be," she breathed.
"What's your name?" he repeated, his eyes piercing hers.
"Amy," she whispered.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
She frowned for a moment. What was he playing at?
"It's Amy," she repeated.
"Are you quite sure, Ethel?" he asked quietly.
Her eyes went wide for a split second before she recovered.
"Who's Ethel?" she asked, stonefaced.
"You are," he said firmly. "Ethel Parks, formerly of Wolverhampton, now living in Essex. Graduated from Queen Mary University of London with a diploma in Dental Hygiene and Therapy. You work for a Dr. Charles Bryant in Clerkenwell by day, and by night...well, we know what you do by night, don't we?"
"Who are you?" Ethel asked, recoiling away from him and putting her arm across her lace-covered breasts. "Are you a bloody copper?"
"No," he laughed. "Just a man with some questions. Answer them truthfully and this room is yours for the night, and you won't need to do any 'work'."
Ethel eyed him suspiciously. "Questions about what?"
Alex reached into his inside pocket and took out a smartphone. He unlocked the screen and handed it to Ethel.
Ethel took the phone and looked at the display. Her mouth fell open and she gasped out loud.
"Tell me everything you know about Patrick Crawley," Alex demanded firmly.
High Court of Justice, The Strand, Westminster, London, England, October 2014
"Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! All persons having business before the Queen's Justice of the High Court of Justice, speak now and ye shall be heard! Long live the Queen! Please be seated," the clerk announced.
Mary took her seat next to Murray at the counsel table. High Court Justice Sir John Mitting adjusted the glasses on his nose and peered down at his papers. Mary had still not gotten used to seeing a grown man wearing a white wig in the courtroom, but she at least no longer had the urge to burst out laughing or frown at the sight. She had referred to the Judge as Professor Dumbledore during lunch on the first day and that had drawn a frown from Murray and a scolding from Matthew.
Justice Mitting cleared his throat and the courtroom fell silent.
"I will be sending full written reasons to counsel later today. My endorsement reads as follows," the Judge announced.
Mary swallowed, her hands clasped tightly together in her lap.
Matthew leaned forward, folding his hands together in front of him. He looked from the Judge to the back of Mary's perfectly coiffed hair and up to the Judge again. Sitting in the last row of the courtroom, Matthew was just one of many interested observers, but the ruling would have far more consequences for him than any of the other people in the gallery today.
Justice Mitting began reading his reasons, going over introductions and preamble before getting to the meat of the decision.
"The claimant is a professional gambler and a citizen of the United States. He is acknowledged to be one of the world's finest Poker players, a game which requires high mathematical ability and stern discipline…"
Matthew glanced over at the Plaintiff's table. Truthfully, he had a lot of respect for Phil, and wondered how this all would have played out if he had been involved from the outset, rather than Patrick. Though Matthew didn't enjoy being taken advantage of any more than the next man, he liked to think he was more adept at smoothing things over than Patrick ever was. Then again, Mary had already tried that route, and the matter had still come to this.
"He was manipulating the game in circumstances in which he knew that the dealer and her superiors did not realise the consequence of what she had done at his instigation. Accordingly he converted a game in which knowledge of both sides as to likelihood that player or banker will win – in principle nil – was equal, into a game in which his knowledge is greater than that of the croupier and greater than that which she would reasonably have expected it to be."
Mary realized that she was holding her breath. She forced herself to exhale quietly. Everything sounded good so far, at least as much as she could tell. It was amazing how lawyers and judges could take simple English words and twist them into a statement that sounded as though it were from another language.
"This in my view is cheating for the purposes of civil law. It is immaterial that the casino could have protected itself against it by simple measures. The casino can protect itself by simple measures against cheating or legitimate advantage play. The fact that it can do so does not determine which it is."
Matthew blinked.
"For the reasons which I have given, this claim fails," Justice Mitting declared in conclusion.
Murray smiled and looked down at his papers. The Plaintiff shook his head in annoyance and there were murmurs throughout the gallery.
Mary turned her head and stole a glance to the back of the courtroom. She found knowing blue eyes staring back at her.
She smiled and arched her eyebrow at Matthew before turning back to the Judge.
When the trial was over, Mary left quickly through a side entrance and was in the back of the Mercedes before the reporters gathered on the front steps of the Courthouse. The car was already en route back to the office by the time a PR lackey read off a prepared statement for the media. The statement spoke of how Crockfords regretted that the matter had to be made public given their policy of respecting the privacy of their clients, and underlined their exemplary reputation for fair, honest and professional conduct. The statement read just as Mary had written it. Time would tell if it would play well with the public. With an appeal almost certainly looming, Mary didn't want to bother thinking about the future just yet. For now, they had won.
"Congratulations, Mary," Anna said, smiling at her from the front seat.
"Thank you," Mary nodded. "In the end, it played out just as Matthew said it would."
"Mr. Crawley didn't end up being as bothersome during the trial as you originally thought he would be," Anna said.
"No, he wasn't," Mary shrugged, turning her head to look out the window. "There may be hope for him yet, but don't tell him I said so."
Author's Note: Judge's reasons taken from the decision in Ivey v. Genting Casinos UK Ltd (t/a Crockfords Club) [2014] EWHC 3394 (QB).
