Mary set down her tea cup and shot a confused glance at Sybil. "You want me to teach him how to ride?"
"Matthew would rather not embarrass himself at the hunt," Sybil explained. "So, since you're so good at it, I thought you could teach him."
"Why not get Lynch to teach him? He'll be a much more patient teacher than I am." Mary picked up her tea cup again and took another sip. "Anyway, who's to say he actually wants to hunt? I wouldn't be surprised if he'd rather stay home and read."
Sybil giggled. "I'll admit, he does have a lot of books. But we were talking about it when I went with Mama to Crawley House to have tea. Mama and Granny and Cousin Isobel were being dreadfully boring so I went with Matthew to sort through his books He owns literally every play Shakespeare has written, and so many thick law books..."
"And this is the man you're supposed to marry?" Mary asked, with a disgusted scowl. "Honestly, what is Papa even thinking?"
"Is that fair?" Sybil asked. "Patrick wasn't so great either. Anyway, I think it would be nice for you to teach him. And that way you can scare him into being nice for me. I did warn him you'd do anything for me..."
Mary sighed and shook her head. "You're terribly spoiled, Sybil."
Sybil simply replied with a bright smile. "So will you do it?"
"I give in too easily," Mary groaned. "Alright, fine, I will. But believe me, I'm only doing it to protect you."
"I don't need protection," Sybil replied with a big grin. "But I'm happy you're willing to provide it."
Mary rolled her eyes and poured another cup of tea. "Do warn him, he doesn't quite know what he's getting in to. Especially if he's never ridden a horse. How long do I have to get a city boy into shape for a hunt?"
"Two weeks, remember. The hunt is in two weeks," Sybil replied. "Also, Mama told me to tell you we're having quite a bit of company. Evelyn Napier is coming, apparently."
"Yes, I told her to invite him. I know he enjoys these kind of things, and he's been a bit down since his mother died. At least he'll know what he's talking about," Mary said. "As I'd imagine, Matthew Crawley does not."
He approached carefully, and did not make a sound. He was fascinated by the sight before him. Mary was gently stroking the mane of one of the beautiful horses, a sight he would not have expected to see. She had seemed so harsh toward him, but this was a different side of her. Maybe this was the true Mary.
Matthew observed this for a while, until he decided that he really needed to let Mary know that he had arrived. "Cousin Mary..." he said softly.
She turned on her heel quickly. "Cousin Matthew. Are you prepared to ride? What exactly are you wearing?"
"Well, I didn't have anything appropriate for riding, so Molesley found the next best thing I had, which was just tweed walking clothes that I've never worn. I'm honestly not sure why I have them but anyway..."
Mary sighed and pulled a saddle off of the stable wall. "You'll need to get some made if you are planning to come to the hunt."
"I'd better do that then," he said.
"I'm surprised you even want to come, since you find our traditions so idiotic," Mary said pointedly. "Are we changing you now?"
Matthew shrugged. "It's kind of an interest in peace. I've accepted it, I think, although I'm still not thrilled about it. And I feel terrible for taking what really should be yours. So this is a sort of peace offering, I guess?"
"So we're not as bad as you thought we would be, and so you're putting up with us because you'll get the money?"
"You fundamentally misunderstand me."
Mary shook her head and took the lead of the horse in her hands. "Is it necessary for me to have a deep understanding of your inner motivations?"
"Considering one day you'll be my sister in law, I'd rather you not believe I'm only here for the money and the estate. In fact, I'm only here because your family wanted me to be here. I would have been perfectly happy staying in Manchester and going on with my life, but your father wanted me to come."
"That's because he doesn't want the estate driven into the ground when he dies!" She raised her voice, something Matthew would not have expected of her, and lead the horse out of the stable.
He followed after her, trying to catch up but was blocked by the horse. "Mary, please! Just listen to me!"
Mary pointed to the saddle. "Get on."
He followed her instructions and hoisted himself onto the horse. "He's rather large, isn't he?"
"Good, you'll fall much more easily," she said, her quiet anger barely disguised.
"Why do you hate me so much?"
Mary touched the flanks of the horse. "Kick him, here. Pull the reins in whichever direction you want to go. You're lucky I'm letting you use Diamond, he's the best trained out of any of them. He won't give you any trouble."
Matthew followed her instructions, but asked again, "Really, why are you so against me?"
"I could ask why you're so against me, considering you think my lifestyle is idiotic," Mary replied. "Watch out, you're heading straight into the house. Turn! No, turn more! He doesn't respond to tiny movements."
"Look, that was just a stupid comment I made. I was frustrated, can you forgive me?"
"I'm still not sure I want you marrying my sister. I'd rather have someone who values her, instead of valuing his own ideals," Mary replied.
Matthew gingerly dug his heels into the horse's sides. "It isn't my choice to marry Sybil, you know. I'm not going to protest..."
"For the sake of keeping peace?"
"Yes, and also because Sybil's rather sweet, and I can imagine living a life with her, although it isn't my first choice."
Mary leaned against the stable wall. "So if someone better came along would you take them?"
"It depends," Matthew said, slowly traveling toward her. "If I really loved her, then yes. It isn't worth family peace for a life that's only second best."
Mary didn't have an answer for that. She pressed her lips together and turned away, saying,"I think you're ready to try the paddock."
The morning of the hunt dawned cold and clear, and Matthew buzzed with excitement as he walked up to the house. Even though he and Mary weren't on the best of terms, she was an excellent teacher, and he was confident that he was not going to fall off the horse during the hunt, which was more than enough for him.
When he reached the house, there was already a crowd in front. Robert smiled as Matthew approached, yelling, "Lynch has a horse for you if you'd like to saddle up. We'll be off in a few minutes."
Matthew smiled and went toward the groom, who held the lead of a horse in his hand. He was about to climb on when he noticed Sybil standing at the front of the house. "You're not riding?"
"No," she replied ruefully, quickly striding toward him. "I don't really want to go. I'm a little bit afraid, to be honest. One of my friends nearly was trampled at a hunt like this, I've rather lost my taste for them."
"What an awful thing to tell me at my first hunt," Matthew said. "Now I'm a little bit scared."
Sybil shook her head. "She wasn't hurt, but I'm not a very skilled equestrian, and I'd rather not risk anything."
"Neither am I, but I'm going to try." A horn blew, and Matthew quickly got up onto the horse. "I guess I'll see you afterward then, provided I don't get trampled."
"I told Mary to make sure you didn't."
Matthew glanced over toward Mary and snorted. "She seems enamored over there. Is that Evelyn Napier who you were talking about?"
Sybil stood on her toes and followed his gaze toward Mary. "No, I think that's the friend from Turkey that he was planning to bring..."
"Hmm," Matthew said, digging his heels into the horse. "Looks like they're heading off, I better catch up." He held on for dear life and made his horse go slightly faster, although his lack of confidence prevented him from going nearly as fast as Mary and her Turkish friend.
The dinner table was rather full, with more people around than Matthew had seen. He wasn't quite sure what to say. He was at the opposite end of the table from Sybil, so he had no one to talk to who actually enjoyed his company. Instead, he was seated next to Mary, who had said nothing to him all day except for making snide comments about his lack of riding skills. And Mary was flirting with the Turkish man, whose name, he had learned, was Kemal Pamuk.
"Turkish culture is very interesting, I must say," Mary simpered. "I'd love to travel, I've rarely been to the continent."
Pamuk raised a glass toward her and winked. "You seem like a traveler to me. How tiring it must be to live in one place and never see the rest of the world. You must come to Turkey someday, I'm sure you would love it."
Matthew turned his attention away from their flirting and to his food. When he looked up again, he saw his mother looking rather pale across the table. "Mother, are you feeling quite alright?" he asked quietly, hoping not to draw too much attention.
"In fact, I'm not really..." she said. "Excuse me, I'm feeling rather ill. Might there be somewhere I could lie down?"
Cora pushed back her chair and all the men stood. "Of course. I'll put you in a guest room. Should we call for Doctor Clarkson?"
"No, I'll be alright. Just a little bit feverish is all," Isobel said.
Matthew sat back down, shooting a concerned glance toward Sybil. His mother was rarely ever sick. But he turned his attention back to his food and hoped for the best.
After a terribly awkward discussion on the Albanian talks, which Matthew had no context for, the men rejoined the women and Matthew went straight to Cora, a worried look crossing his features. "Is Mother alright?" he asked.
"I haven't been up to check on her, but I'll show you up to her room," Cora said. "She didn't seem too bad. Come, though."
Cora led Matthew through the corridors. He had only been upstairs once, when Sybil took it upon herself to give him a complete tour of the house. It had taken two hours just to see every room. Cora led him to a small bedroom in a hallway Matthew recognized as being the one the bedrooms of Mary and Sybil were in. Perhaps he wasn't supposed to know that, but Sybil hadn't worried much about telling him. She was either liberated or naive, or possibly both.
"Isobel," Cora asked, knocking on the door. "Are you feeling better?"
No response came. Cora knocked again, but there was still no response. She opened the door finally, and saw Isobel asleep in the bed.
Matthew walked over and felt her forehead. "She is rather feverish. I think we should call for a doctor..."
"Very well, it might be best," Cora said. "Stay here, I'll get Doctor Clarkson."
Matthew sat with Isobel for the better part of an hour, sighing in relief when Cora came in with Doctor Clarkson.
Clarkson felt her forehead, and she began to stir, finally waking up. "Mrs. Crawley, how are you feeling?" Clarkson asked.
"Alright. A little bit hot," Isobel replied.
He nodded, performing a few more tests before turning to Matthew. "It's a virus, I believe, it's been passing around the village. I've had a few cases in the hospital, she probably picked it up from there. I'd advise you to keep her here tonight, but with fluids and rest, she should be alright."
"Thank you," Matthew said. Clarkson took one last glance at Isobel and went on his way.
Cora gave a tight smile to Matthew. "Perhaps you should stay here tonight as well."
"Yes, I think that would work best. Thank you for your hospitality, and I'm sorry to impose on you like this. I know you already have guests."
"It's not a problem. We have so many rooms, why not use them?"
His eyes opened, and he shivered. The room was still completely dark. He blinked, adjusting his eyes, and tried to settle back under the covers. However, he still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Why had he woken up?
Matthew buried himself under the covers again. The room was nice, of course, but it felt large and imposing. And he could not get back to sleep.
His thoughts drifted to his mother. How was she doing? Was she alright? Maybe that was why he had woken. A subconscious worry for his mother's health. Clarkson had said there was nothing to worry about. But was he right?
The covers were kicked off. He got out of bed and checked the time on his watch. It was a little bit after one in the morning. Was she alright? He really needed to check on her.
The door squeaked when he opened it, and the gallery was silent. It was a long way from the bachelor's corridor down to where his mother's room was. He softly padded along the gallery and tried to remember which one his mother's room was.
He was nearly to the room he believed to be his mother's when he heard voices coming from another room. They were soft, but they were cries of, "No, no, please no! This isn't right! You need to leave."
His breath caught in his throat.
Matthew knew it wasn't proper to try and get into the room of whoever it was, but he also knew he needed to stop whatever was happening. So he did the only thing he could think of. He knocked.
"Yes, hello?" a strained voice came from inside. He could hear a struggle, and then the door opened, to reveal Mary, flushed, her perfect hair a mess, and her eyes full of tears. "Was there something you needed?"
"Are you alright?" he asked.
She nodded, but her eyes were filled with fear. "Perfectly. Only why are you asking?"
"I heard shouting."
"No you didn't."
Matthew pushed forward into the room. He knew it wasn't proper, but he didn't care. He was concerned, and his concern overrode his wish for propriety. "You're lying, Mary. You're not alright. And you don't have to be scared of me. If there's someone in here, you have my word that I won't tell a soul. Is there someone here with you?"
Mary nodded again, her eyes wide and terrified.
"Who?"
From behind the door stepped a dark imposing figure. Kemal Pamuk. He had an angry scowl on his face, and at the sight of him Mary looked terrified.
Matthew clenched his fist. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"She asked me to come here."
"I swear I didn't!" Mary said, her tone serious, her eyes pleading.
Pamuk smirked. "Of course you did! What else would that ridiculous flirting at the dinner table be? You're young, you're widowed, it's of no significance to society. Of course you want me."
"I'd advise you go back to your room, Mr. Pamuk," Matthew said quietly, although anger was flashing in his eyes.
"Or what? Why have you taken it upon yourself to become her protector?"
Matthew stepped forward. "She's my fiancee's sister. Sybil told me Mary would protect her from harm. I thought I'd return the favor."
"With what power?"
"Well, as I've heard, your main reason for coming here is to get England to take your side when it comes to the Albanian peace talks. But there are ways to prevent that. And as a lawyer, I have the power and the contacts to potentially do so. That's not something you want to risk," Matthew said coldly. "Get out."
Obviously Albanian peace was far more important to Pamuk than Mary, since he scurried away, leaving Mary and Matthew alone.
"Are you alright?" Matthew asked again.
Mary let out a shuddering breath. "I think... now I am." She cast her eyes down to the floor. "Thank you," she said hesitantly. "This is hardly proper, but..."
"Would you like to go down to the library to recover, then, or would you rather I leave you alone?"
"I'd rather go downstairs," she replied quietly, obviously still slightly shaken.
He opened the door fully and led her down the stairs and into the library. It was dark and cold, and the fire was little but embers, but Mary instantly relaxed as soon as she sunk into one of the big red couches.
"What happened?" Matthew asked, sitting on the couch across from her. "I don't believe you invited him."
Mary shook her head vehemently. "Of course I didn't. That would be social suicide."
"Then did he force himself on you?"
"No."
Matthew stared at the embers, puzzled. "He came in, uninvited, looking to take you as a lover. I heard you protest. It didn't sound like you had a choice in the matter."
"I would have let him," Mary said, her eyes beginning to tear up. "If anyone found out, it would have been my fault anyway, that's the way our society is. And I'm widowed, and barren, so there's little worry of consequence. I didn't want to, but..."
"He forced himself on you," Matthew said firmly. "It doesn't matter what you would have done. He coerced you into it, without your full consent."
Mary gave him a weak smile through her tears. "You've a very modern view of things."
"All the better for you, then," he replied. "Would it have troubled you if you had taken him... if he had forced you further?"
"Of course it would have," Mary said. "Thank you for intervening... It was rather frightening, really. He thought that since I flirted with him, I belonged to him. Which is completely and utterly wrong."
Matthew nodded. "He's a horrible man. I promise I won't speak a word of this to anybody. Not even Sybil."
"One question I do have; could you really prevent an alliance?"
Matthew shrugged. "Maybe? Probably not. But I don't know his interests beyond that, so I may have exaggerated a little it. Or a lot."
"Quite a bit then. You must think rather highly of your skills of persuasion."
"I'm a lawyer, it's my job to persuade people. And are you really so critical of the skills which saved you?"
Mary shook her head. "I'm very grateful."
"Then I have done my duty."
"Is that all this is to you? Duty?"
"You're my family now. If I am to be part of the family, I want to play my part."
A crash from downstairs made both jump.
"The scullery maid must already be awake. We should probably go upstairs, then," Mary cautioned. "The rest of the servants will be up soon."
"Alright," Matthew said, standing up. He opened the door and Mary followed him through. When they reached her room, he gave her a tight smile. "Does this change things?"
She nodded. "You're certainly worthy of Sybil," she replied. "Good night, Matthew." Mary opened the door to her room, slipped inside, and shut the door behind her.
He stared at the door for a few seconds before remembering what his original motive for getting up was. He stopped in front of his mother's bedroom and opened the door quietly. Relieved, he saw her sleeping calmly, her breathing even. She was alright. Mary was alright. He could sleep.
"Milady, I don't suppose you've heard the news?" Anna pulled out a day dress and turned her head toward Mary.
Mary shook her head. "What news?"
"Kemal Pamuk. He died last night," Anna replied.
"Oh..." Mary gasped. "He seemed so young and healthy."
Anna nodded. "It's a terrible shame. He was so handsome too. They called up Clarkson, and he thought it was a heart problem."
Mary was silent throughout dressing, thinking of what had happened. What if she had taken him? Would he have died while in her bed? How would she have dealt with that? For a second time, she felt a pang of gratefulness for Matthew's intervention.
As she walked down the stairs, she saw Matthew standing in the great hall, staring at a painting. As he heard footsteps approach, he looked up toward Mary. "I suppose you've heard," he said. "I'm a little bit in shock, I must say."
"Aren't we all," Mary replied, before getting closer to him. "I don't know what's worse; the shock of him dying or the relief that he didn't die in my bed."
Matthew gave her a sympathetic smile. "It's terrible of course, but I can't say I was incredibly fond of him."
"No, neither was I," Mary replied. "But I am sorry. It's not right for anyone that young to just die like that, even if they force themselves on others. How is your mother?"
"She's doing alright, the virus apparently runs its course quickly, she should be able to go home tomorrow. She's terrible at being a patient, though. So we'll see how that goes today," he replied.
Mary allowed herself to hesitantly laugh. "To be fair, I'm a terrible patient as well."
Sybil rounded the corner of the stairs and saw Matthew and Mary laughing together. She sighed in relief. It would hurt if her sister and her husband did not get along. She too was shocked by the death of Kemal Pamuk, but she was happy to see that family relations were getting better every day.
"Did the hunt make you two like each other?" she asked.
Mary and Matthew laughed again. "Probably," Mary answered. "He does look rather funny on a horse."
Thank you all so much for reading! I'd like to express my gratitude for Klarinette49, who has been betaing all my chapters and making sure I don't do anything stupid or OOC or anything like that. :) Please review, it's very encouraging to writers!
