The Second Class Dining Room was as charming as promised. Matthew was pleased by that, and by the reality that any number of the people they dined with were found eminently acceptable by Mary. He wasn't going to cure her of being a snob in just a few days, he could tell that already, but he was hoping to at least exert a good influence.
He liked her, that was the problem. He hadn't been entirely joking the night before when he told the table his mother was expecting him to make an effort to find a wife. He was, he had to admit, at the right age and at the right place in his career to consider it. The problem was that right at the point in his life where it was finally time to consider taking a wife, he had run across a woman that suited his tastes and who challenged him, and of course she was already engaged to be married. Worse, she was engaged to Patrick Crawley, a man that in his opinion, embodied all the flaws of the aristocracy. In school, Patrick had derided him as poor when Matthew knew very well that he was quite well off compared to real street waifs. Patrick looked down on anyone who wasn't as highly born or as likely to inherit as much as him. He also despised anyone that showed him up, that ruined the mental image he had of himself as the smartest and best at everything. Long before the cruise on the Titanic, Matthew had often mused that Patrick was lucky indeed that Lord Grantham wasn't so bent on producing his own son because Patrick was planning his entire life around the notion of inheriting an earldom.
Matthew was just hoping to provide his companion with some fond memories and the idea in her head that she did have choices. She wasn't being forced in the truest sense to marry Patrick, but he was well versed in the societal pressures she was facing. If anything happened to Patrick, he'd be facing those pressures himself. Mary Crawley as a woman of noble birth had to marry. Matthew understood the societal vice grip she was caught in, but he did believe her when she told him that if she'd found a suitor she loved, that her parents would have been well pleased and allowed it. The problem was that marrying Patrick made good practical sense, if one was a peer. She would eventually become a countess, her children would be titled, and frankly after years of listening to Patrick brag, Matthew had to assume the peerage Crawleys had money. Mary didn't have to say it aloud for him to know that having money and status was important to her, he was just hoping to show her that life among the not so highly born wasn't as squalid as she thought. The middle class was rising, and one reason he was focusing on corporate law and not estate management was that he could see where the future was heading.
As they made their way to the parlor, for the after dinner conversation, took two glasses of wine from one of the waiting stewards and handed one to her. Then he led her to one of the many small seating areas. "Are you enjoying yourself, Lady Mary?"
She smiled and sipped the wine. "I am, I must admit. Patrick will have another reason to dislike you, as I shall be regaling him with what a charming companion you are. And I had no idea that the Second Class passengers were as gossipy as clucky hens. Why, I had not even heard the story of the First Class girl who was so distraught over her arranged marriage that she almost jumped over the railing, only to be saved by a handsome American lad in Third Class?" She laughed. "Does that even begin to sound true to you?"
After a moment, he chuckled. "It sounds far more romantic than plausible. I admit to not having cruised across the ocean before but I suspect such stories are common, tempests in a tea pot, so to speak."
"Fair enough but rumor has it her family has invited the fellow to dine with them tomorrow so we shall need to keep watch." She set down the glass and patted his knee. "I must thank you, Cousin Matthew. You have been very kind today, keeping me company and showing me that things aren't so dismal out among the common people."
"I thought I was subtler than that," he admitted.
"You were. You just forget that I am much cleverer than Patrick." She smiled kindly. "You've given me much to think about, about how I will handle my marriage and how I will manage Patrick. To begin with, he will need to understand what I consider my place to be as his wife, and if he is unhappy with that, then perhaps he should consider another bride. When I marry, I intend to have opinions about books and people that he may not share, as surely as he will have opinions that I don't share. We will need to respect each other if we are to be husband and wife and he needs to know what I expect of him. I've allowed him to have his way, thinking it better not to argue before the wedding but I see now that he sees that as consent to his views." Her eyes sparkled. "That will change. It began today, and it will continue so that when we return from America, he will know what our life together will be like. For example, I intend that you will join the family for dinner tomorrow, so we can best see if this tale of the third class boy and first class girl is true. But I must also spend tomorrow with Patrick because you were right, earlier. It's amusing to rile him but it would have been wiser to not take such delight in it." She sighed. "I've not given him a chance to please me, I think. Your kindness today and yesterday has been a lesson for me, I hope you know that."
"I thank you, Lady Mary," he said, feeling no small amount of regret, "but I must admit that my intent was not to convince you to do your duty but to see that there were other choices you could make."
"I know," she said as she rose to her feet, "and if I wasn't already engaged, I might wish for more than friendship between us, but it must be friendship only."
He rose as well. It wasn't a surprise, not really, except that he'd never felt such disappointment before. "If it is only to be friendship between us, then know that I cherish my friends highly and count you among them, Lady Mary."
"And I count you among mine as well," Mary said, "But it is late, and I must take my leave. And if I followed all the conversation as well as I thought, I believe Mr. Upton invited you to the smoking lounge for cards. I mustn't keep you. Good night, Cousin Matthew."
"Good night, Lady Mary." He watched her depart, conceding that as much as she flattened him like a bug, she had done it with a certain kindness that he suspected would be lost on her future husband. I tried, he told himself, I tried and if I failed, at least she is now a friend and knows that she will need to take the lead with Patrick. It wasn't much to console himself with, but Upton had also mentioned that the smoking lounge had a fine collection of liquors so he made his way there.
Much to his surprise, when he entered the Second Class Smoking Lounge, he saw young Lady Sybil there, sitting with a young man, laughing gaily at whatever the fellow was saying. Well, he pondered, how do I handle this? He was certain Lord Grantham had no idea his youngest daughter was hobnobbing with the Second Class men, and a closer look at the fellow made him wonder. The clothes were right, but edging towards old fashioned, not quite threadbare or tattered. He'd worn worse as a youngster, and he knew what second hand cast offs looked like. Best to put an end to it, he thought as Sybil suddenly spotted him. He walked over to them and put a pleasant smile on his face. "Lady Sybil, I didn't know you were meeting anyone tonight. I thought you'd be dining with your parents."
The girl gulped nervously. "Yes, well… Mr. Branson and I met on the promenade today and then saw each other this evening… so we decided to talk here… with all of these other people…" She looked at him expectantly.
"Yes, the Second Class Smoking Lounge is well chaperoned," Matthew agreed pleasantly. She's a rebel, he realized, but not wild and not willing to do more than buck convention. The young fellow had the same look, which meant giving them both a good scare was most likely enough. "Still, it is late for such a young girl. Perhaps, it's time you went back to your cabin? Lady Mary is on her way as well." Which means, he thought with no small amount of amusement, if you rush back, she might not catch you.
Lady Sybil wasn't so amused, but she understood his point. "Yes, yes, I suppose I should go… Tom… Mr. Branson, thank you for a lovely conversation."
The young fellow rose, as Matthew did as well, as Sybil left. Younger than I, Matthew realized, about nineteen or twenty, and his stammered good byes to Sybil came with an Irish accent. He clearly understood he was in trouble, but Matthew was in no mood to be harsh. "Please take a seat and join me for a drink, Mr. Branson."
Branson nodded nervously but didn't speak until the steward gave them their drinks, ironically a pleasant Irish whisky Matthew was fond of. "Nothing untoward happened," Branson said softly. "We met on the deck and thought it would be a lark to… meet in the middle so to speak, but I was respectful and took no advantage. I promise."
Matthew nodded. It sounded like the truth, two youngsters on a bit of a lark, not realizing until it was too late just how much trouble they'd both be in if they were caught. He took a guess. "You're emigrating?"
After a moment, the younger man nodded, his expression careful. "I didn't want to but my family is set on it."
"I've heard good things about America." Matthew gave Branson a stern look. "If you get in trouble on the ship, that can make things difficult when you're going through immigration." He held up his hand to ward off the man's protest. "I have no interest in making trouble for either of you. I think this is exactly as you described, and Lady Sybil is as much as fault as you are. But… she said your name was Tom?" He waited until the fellow nodded. "Tom, I think you understand that she might get chastised by her father, and you will be thrown in the brig no matter how innocent your intentions are. She's sixteen and the daughter of an earl."
"I know she's sixteen, she told me that and I told her we could only meet in public." Tom was defensive and angry. "I'm not a cad. We just wanted to get to know each other. And it shouldn't matter, that she's the daughter of an earl."
"It shouldn't," Matthew agreed, "but it does. I don't pretend to know Lord Grantham well, but he would take a much harder approach to what happened here tonight."
"You're… you're not going to report me?" Tom looked suddenly relieved.
"I'm not, because you seem an honest chap, and I don't think this was anything more than two young people letting things get out of control. But let me give you a very stern warning. This would have ended much differently if any other member of Sybil's family caught the two of you. Don't let there be a next time."
He hoped the poor fellow took heed.
