Sir Richard Carlisle's Fleet Street office leaves no visitor in any doubt that he is a man of power and influence. Every detail - from the over-sized lamps to the solid oak desk - has been carefully chosen to intimidate and impress.
The man himself stands grandly in front of the window, framed by the great London landmarks, looking every inch the powerful titan he is. Seated uncomfortably behind the desk, in a chair which is slightly too small for its occupant, is Lady Mary Crawley.
The tale she is telling him is one he has heard before - he could not have failed to hear the rumours swirling round London and a little investigation revealed the truth to him. It was a good story, full of those dramatic details that his readers love - the aristocratic hunting party, the foreign ambassador, illicit sex, the carrying of a corpse. His disgust and disappointment were soon replaced by the realisation that he had an advantage - the ability to humiliate Lady Mary and her family.
So when his fiancee comes to him in desperation, he listens afresh to her story. He admires the way she coolly keeps her composure while telling him every sordid detail. But he cannot make this easy for her - he needs her to be suitably humbled and humiliated:
"Who'd have thought it? The cold and careful Lady Mary Crawley. Well, we know better now. I'm surprised you haven't given me some extenuating circumstances."
He waits. He has seen it in his office many times before - people in desperate circumstances always blame someone or something else for their wretched situation. By contrast, Lady Mary is refreshingly, brutally honest:
" I have none. I was foolish and I was paid out for my folly."
He is impressed, yet he is still driven to bring this proud, aristocratic woman down to his level and spell out the position she is in; she may not love him, but she will need him:
"And when I've saved you, if I can, do you still expect me to marry you? Knowing this...? Of course, we both know that if we marry, people - your people...will think you've conferred a great blessing on me. My house will welcome the finest in the land, my children will carry noble blood in their veins. But that won't be the whole story, will it? Not anymore."
She stands up to face him:
"Sir Richard...if you think it pains me to ask this favour, you'd be right. But I have no choice if I am not to be an object of ridicule and pity."
There. He has succeeded. Suitably humiliated, practically begging him to save her. Yet with her next words, she regains the upper hand:
"If you wish to break off our understanding, I'll accept your decision. After all, it's never been announced. We may dissolve it with the minimum of discomfort."
Understanding? Minimum of discomfort? The words pain him; he regrets turning his marriage proposal into a cold business proposition. He swiftly drops the facade of anger and tries to be honest with her, even taking her hand. Even through the thick leather gloves, he can feel the tension.
When she has left, he sits at his desk awaiting his next visitor. He is not as pleased as he should be. Yes, Mary will marry him, and she be indebted to him. But there is something missing - he wants her love.
He starts to plan.
A/N: I hesitated to include this chapter because it's a scene straight from the series and Richard is so horrid. I don't want to give too much away for the next chapters - let's just say that Sir Richard is in need of redemption!
And back to Downton for next chapter (The Pact)!