LONG TIME, NO UPDATE! Gosh, that's embarrassing. Well, here's an update at last (is there anyone out there who still cares? *crickets chirp*) Anyway, I really wanted to offer up *something* to M/M AU Fest Day, so here's my attempt at that, though it's much more "bromance" than anything else, and it's a wee bit angsty, but hang in there! All will be well (eventually) ;oP

Because it's been so long, just to remind everyone, it's the night before the big TRIPLE wedding! Tom, Matthew, and Anthony have more or less been "banished" from Downton for the night, and so this takes place immediately after the couples have bid each other goodnight, as shown at the end of chapter one.

I will try my hardest not to leave this one so long! AH! I am sorry, but thank you for sticking with it and reading (or re-reading) it, and for your continued patience and support. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Three
"Unofficial Stag Night"

The night was cool, but not unpleasant. The scent of rain filled the air, but by no means did it seem that the heavens were going to burst open. Three men exited the large manor house, the only similarity with which they shared being the situation they found themselves in: engaged to three amazing and extremely different women who happened to be sisters. And like their brides, the grooms were equally different, made even more obvious with how they looked and acted after more or less being "dismissed" from the dinner table.

Tom was the first to emerge, and of the three of them, he also appeared to be the most relaxed and jubilant. He looked up at the night sky and a large smile spread across his face. He then stretched his arms out, threw his head back, and what started as a yawn quickly became a bad attempt at a "Tarzan yell". However, he didn't look embarrassed or sorry in the slightest; he just started laughing at himself before turning his head to look back at his companions, both of whom seemed a bit…tense.

Matthew was the second man to exit the house. His brow was furrowed, and he looked deeply…troubled. Well, perhaps not troubled, but his mind did seem to be elsewhere, and the expression he wore wasn't that of a man on the eve before his wedding. The same could also be said for Sir Anthony Strallan, who was the last to exit. Though unlike Matthew's troubled, far-off stare, Sir Anthony simply looked anxious, an expression that was not uncommon for most grooms.

"Ah, come on, lads!" Tom called out to them, putting on a friendly smile and holding his arms out wide. "It's a beautiful night and we happen to be the three luckiest men in the world, right?"

Both Matthew and Sir Anthony looked at Tom with some bewildered surprise; however his enthusiasm was rather contagious, so despite their individual uncertain feelings, they did smile at the Irishman.

"Are you always so cheerful, Mr. Branson?" Sir Anthony asked, his tone lighthearted and curious.

Tom just smiled, though he did make a face at the rather formal way which Sir Anthony addressed him. "It's my last night as a bachelor, Minister Strallan," he answered, putting extra emphasis on Sir Anthony's title. "By this time, tomorrow, I'll be married to the most amazing woman in the world. How could I feel anything else?"

"One of the most amazing women," Matthew emphasized, though he did return Tom's smile.

Sir Anthony also smiled, before quietly murmuring to himself, "Indeed, quite so."

Tom looked back and forth between the pair, pleased to see that they were, at the very least, starting to "loosen up" from whatever nerves they were suffering from. "Right! So, first round is on me," he announced, throwing an arm around both Matthew and Sir Anthony's shoulders, a sight which was rather comical considering that between the three of them, he was the shortest.

Sir Anthony's eyes widened. "First round?" he repeated.

Tom just nodded his head, to which Matthew laughed. "You're doing a fine job of fulfilling Irish stereotypes," he teased.

Tom simply chuckled. "You should see my brother."

"Oh I did, remember? At our stag night five days ago? Kieran brought the Monopoly board."

Sir Anthony looked a bit confused. "What's this?"

Both men turned and looked up at Sir Anthony with expressions of surprise and perhaps even, a little guilt.

Shortly after the infamous "date night" from a year ago, Tom met Matthew when he accompanied Sybil to Mary and Matthew's engagement party. In all fairness, he had also met Sir Anthony as well, but perhaps it was because both Tom and Matthew were closer in age (and shared somewhat similar views, politically speaking), the two younger men hit it off from the get-go, and quickly became friends, even to the point where they would meet and hang out minus their respective partners! Their friendship grew, and before the triple-wedding announcement, Matthew had considered asking Tom to serve as his best man. Instead, the two ended up sharing their stag night together, along with Tom's brothers.

…It had honestly never occurred to them to include their other soon-to-be brother-in-law, which they were now embarrassingly realizing.

"Oh, it's nothing," Tom muttered, trying to diffuse the awkwardness. "My brothers took both Matthew and myself on a pub crawl, almost a week ago; Kieran got it into his head that we'd follow the 'Monopoly route', but we didn't make it past Northumberland Ave," he chuckled.

Matthew groaned, his hand rising to cup his brow at the memory. "I can't believe I went along with it; I've never had a more excruciating hangover."

"At least we were wise enough to do it then and not the actual night before," Tom teased.

Sir Anthony listened and smiled and even chuckled along with them, but at the same time, he felt…rather out of place (and not for the first time). He honestly couldn't recall the last time he had been in an actual "pub", let alone partaking in something like a "pub crawl". His sister would make a face at hearing the term, and mutter words like "foolish" and "common". As for himself, he couldn't deny, it was yet another instance where he found himself wondering, "What else have I missed out on in life?"

…Was that a silly question to ask, for a man of fifty-three?

"Anyway, I'm not even suggesting something as 'dramatic' as that," Tom assured. "Just one drink—"

"I thought you said 'first round'?" Matthew teased.

Tom laughed. "Well, after your moaning about the stag night, I thought it best to aim lower."

Matthew did share in his friend's laughter, and couldn't deny he was grateful for it, especially after the stresses of the day. He gave a nod of his head and slapped Tom on the shoulder. "Alright, I can agree to at least one drink," he answered.

Tom grinned. "At least one," he repeated with a wink, before turning and looking up at Sir Anthony, who had gone rather quiet again.

Sir Anthony seemed to realize then that the two younger men were looking at him rather expectantly, and he blushed before starting to shake his head. "I…I should probably go…"

Both Matthew and Tom began to frown. "What? No!" they both shook their heads. "No, come and join us!" Tom insisted, his arm never loosening around Sir Anthony's shoulders. "Our last night as single men; let's toast to our brides as we prepare to say good riddance to bachelorhood!"

Sir Anthony did smile at that, though a nervous lump settled in his throat. Unlike his two companions, he had been married before, so he knew what it was like, that anxiety before one's wedding day.

Of course, that anxiety had been different compared to the anxiety he felt now.

"Matthew, what was it that you said to me the other day?" Tom asked, still trying to convince Sir Anthony to join them.

"You mean about the fact that we're going to be marrying Crawley girls?" Matthew couldn't help but chuckle, though there was a hint of nervousness to it, or so Tom thought he had heard. "I said 'we're brothers-in-law; if we're mad enough to take on the Crawley girls, we have to stick together'."

"There, see?" Tom turned back to Sir Anthony. "We're brothers-in-law, or very soon will be," he said with a wink and a grin. "We need this moment, just the three of us!"

"An 'unofficial stag night'," Matthew added.

"Exactly!" Tom agreed. "So let's—"

He never got to finish his sentence, which was a shame as Sir Anthony truly looked like he was on the brink of agreement, when a shrill, "ANTHONY!" interrupted their revelry and all heads turned to see a car pulling up beside them, and a blonde head poke out from the back window.

Sir Anthony felt his face redden at the image of his sister, a disapproving scowl written across her features.

"You're still here?" she asked with a deep frown. "I thought you'd be back at Locksley by now!"

Sir Anthony's face burned even more. "Margot, there's no need to shout—"

"I'm not shouting!" she insisted, her tone even more shrill (if that were possible). "I'm just…surprised, that's all." She eyed him then, in that skeptical, judging way of hers, something she had picked up from their mother. "I just thought you'd be home, resting up; I assumed you would want to look your best tomorrow."

Both Matthew and Tom frowned at the woman's words. They had only just met Sir Anthony's sister, Lady Margot, that evening, but even so, it was clear it wouldn't take more than a single encounter to formulate an opinion about the woman, which in their minds, was the opposite of positive.

Tom decided to step in then, remembering once again Matthew's words about being brothers-in-law and sticking together. "We were just heading to the pub at the Grantham Arms, where both Matthew and I are staying," Tom explained with a pleasant smile, though Lady Margot did not return the expression, she simply looked at him as if he were something to squash beneath her shoe.

"Hmmm," she wrinkled her nose before turning and looking back at her brother. "I hardly think 'drunken antics' is a good idea on the night before your wedding, do you brother?"

Sir Anthony's face grew hot. "It was just a single drink, Margot—"

Lady Margot began laughing then, as if someone had just told her the most wonderful joke. "Oh Anthony," she looked back at Tom and eyed him for a moment before turning back to her brother. "I think we know better than that."

Tom frowned and looked at Matthew. Had he just been insulted?

"Come on," Lady Margot began to scoot over. "Ride back with me!"

Sir Anthony opened his mouth, as if to protest, but looked a little unsure. He glanced at both Tom and Matthew somewhat helplessly, then back at his sister who was looking rather expectantly, her eyebrows raised in question, as if wondering why on earth he hadn't gotten into the car yet.

"I…" he swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling dry. He looked at Tom and Matthew again, an apologetic (and embarrassed) expression on his face. And while Tom wanted to argue the fact further, Matthew had the good foresight to spare Sir Anthony further embarrassment, and simply stepped forward to shake the older man's hand.

"Have a good night, Sir Anthony," he murmured with a friendly smile. "We'll see you tomorrow; ten o'clock, correct?" The grooms were to gather at Locksley, both for breakfast and for any "last minute" adjustments that were needed for their suits, which were already residing there.

Sir Anthony smiled and nodded his head, though it wasn't missed by either Matthew or Tom that the poor man looked anxious. Most likely due to his sister, who was starting to fume, "Anthony, it's late!"

Sir Anthony groaned and then muttered, "Coming, Margot," before looking sheepishly back at his soon-to-be brothers-in-law. Tom reached forward and grasped Sir Anthony's arm, also wishing him a good night, and even held the door open for him, chuckling to himself at the irony that he was invoking the spirit of the ancestor for whom he was named after who had once served as a chauffeur in Yorkshire just before the first world war.

As soon as Sir Anthony had gotten in and the door was shut, the car sped away, leaving both Matthew and Tom to watch as its taillights faded into the distance, their hands stuffed inside their respective pockets, and reflective looks on their faces. "Well…that still leaves us, right?" Tom said after a moment, turning and looking back at Matthew. "Still fancy that drink?"

Matthew shrugged his shoulders at first, then turned and looked at Tom, who was now looking back at him with a furrowed brow and a look of concern. "Yeah…yeah, of course," Matthew assured, forcing a smile and then patting Tom's shoulder. "I was just…thinking about Sir Anthony, that's all."

"Hmmm," Tom muttered, though he didn't add more. As far as Tom could tell, Lady Margot was an outright snob, and not just to both himself and Matthew, but it seemed to the Crawleys as well, which he did find rather ironic, considering they were a part of "her lot". Granted, he hadn't been paying that close attention during the meal to Lady Margot (from the second she sneered at the sight of his nieces and nephews being present at the table, he had lost any respect for the woman he may have bestowed upon her), but there were a few occasions when he had glanced over at Edith (whom he did get on well), and understandably, she was being polite and sweet to Lady Margot (far more than the woman deserved) and now upon further reflection…Tom couldn't help but recall the cold looks the woman was giving her, and the way her elegant eyebrows rose in assessment.

Surely that night hadn't been the first time Edith and Lady Margot had met…had it?

"I think Edith will be good for him," Matthew murmured, interrupting Tom's thoughts. Tom turned back to his friend and found himself smiling and nodding in agreement.

"Aye, and he for her—I know the first thing people see is their age difference, but honestly, they're both so alike, it just makes sense, you know?"

Tom was smiling as he said this, but he noticed that Matthew seemed to stiffen slightly, and look a bit…uneased.

"Matthew?"

"Hmm? Oh, sorry, I um…yes, I agree with you completely; Edith and Sir Anthony are perfect together, they do have a great deal in common, and I think they'll make each other very happy." Matthew smiled then, but Tom couldn't help but gaze at his friend with some concern.

"I do feel bad, I'll not deny, that we didn't think about including him on our stag night," he sighed, before biting his lip as a memory (foggy as it was) slowly resurfaced. "Though…perhaps in some ways it was for the best…" he found himself chuckling. "Don't know how the poor chap would have taken Thomas' special 'excursion' off the beaten path."

Tom groaned as he recalled his irate fiancée, glaring back and forth between his hungover self, and their mutual friend, who was trying to answer her questions about what had gone on during his and Matthew's shared stag night, while at the same time, trying desperately to assure her that "it wasn't as bad as it seemed!" which could only cause one to wonder how much worse could it be, after waking up and finding himself not only missing a shirt and having the words "BACHLOR #1" written across his chest in lipstick, but also handcuffed to Matthew who was in a near-identical state.

"You know," Matthew added after a good chuckle at the memory. "We really should stop calling him 'Sir' Anthony, don't you think?"

Tom agreed, but despite Matthew's recollection of their infamous stag night, he was still troubled by the unease he had seen on his friend's face just a few minutes before.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

Matthew seemed surprised by the question. "What?"

"Is everything alright?" Tom repeated. "I don't know, you just seem…" he wanted to pick his words carefully. "…On edge."

Matthew's face turned a dark shade of red, and he quickly looked away and picked up his pace just slightly. "Well…that's to be expected, isn't it?" he attempted to joke. "I mean…tomorrow's the big day!"

"Aye, true…" Tom murmured, though he wasn't fooled by Matthew's ill attempt at misleading him with false humor. One of the reasons he got along so well with Matthew was due to the other man's sincerity, which was why he found Matthew's present attitude so disconcerting. And Matthew, not being a stupid man, knew that Tom was seeing right through him.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, before putting on a sheepish smile. "I'm stressed," he admitted. "Just…tomorrow is the day both Mary and I have been waiting for, for…God knows how long," he added with a tired chuckle. "I'm happy it's here; relieved, to be honest, but…I know that until we're both walking back up that aisle, I won't stop worrying about…" he paused then, thinking better than to continue.

Of course, Tom being the inquisitive journalist couldn't let that stand. "…Worrying about?"

Matthew sighed and looked back at his friend. "Just…" he fidgeted slightly, and again ran a hand through his hair, then down over his face, pausing as it ran over the hairs of the beard he had been growing for the past five months. He suddenly remembered his parting conversation with Mary, how distant she had seemed, how…sad, she had looked. He had tried to lighten the mood and thought that perhaps by making a joke about his beard, promising to shave it off for the wedding, would make her smile (she had mixed feelings about it, at best). But that had all gone to hell, as she glared back at him, shook his hands off her, then muttered, "you think that's what's this is about?"

"Matthew?"

Matthew looked back at Tom and quickly began to apologize for not answering him, let alone for worrying his friend. "Nothing, it's nothing, really."

"Matthew—"

"We're just stressed, that's all," Matthew assured, before once again picking up his pace and hurrying along. By this point they had reached the edge of the village, and the Grantham Arms was less than ten minutes away. It had been Violet's idea that the grooms sleep elsewhere on the night before the wedding. Sybil had rolled her eyes at the suggestion, while Mary and Edith simply pursed their lips but kept comments to themselves. Though Matthew couldn't help but wonder, maybe it was for the best? This…"trial separation"?

The second that thought entered his head, he hated himself.

"Is she upset about the wedding?"

Matthew sighed and looked back at Tom in annoyance. "Can't let it go, can you?"

Tom seemed pleased and even grinned. "Nope, reporter instincts."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "I can't imagine how Sybil manages to put up with it."

"Ah, well, it helps that I'm Irish," Tom chuckled. "She says I wouldn't be half as charming if it weren't for that."

Matthew simply snorted, though he was chuckling himself. They had reached the inn, but before entering, Tom once again reached out and touched Matthew's arm. "In all seriousness, just answer me that, and I'll let it go for the night."

"How generous of you," Matthew sarcastically muttered, yet he couldn't be angry with his friend, not when right now, Tom felt like the only friend he had. "I…honestly, I'm not sure…meaning about whether Mary is upset about the wedding—I mean, not the wedding as in 'getting married in general', at least…I hope not," he attempted to laugh, but it died quickly in his throat. "I…I just mean, I think did have her heart set on something that was just…us, but she won't admit it, and whenever I bring it up she just snaps at me, so I've gotten into the habit of not saying anything," he admitted. "Which I know isn't a good thing, but…" he couldn't help but look back at Tom somewhat helplessly.

Tom didn't make any jokes or faces; he simply listened, silently nodding his head at the information. "I know it was a bit of a shock…when Cora suggested the 'triple wedding'." They had all been shocked at the suggestion, but the thing that perhaps shocked Tom the most was Sybil revealing that while both she and Edith were perfectly fine saying no to their mother about the idea, it was Mary who agreed and encouraged them to say yes!

Matthew nodded his head, but didn't have anything further to say, at least about that. But it was obvious there was more on his mind, from what Tom could tell. Yet he had promised that he wouldn't push further, and perhaps it was simply "pre-wedding stress" in the end?

It was just seemed so strange to Tom; they were all anxious about tomorrow, yet the anxiousness he was feeling was happy excitement, whereas with both Matthew and Sir Anthony, there seemed to be something bothering the two.

"Come on, let's get that drink," Tom encouraged as they finally entered the Grantham Arms. Matthew gave a small smile and nodded his head, following Tom directly into the pub, where only one other customer was being served—a tall, lean, dark-haired man, who turned his head upon seeing them as they entered, and whose eyes immediately widened as if he recognized them.

…Which he very well might have, as their faces were plastered on practically every tabloid.

"Good Lord, you're them, aren't you?" the man asked, quickly rising from his chair.

Tom and Matthew glanced somewhat wearily at each other, but put on some smiles and nodded, assuming that the man was referring to them being two of the three grooms for Britain's "WEDDING OF THE CENTURY".

"You're…Matthew Crawley?" the man asked, first turning to Matthew and smiling, while holding his hand out for him to shake. Matthew returned the smile, though with a bit of caution, and shook the man's hand for the sake of politeness.

The dark-haired man's grin broadened even more. "Which then makes you—" he turned to Tom, but Tom was way ahead of him, and grasped the man's hand in his own.

"Tom Branson," he answered, giving the man's hand a firm shake.

"Blimey," the dark-haired man laughed, flexing his hand when Tom released it. He let his eyes linger on Tom for just a moment longer, before taking a step back and bowing his head in a somewhat sheepish manner. "Sorry, I'm being a complete ass, I was just a bit 'star struck' if you will," he apologized. "It's just…I've been out of the country for so long, and then I come back and everywhere I go it's 'CRAWLEY WEDDING EXTRAVAGANZA!' and it's a lot to take in!"

Tom and Matthew exchanged a look. "Is it?" Matthew asked, folding his arms across his chest.

The dark-haired man just smiled and nodded his head. "It is, especially when the last time you saw these people, Sybil had her hair in pigtails and wore braces on her teeth," he chuckled.

Now that got their interest, especially Tom's. "You know Sybil?" he asked, not exactly sure how to respond to this bit of information.

"I do! And Edith, and Mary, and…oh God, I'm so sorry! I haven't introduced myself, have I?"

"No, you haven't," Tom muttered, to which Matthew cleared his throat, perhaps recognizing the slight edge to his voice.

"Terribly sorry," the dark-haired man apologized, before once again, extending his hand to shake. "I'm an old friend of the family's actually, and like I said, I just returned after a very long business trip abroad, and lo and behold, I go to pick up any post that hasn't been forwarded to me, and right there on the top is an invitation to the girls' wedding—"

"I'm sorry," Matthew cut in, feeling Tom's frustration at the mystery behind whoever this stranger was. "You are…?"

"Oh! Bloody hell, sorry about that, when I get started, it's hard to stop!" he laughed at himself, before finally giving them a name. "Henry Talbot, pleased to meet you."

Tom and Matthew looked at one another and then back at the dark-haired man, before smiling politely and once again, taking the man's offered hand and shaking it. "And you, Mr. Talbot," Matthew murmured.

"Oh please! Call me Henry," he insisted. "And let me buy you a drink! God, forgive me, I should have done as soon as you walked in—excuse me!" he called out to the bartender who was drying several glasses.

"That's very kind," Tom attempted to interject. "But you don't have to—"

"You're still getting married tomorrow, aren't you?" Henry Talbot asked, his brow furrowing as if he were confused by their reluctance. "Well, not to 'each other'," he laughed. "Sorry, I just realized how that sounded."

Tom and Matthew blushed, and the bartender simply raised his eyebrows.

"Aye, we—"

"Then I insist!" Henry grinned. "Scotch? Bourbon? Brandy? Whiskey?"

"Scotch," Matthew answered.

"Whiskey," Tom added.

They sat down then with the rather friendly Mr. Talbot, who looked like a child who had just met his favorite football star. It was still a bit awkward, especially after the brief, serious discussion Tom and Matthew had exchanged before entering the inn, but all that would have to wait, at least momentarily, while they indulged this supposed "friend of the Crawleys".

As soon as their drinks were given, Henry wasted no time in raising his glass in a toast. "To love and happiness; may it last those that truly deserve it, a lifetime."

Matthew and Tom exchanged a look. It was a bit of an odd toast, but the smile on Mr. Talbot's face seemed genuine and good-natured, and after all, while he said he knew the Crawleys, he didn't really know them, so in many ways, it was an appropriate toast—an honest one, because after all, who wouldn't to wish a lifetime of love and happiness on the deserving?

Matthew took a good drink from his scotch, before setting his glass down and looking directly at Henry Talbot. "So…Henry," he tried the name. "You said you've been out of the country?"

"I have," he answered, though he didn't volunteer more than that, at least not without being prodded.

"And…you said the last time you were here, Sybil was…?"

Henry started chuckling to himself. "Lord, how long ago that was. She couldn't have been more than…fifteen, surely."

Tom's eyebrows rose at this. "That's a long time," he murmured. "Just a bit over ten years—and you've been away on business this whole time?"

Henry laughed and shook his head. "No, no, the last time I saw Sybil was just before I left for Cambridge. Then I moved to London, worked there for a few years, and then went abroad."

"Doing what?" Tom asked, the inquisitive journalist at work once again.

Henry seemed to blush then. "Gracious, I feel like I'm being interrogated!" he laughed. "I think I remember reading in the papers that you're a journalist, Mr. Branson? Well, I can see that!"

Tom's smile was faint, and the look Matthew gave him was one that told him to "ease back". He didn't exactly understand why he was suddenly the one "on edge". "Sorry," he mumbled, but Mr. Talbot shook his head.

"Don't be, please," he insisted. "I imagine it's all a bit 'surreal', isn't it? Thrust into the spotlight like this? You both have probably been hounded by the press for quite some time, and then here I am, a complete stranger, talking incessantly," he paused to take a sip of his own drink (as well as to catch his breath). "Anyway, I don't mind answering your question, Mr. Branson, it's simply not something I talk about a great deal, as it usually gives people an impression."

Matthew's brow furrowed. "And what sort of impression is that?"

"Well, we'll find out when I say," he chuckled with a sigh. "Like your fiancée, Mr. Crawley, I too work for a charitable foundation that is involved in a great many philanthropy projects."

Matthew's eyebrows rose at this. "Really? And…if you don't mind me asking, what is that you do for this foundation?"

At that, Mr. Talbot blushed even further. "Well…" he chuckled somewhat bashfully. "Well…to be perfectly frank, I run it. I'm 'CEO' if you will, for 'Teddy's Heroes'."

Tom wasn't familiar with the name, but Matthew (after years of working for the Grantham Foundation) was. "I've heard of your organization," he murmured in surprise.

Henry smiled and blushed. "Then one of the few; we're still very 'young', as far as philanthropy groups go."

"True, but you've done a great deal of good in pediatric AIDS research in Africa."

Henry's blush only seemed to deepen. "Yes, well, my father spent a good portion of his life in Cape Town, and he was very moved by the plight with which children with AIDS suffered, and so supported a great many charities, but it was always his dream to start one himself," he looked down at his glass for a moment. "He passed away six years ago," he murmured.

Tom and Matthew, both of whom had also lost their fathers, immediately related, and murmured their sympathies.

"Thank you," Henry whispered, smiling sincerely at his new friends. "But…I like to think he lives on in the work we do—and I promised him I would see his dream become a reality, which is why I've been away for so long," he explained. "But I'm glad I came back when I did so I can be in attendance tomorrow, and celebrate with you both!"

Both Tom and Matthew smiled, sincerely this time, the original tension with which they had felt, seeming to have practically melted away by now.

"Well…" Tom picked up his glass and held it aloft. "I'm glad you're here too, Mr. Talbot."

Henry looked at Tom for a moment, a look of amusement on his face. "Do you really mean that?"

Tom nodded, his hostility from earlier, gone completely.

Henry smiled at this, and clinked his glass with Tom's. "Then call me 'Henry', please!" he laughed.

They all took a drink, everyone seeming to feel more at ease now, at least until Henry turned to Matthew, and asked, "Now, Mr. Crawley—"

"If we are supposed to call you 'Henry', it's only fair you call us by our names as well," Matthew insisted.

Henry grinned and started over. "Alright then, Matthew," he began. "The one question I have, that the papers have not made very clear to me is, are you somehow distantly related to the Crawleys up at Downton?"

Matthew blushed, as he always did when asked this question. "It's just a coincidence, honestly…though my mother thinks that perhaps there's a distant connection between my father and the sixth earl, but that's more speculation than anything else."

Henry nodded his head and took another drink. "That's fascinating, really. I mean, what are the odds?" he chuckled. "I mean, it's been a great many years since I've seen her—Lady Mary," he clarified, "so it will be interesting to see how much she's changed, but…I have to say, basing what I read in the papers about the two of you, it seemed quite…'Austenian', if I may say so."

Matthew frowned slightly. "I'm sorry…'Austenian'?"

Henry nodded. "It's in reference to Jane Austen," he explained. "Specifically Pride and Prejudice, in terms of two people who have so little in common, coming together; 'opposites attract' if you will."

Matthew absorbed this information and slowly felt himself sink further and further into his seat.

Two people who have so little in common…

"So tell me, Tom," Henry turned to the Irishman. "Is Sybil still political?"

Tom chuckled and nodded his head. "She is, the proud lefty in the family," he said with pride.

Henry laughed. "Glad to know some things never change. Well, I suppose it's no wonder to imagine how the both of you came together."

Matthew flinched then, as if he had experienced a shock of static electricity. He surprised the other two by rising then and taking a step away. "I…I um…I think I'll head up now," he explained. "Quite knackered, really."

Tom looked at Matthew with concern and started to rise himself, but Matthew waved his hand, trying to assure Tom to stay where he was. "No, it's alright, finish your drink," he assured. "I'll see you in the morning…and don't forget, we're expected up at Locksley at ten."

Tom smiled and nodded, though he still couldn't help but feel a little worry for his friend.

Matthew turned back to Henry, and once again shook the man's hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Henry. Thanks for the drink."

"My pleasure!" Henry answered, completely oblivious, it seemed, to Matthew's sudden distress, which was just fine as far as Matthew was concerned. The less said, the better.

On the night before the so-called "WEDDING OF THE CENTURY", three grooms went to bed in as different manners as their personalities. One was blissfully happy and so looking forward to the next day that it was near impossible for him to sleep. Another tossed and turned, struggling to sleep because of all the worries that weighed upon his heart. And the third simply lay in his bed for a good portion of the night, staring up at the ceiling and wondering to himself…could he do it?

DUN! DUN! DUN!