Author's Note: I really can't apologize enough for how long this chapter took to publish. More than two weeks is just rubbish, and I hope that you can all forgive me. I could bore you to death with a million excuses, and tell you all about the exciting things going on with both me and my wonderful beta, but I won't. I will just say that I am sorry, and that I hope you find this chapter worth the wait. And, as always, thank you to La Donna Ingenua for her support!
Risk and profit were two things with which Richard Carlisle was very familiar. He found that in business as well as in life, success was derived from a careful balance of the two. He was an astute businessman, and his instincts in that arena had served him well. He knew what would sell and what wouldn't, when to take a risk and when to pass. In his personal life, success had proven to be a bit more elusive. The same razor sharp judgment that made him a mogul in the media world seemed to be a bit duller in the shining realm of the English upper-crust. He felt as if he was always a step behind when he was around them—like his company was tolerable, at best.
He took a risk in pursuing Lady Mary Crawley, but it was still calculated, just like all of the decisions he made. It was obvious what she had to offer him—status, connection, power—but he was not without charms of his own. He could give her independence—a way to break out of the world where she lived by everyone else's expectations of her. And while he hadn't known it from the start, he eventually learned that Lady Mary had taken some risks of her own, which threatened to pay back in the worst possible way. And so he became her savior, which was a profit that he could have never expected; for if business had taught him anything, it was that desperation breeds loyalty.
And it worked, for a while. But after nearly two years of engagement, Richard had begun to wonder whether or not his risky investment was going to pay out. It was painfully clear that his regard for her far exceeded whatever feelings she had for him. For a while he even thought that he could live with such an arrangement—for precarious engagements to work there has to be room for compromise. But as time went on, he came to resent the terms of their agreement. The things that he thought she would find impressive were met with disinterest or scorn. His attempts at proving his worth within their circle had all but fallen flat. Even after he warned her not to cross him, she still didn't seem to take him seriously. Even thinking about it made his eyebrow twitch with anger. And the more time that she spent with the young Mr. Crawley, the more he came to suspect that the very reasons that made her inclined to accept his proposal—her scandal, his engagement, and his former injury—were perhaps not the barriers that she once thought they would be.
Essentially, he realized that they were both pawns for each other, but they were not playing the same game.
Before arriving at Downton, he had spoken to Dr. Clarkson directly about Mary's prognosis, and his mind was very much made up. Once he realized that Mary wouldn't be a trophy he could parade around, her worth diminished in his eyes. She was no longer a sound investment. His profit was no longer guaranteed. Even if she did wake up and return to her former self, he realized that it was very likely that she would leave him, and he was not willing to give her the chance to do it first.
Granted that was not the excuse he planned to make to her family. No, he would tell them this-or-that about his papers, and his demands in the city, and that he would feel just awful knowing that he couldn't properly be there for Mary. He was sure that that was something they would like to hear. Although it wasn't as if he really needed their approval.
He was met at the door by Mr. Carson, who ushered him into the house with little fanfare. He was just about to announce his arrival to Lord Grantham, but Richard informed him that it was Cora he wished to speak to. If the Butler was surprised by this request, he did not show it. He simply led him to the drawing room where he was to wait for Lady Grantham to join him.
He was certain that the butler had intentionally directed him to the least comfortable chair in the room. The stiff back and wide arms left him struggling to find an agreeable position. He mused that even the furniture of this house seemed determined to keep him on edge. As he sat and waited, he rehearsed a bit of his speech in his head. His thumb picked absentmindedly at the cuticles of his other fingers-a common habit of his when left alone with his thoughts. He was callous, but not altogether malevolent-he intended to let Cora know during their conversation that he would publish nothing about Mary in the papers. He was satisfied to let her infer that he acted out of love, but really it all came back to business. He wasn't interested in anything that wouldn't make him look good; he knew a disabled wife wouldn't, but he knew that smearing the scandalous affair of his now crippled ex-fiancé would make him look even worse. Richard Carlisle was not one to gamble with chances. He knew when to play, and when to walk away.
As Cora made her way down to the drawing room, she struggled to gather her thoughts. She stopped for a moment once she reached the bottom of the stairs to take a cleansing breath. Her head ached, and she rubbed her temples before she resumed her journey. Of course she wasn't exactly surprised that Richard had come—she knew that Robert had called him—but she was rather curious as to why he requested a private audience with her rather than going straight to Mary. Why should he want to talk to herwhen his fiancé was just down the hall? She knew better than anyone the circumstances of their agreement, but she had come to hope that he and Mary might be happy together. He certainly wasn't perfect—he was boorish at times, and seemed to have little patience. He was also closer to her age than that of her daughter, but under the circumstances she knew that Mary couldn't afford to be very particular. Her thoughts then drifted to Matthew, who was in all likelihood by her daughter's side at that very moment. The way he jumped to action had both surprised and touched Cora, particularly since it had seemed that he and Mary had not been on good terms before the accident. She didn't know the particulars, but she had observed the change between them since Lavinia's passing. Their easy conversations had become strained, and they spent almost no time together. She had long ago given up on the idea of the two of them together—what with Mary's scandal, and then his engagement to Lavinia—but her certainty on the matter was waning. When she finally reached the door to the drawing room, she was suddenly glad that Richard had sought her out first. She could only imagine what might have happened had Richard gone to the library and discovered that her most devoted nurse was Matthew Crawley.
Elsewhere in the house, everyone was attempting to return to business as usual. But things were so very unusual now, and the angst of the situation hung over them all like a cloud. The family was slow to emerge from their bedrooms, and the staff seemed to be walking on eggshells. The usual breakfast was prepared, but no one seemed very interested in eating. Cora was, of course, occupied so Robert and Edith sat together in silence. Neither of them knew what quite what to do or say, so they simply sat.
Cora was not sure what she had expected to hear from Sir Richard Carlisle, but it certainly was not that he would be releasing Mary and leaving for London on the next train. Shock, outrage, relief…these were just some of the things she felt as she listened to him go on and on about his duty to his business, while saying little to nothing about his duty to her daughter. She realized about halfway through his speech that her fingers were literally digging into the arms of her chair, and she flexed them to ease the tension. She did find that she was glad his true colors were revealed before the wedding, because obviously the vow to love "in sickness and in health" was not one that he cared to fulfill. When he finally did get around to his feelings for Mary, Cora became even more confused. He talked as if he cared a great deal for her, but his resolution didn't change. He was leaving. She gasped out loud, all the color draining from her face when he brought up the scandal, and she had to work quickly to reel herself in. She adjusted her posture, smoothed her hands over her skirt, and fought to refocus her attention on Sir Richard. But to her great surprise, he said that nothing would end up in the papers. He was burying the story for good. She thought that if there was one decent thing about the man, she had just witnessed it. And then, they were both quiet. He had said all he came to say, and she was utterly speechless. Even as she watched him rise to leave, she couldn't seem to summon the ability to stand, or to tell him goodbye.
And so he made his way out into the grand foyer for the last time. He thought briefly of Mary as his eyes slowly passed over his surroundings, but he didn't even know where they were keeping her. A part of him did wish to see her one last time, but he decided that it was not worth the risk.
Sometime later, she really couldn't be sure just how long, Cora regained enough composure to leave the drawing room. She wished desperately to see Mary. How would she explain all of this to her? Would she even get the chance? The thought made her shiver as she walked towards the library. She was nearly there when Robert and Edith emerged from the dining room and silently joined her. As they entered, Matthew stood from the chair that he had moved next to Mary, and did his best to greet them. His clothing was completely disheveled, and the dark circles under his eyes answered the unasked question of if he had gotten any sleep. Initially all he could manage was a tight smile, but as they moved closer, he was able to tell them that not much had changed.
None of them could understand it. She looked so perfect. There was nothing on the outside that gave any indication as to why she would not wake up. And that was what scared them the most.
Clarkson was due to check in on her later in the afternoon, but waiting and doing nothing made them all feel a bit helpless. It was Matthew who suggested that they should move her to one of the first floor bedrooms so that she might be more comfortable. Having a sense of purpose immediately made the atmosphere of the room lighten and they all set to work. Edith went to select a room, and Robert went to notify the staff. After hesitating for a moment, Cora went to assist Edith. She wanted to be sure that everything would be just right.
And again, Matthew and Mary were alone. Taking charge of the situation had left him feeling strangely hopeful. Knowing that he was responsible for her care boosted his morale tremendously. He gently sat himself on the edge of the sofa next to Mary and told her that they were going to be moving her to one of the bedrooms. He did not know if she could hear him or not, but it comforted him to think that maybe she could. With so much of her control taken away by her false slumber, he wanted to make sure that she was informed of everything; even if it did turn out that she couldn't hear him. Just in case he thought to himself. Just in case.