April 14, 1912
"Mary, I'd like a word with you."
Her father was using his firm but patient tone, which meant he was bothered by something but not angry. His expression reflected that as well as his eyes flicked over to her two sisters. "Why don't you two join your mother in her sitting room? We're about to head to dinner."
Mary waited for Sybil and Edith to leave before she took a seat on the small sofa in their room. "Is it quite serious, Papa?"
"Perhaps." He seemed to struggle with his thoughts. Finally, he blurted it out. "If you don't want to marry Patrick, then don't. You know that I would never force you to marry a man you didn't want to marry. If you're not pleased with the arrangement, if you dislike Patrick, then say so."
"I'm not pleased with the arrangement," Mary admitted after a moment of consideration, "but I understand why it's necessary and I don't dislike or hate Patrick."
"Then why have you spent the last two days arguing with him?" Robert shot back. "You've disagreed with him at every opportunity, and over things that I can't believe even bother you. Cousin James is worried that you've decided against Patrick."
"Patrick needs to know what sort of wife I will be, Papa." Mary said it carefully. She wanted to be clear, in her own mind, about what she was trying to do. "I may not love Patrick, but if I have to marry him, then I refuse to be a nothing in his life, a pretty little prop that he brings out for show when he's required to display his wife. A marriage is a partnership. You and Mama taught me that. Patrick needs to know who he is going to marry, because he needs to be as relatively happy with his decision as well as I. I will stand behind a husband if I respect him and in return, I will expect that same respect. Patrick and I may not share the same tastes or interests, but I am willing to respect his preferences. We've been arguing because he's unwilling to respect any of my views or interests and dismisses anything I say as the prattle of a woman. I could be a help to him when he becomes the earl. I know the estate as well as you do, and I know the tenants and land like the back of my hand, but every time I mention it, he dismisses my words and ideas with a hand wave and how I shouldn't worry about it. But I am worried." She took in her father's expression and made a guess. "And you're worried. About how Patrick will handle being earl."
Robert sighed. "Yes," he said quietly. "Patrick just sees Downton as a personal playground. As lovely as this cruise has been, I'm profoundly grateful it is Cousin James who is paying for this trip. Patrick doesn't understand that money needs to accumulate, to be held in reserve for when things are bad. And when I try to engage him on the topic he talks about investments he thinks I should make, investments that sound foolish."
"Then understand that I am not simply being contrary to Patrick." Mary found herself warming to the topic. "He needs to know who he is marrying, Papa. If he wants a pretty and silly little thing who hangs on his arm and agrees with his every utterance, then perhaps he should go find himself a wife instead of passively allowing himself to be wed for the family's convenience." She supposed that was the real source of her irritation. "He literally doesn't care who he marries to where he doesn't even bother to look. I could be any acceptable young woman." Mary supposed that was what hurt the most. It wasn't as though she hadn't been pursued at all, there had been suitors, but none that she really saw a future with. Except, oddly, for Cousin Matthew. It certainly wasn't something she was going to discuss with her father but the last two days, as she increased her efforts with Patrick, she found herself having the odd fantasy of what life would be like with Matthew. Certainly, he wouldn't be as wealthy, they wouldn't live in a manor house, but he was a successful lawyer. If his mother had struggled after his father's death, she had managed to keep their home. Matthew could afford servants and was contemplating buying his own home. He wasn't incredibly wealthy, but neither was he incredibly poor and she had considered what life would be like with a such a man, and the truth was that it wasn't a horror show.
Matthew, she realized suddenly, cared deeply about who he would marry, which made her all the more intrigued. He was going to make a wonderful husband to some lucky woman, she thought, and it shouldn't irritate me but it does. "I don't need to be in love, Papa, but he'd be as happy with Edith or Sybil or frankly any reasonably pretty highborn girl. If we won't be in love, then I at least expect to have his respect. If he can't manage that… then perhaps we shouldn't be married." Her forcefulness surprised her. Yet saying it out loud to her father made it all too real, that in a matter of months, she would pass from her father's hand to Patrick's, and Patrick was a much different, and lesser man, and it frightened her. Matthew's point to her two days earlier hadn't been lost on her. "Patrick will have all rights over me once we marry. Who I see, who I talk to, what I read. He said to me the other day that things will be different when we are married."
Robert sighed again. "We haven't announced this engagement. The banns haven't been read. Perhaps it's a good thing we're off to America." He looked deeply into her eyes. "You do not have to marry Patrick, Mary. I admit, it's ideal for the estate, but Patrick will inherit whether he marries you or not. For now, this will remain between us, but if you're still feel this way when we return to England, I will refuse permission. I will also see to it that we keep this quiet. I don't want to embarrass Patrick any more than I need to. This isn't entirely his fault, after all. We must be kind."
"Of course, Papa." Yet suddenly it was as though the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders.
0o0o0o0
Something was different, Matthew realized as the waiter set down the extravagant dessert in front of him. He didn't know his cousins well, but after a few dinners with them, he had an idea of how to judge the mood. Mary, for example, looked utterly radiant, as though she'd been handed a new lease on life. So did Edith. Edith in fact looked quite pleased to bat her eyes at Patrick, who she was seated next to. Patrick, for his part, was as oblivious as always to both young women, and to young Cousin Sybil who seemed distracted. More notably, Lord Grantham and Lady Grantham seemed somewhat at odds, with Lady Grantham looking upset, while Lord Grantham seemed tired but pleased. He wondered but didn't ask. He was family, everyone was quite generous on that point, but he wasn't close family. As diverting as Lady Sybil's adventure in meeting a young man from the Third Class was, Matthew had no doubt that not only would Sybil be taken to task, he'd be in trouble for not bringing it to Lord Grantham's attention. And he likely should have, with more of a sense of the man, he realized Lord Grantham wouldn't have demanded the young fellow be punished, just kept away from his daughter. Robert was a surprisingly open minded fellow.
The dessert was as usual, marvelous and rich, and it helped him ignore the rather boring talk. No one at his table seemed able to pin down exactly who the suicidal girl that was saved by the third class American lad, but it continued to be the talk of the table. That, and the suddenly cold weather, which apparently made the various deck activities too onerous. He'd noticed the chill, but had hardly left his room except for meals that day. A long day at sea seemed a good time to refresh himself on the court case he was to take on in New York. Still, as yet another fellow droned on about the cold, he couldn't help but notice Lady Mary roll her eyes and wink at him. He dared a smile in return. The day before, she had rather pointedly directed her attention at Patrick, who at first seemed pleased and then annoyed that his fiancé expected him to pay attention to her. Matthew had been ensconced in his room reading all day, but he suspected by her look and by Patrick's rather loud statement that he was planning to play cards in the First Class Smoking Lounge, that they were quite tired of each other.
"I thought I'd enjoy the band in the reception area," Mary said brightly, once Patrick was finished. "The ship has a jolly band… Edith, Sybil, why don't you join me? Cousin Matthew, I seem to recall you mentioning how you enjoy music. Why don't you join us?"
"That would be lovely," he agreed, although he wondered what sort of game she was playing with him. He accepted being spurned, he even understood her reasons, so he was uncertain why she was encouraging him to spend time with her. On the other hand, he had spent the whole day working, and deserved some fun. There wasn't any reason to say no, and he knew he'd enjoy it. In minutes he was escorting all three ladies to the reception area where the band was indeed playing some merry dance music.
Mary gave Edith and Sybil a friendly smile. "I got the two of you out from under Papa's thumb, so go have fun. Don't stay too late, Papa will be checking on us all before he goes to bed. Cousin Matthew and I are going to dance." Then she pulled him onto the dance floor, and began spinning around for him, smiling with pleasure.
"I see you did want to dance," he said as he spun her about, "but I am surprised you didn't insist Patrick escort you. I thought you were giving him a chance."
"I did," Mary laughed, "and I think I made him miserable. But I have to thank you, Matthew. You were right, Patrick and I will be a disaster. He's not entirely at fault, I'm hardly a saint, but he wants something that I can not be. And I want something that he has no interest in being. Papa noticed and we talked, and he has told me that if my opinion of Patrick doesn't change by the time we return to England, he will deny Patrick permission to marry me." She smiled. "Apparently my happiness is more important to Papa than his grandson being the Earl of Grantham. He did chide me to make an effort with Patrick on our trip. He wants to spare Patrick some embarrassment."
"So, a difficult trip for you," Matthew mused as he twirled her about to the fast dance music, "since I assume making an effort is genuinely required." He didn't think Robert was a cruel man. It was certainly a terrible idea to tell Patrick his planned marriage was all but over before it started while on the cruise, and he had the impression that Lady Cora's American family lived a similar lifestyle of parties and dinners in their sheltered community.
Mary smiled slyly. "I suspect I might find myself more patient with him, now that I know it is no longer set in stone." In fact, she seemed lighter, more relaxed. Relieved. "Mama is angry with me, and with you as well." She snickered gleefully. "She thinks you've quite turned my head, with your dashing appearance."
"Have I?" he asked, in what he hoped was a flirtatious way. "Turned your head?"
She smiled mysteriously. "A bit, I think." As the music died off and the musicians readied for the next piece, she grasped his hand and pulled him to the door that led to the deck. "I'm too warm and so are you, let's cool off outside."
He wondered if she regretted it, because the small chill of the early evening was gone, replaced by a wintery, bone chilling cold. Much to his surprise, she went right to the railing, looking out over the ocean. "It's as flat as a glass mirror, tonight."
"It is," he agreed. Then he looked up at the ship lights and gestured so she would look as well. "Look at the ice crystals in the air, like cat whiskers around the lights."
"It's beautiful," Mary said, taking his arm. Then, her eyes narrowed. "Is that what I think? An iceberg?"
Matthew's eyes widened as he took in the sight. "I never supposed I'd see one but yes. Quite the marvel…" He couldn't help but feel disquieted at how the ship seemed to be heading right for it but he didn't want to upset Mary.
She was too busy frowning to notice. "I know they say this ship is unsinkable," she said, her irritation plain, "but must we ram into it? Why aren't we turning?"
He was thinking the same thing and then grabbed the railing to steady himself. "We are turning away from it," he reassured her. "It's just very slow…"
She clutched his arm worriedly as the ship began its torturous turn to the right. The berg loomed and she held him more tightly as a sort of rumbling under their feet made the deck unsteady. Chunks of ice fell onto the deck, thankfully none close to them, and crewmembers began dashing about.
"We actually hit the bloody thing," he marveled. Then Mary giggled.
"The unsinkable ship managed to hit a bloody iceberg on its maiden voyage! We'll be in the news, surely, Matthew." Then her face took on a more serious look. "You don't suppose it's serious, though?"
"I don't know," he admitted, "but perhaps I should escort you back to your room. It might be wise to check with the stewards as well." There was, he realized, no way to really know if the supposed water tight compartments would really work. "It might be best to be cautious," he added as more crew began to scurry about. He didn't want to admit to fear but they were in the North Atlantic in a ship that had just struck an iceberg. No ship is unsinkable, he reminded himself. "Come on, it's best we gather the family together and see what's going on."
