The Morning After

Mary jerked awake out of a dead sleep and blinked rapidly, confused. The room was dim and she glanced over her shoulder to find Henry sitting up expectantly. "I'm sorry to wake you but the way we left things last night is eating away at me." Mary sank back into the pillow and struggled to keep her eyes open. "What time is it?"

"Half seven. I know it's early."

Mary sighed deeply. "Can't this wait? I'm exhausted."

"When did you come to bed?"

"I don't know, four?"

"Ah."

There was a wealth of things unsaid in his reply and Mary battled with her own impatience to avoid snapping at him. He was trying to talk with her, to smooth things over. "No, it's the children I have to thank for this." She filled him in on what had happened with them, resigned to the fact that she was apparently up for the day. Mary didn't bother holding back her irritation when Henry fought a smile as she told the story. "It is not amusing, Henry."

"Oh, of course it is. You remember what it was like to be their age. Everyone gets into a little trouble when they're young."

The one time she'd dabbled in youthful rebellion it had nearly resulted in an international incident. The memory didn't endear her to their plight, especially since Sybbie seemed to be following in her footsteps. Henry continued, "I do wish I'd been there to witness you with mop and bucket in hand. A once in a lifetime occurrence."

"Certainly a first," she agreed absently. It had thrown into sharp relief the reality of a life they could very well be faced with if she couldn't save the estate. It was a hard lesson to learn at forty-six that she barely had the skills required to keep the house she was so desperate to save. Making a snap decision, she threw off the covers and reached for her robe.

"Where are you going?"

"If I have to be awake, so do they."

"Mary, we really need to-"

"Talk, I know, but they cannot go unpunished."

"It can't wait?"

"No."

Mary ignored whatever else Henry called after her as she marched down the hall to the opposite wing. She reached Sybbie's room first and found both her nieces sprawled across the bed. She pulled open the curtains to let in the early morning light. "Rise and shine, girls," she tried forcefully, though as expected it did nothing to rouse them. She shook both girls awake and they whined pitifully against the light. Marigold tried to pull the blanket over her head so Mary yanked it clean off the bed. "Up," she ordered.

"What time is it?" Sybbie asked, voice hoarse. Mary smiled sweetly. "Time for breakfast."

Sybbie fell back against the pillow. "We're not hungry."

"Oh, you're not eating breakfast," Mary corrected. "You're making it. You have five minutes to get down to the kitchen."

"What?"

"You're not serious!"

"Move," Mary ordered, over their protests. When she entered George's room she was hit with the smell of sickness and wasn't certain if that made her more or less sympathetic. Tiaa, Papa's aging retriever, was stretched out next to George on the bed and thumped her tail in greeting. "Good girl," Mary murmured and moved aside the pail she'd left at his bedside only a couple of hours before. She studied her son as he slept, something she hadn't done in a decade. Henry was right, trouble often sought out young men George's age, but since her own childhood had been so sheltered Mary wasn't sure what to do about it. She woke him in much the same manner as she had the girls, though he was far less pleasant. "What, Mother?" He snarled, and any sympathy Mary had harboured dried up instantly. She crossed her arms sternly. "Up you get. You have five minutes to get down to the kitchen. You're making breakfast."

"Like hell I am," he grumbled into his pillow, and Mary saw red. "I beg your pardon? You have thirty seconds to get out of that bed, George Crawley, or there won't be words to describe the hell I will rain down on you." He let out a long-suffering sigh and heaved himself to his feet. "This is absolute bullsh- rubbish," he snapped as he searched blindly for his robe. Mary jabbed her finger toward the door. "That's exactly what I was thinking at three-thirty this morning while I was cleaning up your vomit. Get moving."

"But we don't know how to make breakfast!"

"And Daisy will have a fit if we mess up her kitchen."

"Mrs. Parker has the morning off, and in case you'd forgotten, this is my kitchen."

"And you certainly know how to make a bang-up meal in it," George patronized. Mary nearly swallowed her tongue in the effort to avoid what was sure to be a nasty argument. George was certainly in fine form, and she knew any attempt at reasoning or arguing would be pointless. He was likely still drunk, and behaving like an absolute bear. She'd deal with him later.

"Gosh, George, that charm must be how you win all the girls," Sybbie snapped in an effort to stand up for her. Even though she was still furious, Mary appreciated the gesture. She faced them as though she was sending troops into battle. "I don't care how you do it, but you will make everyone in this house breakfast, and then you will clean it up."

Marigold, who was taking her punishment like a champ, visibly steeled herself before pulling open the refrigerator to get to work. Sybbie approached her hesitantly. "Aunt Mary...you aren't going to tell Dad about Jamie, are you?"

"I haven't decided yet." Which was true. Mary hadn't had the time to consider the whole situation. Of course she'd tell Tom and Edith about the drinking and sneaking in, but Sybbie was nearly grown and when Mary put herself in the girl's place, she shuddered at the thought. Sybbie continued to stare at the floor. "About last night, I'm sorry. Truly, I am." She looked so downright pathetic with last night's makeup smeared and the terror her father would discover she wasn't such an innocent lamb that Mary wanted to hug her. Instead she nodded sharply. "I should hope so."

Breakfast turned into brunch and the kitchen into a warzone, and as the children carted the food up to the dining room, Mary decided she'd never before known what it was to be on the receiving end of sheer hatred. She was rather pleased with herself. "What's all this?" Papa asked with a laugh as he set his newspaper aside. "Yes, Mary, what is all this?" Edith asked suspiciously as she watched her daughter serve up what was sure to be the worst breakfast ever cooked. Tom and Mama seemed to wait with bated breath and Bertie just looked confused. Mary glared coldly at her son and nieces. "Perhaps you'd like to ask your daughters what they were doing at three o'clock in the morning." Edith gasped and Bertie lurched halfway out of his seat, but it was Tom who calmly put the pieces together. "Judging from the shade of green George has turned, I'd guess it involved some drinking."

"And carousing and sneaking in at nearly dawn."

"Don't forget vomiting all over the servants' hall, which Mary had to clean up," Henry added, trying and failing to disguise his glee. Mary ignored him because her patience had frayed well past the point of no return, and she zeroed in on Tom. His face was mysteriously closed off and she was surprised at how troublesome that was. She didn't like not being able to read him. Edith and Bertie were making a fuss, trying not to shout but doing a lousy job of it. Marigold sighed heavily and tried to defend herself. "I only had one glass of champagne." Mary tore her gaze from Tom and took pity on the girl. She'd done the least amount of complaining. "I will say that Marigold wasn't drunk, but she was complicit."

"Mother," George interrupted, completely pathetic. "Can I please go back to bed now?"

"No, the kitchen still needs to be cleaned up, before the staff gets in."

The children trudged out of the room and Mary finally allowed herself to relax. She collapsed into the nearest chair and reached for the coffee, well aware that everyone was looking to her for an explanation. "Mary..." Tom prodded impatiently. She willed the coffee to work its magic and then some, because now that she was faced with them, she was certain Edith and Tom were going to have something negative to say. "Yes, alright. They broke the rules and our trust, and kept me awake all night. What did you expect, that I'd let them have a nice lie in?" Edith and Bertie exchanged a look and a shrug. "To be honest, Mary, this was pretty clever of you," Edith admitted. "They looked positively miserable."

"What were you even doing down in the kitchen so late?" Mama asked. Mary exchanged a momentary glance with Henry, whose amusement had waned. "I just couldn't sleep. I went down for some warm milk." Papa unfurled his napkin with flourish. "Shall we dig in? This looks...well, terrible, really." Mary had watched what had gone into the preparation of the meal and would have starved to death first, but everyone else seemed game. They laughed and joked over the whole incident, but Tom remained quiet and pensive. When she finally caught his eye, he frowned and looked away.

It wasn't until much later that evening that Mary got the chance to speak to Tom about the whole situation. She bumped into him the hallway just after she'd had a spectacular row with George and was in desperate need of a friendly face. "Everything alright?" He asked, in an oddly detached tone. Mary's stomach twisted as she recalled his earlier displeasure. "I should ask you. You're not angry, are you? That I punished Sybbie without speaking to you first? I wanted to strike while the iron was hot."

"No, of course not."

"Well you're clearly upset," she accused, becoming increasingly upset herself. She couldn't remember the last time he'd truly been angry with her. "Alright," he agreed. "I am. I don't like Sybbie thinking household work is a form of punishment. Working in a kitchen is a good, honest living."

"I know it is."

"How do you think Daisy or Mrs. Patmore would have felt if they'd seen that? Their life's work, reduced to a form of punishment."

Truthfully she hadn't considered that at all, but she certainly hadn't meant what he was accusing her of. "That's not – I didn't –" She stopped and took a quick, calming breath. "Last night it took me a full thirty minutes just to mop up a spot of sick. I'd never done that sort of work in my life and it opened my eyes. The work wasn't the punishment. Having to do it in their state on no sleep was."

"Well, whatever your intentions, it was thoughtless."

Mary was taken aback. "That's rather harsh. You know I have nothing but respect for the staff. I don't know why you're taking this personally, Sybbie wasn't even born the last time you were in service." His nostrils flared but he didn't rise to the bait. "Good night, Mary," he said, and stepped around her to continue down the hall, as if their conversation hadn't even happened. Mary's mouth hung open slightly as she watched him disappear around the corner.

Henry looked up from his book as she crawled into bed. "You look like you've been through the wringer."

"That tends to happen when you're universally hated." All she wanted was to shut her eyes and sleep until all her problems disappeared. She didn't even have the energy to change into her nightclothes. She heard Henry sigh and set his book on the bedside table. "What happened?"

"I had a terrible fight with George, for one. The things he said…" The wounds were still fresh, scored deep on her heart. It was something she'd never get used to, her own child hating her.

"George doesn't hate you, believe me. He's just young and pushing his boundaries, and I'm sure his hangover didn't improve his mood."

"Nor mine."

"I'll talk to him."

Mary rolled over to face him, surprised that even after all the trouble they'd had he was still concerned. She hesitated over voicing the rest of her troubles. She didn't want to ruin the moment by bringing up Tom, but what he'd said in the hallway was festering. "Do you think having the children make breakfast was insensitive to the staff?" She was careful to leave names out of it and thankfully Henry didn't press much. He frowned pensively. "Of course not, don't be silly. Why?"

"I was just thinking."

"I wouldn't let it worry you. Listen, I was thinking we ought to spend a night or two in the city after we take the boys back up to school next week."

"What for?"

"Well, to get away, like we discussed."

"Oh. Of course. That sounds good." She'd all but forgotten about that discussion and the guilt from that just added to the pile. The weight of it all was exhausting. She let her eyes droop shut as Henry went on about the trip and was asleep in seconds.

Mary hesitated on the threshold of the garage, uncertain of how she would be received. Father and daughter were hunched underneath the car's bonnet, deeply involved in a discussion about the engine or some such thing. She cleared her throat and marched in. "I hate to interrupt," she said breezily. Tom and Sybbie glanced over. "And yet that never seems to stop you," Tom observed, and Mary relaxed. He couldn't still be angry if he was in a teasing mood.

"I'm headed out for a ride and thought Sybbie might join me." After she'd had a good night's sleep, Mary had realized it was time for a frank conversation with her niece. Sybbie made a face and Tom leaned back from the car. Both of them were greased to the elbows. Mindful of her white jodhpurs, Mary kept well out of reach. Tom mindlessly cleaned his hands on a rag while Sybbie hastened to fill her in. "Well, I'm grounded, so..."

"She is grounded," Tom agreed, his eyes taking on a mischievous glint. "But we all know how much she enjoys horseback riding, so I suppose it's alright."

Sybbie groaned loudly and Mary smirked. Since the age of seven, when an unfortunate incident had landed Sybbie in pile of fresh manure, she'd disliked everything horses stood for. Unfortunately, every English girl of breeding was expected to be an accomplished rider so Mary had insisted she learn. Sybbie trudged off to change her clothes and Mary dawdled in leaving for the stable to study Tom a moment. He was practically whistling as he worked; it was as though the past twenty-four hours hadn't happened. "You're rather chipper today," she said slowly, testing the waters. He tossed the rag into a bucket and shrugged. "I suppose." But he didn't elaborate.

"Alright... we should be back in a couple of hours."

"Don't hurry, I'm meeting Faye in town for lunch."

Ah. "How nice."

Tom let out a snort of laughter. "You'll have to dial back that enthusiasm, it's overwhelming."

Mary pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. "I like Miss Delaney, so please spare me." She paused, then the words spilled out unexpectedly. "By the way, I should thank you for your advice the other night about Henry. We're taking a few days away next week. A sort of romantic getaway." Not a complete lie, but close enough. It was less a romantic trip than a salvage operation, but she had no idea what had compelled her to say otherwise. "I'm glad to hear it," he said lightly, though the edge had come off his mirth. "Now you'd better go before Sybbie makes a break for freedom."

She felt strangely smug as she left the garage, but shook it off when she saw Sybbie pouting by the stable. She needed all her wits about her for the conversation she was about to have.

It was a lovely day for riding: crisp, bright, clear. The horses plodded along, snow crunching underfoot and their breath rising in great clouds of steam. Mary shifted in the saddle and worked out her approach. "Are you serious about this boy Jamie?"

Sybbie shrugged. "I don't know, he's fun."

Mary recalled how much fun Sybbie seemed to have with the young man in question, and sighed. She debated dancing around the subject but decided to fall back on her strengths and just get to the point. "Have you slept with him?"

"What?" Sybbie spluttered. "Aunt Mary! What kind of question is that?"

"A simple one. Well?"

"Well - that's...that's really none of your business."

Sybbie refused to meet Mary's eye, and Mary didn't know if it was from embarrassment or shame. "No," she agreed. "I suppose it's not. But what is my business is your well-being."

"I'm fine," Sybbie insisted. "I'm not stupid."

"You're human, and humans are very stupid in certain moments. I'm not telling you what to do or not to do, I just want you to be aware of the consequences. This world is not kind or easy for women. An unwanted pregnancy would be a nail in your coffin."

"That's a little dramatic," Sybbie muttered.

"No, it's not. It's reality, especially for someone in your position."

"What position?"

Mary wondered if the girl was being obstinate on purpose. "You were born into privilege, Sybbie, and you know it. A village girl or a chambermaid could get away with it, perhaps, but we don't go unnoticed. Believe me when I tell you I know what I'm talking about." They lapsed into silence, each lost in her own private thoughts for a few moments. "So you think I should wait 'til marriage," Sybbie said eventually. Mary tried to choose her words carefully. "I think you're so very young – no matter how much you try to deny it – and I want to encourage you to wait until you're with someone you truly care about."

"Because I could get pregnant and he'd have to marry me."

"Because sex isn't something you want to throw away on someone meaningless. It's so much more than just the physical aspect."

"But the physical is...hard to resist."

"Yes, I recall your enthusiasm," Mary said drily, and Sybbie blushed at the memory of being caught out by her Aunt on New Year's Eve. "Look," Mary continued, "No one can make this decision for you, but when the time comes... when it comes, there are certain things you can use-"

"I can't get a contraceptive device," Sybbie said flatly, in a way that intimated she had already tried and failed. Mary swallowed heavily. It was hard to look at Sybbie as the young woman she was and not see the child she used to be. Nevertheless, Mary soldiered on. "Alright. Leave it to me." She had weathered enough scandal in her time to recognize the need for practicality. Sybbie blinked, shocked. "Really? But – I – thank you." Mary pulled the horse to a stop and forced her niece to look at her. "Only because I love you, and I was your age once. This is not an invitation for you to throw caution out the window with every boy you meet, but you must protect yourself at all costs. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Aunt Mary. I promise."

"Good. Now, you're going to invite Mr. Sawyer to dinner and introduce him to your father."

"I don't think Dad could handle me bringing a boy home. He still thinks I'm ten."

Well, she was right about that. "All parents do, Darling."