A/N Righty ho. Now my muse is really turning up the heat here. There may be moments of Awww, there may be moments of Really! and there may be a Snigger and there may be an EEEEP! So I suppose this would be rated A.R.S and... hang on, perhaps we should dispense with this kind of rating. Just brace yourself OK?
Again to all you loyal souls who are soldiering on with the story, and to the ever fragrant Serena89 for well just being her, TheOneAndOnlyAlouse and Ieyre for some incredibly enjoyable debates and each and every one of you. THANK YOU!
Enjoy x
"Are you awake?" It was early morning. Mary raised herself on her elbow to gaze at her husband. She rested her head on her hand.
He lay on his back with an arm over his eyes. "If I said no, would it make the slightest bit of difference?"
She smiled, but said nothing, preferring to simply observe him.
"I can hear you looking at me." Matthew teased. When she still said nothing, he gave a sly grin. "I just want another five minutes, you start without me, and I'll catch up."
She moved to slap him playfully, but he caught her arm and pulled her onto him for a kiss.
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you." She said when he finally released her.
"Oh." His face fell in exaggerated disappointment.
"You really are incorrigible." She scolded, resting her chin on his chest and looking up at him.
"And you're not?"
That at least was something Mary could not deny.
"What was it you wanted to talk about?" He asked as he returned his head to the pillow and closed his eyes, his hand idly tracing patterns on her back.
"Smith."
Matthew frowned slightly. "What about Smith?"
"I'm not sure she is going to work out here. There is something about the girl…" She watched Matthew's slumbering face carefully.
"I know she is a bit clumsy, but surely it isn't that bad?"
"I just think she would be better suited elsewhere." Mary hadn't meant to sound harsh, but if only he would only look at her.
Her tone did get the desired result, as he opened his eyes; they were now filled with some concern.
"If you think that's best, then that is what you should do." Matthew replied carefully. He had an underlying feeling that there was something else to this conversation; he just couldn't work out what it was.
He gazed into her brown eyes, trying to read something there, anything. "What is it she has really done Mary?"
Well she couldn't admit it could she? 'I don't like the way she looks at you. I don't want her thinking about you, the way that I did. I don't want her to have her heart broken, the way that I did.' How could she say that to him, how could she show such insecurity for their perfect life, such… weakness?
"She hasn't done anything, but as you say, she is really the most terrible butterfingers." Mary said brightly.
He was looking at her seriously now, searching her face. "You do realise the girl might struggle to get another job? Unemployment is on the rise and there is a shortage of families who just do not have the money to expand their households. Didn't you say she had a mother she sends money to and her father died in the war?"
"I could see if another house could take her on, perhaps Aunt Rosamund?"
"Your aunt is not going to be very pleased if you try off loading your cast off servants onto her." Matthew said. "Perhaps Mrs Hughes might be persuaded?" He tried a smile, but it was not returned. That was far too close to home to Mary's mind.
"Perhaps I will just speak to the girl then." She said sharply.
Believing the debate now over, he looked at her hopefully, as his hand crept downwards.
"Not now Matthew." She snapped as she slid away from him and got out of bed.
Her reaction came as a surprise. He got up too and put on his dressing gown. All the while his wife kept her back to him. Matthew left the room to get dressed, in some considerable confusion as to what had just actually happened.
Michael Branson was seated at the small table in the nursery drawing quietly. He looked up as the door opened. Seeing it was only Lily-beth he said nothing and bowed his head back over his work.
A little frown puckered her brow.
"Papa always stands up when a lady comes into the room." She said.
The little boy ignored her. This did no suit Lily-beth at all. "I said…"
"I heard." Michael interrupted, still apparently engrossed in his drawing.
This appeared to be all the girl was going to get from her cousin. She walked over to look over his shoulder, only to have him shield his picture protectively with his arm.
"George is in trouble… again." She said it almost with some resignation. "Nanny is making him stand with his hands on his head until he says he is sorry."
"What did he do?" Michael asked looking up. Finally she had his attention. Lily-beth sat down primly next to him.
"He took the bottle of medicine she keeps in her drawer and buried it in the garden." There was a glee to her telling of the story. "It's under the rose bush."
"You told her." Michael said, his eyes narrowing.
"No I didn't!" Lily-beth was as affronted as it is possible for a four year old child to be.
"Bet you did." Michael accused. He already felt a need to protect his friend.
"Why don't you like me?" It was a new concept to Elizabeth Crawley that there was someone in the world immune to her charm.
Her cousin stared. It was the most obtuse question. The moment he had met the little girl he had decided it was she who didn't like him. Therefore his playmate of choice had naturally been George. Not only was his male cousin so like him in colouring and family resemblance, he was also friendly and treated him as an equal, even respecting him as the older of the two. Lily-beth on the other hand, for one thing she was a girl so Michael didn't understand those at all. She never wanted to climb trees or look for frogs in the pond. The biggest thing however, was she always treated him as if she was a hundred times better. Even at his tender age, Michael knew that was wrong. He had heard his Pa, and Pa always said everyone was the same. It didn't matter if they lived in a big house like this one, or a small one like his family, no-one should think they are so very important.
How does a five year old boy convey the complexities of such a thought?
"You're too bossy, and your hair is a stupid colour" He said.
"My hair is not stupid!" She frowned again, picking up one of her ringlets and trying to look at it. "What are you drawing anyway?"
Michael sat for a moment as if deciding if this were a trick question. "It's a picture for my ma and pa." he said eventually.
She leant over to look at it as he reluctantly moved his arm.
"That's the house and that is me and George in the tree with Nanny looking for us, she is very angry."
"Where am I?" Lily-beth asked with some distress that she had not been included.
Michael chewed his lip. "You're in the house playing with Miss Florence. I was just going to draw you." He lied quickly.
She blinked her blue eyes and smiled a little bit. Michael thought this was probably the first time she had ever smiled at him. "Can I be in the tree too?" She asked, almost shyly.
Sarah O'Brien was adding the finishing touches to her mistress's hair.
"Matthew and a maid?" Cora said, her eyes open wide with shock. "I don't believe it!"
"I didn't want to believe it either my lady, but the girl does seem quite open about it."
"I can't see Mary putting up with that." Cora said.
"Stranger things have happened. They have been married some time." O'Brien said, her insinuation quite clear.
"Even so… Are you quite sure?"
"I can only tell you what I saw my lady. It just seemed right that I should let you know, especially if it is becoming the subject of idle gossip."
"Quite. My poor Mary." Cora looked into the mirror thoughtfully.
"What will you do?" O'Brien asked.
"Well something will have to be done, leave it with me O'Brien, and thank you for telling me. These things need to be nipped in the bud."
The two children crept into Mr Moseley's pantry. Opening the cupboard quietly, Lily-beth reached inside while Michael kept watch for any sign of the butler.
"Got it." She said triumphantly as they ran back up stairs to the nursery.
It was with some relief that Nanny Stevens had finally managed to make George confess. She had to admit, he had held out a lot longer than she thought. The little brat was stubborn, but she would eventually break that out of him. This was a little victory and with the mud covered bottle of cod liver oil in one hand and a disgruntled George in the other she made her way triumphantly back to the nursery.
The sight before her eyes made her drop the bottle in shock. There in the nursery was Miss Lily-beth and Michael. But it was the little girl that had caused the horror. All of her hair, some of her dress, her arms, face, the carpet and both children's hands were completely covered in dark brown shoe polish.
Lady Mary's mood had not improved over the course of the morning. She had asked Anna to help her dress citing other things that Smith need be doing. She was not one to enter into anything until her emotions were perfectly under control, and even Anna had felt the lash of her tongue. The experienced maid had borne it stoically.
Matthew had left for the office. He had not come into her room to kiss her goodbye. She knew that she was sometimes less than sweet tempered and in those moments he preferred to stay out of the way until she was prepared to be more reasonable. This time however it irked her terribly.
She paced the drawing room like a caged tiger, clenching and unclenching her hands. Why hadn't he fought with her, made her tell him the real reasons? Why did he have to be so kind, so understanding about the maid's circumstances? Why did he have to be so damned… good! At least if they had argued, as they sometimes did, she would not be left feeling this utter frustration. She would have been impassioned, he would have been equally so, but kept his temper as always. He would have simply given his opinion calmly but firmly, until inevitably their passions would have found a more enjoyable way to be satisfied.
"Milady?" Moseley stood anxiously by the door.
"Yes, what is it?" Lady Mary asked. She did believe there was a headache beginning behind her eyes.
"There is a lady to see you." Moseley said cautiously.
She looked at him with irritation, waiting.
The butler coughed. "She says she is The Lady Carlisle."