The family was seated around the dinner table with Sir Anthony Strallen as their guest. Mary laughed at the man's uncouth declaration and shared a smile with Matthew. She was wonderfully thankful for the moment as it provided her aid in her quest to ensnare her father's heir. The sooner the task was complete the better. Mary had made herself the promise that she would neither apologize nor explain herself to her future husband.
Mary relished the challenge her sister Edith put forward. However, she would need to tweak it to fit her particular agenda. She had no desire to pretend Strallen was worth her time. The new challenge, therefore, was about how quickly she could induce a proposal; a fortnight was the agreed upon time frame. A smile coy smile spread across Mary's face. What Edith didn't know was that it wasn't purely sport, she intended to accept Matthew. When she had made her father's heir her husband, she pondered all the freedom and liberty that would soon be within her grasp.
When the gentleman entered the room, Mary paid all her attention towards Matthew. She brought him over towards a book on farm machinery since he was so keen to learn about practices at Downton. Matthew smiled that timid disarming way of his and admitted he was more interested in Greek Mythology than husbandry; but that he would try to understand if it would please her. Mary wondered if Helen of Troy had felt this surge of intoxicating power, the notion of how far a man would promise to go for her. However, she had no desire to be remembered as having a face that launched a thousand ships. Mary's aspirations were of a more simple nature; she wanted Downton.
And so they stood together slightly away from the rest of the family and chatted amiably. Matthew sipped his brandy, and his tongue seemed to loosen with each drink. He was frightfully easy for her to read. Mary enjoyed watching the reaction of her parents as she spent her time with Matthew. She knew there was a part of her mother that disapproved since the gossip regarding the maid had never ceased. However, since it was only a frightful nuisance, hen pecks of assumed knowledge, her granny said; Mary had given it no consideration regarding her course of action. As the clock struck, she realized she had lost track of time. When Matthew said goodnight she could see her father's obvious approval. It had been a long time since she had seen since a smile on her dear papa's face. And I put it there she thought smugly. Mary returned her attention to their most important guest. She allowed him to take her hand as the fireplace cracked behind them.
"We have talked of the Greeks all night," Matthew said with relish, "And so I leave you with this parting thought from Sophocles which I share, "I ask to be no other man than that I am."
Mary felt a sudden unexpected flutter of butterflies in her stomach at his candid words; he was so assured of himself it astounded her.
"Lady Mary," he said to address her again. "The two words: summer afternoon, are the most beautiful in the English language, so said Henry James. I wonder if you might join me on one soon before you go to London."
The blush she felt was a wonderful victory as she caught Edith's expression out of the corner of her eyes. Although she was also surprised, she would have to convince Matthew that his presence in London would be necessary. That would be her next task.
"The day after tomorrow," Mary offered with restrained enthusiasm, "Lynch will be able to make the necessary arrangements as the farrier is coming for Diamond's horseshoes."
"Until then," Matthew said graciously with a bow as he was walked out with her father. She saw them shake hands, and she winked at her sister with a twinkle in her eye.
When Matthew returned to Crawley House, there was a joyful bounce in his step. He could hardly believe it was happening, but it seemed Lady Mary was partial to his company. Although he had not sought her attention, he did find her company a rather strong intoxicant to his senses. It was undoubtedly the work of fate and would be a marvelous blessing should their relationship elevate to perhaps a different circumstance; for he would never settle for a marriage that wasn't based on love. And if they did come to such an agreement with this condition fulfilled, he would also be relieved of the guilt he still harbored about having stolen Mary's inheritance. She had a clever mind, and she knew the land. They could be partners. Matthew allowed Moseley to remove his coat and hat, and he felt almost like whistling he was so jolly. His thoughts were so clouded by this daydream that he almost collided with his mother at the bottom of the staircase.
"Matthew," she greeted him fondly, but there was a sad reservation about her countenance. He felt goose bumps appear on his skin. Matthew reached out for her, touching her shoulder gently.
"Mother," he said quietly, "What is the matter?" He had not felt this kind of alarm since she had broken the news about his father's death.
"Come into the drawing room," she finally said softly as she walked away.
Matthew looked at the carpet that was beneath his feet. It was well furnished, but the subdued colors offered precious little vibrancy. All of the euphoria from his pleasant night vanished. He had wanted Crawley House to be their home in Manchester; the familiar walls to have the modern wallpaper and oriental rugs that he had grown up around, that had sheltered him. But this was not his home, it was not a sanctuary. And furthermore bad news could find a person anywhere. With a deep breath, he followed behind his mother taking the few steps forward that were required. When he entered the drawing room, he gasped at the vision that greeted him. Next to the fireplace was the oil painting of his father. The new frame around the portrait was marvelous craftsmanship, worth the wait and the expense.
"Your father's portrait arrived today," Isobel said sitting down on the settee. She patted the space next to her. "I thought it appropriate for him to be present for what I have to tell you."
Matthew didn't move. It was a cruel injustice that his father's portrait did not bring him the comfort it once had. In this moment; it was only a cruel reminder of what he had lost. And as he watched his mother her hands nervously clenching a handkerchief he feared he was going to hear that soon he would lose another parent. That must be his dear mother's dreadful news, for he couldn't imagine anything else that would upset her to such a degree.
"Matthew," she said tenderly and gestured for him to sit once again. All thought except the pang of loss fled before him. In this private room, he swiftly moved towards her.
"I'll support you mother," he said his voice barely a rasp as he fought for his composure. "You should see a doctor in London; I won't let you go without a fight," he said urgently, frantically.
Isobel almost smiled at his words as she blinked back tears.
"What a heart you have my boy, and what an imagination," she declared with a sad chuckle.
Matthew's pained expression was puzzled as he took her hand.
"I have a difficult story to explain. So, please don't interrupt," Isobel squeezed their joined hands. "It is nothing like what you fear," she continued. Matthew swallowed a hallow breath at her words and sighed. The pain of the truth strung her as though it was an allergic reaction. Isobel stared into his blue eyes and admired the way his golden hair fell across his face.
I am not responsible for those attributes.
Said the voice in the back of Isobel's pain stricken head, but her heart rallied her spirits as she watched his countenance. His steady attention and devotion, those I can take credit for she thought proudly.
He is still mine, even if he is not.
"I'm listening, mother," Matthew said quietly.
Isobel took a shaky breath at his last word of address. It had always brought her cheer, even now, even with what she knew, and what she must share. She looked at her husband's portrait for guidance and then turned her attention back to their son.
"I've grown tired of hearing about this maid at Downton," Isobel felt the words she had tried to master so carefully, simply falling out of her mouth. With great effort, she tried to measure her pace. "Beatrice was walking by Crawley House earlier today, and I thought it was a perfect opportunity. I'd never want to presume at Downton and cause a scene and embarrass or frighten the poor woman," Isobel squeezed Matthew's hand for reassurance that he was listening, and he nodded.
"Well, we had a little talk," she paused, "And I learned something I have to tell you. There is no doubt, I am convinced, and I know it to be true." Isobel stared into the pleading face of her son, his sad eyes and confused anguish. It was time to share the revelation. The consequence and evidence could follow. Now was the right time, better than any other she would get.
"Matthew," she said, "Remember when you received Robert's letter? You said he wanted to change our lives," Isobel knew how much he had hated that unwanted responsibility and alteration to his very existence, and how he much he was still adjusting to it.
"Yes," he said cautiously, his lip bit between his teeth.
"Well, my dear boy, I have to tell you something that will have a similar effect…" Isobel had not practiced how she would tell him. How could she with such a delicate matter? But, she knew she wanted to reveal it as though she was applying a tourniquet to a wound, the information would create. The implications were staggering, and yet for her part the news had changed nothing, even when the shock had sent a thousand and one emotions through her, they quickly petered away. She had no regrets.
"Did I ever tell you that when I was expecting I was sure I was carrying a baby girl?"
Matthew made no effect to speak, but slowly he shook his head affirming a negative answer.
"Your father never teased me about that certainly after we had you," Isobel paused she knew the bittersweet reason for this now. Oh, my dear Reggie, she thought to herself. What have you done?
"Mother?" Matthew whispered anxiously interrupting her. "What are you trying to tell me?"
"Just listen," she issued the reprimand as gently as possible before she continued. "I was in labor all night. By morning, I was quite frantic that we couldn't lose another baby, and your father was beside himself as well. We wept, and we prayed together. I was given ether and your father performed a c-section." Isobel looked at her son but saw no reaction to her words as he stared at the floor. "I remember waking up in the hospital, and he was holding you," She wiped at the stray tear that escaped down her face. "It was such a wonderful moment my dearest. He was holding you so tenderly and just reciting poetry he knew by heart. He loved you before I did; I want you to remember that."
Matthew was motionless and silent. With a tender touch, Isobel traced the outline of his chin hoping to raise his face so that he would look her in the eyes. She stared lovingly at him before continuing. "Well, your father delivered two babies that morning. One baby lived, and the other baby died," Isobel took a hasty breath to renew her speech. "Your father switched the birth certificates because it was the best solution for everyone."
Isobel squeezed Matthew's hand that had gone cold at the sudden revelation. His face was blank, and he had shed no tears. Her heart was bursting to reassure him that in everything that mattered, he was still her child; he was still everything to her. He was just what his name said he was Matthew; a gift from god.
"Say something my sweet boy," she cajoled him soothingly, her hand not grasping his found a nervous path into his golden hair, and yet he was still as she stroked.
Finally, he spoke.
"I ask to be no other man than that I am," Matthew said repeating his quote from earlier in the night, his voice a contemptuous blast of self-condemnation. "What a fool I have been."
Thanks for reading! The big twist of this story is now revealed. The cat is out of the bag! Stay tuned for the next chapter!
Also I want to thank R. Grace (again!) for we came up with this original story idea together. Everything else was constructed from this notion that was just revealed... including the title.
So, penny for your thoughts?