Downton, April 24, 1925
Dear Tom.,
I would lie if I told you, that your last letter didn't upset me. But it wasn't the part about "making a living hell" for my hypothetical, boring husband of convenience. That part actually made me laugh and I was amazed how well you know me by now and what a dear friend you've become. Who would have thought six years ago when Edith, Anna andd I stopped you and Sybil from eloping?
Matthew actually said something similar to me once. He said I could be "quite cruel if I set my mind ot it", but he added that he loved me anyway so he pulled the sting out of it in the same sentence. Yes, yes, I admit, I'm far from angelic and I would certainly not be happy with a husband who'd bore or annoy me to death. The problem is: In my circles you don't have much opportunity to really get to know a "suitor" before you marry him. You meet, have polite conversation, dine together (surrounded by friends and family) and maybe you dance. But you're hardly ever alone or spend really much time with each other.
Luckily I was careful with Tony. I was quite smitten with him, because he was charming to me and said the right things to the right time. It is also very flattering when someone is so devoted to you, that he swears to not let you go no matter how long it takes. But then on my "sketching trip" I found out there was nothing that really connected us. He's nice, he's handsome, he comes from the right background and he was willing to live with me at Downton, something not every man will consent to, I'm sure. But we didn't have much to talk about. He was not really interested in the running of Downton, he avoided talking of my past life with Matthew nor did he talk about his own past during the war. He listened politely when I talked about George, but added no input and I saw in his face that he didn't think it his concern. I tried to find out what interests him, but he he fully relies on his agent to do the the running of his estate and only does the "usual" things: Hunting, riding, fishing and paying social calls or going to parties, invitations and dinners. That's his life and that would be my life obviously. Before I married, I thought it was the only acceptable life and now, to my own amazement, I found out, that it doesn't interest me any more. I still do the "social things", but secretly I prefer talking about our Tamworths to you or about farmer Drake's idea for crop rotation on the big acre next to Windy's corner than hearing gossip about who has an affair with whom and who will be at this and that event.
Well and since we're open about it: I also found out that "physical closeness" as you so wonderfully called it in your letter, is nothing but an empty shell if there's no feeling behind it. It's like a too sweet cake that leaves you empty and dissatisfied after a few bites. I don't think I will make that mistake again.
Now there's Henry Talbot. He seems nice, too and he certainly has a better sense of humor than Tony had. He makes me laugh a lot and that is something I can appreciate. He also happens to be filthy rich as I found out. Something that is never wrong in my position. But...
You see, there's still a "but". I can't even lay my finger on what this "but" is, but I know as long as it is there, I don't think I should consider marrying him (if he asked that is, it's not as if he has proposed!).
No, what upset me in your letter was the sadness that I mean to have detected between the lines. I know, I wrote I want you to be homesick so you will come and visit us soon, but you know, that's not what I really want, do you? What I really want for you is to be happy and successful and get the respect you deserve. For way too long you haven't been as valued as you should have been and I blame our class system for this. Do you see the irony? Sybil would laugh that I, who profits most from it, blame the class system, because it treats someone I love unfairly. I know, it's funny in a way, but for you I want a society who sees you as the special man you are, without prejudice and solely based on ability, intelligence and character. Because if that's the case, I know you'll go far, Tom Branson! So don't tell me it's just an ideal, because I really hope America is the land of your dreams and will make all of your dreams come true. You deserve it more than anyone else I know!
But all my good wishes for you in America don't change the fact, that I miss you terribly, too. Right now I especially miss your input about George. Papa and Mama's idea of parentage is relying completely on Nanny and without you I'm doing pretty much the same. When you were here, we spent so much more time with the children and talking about the children, I felt a much better mother, relying on your natural fatherly instinct, since I don't seem to have a motherly instinct myself. I feel insecure. I know I could rely on Edith instead, but her instinct seems to go overboard if you ask me. She is like a mother hen always hovering around the nursery and driving Nanny crazy with her constant worries and demands.
Another worry of mine, where I really could need your input, is Papa. I actually think he looks horrible these past weeks and I'm amazed Mama hasn't said anything yet. I think right now he doesn't even mind the diet, because he barely eats anyway. I also notice that he is tired all the time and I suspect him to sleep badly. I wish he would recover soon, but right now I think his health is becoming worse instead of better.
This Saturday we'll have the wedding. I hope for lovely weather and a nice celebration. I think Carson is very excited, but who wouldn't be if he married for the first time at the age of 61? Mrs Hughes is her usual calm self, but even she seemed a bit flustered when I asked her about the new house they're going to live in. I promise, I'm going to visit them once they settled into their new cottage and then I will find out for you, if Mrs Hughes kept the picture of you and Sybbie. Shall we bet? My bet is yes, Carson doesn't stand a chance against her!
Please write me soon and let me know that you're well, I can't be worrying about you, too, do you hear me? And be careful: More of those sad letters and stories about your past and you're converting the next Crawley sister to your "socialist ideas", as Granny would put it and I swear that would be the death of her!
Love
Mary
