Previously:
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, October 1921
Mary took one last look around the Great Hall, her lip quivering. Matthew had kept everything pristine and unchanged, this one room remaining the same as it was when she was a child, but for some electric lighting. She shivered, wondering if a chill had come in through the front door.
He would be inconsolable when he came back from the office, and she was being a coward to leave him like this, but she couldn't stay any longer. After making love last night, she fell asleep in his arms, and the thought of having to give that up nearly destroyed her when she went back to her bedroom. He was a part of her now, not only was she wearing his ring, but he was in her very veins. In the early morning, after he left for Ripon and before she rang for Anna, she went back to his bedroom and left her lingerie on his bed, even the pieces that he had torn to shreds. It was an inadequate token, but she wanted him to keep them. Bringing them back to Haxby felt wrong.
Taking a deep breath and calling upon the determination she mustered each day as Lady Mary Carlisle, she turned for the door and marched out to the car. The sky was grey and overcast, the air cold and still. She went over all the tasks she needed to do upon her return to Haxby, trying to distract herself as she got into the back seat and the driver closed the door behind her. As the motor pulled away from Downton, she closed her eyes, not wanting to see anything of her former home. She was bound for her husband's house now, where she belonged, and she buried everything about this past month deep down, only to be remembered in her dreams.
Chapter 10:
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, October 1921
"Matthew!"
His name spilled from her lips the moment she looked up in shock and saw him standing in the middle of the lane. The motor had just turned away from Downton Abbey and made its way down the long drive towards the country road that would carry her back to Haxby. She was lost in her thoughts, mourning for all she was leaving behind and apprehensive at all that she was going back to. One glance and she knew it was him, even from a distance. He was dressed in the same grey day suit she had seen countless times before, his blue tie and matching pocket square giving his outfit a splash of colour. His hat was slightly crooked, angled to one side, though that only made him appear more imposing now.
What on Earth was he doing here?
The driver slowed the car as they neared him. When they came to a halt, she had no time to say anything before Matthew was striding purposefully towards her door. She stared at him in shock, watching him pull her door open and fix his fierce blue eyes upon her.
"Matthew," she muttered, unable to say anything else.
"Morris," Matthew called to the driver, his eyes never leaving Mary's. "Bring Lady Mary's luggage back to the house and you can park the car out front. We're going to take a walk."
"Yes, my Lord," the driver replied crisply.
Matthew reached out his hand towards her and stepped back.
She took it and came outside, her boots crunching on the gravel. Looking away from him, she gathered her strength while the motor pulled away down the drive.
"I thought that you were at office this morning," she mumbled, only looking at him after she finished speaking.
"I thought that you were staying for a few days yet," he replied, regarding her carefully.
He motioned towards the house and they slowly turned and began to walk, both of them cautiously gauging where the other would take the conversation. She kept her hands to herself. He linked his fingers behind his back, appearing as though he was just out for a leisurely stroll across his grounds. Her stomach was churning at having been caught out, but he would have discovered her escape eventually. She dreaded facing him now, but oddly enough it was a relief to be heading back to Downton. Even in the first few moments of pulling away in the car, she ached thinking of what his reaction would be to come home to find her gone.
"How did you know?" she asked.
"I didn't," he answered. "I had a feeling. We've avoided the issue of your leaving, but it's been on my mind. I suspected it was the same for you, and if you were going to slip away, this morning would be the time to take your chance since I was out."
She nodded.
"Besides, the way you went back to your room last night seemed strange. It was as if you were saying goodbye, rather than just good night," he stated, looking over at her pointedly.
She shook her head. "I thought that you were asleep."
He smiled grudgingly.
"I don't want to go," she admitted. "You must know that."
"Then don't," he shrugged.
She rolled her eyes. "You know it's not that simple."
"No, it isn't," he agreed. "But what seems futile and nearly unrecoverable becomes entirely lost if we lose faith now."
"Faith? Faith in what?" she frowned. "I'm leaving, Matthew. Nothing will change that."
"All the more reason to not deny us every last minute we have left," he retorted.
"Whether I leave now or in a few days' time, it will still be devastating, don't you see?" she groaned sadly. "Shouldn't we just accept it? I know you're angry with me now, and you have every right to be, but if this can only end with both of us destroyed, shouldn't we be brave and back away now?"
He laughed sarcastically, glancing up at the overcast sky before fixing his stare back upon her.
"My darling, you are the very personification of bravery for all that you are choosing to endure," he measured his words. "However, giving up now won't spare either of us anything. I won't be any less crushed by your having left so suddenly. I know what it's like to face each day not knowing if I'd live to see another. It gives one all the more reason to fight for every last breath, rather than simply wait for the inevitable."
She cringed and looked down at her hands.
"I've spent far too much time pretending to not love you," he continued, drawing her immediate attention. "There were days and nights at the Front where I believed I would die without having seen you again, where one written word from you was more than I could have hoped for. I know leaving today was a difficult choice for you, and I know that you believed you were only doing what was necessary, but you must understand, Mary, a single day or even two of your company would have seemed an impossible dream to me just a short while ago. I would be mad to give that up to spare a few tears."
She sighed as they approached the house, the car sitting out front. "I suppose I am your prisoner for the month. If you order me to remain, I must."
He scoffed and frowned at her smirking face. "I shall not keep you here against your will. If you truly wish to leave, for any reason at all, you are free to do so. If I ordered you to remain, I would be no better than Carlisle, or Henry, or any other man who sees a woman as his property. I have no claim to you, Mary. I only want you to know that I don't want you to go, and I do desperately hope that you choose to stay."
She nodded slowly. They stopped near the door and she turned towards him. Reaching up to touch his face, she leaned in and kissed him softly.
"Careful," he blinked. "Someone might see."
"Let them," she declared, moving in to kiss him again. "This is hardly the most outrageous thing that I intend to do in my final days here. If we are doomed to part, they'll need to pull me from your arms."
He smiled and held her, kissing her warmly without fear of any of the servants watching, or some sharp-eyed spy of Carlisle's hidden hundreds of yards away. When he left his office to come back to Downton early, he felt a cold fear grip him that he would be too late, that he would find her already gone. He couldn't be mad at her. With all she had been through and all they had done together this month, she didn't want to push her luck any further. He still didn't see any way out for them, which only made him want to enjoy these final days all the more. Smiling at her, he offered her his arm and escorted her back inside into the Great Hall.
It was with a knowing smile that Mary went up to her room to change out of her traveling outfit. Anna did not say a word when she came up, only smiling and going about her task of unpacking her Mistress' clothes and helping her change with the usual efficiency. Before going back downstairs to Matthew, Mary sat at her vanity and looked at her reflection in the mirror, trying to return to the happy mood she was in before, where leaving to return to Haxby didn't enter her mind, and the fact that they were running out of time together stayed at the hazy periphery of her thoughts.
"Milady, His Lordship asked me to bring you this," Anna called.
Mary turned and looked at her lady's maid. Her curious frown switched to a stunned look of astonishment when Anna handed her a familiar stuffed toy dog.
"His Lordship said you would know what it meant," Anna explained, handing the toy to her Mistress. "He said that he doesn't need it as much as you?"
Mary took the stuffed dog in her shaking hand and stared at it with wide eyes. A smile lit up her face and she shook her head in wonder. She last saw her toy dog when Matthew was brought back injured and unconscious. Sybil had found it amongst his belongings and Mary was shocked that he had kept it all that time. During his convalescence, they never mentioned it, and she didn't give it another thought, assuming he'd donated it to charity or thrown it away at some point. It didn't surprise her one bit that he had hung on to it all this time, and still she was absolutely thrilled to see it.
"Thank you, Anna," Mary said finally, going over to place the toy on her nightstand. "That was very thoughtful of His Lordship."
"I wasn't aware that you collected stuffed animals, Milady," Anna noted, unable to stop herself from smiling.
Mary rolled her eyes. "I don't. Now, run along. I'll see you after luncheon."
Anna smiled and curtsied before leaving the bedroom.
Mary looked over at the toy dog sitting on the nightstand one last time before she went out into the hall, a smile on her face.
"Matthew? Darling, are you in here?" Mary called, frowning as she ventured into the gymnasium for the first time since she was a child.
Matthew turned and looked back at her over his shoulder. "Hello, my darling."
"Why are you down here? Carson said for me to meet you here but I can't understand why," she asked.
"I thought you should take a bit of a lesson," he advised coming over to her and taking her hand.
"A lesson? A lesson in what?" she questioned.
"In how to protect yourself," he nodded, kissing her fingers.
She blinked in surprise. "Protect myself? Against what, or against whom?"
"Whoever is a threat to you," he nodded. "These are changing times. London is more dangerous than before, particularly for women of your standing. I want you to be able to defend yourself should the need arise."
She looked at him curiously. "I hardly think that's necessary. Whenever I venture out, I'm with a driver or footman. Richard doesn't allow me to travel alone."
"Maybe, but relying on his staff could be rather tenuous in certain situations," he replied. He didn't want to explicitly point out that her husband was the true threat, but seeing how Henry had put his hands on her weeks ago at dinner convinced him that he needed to try and help her learn to keep herself safe. Once she left Downton, she would be beyond his reach again, and surrounded by those she could not trust. If she had to rely upon herself alone, he wanted to help her become as formidable as possible.
She arched her eyebrow, wondering what he was implying. "Well, if we're going to be practising combat, shouldn't I be in more comfortable clothes?"
He shook his head. "My darling, an assailant rarely allows you to change into more casual clothes before getting on with his assault. Now, come over to the mirror."
He led her over to the far wall, which was covered in shiny glass. Standing next to her, he looked at their reflection.
"Make a fist for me please," he instructed.
She sighed and raised her hand, curling her fingers into a fist.
"Very good," he nodded, taking her by the wrist. "Now, open."
She spread her fingers as he asked.
"Good. What I want you to remember is that the fist is absolutely useless," he stated. "You're more likely to break the bones in your hand with a single punch than cause your opponent any real discomfort. When you strike, an open hand is far easier and safer, and can be even more effective."
She frowned. "You wish for me to slap a grown man into submission?"
He smiled. "Yes, exactly."
Her face showed her clear disbelief.
"What you must always remember is that defence is not designed to defeat an opponent. A man will normally be taller, larger and stronger than you. Given enough time, he would win every contest. What you want is to put him off balance and give yourself the chance to escape. If it's merely a drunken dolt looking to get a bit fresh, a well-placed slap should be enough to send him scurrying away. If he's more determined, so must you be."
She swallowed and paid attention as he showed her the different points on his body that were weakest to a blow – the side of the neck, the throat, even the eyes and nose. She shuddered remembering back to Henry groping her in the dark nightclub and Richard stalking through the house after coming home from a night of revelry. Her husband very rarely lost control. He was obsessed with pulling the strings on people's lives, and even though he drank as much as the next man, he seldom allowed himself to become belligerent or rude. Still, there were nights where he came home with a glazed look in his eye, and it was all she could do to retire to her bedroom before he got any deplorable ideas.
"Now, inevitably you will find yourself in the grasp of a man at some point," he continued. "What is important to remember is that struggling only wears down your own energy and that you have a very small window to react before you'll be too overwhelmed to get away."
She nodded and watched as he turned to face her and took her wrist in his large hand. It was strange how his touch, even when firm and commanding, never felt uncomfortable to her. Her emotions had run ragged since this morning when she tried to leave, and yet being with him here, discussing such a strange topic as how to defend herself against an assault, wasn't unpleasant at all. As he tugged her towards him, a shot of adrenaline jolted her, her senses coming afire.
"It is far better to lean towards the threat," he advised. "With all of your weight behind your blows, you can do far more damage, and what is more, he'll be off balance as he will expect you to pull back in the other direction, allowing you to send him down with any luck."
She arched her eyebrow and nodded before swinging at his face.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, turning his head, her hand glancing off his hair harmlessly. He maintained his secure grip on her other arm and parried most of her attacks away as they rained down on him.
Her surprise move made him back up and she seized the chance to slip her foot behind his. His own weight did the rest, sending him toppling down to the floor with a shocked thud, his hand slipping from her wrist. She pounced upon him and pinned his arms to his sides, sitting across his stomach and smirking down at him triumphantly.
"Erm," he swallowed, looking up at her. "This would be your chance to get up and run away from your terrible assailant."
She nodded. "Oh, I think I've disarmed him quite thoroughly."
She leaned down and gave him a soft kiss before elegantly rising back to her feet.
"How did you know how to trip me like that?" he asked, slowly standing back up and smoothing out his shirt.
"Darling, I'm not completely helpless," she laughed. "I was beating off randy teenagers since before my debut."
He smiled wryly and nodded. "Yes, of course."
"Your lessons do appear helpful, however," she allowed, walking back over to the mirror. "Shall we practice again?"
He chuckled and rejoined her. "Yes. Perhaps you should learn how to block with your arms next."
She smiled and watched as he demonstrated how to deflect her attacker's punches by holding her arms up and parrying, telling her to keep her eyes on his, rather than looking at his hands. She hoped she would never have to use any of the moves he taught her, for in a crunch, she expected she would be paralyzed with fear. However, watching how diligent and focused he was on training her to protect herself, she felt valued and cherished, two emotions that had become foreign to her in recent years, but that had reappeared all through the past month.
"We must talk."
Matthew frowned and looked up from his book. Mary came over and sat down on his bed, her robe shifting as she moved, the open collar showing off a distracting amount of her creamy skin.
"If you intend to have a serious conversation, I question your choice of attire," he noted, glancing at her pointedly.
She smirked. "Well, I seem to have run out of undergarments. I wasn't expecting to be spending more nights here, if you recall."
He nodded. "I'm well aware. Would you like to borrow something? I just happen to have some pieces that might fit you quite well, though I've hidden them away for safekeeping."
She rolled her eyes. "They were meant as a gift."
"They were taken in that exact spirit," he grinned.
She huffed, smiling and shaking her head. "If I had known that the arrogant, middle-class solicitor from Manchester that I met that day so many years ago would turn out to be a honey-tongued Casanova, well…"
"Well, what?" he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
"Well, perhaps it would not have taken so many years for us to finally come around to each other," she teased.
He took her hand and kissed it warmly. "A seducer, I am not, for if I am, I am the slowest and most inefficient of the kind."
"And yet you've had your way with me for nearly an entire month," she noted, smiling at him.
"I prefer to say that we've enjoyed ourselves together," he countered. "Saying that I've had my way with you implies that you had to be swayed or worse."
She laughed and nodded. "I did not take much convincing, granted."
He smiled lovingly at her and kissed her hand again. "Now, what was it that we had to talk about?"
She nodded and resumed her serious expression. "It's about when I do finally leave. I want you to be prepared for what will come next."
He frowned. "Which is?"
She sighed. "I love you with everything that I am. However, once Richard returns, I must go back to being his wife, and that means that I must hide away parts of myself so that I can endure through each day as Lady Mary Carlisle."
He nodded slowly. "Go on."
"He'll want to know what happened between us," she explained. "He'll ask me, and I'll need to convince him that I spent the month here and the most we did was kiss. He can't know anything more."
"Of course," he nodded. "That's between us alone. He has no right to know."
"Yes, but he'll be mad with jealousy all the same. To placate him, I must act as if being in your company was boring and uneventful," she continued.
He looked at her ruefully. "All right."
"It's part of the act, you see," she implored him to understand. "He won't allow us to be anywhere near each other in the coming months. The only way for him to see you as not a threat, and therefore make our lives much easier, is to show him that I feel nothing for you."
He scoffed. "If you believe that is necessary, fine. I don't see how any of that makes my life any easier. I'll be without you. There is nothing easy about that."
She cringed at the tension in his voice. "On the rare occasion that we do run into each other, he'll try and goad you. You know how he is – he must always believe that he has the advantage. Please, darling, please promise me that you won't bicker with him. Please promise me that you'll just ignore whatever it is he says or does."
"I can assure you that ignoring Carlisle will be my absolute pleasure," he grumbled.
She nodded. "You must pay no attention to the things that I say. If you meet us at a party, I'll be the dutiful wife, smiling at him and laughing at his jokes, taking his arm when offered, dancing with him, and even avoiding you. It's what is expected of me."
He grit his teeth at the idea of Mary actually seeming to enjoy Carlisle's company, whether she was putting on an act or not. He recalled the way she hosted her husband's guests that night at the poker match, speaking so glowingly of him and all that he had done for charity and the arts. Her words had gotten on his nerves that evening. He could only imagine how bad he would take it to see the two of them together. Still, he knew she was right. He suspected that Carlisle only invited him to play cards so he could flaunt his marriage to Mary in his face. The man simply didn't know how to leave things alone.
He blinked at the thought, his mind working.
"Very well," he managed eventually. "You may cackle with him about me as much as you like."
She reached over and caressed his cheek. "Thank you, Matthew. Truly."
He took her hand in his. "I want terms for my restraint."
She arched her eyebrow. "Terms?"
"Yes," he confirmed. "I will play the role of the pathetic puppy longing for your regard and giving up on ever receiving it just to boost your husband's petty ego, so long as you do something for me."
She frowned. "Such as?"
He gave her a hard stare. "You will promise me that when I free you from his despicable hold, you will have the courage to leave him."
She blinked. "Oh, Matthew. We must be realistic."
"I am being entirely realistic and completely serious," he nodded.
She shook her head. "Once I leave here, you must move on with your life. You must focus on another, whether it be Lady Anne or someone else. We must be grateful for the time that we shared, and live our lives as best we can under the circumstances."
"You're only saying that because you've become so used to being a slave to circumstance," he objected. "I know that you cannot move against him out of fear for what the repercussions may be. I will do the heavy lifting for you, but you must take the final step yourself. Promise me that you will."
She sighed. "I will promise, if only to give you some small comfort. I do not expect to ever have to deliver."
"Be that as it may, you have promised," he stated.
She leaned forward and kissed him softly. His hands moved up her back.
"I'm wearing your ring now, aren't I?" she whispered. "I've pledged myself to you, as empty as such a vow may be given that I'm already married to another. If somehow you are able to save me, you won't need to send a car to collect me. I'll run here."
He chuckled and kissed her lightly. "We can discuss those arrangements if the need ever arises. I don't know what can be done. I know that I can't kill him and I know that it all seems final, but I won't give up."
"I just don't want you to waste your life," she confessed.
"And I don't want to spend my life wondering if there was something else that I could have done," he retorted. "We are agreed, then."
She nodded. "We are."
"Excellent," he smiled.
"I shouldn't encourage any of this," she shook her head, straddling his lap and kissing him softly. "I'm already ruined. I shouldn't ruin your life as well."
He smiled, his hands moving down her back and resting on her bottom. "Since when did the notoriously spoiled Lady Mary Crawley become so selfless?"
She laughed and kissed him again. "I'm not selfless. I'm actually quite selfish."
"How so?" he looked up at her in amusement.
She sat up and arched her eyebrow at him before untying her robe and slipping it off of her naked body. "Because whether we only have two days left or two lifetimes, I'll never get enough of having you. I find I simply cannot resist these cravings."
He grinned and threw her robe on to the floor. "Neither can I. We are agreed yet again, it seems. But you haven't ruined anything, Mary. You've given me life once again, healed me when I thought all was lost."
She smiled and kissed him, teasing him with her tongue before kissing her way along his jaw to his ear.
"I want to thank you for stopping me from leaving," she whispered sultrily. "Be still and let me love you."
He groaned as she moved down his body, her breasts pressed delightfully against his bare skin while her lips and tongue traced a path across his chest and stomach. His pyjamas were quickly discarded and she made sure he was watching attentively before she took him into her mouth.
"So good," he rasped, staring in awe as she pleased him. Her fingers massaged him all over while her mouth took more and more of him with each plunge. His hands balled into fists at his sides, his legs tightening from her ministrations.
"Mary, you must stop, darling," he warned after several heavenly minutes, raising up to reach for her.
She shoved him back down with a firm push, her rhythm and pace growing faster. The feel of her warm mouth and the lurid sounds from her throat pushed him closer and closer to the edge. He stared at her with wide eyes, not believing what was seemingly about to happen.
Her fingers moved from his thigh to slip between his legs. One loving touch was all it took.
"God, Mary!" he shouted, raising up just as she sealed her lips around him. Their eyes met as he shook, the apology on his lips melting as she moaned around him.
He fell back to the bed, running his hand through his hair in stunned disbelief. He managed to keep his eyes open to see her lift up and clean him with her tongue. Arching her eyebrow playfully, she licked her finger before smiling and kissing her way back up his body.
"Oh, darling, that was incredible," he gasped. "Are you all right?"
She laughed freely and kissed his chest. "Of course. I've been wanting to do that for you for quite some time."
He blinked at her admission. "It wasn't unpleasant?"
She shook her head and blushed. "No. Not at all, actually. The idea did disgust me when I first heard about such a thing years ago, but not with you. I take it that you enjoyed it?"
"I believe that 'enjoyed' is a highly inadequate description," he shook his head. "I never imagined that you would ever do that."
She smirked up at him. "Never?"
He smiled stupidly. "Well, I did imagine the thought of it quite often, but I never would have asked it of you."
She kissed him lightly. "And yet you did the same for me so willingly. Is it so shocking to you that I would want to give you such pleasure in return, or that I enjoy it just as much as you?"
He shook his head in disbelief. "To be honest, I never did think of it that way."
She laughed and slapped his chest lightly. "I love pleasing you, my darling. We're supposed to be enjoying ourselves together aren't we? You shouldn't have to be the one making all of the effort."
He chuckled. "Well, thanks to your prowess, I won't be making much of an effort anytime soon, I'm afraid. You've rendered me quite useless."
She smiled and snuggled against him. "I don't believe that's true at all. Your powers of recuperation are most impressive if I am any judge."
"Well, I certainly won't leave you unfulfilled," he promised. "There are other ways that I can satisfy you."
"You've proven that quite conclusively, yes," she laughed. "However, I want all of you."
He groaned as she pressed against him and kissed his chest. His hand moved along her bare back, his blood rushing through his veins from the feel of her so close to him.
"I know I've called you the insatiable one, darling, but the fact is that you've made me a wanton woman," she whispered, kissing him across his chest, up to his shoulder and along his neck. "It's entirely sordid of me to admit it, but I love feeling you inside of me."
"Oh, Mary," he sighed, kissing her before she pulled away and resumed her teasing of his throat and ear.
"You fill me so well," she drawled. "I've never been with a man as big as you. Just the thought of all the things you do to me makes me quite randy."
He breathed out harshly as her hand moved down to caress him lightly.
"We have all night, Matthew," she smiled kissing his cheek. "I want you to fuck me over and over. I want to feel you spend inside of me."
"God!" he exclaimed, his mind lit with the lurid images of what she was suggesting, and his arousal soon followed.
"Mmm, yes, that's it," she smiled, stroking him slowly. "I don't want this to end, Matthew. I want you to have me again, even after our month is over. We'll find a way. We can sneak off during one of my parties while Richard is distracted. I'll get down on my knees and let you use my mouth with my husband mere steps away."
"Fuck!" he snarled, giving in to the fantasy.
"Do you want to have me at Haxby, darling?" she continued. "I'll bend over for you on the very poker table where you won me from him in the first place. I love how you bet on me, Matthew, how you bet on us. Fuck me in my husband's house and make me scream to the ceiling how much better you are than him!"
He growled and quickly sat up, seizing her and kissing her fiercely. He turned her over on to her front and she followed eagerly, grasping the bedpost and arching her back to open herself up to him. Taking hold of her hips, he moved behind her and pushed against her bottom, the feel of her stirring his arousal all the while.
She reached back and pulled him to her, turning her head to kiss him heatedly. "No one has ever had me like this," she confessed, grinding herself back against him. "I love the way it feels when you take me this way, how you make me yours."
They moved together, his hands roaming her body, caressing her breasts before sliding down to stroke her heated core and back up to tease her open mouth. She swayed her hips back and forth, the curves of her bottom against him and the feel of her in his arms slowly coaxing him to respond.
"Mary," he sighed, kissing her shoulder and back. "I love you. I love you."
She threw her head back and moaned when he finally pushed in deep once more. Her mind marvelled at how he was able to go again so quickly, yet even that thought was obliterated by the searing pleasure that overtook her. She held on to the bedpost tightly and took all of him, the feel of his hold on her hips and his insistent thrusts driving her to her first release.
As she called his name and drowned in the bliss that washed through her, no thought was given to time. The night was endless before them, the possibilities of all the ways they would love each other completely boundless. All that mattered was that they were together, the memories of all that they had done to live on in their hearts and souls for eternity.
Haxby Park, Yorkshire, England, November 1921
The wind was uncomfortably cold, but all of the servants stood in two tight rows outside the house, arms at their sides, heads bowed, faces stoic, a bizarre guard of honour leading to the front entrance. They all silently urged the driver to move faster to go around and open the rear door of the saloon. The sooner they welcomed their Master home, the sooner they could go back inside.
Mary stood on her own at the end of the makeshift aisle. Her chin was raised and her expression placid. Though she was equally under-dressed for standing around outside in November, she showed no sign of discomfort. When Richard emerged from the car with his usual arrogant smirk, she smiled at him. Lady Mary Carlisle was dutifully welcoming her Lord back to his home.
Richard ignored the driver and the servants as he always did. Though he paid them no attention, he was aware of every single man and woman who was present and noticed the smallest of transgressions, such as a loose thread or faded stain on a uniform. He strode briskly down the line until he reached Mary, stopping before her and nodding politely.
"Mary," he smiled.
"Welcome home, husband," she replied, kissing his cheek and sliding her arm around his. "I trust your business in India was profitable?"
"Not without some effort, but yes," he acknowledged, leading her into the house. "It was a worthwhile trip in the end, even if I did have to impress upon them how we do things here at home is far different from their ways in that colony."
"That's hardly surprising," she nodded. "You often need to educate businessmen here, don't you?"
He chuckled. "Yes, I do."
The servants all filed in after the couple, silently moving off to their parts of the house to resume their duties. Each of them hoped that they would not be reprimanded later by the butler for anything they did, or didn't do to their Master's satisfaction.
"Your Scotch, as well as today's papers," Mary announced when they came into the library. She went over and took her usual seat on the sofa and picked up her book. Richard took his normal seat in the large armchair and took a sip of his drink. He ignored the papers and looked at his wife instead.
"How did you get on while I was away?" he asked.
She looked up at him calmly. "Well enough, I suppose. Downton is much changed from years past."
He nodded, watching her carefully. "And how is dear Cousin Matthew?"
"The same as always – milquetoast and boring," she shrugged. "He tried quite diligently but maintaining a conversation with him was quite the task."
Her posture was rigid and elegant, but her stomach rolled as the words spilled from her mouth.
"Is that all the two of you did during your stay? Talk?" he questioned.
'No. We rutted like animals and it was glorious. I peaked more times in one week with him than I have with you in two years of marriage.'
"In the beginning, he tried to impress me by showing me all the renovations he's made around the place. His builders clearly weren't as adept as yours given how shoddy the workmanship was," she shook her head.
He smiled at that. "That does sound like him. Sparing every expense."
'Actually, the house looks spectacular. He doesn't just hoard pretty things like you do. He's made sure to keep the house's character.'
"He's still quite intimidated by me," she continued. "By the second week he was spending his days at the office and I only saw him during dinner. I even managed to host a dinner with Granny. Henry was there, actually. I spent most of the evening entertaining him. He says that he's looking forward to giving you papers exclusive access during his racing season."
He smiled and nodded. "That was well planned. I forgot that his aunt still lived here."
"Lady Shackleton, yes," she nodded. "I had Granny invite her and she, of course, mentioned it to Henry. It all worked out quite nicely, though Matthew was quite perturbed that I ignored him for most of the night."
He laughed and took another sip of his drink. "Such a whelp. He never demanded anything of you, did he?"
"One awkward kiss on the cheek when I first arrived, but he gave up after that dinner," she replied. "I even went to London to deal with some details for our Season parties."
He frowned. "And he allowed that?"
'Obviously. He allowed me to go and I allowed him to do anything he wanted to me while we were there.'
She nodded. "He was afraid to make any demands of me at all. I probably could have returned here after a week or two, but I wanted to ensure that the obligation was met so that you wouldn't be bothered by him again."
He considered her answer carefully before nodding his head and taking another sip of his Scotch. "Good. We can consider him paid in full, then."
'Most definitely. On my last night there, he took full payment from your wife's bottom, and I loved every depraved second of it.'
"I don't believe that we'll be seeing any of him for quite a while. He knows how lucky he was this time. I doubt he'll want to take you on again," she stated.
He put his glass down. "That's where you're wrong, my dear."
She blinked. "How?"
"I know him," he scoffed. "The man is utterly obsessed with you. In his twisted mind, he probably thinks a few weeks of conversation with you was akin to reviving whatever feelings you shared years ago. I expect we'll be receiving countless invitations from him."
'You don't know him at all.'
"Maybe," she allowed. "I expect it's more likely to come from Mama or Edith. Regardless, you can decide how often we see him. I'm far too busy to care. There was wonderful news while you were away. Both Sybil and Edith are with child."
"Lovely," he huffed, sipping his Scotch again. "Your one sister is having an Irish half-breed and your other sister will soon welcome the heir to a glorified farm. Hardly cause for celebration."
She grit her teeth behind her closed lips. "All the same, that is what passes for excitement in my family."
He chuckled in agreement. "I suppose. When the head of it is a hopeless dullard, the smallest things can become grand events."
'That hopeless dullard is more of a man than you will ever be. I love him more now than I ever did before.'
He picked up a newspaper and began skimming through it. She went back to her book, thankful for the silence that settled between them. This was only the first interrogation she would receive. He would ask her more questions over the coming weeks, surreptitiously testing her to see if her answers remained consistent and whether she was hiding anything. He would have her lady's maid search her bedroom for some hidden love letters and question his spies in London to confirm her story. She kept her cool demeanour, not even thinking about Matthew or all of the wonderful memories they shared so that a mysterious smile would not betray her. With her husband home again, she was back to playing her role as loyal and subservient wife. Still, she looked forward to retiring tonight and reliving the feel of Matthew's loving hands in the safety of the darkness of her bedroom.
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, November 1921
"Lord Grantham," Carson announced, bowing his head before leaving the parlour.
"Matthew, there you are," Violet huffed. "I was beginning to think you that you had forgotten about me."
"I believe that would be impossible," Matthew replied, coming over and taking her hands before sitting down in the chair next to her. He refreshed her tea and poured himself a cup.
"Now, what is it that you wished to discuss?" she asked, sipping her tea and balancing the cup and saucer in her hands.
"A few things, actually. As you are well aware, it's been a week now since Mary left to go back to Haxby," he began.
"Back to her husband's home, yes," she nodded.
"Yes. With Mary gone, I now have time to look towards the coming months and how we will manage our time," he explained.
She smiled. "I'm pleased to hear that. We ought to have a proper event in London during the Season. You've done a commendable job of reviving our family fortunes. Now is the time to properly declare that our House still stands."
"I agree. Once Cora returns, we shall celebrate a proper Christmas here. I don't think that Sybil and Tom will be able to travel back, but I've written to them and invited them to return in the Spring with the baby."
"A new generation at Downton, even if the child will be a Branson," she laughed smugly. "How lovely."
"Now, in the remaining weeks, I'd like you to do something for me, for the family, actually," he nodded.
"Which is?" she enquired.
"I've written to Mother to inform her that you will be joining her in Manchester," he advised. "Her work with refugees is progressing well, and she could use a steady hand to assist her, someone well learned in management and administration, someone who is able to get results. Naturally, I thought of you."
She stared at him in shock. "I beg your pardon?"
"Is there a problem, Cousin?" he asked.
"Unmistakably so," she huffed. "Sending me to Manchester to work? Out of the question,"
"Perhaps you would not have done so in past years, but this is a new day, which I know you are so very fond of hearing. To promote our family now goes beyond merely holding parties and working for charity. We must be seen as a force, not only in the county, but beyond. Mother's work can have far reaching benefits," he nodded.
"Even if that were true, she is far better equipped to handle such work than I am," she stated.
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," he shook his head. "There is a contingent of Russian refugees due to arrive shortly. I understand you have some past experience dealing with such people."
For the first time in his life, he saw Violet Crawley stunned speechless.
"Whatever makes you believe that I would have experience dealing with Russians, in particular?" she asked cautiously.
His expression grew cold. Despite everything, he still held great affection for Cousin Violet, however, hearing about how her affair had cost Mary her future stirred a sickening feeling that he could not easily shake.
"Refugees do not accurately describe them. They all used to be nobles but were driven from their homeland following the War. They now arrive here on our shores with but a small bit of their former fortunes looking to start over, or see out their days in peace and quiet. They will need to learn to adapt to having all they knew changed so dramatically. I have every confidence that you are more than capable of teaching them how to do that."
She arched her eyebrow pointedly at him.
He met her hard stare. "After all, you've had to learn the art of shapeshifting yourself over the years, haven't you?"
She blinked but said nothing.
"I've told Mother to expect you next week. There's plenty of room in our old home for you to be comfortable. Smithers will be accompanying you, and I'm going to give Spratt the rest of the year off. It's come to my attention that the man enjoys dabbling in writing, and I expect he'll have plenty of time in the coming weeks to find his inspiration before you return for Christmas."
He looked away from her and sipped his tea.
"Will I expect to return to purgatory in the New Year, Matthew?" she asked sharply.
"That depends, Cousin," he replied, looking at her undaunted. "I shall have to see. However, regardless of where I may choose to send you, I have no doubt that you are still far better off than those who continue to suffer for your past mistakes."
She shook her head and looked down at her wrinkled hands. "Take heed of my example, then, Matthew. Recklessness motivated by love is the path to ruin."
"We shall see," he answered, his tone causing her to look up at him in surprise. "Perhaps both of us will gain a new perspective over the coming weeks."
"I expect it is useless to say so, but what's done is done, Matthew," she shook her head. "Continuing to live in the past does you no good. Changing what you wish to change is impossible."
He smiled and nodded. "Someone once told me that every mountain is unclimbable until someone climbs it. I don't care about what's possible. I care only about what is right, and I know what I want is right. That's all there is to it."
She sighed. "Well, good luck to you, then."
He sipped his tea slowly, letting the uneasy truce between them settle in for a few moments.
"Were you really willing to give up everything for him?" he asked after a while.
She frowned and sat still for a while before answering, her eyes looking vacantly somewhere, or sometime, far away.
"In the end, he wasn't willing to give up enough for me, is the more accurate statement," she answered softly.
He nodded slowly. "It's been his loss, then."
She looked over at him suspiciously. "I imagine many would disagree with you if they knew the story."
"They won't find out," he said firmly, surprising her again. "And I'm quite sure that I'm right, besides."
She stared at his determined face for a moment, as though she was seeing him for the first time. They both went back to their tea, the only sound the ticking of the large clock in the Great Hall.
Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, November 1921
"How did you find the soup?" Matthew asked, smiling across the table at his dinner guest.
"It was lovely," Anne nodded, reaching for her wine. "Just the thing on a cold and dreary London night."
"Yes. I must apologize again for delaying our dinner. I wish that I had a better excuse, but I couldn't come down at the time as my schedule became quite busy," he explained.
"All that's important is that we're here now," she answered. "I was surprised to receive your call, of course, since your cousin sent me the invitation weeks ago. I'm equally surprised that it's just the two of us here, but not unpleasantly so."
She blushed slightly as she distracted herself and looked over at the flowers on the table. It wasn't like her to flirt so openly, but being alone with him finally was making her brave, or reckless, she wasn't sure which.
"That was a bit of a mix-up, but it's my fault," he admitted. "Mary thought that I was available that week and I wasn't. However, as you say, we're here now."
"That we are," she smiled, pausing as the footmen brought in their next course.
He waited for the servants to leave before continuing. "Anne, I want to be entirely honest with you."
"That sounds serious," she noted, still smiling, though a nervous twinge fluttered in her stomach.
"I am serious," he confirmed. "I don't want there to be any misunderstandings between us. I've been through relationships before where there were far too many secrets, where I was not nearly as forthright as I ought to have been."
"A man is allowed to keep his secrets," she offered, wondering where this was leading. Was he testing her to see if she would be a nagging wife?
"Some might say so, and for the sake of necessity or expediency, that might be true, but I want us to be clear with each other," he stated.
"Whatever you wish, Matthew," she nodded, a tremor of arousal and anticipation making her hand shake slightly.
"I have a highly irregular favour to ask of you," he explained. "Most women would consider it an affront and an insult, and I shall understand completely should you feel the same. I have no expectations of you, but know that I am asking with the best of intentions."
She frowned. "What exactly would you ask of me?"
He took a sip of water before continuing, looking away from her before he took a deep breath and pressed on. "Anne, do you see a future for us as man and wife?"
"Goodness, Matthew!" she exclaimed, her eyes going wide. "That is not only irregular, it is improper!"
He nodded calmly. "I ask it all the same."
She blushed and took a sip of her wine. "Since it is just the two of us here, and my parents are not present to witness my impropriety, yes, Matthew. I do very much see us married in the future."
"I see it as well," he declared. "Which is why it is so very difficult to ask this favour of you."
She blinked in confusion. "I am not following."
He nodded. "Anne, I love another. I do not tell you this to hurt you, but only to be as honest with you as I can be. My heart belongs to another woman, and I fear that it will be so for the rest of my life. I see a possible future for you and I, however, I do not wish to deceive you. I do not believe that I can love you as much as I love her, and I do not know if I ever will."
She swallowed, her stomach rebelling. "If you are asking me if you can keep a mistress, well, as I said before, men are allowed to…"
"No, that's not what I'm asking," he clarified. "If we were to marry, I would commit myself fully to you, Anne. I believe that you are kind, beautiful, clever and elegant. I would want us to get to know each other truly before we move forward, but I hold you in higher regard than any other woman."
"Save one," she noted.
He nodded. "Save one, yes. But I will not have her as my mistress."
She regarded him cautiously. "This woman you speak of, she is not available to you, is she?"
He shook his head. "No."
"But you believe that she might be?" she asked.
"I do not know," he admitted. "I know that I must make the attempt or I shall forever wonder if I did enough to be truly happy, and I cannot bring such doubts into my marriage."
"And you wish for me to wait for you to decide?" she asked.
"No," he shook his head. "I would not trap you in such a fashion. I can promise you nothing save for if you will still have me should my efforts fail, I will be entirely devoted to you. I cannot offer you more than that, and I would not expect you to accept me on such terms."
She nodded. "Why raise it at all, then? Why not make your attempt while keeping me on the line?"
He shook his head. "I will not do that to you, Anne. You do not deserve to be anyone's placeholder. You may not see it, but I know that you have other suitors. They might have been waiting while you were in mourning before, and are now planning their approaches during the coming Season, but they are out there. There is someone for you besides me."
She smiled, unable to stop herself from blushing. There were letters from other men that her family had received, and she did have invitations already for Winter Season.
"If you do not believe that I require your sympathy or favour, then you must need something from me," she ventured. "You want me to help you with this other woman in some way."
He nodded. "I would prefer not to ask this of you, however, my allies are few, and through sheer circumstance, you are in a position to be of great assistance to me."
"Or I could betray your plans to whoever is responsible for keeping you and this woman apart, thereby ensuring that you will be mine," she countered.
He nodded slowly. "You most certainly could. No one would begrudge you from acting so ruthlessly. The rules of fair play do not apply in love and war, someone once said."
She pursed her lips, steeling herself for his argument.
"All I can tell you is that I know what it is to lose someone you love, how that pain stays with you, no matter who else may come into your life. I would not wish for that on anyone, no matter what I thought of them. I won't insult you by saying that if our situations were reversed, I would gladly assist you to find your happiness, but I will ask you just the same, for I do not believe you are ruthless, and I will continue to believe that you are good and generous."
"How can you be so sure?" she asked. "Maybe I didn't love my late husband at all? Our marriage was arranged by our fathers in the end."
"I have no right to question what your feelings for him were," he replied. "I know what you deserve – a man who is entirely in love with you. You may leave here tonight and pay no further thought to me and my request. I have every confidence that you will be married in the New Year. All I can do is ask. Should you not agree, I will find another way."
"This woman that you love? You believe that she is worth all of this effort?" she asked.
He nodded. "She is. More importantly, however, what I feel for her is worth every effort. I must see this through, to either success of failure. I would be doing both her and I a disservice otherwise."
She took a deep breath. "I cannot give you my answer until you tell me what it is that you want from me. In so doing, you risk exposing your secret and ruining your chances. I shall give you no assurances other than that I shall listen."
He nodded. "Very well. It concerns the woman that you already know as my cousin, Mary."
Criterion Restaurant, St. James's, Westminster, London, England, December 1921
"Thank you for meeting with me, Sir Richard," Anne nodded, taking a grateful sip of her wine. "I know this must seem highly unusual."
"Less than you think," Richard smiled. "In my line of work, the news does not merely appear at one's doorstep. We must go out and hunt for it. Taking information from anyone and everyone, such as yourself, is part of what I do."
She put her wine glass down and pursed her lips.
"Now," he continued, watching her closely. "You mentioned that you had information regarding my wife?"
"Yes, Lady Mary," she replied. "I attended a dinner at Downton Abbey in October where your wife was present. She mentioned that you were away on business?"
"I was, yes, in India," he nodded. "I was told that you were at the dinner. I'm glad you reached out to me as I was going to call upon you myself. How do you know my wife's family?"
"Lady Mary and I shared a governess when we were children," Anne nodded. "However, I had not seen or spoken to her in many years until that night. I was a guest of Lord Grantham."
"I see," he nodded. "Go on."
"Well, Lord Grantham – Matthew – was quite attentive to me that evening, as he often is. He is quite a wonderful man, you see, and I do believe that he finds my company welcome, as I do his."
"Yes, yes," he scoffed, waving his hand. "What does my wife have to do with this?"
"Well, she was partnered with Henry Talbot that evening, the race car driver. They seemed to get along quite well, but I did notice that it bothered Matthew quite a bit to see them together," she explained.
He nodded, leaning forward slightly. "She did mention Henry to me, yes. How was Matthew bothered, would you say?"
"I caught him staring at them from time-to-time, or more accurately, at her," she said.
His eyes narrowed. "I see."
"Once we all retired, I prepared for bed, however, my room was down the hall from Lady Mary's, and my lady's maid told me the next day that she heard something rather disturbing coming from her room," she continued.
He frowned. "Disturbing, you say?"
"Yes. She told me that she heard voices, that Lady Mary seemed to be arguing with a man," she answered.
He blinked. "In her bedroom? Was your maid able to discern what they were saying?"
"She mentioned that they were arguing about Mr Talbot, sir," she noted. "There's more, though. She said that after several moments, they were no longer arguing, and she could distinctly hear them, well…goodness…this is so difficult to say aloud."
"Try," he urged her.
She cringed and looked at him in fear. "She said she heard them together, sir, and that they were no longer arguing."
His eyes went wide. Taking a moment to compose himself, he looked away before returning to her anxious expression. "I must speak to your maid."
"I expected that you would want to," she nodded. "She's waiting for me outside in the car. I'll send her in to see you. I wanted her to meet with you here rather than somewhere perhaps a bit more intimidating and such."
"That's quite wise. Yes, send her in. You can tell her that you're just dining with an old friend who may need her to recommend a servant," he suggested.
"That's brilliant. Yes, I will," she nodded, rising from the table.
He stood respectfully and saw her leave. Sitting back down, he sipped his Scotch and seethed. He didn't know what this maid would have to tell, but if Mary and Matthew were alone in her bedroom at Downton, that was already infuriating. She had told him nothing occurred between them, repeated it over and over for the past month. If he had caught her in a lie, he would see that she was made to suffer.
"Sir Richard."
He blinked at the sound of a male voice and looked up. His mouth fell open as Matthew nodded to him and took the seat across the table.
"Matthew," Richard said carefully. "What are you doing here?"
"Dining with you, of course. I thought that it was time we had a bit of a chat, and you are terribly difficult to get a hold of," Matthew explained. He called the waiter over, who replaced Anne's wine glass and water glass with fresh ones.
"You could have made an appointment through my office," Richard suggested, his mind working at trying to decipher what was afoot.
"I think it better that we meet on neutral ground with plenty of people around us," Matthew replied, nodding his head to the full dining room. "It ensures that we will both remain polite."
"I suppose that depends on what the topic of our conversation shall be, though I can surely guess," Richard stated. "My wife, correct?"
"It does concern Mary, yes," Matthew nodded.
"What could you possibly have to tell me about your cousin that required such theatrics?" Richard asked.
"Firstly, we both know that she is not my cousin," Matthew answered, looking at him unwaveringly. "Secondly, we also both know why I would want to talk to you about her. This will all go far more smoothly if you at least attempt to not be as deceptive and manipulative as you normally are."
Richard glared at him with rage in his eyes.
"More Scotch, Sir Richard?" a waiter asked innocently, coming over to the table and gesturing towards his empty glass.
"Make it a double," Matthew ordered, keeping his hard stare on Carlisle's frowning face. "We're going to be here for a while."