So sorry for the late update, computer was on the blink :( Hope you enjoy this chapter. I wanted to explore more of Hester and Mary/Edith in this chapter so don't worry if you expected to see more of Branson and whoever popped up last time, you will. Again let me know what you think, it's really helppful for writing the next chapters to see which bits you like. Enjoy and review!

Chapter 10:

12th March 1930.

Coming back down the stairs for luncheon, Mary halted as she found her sister-in-law standing in the great hall, relieved that she'd finally bumped into the woman. Not too relieved, however, as she dreaded the conversation they were to have. Hester had been in residence at Downton for a month. The original plan had been a week, perhaps a fortnight. No invitation had been extended and no request made, and yet Richard's sister still remained under the Earl of Grantham's roof and seemed unhurried to remove herself.

All of this would have been fine had the Crawleys cared for the woman's company, but Hester Carlisle could be trying, to say the least. Her manners were often crude and the way in which she spoke to the servants was near embarrassing; she clearly thought very highly of herself. She had no qualms about making herself very at home and undermined the adults of the house by spoiling Peter and Emily far too much. Yet, it left many wondering as to why because she displayed no sincere affection for the children. Then, of course, there was the sanctimonious nature of character accompanied by a nice dollop of Catholic hypocrisy. Hester was quick to correct and scold anyone for boasting or being cheeky, but such discipline was forgotten when it came to herself. Her attempts to discipline her niece and nephew had been ignored in order to avoid an argument, but many were growing tired of playing nice.

Violet, of course, had longed since tired of playing nice. She hadn't bothered with the pastime since before the turn of the 20th century and she had no plans to alter her behaviour. But her coldness and her quick putting down of all Miss Carlisle's attempts at civility were not without reason. In fact, her daughter-in-law and her son were also rather sharp with their guest. Everyone was, apart from Mary.

Because under that goofy exterior of social faux pas and the reek of cheap perfume, there was a woman who certainly knew what she was doing. No one related to Richard Carlisle could be lacking in calculation and in shrewdness. Fortunately, intelligence wasn't lacking among Downton either and it was abundantly obvious that Hester wasn't hovering around because she had nothing else better to do. She wanted something.

And with Mary suddenly unwilling to confront or argue with her sister-in-law, the Crawleys – young and old - all agreed that it was best if Hester should make a relatively quick exit.

Mary sighed inwardly, coming to the foot of the stairs and bracing herself. "Hester, I was hoping to speak with…" She trailed off, as Hester began putting on her gloves. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Into Ripon, hopefully – thought I'd see what Yorkshire has to offer." Hester smiled pleasantly. Mary raised an eyebrow; she was too grief-stricken to leave Downton, but not enough to forgo shopping. And Ripon was hardly Yorkshire's best offering. Hester's smile turned placating. "Of course, I want to buy something nice for the children, as well. In such times, a little spoiling can't hurt. Care to join?"

"I won't, if you'll forgive me." Mary said quietly, her eyes appraising her sister-in-law. She seemed to be dithering a little. "Sybil's thinking of leaving for London soon, so I would like to spend all my time here for now – is there a problem?"

Hester licked her lips guiltily. "My driver isn't able to take me."

"Well, I should hope not." Mary offered, conversationally. "You came here by train – God willing your chauffeur is still alive and well in Edinburgh." Hester said nothing to that; Mary swallowed uncomfortably, wondering if she had a chauffeur at all. "I'm sure my father's man can take you."

"Apparently not."

Mary blinked. Oh. Hester's face seemed unfazed, but there was definitely a chill in her tone. Papa and Matthew were in York for the day, attending to estate business, but they had decided to take the train. His man was available to drive anyone around, unless expressing told otherwise. Hester had used the car thrice this week – plainly, her father had said enough was enough. Any pretence of a warm welcome was at an end. Downton wanted Hester gone. Again, Mary swallowed nervously, her sister-in-law's eyes boring into her, waiting for her to say something.

"I see."

Not exactly the sympathetic answer Hester had been expecting, no doubt. "Dick's man isn't here?" She asked casually, but her eyes did not leave Mary's. "Poor bastard," Mary flinched, "only now am I beginning to wonder how unhappy a man must be to take his own life like that? How he must have-"

"Gable is here and he'd be happy to take you." Mary blurted, desperate for the other woman to stop. She feigned a smile. "He's only had Emily and Peter to drive back and from school – you'll be a breath of fresh air."

Hester raised an amused eyebrow at that, but let it be. "Thanks ever so."

"Hester, I…" The older woman gave Mary her full attention, her eyes once again trained on her ,"do you have plans for…for your return back to Scotland, perhaps? Only…"

Hester smirked, as Mary seemed to almost shuffle on the bottom step. "I've outstayed my welcome."

Mary's eyes widened. "Not at all. It's just that I don't even know how long I plan to remain here and so I didn't-"

"I do envy you." Hester drawled, coming closer. "Where I live, it's so provincial, but Dick was never too keen on my moving to London – he never wanted me to be too close. I was, I still am, the sole person living who knew him before. Before all the money and the newspapers and the knighthood – he didn't like that." Her head shook imperceptibly, bitterly. "He certainly didn't like to be reminded of where he came from. But you…" Mary almost cowered at the way she spoke, ready to be accused, "to be loved and cherished, so well protected by this family." Resting a hand on the bottom of the banister, Hester let that hang in the air for a moment before tilting her head to the side, almost intrigued. "Although, you must miss your dear Matthew - I hear he's with Robert on business…" Mary looked down at the ground and then back up – the accusation now out loud for all to hear. My brother died mere months ago, yet you already have your eyes on Matthew Crawley. Mary sighed; she didn't need Hester to make her feel guilty about that, she was doing a fine job herself. "If you would like me to leave, I have no qualms about-"

"No." Mary shook her head, resigned, as if by enduring the presence of such a venomous woman would be some sort of penance for her heart's infidelity. "No, you're family and you're the only link for the children to Richard and his side of the family. I don't doubt that you have many lovely stories yet to share with them, perhaps of Richard's childhood…"

"Not that many – he was always quite a solemn boy." Hester decided, abruptly; her mood having perked up at securing her stay for some time yet. "Maybe that's where it all went wrong."

But these constant allusions to Richard's suicide and the punishment awaiting him were harder to endure. Mary's face turned hard. "He was dying, Hester."

Hester blinked, surprised at the sudden burst of defiance but then seemed to be more amused by it than anything else. Mary tried not to look insulted, but soon Hester's eyes were on her once more. Those icy blue eyes which pierced the soul and could unlock all sorts of secrets. Richard's eyes. And therein, lied the reason behind Mary's growing reluctance to dismiss and defy the woman. There was so much about Hester that was like her brother, the darker side of Richard which Mary often put to the back of her mind during their marriage. He hadn't got to the highest echelons of British society through hard work and sheer luck alone; there are dirty prices to be paid for success and wealth and fame and Richard had paid them in full. That veneer of steel, Richard had had it in spades and Hester did as well.

Hester Carlisle had the Crawleys concerned but had Mary scared. Richard's love for and loyalty to Mary meant his occasionally vicious nature was aimed elsewhere; she doubted that Hester would hesitate to destroy everything she held dear for personal gain. For now, Mary thought it unwise to aggravate the woman unnecessarily, that and it would take time before she could look into those eyes without being haunted by Richard.

"Aren't we all…" Hester offered noncommittally, reluctant to blink as if she knew the current sway she had over her sister-in-law. But before Mary could ponder on that too much, Hester's attention turned to the footman in the room; the younger woman grinded her teeth, as Hester clicked her fingers. "Well man, don't just stand there – have Gable bring the car around!"

Mary almost groaned at the look of anticipation her mother sent her – as well as the one of somehow bored interest from her grandmother – as she entered the dining room. She paused only a moment, before taking her seat.

"Did you see Hester on her way out?" Cora inquired, cutting straight to the chase as she lay her napkin down on her lap.

"I did."

"Good," Cora said relieved, smiling in gratitude as Carson offered her sauce for her sea bass, "and you spoke with her about her leaving? I assume that you offered until the end of the week."

"Seeing as she was due to leave a fortnight ago," Violet said dryly, sipping her wine, "I would have thought an offer until noon would have sufficed."

Cora sighed inwardly at her mother-in-law's, of course, unreasonable suggestion, but she couldn't help but agree with the sentiment. That woman needed to go back to Scotland, preferably as soon as possible. She waited for her daughter's answer, but a feeling of unease settled over her as her eldest's eyes seemed to be trained on her plate. "Mary?" She asked cautiously, warningly.

Mary glanced up at her mother, her brow furrowed guiltily as it had done when she was a child. "It may be a little longer than that."

Cora sat back in her chair, aghast. This was the third time that Mary had proven incapable of sending Hester Carlisle packing. Violet merely raised her eyebrows, her eyes narrowing. "I don't understand, you've aimed that sharp tongue of yours at much less deserving targets - what has the Scotswoman done to deserve your clemency?

Mary rolled her eyes at that, but didn't argue with her grandmother. Granny had a point. Still, she went for defensive sarcasm. "Is it such an incredible notion that Richard's death may have given me a fresh perspective on what's truly important? Like family, for example."

"She is as much your flesh and blood as old Isis is over here," Violet said unsympathetically, jerking her head slightly to the old Labrador who sat in the corner where Carson stood; Isis' ears pricked up at hearing her name, "and frankly, given the choice, I think that I'd rather be related to-"

"Yes thank you, Mama." Cora interrupted, unwilling to stray down the path of insults. "Mary, you must see that she cannot stay here indefinitely."

"I know," Mary admitted, suddenly needing to sip from her glass of wine, "but I feel wretched simply-"

"Guilt." Violet said decidedly. "A Catholic specialty and Miss Carlisle seems to be laying it on thick." The old dowager put a hand up to silence any protests Mary might have. "I understand that you loved him, but it must be admitted that one of Richard's more irritating qualities, shall we say, was his ability to manipulate, no?"

Cora sighed impatiently; insulting Richard certainly wasn't going to persuade Mary of their case. "Mama, really-"

But Violet was unperturbed. "I think we've seen more than enough to know it's hereditary."

Yes, yes, Hester wasn't a very nice lady, Mary knew that. Did her family think she was blind? "I'm being played with and used; I'm aware of the fact." A look of reluctance settled on Mary's features; something was holding her back. Maybe it was guilt, but Hester was Richard's family, his only family and it felt wrong to simply shut her out. "But she is trying with the children and…she reminds me of Richard. And all it took was some time for him to show his true colours."

"One should never be optimistic about the true colours of others, my dear." Violet advised, but knew it was a waste of effort to try to change her granddaughter's mind for now. When a Crawley's mind was set, there was no changing it; she could only hope Mary would see the error of her ways. Violet prayed the error's price wasn't too high. "But I don't doubt you'll find that out for yourself."

"Mary, I don't see why she needs to reveal those colours here." Cora tried, her palms already starting to sweat at the notion that this ghastly crude woman was to stay in her home for longer. "How am I supposed to entertain with Hester? She enjoys discussing money and debating who in the room is going to Hell – these aren't suitable topics for dinner!"

"Who's Hester?" Violet looked up, frowning.

Mary sighed; Granny's powers of remembrance were most definitely waning. "Miss Carlisle, Granny."

"But I thought her name was-"

"Helen, yes I know – it's not." Cora said sharply, beyond irritated that Mary had failed in her task.

Mary looked at her mother, apologetically. "She'll leave soon. She's rude but she isn't foolish; she understands who controls the purse strings now."

"Which is why I'm baffled as to how Hester is able to have influence over you." Cora tried one last time, losing her appetite, but knowing all of this was related to Mary's feelings about Richard somehow. "You have nothing to prove."

"Don't I?" Mary snapped, her own impatience getting the better of her. She pinched the bridge of her nose and willed herself to remain calm. "No guest stays forever, Mama." She offered quietly.

Cora barked a laugh at that, tired of how Richard's death was determined to cast a permanent cloud over Downton. She glanced wryly at her mother-in-law: the permanent houseguest. "I won't hold my breath."

Both Mary's and Violet's lips pursed at the comment; the former, to prevent a smile, the latter, in annoyance. Violet sighed, looking across to Mary. "I do so sleep peacefully at night, knowing everyone in this house wishes me good health."

Cora rolled her eyes but said nothing. She waited a few moments for Mary's assurances of Hester's exit, if not this week then next, but it wasn't to be. "Well, that's that, then." She said, rather petulantly, already dreading having to explain this to Robert. Again, she paused; Violet looked intrigued, waiting for fireworks between the pair, but Mary stayed wisely quiet. Sighing resignedly, Cora went back to her plate.

"You are aware that she wants to take the children to Harrogate this Saturday next?" Cora complained, expecting some sort of a reaction, a voice belying, what she considered to be, Hester's audaciousness.

Reaching for her wine, Mary could feel her jaw clenching, her words coming out punctured and terse. "I am, yes."

Cora's nostrils flared at her daughter's dogged expression, but she stayed calm. "Fine, but your father has organised Peter's first shoot for then; she'll have to take them another day."

Mary's jaw dropped. She looked at her grandmother incredulously; Violet hid well whether or not she was privy to her son's plans. Mary shook her head, amazed. Here was the true crux of the problem. Her mother didn't care for how well her children had taken to their aunt. It wasn't that Hester now had influence, it was that her influence caused the waning of her parents' influence. Her Mama was painting Hester as the impolite to the point of boorish sister-in-law, they all were and yet it was Hester who had the good manners to inquire if she could take the children to Harrogate, whilst Papa had organised for Peter's first shoot without so much as a mention.

A shoot? Mary considered, feeling her temper start to rise. Her father would be damned if he'd let little Peter go not properly dressed for the occasion which meant that he'd have sent for the tailor. Which meant that this had all been in the works for some time. She didn't even know why she was shocked anymore, so quick they were to take liberties. After all, Cora had employed the services of a violin teacher for Emily – if Emily was to get a stringed instrument, why shouldn't her six year old son be given an instrument with the means to kill? Who the hell did they think they were simply taking charge? This wasn't the flower show or some issue on the estate, these were her children – Mary's and no one else's and grandparents had no right to simply make plans without the mother's consent or knowledge.

She glanced up at Carson for support, a stoic vision as always but Mary was sure one of his eyes twitched a bit. It was the old faithful butler who'd apprised – very objectively, of course – Mary of what was going on. Of how Master Peter was in the library with a Latin tutor and Miss Emily was nowhere to be found because Lady Grantham had decided to take her into the village. This was her family! And to assume that Mary would simply acquiesce to her mother's plans – how presumptuous, how American, and Mary felt sick just looking at her. She'd come to accept that Matthew was the son her father had never had, but that wasn't what she wanted for Rabbit. She didn't want any of it. The gratitude for any support from her family was quickly being corroded and replaced with resentment and nostalgia for her life across the pond.

Mary shook her head in amazement at how the planned month stay at her old childhood home had turned into five. Five months, was that all? She'd felt like she'd aged twenty years. "My son's first shoot - I do appreciate being kept so well informed as to what my son does," she said dryly, clipped; Cora looked up from her plate, perplexed at the problem. "If you can see to my children, then you can see to my sister-in-law."

13th March 1930.

Settling back into his seat, Robert breathed an exhausted sigh at a job well done, as the station of York began to pass by their carriage window. "Well, I think we did rather well today, don't you?"

Matthew nodded at Robert, opposite him. "Quite." They'd gone into the city in order to buy the machinery needed to modernise the estate's farms and all came at a very reasonable price. Although, they hadn't bought as much as they had wanted; with the economy the way it was, it felt right to leave most money for a rainy day. However, instead of feeling a sense of achievement after their business dealings, both men were leaving York somewhat gloomy, the foreboding of the city seeping into the very fibres of their clothing. These were tough times, no doubt about that. "I feel like we almost robbed the man – his prices had dropped so."

"Yes, there's something certainly melancholic hanging in the air." Robert agreed, reluctantly. "As if the city is already lamenting the grandeur of what was and is anticipating the difficulties to come. I expect London is much the same. The Earl of Pembroke said the Lords are on edge, on edge because the Commons is on edge - regardless of all the mundane party politics -," He tried to joke wryly, before his mind wandered off somberly, "and Reggie never usually worries for that sort of thing. There's certainly cause for concern."

"Then," Matthew pondered, thinking back to Downton and Mary and why the estate had the means to buy anything, "I suppose we should thank God for Richard."

Robert raised his eyebrows, but didn't disagree, the corner of his mouth dragged up drily. "And his pots of money."

Having been privy to figures himself, even Matthew had to twitch his lips at that. "Hear, hear."

Sharing another amused look, Robert sighed again, thinking about what he was returning to. "I'm less thankful for his sister, however." He commented, almost petulantly, crossing his legs casually. "Cora and I assumed that she was only staying put to increase her share of Richard's – or should I say Dick's – estate, but now…" He pursed his lips nervously, "- she's playing a game, of what sort I'm unsure."

Matthew frowned, concerned to see the older man seemingly worried. "But she's not dangerous, surely?"

Looking at Matthew, Robert almost smiled at his naivety, the man's cynicism having fallen to wayside since Mary's return. "Richard was not dangerous solely because he loved my daughter – he couldn't help but be on our side. I would have hated to have had that man as my enemy." He said seriously, before sighing again, "Hester Carlisle, I don't know what she's after…"

And neither did Matthew. He didn't know anything about the woman. At first, Hester had been on the verge of rude and came across as rather idiotic, but by the end of the week, it became clearer that there was more to Hester Carlisle than met the eye. Matthew had no clue as to her agenda and frankly, he wasn't sure that he wanted to know. Peter seemed enthralled by her though. She smells odd, but I like her stories. Did you know that Grandpa Mark was a pirate? Well, Hester lied – Matthew knew that much.

But Matthew found that he couldn't really care. Ever since Sybil had turned up and talked some sense into her, Mary had really come into her own. The funeral had been dreadful, of course, but she'd done well since then. She smiled more, he'd noticed that. He always did notice it when Mary smiled.

"Hmmm, Mary seems brighter."

"That she does," Robert smiled, happy to think of pleasanter things and grinning inwardly at where Matthew's mind was, "I believe that you've played a part in that." Matthew's eyes widened a little, but Robert put his hand up to assuage him. "It's alright. I'm not as blind as my wife and mother think I am – I've seen the changes in you both since Mary returned home." He held out his hands understandingly. "You love each other still."

Matthew nearly gulped. "We do."

"Yet you are to take no action?"

Matthew blinked at the direct question, having expected a rap on the knuckles for feeling about Mary as he did at such a time. And then he actually considered the question. Robert wanted him to do something about it. Was he insane? Richard shot himself a little over two months ago. Not only was iy wholly inappropriate, but it wasn't Robert's place to question him about the matter at all.

"Has his grave even been filled yet?" Matthew asked, feeling rather affronted.

"Alright," Robert admitted, seeing a flash of ire, "but you love each other and have done for nearly twenty years, so I take it that it's been agreed, when an acceptable amount of time has passed you'll…"

Matthew waited for him to say more, but evidently cousin Robert thought the rest was implied. "Reignite the old flame?" Matthew said, incredulous of what they were speaking. "You make it sound so simple."

"That's because it is."

Matthew looked at Robert hard, but the older man looked as comfortably certain as he ever did. His indignation wilted as he turned wistful."Is it? My mother believes I'm wasting my time, my life even, on your daughter. That whatever Mary and I share, it's…" He grimaced at the thought, but it had taken hold, "almost toxic in its nature. Here I am, a bachelor at forty-"

"Your birthday isn't for another month." Robert insisted, waving him off. Matthew smiled tiredly at his optimism. He'd had that once and he wondered, whether it was having the woman Robert loved by his side, which kept the Earl of Grantham with a far more youthful, hopeful view of life than he had.

It wasn't too late. He could still marry and have children, all with a woman who he hadn't shared a turbulent history with and a husband six feet under.

"…Mother wants me to pursue Georgina Litton." He rolled eyes at his very words, what a mummy's boy he must sound like.

"Yes, yes I remember." Robert recollected after a moment, sitting up straighter in his seat at the mention of another woman. "I'm afraid that I cannot offer you any advice without bias on that score. No woman is superior to my Mary." He said proudly, as if it were obvious. Another thought struck him."She's young, to be sure, but Mary never had any problems in that department. It was Richard who insisted they stop after Peter, he'd just had his fiftieth – anyone can see how pleased Mary is to have baby Imogen around-"

"I don't care for any of that." Matthew snapped, finally realizing what Robert was getting at and insulted at the presumption. "I'd happily die without any children of my own and leave the earldom to any Tom, Dick or Harry, if I could be with Mary."

Robert's eyes softened at the romance of it, but a smug smile still came across his face – that answered that. No Georgina Litton or any other woman could come close, so there was no point in trying. Matthew groaned at being caught out in such a way.

"Then, what is keeping you?"

Matthew almost clucked his tongue at the other's man relentless questions, but instead just pinched his nose tiredly. "…She needs more time to grieve-"

"I don't doubt it," Robert agreed calmly, feeling he was nearing the root of the issue, "but that is not what is holding you back."

Matthew's mouth opened to snap, but he closed it abruptly, huffing a sigh. Robert smirked slightly, the boy could get ever so flustered. Leaning forward in his seat, Matthew grimaced. "…I hate to paraphrase my mother again, but perhaps this isn't another chance for Mary and I. Perhaps all this has been only an infatuation, a chase." Robert's smirk was unwavering. Matthew gritted his teeth. "Perhaps the idea of being with Mary is far more glorious than ever truly being with her would be."

Robert crossed his arms, unperturbed. "Do you really believe that?"

A small shrug, it hurt to admit it. "Our love hurt her marriage and has kept me from moving on with my life."

"Well, you two do seem to have the propensity to make each other miserable, I'll give you that." Robert replied; Matthew wondered at why the smirk was still there. "But you're both miserable, because you've been kept apart." Matthew nodded slightly at his words, but still looked…well, miserable. The smirk fading, Robert felt for the poor man. "When you were at war, when you came back wounded - I've never seen a woman love better or harder than Mary did, and all without the hope of you ever returning it." Matthew looked up at that, a little surprised, his memory drawn back to a time he'd tried to forget. When he'd been bound to a wheelchair – and when Mary had played the nursemaid. Unaware of his musings, Robert carried on. "Forgive me, if I think it all is so easily solved. You love her and she you, the children love you-"

Matthew raised an eyebrow, interrupting to correct him."Peter loves me-"

"And Emily will love you too." Robert insisted, determinedly. "She's very observant; she saw the spark between you two when her father was still alive and she didn't care for it, and rightly so. But she's a kind-hearted girl, though she tries not to show it, and Emmy is smart enough to see that you make her Mama happy. It'll be good enough for her," Robert smiled softly, clapping Matthew gently on the shoulder, "– it's good enough for me. You've spent almost half of your life in love with my daughter, you might as well see it through."

Matthew barked a laugh. That he had. And it wasn't ever going to change and he wasn't ever going to want anyone else. He might as well be happy – he might as well start now. And then he felt it. A lifting from his chest as something he hadn't felt in a long time took a firm hold. Hope. And it felt right. No, more than that - it felt like it was about bloody time. "Well, when you put it like that…"

Slowly pushing the ajar door open further, Edith raised her eyebrows incredulously at the scene before her. Hester Carlisle, in Mary's room, with her hands rifling through a bedside cabinet. Edith shook her head as the older woman went on unknowingly. Finally, Miss Carlisle was revealing herself as the sneak that she really was. All these weeks of coy smiles and thinly veiled insults as if she were the silliest woman in the world, as if she were only here to comfort and couldn't help but make a bad job of it, as if she didn't have an ounce of intelligence and merely spouted pious rubbish, when in fact – well, in Edith's opinion, at least – she was nothing more or less than a crafty bitch.

Much love may or may not be lost between Edith and Mary. They snapped and chided, argued and insulted, they had wished each other ill, they had both done things that neither were proud of, but with age and wisdom came an unspoken agreement. That all sisterly disputes would be forgotten when someone outside of the family decide to snap, chide or argue, when someone else wished a sister ill.

Edith didn't need to be a genius to see that Hester wanted to harm Mary in some way, and that just simply wasn't going to happen.

"If you're looking for Mary," Edith said, hiding a smirk as Hester whipped around, startled, "you should find her in the library…not in the drawer, I'm afraid."

Hester's shock at being caught in the act was too painfully obvious. Taking a moment, to be still her racing heart undoubtedly, Hester managed to choke out some words. "…the library, you say?"

Edith smiled thinly."She's penning a letter and you are…?" She drawled, questioningly, interested to see how the snake would worm her way out of this.

"Emily couldn't find her book." Hester said, licking her lips, that chirpy mask coming back into place, "I promised her that I'd search high and low, that I won't rest until I find it."

"Naturally." Edith commented, as she leant against the doorframe. "Do you have my sister's permission to ransack her room?"

"I'm not," Hester stopped; Edith felt that she could see the cogs turning, the reconsideration of her defence, "– I didn't think she'd mind. After all, Mary and I are sisters too."

"A sister minds most of all." Edith corrected her, struggling not to snarl at the woman. "Did you find it?" She almost laughed out loud at the question in Hester's eyes. She was drowning, having been caught so off guard. "Emmy's book?"

"No, no, I'm afraid not." Hester breathed, swallowing, eager to be gone. She stepped forward to leave. "Best check the nursery again."

"Is everything alright?" Both women turned as Sybil came casually to the door, bouncing her youngest on her hip. She frowned, not seeing Mary in the room and wondering as to their reason for being there.

"Yes, my niece – our niece, I should say – has lost…" Hester's feigned cheerfulness dispersed as her eyes were drawn to the elder sister, Edith's eyes rolling, completely disbelieving. "It doesn't matter, it's not here."

"Oh but it does. You won't be resting until you find what you're looking for." Edith said, a tone holding no doubt. Hester's nostrils flared, but she chose to stay silent, keeping her cards close to her chest. The look they shared spoke volumes. Edith knew what Hester was about, knew what Hester could possibly be capable of and, most importantly, would do everything she could to stand in Hester's way.

Settling for a smile once more, Hester knew there was no point in trying to win over the relatives; they were all stubborn and rather mistrustful. Eager to quit the room lest Mary stumble across them, she marched out, only stopping to tickle Imogen's cheek and murmur, "such a bonnie baby."

Sybil nodded in absentminded thanks, but her eyes were trained on her sister, waiting patiently to speak until Hester had long left the room. "What did she really want?"

Edith heaved a sigh, mystified as to why Miss Carlisle – with a devious mind and nosy character to rival her brother's – was still staying at Downton. "That woman could not be less trustworthy."

Sybil grinned at that. "How long did it take you to reach that conclusion?"

Mary's eyes flicked up briefly from her page, as she heard the library door creak open, a small frown furrowing her pretty brow as she saw it was Edith who was disturbing her solitude. Assuming her sister wanted nothing more than a book, she went back to her letter, her lips pursed as she reread her last line. A moment or two later, Mary blinked up in surprise as she felt her sister coming to hover beside her at their father's desk, Edith's fingers gently going to the lilies in the vase, a gesture from their Aunt Rosamund and a sorry excuse for not having attended the funeral.

"Pretty…" Edith murmured before stepping back, unsure what to do with herself. Mary tried to continue, but couldn't, distracted. Her eyes looked up to Edith as she seemed to deliberate with herself for a moment. Mary raised an impatient eyebrow. "To whom are you writing?"

Her sister's attempt at nonchalance was certainly poor, but Mary decided to humour her. Edith couldn't care less about the letter; she visibly had something on her mind. Mary knew that look too well – her mother had entered her bedroom many times throughout the years with that look. "You are becoming more and more like Mama each day," Mary commented, forcing away a smile as Edith blinked, offended, knowing Mary's words were meant as an insult, "and I am writing to Evelyn Napier. He sent a lovely letter extending his condolences, and I wanted to tell him how we all were."

"Evelyn Napier!" Edith blinked again, this time surprised. She shook her head slightly, caught up in the past, as she remembered how once upon time, Mary thought Mr. Napier to be her Perseus…and Matthew to be the sea monster. "He seems almost from another life now – I didn't know that you'd remained friends."

Edith's smile was fairly friendly and unassuming, but Mary wasn't really in the mood to entertain her sister by dawdling around whatever it was that she really wanted to say. Edith didn't give a fig about her sister's friends. After all that had happened in her life, especially in recent times, Mary was more and more sure that forced civility and feigned interest was a complete waste of time. Sighing, she put her pen down and turned to her sister face on. "Was there something you wanted?"

Edith's eyes hit the floor briefly, embarrassed at how quickly her ruse had come to an end. So much for simply slipping it into conversation. Standing up a little straighter, she met her sister's gaze again. "Why is she still here?"

It was, of course, the inevitable question, but Mary had hoped it was to be of something else. She sighed, tiredly scratching her forehead. "I shan't bother asking you to clarify as to which she you mean…"

"As soon as she turned up here," Edith said determinedly, ignoring Mary's obvious reluctance to explore this topic further, "you couldn't wait for Hester to leave and now...?" She shrugged, waiting for Mary to fill in the blanks.

Mary's jaw clenched, almost affronted at the idea she had to explain herself at all. Mama's questions were fair; it was her house. Edith only visited once or twice a week and had shown close to no interest in her sister's life in the last ten years, why should it concern her at all? Closing her eyes patiently, Mary decided to offer some explanation. "I do not wish to cut all ties with Richard's family by dismissing Hester like a servant; besides, the children like her -"

"Peter finds it impossible to dislike anybody; Emily thinks her comical." Edith interrupted bluntly, thinking her sister's reasons shamefully hollow. She leant forward, trying to impart the seriousness of the situation. "She knows something or, at least, she thinks she does and she is digging for proof."

"I see, Miss Marple," Mary snapped sarcastically, "and what do you think this something is?"

Edith's nostrils flared at her sister's tone, a split moment spent on wondering why she was bothering, but the urge to protect was too strong. And she couldn't ignore the flicker of fear in her sister's eyes. Mary knew it, too. Hester wasn't here to grief and comfort, she had other plans. Biting the inside of her cheek, Edith leant forward further still, her voice dropping."Is there any chance that Richard spoke of…" Her eyes avoided her sister's gaze, "of the Turk to his sister?"

Mary raised an eyebrow, unsurprised by the question, the same thought having entered her own mind, and quite amused by her sister's concern. She supposed it was dreadfully salacious, having had an exotic lover who tragically died in their passionate embrace, but it wouldn't destroy her reputation by any means. At least not with her set. The most conservative aristocrats would probably blacklist her, but then again they had all done that when she'd married a middle-class businessman anyway, no matter how rich he was. It was coming to the point where Mary was having to remind herself that her lovers' tryst wasn't common knowledge – she'd spoken of it so often. "I find it terribly queer that you're whispering, seeing as it was your meddling that saw to it that anyone outside the family knew about the Turk in the first place."

Edith held her breath at the accusation and the truth of it, but was relieved to see there was no real malice to her words or hurt in her tone. Mary was exasperated, yes, but she'd put behind her her sister's actions from all those years ago. In fact, Mary thought wryly, if their places had been reversed, she was quite sure that she'd have done the same. Still, she couldn't help but derive some satisfaction from Edith's need to justify herself. "I was naïve and spiteful. Does that satisfy you?"

"An apology would have been adequate." Mary shrugged carelessly; Edith simply rolled her eyes.

With a sour look, Mary went back to looking at her letter, but Edith couldn't ignore the rigidity to her shoulders or the terseness of her words. That fear in her sister's eyes was still flickering away."You seem frightened."

Mary's head shot up, those three words catching her attention more than anything else her sister had said. A dark look passed across her face, affronted didn't come close. "I am not frightened of Hester Carlisle." Each word punctured the air clearly.

A lesser woman would have cowered at Mary's tone, but Edith was not to be deterred, having been on the receiving end of it many times. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully, her sister seemed to speak with conviction. But she was close to hitting the nail on the head. She pursed her lips, coming to the only logical conclusion she could think of, but not understanding it. "You're frightened of her leaving though."

Mary's silence was telling and her tongue hit the roof of her mouth to stop herself from squirming as smugness settled on Edith's features. She was frightened of Hester leaving. Even though the woman could make Mary's skin crawl, her presence seemed preferable to the alternative. The alternative being she, alone, with the children and with her parents and grandmother. As it had been before Richard had returned, sick. Only now the prospect of Richard's return was an impossibility, or the threat of his return as far as her family were concerned. No one to stand in the way of Mary being absorbed into Downton once more, where Lord Grantham laid down the law and Lady Grantham did her best to enforce it.

It had been an estate that she had dreamed of inheriting for the entirety of her youth and still to this today had her heart, but Downton was slowly starting to resemble a prison, its walls closing in on her. As they had done when Richard was away, her family were treating her as the maiden she once was rather than the widow she was today. They were taking liberties, making decisions on her behalf, and worse still, making decisions on behalf of her children. The dust had settled after Richard's passing and the elder members of the family, at least, had decided it best to move forward by refusing to look back – no one mentioned Richard unless Mary or the children did. And it made Mary feel quite sick to the stomach.

Looking patiently back up at her sister, trying not to feel keenly the disadvantage of sitting down, Mary was honest, letting her irritation show. "Papa has had his tailor fit Peter for his first shoot and Mama has taken it upon herself to have a Mr. Laurence come to the house every Thursday and teach my daughter the violin."

A quirk of Edith's eyebrow and Mary thought for a moment that she had it, that she understood. But if her sister had, it was over in a flash. Mary searched her sister's expression for it again, but to no avail. Edith's life, so close to Downton, was already so intertwined with that of her family. Any presumptions on her parents' part were always dismissed as sweet gestures because Edith valued their interest, so eager she was to please. Edith wasn't exactly decisive and Anthony could be painfully indifferent, so the worlds of the Strallans and the Crawleys had merged happily. "Not the violin, Mary." Edith drawled, not truly understanding the turn in conversation. Mary let her eyes flutter closed with resigned acceptance, forcing down the disturbing dismay she felt at Edith not getting it. "It'll be years before your ears stop bleeding; I've got Margo learning the piano instead."

Mary nodded slowly, opening her eyes again. She waited for more, but her sister had nothing else. Neither did she. She turned back to the desk. "Hester will leave when she's good and ready."

"Or when she has found what she is looking for." Edith insisted in a goading fashion as if she knew her dismissal was imminent.

"Edith," Mary started, ready to say something cutting, but stopped herself, motherhood having improved her patience. She sighed, not wanting to bicker. "Please leave. I wish to finish my letter in peace."

It was polite enough but it still stung, though Edith didn't show it. She was trying to help and Mary was throwing it in her face. Only, as often was the case with Mary, Edith knew there was more to it, that her sister was bottling something up inside. She stood, waiting, but Mary chose to ignore her and went back to her pen. Clenching her fists down by her sides, Edith pondered why she bothered to care at all, but knowing she couldn't not. Yet, their wires were perpetually crossed. They had been ever since childhood when their father and Cousin James had mentioned in passing that Mary and Patrick were promised to one another. So many things unspoken, if they just learned to talk and share – everything could be different. A true friendship, perhaps. But here they were again; Mary wasn't forthcoming and Edith was tired of guessing. Walking back to the door, she waited until Mary looked up to check she was leaving. Their eyes met and Edith held her hands out desperately, wanting her sister to know that she'd given it her best shot. "I never understand you and you never explain yourself."

Mary narrowed her eyes as she watched the scene before her, her sister-in-law attempting croquet with Peter and Emily on the lawn. There seemed to be smiles all round. Her son loved any sort of game and Emily loved any sort of game where she could win; even Hester was enjoying herself. Then again, Mary thought shrewdly, the woman's eyes did seem drawn regularly to the front window where Mary stood – Hester knew she was being watched and undoubtedly smiled wider because of it.

Mary's eyes were quickly diverted, however as she noticed a car driving up; her father was back. She wasn't surprised to see Matthew get out with him, invited up for dinner no doubt. They, too, seemed in an excellent mood, no doubt their business had gone well, not that Mary was ever really told what their estate business was about. She stepped back from the window and smiled somewhat wearily as Carson let them in, taking their hats and light coats. Robert's eyes lit up at seeing his daughter there to greet him, kissing her on the cheek."Do my eyes deceive me or is Miss Carlisle on the lawn playing with my grandchildren?"

His tone was playful, but his words still bristled her. "With my children, yes." He blinked a little at her sharpness, but wisely chose to remain quiet. She sighed tiredly, apologetically. "Please, take it up with Mama. I've heard enough complaints."

Glancing amusedly at Matthew, Robert nodded acquiescently, deciding to greet his wife and mother. Matthew smiled, albeit somewhat timidly, uneager to provoke Mary further.

She could have glared at him for his wariness, but decided to be pleasant. "Did you find everything that you needed?"

"Yes, yes all our transactions were very successful. Your husband's money has been put to good use." Matthew nodded happily; Mary almost rolled her eyes at his vague words, but appreciated his mentioning of Richard. It was ironic really that the man who Richard disliked more than anyone else in the world was the only man in the house who spoke best of him. "Anything the matter?" Matthew asked casually, sensing her troubled mood. He came to stand by her at the window, curiously looking out to see what had caught her attention so. Ah. "Your father believes Hester is up to something."

"As does everyone." Mary said dispassionately, turning back to the window as well. "As do I."

"So," Matthew frowned, confused, "keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer?"

"Perhaps." Mary offered, watching as Hester patted Peter's head quite affectionately, in a matron-like fashion unlike her brother, but those resemblances…"There's so much of Richard about her. I'm pathetically hoping that she shares some of his finer qualities too."

"Why?"

Why? Now, there was a good question. In her day-to-day life in which there were suddenly more people in it with so many opinions and voices, why did she want one more in the mix? Of a woman who she knew that she didn't like, who Richard had never particularly cared for – a woman she knew to have ulterior motives? Maybe it was because, Hester's motives – however malicious they were or weren't – didn't get on her goat the way her family's interference in the lives of her children did. How dare they take it upon themselves to organise her children's lives without her consent. She wasn't a child anymore and Richard wasn't simply a beau who'd gone on to pastures new – he had been her husband, her keeper. Now, he was her late husband and Mary was in charge of her own life and destiny as well as her children. If her father didn't want to inform her about the goings-on with regards to Downton, that was his choice to make. Matthew was the heir and she'd made peace with that. It wasn't her concern. Just as there was some things that weren't her family's concern. Mary clucked her tongue as it suddenly occurred to her that a date really needed to be set on when they were to leave. "Did Papa mention all his grand plans for Rabbit?"

Matthew's eyebrows rose at the sudden change of topic, but not for long, he'd heard – many times – of what a thrill it shall be to take my boy on his first shoot. Mary's heart fell that little bit more in love with him as his eyes filled with understanding. He nodded slowly. "Your parents are stepping on your toes."

"Yes, they are." She agreed pointlessly, raising a wry eyebrow. "Don't forget Granny, as well."

"Impossible."

Mary's eyes twinkled at Matthew as a ghost of a playful smile danced on his face, her mood lifting. The last few days had been trying, all her family determined to see Hester gone – and all griping to Mary about it. They all perceived Miss Carlisle to be a threat to the family, one that needed eradicating as soon as possible. But the Grantham household was forgetting who this woman was: Peter and Emily's aunt and Mary's sister-in-law. She was family and even though Mary could say categorically that she harbored no real affection for the woman, she'd learned over the years that family was everything.

More than that, Hester was the last tether that Mary had to her husband, proof to all – an uncomfortable proof for her family – that she had married a man named Richard Carlisle, whom she'd grown to love.

Any barbs from Hester – with those eyes – seemed to come from her husband himself and she couldn't fault the woman for some of her criticisms, particularly those pertaining to her relationship with Matthew. Mary was willing to take it, as if somehow it would help to atone her. Hester may try to discipline the children herself, but it was Mary's parents and grandmother, not Mary, who resented the woman's interfering most of all. Of course they would, they wanted to interfere themselves.

And even if her sister-in-law wasn't quite looking out for her interests, Hester cared more for Mary than for anyone else around the dining table. And, though it pained her to admit it, Mary took comfort from that. It had been many years since she'd had to do battle alone and she did not care for it. To be isolated, to be misunderstood, to be lonely as she was. It was true, what people said, that one never knows what one has until it is gone. Mary knew it to be true. The reassuring hand on her shoulder which felt so natural that she'd put it quite out of her mind was gone from her life, the opportunity to vent before bedtime, to tell a secret knowing it would never be repeated, to be bound so intimately to another – it was gone, he was gone. It felt right that another Carlisle should step up to the plate, her children too young to take their father's mantle. Hope had stuck its claws in Mary like never before, that somehow she could repair the damage to Richard's relationship with his sister by fostering one of her own, one that could last a lifetime. After everything she'd experienced so far this year, hope was all she had.

"I need someone fighting my corner." Mary admitted quietly, her breathing quite shallow. "I suppose it's a cross that widows have to bear: still needing another." She didn't dare look at him, to see pity – that was not what she wanted. Mary sighed, shakily. "Hester's poisonous – I can feel it, but…I thought that of Richard once…"

Matthew lowered his eyes to the ground as she trailed off, saddened at how hopeful she sounded. Usually, such blind optimism in Mary would cause him to rejoice, but not now, not when it was nothing but a false hope. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, looking at her hard. "Hester is doing her utmost to persuade you, to intimidate you, to manipulate you and it is starting to work. I know that you know that."

She was placing her trust in the wrong person and it pained Matthew to see that Mary knew it. She knew that trusting that woman was an error in judgment. Yet, she was going to do it anyway, because, in her grief, she felt alone. To be alone was bearable when one had no other experience, but Mary's company was cruelly snatched from her. Her family, try as they might, didn't understand; they wanted to help her move on and build a new life for herself and the children, here, at Downton.

But it was too soon for a new life, surely they saw that. Any ideas of selfishly throwing all caution to the wind and following through on Robert's advice were put quickly to bed. Hell, Matthew thought, here Mary was clinging on to a stranger for the mere fact that she was Richard's sister – clearly, she wasn't ready to let her husband go.

"I might deserve it." Mary observed. Matthew looked at her sharply, warning in his eyes. It wasn't wise to go down that path. After Lavinia, Matthew had chosen guilt and it didn't lead anywhere, wasn't his own life proof enough of that? Mary held up her hands defensively at how stern he looked, a small smile coming upon her face. "I'm not indulging in self-pity - it was merely a thought."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, unconvinced, but let it go. Her amused expression assuaging his fears somewhat. She'd be alright, eventually, and that wasn't a false hope at all. "That corner of yours," He drawled casually, smirking as she then, too, narrowed her eyes, suspiciously, "I'll fight in it – I'll always fight in it."

Mary paused a beat, mentally driving away the blush from her face, before nodding slowly in thanks. Matthew had tried to keep his tone light, but as was often the case with Matthew, his eyes gave it all away, belying his seriousness. He'd look out for her, look after her – love her, if she let him. It wasn't a grand proposal of any kind, but it was an honest promise to always be there.

Smiling shyly, Mary faced the window again, blinking a little as her eyes met Hester's, how long the woman had been staring at the pair of them, Mary wasn't sure. Obviously, Hester couldn't have heard a word of what was said, but still, Mary felt as if her mind was being searched and her soul was on display, Hester's eyes piercing her at every point. A chill ran up Mary's spine and, not for the first time since her life had recently spun out of control, she found herself wishing that she would use her logic a little more. Mary swallowed, as Hester raised a eyebrow, one of greeting. As if the fox had spotted the hare.

"Well, I dearly hope that you won't have to."

TBC...

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