This is a massively long chapter- by far the longest I've posted, so you'll have to forgive me a bit of a longer AN…
The first point is just a bit of information in case anyone is interested- a couple of months ago AriadneO (I miss you!) and I were discussing casting for Patrick in this fic, and I settled on the British actor Paul Nicholls. Pictures of him in a WWI uniform for some drama or other I have never seen also started the old gears working for another story…
I'd like to thank EOlivet for talking over a point in this chapter with me, and to everyone who read and reviewed and alerted the last chapter. I got a bit mixed up with review replies last time- at least one person got two (sorry!) but I hope I didn't miss anyone out.
This may sound a bit strange, but if it's not your cup of tea feel free to skip or ignore the last section. No, I didn't really mean it to go anywhere significant but I did *really* want to rewrite the two 'Matthew, Matthew, Matthew' scenes and couldn't figure out another way to do it with my darlings on good terms. The section is either genius or madness, very probably the latter, but it was kind of fun to write and it doesn't have a huge impact on the rest of the story if you hate it. Please keep in mind this is my first fic and I'm just playing :D
Did anyone get why Matthew thought Mary looked so different, and what Anna and Violet were so pleased to see about her appearance, in the last chapter?...
It was chance that Mary and Robert descended the stairs for dinner at the same time, but not that the former remembered to warn her father than he would later have a visitor - there had been little else on her mind since they had parted that afternoon.
"I saw Cousin Matthew in the village. He wanted to call on you after dinner. Apparently he wants to discuss 'estate matters.'"
Robert looked at Mary curiously, trying, and failing, to read anything behind her serene tone. "And what did you tell him? I hope you made him feel he'd be welcome." Although Lord Grantham had seen the thaw in the ice between his eldest daughter and his heir, he was still wary of Mary's contrary nature.
"Yes Papa," she answered, drawling the words slightly like the sulking adolescent she no longer was, even as she admitted to herself that her father had cause for concern given how quickly her discussion with Matthew had led to a misunderstanding and argument that very afternoon. On the other hand, she recalled with pleasure the end of their conversation, and the restoration of their good terms, brightening considerably as she related the part of the discussion that cemented the current peace between them to her father; "In fact, he asked me if I wanted to join you."
Robert looked at her, somewhat surprised by her enthusiasm. "And do you?"
"Naturally I do." Mary never failed to feel a pang of hurt at her father's astonishment that she wanted to be involved in Downton. Had she still not made it clear to him? Were her efforts still unnoticed? Why did it take Patrick and Matthew, the voices of men, to get through to him and see what progress could be made. Patrick was a parrot, putting forward her concepts verbatim. From what she had seen of Matthew's work, he was an amplified echo of her own voice- calling for the continuation or development into the next phase of works. The fact that either was credited while she was dismissed added to the distance she often felt between herself and her parents.
"Well, it has been a while since you last took an interest- I thought perhaps you'd given it up."
"I never stopped taking an interest, Papa. This is still my home and I will always care for its upkeep and the welfare of those on the estate, no matter who will inherit. If you give me a sounding board, I'll take it."
Mary had checked her impertinence, knowing it would only annoy her father to the point that he would dismiss her even more readily. What she had really wanted to say rang loudly in her head; 'My cause had a new champion- one that was seemingly more likely to be heard than I.'
Robert nodded, somewhat dispassionate in the face of his daughter's passion. Although he loved all of his girls very much, he was a firm believer in being the head of his household. As such, he had only ever half-heartedly encouraged Mary's involvement when she was, in his eyes, prompting Patrick to take on his role as heir and eventual master. That role- to spend days working to manage the estate, cope with the finances, take care of all necessary upkeep and, above all, provide a supportive and authoritative figure for the family to look up to- belonged to the man of the house, in this case, the Earl.
What Robert had failed to realise was that, in the ever-changing world he lived in, this mentality meant his daughters increasingly did not look to him for much at all.
"Well when he arrives, do your best to keep the rest of the family in the drawing room, especially your grandmother. Matthew has some rather interesting, and modern, ideas and I don't need to hear her opinion on them- I can already guess what it is." He rolled his eyes.
Mary smiled, but internally felt another pang- that her Papa could see Matthew's modern ideas as interesting, when hers were meddlesome and yet largely the same- twisted in her gut. Instead of reacting to the hurt she covered in the best way she knew how- her pointed wit. With an arch look she spoke with genuinely fond exasperation at the idea that anyone could coral her grandmother. "Well, I'd like to see you try."
Matthew entered as surreptitiously as he could. Coming up after a family dinner was very bad form, especially as he and his mother had initially been invited to dine today but had declined on the grounds that his mother had demanded to join rounds with Doctor Clarkson early tomorrow morning at the hospital. Why they needed to go 'round' was beyond Matthew- they could see and speak to all, yes all four, of the patients from the door, the hospital was so small, but if it made her happy...
How odd it was to be sneaking into a place where he knew if he'd been up in time for dinner he would have found a ready welcome! He had tried to time his arrival for the very end of dinner, so that Carson would still be busy. If the butler was not distracted, Matthew had no hope of getting any way into the house without detection and, he had decided long ago that, aside from Cousin Violet, Carson was the person who most liked things to be done properly and was therefore most likely to be upset by his arrival.
Skulking around the entranceway he paused at the internal partition, hearing the door to the dining room open. It appeared he had timed his entrance perfectly as the ladies, led by the footman William and the current Countess of Grantham, made their way to the dining room.
"…but why, Sybil? You're not a doctor's daughter…"
The doctor's son was amused by the topic of conversation, Sybil attending a 'real school', as the ladies processed but his thoughts, his very brain, stopped as Cousin Mary…Mary… passed him. She wasn't in black! Well, she was. Of course she was wearing black, but beneath the dark and intricate lace of her dress was an underdress of palest lilac that shone almost silver, shimmering as she walked past him. His eyes swept her form from head to toe and back again- the transformation was amazing! Without the covering black layers and heavy crepe her form was slight but strong looking and her skin, which could on occasion look sallow at first glance, now radiated the luminosity that it sometimes required a second glance to fully appreciate.
Matthew realised that this was what had struck him about her appearance at the fair earlier as well. Not able to discern it then, when the majority of her day dress had still been black, he now realised that it had been embellished with bands and panels of a bluish-charcoal grey. It was now the 29th of May and Mary was in half mourning, her husband having been dead for over a year. With the near torrential rain and boggy conditions keeping he and his mother at home recently, he had not seen that change until now.
It was as if the force of his admiring gaze compelled her to look around as she subtly fell behind Edith, glancing over her shoulder and spotting him, before turning fully. She signalled him to wait and he acknowledged her, an expression between a smile and a grimace of embarrassment at almost being caught marvelling at the change in her. He had never been immune to her beauty, not from their first 'meeting', but the striking figure she cut as she strode across the hallway almost made him breathless.
She leaned through the door and greeted him before following the rest of the party to make her excuses for the evening. Having bid the females of her family good night, she returned to Matthew's side and directed him to the library where together they waited for her father.
As Matthew suspected, Carson was rather put out to have a visitor so late in the evening. He was even more aggrieved that, as far as he was concerned their visitor was unannounced and unexpected, while Lady Mary and his Lordship had anticipated Mr Crawley's arrival and he'd not been told! Leaving brandy for the gentlemen and sherry for Lady Mary he retired from the room, regretting that he had ever let Thomas and William both go to the fair. The very idea of Lord Grantham's that he should join them was a further blow to his dignity!
The seated occupants of the library turned to the matter at hand - with all of the recent rain they'd had, a number of the southerly, low-lying fields had become badly flooded. This affected not only tenant farms but also a small patch of the estate park itself. While it may have been a blessing in disguise that this was the first dinner the dowager Lady Grantham had been able to attend for a month due to the flooding, it wasn't good for the estate to have so much land out of commission particularly as, if the rain continued and they had a wet summer, all they'd be able to use that land for was growing rice!
An hour later and they had come to a number of reasonable conclusions and potential strategies for dealing with the problem, and each leaned back from the list being discussed with mutual satisfaction.
"Well, that's a plan then. I'll see about scheduling the work next week." Robert stood up and shook hands with a rising Matthew, very glad of his input. As he stepped back, he turned to Mary and saw that she was settling back into her chair. "Mary, are you sure you wouldn't rather come up and see your grandmother off with me? You could re-join the ladies before bed."
"No, I've already made my excuse of an early night and they'll expect me to have gone up by now. I'll go when the coast is clear. You know what Granny would say if she knew I was in here with you, talking estate matters."
Matthew looked between them, confused, so Mary took pity on him. "Granny would think it very unladylike. 'Ladies work for the benefit of the estate, not on the estate itself.'"
He grinned at her impression of the older woman, particularly the displeased frown and exaggerated purse of her lips as she finished. "Well, isn't that what we've been doing? It's not like we're sending you out to dig the drainage trench or pipe way yourself. And it will benefit the estate to collect the water for the animals, rather than pumping it off, an idea that was entirely yours."
Mary smiled back, glad of his recognition of her input and support, but rolled her eyes nonetheless. "Try telling her that."
"I'm sure I could come up with an argument good enough to satisfy Cousin Violet- I am a solicitor, after all."
The Dowager Countess in question stood by the door, watching the conversation. While it cheered Violet to watch Mary and Matthew banter with the spite now so obviously missing, she really thought it best to put an end to such presumptions. "Really, Cousin Matthew? And what about your chosen profession makes you think you'd be any match for me?"
Mary jumped up from her place on the sofa as all the occupants of the room looked around at the door in horror of having been caught in cahoots.
The Countess scowled at Mary as she came further into the room. "It is unladylike, my dear, but then so are screaming tantrums and riding astride, and I got used to you doing both of those when you were younger. I'm sure I can see my way to forgiving you for being useful." She patted her hand, watching carefully as Mary turned away, blushing, from Cousin Matthew who tried to catch her eye. He was not very successfully holding in his laughter at the idea of an infant Mary, dressed in the finest children's clothing and hair ribbons the Earl of Grantham could provide, stamping her tiny foot and wailing out her childhood frustrations, but Mary resolutely kept her eyes away from meeting his teasing ones.
Violet studied them for a few long seconds before turning to her son, whom she noted was doing the same. "Robert, walk me out." She turned again to the young people in the room and bid each a goodnight before walking with the Earl in silence until they left the confines of the house.
Striding towards the car, Violet finally gave voice to her observations. "What I don't understand in all of this is how we could have possibly been so wrong."
Robert looked completely baffled. "What are you speaking of, Mama?" Now half way into the car, Violet turned almost violently which caused her to jerk back into the seat, staring at her son in incredulous amazement. She really had thought that he had caught on to what she was witnessing in the library, and the growing suspicion in her mind. Clearly that was not the case, and her boy was as oblivious as ever. Just like his father. She tutted and shook her head, dismissing him for the evening as she settled herself more comfortably for the drive home. "Thank you, Branson."
Watching the retreating car, Robert chuckled faintly to himself. "Oh Mama! You and Cora spoke as if we had any choice in it." He shook his head as he moved back to where Carson was standing. "I'm worn out. Tell Lady Mary and Mr Crawley I've gone to bed."
"Shall I tell them now, my lord?"
Robert looked up in surprise at his straight-faced butler. It shouldn't have surprised him really; Carson was nothing if not perceptive, particularly when it came to Mary. "No. Wait until they ring." The two of them had enough obstacles in their path if they were going to navigate the course in front of them. The last thing they needed was interruption when they finally seemed to be on the right path.
In the library, Matthew certainly had no plans to for ringing for anyone else any time soon - he was relishing the opportunity to speak to Mary. Having retaken their seats from the meeting with her father, they were now surprised to find themselves next to each other. Their focus had previously been divided so that it had also been on the other side of the room where Lord Grantham had sat. Now, on turning to speak more easily to each other, they found themselves quite close together.
They had already conversed extensively this evening in talks with her father and there was a distinct lack of spite in the air- a situation that might actually be conducive to getting her to open up, especially if he was going to help her as her grandmother had asked.
"I am grateful that you are still willing to give me your advice on estate matters even thought this whole thing must be impossible for you. You must resent me so bitterly, but you give such good advice." He smiled at her.
Rolling her eyes at what she saw as his attempts to placate her, she snapped; "If you can tell the difference between good and bad advice, then you don't need advice."
Instantly, she regretted her tone knowing he'd done little to deserve her attitude and she offered him a wan smile in apology, trying to restore the peaceful atmosphere that they had managed to preserve that evening. "I was born here, Matthew, and I had hoped to die on the estate. It means everything to me, and if people I love are going to depend on it still…"
"Well naturally you will all depend on this land for many years to come I hope. And even after your father…well." He trailed off, realising where he was headed, and tried another track. "I'm sorry that without Patrick you feel less at home here but there will always be a place for you. It can always be your home. For your mother and sisters, as well, while I have any say in the matter."
"Well Patrick left me some money and I could likely be independent with some economisation, but it's not enough to support anyone else. Still, that's not exactly what I meant by people I love depending on Downton… but then I suppose if everything went according to plan my sisters and mother would be guaranteed to be looked after anyway." She watched Matthew carefully to see if he had any notable reaction.
"I'm sorry Mary but I don't have the faintest idea what you are talking about. What plan?"
Mary continued to study him seriously for a moment. "Well, the most current plan is to send Edith off to one of Old Lady McNair's house parties, and I'm sure they're fishing to see who else they can get to host her. Mama might even send her to the family in New York." She paused to see if she could read anything from him in reaction to the fact that Edith might be going away. Nothing, so she continued; "that is what's done, you know? Ladies with too many Seasons under their belts and too few prospects, like Edith, are sent off to country piles or wealthy relatives where there may be eligible men who spend their days killing things and their evenings drinking themselves stupid and flirting with anything in a dress."
Matthew was totally thrown by the seeming non-sequester. Hadn't they been talking about keeping her family secure at Downton? Of course if any of the girls married they would go elsewhere, he didn't mean he would keep them locked up, but that they would have a place should they need it. "Poor Edith. Does she like that sort of thing?" He asked for the sake of seeming interested in her choice of topic although he had no idea where this was going.
The inquiry seemed innocent enough- his face was entirely placid, but Mary still wondered if there wasn't a hint of interest behind it. "It just means you'll have to move fast if you want to save her from it. Mama thought it would be all settled by now you see, but Granny seems to have quite given up the idea, so they're moving forward. Just in case."
"In case of what? I really have no idea what we speaking of! Please enlighten me, Mary."
"Well, you and Edith of course. She and Mama have big plans for you." She saw the dawning realisation spread over his face to the point where he was clearly thunderstruck. In the short time they had known each other it had become one of her favourite looks on him - truly comical - and she had seen it often enough now to know that it was completely genuine.
Indeed, Matthew was well and truly taken aback. Was this really what they had been planning? Why? What on earth had put the idea of him and Edith in their minds? He had always been a little wary of Edith's apparent interest but she had done nothing to truly alarm him and so he'd had no idea that this was in the works.
"Then I'm afraid they are both in for equally big disappointments! Is that really what they were planning? My God!" He left the sofa next to her and paced the room slightly in agitation. "Edith has been very generous, given the circumstances…"
"It's easy to be generous when you have nothing to lose and everything to gain." She tried to take the edge of bitterness away with a wide, but tight, smile.
Slowly Matthew processed that, of course, it didn't really matter which of the girls it was. It could equally have been Sybil who was pushed towards him if she'd been a little older. He had suspected something like this might come up in the beginning, but now? When he was beginning to feel that he finally might have a place here? What really mattered was that Downton remained in the family. Not just the Crawley family, but under the direction of the current inhabitants. Of course they were just protecting themselves and all that they had built, but to scheme for him when all he had ever tried to do was help at the expense of his own life plans…
"You'll have to be careful if you do any more church visiting with her."
"Quite right. Mother's trying to set something up. I may have to be busy that weekend." He frowned very seriously for a moment, recounting the last trip- how cheerful Edith had tried to be about the architecture that had clearly bored her. Had there been no sincerity in her offer to help and show him around at all? Had it all been a ploy to trap him and the family money?
"Busy with the cottages, perhaps." Mary gave him a genuine smile, full of the relief she felt at having exposed Edith's motives and her parents' folly. If it saved Edith from a marriage that was based on anything other than love and respect then it was worth the short-term heartache that was bound to occur when Matthew inevitably attempted to extract himself.
"That's an idea!" Matthew mentally shook off his shock, along with his feelings of betrayal. Seizing on the change of subject, Matthew decided to pursue a less unsettling topic and come to terms, as well as a way to deal with the unfounded expectation, later.
"Mary, I really do want to move forward with the improvements. I think it's important and I hope the cottages are something you'll be willing to pursue…with me? When I first arrived here your father told me how involved you were, how much you tried to help Patrick…"
"I certainly wasn't trying to help Patrick, as such- I was using him to push through my own agenda the only way that Papa would accept it. Patrick was…a means to an end." She shrugged, completely unconcerned when speaking in this way of the dead husband she was still in mourning for. Matthew was not going to miss the opportunity to understand at least this bit of the puzzle.
"You said something recently that baffled me- you suggested, at least to my mind, that you are a relieved widow, rather than a bereaved one?"
Mary looked at him, full and frank, but gave away nothing verbally. Surely she had already said enough for him to get the idea if he was even willing to broach the question. Matthew, correctly, took her silence as confirmation, and retook his seat beside her.
"Your parents suggest nothing of that, although there is clearly some unease in your sisters and grandmother. Can't you tell me why you feel that way? I know losing him left you without what you were expecting, but really, that wasn't Patrick's fault for dying. "
She laughed bitterly. "Is that what you think of me, Matthew? That I would be as mercenary as to set against my husband only because I didn't get what I wanted when he died?"
"Well no, I would hope not, but that is why you're set against me, isn't it? I'm keeping you from what you wanted?"
"It's true, I did… I do resent you for that, but can't you see it's more than just me wanting Downton? Wanting nothing more than to be queen of the county? It's owed to me Matthew. It's not you I resent, as much as what you stand for. I'm the first born. I married the heir… and I deserve what I was promised for what I went through with Patrick."
"What did you go through? I don't understand, was he violent? Unkind to you?" He waved a hand in Mary's general direction, indicating her manner of dress. "You have apparently entered a full two years of mourning, a period society no longer dictates you need to strictly follow, yet you tell me your marriage was bad in some way. Help me to understand, Mary, please?"
"Do you really think, after what I've told you, that I'm in mourning for my husband? I am in mourning for myself, for the girl I once was who believed in love, and the institution of marriage… and the benevolence of her parents!"
Where Mary had been stoic to this point, she now felt her eyes filling with tears. "Have you heard other people talk about Patrick?" She did not wait for his answer before continuing. "The male servants don't have much to say about him at all, really, he kept his own man with him and didn't create extra work for them. The female servants, they'll tell you they liked Mr Patrick. He was kind, always smiling, always with a nice word or a bonbon to share. Here at Downton, where he was careful not to make too many waves, that was the extent of it."
Mary got up from the sofa and moved towards the fire, hugging herself as if she were cold, but the room was a pleasant temperature and Matthew knew that it was just unpleasant recollections that were chilling her. "Papa and Mama will of course tell you that he was a nice boy. Once upon a time, before her spies filled her in on some details, Granny would have too, because they were all fond so of him. They knew nothing of his life in town because, other than the season, the family rarely goes. I'm not sure if my parents never heard the gossip, or just dismissed it. Granny knew a little, enough to understand that I was rightly unhappy, and that there were rumours, but not to fully understand the extent of it I don't think. She wouldn't have thought him such as nice boy if she had. Maybe they didn't care- after all; it's a young man's prerogative. Maybe they thought he would settle down eventually- and of course I'd welcome him with open arms when the time came. Perhaps we'd fall in love, like Mama and Papa did. They never saw anything else in him other than a good match for their daughter and a way to keep their legacy going. He was a bit of a fop, but the edges would be smoothed off eventually."
Mary stood at the fire, gazing into the flames. She was talking, but Matthew was not completely sure she was talking to him anymore- she seemed very far away and he wasn't sure if she even knew he was still in the room.
"And then there is Edith, of course. Poor deluded Edith. She thought she was in love with him, you know? And of course, he had to have been hopelessly in love with her, too. Star-crossed, they were, and I was the evil one that prevented them from being together because I had my heart set on getting Downton for myself." Mary shook her head, a look of complete incredulous, if bitter, humour across her face.
"Patrick knew, of course. He knew all about her little crush. Oh, how he laughed at her. Mocked her mercilessly behind her back even though she was only a teenager and it's natural to have crushes at that age. Still, he did nothing to dissuade her- that would have spoilt his fun. Little gifts, pecks on the cheek, quiet conversations in the corner of the room- always setting her up and then watching her fall when the family would push us back together again- making me out to be the horrid sister who wanted it all for herself, disappointing Edith's hopes each and every time.
"I had to take him. Mama and Papa were so insistent that there was no other choice for me and in a way Edith was right, I did want Downton because I deserved something in all of this, didn't I?" Again, she did not wait for an answer. It was as if Matthew wasn't there at all as she continued to speak to the flames in the fireplace before her.
"He wouldn't have taken Edith, and I thank God that Sybil was too young for him to even consider. Even he wouldn't go looking in the nursery. So I married him, already knowing that I was ambivalent towards him, but not a fraction of the things that would make me truly dislike him. If he had been left to his own devices to choose a bride, and a countess for Downton, I dread to think what would have happened to this estate in the years to come."
She was almost in a trance, and Matthew did not want to break her from that- not when she was clearly so fragile, and not when she was finally getting this out. It was clear to him that this was a catharsis for her- she had obviously never spoken about this before, at least, not since Patrick's death. He wondered if they had ever argued, or if Mary had just accepted the state of her marriage, on the surface at least, while she was in it.
He spoke very gently to her. "What did he do Mary? Why did you dislike Patrick so much?"
It took a moment before she began talking again. "'Keep only unto each other'. That's what we said. That's what you promise in a marriage vow, isn't it. To be faithful? I don't think Patrick had kept faith with anything or anybody in the whole of his life, certainly not to me or our arrangement. There were so many others. So many. We'd had our wedding night and a few days away at the coast after that before Patrick wanted to get back to the city. On business, he said. It had been fine- there was no love, but he didn't hurt me unnecessarily and I was resigned to be a society wife by then.
"We got back to London and he left me alone almost immediately, so I began to help my new maid unpack. Patrick had hired her, hired all of them. They were…very discrete and loyal, he paid them enough for that, and they all knew their master's ways and habits so he had no worries there. They were so kind to poor, deluded Lady Mary; 'he'll be home soon, my Lady,' and 'he works very hard to provide for you, m'lady, that's why he keeps the hours he does'.
"It lasted about a week before I found the box. I suppose trunk is more accurate. Unpacking with the maid, I took some things to the upper rooms to go into mothballs because she was busy pressing the clothes that were to go straight into the wardrobe. There was a small trunk up there that I thought had come with my things and been put in the wrong place so I opened it. There were so many photographs. I've never seen so many in one place- it's not as if they're cheap. Actresses, singers, musicians…none of them so very prominent, Patrick couldn't afford that, but I knew some of the faces. There were others in the pictures, beautiful women all of them, but they were not so finely turned out. It was clear what their trade was- in some of them it was blatantly displayed. There were other things- other tokens, mementos. So many. And when I asked Patrick about them, he just laughed. Said if I knew what he was about already then he had no reason to try and hide, not that he'd made a very good job of it.
"Everyone else knew, apparently. All of our friends- anyone we associated with that spent a deal of time in London, were aware of his reputation. I was to play the good wife- enjoy town, call on friends and neighbours, and do what society women do, while he got on with his business and pursuits. I was to ignore the gossip, ignore that I was a laughing stock, and keep his secrets so that I didn't bring his shame on myself."
"Oh Mary."
Her name seemed to snap her out of her recollections and she turned towards him with wild eyes, finally realising that someone, that he, was in the room. "Oh god!" She burst into tears and turned to leave, but Matthew sprang up from the sofa where he had been sitting, very still so as not to spook her, and pulled her into his arms - holding her, rocking her, and crooning to her as she shuddered and gasped for breath.
They stayed like that for a long time, her sobs turning to heavy tear laden sighs, until finally she lifted her head a pulled back from him slightly. He let her move from where her head had been lent against his chest, but not from the reach of his arms, taking a hold of her shoulders as he peered at her earnestly.
He spoke to her kindly, but was firm and very serious. "Your grandmother said that you might need some help. Some contracts that Patrick had put in place on properties that you need breaking?"
She nodded and wiped at her eyes, squaring her shoulders under his touch. This was exactly what she needed, something practical, and his forthright manner made it easier to cope with all that she had just unwittingly disclosed, and all that she was about to.
"Yes. Part of my inheritance, part of what he left me, are two properties in London. There are tenants in them at the moment that I want nothing more to do with and I don't know how to get rid of them. They hold the life-long leases, and Murray says it can't be broken."
"Who are these people? What were they to Patrick that you want to get rid of them so badly?" He could guess, but he wanted to force a full and frank disclosure from her. It was hard, and she had already given up so much, but this was a new phase of their relationship and if he could force this admission from her, this level of honesty, then they could face anything together.
"In one there is at least one woman and maybe a child or children. I've not been able to fully establish who lives there, who visits, and who uses it as a…place of business."
Matthew sighed and squeezed her shoulders. Mary took a deep breath and prepared herself for what she was about to admit next.
"In the other there is a young man. What I hadn't realised until he died, Matthew," she took another deep breath, shuddering slightly still, "is that my husband was a troubled soul."
Matthew closed his eyes and pulled her back to him, resting his chin on her hair. This was even worse than he'd expected and his heart broke for her; this captivating woman who carried so much pain.
"The family thought they knew him- we'd grown up with him- and yet he lived a whole separate life of dissipation. When we lived together I wanted to know nothing about his lifestyle- it helped me keep face with the people who knew- but in the end I learned far too much of it when it all landed in my lap. He was certainly more circumspect about that aspect of his life, for obvious reasons, but people still knew. I knew I was a laughing stock, but not the extent of how blind and stupid I was."
She shook her head and seemed to pull herself together, again focusing on the practical; "Patrick set up these houses, and visited them often, but there were others who went there as well. Friends of ours that 'invested' in the properties and their up-keep. Other acquaintances were certainly involved and, perhaps…" she didn't quite know how to phrase it. "…passing trade? I don't know." She paused, trying to keep the tears at bay once again. "Please Matthew, please help me. I know I have been horrible to you in the past but…"
He shushed her again as he squeezed her shoulders gently. "I will help you."
She went on desperately, the relief of having said it; having told someone and extracted a promise of help was too much for her. "I just want them out. I want it stopped. Patrick has left me making money from these …enterprises, money that I never touch, that goes straight to charity, but still I can't deal with it anymore…Murray says he can't do anything, too many contracts tie it all up with other people, but you'll do something won't you Matthew? You'll help me?"
He pulled her back into his arms, horrified that this situation existed right under the nose of her family and had left her, one of the strongest, sharpest women he had ever met, begging him, a man who had injured her by circumstance, for the only help she could see out of her situation. "Of course I will. I will do everything, anything, to help you."
They sat, side by side, at a respectable distance on the sofa next to the fire, tumblers of brandy in hand. It was quite now, the calm after the storm, and Mary felt lighter than she had in months, maybe years, she realised. It had been a year since Patrick died, and they had been married for two prior to that. She had had that bottled up for three years and now they sat in the aftermath of the popped cork.
She had thought, months ago, that showing any weakness in front of Matthew would be impossible; she would have been failing somehow. Now she knew nothing could be further from the truth as, through confiding in him, she certainly more in control of her situation, just with the promise of his help and support behind her.
Matthew too felt her relief, and some of his own in finally knowing where he stood with her.
She took a final shuddering breath and stood, wiping the last of the tears from her eyes and cheeks. Summoning Carson with a tug of the bell pull, she turned back to Matthew who had moved to stand when she did, watching her movements carefully as if he was concerned she would shatter again.
She gave him an awkward smile, gesturing around her to indicate the futility of her situation, and her apparent impotence in dealing with it. "Well, there it is. I was the dutiful daughter, the dutiful wife and now I am the grieving widow. And despite all off it, everything I have put up with, I meant nothing in all of this."
"On the contrary, you mean a great deal. A very great deal. I'm only sorry that Patrick couldn't see it." There was a note in his voice that struck a chord with Mary- a caring, caressing note that she let wash over her for a moment. Again she could scarcely believe it- someone had heard her troubles and he wanted to help her!
The sound of the door opening and Carson's footsteps broke them from where they were gazing at each other. "You rang, my lady?"
"Yes, Carson. Mr Crawley was just leaving. Do you know where his lordship is?"
"Gone to bed, my lady. He felt tired after putting Lady Grantham into the car."
"I bet he did. Thank you, Carson." As Carson made his slight bow and retreated, Matthew marvelled at Mary's resilience. Her tone when hearing her father had no doubt gone to bed having done further battle with her grandmother was nothing short of amused, despite everything she had gone through this evening.
He moved closer to her again. "I'm sorry, but it will be Monday at the earliest before I can look into anything that will be a help."
"I'm sure there's nothing that you can do immediately but you mustn't let it trouble you." She took a deep breath and came towards him. "To be honest, I didn't feel I would be able to tell anyone in the family about the situation at all, and so just to have spoken to you about it is a huge weight off my chest. That you are actually in a position to help me is more than I could have ever hoped for."
"So my middle class background will come in use? It no longer troubles you?"
She gave him a wry smile in reply but there was real humour behind it which it pleased him no end to see. "In fact I find it is my consolation. Who knew a middle class cousin was exactly what I needed in my life?"
He took the tease a bit further; "You know it's a middle class custom to shake on such arrangements? I am going to work for you, after all."
She smiled widely and stepped even closer. Time seemed to slow as he reached forward and slipped his large hand into her out-stretched one. She could feel that his fingers were cool, despite the warmth of the fire that heated the library and the thickness of her gloves. The press and momentary tightening of his grip was comfortable, and it reminded her of being in his arms earlier in the evening- a sensation she had barely been aware of at the time as he held her through her sobbing, but now she could recall the press of his arms and the comfort of his body against hers.
She raised her eyes from where her silky black glove was firmly encased in his pale grip, to his face, and was captured, just as firmly, in the piercing blue of his gaze. For a stretch of time… minutes or only seconds?... they stared at each other before the moment became inexplicably uncomfortable and each looked away, breaking their hold on hands and eyes.
Matthew licked his lips in frustration and agitation although quite over what, he couldn't think. There was no further reason for him to stay. She was calm now and Carson was already making preparations for him to leave. He bade her a soft goodnight as he passed her and Mary turned her head to surreptitiously watch him go, a tremble finding its way up her spine as he closed the door behind him. It was a lingering reaction from spending the evening tears, or so she told herself.
Carson had clearly picked up the heavy atmosphere of the library, and it seemed to follow him and Matthew as they walked the short distance to the front hall where the latter collected his hat and gloves. Despite it, and the rapid play of thoughts in his head, Matthew was determined to remember his manners as he took his leave, recollecting that he had already disturbed the old butler's evening substantially.
"I hope I haven't kept you up too late. I'm afraid we've rather interfered with your dinner."
Unflappable to the last, Carson merely inclined his head, both in acknowledgement and dismissal. "It's been rather a chop and change evening downstairs."
"Lady Grantham got off alright?" Matthew enquired hopefully, knowing full well that in the coming days he would have to seek out Cousin Violet and give her, with as few details as possible, an update on his progress with Mary's concerns.
His inquiry received a raised eyebrow in return. "All right is an optimistic assessment, sir."
Matthew considered him for a moment, wondering if the stalwart butler, who clearly doted on Mary, had been as oblivious to her pain as her family had been. In a way, he hoped he had been, if only to spare the kindly man his worries for the daughter he had never had, but Matthew realised that was unlikely to have been the case. "It's very difficult, Carson. For her, for Lady Mary, for everyone, when someone you care about is in a situation that is not good for them."
Carson nodded once, a growing understanding forged between the two men. "It is, Mr Crawley, and I appreciate your saying so."
"I am going to try and help Lady Mary as much as I can. Did you know much about her situation with … Mr Crawley?" Matthew hated that they were known by the same moniker and Carson seemed to pick up on that.
"Mr Patrick was a smooth customer. He and his man did not fit particularly well around here, but he was the future heir and Lady Mary's husband. I know no details of why she was unhappy, just that it broke my heart to see that she was."
Matthew gave the man a grim, closed lipped smile and briefly gripped his shoulder in an unusual gesture of solidarity as he passed on his way out.
Mary felt that it had been a long day already, and it was only mid-morning by the time she joined her father for their walk across the grounds to where they would meet with Matthew to see the cottages. Being dressed by O'Brien was not the best start to Mary's day but, if Anna was unwell then of course she wanted her maid to stay in bed.
Normally a stroll through the grounds was restorative for the young woman who loved her home so much, but after the drama of her confession to Matthew last night, the shallow sleep she had subsequently fallen into, and the prospect of seeing him again shortly, she was physically exhausted and emotionally drained. Her father's choice of conversation did not help matters.
"Carson says you were rather a long time with Matthew last night?"
Mary wished she could roll her eyes, but her father was watching her closely so she settled for a slight shrug of her shoulders. Carson was ever her fierce protector, and she was glad to have him on her side, but he was also her father's faithful employee. Now, of course, he had put her in a complicated position- she wasn't equal to telling her father what she had told Matthew, not yet, but at the same time she was not a liar.
"Yes, I suppose so. We found we had rather a lot to talk about, in the end. I'm glad to say that my situation appears to trouble Cousin Matthew very much." Employing a tactic that she had perfected over many years, she had answered as truthfully, and as vaguely, as possible, leaving it to her father to deduce what exactly it was she was referring to. "He at least seems to be willing to stick up for me."
"My darling daughter, as hard as it is for an English man to say, you must know I love you. I will do everything I can to stick up for you in any way you may need me to, but we have discussed this before and Downton must now go to Matthew- he will be the next custodian." Given that Mary had them purposefully talking at cross purposes, she only took pleasure in her father's assurances that he would stick up for her -on issues other than Downton's ownership. It suggested that, when the time came and she felt she could explain Patrick's poisonous legacy to him, he would support her.
Dragging her mind back to the present, she pursued the conversation her father thought they were engaged in. "So what am I supposed to do, live on here while Edith lords it over me as Matthew's wife?"
Robert raised his eyebrows at her, turning slightly as they walked to study her more closely. "Do you think that is likely? Edith and Matthew, I mean? I certainly can't see you staying here if that was the case!"
"No, in either case," she sighed heavily. "But what else am I to do- take my lot of Patrick's meagre portion and move back to a house I hate in London? Live with my aging mother or married sisters and take up full-time embroidery projects? Find another husband and get out of the way?"
"Would that be such a bad thing? You have shown that you are not…" he paused, coughed and coloured slightly. "…opposed to the company of men."
Mary blushed and looked away too, embarrassed that her father would bring up such a topic, even in the vaguest of terms. "No, but…"
Robert broke in, not really wanting to let Mary finish whatever it was she was going to say in reply in case she pursued the topic he had alluded to in some way. "I would like that for you, you know? - A good man, a brave man. Someone that would make you happy."
"You mean someone unlike Patrick?" Mary raised her eyebrow, her face a picture of sardonic inquiry. It was as close as she ever touched upon the subject, but her father knew that Patrick wouldn't have been her choice of husband, or indeed, if he was truthful, his heir, even if he did not know the true details of her objections.
Robert nodded once, his face set into a tight grimace of reluctant acceptance as his eyes drifted over the land around them. "Perhaps."
She sighed again. "It would be another year before I could even think of going into company and even then I'm not getting any younger. If I did marry again…I'd really be saying goodbye to Downton." She stopped and faced the house, her eyes flittering over the beloved façade.
Robert stopped when she did and, after a moment of watching her carefully, stepped in front of her, blocking his daughters view of the house she loved so much and catching her attention with a very earnest look. "You could stay here if you married Matthew."
Mary was completely taken aback and it took her a moment to answer him. "But Mama and Granny…and Edith," she breathed, sounding almost scandalised.
He reached up and cupped her cheek. "Oh my darling. That was never going to work out was it?"
"Well… no, but don't let them ever hear you say that!" Mary shook her head in astonished disbelief before pausing as a thought struck her. She dropped her gaze to the ground between them, her eyes filling with tears. "Another man I'm told to marry, father? My character is stronger now- I'm even more stubborn. I wish I wasn't but I am."
"I won't tell you to marry him. I won't be doing that again." Robert sounded very firm in his pronouncement and it caused Mary to meet his eyes once more, seeing that he looked honestly aggrieved. It was clear that he didn't just mean for her, but for Sybil and Edith as well. She smiled, tears still pooling in her eyes. "But would it be so bad? Could he not make you happy, my darling?"
Mary closed her eyes, still dumbfounded, searching for an answer to a question that seemed impossible, and yet somehow, so natural. She was about to speak, although she had no idea what she would say, when she felt her father press a kiss to her forehead and move away from her. When she opened her eyes again and turned to look for him he was someway in the distance, and two fast tears made tracks across her cheeks.
She would see the cottages another day. She was not up to it now and her father, having left her stunned and contemplative, had obviously seen that.
Later that night, Mary lay awake for hours trying to get to sleep. Having slept so poorly the night before she was exhausted, but still thoughts of the last two days cycled through her brain in an endless rotation of past recollections, new information and half acknowledged truths.
She heard the clock strike two, and then three, but the next morning could not recall hearing four despite the fact that when she got up to dress she didn't feel like she had slept at all. She knew she must have done so though, at least in patches, because she had dreamed;
She was walking again in the grounds after her father had left her that morning, only the plain grey morning dress she had been wearing was instead a miss-matched blue top and purple skirt, colours…colours!... that she would never have chosen to put together herself. Her sleeping brain, in all its disjointed wonder, nevertheless rationalised it for her- of course, O'Brien had dressed her that morning, not Anna. The old bat probably did it out of spite – trying to make her look stupid in a disaster of an outfit, not to mention without her mourning clothes…
…but then why would she need mourning clothes when her husband was walking towards her, his usual malevolent smirk firmly in place as he assessed and then dismissed her. He scoffed and, with a toss of his head, beaconed in the direction from which he had come and a drastically thin, dark-haired woman materialised, grabbing at his arm. He bent his head to whisper in her ear and the she giggled. Looking closely, Mary recognised the beautiful face of an actress that had been popular a couple of years ago when Mary had been making her debut, Rose-Marie… something-or-other. She watched as the woman leaned into Patrick's neck, and he ran his hand over her collarbone and down her chest.
Despite his lewd display with another woman, Patrick was addressing her. "You'll be pleased to hear that Matthew's conscience is much more energetic than mine." He leaned forward, pressing the woman to bend over as well, still running his hand over her form and now across her rump. He gave her a sharp slap and the woman sprang upright, giggling, but this time the face under the weave of black curls had changed and Mary was gazing at her mother, still gripped in Patrick's amorous embrace.
"Shall I bring you something for your headache, my dear?"
Mary shook her head, trying to clear it. She was so very confused. "Mama, I don't have a headache."
"Of course you do darling, otherwise Patrick wouldn't have had to go elsewhere. Isn't that why men always stray? 'Not tonight darling, I've got a headache.'" She and her former son-in-law chuckled lowly, intimately, mocking her.
"But Mama…"
"Not Turkish gentlemen, though." Her father's voice intoned from behind her and she whirled around to look at him, gaping in shock and confusion. "They get headaches when they stray. Aneurisms, Clarkson says, although it could also be their hearts."
"Papa…"
Her mother spoke up again, coming around her to stand with Robert, her hand wrapping around his shoulder. "Don't quarrel with Matthew, one day you may need him."
"But I haven't…not for months now, not really. And I already need him."
"Yes Mary- he might be useful." Patrick was shouting this from far away, and she turned to look for him. He was on the other side of the lawn now, heading for the treeline, but he continued to yell back at her; "I've ruined myself, you see, and you'll need someone to help you sort my mess out. A powerful protector for you to hide behind when everything gets too …vulgar."
As he moved further and further from her and disappeared behind one of the large oaks, other figures appeared through the trees. Matthew and Edith stepped out of what appeared to be a bower, hand in hand and gazing adoringly at each other. Over Mary's shoulder Cora was clapping, but Robert loudly cleared his throat, causing Matthew to look up. On realising they were all there he dropped Edith's hand quickly and moved towards them. Suddenly the distance between them was nothing and in a second he was stood in front of Mary, his piercing blue eyes commanding her gaze and he was holding her hand as he had last night, before they parted.
"I will do everything, anything, to help you."
"Thank you."
"…so long as my middle class background no longer troubles you." She began to shake her head but was interrupted by her father.
"Don't put Matthew off, darling. He'll have some good ideas for you." He looked momentarily contemplative. "Do you know, he's quite the son to me now?" A look of dawning inspiration crossed his features and he beamed widely at her. "And I think we might even let you stay here if you married Matthew."
"Yes Mary, don't worry. You can go to sleep now- everything will look better in the morning. Of course I say that because it's usually true, and now that Matthew is here, how could it be otherwise?"
Robert hugged his wife to him. "Quite right, my dear, now that we have Matthew, everything will be fine."
At that moment Sybil danced into her field of vision, preening as if she were standing in front of a mirror and pulling at the legs of a pair of ghastly turquoise pantaloons she was inexplicably wearing. As she pranced and twirled between her parents her sotto voice carried the little song she was singing to herself;
"Matthew… Matthew…"
"…Matthew." Mary turned back to Matthew, their gazes locking as tightly as their hands…
…and awoke in her bedroom, his name, and a smile, on her lips.
Erm, yeah.
Please leave me a review and let me know what you think. There was a LOT in this chapter- what are your thoughts on Patrick? I'm *dying* to know!