It wasn't going to do. Edith wondered if anyone participating in the farce even realized that. No, she thought as Mary rose from the breakfast table with a smile and a quick notice to all that she was off to check on Cousin Matthew, Mary is too lost in the fantasy that Matthew's return lent itself to. Tom was next to useless as well, for similar reasons. The imposter, Matthew's twin brother, had made a friend of Tom. A close friend, which meant Tom was both filled with guilt and with the longing to have such a friend back. Made worse, Edith was certain, by the reality that Matthew was, underneath his current anger, a genuinely friendly fellow and no snob, so the two of them were likely to be fast friends.
She was glad to have Matthew back, the real Matthew. Sybil was the smartest of the Crawley sisters, Edith had meant it when she said it to Tom but in working on the newspaper, she was coming to understand that she was close behind. She hadn't realized it until Matthew's return from Africa, but she had noticed something different about the man they all thought was Matthew. The real Matthew had been a friend, the gentle older brother she had always longed for. He had always treated her with respect, as though she was someone worth listening to.
Marcus Crawley, or Jupp Von Rostenberg, she sometimes wondered what name he preferred, had been… pleasant but distant. She had been hurt, truth be told, it had been a struggle accepting that he had somehow gone from close friend to acquaintance. She had blamed the war, it was easy to blame changes in men on the war, and Mary, who was prone to jealousy. With Matthew back, she understood what had really happened, that Marcus had held himself distant because he was afraid of being caught. Her own small bit of peace in the whole mess was realizing she hadn't somehow ruined yet another relationship by doing something stupid.
But the current situation was untenable. It was all well and good to let Matthew have some breathing room but the unpleasant reality was that the secret would come out. It was hardly well hidden to begin with. It hadn't taken much serious digging on the part of her paper's research staff to find the birth records, and the sad story of a child stolen away from loving English parents in Johannesburg. There was no possible way that Sir Richard Carlisle hadn't done the same research. She wasn't a fool, and she had learned enough of the newspaper business to know that Carlisle had something up his sleeve if he wasn't printing the story. That was a risk, because whoever put the story out first would get the most sales and Sir Richard certainly wasn't one to sacrifice profit.
She bided her time and waited for Mary to return from her now daily walk to Matthew's to engage her own plan. She even had an excuse if needed, she had found several of Matthew's friends from school and the war who had seen the news and were anxious to reconnect. Any conversation about revealing the secret needed to begin with the person affected most. That was Matthew.
He was, much to her amusement, in front of his small cottage, working himself into a lather chopping wood. She watched for a moment, not wanting to startle him from his work, and then coughed into her hand to get his attention. For just an instant, he looked startled but then he smiled broadly at her as he set down the hatchet. "Edith, how lovely!" Then he gave her a sly, conspiratorial look. "Did Mary send you to double check on me? I promise I haven't taken ill in the last two hours since Mary left."
"Am I not allowed to come and visit my favorite cousin?" she responded brightly. It had been a joke between them, that he was her favorite cousin in part because he was her only cousin.
He grinned, clearly amused. "Of course." He waved her towards the cottage and held open the door for her. "Please be welcome in my humble abode, Cousin Edith."
Much as she suspected, Mary had made a charming well kept cottage sound like a horror show of poverty. As she sat down on one of the comfortable armchairs, she gestured to the warm, inviting room. "You know that Mary makes it sound like you're sleeping in a muddy hole in the ground when she describes this place."
"I'm quite aware of Mary's biases," Matthew agreed as he sat down, "but you must be fair. You're seeing this place after I brought in new armchairs, a new sofa and a genuinely lovely desk. It was a bit barer when I first moved in. What has you stopping by for a visit?"
She decided not to belabor the point. "I did come here with a purpose, Matthew. I'm sure you were told that I inherited ownership of a newspaper?" It occurred to her suddenly that he might genuinely not know that.
Fortunately, he nodded. "Robert mentioned it, although I didn't really follow the reasons why." His expression took on a more serious caste. "Why do I think you're here to discuss a story?"
"Not one I am planning on publishing," Edith reassured, "but yes. And I don't think it's a mystery to you what that story is."
Matthew sighed as he nodded. "You found out about my lost brother. Did Mary tell you? Wait, she mentioned you knew…"
"I'm quite amazed she didn't leave out the part where I confirmed what she and Tom were guessing at." Edith agreed. "Frankly, I assumed it had to be something like this when your return was announced. I had some research done and I was planning to tell Mary what I had found when I overheard her and Tom having the same suspicions about what the truth was." She wasn't sure how to phrase the next point delicately. "I know this is something that you likely don't want in the news but it's only a matter of time before someone else discovers this. I can hold the story from going out in my paper, and I suspect Sir Richard is doing the same."
Matthew leaned back against his chair, his expression pensive. "Sir Richard has been hinting about the issue as well." He smiled slightly. "Richard isn't terribly subtle. My sense is that he's known for some time but has some affection for me as a person. I'm not sure why. I've been little more than a chore for him."
"A chore that makes him money," Edith corrected. "This isn't why I came but it wouldn't hurt to make sure that Sir Richard is paying you fairly. I know you're not desperate for money in any way but you're not familiar with the publishing world. I'm no expert either but there's no reason for you to give away your life story."
Matthew's expression grew more affectionate. "I appreciate the concern, Edith. Mostly because you remind me of who I was before the war, before Africa. You remind me that there was a time where I was a trusting fellow. Don't worry. Sir Richard is paying me fairly, to where if I had arrived penniless, I would now have more than a few pence to buy bread in my pockets. It hasn't escaped me that he's profiting from knowing me but to be honest…" And then he sighed. "I suppose it's wrong of me to like the fellow in part because he's one of the few people left in my life who I don't suspect of preferring my twin brother to me."
Edith couldn't help but laugh even though part of her couldn't help but register the underlying darkness of what he said. "Oh, Sir Richard couldn't stand your twin brother. They actually had a fist fight at the house. Over Mary. And I didn't prefer him over you." The words tumbled out without thinking. "When he came back from the war, with such severe injuries, he shut everyone out and we all thought we knew why, but once he recovered…" She struggled with how to say it. "You and I… we were friends. I thought of you like an older brother, that there was at least one person in this family that listened to me. But despite everything that happened with Lavinia and Sybil… he barely spoke to me." She shook her head. "I don't… want to sound petty about it. I know your situation pales in comparison."
"Yes, I win at suffering." Matthew smirked. "No one can compete. It's a gift that keeps on giving. If you get slapped in a fight, that's terrible but I was beaten with a truncheon and forced to go back to work. If you were ill, then remember that I almost died from eating spoiled zebra meat. If someone slights you at a party, why, I returned from years as a prisoner in Africa only to find out my hitherto unknown twin brother had taken my place, with actual approval from my mother."
He was teasing, in that he'd always had, that made her laugh but being older and wiser, she listened more carefully to the things he said. "Yes, you win the war of suffering, but that doesn't mean we don't all have our battles of pain." For a moment, the pain of leaving her baby daughter in Switzerland rose up in her, but she forced it back. "Your mother was in an impossible position; do you understand that?"
A flash of anger crossed his face but he masked it well. He leaned back on the sofa. "I don't. Can you explain it to me?"
A challenge. Not a surprise. Matthew had always challenged her to explain her position whenever she went to him for guidance or advice. It was a reminder of what she had missed and she hoped to help him with the bigger thing that was troubling him. "You make a show of how forgiving you are of everyone. Don't deny it. It's admirable in its way, except that you're using your forgiveness as a bludgeon to strike your mother with because you're so pointedly withholding it. Everyone else is allowed to be off the hook for not noticing but you won't forgive your mother."
"Because she knew exactly who he was." Matthew's tone held a note of correction that angered her.
"And what choice could she have made with that knowledge that would have helped you in any way?" Edith countered. "You forgave Papa for the same thing you won't forgive your mother for."
"She let him have my life." The underlying rage in his voice told her she was near the target if not directly on it.
"She did. And you don't see how she was making the best of a hideous situation. Or that your life wasn't such a lovely prize to receive." Edith waited a moment to let him consider it. "She lost her beloved son, Matthew. She found out you were severely wounded and rushed to be here and when she got here, she found out the hideous truth, that you were missing in action and most likely dead. And worse, the enemy soldier that took your place was her other son, her long lost son that she had grieved over and given up on. Yes, she let him continue pretending that he was you, yes, she let him have your life. But, when she made that decision, your life wasn't exactly a prize. He couldn't walk, he couldn't father children, it was quietly understood that he was likely to die within the next few years."
"Yes, I know this," Matthew growled. "But then he got better, didn't he? What about then?"
"Then they were both trapped in the lie." Edith waited a long moment. "This is how I know you're furious about it. You're so angry when if it wasn't you in the middle, you'd be arguing for compassion. They were trapped because whether or not he was your mother's son, he really was a German soldier who was guilty of spying against England. A terrible spy, but a spy, and Matthew, people were enraged against the Germans. People are still enraged with the Germans and frankly your story of being shipped off to a prison mine in Africa hasn't helped that." One story her paper was able to snare away from Sir Richard was the tracking down of the other prisoners Matthew had been imprisoned with. By all reports, including Matthew's, the men were dead but it was some comfort to their families to know what really happened to them. "If she revealed him as your brother, they both would have been arrested. What good would that have done?"
"It would have been honest," Matthew snapped. "Yes, the family would have been embarrassed at best, but you and I both know that your father would never have allowed them to jail my mother for that sort of lie. And yes, my brother would have been sent to prison but no doubt for a rather short sentence because he was now the only remaining heir to earldom. Lavinia would have been devastated but at least she wouldn't have been a day away from marrying a lie. And Mary would have at least known what she was getting into."
"You think far more highly of Papa than I do." Edith took a deep breath. "Papa is generally a kind man, I don't disagree with that, but he doesn't handle betrayal well. Or being made a fool of, and finding out that the mother of his distant cousin and heir made a fool of him, and his family, and worse, that you were really dead. Even worse, he'd be forced to save the German spy who'd made a fool of him because that spy was the last of the Crawley line. Lavinia is the only one who could have walked away unscathed." And then she chanced on something she suspected Matthew hadn't considered. "Mary would have married Sir Richard. Have you thought about that?"
His eyes widened, and Edith felt a surge of triumph. "I admit," he said carefully, "that hadn't occurred to me but…yes." He sounded relieved. "That would have been a terrible marriage. It was something that worried me, that she was engaged to a man I didn't even think she liked. Sir Richard feels in retrospect that he made a lucky escape."
The way he spoke of Mary gave her pause. "Matthew, I'm no longer a girl and I find that sometimes speaking plainly and bluntly allows us to stop dancing around things we should be talking about. Mary has been coming here every day. I don't pretend to know my sister's heart and I don't pretend that we're close friends as well as sisters but… she is my sister, and in many ways, this has been incredibly difficult and I don't want her hurt further." She waited a moment to let him collect himself. "Do you still love Mary?"
Matthew hesitated and she was amused to see a blush to his cheeks. "Yes. Yes, I still love Mary. But…" He looked down at his hands. "I don't know if I can put to words the misgivings I feel about it. We are very different people and… I know that Mary and I can be good friends again, and I can love her as family but I don't know that I could ever get past the fact that she adored the man she married…"
"And you're not that man," Edith finished for him. She had wondered as much.
"I'm not that man." Matthew chuckled suddenly although she didn't think he found much mirth in the topic. "By all reports, he did a much better job of being me than I ever did." He shook his head ruefully. "I just… can't be that man, and I worry that the more time we spend together, the more I am encouraging something that isn't real."
"Or," Edith offered, "you're still in love with Mary and you're letting the same old insecurity drive you off. You didn't marry her before the war because she was a fool about the earldom. It's ten years later, and now you're worried she'll compare you to the man that broke her heart and find you lacking."
"Yes… and no." He sighed heavily. "I'm not worried about it, I know it is the truth. I don't want to hurt Mary but I think we're seeing each other as the people that we were and we're both trying too hard to ignore the dead man between us."
"Then be yourself with her, Matthew. Let her see those differences." Edith waved her hand toward the abbey. "You can't avoid the earldom, you will be the next Earl of Grantham but you don't have to be Papa. The world is changing and so is the estate and plenty of the landed gentry can't even afford this life anymore. Regardless of what you plan for your personal life, you will need to consider the earldom. You don't have to agree to whatever the family wants and it might do everyone some good to see that your ideas and plans for the estate aren't the same. Mary needs to see that an identical appearance isn't the same as an identical personality." She sniffed. "I wouldn't have called him her lap dog, he wasn't a weak man, but he allowed her to have her way far more than you ever would have. She needs to see that. And you need to realize she's a stronger woman than the one you left behind." Edith waited a long moment. "There is a dead man between you and her. You may not be able to get past it. She may find her guilt makes it too difficult, but neither of you will ever know if it could work if you both refuse to address it at all."
He eyed her, not with amusement but with a dawning respect she hadn't seen in years and she fought the urge to blush from the attention. Finally, he leaned back and asked, "What is your opinion on this, Edith?"
She almost didn't say it but then decided honesty was best. "I think it's unhealthy. I think there is a ghost between you, and whether we call him Marcus, or Matthew, or Jupp, a part of you, a small part but it is there, that would resent her marrying him. There's a part of her that would always feel guilty over it, and at the same time she would feel anger and resentment over how you'll never let it go. And as much as I think you do both love each other, that anger would grow because you're not your brother, you're altogether more openly stubborn and she's stubborn, and she did love her husband. I think you'd both try, and you'd make each other miserable."
Matthew considered her words. "I'm not sure why you just finished telling me to try, if you believe what you just said."
"Because you're both that stubborn and prone to locking horns, and if you don't try, you'll always regret it." Edith looked him in the eyes. "Tell me that you walked away from Mary before the war and never once regretted it or wished that you hadn't been so angry. You loved Lavinia, I don't doubt that, but you regretted not marrying Mary. And now, it's ten years later, and despite all of the awfulness, you and Mary are still in love. I have misgivings about it, I know you do as well, and believe me when I say Mary has misgivings. So, ignore my worries and concerns and try." She managed a smile. "It's rare that I want Mary to prove me wrong but I do wish that."
"I don't deserve your well wishing," Matthew said. "I had to do things… terrible things, to survive. I don't deserve your concern, neither does Mary, and certainly my mother doesn't." He took her hand and held it. "But I accept your advice and your good wishes. I will look in on my mother tomorrow and… attempt to see her side of things. As for Mary… I will try, but I admit that I find it challenging. We can hardly just pick up as though… as though there wasn't a dead man between us."
"I'm sure if you try, you can. And perhaps acknowledging him will allow his shade to find peace." Edith hoped so, but truth be told, she was more worried about the living than the dead.