Previously:
Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, November 2, 2018
"Well, I wanted to tell you myself that I have agreed to the rebate applications. I look forward to more premieres with you," he stated.
"Of course," she said.
"One other thing, Marie. As you were so kind to be direct with me last night, allow me to do the same now. My interest in you has not changed. My plans for you still remain. Do not be concerned. I do not need to force myself on a woman. I will not pressure you. You owe me no obligation over this. What was discussed last night can be left there, and our business with the rebates is now complete. The next time we see each other, we are colleagues and acquaintances. However, I believe that you and I would be a formidable team. In time, I think that you will see it, too. Good night, Marie."
He hung up before she could reply.
Chapter 14:
Le Restaurant de La Gare, 16e arrondissement, Paris, France, November 11, 2018
"Merci, Marie! Merci!"
"De rien," Mary smiled, nodding to the two women who just took a selfie with her. They scurried back to their table. She reached for her mimosa and took an easy sip.
"You're popular this afternoon," Anna noted, taking a bite of her croissant.
"So it would seem," Mary smiled, stabbing her fork into a piece of cantaloupe. "People actually know who I am from Orlena now, rather than Paladin. It's only taken two years."
"I shouldn't be surprised. You've got the number one movie in the country," Anna noted with a smile. "And a slew of positive reviews on top of that."
Mary shrugged, though her smile remained. "The response has been lovely – so far – but that's more because of Paul, really. Still, it's doing far better than The Muse at the same point. Hopefully, this bodes well for Duplicity."
"And beyond that?" Anna asked. "He'll ask you what your plans are, surely?"
"At some point," Mary replied. "For now, Orlena was just released and there's another film to deal with in the New Year. I'm not eager to get back to work just yet."
"You're not eager to get back to work, or you're not eager to get back to work here?" Anna questioned.
"Both," Mary answered, staring at her plate. "Matthew wants to sort out our plans, and for once, I'm inclined to agree with him. It isn't as though I have any other offers at the moment, but perhaps I should take some time to see what's out there, rather than rush into another project with Paul."
"I expect Paul will want to lock you down sooner, rather than later," Anna offered.
"Jean-Paul and Xavier, as well, most likely," Mary rolled her eyes. "If Paul's next film is promising, I'll consider it, but I'm not desperate to win his favour anymore. Looking back, I'm glad we came to France when we did. I've done three films, and I was the lead in all of them. Now, I should explore what else is out there. I need to see whether Orlena has drawn any attention in the States, and there's Matthew's next movie to consider as well."
"I'm all for that," Anna smiled.
"Of course, you are," Mary laughed. "Your baby is being born in Toronto. You can't wait to get back."
"That's a good seven months away still," Anna huffed. "I just think it would be nice to work in Toronto again, that's all. It is my home, but it was yours for years, too, and Matthew's."
"No, you're right," Mary agreed. "Paris has been good to me, but I came here to build myself back up, and with any luck, I've made some progress now."
"You could almost say that Paul owes you now," Anna remarked.
"That's true, though he would never admit to it," Mary agreed. "Anyway, I'm going to take my time, and he'll just have to accept it."
They continued eating as the bustle of another Sunday brunch at one of Paris' busiest restaurants swirled all around them.
"What about Matthew? He must be looking at scripts himself now that his movie is done with," Anna remarked.
Mary nodded. "He's just relieved that Sony liked his latest cut. Molesley sent him a batch of films to consider, but he hasn't gotten to them yet. He's still very much in demand. The Disciple was quietly a solid hit for him. Sony's made a small fortune off of him already."
"Will he at least take a break from directing for a bit? The first try seemed to wear him out," Anna said.
"I couldn't tell you. He would prefer to just focus solely on acting for this next one, I think, but now that he knows he can do more, he might want the larger challenge. It comes down to whether he has a story to tell first. We're off until January. Between now and then, he might be inspired."
Anna nodded and took a sip of water.
"I'm happy that his career is going well, and for the first time in a while, I'm cautiously optimistic about my own," Mary continued. "With Xavier supporting our films, everyone's on my side. It's been years since those ridiculous scandals with Henry and Dad. Hopefully, I'll be judged on my actual acting from now on."
"You'll need Lady Rosamund to renew her efforts on your behalf," Anna replied.
Mary nodded. "With Orlena now out, she has something to pitch to the studios. Let's hope she can be convincing."
Creative Artists Agency, Midtown Manhattan, New York, USA, November 14, 2018
Rosamund rolled her eyes, staring at her computer screen as some deplorable American pop song played over her headset. She had been on hold for the past ten minutes, and expected to be for ten more. The perky assistant had come back on the line twice already to ask her if she would rather leave a voicemail, and she had crisply declined both times. Voicemails could easily be ignored and left unreturned. All of her previous ones had been. No, she was going to get through if she had to wait all afternoon, and if she still didn't, she would be on the next flight to Los Angeles.
She idly played with her pearl necklace as she waited, her eyes glancing yet again over the box office numbers for Orlena displayed prominently on her screen. The past two years had been a struggle. Mary was family, but not her only client. Navigating through the scandals that had plagued her niece's career was unbelievably frustrating, not least because there was very little Rosamund could do about it. Once the American studios turned their backs, Rosamund could only wait and hope that Mary's work in France would bring her back up. She couldn't fight to get Mary into meetings and auditions without proof that audiences still liked her, and that the scandals had been left behind. The agency wanted her to develop her other clients, so she did, while waiting for Paul Chaput's films to come out so she could show the studios that Mary was still a bankable star.
The Muse was a positive start, but so few people outside of Europe – audiences and studio executives alike – had seen it. That made it easier to dismiss. With Orlena, Rosamund took a more proactive approach. Rather than wait for a future North American release, she made sure that copies were sent to some of her contacts at the studios, and now she was doggedly following-up.
Her eyes wandered over to the small portrait of her mother, perched on the corner of her desk. Violet Crawley's sharp eyes and raised chin seemed to glare back at her, her lips pursed in displeasure. This was actually one of the nicer photos she had of her mother. They hadn't posed for family photos in years, and the two of them hardly ever took photos together. For a while, Sybil made it a point to take a photo of all of the Crawley women together every year, but Mother wouldn't smile in those either, and once her Alzheimer's took hold, she stopped taking photos altogether.
Rosamund sighed and held her mother's stare. It was almost a year now that she'd been gone, time having done nothing to diminish the devastating loss. They were never affectionate with each other, classically British in their stoicism until the bitter end. Still, Mother had brought her up, almost exclusively, and she took after her in spades. So rare was Violet Crawley's approval granted that Rosamund never even sought it out. Now, though, after her death, moments where she had appeared indifferent or ambivalent took on an entirely different view.
Mother was adamant that Rosamund and Robert would not follow her into the acting business. She discouraged them from even taking drama classes in school. Yet, when Rosamund told her she wanted to be an agent after graduating from university, she said very little. Her blithe comments over the years actually disguised cautious warnings and sage bits of advice. Most importantly, Mother trusted her with Mary's career, a prized treasure to be sure. The granddaughter of Violet Crawley, and the daughter of Cora Levinson, was always going to face an uphill battle to be taken seriously. By allowing Rosamund to guide Mary along, particularly in those early years in Canada when no one knew who she was, Mother was giving her endorsement, her trust that Rosamund was the one to shepherd Mary forward.
Their last moment together had been quiet and calm. Sitting at her mother's bedside, Rosamund held tight to her hand, the two of them looking at each other, an entire understanding passing between them. It felt strange to tell Mother that she loved her, so she didn't. A soft kiss and a heartfelt thank you was all she could offer. A squeeze of her hand and a slow nod was all she got back. It was more than enough.
If only she were still here, Rosamund thought. It would be rather hilarious to see some pompous ass of a studio executive try and hold his ground against Violet Crawley.
"Rosamund, hi."
She blinked as the pop music was replaced by a real, live, human voice. "Kevin."
"Sorry to keep you waiting. It's been crazy over here. What's up?" he asked, his voice already sounding distracted and impatient.
"I wanted to give you a call and see if you had a chance to watch Orlena yet? It's doing very well overseas, you know. Number one in six different countries," she noted, keeping her tone light.
"Yeah, I saw it. Mary was good," he replied.
She leaned forward. "She was. They love her over there."
"I especially liked the love scene with that model – Aline, was it? Yeah, that was really well done," he added. "The one at the beginning was good, too. The one at the end, not so much. I'm not big on the older man-younger woman thing."
She rolled her eyes. "Beyond that, I thought she did an excellent job of showing the emotional journey of the character. Paul Chaput offered her the role without an audition, you know? After directing her in The Muse, he was so impressed he wanted to work with her again, and they have a third film due out next year."
"I heard," he acknowledged. "That's good. The more she works, the more people will start thinking of her as a serious actress again."
"One should hope," she said tightly. "You know, a while ago you told me that you had reservations about her ability to carry a film. Well, she's now done two since then for a well-known director and moved good numbers."
"The latest one has good numbers. The first one, not so much, and that's all in Europe anyway. We don't know how Orlena will do here," he countered.
"Well, if you're any judge, it should do well," she retorted.
"One can hope," he answered. "Get to it, Rosamund. What do you want?"
"You know well enough," she replied. "I want Mary to get a fair shot. I don't want the door slammed in my face when I try to get her a meeting, or an audition. If someone is going to hold the past against her, at least let them see her perform first. I'm confident that her talent will win out in the end."
There was a lengthy pause as he considered his answer.
"I'll tell you what, Rosamund. I'll give the word that Mary can be up for consideration again on our projects. No promises that she'll get anything, but you can put her name in again, as long as she does something for me," he stated eventually.
"Such as?" she questioned, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
"Get her husband to take a meeting with us," he informed her.
She frowned. "Matthew? What does this have to do with him?"
"We've been trying to line something up with him for over a year," he advised. "Went through his agent, sent scripts, passed along messages from producers and directors; none of it has worked. He keeps sending his regrets and whatever, but we can't get him on the phone, let alone in the same room."
"Well, he has been rather busy, from what I understand," she said slowly. "He's been focused on his first directing effort for the past while."
"Yeah. He was able to somehow land Rooney Mara for it, too. Sony picked it up, I heard. Look, Rosamund, I know you aren't his agent, but pass the message along to Mary. Tell her to get him to find time for us and I'll put her back on our radar. Like I said, if no one wants her, that's not my problem, but you'll get your fair shot like everyone else," he finished.
"Done. I'll let them both know," she nodded.
"You do that. Bye," he hung up quickly.
She hung up and stared over at her mother's photo once more, going over the call again. She got what she wanted, in a strange way, but the condition requested by the studio was bizarre, to say the least. Why was Matthew freezing out an entire studio? He was hardly in a position to be so particular about his career choices.
Shaking her head, she reached for her mouse and opened up her video call app to ring Mary in France.
Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, November 14, 2018
"It's just a whole lot tighter. We really think it plays better this way, that the emotion is more palpable. Great job, Matthew. Just great."
Matthew smiled and nodded to the grinning studio executive on the monitor of his laptop. Since he had submitted the final cut of 10 Days back to Sony, each day was a nervous wait, wondering if the studio would want him to make further changes or not. He had no idea how he would be able to cut anything else. Getting to the latest version had been draining. There wasn't a second of footage that he thought the film could do without. Thankfully, the studio seemed to agree.
"Now we're well past the deadline for Sundance, unfortunately, but we're going to try and put a trailer together to show there anyway. We want to take a different approach with this. Rather than send you to the festival circuit, we'll do an extended trailer – maybe 10 minutes or so – and send that around to build up word of mouth online and in theatres. We're looking at a mid-February release. You know, take advantage of Valentine's Day and all of that."
"Right. Yeah, that's great," Matthew replied, suddenly feeling anxious. February? That was coming up so soon.
"Okay, so leave it with us. I'll get you some mock-ups of the posters and promo materials sometime next week and we should have a trailer for you to look over by next month. You get final say, of course, but we'll let our people handle things at first. We can't have you do everything, right?"
Matthew chuckled. "Sounds good."
"Good. Good. Oh, one more thing, we sent clips from The Disciple around to the Academy members and took out some ad space in Variety and the usual papers and websites. We've gotten some decent feedback so far. We'll let you know how that goes."
Matthew blinked in surprise. "Oh. Okay. Thanks."
"No problem. Since you're going to all those awards shows to present anyway, you may as well be up for an award yourself, right?"
Matthew nodded slowly. "Sure. Yeah."
"Great. Talk soon."
Matthew mumbled a goodbye and hung up the call. He sat back in his chair, staring at the screen in confusion.
"How was the call?" Alex asked, coming into the living room eating an apple.
"Good, yeah, fine," Matthew answered, turning to look at him. "They want to release the movie in February."
"For Valentine's Day. Sure. Makes sense," Alex nodded, sitting down on the sofa.
"Yeah. Yeah, it does," Matthew stammered.
"Something wrong?" Alex asked, looking at his friend in amusement.
"It just seems so soon, that's all," Matthew noted.
"They want to push before the blockbuster season comes," Alex noted. "If you go into March or April, you risk limiting your run as theatres clear screens for the next big budget movie. If they sit back, you're waiting for the Fall. Your film is going to depend on word-of-mouth and appealing to specific audiences, so it's better to get it out and let it build momentum."
Matthew nodded.
"Anything else?" Alex asked.
"Yeah, he mentioned that he sent a clip from The Disciple around for awards consideration," Matthew answered.
"Cool," Alex remarked easily.
"I guess," Matthew mumbled.
"You don't want to be up for awards?" Alex questioned.
"No, it's not that. I just never thought that my performance was worthy of consideration, that's all," Matthew explained.
Alex laughed. "You might want to get used to it. You're a name now. You're an Oscar winner. Everything you do is going to be viewed in a different context. Obviously the studio wants to push you as an actor who consistently does great work. It reflects well on them, and they think that by paying you particular attention, you'll be loyal to them in return. It's not that big of a deal for them to send a reel around for awards season. Movies that are total shit still do it. It's more about studio politics than it is about actual merit."
"Great. Thanks," Matthew said wryly.
They both looked up as the door opened and Mary came striding in.
"Hello, darling," Matthew smiled.
She didn't return his greeting. Instead, she looked over at Alex.
"Alex, would you mind going home to your wife? I'm going to kill my husband now and I prefer some privacy," Mary declared, glaring over at Matthew.
Alex and Matthew shared a pointed look.
"Yeah. Sure," Alex replied, getting up from the sofa. He looked over at Matthew again before heading out the door and closing it behind him.
"Something the matter?" Matthew asked cautiously.
"Very much so, yes," she said coldly, tossing her bag and coat on a chair and crossing her arms over her front. "I had a rather interesting call with Aunt Rosamund just now."
He nodded. "All right. And?"
"And she told me that she's received decent feedback from some of the studios about Orlena. She says she may be able to get me back into some meetings and auditions in the States. The odds aren't necessarily in my favour yet, but at least I'm being given a chance to compete for roles again."
His eyes widened. "That's great."
"It's something, yes," she acknowledged. "Strangely, though, she told me that she had a rather surprising conversation with Kevin over at Universal about me. You remember him, don't you?"
He frowned. "You may have mentioned him at some point."
"I'm quite sure that I did," she nodded. "He was one of the more vocal executives against me when the scandals broke. I was up for several projects and he pulled me from all of them."
"Right. Him. So, has he now come to his senses finally?" he asked.
"In part, yes," she replied. "He said that he would allow me to audition for their films again, on one condition."
"And what was that?" he enquired.
She arched her eyebrow. "He wants me to convince my husband to take a meeting with them."
He blinked. "What?"
She looked at him pointedly. "It seems that they've been chasing after you for over a year, but for some reason or another, they just haven't been able to connect with you. Apparently, they've sent you scripts, given you first shot at a number of roles, and even had producers and directors contact you personally, all for naught."
"Well, I've been rather busy," he mumbled.
"Oh, for God's sake, Matthew!" she rolled her eyes and threw her arms up in frustration. "You ignored one of the biggest studios in the world just because of how they treated me? How could you be so stupid?"
He frowned. "I didn't ignore them! I simply didn't prioritize them, that's all."
"A fine distinction," she scoffed. "You've had a brilliant past year, but it's just one year. You can hardly afford to be so discerning in your decisions, particularly for such misguided reasons!"
"I would hardly call them misguided," he answered. "I owe no obligation to Universal, or anyone else. I've showed them the same courtesy that they've shown you, that's all."
"Darling, if you sought retribution against every studio that wronged me, you'd have no one left to work for," she snapped. "You can't use your career to carry out some sort of vendetta. You've got to be far smarter than that!"
He shook his head. "That's a bit melodramatic. You were in talks with Universal, as well as MGM and Paramount. Those studios were the ones that were most against you. Rosamund wasn't able to make any progress with Sony or Lion's Gate, but that doesn't mean they were actually against you, at least not as overtly, anyway. I'm not crusading on your behalf, but I'm not exactly eager to work with Universal at the moment. If they are now changing their view where you're concerned, so much the better."
"And why did you not tell me that you were taking this decision?" she asked.
He smiled ruefully. "Because I knew you would be angry with me, and you'd try and talk me out of it."
"Quite right!" she grumbled. "So we'll both end up shunned by Hollywood. Will that satisfy you?"
"If we're together, I don't really care who likes us and who doesn't," he shrugged.
"You make it sound so easy to survive without them," she hissed, looking away. "I assure you that it isn't."
"Mary," he called, rising to his feet and coming over to her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, compelling her to look up at him.
"I don't care about whether I'm a famous actor, or not. I don't care if I'm an Armani model. My career has already been more than I ever imagined it would be. Being your husband is the most important thing in the world to me. What possible satisfaction could I take in working for a studio with such a low opinion of you? It's a small thing, but it's important to me that I support you somehow," he told her earnestly.
"You can support me by managing your career properly, by making sound decisions based on what's best for you, and not on emotion and sentiment. What if one of these projects that you rejected ends up being a huge hit? How angry will you be then to have turned it down?" she demanded.
"Actually, I read them. They're all rubbish, really," he replied.
"Matthew," she scolded him.
"You don't get to choose what decisions I make in my career," he said firmly, his blue eyes holding her still. "As my wife, and as someone whose opinion I greatly respect, you get to have a say. That's all. Everything that I do from now on, both personally and professionally, I take you into consideration. Where I could be shooting, how far apart we'll be, for how long, all of it matters. The money, the prestige, it means nothing if I can't have a proper marriage with the woman I love. That's it, and nothing you say will change my mind."
She sighed, her frown turning to a look of concern and worry. "I just don't want to be responsible for costing you anything. I don't want you to lose out on any opportunities because of me. I don't want to be the reason that your future isn't as bright as it could be."
He smiled. "My darling, without you, I don't have a future, not one worth living anyway."
She rolled her eyes and smiled. "That's such a line."
"And it's working, isn't it?" he smirked, leaning in and kissing her.
She hummed against him, opening her mouth and sliding her tongue against his. Eventually, she relaxed into his arms, hugging him and resting her head against his shoulder and neck.
"So, I'll take a meeting with them, and that will get you back in the mix?" he asked.
"According to Aunt Rosamund, yes," she confirmed.
"I know you hate being beholden to others," he continued, running his hand up and down her back. "Try not to think of it as me getting you back into consideration. Think of it more as just a hoop they're making you jump through."
She sighed and kissed the pulse point beneath his jaw lightly. "I think I've learned since being in France that nothing truly happens in this business without other people being involved. No one makes it entirely on their own. If I am to owe someone for helping me, who better than you? I can certainly think of far worse men, rather."
He chuckled. "Oh, I don't know. We haven't actually discussed my terms yet."
She laughed and leaned back, arching her eyebrow at him playfully. "As if I couldn't guess what they will entail."
"Good. Then we're agreed," he teased.
She rolled her eyes and took his hand. "Wine and a light snack first. I expect I'll need my strength to discuss these terms of yours."
He laughed and let her pull him down the hall to the kitchen.
Apartment of Alex and Anna Lewis, Le Marais, Paris, France, November 18, 2018
"Everyone ready?" Sybil asked, her smiling face filling up a quarter of the tablet screen.
"Ready," Mary confirmed, sipping her wine.
"I miss wine," Anna complained, taking a drink of her green smoothie.
"Don't worry, Anna. It tastes so much better after the baby's born, believe me," Sybil replied, sipping her own wine. "You appreciate it so much more."
Edith laughed.
With the three sisters living in different countries, they kept up their regular video chats. It was slightly easier now with Mary having wrapped on her films and having more free time. Anna often joined in, such as tonight when Matthew and Alex were out playing basketball and Mary came over for dinner.
"Where's your wine, Edith?" Mary asked, arching her eyebrow at her sister.
Edith grinned and shook her head. "No wine for me tonight."
"No wine for just tonight, or no wine for a while longer?" Sybil probed.
Edith nodded. "For about the next two years at least, actually."
Sybil squealed and applauded heartily. "Lady Hexham! Are you for real?"
Mary and Anna shared a knowing smile.
"Yes, I'm pregnant," Edith confirmed. "About four weeks now."
"Congratulations," Mary smiled genuinely. "That's wonderful."
"Thank you," Edith replied. "I just told Mum and Dad yesterday. They weren't nearly as happy as when Sybil told them she was pregnant, but they put on a good show of it."
"Please," Sybil scoffed. "They're elated, I'm sure."
"They must be," Mary agreed. "After all, Sybil failed in her duty to give them a grandson, so you've given them hope."
"Fuck off," Sybil huffed. "They can blame Tom for that."
"I'm sure that they do," Mary teased. "For that, and other things."
They all laughed.
"So we're about four weeks apart or so, aren't we, Anna?" Edith noted. "It'll be such a relief to have someone to lean on during all of this."
"I'll need all the help I can get," Anna agreed. "Are you going to deliver in London or up north?"
"Definitely in London," Edith replied firmly. "There's a hospital in Newcastle that's just a few minutes away from Brancaster, but Bertie doesn't want to use them. I was quite relieved at that."
"The heir to the Marquess of Hexham born in London? How progressive of you both," Mary joked.
"I don't know if it'll be a boy," Edith shrugged. "Girls seem to run in his family almost as much as they do in ours."
"There's nothing wrong with having a girl," Sybil retorted. "It's not as if this will be your only child."
"Easy there," Mary warned. "Just because you're planning to have an entire brood of Celtic ruffians doesn't mean Edith has to follow suit. Leave her be."
"Fine. Let's talk about when you're going to join the party, then," Sybil fired back, smirking at her older sister.
Anna laughed.
Mary rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Sybil. I literally just got back from my honeymoon."
"Yeah, you're right. There's plenty of time. Besides, Aunt Rosamund is probably pitching a reality show about you getting pregnant – Mary and Matthew Plus One?" Sybil suggested cheekily.
"Oh!" Edith laughed.
"That isn't happening, however I'd rather be paid to go through the experience than give away all the sordid details for free to anyone who asks like you do," Mary countered.
Anna smiled at that.
Sybil rolled her eyes.
"So, yes, I'm pregnant," Edith repeated.
Mary sighed and gave Sybil a wry smile in truce.
"That's wonderful, darling, really," Sybil nodded to Edith. "Tell us all about it. How are you feeling?"
Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, December 3, 2018
"Have you heard of Damocles?" Matthew asked, looking over at Mary reclined on the sofa.
"Damocles…" she repeated, narrowing her eyes in thought. "Wasn't he the poor fool from Greek mythology who kept pushing that boulder up the hill over and over again?"
He frowned. "That was Sisyphus."
"Oh, right. Was he the one who flew too close to the sun and fell from the sky?" she asked.
"No, that was Icarus," he replied.
"Ah, yes. Icarus. How about the one who slayed the Minotaur, then?" she continued.
He rolled his eyes impatiently. "Again, no. That was Theseus."
"Was it? Strange. Well, then he must be the one who killed his father and had sex with his mother," she concluded.
"That was Oedipus. Honestly, Mary!" he groaned. "You're doing this on purpose!"
She looked over at him and arched her eyebrow, a playful smile on her lips. "Damocles, a lowly courtier who is gifted the chance to trade places with his King, Dionysius, which he eagerly accepts. Upon sitting on the throne, surrounded by wealth and every opulent object his heart could possibly desire, he discovers that a huge sword has been suspended above his head, hung by a single strand of horsehair. Living in constant fear of death, he begs Dionysius to allow him to take his old life back."
He grinned. "Yes, that's the one. So you do know of him."
"We private school girls know our Latin and Greek mythology cold, darling," she smiled. "What about him?"
He looked at his laptop screen. "I've just been reading about him a bit. His story sounds like it might make a decent film."
She sat up and looked at him curiously. "You think so? It's rather brief, isn't it?"
He chuckled. "Obviously it would need to be developed beyond just the one scene, yes, but I like the overall theme. The naïve man dazzled by money and splendour, envious of someone who is so far above him in class, and not realizing that great wealth and power can also attract danger."
"Let me guess, you would be portraying poor Damocles, taken from a simple life and suddenly thrust into the lap of luxury," she offered.
He smiled and nodded. "That would suit me more than playing the Dionysius role, to be sure. I don't know about setting it in ancient times, however. Probably best to make a modern version but use the original character names, like what Baz Luhrmann did with Romeo and Juliet."
"Are you sure that's wise? How many men named Damocles and Dionysius do you know?" she remarked.
"That's the beauty of it, though," he said. "People will have some vague curiosity about the names, which will draw them in. Once they see the story unfold, they won't even care what the characters are called."
"And is there a role for me in this modern interpretation of yours?" she asked.
"Of course," he confirmed, smirking at her. "You would be the beautiful woman who has a torrid affair with Damocles, only to find out he isn't the man you thought he was."
She rolled her eyes. "So predictable. You're imagining our love scene taking place inside a fancy sports car, aren't you?"
He shrugged. "One of them, yes. Another would be on the terrace of the penthouse of a skyscraper."
She threw a cushion at him, striking him flush in the head.
"Hey!" he laughed, recoiling from the blow.
"That's what the genius writer and director has conjured for me, is it? Going down on you in the front seat of a Ferrari while you race down the motorway?" she snapped, getting up off the sofa and stomping over to him.
"I prefer Lamborghinis, rather. The seats are lower to the ground," he joked, laughing as she reached him and slapped his arm.
"I'll show you lower to the ground!" she roared, tickling his sides and hitting his chest.
"Now is that any way to treat your director and co-star?" he laughed, getting up from his chair and grabbing hold of her. He picked her up off the ground and tickled her with his fingers.
"All that talk about wanting to work together! All you really want is to have sex with me on-screen!" she hissed, laughing despite her resistance as he carried her back to the sofa.
"Well, you must admit that we are quite good at that. I won an Oscar for it, didn't I?" he chuckled, lying down on the sofa and taking her with him. "I'm literally an award-winning lover."
She relaxed in his hold and didn't pull back when he kissed her soundly. "You won awards for your fake lovemaking only, I'll remind you."
"Are you saying that the real thing isn't worthy of recognition?" he asked, running his fingers along her jaw as he kept kissing her.
"Mmm, I suppose I'll need to take it under advisement," she replied, turning her head to allow him access to her pale throat.
"Maybe you prefer another on-screen romp with Aline, or Jimmy? Maybe Paul will put you with both of them in his next film," he snarled, slipping his hand beneath her shirt and caressing her bare skin.
"Don't be jealous," she whispered, hooking her leg around his and drawing him closer. "You love watching me have sex in my movies."
"Hardly," he complained between kisses.
"I disagree," she replied, reaching down and unzipping his jeans. "It bothers you, which is why after every premiere you seem to be rather aggressive."
"Are you saying you do it on purpose?" he questioned, groaning as she reached into his shorts and took hold of him. "You look forward to these scenes putting me in a state?"
"I'm a professional," she scoffed, nipping at his shoulder. "I do my job, that's all. If it just so happens that my husband feels the need to give me a good hard fuck as a result, well, that's beyond my control, isn't it?"
"Are you saying that's what you want right now?" he pressed, fumbling with her skirt.
"A Lady doesn't speak of such things," she noted.
"What does a Lady think about?" he growled, yanking her skirt and panties off.
"Nothing she would ever admit to," she replied, closing her eyes and smiling as she rolled her hips against him. "A Lady would never say she wanted her husband to strip her naked and make her take all of him down her throat."
"Mary," he grunted, kissing her hard.
"A Lady would never say she wanted her husband to make her ride him like a dirty slut," she hissed between kisses.
He breathed heavily and kissed her again.
"A Lady would never say 'fuck me, darling'," she moaned, tearing his shirt open.
"I'll just have to use my imagination, then," he rasped, pulling her on top of him.
"Oh yes, Matthew!" she cried as he thrust inside of her.
La Table du Lancaster, 8e arrondissement, Paris, France, December 7, 2018
"I hope that tonight's dinner didn't cause you any inconvenience at home," Xavier smiled, taking a sip of his wine.
"Why would it?" Mary replied, arching her eyebrow and putting her wine glass down. "Do you think I'm afraid of having dinner with you?"
"No, never," he smiled. "I don't know if your husband would approve, however."
"He doesn't approve. He's not exactly a fan of yours after what you tried when I was last at your home," she noted.
"And yet here you are," he nodded.
"Matthew trusts me," she said pointedly. "He knows I must still associate with Paul, and with you, to ensure that Orlena and Duplicity have the support that we want. Part of our jobs is to socialize with executives, producers, directors and so on."
"That pleases me," he commented.
"Don't be so smug," she warned. "I'm here to maintain our association, not to change the nature of it."
"Not yet," he smirked.
She rolled her eyes and took a bite of her sea bass.
"Paul tells me that you are considering having another go in America?" he enquired.
"I've not made any decisions yet," she replied. "I'm going to take some meetings and see what's on offer. It was never my plan to remain in France indefinitely."
"Plans change," he replied. "It would be a pity for you to take such a large step backwards."
"Backwards? How so?" she asked.
"To go back to America is to be another face in the crowd," he shrugged. "Another number. Part of the cattle, hoping not to be culled as you go through your auditions."
She frowned. "As opposed to how I would be treated here?"
"Exactly," he nodded. "Here you are already established, with the support of a renowned director, a major studio…"
"And the Minister for Culture," she added.
"And the French people," he smiled. "With my help, your films are going to be shown to the world, Marie. There really isn't anything for you over there, nothing that we cannot already provide."
"I'll just have to see for myself," she stated.
"That's fine. You'll be back," he smirked.
She looked at him for a moment as he sliced into his venison.
"Why are you so interested in what I do?" she asked. "We know where we stand now. Shouldn't you be moving on?"
He chuckled, glancing over at her as he chewed his food. "You think that since you turned down my offer, I'll go and find another actress to take your place, do you?"
"It would seem the logical thing to do, rather than waste your time," she commented.
"Contrary to what you might think, I don't do this sort of thing very often at all," he answered. "You said it yourself before. I'm not one for bribes and special arrangements."
She frowned. "But you know that nothing will ever happen between us. Why still occupy yourself with me?"
He smirked. "I'm anxious to see you happy."
She blinked. "I am happy."
"But not as happy as you want to be," he replied. "You came to France because you were out of options for your career, not by choice."
"Perhaps, but much has changed since then," she said.
"But your career is still not where you'd like it to be," he nodded.
"And you think that you can help with that?" she questioned.
"That, and other things," he confirmed.
She frowned. "I love my husband."
"I have no doubt. I love many things in life as well, but that does not stop me from trying to be happier than I already am," he declared.
"What makes you think that you can make me happier than Matthew does?" she demanded.
He smiled. "I didn't say I could. I don't compare myself to anyone. What I do is create a life for myself, and where I see room for improvement, I pursue that. It doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with my current life, or that it makes me any less happy. But I do believe that everyone owes it to themselves to be as happy in life as they possibly can be. It's called the pursuit of happiness, not the stroll of happiness."
She arched her eyebrow. "And you believe that I can be happier than I am."
"It's obvious, isn't it?" he smiled. "You'll see. Jean-Paul and I have discussed how the Los Angeles premiere of Orlena will be carried out, to give France the promotion it deserves. After that, we'll get started on Duplicity. When you see what I can do for your career, lining up for auditions in America will seem quite inferior."
She took a sip of wine, watching him closely. His confident smile as he continued eating his dinner was both unnerving and intriguing. "I didn't realize that you would be as involved in the actual business of filmmaking."
"Paul is the director. Jean-Paul and I control the money. He pays to bring the movies to Europe. I help bring them to the world. He is accountable to me, as we are dealing with taxpayer euros. So, I have a say," he explained.
"And if the worldwide distribution is a success, I'll have you to thank," she replied.
"None of it is possible without me, yes," he nodded, taking another bite of his entrée.
"Even if everything goes as well as you say," she began carefully. "That doesn't mean anything will occur between us. You'll have the satisfaction of your rebates resulting in more exposure and positive marketing for France and the French movie industry. I'll have a better career. While we both will benefit, that won't be enough to make you as happy as you want to be, I expect."
He nodded. "Maybe so. Who knows what the future holds? For now, it seems that I'm doing something right. You're here now, and there will be premieres, events and meals in the future that we will attend together. Considering that I did not even know you mere months ago, I seem to be making progress."
She swallowed.
"How is the sea bass?" he asked.
"Delicious," she replied.
Mount Sinai Hospital, Toronto, Canada, December 14, 2018
Anna held on to Alex's hand as the doctor lifted her shirt and placed a towel across her stomach, leaving the lower part of her belly exposed. The gel wasn't nearly as cold as she was expecting, but the sensation was still rather strange.
"Okay, so watch this monitor here, and we should be able to see the baby right away," the doctor informed them, holding up the transducer and nodding towards the large computer screen.
Anna looked over anxiously.
Alex watched her for a moment before looking over himself.
"Here we go," the doctor announced. She placed the transducer on Anna's belly and moved it around slowly.
The monitor lit up immediately with a shifting forms in white and black. The doctor kept moving the transducer to get the best image possible. Finally, she stopped and held the transducer in place.
Alex squinted at the shapes on the screen.
"There you are," the doctor smiled when she finally found a proper angle.
Anna's eyes widened. "Are those…?"
"You're having twins," the doctor confirmed. "Congratulations."
Anna gasped.
Alex grinned, shaking his head in wonder. "Twins."
The doctor nodded and pointed at the display. "They're fraternal, non-identical. They each have their own placenta, as you can see here. The membranes are quite thick, so they're fine, seem to be a good size. We usually have a different ultrasound and a series of tests to confirm everything when we're dealing with twins, but everything looks great so far."
"Twins," Anna muttered.
"Twins," Alex smiled. He leaned over and kissed Anna's forehead.
"Why don't you get cleaned up and I'll go and get my schedule to see when we can get you in for your next appointment," the doctor suggested, putting the transducer away. "We'll send the report to Dr. Ryder and she'll set up your next follow-up with her as well."
With that, she rose from her chair and left the room.
"Oh my God," Anna blurted out, covering her mouth with her hand for a moment before continuing. "We're having twins!"
"It's amazing," Alex nodded, taking the towel and wiping her belly before doing her jeans back up and pulling her shirt down.
"We…we'll need another crib, and double of everything! What about the stroller, and should I change my diet? Maybe there's…" she stammered.
"Love," he said, drawing her attention. "Everything is going to be great."
He kissed her softly, caressing her cheek as she reluctantly kissed him back.
"I was desperate to give you children, and now it seems I'm giving you two all at once!" she smiled in disbelief.
"We're very, very lucky," he nodded. "We have plenty of room. You can remodel the nursery, knock down a wall and make it bigger if you want. We can afford a bigger stroller, two car seats, two of everything. This is great news, love. It's amazing news."
She nodded slowly. "Shit, I'm going to be delivering two babies now."
He laughed and kissed her again. "That's true. Sorry about that."
She shook her head at him ruefully. "This is all your fault. Knocking me up with twins. Jesus."
"Blame me as much as you want," he chuckled, helping her sit up.
"Well, this will be quite the surprise for Mum," she noted.
"I can't wait to see the look on her face," he agreed.
"Careful. She might want to stay longer now," she teased.
He rolled his eyes. "She probably will. My Mom, too. I could build a little shed in the backyard for them."
"Babes!" she scolded him, slapping his chest lightly.
He laughed. "Fine, fine. They can sleep in the basement."
"You'll be in the basement more likely," she warned him.
"No way in hell," he protested. "I'm not letting my wife, or my twins, out of my sight."
She laughed and kissed him before the doctor came back in.
Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, December 18, 2018
"We really need to get up, darling," Matthew sighed.
"Mmm, so get up, then," Mary replied, keeping her eyes closed.
"It's rather difficult for me to do so with you lying on top of me," he noted, running his hand up and down her bare back.
"So move me, then," she smirked, still not looking at him.
He rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around her. Turning over gently, he eased her on to her back.
"Ah," he exclaimed in surprise as she wrapped her long legs around him and pulled him on top of her. "Mary!"
"Still want to get out of bed?" she asked, arching her eyebrow at him.
"You said we were going to look at houses today," he reminded her, his arousal flaring as she rubbed against him.
"Those houses aren't going anywhere," she replied. "We can take another hour or so before we head out, can't we?"
He grunted and kissed her neck, the feel of her breasts against his chest only enflaming him more. "Should I remind you that the other day when I wanted us to have a lie-in, you complained that you had all these appointments that you needed to get to and left me high and dry?"
She laughed and ran her hands down his back and squeezed his bottom. "I seem to recall that my appointments included dress fittings for the Golden Globes and the SAG Awards. If you didn't want me to leave, you shouldn't have gone and gotten yourself nominated again."
He huffed and shifted against her intently, a pleased rumble coming from his throat when he felt her own arousal.
"Go on and have your revenge if you like," she teased. "You can go and leave me wanting now."
"As if I ever would," he growled.
She laughed sultrily before moaning in pleasure as he pushed in slow and deep.
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, December 25, 2018
"Gwampa! Gwampa!"
Everyone smiled at Emma scampering over Robert and holding her arms up expectantly. The Earl gave her a warm smile before picking her up again. The baby squealed in delight as he carried her over to the bookshelf and pointed out different titles.
"Anyone remember Dad ever doing that with any of us?" Edith asked, smirking at her sisters.
"If he did, there's no evidence of it to speak of," Mary replied.
Cora smiled and shook her head at the sight. She sipped her tea and turned back to her daughters gathered around on the sofa and settee before her. Christmas was so much more fun with a baby in the house, and with Edith pregnant, the prospect of the house being filled with children laughing and playing once again warmed her heart.
"How is Anna?" Isobel asked.
"Doing well," Mary nodded. "They're in London at her mum's for Christmas. I invited them here for New Year's, but they're heading back to Toronto. Alex's parents are flying in."
"What are you going to do for an assistant?" Sybil asked. "I imagine her doctor will want her to rest in a few months. Twins are always a bit more of a struggle."
"I don't know," Mary shrugged. "Aunt Rosamund is looking at possible candidates, though no one could replace Anna. Selfishly, I hope I won't have to do without her for too long."
"That is very selfish, yes," Matthew teased, smiling at her.
Mary rolled her eyes. "Excuse me, I'm the one she called first when she found out she was having twins. I'm overjoyed for her as her best friend, but on a professional level, I think I'm allowed to dread losing my assistant."
Edith and Sybil smiled at each other.
"All right, my little lamb, let's leave Grandpa be and go up for your nap, please," Tom called, coming over and holding his arms out to his daughter.
"Gwampa!" Emma whinged, burrowing her head into Robert's neck.
"Crikey," Tom complained.
"Emily! Naptime! Now!" Sybil snapped, getting up from the sofa.
Robert handed the perturbed child over to her parents, who promptly put her down on the floor and guided her out of the library, each of them holding on to one of her hands to help her walk towards the Great Hall.
"Still sure you want one of those?" Mary asked, smirking at Edith.
"Very sure," Edith nodded, sharing a smile with Bertie. "Speaking of which, we should go, too."
Bertie nodded and helped his wife to her feet. Giving their regards, they both left and headed towards the parlour.
"Edith and Bertie play music to the baby every day," Mary explained when she saw Matthew's perplexed expression. "They think it's soothing and beneficial."
"The Mozart effect? I thought that was disproven," Matthew noted, looking towards the doorway.
"It was, but they like doing it," Robert shrugged, returning to his chair. "At least they play proper Classical music, rather than something far worse."
Matthew nodded in understanding and reached for his tea. He shared a smile with his mother as he sipped his Earl Grey. He had spent so many Christmases at Downton Abbey since he was a child. His parents had very small families, so they would often come here before Christmas Eve. The big house looked even more majestic with the grounds covered in snow, and even though Mary and her sisters no longer lived here, the towering Christmas tree in the Great Hall still welcomed them home. The few servants left were dismissed for the week, leaving the family to fend for themselves. They all gathered in the kitchen to make Christmas cookies, and Cora and Mother handled the dinners. The Crawleys preferred Beef Wellington for Christmas, rather than turkey. Being here this particular year, with Emma far more interactive than she was as a newborn last year, Edith pregnant, and Mary's career on a better footing made the holidays seem more festive and enjoyable, a true family gathering.
"When are you flying out again?" Robert asked.
"New Year's Day," Mary answered. "The Golden Globes are the following Sunday, so we need to be in Los Angeles for the events beforehand."
"And you'll go back to Paris after that?" Cora asked.
"We don't have to," Mary shrugged, looking at Matthew. "The SAG Awards are two weeks later. It would make more sense to just stay in California, or maybe go to Toronto, rather than fly back and forth across the Atlantic."
"I haven't even though that far ahead," Matthew admitted. "It does make sense to stay there for the month. We've both got meetings lined up."
"That sounds promising," Isobel nodded, smiling at Mary.
"It does," Mary agreed. "I'm keeping an open mind."
Matthew padded quietly into the nursery, smiling as Sybil looked up from the recliner. Emma was sleeping peacefully against her chest, the warbling of Ed Sheeran playing softly from Sybil's phone.
"Thinking Out Loud does the trick every time," Sybil smiled.
"Here I thought she'd go for something by The Cranberries," he joked, sitting down beside her. "How are you doing?"
"Good, thanks," she nodded. "She was such a nightmare on the flight over. Just wouldn't settle."
He nodded. "Tom told me."
"She was much easier to travel with last year. Now that she can walk and run, the second you look away, she takes off," she shook her head.
"Don't worry. Once she has a sibling to take care of, she'll learn more responsibility," he joked.
She rolled her eyes. "Like Mary and Edith took care of me? They dumped me on Nanny most of the time, or Mrs. Hughes."
"You're still having a second, though," he noted.
"Mmm hmm," she answered. "I think three years between them is probably the most I'd want, so sometime middle of next year we'll get to it."
He smiled and nodded.
"What about you?" she asked, looking at him pointedly. "Feeling broody?"
He chuckled softly. "No. Besides, it's Mary who needs to feel broody for it to mean anything, and I think we've got a ways to go there."
"You'd be surprised," she told him. "With Anna and Edith both due next summer, she might feel left out."
"Maybe. Though we still need to figure out where we're going to live," he remarked.
"I thought you were looking at houses in London?" she questioned.
"We did. Nothing really dazzled us. I think she'd be fine to just stay at Painswick House. With Rosamund seldom there and Edith and Bertie having their own place, the house is empty most of the time," he said.
"But you don't want to?" she asked.
He shrugged. "It would sort of feel strange to make that our permanent home. It's your family's house, not ours."
"I suppose. It depends on where your futures lie, really," she stated.
"That's true. I could see us being quite comfortable in a few different cities. There's no real rush, but it would be nice to have a real place of our own," he explained.
"Of course. Living in hotels and short term rentals must get tired after a while," she observed.
He nodded. "We might be in Los Angeles for all of January, so we found a house earlier this afternoon. It's remarkable what's available."
"For the right price," she smiled.
"Isn't that always how it is?" he laughed, getting up from his chair. He leaned over and kissed Emma on the forehead before kissing Sybil lightly. "Good night, darling."
"Good night," she replied. "Send my husband up when you see him, would you?"
He nodded and left the nursery.
Downton Village Church, Downton Village, Yorkshire, England, January 1, 2019
Their boots crunched on the pavement as they walked. Mary held tight to her husband's arm. Matthew held a wreath in his free hand. They didn't speak as they passed behind the Church and into the cemetery. The area was deserted, for which they were grateful.
Edith and Bertie had left a few days ago, heading up north to Brancaster Castle to spend New Year's with his family. Sybil and Tom had stayed behind at Downton with Emma, Aunt Rosamund, and Mary's parents. They all had shared a goodbye this morning when Mary and Matthew packed up their luggage to leave for the airport. Yesterday, Mary visited with Carson and Mrs. Hughes, wishing them both happy holidays.
This was their last stop before flying out for California.
Isobel had already came and left. She quietly asked to be alone today, and of course, everyone understood and obliged her. Matthew worried that she ought to spend the day with family, but Mary told him to leave her be. Everyone had to cope in their own way.
They reached the large granite headstone. Edith and Isobel had already left bouquets from their earlier visits. In the past year, a few fans had even made the visit, leaving cards, letters, and flowers in tribute. Most people went up to Downton, instead. A receiving box had been set up beneath a portrait hung prominently on the wall in the public area of the house.
Matthew stood aside as Mary stepped forward and placed the wreath at the foot of her Granny's grave. She reached out and touched her black glove to the cold stone, tracing the letters of Granny's name briefly before standing up and returning to Matthew's side. They remained there in silence for several moments, both of them lost in thought.
"What did she tell you when we broke up?" she asked quietly, looking over at him. "Do you remember?"
He found her eyes and nodded. "I spoke to her a few times after you left for Canada. She tried to explain why you left but I refused to listen. I was too crushed."
She sighed sadly.
"Eventually, she told me that I needed to get on with my career, and with my life. I thought she was just encouraging me to let you go, but looking back now, I see she wasn't doing that at all. She didn't want me to give up, but she knew I wouldn't be able to win you back through words alone. I had to follow my own path for a while and work on myself, and just trust that we would find our way back to each other eventually. So, that's what I did," he explained.
She smiled bravely at him before looking back at the headstone.
"I know it's not medically possible, but I still believe that she knew what was going on when we came back here to see her that time," he continued. "The way she spoke to me – telling me to not give up on you, on us – it wasn't her being stuck back in 2010. I'm sure of it."
She turned to him and nodded. "I know I told you that I didn't believe you, but one of the last things she ever said to me before she died was that I should marry you."
He smirked.
She smiled. "Exerting her influence over our lives to the last."
"I'm quite glad," he stated. "It means that she thought I was the one to make you happy."
She took his hand. "And loved us enough to do something about it."
They took one last look at Violet's grave, saying a silent prayer before they walked briskly from the cemetery and to the waiting limo bound for the airport.