AN: We begin now an important part of the story for Mary and Matthew, significantly the former as the house recovers from the flu. An element of mystery surrounds Mary's plan as you shall see, but I would love to hear your guesses in reviews.

I would like to note here, as it comes up again in this chapter, and a couple of people got confused last time. Edward is Robert and Cora's child, Sir Richard is making assumptions about him based on what he knows of Mary. He's assuming Cora sleeps around.

Thank you for all the support this last week, if I haven't replied to you all its because I've been so very busy but I will make doubly sure to do so this week. And this chapter seems to be very long! Enjoy!

May 1919.

It was reluctantly, my god, it was reluctantly that Matthew Crawley ushered his cousin, all dressed in black, into his sitting room in the house her mother had gifted to him. The house he and Lavinia were supposed to spend their married life. Little Grace surrounded by her siblings. But the truth, which he'd tried to ignore for the last two months, ever since he'd sat holding the hand of a corpse, his wife's corpse, had failed to go away. He couldn't manage. A baby was too much for him, particularly a baby that looked so very much like her mother.

He questioned himself now, as he had a thousand times, why of all the people he knew, his mother included, it was Mary he was about to let into his life. The first person to sit in the same room as him, aside from his daughter, since that fated night two months ago. A night when two souls had been lost.

At first he thought the reason for his choice was clear, it had been what Lavinia had specified, or rather uttered as her final words. She'd been sure, so sure, in those last moments of life that he loved Mary, that Mary was going to be Grace's mother. Matthew remained still unconvinced. It was true he wasn't about to propose marriage to a woman already engaged, he couldn't. How could he when his wife was dead? Dead with a broken heart? But neither could he, after two months, carry on as he had been, Grace needed a motherly figure. Lavinia had trusted Mary, even at the end, after she had kissed her own husband. Mary then, it had to be. He didn't like to let his thoughts wander to all the other reasons he might have subconsciously chosen Mary. Indeed that kiss had been quite, well, lovely and Mary was and always would be the first love he had lost. But that should be all, he told himself daily. She was loved and lost, never to be reclaimed.

"What seems to have coaxed you out of hibernation Matthew?"

"Don't sound like your Grandmother, it doesn't suit you." But he knows his lips are threatening to curl. He crosses and uncrosses his feet desperate to distract himself. It wasn't his fault that her perfume seemed to wash over the whole room, aggravating his nostrils in the process. "It's Grace. I can't cope with...she needs a mother. And I can't be that person."

Her black hat dips, the sleek satin becoming clear to him, her own fingers tie and untie in her lap as she processes his words. He can almost hear her chewing her lip.

"And I suppose you want me to-to help you?" Her eyes fall on his for the first time, and he feels the cold air rush into his lungs. They were so very brown, so very beautiful.

"Yes. Lavinia, ironically enough, would have wanted you to help me. She trusted you."

"A failing on her part." It amazes him that even Mary seems to see the very friendship she had as being rather incorrect, formed under the wrong feelings.

"Perhaps. But nevertheless-"

"There's Richard to consider. He can't know. Not just for my sake but yours and Grace's too." Matthew watches her expressions intently, he was well attuned to the scrunching of her nose and the tightness of her mouth when she spoke, those things meant she was scared, and annoyed, frustrated.

"Does he hold that much power over you?"

"It's for everyone's good Matthew. Don't question me on my personal choices." Her eyes have grown dark, fearsome and he feels himself leaning away.

"I won't let him ruin you."

"Matthew, do you want my help or not? Trust me. I marry him and this family stays safe." She sounds like Sir Richard as she talks, all harsh and condescending, bargaining only for what's best for her.

"Right. Well, I think Grace needs a proper nursery here, like she had at Downton. I thought perhaps, you being feminine would have a better idea of how it should look and even which room I should use."

"I'm not a mother."

"No, but, with little Edward and-"

"Can we not, I mean, it's all so recent. I find it difficult to imagine-"

"Of course, of course." The conversation hovers there in an awkward silence as she follows him up the sweeping staircase. Her hands still firmly clasped on her purse. He ushers her into the room where Grace currently sleeps, in the crib that Cora had allowed him to take. She gravitates there first, leaning over the sides and running her finger over her cheek, watching in awe as Grace subconsciously moves her face in her sleep.

"I remember doing this to Edward, it all seems like yesterday and now...now there's little Grace." She looks up from her ramblings then accessing the room. She takes some paper from the side and a crayon from a pot Lavinia had bought for Grace to use in a few months and begins to draw and label how she imagines the room. Matthew adores it almost immediately.

They spend the next half an hour discussing wallpapers and different patterns. Possible variations in the arrangement of the furniture. When the time does come for her to leave, he knows he feels lighter, less worried than he had before, and she seems more cheery than she had when she's arrived. He leans forward and kisses her cheek as she goes. They both look away, so neither sees the others look of contentment.

He watches her walk away and he knows that he really does need to save her from Sir Richard. Lavinia had been right, that man was holding something, or maybe lots of thing over Mary. He wouldn't allow that, not to his cousin. Not Mary. Not a woman he loved. Because he did, he really did and it was time to admit that he did. Watching her in the nursery had proved something to him. He wanted that, he wanted her to be the mother of the rest of his children, and Grace. It was time to win the love he'd lost back. He knows deep down that's what Lavinia had meant. When she'd said that he was to love both Mary and Grace, she'd meant for them to marry.

"Mama, can we go outside today?" He looks far more excitable than he did, the colour in his cheeks was returning and all in all he was looking more like the Edward that she'd known before the flu.

"Soon, very soon. The doctor says just as soon as it gets a little warmer." She was feeling even closer to him, if that was possible, since he'd recovered from the flu. And even more in the last week as Sybil's departure had loomed over them and indeed, she was leaving this morning. Her bags packed, Branson waiting. It was strange, Sybil hadn't been her baby, as she had always thought of her as, since Edward had been born. But this morning as she dressed and chatted to Edward all she could think of was the little, premature baby, with the dark hair and the bright blue eyes. And now, here she was about to travel to another country and get married.

"Can I come and wave Sybil goodbye?" Cora is ready to tell him no, but as it happens he's already turned down the sheets and is swinging his legs over the edge. He'd been sleeping in Robert's dressing room since he'd recovered enough from the flu to be moved. So now, he was standing in the doorway between the two rooms his clothes in hand, pyjamas hanging on his thin frame. She closes her mouth over the word 'no' and nods her head.

"Come here then, let's get you dressed little man." She reaches forward to unbutton his shirt. But he pushes her hands away and strides for the bathroom.

"I can do it myself Mama. I'm a big boy." He shuffles passed her to the bathroom leaving her crouched on the floor. It seemed even her newest baby was growing up far too fast for her to keep up. Today was a day of many a loss it seemed.

Edward doesn't take long to get ready and before Cora knows what's happening he's by her side and they're heading for the stairs. Robert meets her at the bottom, taking her hand immediately and grazing his lips over her cheek. Since she'd recovered from flu Robert had become more and more gentle with her, at first he'd had reason, the coughing had taken a long time to go. But now, well, she'd been trying to persuade him into something more amorous for some weeks, but with Edward sleeping next door she'd given him an ideal excuse.

"Ready?" He looks at her questioningly, she can feel the heat on her cheek as he watches her. But all she sees is the cases in the hall, her Sybil stood by the front door with a wide grin on her face. Tom stands just beyond, on the gravel outside, and Cora swallows as she realises the look she sees on the young man's face probably looks much like the one on her own. She reaches towards Robert and clasps his hand. Edward tries to complain as she grips his hand harder too, but a look from Robert seems to silence him.

"Ready." But her voice barely convinces herself, she walks forward, and lifts her head high, trying desperately to remember the lessons her mother and then her mother-in-law had given her all those years ago, about being a proper Countess.

Edward doesn't remain clutching at her hand for long, he runs headlong into Sybil's legs. And Cora watches, as she leans into Robert for support, as their youngest daughter lifts him, with some difficulty into her arms with murmurings of seeing him soon.

Her turn comes quicker than she had hoped and her daughter's perfume washing over her as they share a hug, my it had been some time since they'd done that. She mumbles her best wishes as best she can, with a hope of making it to the wedding, Robert was fussing about her health. Robert takes the opportunity to release their intertwined hands and heads to the door to say a fond farewell to Tom. Robert had been coming round, even murmuring the other night how he wished he knew the man just a little better. Cora smiles agains Sybil's shoulder as she sees the two gentleman shake hands.

"Good luck my precious darling. Write to me."

"I will Mama, I've promised a thousand times."

"I know, I know...but I'm going to miss you. I wasn't quite prepared for all this."

"You will be by the time of the wedding." She turns and skips to her sisters then and Cora takes a few deep breaths and a hesitant step forward.

It was all quickly feeling like a dream. The cases, the car, Tom. Even as her daughter steps into the car a few minutes later and waves goodbye Cora wonders if she's just going for more training, whether she'll be back again in her nurses outfit, the Red Cross proudly on her shoulder. It's Robert's hand slipping around her waist and pulling her against his side, his lips at her forehead as the car disappears from view that bring back the reality. This was real. Her baby was going. Starting a new life. Her own life. A life that no longer involved her mother.

Sybil could pin point quite easily the moment when her heart had raced just a little faster. The moment when her excitement had turned almost totally to nerves, apprehension. The time from which every word that was spoken with enthusiasm was false, every smile was pretend.

Edward. It had all started when he'd run towards her, failing to slow before crashing into her legs. Sybil could see the traces of his attire that told her he'd dressed himself. His tie, was so close to being straight, but wasn't quite. It made him look twice as adorable than if he'd been dressed by one of his parents or a maid. He always looked lovely. The little jacket tailor made in tweed had that morning been the traditional green with speckles of red. The boots in real leather that matched their father's covering his little feet. His curls were unruly proving still further that he'd dressed himself. She hadn't been able to resist lifting him into her arms. It was then he'd asked about playing hide and seek, the game they'd played together at least once a week since he'd been able to walk, they'd played only yesterday. Sybil had been so caught up with Tom and leaving it had only been in that moment when someone had talked of something other than her departure and wishing her luck and love that she realised how much she'd been trying to ignore what she was leaving behind. Edward had been a stark reminder.

She'd turned to her mother after that, she'd seen the way she'd clutched at her father's hand, desperate for some support. It all began to hit her like waves, how difficult they were finding the thought of being without her, how hard it was actually going to be for her not to see them. Even her sister's hadn't been what they usually were, both seemed distant, as though they were holding back, not sure she was making quite the right choice.

It had passed a little as she'd waited for the car to be packed and stood with Tom and her father, who seemed to be finding some common ground. But then, sitting in the back seats of the car, the car she'd almost always ridden in with one of her family, the smell, the memories seemed to haunt her. The station, where she'd travelled to from for her season, where she'd sat discussing dresses and balls with her mother. Every scene seemed to plague her. It didn't help that Tom sat silently beside her, seemingly well aware she wasn't quite herself.

Thankfully now that she was on the boat, far from any surroundings she was used to she was finally beginning to relax. The tinge of nagging seemed to be better buried but it still haunted her at night, the worry, Edward murmuring his desire to play games.

"You're nervous?" She'd been staring out across the sea, her mind as it always seemed to be, miles from where she was, she hadn't heard anyone appear behind her, let alone Tom. She didn't see much of him, really, less than back at Downton, it seemed his mother was as much a task master as Granny.

"No. Funnily enough, not really. I won't deny I'm apprehensive. I was just, reflecting." She was beginning to have a feeling that she'd be happier once she was properly settled in the final destination. These in between months were always going to be difficult, the transition from one family to the other but not belonging to either. And this, the travelling was perhaps the worst of all, she couldn't even let her mind focus on unpacking, or finding her way around a new city.

"But you're sure?"

"Quite sure. I can't wait for the wedding. I told my parents July." He nods his head in agreement. "I just need to be occupied. I've had months of working really hard, time to think has been limited. And now, I guess I'm doing too much thinking." She looks at him seriously, her own words finally steer away a great deal of the worry. There was hope, a great deal of hope at the end of the tunnel. She finds that hope reflected on his face.

"You're not over thinking. But I'm pleased you're happy. That's what will keep me warm as we cross this raging sea."

July. He'd decided on July. She breaths a shallow sigh of relief. Sybil had changed from May to July for her wedding. Not that she was about to tell Sir Richard's looming face that. He was angry, oh, so angry, but then it was a rare occasion that he wasn't. Since Lavinia had died he'd become still more on edge and Mary wondered if he was concerned about what the girl might have murmured. Indeed, it made Mary think, really think, about those words she'd uttered, about how Sir Richard was planning on bringing all of them down. Mary couldn't follow it, he had her secret, he could blackmail her, but it wouldn't effect any of the others that much. Her mother perhaps. Possibly Edith, but anyone that knew Edith would know she wasn't at all like her sister. As for Edward well-

"Oh my god!" Her mouth opens, her saliva landing on his face. Edward. That was how he was going to bring them all down. She thought she'd squashed his absurd believe that Edward was only her mother's child. She'd thought her parents actions would have confirmed the situation. But it seemed he was still holding that over her. He was ready, if he had to, to tell Mary's story and make it look as though she got the dirty habits from her mother, who had recently borne a bastard heir.

"Don't spit in my face." He shoves her waist, pushing her against the door frame.

"Edward. It's not just me you're going to ruin. That's what she meant-"

"Who meant?" His fingers dig in harder at her waist and she swallows the urge to scream out, knowing that will only make things worse. Will only make him over her mouth, probably with his own.

"Lavinia. She said you were trying to bring us all down, through me."

"And you believe a dying girl?"

"More than I believe you, yes."

"So, tell me Mary, how do you suppose I'm about to bring you all down?" She hesitates, she so almost doesn't tell him, what happened if he hadn't thought of it, she'd be putting ideas into his head, confirming, or at least suggesting that she believed her brother wasn't her full brother. But he leers over her, moving his mouth towards hers.

"You're going to say I got my habits from my mother and then, that Edward isn't Papa's child." He pulls away, facing away from her. His hand runs gently through his hair. And then, he laughs. His head tips back and he laughs.

"I really thought you were more intelligent Mary. I thought you'd figured this out long ago, when I first mentioned my belief in the true origins of your brother."

"You know, if you really loved me you wouldn't be threatening me with ruin."

"Never have I mentioned love Mary." He swings back around. "But, you still have a choice. You still have the power to save all of them. I thought power was what you liked."

"Power maybe. Not blackmail. I don't care about my story, not any more. But if you bring down my parents, my brother there will be trouble."

"And how are you planning on causing trouble Mary?"

"I'll find a way. I always do." In truth she already had a plan forming in her mind. He wanted July. That wasn't going to happen, not with Sybil. She'd have enough time to formulate her plan for the winter, a Christmas wedding might be something. Edward was going to be her winning card.

"I wouldn't be too hasty. He's a bastard. You-" she wasn't sure if it was the built up anger, the accusation of her brother, or his menacing breath on her neck. But he stops there, abruptly, her hand having come into firm contact with his cheek. She makes her escape before he so much as has a chance to turn back to face her. She dashes straight passed the shadow of her sister in the hall.

He was more than slightly uncomfortable by the number of glances he was getting. There was always attention he supposed, a man who was well dressed always gained some glances. But today, well, he was, it seemed some kind of God. They all seemed to keep their distance, worried about infecting him with germs, and they were the free men; the guards, not the prisoners. The various prisoners that were being escorted about around him stopped and stared, opening their mouths, thinking he was coming to help them, only to be shoved in the back by their escort. It was all very unnerving. He felt like he was in a ballroom looking for a suitable lady all over again. The looks, the constant feeling of being watched was just the same, the mothers, and often the girls themselves would glance at his attire in the same way, thinking about his title or his features. This was the same, but worse. When the prisoners saw him, every single one had that flash of hope that ran across their eyes and then it was gone.

He hadn't really wanted to come. But, how could he not when Anna had given up her visit to allow him to come and see his Bates. She'd offered, and Bates was a friend, she would have thought it odd if he'd turned the invitation down. After all, it might be the last time, other than the trial, that he would see him alive. And the trial was hardly going to be a chance to sit down and thank him. But, well, the question was, where on earth was he to start?

Finally the endless ambling along routes taking him seemingly nowhere seems to end, and they enter a section of cells Robert is sure he's walked passed once already, in fact he knows he has, seeing the entrance he'd entered through, some distance off between the grating. He refrains from turning to the unhelpful guard and asking him why he was taken such a long way, he knows, the man didn't like having to show about a man of his station. Thankfully, Bates finally comes into view.

He doesn't say anything to begin with, just stares at the man, whom only a few weeks before had been helping him dress. Whom over a decade ago had saved his life. He only hoped he could contribute to returning the favour.

"The trial is going to be around Christmas."

"Bates, I haven't come to talk of that. Not really. I know you didn't do it-"

"M'lord, I'm pleased, so very pleased to have that faith in me. But you don't know that."

"No Bates. I won't hear of it. I met your wife. I never let Cora meet her, there was a reason for that. You, on the other hand saved my life. Saved my family." He hears his own voice cracking, his memories haunting him.

The jab of pain, the scream of Bates beside him. He'd known then, he'd got of lightly, been saved. How little his girls had been then, how thin and hallowed Cora had looked for those years he'd been away, every time he returned he was scared to hurt her. All those feelings he'd felt seem to rush over him and he closes his eyes for a short second.

"I dread to think Bates, shat would have happened if you hadn't saved me. You didn't know, but my cousin, James, was a vile man, if I'd died I'm sure he would have turned Cora and the girls out the house the second he heard. My whole family owe you more than they can fully understand. Cora thinks she owes you for keeping some secret of Mary's but I know it's more than that."

"I'm very touched m'lord, you're not often the sentimental type."

"No, well, desperate times call for desperate measures. I wanted you to know, if this all goes wrong, which God have mercy if it does, I really truly don't know where I'd be, or my family if you'd hadn't saved me that day."

"You owe me nothing. When I came back to Downton, I found all I've ever been looking for. You've given me Anna, just as I saved your life, she's been saving me from different kinds of bullets. I would have worked at Downton for nothing, just to see her. You saved me, that day when you ran out and made me get out the car. That saved me."

There wasn't much else to say, they sat in companionable chatter for the rest of the allotted time. Discussing Anna mainly, and then Cora and the children. Bates wanted to wish all of his daughters the best of luck in their marriages and children, and for Edward he hoped his schooling would be enjoyable. All too soon Robert heard the call to leave and the rattling of steel as the door jangled open, the dismal guard back to escort him from the premises.

It was back in the car, when his thoughts finally begin to settle, his mind turning towards what delights he could find in his afternoon, perhaps Cora was free, or a long walk with Edward, that the driver unexpectedly handed him a folded piece of paper.

"A young lady handed this over when you were inside." Judging by the hurried scrawl of Lord Grantham on the front, he highly doubts it was a 'young lady' but it was a woman's writing undoubtedly: it had a certain swirl to the lettering. He unfolds it and glances first to the bottom, to the signature: Jane Moorsum. He folds it quickly back up shoving it into his pocket. He wasn't going to read it. No doubt it would be full of her grovelling about how now that Cora was better it mattered little what they got up to, and that she could fully comprehend why he'd favoured his wife when she'd been ill.

Unfortunately Robert knew he knew the woman slightly better than that, she wouldn't be grovelling. She would have accepted, like a proper lady, that he had made his choice. If she was wishing to get in contact with him, something was therefore the matter. She needed his assistance in some way.

Lord Grantham,

I've been meaning to write for some time, but I feared sending a note to the house in the belief it would make you upset to read my words in your own home over your breakfast. I heard of your trip today and took the morning off work so I could deliver this. I have found myself another job after I left your service.

The reason for my writing is to ask for your assistance, if possible, for my son. I may or may not have mentioned my son Freddie in the time I was at Downton. If I did not, the only important thing to know is that he's hoping to get into Ripon Grammar for his further education and I hoped you might put a good word in, I know it shouldn't help, but we both know it does. I'd be forever grateful, and I promise not to contact you again.

All my best wishes for yours and your family's health.

Jane Moorsum.

It was a sweet letter, a letter he could hardly ignore. She had loved him, and he had broken her heart, he didn't doubt that. So, he owed her this, he owned her something.

"Brent, can we stop in Ripon on the way home?"

"Very well m'lord." It was best to sort it soon, as soon as possible.

Edith stayed in the shadows for some time, wondering if Sir Richard himself would storm from the library. After waiting some time with no movement she ambles to the stairs. She'd had time to think, real time to think, and her mother did have to know. Loud laughs come from Edward's room, followed by her mother's distinct American tongue. She stands in the doorway unnoticed for some time before Edward glances up from their floor game.

"Mama, I wandered if I might have a word?" She hoists herself up from the floor, struggling to capture all of her skirt in her hand.

"What is it honey?" She doesn't say anything for a minute, just waits, somehow hoping that her mother is going to guess what the problem is. Funnily enough, she doesn't. "Is something bothering you about Patrick, or Sybil?"

"No, no. Sir Richard, and Mary."

"I'm sure she's got him under-" It seemed her mother really hadn't been paying too much attention, or if she had she'd been blanking the bits she didn't wish to remember.

"She slapped him. He called Edward a bastard." Her mother's reaction was not exactly what she'd been expecting. Her head bows and she looks down, she doesn't get angry. She just nods her head.

"I know. Edward had heard him say it."

"He's said it before! Mama-"

"I know. I know. But he's protecting Mary's...never mind."

"The Pamuk story?" That causes a reaction, a real reaction. Her mother's eyes widen, her teeth chew at the inside of her mouth.

"How did you-"

"It doesn't matter how I did. You must see Mama that a few weeks of scandal is better for this family than the way he's treating her. And as for how he talks about Edward, what happens if Papa finds out?"

"I appreciate your concern Edith, as would Mary if she knew. I'll talk to her, try and find out what's really going on."

"But Mama-"

"If Sir Richard is like I believe him to be, he wants all of us to be taken in, we have to pretend we are." Her mother disappears quickly into the room again and Edith stands still, her conscience still not content.

It was true she and Mary had never been particularly close but she didn't like the thought of a man threatening her, not any woman for that matter. What she hated still more was Sir Richard deciding to pick on an innocent party, their little brother. And by the things she had heard Mary saying, her sister had every reason to agree. Mary had struck some deal, or at least her mother thought so, marriage for the story of Pamuk, Edith couldn't believe her sister could be quite that hard, to strike a bargain of marriage so far from the ideal of marriage they'd been raised to understand. But, that wasn't really the question anymore, Mary had come to some arrangement with him, and now he was here, the question was whether Mary was going to go through with it to protect the family, or think of only herself and ditch Richard only for the family name to be destroyed. Edith wondered which was the threat that really held Mary in place- Matthew after all, Edith thought, would marry her whatever. But Edward's story, that would really ruin the family. Could her sister really be trying to protect all their backs?

She wanders to Mary's room, sure that is where her sister would take refuge. She knocks but no reply is apparent, she pushes the door open. She doesn't really know what she expects to see, but she's knows it's not Mary curled up on the bed, paper scattered around her, a pen in hand frantically scribbling on a sheet in her lap, that she's rested on the mornings paper.

"What are you doing?"

"Planning." Mary doesn't even turn, it seems she already knows what she's there about.

"Your wedding?" She nods her head, still not turning to look at her. Edith gulps.

"So you're going through with it?"

"Edith," she finally turns, her cheeks flaming, her eyes slightly red ringed. "You don't need to lecture me as well. I know what I'm doing. Come to think of it, I might need your help later on. I know we don't always get along, but trust me on this, all will be fine." Edith can tell that her sister wasn't actually sure of that fact, not yet. But it didn't appear as though she was going to receive any more of an explanation as to why 'all will be fine.'

"I'll do whatever if it means getting rid of him-"

"I never said-"

"Just promise me you'll try and make sure he doesn't publish that rubbish about Edward."

"That's all this is about anymore. There was something else but, not now. Edward can't be dragged through the dust. It's not true we know that, most people will know that. But we both know some people will like the story, the thought of Mama abandoning Papa. Headlines about her 'mad American side' and 'The Earl of Grantham's fatal mistake' will be too convincing for them to pass over. And Edward will be friendless, avoided by others, and in the future he's heading for he can't be. He's going to need all the help he can get." So, that solves that, she was desperate to save little Edward, he'd made quite an impression. He was everyone's little miracle, not just Mama and Papa's.

"You're very passionate."

"He's a wonderful brother. If I knew back when Granny was trying to smash the entail that Edward would one day be in our lives I wouldn't have bothered. I couldn't imagine anyone better for the job. He's managed to have the best of Mama, which I'm quickly beginning to realise is the only way this house keeps moving. Papa couldn't cope without her." Edith blinks a few times, standing stock still in the doorway, Mary was not quite how she usually was, Edith was beginning to think her sister had been replaced by a twin. Praising Mama was hardly her style. Mary grins. "I've surprised you?"

"Yes, I-"

"I'm not Mama, I never have been, never will be. When I realised some years back that she was what held us all together I panicked thinking I was destined to fail. I begun to take it out on her. And now, well, there's been a war, Richard came into my life, Mama almost died, so did Edward, it made me rethink things." Edith just raises her eyebrows and wanders to the bed, picking up some envelopes to Mary's left she's surprised to see the name stamped on the front.

"Are these for the wedding?"

"Yes, don't take them out of order-"

"Why are you inviting the Dascombe's, we haven't seen them in years?" She flicks through the pile a little further, not spying any names she really recognises. "In fact, why are you inviting half these people?" Mary digs her teeth into her lips and finally seems to come to a decision.

"This has to be a secret." And then, she starts explaining. Edith can't help but laugh occasionally and then shake her head from side to side.

"You're so incredibly mean, but brilliant." They laugh together before Edith starts writing the invitations for the list Mary has on her lap. "One question, won't Papa be angry, about the money."

"Oh no, Richard's promised to pay!" Mary chuckles at that and Edith smiles. They spend the rest of the afternoon sat on Mary's bed, plotting.