Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, May 1914
Matthew came walking down the lane. He looked curiously at the motor parked in front of the house. As he approached, Branson nodded to him respectfully.
"Mr. Crawley, sir," Branson tipped his cap.
"Branson," Matthew replied easily. "Someone going somewhere?"
"Yes, sir," Branson nodded, looking somewhat nervous.
"And who would that be?" Matthew asked, puzzled at the chauffeur's behaviour.
"Erm, it's Lady Sybil, sir, and Lady Mary," Branson said quietly.
"And where are you taking them, exactly?" Matthew asked.
"To Ripon, sir. Lady Sybil has a charity committee meeting and Lady Mary is accompanying her, by order of Her Ladyship," Branson replied.
"Ah," Matthew nodded. "And they're getting ready, are they?"
"Lady Sybil is inside, sir. Lady Mary went for a stroll. We'll leave when she comes back, sir," Branson said.
"Thank you, Branson," Matthew said. "I need to speak to Lady Mary before she leaves."
"Yes, sir," Branson tipped his hat once more as Matthew walked away.
Mary turned the page of her book, the words appearing muddled and uninteresting. She wasn't necessarily interested in reading, but she didn't want to be indoors waiting on Sybil. It was bad enough that her Mama ordered her to accompany her youngest sister after the debacle earlier in the week that had driven her Papa to bang his fist so rudely at the dinner table. Mary didn't want to be within range should there be another commotion before they left.
She smirked as she felt eyes upon her. It was remarkable how she could sense his presence and he hers. She knew his scent of course, and his aftershave and the cologne he wore on rare occasions, but none of those came to her now. It was just a flutter in her heart and mind, something that compelled her to look up because he would be there.
"Are you stalking me, Cousin Matthew?" she asked easily.
"Hello, Cousin Mary," Matthew smirked, tipping his cap to her as he arrived at the bench.
"What are you doing here?" she smiled.
"Obviously looking for you. Branson says you're going to Ripon with Sybil," Matthew said, sitting down next to her.
"Sadly, that's true," Mary rolled her eyes. "If she hadn't been caught the other night, I wouldn't be assigned to chaperone her this evening."
"Robert was rather angry," Matthew chuckled. "Truthfully I find it all rather comical."
"Sybil's discovered politics, which of course makes Papa see red. It's entirely predictable, and pathetic, really," Mary huffed. "Heaven forbid any of us should have our own opinions on anything."
"I do think part of his concern is genuine, but he takes it too far," Matthew smiled. "I admire Sybil's passion, though."
"Of course," Mary nodded. "But then, we like a good argument. Papa does not."
"So I've learned. Would you like me to come with you? I can say that I was interested in the goings on in Ripon," Matthew said.
"Thank you, darling. I would love nothing more, but these charity committee meetings are utterly boring. I'll be tearing my hair out before the night is through, I expect," Mary sighed.
"Well, don't do that, please," Matthew implored her.
"Why? Do you like my hair the way it is?" Mary teased.
"I do," Matthew nodded, looking at her intently. "And if you were to lose any of it, that would prevent me from running my fingers through it, which you know I greatly enjoy doing."
"Matthew!" Mary scolded him, blushing slightly and looking down at her lap. "That is entirely inappropriate conversation for the dinner hour."
"Then perhaps you'll let me speak to you later this evening about my particular preferences for your hair," Matthew whispered lustfully.
"You can't put me in such a state before I leave with Sybil!" Mary complained. "Besides, you're supposed to be practising your charm for use when we get to London, not leering at me."
"Is it still considered leering if it's my wife who I am captivated by?" Matthew asked innocently.
"It is when I know the exact thoughts running through your head," Mary said pointedly. "Now, how is your draft coming?"
"It's finished," Matthew sighed, sitting back on the bench. "I have no idea if it's any good or not, but it's all I've been doing for the past two weeks. The thrust of it is actually quite short; the reason it goes on for so many pages is all the preamble and background and chaff that is thrown in with the rest."
"Well you have months yet to polish it," Mary said. "You shouldn't bring the bill forward until you know how many votes you can count on."
"I don't think I'll be ready until the House returns in September," Matthew shook his head. "That's considered fast by Parliamentary standards, but to drag this on for another four months is sickening."
"Oh, I don't know," Mary smiled. "I don't mind all the sneaking around, truly. It's as though we're Capulets and Montagues."
Matthew laughed ruefully. "Have you found a moment for us to go to the Berkeley when we get to London?"
"Matthew, your desire for me is adorable but honestly, is that all you think about?" Mary shook her head.
"It isn't all that I think about," Matthew retorted. "It's just a significant part of my thoughts."
"Well, then you'll be pleased to know that I've announced that I'm going up early. With Sybil's Ball and everything else going on, they'll hardly notice me," Mary smirked.
"That…is brilliant," Matthew swallowed.
"It will also give me time to have tea with various people and gather intelligence for your efforts," Mary nodded.
Matthew grinned at her.
"So you're leaving me to fend for myself, then?" Matthew asked. "Well, Edith will be company I suppose."
"Luckily for you, she won't be," Mary snickered. "She's gone to a concert with Sir Anthony in York, and Mama agreed to let her have dinner with him and the Jervas' afterwards."
"That's quite generous of her," Matthew blinked.
"Mama and Papa enjoy flinging us at whomever they deem worthy. In Edith's case, they don't find it strange at all that she should step out with a man nearly Papa's age," Mary smiled.
"He seemed nice enough the other night at dinner," Matthew said.
"I suppose so, but then I wasn't paying much attention to him. The modernisation of farm machinery is hardly a topic of interest," Mary shrugged.
Matthew laughed.
"Well, if all three of you will be gone this evening, then I'll go and have dinner with Mother at Crawley House. Robert won't object to that, surely," Matthew said.
"Best to just go and leave word that you've gone," Mary smiled. "Don't give him a chance to say no."
Matthew rolled his eyes.
"I need to go," Mary huffed, rising from the bench. "Sybil will be ready by now."
She raised her hand as he stood up. "You can't kiss me, Matthew," she said apologetically.
"But there's no one here but us!" Matthew whinged.
"Unless Branson was sent to retrieve me. It's too dangerous. Darling, I'll see you tonight when I return. If dinner is already finished, then wait for me in your room," Mary whispered.
"Very well. Try and stay awake during the committee meeting," Matthew smiled, tipping his cap to her.
"I'll try, but no promises," Mary rolled her eyes. "This evening will be ridiculously boring."
City Hall, Ripon, Yorkshire, England, May 1914
"Where to from here, Lady Sybil?" Branson asked, looking back at her.
"Here will do, Branson. We've arrived," Sybil smiled, looking out the window eagerly.
"Your meeting is in one of these buildings?" Mary asked.
"This is the meeting. We're here for the counting of the votes," Sybil beamed.
Branson's mouth dropped open.
"What are you talking about?" Mary asked suspiciously. "You told Papa you had a charity committee meeting."
"Don't be silly. You didn't think I'd miss my very first by-election?" Sybil said, nodding to Mary with growing excitement.
"I don't think his Lordship would approve," Branson mumbled.
"I know that his Lordship would certainly not approve," Mary said. "Darling, please. There's a reason that Papa didn't want you here."
"Yes, he doesn't think I have opinions. But I do, Mary! And I'm going!" Sybil declared. She opened the door and stepped outside the car.
"Lady Sybil!" Branson called.
Mary huffed in exasperation. "Go and park the car, Branson. I'll let her see the mob for a few minutes, then we'll get her home, by throwing her in the boot if we have to," Mary said, following after her sister.
"Hurry up, Mary!" Sybil said, gesturing to her sister as they came into the City Hall Courtyard where the crowds were gathering for the by-election vote count. "We're just in time!"
"We are not going to stay very long," Mary said, taking Sybil's arm. "I'm not pleased with you for lying to me, but I also don't want anything to happen to you in this turbulent rabble. I agree with Papa that it is dangerous, so you can hear them make the announcement, then we're going."
"I'm not Emily Davidson," Sybil said with a sigh, "I'm not trying to achieve any goal or garnish attention for my cause. I don't have a specific cause to champion yet. I just want to be a participant. After all that is what the suffragettes want, active rights to contribute."
Mary rolled her eyes and they joined the crowd. Mary felt uncomfortable here. Despite Sybil's previous attendances at political events, they still stood out. So many of the people around them wore modest clothing, to say nothing for the fact the crowd was mainly comprised of men.
Mary glanced about, looking for all the exits from the Courtyard. She'd learned from Matthew to always know how to get in and out of wherever she found herself. Their secret meetings and liaisons in Manchester required that they constantly had a plan on where to go to avoid being spotted together and how to leave through separate paths if necessary. To her consternation, Mary realized there was only one exit close by, the same archway they had entered through. The gathered crowd made trying to navigate to any of the other exits unreasonable.
The crowd seemed to grow and move. There was jostling all around them and yells and calls and racket from various groups across the Courtyard.
"Vote for women! Vote for women!" came one shout.
"Vote for women!" Sybil echoed.
"Sybil!" Mary squeezed her arm in warning, but her youngest sister ignored her and looked about with glee.
"Tory bastards!" came another shout.
The official came out on stage and raised his hand, calling for attention as he read from the vote results.
"The Hon. Joseph Gerald Antsy, MP, member of the Conservative and Unionist Party, 6,363 votes."
The news was greeted with jeers from one end of the Courtyard and cheers from the other.
"Martin James Dillon, for the Socialist Party, 2,741 votes."
"There, it's done. We're going, Sybil," Mary said quickly, pulling on her sister's arm.
"Wait! They haven't read off the Liberal candidate yet," Sybil said.
"A Tory has held this seat for decades, Sybil," Mary retorted. "It won't matter. Let's go."
"Trevor Andrew Morgan, the Liberal Party, 5,894 votes."
A roar came up from behind them as more and more people came into the Courtyard. The noise drowned out the official as he declared the Conservative candidate the winner. Mary pulled hard on Sybil's arm again.
"There! You saw your first by-election! My, wasn't it just thrilling? Now, let's go!" Mary commanded, raising her voice to be heard.
Sybil reluctantly allowed Mary to pull her away, her eyes still focused on the stage and the official gesturing to the crowd for calm. As Mary shoved her way through the crowd, a commotion started to their right.
"What's your problem, then?" one man shouted.
"It's you, you bloody Tory!" came the answer.
"Lady Mary!" Branson called, reaching her through the crowd.
"Branson! We're going!" Mary ordered.
Branson turned around to clear a path for them. As they moved, the right side of the crowd swayed as fighting broke out. Mary looked up to see Branson move past three shouting men. They were thrown back as Mary reached them. She twisted out of the way, but lost her grip on Sybil's arm as she turned.
"Sybil!" Mary cried.
Time seemed to stop as she saw a large man back into Sybil, sending her falling off her feet, her head falling to the pavement with a sickening thud.
Crawley House, Downton Village, Yorkshire, England, May 1914
Matthew sat in the parlour, smiling at Abel picking at his food in the birdcage.
"Still not a word from him?" Matthew asked, glancing over at Isobel.
"He chirps quite a bit, but nothing recognizable," Isobel smiled, sipping her sherry. "He seems happy though, which is enough for me. Having him here is a pleasant reminder of home."
Matthew smiled and walked around the sofa, balancing his brandy snifter in one hand.
"Molesley seemed rather disappointed that you dismissed him for the evening so early," Matthew chuckled.
"Oh, really Matthew," Isobel shook her head. "It's not as though I distrust Molesley; he is an excellent servant. But, he isn't Davis. He isn't someone I think of as part of my family. Especially when we have to discuss matters of a sensitive nature."
"I spoke with John Simon again last week. He sends his regards," Matthew reported. "I expect to have a draft for him to look at when we go to London next month."
"He has done well," Isobel said proudly. "A good example of a Manchester man coming to London and making a name for himself. I know that his parents are proud."
"You're sure that you won't be coming with us for the Season?" Matthew asked.
"I did promise to attend Sybil's Ball," Isobel nodded. "But the rest of it I can do without. I'll stay here and go up with Cousin Violet."
"The two of you are getting along rather well," Matthew smiled, sipping his drink.
"She's trying to extract information on you," Isobel smiled. "But I do enjoy her conversation nonetheless. I find her to be a pleasant companion, much to my surprise. She would probably say the same."
Matthew nodded. "I'm surprised she isn't coming to London with the rest of the family. I expected she'd be watching me like a hawk, to see which young lady I wished to seduce."
"Don't joke about it, Matthew," Isobel frowned. "She doesn't like you, but she isn't against you as far as I can tell. I think she simply enjoys being out ahead of things when she can arrange it. Your wife will be Countess of Grantham, so naturally Cousin Violet wants to get to her early."
"My wife shall be Countess of Grantham indeed," Matthew smiled, raising his glass. "And she shall be a force in the county and beyond."
Isobel laughed along with her son.
They were interrupted by an urgent knock at the door. They both turned in time to see Molesley open the door and come into the room.
"Beg your pardon, Mr. Crawley, Mrs. Crawley," Molesley stammered. There are visitors."
"Visitors? At this hour?" Isobel exclaimed.
Molesley stepped aside and Branson carried Sybil into the room.
"Sybil!" Matthew shouted, coming over and taking her from the chauffeur. Matthew carried her to the sofa and laid her down. Isobel came to her immediately, running her hand along Sybil's forehead and examining the dried blood along the side of her face.
Mary came into the room, her face ashen and pale. She stepped over and stared at Sybil.
Matthew looked up at Mary. He rose and started moving towards her, then stopped himself.
"Molesley, I'll need a bowl of hot water, towels, my sewing kit and some ice. Quickly, now!" Isobel ordered.
Molesley bowed and went to fetch the items.
Isobel looked over at her son.
"Matthew," she said, nodding her head slightly.
Matthew blinked at his mother's expression.
"Branson," Matthew said. "Please wait outside. We'll deal with this. Don't leave just yet."
"Yes, sir," Branson nodded slowly. He reluctantly backed away and went out into the hall.
Molesley brought the requested items into the room. He spread them out on the table as instructed by Isobel. She then dismissed him and he closed the door behind him. Matthew went to the window and ensured the drapes were completely closed. Mary remained rooted to the spot, staring at Sybil.
Matthew came to her quickly. When she felt his hand on her shoulder, she turned and buried her face in his chest, clutching him tight.
"Mary, darling, it's all right, I'm here. You're safe," Matthew whispered, running his hand up and down her back.
"There was a fight in the crowd, she was pushed and fell, hit her head. She hasn't woken up since! I…I didn't know what to do…I didn't know where else to go," Mary sobbed. "So I had Branson bring her here."
"Quite right," Isobel said as she cleaned the gash on Sybil's head. The girl's eyes remained closed.
"Cousin Cora would have fainted if she saw her like this," Matthew mumbled. "As for Robert…"
"Oh God, Matthew," Mary cried, holding him tighter. "I had no idea she was going to lead us there. I thought we were going to some stupid committee meeting."
"She's lucky you were with her, darling," Matthew said soothingly.
"I should have pulled her out of there sooner! I should have…" Mary cringed.
"Shh…don't say that," Matthew said.
"Mary," Isobel called. "Come! I need you. You know what to do."
Mary's eyes widened and she pulled away from Matthew. She came around the sofa and knelt at her sister's side. Without prompting, she took up a towel and dipped it in the bowl of water and set about cleaning Sybil's wound.
"Sutures?" Isobel asked.
"No," Mary shook her head. "The cut itself is small, thank God."
Mary pulled the soiled towel away and Isobel took up the cleaning with a fresh towel.
Mary turned and looked around the table. She glanced around the room.
"Matthew!" she called. "I need that bottle of gin."
Matthew took it and handed it to her. Mary poured the alcohol into a bowl.
"It's all we have. It'll have to do," Isobel nodded.
Mary dipped a clean towel in the bowl of gin and passed it to Isobel.
Sybil moaned as Isobel applied alcohol to the wound.
"Cousin Sybil? Sybil, dear," Isobel called, watching as the girl opened her eyes.
"My God. Oh, my darling!" Mary said, grabbing Sybil's hand.
"This will sting a bit," Isobel said kindly. "But the bleeding's stopped. Don't move just yet."
"Mary," Sybil mumbled.
"Darling, I'm here. Don't you scare me like that ever again!" Mary gasped.
"I'm so grateful that you came with me," Sybil sighed.
"Young lady, I'm afraid that your Papa will triple the number of chaperones for you once we reach London," Matthew smiled, coming to her side.
"Cousin Matthew," Sybil smiled. "What are you doing here?"
"You're at Crawley House. I was having dinner with my mother when you barged in and interrupted," Matthew smiled. "But I suppose we can forgive you so long as you get well as quickly as possible."
"Mmm, all right," Sybil mumbled, blinking several times. "I'm glad you're here and not Papa."
Matthew smiled back at her.
"We should take her home," Mary said, looking curiously at the scene before her.
"Are you strong enough to go?" Matthew asked.
"Of course," Sybil said vehemently, although her words were strong her movements were still sluggish as she raised herself up off the couch. She shook her head. "Will you take me?" she asked Matthew.
"Here," Matthew smiled, stepping forward. "Lean on me."
"Take my coat," Mary said, stepping between them and placing her coat around Sybil's shoulders. "You'll look more normal."
Matthew put his arm around Sybil and escorted her out of the parlour and towards the door, where an anxious Branson leaped up from his chair and ran out to open the door to the motor for them.
Mary watched them leave. She turned to Isobel and nodded.
"Thank you so much for this," she said.
"You can count on me," Isobel nodded.
"I know," Mary smiled, bowing her head in understanding. "I…I'll be by for tea tomorrow."
"Splendid. I look forward to it," Isobel said. The two of them shared a look of understanding before Mary turned and left after Matthew and Sybil. Isobel and Mary were never particularly expressive with each other. The only time they had ever hugged was when Mary and Matthew had announced their engagement and on the wedding day itself, but neither were the type to use gestures with anyone besides their husbands. All the same, Isobel was constantly concerned for Mary. She knew Matthew could distract himself with the task at hand. Mary had to endure hours each day with very little to do but be reminded of how far she had fallen.
Isobel walked out to the hall and watched as the motor disappeared in the direction of Downton Abbey. She smiled to herself, then instructed Molesley to lock up for the night.
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, May 1914
"How dare you?! How dare you disobey me in this way!" Robert shouted.
Mary winced slightly, standing off to the side with Edith as Sybil sat with Cora on the bed.
Cora opened her mouth to speak and Robert raised his hand to silence her.
"Are you so knowledgeable about the great world that my instructions are to be set as nothing?" he ranted. "You disappoint me, Sybil! You disappoint me greatly. You've seen all that has come from Mary refusing to listen to us, and you recklessly do this?!"
Mary rolled her eyes.
"Don't worry, Papa. Edith hasn't failed you yet," Mary shook her head.
"Don't think you're absolved of any blame in this!" Robert glared at her before turning back to Sybil.
"Papa, I'm sorry I disobeyed you, but I'm interested. I'm political. I want to be informed. I have opinions," Sybil said, leaning slightly against her mother.
"Of course you do," Robert threw his hands up in the air. "You know all about the revolution that is coming and you want to be on the cusp of it rather than left behind with your stodgy and ancient parents and their obsolete beliefs."
"Papa, that's not fair," Mary said.
"Of course, I blame Branson, and you," Robert frowned at Mary. "We had none of this – none of it – until the two of you set foot in our house! I suppose I should give thanks that the place hasn't burnt down over our heads!"
"Branson didn't know anything about it until we arrived there! Neither did Mary! She tried to get me to leave but I refused!" Sybil pleaded.
Robert's mouth opened in surprise.
"Exactly, Papa," Mary sneered. "I felt our time would best be served heading to a pub and seeing what nice men we could entertain."
"Mary!" Cora cried.
"I'm not being serious, Mama!" Mary rolled her eyes. "But Papa suspects as much. He thinks I'm leading Sybil down the road to Perdition."
"You were responsible for your sister this evening, Mary," Robert said slowly. "Are you saying that you're pleased about the way tonight played out?"
"No, of course not!" Mary said defensively.
"And how do you expect us to trust you with her again?" Robert demanded. "I've wondered since you arrived back here what your agenda was, and now I can see it, to dismantle this family piece by piece. You fill Sybil's mind with ideas, tell her she should defy us in the name of educating herself and becoming more worldly, and when your scheme results in her nearly cracking her head open, we're to accept that this was a sheer coincidence and no one is to blame?"
"You think that I wanted this to happen?" Mary shouted.
"If Sybil hadn't been hurt, you'd have succeeded in showing her the thrill of going against me, and who knows what's next?" Robert said firmly.
"You can't blame Mary for my mistakes. Blame me," Sybil said, rising to her feet.
"I do blame you!" Robert turned on her. "I blame you for standing by your sister when I ordered her to leave here! I blame you for writing to her while she was in Manchester despite my frowning upon it! And now I blame you for allowing her to corrupt you and turn you against us! Even now, with your head throbbing and your blood spilled, you think that Mary is above reproach and that I'm overreacting! I should have her sent away, to America this time, and I challenge any of you to say I am not within my rights to do so!"
"No!" Sybil shrieked. "I won't let you send her away again! This is her home and we're her family!"
"Robert, please," Cora implored him. "Can we do this in the morning? Sybil needs rest."
Sybil sat back down on the bed, still slightly unsteady. "If I find tomorrow that Branson or Mary are missing, I'll run away, Papa! I warn you!"
Robert looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "Oh? And where would you go? Manchester?" Robert asked her.
"Well, I can't think now, but I will go, and you'll be sorry," Sybil replied.
"I should be sorry," Robert said sadly. "Very sorry indeed."
"All right, that's enough for tonight. Let's get Sybil to sleep," Cora said.
"I'll stay with her until she falls asleep," Edith sighed, approached the bed.
"You're taking the left side this time," Sybil said petulantly as she eased herself back on the bed.
"Of course, don't I always?" Edith asked, sitting down next to her sister.
"I'll ring for Anna," Cora smiled at her daughters.
Robert stormed from the room. Mary watched him go, a thoughtful expression on her face.
"How is she?" Matthew asked as Robert came into the parlour and went straight to the bar to fix himself a drink.
"She'll be perfectly fine," Robert grumbled. "In body, if not in mind."
Robert drained his glass in one swallow and poured himself another drink immediately.
"I'm glad that you were at Crawley House tonight," Robert continued. "At least someone reasonable was there. I don't blame your mother, of course. I'm grateful that she was able to treat Sybil so quickly. But Mary should have brought her here. I suspect she went to Crawley House to try and cover up what happened."
Matthew frowned slightly as Robert looked away from him. It would never become comfortable to stand by and allow insults to his wife to go unanswered, ruse or not.
"It was actually a wise decision, I think, in the end," Matthew said carefully. "It would have taken longer to rouse Clarkson and have him brought to the house."
"Mary…wise…" Robert snorted derisively. "Now I know that I no longer recognize this world we are living in."
"I hope you won't punish her, or Sybil, or even Branson for that matter. I agree with you that they should not have been there in the first place, but once they were, you know how difficult it is to extricate oneself from such crowds," Matthew said quietly.
"I do, which is why I forbid her from going in the first place," Robert nodded. "Such a simple request, and yet my daughters see fit to ignore it. I would send away Branson tonight if I didn't think it would give Mary the perfect excuse to rally the family against me. You should see what he reads. It's all Marx and Ruskin and John Stuart Mill, I ask you."
Matthew nodded. "But he's still just a chauffeur. He poses no threat, particularly now that Sybil realizes the danger she placed herself in for her politics."
Robert turned and looked at Matthew for a moment before nodding and taking a sip of his drink.
"Thank God for you, Matthew. Your counsel has been sage from the moment you arrived. I see now that keeping Mary here is far better than sending her away again, no matter how much I wish I could. Sybil idolizes her and it's too late to turn that around. And Cora probably cares for Sybil more than she does the others. Keeping Mary close is better than making a heroine of her. At least with her under our observation, I can keep everyone else in line."
"By the same token, we should probably hang on to Branson. You can let Sybil see the folly of his beliefs for herself, rather than make him seem like some all knowing leader of the uprising if you fire him," Matthew said.
"I suppose you're right," Robert said, finishing his second drink. "I'm sorry you had to put up with all of this tonight, but it's a harsh lesson for you to learn for yourself. When you're the Earl, you need to realize that even the most basic orders can sometimes be disregarded. Everyone always thinks they know better than you do."
Matthew looked at Robert and felt a pang of sympathy for him.
"Well, that's enough excitement for me. I'm going up. What about you?" Matthew asked.
"Later," Robert answered. "My blood is simmering too much to sleep now. Good night, Matthew."
"Good night, Robert."
Matthew didn't wait in bed. He couldn't. After he dismissed Thomas for the evening, he sat in a chair by the fire and went over his draft bill to pass the time, making a few needless revisions and corrections that were hardly significant or necessary. He paced back and forth, thinking his footsteps could will time to move faster. He debated leaving his robe on or off, his shirt on or off, his shirt off but his robe on and so forth. When it was well past midnight and he finally heard the doorknob turn, he ran to open it.
"Matthew," Mary sobbed, coming into his arms as he shut the door and hugged her fiercely.
"Darling," he said, kissing her head and cheek over and over. "Are you all right? You weren't hurt as well, were you?"
"I'm fine. I'm fine," she nodded against his shoulder. "I was so terrified. When Sybil fell, I thought…"
"Shh…" Matthew said soothingly, guiding her over to the bed. "She's all right. You were very brave, Mary. So very brave."
"All I could think about was what if I hadn't been there? She never mentioned any interest in politics in all the letters she wrote to me in Manchester. I realized tonight that Sybil grew up in these past two years and I wasn't here for any of it. Now she's about to have her debut and what if we hadn't come back? What if we were still living in Manchester and I had sworn off my family entirely as I wanted to? I would be missing out on everything," Mary whispered.
"Mary, we're here," Matthew said in reassurance. "We're here and we aren't going anywhere if I have anything to say about it."
"Darling," Mary sighed, turning to him and kissing him. "I'm so sorry to do this to you. I know it's not fair and I know it's unjust, but we have to make this work, Matthew, somehow. I don't care how long it takes or what we have to do, but I can't leave. I can't leave Sybil, or even Edith for that matter. I can't just live in ignorant bliss with you somewhere else, as happy as I would be to do that. My place is here, no matter what Papa says."
"Your place is here," Matthew nodded. "As my wife, and as the guiding light of your family, and one day as Countess of Grantham. I'll see it done, Mary."
She kissed him again. "I love you, Matthew. For bearing all of this, and standing by me. I think you're incredibly foolish to do so, but I love you for it."
"Are you sure you didn't take a knock to the head yourself?" Matthew smirked. "You're awfully effusive tonight."
"Shut up and enjoy it," Mary smiled ruefully, kissing him again.
"What did Papa say?" Mary asked as they lay down together. "Something horrid about me, I assume?"
"He was rather wistful actually, to be fair," Matthew frowned. "I think he was more sad than angry actually."
"He started off being furious when he scolded her in her bedroom, but I think you're right. Sybil was always his little girl. To see her growing up is a shock for him," Mary nodded.
"He's not going to take my private bill very well at all," Matthew sighed. "It will be a great disappointment to him."
"Well you can try and talk to him beforehand, but I don't see how you'll get anywhere," Mary sighed. "Unless you can come up with a better reason than you've been sleeping with his eldest daughter for almost three years now and you'd like to do so on a nightly basis."
Matthew grinned, turning towards her. "Well, who can say fairer than that?"
He kissed her firmly, pushing her on to her back.
"You must be careful not to break Sybil's heart," Mary whispered, looking up at him playfully. "You're her gallant knight in all this. I think she has a crush on you."
"Well, that's something no one could ever accuse you of," Matthew smiled, kissing her neck where it met her shoulder and pulling her robe away from her body.
"Certainly not," Mary grinned, closing her eyes. "I'm far far beyond a crush when it comes to you, Mr. Crawley."
She reached down his body and past his pyjamas, taking hold of his naked flesh and stroking him.
"Mary!" he groaned into her shoulder, his hand removing his clothes to give her full access.
"God, Matthew," she sighed, writhing against him. "Please, please."
He pulled the strap of her nightgown down and exposed her breast to his hungry mouth. As he kissed her sensitive skin, he pulled her nightgown to her waist, spreading her legs and pushing a finger into her core.
Mary whimpered as he moved faster. He reached up and kissed her hard, groaning into her mouth as she squeezed him harder in reply.
After several moments, he pressed firmly upon her and she came apart, yelping into his mouth and arching toward him as pleasure washed over her. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, her breast, smiling against her skin as she took deep breaths and calmed herself.
Matthew groaned when she resumed her attentions on him. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to her cheek, whispering her name.
"Mary, the…the drawer…" he gasped.
Mary groaned in frustration, quickly turning over and throwing open the drawer of his nightstand to retrieve the packet stored there.
"Hurry," she commanded.
"You do it," Matthew leered, reaching for her and kissing her neck once more.
Mary grinned, running her hand along his bare back and slapping his bottom lightly. She tore open the packet and stared at him wantonly as she unrolled the condom over him. The moment it was in place, he moved over her, pinning her arms over her head and pushing her legs apart with his knee.
"Mary," he hissed. "I want you so badly."
She cried out as he thrust into her. She moved her hips in time with his, urging him on with wicked words and her dark stare until he cried out her name in bliss.
Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, June 1914
"Will that be all, sir?" Thomas asked, brushing Matthew's shoulders.
"No, Thomas," Matthew said, looking at his reflection in the mirror. "I require your assistance on a delicate matter."
"Yes, sir?" Thomas asked, his eyes lighting up with interest.
"I do hate to be at a disadvantage, Thomas," Matthew said. "These Lords, friends and acquaintances of Lord Grantham. They've all known him for years and been part of Society for much longer. I feel as though they see me as a novice, a bit of a new boy, and that concerns me."
"I'm sure you'll be up to speed quickly, sir," Thomas nodded. "I understand there were raves about you back in Winter, sir."
"That may be so, but this is the Season, Thomas. The stakes are higher, and I don't want to disappoint Lord Grantham."
"Of course not, sir," Thomas agreed. "How may I help you."
"I want you to find out all that you can about the Lords who come to Sybil's Ball," Matthew said. "Lord Grantham will be judicious in what he discloses to me, out of loyalty to his friends and colleagues. I need to know more. I need to know their secrets. If I'm to sit in the House with them one day, then I must know who they are and what they believe and, most importantly, what may sway them."
Thomas blinked in surprise. "This sounds rather surreptitious, sir," he said carefully.
"It certainly is, Thomas," Matthew nodded, still looking at the mirror. "But I suspect that servants talk, and I also suspect that you are entirely privy to information that I could not obtain directly on my own. So, are you up for this mission?"
"Leave it to me, sir," Thomas smiled. "I'll get the intelligence that you seek."
"Good man," Matthew nodded, giving Thomas a brief smile. "The better prepared we are when dealing with these men, the better off we will be in the future."
"Yes, sir," Thomas said smugly. He bowed and left Matthew's dressing room.
Matthew looked back at his reflection and rolled his eyes.
"Will you walk into my parlour? Said the Spider to the Fly," he shook his head.
He turned away from the mirror and moved towards the door. Pausing at the threshold, he looked up at the ceiling.
"I won't let them change me, Papa," he whispered. "But do keep me in line, please."
"Mr. Crawley," the old man said, nodding his head slightly. "Beatrice sung your praises in December. I'm pleased to meet you for myself finally."
"Matthew, please, Lord Edwidge," Matthew smiled respectfully. "Lady Edwidge is too kind. I suspect that she was more in awe by the lovely kedgeree we had that evening. I was merely fortunate enough to be seated close by and benefitted from her happy mood."
Lord Edwidge laughed heartily. Matthew's stomach rebelled at his horribly patronising words.
"How do you find Parliament this session, Lord Edwidge?" Matthew asked lightly. "We had a by-election in Ripon recently. Thankfully the right side won."
"Indeed," Lord Edwidge nodded. "Oh, there's the usual bellyaching and grandstanding, Matthew. There's very little of consequence though. I find myself indifferent to most of it. By the time a bill is debated to death in the Lower House, there's very little reason for disagreement on our part."
"Well, arguing can sometimes be a waste of time, can't it, Lord Edwidge?" Matthew smiled.
"More than you know," Lord Edwidge chortled. "Oh there's always the squeaky wheels, Matthew. Even Lord Grantham has risen in outrage from time to time, but you'll find that most of the Lords who sit in the House aren't particularly bothered by the small measures. In the course of any session, there's only two or three true bills worth fighting over."
"It sounds fascinating," Matthew nodded. "I wouldn't mind seeing it all for myself."
"Whenever it pleases you, my boy. You can ring my office. They'll arrange for you to come through whenever you wish as my guest," Lord Edwidge nodded.
"Thank you," Matthew grinned. "I shall certainly take you up on your offer."
"There's something about him isn't there?" Lady Ellen smiled, watching Matthew across the room. "He's just so…smooth. Not at all like those boring men during our debut. He's rather mysterious, in a very alluring way."
Mary rolled her eyes and sipped her champagne. "Ellen, I doubt that Connor would appreciate your comments about my cousin."
"Oh, please, Mary," Ellen scoffed. "I care about Connor almost as much as you cared about Patrick."
"The difference being that you're actually married," Mary said coldly.
"But Matthew isn't, is he?" Ellen said saucily, sipping her drink.
Mary grit her teeth behind her pursed lips.
"I suppose it's just a daydream, anyway," Ellen said lightly. "I hear that Sarah has big plans for him."
"Then she's in for an even bigger disappointment," Mary snarled.
"Why is that?" Ellen laughed, looking at Mary curiously.
Mary swallowed slightly.
"From what I know of Cousin Matthew, dear Sarah isn't his type," Mary said cautiously.
"A woman willing to get on her knees for him isn't his type?" Ellen chuckled. "He must be a saint!"
"Hardly," Mary said. "All he needs is to have basic standards."
"Oh, Mary," Ellen laughed. "How I've missed you."
Mary smiled at Ellen conspiratorially and raised her glass to her.
"Speaking of Connor," Mary said. "How is his dear Papa? Is Lord Highwater still mourning the loss of his second wife?"
"Oh, he's mourning all right," Ellen rolled her eyes. "He's spending nights with his grandson's nanny moaning away."
Mary laughed. "I shouldn't pry, but I can't help it."
"Oh, dear Mary," Ellen grinned. "Call that servant of yours over to refresh our drinks and I shall tell you all about the gossip you missed in the past year. No one appreciates a good rumour like you do."
Berkeley Hotel, Knightsbridge, London, England, June 1914
"A rather unfortunate consequence of our investigations is that now I have a hard time looking at some of these men without bursting out laughing," Matthew sighed, going over his notepad.
"It's an acquired skill," Mary smiled, laying on her stomach, the blanket pooled just above the curve of her bottom. "Saying one thing to a person while thinking something entirely different."
"Well why didn't you say so?" Matthew asked, smiling at her. "That I know how to do quite well."
"I hope the thoughts you have of me are not the same as you have of these old toffs," Mary smirked.
"I would hope that what we just did is clear proof of who exactly I am entirely focused upon," Matthew said, arching his eyebrows.
"Mmm," Mary sighed contentedly. "I must admit the bedpost is much sturdier than I expected."
Matthew laughed, blushing at the memory of her arms wrapped around the bedpost, her legs wrapped around him as he supported her weight in his arms.
"We seem to have a veritable dossier of information on a great number of Lords," Matthew said, putting the notepad on the nightstand. "And I expect Thomas will dig up even more following Sybil's Ball."
"It was quite clever to use him to our advantage," Mary smiled. "And he suspects nothing?"
"He thinks he's gathering leverage for me to use in my future political career," Matthew nodded. "Not entirely untrue, really."
"When will you mention Louis to him?" Mary asked.
"I'm not sure," Matthew frowned. "Not until I'm certain that the bill is ready for John to bring to Parliament. If we can turn Thomas to our side, we can use his testimony against Robert when he gets wind of what I'm doing."
"Papa won't believe him, or you," Mary huffed. "He'll probably think we paid him to recant his earlier story, or some other nonsense."
"Possibly,' Matthew nodded. "Still, I'd like to keep Thomas as a weapon for our use. We need as many irons in the fire as possible."
"I noticed Lady Kensington talking to you at the Shiring Ball last night," Mary said pointedly.
"She cornered me after I'd interrogated Lord Bridgewater," Matthew nodded. "Don't worry darling, I told her I was too busy with family matters to walk out with her."
"I'm not worried," Mary said easily. "Though she'll be at the Ball and various other events in the next month. She's unavoidable, that one, particularly when she has the bit between her teeth."
Matthew laughed, running his hand down her bare back, smirking at the curve of her breast pressed against the mattress.
"Have no fear, darling," Matthew said. "I know you'll be occupied with Sybil this week, but I'll be isolating myself so as not to be tempted by these wicked women."
"A wise decision," Mary smiled, looking over at him. "You're still quite popular from what I've heard. There's a veritable race on to see which lady can say they bedded you first."
Matthew gasped in shock. "No!" he shook his head.
"Women can be just as heathen as men, Matthew," Mary raised her eyebrows at him. "Once you're years removed from your debut, you're far more aware of the way the world works."
"Is that so?" Matthew smiled. "So, Lady Mary, are you pleased with yourself that you've seduced the heir to the Earl of Grantham? Are you revelling in having put one over on all of your peers?"
He leaned over and kissed her shoulder blade, then her spine, trailing kisses down her back. His hand ghosted down, squeezing her bottom, then flinging the blanket off her body completely.
"I will admit that it is rather…thrilling…to know I've had a man that everyone wants and no one else will ever have," Mary grinned, her eyes closing as her husband continued to attend to her.
"No one, Mary," Matthew whispered, kissing the small of her back. "No one else but you shall ever have me. I shall love you until the last breath leaves my body."
"Mmm, Matthew," she grinned, raising her hips at his urging. "You're all mine for all eternity."