Previously:
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, May 2015
"I want you to know…" Mary began, her voice catching slightly. "I…I love Matthew, very much. I expect you might have been surprised to hear from him that we were dating."
"I was," Isobel agreed. "Matthew mentioned that you weren't exactly welcoming to him when he arrived in London."
"No, no, I wasn't, I'm afraid," Mary cringed slightly. "And I know that your memories of Matthew and I aren't bursting with adorable moments between us."
"No, adorable would not be a word I would use," Isobel smiled.
"But things are different now," Mary said firmly. "I think that I never took the time to properly get to know him, and now I have, and we're both different from who we once were. I don't want you to worry, or be afraid for him. He makes me very happy, you see, and I hope that I do the same for him, and I would very much appreciate if you were happy for both of us."
"I am," Isobel said, patting her hand reassuringly.
Mary allowed herself a cautious smile.
"Mary," Isobel said quietly. "I've always held you in very high regard. Reginald thought very highly of you, also. You must understand, though, that Matthew is my only child. He's, in essence, the only family I have left. It's only natural that I'm going to be very…careful…with any woman he decides to bring home to meet me, as it were."
"Yes, of course," Mary nodded.
"I know that I don't have to tell you about how long Matthew has…had feelings…for you," Isobel continue carefully. "Whatever the future may hold for the both of you, I only ask that you be careful. Be careful not to break his heart, please."
Mary blinked.
"I…" Mary stammered. "I certainly have no intention to."
"The two of you seem to be deep in discussion," Matthew smiled, coming over to them.
"Just women's stuff," Mary smiled at him easily. She shared a glance with Isobel, then rose from the settee. "Go on and sit, darling. Mama needs me to make a fourth for bridge."
Matthew sat down next to his mother on the settee. They both watched as Mary walked gracefully across the room and sat down at the card table with Violet, Cora and Edith.
"Sybil," Matthew called out, waving her over. "Mother, you should hear about her dissertation. It's quite brilliant."
"I would expect nothing less," Isobel smiled, looking over at Mary for a moment more before she nodded as Sybil reached them and began chatting with Matthew.
Chapter 21:
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, May 2015
Mary opened her eyes, her vision filling with a bundle of mussed blond hair atop broad shoulders and a smooth back tapering down to disappear under her plush duvet. She took a moment to admire Matthew as he slept, before temptation got the best of her and she cuddled up closer, sliding her hand underneath the linens and across his waist, kissing his shoulder and neck.
"Mmm," Matthew hummed, immediately turning over on to his back and reaching out his arm. His eyes remained closed as she darted across and rested her head on his chest, curling against him and stretching her leg across his thighs.
"You were supposed to wake me up so I could go back to my bedroom," he mumbled, smiling with his eyes closed.
"I forgot," she said lightly.
"No, you didn't," he chuckled. "You're trying to get me into trouble."
"Please," she scoffed. "If you were found in here, who do you think they would blame for it? Papa would give you a fond smirk while Mama would tear into me about my lack of discretion."
"Your Papa isn't going to be giving me any fond looks anytime soon after the debacle from last night," he replied. "Talking to him was maddening. I've never seen him so cross before."
"You've never seen him so cross at you, before," she corrected him. "From what you described, it sounded like one of our normal conversations to me."
"I still can't understand what brought it on," he said, blinking several times as he stirred to wakefulness. "He's known about those plans for months, and he chooses now to suddenly object to the sports book? It's mad."
"It's just that it's becoming more real to him now," she explained. "When it was all just plans and cost estimates, it was something far off into the future for him. Now that we've broken ground and he knows that Edith will be making significant progress through the summer, he's beginning to understand that we're finally moving into this century, and it terrifies him."
"Be serious," he frowned.
"I am!" she said. "Papa hates change. Worse than that, he hates not being in control of everything."
"Well, he better get used to it in this case, because nothing is going to change this plan. We're too far into it to go back out now, and on top of that, he doesn't control all of the money. We have no obligation to get his permission for anything," he said.
"You're rather sexy when you're self-righteous and adamant," she smiled, looking up at him as she moved up his body.
"When I'm championing your cause, you mean?" he smirked.
"Definitely," she said, kissing him slowly. She slid her hands up his chest to his shoulders, turning her head as she kissed him again, her tongue sliding playfully against his teeth.
"When's breakfast?" he asked as she pulled back. "How much time do we have?"
"Plenty, I'm sure," she said, arching her eyebrow at him.
Mary reached across to grab her phone from the nightstand.
"It's just past nine," she announced, glancing at her phone, then placing it back down. "We've probably got half an hour at most."
"Less than that," he grumbled. "I still need to go back to my room to shower and change."
"You could always shower here," she smiled, grabbing a condom from the nightstand. In their haste last night, Matthew had comically torn the box, spilling several over the nightstand as she laughed at him before he was able to corral one and dive back into bed.
"Don't tempt me," he smiled as she waved the wrapper in front of him. "What would Sybil say if she saw me running down the hall in my robe?"
"Everyone knows we're sleeping together," she rolled her eyes. "They just pretend that they don't for appearance's sake. Sybil would probably make a clever joke and laugh at you, if she didn't take out her phone and snap a photo first."
"All the same," he said, sitting up. "Half an hour isn't nearly enough time for you to get ready and you know it."
"Fine," she sighed, sitting back against the pillows and covering herself with the duvet. "Off with you, then."
He smiled and leaned over to kiss her quickly on the lips before he got out of bed and went in search of his clothes.
"You know, we've never actually discussed this," she said, looking at the condom wrapper.
"Discussed what?" he asked, pulling on his boxer briefs and pyjama pants and walking over to the chair to grab his robe.
"Protection," she said lightly. "You've never asked me what I'm using."
"You use the patch. I've seen them in your toiletry bag," he said, pulling on his robe.
"Snooping around, are you?" she frowned.
"They were just sitting there," he retorted, tying the sash of his robe. "And I've seen you put them on."
"Then why do you keep using these?" she asked, holding up the wrapper.
"Why not?" he replied, walking around the bed and finding his slippers. "It shouldn't be just your responsibility to ensure that we're safe."
"But doesn't it take away from your…enjoyment?" she asked, blushing as she bit her lower lip.
He leaned over the bed and took the wrapper from her, kissing her quickly before staring into her eyes.
"I enjoy it very much," he nodded before standing up straight and taking the rest of the condoms and his mobile from the nightstand.
"Well, my parents will be pleased that we're being so responsible," she remarked.
"Why should they expect anything less?" he asked, sitting down on the bed.
"They wouldn't, not from you anyway," she scoffed. "As for me, they've probably planned down to the precise month and year that they want me to have my first child."
"What does it matter?" he frowned. "It will happen when it happens."
"My family doesn't allow anything to just 'happen', Matthew," she shook her head. "Everything must be carefully announced, organized and executed."
"Announced?" he asked, looking at her curiously.
"All right, perhaps not everything is announced," she rolled her eyes. "The point is that there are expectations placed upon all of us regarding major milestones in our lives. I don't necessarily agree with it all, but a great deal of planning is put into ensuring that Edith, Sybil and I all follow a particular path."
"Such as you falling in love with me?" he smiled.
"Well, yes, that was completely unplanned," she smiled back. "But I am a bit of a rebel at heart."
She leaned over and kissed him again before he got up from the bed and headed for the door.
"I'll come and get you in half an hour so we can go down to breakfast," he said over his shoulder, before leaving her bedroom and closing the door behind him.
Mary turned and looked out the window, the bright sun shining over the vast fields of Downton Abbey.
Downton Village, Yorkshire, England, May 2015
"God, I thought they'd never let me leave," Sybil moaned, glancing in the store windows as they walked. "I owe Mary massively for distracting Papa so we could escape."
"It wasn't that bad," Matthew smiled. "I think it's a perfectly legitimate question for them to ask you. You'll be done your Masters within another year at most. They want to know what your plans are."
"They want to know when I'll be going into the family business," she frowned. "And you and I both know that will never happen."
"They probably know it too," he nodded. "They're just being stubborn."
"I'll stay in school and do a PhD and a post-doctorate if I have to," she said firmly.
"No, you won't," he smiled. "You would go mad. You want to do something practical, not just spend your days in research and writing for the rest of your life."
"You're right," she grumbled. "But at least if I'm in school, it will keep them off my arse about the future."
"You could always get married," he smirked. "Marry some toff and get pregnant and you'll never have to work again."
"Fuck off, Matthew," she said, elbowing him. "I'd sooner join a convent than spend my life popping babies for some rich snob who thinks that's all I'm good for."
"Actually, I bet your parents would be perfectly fine with you becoming a nun," he smiled.
Sybil rolled her eyes.
"There is another option," Matthew stated.
"And what's that? Move to another country? I've thought about that. They'd still hound me," she scoffed.
"Not entirely," he shook his head. "You could go away, yes, and build something for yourself. As long as you aren't relying on the family for money, there's very little that your parents can do to stop you."
"And how am I going to pay for this grand adventure?" she asked. "Masters students in Gender Studies don't exactly have lucrative careers, Matthew, as hard as that is to believe, especially considering that I have almost no interest in teaching."
"I'll pay for it," he said easily.
"You?" she exclaimed.
"Yes, me," he smiled. "I'll give you the Rose deal."
Sybil laughed. "I love you. Thank you, but I couldn't."
"Why not?" he laughed. "It's just money."
"Yes, I know that you've got plenty of it," she rolled her eyes. "But I wouldn't feel comfortable taking your money. I'd never be able to pay you back."
"So?" he shrugged. "A few thousand quid isn't…"
"Yes, yes, there's no need to brag," she smiled ruefully at him. "Matthew, trust me, it would end up coming between us. I won't accept your charity. It's bad enough that I have to accept Papa's."
"All right," he sighed. "I shouldn't be shocked that you insist upon doing things the hard way."
Sybil laughed. "You know me! Besides, you better hang on to your money. You'll need it if you're going to be the family saviour."
"What?" he asked in confusion.
"What?" she replied, looking at him curiously. "Don't tell me you don't know?"
"Apparently I don't," he shook his head.
"Come on Matthew," she said. "Why do you think that my parents are so pleased that you're with Mary? You can't possibly think that they are so concerned about my future that they don't care about hers or Edith's, can you?"
He blinked and paused for a moment, his brow furrowed.
She kept on. "Didn't Mary tell you how they've wanted the two of you together even back when you were teenagers?"
"Yes," he nodded slowly.
"Exactly," she said. "You're a part of the company, you're rich, and you're well aware of the family history. You're exactly the type of man they would want their eldest daughter to marry and produce heirs with."
"Married?" he blurted out. "Really?"
"Aren't you supposed to be the smart one?" she teased. "Yes, Matthew. If you and Mary were to wed, my parents would be bursting with joy. Our family's future, and that of the company, would be secure."
"Hang on," he frowned. "Do they want me because they think I would be a good husband and father, or do they want me just for my money?"
"A bit of all of the above, I would think," she said. "Anyway, it doesn't really matter what they want, does it? What matters is what you want, and what Mary wants. And you're not going to lie to me about what you want when it's so obvious, are you?"
Matthew looked away and blushed.
"Marriage is a long business," he said. "I love Mary, but we live a very unique life at the moment. We still need to learn a great deal about each other. Moving so quickly would be rather irrational," he mumbled.
"Yes, it would be. Very irrational," she agreed. "But it's what you want."
He frowned at her, then rolled his eyes at her playful expression.
"We're a long way from having to think about any of that," he declared. "For now, I just want to survive this visit with your parents in one piece."
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, May 2015
"And there you have it," Mary said, closing the folder as she finished her report.
"Hmm," Robert grunted, frowning at the pages. After a while, he closed up the folder and set it aside on the polished table.
"Just be mindful of your costs," he said plainly, pushing his chair back from the table. "These large scale projects can get out of hand quite quickly. You should be meeting regularly with Edith to ensure her people stay on schedule and on budget."
"We meet every day at Crockfords," she said, barely supressing an eye roll. Her father had a ridiculous talent for stating something obvious that she had already thought of, then taking credit for it after the fact.
"I'm glad you're paying attention," he said, rising from his chair and walking over to the bar. He poured himself a glass of water while Mary watched him.
"Papa, I've been meaning to ask you about Patrick," she called.
"What about Patrick?" he asked, his back to her.
"Well, Matthew and I are still investigating his death," she said.
"Are you?" he asked, glancing back at her, then turning to look out the window. "The last you mentioned it, you hadn't come up with a suspect."
"We still haven't," she said. "However, I was thinking that perhaps whoever killed Patrick didn't do it out of revenge or punishment. Perhaps Patrick was killed to send a message."
"A message?" he frowned, turning to look at her. "To whom?"
"To us," she shrugged. "To the family. To you. Perhaps the killer simply wanted to make an example of him, rather than having anything personal against him at all."
"But who would want to do that?" he asked. "We don't have any rivals who would do something so foolish; at least, I don't."
"Neither do I," she said evenly. "But we can't necessarily ignore the possibility. It's as plausible a theory as any other we have at the moment."
"Mary, Patrick died because he was a drug addict," he said tightly, looking back out the window. "Whatever the ultimate reason – because he had enemies, because he did someone wrong – whoever killed him was able to get to him because he needed drugs. I warned him. I warned him so many times, just as I warned his father. That lifestyle – the drugs, the women, the fancy cars and expensive parties – it would all catch up with him in the end, and it did. The young – you all think you're so invincible, so untouchable, that the rules do not apply to you. But they do."
Mary frowned, watching as her father took a sip of his water, a scowl across his face.
"In the end, does it really matter what happened?" he asked, looking over at her, his eyes sad, his face pale. "Patrick's dead, and if not for his own weakness and his addictions, perhaps he'd still be alive today."
Mary watched as her father put his empty glass down on the bar, his posture rigid and tense.
"I'm going to go out for a walk," he said quietly. "I'll see you at dinner."
Mary frowned as her Papa walked tiredly from the room. She stared at the empty space where he once stood before finally getting up and walking briskly out in the other direction.
Mary steadied the gun in front of her, keeping her eyes on the target in the distance. She slowly exhaled as she fired, compensating for the slight recoil of the gun with each shot. After five shots, she put the safety back on and placed the gun on the shelf in front of her. Pressing the button on the wall, she watched as the paper target wound its way towards her. Taking off her goggles, she narrowed her eyes as she examined the spray of shots across the chest of the silhouette. She reached out and ripped the target down, then placed a fresh page on the board and pressed the button to send it back into position.
"Centre of the body. That's rather boring, isn't it? I thought you'd prefer a head shot," a voice called.
She blinked in surprise and turned her head, her eyes widening at seeing Matthew's smiling face.
"Matthew!" she said, her voice shaking as she took off her ear protectors. "I thought you'd still be out with Sybil."
"She didn't see anything she liked, so we came back," he nodded. "I take it from the fact that you're down here that your meeting with Robert didn't go very well?"
"No, it's was fine," she said nervously. "I…I just came down here to clear my head."
He looked from her face, then over at the gun resting on the shelf, and back up at her.
"I think I'll have a go, myself," he smiled, turning and heading over to the cabinet where they kept their supplies.
"You?" she asked incredulously, watching as he unlocked the cabinet and took out a pair of googles, ear protectors and a metal case.
"Yes, me," he said, mimicking her confused tone. "I could do with some relief as well. Surprised?" he smiled, closing the cabinet and carrying the equipment over to the position next to hers.
"I am, a little," she admitted. "I don't recall you enjoying shooting at all."
She stepped over and leaned against the divider, watching him with a mix of fear and curiosity. After what they'd been through, being around guns in Matthew's presence made her feel anxious. However, she was intrigued as he opened the case and put together the gun with apparent ease. He clicked the magazine into place and checked the sights with a meticulousness that surprised her. The last time she saw him shoot, he seemed as though he just wanted to get it over with and get far away from the range. Now he almost seemed as though he was in his element.
"That was a long time ago," he said, turning his head to catch her eyes. "There's a lot about me that's changed since then, isn't there?"
"Yes," she said, glancing over at her own gun. "And I've changed a lot as well."
"Darling," he said, fiddling with the ear protectors. "You don't think I'm scared of being around you with a gun in your hands, do you?"
She blinked, her mouth falling open. "No," she stammered. "Of course not."
"Good," he nodded. "Because I'm not; and I've been waiting years to give you a proper lesson here at the range."
She narrowed her eyes as she watched him put on his goggles.
"You think you can keep up with me, do you?" she enquired slowly.
"I'm not as incompetent at this as I used to be," he smiled.
"Care to make it interesting?" she asked lightly, turning back to her own station.
"What did you have in mind?" he asked.
"Five shots, most in the centre wins," she said crisply, reloading her gun.
"And what do I get when I win?" he asked cheekily.
"Anything you wish," she replied, not looking at him and focusing on her gun.
"Anything?" he repeated, blinking in surprise.
She turned to look at him, arching her eyebrow as she pulled the slide of the gun back with a loud click, loading a bullet into the chamber.
"Anything," she nodded. "It doesn't matter, because you won't win."
He smirked at her reply. "And what about you?" he asked, looking down the range at the target. "Let me guess – a shopping spree along Sloane Street with my Black Card."
"No," she said dismissively. "I can pay for that myself. When I win, I get to drive your car."
He blinked, turning to look at her bright eyes. "My…my car?" he asked.
"Your car," she nodded.
"Which one?" he asked suspiciously.
"Your favourite," she said. "Nissan GT-R Nismo, turbocharged V6 engine, custom exhaust, custom wheels and Pirelli performance tires."
His eyes widened.
She smiled wickedly. "For an entire month, and you won't be able to touch it, except to ride along in the passenger seat when I permit it."
He stared at her, dumbfounded.
"Agreed?" she asked. "Or are you now having second thoughts?"
"Agreed," he said, motioning towards her station. "Ladies first."
Mary smiled to herself as they both put on their ear protectors. She went through her normal routine, checking over her gun. The familiar shot of adrenaline flowed through her as she spread her legs shoulder width apart and faced the target. She calmed her breathing, finally raising the gun in front of her when she felt ready. Focusing first on the rear sight of the gun, she swept her eye forward to the front sight, then along the firing line to the target. She exhaled slowly, then fired off five shots in succession, holding the gun steady, only lowering it after she took a full breath at the end of the salvo.
The targets were too far down the range to be sure of the results. Mary clicked the safety and placed the gun on the shelf. She stepped back and stood behind Matthew, nodding to him to proceed.
Matthew turned back to his target. He held the gun in his right hand, pointed at the floor, his left hand palm up underneath the gun and his right wrist. Taking a deep breath, he raised the gun, keeping his elbows slightly bent, and tilted his head to align his eye with the targeting sights and the centre of the black target in the distance. He pulled the trigger, checked his sightline, and fired again.
Mary watched him closely, a slight tremor going down her spine with each shot. She had to admit he looked very different from the nervous university student he was the last time she saw him shoot. He seemed much more confident and comfortable than she remembered. He held the gun more assuredly. His posture was less gangly, more imposing. Where had he practised? From his stance and movements alone, he had become quite good.
He calmly placed the gun on the shelf, followed by his ear protectors. Turning back to Mary, he waited for her to take off her ear protectors before speaking.
"How was that?" he asked smugly.
"You still have no clue how to hold a gun properly," she said airily, stepping back to her station and pressing the button to bring the targets forward. She and Matthew watched each other's targets as they neared. When the sheets arrived, Mary looked at her target closely.
"Two shots centre zone, two nines and an eight," she said proudly.
"Impressive, though not surprising," he nodded. "Very well done, darling."
She smiled, and looked over at his target.
"How about you?" she asked. "Three shots centre zone! Well done," she exclaimed.
"The other shots were a nine and an eight," he observed. "All in all, I'd say I barely shaved it. Just lucky, really."
"I don't think it was luck at all," she smiled, stepping towards him.
"You don't?" he asked.
"No," she said, placing her hands on his waist. "I think the man before me is greatly improved from the boy I once knew."
He smiled as she leaned forward and kissed him softly.
"And I'm not only talking about the shooting," she smirked, smoothing a loose lock of blond hair away from his forehead.
"That's quite a compliment, coming from you," he nodded.
"Well, you've impressed me," she grinned. "Now, what shall be your reward?"
"The mind reels at the possibilities," he smiled, kissing her again.
"Be sure to let me know when you think of something appropriate, then," she teased, kissing him again. "I did agree to anything, and I should hate to be in your debt."
"I'll think about it very, very hard," he said, pulling her closer.
Sybil sipped her tea, watching as a footman arranged the scones and pastries on platters in the middle of the table, then bowed to her, Edith and their mama before leaving the room.
"You'll speak to Isobel, won't you?" Edith asked her mother.
"Of course I will," Cora nodded. "I've already dropped hints but she's so non-committal. She's like your granny that way. She loves her independence and she thinks if she stays here she's imposing on us."
"Well, that's ridiculous," Sybil frowned, taking a scone from the tray on the table. "Why would she go back to Singapore? Matthew's here."
"Put yourself in her position," Cora said kindly. "She enjoys her work over there, and she's not aware of the recent incident."
"What recent incident?" Robert asked as he came into the sitting room and went over to the sideboard to pour himself a cup of coffee.
"We were just discussing having Mama convince Isobel to stay here, rather than go back to Singapore," Edith said.
"I thought she was happy staying with Mama?" Robert frowned, stirring his cup as he turned to face his wife and daughters.
"She is, but she's afraid she'll wear out her welcome," Cora shook her head. "And no one's told her about the security incident that had Mama bring her back here."
"Security incident?" Robert said in surprise. "I thought Mama just wanted her to come in for a visit."
"No, Papa," Sybil shook her head. "Someone put Isobel under surveillance in Singapore. Granny feigned an illness so she could convince her to come back, when it was really for her own safety."
"Surveillance? Why wasn't I told about this?" Robert asked.
"Mama told me," Cora said.
"Mary told us before we came here," Edith explained. "She wanted us to keep talk of Singapore to a minimum, lest Isobel become wistful and want to go back sooner."
"Did Mama's people catch who was spying on Isobel?" Robert asked.
"No," Sybil said. "They're investigating but Mary didn't say if anything turned up."
"Security incident or not, I'd like Isobel to stay," Cora said. "She and Mama are so close, it would be good for both of them to spend more time together, and I'm sure Matthew would rather she be nearby."
"Of course, of course," Robert nodded, sipping his coffee.
"What's so funny?" Mary asked, squeezing Matthew's hand as they walked across the grass. The blue sky above provided a colourful backdrop to Downton Abbey behind them, the fields of her family property spread out ahead.
"Nothing," he smiled, shaking his head. "Just thinking."
"About?" she prodded him.
"I don't know how to say this without it coming across as being cheesy or ridiculous, or both," he shrugged.
"Try," she said.
"I just get these spots of memory, from time to time, and we just passed the picnic table," he said.
"Ah," she smiled, glancing over her shoulder at the oak table that had rested beneath the large tree for as long as she could remember. "Yes, the place where you bragged about how you'd managed to get your leg over with me."
"Yes," he shook his head. "Not one of my more stellar moments. That's not the only memory though."
"Is that right?" she smiled. "What else was there?"
"There were times where I'd come up the lane on my bike and look over and see you sitting there reading," he explained. "I sometimes imagined going over to you and striking up a conversation, but I never did."
"Well, probably a wise decision. Trying to maintain conversation with you while you were wearing spandex would have been quite distracting," she said.
"What?" he exclaimed.
"I may not have paid much attention to you back then, darling, but that doesn't mean I didn't notice you at all," she said, arching her eyebrows at him. "Particularly when you were wearing such tight shorts."
They laughed and continued walking.
"You know, it's peculiar," she commented, looking around. "When I was younger, this place was my whole life. All I ever wanted to be was Countess of Grantham and rule over my home for the rest of my days, hosting parties, doing the Season. I never thought I'd ever leave, to be honest. Even when I went to London, that was just for school. I always intended to come back here."
"And now?" he asked.
"Now, it doesn't feel like home anymore," she said plainly. "I still love this place and I'm glad my family still owns it, but it feels more like my parents' home than mine, and I find I'm not bothered by that at all."
"City life agrees with you," he nodded.
"That's part of it, yes," she said. "But I think it's mostly that my life isn't here. My identity, who I am, isn't tied to this place."
"That makes sense," he nodded. "You've built something of your own at Crockfords, something fulfilling."
"Yes, but it's more than that," she said. "Before, I always felt that no matter what I did, it wouldn't be good enough for Papa, because he thought of Patrick and I as one, so all of Patrick's mistakes became my mistakes."
"So you were resigned to always being a disappointment," he nodded.
"Exactly," she nodded. "But now, even though Papa can be just as unreasonable as always, it doesn't bother me the same way. I know I've done good work, and the fact that he may refuse to acknowledge it openly doesn't matter anymore."
"That's quite a mature outlook, darling," he smiled.
"Well, that must mean I'm getting old," she sighed with false despair.
He laughed as they kept walking.
"You didn't tell Isobel, did you?" she stated.
"No," he shook his head, frowning slightly. "Mother tolerates what we do, and I think most of the time she's wilfully blind to it. In her mind, I run an internet business, her best friend is merely a rich grandmother, and her husband died in an unfortunate car accident. I try and keep reminders of the truth to a minimum. Besides, what purpose would it serve? She can't do anything about it. It would only cause her more worry."
Mary nodded. "Has Rose discovered anything else?" she asked.
"No, nothing. The two strangers following Mother around flew out from Singapore shortly after. It was impossible to find out where they were going without following them through to their gate and we weren't equipped for that. They went to the International Terminal so they could have gone anywhere," he explained.
"None of this makes any sense," she shook her head. "What does Isobel have to do with anything?"
"Besides being my mother? Nothing. Nothing at all," he replied.
"If we assume that Sir Richard had Sybil and Edith, and even Anna followed to potentially threaten me to carry out my mission, what's the use of finding out where Isobel is?" she asked. "It's not as though he wants to blackmail you."
"I don't know," he sighed. "This is going far beyond what I would expect from someone who saw me as just a business rival. In the past, I've had the odd bully threaten me because I've taken customers away from traditional gambling establishments, but no one's ever threatened my mother before."
"If he doesn't know that we're on to him, then perhaps it's just as simple as finding out her location so he has the information," she suggested.
"Possibly," he nodded. "Regardless, we're at a stalemate. Mother is safe here and there's no point moving against Carlisle. He still has powerful allies. I won't do anything that puts us at risk for retaliation."
Mary nodded. They crested another rise and stopped, turning around to look at Downton Abbey in the distance.
"It really is a rather large house, isn't it?" he remarked. "Large and quite lovely."
"Yes, it is," she agreed, looking at her family home, then turning her gaze to him.
Mary gave Matthew a playful smile as she followed her Mama and sisters through to the sitting room. With Isobel and Violet entertaining some of Violet's friends, it was just Mary's immediate family at dinner tonight. Carson brought out the port as the women left the room.
"When are you due to leave?" Robert asked idly, nodding to Carson and taking the small port glass.
"Early tomorrow," Matthew said, sitting back in his chair. "Mary wants to be back in London in time for lunch."
Robert nodded and took a sip.
Matthew waited for Carson to leave the dining room before speaking further.
"Robert, we've never spoken about the future, at least not in precise terms," he said carefully.
"The future?" Robert repeated, not looking at him. "What of it?"
"Well," Matthew said. "When you summoned me to London, it was for the purpose of putting Patrick's division to the good, and I've done that."
"To a degree, you have, yes," Robert allowed. "Do you believe your work is finished then?"
"Actually, no," Matthew said. "I've found several reasons to stay, such that I may consider making my move more permanent beyond the ten months we originally discussed."
"Ah," Robert nodded. "Well, since you've chosen to finance part of the expansion of Crockfords, it stands to reason you would want to be on hand to guide it forward."
"Yes, that's true, although I could do that from Manchester. We have cameras set up at the construction site now and all of the reports are electronic of course," Matthew said.
"What else, then?" Robert asked lightly, finally looking at him. "You wish to stay for Mary, is that it?"
"In part, yes," Matthew nodded, allowing a slight smile to cross his lips. "We are quite happy together."
"Wonderful," Robert said guardedly.
"It hasn't been that long that we've been dating," Matthew said. "However it is another positive in favour of my staying in London."
"How nice for the two of you," Robert nodded.
"Thank you," Matthew nodded. "I hope we can always be honest with each other, Robert, and I want you to know that I have no preference for any plan of succession. That's not why I'm choosing to stay."
"Good of you to say so," Robert replied. "In any event, I do not believe we'll need to consider a change in leadership for quite some time."
"No, of course not," Matthew shook his head.
"If you will be staying on with us for a while yet, then you should become more familiar with the way we do things, Matthew," Robert said. "I know that you've left the monthly reporting to Mary, but I'd like some more detail from your division going forward. I think that if you are to be more than a mere caretaker for those properties, then I should be kept current on exactly what your plans are."
Matthew looked at the Earl for a second before nodding. "As you wish," he said.
"Mary also mentioned to me that you're still looking into Patrick's death," Robert noted.
"That's right," Matthew nodded. "Though nothing's really turned up."
"I hope you are prepared for the very real possibility that nothing may ever turn up, Matthew," Robert nodded. "We know that Patrick died from a drug overdose. That may be all we ever know. That may be all there ever is to know."
"I suppose that is possible, yes," Matthew agreed.
"I learned to take such a view when James died," Robert said. "Take it from me, it's a far healthier perspective. It's far too easy to both invent conspiracy theories without actual evidence and to be consumed by them."
Matthew looked at Robert curiously, weighing the man's advice. The Earl did not offer anything further and eventually Matthew turned away and took a sip of port, waiting for Robert's command to go through so he could rejoin Mary.
The Balcony, Galvin at Windows Restaurant, Hilton Hotel, Park Lane, London, England, May 2015
"Our source was told that Mrs. Crawley completed her project early, and left Singapore shortly thereafter," Cyril Hightower reported.
Richard sliced off a piece of his pork chop, stabbed the piece with a fork and dabbed it in the applesauce before taking a bite. He chewed for several seconds, then went back to slicing.
"And her present whereabouts?" Richard asked.
"Unknown," Cyril replied. "She hasn't been spotted back in Manchester. I suppose she could be here in the city by now, and if so…"
"Then she's under Matthew Crawley's protection, so it doesn't matter whether we know her whereabouts or not," Richard sneered, taking another bite of his pork chop.
"Shall I inform the Albanians that you require them for the additional services we discussed?" Cyril asked.
Richard picked up his tumbler of Scotch and swirled the amber liquid around idly. He took a long sip and savoured it before replying.
"Yes," Richard nodded. "Put them on notice. We'll wait until next month when the Season begins. Lord and Lady Grantham will be here, which will give us the audience that we want, for maximum effect."
"Yes, Sir Richard," Cyril nodded.
"That's all," Richard said, waving his hand.
"Good night, Sir Richard," Cyril said, standing up and bowing his head before leaving the restaurant.
As Cyril emerged from the hotel, he checked the time on his mobile before putting it away in his jacket pocket. Checking both ways for traffic, he walked across the street and took Curzon Gate into Hyde Park. He stayed to the right side of the path, allowing joggers and tourists to pass by as he meandered his way north to the 7 July Memorial. Glancing about, Cyril walked into the memorial and pretended to examine each of the 52 steel columns. He took a second mobile phone out of the pocket of his trousers and pressed a speed dial button. He looked around again as he placed the phone to his ear.
"It's me," Cyril said as his call was answered. "I've just come from meeting with him."
"Your people in Singapore were spotted," came the reply.
"I know," Cyril nodded, speaking quietly. "It's all right, though. He doesn't know that. He thinks that she just left because her time at the hospital was up."
"And what does he plan to do next?" the voice asked.
"He wants the Albanians to prepare to move against Matthew Crawley," Cyril said.
"He wouldn't," was the answer. "When?"
"He says he wants to wait for the Season to begin," Cyril said.
"So that the family is all gathered together in London," the voice said.
"I expect that is the intention, yes," Cyril nodded. "What do you want me to tell the Albanians?"
There was a lengthy pause from the other end of the call.
"Tell them to prepare, as ordered," the voice said finally. "But they aren't to do anything unless I give you the approval."
"Understood," Cyril said, walking slowly among the steel columns. "He won't do anything unless he believes that Matthew Crawley is a legitimate threat. For now, he believes that he is."
"He may very well turn out to be," the voice said. "I don't know what he knows, exactly, but he's continuing to investigate, and I don't know what he may find."
"And there's no way to dissuade him or throw him off?" Cyril asked.
"No," the voice sighed. "He is proving to be quite impossible to control."
"Very well," Cyril said. "Good night, then, sir."
The voice hung up without replying.
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, May 2015
Robert frowned as he hung up the phone, staring at it for a long moment. His attention was drawn away as the door to his study opened.
"My Lord," Carson bowed his head. "Her Ladyship is asking for you in the parlour. Your dinner guests have arrived."
"Of course," Robert nodded, getting up from his chair and heading for the door. "Any word from Mary and Matthew?"
"Lady Sybil says they arrived back in London earlier this afternoon, my Lord," Carson nodded.
"Very good," Robert said.
He walked past the butler and down the hall, putting on his best smile before joining Cora, Edith, Sybil and their dinner guests in the parlour.