House of Commons, Palace of Westminster, London, England, February 1915
It was going well. At least, from what Mary could hear, she thought that much to be true. Since she was sitting in the upper gallery, the only place women were allowed in the Lower House, she wasn't privy to all interactions on the floor. She couldn't hear all of the discussions between the members or much more than announcements from the Speaker. However, as she had been trained her entire life to understand, body language could be just as loud as actual words. Posture. Maintaining eye contact. Using one's hands to make a point but not so much as to distract from the message. How attentive the audience seemed to be. Gestures and motions could be just as telling as conversation.
Mary watched the Attorney-General as he spoke and noticed the way he held the attention of everyone present. She saw the way heads nodded with approval. She saw how some would lean forward to listen attentively, while others would scribble on notepads as John Simon made particular points. It seemed there was harmony and understanding here. There was no heckling from the backbenchers. There were no frowns or exasperated sighs or shrugging of shoulders that Mary could see. It seemed that the private member's bill – Matthew's bill – was being received positively so far.
Mary looked to her left, down below her to the separate gallery where her husband sat. She stared at him for a brief moment, and Matthew did not turn to meet her gaze. He was so engrossed in what was unfolding that he was leaning over against the banister. She could see his gaze dart across the chamber, likely trying to observe the reactions of the members as much as Mary was.
Mary allowed herself to smile as the proceedings continued. She was guardedly optimistic when she had left Edith and Sybil earlier on the excuse that she was meeting Lady Cunard for tea. She was anonymous and ignored as she slipped into Westminster Palace. This wasn't a place for women, though Sybil would surely have disagreed. She wanted to be next to Matthew, to ask him questions, to be assured that things were truly going well for them. But being forced to sit apart allowed her to remove herself a bit, and guard her expectations. This was only the first hurdle, and even a successful result would be no cause for celebration.
Mary gripped the handle of her purse. She had smuggled her wedding ring and engagement ring with her to London, and had even worn them in bed last night for luck. How easy it would have been to slip them on, here in the House of Commons, where everyone was an elected official, sent here to represent the people, a room free of the patronage and aristocrats of the House of Lords. She even imagined receiving compliments from strangers if they caught sight of her rings. How fun it would be to be able to talk about them, about her marriage, to normal people who could not hurt her or expose her secret.
'That diamond is lovely.'
'Thank you. It's a family heirloom actually. It was my husband's grandmother's ring.'
Mary was shocked when Matthew had presented her with her betrothal ring. She was somewhat ashamed to have been surprised because it was so beautiful and looked quite expensive. When he told her that it was in fact Isobel's mother's ring, she felt worse. It seemed so valuable and to carry so much family history that to entrust it to her seemed wrong. Both Isobel and Dr. Crawley had quickly quashed those reservations.
Her mind wandered to thoughts of her father-in-law. What a sight she would be to him now. Sitting in Parliament as his son took a significant step to carry out the man's wishes. Dr. Crawley would see her presence as a victory in and of itself, a bold move, a lady walking into the chambers of government to fight for what was hers.
Inevitably Mary thought of her own Papa as well. In Manchester, she often would compare Dr. Crawley to Lord Grantham, taking no small amount of satisfaction that Matthew's father was a far better man. Lately though, she didn't think it was worth it to hold the two men in comparison. Robert Crawley would be incensed if he knew what she and Matthew were up to, and would surely see her role in this as being yet another betrayal. Mary felt more regret than anger on the subject of her father these days. He was off fighting in the War, and so it seemed petty to think of him with spite or rage. When Mary was younger, she felt she could actually talk to her Papa. He would listen to her, even if he didn't agree with what she wanted, he would listen. Now she did not trust him even enough to have any conversation beyond the most mundane of topics.
Mary's daydreaming was interrupted by the eerie quiet that took over the chamber. She noticed that John Simon had sat down, and all attention was turned to the front of the House. The Speaker rose, holding a paper in front of him.
"The Question is that the Bill proposed by the Member for Walhamstow, the Attorney-General, an Act to abolish the entail with respect to the Grantham Estate, is politically and legally important and gives rise to issues of public policy that are likely to be of interest to the House, and ought to be accepted and passed," the Speaker announced in a formal tone.
Mary swallowed and held her purse tighter.
"As many as are of that opinion, say 'Aye'," the Speaker called.
A chorus of 'Aye' rang out, mainly from the members seated near John Simon, and carried over to the other side of the chamber. Mary blinked. It sounded like a lot of people had responded, but she couldn't be sure.
"And of the contrary, 'No'," the Speaker continued.
A scattering of 'No' answered the Speaker's question. Mary held her breath. The 'Aye's' seemed to be louder as far as she could tell. She held her breath, staring at the Speaker.
"I think the Ayes have it," the Speaker declared.
There was silence for several moments. John Simon looked around the room. Matthew did as well. They were checking to see if anyone would object to the Speaker's ruling on the vote.
When no one responded, the Speaker sat back down. A gowned attendant rose and began reciting a summary of the Bill and the result of the vote. Some of the members rose and started moving towards the doors. Others began conversing quietly with their neighbours. Mary looked around, wondering if their part of the day was over.
She looked down and saw Matthew had stood and was waiting for his row to clear so he could leave. They had decided to leave Westminster separately and meet back at Painswick House for dinner. Mary couldn't spend the entire day away as she was supposed to be assisting Edith with her trousseau. Though she had heard the Speaker's pronouncement, Mary was still not entirely sure what had happened. But as Matthew began walking out, he chanced a glance up at her. Their eyes met for an instant before he looked back down, but in that moment, Mary's heart soared.
He smiled.
House of Lords, Palace of Westminster, London, England, March 1915
Matthew slowly took his seat in the gallery. The morning had been spent meeting with various Lords to confirm their support, and speaking to those who were still undecided or refusing to tell him what they were thinking. He'd cajoled, joked, empathized, lobbied and on a few occasions even threatened. There was always a moment of nervous tension when he thought perhaps he was going too far or had said too much, but he bravely went on. He couldn't leave anything to chance if he could help it.
He wasn't one to dwell too much on signs or superstitions, but there were some possible augurs that could be seen to be in his favour. First, Robert still was not back and so he would not be here for the debate or the vote. Matthew knew that an irate Lord Grantham could muster the opposition quite effectively, and so long as Robert was still safe, Matthew was glad for his absence. In addition, Lord Merton was nowhere to be seen. Matthew did not particularly enjoy interacting with the man, even during small encounters during the Season, and he surely did not want to see him now. The opportunist would probably vote against the proposal if he could, just to say that he was defending Arthur Crawley's vision to the end.
Matthew turned slightly and saw Mary sitting in the back row. Unlike the House of Commons, they were allowed to sit in the same gallery in the House of Lords. He desperately wanted her to sit next to him, but they decided that she shouldn't. Matthew turned back to the chamber and watched as the Lords slowly filtered in, some pausing to speak to their fellows, while others took their seats quickly. Everything about this day was strange and ironic. He and Mary were here, in the very seat of the power of the British gentry, seeking to strike a blow against them and their way of life. The very Lords who would condemn and berate Mary at parties and in Society gatherings, could now unwittingly be the means of her deliverance. Everything was possible if they won. If they were turned away, their crusade would effectively be over.
And so Matthew did not look at the walls decorated in solemn hues of gold and crimson, with lofty stained-glass windows depicting the past Kings and Queens of England. It was irrelevant to his quest. Matthew adjusted the blue cufflinks on his suit; each one had tiny diamonds to represent fireworks. Dr. Crawley had them commissioned by a jeweller after Matthew's mother had accepted his proposal. As Matthew touched them with fond reverence, a reminder that his father was still with him in spirit. He imagined commissioning another pair of cufflinks if his bill passed the final hurdle. He would choose Mary's birthstone for the gems.
The numbers were difficult to read. Matthew had secured votes for about a third of the House; no small feat in and of itself. Another third were likely to oppose the bill on principle alone, or out of some complex that the bill was a threat to them, even though it only dealt with the Grantham Estate. It was how the final third of the Lords would vote that would decide their fate. Some of the Lords weren't present, such as Robert, meaning fewer votes were needed for success. Matthew was hoping for indifference and ignorance on the part of some others, anything to have them simply acquiesce to the bill having already passed the House of Commons.
The bill was introduced and read. Matthew thought he saw some of the Lords react passively, as if bored, or even asleep. He braced himself for the debate.
"The proposed bill seeks to quash the entail as currently drafted, calling into question two clauses in particular – first the requirement that for the Earl of Grantham to inherit the Estate, he must work in partnership with his next heir, and second the restriction that the Earl of Grantham who inherits the Estate may only take a wife of purity to be his Countess. The entail ties the Estate to the title of the Earl of Grantham, subject to conditions, and it is on this basis that the entail is being called into question. Additional public policy arguments include that the Estate is in currently in jeopardy due to the current Earl serving abroad in military service and his heir being an unwed bachelor. There is therefore the potential that in the unfortunate event of the current Earl's death, the next Earl of Grantham would have no heir as at the time of his ascension. Further, should the current heir be called to military duty, there is the potential for the title to be vacated should both perish."
Following the summary of the bill before them, several Lords turned and talked to each other. They were unreadable in both their hushed tones and reserved mannerisms.
Theophilus Howard, the elderly Earl of Suffolk stood to speak.
"I note that Lord Grantham is not here to vote on a bill that affects his Estate. I shall be voting against the bill on this basis alone. This House is not constituted to guess or assume the intentions of the past Earls of Grantham, or infer consent from the current one."
Matthew's stomach turned.
Seemingly on cue, Algernon Percy, Earl of Northumberland, rose once Lord Suffolk had sat down. "I am voting in favour of the bill. The conditions imposed by the entail are both superfluous and irrelevant. This House has no interest in how one family chooses to conduct its affairs, or who an Earl chooses to marry. This House does, however, have a vested interest in protecting the individual rights of a landowner to control his own fate and that of his family. This entail, as currently drafted, infringes upon the rights of men who have not yet been born, and we cannot allow that to continue. Clearly this entail was drafted and followed without any oversight whatsoever. It is now before us, and it is our duty to end it so that the Grantham family may proceed properly as the law allows, rather than follow the proclamations of an ancestor."
Matthew was glad for the Earl's intervention, though he did not see many in the chamber appear convinced either way.
So it went, with voices raised in support and opposition. Most wondered why it was important to discuss this issue at this precise time. Others were surprised the bill had even passed the House of Commons. There was a current of ambivalence and disinterest. No one particularly cared about the Grantham Estate, but whether that steered them towards passing the bill because it ultimately didn't matter to them, or voting against it to maintain the status quo, Matthew couldn't tell.
The Lord Speaker finally rose and debate ended. Matthew leaned forward in his seat. With young men dying across Europe, he felt that prayer wasn't appropriate under the circumstances. Surely God was busy with far more important matters than whether Matthew could openly declare Mary as his wife? Instead he clasped his hands together as though he were watching a derby match between United and City. He never prayed then either, only watched with steely determination, hoping his concentration could will the result he wanted. He muttered 'come on' and 'please' under his breath, then swallowed and remained quiet as the Lord Speaker spoke.
"The Question is that the private member's bill passed by the House of Commons with respect to a proposed Act to abolish the entail affecting the Grantham Estate, is politically and legally important and gives rise to issues of public policy that are likely to be of interest to the House, and ought to be accepted and passed," the Lord Speaker called.
Matthew pushed his tongue against his teeth.
"As many as are of that opinion, say 'Content'," the Speaker called.
Numerous Lords called out 'Content'. Matthew could see immediately that it was not nearly as strong or loud as it had been in the Commons, but the House of Lords was smaller and there were fewer Lords. It was not necessarily a bad sign.
"And of the contrary, 'Not-content'," the Lord Speaker continued.
Numerous Lords called out 'Not-content'. They were spoken in a dull, careless voice. Some of the Lords had probably already forgotten what they were debating.
But the objections sounded loud to Matthew's ears.
"I think the Not-contents have it," the Lord Speaker declared.
Matthew flinched.
"I object to the Lord Speaker's determination," Lord Eldwidge called.
"Very well. We shall count the votes. The Contents to the left of the Throne. The Not-contents to the left by the Bar, please," the Lord Speaker requested.
The Lords rose from their seats and moved to their designated sides. As they organized themselves, Matthew tried to mentally count what his eyes could see, but it was difficult with the men moving about and his heart pounding so fiercely in his chest.
The attendants moved swiftly among the Lords and counted the votes on each side.
The Lord Speaker declared the result.
The Lords all went back to their seats.
Matthew turned around and looked frantically for Mary.
She was already gone.
Office of the Attorney-General, Palace of Westminster, London, England, March 1915
"Glenfidditch single malt," John announced, sliding a glass across the desk to Matthew. "Aged 21 years. They should call it ambrosia."
"I may need the rest of the bottle," Matthew said, staring at the dark liquid before downing it in one gulp.
"Fuck," he snarled, before pushing the empty glass back to John.
"I know you're beyond disappointed now, but we can try again, perhaps next year," John said as he savoured his own drink more properly. "In the end, you lost by six votes. That's remarkable, really."
Matthew nodded, staring blankly at the table. He didn't feel up to explaining to John all of the reasons why there would be no second attempt.
"Thank you for all of your help," Matthew said, rising from his chair somewhat shakily. "I'm sorry if this will reflect poorly on you at all."
"I see it as a first salvo," John replied. "I have some plans of my own in this area, and you've helped me shake things up a bit. I'm sorry it didn't go your way this time."
Matthew nodded and turned for the door.
"Matthew," John called. "I don't think that you should wallow over this. And certainly you shouldn't be alone for the next while."
"Thank you for your concern," Matthew said, pausing at the door. "Don't worry. I won't be."
Berkeley Hotel, Knightsbridge, London, England, March 1915
It had started to rain just when Matthew had left Parliament and he thought it a fitting homage to go along with his sullied mood. Fate, it would seem, had a wicked sense of humour as it was sunny and bright when Matthew arrived at Parliament mere hours earlier. He ignored the passing taxis and walked instead. He went through St. James Park, then crossed over past Buckingham Palace and Green Park. The rain continued, but he didn't feel it. His hair was wet and his coat was damp, but it didn't matter. The doorman at the hotel frowned at him as he approached, suspicious as to whether he was a guest or not. Matthew didn't care. He felt even worse than he looked.
The room was dark when he went in. He threw the key on a table and had the sense to at least remove his wet coat, his suit jacket, shoes and socks before falling on to the sofa. He stared at the carpet, visions of the celebration he had planned for this moment gone before he'd even stepped outside Westminster.
He felt a towel over his head and soft hands. He let out a long breath as she dried his hair and massaged his scalp. He didn't turn or move as she came around and sat down next to him, her warm hand closing around his cold one and settling on his thigh.
"Yours hands are cold. You should have taken a taxi," Mary said lightly. "You don't want to fall ill."
"I didn't even think of it," Matthew replied. "Yet another failure of mine on a day full of them."
"You didn't fail," Mary said firmly, bringing his hand up and kissing his fingers. "If anything, the Lords failed you."
"And I failed you," Matthew said, finally turning to look at her. "Matthew Crawley, brilliant legal mind and sophisticated heir presumptive to the Earl of Grantham, brings a bill to the House of Lords that is deemed not worth the paper it's written on. You must admit it's rather funny in a tragic sort of way."
"The only thing that I'm prepared to admit is that my husband fought for me until the very end," Mary smiled. "And for that, I'm grateful."
"God, Mary, I'm so sorry. So very sorry," Matthew said, closing his eyes.
"Don't be," Mary said kindly. "Be my husband, because that is who you are."
Matthew opened his eyes and watched as she rose from the sofa, taking his hand with her.
He rose slowly and followed her through to the bedroom. He noticed for the first time that she was wearing a robe, the silk of a nightgown showing through the gap at her neck. The sight of her beautiful form made Matthew feel even worse. He had such plans for them today. Making love to Mary with the entail smashed would feel incredible, he was sure of it. Now, seeing how she had still gamely changed her clothes for him despite his devastating loss pained him.
Mary retrieved two champagne flutes from the side table. Holding them in one hand, she brought picked up the champagne bottle from the ice bucket and brought it to him.
"This was supposed to be for celebrating," Matthew mumbled bitterly.
"And so it shall be," Mary smirked, holding up the glasses. "Open it."
Matthew twisted the wrapping and removed the cork with a loud pop. He filled the two flutes and put the bottle back in the bucket. He grudgingly took one champagne flute from Mary and raised it when she quirked her eyebrow at him.
"What could we possibly have to celebrate?" Matthew asked.
"That we're married," Mary said, leaning up and kissing him softly.
"That we're together," she continued, kissing him again.
"That my husband is the bravest and most selfless man I know," she added with another kiss.
"That we have our health, an Estate that is slowly improving thanks to your intervention, and that we have each other, through anything, through everything, for always," Mary declared.
She clinked his glass with hers and Matthew reluctantly took a sip.
"Maybe if I had been more convincing," Matthew said. "Maybe if I had spent more time trying to lobby some of the Lords."
"Mmm, maybe, but I doubt it," Mary smiled, unbuttoning his shirt.
"I could have done a better job drafting the bill," Matthew said as she undid his cuff links and took care to place them on the nightstand. "Perhaps it was too confusing for some of them."
"There was nothing wrong with your writing, I am sure," Mary said, pushing the shirt off his arms.
"There must have been something I could have done better," Matthew frowned.
Mary undid his belt and pushed his trousers down his legs.
"Darling," she smiled at him. "What's done is done. I'm just as upset and frustrated as you are, but we're both very tired, and our train doesn't leave until this evening. So for right now, you can come to bed and hold me, and we can sleep, and even though nothing will have changed when we wake up, the world can wait for a while."
She led him to the bed. When he reached it, he untied the sash of her robe and she shrugged out of it. He kissed her softly, then helped her under the blankets, curling behind her and allowing himself to relax as she snuggled back against him.
"I love you, Mary," he whispered, kissing her hair.
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, April 1915
Matthew stood stoically in line with the rest of the family and the servants. A dust cloud gathered in the distance as the motor appeared, easing up the driveway. He wondered if anyone else felt the same mixed emotions that he did – relief that Robert was alive and well, and trepidation of what would unfold during his leave.
Branson brought the car to a stop and Robert emerged in his red formal military attire. He smiled at the gathering and exuded authority as he greeted the Dowager Countess and Cora before sparing a word for Carson and Mrs. Hughes. He offered only a curt nod to Matthew and the girls, then led the procession into the house.
Dinner was sufficiently lavish to suit the occasion. The menu consisted of Robert's favourite dishes, and everyone ceded to him, allowing him to dictate the conversation. Mary did not say a word the entire meal, and every tale and comment was met by appreciative nods and smiles from Cora and Violet. Matthew added a word here and there, but he was already nervous about the conversation to follow. When Cora finally led the ladies through, Matthew kept staring at his napkin, waiting for Robert to begin the interrogation.
"Carson," Robert said eagerly. "Do we still have some reserve Port from Antwerp? I've got such a taste for that particular vintage right now."
"Yes sir," Carson answered immediately. "I decanted it myself, expecting your request sir. I hope that wasn't too presumptuous on my behalf."
"Not at all," Robert responded with a disarming smile. "I count on such fitting treatment. Please bring it here at once."
The requested spirit was soon brought and served, and Carson retired at Robert's command. After taking a long drink, Robert finally addressed Matthew.
"I'll let you explain yourself before I tell you what I think," he said evenly. "I have my suspicions regarding your motivations, and so does Murray and some of my peers, for that matter. But I want to hear from you first."
Matthew took a deep breath. He had to be careful. Whether he liked it or not, he was bound to Downton Abbey for the foreseeable future, though no one could predict much beyond the coming months. No matter how much he might want to, Mary would not allow them to leave now, and so he needed Robert on his side.
"I'm embarrassed to admit this to you, after all you've done for me," Matthew began. "But it came down to I was scared."
"Go on," Robert nodded.
"I didn't expect you to be gone for so long, and for the War to last well past Christmas. I couldn't shake the sobering thought of what might happen if you…if something happened to you out there. I don't think that our predecessors contemplated a scenario such as the one we find ourselves in now. I wanted to remove all of the restrictions that apply to us, so that I wouldn't be held back and the Estate wouldn't be at risk if the worst were to unfold," Matthew explained.
Robert regarded him for a long moment, saying nothing.
"I'm sorry if I've disappointed you," Matthew said, looking down. "I'm really not very good at working with others. It's been quite a shock having to take responsibility while you've been gone, and I suppose I didn't want to be questioned if it were just me."
Robert nodded. "Once I would have been furious with you. If I've taught you anything it's to respect our family history and what brought us here. We've only experienced hardship when someone has tried to break out from the structure that has guided us for centuries."
Matthew nodded, keeping quiet and not voicing the numerous objections to Robert's steadfast clinging to the past.
"On the other hand, your modern changes have resulted in a windfall for us thus far, so I can't in all fairness berate you for seizing the initiative in one aspect, and commend you for taking charge in another," Robert said.
"Thank you," Matthew said carefully.
"Whatever your reasons for disliking the entail, know that I share the same sentiment. Remember that it was my father who imposed the requirement that the Earl work with his heir. You can imagine my resentment that I was ordered to work hand-in-hand with James, a man who could not even tell you how many bedrooms we have in the house, let alone a proper history of our line," Robert shook his head ruefully.
"Having said that, it still remains the directive that we must follow. I won't dissuade you from continuing to search for ways to improve things around here. But I warn you that you expose yourself to possible ridicule and loss of face in the event you are proven wrong, which is what has happened here. I can't defend your reputation when I'm not here. You'll be the target of numerous jokes this Season, and you've brought that upon yourself," Robert continued.
"I understand," Matthew nodded.
"So long as you do, then carry on. I do give you credit for owning up to this and writing to me to let me know in advance, rather than hiding it until I came back on leave. As for your fears about the future, perhaps you need a wife to occupy your time."
"Perhaps," Matthew said tightly.
"You aren't wrong to fear the future, though I forbid you to discuss such things with Cora and the girls," Robert said frankly. "It is a mess out there. This war is nothing like South Africa and what I experienced during the Boer conflict. The soldiers under my command are too young and our enemy is too experienced. When I receive orders, they are often a jumbled mess which I can barely follow. Nothing is going as it should. Morale is tenuous and we're having to put up with strange contraptions at every turn. Giant mechanical tanks; chemical gasses; the things I've seen are straight out of a horror novel. With my next deployment to the Dardanelles Straights on the peninsula of Gallipoli in Turkey, the world will truly see the East and West come to blows. And it will be very strange for me, I once stood on the Aegean Sea with Cora on our honeymoon…"
Matthew regarded Robert cautiously. This was the first time that he sensed despair in the Earl's voice.
"We're praying for you, Robert," Matthew said.
"Good," Robert nodded. "Carry on with that."
The Earl of Grantham finished his drink and rose from the table. Matthew followed his lead.
"I'm going to go straight up. It's been a long journey back," Robert said distractedly. "Please tell Cora and the girls. I'll see you tomorrow, Matthew."
"Good night, Robert," Matthew said, frowning as he watched the Earl wearily move out of the dining room and towards the Great Hall.
Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, June 1915
"It's a pity that Lord Grantham remains at War," Lady Sarah Kensington sighed dramatically, looking at Matthew. "The Season is not the same without him."
"I expect that he misses the Season even more than you miss him being here," Matthew replied, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Lady Sarah had practically attached herself to him from the moment she arrived, and with Mary standing with Edith and Sir Anthony, he could find no reprieve.
"I am ever so pleased for Lady Edith," Lady Sarah smiled, following Matthew's gaze and assuming that he was looking at his cousin. "Sir Anthony is rather old, but good for her just the same."
"We're all quite pleased. Sir Anthony is a good man, and a fine addition to our family," Matthew replied.
"A fall wedding is a brilliant idea," Lady Sarah continued. "Sir Anthony could end up owing Edith his life."
"How so?" Matthew frowned. He desperately wanted to ignore Lady Sarah entirely, but he could not help being curious when she said something that made no sense to him.
"Papa has been in meetings throughout the week," Lady Sarah said easily. "The government is preparing a new law to compel men into the Army. Married men shall be spared, so Sir Anthony won't be called to War, thanks to Lady Edith."
"I was not aware of such a measure," Matthew said. "It's bound to be unpopular."
"The government has no choice, Matthew," Lady Sarah replied. "It's a bit of a last resort, but if their current drive does not prove successful, they'll need to take more steps. Papa says that we don't currently have the numbers to rival our allies, let alone the Huns."
"I see," Matthew muttered, weighing this information.
"There's no need for you to worry," Lady Sarah smiled as she lowered her voice. "I can help keep you safe, in the same way that Lady Edith has helped Sir Anthony."
Matthew's eyes widened as he repeated her words in his mind.
"Lady Sarah, I don't believe that…" Matthew hesitated.
"It's not something to be concerned about," Lady Sarah nodded. "We both know that it's possible you could take me as your wife eventually anyway. I would be honoured in either scenario, and I am fully prepared to wait until you deem our time has come. However, the government's ineptness is sadly affecting our timetable."
Matthew swallowed. "Marriage is a long business, Lady Sarah. We've only just met last year…"
"I understand your implication, Matthew," Lady Sarah nodded. "But your well being is of utmost importance to me. I don't want the Army to abduct you when I could easily save you by playing my part."
"As my wife," Matthew said.
"Yes," Lady Sarah smiled. "And if you're concerned about how…compatible…we would be together, I am more than willing to appease your concerns in that regard. Though the rules of courtship are problematic for that purpose, there are ways for us to truly know each other, so long as we are discreet."
Matthew frowned.
"If I may be so bold, Matthew," Lady Sarah whispered. "I shall devote myself to satisfying you and convincing you that our marriage would be entirely enjoyable."
"Lady Sarah, I thank you for providing me with this insight into the government's possible plans. I shall need to investigate this further. As for your offer, I shall have to politely decline. I cannot place my own safety ahead of the Earldom, and I cannot take a wife simply to avoid going to War."
Lady Sarah's eyes narrowed at Matthew's rejection.
"I wish you a good evening, Lady Sarah. I need to speak to my cousins," Matthew nodded to her, before turning and walking away.
"I need to speak to you. Tonight," Matthew said, looking away from Mary as they stood off to the side. Edith and Sir Anthony were surrounded by well wishers, allowing Mary and Matthew to slip away a bit.
"I'll come to you," Mary nodded slightly. "What is this regarding?"
"Regarding the fact that we've run out of time and we'll need to act quickly," Matthew said.
"Run out of time for what?" Mary questioned.
But Matthew had already walked away.