Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, June 1915
"Do you trust her?" Matthew asked quietly, staring into the fire.
"Not for a moment," Mary replied, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind and leaning against his back. "But Lord Sunderland has been in Parliament even longer than Papa and is on numerous committees. It would not be beyond Lady Sarah to use what she's overheard for her own purposes. I think we need to plan as though she's told you the truth."
"I'm not convinced that married men will be spared. It sounds too political," Matthew replied, rubbing his hand over hers. "If a conscription bill is passed, there will be an uproar. John told me he would resign if such a measure went through, and he can't be the only one who feels that way. They may focus only on the single men at first to lessen the blow. If the War doesn't end shortly, they'll have no choice but to call upon everyone else."
"Then our first priority is to protect you, then deal with any further Acts of the government later," Mary said.
"You don't think me a coward for trying to avoid enlisting?" Matthew asked, turning his head and looking at her.
"I think that I want to live a long life with you," Mary replied. "And whether there are war medals on your portrait someday is entirely unimportant to me."
Matthew turned and pulled her close. Their foreheads touched and his hands circled her waist. She ran her fingers lightly up his front, settling on his chest.
"We'll need to choose our moment well," Matthew said. "With Robert gone, we might be able to get away with it without opposition, at least at first. There are steps we need to take so that we'll be ready when the time comes. I don't see the need to make any announcements until there is an actual conscription law that does, in fact, differentiate between single and married men."
"We can always fight my family later," Mary nodded. "So long as we have sufficient evidence to show that you are married and therefore should be spared from entering the Army, we'll have accomplished our goal."
"You looked beautiful tonight," Matthew smiled. "I know that everyone's focus was on Edith, but I was having great difficulty keeping myself composed when I saw you enter the ballroom."
"Truly?" Mary smiled. "Are you saying that your wife looked particularly desirable tonight, Matthew?"
"I had a very strong urge to devour you, love," Matthew smirked, leaning in and kissing her. "I am greatly regretting that there are so many guests staying over this evening, and that these walls are not as thick as at Downton."
"A pity," Mary nodded mischievously. "For I expect you will be quite…loud…"
"Is that a threat?" Matthew teased.
"It's a promise," Mary arched her eyebrow, kissing him playfully. "I think you ought to arrange for us to go to the Berkeley later this week, in the afternoon. I'm going to make you scream, darling."
Matthew groaned in frustration and his forehead fell against her shoulder. "You're going to leave me like this, aren't you?" he complained.
"Well it is rather late," Mary said lightly. "And sadly I don't trust you to be quiet enough to do anything further tonight."
"This is cruel, Mary," Matthew hissed.
"I am not without compassion, darling," Mary smiled. She took his hand in hers and placed a piece of silk across his palm.
"Pleasant dreams, Matthew," she whispered, kissing him again. She turned and quickly left his bedroom.
Matthew swallowed and tried to calm his breathing. He looked down at his hand and realized his wife had left him her brassiere. He exhaled loudly and looked up at the ceiling, before turning and dragging himself to bed, taking the flimsy garment with him.
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, September 1915
"You've been busy," Cora noted as Matthew handed a stack of envelopes to Carson. The butler nodded and excused himself from the room.
"The reality of running a business, whether it be in the city or the country, is that each day brings with it new challenges," Matthew replied, picking up his sandwich once again.
"I did not think of Downton as a business," Violet laughed incredulously. "Profit was never the overarching goal of the Estate."
"The economy is in shambles, Cousin Violet," Matthew replied once he'd swallowed his food. He took a sip of water before continuing. "What worked decades ago may have been sufficient when prices were low and labour was in large supply. Those days are gone now. Focusing on profit is simply the prudent thing to do, not simply because money is important, but if Downton is not profitable, then there is no objective measure as to whether we are doing things properly or not."
Mary smirked as she ate her salad, choosing to remain on the sidelines of this discussion. She had warned Matthew many times that Downton was not a city business, and that profit was usually not a consideration at all. He stubbornly remained determined to recover the money lost by James and Patrick by being more efficient in everything they did. She knew such an approach would lead to a skirmish, particularly with her Granny, and apparently today was the day for battle to ensue.
"But surely the people who rely upon us are important as well, Cousin Matthew?" Sybil asked quietly. "Beyond their ability to pay rent or make money for the family?"
"Of course, Sybil," Matthew nodded, smiling at her in understanding. "But it's my responsibility to ensure that we can continue to support all who count upon us. Everything has a cost. Cousin Violet's house. Your Mama's Season parties. Edith's wedding. These things simply do not pay for themselves because we happen to be nice landlords."
"We were not aware that you were so ruthless, Cousin Matthew," Violet huffed.
"I prefer being well prepared, Cousin Violet," Matthew nodded. "I am sorry if my plans are shocking to you. It is not my intention to be disrespectful in the least. You'll find that the families that we have moved to cottages are quite happy with their new lives. You'll also find that Downton has never been more efficient or generated more money in its vaunted history. Being adept at husbandry and effective at making money does not equate to being mean. I'm not looking for accolades, or even your approval. It's enough for me that our family's future is thus far secure, and hopefully one day you'll grudgingly acknowledge that I did right by this family."
Violet harrumphed and resumed eating. Sybil exchanged a knowing smile with Mary.
"Mr. Crawley!" Carson called, coming quickly back into the dining room. "A telegram for you, sir!"
Cora's hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened. Everyone stared as Matthew took the yellow paper from Carson and tore it open. He frowned as he read the message.
"Robert's been injured," Matthew said tightly.
Cora gasped.
"He's alive, but he's been seriously hurt. He's being sent back here now and he should be arriving in two days' time," Matthew finished, handing the telegram to Cora to read.
"We should contact Clarkson and have him prepare a bed for Papa at the hospital," Edith said shakily.
"No," Matthew shook his head.
Everyone stared at him in confusion.
"Carson, send Branson to Crawley House to collect my mother immediately. She needs to be informed so that she can supervise the preparations. Mary, please call Clarkson and let him know that Lord Grantham is returning and we will be receiving him here, at his home, in his own bed. Edith, you can coordinate with Cousin Violet and my mother to ready his room. Whatever equipment or apparatus and supplies that we may require should be brought here from the hospital. Whatever condition Robert arrives in, I want him to be in a familiar place, not in some hospital bed," Matthew ordered.
"Yes, Mr. Crawley," Carson nodded, and turned to carry out his instructions.
Mary and Edith both rose from the table to attend to their tasks.
"Sybil, go with Edith, please," Matthew said.
Sybil nodded, looking at him gratefully before rising and following her sisters out of the room.
Robert blinked several times. He shook his head, a sharp pain causing him to rub his temple. He took a deep breath, then adjusted his eyes to the low light of the room. He slowly realized he was back at Downton Abbey, in his bedroom.
"You gave us all quite a fright," Matthew said quietly, leaning over from the chair at Robert's bedside.
"Matthew," Robert smiled, closing his eyes briefly. "I thought I'd wake up in some sterile room at a hospital somewhere."
"You would have, most likely, but I wanted you brought here. Clarkson wasn't pleased, but he'll visit you each day and mother and Cousin Cora will be your nurses. You're all right. I'm told that the shrapnel just missed some of your major arteries. As it is, you've got broken ribs and an almost collapsed lung. You're to stay in bed for several days," Matthew said.
"That all sounds like a vacation compared to where I'm coming from," Robert smiled.
"Rest now," Matthew nodded. "I'll go and fetch Cousin Cora."
"Wait," Robert said, wincing as he raised his hand to stop Matthew from leaving. "I need to talk to you before the family comes in and my head becomes even more jumbled. I expect they filled me full of drugs to get me back to England."
"Painkillers and sedatives, yes," Matthew said.
"I've never seen such horrible conditions. It was worse than Hell itself over there, Matthew. We ate and slept metres away from rotting corpses. Most of the lads had some illness, it was deplorable," Robert sighed. "We were running up hills of sand half the time. We could have saved the Turks the trouble and just shot ourselves for all the good our attacks did. It was a disaster from the beginning, but every time a withdrawal was raised, that bloody fool Hamilton would refuse."
"Some of it leaked out through the newspapers," Matthew nodded. "I kept the news away from the family as best I could, but everyone was quite concerned for you."
"I thought I was going to die over there," Robert mumbled, looking at Matthew with weary eyes. "We would have to curl up in the trenches waiting out the artillery bombardments for what seemed like hours. I hoped that this damn War would have turned to our side by now, but it seems it hasn't."
"You don't need to worry about that," Matthew said. "You're home. You're safe. Just focus on getting better."
"I want you to ensure the settlements for Cora and the girls are sufficient, Matthew," Robert said firmly. "They all need to be taken care of, including Mary. I haven't looked at the papers in quite some time. Make sure the amounts are reasonable, and held in safe investments. Move them around if you have to."
Matthew frowned in surprise. "As you wish," he nodded. "But you can make those same arrangements yourself once you're feeling better. The money isn't going anywhere."
"Once I'm recovered enough, they'll call for me again," Robert said listlessly. "Our ranks are thin, Matthew. They need every man they can throw at the Germans. France needs reinforcements. Bulgaria is expected to enter the fray for the other side. I've been lucky so far. I don't know how lucky I'll be when I go back."
"Robert…" Matthew interjected.
"All that matters now is that you and the family are secure, Matthew," Robert continued. "You know enough to keep things going adequately. Edith will be married soon, which is very good. As for Sybil and Mary, who knows what the future holds. I want them all to be provided for should the worst come."
"I thought you were content to leave Mary on her own?" Matthew asked carefully.
Robert sighed heavily.
"I used to think that way, yes. I was convinced that Mary did not deserve anything from us. I only agreed to let her stay at Downton on your recommendation. But I don't want her to suffer, Matthew. She won't believe me, of course. We've been at odds for too long for any reconciliation now. I don't even know where I would begin to have a proper conversation with her. But she is my daughter. No matter what she's done, no matter what I've done, I need to leave her something. What becomes of her after that is out of my hands. However I need you to carry out my wishes and ensure that she won't be abandoned."
"I'll see it done," Matthew nodded.
Robert took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Matthew rose from his chair and left the room, going down the hall to summon Cora.
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, October 1915
"How was your ride, sir?" Carson asked as Matthew and Sybil came into the Great Hall.
"Invigorating, Carson, thank you," Matthew nodded. "Lady Sybil has now joined the long list of people who are able to trounce me in a proper race."
Sybil laughed as she removed her gloves. "It was a lucky stroke, is all," she said. "You were quite close, Cousin Matthew."
"And you have learned the fine art of boosting a man's ego by lying," Matthew replied. "I envy your future husband. He couldn't possibly hope to be as clever as you."
"Thank you, Cousin Matthew," Sybil blushed.
"Sir, His Lordship has asked for you. He's in the library," Carson said.
"I'll go and change first if it doesn't trouble His Lordship," Matthew said. "Did he mention if it was urgent?"
"It wasn't, sir," Carson nodded. "I'll advise His Lordship that you will be down shortly."
"Thank you, Carson," Matthew nodded.
Matthew escorted Sybil upstairs. She thanked him again for the ride and went off to her room. Matthew turned for the Bachelor's Wing. He smiled when he reached his bedroom and quickly went in and closed the door behind him, locking it deftly.
"You're making Sybil see stars again by going out riding with her," Mary chided him lightly, getting up from the chair and coming over to him. "She'll be floating for the rest of the day."
"Well I invited you and you turned me down. Sybil has far too much in her favour to bother thinking of me in any fashion, let alone the one you are suggesting," Matthew retorted. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his vest as he approached her. He gave her a quick kiss and turned towards his dressing room. "I trust no one saw you come over?"
"No, the house has been rather empty," Mary said. "Edith is at Locksley Hall with Mama and Granny. With the servants occupied with preparing for dinner, I knew the upstairs would be pleasantly deserted."
"Well, sadly our best laid plans have been derailed. Your Papa wants to speak to me in the library," Matthew informed her. "I'm going to take a quick bath and change first."
"As decadent as it sounds, there was never going to be an opportunity for us to bathe together in the middle of the day, Matthew," Mary rolled her eyes. "I only came to wait for you to check on your progress on the other thing."
"We're ready, I believe," Matthew said, removing his jacket and vest and leaving them in the dressing room for Bates to deal with. "I spoke with John yesterday and he says that there will be a voluntary registration Act introduced next week by the Earl of Derby. If the response is sufficient, then conscription will be put off, but he's not optimistic. Even accounting for protests and debates, there could be a new bill as soon as early next year."
"If the numbers are as bad as has been rumoured, a voluntary scheme won't do any good," Mary shook her head.
"I agree," Matthew nodded, removing his shirt. "We must expect the worst, sadly. It isn't even the prospect of conscription that bothers me as much as it is that all signs point to the War not ending anytime soon."
"Perhaps that's what Papa wants to speak to you about," Mary said. "He would have heard the same information you would have from his peers."
"Possibly," Matthew nodded. "Though I suspect he's more concerned about his own future. He's not quite healed up yet, but he's back on his feet, which means inquiries will be made about his recovery and his expected return."
"Haven't they asked enough of him?" Mary sighed. "He's in no fit state to fight again so soon."
"I don't know," Matthew said grimly. "I'm with you. I hope he isn't called back so quickly."
Mary smiled as she came over to him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and kissed his back.
"Do you know the first time that I saw you in such a state of…exertion?" she asked lightly.
Matthew smiled. "Are you referring to that football match when I played on the side of the doctors against the hospital staff?"
"The same," Mary smiled, kissing his neck.
"I was shocked to see you watching from the sidelines," Matthew smiled. "I debated trying to avoid you, but you'd already seen me. I was mortified that you'd find me unwashed and repulsive."
"Years ago I would have," Mary nodded. "But there was something about seeing you…perspire…that I found rather intriguing."
"Truly?" Matthew exclaimed in surprise.
"Mmm," Mary nodded. "To my shock, I have become quite used to your…scent."
Matthew swallowed. "You're doing this on purpose because you know we don't have enough time for…that."
"Perhaps," Mary laughed. "Though that doesn't change the fact that I do enjoy seeing you sweat."
Matthew gasped as Mary left him and disappeared out the door. He shook his head ruefully as he finished undressing, took his robe and headed off to the bathroom.
"My apologies for keeping you waiting," Matthew said as he entered the library. "You'll be pleased to know that Sybil has become a rather accomplished rider."
"That's good," Robert nodded, smiling from his place on the sofa. "Even with uncertainty all around us, some traditions live on, and so they should."
Matthew poured two glasses of scotch and brought them over to Robert, handing the Earl one and sitting down on the chair opposite the sofa.
"What do you know of conscription, Matthew?" Robert asked.
"It's a sore subject at the moment, but a pressing one," Matthew nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "I understand that Churchill was asking for it since last summer, but the sad reality is that it is coming closer and closer to being a reality."
"Don't mention Churchill in my presence," Robert scoffed. "The man's only skill is in criticizing others without offering any useful alternatives of his own. The Earl of Derby is going to introduce a bill shortly to encourage more men to enlist. I'm not optimistic about it. Conscription would be the next step, and it will be a battle to push it through."
"I never imagined that it would come to that just last year," Matthew shook his head.
"None of us imagined that we would be where we are today, truly," Robert agreed. "But, should it come to pass, we must take steps to ensure that you are protected, Matthew."
"I feel useless," Matthew said, running his hand through his hair. "As though I'm cowering in a corner while you and others go to fight."
"Do not envy me, Matthew," Robert said sadly. "If you only saw the reality at the Front, you wouldn't ascribe any glory to it. It's an exercise in survival. Winning is so far removed from one's thoughts over there."
"What would you have me do?" Matthew asked.
"I know what I am about to say is not what you would have envisioned for yourself. You're a romantic, and I do not say that with any trace of ridicule. There is a faction in the Upper House that will insist on exceptions to any conscription bill that is passed to us for review. The principal exception will be for married men. I don't know how long that stipulation can stand, given the true losses we are suffering, but the first draft of any Act will apply to unattached men of a certain age only," Robert said.
"Therefore, my age and bachelor status would prove problematic," Matthew said.
"Yes," Robert said. "I know that you haven't seemed overly impressed by the women you've met thus far. Sadly, I do not think you have the luxury of time anymore. I regret this, as I do not want to force you to commit the rest of your life to someone you are not entirely sure about. However, I can assure you that you wouldn't be the first to come about your wife under such circumstances. I can only hope that you are as fortunate as some of us have been in finding a woman who can at least be a proper wife to you."
"The idea does offend my sensibilities," Matthew said. "But I cannot dispute the reasoning."
"Is there anyone that you would be comfortable with, at least?" Robert asked. "With Edith about to marry Sir Anthony and Sybil not particularly suitable for many reasons, I'm sorry to say that there are no prospects within our House."
"I do have someone in mind," Matthew nodded. "It was not my intention to use her in this fashion, and I hesitate to do so even now, but I see your point that I may have no choice."
"The government will poll the gentry to fill the ranks of the officers," Robert said. "You will be called upon sooner rather than later. If you can convince yourself to take this woman that you speak of for your wife, then you have mere months to do so, I would say."
Matthew sighed and finished his drink.
"Understood," he said.
Locksley Hall, Yorkshire, England, November 1915
"She's absolutely glowing, isn't she?" Sybil smiled, looking on as Edith took her first dance as Lady Strallan, Sir Anthony's wife.
"Edith has accomplished her life's ambition," Mary smirked. "She has a husband, even if he is old, and she has her own house to manage now, even if the place could use quite a bit of work."
"You just can't let her have her moment, can you?" Sybil rolled her eyes.
"Oh, don't be so dramatic, darling," Mary said, patting Sybil's arm. "I am happy for Edith, truly. And who can tell the future? Perhaps living under separate roofs will do wonders for our relationship."
"A rare unicorn that would be, you and Edith cordial to each other," Sybil laughed.
As Mary laughed along with her, a young man approached them and bowed respectfully. He extended his hand and asked Sybil to dance. Sybil blinked in surprise, but soon accepted as Mary nudged her in the lad's direction.
"Matchmaking now, are you?" Matthew asked as he appeared at her side.
"It's just a dance," Mary said quietly. "The young man is obviously going back to War imminently. Better that he should have a pleasant memory from this evening, and Sybil could use the practice."
Matthew smiled as they watched Sybil dance with the young soldier. Though she wore a reserved expression, she did seem to be enjoying herself.
"Robert asked me again about my marriage prospects," Matthew whispered.
"He's getting nervous," Mary nodded. "Mama told me that the War Office has called several times and have followed up with Clarkson about Papa's condition. It won't be long now, sadly. He's going to have to go back. Naturally, that makes him think about you and your future."
"I don't think it's right to try and wait until he leaves to do anything," Matthew said. "I know it sounds clichéd, but if he learns about it in a letter, it's bound to be a distraction at a time when he needs to be entirely focused on his own survival."
"I don't want to agree, but I feel that I must," Mary said. "You do understand though that we'll need to reveal everything, and that he won't believe it."
"We don't have much choice in the matter," Matthew said. "Whether he believes us or not, we must act."
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, November 1915
"Did Branson take Isobel back to Crawley House?" Robert asked as Matthew came into the sitting room.
"He did," Matthew nodded, sitting down on the sofa across from Robert. "Mother is very sorry to see you leave again. She doesn't quite understand why you're being called back."
"She's not alone in that," Robert smiled ruefully. "Mama wants to call our cousin Shrimpy and have me reassigned to a desk job."
"Shrimpy?" Matthew frowned.
"Lord Flintshire to those who don't know him as well as I do. I'll explain the nickname some other time," Robert waved his hand.
"Robert, I need to speak to you about an important matter, and I'm afraid of your reaction," Matthew said carefully.
Robert frowned and looked at him intently. "Is this about the conscription bill and your efforts to get around it?"
"Yes," Matthew nodded. "Though the bill is not yet law, I've heard it's already drafted."
"It's going through various committees now, while others discreetly gauge public opinion on the subject," Robert said. "But the exception for married men will be included, as I told you it would be."
"I didn't want you to be concerned about me, or about any of us, while you are at the Front," Matthew said. "So I want you to hear it from me first – I've made sufficient arrangements."
"I'm pleased," Robert nodded. "Your future is of paramount importance to me, Matthew, as the future of the Earldom and of our family relies upon it."
"Rest assured that I am well aware of the implications of the situation," Matthew said.
"Well then," Robert smiled. "Who, may I ask, will be the future Countess of Grantham?"
They were interrupted as footsteps clicked across the floor of the Great Hall, growing closer. The rest of the family had already retired, and so Robert looked up in surprise as a figure entered the room.
"Mary," Robert frowned. "Please leave us. Matthew and I have important business to discuss in private."
"I only need a moment, Papa," Mary said, walking over to them.
"Anything that you need to discuss with Matthew can surely wait until the morning, Mary," Robert scoffed.
"Actually, I need to speak to you, Papa," Mary declared as she stopped next to Matthew's seat on the sofa.
"Then I am certain that it can wait," Robert shook his head. "Mary, I told you that Matthew and I are in the midst of very important business that concerns the future of…"
Robert stopped suddenly. His eyes widened as he looked at his eldest daughter.
Mary reached out and placed her left hand on Matthew's right shoulder.
A diamond ring and a gold band sparkled on Mary's finger as the orange light of the fire in the hearth flickered off of them.
Robert held his breath as Matthew's hand reached up and covered Mary's.
"What I have to tell you is of crucial importance to the future of the family, Papa," Mary said. "You see, Matthew is safe. He has a wife. Me."
"What treachery is this?" Robert gasped. "Matthew! What deception has she used to bewitch you into doing this? When I told you to consider taking a wife, it should have been clear that Mary was not a possible prospect!"
"I didn't consider Mary as a potential wife for me following our conversation, Robert," Matthew said easily.
"Then what changed?" Robert demanded.
"Nothing changed. We were already married before the threat of conscription arrived, Papa," Mary said.
"Already married?" Robert repeated in confusion. "What? How?"
"Mary and I have been married since December 20, 1911, Robert," Matthew said slowly. "We met in Manchester shortly after her arrival and fell in love. I proposed to her several months later and she graciously accepted me."
"Matthew saved me, Papa. He saw something in me that I did not know existed. I was never lower in my entire life than those first days in Manchester, and since then, I've never been happier," Mary added.
"This is impossible!" Robert shook his head. "Murray investigated you, Matthew! He found no records of any marriage, let alone your marriage to Mary of all people!"
"Murray did his job well. He most likely searched the public records for a marriage license registered to Matthew Crawley," Matthew said. "He would not have discovered a marriage license registered to Matthew Turnbull, one which listed Mary Levinson as his wife."
"Turnbull?" Robert exclaimed.
"My mother's maiden name," Matthew explained. "It's a commonly held misconception that one needs to file papers to change one's name. In fact, anyone in England can change their name whenever they wish, though it can be problematic the longer it goes. We both decided to use our mothers' maiden names to ensure our marriage would remain secret. Once sufficient time had passed, and the rumours about Mary faded from memory, we would file the appropriate deed to change our marriage license to the proper names, and continue our life in Manchester as proper husband and wife. If Murray were to search the public records in Manchester now, he would find that Matthew Crawley and Mary Crawley were married on December 20, 1911, as I sent the deed to Manchester weeks ago."
"The rumours about Mary?" Robert repeated. "So you knew about Mary's scandalous behaviour and you still proposed to her? Well, you weren't aware of the entail at the time, nor did you know that your family was related to ours. I'm sure that Mary gave you a tale of woe to lure you in. Sadly, you will now rue that decision, Matthew."
"I will never have any regrets where Mary is concerned," Matthew said fiercely. "And my eyes were wide open when I proposed to her."
"How can you say that when you know the truth of what she did?" Robert asked. "Are your middle class standards so bereft of integrity that you would have a fallen woman as your wife without concern?"
"Mary isn't a fallen woman. Not in my eyes. And I know the truth of what happened to her, unlike you," Matthew retorted.
"What are you talking about? Are these more lies that Mary has used to coerce you?" Robert asked.
Matthew reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a folded document. He passed it to Robert, who unfolded it.
"Read it," Matthew ordered. "You'll find the contents rather enlightening."
Robert flipped the pages as he read, frowning more deeply with each paragraph.
"James and Patrick fabricated the entire story, Papa," Mary said. "They blackmailed Louis and Thomas to act as witnesses. Neither of them ever heard or saw what you thought they did."
"You expect me to believe, years later, that Mary in fact never had…relations…with the Turkish diplomat?" Robert asked, holding Thomas' affidavit in front of him.
"You didn't believe me when I denied it the morning after," Mary said coldly. "Whether you choose to ignore Thomas' sworn affidavit now is your decision."
"What motive could James and Patrick have had to banish Mary?" Robert asked. "If she did not in fact betray Patrick, then there was no reason to want to send her away."
"They wanted me gone because I was a threat to them," Mary said. "I was a woman with a mind of my own, and they realized not only was I more clever than Patrick, but that I would not simply obey him at every turn."
"They knew that about you since you were a child, Mary," Robert huffed. "What was so special about the Hunt that year to make them concoct this supposed scheme, as you say?"
Matthew squeezed Mary's hand. Mary looked down at him and nodded, closing her eyes.
"James and Patrick impeached Mary's virtue, so that they could claim she was disqualified from being Countess of Grantham. They most likely always had such a plan in mind, as a contingency in case Mary refused to capitulate to Patrick's will. Matters must have accelerated after Patrick caught Mr. Pamuk kissing Mary following dinner the evening of the Hunt. The tale of Mary's indiscretion was invented to cover up what actually happened that night."
"Which was what?" Robert asked suspiciously.
"Patrick came to my bedroom that night, after everyone had retired," Mary said quietly. "The story about Mr. Pamuk was to cover up his own deplorable behaviour."
Robert's mouth fell open once again. He stared at Mary, absorbing her words and their implications.
"Matthew," Robert said shakily. "Regardless of which version of the story that you believe, you've read the entail. You know that Mary cannot be your wife in light of these circumstances. You said it yourself. She doesn't meet the requirements to be Countess of Grantham. She wasn't pure when she married you. If you choose to continue down this road, you will jeopardize the Estate."
"You're wrong, Papa," Mary said bitterly. "You were wrong years ago when you refused to help me, and you're wrong now."
Robert looked at her, completely lost.
Mary's face blushed fiercely.
Matthew squeezed her hand in encouragement.
"I only ever gave my virtue to one man, and that was to Matthew, on our wedding night," Mary said firmly.
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, February 1911
"No more, Mary," Patrick glared at her cruelly. "No more fighting, no more resistance. From now on, you will spread your legs at my command and receive me gratefully, and neither one of us will tell a soul. That way, your virtue will be intact until our wedding day, and no one need be the wiser. You'll moan like a whore by the time I'm finished with you, and then I'll have you, again and again, and as many times as I want, now, tomorrow, next week, next month, and all the years of our marriage."
Patrick's face curled into a wicked grin. Mary swallowed and tensed, the tears flowing freely from her eyes as he pulled the blankets from her weak grasp. He laid himself on top of her, licking her sobbing face and pressing his hips against hers.
"I own you, Mary," he hissed.
Mary closed her eyes tight.
His hands moved down her sides. Mary kept her eyes closed, tears spilling down her face. Every nerve in her body coiled in fear and revulsion.
Patrick undid his trousers and Mary sobbed as she felt his hard arousal against her thigh, the thin nightgown the only barrier between them.
"I'm going to pull your drawers off," Patrick hissed into her ear. "Then I'll take you, make you a woman, a real woman, with real desires, real passions. You'll peak, Mary, over and over, all at my doing. Your body will crave mine. Soon, very soon, you'll learn to love this, Mary."
Patrick leaned on to his side to give himself room to move his hand under her nightgown to release her knickers. As he moved his weight off of her, Mary said a silent prayer.
She opened her eyes and her hand shot out and seized his exposed genitals with all of her strength. Patrick's eyes popped wide and his mouth fell open in shock and pain. Mary sat up in bed and pushed her free arm into Patrick's throat, forcing him over on to his back. She squeezed him fiercely, a strangled groan flying from his lips.
"You will never, ever, have me like this," Mary snarled, her eyes lit in fury. "If you ever dare to touch me again before we are married I will make quite sure that you will never be able to sire an heir, am I understood?"
Mary squeezed him harder to emphasize her point. Patrick cried out and nodded vigorously.
Mary released him and scrambled out of bed. Patrick rolled away from her and brought his knees up to his chest, rocking back and forth and grunting and groaning.
"Get out now or I will scream," Mary demanded. "I would like to see how your Papa will defend your innocence in all this when he sees you in your current state."
Patrick dragged himself off the bed. He doubled over and stumbled his way to the door. When he reached it, he looked back at Mary, his face wincing in pain. He turned the doorknob and disappeared into the darkened hallway.
When the bedroom door closed with a firm click, Mary fell to the floor. She reached over and dragged the blanket off the bed, her pulse racing. She wrapped herself in the blanket and curled up against the wall, her eyes staring at the door in terror until she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.