Home of Isobel Crawley, Manchester, England, December 1915
Mary gazed out the window as the taxi wound its way from the busy street on to the quieter road of Matthew's old neighbourhood. She smiled to herself as she recognized old landmarks that she would pass on her way here from the hospital. The wrought iron gates of the park entrance. The house on the corner where a cat was always sleeping on the window seat. When she was a child, Mary would often look out proudly on the drive up to Downton Abbey. When the car crested the short rise and the big house rose up majestically, she would always smile, so pleased to be home, smug that the large country house was hers. She felt a different emotion now as she neared the familiar city house. All the warm memories that the city and this place held for her came flooding back, sweeping across her like a comfortable blanket. She looked down at her gloved hands, her wedding rings safely tucked underneath. She breathed out slowly, letting the moment sink in.
Matthew reached over and placed his hand on her knee, smiling at her knowingly.
Mr. and Mrs. Matthew Crawley had come home to Manchester.
Mary walked in the front door behind Matthew and Isobel. She took her time remembering the house as she went. The foyer, with the large mirror and now with Dr. Crawley's portrait hung on the wall. The kitchen, where Mrs. Bird greeted her and Matthew warmly as cooking and baking was going on all around them. The dining room, where some of her happiest moments had taken place – sitting around with Matthew and his parents having a lively debate or listening to some anecdote from the day. As Isobel and Matthew busied themselves with last minute planning for the reception, Mary quietly stole away and went upstairs.
She walked down the hall and paused outside the open door to Isobel's bedroom. She looked over at the chair next to the bed, where she had kept her vigil during the last days of her father-in-law's life. The portrait in the foyer was perfect – showing his warm expression, his piercing eyes and his barely contained grin. Even looking into this room and remembering him lying in bed during his final moments, his eyes were still kind and his smile constant. Mary smiled in nostalgia. Dr. Crawley was not here to welcome them back, but she felt all of the recent events they had been through would have pleased him.
She moved past Isobel's bedroom and down to Matthew's. She stepped inside and sat down on the bed, smoothing her hand over the blue bedspread. She looked around the room, so simple and basic compared to even his guest bedroom at Downton Abbey. She didn't see this room until after they were married, and even then, they were both rather nervous about being here alone with Matthew's parents down the hall. Over time, it had become a sanctuary for her, even when Matthew wasn't home. She would sit here and read, or nap, or write letters while she waited for him to arrive. Making love to her husband here seemed dangerous and thrilling, both of them having to muffle their cries. The fact that he would have to escort her back to Lady Philomena's shortly afterward made them both feel as though they were doing something scandalous, which was both hilarious and exciting at the same time.
"I thought you'd be downstairs, gazing lovingly at Papa's portrait," Matthew teased as he came into the room.
Mary rolled her eyes at him as he sat down beside her. He put his arm on her back and gently rubbed her with a soothing caress. Mary leaned into the touch, resting her head on his shoulder.
"I must have gotten lost," Mary joked. "I'm glad that your mother moved the painting downstairs. I never understood why it wasn't given a more prominent place, like the gallery of Earls back at Downton."
"Papa used to say, if he wanted to see himself, he would look into a mirror," Matthew laughed, turning and kissing the top of her head. "But, with the onslaught of my mother's relatives about to join us, we will need whatever fortification he can offer."
"Matthew," Mary said chiding him, "Don't try and fill my head with such rubbish. I've survived numerous Seasons of being the laughing stock of Society. It will be a pleasure to meet your relations."
"Yes, but Society works in subtle glances and whispers. Mama's relations are quite…" Matthew paused with a sly smirk on his face as he searched for the proper description.
"Zealous, keen, fervent, intense. They, erm, are rather bold about speaking their minds," he finished.
"So strange considering how docile your mother is," Mary laughed. "Don't worry, darling. There's nothing that anyone could say to ruin this day for me, or this entire week, in fact. I'm on my honeymoon."
Matthew kissed her again, then took her hand and led her back downstairs.
The first guests arrived shortly after, greeted by Davis and ushered into the parlour for hors d'oeuvres and drinks. Mary and Matthew stood together, with Matthew making the introductions and Mary smiling demurely. She found the role reversal amusing. Though she was not the one to introduce Matthew during parties and dinners in London, she enjoyed seeing her normally talkative husband standing stoic and guarded as her parents extolled his virtues to strangers. Here in Manchester, she could let him take the lead while she appraised each of the characters who arrived.
As the room filled and no sign of moving to a formal meal, Mary relaxed just a little. She was used to a process for these types of receptions, and of course Isobel had chosen to have something decidedly informal for them. Her mother-in-law was a marvellous host and did most of the circulating, allowing Matthew and Mary to remain comfortably in one place, receiving well wishes. Isobel would appear from time to time when she felt her presence was needed to move the conversation along, or encourage a family member to mingle, rather than monopolize the couple's time. Mary did not have to deal with any controversy at all and felt completely at ease.
It was not to last.
Isobel's cousin, Vivian, was a spinster and had an all-knowing and superior air about her. She stood tall, towering over everyone, including Matthew. If this was not imposing enough, her clothes were, Mary thought kindly, practical, showing very little of her shape at all.
"Matthew, welcome home," Vivian said affectionately in greeting. "I am so pleased that you have come back to the city after wandering the wilderness of Yorkshire. And this must be your lovely bride."
"This is Mary, cousin," Matthew smiled. Vivian lifted her spectacles and glanced at Mary up and down.
"Ah yes, the nurse's assistant," Vivian muttered. "I'm sure you're quite relieved to be back in civilization as well. Now, where were you two planning on living?"
"We live at Downton, cousin," Matthew said. "Mary's family is there and with her father gone to War, the responsibility falls to me to help out where I can."
"Yes, I knew you went there before, but I did not expect you to remain after this," Vivian huffed. "A proper wife follows her husband to his house, not the other way around, surely?"
Before Isobel could interject, Mary gave Vivian a sweet smile.
"Actually, the house is Matthew's, or will be eventually," Mary said lightly. "He's the head of the family while Papa is away."
"I see," Vivian said carefully. "Well, that is all well and good then. And what are you doing for the war movement, my dear? Women are needed in all manner of previously banned positions for the greater good. It is a wonderful thing to witness here in Manchester, pride in pulling together against adversity and odds."
"I read the most astonishing thing in the newspaper," Matthew chimed in before Mary could respond. "In one week, Chapel Street had over a hundred volunteers enlist, including seven brothers from one family."
"With the men gone away, it leaves matters to us women to manage in some respects," Vivian said confidently. "A young lady such as you should have more ambition, that is, after you've had your first child of course."
Matthew swallowed in fear, not daring to look at Mary. He expected she was furious.
"Vivian, we should let Matthew and Mary meet the others. Let's go and find Phyllis and have a proper catch-up. Matthew. Mary," Isobel said, taking her cousin's arm and guiding her away.
"Do I have something scandalous to tell you!" Vivian laughed as she went away with Isobel.
Matthew breathed a sigh of relief and turned slowly to look at his wife, an apology already on his lips.
"You don't need to stand guard over me all of the time, darling," Mary smirked. "She's harmless, and it's not the first time I've been asked what I'm doing with my life."
"I know," Matthew nodded. "I just don't want you to feel pressured or harangued at your own wedding reception."
"I'm all right," Mary laughed. "And cousin Vivian did have a good suggestion."
"Oh? Are you thinking of contributing to the War effort?" Matthew asked curiously.
"Yes," Mary smiled playfully before leaning towards him and whispering in his ear. "After I've had your first child."
Matthew gasped loudly. He blushed and struggled to compose himself as Mary smiled politely and greeted one of his distant cousins.
"Congratulations, Matthew," a younger man said, clapping Matthew on the back.
"Thank you, John," Matthew smiled wryly. He greeted four other younger lads in turn as they gathered around him with their drinks. Mary was off at the other end of the room with Isobel talking to other guests. Matthew had fetched himself a drink and was about to rejoin them when he was stopped by the boys, all children of family friends. They were all in university now, though they behaved more like teenagers when they were together. Matthew was glad to see them. He feared they had already enlisted in the War, and was pleased to see they had not. The fact that conscription may force them to go caused him to frown slightly in trepidation.
"I have to say, Matthew, your wife is absolutely stunning," another man said.
"Thank you," Matthew smiled, glancing across the room at Mary.
"She's far too good for you, Matthew," another chimed in. They all laughed together. Matthew raised his glass.
"I can't argue with that," he said, and they all raised their glasses in turn.
"So…what is she…like, Matthew?" John asked quietly, his eyes wide. The other boys crowded in a bit closer so they could hear.
"What do you mean?" Matthew smirked in confusion.
"You know…" John said, blushing. "What's she like?"
Matthew blinked several times, looking at the boy, then realizing the question.
"Ah," Matthew smiled. "You're looking for something sordid, aren't you?" he laughed. "That is my wife that you're talking about, you know. Be mindful, now," he scolded them lightly.
"Yes, but we've all already heard about her," another man complained. "So it's not as though you're telling us anything we haven't already imagined. We just want a firsthand account, is all."
Matthew's mouth fell open in shock.
"What are you implying," he glared, watching each of them carefully.
"We don't mean any disrespect, Matthew," John whispered. "But we know all about Lady Mary Crawley and her scandal. I heard she was found in her bedroom with a foreigner and his servant."
"What?!" Matthew almost shouted, struggling to keep his voice down.
"It wasn't a foreigner and his servant," another man shook his head. "The foreign fellow had her first and let his servant have a go the next night."
Matthew's head spun towards the speaker and the boy paled in the face of his fury.
"That is…what the gossip was, Matthew. We never spread it, of course. We just heard, is all," the man stammered.
"Irrespective of what you've heard," Matthew said tightly, grinding his teeth as he spoke. "Mary is the finest woman I know and I'm lucky to call her my wife. Any horrible gossip that you may be aware of is only that – gossip – and I suggest that none of you deal in such filth, lest you find yourselves sullied as a result."
"Peace, Matthew," John said. "You're right. We don't know her. But we just wanted to know what it's…like."
Matthew exhaled loudly and looked up at the ceiling. He finally composed himself and looked at each of the young boys.
"When it's with the right woman, it's glorious, and worth waiting for," Matthew said pointedly. "Now, all of you enjoy yourselves and go easy on the drinks, please."
Matthew nodded to them, then left and crossed the room, coming to Mary's side.
"There you are, darling," Mary smiled. "I thought that rabble of boys had talked you into running off with them and getting into some mischief."
"No," he smiled, squeezing her hand. "I'm quite busy here."
Manchester Cathedral, Manchester, England, December, 1915
Snow fell all around them as they approached the church. The lights from inside cast a glow across the shimmering white ground, a large crowd filing into the cathedral. Mary looked up at the large Gothic structure and smiled to herself. She attended services here weekly when she lived in Manchester, sitting in a separate pew from Matthew and his parents, or a few seats down, but they would always go back home for luncheon afterward. She was supposed to have been married in this church, and now her father-in-law was buried here. It felt fitting that she could now openly walk through these doors for Midnight Mass on Matthew's arm. She could feel Matthew relishing the moment as well as he patted her hand.
Once inside the church, they quietly took their places in a pew halfway up the aisle, saving a place for Isobel, who was milling about speaking with friends. Mary was struck by how few men were in attendance. Mostly women and children filled the pews as the clergy bustled around, and the choir took their positions.
"Your Godfather is here," Matthew whispered to her, a smirk on his lips. "On our left, near the front."
Mary frowned and glanced over, making out the thin figure of Lord Merton, as well as Lady Merton and their sons.
"Smile and don't mind him, Mary," Matthew said playfully. "It would be a poor way to end the year having to punch him in the nose."
"Anything for you," Mary replied. "After all, it is Christmas."
Isobel joined them, taking a seat next to Matthew. She leaned over and looked at Mary anxiously.
"Lord Merton is here," she said. "Are you all right, my dear?"
"I am, thank you," Mary smiled, nodding to her. "And I'm glad to see him, or rather, glad for him to see us."
Isobel smiled knowingly, then sat back and reached for the hymn book.
"Did you know," Matthew said quietly to Mary, "I used to sing in that choir."
"You?" Mary said playfully, "A choir boy? I would have never guessed that. Are you good?"
"I hope so," Matthew said, looking at her sideways and raising his eyebrow.
"Perhaps I shall have you sing for me," Mary said, reaching for the hymn book in front of her.
"That could be arranged, though I think I would prefer a duet. Cousin Cora told me you used to sing when you were younger, with Edith accompanying you on piano."
"A lifetime ago, darling," Mary smiled.
The murmurs of the crowd slowly dissipated as the service began. There was more of a production to this Midnight Mass than Mary had ever experienced in the Downton Village Church. More people meant more voices and the large cathedral was acoustically grand, giving life to the hymns and the sermon. The sermon was from the gospel of Matthew, which made her husband wink at her, and he took her hand to hold as they listened. The Christmas lesson related the story of following the star of Bethlehem and the ensuing Epiphany. Mary could very much relate to this subject matter that spoke of dreams and miracles.
O, Star of wonder, star of night
Star of royal beauty bright
Westward leading, still proceeding,
Guide us to thy perfect light.
As the hymn concluded, the church bells rang in celebration. Mary chastised herself for feeling so sentimental, but she always enjoyed the holiday season. She feared she would be on her own after having to leave Downton Abbey, but Matthew and his family made sure she never spent a Christmas alone. As Matthew escorted her outside, she held on to him rather possessively, almost drunk with the joy of being able to display their status so openly.
Matthew helped Isobel and Mary into the back seat of the taxi, before sitting up front with the driver. They delivered Mary to the Midland Hotel, then Matthew continued on to bring Isobel home, despite her protests that she could manage perfectly well on her own. Mary smiled as she watched the taxi pull away and disappear down the street. She preferred for Matthew to see his mother home. Not only was it the proper thing to do, but it gave her sufficient time to prepare their hotel suite for his return. She nodded to the doorman as she walked briskly into the hotel and headed for the lift.
Royal Suite, Midland Hotel, Manchester, England, December 1915
Matthew paid the driver and got out of the taxi. He walked up the stairs and nodded to the doorman as he came into the warm lobby of the hotel. He removed his hat and gloves, walking over to the lift with a spring in his step, unable to contain his giddiness. He knew he was acting childish, like some sort of randy teenager, and yet he could not stop himself. As the lift door closed and he watched the needle of the counter move towards his floor, his anticipation grew.
All the other times that they had stayed overnight at the Midland felt precious and stolen, as though they were being granted a moment of grace before having to go back to secrecy and restraint. Now that they were married and Matthew could literally parade Mary around as much as he liked, he found that he actually was more excited about their new situation. It would stand to reason that spending a night with his wife would seem normal and pedestrian now, and not something to even make a fuss over. And yet, from the moment he kissed his mother goodbye and left her house to come back here, he was ridiculously elated.
He turned the key and opened the door, stepping into the suite. He quickly closed and locked the door, placed his coat and shoes in the hall closet, and came into the living room. He frowned as the lights were off. A glow came from the bedroom and he went through, stopping at the doorway.
"Mary?" he asked, then froze.
"Ah, you're back," Mary said, arching her eyebrow at him.
Candles lit throughout the room cast a flickering light across their surroundings. Mary sat on the bed, her silk robe tied about her waist. Matthew stepped towards her, smiling as he deliberately took in the sight of her. Mary gracefully rose up and came over to him, helping him remove his jacket, before working on his cuffs and shirt.
"That was a lovely service," she said casually as she revealed more of his skin to her gaze.
"It was," Matthew nodded, watching and savouring her nimble fingers upon him.
"Shall we exchange gifts?" she asked lightly, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms.
"I'm thinking of unwrapping something else at the moment," Matthew growled, his arms encircling her and his lips meeting hers in a fierce kiss.
"So we'll do presents later, then?" Mary smiled, closing her eyes as he pressed kisses across her neck. Her hands found his belt and his found the sash of her robe. They soon divested themselves of further garments, leaving Matthew naked and Mary in her silk chemise.
"Much later," Matthew said against her shoulder as he lifted her up and carried her to bed.
Mary smiled and closed her eyes as she felt his lips on her throat, then her shoulder. His hands moved down her arms, then to her hips. His fingers were still cold from the outdoors, but his breath and mouth were warm, and she shivered in his hold. She felt the kiss of his lips below her waist, and she cried out as he focused completely on her pleasure.
There was always a moment of disbelief whenever she was with Matthew, as though she were enjoying a wonderful dream and she would be pulled back to a harsher reality at any second. Part of it was how she behaved so wantonly with him, completely different from the way she was raised and the prim expectations of women, even married ones. Part of it was his own desperation, his hands pushing her chemise up her body, his mouth attending to her, increasing his tempo by the sounds of her mounting desire, his wolfish stare as he watched her fall apart. She knew him as kind and reserved, timid in some cases, and always under control. When they were alone, it was as though he let go of himself in his hunger to be with her completely, and this behaviour thrilled her, as though it was she who drove this out of him, she who urged him to be so frantic, she who was his best and only lover for the rest of his life.
Matthew's mouth seized hers once more, his tongue sweeping across her teeth. She arched her back as she felt him inside her, over her, around her, her legs holding on to his hips, her arms pinned beneath his hands. They cried out together in bliss and he released her long enough for her to wrap her arms around him and kiss his damp cheek. If this was all a dream, she would cling to it as long as possible and refuse to wake up.
"Matthew," she said huskily, kissing his back and moving up to his shoulder and neck.
"Mmm, Mary," he answered, remaining still as she massaged his shoulders and fit herself on top of him.
"Darling, we should open our presents," she said, licking his ear.
"I think you've already given me quite the gift," Matthew chuckled, turning his head towards her, but keeping his eyes closed.
"None of your vulgar jokes, please," she scolded him lightly. "Fetch the champagne and you can have your gift."
"All right," Matthew mumbled, stretching out his arms and turning over and away from her. He ran his hand through his hair and roused himself awake as he rose from the bed and wandered over to the ice bucket across the room.
Mary smiled at his nude form, the candlelight and firelight from the hearth dancing across his toned skin. She always felt rather self-conscious about being naked. Proper ladies did not sleep in the nude or walk around bedrooms without clothes. Matthew was gorgeous though, and she allowed herself to leer at him a little, as was her privilege as his wife.
Matthew filled two flutes and brought them back to bed. He handed one to her and they clinked glasses.
"Happy Christmas, darling," he smiled, taking a sip, then leaning towards her.
"Happy Christmas, Matthew. The very best of Christmases," Mary smiled, taking a sip from her own flute, then kissing him lightly.
After another sip, he took the glasses and placed them on the nightstand. Mary presented him with a box wrapped in tissue paper. He grinned as he received it, examining each corner briefly before opening it in earnest.
Inside, he found a silk tie and a package of strawberry seeds.
"Thank you, Mary," Matthew smiled as he touched the soft material of the tie.
"For the fourth wedding anniversary, linen and fruit are suggested," Mary nodded. "So, I had new sheets ordered for the bed we will now be able to share at Downton. I bought the tie when I went for my wedding dress fitting. And of course, as I know how much you love strawberries, this spring we can plant the seeds either at Downton or Crawley House."
"I always enjoy when you spend so much time and effort on me," Matthew grinned, kissing her softly. "Now, your turn," he announced.
He reached over to the nightstand and removed a box wrapped with decorative paper and a large ribbon.
"Not bad," Mary said, looking at his wrapping.
She untied the bow carefully and removed the paper from around the box. She smiled at his exasperated sigh as he waited for her to unwrap her gift.
She finally opened the box and looked at her gift in surprise. She pulled out a pair of soft and elegant slippers, made of silk with light embroidery.
"Thank you, darling," Mary smiled, kissing him.
"I know you have a perfectly sound pair already back at Downton," Matthew said. "But I noticed these when we were in London and I couldn't resist. I hope they're comfortable. I was assured they are quite luxurious."
"They're perfect," Mary smiled. "And they match virtually all of my nightclothes and robes. A very important detail."
"I'm glad you like them," Matthew said. "Now, for your second gift."
"What?" Mary laughed incredulously.
"Well, I wouldn't only get you slippers, Mary," Matthew teased, getting up once again and walking over to the dresser. He pulled open the bottom drawer and removed several boxes, bringing them over to the bed.
"Matthew!" Mary exclaimed, looking at the numerous gifts he placed before her.
"We're married now," Matthew said, coming back to bed and wrapping his arm around her as he stretched out next to her. "I can spoil you as much as I please without fear or reservation. Now, open the next one."
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, January 1916
After passing a week in Manchester, Mary, Matthew and Isobel returned to Downton in time for New Year's Eve. Robert returned from London, but departed the day after New Year's Day, his new assignment at Sandhurst allowing him a brief weekend away before he had to return. He would be part of the training school, preparing new soldiers and testing officers returning to the Army before they were sent off to the various theatres across Europe and Africa. Though it kept him out of danger, Robert was in a melancholy mood most of the time, the thought of what he had endured at the Front and in Turkey still fresh in his mind, and the knowledge that he was sending young men into those exact same perils weighed upon him.
New Year's Eve was therefore a mostly sombre affair. Mary and Matthew provided their Christmas gifts to the family and received polite appreciation from everyone, except for Sybil of course, who gushed over her new journal and fountain pen. They counted down to midnight together in the drawing room, as was traditional, and though Matthew only gave Mary a chaste kiss, to be able to do so in front of the rest of the family was yet another happy moment between them. They had a proper kiss later on in the privacy of their bedroom.
Matthew was able to extract Robert's promise to return for the Servants' Ball. Carson was threatening to cancel it, given that with Lord Grantham away, it did not make much sense to hold it as usual. But with some particularly forceful cajoling from the Dowager Countess, Matthew encouraged Robert to rearrange part of his schedule to come back to Downton Abbey for two days later in January.
With their marriage now official and known, Mary indulged in the usual privileges of a married woman that she was unable to partake in when they first returned to Downton Abbey. Accordingly, she took her breakfast in bed in the morning, just as Cora did, leaving Matthew to have breakfast in the morning room with Edith and Sybil. The three of them enjoyed some rather spirited discussions without the watchful eye of Robert or Cora around to censor them.
Mary also began wearing her tiara more often, and Matthew had to admit that the sight of it was quite pleasing. He always wore a bit of a lopsided grin when they left their bedroom to go downstairs, seeing Mary with her tiara and wedding rings, a nightly affirmation that she was his wife and that finally they were allowed the simple pleasure of living together under the same roof.
"That was a long telephone conversation," Mary stated as Matthew came into their bedroom. "Who was it?"
"John Simon," Matthew sighed, coming over to the bed and collapsing back on to it. "He's resigned."
"What?" Mary asked, turning in her seat and looking at him with concern. "Why?"
"Over the conscription bill," Matthew said, rising up to a sitting position. "It's not a surprise really. The Derby Scheme was just as bad as we expected, so the next logical step was conscription, and John always said he could never support it if it was forced upon the public."
"So what will he do now?" Mary asked.
"Continue in Parliament as a Liberal," Matthew said. "I don't know how far ahead he's thought, really. He's still trying to fit things together."
"The way things are going, this coalition government may not see the Spring," Mary sighed, turning back to her vanity. "At least Papa isn't going back to France or any place else anytime soon, God willing."
"Have you seen him?" Matthew asked.
"Briefly," Mary rolled her eyes. "He's probably downstairs having a drink and preparing for his opening dance with Mrs. Hughes."
"Mrs. Hughes is a joy," Matthew muttered. "He should try partnering O'Brien if he has any complaint."
"I'm sure he's aware, darling," Mary smiled, rising from her chair and coming over to him. "Now, let's go down. You'll dance with Anna, won't you? She never seems to enjoy herself much at these things because…well, you know."
"I will," Matthew nodded. "But I think Anna enjoys herself quite well. During my first Servants' Ball, I asked her to dance and she refused because she was too busy talking to Bates."
"That was just a misunderstanding," Mary smiled, shaking her head as they walked down the hall. "I'm afraid I may have turned her against you with some of my comments back then."
"What? Mary!" Matthew frowned. "You convinced your lady's maid to hate me?"
"Well I didn't expect her to take everything I said so literally!" Mary defended herself, smiling all the while.
"We'll discuss this later," Matthew said. "And I'll think of an appropriate punishment for your loose tongue."
Mary blushed as they went downstairs to the Great Hall.
"How are you, my dear?" Isobel smiled, taking a seat next to Mary.
"Fine, thank you," Mary nodded. "I was about to come over and ask you the same thing. You seemed ensconced with Granny though."
"I never envisioned myself being friends with a Dowager Countess," Isobel smiled. "And I am not entirely sure if we are friends rather than merely lunch and tea companions. However, I do enjoy spending time with her. I am also in need of her assistance, as well as that of Cora and you and your sisters."
"Whatever for? That sounds serious," Mary said.
"It is, but it can wait for another time," Isobel smiled.
They both looked out on the dance floor. Cora was dancing with the footman, William and Matthew was dancing with Daisy, the kitchen maid.
"I can't help but wonder what will befall all of the young men here in a few months time," Isobel said.
Mary nodded. "Matthew says that all men between the ages of 18 and 40-something may be called up. That would put William on the cusp of it."
"I'm even concerned for Molesley. I can't picture him as a soldier, to be honest," Isobel said.
"I can't picture any of them at War, including Matthew," Mary shook her head.
"Well, it's a blessing that he's married then, isn't it?" Isobel smiled.
Mary smiled back. She turned her head and noticed Molesley making his way across the room towards them.
"Uh oh. Here he comes, to claim his prize," Mary said playfully.
"Mrs. Crawley," Molesley bowed respectfully. "May I have the honour of this dance?"
Isobel smiled and rose to her feet. "Of course. I was wondering when you were going to get to me, Molesley."
"Please do not misread my delay for disinterest, Mrs. Crawley," Molesley nodded, offering her his arm.
"I wouldn't think of it," Isobel said, allowing her valet to escort her on to the dance floor.
As they began dancing to the new song, Matthew crossed the floor. He caught Mary's eye and winked at her, motioning with his head towards Anna, who was standing next to a seated Bates. Mary watched with interest as Matthew approached them.
"Bates," Matthew nodded as he arrived.
"Mr. Crawley, sir," Bates said, beginning to rise from his chair. "Are you retiring early?"
"Not at all, Bates. Please, sit down. Do not trouble yourself on my account," Matthew smiled.
"Thank you, sir," Bates nodded, sitting back down.
"I actually had a question for you, Bates," Matthew continued, glancing over to Mary to ensure she was paying attention.
"Yes, sir? How may I help you?" Bates asked as Anna stood by silently.
"The thing is, Bates, I would very much like to ask Anna to dance, but I won't do so without first obtaining your permission. My intentions are entirely honourable, in the spirit of tonight's Ball only."
Bates blinked in surprise. Anna gasped slightly.
"I believe that Anna can make her own decisions in that regard, sir," Bates said nervously.
"Oh, I am quite sure that she can, Bates," Matthew said easily. "But I would not want to cause her to be uncomfortable and force her to accept my invitation out of duty, and I would not want her to feel obligated to dance with me when she would prefer to spend time with you, so before I can ask her properly, I must have your approval. Should you wish to withhold it, say so and I shall retreat."
Bates and Anna shared a fearful glance before Bates recovered and smiled to Matthew politely.
"I have no objection at all, sir. Anna does enjoy dancing," Bates said.
"Good. Thank you, Bates," Matthew said brightly. "And if I may say so, I hope that you concern yourself with Anna's happiness more closely this year."
Bates' mouth dropped open in surprise. Before he could say anything further, Matthew turned to Anna and offered her his arm.
"Anna, may I please have the honour of this dance?" Matthew asked.
Anna looked at Bates, then caught a glimpse of Mary's smiling face in the background. She gave Matthew a polite smile and nodded her head.
"Thank you, Mr. Crawley, sir," Anna swallowed.
Matthew took Anna on to the dance floor and swept her into hold at a respectable distance. They began waltzing together to the music and Matthew looked down at her with a smile.
"Sir, I do appreciate you and Lady Mary being so interested in my…social life…but it's nothing to trouble yourselves with," Anna stammered.
"Nonsense, Anna," Matthew replied. "Mary cares for you and for your happiness, which means both are very important to me as well. You do not owe us any explanation, but if you and Bates wish to come to an…understanding…then I have an inkling that Bates may need a bit of a nudge in that direction. And my wife is quite adept at nudging, as I'm sure you're aware."
"I am, sir, yes," Anna smiled genuinely. "Thank you, sir."
"Thank you, Anna," Matthew said. "Neither of us had very many friends when we arrived here, as you know. I am grateful to you for being one to Mary."
"Certainly, sir," Anna nodded. "And if I may so, I am ever so glad that the two of you are married, sir."
"As am I, Anna," Matthew smiled back.
Matthew came out of his dressing room, smiling as he found Mary sitting up in bed waiting for him.
"You're here," he smirked, removing his robe and crawling into bed beside her. "I wasn't sure that you would be. You and Carson seemed intent on dancing until dawn."
"I had one dance with Carson. One," Mary rolled her eyes. "I had five with you, which I will point out is more than is expected. It's a Servants' Ball, Matthew. We're supposed to dance with them, not with each other."
"Just be thankful I didn't whisk you upstairs earlier in the evening," Matthew replied, kissing her shoulder. "I was thinking about it, you know."
"When?" Mary asked, leaning her head back to give him easier access to her neck.
"After I finished my turn with O'Brien," Matthew mumbled against her skin.
"Matthew, that was the first dance!" Mary laughed, slapping at his chest lightly.
"I did my duty and I saw no reason to stay any longer," Matthew said innocently. "The only reason we remained was because I knew you wanted to dance with your beloved butler."
"And because your mother was here, and it would have been entirely rude, let alone scandalous," Mary shot back.
"You should know full well by now that I have no fear of scandal where you are concerned, Lady Mary," Matthew said, wrapping his arm across her waist as he snuggled closer.
"Is that why you weren't put off by those boys gossiping about me at our wedding reception in Manchester?" Mary asked lightly.
Matthew stopped and pulled back, his eyes wide.
"How did you know about that?" Matthew asked.
"I guessed quite easily," Mary said. "They were staring at me throughout the afternoon and whispering to each other. I expect it was not to compliment me on my dress."
"Oh, Mary," Matthew shook his head. "I'm very sorry for that, but I put them right. You must believe that."
"Of course I believe you, darling," Mary smiled, caressing his cheek. "But you don't need to go around convincing the entire world as to my virtue. We're married now, properly, and while I do care what people think of me, I don't care enough to let it bother me."
"I'm so glad," Matthew smiled, kissing her lightly. "I just don't want you to have to endure any ridicule or shame over a lie that was not your fault."
"Some of the glances and gossip can be unnerving," Mary admitted, looking down at her lap. "Regardless of whether my story is true or not, it's out there, and probably always will be. We just need to live our lives and not let it affect us."
"I agree," Matthew nodded. "Though to hear some of the rumours was ghastly."
"What did they hear?" Mary asked. "The version where I engaged in all manner of debauchery with Mr. Pamuk and a valet at the same time, or was it that I entertained a different man in my bedroom on consecutive nights?"
Matthew sighed in disappointment. "You've heard of those?"
"Those are some of the tamer ones, sadly," Mary shrugged. "I believe that all Cousin James secretly passed along in the beginning was that I slept with Mr. Pamuk under my father's roof. But he knew very well that Society would escalate that lie into an entirely different myth the more it was passed around, and he was right. The rumour about the foreigner and his valet came next, then speculation that I had done this sort of thing before with other guests who came to visit, and a particularly sordid one was that I was pregnant with a bastard child and was being sent to Istanbul to join Mr. Pamuk's harem."
"Oh my darling," Matthew said, kissing her cheek. "To live with all of that, I can't begin to imagine."
"Those early days in Manchester, when anyone would look at me, either at the hospital, or in the market, even passing by on the street, I was paranoid that they knew me somehow, that they heard something about me, and they were judging me – there's that girl, the one who spreads her legs for any man," Mary shook her head.
"Mary," Matthew whispered, kissing her neck.
"Do you see how you and your family saved me, Matthew?" Mary said softly, turning towards him. "I thought that would be my life. Enduring harsh stares and venomous accusations, working under Cassandra and living at Lady Philomena's until Godfather became bored or Granny stopped sending money and I was cast out. Can you understand just how much I love you for just being kind in those early days?"
"I suppose we're both lucky that Papa just happened to be wandering by the storeroom at that exact moment on your first day," Matthew smiled.
"Thank God that he did," Mary smiled, leaning over and kissing him.
"Do you know what rumour I have heard about you, Lady Mary?" Matthew said, easing her slowly on to her back, his eyes mischievous as he moved above her.
"What is that?" Mary asked, arching her eyebrow at him.
"I've heard that you don't have a heart," Matthew challenged, lowering his head and kissing her neck between phrases. "That you are cold…careful…calculating…"
"Mmm," Mary smiled, closing her eyes. "I've heard that one. I'm some sort of siren who devours men alive; isn't that how it goes?"
"If one is to believe what one hears, then yes," Matthew answered, pulling the strap of her nightgown off her shoulder.
"And you think that you can keep up with me, do you?" Mary asked lightly, her hands reaching down and squeezing his bottom.
"There is something alluring about living dangerously," Matthew said, kissing her collarbone. "To have the glory of being the man able to tame such an alleged seductress."
"And if you're wrong, then I'll leave you in a quivering heap and add you to my collection of trophies, Matthew," Mary smiled.
"That is the risk I shall have to take, I suppose," Matthew breathed, pulling her nightgown down over her breasts and to her waist.
"Then prepare yourself, darling," Mary smiled, reaching her hand down between them and taking hold of him.
Matthew gasped and looked at her wicked eyes.
"You don't stand a chance," Mary smirked before pushing him over on to his back.
