Sybil casted her eyes around the library as she waited for Mary in her sister's London house. She smiled as she noticed that not all the books were on the shelves, as several were placed on the adjacent settee. It was a small detail but not one that would have been allowed at Grantham House. The only time a book was not on the shelves was only in the privacy of a bedroom.
"What are you grinning about?" Mary said fondly as she entered the room and caught her sister in her daydream.
"The ease of this room," Sybil said as she continued to smile at her sister. "It is very comfortable isn't it?" She nodded to the books as she sat next to Mary on the settee.
"Entirely Matthew's influence," Mary said. "He believes a room should be lived in since it is not a museum. It is ridiculous but sometimes I have to guard his messes against the housekeeping."
Sybil laughed as she pictured her sister scolding the servants about, not returning books to the shelves and insisting that newspapers should be left where they were found. At least Mary had Anna as her lady's maid making that transition simpler for her in this new environment.
"What's this?" Sybil asked as saw a book with a curious title. "Middlemarch?"
"You should borrow it," Mary told her sister. "It's an illuminating book about a woman's place in marriage."
"More inspiration from Matthew?" Sybil said with curiosity.
"Yes it is," Mary continued, "The author, George Elliot who wrote this book, was actually a woman, but she published under a pseudonym in order to disguise her concerns."
Sybil took the book eagerly, "Now wonder you like it. Especially since you didn't know you were even in love with Matthew."
If her sister's tone had not been so good-natured and sweet, Mary would have taken offense at the playful jab. However, other people's expectations of her could no longer control her.
"Well for the first time," Mary said, "I was able to honor one of my new year's resolutions."
When the library door was opened, Sybil couldn't hide her confusion when suddenly the butler arrived with an elaborate tea-tray and set it on the empty table beside them.
"Thank you, Harrison," Mary said politely as she dismissed the young man. Carson would never approve of such a youthful man in such a position of authority, and yet he seemed to suit her sister's modern home. He was eager to please, and his ginger hair, and complexion beamed with pride as he nodded and left the room.
"I'm afraid I'm just not up for our outing to the National Gallery," Mary said as prepared her cup of tea.
"I should never have told you about the suffragette that attacked the painting of Venus at her mirror," Sybil said with a sigh as she rolled her eyes.
Mary sipped her tea as she tried to summon up the words to explain her hesitation towards the outing. This season in London was different than last year, and not just because she was a married woman; but a happily married woman. She had seen The Birth of Venus in Florence and had hoped to continue her education regarding paintings that featured the goddess of love. But, she was loathed to share this sentimental reason, even with her beloved little sister.
"I can't imagine that you would let Larry Grey's words bother you either," Sybil said as she continued to stare at her sister.
"No, his 'slasher Mary,' comments about my name being the same as the suffragette does not trouble me. Larry is not that clever despite what he thinks of himself." Mary scoffed.
"If we must go out now," she continued, "I would like to shop for some baby clothes."
"Oh yes," Sybil exclaimed with excitement. "There is plenty of time before the theatre tonight."
"I just hope that Matthew can join us tonight," Mary said with concern. "He is working far too much lately."
Sybil smiled at her sister.
"When you say that, it is entirely different then when Papa does," she remarked.
"Just because he missed the Eton vs. Harrow match," Mary said, "Is no cause for concern, Matthew doesn't care all that much for cricket. What I think is a concern is the government working him to death just because of the tense politics of the time."
"Another thing that has Papa all flummoxed," Sybil said. "Papa doesn't like the prestige of politics."
She didn't quite understand the tension in the family recently, just because they weren't all staying at Grantham House was no cause to her for such strain.
"Papa has us at arm's length because he can't control us," Mary said contritely, "But, his behavior has been strange, he seems to only care about the moment and never beyond into the future. It doesn't make any sense, so it can't continue indefinately."
Sybil was quiet as she silently nodded at her sister's statement. Their father was acting as though the season was of paramount importance, which was odd. After all, there was nothing spectacular happing this year, as she had her debut last year, and, therefore, that hurdle had already been survived with grace and adulation.
"Well," Sybil continued, "Mama agreed that Matthew didn't miss much. If the point is to be seen at these London spectacles, then that one was a failure. The crowds were unbelievable; I've never seen that many people; it must have been fifty thousand at least."
"Dreadful," Mary said. "Thank heavens we stayed away then. Besides, I much prefer Royal Ascot week," Mary stated. "Matthew knows that accompany me to that is not negotiable."
"Despite his schedule woes, I'm still jealous you've been to the theatre," Sybil said as she stood from the settee.
Mary finished her tea and returned the cup to the saucer following suit with her sister she also stood. She found her hands automatically going to her stomach as she adjusted her dress to cover the bump her pregnancy had created.
"But darling," Mary said puzzled by her sister's remark. "We are going to the theatre tonight; there is nothing to be jealous about."
"No," Sybil said, "Matthew took you to see a film at a movie theatre! The title alone is so exciting, The World, the Flesh and the Devil. Papa will never allow me such folly."
Mary smiled but didn't offer any explanation. For she couldn't explain the truth that the plot about the frustrations of identity resulting from having been switched at birth had naturally intrigued her husband.
"Papa said films should never take their titles from the Book of Common Prayer," Sybil said.
"This from the man that only wants his servants to read the Bible and letters from home."
"Mary," Sybil said with a small laugh.
"Come along darling," Mary instructed her sister as she ushered her out of the library.
The air was still stifling despite the late hour as Matthew walked through Belgrave Square towards his home. And yet the heat was the farthest thing from his mind. The wheels of fate were spinning in Europe and confrontation seemed inevitable. His desk was full of reports of German agents going around the country, measuring bridges, inspecting railway tunnels and even counting the cows in the fields. With the mess that was Europe diplomacy, the distraction of the Hindu-German conspiracy was the last straw. Any alliance between India and Germany was extremely dangerous to Britain. The tangle of alliances could provoke a confrontation as international hostility had been brewing for years.
And so his coordination's for the ball he was to host during the season continued, sparing no expense. It was an elaborate trap to catch several suspected sympathizers hopefully to this conspiracy. The only problem for Matthew was the dynamics of operating such a dangerous plot while hosting a gala with his pregnant wife. And so the beads of sweat that formed around his collar as he walked weren't entirely from the late night heat outside. He couldn't help thinking of Mr. Hoar's description of what they desired from his ballroom rouse, "Your guests should be sleepwalking with lemonade and cream custard."
As Matthew walked up the steps to his London home, he put the keys in the locked door and promised himself to think no more of the matter. He knew he needed all of his wits currently to craft an apology for Mary, as he had missed the family outing to the theatre. At least the staff in his London house had wisely gone to bed already.
Matthew for this reason rolled up his shirt shelves as he prepared to enter the kitchen. He was betting on the gamble of making his wife a late night snack. However, he was not prepared for what he saw as he entered his dining room. His wife was still dressed in her evening dress as she sat on the floor, casually sipping a glass of wine. The carafe was next to her, and she appeared to be deep in thought. Matthew wasn't sure whether he should get her attention or if he should just join her in her floor picnic. Either way it was safe to say that this unusual speculator had his attention, for Mary was glamorous as she was completely improper. Matthew could feel his libido pulse with desire the more he stared at her.
"May I join you?" Matthew said as he made eye contact with Mary.
Her demure expression held his gaze with an unreadable expression as she set her glass of wine down on the floor. After what felt like forever Matthew finally saw her well concealed smile. Matthew took it as his invitation, and he sat on the thick carpeted floor next to her. He took her hand in his and gently removed each of her gloves.
"I'm curious about something," Mary said as she picked up her glass of wine and handed it to him, Matthew took a sip without hesitation.
"I'm working on my apology," Matthew answered what he expected would be her question. "In fact you interrupted it, I was going to bring you a midnight snack in bed, but now it seems I need a new approach."
"No apologies to me," Mary said abruptly. She leaned over and took the glass of wine from his hand, placing it on the carpeted floor. Without delay, she kissed him. Matthew put his arms around her and pulled her to him as he lay back on the floor. Mary giggled at their new orientation but didn't allow the movements to stop her interest in the sensual moment. After a few more minutes of kissing they finally broke apart. Mary lay in the crook of his arms, her head on his chest.
"I'm curious," she began again, "Why you didn't seem surprised to find me here."
It was Matthew's turn to chuckle.
"Remember I used to be a lawyer, I was theorizing the most likely outcome before I came to any assumptions. I trust it was a rather trying night at the theatre? You had to sit by Edith, and she was the only one in the family who enjoyed the play as much as you did, not that you would let her know that."
"You're Wrong," Mary said playfully, "I did not enjoy the play. I don't know who could enjoy, Pygmalion, it has some witty lines, but two such different people can't fall in love. The play has been adjusted to fit a happy ending into it, during its original run that wasn't included. Everything about it was contrived, and I don't appreciate the lampoons aimed at how rigid society is."
"Oh," Matthew shuttered in pretend. "Yes, irrelevant to your life, where a middle-class solicitor who was adopted is trained to be a proper gentleman by a gentile woman professor, an aristocratic lady."
Mary huffed as she snuggled closer towards him, blowing her soft breath into his sensitive neck despite his protests that it tickled.
"The truth is that everyone this season seems to think they have me figured out. Since I am married to the heir to the Earl of Grantham and my future is secure as a Countess." Mary said earnestly.
"So, you wanted to do something that would be out of the ordinary for what is expected of you?"
"Precisely," Mary said as she raised her head to look at her husband. His disheveled appearance and stubbed face made him all the more attractive to her. Matthew tugged on the necklace across her chest, and she accepted his taunt as she straddled over him completely. She leaned her weight against him, and his hands went up and under the material of her dress. Mary moaned at the contact.
"Matthew," she said her voice rather distracted as his touch advanced, "Despite being wrong about the play, and despite your working too much and your feeble excuses and lack of apology, I'm inclined to make the most of our time together now."
"I am good at my job," Matthew said confidently, "It has been a major change to our lives which I am happy to see we can both embrace. We are in a comfortable position now," Matthew said provocatively as he kissed his wife.
"Furthermore," he continued, "I'm also good at this too," he said as his fingers found their way under her dress. Mary moaned at the contact.
"After all I thought you about a lover's leap," Matthew said ardently, "A move I feel passionately about. Of course, there is also the Steam position in backgammon, which I could show you."
"I've got you in the back position," Mary said as she whispered, her amusement at his banter including their other favorite game increasing her arousal. She dangled her lips with tantalizing effect just above her husband. "So, anything is possible."
The family's motorcars approached the racetrack and stopped the surrounding gravel road. Matthew helped Mary from their car, and they joined her parents and sisters. As he looked around, he noticed the crowd was a sea of men wearing grey morning suits and women in their best summer frocks and most elaborate hats.
"It should be a lovely day," Cora said as she gazed at the grounds.
"The Earl of Grantham has attended the Royal Ascot race every year since there has been an Earl of Grantham!" Robert said proudly. "Right this way," he directed the family towards their traditional box. "Everyone will follow me."
"Well, I disagree that this is society's most dazzling picnic," Matthew said as he turned his gaze from his father-in-law and whispered to his wife. "I prefer a more private setting, perhaps in a dining room." The remark was successful in making his wife blush.
"I'm more interested in the horses than the fashions on display," Mary said as she walked along the green grass holding her husband's arm with one arm and her parasol in the other.
"That is because your dress is divine, and I envy your hat," Sybil said to her sister.
"All horse races end the same," Edith said her voice apparently bored already, "At least people wear different fashions every year."
Cora held her parasol to block the sun only releasing a small hum at the sound of her daughter's squabbling.
"Rosamund," Cora said with surprise as she saw her sister-in-law already seated in their box.
"Hello," Rosamund said with a stiff smile towards her relatives before she turned back to her conversation with the Earl of Buckley.
Robert sat next to his sister and nodded politely at the Earl's wife, Hester. It was not like Rosamund to invite her own guests without having an agenda she wanted to discuss later. Mary stared at her aunt, hoping she would handle what she had recently told her with caution and care. The last thing the family needed as another splinter. Mary watched her father and aunt but they chatted quietly, and there was no tension between them. She wondered if she wasn't making too much of the situation. However, just as she started to relax and watch the race, her aunt made a request.
"Robert," she said, "I see Marmaduke's sister Clementine across the green and I would love to say hello, would you accompany me?"
"Of course," her father said with a rather pinched smile. Cora immediately looked for confirmation and saw the woman in question and so she nodded politely and turned her gaze back towards the spectacle on the racetrack. Mary noticed her sister's giving the moment absolutely no concern. Marmaduke's relations had never warmed to their family, hence the easy dismissal.
Matthew looked at Mary however as Robert and Rosamund walked away, and he whispered once again.
"What is that about?"
"Money, I presume," Mary whispered back without looking at her husband, her eyes still on the racetrack.
"You're sure that Rosamund see's the merit in your Manchester scheme?" Matthew asked. "It's a bold choice, after all, to sell the grounds to Ripon's city council and have Dowton's lands subjected to public consumption."
"When you speak like Granny it is disconcerting," Mary said wearily, "Our family lands are supposed to support the community around us, and with this arrangement that will continue."
"Well," Matthew said almost stunted by Mary's vehemence as she spoke. "You know I'm on your side. When the Earl of Wilton gave over his land in Manchester, and it was renamed Heaton Park, it was a great thing for the community. But, it was his choice, and I don't want your father to be forced into anything."
"Rosamund enjoys stirring the pot," Mary continued, "But, as she controls the purse strings that are funding Downton, she is a proper partner for Papa. He will come around to this change."
"There are other ways, legal solutions we could try."
"Papa doesn't know what he wants, much like me in the past, I am very much his daughter and we think alike. He doesn't want his problems regarding the estate to control him, he doesn't want to face mistakes in the light of day, he needs a solution; but furthermore he needs to know it has not all been in vain. Papa needs to save Downton himself."
Matthew nodded and took Mary's hand holding between both of his. He wasn't the only one who was developing diplomatic schemes it would seem. To him Downton had always been a noose around his neck, an albatross that he did not love. However, the ancestral home was everything to Mary and yet she marched down this path with unflinching purpose. If it worked, it would solve many different problems that all converged regarding the mismanagement of the estate. It would give Robert's Earldom a cache that few could ever reckon with in his ancestry.
The sound of the cheering crowd made them return their eyes to the racetrack.
Mary smiled affably as she turned her gaze to her sister's and her mother, "It would seem my horse just won," she boasted.
"Rosamund," Robert said tightly to his sister. "You can't be serious."
Their conversation at Ascot had achieved no results and so this private meeting had been agreed upon at Painswick house. It was fair to say that they were equally uncomfortable.
"Robert," Rosamund answered frankly. "Marmaduke's money cannot prop up Downton indefinitely. We are out of options, except perhaps asking your mother-in-law for funding."
Robert's jaw clenched at this rebuke.
"So, you are abandoning me too? I'm supposed just to watch this family disintegrate before my eyes?"
"Or you could talk to your son-in-law and daughter. Things can always be different," Rosamund sighed. "This intermediate role I find myself in is quite disconcerting."
"After I'm gone is the only time this plan will be allowed to go through," Robert said bitterly as he stared at his sister. "Until then as I hope you remember I am the head of this family, and my primary concern will be the legacy of Downton."
There was an uncomfortable silence between the siblings.
"So, you can do whatever you feel is best and I will do the same. But, I wish you would just trust me."
"Robert," Rosamund said in the spirit of reconciliation. "You are better than our father, who didn't care about my future, because I know you care about Mary."
"Of course I care!" Robert erupted. "That is beside the point. No one, least of all my daughter has the right to call my leadership into question. As I've said changes that occur when Matthew becomes, Earl are outside of my control and the only time these preposterous conditions will be met."
Rosamund looked into her brother's eyes and suddenly realized something about his stubbornness and the claim he kept repeating. Their father had died suddenly but peacefully in his sleep of a heart attack. It had been a terrible shock to the family, but not to the Earl's doctor who had been secretly treating him for years. The behavior that Robert had been exhibiting lately all now made sense in this context.
"Robert," she said emotionally as she stepped towards him but stopped as she could see he didn't want her sympathy.
"Now you understand," he said softly. "Things that can't be changed, must be accepted. But, I don't want Mary to know. I've tried to ensure the best for her; I know she will do whatever it takes in the future. But I'm not a part of the future."
"I never thought it was in you to be so Machiavellian," Rosamund said trying to contain her emotions.
Robert smiled at his sister. "Just like our father used to say; there was only my perspective, the truth, and the future. Now, let's change the subject. What do you think of the ball that Mary and Matthew are hosting?"
"How are you feeling?" Matthew asked his wife.
"I'm concerned about the Ball," she said as she sipped her tea and scowled. "Perhaps we should just serve tea, after all, that is from India."
"We have to serve Indian food too," Matthew said.
"Well then there should be a warning, as it's far too spicy for any reasonable person. Granny could die from that savage food."
"Having uneatable food during a ballroom party is hardly unusual," Matthew said trying to be glib and lighten the mood. "Remember the food at Baronet Darlington's ball?"
Mary's expression did soften, but she remained silent.
"The rose flavored blancmange was a jellie that tasted like soap," Matthew continued.
Mary sipped her tea in order to hide the smile from the memory of the season's most disastrous ball. There was no doubt it would be talked about for ages.
"Besides that," Matthew continued, "We have fond memories ourselves of a culinary mishap, the salt instead of sugar pudding at Downton."
"I'd rather have more awe than shock at our first ball," Mary said with concern. "Besides I should be in charge of the menu as the hostess. Instead, you arrive home with a bushel basket of spices no one including our cook has ever heard of."
Matthew sighed before reaching for his cup of tea. Initially selling the Indian themed ball to Mary had been met with excitement, however now she was detached and shifting against the theme. He couldn't offer her any further explanation regarding how the ball was also being used to weed out a potential terrorism faction.
"I want this to be a success," Mary said with frustration. "It is a unique idea for the season and it will undoubtedly provide us with a different kind of event to offer to our guests. But, it could also easily turn into a disaster if we don't also exercise caution."
"Not all the recipes that came from my uncle are so unpalatable. He wrote to my mother for years, and each letter had a recipe. I'm sure we will discover something for the guests."
"Did your mother ever try to use the recipes?" Mary asked. "Perhaps we should consult her."
"You trust her, more than you trust your husband?"
Mary smiled coyly, "When it comes to this," she paused for effect, "Yes."
"Besides," she continued, "It's time for me to try on my saree."
"I don't suppose you will need any help?" Matthew asked eagerly.
Mary's expression was enough of an invitation to follow.
The next day Matthew called his mother, and she took charge of supervising the menu. Before he left for his office, and the final meeting with Hoar before the ball was to take place; he peeked into the kitchen.
"More herbs than spices," Isobel directed the exasperated cook.
"There is just something so middle class about this dish," the cook said as she touched mysterious jars.
"If you believe that India is the jewel of the British Empire, your taste buds will follow suit. After all Queen Victoria can't have been wrong when she had an Indian staff that cooked curry every day. There is nothing middle class about that."
Matthew left the kitchen without interrupting.
Matthew had never seen his supervising agent Mr. Hoar, so excited. He was already dressed in his evening wear and was adjusting his cufflinks as he gave the final instructions.
"I want this party to be a success," said Mr. Hoar.
Matthew had heard those exact words before.
"My wife shares this sentiment sir."
"Well, then it's no wonder you are good at taking orders. I'm going to go over the protocol one more time. Never lose focus; we have one agenda, one target and one goal. With the Archduke's assassination yesterday, capturing this rogue individual is even more crucial."
"Sir," Matthew said formally. "The servants I've hired for the ball are dressed in traditional Indian clothing. All waiters with turbans are agents from this office. We will be ready."
"The target being a women will make our jobs easier I hope. Annie Larson is visiting from America with her husband who has links to selling illegal arms to both Germany and India. We capture them both here, and we can stop a major participant in the Hindu–German Conspiracy."
Mr. Hoar extended his hand, and Matthew shook it confidently.
Mary had to hide her yawn as she sat in a row of chairs just off the dance floor. She had even had the pleasure of watching Edith have to swallow the spicy food while pretending she enjoyed it. Mary had taken the precaution of warning Sybil but had somehow forgotten to tell her other sister. The unusual food, music and attire had led to many compliments from her peers. But, it had been more work to host this ball than she had originally thought. She had stood by her guests for hours and in the early stage of her pregnancy it seemed to be taking its toll on her all of sudden.
The silver lining was that she didn't mind watching her husband as he had circulated through the crowd. He was entirely comfortable in this environment, and it made her proud. She was even relieved to see that his colleagues from work were also smiling as they mingled.
"Lady Mary," Mr. Hoar said as he approached her. "I'm afraid I must offer my regrets leaving your party so soon, but I have another engagement."
Mary stood from her seat and smiled cordially at the man. Matthew was approaching, and she waited for her husband to join this conversation. She took her husband's arm as it was offered.
"We both thank you for coming," Mary said formally.
"You won't thank me when you learn of the treason that has gone on during your party," Mr. Hoar said with a little chuckle of apprehension.
Mary looked at the man with curiosity and then turned to the distressed look of her husband's anxious face.
"What I mean," Mr. Hoar said as he cleared his throat, "Is my sister is also having a ball this evening and that is where I am headed, along with several of your guests I've innocently corralled into joining me."
Matthew sighed as he addressed his associate.
"I knew that you were up to something," he said.
"I had to confess the truth," he winked. "Your party has been a different kind of delight during the season."
As Mr. Hoar departed, Matthew took the opportunity to ogle his wife politely. The combination of the saree, jewelry and makeup were certainly a sight to behold. As the guest list had thinned and the target and been intercepted without making a scene, he was feeling victorious.
"Would you care to dance?" Matthew asked her.
"Actually," Mary said her voice just a sultry whisper. "I believe I am going to retire. Can you see to our remaining guests?"
"Of course," Matthew stammered, hoping he was reading his wife's indications correctly. He licked his lips as he thought of the way the silk was draped around Mary's departing figure. They would be dancing tonight, just not in public.