Previously:
Private Yacht, Somewhere off the South coast of Gran Canaria, Canary Islands, Atlantic Ocean, December 2015
Still holding her hand, he got down on one knee before her. He brought his other hand in front of him, revealing a brilliant diamond ring in a small red box.
She covered her mouth with her free hand, her pulse leaping. There was still music playing, some other song, but she didn't pay any attention to it, her eyes focused on his smiling face.
"Lady Mary Crawley," he said. "Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"
"Yes!" she exclaimed, the tears falling as she began to shake. "Oh God! Yes! Yes! Yes!"
They both laughed as he rose to his feet. Their hands shook as he brought the ring to her finger and slid it on. It was a tad big, but it fit well enough, the eternity band of white gold and diamonds seeming to make the large stone sparkle even more.
She didn't quite know the precise order of what happened next but she was in his arms and kissing him, then somehow he lifted her off the deck and spun them around, the tears still falling down her cheeks as she hung on to him and kept her lips locked on his. Eventually he set her down and with his arm around her shoulders they looked up at the stars together. She would glance down at her ring in wonder, then over at him, and back up at the sky, her eyes shifting back and forth, her mind scarcely believing it was all real.
"Just how long have you been planning this?" she asked, turning around to face him and placing her hands on his chest, her diamond ring feeling so natural on her hand resting against his skin. There was a giddiness in her stomach that she couldn't shake.
"Years, darling," he said, holding her by her hips and pulling her in for a kiss. "Years."
"Years. Goodness," she said happily. "I do hope I'm worth it."
"Every second," he said, kissing her again.
Chapter 37:
London Suite, Shangri-La Hotel, At the Shard, London, England, December 2015
Mary sipped her glass of white wine, then placed it on the side table and curled up on the sofa. Her tablet and papers were spread out on the coffee table, but she ignored work for the moment, tucking her legs underneath her and getting comfortable. She looked out the window, the early evening sky already dark. Daylight was fleeting in Winter. Was it just last week that she was in Spain basking in glorious sunshine? Her eyes fell to her left hand and she smiled at the reminder of her trip – the diamond ring that now adorned her finger.
Lady Mary Crawley was a complex woman, and proud of it. In many ways, she was modern, progressive and practical, willing to consider almost any viewpoint or opinion, if properly supported and justified. In some things, though, she could be stubborn, steadfast and unwaveringly loyal to custom and tradition, even to an unreasonable degree. Whether it was due to her conservative upbringing, or the fact that she was one of the last true aristocrats by blood, Mary felt that there was a proper way about certain things – marriage in particular; more specifically the exact manner in which her own wedding would occur, from proposal through to the ceremony.
Some of her friends shared her old fashioned ideology on marriage, adhering to the same beliefs as their parents and grandparents before them. Others were more modern. She had friends who had talked about marriage with their partners so far in advance that by the time the proposal came around, there was no mystery to it at all, even going so far as to pick out their own engagement ring beforehand. She knew other women who had even proposed to their future spouses, rather than wait to be asked themselves. Mary believed in each bride being free to do things her own way, and she didn't judge, but her idea of a perfect proposal and wedding were straight out of a previous century. She wanted the proposal to be a complete surprise, even though she hated surprises generally, and for it to be romantic and memorable, even though she was the last person that one would think of as being sentimental. Though she would shudder at the mention of the word, this was one aspect of her life that she did want to be like a fairytale.
She wasn't the only woman who probably spent more time thinking about the proposal and wedding than the actual man who would become her husband. The precise qualities that she wanted in a man changed over time. Whereas she probably did not have any real clarity about what made her ideal husband until she was in her twenties, she had dreamed about her proposal and wedding since she could walk, ever since she got to see her Mama's diamond tiara and gorgeous chiffon wedding dress. A proper wedding to her meant having the ceremony in a church with all of her family and friends there. When she was younger, she wanted her reception at Downton Abbey, but she wasn't as firm about that anymore. The proposal, however, was non-negotiable in certain crucial aspects.
Sometimes in her mind, the venue of where it would take place would change, or the time of day, even what she was wearing. The precise details weren't as important as the way she wanted to feel in the moment. She didn't want to know anything about it beforehand. She didn't want a logical and orderly chat on all the reasons why getting married made sense, though that was perfectly reasonable and practical. She didn't want this to be just another checkmark on a list of life milestones, a requirement fulfilled. When someone asked her to marry him, she wanted to be swept off her feet.
Though it was now early days after she and Matthew got engaged, she freely admitted that he had pretty much smashed all of her lofty expectations to smithereens. Being proposed to on the deck of a private yacht underneath a full moon and star-filled evening sky, with the requisite love song playing in the background, was absolutely breathtaking and perfect. The setting was unquestionably romantic. His words were sweet, heartfelt and not overindulgent. He didn't quote poetry, copy song lyrics or recite clichés. She was so excited in the moment that she was rendered speechless, which was a miracle in and of itself. He even picked her up off her feet and spun her around like a scene out of a cheesy romantic comedy movie and she loved every second of it. Even their attire – she in her robe with no makeup on and her hair loose, and he in nothing but his pyjama bottoms – seemed appropriate, as though their clothing, or lack thereof, fit the intimacy of the occasion. There was literally nothing he had done that she could improve upon.
And that was before she even saw the ring.
A popular misconception, and not altogether unfounded, was that rich people loved excess. The more outlandish, the better, or so people said. Rich people wore fancy clothes made from expensive fabrics for no other reason than that they looked good. Rich people drove lavish cars with extra gadgets, bells and whistles that had almost nothing to do with actually getting from one place to another, and everything to do with looking good doing it. Rich women, in particular, loved bling – sparkling diamonds, the bigger, the better, all the more easy to show off and be seen.
Mary had her fair share of dazzling jewellery, but when it came to her engagement ring, she hated the idea of a massive rock on her finger. She adored the vintage rings that her Granny had – yellow or white gold with simple and elegant stones. She didn't want a platinum band, or some huge rectangular shaped diamond that blinded people around her. Being a traditionalist though, meant that she never told Matthew any of this. As naïve as it sounded, she always expected her future husband to just know, somehow, what she wanted, because if he truly knew her, he would know. Since she had no idea that Matthew was going to propose, she also had no clue what ring he would choose for her until he revealed it for the first time.
It turned out that the man knew more about diamonds, and about her, than she originally thought.
Her engagement ring was made of white gold, a thin eternity band with small diamonds placed around the entire circumference. Normally, she thought eternity bands looked rather gaudy, but hers was quite sophisticated. The jewels were small and not flashy at all. They made her ring look elegant, rather than excessive, glamourous, but not extravagant. The main diamond, a beautiful cushion cut, internally flawless gem, was big, but not too big. Rather than grab one's attention, her ring drew you in, less overwhelming and more hypnotic. In her view, women who constantly dangled their hands out in front of them to show off their rings were without proper manners, but she couldn't take her eyes away from hers, looking at it often. It wasn't that she wanted to shove it in people's faces, or anything. She just loved her ring.
A smile spread her lips as she thought back to the trip to Spain that had changed her life. Sybil and Edith had showered her with gleeful 'I told you so!'s when she Facetimed them the next morning with her news. To them, and a few others probably, it was obvious that Matthew was going to ask her to marry him while they were on vacation, but she truly had no idea. Finding out he had even called her parents beforehand had shocked her. It was the type of old fashioned detail that she had always wanted, but never expected, and certainly never expected from him after all he had been through with Papa. She could only imagine how awkward and difficult a conversation that must have been for him, and yet he had done it, not because he needed to, but because he knew she would want him to, and that was reason enough.
She arched her eyebrow and smirked as she thought back to the night of his proposal. It was something like two o'clock in the morning when he did it, and he admitted later on that if she hadn't woken up and gone outside to the deck, he was going to wait until the next night. Rather than go to sleep, she had pulled him back to bed and thanked him quite thoroughly, screaming her pleasure so loud that she was certain the entire crew and most of Gran Canaria had heard her.
The lurid images in her mind disappeared as her mobile rang. Glancing at the call display, she smiled and put her headset in her ear.
"Hi," she answered warmly, picking up the call.
"Yes, hello," Matthew said formally. "I'm looking for my fiancée."
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Yes, this is she."
"This is she, who?" he asked.
She could picture his grin. "This is she, your fiancée," she said pointedly.
"And who are you?" he asked.
"Really?" she muttered impatiently. "It's me, Matthew."
"And you are?" he tried again.
"Lady Mary Crawley," she sighed. "Your fiancée. Your future wife. How many times are you going to do this, may I ask?"
"I don't know. How many times has it been?" he chuckled.
"At least a dozen since you proposed," she said. "You love that word, clearly."
"What word is that?" he asked, jumping at the chance.
"Fiancée!" she said in exasperation. "Fiancée, fiancée, fiancée! God, you are so annoying!"
"I'm on my way," he said, still laughing.
"Good. Bye," she said, smiling at his ridiculousness.
She heard him still laughing when he hung up the call. She reached up to remove her headset, then thought better of it and took another sip of wine. Sure enough, less than a minute later, her phone rang again.
"You're getting perilously close to not having a fiancée for much longer if you keep this up," she warned him by way of hello.
His laugh was annoyingly disarming. "I forgot to ask my beautiful fiancée what she wanted for dinner."
"Hmm, all right, you're forgiven, for now," she said, smiling again. "I feel like sushi. My normal order."
"Your wish is my command," he said, hanging up the phone.
Mary removed her headset and placed it next to her phone. She shook her head ruefully and picked up her tablet, figuring she had at least another half hour to get some work done before her stupidly wonderful fiancé came back with dinner.
Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, January 2016
"Yes…yes…yes…all right…love you, bye," Mary said, hanging up the call and tossing her headset on the coffee table.
Sybil smiled as she ran her highlighter over the page of her textbook.
"It sounds like you and Mama are getting along," Edith remarked.
"She just won't stop," Mary grumbled, getting up from the sofa and going over to the bar to pour herself a drink. "She's been getting recommendations from her friends on venues, florists and caterers. I thought I would at least have these months until she came back to London free before being inundated."
"She's probably worried that you'll go ahead and plan everything without her while she's gone," Sybil smiled.
"And she'd be right," Mary said. "Which is why it's so annoying that she's involving herself from the other side of the world."
"You can't be surprised, though," Edith said. "Mama has been planning your wedding since you were born."
"Probably before that," Sybil chuckled.
"Well, she'll have to learn to share power," Mary retorted. "I won't exclude Isobel. Mama can't just shove her to the side, or me."
"That's rather fair of you," Edith noted.
"She's going to be my mother-in-law. Of course I want her to have a say," Mary sniffed.
"Yes, but it's been ages since she lived in London, and she never was one for hosting grand events and parties anyway. She can't know nearly as much as Mama when it comes to this," Sybil said.
"Isobel probably doesn't care," Edith shrugged. "She just wants the two of you married. The details aren't important to her, I would imagine."
"They aren't," Mary agreed. "But I still need her, as buffer if nothing else."
The sisters smiled knowingly.
"Shall I add Isobel to the list for your hen night, then?" Sybil joked.
"No," Mary said, frowning at her youngest sister. "There's no need for her to be there when the two of you try to make me look stupid."
Edith and Sybil laughed.
"What about Matthew?" Edith asked.
"He's definitely not invited to the hen night!" Mary said.
"No, I meant doesn't he get a say? It's his wedding too, you know," Edith said.
"He told me early on that he doesn't want to hear about it," Mary said, putting a slice of lemon in her drink. "He says it's fine for me to vent and complain to him as much as I like, but he only wants control over what he and his groomsmen are wearing and where we go on honeymoon."
"So he's going to let you have free reign over all the rest of it?" Sybil asked.
"Of course he is, he isn't stupid," Edith added. "He just wants Mary as his wife. He'd go to the local register office if he had to."
"Now that's not fair," Mary protested. "Matthew cares about the details. He wants our wedding to be special and memorable. He just doesn't want to deal with the hassles, is all, and sometimes I think he's got it right."
"He just doesn't want to be caught between Mary, Mama and Isobel," Sybil laughed.
Edith grinned and nodded in agreement.
"Anyway, enough about that. I want both of you to tell me what you think of these," Mary said, bringing her drink back to the sofa and sitting down. She hunted through her bag for a moment, then handed two red plastic discs to her sisters.
Sybil eyed the object curiously. There was a Chinese character on one side, together with the Crockfords logo, and a golden coloured monkey on the other.
"What's this? A coin of some sort?" Sybil asked, frowning at the piece.
"It's a special edition poker chip," Mary explained. "It's to commemorate Lunar New Year. We're going to have a limited production and make them available during our soft opening of the new expansion."
"That's quite clever," Edith said, nodding as she turned the chip over in her hand. "It's Year of the Monkey, is it?"
"It is," Mary nodded. "We'll have a different one each year, and over time they'll become a set."
"Like with those special postage stamps they make each year," Sybil said.
"Exactly, except much more sophisticated and valuable," Mary joked, taking the chips back.
"How are you coordinating your soft opening and the Lunar New Year celebrations with Matthew's Super Bowl party?" Edith asked.
"Very carefully," Mary said, rolling her eyes slightly. "On the positive side, the casino will be absolutely packed for that weekend in February, but with rather different crowds. Still, we've made it clear that the formal dress code will be enforced and because of the time zone difference, the game won't begin until close to midnight. I'm fairly confident we won't have too rowdy a bunch."
"Papa still doesn't sound too pleased about the idea of Matthew holding a party," Edith said.
"No, he doesn't," Mary agreed, recalling the last video call with her parents. The soft opening party had of course come up, as well as the slate of events they had scheduled for the beginning of February. Papa had frowned at the mention of Matthew's party where guests would be watching the year-end American football championship game on a large television screen in the new Crockfords sports book.
"Over £5 billion will be wagered on that one game alone, worldwide," Mary continued. "Over 97% of those bets will be done through websites like Matthew's and other non-sanctioned providers. We'd be stupid to not get a piece of that, even if we do have to pay taxes on it and all the rest."
Sybil laughed to herself.
"Something to say, darling?" Mary asked, arching her eyebrow at her sister.
"It's just how eager you are now to support Matthew including sports gambling in the casino," Sybil replied, smiling back at Mary. "When he first arrived, you thought it entirely beneath you."
"Yes, well I've had the opportunity to properly review the merits of it," Mary said haughtily. "Perhaps last year it wasn't necessarily the right fit for us, but now I believe that it is."
"There seems to be a number of things that are fitting much better for you that you were quite against last year," Edith said smugly.
"Oh, grow up," Mary rolled her eyes, looking away and sipping her drink.
London Suite, Shangri-La Hotel, London, England, January 2016
"Darling?" Mary asked, snuggling closer to Matthew as they settled into their usual position to go to sleep.
"Mmm, yes?" he said, opening his eyes and turning his head to look at her, his arm going around her back, as usual.
"What was your plan for me?" she asked.
"Plan?" he frowned. "What do you mean?"
"When you came here from Manchester," she said. "You came here to fix Patrick's division, but also to try and make a go of it with me. What was your plan for that?"
"How was I going to convince you to fall in love with me, you mean?" he asked, his lips curling into a smirk.
"Yes," she said smugly. "Surely you thought of something?"
"Well, anything would have been preferable to what I'd been doing up until then, which was nothing," he said sarcastically.
She chuckled and ran her fingers down his bare chest and across his stomach.
"I knew I had to win you over professionally first," he continued. "I didn't have a chance if you couldn't at least respect my work, so that's what I focused on mainly in the beginning, trying to turn Patrick's division around and helping out with the trial. The more things improved, the more you would see me as not a threat to you, or a burden to you, but a colleague, someone you could rely on, in the office anyway."
"That part of your plan worked brilliantly, actually," she said, smiling in memory. "I raved to Anna about how profitable your properties were in such a short time, and you were everything I needed you to be during the trial, as well. When I told you I was sorry for the way I treated you, that wasn't an act. You did impress me in those early months, no matter how hard I tried to deny it."
"Yes, well relatively speaking that was the easy part," he laughed. "Being amicable co-workers wasn't all that I wanted, but I knew that if I tried to openly flirt with you or try to change our relationship so quickly, I was doomed to failure. My plan, such as it was, was to gradually show you how compatible we were, and hopefully get along better to the point that one day you would see me as more than just a colleague."
"But weren't you worried that I would put you in the friendzone?" she teased. "When you first arrived, thinking of you even as a friend was not something I thought would ever happen, let alone as my future husband."
"The friendzone is a dreadful purgatory, yes," he agreed, lightly rubbing her back. "But I expected it would take quite a while to get you to come around even that much, so I didn't plan anything more elaborate than that. I was hoping that we would spend more and more time together in and out of the office, and eventually that I could make a move of some sort after a sufficient time."
"Then I showed up at your hotel and propositioned you," she said amusedly. "Greatly speeding up your timetable, no doubt."
"I prefer thinking of it as you threw yourself at me," he joked.
"Ah, because I couldn't help myself?" she said. "I was powerless to resist the undeniable attraction between us, the mysterious 'something between us' that you alluded to?"
"Not one of my better lines, I'll admit," he said ruefully as she laughed. "It just was that in those days after the trial and leading up to the Black and White Ball, you were happier around me than I'd ever seen before. You were laughing and joking and teasing and flirting with me. I'd been waiting so long for the slightest encouragement from you that I jumped at the chance."
"Well obviously you did something right. I ended up in your bed that night, didn't I?" she said, kissing his chest lightly.
"Mmm," he hummed affirmatively. "And now here we are."
"Here we are," she repeated. "Spending the rest of our lives together. Who knew?"
"All it took was a lifetime of drama," he joked.
"Several lifetimes," she agreed, lifting her head and smiling at him in the dark. "Not the most romantic or easiest of journeys, but we got to where you wanted in the end, didn't we?"
"I certainly can't complain, we're years ahead of my original schedule," he said, sharing her smile.
"Would you really have waited that long?" she asked.
"It's easy to say now, but when you are talking about a lifetime together, a few years in the beginning isn't much," he said, leaning forward and kissing her softly.
Military Intelligence, Section 5, Millbank, London, England, January 2016
Charles walked past the rows of cubicles and into his office. He sat down at his desk and switched on his computer screen, scrolling through his email until he found the message he was looking for. Opening the attachment, he began reviewing the text, jumping from one page to the next as he skimmed past sections he'd already read numerous times before.
"Sir, we've got the final settlement papers back from the lawyers for Mr. Carlisle," an agent said, standing in the doorway.
"I'm just looking over it now. Everything seems in order, there's almost no changes from the last draft," Charles said, still focused on his monitor.
"Are you confident that the deal will be approved?" the agent asked, taking a step into the office.
"One can only hope," Charles replied. "However, I think it's fundamentally sound. There's no jail time, of course, but imprisonment isn't nearly as important these days for the type of cases we deal with."
"It is a lot of money, sir," the agent said carefully.
"It's a record for HMRC, and Sir Richard is able to pay it in relatively short order," Charles replied. "All in all, I'd say it's a job well done."
"I suppose there may be some who think there's something wrong about a man being able to buy his way out of trouble," the agent offered.
Charles looked up from his monitor and smirked at the agent.
"There will always be those who have a rather romanticized view of what we do and the struggle of good vs evil," Charles said. "Whether sending someone to jail serves as an effective deterrent to other offenders is debatable. No one ever believes they will be caught, so the prospect of imprisonment doesn't enter their mindset. However, once word gets out of how much Sir Richard had to pay, and the fact that it's not only a record amount, but an amount that even the richest of tax evaders would have difficulty paying, it will give everyone pause. At the very least, they'll report more of their revenues to try and limit potential liability when we catch ultimately catch them. And, as for Sir Richard, he knows he'll be closely watched for years to come. He'd be stupid to try and pull something similar, but I almost hope he does. Our mandate isn't to put people in jail, it's to collect the taxes owed to Her Majesty."
"Yes, sir," the agent said quietly. "Well, with the Carlisle file wrapping up, what's next?"
"I have some leads," Charles said. "Sir Richard wasn't willing to give us any information on anyone else, but it isn't hard to go over his circle of associates and contacts and see if anything appears to be amiss."
The agent nodded and left his office.
Before turning back to his computer screen, Charles reached over and picked up an invitation with elegant embossed script and looked at it thoughtfully.
Crockfords Casino, Mayfair, London, England, January 2016
The office level of Crockfords was covered in black marble tile, a remnant from an earlier renovation long before Mary's time. Though she wasn't against the expensive décor, it seemed a little bit out of place for a modern office. It scratched easily and was a pain to keep clean, even though there was a rather small staff traipsing across it each day. One benefit though, was that marble did not absorb sound particularly well, so whenever Mary walked out from her office, the sound of her heels was easily broadcast throughout the floor. Anna often joked that everyone knew whether Mary was in a good mood or not by the sound of her steps.
Her feet sounded absolutely furious today as she marched across the hall from her office to Matthew's.
"You aren't funny, you know," she said firmly, coming into his office and closing the door behind her. She sat down and crossed her legs, glaring at him.
"Do you mean I'm not funny generally, or I'm not funny for a specific reason?" Matthew asked lightly, still typing away and looking at his computer screen.
"Both," she sneered, frowning at him. "You know how important the soft opening next week is to me, to us, to the entire company. This isn't a time for juvenile jokes!"
He looked over at her thoughtfully, pausing to weigh his response. "What makes you think I'm not taking the soft opening as seriously as you are?"
"Anna circulated the latest guest list just now," she said pointedly. "I notice that you made some changes to it."
"Ah," he said, understanding what she as referring to. "Yes, I thought it would be helpful to sort the guests according to their affiliation so we could better understand which groups are attending."
She arched her eyebrow at him and put her tablet on his desk, spinning it around to face him.
"And you felt it was appropriate to group Tony, Henry, Evelyn and Charles together, did you?" she demanded.
Matthew peered at the tablet screen for a moment, then nodded as he looked up at her stern expression. "Well, they all belong to one particular club, don't they?"
"For God's sake, Matthew," she scoffed, pointing at the screen. "'Mary's men'? Honestly!"
"I'll have you know it took me a good minute or two to come up with that," he replied. "I considered 'suitors', 'admirers', and 'fan club'. None of them roll off the tongue the same way though. It's the alliteration, you see; makes all the difference."
"Well, I changed it back to the way it was," she stated. "This list is circulated to all the department heads, as you well know. Making it out to seem as though I've got a bevy of men coming here to see me is ridiculous and unprofessional."
"And yet remarkably accurate, all the same," he noted, arching his eyebrow at her for once.
"Darling, I told you, I didn't have a choice," she sighed, softening her expression and tone. "I couldn't just leave Tony out in the cold. He's one of our highest paying clients and his family is still on good terms with mine. I'm having someone else host him and Mr. Blake, really I am."
"I know you are," he shrugged. "I also know that you're still going to have to greet him at some point, and he's going to make excuses to spend time with you. Between Tony stalking you, Henry looking for a photo op and Evelyn wanting to talk about the latest goings on in the government, you'll be quite busy."
She rolled her eyes and took her tablet back off his desk.
"Well, why didn't you put yourself in the group then?" she asked, searching for some way to defuse the conversation. "You're one of my men too, the most important one, by far."
He smiled at her peace offering. "That's the guest list. I'm not a guest. In a way, this is my party."
"It is," she agreed, getting up from her chair and circling around his desk. "You are the investor who has made the expansion possible."
"Also, if you paid attention, I described their group as 'Mary's men' – small m," he said, smirking as he turned his chair to face her.
"Ah," she said, smiling down at him. "And of course, we both know that you're 'big M', aren't you?"
"It would have been easier to call them 'Mary's boys' I suppose," he said lightly.
"Are you going to be all right with all of this?" she asked. "It's important to me that you are, Matthew, truly."
He lowered his gaze and contemplated his answer for a moment before taking her hand in his and running his thumb over her engagement ring.
"I suppose I have a rather convincing reason to feel entirely secure," he teased, looking up at her playfully. "And I don't really see any of them as true rivals, either."
"Good, because they're not," she said, leaning down and kissing him. "Not even close."
"You'll need to remind me of that in the days and nights leading up to the opening night party," he said, flashing his teeth as he smiled at her.
"Don't worry about that," she said, straightening up and turning away from him. "I actually intend to take a private tour of the sports book before we open, just the two of us."
He blinked in shock and swallowed as she headed for the door.
"Lunch?" she asked, glancing back at him over her shoulder.
"Right behind you," he managed, getting up quickly out of his chair.
Maxims Casino Club, Kensington, London, England, February 2016
"Over 70% of the bets received so far are on Carolina," Alex said, running his finger across his tablet. "Though we're seeing far more action on Denver than any of our competitors, so that's something, I suppose."
"There was no reason to drop the line after the conference championship games," Matthew noted, typing away at his computer. "I even thought opening at Carolina minus 5.5 was being wrong, and when it went down to 4 from there, that was ridiculous. Six is the correct number, and leaving our line there was clearly the best move since it's come back up."
"Still though, I wouldn't mind seeing a Denver win, given these numbers," Alex replied. "If Carolina blows them out, it could be rather expensive for us."
"Yes, a Denver win would be a nice tidy windfall for us," Matthew agreed, looking up from his computer. "However, we didn't build this business so that a single game could take us down. Look at it this way – everyone who takes money off of us in the Super Bowl is another potential customer who will just gamble it right back with us on something else. That's the beauty of gambling, and sports gambling in particular. Everyone thinks they're an expert, and are just dying to prove it."
Alex smirked and shook his head.
"I have the paperwork that you wanted. I looked it over. It seems all in order, rather straightforward, really," Alex said. "When do you plan on making the announcement."
"I need to tell Mary first, and Sybil," Matthew replied. "I'll wait until after the soft opening. Putting one more thing out there will just stress her out more."
"That sounds appropriate," Alex nodded. "Plus you need more time."
"More time for what?" Matthew asked, frowning at him.
"To figure out how to tell Lady Mary your plans in the least painful way possible," Alex replied.
"Please," Matthew scoffed. "It won't cause her pain."
"I wasn't talking about her," Alex said, smiling at him.
"Mary always knew I wasn't going to be Managing Director over the long term," Matthew said defensively. "She'll be onboard, once she has time to mull it all over."
"Yes, I'm sure she'll be completely fine with her fiancé resigning and pursuing other endeavours without her," Alex laughed.
"I'm not pursuing anything without her," Matthew groaned. "And I'm fully prepared to stay on for as long as it takes to find a suitable replacement."
"She won't let you back in the office," Alex said. "You're jumping ship. You can't expect that she'll provide you with a soft landing. She'll shove you off the plank herself."
"I'm not entirely sure any of those metaphors are either accurate, or helpful," Matthew said pointedly. "Anyway, we don't need to bother with the announcement until the end of the month. Let's leave it and focus on the opening and our Super Bowl party."
"Don't forget that it's Chinese New Year, as well," Alex reminded him.
"Don't you mean Lunar New Year?" Matthew asked. "Calling it Chinese New Year is rather dismissive of the other cultures that celebrate, particularly the Vietnamese who are a significant market for us."
"It was ours to begin with," Alex shrugged. "Everyone else just copied it from us over the centuries."
"You're only a quarter Chinese, you know," Matthew needled him. "And you were born in Manchester, not Beijing."
"That's more than enough," Alex said. "I've celebrated Chinese New Year since I was a child."
"Fair enough. Just don't take that superior attitude with any of our Korean or Vietnamese clients. Mary's gone to great lengths to have all of the signs in the casinos say 'Lunar New Year' so no one gets offended," Matthew said.
"Understood," Alex nodded, holding his hands up in acknowledgment.
Valentino Boutique, Sloane Street, Kensington, London, England, February 2016
Mary turned left and right, looking at her reflection in the large mirror. She arched her back and pushed her ass out, observing how the silhouette of her dress fell across her body.
"Is the slit supposed to go that high?" Anna asked, watching from a few feet away.
"It's a traditional length," Mary replied, turning again and looking at the lines of floral embroidery that stretched across her chest and others parts of the dress. "I quite like it, actually. Without them, I imagine it would be quite difficult to walk."
"I suppose," Anna said nervously.
"You don't need to get one, you know," Mary said airily. "Some would accuse us of cultural appropriation if we all wore Chinese dresses just for the Lunar New Year celebration."
"No, I have to," Anna nodded determinedly. "And I want to. It's Alex's New Year. He's observed it since he was a child. It's only right that I respect that part of him and his heritage."
"Are you sure that he's so fastidious about custom and tradition, or does he just want to see you in a tight fitting Chinese dress?" Mary asked, arching her eyebrow at Anna's reflection in the mirror.
"Even still, that's not a reason not to wear one," Anna said, smiling to herself.
Mary laughed.
"Anyway, the dress is the least of my worries. I want to cook something traditional for him, but I'm terrified he'll hate it," Anna sighed.
"I didn't even bother troubling Daisy with putting together a special menu," Mary noted. "We're having some select dishes catered in. What are you making?"
"I was going to surprise him with Peking duck but there's no way I can do that properly," Anna said, shaking her head. "I'm doing a traditional Winter Melon soup, sea bass and noodles. I think I've got everything I need but who knows? I've never made Chinese before."
"I'm sure he'll appreciate the effort," Mary said encouragingly. "He can't expect you'll be perfect at it on the first go."
"I know," Anna groaned. "Even if it tastes like shit, he'd still grin and bear it. But I want him to really enjoy it, and be impressed, even."
"Anna, come on," Mary said, turning to face her and smirking. "You're putting far too much pressure on yourself. Do you honestly think that Alex will love you less if you can't cook Chinese food?"
"No, of course not," Anna scoffed. "But I don't want him to think that all I can do is make Mum's roast recipe and Yorkshire pudding and…white food! His culture is important to me, and I want him to know that."
Mary smiled at her.
"It seems to me that you're scared that your Chinese cooking skills will impact upon whether Alex sees you as wife material or not," Mary said quietly. "That sounds rather ridiculous, don't you think? He adores you, Anna."
"I know, I know," Anna said in frustration. "I just…don't want to leave anything to chance."
"I'm sure it's just a matter of time," Mary said kindly. "You said that your trip to France was wonderful, and you were essentially living like a married couple for a month there."
"Yes, we were," Anna said. "That's why I was hoping he was going to propose when we were there, or shortly after we got back, but he hasn't mentioned it at all."
"Most men don't," Mary said. "Maybe he's waiting to do it on Valentine's?"
"Maybe," Anna shrugged, looking down at the floor. "I don't need anything special like that, I just need him to ask me!"
"I could ask Matthew what Alex's intentions are, if you like," Mary suggested.
"No, no, please don't do that!" Anna said, shaking her head. "I don't want to be like one of those girls who drops hints and goes all mental over it. I'll just have to wait."
Mary smiled at her sympathetically. They dropped the subject as the store clerk came back to check on how Mary's fitting was going. Taking one last look in the mirror, Mary smiled in satisfaction.
"It's perfect," she declared. "I'll take it with me."
"Very good, Lady Mary," the clerk said, nodding her head enthusiastically.
Crockfords Casino, Mayfair, London, England, February 2016
Mary smiled as she looked into the bright lights. The fourth politician to speak was wrapping up his remarks, glowing with praise over how beautiful the expansion of the casino looked, how it had created jobs and would improve tourism for the City. Normally, the government didn't want to overtly show support for the gambling industry, but given the media coverage of the opening night gala and the fact that the expansion was truly a one-of-a-kind space for all of Great Britain, there was no way that the City's elected representatives weren't going to grab some of the spotlight.
She smiled and nodded politely as the gathered crowd applauded at the end of the politician's speech. They had already cut a giant red ribbon to officially open the doors of the expansion, though technically the grand opening was still months off for when Mama and Papa would be back. The large crowd dispersed and went around trying out the new table games and machines, as well as Matthew's sports book. Waiters and servers circulated with champagne and hors d'oeuvres. Mary shared a toast with the gathered officials, then made her excuses, leaving smoothly from the group and heading out to tour the new casino floor.
She glanced all around and smiled as she went, nodding patiently as she accepted congratulations from well-wishers and compliments on her designer gown. Spotting Edith and Bertie by the bar, she made her way over and greeted both of them.
"Lord Hexham can serve as a witness because this is a very rare moment," Mary teased, lifting her champagne flute to her sister. "Thank you for all of your hard work, Edith. It's all turned out better than I expected."
Edith blinked in shock, then lifted her own champagne glass and clinked it with her sister's. "Is that because you are impressed with my work, or because your expectations for me were rather low?"
"Let's not spoil the moment," Mary said, arching her eyebrow as she sipped her drink.
Edith laughed and nodded her head.
"Why don't you take Lord Hexham on a tour?" Mary suggested, looking at Edith knowingly. "You can let him in on some of the design secrets."
Edith blinked.
"I would like that, if you're up for it, that is," Bertie said.
"Of course," Edith said. "We can start with the terraces."
Edith turned Bertie towards the stairs, then glanced back nervously at Mary.
Mary nodded encouragingly at her sister, and smiled as Edith took Bertie's arm and smiled at him bravely, beginning to point out various parts of the expansion.
"Mr. Crawley," Charles said, coming up and shaking Matthew's hand.
"Mr. Blake," Matthew replied politely. "Thank you for coming. I hope you're enjoying yourself."
"I am," Charles said cheerfully. "Tony's up a few thousand quid so he's elated."
"How nice for him," Matthew said.
"I wanted to thank you properly," Charles said. "For all of your help with Sir Richard back in the summer. I wanted to grab him in full view of everyone, to send a bit of a message, but looking back now, I think it was handled far better the way you suggested. If he has been shamed that night in front of a crowd of such powerful and influential people, it would have made it all the more harder to resolve the matter."
"Did you settle with him, then?" Matthew asked. "I haven't heard of any sentence being handed down."
"We're putting the finishing touches on all the approvals that we need, but we do have a deal with him, yes," Charles confirmed. "It's not official, but ultimately it will be a record penalty and recovery for HMRC."
"Well, congratulations, Mr. Blake," Matthew said.
"Thank you. You know, there are a couple things about that night that have nagged at me since then, though," Charles said.
"Oh?" Matthew replied, looking at the government official carefully.
"Yes, you see, with all the commotion of that night and dealing with him in the months that followed, I never found out why he was so insistent on seeing you, in particular. Why did he track you down, and how did you know that he would?" Charles asked.
"We're business rivals, Mr. Blake," Matthew explained, weighing his words, but trying to make it appear as though he wasn't. "Sir Richard and I never particularly got along. We didn't know each other for very long, but it seems he got it in his head that I was a threat to his business. Apparently we cut into his market share, at least compared to what we had achieved before. He wanted to enter into a joint venture with Crawley Group and he knew I was against it. He may have wanted to try and convince me to change my mind."
"Ah, I see," Charles nodded. "So it was just business that drew him to you that night?"
"What else could it have been?" Matthew asked.
"What else indeed?" Charles asked rhetorically.
"Well, do enjoy yourself tonight, Mr. Blake, and let us know when you wish to come back," Matthew said.
"Oh, just one other thing, Mr. Crawley," Charles said, drawing Matthew's attention. "Something else I was thinking about was what was so particular about Sir Richard that would cause him to evade paying his full taxes for so many years."
"I expect greed had a lot to do with it," Matthew said.
"Certainly that, yes," Charles agreed. "But really, nothing differentiates Sir Richard from most of the guests who were at Grantham House that night. I'm sure almost all of them wouldn't mind saving a few million quid here and there by underreporting the annual revenues of their companies, the same way that Sir Richard did."
"I expect that the vast majority of the British people wouldn't mind paying less in taxes, Mr. Blake," Matthew stated.
"Yes, yes, of course," Charles laughed. "But there's a difference between wanting to pay fewer taxes and having the resources and wherewithal to pay less and hide it."
"So you're saying that you don't think Sir Richard was the only offender present at the party?" Matthew asked.
"That's right," Charles said, holding his gaze. "We don't have anything to go on at the moment, but we're going to do our investigations and dig around a bit, as we did with Carlisle World Media Group, and see what might turn up."
"Lord Grantham won't be pleased to hear that. Many of the guests are old family friends, and all of them are colleagues," Matthew said.
"Yes, it can be a bit shocking when one finds out that the person they knew isn't who he seemed to be," Charles said.
"Well, good luck with your investigations," Matthew said. "Mr. Blake."
"Mr. Crawley," Charles nodded, watching as Matthew walked away.