Chapter 16
...
Grantham House
St James's Square
London
Summer of 1886
...
Well practiced in the art of hiding her true feelings, Mary schooled her features. With her lips pursed, she headed towards the dining room for breakfast, decidedly ignoring how it was one of the last places in the world that she truly wanted to be.
Painting on a false and unsuspecting smile, Mary steeled herself for the outpouring astonishment that she could already feel sweeping its way through the house as the news of Mr Kemal Pamuk's untimely demise became common knowledge.
Only a few steps behind her, Sybil was hot on Mary's trail.
Hurrying to catch up, her fingers barely skimmed the cool timbre of the bannisters. Her eyes were full of concern and a fierce determination to be there for her sister despite Mary's apparent withdrawal from all sources of comfort and support.
While Sybil had offered to share her bedroom with Mary the night before, so as to prevent her returning to the place of Pamuk's death, her older sister had spent the rest of the night in a stubborn and tormented silence...retreating, as she so often did, inside herself.
And for those handful of silent hours in the early morning, Sybil had complied with Mary's wishes—both too restless and too haunted by the images of the deceased Kemal Pamuk to sleep a wink.
"Are you sure that you're alright?", she asked earnestly, her voice penetrating the heavy silence in the room.
Mary scoffed, trying to appear unruffled despite how she was more than aware that her observant little sister had noticed her eyes dart around, ensuring that they were alone before she could even bring herself to respond.
"I don't think I have quite recovered from hearing the words 'you grab his legs and Matthew and I will get his arms' come from your mouth, darling. But otherwise I'm tip top."
Her words were biting and laced with sarcasm.
Sybil sighed deeply—clearly torn between worry and frustration. She seized Mary's hand—drawing both of them to a sharp halt.
"Don't lie to me", she admonished.
Her wide eyed and unblinking expression almost reminded Mary of the days from their childhood when a six or seven year old Sybil would try and convince her of some far-fetched tale—the younger fully believing her own words, the older much too mature to comply with such childish foolery.
"I can't imagine what an ordeal last night must have been for you!"
Feeling momentarily as though Sybil was miles away, thoughts of Kemal Pamuk's final moments once again filled Mary's mind. She recalled the heat of his living flesh against her own and the dead weight of his body when he cried out and collapsed on top of her.
It was something she was certain that she would never be able to forget.
Mary thought of Matthew's sympathetic parting smiles and how the memory of them did nothing but toy with her cruelly. She didn't want his sympathy, nor did she want his pity! Her heart clenched painfully at the thought of Matthew, the blasted organ with it's irrational beating and girlish flutters betraying her as it always did when it came to her Perseus.
Her Perseus; the man a part of her would always want but would never have.
Especially not now.
"I thought you knew, Sybil", Mary returned curtly, ensuring that her voice did not betray her internal conflict. "...I don't have a heart."
"Oh come off it, we both know that isn't true. I'm terribly worried!"
"As you should be", Mary shot back immediately. "I may very well have ruined your reputation alongside my own. Few and far between are respectable men who would even look at a woman with a notorious sister..."
Sybil blinked, her frown only deepening at the harsh nature of her sister's words. "Well bully for that! If they should care about something so absurd, I should wish to have no business with them in the first place."
Mary arched a disbelieving eyebrow. "You consider my having taken a lover who died in my bed absurd?"
"Of course not!", Sybil responded, flushing scarlet at the accusation. "What's absurd is the idea that you should be ruined for it! Who was it that decided men should be encouraged to cavort about, behaving as they will, while women live in fear of being marked a social pariah for acting upon the very same carnal impulses that all human beings are privy to! What shallow and self righteous tyrant decided that a woman's worth should be placed solely on the state of her maidenhood! It's utterly bizarre! The world is ridiculous and absurd, not you!"
Pursing her lips, Mary found herself more than a little taken aback by the crudeness of her sister's outburst and the passion behind her words.
While she had always known Sybil entertained some rather modern hopes for a more egalitarian future, Mary had no idea that her feelings ran so deeply...or that she knew anything at all about the carnal desires of men and women.
The two sisters were silent for sometime, staring at one another. Both were more than a little unsettled by having heard and spoken aloud such taboo, and even dangerous, sentiments.
In many respects, it was the first time that Mary began to realise that Sybil may not be so untouched by the world's realities as she had once believed.
Without Mary truly realising it, her younger sister had grown up, developing opinions so different to the ones characteristic of their genteel breeding that even she was a little startled.
"That's quite a dangerous thing to say, Sybil."
"I'm aware of that...but I promise that I mean every word. If becoming ruined and notorious is the price that I must pay for my loyalty to you, than you know I would have no choice in the matter. You're my sister and I love you."
Mary smiled sadly, appreciating the gesture of solidarity despite how she so ardently hoped with ever fibre of her being that her scandal, and her darling sister's part in concealing it, would never come to light.
"Well that's more than can be said for Edith", the eldest Crawley returned offhandedly, her words quite contrary to the silent appreciation and gratitude that shone in her eyes.
Mary knew there was very few people in her life, except for maybe their mother and Anna, who would keep such a huge and detrimental secret for her.
Edith, she knew, would tell the whole world at the first possible opportunity.
Sybil smiled kindly in reply, squeezing her sister's hand one last time. Seemingly, she had resolved not to scold Mary for the snide remark directed at Edith...at least not today.
"What are sisters for if not to help one hide the body?"
For the first time the true absurdity of her previous night's excursions, carrying the body of her lover through the corridors of Grantham House, truly hit Mary. It had almost played out like a scene straight from the pages of some Gothic novel.
Despite herself and the pain that she still felt buried deep in her chest, Mary smiled. "I do appreciate it, darling."
"I know you do."
As one final mutual nod of understanding passed between them, the two sisters began making their way towards the family dining room, this time with a considerably calmer demeanour and a much changed (but no less affectionate) perspective upon one another than they had the day previously.
...
The Drawing Room
Grantham House
London
Summer of 1886.
...
"Typical foreigner, no Englishman would dream of dying in somebody else's house."
Violet Crawley, the Dowager Countess of Grantham, bristled slightly in her armchair—eyeing her daughter in law of almost twenty five years as though the whole unpleasantness had been her fault. She ploughed on quite relentlessly.
"Mary acted most strange when Robert mentioned the death of that Turkish fellow", she commented with a frown. "One can't go to pieces at the death of every foreigner. We'd all be in a constant state of collapse whenever we opened a newspaper."
"Oh don't be so hard on Mary for being upset, she and Mr Pamuk had become rather friendly over the course of his stay with us."
Violet hummed noncommittally, clearly disagreeing with such a surmising of her granddaughter's acquaintance with the handsome young diplomat.
"I think you and Robert should pay better heed to who your daughters become acquainted with. It isn't as uncommon as you would believe that a girl in the prime of her youth should make some rather unfortunate...friendships."
Cora frowned deeply, her dark eyebrows pulling together. Of course she knew that Mary was adapt to being rather tempestuous at times, but her eldest daughter would never purposefully do anything that would damage the Crawley's good name.
Even the thought of such scandal would kill Robert, and that was something Cora knew that Mary understood perfectly.
"I know what you're implying Mama, and I'll have no part in it. Mary understands the consequences of an unfavourable attachment as well as anyone."
Violet huffed. "It's not Mary that I am referring to."
Cora blinked, her mind skipping over Edith (who was never quite the rebellious sort) to turn to her youngest daughter. "Sybil?"
Violet clucked impatiently, willing her daughter in law to keep up. "Of course Sybil, who else would I be talking about? Especially with all of that ghastly American spunk she inherited from that...woman."
Completely ignoring the unapologetically blunt jibe at her own mother's expense, Cora fixed Violet with a worried frown as she began to consider the older woman's words.
In all honesty, she couldn't have helped but notice how Sybil had spent a great deal of time exploring London since they first arrived at Grantham House for the summer. While Cora had initally been anxious about the idea of her eighteen year old daughter wandering around London alone, she had chalked the desire for such excursions down to Sybil's independent spirit rather than the possibility of her having a secret beau.
"I can assure you that she has not been introduced to anyone but the most suitable by Robert or myself these past few months."
Violet smirked. Despite her genuine concern over her granddaughter's wellbeing, she did rather enjoy knowing a great deal more about the internal workings of the Crawley family than all others around her.
Having her daughter in law squirm as a result was only an added bonus.
"My dear", she said, a slight twinkle in her eye. "Do you seriously think Sybil wouldn't be capable of introducing herself to someone if she saw fit to do so?"
A Little Bit of History...
For Victorian men, introducing yourself was difficult; for Victorian women, it was nigh on impossible. If you saw someone you liked you had no option of going over and talking to him. You had to wait to be introduced. Lesser-ranking individuals could not approach higher-ranking individuals unless express permission was granted. It was then the higher-ranking person's prerogative to decide whether to continue seeing this person or to cut them from their acquaintances. The courtship was the dating period that occurred before marriage. A number of stringent societal rules dictated the courtship period. For example, a woman could never be alone with a gentleman. A chaperone had to be present at all times, supervising meetings and time spent together.
Let's just say that Sybil and Tom-being the rebels they are-evaded all of these Victorian rules ;)
Being engaged threw open the doors to a level of intimacy that had previously been unthinkable. At least by Victorian standards. Engaged couples could go on unchaperoned rides, hold hands during walks, and kiss each other. They could even be left alone behind closed doors, though it was the man's duty to leave his beloved by nightfall. There was actually sound reason for this; if their engagement were to end, rumours that they had spent the night together could be disastrous for her reputation. Sex between engaged couples wasn't completely unheard of in the lower and middle classes, but the upper classes and aristocratic classes typically kept to the 'no sex before marriage rule'.
As for the Mary and Pamuk situation...
Sad as it is to say, while the main thing that was required of a suitable Victorian male was that he had the potential to be a good provider, the most prized quality of a potential Victorian wife was that she was still a virgin. Temptation was best avoided, especially considering how ruinous it could be for a woman's reputation. Thankfully, in the West we are now moving away from these historically-entrenched views of measuring a woman's worth in terms of her chastity. The Victorians, however, had undergone no such enlightenment. If it was believed she had been with another man, it could reduce her suitability as a wife in the eyes of some and close many social doors. If she'd had a child with another man, her chances of marrying well within her class were all but ruined.
A/N: Thank you all so much for your wonderful support and encouragement so far. I hope you liked this chapter :)