"Whenever they met, the air crackled and sparks flew in the sky."
― Avijeet Das

A/N: Thanks to all readers and reviewers, especially: mmfan1, eyeon, and AlexisRose84.

A few hours after lunch, Anna was gathering up a few of Mary's chemises that needed mending when Sybil came into the bedroom, her face creased in a frown.

"I can't find Mary," she said. "Have you seen her, Anna?"

Anna suppressed a smile. It was typical of Sybil to refer to her sister by her first name without placing "Lady" in front of it, which would have been more correct. But after helping Gwen, who knows what she'll do next! "No, my lady, I haven't. But she doesn't usually change for tea, so I didn't expect to see her."

"I suppose not, but… she said something right after lunch about going to the mausoleum," said Sybil. Her brow furrowed. "I tried to tell her that I didn't think it was a good idea. I don't think anybody's been in it for almost a year, and it just seems rather depressing to go on her own. She's been there an awfully long time. I wonder if I ought to go after her."

Something about the tone in Sybil's voice made Anna nervous.

"But I don't want to come across as the interfering sister," murmured Sybil, as if to herself. "She said she wanted to look at the memorial, and to go alone…"

"Maybe I'd best go, my lady," said Anna.

Sybil nodded.

Anna started for the church with a feeling of real unease. There was nothing wrong with going to the private Downton mausoleum, not exactly, but it seemed anything but a cheerful place. She couldn't imagine the visit improving anything about Mary's current state of mind. She stopped when she saw that the vicar's housekeeper was bustling about the front step of the little house next to the church with a broom.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Gradgrind," she said. "Have you seen Lady Mary?"

The plump, comfortable-looking woman brushed back a strand of gray hair from her forehead. "Oh, yes, Miss Smith, I certainly have. She passed by here two hours ago, or more. Said she was going into the mausoleum. There's scarcely been anyone in there since the memorial was placed, and it always seems a dreadfully gloomy place, but then it would, wouldn't it? One wouldn't expect a mausoleum to be cheerful, would one?"

"No, not at all, Mrs. Gradgrind," Anna said hurriedly. The older woman was perfectly capable of a full day's worth of gossip and chatter if she was given half a chance. "I'll just go after Lady Mary."

"Yes, that would be best." Mrs. Gradgrind sighed. "Poor lamb!"

The miniature stone house was at the edge of the church property, tucked away within a grove of trees. The side door was half open, and Anna slipped through. She blinked at the sudden near-darkness. A spicy, stuffy smell wafted up to her nose, like an ancient whiff of incense from a tarnished censor used in a long-ago funeral service. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that the interior space was surprisingly large. She was standing in the short side end of a cross-shaped nave that was the size of a tiny chapel, a single row of pews down the middle. The rounded interior front space had a row of locked glass cases, each holding an elaborate urn with the ashes of a Crawley ancestor. The walls were lined with marble crypts.

Mary stood at the far end of one pew, studying a brass plaque fixed into a space. A small red candle flickered in a holder at the top. Another plaque was to its right, but Mary only had eyes for this one. Anna's heart sank. She knew what it must be. Nearly a year earlier, a memorial service had been held at the church for James and Patrick Crawley, Robert's doomed cousins. No traces of their bodies had ever been found, of course, so there could be no crypt, but memorial plaques took up the spaces where the two men would have lain in death.

I know that you're sad, even if you don't show it, Anna had said to Mary when the family had learned that the Titanic had gone down. But I'm not as sad as I should be, and that's what makes me sad, Mary had replied. The weight of family expectations had burdened Mary too heavily for her feelings about Patrick Crawley to be unmixed. But she had cared for him as a cousin, Anna knew that. Anna also knew that Mary hadn't loved Patrick as a woman should love the man she was slated to marry, that she had felt a moment's rush of relief when she'd learned that the obligation was lifted from her shoulders, and that she felt a guilt over her reaction that she would never, ever show. There were things that Anna didn't need to be told in words, that she understood because she had been at Mary's side for so long, and her mistress's tangle of feelings about the lost Patrick Crawley was one of them.

Well- I really should leave, thought Anna. I'll let her take as long as she wants here. Maybe I can find J—Mr. Bates, and see if he's learned anything more today than I've been able to do.

She was getting ready to slip out when the back door of the chapel creaked open. Mary gave a violent gasp and whirled round, hand pressed to her chest. A figure stood in the doorway, outlined by brilliant sunlight. He was a tall man, but Anna could tell no more. For a heartstopping instant, a mad thought flitted through Anna's head. He was Patrick Crawley, come back from the dead, raised from a watery grave, come to claim Mary and his place at Downton—

Then the man stepped into the mausoleum and closed the door, and Anna saw that it was Matthew. She let out a long, silent breath, feeling like a fool. The two men had been cousins, and they shared the same height and build and stance, no more. Matthew walked down the right hand side of the pews, frowning.

"I'm terribly sorry," he said to Mary. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't," said Mary, clearly struggling for composure. "It was—unexpected. That's all. Nobody ever comes here."

"So what brings you here on such a lovely spring day, Cousin Mary?" asked Matthew, raising his eyebrows.

Mary looked back at him silently. Anna recognized the haughty look on her face as the one Mary had when she could not bring herself to answer a question and was desperate to cover up the fact. Matthew's gaze shifted to the plaque on the wall.

"Oh," he said quietly after a moment. "I see."

"Yes," Mary said in a clipped voice, almost defiantly. "That belongs to Patrick Crawley."

Matthew knew that Mary had been scheduled to marry Patrick, of course. Anna wondered what sort of questions were running through his head about that fact, but whatever they were, he did not speak them. "Patrick died a year ago, I've been given to understand," was all that he said.

"On the Titanic. Yes," said Mary.

"I'm sorry."

"Really? It's not as if you knew him."

"No, I wouldn't say that I did," Matthew said awkwardly. "But I met him once, actually."

Mary turned her head for the first time, and her expression was oddly unguarded for a moment. "Really?" she asked in a small voice.

"Yes. I can tell you about it, if you'd like to know." When Mary did not answer, Matthew went on. "I was visiting a friend in London, the Christmas before last, and he took me to a large party with loads of people. A number of his acquaintances from the Intelligence Office were there, and as you know—well, of course you know—that's where Patrick Crawley worked at the time. He was an undersecretary to an attache."

Mary said nothing to that, but her eyes were larger and darker than ever.

"I heard his name," Matthew continued, "and I recognized it. My friend introduced us, and naturally, I told him that I was his cousin. He smiled and said a few words, and we talked for a bit. I think he was glad in a quiet sort of way—he seemed a bit shy, not one to put himself forward. But a very nice man."

"Yes. He was." Mary's voice sounded a bit muffled.

Matthew shifted slightly, a shaft of light from a stained glass window turning his hair to burnished gold. 'I wish I could have known him better. And yes, I'm very sorry he's gone."

"I'm sure you are," said Mary. Anna caught the faint sarcasm in her voice, although she doubted that Matthew did. "Of course, if Patrick Crawley were still here, then you wouldn't be at Downton at all."

"Er… yes, you could say that, I suppose." Matthew looked embarrassed.

Mary gave a short laugh. "I could indeed."

Matthew gave a long sigh. "Look, Cousin Mary; is it really worthwhile to argue?"

"I suppose it isn't. And I do understand why you're here."

"I had a spare afternoon, and I wanted to look round the churches. The architecture is lovely," he said in a voice that was almost conciliatory. Mary's next words, however, left Anna with no hope that she would grasp at the olive branch he was offering.

"You wanted to survey your domain." Mary gave him a challenging glance, one that Anna recognized all too well and that caused her to groan silently.

"It's not like that." He leaned forward slightly. "Look, I just don't think that it's necessary for us to quarrel—"

"Oh, no, you should be here. I agree. This mausoleum is like all of Downton. It ought to belong to the true heir, but whomsoever is lucky enough to find himself in that position really should grab at it."

Matthew's brows drew together into a frown. "If you'll recall, I never wanted to be in the position of heir in the first place."

"But now that you are—" Mary began.

"I tried to find if there was a way out of it," he interrupted her.

Mary shot him a brief glare. "Granny said you looked into the matter last year. I'll just bet you did."

"That's exactly what I did," Matthew said through gritted teeth. ""Inheritance law has never been my specialty, but I researched the question, and I talked to lawyers who were experts. But under the law or primogeniture, inheritance of Downton only applies to first born sons; that's the default. I tried to find out if there were any exceptions. There weren't."

She gave a small, brittle laugh. "Oh, yes. Thank you so much for the valuable information, Cousin Matthew. I was completely unaware of that fact."

"I didn't say that I thought the law was right in this instance," said Matthew, more quietly.

"What difference does your opinion make?" asked Mary. "It certainly doesn't change the situation. Under the arcane statutes, which originally came from the dawn of time, apparently, you will inherit this estate and everything on it."

"I'm afraid so," said Matthew.

"I suppose that includes all of us?" She turned to him suddenly, fully, for the first time. "Tell me, Cousin Matthew. Do you plan to control the lives of the Crawley girls?"

"I didn't say—"

"Because if so, I feel obliged to inform you that you won't find it so easy as all that."

Matthew threw up his hands. "Fine! Have it your way. You've caught me out. I'm planning to be a horrid tyrant. Since you clearly have a plan to defy my reign of terror, why don't you tell me what it is.

Mary's lips twitched. Anna knew her well enough to know that she was fighting not to laugh, but she clearly was hiding her amusement successfully from Matthew.

"Very well; I will. Sybil will rebel openly. Edith will smile and seem to submit, but she'll find a way out from under your thumb, never fear. And I…"

"Yes? What would you do, Cousin Mary, fi I tried to control you in any way?" He stepped closer to her.

"I…"

They stared at each other, standing only inches apart. The chapel was so quiet that Anna could hear how harshly both of them were breathing. Matthew kept looking down into Mary's face, and his eyes softened. She looked back up at him, her mouth trembling.

A sudden, savage gust of cold wind whipped through the chapel, sending that door banging on its hinges, pushing Matthew and Mary apart so that they both staggered back. At the same moment, Anna saw that a shadow seemed to slip along a dark corner near the back. The little flame of the candle above the plaque on the wall guttered and went out. Mary blinked and shook her head, as if waking from a dream.

"I shouldn't tolerate it for a moment," Mary said stiffly.

"I see. Most obliging of you to let me know," snapped Matthew. "I shan't trouble you any longer today, then."

"Ooh! The most impossible man…" muttered Mary, staring at the door swinging shut behind him. But color flooded her cheeks, and her face had expression and animation for the first time in days. She shoved back a pew and stalked out of the chapel, showing more energy than Anna had seen since that awful night. It was as if Matthew Crawley had brought her back to life, and even a lively anger was a vast improvement over the way she had been. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Anna had a hard time stifling a smile as she walked back to the house. There was hope for the future; she couldn't help thinking that. But first, I've got to get Lady Mary through this. It was a sobering thought, to say the least.

As she kept walking, she took off her shawl and carried it over one arm. The sky was so blue, and the sun so bright. What a perfect spring day…

Anna's steps slowed. A thought struck her. The air was completely still and warm. But an icy blast of wind had whipped through the chapel of the mausoleum only a few minutes earlier. Where on earth did that come from? And that shadow I thought I saw in the corner… what if it wasn't my imagination after all? She forced herself to consider her next thought. Could the shade of Mr. Pamuk be starting to gain enough power to follow Mary around the estate? It sounds completely mad, but then everything's mad just now, thought Anna. And if it's true…. In spite of the hot spring day, she shivered.

Note: So the Mary/Matthew meeting happened… 😉 What did you think? And the next chapter will be posted next Saturday!