In case you are wondering why I'm back so quickly with a new story: I found this chapter on my harddrive. I started writing this about four years ago and never continued it, because I realized this story is quite an undertaking. I can't promise I will ever finish it, but I'm willing to give it a try. Have fun and let me know what you think!

Chapter 1 – Wind of Change

London - Present Day

It was raining cats and dogs when Mary Crawley exited South Kensington tube station. Squeezing herself through an assembly of Japanese tourists she cursed the English spring weather, when she saw the countless puddles on the precinct. A second later she also cursed her mobile phone, when the song "Never met a girl like you before" by Edwin Collins reached her ear. She ignored the umbrella in her bag and answered the call. It was her father, Robert Crawley, Senior Partner of Crawley & Solicitors, and she already knew why he was calling.

"I'm on my way," she barked into the phone, before Robert could phrase a greeting.

"It's about time," he said. "He's already here. We're waiting for you, Mary."

How she hated the underlying, accusing tone in his voice. As if she wouldn't know herself that she was late!

"I know, I know. I'll be there in five minutes."

Mary had known when she had climbed out of bed this day would be bad, but it got worse by the second. Her umbrella didn't want to open and she was almost hit by a car when she crossed Cromwell Road. By the time she reached her office, her mood was down the drain like the rain was running down the busy streets of London.

She entered the law office without greetings and marched into her own office. Her secretary, Anna Smith, was behind Mary's desk, a pile of files in her hands.

"Anna, be a dear and get this dry somehow," Mary said, as she handed her the soaked, black coat.

"Yes, Ma'am. They are in the 'oval'," Anna informed her with a small smile.

The 'oval', as they called it, was the biggest conference room in the lawyer's office. Actually, it looked more like a library than anything else. The room was located in the heart of the firm. It was packed with book shelves along the walls and elegant stucco at the ceiling. Mary's grandfather and founder of the law practise found it befitting to name the room after one of the world's biggest centre of power. Her grandmother on the other hand hated the expression. Mary was convinced Violet just disliked the name, because her late husband had loved it - and because it sounded too American for Violet Crawley's ears.

After a quick gaze in the mirror, Mary brushed a brown, long strand of her hair behind her ear, drew a deep breath, and decided to enter the lion's den. On her way, she met Elsie Hughes, the head clerk of the company. She was a good looking woman in her mid-fifties, well-liked, and what was almost more important, well-respected and highly competent. Mary truly liked Mrs Hughes for her nonsense attitude, but wasn't always sure the sentiment was mutual.

"Good morning, Mrs Hughes," Mary nodded, as she passed her.

The head clerk returned the greeting without a smile, but Mary was too focused on the heavy wooden door in front of her to notice it. In there the future was waiting. The wind of change was blowing inside the oval office and the whole company. At least that was what she was told. The question was, what part she was allowed to play in this brave new world.

Just after the door had closed behind Mary, Sarah O'Brien raised her head. Her desk was in the perfect spot to watch everyone and everything that was going in the office. It was right in the middle of the antechamber, where Mrs Hughes, Anna Smith and Sarah herself and Daisy, the typist had their working space.

Knowing what was going on was always important, but in times like these it was vital. Since Patrick Crawley, the cousin and associate of Robert Crawley had been arrested for murder six weeks ago, the atmosphere in the office was irritating to say the least. The public image of the law office was highly damaged. Important clients had left and the tabloids were still eating them alive, questioning the family's every move. With every detail of the case that got exposed, the family, and therefore the office, suffered. Sarah was sure it was just a matter of time, before the first employees got sacked.

How could a family of lawyers, criminal lawyers for that matter, couldn't see they had a dangerous criminal in their midst? How could he hide from them that he didn't only kill his own father, but also another associate to cover up the desastrious outcome of a financial gamble that went wrong? These were the questions that not only the press wanted answers for. Sarah herself wondered how this could happen and why she, a good judge of character in general, didn't see through Patrick Crawley herself.

"Care for a break?" Thomas Barrow, a new intern, asked. He showed her the package of cigarettes. "I doubt they'll come out any time soon."

Sarah checked her watch. "Why not? It's not that we're drowning in work these days." Over the last couple of days the telephone only rang when the tabloids wanted another interview, or worse wanted them to confirm another rumour concerning the 'Soliciting Killer', as they had baptised him.

Sarah sighed and snatched her cigarette case out of her bag. It was time for a break.

"Very well, Matthew! Welcome to our office!" Robert rose from his chair at the table that had always reminded Mary of the Round Table of King Arthur and shook the hand of the young man next to him.

Matthew Crawley, the saviour, the messiah, Mary thought mockingly, but clapped anyway, like the rest of the assembly. Next to her sat her grandmother, Violet Crawley, an impressive lady in her seventies. Violet was Mary's role model though Mary would never admit that to anyone but herself.

Next to Violet sat Charles Carson who had been with the company as long as Mary could remember. He had been a solicitor in the office even before Robert had joined the company right after he had finished his studies in Oxford. Next to Carson Mary's sister Edith smiled up to the fair-haired messiah, perhaps because she was happy that someone else than Mary had become a partner in the office. Edith was a journalist, not a lawyer. Mary suspected that Edith was only present because she wanted to see if Mary suffered a breakdown while the rest of the family welcomed Matthew Crawley into their midst. The only other person in the room who wasn't a lawyer was Cora Crawley. Mary's mother always said she felt terrible misplaced in a family of lawyers and Mary silently agreed with her. But that never kept the mother of three from attending important events in the office – as long as her busy schedule, consisting of charity events and fashion shows, allowed it.

The one family member who was missing was Sybil, the youngest Crawley sister who had just started her studies in California - far away from family. Sybil had only agreed to join the family's profession if she were allowed to pick her university by herself. Robert had agreed and Mary would never forget the disappointment on his face when he had realized his little girl wanted to study abroad. Violet's face had been covered with red spots as soon as she learned that Sybil would move to 'LaLa-Land' as the matriarch called it.

"So, what will we call ourselves with our latest addition?" Mary asked, instantly earning a dark gaze from her grandmother. "Crawley, Crawley & Solicitors?"

Matthew Crawley seemed a bit irritated for a moment, but he sobered up quickly. "I don't think that'll be necessary. We're all family after all, aren't we?" He smiled kindly at Mary who already disliked him more for his politeness.

"I think that's wise suggestion," Violet said. "There's no need for irritation. That's only used by people who can't convince the public with common sense."

"Thank you… Mother," Robert cleared his throat. "Matthew, I think your office is ready for you. I asked Mrs Hughes to take care of everything and there's Mr Molseley who we thought could be your assistant. I assure you, he's very efficient."

Matthew nodded. "I'm sure he is. Let me thank you all for the warm welcome. I'm pleased to be here!"

"Said the rabbit caught in the headlights," Violet uttered, as she rose from her chair. With a quick wave of her hand, she ordered Mary who was about to leave to stay. "We need to talk," she said lowly. Mary obeyed reluctantly and sank back into her chair.

When everyone was gone, Violet turned to her oldest grandchild. "Well done, my dear."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mary returned swiftly.

"Of course, you do! This isn't the end, you know. One day you'll be the head of this firm."

"Who says I want to be head of this firm?" Mary returned. "As far as I am concerned my dear cousin can grow old in here."

Violet shook her head. "You're such a bad liar, but I appreciate the effort. Just one piece of advice from someone who's been around the block a few times."

Mary listened, but her right eyebrow was crooked in bored amusement. "Don't become Matthew's enemy. One day you might need him."

"Is that all?"

"Not quite. I need your help with something…." Violet's voice trailed off and she sat down next to her granddaughter. Now Mary was interested. As far as Mary remembered Violet had never asked for anyone's help before. Realizing that she was about to experience a rare moment of confidence, the young woman straightened her back.

"Pray, what is it!"

"Well, it's complicated."

"Everything's complicated."

"Aren't you too young for that kind of sentiment?"

"I'm a Crawley, Granny. A Crawley and a lawyer. There's no such thing as too young for people like us."

Violet sighed. "I'm afraid that's true."

After her conversation with Mary, Violet left the office and took a cab to pay her friend and in-law cousin Isobel Crawley an unannounced visit. Isobel co-owned a practise for psychiatrie and psychotherapie with Doctor Richard Clarkson in Harley Street. Violet considered modern psychology a dispensable form of art, but she admired Isobel for her success. She had made a life and a career of her own while she, Violet, was the widow of one of London's most famous lawyers who had given her up her own profession when she became pregnant with her oldest daughter.

Since Isobel was busy with a patient, Violet waited in the antechamber. She tried to focus on a magazine, but her mind was occupied with another matter. She hoped she hadn't misplaced her confidence when she had asked Mary to look into her personal matters. Letting someone in, even when they belonged to the family, was always a risk.

Once Isobel and her patient came out, she rose. Her hip protested more it usually did, but she had to face the fact that she wasn't getting any younger.

Isobel saw her patient, a young woman in her twenties off, and went back to Violet.

"Violet! What a surprise!" Isobel looked at her watch. "Is the meeting already over?"

"It's all said and done," Violet said and followed Isobel into her office. It was a modern room, with grey and white furniture. Two heavy, comfortable leather armchairs stood near a big window. Isobel offered Violet one of the armchairs, but she declined. "My hip is not well. I think I prefer a real chair," she said and chose the chair in front of Isobel's glass desk.

"As you wish. Coffee?"

"No, thank you. The doctor ordered less caffeine."

"Tea?"

"No. I was wondering if you are free for luncheon?" Violet didn't like Isobel's office. It was too cold for her taste and she always had the feeling of being scrutinized. The last thing she needed was an analysis by her best friend on her turf. It was annoying enough when Isobel tried to treat her outside these rooms.

Isobel sat down. "Weren't we supposed to have dinner tonight?"

Violet hesitated, "Well, yes… but…"

"Did something go wrong this morning? Was there any bad blood at the meeting?" Isobel asked alarmed.

Violet shook her head. "It's not the meeting. I can't guarantee for any bad blood between Mary and Matthew in the future though. Mary's deeply hurt by it all."

"Well, but isn't Robert the one who made the decision?" Isobel shrugged. "If Mary's angry her anger should be directed at her father not Matthew."

"Why don't we leave this particular argument to the young?" Violet asked. "Mary and Matthew are both highly professional individuals. They will work it out."

Isobel wasn't so convinced, but decided to leave the matter alone. It was obvious that Violet paid her this rare visit for another reason.

"So, why are you here?" Isobel asked.

"I'm here because I'm hungry and eating alone is boring."

Isobel wasn't fooled by Violet's sheepish smile. "Weren't we supposed to have dinner tonight?" she repeated her question.

"My plans have changed."

Isobel tilted her head. "Did they? It's just a wild guess, but is it possible that your change of plans has anything to do with this?"

Isobel opened her drawer and pulled out today's morning issue of 'The Times'. "The mysterious death of diplomat's wife Irina Kuragin under investigation," she read aloud.

"So?" Violet asked with a shrug.

"Igor is in trouble, isn't he?"

"How's Dickie?" Violet shot back. "Still married to that awful hag?"

Isobel narrowed her. "Touché."

"So where are you going for lunch?" Violet asked, pleased she had won this little battle.

Lost in her thoughts Mary sat on a bar chair in her favourite after work place near Covent Garden and stirred her martini with a toothpick. Her mood was still as bad as it had been in the morning. That her father had overlooked her to make Matthew a partner of the family's firm was just the tip of the iceberg. Robert rejecting Mary was just a symptom of the problem. Mary knew Robert had lost his faith in her since she had lost a big case last fall. She had made a mistake, a mistake no solicitor should commit. She had become sexually involved with a client and the tabloids had got wind of it. Mary had known from the beginning it was reckless and stupid - and had ignored her own good advice. Edith, her younger sister, who worked for the very same newspaper that had gone publish with the story, had done nothing to prevent the scandal nor had she given Mary or anyone else a warning. The mess Patrick had created for the family couldn't cover her failure - at least not in Roberts' eyes.

The only supportive figure in her family had been her grandmother. Violet, as crusty and difficult she could be, had always had a soft spot for Mary and today Violet had asked for her help. It was an unusual request, but, of course, Mary had agreed to do whatever Violet asked of her.

And so she found herself at the bar, waiting for a new, potential client. Violet hadn't been very precise in her description of the problem. Mary knew the issue involved the death of Irina Kuragin who was the late wife of Russian diplomat. Around Christmas she had been found dead in her husband's apartment in the Russian embassy. Many myths ranked around her death. Depending on the source Irina's death was a suicide, an accident, or murder.

"Are you Miss Crawley?"

She turned her head. The man standing next to her was about her age and one of the most attractive people she had ever encountered. He was dark haired, exotic, and his smile was ravishing.

"I am." She slit down the bar chair and shook his hand.

"Kemal Pamuk," he introduced himself. "My office told me I could find you here."

"So this is about the death of Irina Kuragin?" Mary asked, as they sat down at a table in the corner.

"It is," Pamuk confirmed. "As you can understand her death is a very delicate matter. Her husband is one of Russia's top diplomats. He cannot be linked to her unfortunate demise in any way."

"Well, he already is," Mary argued. "The papers are full of it."

"And it's your job to change that." Pamuk smiled. "Can you do that?"

"I'll do whatever I can," Mary said and raised her glass for a toast. She smiled at Kemal Pamuk, but the smile soon froze on her face. Behind Kemal she saw a man entering the bar. It was Matthew Crawley. He stopped when he recognized Mary and raised his hand to greet her. However, when he saw that she wasn't alone, he froze and turned away.

"Is something wrong?" Pamuk asked curiously when he noticed Mary's change of mood.

"No," she said curtly. "Everything's fine. Shouldn't we have dinner to discuss the details?"

"Why not? I know a good place, not far from here."

"Perfect."

The two finished their drinks and on their way out, Mary stopped at Matthew's bar chair. She looked at the menu in his hand and said, "Have a nice evening. The martini they serve around here is perfect."

Puzzled by Mary's approach, Matthew blushed. "Thanks for the tip." He nodded at Kemal Pamuk and watched him and Mary as they left the bar.

*****tbc*****