There was a still a somber air surrounding Edith a few weeks after she had been jilted at the altar. Mary felt it was her fault in some way, having wished her sister luck on her wedding day. Don't be ridiculous.
Edith's birthday would be coming up soon but Mary doubted she'd be wanting to celebrate.
She had gained a softer side for her sister. Matthew had brought that out in her, or perhaps it had been the war, a combination of both, put everything into retrospect.
She and Matthew had taken a walk down the garden path, sitting on the bench. He still rarely got out, unless it was to the office, he'd gotten his old job back (since the many young boys that completed law school before they were called to war had died.) Branson drove him to and from work in the village. It was mostly filing, since he'd been away for for five years. It was half way through 1920. The world was changing, new laws being put in place. Matthew would have to partake in a lot of studying to get caught up and that would cut into most of his and Mary's time. She found it strange, that he didn't want things to change, at least that's what she sensed from him, Matthew who had been adamant about changing with the times. Another year he outlived his friends. Why would he feel guilty about that? He was fortunate to come back to those who love him. She never understood it. Yes, she understood survivors quilt was a part of it.
She supposed, he'll always feel guilty about it. But enough of that. Think happy thoughts. You're out here enjoying the weather with your husband. What more could I ask for?
She wanted to spend as much time with him as she could. But that wasn't the only thing that was on her mind. It kept coming back to her sister, annoyingly.
"You're making that face." He said in his soft, soothing voice, without looking at her, giving her a side grin.
"What face?" She replied, as if she didn't know what he was talking about.
"It scrunches up when you're contemplating something."
"I'm not doing it on purpose." A pause. "How do you know this isn't my normal face?" She challenged.
"I know your normal face. And that isn't it." He changed his tone to a concerning one, something's bothering you."
"Just thinking about Edith."
She and Matthew were still coming down from the high of the honeymoon. They had only been married a month. She didn't ever want to come down from it. And yet didn't seem right to be happy around her, enjoying married life. Old Mary would have flaunted it around her. So many conflicting emotions.
She dodged that old booby. It was for the best.
There she is. Part of her old self. Is this what it feels like for Matthew? When parts of his previous self, life, it seemed like, came back in flickers like a picture screen. It's not anywhere near that. When he first came here then. Determined to not let us change him.
He did loose parts of who he used to be but he was still the same Matthew, as she was still Mary. No matter how many times she'd tell him that, he didn't want to listen. She knew what topics to avoid, to not start an argument. More irritable Matthew. They still never talked about the war. Since it's been over for two, almost three years, there wasn't any need too. A small part of her had hoped that he would, someday. The anniversary of the Armistice was four months away. Last year he didn't do so great with the first anniversary.
"You're worried about her." Matthew was taking amusement in this. He was in truth, touched by it. Rare instances was she ever kind to Edith. "You care about her."
"Maybe. Just a little."
"There's my Mary. My true Mary."
She turned to face him. "What do you mean by that?" not knowing whether or not to be insulted or flattered. It was always something different with him. That was one of the many things she loved about him.
"You always put on a front, but I know the real you. A compassionate, fierce woman. And I have you all to myself."
"That's sort of the point though, while we're indulging ourselves, she's locked herself off in a tower like one of those dreaded fairy tales."
"What's so bad about fairytales?" We're living one aren't we? But even fairy tales don't end with happily ever after.
"I'm more Homer and Shakespeare, and Greek mythology. You should know, Perseus."
"I thought I was the sea monster, and saw him as the prince that he truly was."
"That's not how the story goes. "But that was exactly how it went. She'd never openly admit it. To Matthew she didn't have to.
He waited for her to say something. Her face scrunched again. It was almost the same expression as when she worried. Only he could tell them apart. It took every bit in him not to laugh. He simply placed his hand on her knee, squeezing it with affection. "I think..." He patted her knee before resting it there again, "Edith can sort this out on her own. She just needs her time and a bit of space. And we should in no way feel guilty of anything."
But you are. You still feel guilty about the war. Thinking, Mary slightly frowned up at him.
"We should enjoy every last minute. Only best not do it when she's around." Speaking of fairy tales, I never got a chance to carry you across the threshold, or in this case wheel you across the threshold. "
"You haven't been having to use it that often..."
"No, no. Nothing like that. I won't be able to carry you and I want to save my energy."
It took her a moment to get at what he was saying, just a flutter of her eyelashes as she blinked. "Mr. Crawley, when you say those things." She said flirtatiously. She put her gloved hand to his face and leaned in to kiss him.
"How much time do we have before they ring for tea?" She asked, pulling away.
He took out his pocket watch. She didn't know where it had come from or when he had gotten it. Though it was obvious it meant a great deal to him, had a sentimental value. If it still interested her, she'd ask about it later. For now she didn't want to lose this.
"Fifteen, twenty minutes..." He snapped it shut and stuffed it back in his pocket. "Tops."
"They can do without us. We'll have it brought up to bed."
Sometime later, downstairs, Miss Patmore was making a small cake for Daisy and Edith for their upcoming birthdays. Daisy's was at the end of July, and Edith's was the next week, the beginning of August. Sugar and butter were still rationed, so they had to make due. It would also be a troublesome task because she was not used to the new stove yet.
Tally had pointed this and offered to help. She was the far cry from the shy sixteen year old girl that she was when she started at Downton. She knew how to counteract the elder cook's bite.
"You don't know this stove. You've got to damp it."
Miss Patmore poured the batter into the pan and tried to shoo the girl away. "I've been baking cakes since before half this staff was born. I know what I'm doing." Daisy was hardly going to bake her own cake was she?
Miss Hughes cleared her through and the two looked up.
"Miss Hughes, I just thought, Miss Patmore was looking unwell. I wanted to help."
"I thank you for your concern, but when it comes to the well being of our staff, is between me and Mr Carson."
"Yes." Miss Patmore agreed, now go on. I have it managed here. You must have something better to do than standing there, worrying about me."
"Miss Stevens what became of that mending I gave you? Lady Edith's dress?"
"Oh!" She had nearly forgotten. "I'll be right on it Miss."
Miss Hughes stopped her before she could round
"Miss Stevens, may I remind you, that you are a scullery maid, not a cook. Though I'll allow you to take lessons. I'll perhaps put in a word to Mrs. Crawley's cook."
"Thank you! Ever so kindly."
"Shh...you didn't get the idea from me." She gave a faint smile as shook her head as the girl continued to retreat. She was nearly past the stairs when Lady Mary appeared.
She came down to ask Miss Patmore to bake a cake for Edith's birthday but she saw that discovered that she was already on it. Miss Patmore's words exactly.
"Already on it, My Lady."
What could gift could she give to her sister now without saying that she was trying to hard? She had no idea what Edith liked. Matthew, he would know. They often gave each other records or borrowed them off each other. She'll ask him what band she liked.
Was that how out of touch she and her sister had become? How had she let it get that far, that she had to ask her husband.
"Where is Edith by the way? Have you come across her by chance?"
"Out walking." Tally chimed in. She had stopped to a halt to her destination.
"Walking? In this?" After she had gotten out of bed, after lying with Matthew, she had gone over to the window. A fog had started to creep over the Yorkshire downs. But it wasn't yet thick.
"Yes, milady. She went out after breakfast."
"That long ago? But where?"
"Just for a walk, that's all she said. Said she felt confined. You can hardly blame her." She turned her head to stove and fought the urge to damp it.
"No, you're right. It's just that I worry."
"Of course you do, milady."
"Well, if she doesn't come back before this fog gets worse, we might have to set out a search party for her." Tally said.
Miss Hughes stated, "Hopefully it won't come to that."
Mary thanked them all and headed up the stairs. She was going out to find her sister. She didn't have to look far. She was in the stables, where she often hid when they were children, to avoid riding lessons.
"I made a stop over to the Drew's place." Edith didn't specify why. "You were worried about me!"
"No I wasn't. Other people might. God, Edith you're being such a child, running off like that."
"I didn't run off. I was going to the Drew's and made it back here before it got worse. I didn't want to go back inside yet because I knew you'd ridicule me."
"I'm not ridiculing you. If it makes me less than an evil she witch, then yes. I do care about you."
The sister's were bonding, mending fences or were they? It was going nowhere to Mary.
"Come on, we should head back before it does get worse. I'm not going to risk smelling like a barn."
"I'm sure Matthew wouldn't mind." Heat rushed to Mary's cheeks. It wasn't from embarrassment. "Where were you this morning, when I went out? How long did it take to notice?"
"Just a few minutes ago."
"I was gone all morning."
"I was the only one who did. And if Sybil was here, she'd have noticed too." Sybil had left for Dublin the previous morning, to stay with Branson and his family there.
"You'd choose him over me, wouldn't you?"
"What on earth...?" What cockamamie excuse was she stirring up now, just to get a rise out of her? But she knew. She knew what or rather who she meant.
"If it came down to it, if it was me, Sybil or Papa, if you could only save one of us, you'd chose your husband over us."
"What kind of question is that?"
"Just answer it. You never cared about anyone else but yourself and what suited you."
Mary turned around angrily. "Yes, Edith, if it always came down to it, I would always choose Matthew! He's family! And families the reason why I came out here. Family comes first."
"There we are then."
Did they finally come to an agreement on something? Did Edith just trick her?
Before either them could think of anything to say, that wasn't an insult, they could smell burning.
"Do you smell smoke?" Edith craned her head but could not tell the difference between the smoke or fog.
Mary slowly turned her head to Edith, but all she was thinking was, Matthew!