August 4, 1914
Matthew Crawley accompanied his mother to Downton Abbey for the much-anticipated garden party. Apparently Lady Grantham had suffered a seizure and the house had not entertained any guests at all until the party to ensure she had sufficient time to recover. Matthew knew his mother would fawn over Cousin Cora and interrogate Doctor Clarkson about her condition. She couldn't help herself. Once a headstrong nurse, always a headstrong nurse.
But Matthew was rather certain that Lady Grantham would be just fine—surely it would be quite obvious if she were not—and he was instead more concerned about seeing Mary again. She was back home from London. She was back, and she had not given him any word at all.
As much as he hated himself for it, Matthew was quite convinced that she was going to let him down. Either she did not want to marry him and never did but worried about being on bad terms with the heir to her father's estate or else she was worried about his prospects of perhaps not being the heir now that Cora was having another child. Whichever it was, Matthew would be disappointed. Mary had been truthful with him always, he felt. She had been honest with him about her feelings on things, and that was how he'd fallen in love with her. Didn't she trust him enough to be truthful now? He did not want to doubt her, but common sense dictated otherwise in this circumstance.
When he arrived on the grand back lawn of Downton Abbey, he saw the beautiful marquees fluttering in the breeze and he saw everyone dressed in their beautiful light summer clothing. Sybil was there, talking excitedly to a redheaded maid and to the chauffeur, Branson. Edith was with Cousin Violet and some other ladies with pretty parasols. Cousin Robert was visible tending to Cousin Cora who was reclined on a chaise in one of the tents. Matthew had it in his mind to greet his hosts first, but then he saw Mary. And his heart caught in his throat.
She wore a striped dress that highlighted the shape of her, the curve of her cheekbone and her pretty waist and her elegant stature. Tall and pale and magnificent. And in that moment, Matthew knew what he had to do. Regardless of what Mary would say, he had to take hold of his life before Mary's spell tore him asunder.
He went towards her as though in a dream. She turned to see him and brightened in surprise. "Matthew!" she greeted.
"May I have a word with you?" he asked in a low tone.
"Of course."
Mary led him away from the party to a large oak tree where they could be shielded from observation, and he was grateful for that.
When they stopped walking, she turned to him and spoke first. "I must apologize for avoiding you as I have. I've had a lot of time to think, you see, and I certainly needed it."
"Before you go on, there's something I have to say," Matthew interrupted.
She looked startled. "Alright then," she allowed.
"I'm leaving Downton. I'm going to go back to Manchester where I belong. I'm a solicitor, Mary, not an earl-in-training. I don't belong here. And I was living in a dream this last year. It's time I wake up."
Her eyes went wide. "What are you saying?"
"You weren't going to marry me. And I don't want you to have to worry about it any longer," he answered.
Mary shook her head vehemently. "That's not it at all," she insisted. "I needed to tell you the truth, and I was afraid you'd not want to marry me."
Matthew felt a vice grip around his chest. "You mean you do want to marry me?"
"Assuming the offer still stands."
"What did you mean when you said you had to tell me the truth?"
Mary swallowed hard and steeled herself. It was incredible to witness, the way she took hold of her whole being like that. And she told him of the Turkish gentleman, Mr. Pamuk, who was no true gentleman at all, it seemed. She told him of her folly, of the moment of weakness that had led to her ruin and to his death, of the rumors that spread afterwards and the loss of her virtue that spelled the doom of her life. "And that's why I couldn't accept your proposal when you asked to marry me," she finished. "I've never been able to keep anything from you, Matthew, but I did keep that. I had to. But I couldn't bear to let you think me good and pure and worthy when I am in fact none of those things."
The words tumbled around his mind, taunting and torturing him. "I…" He hardly knew what to say. He had nothing to say.
With a gentle hand, Mary reached out to touch his arm, tears filling her eyes but not daring to fall. "Don't leave. Even if you don't want to marry me anymore, don't leave. Don't do that to Papa. There is every chance that the baby will be a girl again, and he'll need you. And even if the baby is a boy, you're an important part of this family, Matthew. I don't know what any of us would do without you."
Matthew just stared at her. He knew he should speak. He should be angry or hurt or something. But his whole body felt numb and his mind was utterly blank. He just stared at her.
Mary gave a curt nod. "I should get back to the party. I'll let you think things over."
And Matthew just stared at her as she walked away.
Cora Crawley tried not to let anyone see as she placed a hand on her belly. In the last day or so, she thought her pregnancy was starting to become more noticeable. Perhaps only to her. Perhaps she was still recovering from the seizure. She did seem to be quite tired all the time now, and her body had a strange, foreign feeling to it that she did not like at all.
"Pardon me, Your Ladyship."
She looked up to see Thomas standing nearby. "Hello, Thomas," she greeted the footman.
"I wanted to see if you'd like a bit of iced cake," he offered.
Cora smiled. "I would, actually. Have you got a napkin handy?"
Thomas provided a piece of cake on a napkin for her. "Here you are, My Lady."
"Thank you very much," she answered.
"I wanted to mention, too, that I've an old family friend who is trained as a lady's maid, and she's been in London working as a seamstress for the last three years, but she is looking to return to service and to Yorkshire. I've provided Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes with her name and references, but I hope that she'll be found acceptable," Thomas said.
Cora's smile grew, even as she had cake in her mouth. She shouldn't have started eating while Thomas was still stood there. It was rather rude and unbecoming of the Countess of Grantham, and if Mama could see her, she'd be appalled.
Perhaps her body wasn't the only thing that was starting to betray her during this pregnancy. Now it was her good sense gone, too!
Once she'd swallowed, Cora told Thomas that she was eager to meet this potential lady's maid, and she thanked him very much for his recommendation. The footman left to continue his duties, and Cora was left by herself to gorge on cake and to think of the happy prospect of having a lady's maid once again. Even if it was someone new after having O'Brien with her for the last ten years, having a maid at all would be some normalcy that would surely help her manage these next few months of pregnancy and beyond. From experience, Cora knew that it was only going to be more difficult.
Sir Anthony Strallen arrived at the Downton Abbey garden party a bit later than he'd wanted. He tried to greet Lady Mary, but she did not see him and was instead detained by Mr. Crawley. Sir Anthony did not blame her.
Besides, Lady Mary was not the Crawley daughter he was really looking for. He scanned the crowd in hopes of finding the shine of beautiful blonde curls. And then some movement caught his eye.
The lovely Lady Edith had spotted him and was practically jogging across the lawns toward him. The exuberance of youth was a marvelous thing to witness. And Lady Edith was marvelous. She was smart and sweet and polite and had that youthful optimism that made him feel like he himself was young again, too. Like life was just starting out and there was a whole world of things left to do and see and discover. Like he could do anything so long as she was by his side.
"Sir Anthony, it's so lovely to see you," Lady Edith greeted.
"And you, my dear," he replied, taking her gloved hand and kissing the back of it.
She blushed, and he got such a thrill of causing her to react that way.
"I'm glad you found me. I've been eager to get the chance to speak with you today," he said.
"Oh?" she answered breathily.
"Lady Edith, I am afraid that I am not a very poetic man, though right now I wish that I was."
She gasped slightly. "Y-you do?" she stammered nervously.
"I only say that because I think you deserve flowers and love poems and all the things that only Lord Byron could hope to convey. But seeing as I am not Lord Byron and instead only myself, I want to ask for your hand in marriage."
"Yes," Lady Edith answered immediately.
He was taken aback by her quick response. "You mean you do want to marry me?"
"More than anything," she assured.
Sir Anthony suddenly found himself flustered. He had hoped she would accept, of course, but he had anticipated that she would ask to have some time to think about it. After all, he was nearly her father's age and had already buried one wife. He had not expected a woman so young and lovely and clever to accept so readily. But he was ever so pleased that she had. "Oh I'm so glad," he said to her. He leaned in and boldly kissed her cheek, causing her to go bright red.
She put her head down to hide her blush and her uncontrolled grin. When she looked back up at him, her dark eyes were alight with joy. "Come, we should tell Mama and Papa."
He allowed her to take his arm and lead him to the marquee where her parents were seated.
Robert Crawley reached over and held his wife's hand. It had been quite the eventful garden party already. Sybil was off celebrating with Gwen, the maid, over Gwen's new job as a secretary. Mary had gone off to talk to Matthew and they'd returned separately and not spoken to each other thereafter. Mama and Rosamund were whispering about something, which was never a prospect that Robert enjoyed. Doctor Clarkson had come by to check on Cora and also inform them that their footman, Thomas, had sought to apply to a training course for the medical corps. And Edith and Sir Anthony Strallen had just left after receiving Robert and Cora's blessing on their engagement.
"They'll be alright, darling," Cora told him softly. "He cares for her, and even if he's not what we really wanted or expected, he's a good man and he'll be able to provide a good life for her."
"Do you think she'll be happy?" Robert asked.
She hesitated. "I think she'd be unhappy to remain unmarried too much longer. And I think the life she'll have will be the one she's expecting." Cora gave his hand a little squeeze. "I don't think she'll know happiness with him like I've known with you. But I know that our life is not something that everyone can have."
Robert had to agree with her there. Edith might not have the happiness that he and Cora had been blessed with, but at least Edith would be taken care of and matched with a good man with good standing in the county. In all honesty, that was probably the best that Robert could realistically anticipate for Edith. She'd never been as well-liked as either of her sisters, and she never seemed effortless with anything. But she'd caught Sir Anthony Strallen's eye, and Cora was right, Sir Anthony was a good man who could provide a good life for their daughter.
Still, it was hard to get excited over the man. And it was terribly strange to think that it was Edith who had gotten engaged to be married before Mary did. Though it looked like there was not a definite answer for Mary just yet. Matthew still hadn't spoken to her as far as Robert had seen.
He sighed and turned his attention back to Cora. "Are you warm enough?" he asked. After all, she had suffered a seizure just last week. Robert was rather certain this was the first time she'd been outside since then.
She smiled at him sweetly. "I am when you're holding my hand."
They shared an affectionate chuckle, though their light flirting was interrupted as Carson walked up with a silver tray holding a telegram and letter opener.
"Your Lordship, this has just arrived for you."
Robert took it and stood up to open and read the telegram. It was from Shrimpie at the Foreign Office. The words seemed to leap off the page at him. Robert's heart sank into his stomach and all the air left his lungs as though he'd been struck.
He removed his hat and waved it around as he jogged out of the tent and out onto the lawn where the partygoers were dispersed. "Please! Would you stop, please?" he called. "My lords, ladies, and gentlemen, can I ask for silence?"
The music halted. Conversations stopped. Staff and guests alike turned toward him expectantly.
"Because I very much regret to announce that we are at war with Germany."