King's Cross Station, London, November 1913

"Aren't we going to catch the train to Darlington?" asked Mary in confusion when the only ticket Matthew purchased was for Anna.

Matthew grinned happily.

"No," he said. "We have to pick something up first."

Mary froze, barely paying attention to Matthew arranging the loading of their luggage and making sure Anna got onboard. She had a horrible feeling of déjà vu and she was desperately hoping she was wrong.

She wasn't. After a short cab drive, she found herself led by Matthew straight into a car salon.

"It's Vauxhall Prince Henry," said Matthew proudly, caressing shiny red and chrome car. "As you see, it's a four-seater and it can go up to 80 miles per hour."

Mary's hands tightened their already painful grip on her purse.

At least it wasn't the green AC. It was a different car. It looked different, bulkier and heavier. She already went on multiple drives with Matthew. She should be over her fear of cars. She had thought she was. She really had thought she was.

"Don't you like it?" asked Matthew with a frown, picking up on his wife lack of enthusiasm and pinched, pale face.

"You already bought us a car," she said faintly. "We have a chauffeur."

"We do," admitted Matthew, still frowning questioningly. "But I want that car and the chauffeur available to you while I am at work. Eryholme is quite isolated, I don't want you to be stuck if I go anywhere."

It was reasonable. Of course it was reasonable. If only she could be reasonable about Matthew driving a sports car by himself.

"Wouldn't a different car be better?" she asked desperately. "Maybe a Rolls Royce like Sir Anthony's?"

It would still be bad, but Sir Anthony's car looked somehow more... stately and safe.

"Sir Anthony's car is superb," agreed Matthew easily. "It is also three times as expensive."

He trailed off, looking at Mary thoughtfully and feeling his enthusiasm dissipate.

"You really don't like it, do you?"

Mary hated seeing his disappointment, she really did. She just feared for him more.

"I'm afraid of sports cars," she blurted out. Matthew gave her an incredulous look.

"The way you are riding Diamond I would have never thought you would be afraid of speed."

Mary glared at him.

"As it is in any way the same! I'm in perfect control of Diamond. I know I have the skill necessary to handle him at great speeds or sudden turns. Those machines though – they can be dangerous. They can kill you in a moment when you least expect it."

Despite her determination to remain calm and reasonable, the last sentence came warbled with held back tears. Matthew's face softened. His hand caressed Mary's cheek gently.

"I'm sorry for scaring you then or making light of your fears. But I promise you, darling, it is quite safe. I will not be driving it too fast, especially until I learn how to handle this particular car properly. I'm sorry for surprising you like that – I didn't realise you had such fears, you seemed to be alright on our drives – and I had so much fun taking you for a spin through the countryside, just the two of us, no chauffeur to consider," he took a deep breath. "If you are really dead set against it, I will sell it – but I would so love to have an opportunity to change your mind."

Mary looked at his eager, hopeful face and started to waver. She was still terrified – dead terrified – but at least it wasn't the same car. She did get used to Matthew taking her for a drive – in the car he borrowed from Peter Harvill or this one time he borrowed one of the Downton cars to inspect Eryholme. Granted, none of them had been a sports car, but she remembered all too well the panic which had overtaken her when she first had seen Matthew behind a wheel of a car for the first time since the accident. She had managed to overcome it – could she do it again?

Her first response was a resounding no – there was simply no way – and yet she wanted to cave in. She remembered very well how much joy driving had brought Matthew – to be perfectly truthful, how much joy it had brought them both until that terrible day. Could she get pass it? At least enough to agree to that?

She took a deep, fortifying breath and decided determinedly to be brave.

"Very well," she said in carefully controlled voice. "Let's get this car since you already bought it. But you must," she glared at him fiercely. "You simply must swear to me you will be careful. You won't be driving when tired or distracted and you will be paying attention to the road. Will you?"

"Of course, darling! I give you my word," said Matthew solemnly, then a brilliant smile overtook his face. "And thank you!"

Mary willingly let herself be distracted by a searing, grateful kiss from him before he helped her into the blasted vehicle.

Eryholme, November 1913

It was dark by the time they reached their home.

Mary stopped clenching her teeth about halfway between London and Yorkshire. She focused with all her might on every little difference in experience and reminded herself that it was not the same car. Fortunately, it was easier than she expected. For the start, the Vauxhall was much louder than the AC. It was also far less smooth and powerful. She supposed the art of making automobiles had to advance much in the seven years separating 1913 from 1920; not that she ever cared much about the details. It was clear though that this car was much less advanced in some ways and it helped her to keep panic at bay.

What helped even more was seeing the care Matthew put into fulfilling his promise to her and making her as much at ease as possible. He was driving quite slowly and carefully, paying his full attention to the road, but also maintaining conversation to take her mind off the fear. It was working. It did not make her forget her fears, but it did lessen them enough for her not to regret agreeing to it.

She still exhaled with relief when they finally reached Eryholme and parked in front of their house. Molesley stepped out eagerly to help Mary out of the vehicle and take their remaining luggage.

"Thank you, Molesley. Has Smith arrived alright?"

"Yes, milady, Mr Peters got her and your luggage from the station at Darlington. I think she finished unpacking your suitcases, milady, while I unpacked Mr Crawley's."

"Thank you, Molesley," said Matthew with a smile, offering his arm to Mary to lead her into the house. "How long until dinner? I have to admit I'm starving."

"Mrs Gruntler can have it ready within half an hour, sir. She was keeping it warm since we weren't sure what time you will arrive. She said she hopes you won't mind a simpler fare than usual."

"Definitely not, Molesley, please set her at ease on that point. We will just quickly refresh and change out of our travelling clothes and we will be perfectly glad to eat something simple. Please see to setting up dinner, I can manage by myself for now."

Molesley, long used to his master's idiosyncrasies, didn't even blink at his dismissal of any valet's assistance and went promptly to fulfil his butler duties. Being a butler in a proper manor house, even a small one, was more than fulfilling his ambitions for the time being.

Mary sent her husband a sardonic look at that, but as he just winked at her unapologetically, she didn't bother with chiding him and hurried to her own dressing room. She longed to get out of her dusty clothes and use the water closet after the long drive.

Master bedroom, Eryholme, November 1913

Anna came into the bedroom and put down the heavy tray on Lady Mary's bedside table. She noticed Mr Crawley stirring besides his wife as she drew the curtains, letting the weak November sunlight in. She tried very hard not to notice that he was bare-chested. Well, she hoped she at least managed to look like she didn't notice.

She nearly laughed when she heard his murmured words to Lady Mary, waking up as well.

"It seems rather shocking for Anna to have to see me en deshabille."

"I'm made of stout stuff, sir. Don't worry about it," she said brightly. Not to mention, she could hardly be shocked by finding the master in his wife's bed after accompanying them both on their honeymoon. Nobody who did could be left in any doubt that those two loved each other very much – and clearly passionately so.

When she was closing the door behind her, she couldn't help overhearing the rest of their quiet conversation.

"I'm sorry. It still seems odd to be found in your bed."

"But very nice."

"Oh, as nice as nice can be..."

Anna walked to the kitchen with a smile.

Servants' Hall, Eryholme, November 1913

"Lady Mary said they will want breakfast served in about an hour, Mrs Gruntler," said Anna, returning from delivering the tray with Lady Mary and Mr Crawley's tea.

"Isn't she going to eat in bed, considering that she is a married lady?" asked Edna with interest. That's how it was done in her previous household.

Anna shook her head.

"She probably often will, and definitely when they are visiting or have company here, but when it's just her and Mr Crawley she prefers to share breakfast with him for now."

"They are newly married," Mrs Gruntler smiled indulgently. "Only natural they want to make moony eyes at each other over breakfast."

"He's nice looking. I'll give him that," said Edna appreciatively, making Anna frown. She was not sure why Edna's comment seemed to her more inappropriate than Mrs Gruntler's, but it did.

"I don't think you're required to give him anything," she pointed out curtly. Strange as it still seemed to her, she was in position of authority over Edna.

Edna just glared at her slightly, but young Ethel jumped into her defence.

"She got eyes, doesn't she? We all do."

"It's still not our place to comment," said Anna sternly. "He is our employer and the master of the house."

Ethel rolled her eyes but didn't quarrel further. Anna thought with longing about Downton and Gwen. Not to mention leaving any reprimands of such kind to Mrs Hughes.

Thankfully the housemaids got distracted by entrance of Peters, Ryder and Whinslow. As they were outside staff, each with their own little cottage in a row of them behind the service yard, they should in truth see to their own meals, but since they were all single young men, and the staff at Eryholme not numerous, Mrs Gruntler, with Lady Mary's permission, agreed to feed them at servants' hall. Neither of the young men minded a hearty meal they didn't have to cook and the company of pretty, young girls to share it. Seeing Ethel's coquettish glances at them, Anna just prayed it wouldn't result in some kind of trouble.

Breakfast room, Eryholme, November 1913

"Must you really have an office in Darlington?" asked Mary with dismay. "Couldn't you work from here?"

"I could, most of the time, and I expect I often will," said Matthew. "But I will need a clerk and a secretary and I don't think you would like them to come here every day. Not to mention not all the clients I will be working with I would like to invite into my own home. It could establish a much closer relationship than I would like to have with many of them."

Mary sighed, conceding his point. It had been much better when he had been Joint Master of Downton and spending significant portion of his time with her, having reduced his hours at the Ripon firm. Then she immediately chastised herself for being ungrateful for her miraculous second chance. They were married, living by themselves in a lovely home of their own, with hopefully years of happiness ahead of them. She should not complain about him having a job.

"I will just miss you," she admitted. "You better not keep long hours at this office of yours or I will be rather cross with you."

Matthew sent her a smouldering look which made it rather hard to breathe.

"As if I could stay away from you for long," he said huskily. "So, will you go with me to look at possible locations?"

"I guess I will," acquiesced Mary, sending him a sultry look of her own and smugly noticing it made him gulp. "But I hope you're not in any hurry?"

"I'm not," said Matthew slowly. "We have over two hours until my appointment with the first possible landlord."

"Good," purred Mary. "Then you have time to see what you will be missing in the office."

Road between Darlington and Downton, November 1913

"Well, now that the lease for the office is signed, I can start recruiting. And since I made a promise to Sybil, I will try to have my first interview tonight," said Matthew as they were driving to Downton for dinner to welcome them back from their honeymoon.

"Tonight? You don't mean Sybil, do you?" asked Mary incredulously.

Matthew laughed.

"No, not Sybil herself. Her protégé," seeing Mary's puzzled expression, he elaborated. "The maid, Gwen. Apparently, she wants to be a secretary and I promised Sybil I would give her an interview if I were ever in need of one."

Mary groaned.

"Thank God at least that it's after our wedding and we got Anna established at Eryholme. I'm not sure it will be Mama or Mrs Hughes who will be most enraged with us for further poaching of their servants."

"I can easily find a secretary somewhere else," said Matthew, having the good grace to look sheepish. "But I did promise Sybil..."

Mary sent him a dry look.

"Let's hope Gwen will do terribly at the interview then. It's your only chance to fulfil your promise to Sybil and avoid getting in hot water with Mama and Mrs Hughes."

Now it was Matthew's turn to groan.

Dining Room, Downton Abbey, November 1913

After the newlyweds have been welcomed properly and their new vehicle exclaimed over, the dinner could start. Isobel and Violet were of course invited, as well as Sir Anthony. Martha Levinson was present as well, obviously not yet bored of Yorkshire enough to go travelling before Edith's wedding.

"So, how did you enjoy the South of France?" asked Martha, cutting her asparagus.

"It was lovely, but almost too hot, even now," answered Mary, barely restraining her giggles at Matthew's reddened ears. He was probably thinking of all the sights and attractions they hadn't bothered to visit. And how they had occupied themselves instead.

"I think it's such a shame they close things up during the summer. I love the sun."

"So we can see," murmured Violet under her breath, making Sybil cover her mouth to hide her laughter.

"Oh, you couldn't be in Cannes in the summer. No one could bear it," Mary hastened to cover for her youngest sister, sending her a sideways glare.

"I could," answered Martha with conviction. "I quite enjoyed California when Harold took me there."

"What was Harold doing in California?" asked Cora with interest. She herself had never seen the West Coast and quite regretted it. She wondered if she had a chance to convince Robert to make an extensive trip to America in a few years, when they will get all their daughters married.

"He was investigating film industry there as a potential investment," shrugged Martha disinterestedly. "I mostly attended the parties and the beach. Both quite different from New York or Newport."

"Where are you planning to go for your honeymoon, Edith?" asked Matthew with friendly curiosity. Edith blushed, delighted at his interest and the topic.

"I don't know, actually. Anthony doesn't want to tell me."

Sir Anthony smiled at her fondly.

"I'm afraid it's supposed to be a surprise. I just hope Edith will like the destination."

"Oh, I'm sure I will!" assured him Edith with an adoring expression. Mary was very proud of herself for not rolling her eyes at her sister predictably making a display of herself – and over Sir Anthony Strallan of all people!

She must have been less successful at controlling her face than she thought because Matthew sent her a quelling look and Edith a poisonous one.

She sighed. She really could not wait to see Edith married and on her marry way. Pity they only planned to be away for about three weeks.

Drawing room, Eryholme, November 1913

Marta Levinson looked around the bright drawing room with its French doors and flowery sofas with approval. As impressive as Cora's house was, it was nice to see a room which was decorated and furnished by someone who noticed they were living in the 20th century.

She turned her eyes to her eldest granddaughter with equal satisfaction. Coming for her wedding was the first time she saw her since Mary's debutante ball four years earlier and she liked what she saw. Mary was poised, obviously intelligent and more mature than she really expected from Cora's often exasperated letters. It was satisfying to see her well settled, even if her husband's current position and fortune left a lot to be desired.

"Are you content to be a solicitor's wife for possibly decades yet?" she asked in her usual blunt manner.

Mary raised her eyebrows.

"If I wasn't going to be, now would be a bit late for regrets, wouldn't it?" she parried smoothly and picked up her teacup.

"Quite," admitted Martha. "But the question still stands – do you think you can be satisfied with your lot after the first rush of new marriage is over? I hate to quote Violet, but marriage is a long business as she likes to point out."

Mary looked at her seriously.

"I can assure you, Grandmama, that I wish for nothing more than for my marriage to be long. Whether Matthew remains a solicitor until we're fifty or not, is immaterial."

"You really do love him," noted Martha with some surprise. She had of course noticed clear signs of infatuation and passion between the newlyweds both at their wedding and their recent visit to Downton, but she didn't think it went much deeper than that to be honest. She wondered briefly if she didn't get too cynical.

"I do," answered Mary plainly. "More than I've ever thought it possible myself."

Library, Eryholme, November 1913

"I wanted to show you something," said Matthew with enthusiasm, leading her towards the big mahogany desk in the corner. Mary looked with interest at a big map displayed on it.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Detailed map of Eryholme estate. I didn't tell you before – I wanted to have it all discussed and agreed upon with your father beforehand – but we didn't just get the house from him. We are responsible for the estate as well."

"We are?" asked Mary with surprise. "Why?"

Matthew shrugged.

"What I told him was that it would be a good practice for us before we are responsible for Downton. Eryholme estate is much smaller, so we can try different projects on a smaller scale and see how they work out, without the risk we would have to undertake if we introduced them at Downton."

Mary raised her eyebrows.

"It's what you told Papa – but it isn't true?"

"Oh, it is," Matthew gave her a playful smile. "But it is not my main motivation. You see, I want you to be in charge of running this estate."

For a moment, Mary was truly speechless.

"Me? But why?" she finally managed.

"Because you are going to be brilliant at it," said Matthew confidently. "And I am going to be much too busy to take full responsibility for the day to day business of the estate as well. I will of course want to be kept updated and would love to talk over any ideas or problems you have, but ultimately I was thinking that you are the best person for the job. Whenever we take over Downton – and I dearly hope it will be many years before it happens – I want us to be true partners. And I hope you will have some fun having something to do besides entertaining and paying calls. You did seem to complain about it a lot and I want you to be as happy as I am, now that we are married."

Mary was not sure what to say. She was not sure if she would be able to say anything, even if she knew what she wanted to say. Nobody ever showed such faith in her abilities before – nobody but Matthew who, in their previous lives, had willed his share of Downton to her, for the same reasons he now was giving her the responsibility of running their little estate for them. He believed in her, he respected her, and he understood that she wanted and was capable of more than the society intended for her. She could feel tears gathering in her eyes and, before they could fall, threw herself into his embrace and kissed him deeply.