Drawing room, Lady Rosamund Painswick's house, December 1913
Lady Rosamund forcibly stopped herself from pacing while waiting for Sir Richard to arrive. It was vital to for her to remain composed and collected during the discussion they must have. She heard Meade greeting him and took a fortifying breath.
"My dear," he greeted her with a cordial kiss on the cheek. "Your summons sounded quite urgent. Whatever is the matter?"
"Please sit first," she said. "Can I offer you a drink?"
"Whisky and water, please," Richard agreed, looking at her shrewdly as she mixed it herself and handed it to him. She did not make herself one, despite craving it desperately.
"I summoned you here because I'm pregnant," she announced with her usual bluntness.
Richard gaped at her.
"How?" he managed to say after a while. Rosamund shrugged.
"I am forty two. Apparently it was too early to give up the prospect of children for good. My childless marriage must have been Marmaduke's fault after all."
She was proud of herself for saying it all in a formal and cold manner.
"You are certain?" asked Richard with narrowed eyes.
She nodded.
"I am. I consulted a doctor and he had no doubts."
"And how far along are you?"
"Barely few weeks. We have time to make arrangements if we decide to marry after all."
Richard's eyes narrowed even more.
"Marry?" he said in a low voice, nearly a growl.
Rosamund shrugged delicately again. It was crucial to make him feel like it was his decision, like he was not forced into anything. She knew that anything else would end in a disaster.
"I do not expect anything of you. If you are not willing to marry me, I am perfectly able to make other arrangements. Find a discrete doctor, go for an extended trip abroad – I haven't decided yet. But I wanted to give you this option as well. Isn't that what you wanted when you expressed interest in my niece? To marry an Earl's daughter and sire a son with noble blood?"
"We cannot know if it's going to be a boy."
"No. But you just have to look at my brother to be reminded that marrying a girl of nineteen is no guarantee of having one either."
"A girl of nineteen would have opportunity to try again. This is likely to be your only child."
"Yes. But it is your child and if it's born, it will be a grandchild of an Earl. It's up to you whether you claim it or not. As I said, I have other options if you will not."
"I need time to consider it. You rather startled me, my dear," he said with a wry smile and Rosamund felt the first stirrings of hope.
She was not bluffing. She was fully prepared to deal with the matter herself if she had to. But she always wanted a child and she would be overjoyed to have an opportunity to keep that unexpected one. Being married to Richard was not an unpleasant prospect either. They did get along nicely, in bed and in a drawing room, and she could well imagine them both ruling over London social scene in years to come. There was no great love, but she had had her love with Marmaduke and she would be content with a marriage of companionship and ambition.
"Of course," she said. "But do not wait too long. If we want it to look respectable, we do not have unlimited time."
He nodded and left the room. She released the breath she was not aware she was holding.
The study, Sir Richard Carlisle's house, Upper Grosvenor Street, Mayfair, London, December 1913
Sir Richard sipped his whisky, deep in thought. Lady Rosamund's revelation threw him rather out of the loop.
He sired a child. Oh, he was certain he could have sired some previously, he was hardly a monk, but he never had to consider acknowledging any. None of them, if they existed and he never bothered to check, would be of noble blood. This child, as Rosamund pointed out, would be a grandchild of an earl.
My son, the grandson of the Earl of Grantham.
That thought, for all its grandeur, rankled. Because he had harboured such thoughts before. Just with a different mother for his child in mind.
If he married Rosamund, Mary would be lost to him for good.
But then again, wasn't she already? She was married to Crawley. There was a war coming which could with any luck make her a widow, but if his suspicions were right and Crawley travelled in time the same as he did, then he would probably be smart enough to keep well out of the front. He might hopefully kill himself again in that fancy car of his, but it was a long shot to hope for. As it was, he was annoyingly young and healthy and was guarding his new wife like a dog.
If he married Rosamund, he would be a part of Mary's family for good. He would be invited to all kind of events, be an expected guest at Downton Abbey same as she. He would be in effect her uncle by marriage, although he shuddered away from that title.
That raised some interesting possibilities.
He could in fact imagine his life with Rosamund. She was a consummate hostess and an expert in handling London high society. She would undoubtedly be an asset in many ways. And she was surprisingly enjoyable and creative in bed; her late husband had been definitely not a prude. If she also gave him a son, the gamble could pay off.
She could lose the child though. The pregnancy was very early, he knew it was common to lose them at this point and Rosamund was not young. Even if the child survived to be born, it could be a daughter. Not necessarily a disaster, it wasn't as if he had an entailed estate, but he yearned for a son to follow in his footsteps and build upon his legacy. He acquiesced that Rosamund had a point – there would be no guarantee of a son whoever he had married – but of course chances would be bigger if he married a younger woman.
Could he ignore the child he had conceived with Rosamund and leave it to her to deal with the problem?
Of course he could. But would it be the best choice of action?
He thought about approaching Christmas and imagined again sharing it with Mary. They would be married to other people, but he was nothing if not patient if patience was what was needed. Tied as they would be, they would have years of Christmases together. Their spouses might not always be there, for one reason or another. Maybe they never would marry now, with circumstances as they were, but it didn't have to mean she would never be his in other ways.
Sir Richard finished his drink and went to bed. He resolved to stop at a jeweller in the morning.
Breakfast room, Eryholme, December 1913
The announcement of Aunt Rosamund decision to remarry, and to Sir Richard Carlisle of all people, was astonishing.
"He will have to leave you in peace now, so there's that, at least," said Matthew in an obvious attempt to comfort her, despite his own gloomy face.
"It means I will never be free of him. He will be a part of family," snapped Mary, disturbed beyond belief by this unexpected development.
Matthew remained silent, evidently as unhappy with the prospect of being related to Carlisle as she was.
"Hopefully they will be too busy in London to visit often," he said after some time.
"We are planning to spend considerable time in London ourselves," pointed Mary bitingly. Matthew shrugged.
"Look, I am as perturbed as you are, but London is a big city. We will have to undoubtedly run into each other at different gatherings or spend some time during family occasions, but we will hardly be expected to keep an intimate friendship with them."
Mary sighed. She was by no means feeling reconciled to the news, but she reluctantly accepted that there was nothing she could do about it. Richard was going to become a member of her family, and, consequently, a permanent fixture in her life. She had had unfortunately a long practice in tolerating his presence at different social functions and at least now he and his moods would be Aunt Rosamund's problem.
Library, Downton Abbey, December 1913
The news was hardly more welcome or less astonishing at the big house.
"What on Earth is Rosamund thinking?" yelled Robert. He barely knew Carlisle but spending a week with him at Duneagle left him with hardly flattering opinion of the man. The thought of enduring him at every family occasion in foreseeable future made his blood boil. It didn't help that he noticed his eldest daughter frostiness and his son-in-law's dark looks towards him and he didn't like the suspicions they were raising in him at all.
"Probably that she is lonely," said Cora placatingly. She was not unduly impressed by Sir Richard either, but he was a potentially useful connection to have and Rosamund was certainly entitled to her own choices in life.
"Then she could visit us more often!"
"It's not the same and you know it. Would you like me to remain alone forever if you died before me?"
Robert shocked look conveyed very clearly that yes, he would. Cora decided to abandon this line of defence.
"She will have companionship and grand parties to host. He is very rich and trying to establish himself in society. I think she will be very content."
"She definitely has plenty of practice in smoothing rough edges of a nouveau riche," announced Violet acerbically, walking into the library. "Although Marmaduke Painswick was at least a generation removed from acquiring his money."
"I think it's romantic that Aunt Rosamund has found love again after losing Uncle Marmaduke," protested Sybil.
"Love?" scoffed her grandmother. "I highly doubt it in that case."
"You cannot know it though," insisted Sybil, upset with such resounding criticism of Aunt Rosamund's engagement before any of them had a chance to properly get to know Sir Richard. "You have barely seen them together."
Edith didn't say anything, letting the rest of the family discuss the matter. She was terribly annoyed that Aunt Rosamund's engagement was stealing the thunder from her own wedding. It was a second marriage, after all. Why should it get more attention than her own, which was to take place in just few days?! The only worse thing that could happen would be a pregnancy announcement from Mary.
"When is the wedding planned? Have they set a date already?" she asked finally.
Robert rolled his eyes.
"Oh yes, they did, and they apparently don't want to wait. It set on January 6th, twelfth day of Christmas. And she asked if it could be held here."
Cora gasped.
"Here? Barely weeks after Edith's? With such a short time to prepare?!"
"She obviously wants to remind her guests that she is an Earl's daughter, even with her penchant for misalliances," scoffed the Dowager. "I have no doubts that Sir Richard would like to boast about landing a lady as well. The only question is why they are in such a hurry. There can hardly be a need for that."
"It's completely impossible! If she wants it to have the wedding so soon, she can organise it herself in London!" insisted Cora, still horrified at the prospect.
Robert though started to soften. Rosamund was his sister after all. If she wanted to be wed at Downton, it would be wrong of him to prevent it.
"Downton is her home as well," he said apologetically, making his wife gasp again. "And I am sure she and Carlisle will take care of the invitations and most of the other details. We are about to have a second wedding in a few months here, it can hardly be such a nuisance to organise a third."
Cora barely stopped herself from moaning aloud. As if Robert had any idea how much work was involved in planning a wedding! She looked imploringly at her mother-in-law, but Violet disappointed her as usual.
"It is going to look better if they are wed at Downton," she proclaimed. "Will make it look more acceptable."
"But I and Anthony will still be on our honeymoon!" protested Edith. "We cannot cut it short!"
"Nobody expects you to," Violet assured her. It did baffle her why anyone would mind cutting a honeymoon with Sir Anthony short, but to each their own. "You will just have to miss it."
That rankled Edith even more. She liked Aunt Rosamund and she was hurt that she was apparently overlooked when she chose her wedding day.
"What about the Servants' Ball?" asked Sybil. It was the only ball she was allowed to attend until her debut in the summer and she was concerned it was going to be cancelled in the circumstances.
This time Cora did moan a bit.
"Of course Rosamund picked the exact date we usually plan it for," she said bitingly. "It will have to be moved, although I have no idea how we can have it earlier with all the tasks which will have to be completed for the wedding."
"Then we will postpone it," said Robert calmly. After the first shock at the news passed, he was able to deal with practicalities of it. "We will hold it on the eleventh. It's a Saturday, so the servants would be able to rest on Sunday."
Cora knew when she was outvoted. She resolved to release some of her pent-up anger in writing as passive aggressive letter to Rosamund as she could muster.
Cora's sitting room, Downton Abbey, December 1913
"I don't understand what the whole hullabaloo is about," said Martha, lounging on a sofa in an inelegant, but comfortable manner. "He is rich, handsome enough and she apparently fancies him. He even has a title."
Cora sighed.
"It's all true," she admitted. "But he is as new money as they come and it's a hard pill to swallow for the family."
"As our money was?" Martha drawled sardonically. "They accepted it readily enough."
Cora rolled her eyes.
"You know very well that Robert's mother never got truly reconciled to the idea."
"But she sure hasn't objected to the money being used to ensure her daily comforts," pointed out Martha cynically. "I would say, good for Rosamund."
"I would say so as well if she didn't force me to play hostess to her wedding with so little warning or consideration!" exclaimed Cora in exasperation. "If she wanted it done in the spring, I would have been her first ally in all of this."
"I wonder what's the reason for the hurry," said Martha speculatively. "Do you think she is afraid of the groom getting cold feet and jilting her for somebody younger?"
"Whatever it is, is giving me a headache," muttered Cora resentfully. "And I first have to get Edith married in style!"
Drawing room, Grantham House, St. James Square, London, December 1913
"It was nice of you to invite me, my dear," said Aunt Rosamund, accepting a cup of tea from Mary.
"But of course. How could I not invite you when we are in London for the next two weeks?" answered Mary, mentally preparing herself for a difficult conversation. She didn't have much hope of succeeding – not when the engagement had already been announced and the invitations sent – but she would not have forgiven herself if she didn't try.
"Aunt Rosamund," she started carefully, "Your engagement has taken us all by surprise."
Aunt Rosamund laughed lightly.
"Yes, I rather imagine it must have. It has quite taken me by surprise after all."
Mary took a deep breath.
"And are you... quite, quite sure you want to do it?"
"Yes," said Aunt Rosamund placidly, but firmly. "I am quite sure. You see, when you are a widow at my age, you won't often get a chance to experience life to the fullest again. I could see the years stretching out in front of me, comfortable and occasionally entertaining, but mostly lonely and dull. I do not expect much of that while being married to Sir Richard."
"Boredom maybe not, but I'm not sure about loneliness. How can you be sure that he can provide companionship? That you will be able to rely on him?"
"I can, because I see a lot in common between us and because I am entering into this marriage with my eyes open," declared Aunt Rosamund in the same tone of voice. "I do understand your concern – he definitely did not show his best side to you – but there is no need for it. I am getting what I want from him and providing him with enough of what he wants to ensure that he will fulfil his end of the bargain. Now tell me what your plans for your stay in London are."
Mary sighed. She tried.
Drawing room, Painswick House, Eaton Square, December 1913
"Sir Richard Carlisle," announced Meade, followed by the man himself.
She was afraid it was going to happen sooner or later, considering the latest developments, but she could hardly avoid her aunt forever. But of course it had to be when her aunt left her momentarily alone to deal with some emergency with her housekeeper.
She noticed that Richard froze briefly upon noticing her, but as usual, he rallied quickly.
"Lady Mary," he bowed slightly. "Congratulations on your marriage. I've seen the photographs in The Tatler and The Sketch, and I must say you looked divine."
"Thank you," said Mary frostily. "Congratulations on your engagement."
He seemed a bit disconcerted for some reason, but again he recovered within moments.
"Thank you," he answered, "It was unexpected, but not at all unwelcome development. I trust you will attend the wedding?"
"I will," answered Mary curtly. "I would never miss my aunt's nuptials."
She didn't add 'whatever my opinion of the groom', but it was hanging in the air between them anyway.
Richard sighed.
"Lady Mary," he said. "I owe you an apology, one I wanted to give you for a very long time but haven't had a chance. I acted inappropriately and rashly during our last conversation, and I have regretted it ever since. I do admit I admired you greatly and harboured some hopes of my own regarding our possible future together. After they were shattered by your unexpected engagement to Mr Crawley, I was quite shocked and upset – but it is all in the past now. Please forgive me, especially since we are to be family."
Mary clenched her teeth but gave him her hand.
"But of course," she said, with her most insincere smile on her face. What else could she do? "There is no reason to quarrel now that we are to be family."
Harrods, London, December 1913
Mary and Lavinia stopped for a moment among the chaos which was Harrods in December and tried to decide which shop to tackle next.
"Daddy is very hard to shop for," complained Lavinia with a small frown. "He either already has it or he says he doesn't need it, whatever it is!"
"Do you have anybody else on your list?" asked Mary, consulting her own.
"Not really," Lavinia shook her head. "I've already gotten small presents for the servants, so there is only Daddy and Uncle Jonathan. But Uncle Jonathan is always happy with some fine brandy and an embroidered handkerchief, so it does leave only Daddy to shop for. It should make it easier to have just one person on the list, but somehow it doesn't."
Mary's heart clenched a bit at this reminder of how lonely Lavinia was. Certainly cherished by her father, but without anybody else to turn to in trouble or for advice. She cursed Richard once again for taking advantage of that vulnerability.
"Well," she said briskly. "I was thinking of getting Matthew a nice writing set for his new office. How about you look at some for Mr Swire?"
Lavinia smiled at her brightly.
"Doesn't hurt to look. And at least then he would have another reminder of me at work."
"I'm sure he would like it," answered Mary with a smile and they walked arm in arm to the stationery shop.
Drawing room, Grantham House, St. James Square, London, December 1913
Mary looked at her friends and reflected on how much had changed for them since the Season. She herself was a married woman now, to her greatest satisfaction. Alice Cateret was engaged to be married. Agnes was in deep mourning for her brother, killed in a horse-riding accident, according to all reports drunk like a lord. Nobody but his parents probably truly regretted his passing so much – he had been rather a vile man – and his death made his quiet sister the biggest heiress of the oncoming Season, radically altering her prospects. Out of the four of them, Caroline was the only one without any significant events in her life, other than an engagement of her younger sister, which definitely did not improve her disposition any.
"How is married life treating you?" asked Alice brightly, with a curiosity of one who was soon destined to join the ranks.
"Extremely well," smirked Mary over her teacup. Alice giggled in eager anticipation, Agnes blushed and Caroline threw her a sour look.
"When is your wedding planned?" asked Mary with interest. She assumed it wouldn't have changed, but so many other things had, that she was not as sure of the reliability of her knowledge anymore. Whenever it took place though, she was convinced she would be enjoying it much more as Matthew's wife than as an unmarried girl surrounded by racy rumours.
"In March," answered Alice happily. "We are going to Italy and Greece for the honeymoon."
"How lovely!" sighed Agnes wistfully. Caroline rolled her eyes.
"You most probably will have a honeymoon of your own soon," she commented bitterly. "With Raymond gone, there should be a line of suitors at your door as soon as you start entertaining again."
Agnes pursued her lips unhappily.
"I do want a honeymoon," she said with quiet dignity. "But the one I want is supposed to be romantic. I don't want to have one with a man, who only would marry me for Mama's money."
Mary's heart clenched in sympathy. She wondered if warning Agnes off accepting a proposal from a duke would have any effect in saving her from future unhappiness.
She couldn't quite make herself promise Agnes she was going to get her wish, not with the alternative future she knew, but she was extremely glad that Alice did.
"You may yet get it, Agnes," she said kindly, grasping her hand. "I quite despaired myself of it, what with Mama pushing me at increasingly ghastly men every season. But look at me now! I'm marrying Andrew and I simply adore him!"
Agnes smiled at Alice gratefully, while Mary and, she suspected, Caroline, were busy biting their tongues. The Right Honourable Andrew Egerton, younger son of the Earl of Wilton, was young, very handsome and entertaining, but without a sensible thought in his empty head. From what Mary remembered from her own timeline, Alice had been quite happy with him and they made several perfectly adorable babies together, but she could not imagine herself ever marrying him.
"Speaking of hopeless cases, how are preparations for your sister's wedding coming along?" asked Caroline, clearly wishing to avoid listening to Alice extolling many imagined virtues of her intended.
Mary shrugged.
"Well enough, I suppose. Edith is going with the Christmas theme for flowers and decorations since it is so close to it. They are going to Florence for the honeymoon, even though she pretends she doesn't know the destination."
"I'm not sure if I ever could marry somebody so much older than me," shuddered Alice. "What kind of man is he? He is never in London, so I remember him only vaguely from some shooting party at Downton."
"Extremely dull, unless you're into modern farming or shooting," answered Mary drily. "But he and Edith will suit in that regard. And to be perfectly fair, she acts completely silly about him, so she might even be genuine about it."
"Maybe she does really love him," said Agnes, a hopeless romantic if there ever was. "Maybe she sees something in him only loving eyes can see."
"The fact he actually noticed her, I would wager," muttered Mary uncharitably. She quieted her conscience with the reminder that the old booby had jilted her sister at the altar. "Even so, with Edith's penchant for falling for perfect rotters, he is not the worst choice she could make."
"Like Lady Rosamund did?" asked Caroline with a devilish spark in her eyes. Mary raised her eyes heavenward in perfect agreement.
"I honestly have no idea what she sees in him," she said resentfully.
"Well, he is very rich," pointed Caroline with a shrug. "So there is that."
"But Uncle Marmaduke left her very rich already!" protested Mary hotly. "It's not like she needs to marry him."
"Maybe she is lonely?" suggested Agnes. "It's been several years since Sir Marmaduke died, isn't it?"
"Yes," answered Mary with a sigh. "This is probably that. But why Sir Richard of all people?!"
"Papa was saying just last night that he is getting awfully important in all the right circles," suggested Alice, but Caroline was observing Mary with avid interest.
"Why do you dislike him so much?" she asked.
"He was pursuing me first and did not make a good impression," answered Mary succinctly. "I am not at all happy with the prospect of seeing him at the dinner table every Christmas."
"No, I can well imagine!" exclaimed Alice. "Just thinking about having one of my most horrible suitors marrying into the family!"
They all nodded in agreement, neither of them lacking in husband hunting horror stories.
"What do you think about Laura Dunsany marrying Lord Drumgoole?" asked Agnes, eager to change the subject to a more pleasant one.
"Well, she will have a proper castle to live in," answered Caroline, reaching for a scone.
Until my future brother-in-law burns it down, thought Mary while taking a bite of her own.
"Granny says it is rather hideous though," she said aloud.
"Still a castle," shrugged Caroline. "I wouldn't object to having one."
"Maybe not in Ireland though," mused Mary, still thinking about the burning of that particular one. "Things there seem to become hotter by a day."
"Oh, I am sure any rebels will be dealt with, as usual," said Caroline indifferently. "And I maintain that a castle is a castle. Even in Ireland."
Not if it gets burnt over your head, thought Mary, but didn't quarrel further.
"What is Lord Drumgoole like?" she asked instead. "I cannot say I remember him much."
Alice made a face.
"Alright, I guess," she said uncertainly. "Not very handsome, but at least he is only thirty."
"He is quite nice," said Agnes with an unexpected blush. "Quiet and shy, so he might appear rude or dull sometimes, but he is anything but. He is really into history and collects manuscripts. I found him quite pleasant to talk to, once I got to know him a little better and he wasn't nervous around me anymore."
They all stared at her, making her blush more.
"I'm very happy for him and Laura," said Agnes determinedly, with a challenge in her beady eyes.
They accepted it on face value, even Caroline. There were some topics better off left alone.
London's Opera House Covent Garden, December 13th, 1913
Mary and Matthew settled in their private opera box to watch Joan of Arc by Raymond Roze. The occasion was very grand – King George and Queen Mary were in attendance – and it did appeal to Mary's pride to be there and be seen dressed in her finest clothes and jewels, with her handsome, dashing young husband. But it wasn't her pride which was making her so very happy at the moment.
She was looking around at so many other couples, both familiar to her and complete strangers, and she wondered how many were happy. She was thinking of the matches her friends either had already made or were going to make and their outcomes. And she did reflect on the alternative paths her own life could have taken at different times.
There were so many other men she could have ended up with for one reason or another – Duke of Crowborough, Evelyn Napier, Sir Anthony Strallan, Sir Richard Carlisle – and yet, somehow, for the second time, she had the incredible luck to be married to the best man she could ever possibly imagine.
In the intimate darkness of their private box Mary took Matthew's hand and allowed herself a moment to just appreciate it.