CHAPTER 3 – MEETING MATTHEW AGAIN
Downton Village, September 1912
On the way to the Crawley House to welcome her future husband and mother-in-law – please God, please, let it happen and soon! - Mary was reflecting on the previous five months to help settle her nerves. They had been both very easy and extremely difficult to survive.
The easy part was fitting back into her old life, but all the time incorporating changes into it. She was not the same person she had been when she was truly twenty-one. That girl was forced to grow up, often due to traumatic circumstances, and there was simply no way Mary could successfully pretend to be that girl again. But fortunately, everyone just assumed that any changes to her behaviour had been a result of grief and uncertainty of her prospects, settled for her since childhood. It made her feel touched again to see her Mama and Granny fighting for her and while it still made her sad to see that her Papa would not, she was much less bitter and definitely less petulant about it. She had had time to get over the entail issue years ago. She was deeply frustrated though that she could not think of a way to be involved in running Downton again. They could gain so much if they started Matthew's reforms early and with no prospect of Swire's inheritance – and she was absolutely determined to keep Matthew from forming any kind of attachment which could result in him being mentioned in Mr. Swire's will – they really, really should be working on securing her mother's fortune and making the estate profitable. But she was no longer engaged to the previous heir and had no ties to the new one, not to mention that even when he came, Matthew would be just the heir, not co-owner of the estate – and considering how much Papa had fought Matthew's involvement and ideas when he had been, she felt hopeless about him giving up any shred of influence in present circumstances. Which would obviously mean the family's financial ruin in a few short years. She felt so much frustration about it she sometimes wanted to scream.
Still, this was not the truly difficult part. That was her constant missing of Matthew and George. And while she was counting days to see Matthew, she knew it was going to take years to see her poor baby again. She had not been a good mother to him, in fact she considered herself an abysmal one – she had been hardly able to look at her poor son – but she still missed him terribly. Back in the future she had hoped, in her more conscious moments, that eventually her grief would fade a bit and she would be able to make up to him for those first awful months when she had been mostly able to lie in bed and cry. And while she dearly hoped that this time around she would be a proper mother to him, with his father at her side to support her in it, it broke her heart that she could not go up to the nursery and cuddle him now.
Knowledge that Matthew was alive and she would see him soon was both sustaining her and hurting her terribly. She knew, looking at her interactions with her family, that he wouldn't be her Matthew. Seeing Sybil so childish and naïve when she was used to her strong, wise while still passionate sister, was especially eye opening. Sybil matured so much during the war, grown into such an admirable woman, that seeing her now as basically still a child brought Mary feeling of disappointment, usually followed immediately with anger at herself for not appreciating the miracle of seeing her beloved sister alive again. But she was grateful and amazed to have her back, it was just hard sometimes not to wish to have her back as she had been when she had died, to be able to rely on her strength and wisdom instead of feeling responsible and protective for her. And it was even harder to realise that meeting younger version of Matthew was probably going to be much worse, so much worse.
Other family members thankfully provided less emotional upheaval. Granny was delightful to be around and a true support for her. Mama was lovely and Mary enjoyed so much basking in her approval and focused attention – she did nothing yet to make Mama disappointed in her or desperate for her daughter's prospects. Although she could have done without being thrown at that awful duke. Abominable man, when she thought how hard she had tried to charm him in her previous life she was red with embarrassment. Edith was trying to make some biting comment about his early departure, but she frankly paid no attention to her barb, which, she remembered, had stung quite a lot back then.
Edith. Oh goodness, was she annoying! They hardly had been friends before Mary travelled to the past, but at least there had been significantly less acrimony between them. They had matured and lived through a war together and had been much too busy with their own lives to care so much about their own little spats. But of course this version of Edith hadn't yet experienced any of the future hardships and thought that her biggest tragedy was unrequited crush on Patrick and dealing with inadequacy and envy for her older sister. As a result, she was in Mary's current opinion an absolute nuisance, childish and irritable, but not at all as able to engage her sister's hostility as previously. Mary just simply didn't care enough. She did throw barbs at her sister, she would not be herself if she didn't, but she simply did not find it important enough to truly engage in this warfare. Edith noticed it and it infuriated her to no end, to have her sister so dismissive of her. The rest of the family obviously thought that Mary was maturing and dearly hoped Edith would too.
All thoughts of Edith disappeared from Mary's mind when she and Lynch reached the Crawley House. She was going to see Matthew in a moment! Here she was, welcomed by nervous Molesley, led to the sitting room, where Matthew was just busy complaining about having the Earl's daughters pushed on him – which promptly switched to making an excellent image of a dead fish when he noticed her in the doorway.
Mary did not care for his words at the moment. It seemed her whole body and mind were consumed with just one, focused thought: alive, alive, alive!
But looking at her like at a complete stranger, who in fact she was to him at that point.
It was absolutely heartbreaking.
Somehow in all her impatience and plotting she did not prepare herself for how unimaginably difficult it would be to see him alive and yet looking at her without a fraction of love for her in his eyes.
It was with huge effort that she tore her attention away from her inner turmoil and noticed that what his eyes were filled with was extreme embarrassment. Well, he did just put his foot in rather deeply, didn't he? She was afraid her own eyes were rather amused and it was only years of practising being polite in all kinds of taxing social situations that allowed her to speak.
"I do hope I'm not interrupting."
Isobel gathered herself, with a quick but obvious glare at her son. Mary barely stopped herself from laughing.
"Lady Mary..."
"Cousin Mary, please. Mama has sent me down to welcome you and ask you to dine with us tonight. Unless you're too tired after your journey."
"We would be delighted."
"Good. Come at eight."
"Won't you stay and have some tea?" asked Isobel, clearly determined to cover for her son's faux pax. Mary was tempted for a moment, but she knew she really had to give herself time to compose her nerves before holding longer conversation with Matthew. For all her iron grip on her emotions she worried she would lose her composure at slightest provocation and she could not afford to do that.
She also felt that Matthew definitely deserved to suffer for his remarks. She might have found them amusing in retrospect, after they found there was nothing he wanted more than to have one of the daughters pushed on him, but it did not mean he was supposed to know it at this point in their acquaintance. Although she was afraid that her tone was more teasing than biting when she gave her answer.
"Oh, no. You're far too busy, and I wouldn't want to push in."
She was being helped back into the saddle by Lynch, when, same as previously, a flustered Matthew followed her outside. God, he looked so young! Her heart again started its song of "alive, alive, alive" and she had to force her expression to remain stony and polite. She grasped the reins tightly to stop herself from reaching for him.
How in heavens was she supposed to control her feelings for him until he loved her again?!
"Lady Mary, I hope you didn't misunderstand me. I was only joking."
Mary only realised that she was staring at him for rather too long without responding when he squirmed a bit in embarrassment under her gaze. She forced herself to speak.
"Of course. I just hope you will be able to think of some funnier ones before you come to dinner."
She prompted Diamond to go and rode away without backwards glance. It took everything in her to not look back.
Dining Room, Downton Abbey, September 1912
The dinner was pure torture.
She forgot how awful and condescending they all had been to him. Even the servants! She was ready to sack Thomas on the spot when he instructed Matthew how to serve himself.
She decided not to dwell too long on how she had been the worst of the lot last time.
Of course, Matthew didn't exactly make it easier for himself. Reception committee, indeed!
Still, it took her whole willpower to stop herself from jumping to his defence. The side effect was she barely said a word, which she knew was going to raise suspicions in her family. Staying quiet was not something Lady Mary Crawley was best known for. But she was at a loss how to act.
Sybil just asked Matthew what he wanted to do with his time and Mary felt a wave of fondness for her youngest sister and her invariable kindness.
"I've got a job in Ripon. I've said I start tomorrow."
This was a total bombshell, to family and servants alike. Mary barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes and again ignored whisper of conscience which tried to remind her she had been not at all better when she had heard his declaration first time around.
"A job?" asked Papa incredulously.
"In a partnership. You might have heard of it. Harvell and Carter."
"The lawyers?"
"They need someone who understands industrial law, I'm glad to say, although I'm afraid most of it will be wills and conveyancing and other, lowly activities." Matthew said with a smile. Mary couldn't resist smiling back at him.
"Won't you be bored then? If those tasks are so simple?" she found herself asking.
Matthew looked at her with obvious surprise but answered her question readily.
"I hope not. I will probably miss the excitement of boardroom meetings and negotiations, but even more mundane legal tasks can provide a challenge."
"Do you like challenges then?" asked Mary before she could stop herself. For goodness' sake, she was not supposed to flirt with him at the very first dinner! But she heard her tone, and she didn't need surprised glances of everybody else to realise that it was exactly how her question came out.
"I wouldn't become a lawyer if I didn't appreciate challenges," answered Matthew.
"Or a good argument?" worse, worse, worse, groaned Mary internally, still absolutely unable to prevent herself from speaking. It was as if her brain was automated to engage with Matthew and gave up all rational thoughts about possible consequences.
Judging from Matthew's smile, he at least didn't mind at all.
"That as well."
Thankfully Papa grunted uncomfortably and decided to join the conversation before Mary advised Matthew that if he liked a good argument, they should definitely see more of each other.
"You do know I mean to involve you in the running of the estate?"
"Oh, don't worry. There are plenty of hours in the day, and of course I'll have the weekends."
"We'll discuss this later. We mustn't bore the ladies."
Mary lost her attention to the ongoing conversations around her, fuming. Of course any conversation regarding the estate matters was not intended for the ladies. It's not as if their lives would be affected in any way by mismanagement and bad investments. The worst thing was she was sure that Papa would not really involve Matthew either. Oh, he would show him the estate and let himself be talked into small projects, like renovations of the cottages, but he would not offer any deep insight into the estate management and finances, even to his heir. Yet the only chance of preventing the catastrophe was to talk Matthew into demanding or cajoling this insight, because as small chance as he had of talking Papa into reason, it was still better than non-existent chance she had of achieving it.
When the ladies went through to the drawing room, Matthew found himself following Lady Mary with his eyes. She intrigued him completely. She was a bit quiet during dinner, but still one of the most openly friendly people in the room, which, considering his blunder earlier in the day, was truly astonishing.
He also had to acknowledge to himself that she was the most gorgeous woman he had ever met.
His attention was soon drawn to port and cigars and necessity to participate in conversation with Robert.
"How will you even manage to hold a job in Ripon?"
"Like many others, I shall bicycle to the station, take a train there and back, and bicycle home. The office is not far from the station."
Robert face was equally astonished and disappointed.
"But I've brought you to Downton so the people here will know you."
"They will know me. They have many years to get to know me before any change of leadership. But I'm afraid I must keep busy," he said firmly.
"And you cannot be busy at Downton?"
"I can and I will be. But it won't keep me busy enough," Matthew barely stopped himself from sighing. "Did Mr. Crawley spend all of his time busy with the estate?"
"Patrick?" asked Robert incredulously, "No, of course not. But then again he has been visiting Downton often from early childhood and was very familiar with its ways. And of course he would have had Mary to guide him."
"Mary?" asked Matthew, surprised.
"They were engaged," answered Robert sadly. "It was not official yet, just family understanding, but they were extremely attached to each other. And of course it was a very good solution to the entail."
Matthew belatedly realised that the fact that Mary's riding habit and evening dress were both black were not a coincidence or a fashion choice. She was in mourning! Now he felt an even bigger dolt than before for his insensitive remarks. Truly, her kindness to him at dinner was nothing short of astonishing in the circumstances.
"I am very sorry," he said. "I have not realised the depth of Lady Mary's loss."
Robert waved the hand holding his cigar.
"Of course not, I don't think I have ever mentioned it to you. As I said, the engagement was not officially announced, we were supposed to do it after James and Patrick returned from their trip. To be truthful, Mary probably didn't need to go into such long mourning, but she insisted on observing it. The whole business was an awful shock to her."
"I can only imagine." answered Matthew quietly. How absolutely awful it must have been for her to not only lose her fiancé, a man she obviously loved, but also see a complete stranger taking his place and everything which should rightfully belong to her!
He was still pensive when he and Robert joined the ladies and sought Mary as soon as he had a chance.
"Lady Mary, I wanted to apologise for not giving you my condolences on the loss of your fiancé. I had not realised before that you and Mr. Crawley were engaged."
Mary's eyes shot up to him, surprised. Both that he did not know it before and for the compassion which she noticed in his expression.
"Thank you," she managed to stammer, irritated with herself for being so wrongfooted.
Matthew winced.
"Learning of this makes me feel even worse for the comment you overheard. It must have sounded awfully insensitive in the context."
"Yet you were not very far off the mark," Mary found herself saying. She sighed at Matthew's startled gaze at her frankness. "If they didn't yet fix such a plan, they were going to do it as soon as they ascertained you knew how to use a fork. It would be a very tidy solution to the situation, you know."
She had to sip her sherry to stop herself from laughing at Matthew's expression, although she gave him points for recovering pretty quickly.
"And do you find it a tidy solution?"
Mary pretended to consider it.
"In theory, yes" she nearly laughed again when Matthew choked slightly on his drink. "But in practice I find one cannot fully discount feelings of the parties involved. For such things to work all the parties have to be in agreement and it is much more difficult to achieve by simply matching fortunes and birthrights. When you found true joining of minds and souls, it is impossible to settle for mare material considerations," she stopped herself, realising she again said too much. What was happening with her tonight?!
Matthew though was looking at her with kindness and compassion and it made her both love him more and suddenly afraid that if he thought she was grieving Patrick so much she was clearly off limits to him. Oh, what a mess she had created with her ruse! But would she be able to silence herself forever on the topic that she had known true love before? That she knew what a loss of such love could do to a person and how she yearned to recreate it? She would feel as if he couldn't know her at all if she kept all this from him. Making him, as well as everyone else, believe it was Patrick she loved and lost was bad enough, although unavoidable. She did not particularly wish to be committed for confessing about time travel and loving the man in front of her in a different life.
"You must have loved him very much," he said gently.
Mary swallowed.
"I did."
Trying to avoid his understanding gaze, she looked about the room and was shocked to see the hatred in Edith's eyes.
Mary's bedroom, Downton Abbey, September 1912
Among many things Mary had missed from her youth and enjoyed relieving now, getting ready for dinner with her sisters present was not one of them. Well, this wasn't completely true. Despite being here for several months already, she still felt a thrill nearly every time she saw Sybil or heard her speak. Edith on the other hand seemed even worse than the first time around and seemingly growing more acrimonious with every passing day.
"Cousin Matthew seems pretty nice, doesn't he?" asked Sybil. Mary forced her face into a hopefully neutral and disinterested expression and focused on picking her earrings.
"He does seem better than we could have reasonably expected from his background," she acknowledged. "Even if he isn't exactly one of us."
"But Cousin Freddie's studying for the bar and so is Vivian MacDonald," Sybil immediately defended Matthew and Mary had to stop herself from smiling fondly at her for it.
"True, but they are at Lincoln's Inn to be barristers, not working in an office in Ripon. Besides, his father was a doctor."
"There's nothing wrong with doctors. We all need doctors," parried Sybil. Mary could not resist smiling at her anymore.
"Yes, but we usually do not consider them marrying material."
"Oh, but you will, won't you? Anything to become the Countess of Grantham, whatever your sham of mourning poor Patrick," Edith hissed. Sybil's hand went to her mouth in shock.
"Edith! How can you - "
"How can you be so blind, Sybil? She has never cared twopence for Patrick when he was alive and now dares to milk his death for attention and compassion. Mark my words, she will attach herself to Cousin Matthew before Christmas, all mourning forgotten. He might be a country solicitor, but he still deserves better than this heartless witch!"
Before Mary could decide how to respond to the unexpected attack, furious Cora entered the room.
"Edith! You will go to your room at once and remain there until you are ready to apologise to your sister," she said more sternly than Mary had ever heard her in either timeline.
"Am I a child to be dismissed like that?" asked Edith, jutting her chin. It struck Mary that she actually was a child or barely above it – just twenty years old, caught in jealousy for her sister and mourning for her childhood crush. But Mary remembered how dangerous Edith turned out to be in her impulsive rage before and with sudden unease wondered what she could do this time. She had no intention whatsoever of giving her ammunition by getting involved with Pamuk in any way, but Edith's feelings seemed to be stoked even stronger by Mary's professed grief for Patrick than by her earlier indifference to his death and she started to feel apprehensive how her unpredictable shrew of a sister could try to injure her in response.
"When you behave like a child, you will be treated as one," hissed Mama in the meantime. Edith left the room with her head high and her back rigid, slamming the door behind her. Mama dismissed Sybil and Anna politely and turned her attention to her oldest daughter.
"Don't mind Edith, my dear, she was fond of Patrick as well and she is acting out. She will get over it soon, surely."
Mary looked back at her mother pensively.
"I don't think so, Mama. She seems very angry with me."
"Oh, even if she is, I hope you are not taking her words to heart. Everyone knows how attached you were to dear Patrick, but you mourned him more than propriety demanded and now it is perfectly reasonable that you would think of your prospects again. You are much too young and too beautiful to waste your life mourning what cannot be."
Mary nearly rolled her eyes at her Mama's predictability.
"And you think I should consider Cousin Matthew, after just one dinner?" she asked levelly.
Mama shrugged, unflappable.
"Your father met with him several times more and I had tea with Cousin Isobel twice."
"You can't be serious."
"Just think about it."
"I don't have to think about it. Marry a man I barely know immediately after I finished mourning my previous fiancé, who happened to be in position to inherit the same title and estate? Wouldn't I just prove all Edith's accusations right?"
"Never mind Edith," Mama dismissed her daughter with a wave of hand. "It doesn't have to happen immediately. I just want you to consider it. You seem less set against Matthew than I frankly expected you to be, and he is a nice man. Do not dismiss him out of hand just because he could give you what you always have wanted and you want to be contrary to your family."
Mary nearly groaned out loud. She could count on Mama to ignore any thoughts of decency if it interfered with getting one of her daughters settled in marriage. The worst thing was that she of course wanted nothing more than to marry Matthew as soon as possible, but, unlike her mother apparently, she did realise it would not just be Edith who would have judge her for haste in that matter. Not to mention a small issue that she wanted, needed, Matthew to love her back at least a little before they met at the altar, and even though she knew he had fallen in love with her much earlier than she had with him, she still needed to give him time to do it now. The fact that Matthew considered her to be in mourning was definitely a complicating factor in the process – she knew she had to give him enough encouragement to not kill any hopes or interest he might have in her, but she knew him enough that any abrupt, blatant interest she could have shown in him at this point would be perceived as purely mercenary on her part and that would be disastrous. It was a very delicate balance, one she felt not at all confident she could achieve, and her family clumsy and not at all subtle meddling would hardly help.
"Just try not to throw me at him too blatantly, Mama," she said with a sigh, knowing full well that her request had very little chance of being respected. "I rather think that even if I was interested in securing him, he would find it offensive and off-putting. Please, just give us time to simply get to know each other and see if anything comes out of it naturally. Cousin Matthew is clearly not used to our style of arranging marriages and needs to feel he chose his own wife without being forced to do so."
Cora looked at her daughter with sudden interest.
"You clearly gave this matter a great deal of thought."
Mary nearly groaned again.
"You lot are so unsubtle I could hardly avoid it, could I? Just please, please, let me handle it in my own time. Nothing good will come of it if you don't."
"But you are willing to handle it?" asked Cora with bright eyes.
"I am willing to get to know Cousin Matthew and see if there is any potential there," said Mary through gritted teeth. "I am not making any decisions based on one dinner acquaintance and potential inheritance. It is me who would have to spend the next forty or fifty years with the man." Oh please God, give me forty or fifty years this time!
"Very well, my dear," agreed Cora, still looking awfully pleased, "We will try to back off. You don't know how happy I am to see you acting so reasonably. Now let's go to dinner before your grandmother has a stroke."
Dining room, Downton Abbey, September 1912
There was still a slightly stiff atmosphere at dinner tonight, but Mary consoled herself that at least it was vast improvement over the previous one.
"I thought the hospital a great credit to your father's memory," Isobel smiled at Robert, which he received pleasantly. "But I'm afraid the good doctor and I did not see eye to eye."
"You amaze me," commented Violet dryly.
"He's treating one of your tenants, John Drake, for dropsy, but he seems reluctant to embrace some of the newer treatments."
Mary gritted her teeth. On one hand Clarkson was right about Sybil and if they listened to him, she might have still been alive. On the other hand though Mary could still not forgive him for his mistakes with Matthew and all the misery resulting from it.
Her father's attempt to diffuse the tension between Granny and Isobel brought her attention back to general conversation.
"By the way, if you ever want to ride, just let Lynch know and he'll sort it out for you."
"Do you ride, Cousin Matthew?" she asked.
"I ride."
"I love riding myself," Mary found herself volunteering. "Where have you learnt? I wouldn't imagine you had much opportunity in Manchester."
"My father used to take me for rides outside the city on weekends," Matthew answered guardedly. "And then I had regular lessons at school. Radley has extensive grounds and very good stables. It's true though that I did not do so much riding in recent years."
"I'm sure you will get back into the saddle quickly, if you want. There are beautiful grounds for riding at Downton," Mary smiled at him and was elated to see a smile in response. "Do you hunt?"
"No, I don't hunt."
"I dare say there is even less opportunity in Manchester than for riding," commented Violet.
"That is certainly true," agreed Matthew. "Are you a hunting family?"
"Families like ours are always hunting families," answered Mary.
"Not always. Billy Skelton won't have them on his land," interjected Robert.
"But all the Skeltons are mad," Mary couldn't help pointing out. They were.
"Do you hunt?" asked Matthew.
"Occasionally. I like the thrill of the chase and the challenge of riding fast in such a big group. I suppose though that you're more interested in books than country sports."
"I probably am," admitted Matthew with a smile. "You'll probably tell me that's rather unhealthy."
"Not unhealthy," answered Mary, smiling as well. "Just unusual. Among our kind of people. I freely admit having a meaningful conversation about books can be a rare opportunity, even though we are not exactly busy for most of our days."
"But you are the exception?" inquired Matthew, with a twinkle in his eyes.
Mary shrugged, dearly hoping her elation was not plain to see on her face.
"I do like books. As to whether my conversation about them is meaningful that's not for me to say."
"I guess we will have to discuss some and see for ourselves how we judge each other in that department."
"I guess we will," answered Mary, a little flustered by turn of the conversation. Are we flirting? "Do you ever read Greek mythology?"
"I do, actually. Nobody who studied law could avoid being familiar with the classics. Why?"
"I've been studying the history of Andromeda. Do you know it?"
"Why?"
"Her father was King Cepheus, whose country was being ravaged by a sea monster. Which was really the fault of her mother, who was boasting about her daughter's beauty without any thought of potential consequences to her. So when Poseidon sent the sea monster to attack Cepheus' kingdom and teach Andromeda's parents a lesson in humility, they decided that the only solution to appease the gods was to sacrifice their daughter," Mary couldn't stop herself from throwing a light glare at her parents and Granny. "So they chained her naked to a rock, and - "
"Really, Mary. We shall all need our smelling salts in a minute," interjected Granny.
"But the sea monster didn't get her, did he?" asked Matthew and Mary dearly hoped she managed to convey that this time she was casting him in a different role in that scenario.
"No. Whatever her parents plans had been, she was rescued from them."
"By Perseus."
"That's right. Perseus, son of god, who didn't know of his true lineage until he was an adult. He was brought up as a son of a fisherman. He understood that Andromeda was not at fault for her family's plans and troubles and found alternative solution to the problem of the sea monster."
The silence in the dining room became rather oppressive. Mary prayed only that despite her being terribly obvious in her use of the myth Matthew got her message – she was not at fault for her family scheming to marry them, but she was also not blaming him for her situation. She had no hope that her family would show any restrain or subtlety in their matchmaking, especially since this time she was not openly hostile towards Matthew on principle.
Shocked stares of her family made her realise though that she might not have considered how much her story looked like rather brazen flirting. Oh, what had she thought calling Matthew Perseus and practically begging him to rescue her! She would have been better off if she insulted him by comparing him to the sea monster again. The only problem was, she just couldn't. There was simply no way she could be so mean to Matthew as her younger self had been perfectly happy to be.
She finally managed to find courage to raise her gaze at the object of her thoughts and to her relief noticed that he didn't seem to be as shocked as the rest of them. Surprised, yes, but smiling and his eyes were sparkling.
"Well, Cousin Mary," Matthew said, raising his glass to her. "You are certainly not boring when talking about literature."
"I'm afraid Mary was rather shocking this evening," Dowager Countess said, observing Matthew closely while he escorted her to her waiting car.
"I don't blame her. She not only lost her fiancé, but her father's home and her mother's fortune are to be passed to me. It's very harsh."
"Of course, in Spain or Portugal, Mary would be her father's heir," Matthew nodded, but did not argue, which made Violet look at him with interest. That was unexpected and definitely worth further investigation. "What would you say if the entail were set aside in Mary's favour?"
"I should try to accept it with as good a grace as I could muster."
"Would you?" Interesting, thought Violet, truly interesting. She turned to greet her chauffer. "Good evening, Taylor."
"Good evening, milady."
Matthew helped her get into the car and settled in himself, with his mother soon following.
"It is very gracious of you to offer us a ride, Lady Grantham," said Isobel politely.
"Not at all, Mrs. Crawley. We are going the same way, there was no need to call for a second car."
Silence fell in the car. They were all thinking about the evening but did not feel comfortable enough with each other to discuss it and were too preoccupied to pick up some more neutral topic of conversation. Thankfully the ride to Crawley House was very short.
"It was an interesting tale Mary chose to tell during dinner," remarked Isobel as soon as they settled in the sitting room for a nightcap.
Matthew sighed, not really sure if he wanted to get into it with his mother. He would have liked to have some time to make sense of his own confused emotions first.
"They are pressuring her to marry me," he admitted reluctantly. "She wanted me to know she does not agree with that plan."
Isobel gasped in astonishment.
"But she's only been out of her mourning clothes since last week!"
Matthew shrugged.
"How do you know about her family's plans?" asked his mother shrewdly, with narrowed eyes.
"She told me they might do that and tonight she seemed to confirm that."
"When did she tell you? You barely saw each other."
"During our first dinner."
"But this was the day we were introduced to the family! How could they make plans to get you two married before they even set eyes on you, not to mention knew anything about your character?"
"According to Mary the only real requirements were being single and the prospective heir."
Isobel shook her head.
"Poor girl. I never would have thought that you were right with those petulant remarks you made on our arrival. To be completely honest, I thought you read too many novels."
Matthew smiled unhappily.
"They do seem to live in the past, don't they?"
"Well, it seems obvious that Mary at least does not want to. As your mother I of course cannot believe that a girl might not want to marry you, but truly, in the circumstances, it would be a ridiculous thing to expect to happen."
"Yes, it would be," answered Matthew and found for some reason that a thought of Mary being so opposed to marrying him – which he completely understood and supported in the circumstances – was making him rather morose.