CHAPTER 6 – EDITH ON A MISSION AND ESTATE MANAGEMENT

Edith's bedroom, Downton Abbey, November 1912

Edith was sitting on the window seat in her bedroom, staring without seeing at a photograph clasped tightly in her hands. She stole it from the display of family photos downstairs, not that anybody noticed. They all already seemed to forget him, never mind how supposedly fond they all were of Patrick. It was not even a year and yet they all seemed to be totally taken with the new heir, like with a new shiny toy which completely replaced the old one. Sometimes Edith had impression that she was the only one who still remembered his easy smile, dark sparkling eyes (very much like Mary's, actually, but filled with mischief instead of derision) and gentle humour.

Her hands tightened on the photograph at the thought of her sister. Nothing in her life filled her with so much hatred as Mary's hypocritical, fake mourning for him. She never, ever cared for Patrick when he was alive. He was never smart enough, interesting enough, impressive enough for her. She treated him like an annoying puppy, maybe not with hostility, but often with impatience and irritation. And yet she had the gall to pretend that she was heartbroken when he died! Fainting at the news, wearing deep black for months, looking all pale and sad and reaping compassion from everybody while Edith, who genuinely felt as if her world collapsed, was ignored and overlooked. He was not her fiancé after all, just a cousin, so in the eyes of her blind family her grief could not be anywhere close to Mary's, whatever the actual circumstances.

Edith wiped a single tear from her cheek. The sad truth was that Mary was his fiancé and Patrick didn't protest this arrangement. However much he cared for her; however much he said he liked her and called her his pal he was still resolved to marry her sister. She was trying for a long time to tell herself that he was just following duty and family wishes, but another sad truth was that the family would be probably just as satisfied with him marrying Edith. The estate and money would still remain in the family, Papa's grandson would still become an Earl. Granny and Papa might feel that Mary deserved to be the countess and the heiress to Mama's money as the eldest, but in fact would not have probably felt too strongly on the matter if Patrick had made his preference for Edith clear. The problem was he hadn't. He had been following Mary around with puppy dog's eyes, even when she had been perfectly horrid to him and only complained about her treatment of him to Edith when he had been really fed up. At first those moments of trust and common griping about her sister had been giving her hope, but he had always forgiven Mary in the end. When he had gone on that final trip to America, he told her he planned to make things official with Mary after his return and set the date. Edith had never really stopped dreaming about him opening his eyes and picking her faithful love over Mary's scorn and indifference, but she was a realist – she had not really thought it would happen.

But the gal, the absolute gal of Mary to claim now that she in fact had loved Patrick; that they had shared something precious and special after the horrid way she had always treated him – that Edith could not stand. And now to see her pathetic attempts to attract the new heir, just proving that all that mourning was a farce, that the only things she had ever cared about were money and the title. She obviously did not care for either of men; as long as Lady Mary became the countess and mistress of Downton the groom was just a tool to her. Edith never liked her sister or got along with her, but now she was convinced that her sister was a heartless, unfeeling monster. She felt sorry for Matthew Crawley.

The thought of Cousin Matthew gave her a pause. He did not yet seem to be completely lost to her sister. Mary was obviously trying to be subtle in her pursuit of him, probably for the first time in her life; she must have some awareness that it would hardly be proper to jump on the new heir while still in mourning clothes for another. Whatever her reasons Cousin Matthew was not yet completely in her thrall and Edith suddenly wondered if she could not save him from her sister's clutches. She didn't know if she really had a real chance to do that – men never seemed to pay her attention, however much she tried – but suddenly she was determined to try.

She could not imagine more perfect punishment for Mary than making the heir to the Earl of Grantham pick Edith over her.

Edith sighed and got up from the window seat to go to the mirror. She looked at her blond ringlets, delicate complexion and blue eyes. She thought she was not actually bad looking. On her good days she even felt herself to be pretty. But she was painfully aware that she had neither the power of fascination so surely wielded by Mary nor the sweetness and passion of Sybil. She had been sometimes called the perfect English rose during her debut in London the previous year, but no man ever showed a consistent interest in her company beyond a dance or two. Her own family always was treating her as an afterthought, a plain middle daughter utterly forgettable among her sparkling, bright siblings. Could she even realistically attempt to lure Cousin Matthew from Mary?

She saw her reflection taking on a determined look. She might well not succeed; she was aware of that. Her opponent was formidable and that was the very game Mary excelled at. But by God, Edith was resolved to try. Cousin Matthew deserved better than her heartless, monstrous sister and Mary definitely did not deserve to reach her selfish goals. She was going to try and the first step was learning what he liked and enjoyed and seeing if she could make something out of it. Didn't Mama mention something about inviting Cousin Isobel for tea? Edith smiled as she considered the best way to gather intelligence she needed.

Even if nothing came of it, at least she would have something better to do than sit and cry.

Lady Grantham's sitting room, Downton Abbey, November 1912

Isobel Crawley was many things, but definitely not easily intimidated. Even so, sitting in Cora's private parlour, with its tall windows, beautiful views of the gardens outside, elegant furniture and delicate china, she did admit, if only to herself, that sometimes she still felt stunned by finding herself in those surroundings. Not that she was going to show it to anybody, especially her newly acquired relatives. So instead she drank some more of the delicious tea and looked calmly at her companions.

She was invited to tea by Cora, with Violet and Edith present. Mary was apparently out riding and Sybil visiting some friend in the neighbourhood. The conversation was perfectly polite so far, despite the Dowager's presence, and focused on the planned fox hunting in the near future.

"We usually host two hunts a year, you see," explained Cora, "at a beginning and an end of the hunting season."

"And do you hunt?" enquired Isobel politely, even though she hardly had any real interest in fox hunting. It seemed to her rather an unnecessary and barbaric tradition, but she well knew it was a staple of aristocratic lifestyle.

"Oh, no," laughed Cora. "I am no horsewoman, I never really mastered it. I do stand behind the guns during bird shooting in January, mostly to accompany Robert. But hunting was never part of my upbringing in New York and I never took to it properly."

The Dowager sniffled derisively, but Isobel felt a treacle of sympathy towards Cora. In another way she was obviously as much of an outsider as Isobel and it was obvious that despite being the Countess of Grantham for close to twenty years she was never allowed to forget it.

"It obviously was never part of my upbringing either," answered Isobel with a friendlier smile towards Cora than she ever managed before. "But Matthew did attend some during university, while visiting his friends' estates."

"So he likes hunting?" asked Edith eagerly.

"Not particularly, from what he told me," Isobel shook her head. "I'm sure he will be willing to attend it sometimes now that we live here, but it's not something he would particularly enjoy."

"What are the things he enjoys then? Besides books, which he already mentioned at dinner when he first arrived?" Edith's eagerness was hard to miss and it made Isobel take notice. Surely she was not planning to...?

"When it comes to sports, he really enjoys cricket and tennis," she said, observing Edith closely, but always happy to talk about her son. "He also follows football, but he does not play it. He enjoys the theatre, particularly musicals and operettas, and he has real passion for history and architecture. He was discussing visiting some local churches when he has the time."

Edith's eyes lighted at that piece of information and Isobel was sure now that her son could expect an invitation from her in a very near future. She mentally apologised to him. Edith was a nice, unassuming girl, but she did not see anything coming out of it. She knew her son well enough to be certain that if he had any interest in a Crawley girl, it wasn't in Edith.

Downton Village, November 1912

Matthew was riding home from the station when he noticed Edith walking purposefully towards his house.

"I'd offer you a lift, if I could," he said in friendly greeting, getting off his bicycle. Edith smiled prettily.

"It was you I was coming to see."

"Then your timing is matchless. I'm just off the train."

She smiled again, falling into step as he wheeled the bicycle.

"The other day at tea, Cousin Isobel was saying you wanted to see some of the local churches."

"She's right. I do. I want to know more about the county generally, if I'm to live here."

Edith took a deep breath. She rehearsed it numerous times, but it was still hard to be so forward. How in heavens did Mary do such things?!

"Well, I thought I might show you a few of the nearer ones. We could take a picnic and make an outing of it."

"That's very kind."

"Nonsense. I'll enjoy it. It's too long since I've played the tourist."

"It would have to be a Saturday. The churches work on Sunday, and I work all the weekdays."

"Then Saturday it is. I'll get Lynch to sort out the governess cart and I'll pick you up at about eleven."

Matthew belatedly realised that he had a date with his cousin. He ignored tiny voice in his head which remarked that he wouldn't have minded all that much if it wasn't a date with a wrong one.

Crawley House, November 1912

The evening was peaceful, exactly as countless other before. One of the main reasons Matthew never really considered living separately from his mother after he graduated university was that they actually got along very well and found genuine pleasure in each other's company. Currently Isobel was reading a letter while Matthew was leisurely scanning a new issue of Manchester Guardian, which he still subscribed to for their rather more progressive views of current matters.

"Cora asks if we can both dine on Saturday. There will be some neighbours invited after the hunt, so you won't be outnumbered for once."

"What neighbours?" asked Matthew, wondering if he recognised the names. He had been introduced to quite a few by now between different kinds of engagements at the big house and church visits, but most were still interchangeable to him.

"Sir Anthony Strallan and 'Lord Merton's charming son'. One of them is to be flung at Mary, presumably," Isobel said evenly, observing her son closely.

"When it comes to Cousin Mary, she is quite capable of doing her own flinging, I assure you," answered Matthew, thinking about the tennis match. "Must we go? I've got the whole day with Edith. I could use a night off."

"I think we should," answered his mother, opening another letter. Without lifting her eyes, she inquired innocently, "And you're all set to go church visiting?"

"Apparently. I didn't seem to have much option."

"I'm afraid it's my fault. She asked what your interests were, and I just blurted it all out. I hope you're not annoyed."

"Not at all. Why should I be?"

"No reason," Isobel went back to her letter, deciding not to spell out to her son what Edith's intentions very clearly were. He would discover it in his own time.

St Mary's church, November 1912

The church was full of autumn afternoon light from the tall windows in the naves and deep shadows under the arches. Matthew inhaled familiar scent of dust and incense, eagerly observing every detail. His companion was trailing faithfully behind him, although by now with a bit of tired air.

"I wish we could talk a little more about you. What was it like? Growing up in Manchester?" Men liked to talk about themselves, didn't they? At least that was what Mama and Granny said. The best way to attract a gentleman's attention was supposedly to show attention to him and interest in his concerns.

Matthew though seemed to be an exception.

"Does it say anything about the Lady Chapel screen?" he asked eagerly. Edith sat down in a pew and opened the little brochure wearily.

"The screen dates from the early sixteenth century. The pomegranates commemorate Queen Catherine of Aragon and the fleurs de lys represent the Virgin Mary."

"Two women who had a lot to put up with," joked Matthew, but it was lost on Edith as she dutifully perused the pamphlet.

"The side aisles were added in the fourteenth century by Bishop Richard de Warren."

"Yes, you can see that in the treatment of the stone."

"It's wonderful to think of all those men and women worshipping together through centuries, isn't it? Dreaming and hoping, much as we do, I suppose."

Matthew nodded absent-mindedly, although he was hardly listening to his cousin.

"Is the screen a Cromwell casualty?"

"I dare say."

"I wonder how Mary's getting on."

No comment could have been less to Edith's taste than this. Mary, Mary, always Mary. She scowled.

"All right, I should think. Why?"

"I just wondered. Will she stay with the hunt the whole day?"

"Oh, you know Mary. She likes to be in at the kill."

Her tone was caustic enough for Matthew to decide to change the subject.

"Where shall we go next?" he asked cheerfully.

"Not home?" Edith managed to hold the whine in her voice, but only just.

"Oh, not yet. We've time for one more at least before we lose the light."

Edith got to her tired feet with a sigh.

"I underestimated your enthusiasm."

Her plan was clearly a fool's errand. She was not surprised, she had no real hope of it working, but she still couldn't help feeling rather dejected.

Downton Abbey grounds, November 1912

The sun was setting when their cart reached the road to Downton Abbey. They just left the surrounding forest and saw the majestic house in the distance when they heard the hunting horns. A group of riders were galloping against the dramatic background of the sunset, with dogs barking and milling among them. Matthew looked at a particular rider on a great black horse at the front of the hunt, dressed in a black, floating riding habit, bent over her horse and completely in control of the great beast, galloping at backbreaking speed, and realised he was gaping.

She was magnificent.

The most amazing creature he had ever seen.

He was so enthralled that he barely noticed the woman sitting next to him in the cart, but she was very aware of him and the direction of his gaze. Edith grinded her teeth. She was already well aware she had no chance of winning him over from Mary and in truth she didn't really care about him so much, nice and handsome as he was. All she cared about was punishing her sister and while taking Matthew for herself would have been a perfect punishment, it obviously was a farfetched one. Never mind that, she thought viciously. She would come with another plan to shatter Mary's designs on him if it had been a last thing she ever did.

Mary's perfidy deserved nothing less.

Dining room, Downton Abbey, November 1912

To Matthew's pleasant surprise he found himself seated next to Mary at dinner. A Sir Anthony Strallan, an older neighbour apparently, was seating on her other side while Sybil was on another side of Matthew. Sybil's other neighbour was Larry Grey, a young son and heir of Lord Merton, who, as Matthew was informed during October tennis match, was Mary's godfather.

Due to stricter rules observed during more formal dinners as this one Mary was obliged to converse with a partner on her left until her mother, as hostess, turned to her right. Matthew was obliged to converse with Sybil, which he didn't mind at all. She was the kindest person to him in the whole family and as usual full of enthusiasm and interest in a wide array of issues. To some surprise he noticed Mary quite engaged in a discussion on farming and estate reform with Sir Anthony. He did know she loved Downton, but he did not expect her love to translate into interest in such prosaic matters.

Sybil asked him a question which necessarily forced his attention back from her sister.

"I do subscribe to Manchester Guardian, yes," he admitted. "Not only it's the main newspaper from my hometown, but it also carries national importance while maintaining consistent progressive outlook under the lead of Mr Scott. It gives rather different perspective on numerous issues than The Times or Yorkshire Herald and I enjoy the comparison."

"Oh, Cousin Matthew, could I borrow it sometimes after you are done with it? Papa prefers more conservative papers and I am not always satisfied with the information they provide."

Matthew raised an eyebrow.

"Would Cousin Robert be happy with his daughter reading a liberal paper?"

Sybil made a face.

"He would hardly support it, but it's not too rebellious. I do not go for socialist or communist materials, nothing truly revolutionary, just a bit more progressive than his preference. You must admit that The Times opinion on the suffragettes' is rather outrageous."

"It's certainly not very sympathetic to their cause," agreed Matthew. "And yes, The Manchester Guardian is hardly revolutionary in their tone and message. I have no problem with sending you the paper after I am done reading it, as long as you won't keep it secret from your father. I would not feel comfortable with going behind his back."

Sybil winced, obviously expecting objections from Robert on the matter, but nodded. Matthew noticed before that for all her rebellious streak she remained rather obedient to her parents.

He also noted that Larry Grey, who was supposed to converse with Lady Shackleton, was turning his head quite often towards Sybil and listening closely to their conversation. He obviously could not keep himself from joining in anymore.

"Do you really think it's a good idea to give Sybil access to such disturbing reading material, Mr. Crawley?" he drawled derisively. "She is much too interested in matters not fitted for a woman as it is."

Sybil's expression grew furious.

"Whatever I choose to read, it is hardly your business, Larry!" she hissed.

"Oh, but I hope to make it my business soon," Larry leered visibly at her, laughing at her instinctive recoil. Matthew felt disgusted at the display in front of him. Sybil was just sixteen and clearly repulsed by Larry's attention. "You know how close our families are and how pleased they would be for those ties to grow even closer."

"They will have to be satisfied with the ties we already have," said Sybil firmly and deliberately turned her back on him, resuming her conversation with Matthew. "Cousin Matthew, what is your opinion on vote for women?"

"I think it's hardly unreasonable demand," answered Matthew, deliberately ignoring Larry's disbelieving expression. Thankfully Lady Shackleton soon demanded his attention. "Although I do not fully support the means some of the suffragettes undertake to fight for their cause. I think building widespread popular support for it would be more effective than dramatic gestures and violence."

"But the dramatic gestures are the only ones which seem to bring any attention to the issue!" quarrelled Sybil passionately. "Nobody was listening when they were remaining civil and polite!"

"It is true, but I still don't think it is the best strategy," answered Matthew. "It repulses potential allies and sympathisers who could have been brought to accept the justice of voting rights for women but are put off but the radicalism."

"You might be right," admitted Sybil doubtfully, "but I still greatly admire their courage and conviction!"

"They are definitely not lacking in either," agreed Matthew. Before they could continue their discussion, Cora turned to the neighbour on her right which signaled the guests should follow her clue and change their partners. Sybil rolled her eyes before she turned towards Larry with clear reluctance. Matthew sent her a concerned gaze before turning to Mary.

"You don't think that Mr. Grey is a bit too familiar with Cousin Sybil, do you?" he couldn't help asking her. She looked at him seriously.

"He does seem to have a crush on her, it's true," she admitted. "But I doubt anything comes out of it, she clearly loathes him."

"With good reason," mumbled Matthew, throwing a disapproving glance at clearly leering Larry. "He is behaving in a rather abhorrent manner towards her."

"It is quite funny though how completely he misjudges her," said Mary musingly. "He looks at the most passionate, caring, serious young woman of his acquaintance and proceeds to completely ridicule all the matters and interests she holds dear. Hardly a winning strategy, even if his personality hasn't made his suit hopeless anyway."

Matthew smirked.

"Quite right," he agreed. "But you don't think she needs any rescuing?"

"In a dining room full of people?" asked Mary incredulously. "Hardly. She is perfectly capable of keeping him in his place at such setting. And she hardly is any danger of being alone with him, both through family's supervision and her own obvious reluctance for any scenario such as this. No, she will not enjoy this part of her evening, but she has no true need for a rescue. It is a good training for her Season next year, actually. She won't only be pursued by likeable men."

"And were you pursued by a lot of unpleasant men?" enquired Matthew, intrigued. He rather imagined that she was and suspected she left them in no doubt their attentions were unwelcome.

"Oh, yes," sighed Mary, then smiled at him. "Some men can be really bad at taking a hint. But it was still an exhilarating time and I hope Sybil will enjoy hers immensely when her time comes."

"What was so exhilarating about it?"

"You have never seen a proper London season yet," answered Mary, her eyes getting distant while she focused on memories. "The glamour, the beauty, the energy of it. The dancing, the elaborate dresses, the attention – especially when it's your own debut and you are the star of the ballroom. And of course what it means for a girl – she is officially out, enjoys greater freedom in many aspects and feels like her life is finally beginning and she is no longer treated like a child," she sighed, her face growing cynical. "It is an illusion, of course. Women like Sybil or I are really in a waiting room until we marry. We pay calls, support charities, pick dresses and do the season, but our lives are really on hold until we manage to get a husband."

"I made you angry. I'm sorry."

Mary looked at him seriously.

"My life makes me angry, not you," Mary's gaze softened. "Never you."

Matthew swallowed, his eyes never leaving Mary's.

xxx

Edith's evening was hardly an improvement over the vexing day she had so far. She still felt tired from seemingly unending track of churches with Matthew and she was still stewing over his apparent dismissal of her. She was seated at dinner between Billy Russell and Sir Anthony Strallan and she had no hopes of either of them lightening her mood. Billy Russell was in fact discussing today's hunt in minuscule detail, with plenty of focus on her sister's masterful riding. Edith was proud of herself for managing to keep the conversation going with clipped comments and lots of nodding and was hugely relieved to turn to Sir Anthony. She did not expect an exhilarating conversation, but she at least hoped for less admiration for Mary.

She was not in luck.

"Lady Edith, I have not expected your sister to be so knowledgeable about crops and challenges related to modernisation of an estate. She has clearly put a lot of thought into the matter."

"She does care about Downton," admitted Edith through clenched teeth. "We all do, it's our home. What would be, in your opinion, the biggest challenge we face, Sir Anthony?"

Talking of farming was preferable by far to any talk about her sister.

"Why, it is a vast topic, Lady Edith," answered Sir Anthony with enthusiasm. "The world is changing rapidly and our agriculture must change as well if we are to retain our ability to feed growing city populations. Not to mention that with new tax burdens, only likely to increase, the survival of big estates is by no means guaranteed. The old system of taking most of our income from rents is inefficient in a lot of ways. The improvements in farm machinery enables us to farm directly with much less effort, cost and labour force. The problem is..."

"That if we need smaller labour force, we would put many people out of jobs?" interrupted Edith.

Sir Anthony beamed at her.

"Yes, precisely, Lady Edith! The biggest challenge is to introduce significant changes in such a way that we don't unduly harm the people relying on us. There are ways, both of a kind we ourselves could take care of – like voluntary buy outs of the farms – many young people prefer to get a job in a city than to work on a farm like their parents – or some which demand government action, like improving access to education so those young people have actual chance of choosing a different life for themselves. It is definitely a very complex topic, but one of utmost importance for landowners like us."

Edith looked at him with astonishment. Why did she ever consider him boring? She supposed she barely spoke with the man before; she certainly never saw him so animated. He was clearly passionate about the topic of their conversation and knowledgeable about it, his arguments well thought out and reasoned. Despite her expectations she found herself well engaged in their discussion. She gave surprised Sir Anthony her most sincere, brilliant smile.

"I quite agree with you, Sir Anthony," she said pleasantly. "Could you tell me more about what families like ours can actually do to prepare ourselves and our tenants for the challenges ahead?"

"With pleasure, Lady Edith!" exclaimed Sir Anthony, completely charmed by the interest he had received from both Crawley sisters. He did not remember last time he had enjoyed an evening half so much.

Drawing room, Downton Abbey, November 1912

The Dowager Countess of Grantham and the current Countess of Grantham were observing the proceedings between the gathered people with great interest from the quiet corner they retreated to discuss it in relative privacy.

"Mary and Matthew Crawley seem quite friendly tonight," noticed Violet approvingly.

"They do indeed," agreed Cora with equal approval. She was elated that her eldest daughter behaved sensibly, her protests against the matchmaking notwithstanding. "I am honestly relieved; I was afraid she was going to be more resentful towards him."

"For daring to inherit what she considers should be hers?" asked Violet caustically.

"Weren't you yourself set on breaking the entail on her behalf?"

"Oh, I was, I was, and I still am looking into the matter," answered Violet sternly. "I did not give up the fight for Mary's inheritance, but if I am not successful it would be a nice solution to the situation."

"That it would be," agreed Cora. "And don't you think they look nice together?"

Violet gave her a caustic eye.

"As it is the most important thing," she scoffed.

"Well, it is not the most important thing, true," answered Cora testily, "But I want my daughters to be happy, as well as well-settled, and I think she would have a chance with Matthew."

Violet nodded thoughtfully, then turned her gaze towards another pair.

"And what do you think about that development?" she asked, pointing with her cane towards Edith and Sir Anthony, obviously engaged in animated conversation.

Cora frowned.

"I don't think Edith is quite so desperate yet."

"I agree," answered Violet thoughtfully. "He is as old as Robert. Although his estate is not bad, he has a title, if not a great one, and he has no heirs other than his cousin in the clergy."

"Still, I think Edith could do better," insisted Cora. "We were always so focused on Mary that I think we neglected her a bit. We need to introduce her to some men closer to her age."

"You're quite right," nodded Violet. "Who do we know who could be a match for her?"

"Mary mentioned meeting Viscount Branksome's son at the races. He seemed quite a nice man. Maybe we could encourage him to get to know Edith?"

"Would he be interested in Edith after Mary?" asked Violet shrewdly. "Maybe we should keep our search away from Mary's suitors."

"Mary expressed no particular interest in him," answered Cora blithely, "He couldn't have any big hopes there, and Edith, while not having so many advantages, is a perfectly lovely girl and with the entail unbroken, just as much a good prospect. I think we should invite him for New Year's Shoot, I'm sure I used to know his mother."

"Well, it shouldn't do any harm," acquiesced the Dowager. "But we should invite Sir Anthony too. We definitely hope that Edith can do better, but he does seem interested in her and this is not a sight I had many occasions to see so far."

Cora frowned unhappily but agreed.

xxx

Isobel was also observing her son and Lady Mary with keen interest. She knew that the Crawleys intended to get them married if at all possible, and that Lady Mary objected to this plan. And yet, looking at them now, she was starting to see that the idea was not so completely preposterous. She had never seen her son so blatantly interested in a woman. He wasn't doing anything improper or suggestive – they were only talking and keeping respectable distance between themselves – but to her it was obvious in both his focused attention and the glowing look of his eyes that he was well on his way of becoming besotted with this girl. There was already a clear attraction. Understandable, considering how beautiful and alluring Lady Mary was.

Isobel was not sure how she felt about it. It would have been an amazing match for Matthew – one nobody could dream of before they got the news of his sudden prospects of inheritance – but she was not at all certain if it was the best one he could have. Not in terms of status or wealth, of course – it would have been hard to find someone higher born or wealthier than Lady Mary – but she was always imagining her future daughter-in-law as someone more matching Matthew in background and disposition. Lady Mary was opaque, cold, rather snobbish and often derisive, even cynical. For all that Sybil was a child, Isobel would consider her as a more likely love interest for Matthew, with her passion for the downtrodden matching her own. Mary seemed entirely self-centred in her interests and occupations. And yet she knew what she was seeing and resolved to get to know Lady Mary better. When her son wanted something there was no changing his mind about it. It had been the same when he had decided to study law instead of following the family tradition of medicine. And he sure seemed to want Lady Mary.

xxx

Matthew and Mary were standing at ease in another quiet corner of the drawing room, temporarily blind to the blatant interest they were causing in the members of their family.

"Was it fun to be back in the saddle?"

Mary smiled at him.

"Yes. Although I'll pay for it tomorrow."

"Would you ever come out with me?" Matthew was not sure what prompted him to ask. Maybe it was the wine and brandy he had consumed, maybe her sparkling brown eyes, but he found he was waiting with bated breath for her answer. She seemed surprised; would she find him presumptuous? "Or aren't we friends enough for that?"

"Oh, I think it might be arranged," smiled Mary, seeming still surprised, but evidently pleased. "I am sure I will be too sore tomorrow after such a hard ride, but how about next Saturday? Or do you have plans already?"

"Nothing I cannot easily reschedule," he answered, not daring to believe his luck. She agreed!

Mary raised an eyebrow.

"No more church visiting with Edith?"

"My mother is trying to set something up, but we have no definite plans yet."

"Watch out. I think she has big plans for you."

"Then she is in for an equally big disappointment," said Matthew firmly. They exchanged a knowing look and laughed together, even though it made Matthew feel a bit guilty. Poor Edith.

"So, are you enjoying yourself yet? In your new life?" asked Mary after they calmed down.

"Yes, I think so. I know my work seems trivial to you..."

"Not necessarily," Mary interrupted him, looking at him seriously. "Sometimes I rather envy you, having somewhere to go every morning."

"I thought that made me very middle class."

"Oh, it does," laughed Mary, "but it doesn't make my envy any less true."

"You said at dinner that you feel stuck in a waiting room until you marry, but couldn't you find an occupation?"

"How? What do I know? My education was little more than etiquette, prejudice and dance steps."

"You could help at the hospital."

"Like your mother? Not really. She has knowledge and training. All I could do is read to patients who weren't listening," she fell silent, looking pensive. "I would love to get more involved in running the estate. I have no training for that either, but I love this land and I am sure I could learn all I need to know quite easily. But Papa does not find it appropriate for me to get involved."

Her frustration with it was obvious and Matthew felt deeply for her. He felt the injustice that he was to inherit the house and land she obviously cared so much about while he found it more of a burden than anything else. And the fact that her brilliance was ignored and her possible contribution dismissed rankled.

"It is definitely his loss, I am sure you would have much to contribute," he said, feeling it very inadequate response to her confession, but coming short with anything more comforting.

"You cannot know it for sure, we never talked about anything related to the estate so you don't know whether I have anything sensible to say," noted Mary with arched eyebrow, "But I thank you for the compliment."

"You have had plenty of sensible things to say on all the topics we have discussed so far," defended himself Matthew, "so I'm sure you would have more of the same on the topics of running the estate. Maybe we could discuss them during our ride on Saturday? You could show me around the estate while pointing out the issues which need to be addressed."

Mary looked up at him and for a moment he fancied he saw real fondness in her eyes.

"It would be my pleasure."

Downton grounds, December 1912

The Saturday morning was crisp and bright, with hints of frost on the grass melting slowly in the winter sun. Mary breathed in deeply and smiled at her companion. His seat on the horse was as good as she remembered, although it wasn't as natural as her own. He looked so handsome in his riding clothes that she was determined for today to be just the first one of many similar excursions. Especially since this was one of the very few activities which they were allowed to pursue in privacy.

They were approaching the Coulter farm and Mary pointed out the neglected fields.

"This is a good example of some of the difficulties we are facing," she said, shielding her eyes from sunlight. "Mr. Coulter is getting on in years and not able to run his farm efficiently anymore. He doesn't have children who could take over. He is also behind on his rent; not surprisingly, but Papa won't take any action. His philosophy is that Mr. Coulter is our responsibility and we have to take care of him, whether he is able to work the land or pay his rent or not."

Matthew frowned.

"Your father is a very kind man."

"The kindest," agreed Mary. "But a very poor businessman."

Matthew's eyebrows shot upwards.

"Cousin Mary," he exclaimed, "how very middle class of you!"

Mary raised her own eyebrow.

"The aristocrats do not like talking about money or God forbid working to make it," she responded. "But we sure like to spend it. Our lifestyle cost a fortune to maintain and it has to come from somewhere."

Matthew looked at her with puzzlement.

"I was under the impression that your mother did bring a large fortune into the marriage with your father. Isn't it enough?"

"It is, for now. But the problem is how much we have to rely on it. In theory, we should get our expenses covered by rents from the estates, but Downton is not self-sufficient – it never really was. If Papa didn't marry Mama we would have lost it in the 80s. The problem is that we are slowly draining the capital, year by year and if we ever lost it, be it to poor investment or excessive taxation, we would be in a real danger of facing ruin."

Matthew looked at her seriously, then turned his face towards overgrown field of the Coulter's farm.

"And do you think something could be done to prevent such scenario?"

"Yes," said Mary firmly. "There are ways. We could manage the estate better. We could start farming more of it ourselves, consolidate the land by buying back some of the farms, introduce livestock. We definitely could safeguard Mama's fortune in safer investment options – Papa is much too willing to pick risky ones which promise more profit. We could invest in those modern machinery or farming options Sir Anthony is always talking about. But Papa will never agree to it without a fight and he won't even fight with me on it; he considers it completely not my business."

Matthew gaped at her.

"I don't know what I find more astonishing," he said slowly. "That you know and have thought so much about those issues or that your father is foolish enough to dismiss you."

Mary shrugged. She felt rather dishonest to present so many of those ideas as her own, when they not only had been Matthew's originally, but also ones Matthew had to fight with her bitterly to have her acknowledge them as valid. But he had convinced her, truly, and now she was desperate to act on them earlier, before Downton ended up in such dire straits.

"Maybe you will have more luck," she said, struggling for indifference. "You are the heir after all, Papa cannot say it's not your business to be interested."

"No," said Matthew pensively, "he is actually trying rather hard to get me interested and involved."

"A word of caution though," warned Mary. "He honestly wants you to learn the ropes and get in love with the land and the people the way he is, to feel the same responsibility he does. But he does hate any hints of challenging his authority or questioning his choices. If you want to have any hope of reform, you must tread carefully."

"So you're saying I should work on my diplomatic skills?" joked Matthew but grew serious at Mary's grave look.

"Yes," she said, getting Diamond to move with a light kick of her heel. Matthew followed on his borrowed horse. "You don't even know how hard. That's if you want to, of course. For all the fact that you're the heir, it's not your problem yet and might not be for many years."

"But if nothing is done, isn't it likely that I would inherit the title and a pile of debts to go with it?"

"That might happen," admitted Mary gloomily, "I love Papa, I really do, and as you pointed out, he is the kindest of men. But he can be really pig-headed on some issues and he abhors change."

They rode slowly in silence for a long while before Matthew asked.

"How could we remain kind to the tenants like Mr. Coulter, who cannot really keep up with the workload anymore? Isn't there a way to pension them out? Doesn't the estate own also cottages in the village?"

"Yes, it does. Most of the village belongs to the estate."

"Then couldn't we offer him and others like him to move into some cottages rent free, maybe even cover their living expenses, and either give their farms to tenants who can farm it properly and pay a higher rent or farm it ourselves? Or isn't there enough free cottages for that?"

"There should be enough of them, we have whole rows of them free I think," said Mary thoughtfully. "But many of them are in pretty bad shape. I am not sure if they are habitable."

"Why weren't they maintained better?" asked Matthew with a frown. Mary sighed.

"What have I told you about the management here?"

"Then this is the first thing we should focus on," announced Matthew firmly. "I will ask your father to show me the cottages and I will try to talk him into proper evaluation of them and hopefully undertaking repairs and maintenance project. He can hardly object to giving better living conditions to his tenants and if we make the empty ones habitable, we will be able to either move some of the tenants from failing farms as we discussed or maybe rent them to newcomers to the village. Either way we should recuperate the money spent on renovations."

"It does sound like a good start," said Mary, hiding a smile. "And I wish you the best of luck with that. As much as I might wish otherwise, any potential crisis is your problem, not mine."

"But you are willing to help me with securing Downton's future, aren't you?" asked Matthew, looking at her intently. "I hardly know what I would be doing and you do love this place."

Mary smiled at him enigmatically.

"I might be convinced to make it my problem," she said archly. "If you ask nicely enough."

Crawley House, December 1912

Matthew was sitting in his favourite chair in the sitting room, deep in thought.

He enjoyed the ride with Mary immensely, but their conversation disturbed him greatly. When the letter from Lord Grantham arrived and during the first meeting with him and Mr. Murray Matthew was told that he suddenly was facing the prospect of inheriting immense riches. A vast estate, a mind-boggling fortune, one of the finest manor houses in England, a house in Mayfair and a whole lot of smaller properties. And yet, according to Mary, while all of this was true, it was also mismanaged in a dangerous manner, even though apparently with best of intentions. He didn't pretend to know Robert well, but the few months of acquaintance have given him impression very much matching Mary's account. The Earl was a kind man, definitely conservative and traditional, but more open minded than average among his peers. He was generous and felt deep and obvious responsibility towards his family, servants, tenants and the land itself. And yet the faults pointed out by Mary didn't seem incongruous with any of it. Robert could be kind, generous and responsible and still fail as manager of the estate, because he hated change and saw business-like approach as heartless and middle-class. He might drain his wife's fortune and invest the rest of it in a risky manner exactly because he wanted to ensure that money he has spent will be recovered through investments. And because it all fitted, it all made sense, Matthew came to the conclusion that Mary spoke the truth.

It was a daunting prospect. Matthew was not yet even close to accepting that he was going to inherit a title and a fortune one day. He was not at all ready to accept that he could inherit a title and a bankrupt estate which he would have no way of saving. Mary seemed sure that the matters were not dire enough to lose hope of preventing such an outcome, but also pessimistic about her father's willingness to listen to them or amend his ways. It really bothered Matthew that she seemed to imply that her father would be more willing to listen (even if only slightly so) to him, still a relative stranger completely unfamiliar with their way of life, than to his own brilliant daughter who evidently knew what she was speaking about and cared for the estate so much. He could hardly believe Mary and her opinions were valued so little.

Matthew sighed and drank some of his tea, cold by now. He wistfully thought about his life in Manchester. It was not perfect by any means, but there he felt in control of himself and his fate. Being the heir of the Earl of Grantham turned everything topsy-turvy and he was sometimes almost dizzy from it all. He was fighting desperately to not let any of it change him and yet he felt it was unavoidable, at least in some ways. He was already getting used to dining in splendour, dressing up for dinner, hell, even having a valet although he still didn't see a point of it. Facing now the prospect that he could lose all that just when he started to take it for granted was deeply unsettling. Realisation that he was powerless to prevent it due to lack of control over the estate he would end up responsible for was infuriating. He was satisfied with his job in Ripon, even though it was not offering him truly great prospects, because he saw it as means of keeping himself occupied and independent while getting adjusted to his new situation in life. Now though it again didn't seem enough. If he couldn't rely on his inheritance anymore, he needed to find his own way to independence and prosperity. Especially if he intended to start a family with a wife from his new sphere, whose expectations would naturally be grander.

Matthew startled. Where has this thought come from?