Lady Mary's bedroom, Downton Abbey, July 1913
"So it was him," said Mary, feeling a rising wave of rage at this new knowledge.
Anna nodded grimly.
"In all fairness, he was blackmailed into it," she said. "Mr Pamuk threatened to accuse Thomas of attempting to force himself upon him."
Mary snorted.
"He would know all about such things, of course," she pondered it for a moment, her fingers rapping nervously on her vanity. "Do you believe him? That he truly was blackmailed, and not bribed?"
Anna pursued her lips and nodded again.
"I do. He would have never used this particular threat in his story otherwise. He is very discreet, very careful about his inclinations."
"Since they are punishable by prison, he is right to be," said Mary contemptuously, but hesitated. She did not want to feel compassion for Thomas – she just learned he had done a very good job of ruining her life! - but in all fairness she did feel some. She knew what it was to carry a shameful secret and live in constant fear of exposure. She knew how it was to be blackmailed with it and how desperate one could get to keep it hidden. And all she faced was a social ruin, not years of gaol.
"If I may suggest something, milady," Anna started carefully and continued at Mary's nod. "I do not like Thomas or think he is a nice man – because he isn't. And what he did was truly awful and could have ended so much worse for you than it did. But maybe..."
"I should forgive him?" asked Mary incredulously. For all her compassion, she was hardly ready for that.
Anna shook her head immediately.
"Not forgive," she said firmly. "But use it. He is a troublemaker, that Thomas, but he is smart, and he listens to all kinds of going ons. Let him know that you are willing to show him mercy, but only in exchange for his absolute loyalty and best behaviour. Who knows, he could prove useful yet."
Mary looked at Anna with true admiration.
"How come people do not realise how devious you are?" she asked playfully.
Anna smirked.
"It's my nice face and blond hair," she answered. "They seem to fool everybody."
Music room, Downton Abbey, July 1913
Thomas's collar felt too tight. It seemed to attempt to strangle him ever since Anna relied to him that Lady Mary was expecting him in the music room. Since Lady Mary was not known for enjoying playing any instruments, it must have meant she wanted to talk with privately, and Thomas was not expecting anything good from that talk.
He found Lady Mary sitting in an armchair like on a throne, her back straight and her expression severe, which did nothing to diminish his fear.
"Close the door, Thomas," said Lady Mary in a commanding tone. "I don't think either of us would like this particular conversation overheard."
He did as he was told and stood in front of her. She glared at him.
"I learnt that it was you who led Mr Pamuk to my door the night he died," she started bluntly. "Do you confirm that?"
Since there seemed to be no bloody point in denying it after Anna dragged the truth out of him already, Thomas nodded.
"Yes, milady."
The glare intensified.
"And did you know what he was planning to do there?"
Thomas hesitated.
"He did indicate that it was an... assignation by mutual agreement."
He winced at the furious expression on Lady Mary's face and hastened to add:
"But I learnt soon that it was nothing of that sort!"
"How did you learn it, Thomas?" asked Lady Mary dangerously. Thomas swallowed.
"I stayed behind the pillar to see what happened," he admitted. "And I saw that you had your door locked and that you refused him entry."
"What did you see? Or hear?"
"Well, I couldn't hear what you said, just your muffled voice," said Thomas, thinking fast. "But I could hear him. I heard him demanding entrance and promising all kinds of things. I also heard..."
He bit his tongue hard, realising belatedly that maybe it wouldn't be the most politic thing right now to admit he heard Mr Pamuk revealing Lady Mary and her now fiancé were lovers.
"What did you hear, Thomas?" pushed Lady Mary, her eyes narrowed. Thomas thought she looked like a viper. Or old Lady Grantham.
"I didn't hear anything worth noting, milady. Only some more rubbish he was spewing," he said, noting with relief that Lady Mary relaxed her back a tiny bit in evident approval.
"Good. It was definitely nothing worth noting. Then what happened?"
Thomas swallowed again.
"I heard a thud and I saw him dead in front of your door and you standing over him," he shuddered. He still didn't know how Lady Mary had done it. They said at inquest that the Turk died of natural causes, but it all sure looked very conveniently timed for Thomas. He would bet his best hat that Lady Mary had done the Turk in somehow and the toffs managed to cover it all up. After all it was old Clarkson who signed the death certificate and wasn't he in the Crawleys' pocket?
"And then?" Lady Mary continued, her face impassive and giving away nothing.
"I saw Mr Matthew carrying the body back to his room," admitted Thomas, shuddering again at the memory.
"Anything else from that night that you remember?"
He shook his head.
"I went straight to bed, until it was time to fetch Mr Pamuk's breakfast tray."
"And how much has Sir Richard Carlisle paid you for that story?"
Thomas startled, shaking his head wildly.
"Nothing, milady! I swear, I did not sell it to him! Would never cross my mind to!" he said honestly. He might have considered sharing such salacious gossip with O'Brien or some of his mates, but he would never have gone to the papers! Well, voluntarily, at least.
"Then how come he learnt it?"
"You know," mumbled Thomas resentfully. "I told Anna and she must have told you."
Lady Mary's eyes narrowed again in clear warning.
"All the same, I want to hear it from you," she waved her hand imperiously to make him go on.
"He blackmailed me, same as Mr Pamuk," Thomas gave in with a sigh. "Found me in a club which was not... proper. He already knew that there was something off about Mr Pamuk's death, and that it involved you, and he was pushing and threatening until I had no choice but to tell him what I saw."
"He already knew?" Lady Mary startled, clearly shocked by it. Thomas nodded, eager to take the odium of blame from himself.
"Somebody else must have seen or heard something, because I swear, I didn't tell a soul until he hunted me down."
"I see," said Lady Mary only, resuming her expressionless face. She was a cold one, no doubt about it.
She raised her eyes at him.
"What you did, Thomas, put me in a direct harm's way," she said icily. "If I breathed a word of it to Lord Grantham, you would be immediately dismissed without character and without reference. You do realise that, don't you?"
Thomas nodded grimly. He was very aware of that, yes.
"I am willing to keep silent," continued Lady Mary, making his head shoot up in shock. "But on the condition that you will never mention the tiniest detail of that night to anyone, and you will tell me – or Anna – if you hear any kind of gossip related to me or any other member of the Crawley family. I am willing to be merciful, but I will require your absolute loyalty from now on, no matter what threats you are faced with. Do we have a deal, Thomas?"
"Of course, milady," stammered Thomas, reeling from the wholly unexpected out he was offered. "I swear."
Swire, Weatherby & Crawley office, London, July 1913
"He really is a right bastard," whistled Jack with a hint of admiration, which made Matthew give him a sour look. "So he hunted down the footman without any special reason, just on an off chance he might know something salacious he could use against Lady Mary?"
Matthew nodded grimly.
"According to what Mary and Anna, her maid, uncovered, that is how it looks like."
Jack whistled again, but then leaned forward on his desk, his face growing serious.
"What's your plan then?"
Matthew sat straighter in his chair.
"I intend to visit Carlilse in his office and remind him of the existence of several pieces of legislation he might have overlooked while threatening Mary," he said firmly. "And ask him politely to spare her his presence in the future."
Jack looked at him thoughtfully.
"Do you think it will be enough?"
Matthew shook his head.
"I would be very surprised if it was. It should be enough to deal with the current threat and stop him from publishing that rubbish, if he even ever intended to do so. But I cannot believe he will just leave Mary in peace after going to such lengths to harass her. If he learnt the gossip accidentally, then maybe… But it looks like he spared no expense or effort to investigate her and find anything which might stick."
"I agree," said Jack, looking at him with concern. "And what do you intend to do about it?"
Matthew shrugged unhappily.
"What more can I do, other than ensuring Mary is never alone at any social occasion which might bring them together in the future?"
"Do you want me to go with you?"
For the first time, Matthew smiled, although it was more of a smirk.
"No," he said. "I don't want him to think we treat him as a serious enough threat for me to require back up. Besides, it might proof useful to keep you in reserve if my plan fails or he thinks of something new."
Sir Richard Carlisle's office, Fleet Street, London, July 1913
Sir Richard raised his head from the letter he was perusing at his secretary's knock on the open door of his office. He took a moment to appreciate her perky figure and lustrous brown hair. He did hire her due to her impeccable references and mean speed at shorthand, but he did not deny that it was her looks which in the end put her ahead of other, equally qualified candidates. He did appreciate a fetching woman to look at every day.
"What is it, Miss Milton?"
"Sir Richard, a Mr Crawley is here asking for a private meeting. He said he knows that you are busy, and he doesn't have an appointment, but that he hopes you will agree to speak with him anyway."
Sir Richard's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he found himself nodding his assent. He was genuinely curious what Crawley had to say.
Soon the insufferable blond villain was making himself comfortable in the chair on the other side of the desk. For a moment, both men were regarding each other in silence, seizing each other up.
To Sir Richard's irritation, Matthew Crawley was unquestionably a handsome young man. What irritated him even more was the observation that even though they were both from middle class, Crawley had the looks and pose of a proper English gentleman – he truly looked the part of an heir to an earldom, which was not something anybody ever accused Sir Richard of. Sir Richard had a title, not just prospect of one in the future, more money than Crawley saw in his lifetime and growing influence among the elites of the country. Crawley however was younger, handsomer, posher looking and sounding – and somehow engaged to Lady Mary Crawley after mere months of acquaintance. And nothing currently interested Sir Richard more than how that came about.
Crawley broke the silence first.
"Sir Richard, I know you are a busy man, so I won't waste your valuable time on small talk. It came to my attention that you acquired some very fanciful and completely baseless gossip about my fiancée and me and that you threatened to publish it. Is it accurate?"
"I do not think it is baseless, Mr Crawley," answered Sir Richard smoothly, stapling his fingers. "And I must protest the word "threatened". I merely informed Lady Mary of the existence of the rumours in question and how big a story they would make if published."
Crawley's face expressed his scepticism with every feature. It was a very expressive face; Sir Richard was extremely doubtful if Crawley could ever be a good liar with his every thought and feeling clearly reflected on it. He was probably lousy at poker, a game Sir Richard excelled at.
"Let's leave the matter of defining threats for now," Crawley said coolly. "What I wanted to remind you of is an old piece of legislation called Slander of Women Act of 1891. I assumed you are familiar with it, being in the newspaper business as you are, but your conversation with Mary made me think you could use a refresher."
"And why would that be, Mr Crawley?" drawled Sir Richard, intending to rile his rival up. Crawley however remained annoyingly composed.
"You don't have any proof for any particular of the story you told Mary," he answered coldly, with a steely glint in his blue eyes. "And I wanted you to know that if you publish a word of those rumours, the Crawley family has every intention to sue you based on this act. The burden of proof would be on you and since there is not one ounce of truth in them, you would fail to provide it. It could and would be a rather costly affair for you, Sir Richard, both financially and socially."
"Oh, but I wouldn't be slandering Lady Mary's virtue. After all, the story is she defended herself successfully, if rather drastically, against Mr Pamuk's advances."
Crawley raised an eyebrow.
"So you wouldn't use the bit about my supposed affair with her?" he asked incredulously.
Sir Richard sighed theatrically.
"I firmly believe that you had, in fact, have an affair with her," he said. That was true. Crawley had never been subtle about his feelings regarding his cousin and she had been even less so. As much as he liked to play a saint, he would have to be one not to take advantage of that and Sir Richard did not believe in saints. "However, I am indeed, as you pointed out, familiar with Slander of Women Act. As long as I don't imply the lady is unchaste, it would not apply to the story."
Crawley sat back in his chair, unperturbed.
"So you would only accuse her of murder and me of covering it up?"
"It still makes for an entertaining story, albeit less salacious one than the one I heard from the eyewitness of the events."
"Ah, so you have an eyewitness," noted Crawley musingly. "I wonder if he is the kind who would be willing to testify in court as to what he observed?"
"He might be, if motivated enough," answered Sir Richard with confidence.
In fact, he was not fully convinced the footman would testify in court if it came to that. On one hand, he risked Sir Richard exposing him to the authorities for sodomy. On the other, however, he risked the kind of notoriety after the trial which would ensure he could find no future employment as a servant. Going to the press with your employers' secrets and conduct was after all breaking the most basic tenets of service.
It seemed blasted Crawley knew it too, because he smirked.
"Motivation can work both ways, you know. Whatever bribery or threats you used, could be counteroffered."
"Influencing a witness in a criminal investigation is a crime in itself, you know," pointed out Sir Richard smugly. Infernal Crawley remained undaunted.
"A fact you should remind yourself of. Anyway, so far there is no criminal investigation since the death was ruled to be a result of natural causes."
"One could be always started if new information came to light."
Crawley sighed.
"Sir Richard, we could spend the whole afternoon exchanging barbs and allusions, but frankly I think we both have better things to do. I came here to inform you that if you publish any kind of slander against chastity of Lady Mary, you will be sued based on Slander of Women Act. If you publish any other kind of wild accusations against her or me, you will be sued based on Libel Act of 1843. If you try to stir trouble with the official ruling concerning Mr Pamuk's cause of death, you risk criminal charges yourself, for obstruction of justice and wasting the Crown's resources on unnecessary investigation, not to mention endangering Britain's precarious relationship with the Ottoman Empire. And if you ever importune my fiancée again, I can promise you the whole Crawley family will refuse an invitation to any event you are expected to attend and while it of course won't cause all doors of the British aristocracy to be shut in your face, it will make your social life and goals to establish yourself much more difficult. I would strongly advise you to leave both this ridiculous story and my fiancée in peace."
During the whole speech, delivered calmly and authoritatively, Sir Richard was seething. He knew very well that Crawley was right regarding the legal consequences of publishing any part of the footman's revelations. That's why he never intended to publish it. He only threatened Lady Mary because he was rattled by her engagement announcement – a rash action on his part, he admitted to himself, but he had always found it hard to be calm and rational where she was concerned – and he did not expect that she would consult anybody regarding his threats. He admittedly forgot that Crawley himself was a lawyer – an oversight he was not going to repeat. But then again, she had not confided in him last time when faced with similar predicament. If anything, she had seemed determined to keep it from him at all cost. However, he overlooked the fact what Crawley's involvement in the proceedings of that fateful night implicated. He allowed himself to be overly influenced by the past version of events – a mistake he did not intend to repeat. The conclusion that for now no course of action remained for him but to cut his losses and retreat brought bitter taste to his mouth.
"As I already told you, I am aware of the libel laws. The purpose of my conversation with Lady Mary was merely to make her aware of the story. I would not publish anything without proper proof, however believable I would find it to be," he said with forced calm.
Crawley stood up but did not offer his hand. Which was very well, because Sir Richard had no intention of shaking it.
"I'm glad we understand each other, Sir Richard. Have a good day," said the villain and left his office.
Sir Richard allowed himself the pleasure of throwing his water glass against a wall. After cathartic noise of shattered cup, he poured himself a generous portion of a much stronger liquid.
Townhall, Downton Village, July 1913
Watching Granny and Isobel bickering was as entertaining as always, although it was a bit disconcerting still to see how earnest they were about it at this point in their acquaintance. Mary had been used to their genuine friendship which hadn't mean less arguing, but the quarrels were mixed with real fondness. Apparently though even the engagement of their respective granddaughter and son was not enough to diminish their animosity quite yet.
She looked around impatiently for her fiancé. Matthew was in London, but he promised faithfully to take the morning train back to attend the flower show with her. She could survive the event without him, but she had an awful suspicion that he planned to use his trip to confront Richard and she could not get rid of anxiety regarding it.
In the meantime, she noticed Edith simpering at Sir Anthony, who looked absolutely smitten. She once again had to fight the temptation to chase him away from her sister. She could not decide whether the impulse to do it came more from her usual way of dealing with stress and misery, which was to make someone, usually Edith, equally miserable, or a more charitable concern for Edith being hurt again by the bride jilting dolt. She could very well commiserate with him over not wanting to be tied to Edith for the rest of his life, but to do it at the altar was cruel and unnecessary. Whatever Mary's relationship with her sister was, she hated to see her so humiliated.
Before she could contemplate it further, she finally spotted the very welcome figure of Matthew in his cream summer suit. She noted with pleasure that he was wearing the light blue tie, which perfectly matched his eyes.
He noticed her as well and joined her promptly with a wide smile.
"I missed you, darling," he said, taking her hand and looking at her lips in a way which made her sure it was only the presence of the crowd that stopped him from kissing her. The butterflies in her belly started fluttering at the thought. "I'm glad to see you looking so well."
"You're late," she pointed out, trying to appear unaffected by his smouldering eyes. She firmly told the butterflies to calm down. "I had to go in without you."
Matthew sighed.
"The train spent forty minutes standing in a field somewhere. I did come here straight from the train station. I guess I should apologise for being so dusty and dishevelled."
Mary gladly used the excuse he provided her for giving him a look over. Goodness, he was handsome in this suit!
"You don't look dishevelled to me," she smiled flirtatiously, enjoying the way he swallowed hard at her words and the look which accompanied them. She quickly grew serious though.
"How was London?"
"Hot and hectic," answered Matthew, offering her his arm and leading her slowly through the show, ostentatiously to admire the flowers, but in fact making sure they ended up far enough away from the crowd to not be easily overheard. "I participated in some meetings at Whitehall, which were very interesting, if rather far from concluding the matters."
"And?" pushed Mary, at the limits of her patience. He must have heard it, because he smiled fondly and finally went for the topic which concerned her the most at the moment.
"Afterwards I visited Carlisle at his office."
Mary swallowed nervously.
"How did it go?"
"Very well. He won't publish any part of the ghastly story he gave you," answered Matthew smugly, rather pleased with himself for handling the matter.
Startled, Mary let out the breath she did not realise she was holding.
"Just like that? How on earth have you managed to convince him?"
"He was bluffing from the beginning," answered Matthew, looking at her seriously. "There are laws protecting people from libel and slander by the press and he is very well aware of them."
"But scandal sheets are publishing all kinds of nasty and untrue stories every day!"
Matthew nodded.
"That's true. But usually they get away with it by one of three ways; the stories are actually at least partially true and just sensationalised in their descriptions; the stories are untrue but corroborating evidence allows for at least plausible deniability; or the stories are untrue, but the publisher expects to take advantage of the story subjects to be ignorant of the law or unwilling to sue for other reasons. I have let Carlisle know that we have every intention to sue, on any and all applicable grounds, if he publishes a word of it. The story he gave you is so full of inaccuracies that his supposed eyewitness can't be reliable and we would most likely be able to prove it in court. So you see, there is plenty of risk for him for no conceivable advantage and I do not think Carlisle is a type of person who acts against his own interests."
"No, his interests are his priority," said Mary, weak with relief. She was terrified that she was going to again live for years under constant threat of Richard's blackmail. She wondered if she would have been able to defend herself like that from Vera Bates selling her story if she had consulted a lawyer about it. Mrs Bates couldn't be considered a credible witness – she first set a foot at Downton years after Pamuk's death and only briefly – so unless someone unearthed Edith's letter to the ambassador Mary could have reasonably denied it all.
She shook off considering would-have-beens and focused with a grateful smile on her awesome fiancé.
"You are amazing, you know. Thank you for dealing with it so swiftly and successfully. I was really worried about the potential scandal and you made it all go away with one meeting."
Matthew modestly denied any claims to being amazing, but she could see he was pleased by her reaction.
The continued walking around the flower show, content to observe the flowers and people now that the heavy part of their conversation was over.
"Will you be coming to dinner tonight or are you too tired after your meetings and the journey?"
"I'm coming," Matthew answered with ready smile, "I wouldn't want you to think that I am a dull boy who doesn't make time for play."
Mary raised her eyebrow.
"Oh, so you are confident that I do not think you're a dull boy anyway?"
Matthew's head bowed towards her with a teasing smirk.
"I think I have reasonable grounds to believe you don't."
Mary found herself subconsciously leaning in towards him. She jerked herself backwards with effort.
"Well, it's a good thing that you are coming," she acquiesced hastily, determined to break the mood. As nice as it was, they were in public! "We are expecting quite a collection of dreary neighbours."
"Perhaps I will shine by comparison then," said Matthew with twinkling eyes. Mary again had to fight to keep her composure.
"Perhaps you will."
xxx
In the opposite corner of the townhall another conversation regarding oncoming dinner took place.
"Are you coming to dinner tomorrow, Sir Anthony?" asked Edith a little breathlessly. Ever since coming back from another unsuccessful Season and especially after the disappointment of her hopes for Evelyn Napier, she was determined to secure Sir Anthony. He might be as old as her father and only a baronet, but he was interested in her. No other virtue could be more enticing. And she did quite like him, in fact. Marriage to him hardly seemed like hardship.
"I am, Lady Edith," answered Sir Anthony with a shy smile. He could still not believe that a woman as young and lovely as Lady Edith could be interested in him. He had some modest hopes when she seemed to respond well to his courting attempts during the winter, when he took her for a concert in York, to a dinner with common friends or just for some drives around the countryside. He was afraid though that she would undoubtedly come back from the Season engaged to somebody else. Somebody younger, more eloquent, more charming. And yet here she was, unattached and looking at him with such fond eyes and a welcoming smile he could hardly believe it. When he confirmed he accepted her mother's dinner invitation that smile of hers could lit up the room.
"That's marvellous! I am so looking forward to resuming our talks, you know. The conversations in London ballrooms can be so superficial."
"I can't say I had any recent experience; I go to Town rather rarely. Maud preferred to stay in the country and I must say I agreed with her."
"Perfectly right, Sir Anthony. I much prefer the country myself," lied Edith with enthusiasm. She liked the country alright, but it could be rather dull without the relief of bustle and activity of London during the winter or summer season. If it helped to convince Sir Anthony that she was the perfect wife for him she wouldn't have hesitated to announce she was going to paint herself green. She could always try to talk him into spending some time in Town after they married.
Dining Room, Downton Abbey, July 1913
The sitting plan met with Matthew and Mary's approval. Most importantly they were sat next to each other. Their other neighbours were also welcome. Matthew was again next to Sybil, as was a common occurrence since she was not yet out and was usually partnered by a family member or a close friend. Mary had her godfather, Lord Merton, on her left, which made her quite satisfied. Dickie was a dear and an easy and charming conversationalist, so her hopes for the evening were high. Isobel was placed on Dickie's left, with Robert on the other side, and also quite happy with the arrangement. She had good rapport with both men and each of them was an interesting partner in his own right.
The first courses went without an incident, with Sybil and Matthew discussing Gwen's continuing quest to become a secretary while Mary and Dickie engaged in a spirited debate about horses.
"Are you sure you don't need a secretary, Cousin Matthew? Either here or in London? Gwen is perfectly willing to move somewhere else, as long as she gets a job."
Matthew shook his head regretfully.
"Not at present, no. We have a secretary in our London office, and for most other tasks we need clerks who are trained for legal matters. And I do not yet have an office here; I am still considering whether I will need it or if I just travel to London more often and complete the paperwork at home."
"But if you decide to set up office in Yorkshire, could you promise to at least give Gwen an interview before you hire a secretary?" implored Sybil earnestly. "She really is good, so fast and accurate, at both typing and shorthand, but it's hard for her to find a job without previous experience. Nobody so far wanted to give her a chance and I just know she would succeed marvellously if somebody did."
"I'm sure you're right," answered Matthew with a friendly smile. "And I promise that if I find myself in need of a secretary before she finds a job somewhere else, I will ask her to an interview."
Sybil beamed at him.
"Thank you! I knew I could count for you to be willing to help her. And she is such a deserving girl, you know, you won't regret it if you ever hire her."
"She must be deserving to gain such a good and supportive friend in you."
Sybil looked at him seriously.
"I do hope I am a good friend to her. I know that I am sometimes naïve about the realities she is facing and it must be exasperating to her sometimes."
"You might be ignorant about such matters, but only because you have been rather sheltered your whole life, not from lack of caring. I truly admire your passion for the downtrodden, Sybil, and I am sure you will do magnificent things to help them when you're older."
Sybil beamed at his honest praise.
"You're quite a defender of the downtrodden yourself, Cousin Matthew."
"I could hardly avoid becoming one with a mother like mine, could I?" answered Matthew with a fond look at Isobel. Sybil chuckled, acknowledging the point.
"I have no doubts. I never met a person more determined to help people down on their luck than Cousin Isobel. You know that she is trying to make Granny guilty for always winning the Grantham Cup for her roses?"
Matthew rolled his eyes.
"Don't I know it! Crawley House is full of the flower show related drama. Although I must say that I both admire Mother's passion and strength of conviction… and I find her confrontations with Cousin Violet rather amusing to watch. They seem to be worthy opponents."
"That they are!" exclaimed Sybil and they laughed together.
They barely managed to calm down before Cora turned to the neighbour on her right and they had to change partners. To Matthew's relief, this time Larry Grey was seated far away from Sybil and her current partner was much more welcome Billy Russell. He turned to Mary with clear conscience.
"What were you and Sybil laughing so much about?" asked Mary curiously.
"The confrontation between Mother and the Dowager regarding the Grantham Cup," answered Matthew easily, entranced by her shining brown eyes. He was once again struck by realization he had made in the very beginning of their acquaintance – that they were the exact shade of his favourite brand of chocolate.
"Poor Granny. She is not used to being challenged."
"Nor is Mother. I think we should let them settle it between them."
Mary bent her head down conspiratorially.
"I agree. Although I think that Mr Molesley's roses will turn everybody's head tomorrow. But if you tell Granny I said so, I'll denounce you as a liar."
"I wouldn't dare. I'll leave that to my fearless mother," answered Matthew with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Mary laughed merrily at his boyish grin.
"What are your plans for tomorrow, other than attending the winner's announcement at the flower show?"
"I'm going to inspect the cottages. I barely had time to oversee the work on them with all that time I've been spending in London, but from what little I've seen they are coming on wonderfully. I'd love to show you."
Mary's heart warmed again at the commitment and care he was consistently showing towards the estate not yet his when he had a new and demanding job in Town. That was one of the many reasons she loved this man so terribly much.
Before she could give her answer regarding the next day's plans, a sudden shout silenced the whole table.
"Good God!"
Everybody stared at always composed, stiflingly polite Sir Anthony spitting the pudding into his napkin. Edith, seated by him, looked mortified.
"What on Earth?" asked Robert, voicing the question on everybody's mind.
Sir Anthony reddened in embarrassment.
"I do apologise, Lady Grantham. But I had a mouthful of salt."
"What?" Cora exclaimed, aghast, and carefully tasted some of the dessert. "Everyone! Put down your forks! Carson, remove this and bring some fruit, bring cheese, bring anything to take this taste away! Sir Anthony, I am so sorry."
Edith looked at her suitor apologetically.
"You must think us very disorganised."
"Not at all," answered Sir Anthony bravely, awfully embarrassed over his reaction to an unexpected mouthful of salt. "These things happen."
Mary wasn't sure which of them started it, but as soon as she and Matthew caught each other eyes, they burst into unstoppable giggles, with Mary clutching Matthew's arm in her struggle to control herself and stifling her laughter with her napkin. The incident was not at all less amusing for being witnessed for the second time.
Drawing room, Downton Abbey, July 1913
Thomas led the ladies to the drawing room soon after.
"Poor Mrs Parmore. Do you think you should go and see her?" asked Sybil in a worried tone. She could imagine how distressed the cook had to be by that mishap.
"Tomorrow. She needs time to recover her nerves. I knew there was something going on," sighed Cora. Of course it had to happened during a big dinner instead of one of the cosy family ones! She darkly suspected that her salty pudding was going to become a favourite anecdote among her neighbours for many years to come.
"It seems hard that poor Sir Anthony had to pay the price," said Edith mournfully, setting Mary off again.
"Good God!" she mimicked, making Sybil laugh despite herself and earning a glare from her middle sister.
"As for your giggling like a ridiculous schoolgirl with Cousin Matthew! It was pathetic."
Mary rolled her eyes. She well remembered how Edith had goaded her into that idiotic bet regarding competing for hapless Sir Anthony's attention and the disastrous gulf which it had caused between her and Matthew for months. She was safely engaged to him now, but she remained wary of escalating her animosity with Edith too much.
That didn't mean she would let an insult fly past her without response though.
"Poor Edith. Are you afraid this one is going to be scared off as well?"
Edith glare gained a burning intensity.
"You were very helpful, Edith, looking after Sir Anthony like that. You saved the day," intervened Cora quickly, sending a quelling glare of her own at her eldest daughter.
"I enjoyed it. We always seem to have a lot to talk about," she raised her chin in a challenge.
Cora sighed a little. She still wasn't completely reconciled to her daughter marrying such an old and boring man. She deserved so much better! Pity about the Branksome boy, he would have done nicely.
Mary just rolled her eyes and walked away before she was tempted into some regrettable action. She was hit with a realisation that in two short months she won't be sharing a house with Edith anymore. Moving to their own house never seemed like a better idea.
Meanwhile she sat by Sybil and Lady Russell and picked up a conversation regarding the approaching garden party at Downton and the one just held at Haxby.
xxx
The men didn't linger in the dining room, with Robert eager to join the ladies tonight.
"I hope our salty pudding didn't spoil the evening for you," he said to Matthew, smiling at him warmly. He was continuously happy that this upstanding, smart young man was not only his heir but now also future son-in-law.
"On the contrary," assured him Matthew, supressing his smile at the mirth they shared with Mary. It wouldn't do to burst into giggles again with poor Sir Anthony just behind them.
"It strikes me sometimes that soon we will have the pleasure of your company much less often, not to mention what a difference Mary moving out will make. I understand the need for your own establishment perfectly – it isn't so long that I was newly married myself – but I am afraid I will miss you both dreadfully."
"I know it's not going to be the same, with Mary especially, but Eryholme is hardly far away," said Matthew reassuringly. "I am certain we will both be visiting quite often, and you hopefully will visit us in return. I know Mary is looking forward to entertaining the family in her own home."
"Don't I know it!" laughed Robert. "Yes, she will be glad to be a hostess in her own right instead of deferring to Cora as she would have to if you two lived here. I know my daughter and her independent spirit. I'm really looking forward to seeing her shine, for all I will miss her terribly when she leaves Downton."
The two men smiled at each other in understanding and their shared love for Mary as they entered the drawing room.
Mary's face lit up at the sight of her fiancé and she came across the room towards him with a warm smile.
"I've been waiting for you. We didn't have opportunity to finish our plan to inspect the cottages after the flower show tomorrow."
Matthew gladly led her to a sofa to continue their conversation. He could not wait to have her all to himself in their own home. Robert's words brought his expected married life to the forefront of his mind and October seemed insufferably far away.
xxx
Meanwhile, Edith was busy trying to improve the evening for Sir Anthony. Even though she knew Mary's jab about her being afraid of scaring off another suitor was said in mean spirit, it made it not less true. She couldn't stand the thought of Mary triumphing over her, married to Matthew, while she remained a pathetic and lonely spinster.
It did not cross her mind that at twenty one years of age it was a bit early to throw the towel. Her fear and feelings of inferiority, so well ingrained, were too great.
"Sir Anthony, I was really impressed by your knowledge of so many foreign languages! Have you travelled a lot to learn them?"
Sir Anthony smiled bashfully, flattered again by her apparent interest in him. It wasn't a feeling he was used to receive from anybody but his poor Maud. This realisation cemented his resolve.
"I have travelled to the Continent during my youth – both alone and with Maud, for our honeymoon and then for vacations. But it was really the Army which taught me the most."
"You were in the Army, like Papa?" asked Edith with wide eyes.
"Not in South Africa, like your father. Truth be told, I have never seen battle. I was more involved with the diplomatic side of things."
"That sounds way more fascinating to me than a battle!" said Edith honestly. She was hardly a suffragette, but she was honestly interested in world affairs and social issues. She just never had anybody to talk about it with – until Sir Anthony and Evelyn Napier, but Evelyn was not writing with her anymore. "You know where my interests lay."
"I do indeed, Lady Edith," Sir Anthony smiled warmly, if a bit nervously. "And I am constantly amazed by the keenness of your mind and your ability to express your views on such varied and serious subjects. Talking with you is a delight."
He hesitated for a moment, but then gathered his courage and plunged in.
"Actually... I would love to talk with you soon about a specific matter. To ask you a question of great importance. Do you think I could, maybe at the garden party your mother invited me to in August?"
Edith's eyes shone as they never did before.
"I will be glad to talk with you, Sir Anthony."
Lady Grantham's bedroom, July 1913
Edith could barely contain her excitement when she entered her mother's bedroom that night.
"Have you enjoyed your evening, my dear?" asked Cora with a fond smile at her middle child. How pretty she looked tonight!
"Oh, it was lovely. Only..." she gave her mother a breathless, excited glance. Cora felt slightly alarmed.
"Yes?"
"Well, Sir Anthony said he had a question for me. He told me he'd ask it at the garden party. And he hopes I'll say yes!"
"You must think very carefully about what your answer will be," said Cora seriously.
"Oh, but I already have!" exclaimed Edith earnestly. "He is not boring at all to me, Mama, he has travelled so much and is knowledgeable about so many subjects! And he listens to me, truly listens to me, and says I am smart and can express myself very well. And Mama, he finds me lovely! He really does!"
"Because you are lovely, my darling girl," said Cora helplessly, stroking Edith's blonde hair. "You are so lovely and young. Are you certain, absolutely certain, that Sir Anthony is who you want for a husband? Because I am sure he won't be the only man who will find you lovely."
"Well, there doesn't seem to be many of them now," snapped Edith with a stubborn set of her mouth. "And I love him, Mama! He is who I want for a husband and I am sure we will be happy, so very happy."
Cora sighed. While Sir Anthony was definitely not her ideal for a son-in- law – the man was older than her, for God's sake! - she was a pragmatist. Sir Anthony had a title and a perfectly nice little estate. What's more, Edith would be living in the immediate neighbourhood which meant she would see her, and hopefully soon her grandchildren, quite often. It was not the worst thing that could happen.
"Then you have my blessing, my dear girl," she said, embracing her daughter, who gladly leaned against her, basking in her mother's approval and her expected happiness. She was going to get engaged soon! And then married! "Now, go to bed, but we have to go to a dressmaker soon. You will need a new frock for the garden party. You must look your best, after all."
Garden Party at Downton Abbey, August 1913
Mary looked in contemplation at Edith's elated face when Papa was announcing her engagement to Sir Anthony and sipped her champagne.
Well, hopefully it would keep her too busy to stir any trouble in Mary's life.
It disturbed her though how many things had changed in this timeline even though she didn't think she had done anything to influence it. Matthew's job, their friendship with Lavinia, Sir Richard showing up years earlier than expected, now Sir Anthony's proposal a whole year earlier than he had planned previously... It all made her nervous about other unexpected changes she might encounter.
She took another sip of champagne and looked at her sparkling engagement ring. She was definitely delighted with the changes she had made. She was engaged to the man she loved so deeply, they were going to be married whole years earlier than before – and even if she didn't think of a way to protect him from the oncoming war, they would at least face it as married couple, together. They would be married in two months, they would have nearly a year of happiness before they had to deal with the war, their beautiful new home was being prepared for them and they would have a complete privacy there. Maybe they would even be joined by George soon.
"Thinking about your own engagement?" a voice of Aunt Rosamund got her out of her thoughts. She smiled at her though.
"Yes, actually," she said with satisfaction. "I enjoy it more than Edith's."
"Don't we all," her aunt rolled her eyes. "Edith could do better. It's a pity it didn't work out with Viscount Branksome's son, it did look promising for a while."
Mary shrugged.
"I don't want to sound vain, but I do think he was more interested in me," she said caustically, "He did seem to enjoy talking with Edith and they did exchange some letters, but I never saw any deeper interest from him."
"You might be right, but it's still a pity," sighed Rosamund. "Loxley is not a bad estate and she will have a title too, but he is older than me!"
"I think Edith is just so desperate to get married that she doesn't care much about the groom," pointed Mary. "And she might be happy enough, with coddling her husband and maybe even driving one of his precious tractors one day. I mean, look at her now."
They both did and Edith did indeed look radiant, gazing adoringly at her fiancé and accepting congratulations. In all fairness to Sir Anthony, his gaze was also full of adoration and apparent disbelief at his good fortune. Here's hoping that he will not change his mind at the last moment this time, since he is younger and able bodied.
"Oh well," Rosamund shrugged, "nothing to be done about it now. I guess we have to concentrate on Sybil's debut next summer and ensure she ends up better."
Oh, we may try, thought Mary with amusement. Considering Sybil was already in cahoots with Branson she saw very little chance of such plans succeeding.
They found Matthew and joined the happy couple to offer their own congratulations. Mary hoped she succeeded in sounding moderately sincere.
"Are you looking forward to planning two grand weddings, Cora?" asked Rosamund, reaching for more champagne from Thomas' tray. Lady Grantham groaned but was smiling radiantly.
"It will be an enormous task, but I am rather looking forward to seeing both of my elder girls so nicely settled," she smiled at her prospective sons-in-law.
"I am not sure I am looking forward to paying for it," joked Robert.
"When do you plan it, actually?" asked Matthew with a friendly smile. He did seem genuinely pleased for Edith and Anthony, who both blushed at his question.
"We don't want to wait too long, but neither to compete with you and Mary, so we are thinking about December. The Village is so nicely decorated for Christmas," answered Edith and beamed at her intended.
"Then we will be safely back from our honeymoon and able to attend," Matthew smiled at them. Mary stopped herself from rolling her eyes or making comments about Edith possibly competing with her. She was very proud of her restraint.
"I'm sure Edith and Mary will enjoy planning their weddings together," said Sir Anthony cheerfully and Mary nearly choked on her champagne. Papa actually did.
Edith's fiancé obviously had no idea what minefield he stepped into. Well, Mary was not going to enlighten him. If Edith insisted on pretending that she was an angelic creature incapable of slightest trace of malice, it was his discovery to make.
She found it quite insulting that Matthew sent her a warning glance.
"I'm sure they will have plenty of common interests now," said Mama diplomatically, sending a warning glance of her own to both her daughters.
Mary sighed. In theory, she guessed they would have... They were getting married within months of each other, moving into their own houses in the neighbourhood, planning renovations and hiring servants – Edith obviously less than her, but still, she would make changes to transition Loxley from a residence of a widower to one belonging to a couple and hopefully soon a family – but well... It was Edith! Mary did not feel herself capable to share joy of planning with her in a tender tete-a-tete. And she had survived discussing wedding plans with Lavinia Swire!
Thinking of Lavinia made her look at Matthew and relish the knowledge that he was her fiancé this time. He was hers and soon they would be married, and nobody could question that he belonged to her and her only. Matthew must have felt her gaze on him because he turned slightly from his discussion with Papa and Sir Anthony and sent her a fond smile. Mary smiled back at him and sipped more of her champagne.
She felt absolutely, deliriously happy.
The discussion turned to the annual cricket match and Papa immediately tried to recruit Sir Anthony for the house team.
"Now that you're going to be family you simply must join us," he entreated with great energy. He might have some reservations about the neighbour he had grown up with marrying his daughter, but since that was a done deal there was cricket to consider. And Robert was deadly serious about cricket.
"I'm sure I would love to, and I am honoured by the invitation, but to be honest I haven't played for years," stammered Sir Anthony nervously. He was passionate about shooting and a damn good shot if he said it himself, but he was no sportsman otherwise. He was not sure he craved humiliating himself in front of his new fiancée and her family.
"Nonsense! I'm sure you're going to pick it right back up," Robert was not going to relent so easily. The house did not win since 1908 and he hoped that some fresh blood on the team could help to turn the tide. "Matthew is playing, of course."
Matthew blushed. "I'm afraid I also had a bit of a break from playing," he admitted bashfully. "But I hope I still remember how to swing a bat. Sir Anthony, maybe we could practice together some time before the match? It could help us both to feel more confident."
Edith sent him a grateful look and Mary an admiring one for his attempt of setting Sir Anthony at ease. They were both aware that Matthew's break from playing was much shorter than Sir Anthony's.
"Who else is playing this year?" asked Mary.
"I, Carson, Thomas, William, Lynch, two of the stable boys and two undergardeners. Matthew and Anthony would make the numbers. If Anthony does not play we would have to take one of the hall boys, but none of them look very promising to be honest," he again implored Sir Anthony with a look.
Sir Anthony sighed, wondering how to point out that at least one of the hall boys would be much more likely to be fast on his feet than him without drawing his fiancée's attention to the fact that he felt old and decrepit.