King's Cross Station, London, June 9th, 1922
Mary got off the train, leaning on Matthew's hand more heavily than she intended. She closed her eyes, willing her nausea to pass. She had barely been sick twice during her whole pregnancy with George and she was not going to be worse with that baby. She was planning to tell Matthew in a more pleasant way than getting sick over his shoes at a crowded platform.
"Darling? Are you quite alright?" he asked, concern clear in his voice. Mary mentally swore and opened her eyes with a smile.
"Perfectly," she said. "Just momentarily dizzy."
Matthew frowned worriedly.
"Are you sure? You seem to be suffering from those dizzy spells quite often recently and you've been so tired..."
"I'm sure," said Mary, trying very hard for dismissive tone. "Let's better hurry up, the others are waiting."
Master bedroom, Grantham House, St. James Square, London, June 9th, 1922
Matthew loved seeing his wife getting ready for a big occasion. He never told her that, but he usually hastened his own preparations as much as possible, so he could sit in his corner armchair and observe quietly the ritual of picking up jewellery, applying perfume and Anna performing finishing touches on Mary's hair.
Tonight she was wearing a black, form hugging dress with silver beading and long black gloves, paired with diamond jewellery and tiara. She reminded him of a starry night, all darkness and shining light, and she took his breath away. He wondered again if he was ever going to grow immune to her beauty and once again concluded that it was impossible.
She turned to him and got up, her preparations over. He got up immediately as well and walked towards her, feeling he simply must kiss her now. Seeing her like that, but unable to do so while they were in public, was going to be pure torture tonight.
"Don't make me untidy," she warned him throatily, but responded to his kiss with hunger equal his own.
The Crowborough House, St. James Square, London, June 9th, 1922
"The Earl and Countess of Grantham, Lady Edith Crawley and Mr Evelyn Napier."
Mary wondered if getting into a ballroom on Matthew's arm and being announced like that would ever get old for her. However much she regretted Papa's early death – and she did miss him terribly at times – hearing those titles with knowledge that they applied to herself and Matthew now gave her a real thrill of things being just as they were supposed to be.
Soon they reached the Duke and Duchess of Crowborough waiting to receive them. She noted with a smile that Agnes's bump, albeit still small, was perfectly visible and her cheeks were glowing with each received congratulations. Her smile widened at the thought how close in age their babies were going to be.
Her smile froze into the fake, polite version of it, when she greeted the duke.
"Lady Grantham," Philip, the Duke of Crowborough bent his head over her hand. "You're looking just as incredible as always."
"Thank you, Duke. And my most sincere congratulations to you and the Duchess," she sent a gentler smile to Agnes, who blushed happily in response.
"Yes, thank you," answered the duke with a wry smile. "We are of course delighted."
They moved on to make space for the next guests in the receiving line.
"I cannot stand that vile man," Mary muttered under her breath. Matthew, even though familiar with only a fraction of Agnes's suffering, squeezed her hand comfortingly.
Edith snorted.
"And yet you were dead set at marrying him at one point."
Mary glared at her as Matthew coughed in surprise.
"I did not know him then as I do now," said Mary coldly. "And at least I didn't fall for a fraud."
"No, you wouldn't have fallen for anybody at all – just for their fortune and titles," shot back Edith and Matthew evidently decided that the most prudent course of action was to separate them and asked Mary to dance.
"You really should try not to be so hard on Edith," he chided gently as they reached the dancefloor. Mary immediately bristled.
"She started it this time!"
Matthew just looked at her for a moment until she rolled her eyes and gave in.
"But yes, I didn't have to bring up that impostor. She just annoyed me so!"
"Did you really want to marry him?" asked Matthew curiously and immediately regretted his question at Mary's stricken expression.
"Edith is right about my motives when he was concerned," she said quietly. "I was young and silly and I wanted to be a duchess very much. He visited Downton shortly before you arrived and indicated that he wanted to propose to me. It all came to naught when he learned that Papa was not going to do anything to break the entail – he needed to marry an heiress, you see. I mourned my disappointed hopes and haven't learnt until much later what an incredibly lucky escape I had. I would have agreed to marry him if he asked. I didn't know any better then."
Matthew felt a mix of compassion for her and resentment towards people who had brought her up with such mistaken notions regarding marriage. He shuddered at the thought that he could have met her as the fiancée, if not the wife, of their bastard host and never get to experience the happiness her love brought him.
"Then I am very thankful that his debts were so high," he said, pulling her closer.
"Me too," she whispered, a smile coming back to her face. "As it turned out, being Countess of Grantham comes with more perks than any other title in England."
xxx
Mary really shouldn't be surprised at running into Tony Gillingham, but she was certainly not happy about it – and, judging from Matthew's downturned mouth, neither was he. She did look with curiosity at the elegant brunette on his arm, assuming she was facing the famous Mabel Lane Fox.
Who was staring at her with similar, if more hostile, curiosity.
"Mary, may I introduce you to my fiancée, Miss Mabel Lane Fox? Darling, this is my childhood friend Mary, the Lady Grantham, whom I have told you about."
"At considerable length," quipped Mabel, measuring Mary with a clear challenge in her eyes. Mary could only assume that Tony didn't know when to shut up any better in the company of his intended than in her own.
"He was constantly talking about you when he visited Downton in April," she offered conciliatorily, but without making any visible dent in Mabel's dislike. Well, it wasn't really any skin off her nose.
"I hope you don't mind running into me again," said Tony as soon as Mabel seemed distracted talking to Matthew.
"I don't mind at all," lied Mary. "How are you?"
"Well, missing you, mainly."
Mary stared at him incredulously. Mabel was just there. No wonder she disliked Mary on sight.
"Sounds to me as if the needle's got stuck. When are you and Mabel getting married?"
Thankfully Tony accepted the rebuke and changed the subject.
"I gather Charles Blake's at Downton."
"How do you know him?" asked Mary in surprise.
"We served together at Jutland on the Iron Duke."
"I see. We don't really know him, but he and Evelyn Napier are writing a report for the Government. He'll be up there for a few weeks."
"Lucky devil. Well, don't get to like him better than me."
Mary snorted.
"Don't worry. I find each of you a complete pest in your own right."
xxx
Lady Caroline Blake tried to muster some enthusiasm for the event. On one hand, it was the most glamourous one she had occasion to attend this season and it was nice to get out of the house and the constant company of her mother. On the other hand, mother expected her to finally find a new husband and Caroline was beyond weary of the process. If only Lucius had lived long enough to sire a son!
Well, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride, so she was stuck here, listening to Mabel Lane Fox complaining about some evil seductress trying to drag her fiancé into an affair and messing with his head.
It took Mabel a long time to actually use the woman's name, instead of increasingly creative epithets, but Caroline rolled her eyes when she finally made the connection.
"That's who you're worried about? If so, you're much less smart than I've always took you for."
Mabel narrowed her eyes.
"Why?"
"Because there is only one man Mary has ever wanted and it's most definitely not your fiancé. I'm sorry, but if there really was some attempt at seduction, it couldn't have been from her side."
"You're so sure she is so virtuous?" scoffed Mabel.
"I've never said anything about virtue," shrugged Caroline. "Although she probably is, whatever has been rumoured about her once upon a time. No, but she really is completely obsessed with her husband. If you put your silly jealousy aside and used your eyes for a moment when they are together, you would have seen it. They are so sweet together it's sickening, to be honest. Don't make an idiot of yourself. Your fiancé is managing it beautifully all by himself."
xxx
Matthew and Evelyn sipped their champagne idly, both of them observing Mary dancing with Caroline's brother, Lord Spencer.
"I must admit I envy you," said Evelyn levelly. "You obviously figured out how to brush up on your powers of fascination, while I failed utterly."
Matthew shifted awkwardly, unsure how to react to this confession. He knew that Evelyn was perfectly sincere and also that, unlike Tony, he was a perfect gentleman. He would probably continue to be fond of Mary for the rest of his life, but he would never allude to it more than he did right now.
He was also gentleman enough to notice Matthew's uneasiness and strive to relieve it.
"I am honoured to be Lady Grantham's friend," he said formally, but with a ring of honesty. "I would not have missed out on it for the world. And I am very glad that she has found love and happiness in her marriage. Such luck is rare enough to be cherished."
Matthew looked again at Mary, who seemed to sense it and smiled at him over Lord Spencer's shoulder.
"That it is," he agreed wholeheartedly. "And I truly cherish mine."
xxx
He just finished another dance with Mary, when they were approached by agitated looking Edith.
"Sir Richard is here!" she hissed in warning, making Mary blanch slightly and grasp Matthew's hand.
They were both grateful for the warning when soon after they were approached by the man themselves.
Matthew hadn't seen the bastard since he had a very great pleasure to punch him in the face. Now, knowing what he did about actual circumstances of Mary's scandal, he regretted bitterly that he hadn't beaten him up more. He knew that Carlisle was not aware of the truth any more than he had been at the time, but it was no excuse in his eyes. Unlike Matthew, he had dug into the scandal - and then used his imperfect knowledge to weaponize it against the woman he had been supposed to love and protect. Against the woman Matthew loved with fierce protectiveness which stirred in his breast immediately at the sight of Carlisle's arrogant mug.
His only true regret for punching him was that it unfortunately had not been in defence of Mary, but of himself - and not even from a false and slanderous accusation, but from painfully, unbearably true one. He had to admit to himself that Carlisle's words had only hurt so much because he had been bloody right.
"Lady Grantham," Carlisle addressed Mary, then greeted him mockingly. "Lord Grantham."
"Hello, Sir Richard," answered Mary with cold composure Matthew had always admired in her, even if it occasionally was driving him mad. He gave Carlisle a quick bow, determined to take his clues from her. "I hope you're enjoying your evening?"
"Quite," he answered. "My condolences on the passing of your father. I should have sent them at the time, but to be honest I was confused whether sending congratulations or condolences card would have been more appropriate, and it seemed unimaginable to send both."
Mary's hand tightened around Matthew's at this painful reminder of the day they had welcomed their son and lost Robert in the span of hours.
"Thank you," she said in a voice which was only slightly choked, clearly determined not to give Carlisle an inch. "It was a very difficult time for many reasons."
The way the bastard was looking at Mary, Matthew was convinced he wanted to talk to her privately, but that was exactly what he was resolved to prevent. The only good thing which could be said about Carlisle was that he had not published anything about Mary and Pamuk in the end, despite his threats to do so. It didn't mean Matthew forgot the way he had used to behave towards Mary or the manner in which they had parted.
Carlisle sent him an irritated look, clearly reading Matthew's intentions correctly, and continued to ignore him while addressing Mary exclusively.
"I suppose I should apologise for lack of well wishes on the occasion of your wedding too – only it took place so very soon after our own engagement ended that I frankly was not in a mood to wish you well yet. It impressed me how fast you were able to pick up the date when you genuinely cared though."
Matthew stiffened, a retort ready on his lips, but he felt Mary squeezing his arm in a warning gesture.
"You know very well that there was nothing quick about my and Matthew's courtship," she said calmly. "We hardly wanted to wait any longer."
Carlisle snorted in apparent amusement, sending Matthew an evil eye.
"Oh, don't I know it," he said with clear sarcasm. "Well, accept my best wishes now – I had enough time to be able to offer them in all sincerity I can muster."
"Thank you, Sir Richard," said Matthew, unable to stay silent any longer. "We appreciate your good will."
Carlisle's black look clearly indicated that he was not including Matthew in his well wishes, which only made Matthew smile wider. He bowed curtly again and led Mary away, without the slightest objection from her.
"Goodness, that was unpleasant," she commented as soon as they were safe distance away from Carlisle. "On the other hand, it had to happen sooner or later, so it's good to have it behind us. I'm glad we were together when we ran into him."
"I'm glad too," agree Matthew. "I know you would have managed him brilliantly on your own, but I'm happy you didn't have to."
Mary smiled at him mischievously.
"And at least this time no vase has been sacrificed. Which is a relief because I have no idea how fond Agnes is of them."
xxx
"I've heard that you have already run into your former fiancé?" asked Caroline eagerly, eyeing the man in question.
Mary shrugged.
"I have."
"And? Please tell me I haven't miss anything too outrageous!"
"Easily. We conversed civilly, exchanged belated condolences and well wishes, and parted ways without further ado."
"How very disappointing, though mature of you all," sighed Caroline. "And here I hoped for something more salacious, considering that Sir Richard has not paid any special attention to anyone else since you two broke up."
"Maybe I should introduce you two", suggested Mary flippantly.
"Maybe you should," answered Caroline eyeing Richard speculatively as Mary nearly choked on her drink.
"Please tell me you're joking," she said incredulously after she regained her ability of speech. "I was."
"Why not? I know you have been gaga over Matthew since before the war and dropped Sir Richard like a hot potato as soon as you saw your chance with him, but it doesn't mean he isn't an attractive prospect."
It was neither time nor the place for rehashing her whole complicated history with Matthew and Richard - not that she ever intended to tell Caroline everything - but she would be damned if she had to witness another of her very few friends suffering in a miserable marriage.
"Caroline," she said in a quiet, urgent voice. "This man is dangerous. He is a bully. He likes to control, use and threaten women. He is not above handling them roughly. I have never had a closer escape than by breaking my engagement to him and it had nothing to do with hoping to get Matthew instead. Stay well away from him, please. Because you could very well tempt him into marriage - I think you might be just his type - but you would come to rue it eventually."
She could see that her words did not go completely unheard, but she could also see familiar stubborn expression on Caroline's face and she felt dread at the thought to what it may yet lead.
"I have run into Mabel Lane Fox," said Caroline suggestively instead. "Imagine that, she doesn't like you for some reason."
Mary rolled her eyes.
"She's welcome to continue disliking me, if it means she keeps Tony away from me," she said. "Although what it is she sees in him remains a complete mystery to me."
Dr T. Goldman's Office, London, June 10th, 1922
"So you will be able to tell for sure?"
"Reasonably sure, yes. The test is fairly accurate."
"How does it work?" asked Edith curiously.
"I will send the sample of your urine to the laboratory, where they will inject it into five immature mice. Then they will check the mice after 5 days and, if the rodents have a resulting oestrous reaction, in other words go into heat, it strongly implies the presence of the pregnancy hormone in your urine and thus confirms you're pregnant."
"So I should receive the results within a week?"
"Give or take few days for the results to be mailed to me and then to you. Probably closer to two weeks."
Edith nodded, clutching her purse tightly.
Drawing Room, Grantham House, St. James Square, London, June 10th, 1922
Edith handed her hat and gloves to Bates and, with a weary sigh, went into the drawing room where she could here voices of Mary and her friends. To be perfectly frank, she was hardly in a mood for socialising with them, but didn't dare to draw attention to her health by pleading yet another headache. She was forced to do it often enough as it was, due to ever increasing nausea and tiredness plaguing her in the last few weeks.
She thought grimly that the test she just ordered was rather superfluous. There really could only be one result in the circumstances. But she needed to be sure. There was some diminishing hope left that her symptoms were due to nerves and stress.
She didn't dare to tell Michael until she was completely sure.
Lady Caroline Blake and Agnes, Duchess of Crowborough were seated on the sofas in the red room with Mary, all in excellent humour after last night's ball. To Edith's internal groan, it wasn't the ball they were discussing right now.
"I was so happy when the nausea finally passed! I was sick like a dog for nearly three months, several times a day. Whoever called it a morning sickness was definitely lying," said Agnes with uncharacteristic animation.
Mary looked at her with compassion.
"I am so grateful that it wasn't so bad for me with George. I was sick just twice during the whole pregnancy and other than some small nausea and tiredness I felt perfectly alright. The worst thing was emotionality. I had tears in my eyes at the silliest little things. I baffled Matthew completely at times."
"I dare say being emotional and weepy is not what he normally finds in his wife," laughed Caroline. "I regret I didn't see you much then. I would have laughed so hard if I witnessed it!"
Mary threw her a mock glare.
"It only lasted some weeks, thank God. I was driving myself crazy with those moods. But you just wait – when you marry again and it will be your turn, I will make sure to repay you for all those remarks."
Caroline shrugged.
"Let's see whether it ever happens. Mummy quite gave up on me remarrying by now," she looked at Edith for commiseration. "But with the matters as they are, this kind of talk is fairly nauseating for unmarried ladies like us, isn't it Edith?"
"Quite," said Edith weakly.
She only wished her nausea was only due to the conversation.
Piccadilly, London, June 10th, 1922
"Mr Bates! It is you, isn't it?"
Bates turned around and noticed Mr Green grinning at him. He sighed internally, but tried to rein in his dislike of the man. It's not like he was really guilty of anything other than flirting with Bates' wife.
Which, come to think of it, was enough to make a man dislike the fellow.
"What are you doing here?" asked Green genially.
"I'm getting Lord Grantham's tails to his tailor while his lordship is in London. Easier to do in person than rely on them shipping it to Yorkshire."
"Isn't that true! Unless you are standing over them and make damn sure they get the work done, you will wait forever! It's easier now that Lord Gillngham lives in London, but when he was spending most of the time at his estate, it was a royal pain to deal with matters like that."
Bates nodded non-committally, not really wanting to prolong their conversation.
"I must say I quite enjoyed my stay at Downton," continued Mr Green blithely.
"The concert was quite a treat," suggested Bates, making Mr Green laugh.
"You must be joking," he said incredulously.
"Why? I thought she had a beautiful voice."
"Beautiful? Screaming and screeching, as if her finger was caught in the door? I swear I couldn't take it for one more moment."
"So what did you do?" asked Bates without special interest.
"Well, I came down to the servants' hall for a bit of peace and quiet, that's what, and I must say I had much more fun there than upstairs. Pity it was cut short, in fact," answered Mr Green with a gleam in his eyes.
Bates could not explain what happened next except as a sudden flash of insight.
Mr Green had been downstairs during the concert.
Anna had been downstairs at the same time and she had fainted and got bruised all over.
Yet neither of them had mentioned the presence of the other. Anna said that Nanny Lewis had come to fetch milk for Miss Sybbie and helped her out.
Mr Green said that his fun downstairs had been cut short.
No... that could not possibly mean... but...
Had Anna really fainted and fallen?
All those thoughts raced through his head in a matter of seconds and before he managed to decide how to even give voice to them, Green smiled, tipped his hat, and walked away.
Bates stood there, staring at his retreating back with wide eyes.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Edith's pregnancy test was quite real and it really involved injecting mice with urine and checking if it makes them ovulate. It was the first available pregnancy test, although I fudged the dates here a bit, since it was only available from 1927. I could not figure out any other reason which would make Edith receive her results in a letter, so I assume that Julian Fellowes also was referring to this one.