AN: For those who have stood with this story despite it appearing abandoned, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. My life has gone through many significant changes since I began this tale, some of which have made it very difficult for me to find the time or fortitude to continue writing on a regular basis. However, I think now it will be a bit easier, and I am determined to keep this story going until the end I had in mind.
I hope you like this installment and will leave me a word or two.
XX
Come on sweetheart," he said, holding his hand out to her. "We don't want to hold up the others."
Victoria nodded and reached for it, her long fingers locking with his like a matching puzzle piece.
She looked up at him then and said, "Father, was I born in someone's bed, too?"
He sighed. Victoria was quite like a dog with a bone. Once she got hold of it, she wouldn't easily let go.
"Hmmm….I think…In fact I am sure that is a question that your mother would be able to answer much better than I, Victoria. Perhaps you should ask her later, though, after she has had a chance to, as your great-grandmother put it, 'wash the dust off.'
She giggled and replied, "If you think that best, Father." Then she changed the subject and said, "I think that we are going to have great fun in Newport. Don't you?"
Matthew contemplated the week ahead and for a split second felt as though he were back on the Olympic with the alarm bells going off. A wry smile formed on his face and he replied, "Oh, yes. Loads of fun."
XX
Chapter XVI
His hands clasped beneath his head and eyes closed, Matthew found that the tranquil moment at hand was even better than he had imagined it.
Dark sunglasses in place to blot out the bright sun, he stretched out on what was without a doubt the most comfortable chaise lounge he had ever laid his weary body on and took in a long, deep breath. The briny scent of the ocean mingled with the sweet perfume of roses was intoxicating and he relished the aroma for a moment before exhaling.
"Oh, yes….this is heaven, " he muttered to himself as the sound of waves breaking on the shore lulled him into a sublime half-conscious state.
Then he was jarred back from the brink of nirvana.
"Father….Father….look…. look at all the beautiful butterflies."
This was the second time in as many hours that his sweet girl had cut short his much-needed respite, and he sighed and mumbled, "No rest for the weary."
Reluctantly he opened his eyes and turned his head, expecting to see his daughter beside him. Yet he found he was alone.
Rising onto his elbows, he surveyed the grounds and a perplexed expression settled on his face.
I did hear her, didn't I? But where…? …Ahh...There she is in the middle of that patch of wildflowers… Lady Slippers, I think Martha called them… chasing after the butterflies she wanted me to see.
Remembering how upset Mary's grandmother had been with the gardener when they first arrived over the poor condition of her Privet hedges, Matthew knew she would be livid when she saw the flowers had been trampled.
Victoria is going to get an earful once she is discovered to be the culprit.
He saw her break through the patch then, her braid whipping behind her as she continued the chase and he noticed that the color of her hair ribbon matched the pink petals that had survived her onslaught.
Running at a fast clip, Victoria turned her head toward him and cried out, "Aren't they lovely, Father. I'm going to try to catch one to get a better look."
He had no chance to reply before she turned her attention back to the butterflies who were heading in the direction of the cliff walk. Knowing the path could be dangerous, especially to a child as prone to accidents as his daughter, a chill ran up Matthew's spine and he called out, "Victoria, come back here this instant. You mustn't go any further."
To his dismay, she ignored his demand, either too engrossed in her quest or unable to hear him over the sound of the breaking waves and kept running full throttle, only stopping when the butterflies paused and were within her reach. Time and time again, she would jump as high as she could, her tiny hands outstretched and fingers poised to capture one of the delicate creatures, but each attempt she made was futile, the beautifully transformed moths darting out of her reach a second before she could trap any of them.
Matthew called out to her again, to no avail, while his eyes scanned the cliff walk. Some areas had been fenced, yet others remained in their natural state, and the area his daughter was headed toward was wide open.
He didn't remember getting out of the chaise lounge or when he had started running, but he was winded by the time he had cut the distance between them in half. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouted, "Stop! Victoria. You must stop!"
It wasn't like her to ignore his directives, but she did now, her attention entirely focused on the prize that had so far eluded her.
Good God, she is getting close to the edge of that cliff. She doesn't see it as her eyes are focused overhead on those bloody bugs.
His heart felt as though it was about to pound through his chest, his lungs burned and the cramps in his calves were excruciating. Still, he pushed on until his legs would no longer carry him.
In a last-ditch effort to stop the unimaginable, he screamed her name but his voice was as weak as he was, and although he had closed the gap considerably, he knew she wouldn't be able to hear him.
Bent over with his hands on his knees, gasping for air, he saw the horror on Victoria's face when she realized there was no longer land beneath the butterflies, and then the look of determination that replaced it as she did everything in her power to stop her forward motion.
But it was too late.
Victoria's arms flailed in the air and she spun like a top closer and closer to the precipice, until she plummeted off the cliff with a piercing scream.
"Nooooo!" Matthew cried out, his knees buckling until he was sprawled face down on the perfectly manicured lawn.
He lay there motionless on the grass with the blades sprouting between his splayed fingers. Then a single butterfly with pink and black wings landed directly in front of his face.
Matthew felt himself go numb, his brain blocking out what was too painful for him to bear at that moment.
Then he heard a tiny voice whispering in his ear.
"Father, are you asleep or just resting again?"
His eyes snapped open like a light switch flipped on and he saw Victoria's big blue eyes riveted on face.
Swinging his legs off the side of the chair, he pulled her onto his lap and into his arms in one fell swoop and held her tightly.
"Thank God…Thank God… Just a dream….Just a dream," he muttered to himself, pulling her closer and closer.
"Can't breathe," Victoria rasped.
He let her go instantly and she hopped off his lap and stared at him as if he had gone mad.
Rising out of the chair, he pushed the hair back from his damp forehead and shook his head, dislodging the horrific images that his imagination had conjured in his mind.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. There is nothing for you to be alarmed about. I fell asleep and had a nightmare. That's all…an awful nightmare. I'm fine now."
Victoria eyed him over with skepticism and then asked in a very serious tone, "Is that possible, Father? Aren't nightmares bad dreams that people have at night?"
Matthew let out a hearty laugh and replied, "I have yet to hear a bad dream that one has during the day called a daymare, so I'm pretty certain it doesn't matter what time you experience one." He took a deep breath then and exhaled, putting the horrid dream behind him and said, "Now, I assume you came to find me for a reason. Yes?"
She smiled up at him and nodded. "Mother sent me to get you as Uncle Harold and his friend have arrived. She said you should come to the parlor directly as that is where they will be."
He playfully tugged the end of her braid, taking comfort in seeing that the bow tied at its end was yellow instead of pink and said, "We had better hurry, then. I wouldn't want to keep your Great Uncle waiting."
Catching a glimpse of the cliff walk in his peripheral vision, he bent down until they were eye level and took hold of her hands.
"Sweetheart, I want you to promise me that you will not venture far from the house without my permission …and under no circumstance should you go anywhere near the cliff walk without an adult present."
Victoria searched his eyes and he could tell by the look in hers that she knew she had played a part in the bad dream he had.
"I promise, Father. I won't give you any reason to worry. You have my word."
He nodded and flashed her a wide smile, grateful that he could count on her obedience in this realm. Then he rose to his feet and they headed to the house with their hands clasped together and a spring in their step.
It didn't take long for them to reach their destination and once they were inside , Victoria said, "Father, would it be alright if I didn't come with you? Uncle Harold told me that I could help feed the puppies and I would like that very much."
"Go ahead, then Just try to get more food in their mouths than on your clothes. I believe that is the third outfit I've seen you in today."
She giggled and thanked him before turning quickly on her heel and taking off in the direction of the kitchen. Then, she came to an abrupt halt and called out over her shoulder, "If you don't know where the parlor is, Claire, the nice maid who cleaned up the puppy mess, can help you find it."
"Your mother and were given a quick tour of the first floor a bit earlier. I'm sure I'll have no difficulty," he replied and waved her on.
At that, the sound of the puppies' yapping ended any further conversation as Victoria raced to answer the call of the wild.
Matthew shook his head with amusement while making a mental note to remind his daughter that running indoors was frowned upon. Then he ran his hand through his hair, adjusted his tie and set off for his reunion with Harold Levinson.
XX
Had he not known where the parlor was, the high-pitched sound of Martha's laughter would have led him there.
"Oh, Coop, you do have a way with words," she exclaimed. "Then again, you would in your profession, wouldn't you?"
Matthew assumed Martha was addressing the movie producer but he didn't get a chance to respond to her as all conversation stopped once Harold caught sight of him.
"Matthew…it is wonderful to see you again. I was just telling Mr. Cooper about your miraculous return from the dead. It is quite a remarkable story no matter no matter how many times I tell it. He has eagerly been awaiting your arrival."
"It is wonderful to see you, too, Harold," Matthew replied, extending his hand to the man as soon as he was within reach.
As he did, he discretely took in his appearance and found that Mary's uncle had gained a bit and lost a bit of weight and hair in that order.
He saw Harold give him the once over, too, and could swear he saw a flash of envy in the man's eyes before he blinked it away and flashed him a wide smile. Then he turned to the man standing beside Mary's uncle and learned that he was, in fact, the famed movie producer, Merian C. Cooper, affectionately addressed as Coop by the Levinsons.
"I am very pleased to meet you, Mr. Crawley," Cooper said, stepping forward and extending his hand to him. Harold has spoken of little else beside you and your lovely wife since we left Block Island this morning, and from what he has shared with me, it appears your life together has taken more turns than the Tour de France."
Matthew chuckled. Martha is right, the man does have a way with words.
Like her, he would have expected as much considering his occupation, but the rest was a surprise.
He did not fit the mold of any of the Hollywood moguls he had seen portrayed in the newspapers, magazines and movie reels. His style of dress was not flashy, his demeanor mild, and his bright smile welcoming. Mr. Cooper also wasn't vain as evidenced by his receding hairline being on full display, unlike many men in his shoes who employed a toupee or comb-over to hide their deficiency.
Matthew took to him instantly and looked forward to getting to know him better.
He was about to say just that when Harold cut him off.
"You two have something in common, Matthew. Coop's family was also notified that he was dead when he wasn't."
Mary's uncle went on to explain that in 1918, Mr. Cooper, then a RAF bomber pilot, was shot down by the Germans and officially declared dead. His family was notified that he perished in the line of duty, and while they grieved for him, he was in a POW camp in Germany until the war ended.
Mary grimaced. "How awful for you and them, Mr. Cooper."
Cooper nodded his head in agreement and added that sort of thing happened more often than the general public realized during wartime.
"From what Harold has told me so far, your husband was declared dead after an automobile accident but neither you nor any of his family members saw his body."
Seeing Mary cringe, Matthew attempted to veer the conversation in another direction, but Mary's uncle kept the conversation going.
"That is just the half of it, Coop," Harold said. "The family doctor, who had just delivered Matthew and Mary's son, was the one who declared him dead. He sent him to a nearby mortuary where his body was lost. At least that is what the director of the mortuary believed when it could not be found. To avoid a scandal and inevitable law suit, he presented the Crawleys with an urn that contained someone else's ashes..."
Once more Matthew tried to change the topic of conversation, but Harold would not give up the floor, only pausing to take a breath before he launched into what happened next.
"While Matthew's supposed remains were being buried in the family plot, he was recuperating from his injuries in the London Hospital with no knowledge of who he was or recollection of his past as he suffered amnesia. He was released to the care of the neurologist that treated him in the hospital and lived with him and his wife until he regained his memory. That same day, New Years Eve, he returned to his estate in Yorkshire, more than a year after he was declared dead. It goes without saying, the entire household was in a state of shock when they saw him."
Matthew let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding and scanned the room. Mary appeared anxious, Martha agitated and Mr. Cooper about to burst with excitement.
"That is a one hell of a story," the movie producer exclaimed. "One that would make a great movie. It has all the makings of a huge hit… romance, intrigue, angst, and an ending that would have every woman in the theatre bawling their eyes out. I'd film it on location…to hell with the expense…RKO would pay big money to put this love story up on the silver screen. What do you say, Mr. Crawley? Would you and Lady Mary be interested? You both would be highly compensated for the rights to the story and the studio would pay your father-in-law a tidy sum to shoot the movie on his property."
Matthew was so flabbergasted by the proposition that he found himself unable to speak and turned to Mary for help, knowing she would make it clear that they had no interest in sharing any personal details of that painful time in their lives, especially in a movie, no matter the financial gain.
"I'm afraid not, Mr. Cooper," Mary said. "Mr. Crawley and I, as well as the rest of our family, value our privacy very much. It was quite difficult keeping all the gory details of Matthew's 'return from the dead', as you put it, out of the papers, but we shielded the family as best we could until the public lost interest. We'd like to keep it that way."
Cooper shook his head. "That's too bad. I think Leslie Howard would have fit the role of Matthew quite nicely, although I must say your husband is much better looking, and Merle Oberon captured both your beauty and spirit on screen."
Mary chuckled, "I'm sure they would both have been marvelous, but I know I can speak for Matthew when I say there is nothing that would change our minds. However, the thought of my being portrayed by Merle Oberon is quite flattering."
At that, Matthew couldn't help but ponder who would have portrayed Robert and mental images of actors he knew of that were his father-in-law's age during that time flooded his head.
Reginald Owen? He did a fine job playing Louis XV in Voltaire". Right height and build. Formidable presence. Yes, that would work.
Pleased with his choice, he smiled and moved on to who might fill Cora's shoes, when Mary broke him out of his musings.
"Darling, Uncle Harold is waiting for an answer."
"Sorry?" he replied, the look on his face making it clear he had not been listening.
Mary rolled her eyes and repeated herself.
"Please forgive me, Harold. I'm still a bit fatigued from the voyage and whirlwind of activity in New York."
Harold said no apology was necessary and that he empathized with him.
"I've been in your shoes many times, Matthew. Coop here can attest to that. He has often found me asleep while sitting upright in one chair or another while in the middle of a conversation," he said and chuckled.
Cooper nodded his head and followed suit with a hearty laugh.
Matthew joined in the amusement and then asked once more what Harold wanted to know.
"Ahh…yes. My question was…is…Would you be willing to don an explorer costume for the party tomorrow?
That took him by surprise and Matthew looked back and forth between Harold and Mr. Cooper before settling his eyes on Martha and addressing her.
"Costume? Mary didn't tell me this was to be a costume party."
"That is because she wasn't aware it was," Martha replied. "Elsa…that would be Miss Elsa Maxwell, the world-renowned party planner, assigns a theme to all of her parties. …Mine is exploration. Guests can come dressed as an explorer, archaeologist, someone on safari…that sort of thing… I wouldn't even be surprised if we see some people in the native garb worn on some exotic island. That is the gist of it.
As for your not knowing about it, I didn't think such a minor change in detail warranted a wire. I knew Mary would be a good sport about it and assumed that you would, too."
She glared at him then, as though she were daring him to refuse the request.
The thought of appearing in public dressed like Howard Carter discovering King Tut's tomb or David Livingstone, exploring unchartered territory in Africa, did not sit well with Matthew. He had no doubt that Robert would burst into fits of laughter if he saw him in such a costume. Still, he didn't have the heart to put a kink, even a tiny one, in Martha's plans and agreed to wear whatever Miss Maxwell had chosen for him.
Hearing him acquiesce to her uncle's request, Mary flashed him such a lovely smile that it made him forget how ridiculous he was going to look.
"That is how Harold and I met, you see," Cooper piped in. We are both members of the Explorers Club and while in Thailand, he saved my life."
Matthew's brows rose and Mary eyes widened with interest.
Cooper continued to explain that a leopard was about to pounce on him and Harold shot it just in the nick of time.
"If he weren't such an excellent marksman, I would have been mauled to death, my body parts strewn about the jungle for the big cats to feed on."
Imagining that scene in his head, Matthew began to feel queasy and wished the movie producer didn't have such a way with words after all.
Mary appeared repulsed as well, but after clearing her throat turned to her uncle and said, "My Goodness, I wasn't aware that you were such a good shot."
"Oh, yes, Mary. He is quite proficient," Martha cut in. "We have a trophy room with the remains of his kills mounted. It is quite impressive, even though I find hunting repulsive, myself."
Mary nodded, "Now I know why you went to London on a shopping excursion whenever Papa had a hunt in place at Downton during one of your visits."
Martha chuckled and said she was happy it took this long for someone to notice as she hadn't wanted to appear judgmental.
"Live and let live. That's my motto," she said.
Recalling how many times she had complained that the Crawleys were too resistant to change, Matthew wondered exactly when that became Martha's motto.
The room fell silent then with each person in the group apparently waiting for someone else to begin a new conversation.
Not surprisingly, Mary's uncle stepped up.
"From what Mary has been telling us, Matthew, your voyage on the Olympic added a few more twists to your already fascinating life," Harold said.
Then he sauntered over to a cocktail table a few feet away, flipped open a gilded cigarette case that lay on it and reached inside.
"Didn't you tell me that you were giving those things up, Harold?" Martha spat, glaring at her son. "If I recall correctly, you said smoking was a filthy habit and that one of your physician friends told you there was a link to cancer. So, what are you doing?"
Harold sighed and implored his mother to stop nagging him.
"I am quitting," he insisted while searching his pockets for a lighter. "It is just…Well, it appears this filthy habit isn't as easy to put an end to as I thought it would be. I have cut down on how many cigarettes a day I smoke. It will just take a little time for me to do without them altogether."
Martha rolled her eyes before retrieving a white marble lighter from the fireplace mantle and igniting it directly in front of her son's face.
"He isn't exaggerating, Martha," Mr. Cooper piped in, coming to his friend's defense. "After I had my heart attack last year, my cardiologist insisted I stop smoking. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do…even knowing my health was at stake if I continued with it."
At that, Martha scolded Harold for taking up smoking to begin with and he accused her of being a hypocrite as she not only smoked but drank hard liquor as well.
Matthew couldn't help but snicker and he found Mary doing her best to hide her discomfort while her grandmother and uncle traded barbs.
"Our situations are completely different and you know it, Harold," Martha shouted. "At my age, I should be able to indulge in whatever makes me happy."
"Is that so?" Harold snapped back, his eyes narrow and the crease in his forehead deepening. "Are you saying your health does not matter to you?"
Matthew expected her to respond quickly, to say that, of course, her health mattered. Yet she remained silent, her jaw tense and eyes downcast.
While he wondered why a simple question had knocked the wind out of Martha's sails, he turned in Mary's direction and found the look on her face mirrored her grandmother's.
What the devil is going on? Mary?
Reading his eyes, she shook her head quickly and turned away.
Finally, Martha replied in a tone that brooked no argument, "My health is not the issue at hand, Harold. Drop it. If you want to smoke, smoke. Just don't whine about how it is a filthy habit that you need to quit. I am tired of hearing it."
Harold huffed and proceeded to squash the cigarette to smithereens in a lovely cut glass ash tray, the brown flakes of tobacco and black ash extinguishing the beauty of the receptacle along with it.
"I'd love to hear a first- hand account of the Olympic mishap, Mr. Crawley…that is, of course, if you are up to recounting the details," Coop said, breaking the tension in the room. "There have been so many conflicting accounts of what happened in the papers and I have no doubt that many have been exaggerated in order to increase sales."
Thinking it an excellent idea to lighten the atmosphere in the room, Matthew nodded his head and said he would be happy to answer any questions. Rehashing the Olympic fiasco wouldn't be a pleasant experience but if it were a choice between that and Martha and Harold sniping at one another, it was definitely the lesser of two evils.
XX
The sound of his stomach beginning to rumble alerted Matthew that the mid-day meal should be served soon and he looked forward to whatever Mary's grandmother had planned.
As if she had been reading is mind, Martha exclaimed, "I thought it too lovely a day to eat indoors, so I have planned a picnic, which should be ready in about 10 minutes. I've had tables and chairs set up near a large oak tree so those who prefer shade won't have to deal with the direct sunlight. As for me, I can't get enough of it, no matter how it changes my complexion."
"She isn't exaggerating," Harold said. "She often reads while relaxing on a chaise lounge without the benefit of an umbrella and winds up the same shade as a boiled lobster."
Martha nodded her head and broke out into laughter. "Consuelo Vanderbilt's eyes nearly popped out of her head when she came to visit last summer and found the color of my hair and skin nearly identical."
Mary chuckled, "I do seem to recall your mentioning that the sun in Cannes during the summer didn't bother you at all"
Matthew remembered the comment too, as well as Violet's retort that "that was obvious."
He smiled then, as he recalled Mary's two grandmothers lobbing jibes at one another at the dining room table at Downton.
His amused expression was still in place when the maid he had met earlier arrived and announced that lunch was served.
"Thank you, Claire," Martha said. We'll head out momentarily."
Harold slapped his hands together and exclaimed, "Splendid. Inhaling all that sea air this morning has made me ravenous. At this point, I wouldn't care if lunch was being served on the roof," Harold quipped.
"If it weren't sloped, I might consider it," Martha replied. Then she moved quickly to the French doors and threw them open, standing in the threshold for a moment with her face raised to the sky before she called out over her shoulder, "If you are all ready, please follow me."
"I'm more than ready," Coop said, nearly racing Harold across the room. "That sea air has heightened my appetite, too."
The two men quickly fell in line behind Martha and followed her through the doorway with Harold pulling his sunglasses out of his pocket and setting them in place
"But what about Anna?" Matthew said as he took his first step toward the exit. "Won't she be joining us?"
"A tray is being sent to her room, Matthew," Mary replied. Grandmama had Claire check on her and the maid reported that although Anna is feeling a bit better, she thinks it best that she remains in her room the rest of the day to recuperate in time for the festivities tomorrow."
Matthew nodded his head in agreement. "Very sensible. Although if she were aware she has to wear a costume, she might change her mind," he said and chuckled.
Mary grinned at him and nodded her head. "You might be right about that. Now we had better get moving before Uncle Harold and Mr. Cooper clear the table
."
At that, they both laughed and picked up their pace.
XXX
Judging by the untidy state of Victoria's hair along with the rackets and shuttlecocks lying on the lawn, it appeared the children had been engaged in an impromptu game of badminton while they waited for their lunch.
Well, Martha did say they would have a range of activities to keep them busy during their stay, Matthew thought as he got his first glimpse of the food being served.
The children's request for hot dogs and macaroni and cheese had been granted, and Martha smiled upon learning that Rose had introduced her great grandchildren to what she referred to as 'ballpark cuisine'.
"I am quite fond of your cousin, Mary. We've run into one another at one charity event or another quite often since she and Atticus moved to New York and I've always found her company enjoyable. She reminds me a great deal of myself at her age."
Mary patted her mouth with her napkin and replied, "It never occurred to me that you two would run into one another, but it makes perfect sense now that you mention it."
That lead to her giving her grandmother an account of what her cousin had been up to, minus a few details that were not meant to be disclosed.
The remaining conversation was centered around the lavish party that would take place the next night, including the guest list and what entertainment had been planned by Miss Maxwell.
Matthew wondered then when the famous party planner would make an appearance and posed the question to his hostess between bites of a delicious cold ham pie.
"She should have been here an hour ago," Martha replied. "You just missed her when you arrived this morning as she went into town early to check on the flowers and costumes."
At the mention of costumes, an involuntary grumble of discontent escaped Matthew's lips and Mary nudged him with her foot under the table.
He gave her an apologetic look and then enquired whether anyone else would like the last slice of pie on the serving plate.
"I see you still have a healthy appetite, Matthew," Martha said. "It makes me happy when I see the table emptied. "Waste not want not, that's my motto," she added, wiping a bit of deviled egg from the corner of her mouth.
Another one of her mottos I was not aware of. She is on quite a roll today, Matthew told himself as he returned the now empty pie plate back to the table.
Martha switched gears then, returning to the topic of costumes and said, "I've found that they add to the enjoyment of the affair. Don't you, Harold?"
Gnawing on a cob of corn like a beaver would a tree trunk, Harold paused for a moment, swallowed, and replied, "Absolutely. They make the world of difference. The guests get to spend a few hours in a fantasy of their own making. It is a great deal of fun, isn't it Coop?"
The Hollywood producer waved the drumstick he had in his grip in the air and turning to Matthew and Mary said, "I think you both will find the experience enjoyable…and I'm sure Elsa will not pick out anything garish for either of you to wear. Martha made it clear to her that you both are…well, let's just say not as free-spirited as some of the other guests that will be attending."
Matthew looked across the table and found Martha grinning in his direction.
A smug smile if ever I saw one. And why not? She has Mary and I right where she wants us. If we refuse to wear whatever costumes Miss Maxwell provides to us, we will be judged to be stuffy and unyielding. We might even be deemed to have poor manners for not complying with the theme of the party and disrespectful to our hostess. No matter what the bloody costumes look like, we're going to have to wear them and smile.
One look at Mary told him she was thinking the same thing, the resignation on her face making it clear she would comply with her grandmother's wishes.
Accepting defeat, he turned to his wife and said, "I am looking forward to seeing what Miss Maxwell has in store for us. Aren't you, darling?"
Mary raised her glass in her grandmother's direction as if to toast her victory before bringing it to her lips. Then she replied with a hint of sarcasm that only he would recognize, "Oh, I can hardly wait."
As if on cue, Matthew spotted a short, stocky woman cutting across the lawn in their direction with an odd-looking plant in her arms. Squinting to get a better look, his inner voice screamed, No, that couldn't be…before Martha proved him wrong
Following his line of vision, she waved in her direction and said, "Ahh! Here comes Miss Maxwell, now."
XX
"I would have been here much sooner if Doris Duke hadn't tried to bribe the counter clerk at the nursery into giving her my Venus flytrap order. I walked in just in time to put a kibosh on her thievery," she exclaimed before taking a bite out of the dill pickle in her hand
As soon as she had swallowed it, she launched into a diatribe against the young tobacco heiress, this time with a wedge of potato held in her hand like a rapier.
"Having no luck with the clerk, she turned to me and pleaded that I give up the plants, insisting that she needed them to cut down on the fly population in her stables, which by the way would not work as the plants are incapable of attending to that kind of volume. I told her as much but she refused to take "No" for an answer and asked me to name my price. Can you believe the nerve of that woman?"
Martha's eyebrows rose and she put the chicken drumstick she was nibbling on down on her plate, employed her napkin, which by now was spotted with pink lipstick, and asked Miss Maxwell what happened next.
"Well, of course, I stood my ground," she replied and huffed. I know Doris has been used to getting her way since becoming the richest little girl in the world when her father passed, but she met her match in me. I told her the plants were needed for your party, which I reminded her she would be attending, and then explained they were integral to creating the ambiance I was aiming for."
She then patted the exotic plant that sat on the table to her right and its leaves opened wide in search of its prey.
Matthew found the demonstration fascinating and looked forward to seeing the children's reaction to it.
His attention was diverted then by the maid clearing the empty platters from the table and he concluded that Harold and Mr. Cooper had been right about the sea air boosting one's appetite. A good deal of food had been consumed, primarily by the three men at the table.
You'll be splitting your trousers soon if you don't stop taking second helpings, his inner voice warned.
As he berated himself for over-indulging, he caught sight of a large fly landing on the half-eaten cob of corn on Miss Maxwell's plate and he turned to the plant and cried out, "You're sacked." his comment eliciting laughter from everyone at the table.
XXX
"Matthew, I think you and Mary will find this story particularly entertaining," Martha said, succumbing to the previously discussed filthy habit and lighting a cigarette. "Elsa, tell them the story about Jean and Margot Asquith."
She didn't have to ask twice.
Miss Maxwell immediately launched into the details of an encounter between Jean Harlow, the famous Hollywood starlet and Margot Asquith, the widow of former Prime Minisiter H.H. Asquith and Countess of Oxford, which took place during one of her social gatherings.
"Well….it is quite an amusing story as I've heard it told…and I have heard it often at parties… when Jean is out of earshot, of course," Miss Maxwell said.
She then removed her spectacles and wiped them clean with her dinner napkin before proceeding, which led Matthew to wonder if she did so to be sure she had a clear view of her audience's reaction to her tale.
"Apparently Jean and the Countess had never spoken to one another before and she inadvertently called her "Margott", pronouncing the "t" at the end of her name as such. The English aristocrat turned to her and said, 'No, No, Jean. The "t" is silent, as in Harlow."
Everyone burst into laughter, no matter if they had heard the story before or not.
Matthew had no doubt the account was true. He had met the Countess of Oxford at a charity function a few years earlier and found her to be both opinionated and sharp-witted. The woman reminded him of Violet in many ways.
It occurred to him that this was the second time that day that Violet had popped into his head and he realized he missed the matriarch of the Crawley family and hoped that her cold had improved.
The evening went on that way with Elsa Maxwell and Mr. Cooper recounting the most memorable moments in their illustrious careers.
He had after all single-handedly saved a major motion picture studio from going bankrupt with his production of "King Kong" and there were many tales associated with the film's making and financial backing that he felt compelled to share.
She had organized the International Motor-Boat Races at the Lido in Venice under the auspices of the prince of Monaco as well as the planning for the Monte Carlo Beach Club, the Casino Hotel and the Piscine Restaurants before working her way up the social ladder in the United States, becoming the premier party planner for the crème de la crème in New York as well as a bevy of Hollywood celebrities.
As entertaining as the anecdotes were, the chatter had gone on much longer than Matthew had expected, and he found himself stifling a yawn an hour before Martha had been ready to bid her guests a good night.
Therefore, when he and Mary had finally settled in their room, the last thing he wanted to do was try on the costume that was laid out on his bed.
He was tired and felt as stuffed as the flounder that he had had for dinner. Added to his indigestion, his back was starting to ache as he had been cajoled into being Victoria's partner in a badminton match against George and JR.
His daughter rarely asked him or anyone else to do anything for her, and seeing that she was at a disadvantage playing against either of the boys, he found it impossible to refuse her. Unfortunately for Victoria, even with him at her side, they lost the match to the boys, who dominated the court from the very first serve.
His son's agility and skill had not surprised him, but JR's familiarity with the game and performance had. That was until he mentioned it to Mary and she advised him that the Bates had a court set up in the back of the hotel and JR kept the younger guests occupied by teaching them the game.
"Well, I'll be …," was all he managed to utter before Mary drew his attention to her costume.
Standing before an exquisitely carved mahogany floor length mirror, she tugged at the top of the blouse to cover a bit more of her cleavage.
"At first, I thought there was a button missing…," she said, letting go of the stiff white linen she had in her grasp…"…but it is clear that the costume was meant to be…well I guess one would have to say…revealing. If this is what was chosen for the stodgy, old Brits , can you imagine what the Americans will be wearing? "
Finding his wife's costume extremely seductive, Matthew began to imagine unbuttoning the blouse and fell into a bit a trance until Mary called out his name.
"Are you unwell, Matthew? You look a bit flushed."
Matthew shook his head, cutting his fantasy short, and assured Mary that he was fine. Then he returned to the subject at hand and advised her they didn't have to imagine what type of costumes the Americans would be wearing as he caught a glimpse of one in the Billiard Room.
"Whatever do you mean? There was a costume hanging in the Billiard Room?"
Clearing his throat, Matthew replied, "Well, in a manner of speaking there was."
Mary rolled her eyes and told him to stop being cryptic.
"I'm not intentionally being so, Mary," Matthew countered. "The fact is Harold has framed photographs - movie stills, he called them - of characters from "King Kong" displayed on the walls. One is an image of the lead actress, Fay Wray, dressed in costume, which I've been told she will be wearing tomorrow at your grandmother's birthday party."
Mary looked aghast and cried out, "Costume? You mean to say she is coming to the party in the skimpy shift she wore in the movie? From what I've seen, her body was barely covered by strategically placed rags."
Vividly recreating the photograph in his mind, Matthew nodded his head. "I'd say that about sums it up."
Eyes wide, she pursed her lips and lamented, "Well, there is nothing to be done about it….except prove them wrong. No matter how outlandish Grandmama's guests may appear, I will not react…and neither will you. We will make it clear that the Crawleys are not prudes."
Matthew's eyes veered to the safari hat and khaki-colored trousers on the bed and let out a long sigh. "I'll do my best, darling, but under no circumstance will I compromise my principles to avoid being labeled a stick-in-the mud "
His eyes went next to the painting that hung over the fireplace.
"And why on earth did your grandmother have to assign us a room with…with…," he pointed to the work of art and took a deep breath. "I certainly have no objection to Gauguin, although I'm partial to Van Gogh's work. He may have been mad as a hatter but at least his models were clothed. As for this particular piece, I'm impressed Martha was able to get her hands on it as the price of his Tahitti work has skyrocketed ….but….but…did she have to display nude natives in the room we were assigned? Victoria is bound to stop by and this is not something a child her age should see. And what about George and JR? Can you imagine how they will react to it?"
"It is an eye-catcher. That's for sure," Mary replied. "The colors are so vivid that you can't help but be drawn to it instantly. As for the children, George has likely seen native women and men au naturel in "National Geographic " but I doubt JR has ever seen a woman disrobed and I agree with you that both he and Victoria are too young to view this form of art."
Matthew nodded his head and said, "I'm glad we are in agreement. Now, what do we do about it?"
Mary placed her index finger on her chin, then went silent, the look on her face making it clear she was contemplating a solution to the problem at hand, and a few moments later, she proposed two ideas to her husband.
"We could ask grandmama to take it down while we are visiting. Under the circumstances, I don't think she would mind… Or, if that fails, we might find something suitable to cover it up."
"But wouldn't that make us appear priggish? You just said we mustn't react in a way that would portray us so. Do make up your mind, Mary," he pleaded. "My head is swimming."
She turned hers in his direction and frowned before stating that they were walking a fine line and then turning back to the painting said with finality, "We will exhibit a devil may care attitude at the party while not shirking our responsibility as parents. I will speak with Grandmama." She paused then a moment before adding, "Besides, I'm sure Anna will have a thing or two to say about it."
"No doubt she will have a very good deal to say about it and so will Mr. Bates ." he replied and grimmaced.
At that moment, three quick taps on the door and "Its Victoria…May I come in?" made the entire conversation they just had moot.
He and Mary froze for a moment and then she sprang into action, pulling the top sheet off their bed and laying it over the work of art.
Seeing his wife tuck the ends of the sheet under the top corners of the frame, he called out to his daughter that he was coming and then opened the door.
Victoria stood in her nightdress and robe with Mickey Mouse tucked under her arm and announced she could not fall asleep. Her eyes then went to the sheet hanging over the painting and she stopped in her tracks with a bewildered expression on her face.
"Did something happen to the picture of the sunburned ladies without clothes? I promise I didn't touch it and neither did JR."
Matthew's jaw dropped and Mary threw her hands in the air.
"Sweetheart, the painting is fine, but would you please tell your mother and me how you two came upon it?"
Wrapping her arms around Mickey, Victoria nodded her head and replied, "While George was reading about the history of Newport, JR and I decided to visit Anna to see if she was feeling any better. We thought this was her room and came in and looked around. When we didn't see her, we called out her name, thinking she may have been in the bathroom, but she didn't answer. We saw the painting of the ladies on our way out. JR's eyes nearly popped out of his head and his face turned beet red before he took off like Horus when he sees a rabbit. I ran after him and we nearly crashed into Grandma Martha on the stairs..."
She paused to take a breath then and shifted Mickey onto her hip before continuing. "…She said we should slow down and then asked why we looked so upset….and… and… Well, JR didn't say anything. He just stared down at his feet, but I told her that we saw the picture of the sunburned ladies in the bedroom. She said there was no reason for either of us to be upset by it because the….um…human body in its ….I think she said natural state….something like that…I can't be sure exactly…but whatever state it was, it was a beautiful thing that we should embrace. That was when JR had a coughing fit and Grandma Martha told us to go down to the kitchen so he could get a glass of water."
Matthew could feel his anger welling up inside him. How dare she speak such nonsense to his daughter and JR? What was she thinking?'"
"Thank you, sweetheart," he said, the tone of his voice velvet in spite of his insides churning.
Then he turned to Mary and said, "Darling, I'm sure you'd like to talk to Victoria about her…um…experience. Perhaps you can take her back to her room while I find Martha and have a little chat with her."
At that, Mary's eyes widened but she regained her composure quickly and nodded her head.
"I would like to speak with you about what happened, Victoria. Then I'll stay with you until you fall asleep. How does that sound?"
Victoria grinned at her mother and headed for the doorway, giving her father a goodnight hug on the way out.
Once she reached the door, Mary turned to Matthew and said, "Please don't be too hard on her. She is not well."
"What?' was all he managed to say before she was gone.
He stood in the threshold of the doorway a long time, his annoyance at Martha's bad judgement and interference taking a back seat for the moment to Mary's revelation. The four words she had uttered answered many of the nagging questions that he hadn't had time to address, beginning with the reason Mary had agreed to this trip in the first place.
His mind returned to the day he had handed Mary Martha's letter, the one he was not allowed to read, and the expression on her face when she read it made sense now. She had learned that her grandmother was ill, ill enough to request that she cross the Atlantic with her grandchildren to spend her birthday with her.
It all makes sense now. The weight loss, the look on her face when Harold asked if she cared about her health. That has to be it! he cried out in the empty room.
Having discovered the reason why he and his family were under Martha's roof, Matthew was faced with a dilemma. Knowing she was ill, would he be able to overlook her undermining not only his and Mary's parental authority but Anna's, as well?
It didn't take long for him to decide that unless Martha's illness impaired her mental acuity, he had to confront her. He would, however, do his best not to lose his temper in lieu of what he now knew.
Closing the door behind him, he took his first steps to locate her. He would start with her bedroom, and if she weren't there, he would search downstairs.
No matter how ill she is, I must make it clear that she was wrong to impose her point of view on Victoria and even more so, JR, as he is not related to her.
Matthew stopped for a second on his way, looking over his shoulder at Victoria's room, where Mary was no doubt worrying that he would be harsh with her grandmother and vowed that no matter how Martha responded to his criticism, he would keep calm.
He would also find out what her state of health was.
He strode down the hall with purpose and then stopped dead in his tracks and slapped his forehead in frustration as he realized that he had no idea which room was Martha's. Cursing under his breath, he turned on his heel and headed back to the one he was sure of with the hope Mary would be there.
She was sitting next to his costume on the bed with the safari hat in her hand and a blank expression on her face when he entered the room.
Clearly not expecting him back so soon, she jumped when he called her name.
"You couldn't possibly have cleared the air with her this quickly," she said, placing the hat back on the bed.
Matthew shook his head, "No, I didn't speak with her at all because I wasn't sure what blasted room she was in and didn't want to have to explain why I was looking for her to Harold if I stumbled upon his suite."
Mary told him it might be for the best that he didn't find her room as it would give him some time to cool down before he confronted her.
He nodded and asked how her talk with Victoria went.
"I think she is fine, Matthew. She told me that the ladies were not very smart to stay out in the sun without clothes, and especially without a hat or umbrella, as their skin would become painful and itchy. Apparently, that is what happened to one of her friends at school who played out in the sun too long."
He smiled. "That's our girl. Pragmatic, just like her mother. You did remind her that being fully clothed in public is not optional?"
Mary laughed. "Of course, I also explained to her that in some uncivilized parts of the world, people behave differently than we do. No worries, darling. She understood me completely and has put the matter out of her head. Now all we have to contend with is reprimanding grandmama and telling Anna what took place."
"Come here and kiss me," Matthew pleaded, reaching his hand out to her.
Confusion etched on her face, she rose from the bed and complied with his wish.
Then, still in his arms, she asked, "What was that about?"
Looking as though he had just been sentenced to life in prison, Matthew replied, "I'm going to have to contend with your grandmother and Anna in the morning.'
Mary frowned, and after brushing back a stray lock of hair from his forehead, she leaned in and kissed him again.
XX