Author's Notes: Warning, this chapter contains married people doing married things somewhat graphically and repeatedly. In other words, Edith finds her hormones…
General Warnings: Because this story is set during the early part of the 20th century, be prepared to occasionally run into period typical homophobia, ableism, racism, sexism, lack of good mental health care or the concept thereof, common childcare concepts we find appalling, classism, and victim blaming. Not to mention different concepts of things like consent. I will try and post specific warnings per chapter!
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and plot in this work belongs to the BBC, Julian Fellows, the wonderful actors, and actresses who brought Downton Abbey to life, and a number of other people. This work is produced for entertainment only and no profit is made.
Specific Warnings: Original Characters & Crawley Family Dynamics.
SPECIAL THANKS go to the Classicist, who has built a wonderful fanon family for Anthony. Diana, her husband and children, as well as Anthony's parents belong entirely to her. Be sure to drop by and read her work as it is considerably better than mine! Charlotte and Clara are also her amazing inventions!
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Late November 1913
"Cousin, thank you again!"
"There's no need to keep thanking me, Sybil." Matthew Crawley smiled a little tensely as he carefully guided the young lady down the hallway of the train, searching for an open first class compartment. "I needed a bit of a break myself, and the idea of Addie being so sick is dreadful."
"Someone in the family certainly needs to show that they care."
"Well, yes, and besides that I can step in and take care of a few estate things for your father." Matthew perked up. "Kind of him to trust me with it, really."
"Matthew, father trusts you implicitly – and he's probably delighted to have roped you further into estate matters."
Matthew offered up a head-tilt of acknowledgement and took a quick step forward to snag an open door when he saw it. Empty. Excellent.
"Here we are, then."
It didn't take much to get his own small case and Sybil's slightly larger item of luggage settled. While a planned three-day trip for a lady of Sybil's rank usually required multiple pieces of luggage, he was lucky to be traveling with his least complex cousin. Sybil had brushed off both her mother and Anna's attempts to convince her to take the maid and a more substantial array of clothing with her, dismissing it as silly when she had plenty of clothing that could be brought over from Downton and things were less formal at Loxley to begin with.
"Will you think me a glutton, cousin, if I ask after the contents of that basket so soon after breakfast?"
"Yes, I think I shall!"
Matthew put a hand over his heart and let himself fall to the side against the window, feigning a mortal wound. Sybil laughed obligingly and wriggled her gloved fingers at him.
"I shan't feel a moment's pity. I saw what you put away at breakfast!"
"A moment's pity, cousin! I don't think a man can be blamed for taking full advantage of Mrs. Patmore's cooking when offered the chance!" Matthew objected. "Molesley is a surprisingly good cook, but I've been on my own the last week."
"Why is that?"
"I didn't want to deny him Christmas with his father, but your parents had been hinting that extra hands would be needed for the wedding and Christmas afterward." Matthew explained. "So I sent him up to get a bit of celebration in early with his father before the season closing in on us."
"You'll be coming back to Yorkshire for the holiday itself, though, won't you?"
Matthew hesitated.
"Really, Mary's going to be off with Holderness by then and Granny's off to France for months as well. If you don't come by it will just be me and Mama and Papa."
"What about Lady Strallan? All of Loxley should drop by to visit, I would think."
"Perhaps just for a meal or so, but Edith's last letter before Addie got sick was all about how she looked forward to celebrating her first Christmas as a married woman. I don't think she wants the intrusion of us all being underfoot more than briefly." Sybil hurried onward. "Not that I'm complaining. I do wish them every happiness!"
"As opposed to trying to arrange mine, in that lonely little miserable flat I'm stuck in with nothing but a valet for company?"
"As if you're not enjoying that flat enormously!" Sybil complained. "I often think that's one of the most rank unfairness of it all."
"Pardon?"
"Of the difference in how the sexes are treated." Sybil explained. "Even if a woman is of independent wealth she'd be looked at askance if she set up her own establishment rather than renting a room with a widow or something of the sort."
"Well, I can cede that point. That was the logic behind Edith returning to Downton, wasn't it?"
"Well, I like to think she missed us, but you're right. She'd stayed with Grandmama Martha, but her household just wasn't a proper place for a growing child and Edith had to consider Addie's needs first, as her guardian." Sybil sighed and shook her head, the sunlight shining prettily on her dark hair where she'd tucked it up in a simple knot at the back of her neck beneath her hat. "I just can't help but think of how I would enjoy being able to have a nice little flat somewhere and, oh, I don't know. Some occupation. Do you realize that you know more about cooking and running a household than I do?"
"You only say that because you've never eaten my cooking, cousin!"
"I'm serious."
"Of course, Sybil." Matthew apologized with his eyes and bit his lip. "I'm sure if you wished to try university, Lord Grantham could be moved on the subject. Edith's softened him to it quite a bit."
"Yes, by marrying and providing an heir and nothing else, as if she'd never gotten a degree."
Sybil immediately flushed.
"Forgive me, Matthew, and please don't repeat that. I don't mean it to sound as if – as if Edith's planned to - to let the side down. She hasn't and I'm terribly glad she's happy with Sir Anthony. It's just…"
"Just?"
"Frustration." Sybil sighed, and looked sheepish. "And, well, selfishness."
"I've never known you to be selfish."
"I'm as selfish as the next person. If not, I would have listened to Tom when he said that the speech that we went to was too dangerous. Instead, I failed to listen and put his livelihood in jeopardy." Sybil pointed out. "And I didn't try and stop Mary when, right after Edith left us, she was saying such awful things about our sister to try and return to the good graces of all the other cruel girls who'd come out that year."
"So the sum and total of your selfishness was making an honest mistake in enthusiasm to which your father reacted in temper, and being unable to stand up to your older sister when you were Addie's age?"
"I was older than that!"
"Not terribly much." Matthew teased, and then sat forward, letting his size and posture speak for him as he fell into the tone of soft persuasion he'd learned in contract negotiation and was refining before the bench now. "Sybil, all of your failings are nothing more than the casual mistakes of humanity. I'm afraid you'll have to plead your case more effectively if you want me to convict on grounds of selfishness."
"You're too kind, Matthew." Sybil heaved a sigh. "But I am being a bit selfish now."
"How?"
"Mary's wedding is just… right now it's all everyone in the family cares about and so, not to upset the plans or take attention away for her, I must be a very good girl and stay at home and not cause any trouble!"
Matthew hummed, nodding and feeling a well of sympathy for the girl. Not to mention fellow feeling. She wasn't the only one who was bloody tired of listening to the praises sung about Lawrence Ramsey. It wasn't that he hated the man. He knew he had no right to when he'd been nothing but pleasant. It wasn't Holderness' doing that Mary had refused Matthew and chosen the earl. That didn't make it sting less, and as time went on Matthew grew more exhausted by the internal debate over whether it was affection or pride that cause the sting.
"Meaning that I must moderate my language and behavior in regard to suffrage. As if Mary's society wedding is more important than the rights of half the human race!"
"I hate to tell you, but in the opinion of many in your family…"
Matthew laughed at Sybil, in a display of the gulf between their ages, responded by sticking her tongue out at him. Then, of course, blushing.
"That really was dreadfully unladylike."
"Well, that just goes to show that it's all the better your debut was delayed, hm?"
"Ah, well, I can't say I mind that much, or at all, really. I mean, a debut is nice but most girls never have one and they're not hurt by it. Edith didn't have one."
"And yet I do not think you can say she was unhurt by the lack."
Sybil flushed darkly and Matthew felt a bit bad for bringing it up, but his cousin reached out to pat at his hand.
"No, you're right. I need to stop using Edith's life as a – a springboard to get what I want. We've really had such different experiences."
"Yes, but that doesn't devalue yours. You have a right to be passionate about suffrage, Sybil. Your sense of justice is one of the finest aspects of your character."
"Something we have in common?"
It was Matthew's turn to flush and he sighed, looking out the window.
"You do know why Mama and Papa were so happy to agree to let you escort me, don't you?"
Matthew turned and while it was on the edge of his mind to wince, he found himself reassured by the open honesty in his cousin's face, and the kindness in her eyes.
"Well, one sister can't scoop up the heir so why not substitute the next in line?"
Sybil burst out giggling at the grotesquely appalled facial expression he made sure to pair the carefully pompous statement with.
"Oh, you make Mama sound like Mrs. Bennet!"
"I was actually thinking of your father…"
"Have a care for his nerves!"
"Oh, I shall. This wedding has sent them all to pieces!"
When both were done laughing, Matthew let out a breath and reached out to pat his cousin's hand.
"If I shan't offend you endlessly… forgive me for saying that I don't think I'll ever see you as anyone but the adolescent with her hair down I first met… was it nearly two years ago?"
"Not quite that, but it feels like longer, doesn't it?" Matthew was warmed to the core by Sybil's gentle acceptance. "I mean, what happened to Cousin Patrick and James was just horrible, and that Edith lost her brothers too…"
"The Titanic isn't going to be a tragedy soon forgotten."
"Nor should it be." Sybil sighed. "But what I mean is, losing them was dreadful, but I feel rather as if I've gained a brother from it? One that Patrick never quite managed to be."
"What was he like?"
It was a question that Matthew had never quite managed to ask. He couldn't help wondering, however. What was the man whose replacement he became like? What would he have thought of the solicitor who'd taken his home, title, and future fortune from him?
"Patrick was…" Sybil sighed as if trying to find an answer. "Patrick was a person, I suppose, like so many others. It's tempting to make him either more than he was – or less – in death, but I think to do either would be a disservice, don't you?"
"If I were dead, I'd definitely rather be remembered as myself and not some untouchable martyr."
"I feel the same way, cousin."
A moment's silence fell, and Matthew waited patiently as he watched his cousin gather her thoughts.
"Patrick could be rather arrogant in his rank and his place as second in line to the earldom after his father, but he was also genuinely kind at many times in ways that it's easy to forget to be kind." Sybil explained slowly. "He was the only one who really sat and listened or encouraged Edith to play the piano. He always read Edith's writing and he would keep every drawing she gave him, even if it wasn't any good. He was probably the only one who ever stood up to Mary over how she teased Edith about her looks. Everyone else just kind of ignored it… even I ignored it often. It was just how our family was."
Matthew winced and nodded his head sideways. When he'd arrived, his mother had hinted at Edith perhaps being a better choice than Mary. Edith was more settled and had already shown herself a capable adult in many ways by acting as her sister's guardian. Then there was her inheritance which was… considerable.
Matthew had not wanted to consider it and he'd been saved the trouble. She'd already fixed on Sir Anthony by the time they'd met. It had, in a way, been a relief to have Edith's choice supersede his own so handily. It meant he didn't have to look deeply into why he was so fixed on one sister and not the other… Sybil was going on, however.
"He didn't do it reliably, though. He'd tease Edith right along with Mary just as often."
"So he was sometimes kind and sometimes cruel?"
"As we all often are, yes."
"And he and Mary were intended?"
Sybil winced and made a face.
"That was a mess from the beginning. Mary always made it clear that she didn't want Patrick – but that she did want Downton."
Matthew startled and Sybil shot him a sympathetic look.
"That clear?"
"Well, they were children so it made sense they would pick at each other in a certain way?" Sybil sighed. "Mary would tell Patrick he didn't deserve Downton, she did as Papa's eldest child. It would devolve to name-calling and you know how sharp Mary can be. Patrick was hurt and turned around and made it clear that the only redeemable feature Mary had was her beauty."
"He didn't really say that?"
"Repeatedly, from around the time they were ten or so. He once said at a party that God was so busy making Mary pretty he forgot to add a soul to the mix." Sybil made a face.
"That's terrible!"
"Mary was just as bad. Patrick was hard of hearing in his left ear after a blow to the head during a cricket game at Eton. She used to play a game where she maneuvered people to stand on his left side at parties, so he'd have to ask them to speak up. It embarrassed him dreadfully."
"Sybil, forgive me for asking, but with everything happening with Lady Flintshire, everything with Edith and Mary – resolved though it seems to be – and just – are there any normal relationships in our family?"
"Mama and Papa manage fairly well?"
Matthew covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking as the train, which had progressed out of the station as they spoke, began to move from the dense lines of London's houses and shops to the looser rows of the outlying suburbs. Wherever else their conversation might have gone, however, was derailed by a firm knock on their door. Anticipating the ticket steward, Matthew rose with both their tickets in hand (it had taken a bit of convincing to get Sybil to give hers to him for simplicity and conveniences' sake) only to find his mind rather derailed by what he was faced with.
Matthew would never forget that enchanted moment when he'd walked into Downton and come face to face with Lady Mary Crawley for the first time. That moment would hold a special place in his heart for the rest of his life. This particular moment would earn a place in his memory as well, if not in his heart. It would be a place balanced between embarrassment and bittersweet fondness.
As the door opened it revealed the most exquisitely beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Her heritage was clearly oriental, but eyes as clear and bright a blue green as a robin's egg dominated her perfectly balanced face. Glossy hair, so black it had a blue cast, had been pulled back beneath a simple dark blue had embellished with three subtly folded flowers of silk ribbon.
The slender woman was perhaps a handsbreadth shorter than himself, and her figure was slender and exquisite, while still unmistakably feminine. A simple white blouse was mostly obscured by a fashionable, but inexpensive coat of dark brown wool. Likewise, the skirt beneath it was simply cut but perfectly fitted. Matthew Crawley took in the thin leather gloves on her hand, the simple handbag, and the equally simple (and rather battered) case she was carrying at her side and his mind added totted up the image into the form of a woman of comfortable middle-class status from a family of educated immigrants.
In approximately four seconds of observation Matthew automatically stood up that much straighter (one rose in the presence of ladies, after all) and inhaled to better show off the breadth of his shoulders and the trimness of his waist. The confidence he felt in doing so took the more graceful of the two ladies a half a second to utterly destroy as those almond-shaped, fantastical eyes flicked over him from head to toe and dismissed him just as quickly. Matthew even heard the barest of audible sighs and the vision took a half-step back from him.
"Excuse us, we shall find another carriage."
"Oh no, is this one full as well?"
If the beauty's voice was all smoke and honey and a softly exotic accent, the second voice was like biting into warm Christmas pudding after a week of burnt toast and stale beer.
A slightly shorter lady came into view. Her dress wasn't quite so well-fitted, nor her figure so perfect. Her face was not so composed nor so artistically made. The pretty bloom on her cheeks and her sweetly upturned nose, however, was as unthreatening and welcoming as her gently upper middle-class accent. The strawberry blonde hair tucked back beneath her hat was caught in a slightly lopsided knot but had all the warmth of a jar of honey on a sunny windowsill.
"Lavinia, it's-."
"Oh, no, we've plenty of room!" Sybil, in all her sweetness, immediately volunteered. "Please, join us."
The blonde radiated relief and turned to her companion with a smile before slipping past her despite a brief flash of alarm on the China doll's face that, to Matthew's uncomfortable observation, looked rather young to his eyes. The next thing he knew the young lady was hovering beside him and he was clearing his hat from the space to present her a seat.
"Please, Miss…?"
"Miss Lavinia Swire."
"Mr. Matthew Crawley."
Her hand came out with a mix of shyness and natural friendliness.
"I can't tell you how relieved we were to find you and your wife, Mr. Crawley. Almost all the other carriages have nothing but men in them."
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"Is it that dangerous to travel alone?"
"Only when it is, never when it isn't."
Sybil had seen the way that her cousin's eyes widened, and a blush touched his cheeks when the exceedingly pretty lady had opened the door. Being raised in a time and household that put a great deal of emphasis on its daughters' looks, Sybil was as skilled at anyone in recognizing beauty when it stared her in the face. She also genuinely cared.
She cared that her cousin's heart had been hurt at Mary's rejection, and she cared that his pride had been as well. While she would never voice her opinion in a manner that would harm him, she also rather thought that Matthew's choice to become a barrister was at least somewhat motivated by a desire to prove to Mary he could function at her level of society and was worthy of her affection independent of any "rescue" she might have thought him too preoccupied in offering her before.
Matthew had a right to bury himself in law to mend his broken heart and wounded pride, however, and Sybil just wished her parents hadn't made the leap from Sybil's natural family sympathy towards making another family match. As such, she felt that helping Matthew find someone else to be sweet on would not only be doing a cousinly duty to help him mend his heart, but neatly sidestep her parents' hopes.
Sybil liked her cousin, but wasn't blind to how he responded to women and what their appearance had to do with it. Moreover, she'd seen how he responded to the way other men reacted to women. He'd met Sybil in girlish dresses and with her hair down and not a single suitor vying for her attention, so in his mind a 'girl' she'd always be. Edith was lovely in her own way but wasn't the sort of girl that most men chased after or envied other men for having 'caught'. Mary, however, had been the very center of the social whirl had had multiple interested suitors for Matthew to complete with… and her cousin did so love to compete.
Sybil imagined that, for Matthew's head to turn towards another love, it would have to be someone he felt that even Mary would envy. He might never articulate it to himself, but in the back of his brain, where his lucid mind didn't dare intrude, Matthew Crawley wouldn't want to accept a consolation prize.
(And, maybe in a minuscule way, Sybil was rather enthralled by the idea of how her family would react if the heir to the estate decided to carry on with a foreigner.)
It didn't matter, what mattered was getting this potential distraction from ennui into the carriage with them. All while supporting yet more of her British sisters in their quest to travel safely and freely on the rail system, unencumbered by masculine harassment!
"I can't tell you how relieved we were to find you and your wife, Mr. Crawley. Almost all the other carriages have nothing but men in them."
Sybil's eyes snapped back to the sweet-faced strawberry blonde as introductions were made and she couldn't help leaning forward to offer her own hand while blurting out:
"Oh, Matthew is my cousin, we are not married!"
Sybil totally missed Matthew's look of wounded amusement at the quick denial. She was taken up in shaking hands with Miss Swire.
"Lady Sybil Crawley, it's lovely to meet you, Miss Swire."
All the eagerness left Miss Swire's face and her pretty blue-gray eyes widened dramatically.
"L-lady Sybil Crawley?"
"Oh, by the great and holy breadth of creation how does this keep happening?"
"Midori!"
"Lavinia!"
"Excuse me?" Matthew blinked, clearly confused by the sudden exchange between the two women – one still standing in the doorway, though backing away, and the other sitting as still as a rabbit surrounded by hungry snakes.
Sybil was not nearly so confused. She felt her cheeks redden in mortification. All her social training told her to back out of this as quietly as possible. That everyone must save their face and pride. A dozen graceful ways to provide a quick exit entered into her mind. Seeing the hurt beneath the flash of mortification on Midori Chen's exquisite face, however, made them all impossible.
"Miss Chen, please don't go. Not at least until you've allowed me to apologize for the appalling behavior of my family."
"What?"
"Oh!"
"Oh!"
Sybil stood and reached out, catching one limp hand as the other young woman stood, undecided, in the door, and Miss Swire bit her lip in obvious consternation while Matthew shared with her a look of deeply understood awkwardness.
"Please?"
There was a beat of silence, then Sybil felt a wave of relief as Miss Midori Chen stepped into the carriage and closed the door.
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Anthony Strallan woke up in a state of such delightful arousal he wasn't sure where he was for a full ten seconds; too much of his attention was focused on the ecstatic feelings radiating from his loins.
"Edith!"
The blissful warmth vanished along with the wetness and suction. The sensation left him with a positively obscene noise and Anthony blinked in the dim moonlight filtering through the windows as he took in the view of his wife. Or, rather, he took in the obstruction of such presented by the bulk of the duvet. He blinked once, gasping as he tried to master his breathing, and then shuddered when the cold air assaulted him as his wife tossed the eiderdown backwards. Edith knelt, smiling playfully at him with swollen lips between his spread legs like the most unrepentant of succubae.
"Wicked girl!"
"Is that a remonstrance or a compliment!"
In answer Anthony got both his hands under his wife's arms and dragged her up the bed to the pillows, twisting awkwardly on his side with his pajama trousers caught around his thighs as he pulled her into a hard kiss, "The latter, surely."
"Good."
The next moments were in every way as erotic as they were awkward. Anthony struggled and failed to push his trousers off with his legs and feet and ended up proceeding with them tangled about his knees. He thought it an understandable sacrifice when the removal of her nighty was clearly more important. Unfortunately, in his haste, Anthony tore one of the shoulders and ripped a seam along the left side. She responded by reaching for his shirt. It pulled easily enough over his head at the cheap cost of two buttons Stewart would spend twenty minutes rooting about the bedroom carpet for. Edith fell backwards in her enthusiasm. She was saved from falling entirely off the mattress by her husband's reflexes and a sharp yank on one of her wrists as she let the shirt drift to the floor.
Edith toppled forward to sprawl sideways over her husband, belly-to-belly. Despite her breathless giggles he felt a flare of worry even as one hand automatically reached down to palm the curve of her bottom.
"I say, sweet one, are you quite well?"
"Oh, wonderful."
Part of him wanted to stop. To doubt that she was well. To reassure him that she and their child were fine… but the way she beamed at him in the silver moonlight was a greater reassurance than words… and he didn't truly want to stop. They fumbled face to face again, both on their sides, and she reassured him with a kiss. As her head fell to the side and he nibbled at the sensitive place behind her his wife curled her fingers and ranked them down his chest and Anthony's entire body shuddered, and his cock twitched as her nails scraped over his nipples.
"Saucy thing."
"Yes,I am." Edith agreed, breathlessly, moaning and carding her fingers through his hair as he returned the favor by dropping his head to her chest and drawing a nipple between his lips to lave it with his tongue. "Oh, Anthony…"
Several minutes were lost to such caresses. Anthony shuddered and sighed and murmured his approval when she kissed beneath his jaw and blew her hot breath over his chest. The muscles of his shoulders rippled as she petted and scratched as his back and Anthony gloried in the jump and tremble in the muscles of her thighs as he returned her earlier graciousness and buried his face between them.
Dropping a tender press of his lips to the bare curve beneath her bellybutton, he planted open-mouthed kisses up her body before reaching her mouth. Tucked underneath him now, Anthony hitched his wife's leg up against his hip and slid home in one fluid motion. Beneath him Edith gasped his name, and a triumphant smile curved his lips before they both lost themselves to the music of creation.
Spent and exhausted when he pulled free of her some time later, Anthony groaned at the exertion required to retrieve the eiderdown and tucked his wife against his side as he collapsed back against the pillows to fight for proper regulation of his breathing. It was a sad comment on his age that it took as long as he did to regulate his gasping. Edith petted at him through the process, cooing softly as she nuzzled at his jaw. Then, snuggling in close with her head against his shoulder and his arm curled around her back to cup the tight curve of her bottom, she let out the sort of sigh that told a man he'd done his job properly.
"Darling, let's not fight again."
"Sweet one, if you intend to wake me like this every morning after we quarrel, I will happily argue with you every night for the rest of our lives."
Stewart, who'd slipped into the dressing room to prepare for his master's usual morning routine, slipped out silently with a hand over his mouth and shaking shoulders.
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"So, no-one's fighting?"
"No."
"Can I go downstairs?"
"Also, no."
Edith planted a kiss on her little sister's head and got a hand waved in her direction before Addie broke down coughing. It was a dryer cough, however, as well as weak and brief. At the end of it, Addie cleared her throat and reached for one of the books that her sister had delivered to her instead of collapsing tiredly against her pillows.
"I have found it!" Anthony announced rather smugly as he entered the room, a rather worn tome in one hand as he strode in with Polly on his heels.
Edith said nothing as the dog climbed up on the bed and positioned her head over her young mistress' knees, she just hid her smile as she looked at her family. All together, if not entirely well, thank God. Anthony looked as handsome as ever in a soft gray suit jacket over a rather casual knitted waistcoat and wine-colored tie tucked into his perfectly starched white collar. His pocket watch's chains and fobs clinked merrily as he approached the bed and passed the book to Addie's waiting hands. Edith stifled a shiver at the thought of being sprawled naked with him in their shared bed less than two hours before… and quickly told her mind to get out of the gutter!
"History of the British dog." Anthony explained to his wife, dropping an idle kiss on her cheek as he turned back to her sister. "I know the second volume is about somewhere. This one wasn't in the library proper, so I can only assume both volumes wandered out to other shelves somewhere about the house."
"You really do need to take a census and organize things, Anthony."
"A census is for people, an inventory is for things, Addie." Edith corrected and smiled at her husband. "We really do."
"Nonsense, we have a complete inventory. I added to it when you and your sister moved in and update with every purchase."
"We do?"
"In my study. Inventories are vital for insurance purposes."
"Oh." Addie and Edith shared a look as their answers synchronized, but Edith just shook her head and stepped forward, sliding an arm around her husband's back.
After their fight, brief as it was, she found she just wanted to touch him. She knew that it was likely that same fear that had driven her for so long. That if she didn't do everything to please, she wouldn't be loved. That if she rebelled, she wouldn't be loved. That only through demonstrating all the obedience that Mary didn't and parroting all the things she thought they wanted to say, would she ever get the love so freely given her sisters.
Anthony's affection was not an award to be striven for and won. It was as freely given as trees gave oxygen. She found she needed it to breathe as well and leaned that much closer to her husband's warmth.
"You could still stand to organize things a touch more, darling."
"Loxley's library is extraordinarily well-organized!"
"Yes, Loxley's library is, but what about all of the books that aren't in the library?"
The sheepish half-smile that followed was all the confirmation that Edith needed. From the bed Addie, her nose buried in her new book just as she was buried beneath the covers, chimed in.
"Maybe that can be your next project, Edie."
"I – yes, maybe Addie."
Edith thought she'd stopped the flicker of hurt she felt at that before it registered, but apparently, she'd failed. After slipping out of the room, her husband tucked her against his side as they both descended the stairs.
"What's wrong, sweet one?"
"Hm? What in the world could be wrong, Anthony?"
He stopped her on the landing and turned her, gently, to face him. Edith's toes curled and she resisted the urge to bounce one of her legs in nervousness as she took in the solemn expression on his face.
"My darling girl, I think we've already had this discussion about keeping secrets."
Edith flushed and let out a deep breath, embarrassed.
"It's not – not a secret. I mean, you know…"
"But I find I don't, at least not if you don't tell me, sweet one. What's upset you?"
Edith heaved a sigh and took a step away, turning to look at the landscape displayed at the turn of the grand staircase. She wanted to say that nothing had upset her. That it wasn't important. However… well, she had been dreadfully angry at what he hadn't shared, though that was far more important…
"I – well, you know that nothing I've written has been published since I left university, and even then it was nothing important."
He frowned but nodded and she was insanely grateful for the lack of gentle platitudes on offer as the rest poured out.
"It just hurt, Addie suggesting I need a new project rather than saying anything of my writing. As if it doesn't matter."
Anthony's expression was everything sympathetic, his brows knit in shared feeling and his thin lips pressed into an uneven line of concern. Edith couldn't help babbling onward, trying to mend things. Wanting to assure him that she could handle it. Papa would say it's what I get for doing something as inappropriate as publishing my writing, or trying to. Daddy would have Katherine fussing at him for his language, insulting those who slighted me, and then telling me I don't need them and to just stand tall… and ignore them. Seeing Anthony's deep and instant caring meant the world to her, but sometimes it made her nervous. How was she worthy of it? More important, how did one respond to it?
"I know I shouldn't take it to heart. But how can I blame her? Addie young and she means no harm and, really, it hardly matters. It's not as if I don't have so much to be thankful for, even if –. Well, it isn't as if my writing is going anywhere, is it?"
"Now wait one moment!"
Anthony's protest and the surprisingly stern look he leveled at her sent blood rushing to Edith's cheeks.
"Anthony, you can't deny-."
"I have no intention whatsoever in denying that the supposedly open-minded and liberal sources you have sent your writing to thus far have been a considerable disappointment, but I take great offense at anyone who disparages my wife and her considerable talents."
"Anthony."
"No, I mean it."
"If I'm so wonderfully talented, why can't I get anything in print?"
Edith's question was embarrassingly distressed when she found it scampering past the guard of lips, but she couldn't retrieve it.
"Because poor taste has always been a hallmark of mass production."
"And I thought you enjoyed all things mechanization."
"The engineering, perhaps, the mass marketing I could do without."
Edith turned away, trying to hide both her smile and the tears in her eyes, but he caught her chin and brought her face up. The expression he turned on her was so profoundly loving and gentle that it was hard to look upon. The sun was in full form in Loxley's darkly paneled hall. His eyes glowed like aquamarines in the light, though no beryl had ever been so bright and true in color.
"Edie, sweet one, your writing is as superlative as the rest of you-."
"Because you're not at all biased! Really, Anth-"
Anthony leaned down and silenced her with a brief, hard, closed-mouth kiss that sent blood rushing in all manner of unanticipated directions given how upset she suddenly felt.
"Don't interrupt, sweet one, it's rude."
Edith sent him a withering look and he raised his eyebrows back in challenge.
"Your are a brilliant writer, but you are also young. Time and practice will improve you, but you aren't being refused for lack of credit or ability. Not given the things we both read printed in the paper, daily, and the quality thereof."
"At least you can admit that I-."
"You are amazing and your writing a font of creative talent." He silenced her with a soft tap of his palm to her bottom that had Edith flushed and pinching his side even as she noted in embarrassment that her underthings were feeling a bit damp. He flinched but went on as if the exchange hadn't happened. "Edith, we both know that the metrics and standards you are being excluded for have nothing to do with your writing."
"That's what I'm afraid of." Edith admitted quietly as her husband drew her fully into his arms and she buried her face into his waistcoat, her heart upset and her body confusedly interested in other things than the comfort her husband was offering. "I can fight to have my – my skills acknowledged. I've never been able to do a – a single rotten thing about prejudice."
"Ah, well… I'm afraid my rank, age, birth, and gender do not leave me well armed with experience with such, dearest, but may I offer you some advice that my valet once gave me on the subject?"
Edith was aware of some of the valet's history and looked up, curious, at her husband's slightly sheepish half-smile.
"What does Stewart say on the subject?"
"Smile quietly, give every appearance of obedience…"
"And?"
"Do precisely what you intended to anyway, and to somewhere slightly warmer than Arizona with all of them." As Edith started laughing softly, Anthony paused and Edith couldn't even mind as he seized on the distraction to try and cheer her. "I say, have you ever actually been to Arizona, Edith? I've spent the last, oh, say, fifteen years wondering if the weather is as bad as Stewart says. Not the least because I don't believe my valet has ever actually been to the state in question."
Leaning against her husband's chest again, Edith sighed and just let herself draw strength from him and his warm. To her delight, he wrapped his arms around her and bent to rest his head against her own, doing the same.
"I've never been further west than eastern Texas, sadly, so I cannot say. All reports point to Arizona being dreadfully hot, however." Edith chuckled as Anthony leaned back and they both, by silent mutual agreement, carried on walking down the stairs and into the comfort and warmth of Loxley's library. "Daddy had a joke about it, though it is a bit colorful."
"Oh?"
Edith settled on the sofa and picked up the Father Brown novel she'd set aside when Addie had come down sick. She sent her husband an old-fashioned look as he took the opportunity to spread the knitted throw from the back of the sofa over her legs, but melted into docility when he reached down to gently rest a hand over her belly.
"Come here and join me?"
"Hmm, I would love to, but there is quite a bit I put aside that I should attend to…"
"At least long enough to hear the joke?"
Anthony was thusly persuaded and settled in beside her, raising one expectant eyebrow. Edith turned a bit pink and lowered her voice playfully even as she pulled one of his arms over her shoulders and arranged herself comfortably, resting her head against her husband's shoulder.
"Well, it so happened that one day – after a long life lived to its fullest, if not its best – an Arizona cowboy died."
"This joke starts off rather sadly."
"Hush."
"Sorry, dearest."
"As I was saying. This cowboy had passed on having led a life some might have called wild. As such, he did not get to greet Saint Peter at the pearly gates, but ended up at the Other Place."
Anthony made an exaggeratedly sad noise and Edith slid her hand underneath the throw and goosed his thigh where he was leaning against her. He yelped becomingly.
"Having arrived there, the Devil himself greeted him and began to lay out the eternity of unpleasantness the Cowboy was to expect as they stood amongst the geysers of flame and rivers of lava." Edith smiled mischievously. "He also informed the Cowboy that he would be permitted one personal item from his life on earth to comfort him during his eternal torment."
"Rather decent of Satan."
Edith frowned as her husband got his hand down and protected his flank, but sat up primly rather than enduring a repeat of his previous punishment.
"The cowboy thanked the Devil and vanished in a puff of smoke, only to reappear a moment later clutching – a blanket."
"A-."
"Satan regarded the cowboy in shock," Edith went on, her lips twitching and eyes dancing, "and the Cowboy replied with all of the good manners he tended to forget in his cups, nice place you got here and all, but it's a touch cold next to Tucson."
Despite his disapproving face, her husband laughed softly into her hair and Edith let him draw her into his arms, melting against him and petting at his chest to lure him into a false sense of security. When he leaned down for a kiss she struck. As predicted, her husband squealed very satisfyingly as she got at his ribs with her nails. Not to be outdone, Anthony responded in kind, his longer arms a clear advantage as he dug his fingers into the sensitive spot behind her knee.
"The Lady Sybil Crawley and Mr. Matthew Crawley."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Sybil had wondered at times how her sister had fallen in love with Sir Anthony. His chasing her across the Continent had been terribly romantic. Edith's wedding and her wonderful friends from America and all of the shocking talk that had danced around them also made it clear that she was deeply attracted to the older man. Sybil had been a little surprised at that. She'd assumed, and from talks with her Mama knew most of the rest of the family agreed, that Edith had fallen in love with his kindness and his decency and his intelligence and that it wasn't a very passionate sort of relationship.
Knowing facts and understanding were different things. For while Sybil held all the pieces of the puzzle, she had never quite been able to put them together. To her, Sir Anthony was just too old, too pedantic, and too boring to qualify as the sort of man a young woman would love. Oh, he was a nice enough fellow, but who could be excited by that? When Sir Anthony's aged butler let them into Loxley's Hall and then opened the door to announce them in the library with an expression to suggest he was rather harder of hearing than they were, Sybil felt the bolt of lightning finally strike.
Sybil had heard her sister and her husband laughing together. It made her smile, to think they got on so well. Then, as the door opened, Sybil caught a sight she simply couldn't have imagined the slightly bumbling, sweet-natured, baronet involved in. Frankly, she had a hard time imagining her sister involved, either. It remained, though, that her sister was right there on the sofa, her husband half draped over her, and both were exchanging a rather heated kiss broken only as they froze to stare at the door in shock.
Sir Anthony had a hand on Edith's thigh. In fact, his long fingers were tangled in one of her garters! Her skirt was rucked up to a shocking level, though thankfully not much further than the tops of her stockings. (Sybil also made a note to protest as she was still wearing shorter stockings and knee garters but her sister had belts on her corset and her stockings were the nicely fashionable sort that went well above the knee!)
Edith's husband didn't look much more reputable than his rumpled wife. His hair was quite disarranged. His coat was coming off one shoulder. More than that, the baronet was wearing more of Edith's lipstick than his wife was!
Sybil's sigh quickly turned into a giggle that she hid behind her hand as Matthew turned his own amusement into a cough. Sybil then strangled on her giggles, coughing in earnest, as she realized her sister's hand had been in his trousers. Sir Anthony nearly stumbled in standing up, one of his feet caught in a knitted throw. Edith, in turn, tried to scramble upright and sit after having been bent over backwards with her husband overtop her. At the same time, both the baronet and his wife reached out to straighten Edith's skirt, and only managed to knock one of her decorative but superfluous garters down about her ankle.
Poor Mr. Kerr looked utterly mortified, but Matthew saved them all.
"Presents!"
Sybil seized on the offer of salvation.
"We left them in the hallway!"
Seizing her cousin's hand, they both stepped back out into the hall, where an amused looking footman was holding the letters and gifts sent by Mrs. Chetwood, and Mr. Kerr quickly shut the door. An awkward moment followed while a red-faced Mr. Kerr began to idly dust at a Roman bust with his handkerchief, the footman stood there fighting to flatten his smile into something properly bland, and Sybil and Matthew both worked to try and process what they'd just seen. Finally the door open and Sir Anthony appeared, his clothing tidy again, face clean but blushing fiercely, to stutter his way through welcoming them to his home as he ushered them into the library where Edith was now sitting arranged like a perfectly prim country gentleman's wife – if one no longer wearing any lipstick.
"Aren't you glad I wasn't Granny?" Sybil blurted the question by way of greeting to her sister.
"Sybil!" Edith blurted out in return, turning red with embarrassment.
Feeling guilty, Sybil rallied with a question.
"How are you? How is Addie? May I go up and see her?"
"Addie's a bit fragile, but she's on the mend." Edith shook her head. "And I am just fine – or was a few moments ago!"
"Cleary."
"Sybil."
"Smells like snow, don't you think, Sir Anthony?" Matthew interrupted and everyone paused at the non-sequitur before, in some kind of masculine solidarity, both men seized on the very comfortingly British topic and began discussing Yorkshire weather. Edith gave the entire thing consideration for all of five seconds and decided a retreat was in order.
"Let's go see Addie, shall we?"
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"So… how have things been here in the wild north, Mother?"
Matthew Crawley presented his cheek to be kissed with all the relief and happiness of a man long separated from a beloved parent as he stepped into Crawley House.
"Oh, they've been carrying onward. With both the Lady Grantham and the Dowager in London I've had a bit more leeway at the hospital, which has been utterly refreshing."
"I'm sure Dr. Clarkson was thrilled to spend more time in your company."
"It's a fine thing, having such a professional friendship again." Isobel smiled.
Matthew found he still saw no hint of understanding in his mother's eyes. He wasn't sure whether that meant she was truly oblivious to the Scotsman's interest, or if it was his mother's way of preserving the man's pride because she did not share his feelings. Perhaps it was the pleasantly warm fire he was sitting in front of. Maybe it was the cup of tea – just the way he liked it – that his mother pressed into his hands. It could have been the unequaled comfort of a mother's love. Whatever it was, Matthew's thoughts had dwelt so very firmly on love and marriage despite his every effort to drown such thoughts in work, that he finally let himself speak on it.
"Is that how it starts?"
"Hm?"
"Mother, you loved father, didn't you?"
"Of course." It was to Isobel's great credit that she looked at her son with only a warm smile, open and happy to discuss the subject in a way that so few of her contemporaries in age would have eschewed determinedly. "I was positively sick with it when we became engaged. A year before I would have happily said I would die an old maid and a finer nurse than any seen and be proud to do so, but, well, your father changed my mind."
"How?"
"Oh, it wasn't so much what he did – it was who he was." One rusty eyebrow arched up. "Is there perhaps a reason for this inquiry, my dearest boy?"
Matthew chewed on his lip and fiddled with his cup and saucer in a manner more suited to a boy than a grown man. Isobel smiled and waited with a patience she showed almost nothing else save her son. He rewarded her quickly with the honesty that nature and her own hard work had cultivate within him.
"Sir Anthony's butler is a bit hard of hearing, I think."
Isobel blinked, her lips pursing and her head tilting to the side in response to the odd statement and her son cleared his throat.
"He didn't hear, well, I don't think he heard, because otherwise Mr. Kerr's age and grave nature hide a very interesting sense of humor – anyway, he opened the library door a bit, er, before Sir Anthony and Lady Strallan might have wished."
Isobel's lips twitched upwards and trembled with suppressed laughter as she took a sip of her own tea.
"Oh my!"
"Nothing terribly shocking." He paused. "Well, a bit shocking."
"How so?"
Matthew was staring down at his teacup, attempting to order his thoughts, and so missed the clear mischief and amusement in his mother's eyes.
"They were canoodling on the sofa rather, erm, passionately. Her lipstick – and when did she start wearing makeup regularly? – anyway, it was all over his face. He was half-overtop her on the sofa and her skirt was rucked up past her garters and his flies were undone."
"Oh my!"
"I mean, it's their library, it's hardly their fault that their butler's a bit hard of hearing and mistakes were made." Matthew went on hurried. "I would have locked the door, but it's their home."
"And a person has a right to make use of their own home in any way they should choose."
"Yes!" Matthew looked up, his mind catching on the corner of his feelings and pulling free some of the confusion obscuring them. "That is what I rather felt! I couldn't quite place it at the time. I was rather torn between, well, it was quite funny how shocked they both were."
"Oh, I imagine they were quite shocked. How did Lady Sybil handle it?"
Matthew outright laughed, grinning at the memory of the face his cousin had made.
"Her eyes were approximately the size of serving dishes and she looked like she was trying to catch flies in between giggling over it."
Isobel considered the facts for a long moment, then took a decided sip of tea.
"Well, I'm glad that they're happy. I rather thought they would be."
"Well, I had wondered, he's so much older…"
"And?"
"Well, I mean with him – his being older, I mean, and her younger and – well, physically…"
All of his eloquence deserted him and Matthew felt his face turning red as his mother's eyes crinkled.
"Honestly, darling, while the body does change with age it hardly stops being one's body with all that's implied by that. Did you expect your life to end at forty?"
"I rather hope I have the same stamina and enthusiasm at his age, actually."
Isobel burst into peals of laughter as Matthew idly blurted out the truth, then colored at what he'd said. His mother, bless her, reached out to pat his hand and then changed the subject.
"I'm sure you will, darling. However, somehow, I doubt that a bit of accidental voyeurism is all that provoked this conversation?"
"No, it's not." Matthew sighed. "If all they'd been doing is sitting and reading, I believe I'd be having the same conversation."
"Why?"
"Because they're happy and she wanted him." Matthew reluctantly voiced what felt altogether more like a boy's whine than a man's complaint. "I don't begrudge it and I was never interested in Cousin Edith that way, but she's never failed for a moment to let him know he had her favor and now they're clearly delighted to be married to each other."
"And you don't have a similar situation."
"Nor a single hope of it." Matthew Crawley sighed and as his mother leaned forward to embrace him, he returned the favor and felt that particular comfort that one can only feel in their mother's arms. "Mama, have I – am I shallow?"
"Pardon?"
"Am I shallow."
"What in the world's brought this question on?"
Matthew chewed his lower lip and accepted the fresh tea and biscuit his mother provided. Finally, thusly fortified, he felt as if he could explain.
"I'm sure you've heard from Lady Grantham - both the ladies Grantham I should say – about how Lord Holderness had a young lady of oriental heritage about?"
Isobel's expression grew a touch more serious.
"It was implied that she might be, well, an impediment to Lady Mary's happiness."
"I've met her." Matthew made a face. "She's barely eighteen and makes a very compelling case for Lord Holderness seeing her as I see Lady Sybil."
"As a little sister, then?"
"Yes, the previous earl invested in her father's business and her mother helped nurse the previous Lady Holderness when she was crippled by arthritis."
"Yes, I'd heard. Rheumatoid arthritis can such a terrible disease. Especially in those cases, like his mother's, when it sets in young and is complicated by pregnancy."
Matthew frowned at his mother's medical distraction, but she squeezed one of his hands and leaned forward to show that she wasn't overly derailed. He did, however, note the slight spark of triumph that touched her eyes.
"I did tell them that they might be jumping to conclusions based on Lady Mary's jealousy, but I suppose that there are certain behaviors that one must expect of titled women."
"I'm more annoyed by the idea that they would confront the mistress rather than a man who'd presume to marry while carrying on with another." Matthew complained. "As if his wife's honor and happiness means nothing!"
"Really, Matthew, you know how very common that behavior can be in a marriage. Especially at their level of society."
"Mary deserves better than that."
"Doesn't everyone?" Isobel's question left her son briefly without words and she took full advantage. "Now, tell me what you thought of this Miss Chen and why it prompted you to ask me if you are shallow."
Matthew groaned and squirmed, a boy caught out by his mother again.
"I'll make a full confession then, and throw myself on the mercy of the jury."
"Do."
"Miss Chen is – is startlingly beautiful. Profoundly."
"Like Lady Mary?"
"I – she doesn't have Mary's spark." Matthew felt the need to defend both Mary as an individual and his previous feelings' validity. "Mary was always so quick to counter and argue and discuss. It wasn't just her looks, Mama! I did love speaking to her. I was never bored and always – always challenged by her."
"I know, darling, but?"
"But… Miss Chen is more beautiful."
"And as a result she instantly turned your head."
"Yes."
"Did your cousin say something about that?"
"No. Well, not until I pressed." Matthew sighed.
"Why don't you tell me the whole story? Right now I know that you somehow came to meet the lady that your cousins were attempting to bribe or scare out of London and that she is rather young and extraordinarily beautiful. That doesn't tell me how you came to meet her."
"After Lady Grantham tried to bribe her in her own home she went to a friend. Miss Lavinia Swire." Matthew explained. "I've heard of her father. He's a solicitor who works mainly in business contracts and banking law in London. He has a good reputation."
"And?"
"And Mr. Swire was kind enough to send both girls on a holiday until the wedding is over, out of respect for poor Miss Chen's obvious distress over the whole thing." Matthew sighed. "And she was obviously upset. You see, they'd come into our carriage looking for a seat because the train was full, but both nearly left when they realized who Cousin Sybil was."
"What prevented them from doing so?"
"Cousin Sybil, of course." Matthew couldn't help the warmth of his soft chuckle. "She couldn't let them go until she'd apologized. Then, being Sybil, she managed to make friends with both Miss Chen and Miss Swire by the time they switched trains."
"How lovely."
"It really was. It's not every day a man gets to enjoy the company of three beautiful women without chaperones or parental interference, and they were all dreadfully clever in the most enjoyable way." Matthew perked up. "Miss Chen is nearly done with a degree in accounting, of all things, and Miss Swire hasn't taken a specific degree, but she's taken numerous classes in art history for curiosity's sake."
"Oh?"
"She's an interest in art restoration. That's how she met Miss Chen. You see, she had found a gentleman's coat from the 18th century at an estate sale and bought it with plans to restore it herself as a museum donation. Miss Chen and her mother tend to give out small pieces of embroidery as presents to their circles. One of the professors had received one at Christmas and directed Miss Swire to her for advice on repairing the coat."
"That is an exceedingly nice story. What's Miss Swire like?"
"Far easier to speak to than Miss Chen. Wonderfully friendly in that warm way a nice middle class girl can be. Miss Chen and Cousin Sybil kept each busy with talk of suffrage, actually, and how few girls were pursuing a degree in accounting and the like. Miss Swire and I spent most of the time we shared the compartment speaking about, oh, you name it. Law, a bit of news from the paper, some of her charitable work and art, our families… it really was the nicest talk that I've had in ages."
"How did you get from that to asking me if you're shallow, then?"
Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered; tone low.
"When they'd left us Cousin Sybil asked me if I'd quite liked Miss Chen."
Isobel didn't seem the slightest bit surprised.
"But she didn't bother to inquire about Miss Swire despite you speaking with her for far longer."
"Yes." Matthew blurted out. "And what's worse is that I think she might be right, Mother!"
Isobel raised her eyebrows and that was all it took. Matthew put his teacup down and walked to the mantle.
"I was more interested in Miss Chen. At first I tried to draw her into conversation with me, or to join her conversation with Sybil, and I was – I was more interested in her."
"I would think it entirely natural reaction."
"Yes, but one could say the same thing about Mary's reaction to Lord Holderness." Matthew argued. "He's more handsome than – don't interrupt mother – most would think he is more handsome, at least in a more dramatic way, than I am. He's also wealthier and more powerful. In every way a better catch. If my turning from Miss Swire is understandable, despite having more in common with her and Miss Chen being visibly uninterested in me, then so is Mary's rejection of me!"
"Yes, darling, it is."
Matthew startled and his mother stood up and walked over to him, facing him with a maternal smile and the wonderfully balanced equal look in her eyes she so often let fade away behind that maternal glow. Facing him as an adult of intelligence, Lady Isobel went on with all of her innate honesty.
"Matthew, my darling boy, Mary's decision to reject you because you attempted to take control of her life and save her when she was at her most vulnerable is understandable. You were being everything a kind, decent, gentleman should be. You were also honest in your love and affections, but that doesn't change that she was also being honest with you."
"I – what?"
"Lady Mary didn't lie to you or string you onward. She didn't accept your name as a shield and an assurance of her future. She told you that she wanted something else in life and then she went and got it. While it might not feel kind, I believe we should take a moment to admire Lady Mary's honesty. It must have taken terrific courage to be so honest right then, when yielding would have brought her perfect safety."
Matthew swallowed and looked away, then looked back. His blue eyes were as soft as the shadow of a smile.
"Her courage is one of the things I admired most about her."
"Which is good because her kindness is perhaps a bit strained."
Matthew managed a laugh and sighed.
"I am shallow, aren't I mother?"
"No, Matthew, you're not. You're kind, noble, and good." Isobel took her son's hand in hers and smiled crookedly at him. "You're also a human being and flawed and we all adore you anyway. You have a penchant for chasing the most beautiful and desirable girl in the room and always have. You nearly got into trouble in university with the dean's daughter, if you recall, and you were enamored with that actress all throughout your last two years at school."
Matthew groaned as his mother brought up incidents he'd almost completely forgotten from his youth.
"Mother, the point is I don't want to be shallow. If I'm just – a beautiful wife never made anyone happy, according to Chaucer."
"Chaucer isn't the best one to take life advice from when it comes to contentment, dear."
"Well, yes, true enough, but…"
"But?"
"I'm tired of being a bachelor." Matthew finally admitted. "Yes, the flat and the bar and everything I've learned and even Moseley's cooking and all of it has been just what I needed. I'm eager to start my new career but – but I want to do it as a man grown and settled, not as someone caught in between."
Isobel managed to get him to sit again and Matthew bit into a biscuit aggressively as he ordered his thoughts.
"I find I'm not pining after Mary anymore, Mama, but I am jealous that she's put her life in order so quickly. I'm jealous of Edith as well, with a baby on the way, a husband she adores, and everything else she has. I want that."
Isobel raised her eyebrows and Matthew returned the gesture.
"What, no wonderful life advice? I know you always long for me to ask."
"I do!" Isobel asked, but I'm afraid you're going to find my advice rather useless, or at the very least unsatisfactory."
"I'm willing to take the risk."
"Well, then, son." Isobel Crawley advised with all the seriousness of her nature and the deep love she had for her child shining in her eyes. "All I can tell you is that you won't find any of what you're looking for in your mother's front parlor."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"So, moppet, how was your visit with the Dragon?"
"Is there a limit on how fancy a title British people can have before they get terribly odd? Like, it's all fine with knights and baronets and a dame's probably fine, but once you get to be a viscount or an earl something has to be a bit off about you to manage it properly?"
Thomas Barrow let out a bark of laughter as he settled the tray of soup and toast on the bed before his young charge. Addie was looking up at him expectantly as he did so, clearly waiting for an answer. Thomas' own dinner was sharing the tray; a hearty sandwich of leftover cold roast with horseradish sauce and roasted potatoes and carrots.
While everyone in Downton knew he ate with the moppet, it was always the sort of thing they had to avoid acknowledging. There was the fiction that that girl was eating everything that was cleared from the generous trays that Mrs. Patmore sent up. Nobody believed it, but there you had it.
Mrs. Bernard had, from the beginning, sent him up with his own meal quite separate and not a comment about it. After all, the young lady ate more willingly if she wasn't eating alone. She and Thomas got on well and Sir Anthony and Lady Strallan both supported the odd friendship. That was enough for the staff at Loxley and Thomas was still processing that a few meals a week with the girl was actually worked into his schedule at the house.
"Can't make heads nor tails of them myself, moppet, but you're probably not too far off the mark. Strange visit, then?"
"She was nice, but not too nice so I don't suppose she was lying?"
"About?"
"She said she wanted us to get along because we're family." Addie sighed, but picked up a spoonful of the sharp onion-flavored soup and relieved Thomas further by perking up and digging into it with a shadow of enthusiasm. "I suppose we have to. I promised to be polite and so did she and then we kind of stared at each other until she said she was glad that I was better. She meant it, though."
"Oh?"
"She told me about getting the hospital here started. The one Dr. Clarkson works at." Addie explained. "That she had to argue to get the money for it because the estate wasn't doing well back then and how her husband was upset they'd have to change how they did things and so on. She mainly did it for the sick children and younger farm workers who'd get hurt."
"Well, even dragons care about children, I suppose."
"Alligators are really good parents, you know."
"Oh?"
"Mmm-hm. If you ever go to America and you're where alligators live and by the water and you hear a kind of zippy chirping noise, run back for high ground." Addie explained with more enthusiasm, dumping a triangle of toast into the soup. "Baby alligators make that noise when they're scared, and the mama alligator is never very far away."
"Good to know."
"I thought so."
Thomas took a bite of his sandwich and picked the glass of cold milk he'd been provided up with real pleasure. Addie didn't always do well with dairy, but milk was too good a source of vitamins and minerals to forgo from her diet without work. Trial and error had proven that she would digest a soft cheese better than a hard cheese, melted cheeses were never a good thing, and that one small glass of milk might be managed every other day with reliable success. Purely as a matter of preference, it was easier to get her to drink said glass of milk if you mixed a bit of bitter cocoa powder in and the whole concoction had been chilled as much as possible beforehand.
Thomas was getting to benefit from this as well. He'd always liked a cold glass of milk on the rare occasion he could get it, which was a rarity. For one, a grown man wanting a glass of milk rather than a pint (not that he didn't appreciate a pint as much as the next man) was something that invited mockery. Thomas Barrow had no tolerance for being the butt of others' jokes. For another, milk was passably expensive – if you didn't have your own dairy, anyway, or a chilled pitcher set aside that needed to be kept fresh. It was the latter need that meant Thomas got to finish off the pitcher often enough.
"No dessert?"
"Did you want dessert?"
"No, sit down, I thought you would want dessert."
"Mine's waiting downstairs, moppet." Thomas chuckled. "I'll work on it while I polish the silver."
"Oh." Addie deflated a little. "Sorry I can't help with that. Is Mr. Stewart feeding Polly?"
"And taking her out for a run through the orchard."
Frankly, Thomas liked the dog well enough, but he could do without a muddy run through the orchard in the dark as the frost set in. The valet could have the privilege, thank you.
"Good. I wish I could."
"You will, give it a week or so more. Remember what Mrs. Crawley said."
"I don't want to get that sick again." She agreed, huffing and continuing with her soup. "I'm just bored. Aren't you a little bored, all cooped up with the silver?"
"Now and then." Thomas chewed on his sandwich and, with more fear than he would admit to himself, casually added. "Thought it might help with that if I took a class or two."
"What do you mean?"
"Well… Sir Anthony thought maybe I was bored and… might want a bit more education." He cleared his throat and looked down at where she was now looking up at him, Addie's expression caught between curiosity and alarm.
"Are you going to leave?"
"No." Thomas was shocked at how he meant the instant denial. "And even if I did leave the house, or service, I wouldn't leave you. We're friends, aren't we?"
"Yes, but – I'd miss you. Aren't you happy?" She looked surprised. "I thought you weren't happy as a footman and wanted to be a butler."
Thomas squirmed as he'd said as much earlier, when slowly working to use Addie and her sister to improve his lot. He wasn't sure he could track how it had changed, but he should have known he was lost earlier.
There's nothing wrong with you!
Strange how some people's lives never changed. Not through misery or disasters as great as any to befall the good earth. Then, one person's life could be upended by something as empty as words.
"I'm not sure, moppet." Thomas offered up quietly. "I'm happy enough here. Why wouldn't I be with you here?"
She beamed at him and Thomas reached out to ruffle her hair, getting a grin for it even as he got crumbs into the thick dark auburn waves piled about her thin shoulders.
"Are you really tired of being a butler?"
"More tired of not being my own boss." Thomas admitted. "Or of feeling looked down on. It's not so bad here as it was at Downton, but… I'm sort of itchy for something else and I can't say what."
"I would have thought you didn't get that feeling anymore when you were grown up."
"That's just what grownups want you to think so you don't realize how much harder it is to be grown up."
Addie chewed on that more seriously than her dinner, and finally looked up.
"Do you know what you do want to do, Thomas? Like I know I want to be a veterinarian."
Thomas Barrow would never have admitted it to another living soul, but sitting there in the warm room under the weightless strength of the faith in those steel blue eyes…
"I haven't a bloody clue, pardon my language moppet."
"Well," Addie considered and then shrugged off his turmoil with all the resiliency of childhood, "learning things is always a good place to start. What kind of classes would you take?"
"Figured I'd start with a business class in town. Managing the books and basic laws and things. They've got one in the evening at the village school I can sign up for." Thomas chewed on his sandwich and gave her ignored second piece of toast such a look that Addie grumbled and picked it up, taking a bite after dipping it in the remains of her soup. Satisfied, he cocked his own head to the side. "What've you and your sister decided about your school?"
"I'm to have a governess, but not until after the Christmas holidays." Addie looked up at him with a mix of chagrin and a little distaste. "That awful boy, David, is coming to Loxley for Christmas since they sent poor Mr. and Mrs. Chetwood away to Africa earlier than they were supposed to. Do you think he'll be a pest again, or try and get me back for the underpants prank Rose and I played?"
"Excuse me?"
"You helped too!"
Thomas, whose idea it had been to mail the heavily embroidered and lace-bedecked underpants to the lad at Eton, nodded regally. Then he reached out and tugged her hair.
"Oh, he might try, but you've forgotten one thing?"
"What's that?"
"Me."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Lady Strallan is writing. Shall I lead you up?"
"Oh, of course, Barrow, thank you."
Sybil personally had no problems with Thomas Barrow. Of course she disapproved of stealing, but she was also disturbed that her family apparently paid unusually low wages to their staff. Edith had told her that Thomas' behavior towards her and Addie had earned their loyalty, and she trusted his. In Sybil's opinion, that was more than enough to earn a clean slate and a second chance. She'd said as much to her Papa, and she planned to inform him of how right she'd been proven. Speaking of…
"Barrow?"
"Yes, Lady Sybil?"
As he led her up the stairs, Sybil smiled at his slightly suspicious expression and very gently and carefully laid her hand on his wrist.
"I wanted to thank you for everything you did to keep Addie well. I know that you didn't do it to earn thanks, but I wanted to all the same."
The man's cool, professional expression colored slightly across his high cheekbones. Sybil reflected with amusement that she really had once had the worst crush on the man. Now, well, Sybil thought of a broader face and a warmer, thicker accent when she thought of handsome servants. She… wasn't considering that too closely at the moment.
"It… it needed doing."
"Yes, but that doesn't change that you were the one who did it, when others would not. Thank you." Sybil took another step up, resuming their progress. "Addie can be awful, but we all do love her, you know?"
"The feeling is shared, my lady."
Sybil beamed at the quiet response and gently shooed the man away as she knew the way to Edith's little study well enough all on her own. Making a point to await an answer before she opened the door, Sybil knocked and then entered when invited. She found her sister sitting in her swiveling chair, glaring at a blank sheet of paper sitting in the fancy typewriter she'd brought with her from across the Atlantic.
"My, whatever has that paper done to you."
"It's frustrating all of my attempts to write on it." Edith complained, turning to stand and embrace her sister. "It's just awful, but I – I can't think of a thing to write."
"Oh, no! Writer's block?"
"A veritable dam." Edith sighed and shooed Sybil across and down the hallway to her boudoir, where she rang for a tray. "Not that it matters, does it?"
"Surely it does!" Sybil looked at her sister in surprise. "Why wouldn't it? You're writing about the most important things!"
"Well, to you or me, but Sybil…"
"But what?" Sybil had absolutely no intention of accepting any kind of deflection from her sister. "Edith, don't tell me that marrying has made you think suffrage doesn't matter anymore!"
"Of course not!"
"Then why on earth would you stop writing about it? Or about all the things we've talked about other than suffrage! Like – what about that wonderful article you wrote on the custody of children?" Sybil demanded. "You can write from a place of authority there because you're Addie's guardian and had to make all of those arrangements to take her here to Britain, and there are the arrangements with your solicitors about your estate – why not write something about women having more control over their own income? Or their property?"
"I have, Sybil!" Edith finally responded, her tone nettled and hurt. "It doesn't matter what I'm writing if the reason no-one will print my work is that they don't think a bastard has a right to comment on social issues!"
Sybil's mouth dropped open.
"But – you – have you been sending things in to proper papers? I mean, not the things Papa reads but the suffrage papers we read. They're not – not mired in mud and tradition."
"No, but they're desperate to prove that the vote won't lead to women running about and engaging in scandalous behavior once they feel free to do so without the men of society watching over them in benevolent, protective, control."
"I don't know a single ladylike word suited to respond to idiocy of that sort."
"The idea that women require masculine leadership or that my bastard opinion isn't wanted?"
"Either, and you will stop throwing that word about this instant or I'm telling your husband on you."
Edith shot her a murderous look, then subsided in obvious embarrassment.
"Forgive me. I'm sorry it's – really I shouldn't be dwelling on this. I have so much to be happy about with Anthony and Addie out of danger and even the baby-."
"Edith, I love my future niece or nephew and I haven't even met them, but you have every right to be angry and want to talk about it!" Sybil interrupted again. "If you want to go on about how awful it is, I'll join you! Goodness knows we've all got enough Crawley blood to find and use our tempers whenever we want it."
Edith smiled slightly, her eyes a little too bright, at her sister's response. Sybil just took both her hands and went on, in a fine temper herself.
"You should be angry. Personally, I think asking women to always be the quiet and reasonable ones while labeling us the over-emotional sex is one of the worst and most unfair things ever done to our gender and I'd be happy to talk about why as long as you want. Instead, I want you to be as angry as you like without insulting yourself."
"You sound like Anthony."
"Really?"
"Well, not entirely. He can't stand to see me upset."
"That's because he loves you."
"And you don't?"
"Of course, I love you. I just enjoy being angry about these things and you're the only sister who'll be angry with me about it all!"
Sybil smiled at finally having gotten her sister to laugh, but regretted it just slightly when Edith chose both Sybil's joke and the entry of their tea on a tray as the perfect opportunity to change the subject.
"Enough about my writing problems, though. Speaking of Mary, shall you be staying here until the wedding, or…?"
"Only for the weekend, we must be back to London directly after."
"Granny should have faked her collapse by then."
"I'm to take the news personally to Papa. Then he'll ring Aunt Rosamund…" Sybil froze and looked at her sister, but Edith surprised her by just shaking her head and waving it away with a hand.
"She's still your aunt. I suppose… she's still mine in a way." Edith sighed. "I won't be inviting her into my home or seeking her out, but let's not fight about that mess right now. After he rings her, she'll come up with Cousin Susan, won't she?"
"Yes, and some servants hand-picked by our Aunt. Then they'll go to France for a few months."
"While I know that part of what they hope to achieve is to quiet those dreadful rumors, we both know that they're not going away." Edith, Sybil found, was putting on a brave face she didn't entirely believe. That said, Sybil knew her sister well enough to let her have her pride. "What is it really going to achieve for the family, all of this?"
"According to Granny it will keep the scandal from growing into new and worse scandals." Sybil sighed. "I think it started out as a way to stop our cousin and undermine what she's already said, but now it's just as much about trying to stop whatever makes her do these things before they get worse. Papa's convinced that she'll damage poor Cousin Shrimpy's career if she keeps this up."
"She very well might. Shrimpy's very well liked in diplomatic circles, but that's mainly because he often leaves Susan behind." Edith explained. "Apparently she's caused problems before."
"How did you – Mrs. Chetwood?"
"Archie, actually." Edith hesitated, then went on in a low voice as they shared tea. "Anthony has other friends in the diplomatic corps as well, and has even done them an odd favor."
"Mrs. Chetwood said he had."
"Anyway, apparently there was some scandal hushed up around the time you were born, Sybil."
"Really?"
"It involved a Russian at the embassy in London and some important papers that went missing."
Sybil's jaw dropped.
"You're not saying that Cousin Susan was a – a trai-."
"No, no!" Edith hissed. "Nothing like that. Rather… the Russian was allowed over at their home in London a great deal while Cousin Shrimpy was elsewhere. The papers were found later at another diplomat's home. One who'd had them earlier, and it was decided that they'd never gone to Shrimpy in the first place and just been mislaid."
"But there was still very nearly a scandal and there's the question of what that Russian was doing in Shrimpy's house, with his wife, while Lord Flintshire wasn't there." Sybil bit her lip. "Now that I think on it, when Aunt Rosamund brought Cousin Susan to the house - before she was sent off to stay with her daughter in the country – I am almost sure I heard our aunt whispering something about letters to her."
"Exactly." Edith agreed. "I think that's how they're making her go along with all of this; by threatening to bring the whole scandal up."
"While it might be satisfying to see her given a taste of her own medicine, I'm starting to see why Mary's been so high strung. She is marrying a political man."
"And I wish her great happiness from it, but shall we talk of something else?"
"Anything!" Sybil agreed with a laugh, then perked up in a way that could only be called sheepishly mischievous. "I think Cousin Matthew's mad at me."
"Whyever, would you think that?"
"I implied he was shallow."
"Matthew? The family Galahad?"
"About women, I mean."
"Oh."
Both women were silent for a long moment as they considered that accusation. Edith finally refreshed both of their tea and picked up the second half of her scone, sighing as she took a bite.
"Do you really think he is, or we just assumed he is because most of Mary's suitors have been?"
"Edith, that's not nice."
"No, it's an honest question!" Her sister rushed onwards, blushing. "I'm not exactly objective where Mary's looks are concerned. There are simply too many years spent compared unfavorably with them for me to ever, well, put that aside entirely."
"Well, at least you're honest."
"I do try, Sybil. However, you have to admit that most of the men interested in Mary made if fairly clear that they wanted her for her beauty and her social connections. Holderness has probably been the best for, well, complimenting Mary on all of what makes her Mary, and not just her face and rank. I can't be objective, though and I want to know what you think?"
Sybil frowned and then tilted her head to the side in uncomfortable acknowledgement.
"I still don't think any of us have known Lord Holderness long enough to really understand how he feels, Mary included, but he does at least always want to talk to her and see what she thinks." Sybil sighed. "Then again, so did Matthew, and he never made me feel cautious the way that Lord Holderness does."
"I can't say I feel one way or another about him. I haven't spend enough time with the man."
"I have and… it's strange." Sybil complained. "He's terribly easy to like and I always get the feeling that he does want to be good and kind. Then he turns around and... there's this feeling where he can be just utterly cold when he's speaking practically about something. It's like trying to – to pet a fluffy bunny and realizing it's a big lizard."
"I'm sure this is when Addie would normally defend lizards, but ew."
Both sisters were laughing warmly as Sybil went on with a sigh.
"I think that most of Mary's suitors only wanted a beautiful titled wife and now Mary thinks that being that will be all it takes to make her happy. Edith, do you think they'll all end up happy?"
"All?"
"Matthew and Mary, I mean. Married to other people."
"I think I hope so, but what else can you do?"
It hadn't been the answer that Sybil hoped for, but it was the best she was going to get. Deciding she'd rather have a nice visit than carry on talking in circles, Sybil changed the subject.
"Let me tell you about who we met on the train ride to Yorkshire."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Anthony Strallan was beginning to suspect that he finally understood the reason why he'd occasionally caught his father napping in the privacy of his study. That really wasn't something he wanted to consider at all. It certainly wasn't something he wanted to be thinking of at that particular moment.
"Harder!"
"At your word, my lady!"
Edith let out a breathy laugh, punctuated by a groan. Anthony found he wasn't sure if it was him making the noise or his wife. Despite the room being no warmer than to be expected with a newly lit evening fire crackling on the heart, sweat was running down his face.
It was to be expected.
Edith made for the finest sight that the eyes of mankind had surely ever looked on. Anthony still wasn't sure how it had happened. They'd been happily enough sitting opposite each other in their chairs in their bedchamber. Before the hearth, he'd been looking through some last minute paperwork associated with a manufacturing investment he'd made earlier in the year. Edith was thumbing through some notes Anthony had made earlier on smaller horse and pony breeds. Addie was getting her promised Christmas gift, but both had agreed that much care had to be taken to find a mount that she could control, but that would not be so docile that she lost interest and began to seek out more interesting mounts on her own once her skills had progressed.
Anthony had looked up from his paper to find his wife staring at him, her lower lip tucked beneath the ivory of her teeth. His inquiry into her comfort had led to the baronet setting his own paperwork aside as his wife mounted him. Some time later, sweaty and delighted, he'd relaxed backwards with his wife's chin against his shoulder and her legs still tucked up into the chair, knees on either side of his hips.
He'd been utterly spent and delighted. Edith had reached her peak twice riding him, and he'd been suitably proud of the accomplishment. Then Sir Anthony had realized, as his wife rose up and wrapped her arms around his neck to initiate a languid kiss, that… things weren't nearly done for the evening.
"Oh, God, Anthony, I'm close don't stop, don't stop, dontstop!"
Gasping for breath Anthony gripped his wife's hips that much more firmly and ignored the twinge of pain in his back and hips as he redoubled his efforts. Looking aside he groaned at the gilt mirror over the mantle reflected perfectly the hedonistic scene before it. Naked as they were born, both Anthony and his wife were on complete display, bronze, silver, and gold in the light of the fire.
After making love in the chair they'd retired to the bed. There Anthony had rallied to pleasure her again. If not, well, in the more expected way he knew his age. His hands and tongue were more than up to the task, however, and soon he had cast aside the robe and pajamas he'd still been wearing along with his wife's dressing robe and her nighty. Then it was just a matter of kneeling and drawing her knees over his shoulders. By the time she was shuddering underneath his ministrations and calling out his name Anthony had thought he might rally for a second go.
He'd been correct, and after he'd climbed up on the bed to join her in the more expected marital position, Anthony had been quite ready for some well-earned rest. Edith had other ideas and Anthony had spent the next forty-five minutes tangled in her arms and engaged in the most glorious sort of torture imaginable as she coaxed and fondled his exhausted flesh into the fourth performance of the day.
For her own part Edith was delighted. Her husband had simply looked so beguilingly handsome and so oblivious to it as he sat there reading. From the way his reading glasses slid down his nose to the comfortable familiarity of his soft cotton pajamas and dark blue dressing robe he'd just seemed… delectable. Really, Edith had never understood why people referred to carnal passions as appetites until that evening. While she'd wanted him terribly in the morning, it had been nothing on the growing need over the day. She'd just been so hungry for her husband… and she was finally feeling full.
Anthony leant forward over the low chair his wife had bent over. Her own chair in their bedroom had been chosen for comfort. Intellectually he knew his wife liked it because the low, heavily padded, chair was broad enough that she could turn sideways in it and throw her legs over one arm as she liked. The moment his wife, utterly nude, had slipped off their bed and walked over to bend over the back of it, however, he'd decided that it had been a trap from the beginning.
The chair was the perfect height. Bent over it, up on her toes, with her legs spread as she was all Anthony had to do was stand behind her and he was at just the right height to slide into his wife's waiting body smoothy. The low arms were perfect for her to reach out and grasp as she bent over. When he gave in and bent over her? They were positioned just-so for him to support himself easily as he mouthed at the back of her neck.
Clearly a wifely plot from the get-go.
"Anthony!"
The baronet clenched his teeth and thrust harder, pushing in deep and gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks as his wife reflexively clenched at him. He didn't have the breath to respond. Instead, he just held on and chased both their pleasure. When she finally fell apart around him, he gave in and groaned, all but sobbing as he chased a release just out of reach until – finally – he shook with the indescribable relief of a brief, sharp, orgasm.
Beneath him, his wife sighed. Replete.
"M-my dearest darling…" Anthony gulped in more air, his entire body trembling as he held onto the back of the chair for support, too exhausted to move even as his member shrank and slipped from her body. "Sweet one, I d-didn't hurt you, did I?"
"Oh, no, darling, I needed that."
"Jolly good."
Stumbling slightly and holding onto the chair with one hand to augment his fragile balance, Anthony panted and smiled as his wife rose, her shoulders decorated with three separate marks from his mouth and her hair an utter mess. She got up on her toes and gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek, for which he was grateful. He couldn't have managed a kiss on the lips, fighting to get his breath back as he was. Edith took his arms and as Anthony attempted to step fully away from the support of the chair he realized in alarm that it was not a good idea.
"Anthony?"
"Knees locked." He grunted, trying to bend them and listing to the side only to have his wife step forward.
Too exhausted to blush, Anthony Strallan's wife gently helped him stumble back to their bed, then crawled in afterward. Cuddling up to his side, she pulled the covers over both of them and turned out the light on their bedside table. Tucked against him, her head on his shoulder, she was asleep within moments. As exhaustion claimed him, Anthony noted that it was just as well they were going to London soon.
He had a horrendously embarrassing question or two to ask Charlotte when they next dropped in on Dr. Yardley.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
A/N: -laughs- Anthony's performance isn't entirely realistic to his age here, but 1) fiction, 2) we're going to call him lucky as part of the 20% of men who retain a high libido and capacity for multiple decades, 3) A greater medical look into things and more discussion of their sex life in hilarity and awkwardness is in store anyway. 4) It's my headcannon that Edith/Anthony pretty much cannot be trusted alone in a room together. This take on their characters is going nowhere.
Midori – Is a sweet girl, but is slightly hardened here by a different life. In one way, she's done better as her father lived long enough and had connections enough to build greater wealth. In another… Midori in Cantata attributed some of the sexual harassment she faced to not getting to finish school and having to use her looks to get jobs occasionally. She assumed that, 'in better circles' she'd have been in better shape. Here, Midori traveled a lot with her father on business and was around men of power enough to see how they abuse people. She's also used to and is hurt by assumptions she's sleeping with Lawrence because she sees him as a big brother figure.
Lavinia – Is one of my favorite characters because she's so real, and because I'm genuinely irritated by how they used her and her father so blatantly and nobody ever holds Matthew responsible for it. It's clear from the beginning he intended her as "second best" and courted her even though he wasn't over Mary. Likewise, he never was honest with her about his feelings for Mary and gave her a chance to make an informed choice about their relationship knowing his feelings. As evidenced by her death bed reaction, as much as she loved and needed Matthew, she also would have left him for his own happiness' sake. Had he been honest, she could have left him with her life. Mary at least had the excuse of wanting to do the right thing and seeing that Lavinia loved Matthew. Did she fail, yes, but for once she had good intentions. Don't even get me started on the Swire family wealth saving Downton. That was a plot point I wanted to burn with fire. Having Lavinia as Midori's honest friend here is a great way to keep both in the story and we'll move on from here.
Matthew – I love him and he's a genuinely GOOD character, but he's also not perfect. People go through different cycles of attraction and affection. For Edith, it starts with kindness and attention and then matures via intellectual exchange and looks and physical attraction are all mutually entangled with that. We see it in her romances in canon with Anthony and with Bertie. With Matthew and Mary we both see a different pattern. Both saw each other and their first attraction to each other was physical and based on appearance. It then shifted and deepened as they began to feel emotional and intellectual connections with each other that reinforced those feelings.
Matthew's broken heart is healing, but when he has that first spark of attraction again to Midori it leads to more rejection. Midori isn't interested in romance, is shy, is young, and he's a Crawley and she is not in good charity with them right now (save Sybil who can befriend anyone). His rejection has less to do with HIM than other things, but for Matthew it doesn't feel like that. To then be faced with Sybil's rather unintentionally casual implication that he's shallow (which she doesn't mean in a harsh way, just in the way of a judgmental teenage girl!) and the realization that he was more interested in Midori even though he actually struck it off better with Lavinia… it's making him rethink some of his behaviors and opens the door for yet more tangled plotlines.
As ever, thank you for reading!
