Today's March Flash Fiction prompt: "Masquerade"
Thanks to everyone who's read along with me so far. I love reading all of your comments!
Going back to Season 2 again with some Matthew and Mary. Hope you enjoy!
Masquerade
"What do you think she sees in him?"
Lavinia's question drew him back to her. Matthew chided himself in getting lost in thought. He was only to be in Yorkshire for a few days. He wanted to make the most of his short time with Lavinia before he had to go back to the continent and the muddy trenches.
"Who?"
Lavinia rolled her eyes, tugging at his elbow affectionately. "Mary. What do you think she sees in Mr. Carlisle?"
Matthew looked across the room, finding the two in question just off to the side from the others. Carlisle seemed to be holding court on some matter and Mary looked…bored. She smiled at all the right places to keep the other man talking, but Matthew knew her. He knew the subtle shift from one foot to the other meant that she was dying for the conversation to end, but propriety demanded that she stand still. His first instinct was to walk over and save her from the dull man, but he shook his head. Mary had chosen Carlisle. And Matthew had chosen Lavinia.
"I couldn't say," he finally answered. "I don't quite know the man well enough."
Lavinia's face darkened, a worried frown forming. "We should keep it that way."
Carson announced dinner was ready before Matthew had a chance to question her statement.
Mary excused herself from the rest of the party. She'd had to find some way to get away from everyone. She'd had quite enough of Carlisle for one evening. His droll conversation interspersed with snide, biting comments had finally taken its toll. She laughed to herself. She was to marry this man.
"Mary? Is everything all right?"
Matthew had followed her out into the hall. He peered into the shadows where she had hidden, concern writ loud across his face. Mary hated him for it.
"Quite all right, thank you," she clipped, straightening her spine to stand taller. She wanted nothing less than to let Matthew see her in such a moment of weakness. She was stronger than he'd ever think. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going up. I'm much too tired."
"Mary," he called again as she began to climb the stairs. She stopped but didn't look back. "I don't understand what you see in him. He doesn't seem like a very good man."
She turned back to him then. And for a moment they were out in the garden, Matthew asking her why she wouldn't marry him anymore, why did it matter that he wouldn't be the heir? They loved each other, didn't they?
"You should return to Miss Swire. I'm sure she misses you dearly."
She took the stairs calmly, refusing to let show any sign of weakness. Everything was fine. She was fine. This was her life and she would live with it.