Author's Note: My sincerest apologies for the delay with this chapter; work took over my life for a few months, but I should have more free time now to finish this.

You'll have to forgive me any mistakes in this chapter, I just wanted to get it uploaded so I haven't really checked over it. Hopefully it hasn't turned out too badly. Enjoy :)


13

It's abhorrent really, when she thinks about, and she thinks about it a lot; she just can't begin to comprehend how it happened, or why. It's typical really, Mary gets everything; the attention, the best clothes, why would this be any different? But she thought it would be different, she thought he was different. Sometimes she thinks she's the only one to see Mary for what she truly is; a heartless, selfish, wanton brat. Of course she rarely ever expresses this opinion to her family, when she does they just look at her with pitying smiles, which she hates, or she's accused of being jealous and spoiled. Her jealous of Mary. She's not, truly she's not, she just hates any sort of injustice and this, in her honest opinion, is injustice of the highest form.

She first noticed something had changed over the summer. Her Papa was travelling to London with Cousin James and Patrick; so far, nothing unusual. The boys, as Mama called them, often took long trips down to the city; they'd stay for a month, maybe two and then return in time for the summer festival in the village. On this occasion, however, Papa had shocked them all by announcing he would be taking Mary along to London. Granny was utterly scandalised that her 14-year-old granddaughter would be spending so much time in the company of grown men, regardless of whether they were her family or not. For once her Mama actually agreed with her Granny, and her Papa spent many days negotiating terms with the two women until they finally agreed that the oldest Crawley sister could spend the summer with her father and cousins. Even then she didn't really sense that anything was amiss, she just accepted it as another instance where Mary was being favoured over herself.

No, Edith really didn't notice that anything had changed at all at that point. In fact, once the group had gone, she spent a very enjoyable summer playing at being the oldest sister; she found Sybil to be much better company without Mary influencing her every move, and she actually found her mother willing to listen to her at dinner rather than having to be bored with her sister's long-winded stories that the adults found oh so amusing; yawn.

On the morning of the group's return, Edith requests that Anna take extra care when styling her hair; if the maid is surprised at the request, she doesn't show it. When she hears the carriage drawing up she practically skips down the stairs to the hall; she wonders briefly if her Papa has brought her any presents back, but her thoughts are mostly trained on the flaxen-haired youth striding up the front steps and warmly greeting her mother and granny. Patrick. Her heart starts beating wildly in her chest as he plants a chaste kiss on her cheek and she can feel her skin burning where his lips had touched her. She almost misses the smirk on her elder sister's face as Mary graces her with her own tight-lipped peck, but she doesn't miss the snide glee in her voice as she whispers, "Keep dreaming, little sister", before flouncing off after their cousin.

Edith watches the pair closely after that; she sees all of the whispered conversations, the secret little touches that her parents miss, or pretend not to see, and, most of all, she sees their coinciding absences from the drawing room. Her insides clench painfully every time she witnesses Patrick fawning over her sister like a lovesick schoolboy, and when she watches Mary's hand caress Patrick's arm, or hand or, once, his leg! She hates the way seeing them together makes her feel, she hates how it keeps her up at night, she hates how pathetic she's become, but she cannot stop herself from watching them, from trying to decipher their secret conversations, or from hoping beyond belief that Patrick will come to his senses and realise he doesn't want her sister, after all.

A week or so after the group's return from London, Edith joins her whole family on a picnic in the grounds of Downton. She tries her very hardest, really she does, to train her attention on Sybil, or her food but it's so difficult when all she can hear is Mary's tinkling laughter coming from the other side of the lawn. The sound grates on Edith's nerves, it sounds false and gratuitous, and she knows if she turns around she will see her dear Patrick bending over backwards trying to elicit the sound once more. She starts to develop a migraine from the strain of blocking out the unwanted noise so she suggest to Sybil that they should go for a paddle in the lake on the outskirts of the grounds.

The distraction is successful and she spends a good hour laughing and splashing in the water with her baby sister. She has almost forgotten why she needed to get away from the picnic at all when Sybil suddenly stops her frolicking and stands stock-still in the shallows, squinting into the trees behind Edith. "What is it, Sybil?" she tries to follow her sister's gaze, but she can pick out nothing of interest. "Um, I'm not sure", Sybil starts to edge out of the cool water, inching towards the foliage, with Edith following in her wake. Sybil moves almost as if in a trance and Edith is somewhat alarmed at Sybil's sudden change in demeanour; she tries to move quietly so as not to spook her sister but she stumbles over a pothole, landing awkwardly on a protruding rock. Sybil doesn't even glance back at Edith's prone form, instead continuing on, into the woods, in that same dazed state.

Edith inspects the damage to her elbow; it's a little red but, otherwise, unblemished and she's almost disappointed that she has nothing to show for her tumble. She'd never admit it to anyone, least of all her sisters, but she does quite enjoy being fussed over by her mother when she's injured or sick. She's a little stung that Sybil hasn't noticed her fall and she's almost tempted to leave her sister alone in the woods, it would serve her right for wandering off, but she knows Mama and Papa would tell her off something dreadful, so she dutifully traipses into the woods looking for young Crawley.

She feels as though she's been wandering around in circles for hours, and she's so far in to the woods that the sunlight is sparse; she's a little worried that she'll lose her bearings if she doesn't leave soon, plus she's awfully chilly. She's about to start looking for a way out when she hears some rustling and a muffled moan. Her heart thumps wildly in her chest as tries to locate the source of the sound; images of Sybil lying prostrate and bloody on the floor assault her mind. She tries to call her sister's name but her throat is dry with fear and all she manages is a strangled sob before she fumbles through the shrubbery in the direction of the disturbance.

Edith's frantic search comes to an end when she rounds a thick oak tree and she's confronted with her sister, back against a tree, moaning against the mouth of her beloved Patrick. She watches in horrified fascination as Patrick's hands slide up Mary's sides, lovingly at first and then harder as he finds the soft swell of Mary's chest, she's not wearing her corset is the only information Edith can process. She's not the only one who's startled by Patrick's boldness, if Mary's squeal of surprise is anything to go by. Edith feels sick to her stomach as she watches the brazen behaviour of her sister and her cousin; she wants to run away, to pretend she never saw anything, but her feet are rooted to the floor and can't tear her eyes away from the pair.

She watches as Patrick turns his attention from her sister's lips and, instead, leaves a trail of kisses down the side of her neck, causing Mary to moan more loudly and arch up into Patrick's figure. Edith finally regains the ability to move but as she takes a step backwards, preparing to flee, her foot comes down on a spindly twig; the crack that follows seems to reverberate around the small clearing and she's horrified to see Mary's dark eyes fly open and lock onto her own. She's even more horrified that Patrick is too engrossed with the taste of her sister's skin to hear anything at all; Mary lets him continue for a few moments, taking great glee, as always, is having what Edith wants, before unceremoniously pushing him away. Any other time Edith would find Patrick's confused and wounded expression adorable, and she'd revel in the blush that creeps over his cheeks when he finally notices her, she'd take his fumbling attempts to speak to her as a sign of his secret love of her; now it just embarrasses and disgusts her.

Mary has no shame at all as she straightens her dress and calmly walks over to Edith, taking her sister's clammy, shaking hand in her own steady, cool one. Ironically, it's the grip of her sister's icy hand that brings Edith to her senses and allows her to calm her ragged breathing. She looks into the steely eyes of her big sister and nods dumbly when she hisses, "You didn't see anything", before allowing herself to be dragged along in her sister's hurried wake. She's vaguely aware that she can't hear Patrick following them, and that she still hasn't found Sybil, but she doesn't bother mentioning either of these things to Mary and, when they finally emerge into the sunlight, she's only mildly surprised to see Sybil sitting on the picnic rug with their mother.

Mary drops her hand light a hot potato when they near the family, shoots her one warning glance, and then lays down at the edge of the rug looking as sweet as a daisy. Edith can't fight the grimace on her face as Patrick at long last emerges from the trees himself and awkwardly seats himself by her father and the two start to jovially converse, if only he knew, Edith thinks. She angles herself so she can no longer see either of them. When her mother moves away to join Mary, Edith whispers to her little sister, "Did you find what you were looking for? In the woods?" Sybil stops fiddling with the buttercups she's making into a headband and squints up at the sky before answering tranquilly, "No. It's strange; I thought I saw Mary running, can you imagine? Mary, running". She huffs out a little giggle before turning blue, honest eyes to Edith, "But I couldn't find her, and then I got a little scared of being in there alone, so I came back to find you, but you'd disappeared. You were gone so long I got a little worried, but Papa said Mary and Patrick had taken a walk through the woods and you'd probably joined them". With that, Sybil returns to her previous task, effectively closing the conversation.

James and Patrick remain at Downton for another ten days; Edith watches her sister and her cousin closely. She's itching to reveal to someone what she saw in the woods, and Mary knows it; Edith can see the fear etched onto Mary's icy exterior every time she innocently brings up the picnic, she loves having this power over her stoic sibling. She takes no pleasure, however, in Patrick's discomfort around her; his awkwardness, she knows, is not through the shyness of talking to a crush, but through the concern that any little thing he says or does may have her running to her Papa and shooting her mouth off, she's hurt he thinks so little of her. Sure, she'd happily hang Mary out to dry but, as much as his behaviour has hurt her, she would never dream of getting Patrick in to trouble. Her young mind refuses to acknowledge that Patrick was a willing participant in what she witnessed in the woods, instead she's convinced herself that Mary tricked him, and that Patrick has been put under some sort of spell, why else would he willingly kiss Mary? She's never been happier to see the back of her cousins, and Mary seems to relax a little, too, at their departure. Edith tolerates Mary's sniping and insulting remarks but, occasionally, when she's feeling particularly hateful she'll mention a stroll in the woods, or suggest a picnic; she doesn't think she'll ever tire or seeing Mary squirm.