The Midland Hotel, Pearl Suite, Manchester, England, October 1913
"You never wake up before I do."
His voice is a cross between a mumble and a slurred statement and it makes her smile and look over at him. His hair is across his forehead and there's a layer of stubble that frames the cheeky smile that adorns his face. His eyes are closed, and she's thankful for that, as she knows the moment he opens them, there's a very good chance she'll be naked and on top of him before he uses that low tone of voice that always makes her knees buckle.
But there's no time for any of that anymore.
"I suppose it's a comment on which one of us was more tired from last night," she teases. He's lying underneath the bedcovers and she's sitting on top of them, but it's hardly a defence. Cotton sheets are no match for a randy Matthew Crawley.
"That's strange, because by my count, you should be knocked out for hours yet," comes the instant reply and she expects he'll open his eyes soon, because she's blushing fiercely and he loves to make her blush.
"Didn't you know, darling? One of the keys to a happy marriage is to never keep score," she throws back, knowing her face is a shade of pink by now.
He stretches his legs and the movement under the blankets draws her attention.
"I believe that is in reference to who wins more arguments," he says easily, his eyes still closed as he turns on to his front, his arms folding under the pillow. "And I conceded that battle before we were even married. As for the number that I'm referring to, I'll keep counting the times as long as they are in my favour."
She laughs, unable to keep her composure any longer. He joins her, chuckling at the pleasant sound. A year a half ago she was banished by her family, sent away from Downton Abbey in shame and scandal. A year and a half ago she was thrown into a strange house by her Godfather, forced to go to work, of all things, and met Matthew for the first time. A year and a half ago, she thought she would never see Yorkshire ever again. Now, she's in bed with a naked man who happens to be her husband and is about to return to Downton Abbey. She stopped contemplating how ridiculous it all seemed ages ago.
"What?" Matthew asks, his eyes now open, looking at her curiously. "What are you contemplating in that gorgeous head of yours?"
"Stop it," she frowns, but then offers him a teasing smile. "I need to go pack my things and prepare for my departure, and so do you."
"We don't leave for three days, yet, and Lady Philomena and her servants aren't due back until tomorrow," he says. "And this room is paid for until this afternoon."
"Matthew!" she scolds him. "Haven't you had enough?"
"Of you?" he laughs incredulously. His arm is moving beneath the blankets towards her and she squeals, moving back slightly.
"What happened to all your poetic words last night about it being our last time together and how precious it was?" Mary asks, speaking quickly as she can feel him rousing to wakefulness.
"Every time with you is precious, Mary," he says. "Which is why I need to collect as many as possible."
"Matthew!" she protests merrily, her hands on his chest as he pounces over her, kissing her neck, his hands trailing down her sides and cupping her bottom through her silk robe. "Stop! I'm still sore from last night!"
He groans and it sounds adorable to her ears. He stills on top of her, still pressing light kisses to her lips and cheek, holding her in an embrace now as he settles in the crook of her shoulder.
"Truthfully, so am I," he admits, causing her to smile wider. "But please, just stay a while longer. We don't have to do anything. Just stay with me, Mary."
"All right," she accepts, stroking her fingers through his hair and returning his kisses. "I suppose that I could take my bath here."
"A wonderful idea," Matthew grins and she can read his thoughts as if he were reciting them aloud.
"We are not bathing together unless you swear that you will not try to seduce me," she says firmly. "Matthew, in three days we aren't supposed to know each other. You'll do a horrible job of that if you can't keep your hands off me for a few hours."
"I'm quite certain that my hands were not the only ones that were active last night," Matthew replies, undeterred. "Or earlier this morning."
Mary doesn't bother replying. She simply shakes her head and holds him closer. A contented hum escapes her lips and she glances up at the chandelier above their bed, visions of their life in Manchester flying through her mind as they stand on the verge of leaving, possibly forever.
"I still wonder if we're not better off leaving things as they are," she says.
"Mmm," Matthew replies, his eyes closed, his lips still pressed lightly to her neck. "We do have a lovely life here, don't we?"
"We do," Mary nods. "That was what my old life was all about – constantly trying to get more – more money, more attention, more prestige, more of everything. Regardless of what's right or wrong and the great matter and all of the rest of it, I wonder if we're being foolish to risk this for something so uncertain as a life at Downton."
"Well, that would depend on what you consider a risk, I suppose," Matthew says lazily.
"What do you mean?" she frowns. "Of course it's a risk. We could lose everything."
Matthew rises up slightly. He brushes some of her hair back from her face and smiles at her, his blue eyes catching some of the early morning sunlight creeping across the room.
"Darling, we won't lose everything," he nods. "If we are found out, if we fail, if the world rises up against us and we are forsaken, we still won't lose anything of value. We are happy here, of course, and it's a lovely life and many would envy us for it, but there's another life for you, Mary, and I want to try to give it to you. And if it all goes pear shaped, we'll still be together and we'll build another life someplace else. So, there really is no risk at all. Nothing can separate us, truly. You're my wife. The rest is just detail."
He kisses her forehead, then turns away, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stretches out his arms and groans to wake himself, then moves to stand up.
His mouth falls open in shock as Mary walks by him completely naked on her way to the bathroom. He blinks, then follows her slowly, unable to stop himself from staring at her up and down.
"I said that we didn't have to do anything, Mary," he whispers as she bends over the bathtub and turns on the taps. He thinks fleetingly that he may need to let her bathe alone because the sight of her is about to make him come undone.
"Yes, you did," Mary says sultrily, looking back at him over her shoulder, which only serves to arouse him further. "But I never agreed, did I?"
His steps slowly towards the rapidly filling bathtub and the beautiful woman waiting for him.
He may need to ask that their check out time be extended even later.
Downton Village, Yorkshire, England, October 1913
The motor meandered through the streets, the going slow as the road seemed to narrow in places and wind around buildings in others. Matthew peeked out the window and saw villagers going about their business. It was a calm and rather serene day, the sun was bright and warm and there was a pleasant late summer breeze in the air. Even the birds were singing, Matthew noted wryly. Where was he? It was though he had somehow left the train station and passed into a Trollope novel.
The car shook slightly as it ran over another hole in the road. Matthew sighed audibly.
"These roads are terrible," he said as he leaned back in his seat. He was interrupted as another bump in the road made the car shake. "An abomination, really; in Manchester…"
"Although you would make your father rather proud with your admiration for our home, you're rather laying hard on my nerves with your complaining, dear," Isobel said patiently.
Matthew rubbed his brow and pursed his lips. He knew his mother was right. He also knew that his pique had nothing to do with the condition of the road. It had only been several hours since he had parted from Mary back in Manchester and he started missing her from the moment he boarded the train for London. He spent most of the journey to the capital and the transfer to York in a slight panic, knots churning around in his stomach. If he could barely spend a few hours apart from his wife then how in the world was he going to be indifferent to her once they both arrived at Downton Abbey? He didn't know what was more comical – their harebrained plan or the fact that she could still make him feel like a lovesick schoolboy almost two years into their marriage.
"Matthew, I know that you mean to evaluate everything about this place and your position here, but perhaps you could tone down you petulance around me, my dear boy," Isobel smiled.
Matthew gave her a wry smirk in apology.
"After all, I stopped having the responsibility to put up with these moods of yours some time ago. That's now entirely the duty of…" Isobel continued.
"Mother!" Matthew interjected, silencing her. He looked at her pointedly and motioned slightly with his head towards the driver in the front seat.
Isobel's eyes widened in understanding.
"Of…the rest of our new family," she nodded, saying nothing further.
Matthew reached out and patted her hand kindly. It was a lot to ask of his mother to play along with this elaborate scheme. Both of his parents were direct and to the point in everything they did. It was already an Augean task to ask them to hide their knowledge of Mary and Matthew's marriage when they were in Manchester, and accept that their son and his wife would be living apart. To now ask his mother to act as though Mary was merely a nurse's assistant she had met at the hospital a handful of times was quite unfair.
Before Matthew could turn his thoughts back to Mary, the car came to a stop in front of a stately house, with manicured landscaping and gardens, and even a quaint fence in front of it. It was just as Mary described. A home in the Village, but clearly not the same as the cottages they had passed. Matthew took a deep breath. They had undoubtedly reached Crawley House, and no matter Matthew's reservations, the curtain was now being raised.
"Ready, Matthew?" Isobel whispered as the driver got out to walk around to their door.
"Once more unto the breach," Matthew said under his breath.
The door swung open and the driver offered his hand to Isobel. She stepped out carefully and Matthew followed, standing tall and glancing over the property. It was a pleasant looking house, nothing like their home in Manchester, which invited hospitality. This place seemed more formal and detached, almost like a country inn that never changed regardless of who was living inside. Matthew smirked briefly. His mother would change that immediately. As this would be her abode, she would surely stamp her authority over it, and would make it warm and welcoming. Matthew hoped for as much at least. It would be good to have a refuge to escape to whenever living at Downton Abbey put his teeth on edge.
Matthew saw the luggage being unloaded and had to squeeze his hands together to fight the impulse to offer assistance.
"You're going to be the Earl of Grantham, not some footman," Mary had scolded him lightly when she described circumstances where he must never do anything that would be beneath his new stature.
And so Matthew stood aside and watched. He put a hand on his mother's back to coax her forward when she gave numerous instructions regarding her parrot Abel and where the cage was to be placed in the house.
"Welcome to Crawley House," a deep voice intoned as they walked up the path. Matthew swallowed. The sharp eyes, the immaculate hair, the imposing form, and the hawkish nose. This was surely Carson. Matthew flicked his fingers, stilling the impulse to shake the man's hand. He wasn't supposed to know anything about the Crawley family butler, but regardless of Mary's kind words about Carson, it was clear from one glance at the man that he was the very definition of a butler. He exuded professionalism and authority, as though he could count any loose threads in Matthew's day suit and was filing the information away for later use.
"I am Carson, his Lordship's butler," Carson said by way of introduction. His lips formed a perfect line, but his eyes were gazing upon Matthew inquisitively. Matthew swallowed again.
"It's true that I was terribly fond of him as a girl, and Carson once told me I was his favourite. But what he values most is everything in its place and he will be supremely critical of you, especially at first, given that you're showing up to take a position that he probably thinks should be mine. He wasn't very fond of Cousin James and Patrick at all, and I'd like to think he's still on my side. But he's loyal to Papa and to Downton, so he can't be brought into our confidence, no matter how strong an ally he would be," Mary said.
"Won't he warm to me when he sees how kind I am to you? He can't just assume I'll be the same as Patrick just because I'm your father's heir!"Matthew complained.
"He's very set in his ways, darling. He'll need a lot of convincing. Words and platitudes will get you nowhere with him. You'll have to earn his respect through your deeds. So, when you first meet him, act aloof and put on airs. He'll be disappointed that Papa has endorsed you, which will make it easier for me to sway him to my side."
Matthew stepped forward, his shoulders raised and his chest puffed out. He felt entirely ridiculous.
"Carson," he said haughtily. "You and the staff will address my mother as Mrs. Crawley. Where is the valet that is assigned to her? I shall need to evaluate him before I leave this house."
"Of course, sir. Mr. Moseley is just inside. The maid and cook hired for Mrs. Crawley should be by this afternoon."
"You can tell them to not bother showing up," Matthew said sharply. "My mother's maid and cook from Manchester will be arriving on the 3 o'clock train. Have a motor collect them and send word to me at Downton Abbey once they've arrived."
Carson arched an eyebrow in surprise. "Mr. Crawley, His Lordship has already gone to the trouble of hiring staff for Crawley House."
"His Lordship surely wants both myself and my mother to feel comfortable here, and the easiest way to achieve that is to have our staff from Manchester attend to her. Should there be a problem, I will discuss it with His Lordship, Carson, not with you," Matthew said dismissively.
"Of course, sir," Carson said tightly, nodding his head.
"I expected you would see reason. Now, let's go and meet your Molesley," Matthew continued. "I am quite interested to know what task has kept him so occupied that he did not come outside to greet us, as he ought to have."
Carson kept his lips tight together and went ahead to open the front door. Matthew ushered his mother forward, giving her a stern glare as she seemed ready to admonish him for his rude rebuke to the butler. He steeled himself as they walked into Crawley House, his heart rate spiralling despite his attempts to remain calm. If he was this nervous meeting Carson and Molesley, he would be an absolute wreck once he got to Downton Abbey. He desperately hoped that Mary was on her way.
Train Station, Ripon, Yorkshire, England, October 1913
Mary now owned a watch. The time piece was extremely utilitarian, just a piece of leather for the band and a small oval for the clockwork, and yet it was beautiful. It had been a gift from Dr. Crawley and Isobel. There had been no occasion; it was simply something she needed for her duties as a volunteer nurse. Mary had always allowed other people to instruct her during the day, she had never paid much attention to time. After she was exiled from Downton, when she arrived in Manchester; time had taken on a completely new meaning. At the hospital, it was measured precisely – the times when patients took their medications, when the nursing shifts were changed, or those frantic moments where hesitation could mean the loss of a life.
Mary glanced at her watch as she walked out of the train station. If Matthew's train was on time, he would have reached Crawley House about an hour ago. It would not take too long for him to see Isobel settled. Though Mary suspected that her parents would want to send Edith or Sybil to welcome him and summon him to Downton Abbey for dinner, Mary told him to go to the big house as soon as it was practicable. Though they would be surprised that he took the initiative to go to them, her family would make do and spend time with him leading up to the ringing of the dressing gong. It was crucial that Matthew take them by surprise, and also that he be there in the afternoon.
Calculating how long she remembered the trip took from Ripon by motor, Mary looked about and settled upon a kind looking older man standing in front of his taxi cab. She approached him and nodded slightly.
"Good afternoon, Miss," he smiled, tipping his cap. "May I have the pleasure of transporting you somewhere today?"
"Please," Mary smiled politely. He held open the door for her, then assisted the porter to load her trunk in the boot of the taxi. He came around and settled into the driver's seat and looked back at her.
"And where shall we be going today, young lady?" he asked.
Mary smiled at the term he used for her. "Downton, please."
"Oh, Downton," the man frowned slightly. "I'm sorry, young lady, but you could have just stayed on the train. The next stop is Downton."
"It was getting too stuffy on board," Mary replied easily. "I thought I'd take a drive instead."
"And I am glad that you did," the driver nodded. He put the car in gear and eased away from the train station.
Mary watched as familiar buildings and streets passed. She thought of a similar ride, when Taylor drove her to the train station the last time she was in Yorkshire. She did not wish to risk running into anyone who may recognize her by riding the train all the way to Downton, and the ride from Ripon would give her the time to collect her thoughts.
"Where in the Village would you like me to deliver you, young lady?" the driver asked.
"I'm not going to the Village, actually. You can bring me to Downton Abbey," Mary said calmly.
"Oh, Downton Abbey!" the driver answered. "You must be going to some big affair that Lady Grantham is hosting, then?"
"It's more of a private party with a few select guests," Mary replied.
"Ah, I see," the driver said. "There's news that the new heir is coming to Yorkshire any day now. The next Lord Grantham he'll be. The house must be all abuzz at that."
"I expect so," Mary nodded, grateful the driver was watching the road and could not see her smirk. She glanced out the window as the landscape grew more familiar. The day of her return, the sun was shining.
"Suppose it's a good time to be visiting, then," the driver mused. "Maybe you'll get a chance to see the heir up close, be in the same room with the next Earl!"
Mary grinned. "Maybe," she said. "No matter what happens, I'm sure I'll remember this visit for a very long time."
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, September 1913
"I must apologize for Carson," Robert said easily. "Cora was going to have Edith come down and welcome you and your mother properly, invite you up to the house for dinner. There was no need for you to come up so soon after your arrival. I'm sure the trip was tiring for you."
"Not at all," Matthew replied. "I was eager to get here, to see my new home. Once I was satisfied that Mother was settled, I wanted to come up immediately."
"Well, you're here," Robert smiled. "Before I show you the paintings, you must allow me to offer you a fitting libation."
Robert stopped at the bar, a bounty of promising liquors, many obviously expensive, stood before him. He swept his hand across the array, turning to Matthew for his order.
Matthew took his time perusing the drinks, Mary's instructions again ringing in his mind.
"Do you have any Elderberry wine?" he asked nonchalantly.
"A fine choice," Robert smiled, turning and pouring two glasses. "You know, elderberries have grown on the grounds for over a century. We send a few shipments each year to friends of mine in the winemaking business. I've always been told that the stock is so good we should consider harvesting and selling more, but you know that strikes me as a bit too commercial. I like keeping parts of Downton just for us."
"It's as if it's our own little secret," Matthew said, taking a sip of the wine. He already knew all about the elderberries. Mary had told him, and instructed him to ask about the wine, knowing it would endear Matthew to her father and also make him appear a bit uninformed, which she knew Lord Grantham would enjoy as well.
"Yes, I suppose it is," Robert smiled, pleased at the comment. After an hour of touring the house with his new heir, Lord Grantham had to admit that he was enjoying the young man's company. He was intelligent and thoughtful, and displayed none of the tendencies that Lord Merton had warned him about. Of course, he was rather simple judging by his suit, and there was much he needed to learn, but Robert liked that. Unlike James and Patrick, Matthew Crawley was a clean slate, and Robert had plenty to write.
"And now on to the portraits of our ancestors," Robert said eagerly. "You must make their acquaintance."
"Yes, I'm looking forward to seeing the first Earl especially," Matthew said jovially. "I've read his name was Daniel and so I feel I am in good company."
Robert was silent at this remark, the meaning lost on him.
"In what way?" he asked carefully.
"Daniel," Matthew explained. "Meaning God is my judge, whereas my own name means gift of God. It seems confirmation after all that we are related."
"That's a bit of a stretch, Matthew, wouldn't you say?" Robert smirked. "It isn't particularly important what anyone's name is, compared to the value of one's title."
Matthew remained quiet, the Earl's words shocking him.
"Well, then I guess it is fortunate that all of us will have one of those as well," he remarked.
Robert looked at Matthew inquisitively as they walked. No, his heir had not yet shown any stubbornness or wilfulness, but he did have a strange manner about him, an odd air. Robert decided it was due to him being in a new environment. This wasn't his class, and there was very little about Downton Abbey that he could possibly relate to. The young man's mind was probably swimming with the elegance of the place. Robert smiled to himself as they continued on. He sometimes forgot how impressive Downton could be to someone who hadn't lived here his entire life.
"I know that your mother accompanied you here, and I am looking forward to introducing her to the rest of the family," Robert said. "But what about any other of your relations? Aunts, uncles, cousins? Perhaps we should organize something for them to come down as well, to see the new life that you've been given."
"Both of my parents had very small families, actually," Matthew replied. "There are cousins on my mother's side, and no one else on my father's side, at least no one that you don't already know anyway."
"I see," Robert nodded. "And what about you, Matthew? I expect it was hard for you to say goodbye to your friends and colleagues in Manchester? I regret uprooting you, but there was really no alternative."
"You gave me enough time to get my affairs in order," Matthew nodded. "My old law firm was sorry to see me go, but we were only work colleagues in the end. We didn't socialize outside of the office."
"That's probably wise," Robert smiled. "You'll find that keeping up with Society can take a substantial amount of effort."
Matthew nodded politely.
"And do you have anyone special back in Manchester?" Robert asked awkwardly.
"No," Matthew answered. "I was rather busy with work and trying to make a name for myself at my law firm. There wasn't much time for…romance."
"Ah," Robert said. Well, at least Lord Merton had gotten something right. Apparently his comment that Matthew went to the office and went straight home afterward was accurate.
Robert smiled as they reached the gallery. "I'll be able to show you the Third Earl, from whom we are related," he said. "It's curious, isn't it? How the discovery of a distant ancestor can change one's fate?"
Matthew nodded. "Ever since Lord Merton gave my father the news of our new family, I've been trying to learn more about our ancestor. Actually, I was able to find a family heirloom that my father was given many years ago, and to which he only recently found out the significance."
Matthew reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and took out a small box. He opened it, showing Robert a gold signet ring.
"This belonged to the first Earl Daniel's third son, my grandfather Lionel's great-grandfather. My father always kept it as it is inscribed with the Crawley family motto, omnia mutantur, nihil interit. He didn't know it's true provenance."
Matthew held up the ring and offered it to Robert for inspection. He could see the Earl's attention was engaged as his fingers traced over the fine engraving. Matthew would of course not tell Robert that his father had never worn the ring; in fact he had not cared at all about its significance. It had been Mary's idea to see if they could find something that would link their different worlds together, and his mother's carefully labelled and arranged attic that had made it possible. Matthew had to force himself not to smile as he pictured how much amusement this scene would have offered his father, not to mention Mary.
"Everything changes, nothing perishes," Robert said as he translated the engraving. "That is a very old Crawley motto, we've used different creeds lately, but I recognize the original. I'm pleased that you take your family history so seriously." He offered the ring back.
"Keep it, Lord Grantham," Matthew nodded respectfully. "It should be yours now, as it truly belongs here at Downton Abbey, among all the past Earls."
Matthew's stomach churned with the effort it took not to grimace at his own platitudes. He didn't know what was worse – appearing to be so ingratiating to Lord Grantham, or the fact that, as Mary predicted, the Earl was eating it all up voraciously.
"My father cannot accept a gift. Even during birthdays and anniversaries while he would expect us to organize a party he wanted no tokens of the day itself. I used to think it was a sign of humility and I admired it. However, I wonder now if it's not because he hates the idea of being beholden to anyone, that he will need to reciprocate in turn at some point in the future. Papa hates to be in anyone's debt, and would avoid owing you anything as you're his heir and should only be grateful to him. So, let's give him this ring and see how he reacts to you."
"I couldn't possibly accept this ring from you," Robert shook his head vigorously. "Although, if you wish, we could display it here when we have parties and the like. It would make an interesting conversation piece I think, and it would be understood that it belongs to you and will stay with you."
"I'd rather it be known as belonging to the family," Matthew said.
"No," Robert answered rather sharply. "My mind is quite made up," he handed the ring back to Matthew. "I could never take something so precious to you, something that reminds you of your father, who is now gone; it is only right that you should keep it. After all, I own everything else around here. You can keep that ring."
Matthew accepted the ring back and replaced it in his pocket.
"Thank you, my Lord," he replied.
Robert nodded as they stopped in front of the painting of the First Earl.
"Please, Matthew, you must call me Robert," he said. "You are my heir, after all. There are many people who do not use my title who should, but I think I can allow you this perk of not having to be so formal."
"Very well, Robert," Matthew said with some hesitation.
"Now, let me present to you the First Earl," Robert said raising his hand towards the portrait.
"Have you seen the new heir?" Sybil asked.
"You know that I haven't," Edith replied in a bored tone. "I've been home all afternoon."
"I thought you were supposed to go summon him here for dinner?" Sybil said in confusion.
"I was, but before the time came for me to leave, Mama came running in and said he'd come up to the house already. That's why we're up here. We're not to see him while he's walking around with Papa, and we'll all meet him at the same time before dinner," Edith explained.
"I hope he's nice, and pleasant to talk to," Sybil sighed.
"What does it matter?" Edith said. "How much talking did you ever do with Cousin James and Cousin Patrick?"
"I know that you spoke to Cousin Patrick quite often," Sybil retorted. "I just want him to be interesting. He's going to be living here and we'll be seeing a lot of him. It would help if he wasn't entirely boring."
"He's from Manchester, Sybil," Edith rolled her eyes as she put her book down. "How interesting could he be?"
"I don't know. Manchester is bigger than Downton, anyway," Sybil said. "I can't help thinking that for the first while that Cousin Matthew is here, I'll be thinking about Mary."
"Sybil, not again," Edith rolled her eyes.
"How can you be so heartless?" Sybil frowned. "I know that the two of you rarely got along, but she's still our sister, Edith!"
"Sybil, it's time that you realized that we'll never see Mary ever again," Edith said patiently. "I will admit that it's not what I want, and I still feel terrible over the way that Mary was sent away, but Papa won't allow any of us to contact her again, Sybil. Your writing to her was already bad enough, and now Papa won't even permit that."
"I just miss her so much," Sybil said quietly. "Do you think that Cousin Matthew would ever invite her back when he becomes the Earl?"
"Sybil, that could be decades from now," Edith shook her head. "And why would Cousin Matthew even entertain the thought? He doesn't know Mary, and he has no reason to want her here."
"I don't care how long it takes," Sybil said firmly. "I'll see Mary back here one day, mark my words."
"Don't hold your breath over it," Edith said. "Besides, Mary's living in Manchester now. She has a life there, Sybil. Who knows where she'll be or if we'll even know how to reach her years from now?"
Sybil huffed in exasperation. She got up from her bed and went over to her window. She looked out on to the grounds below. The weather had been somewhat overcast and cold the past days, but the sun was out now, brilliant and bright.
"Was Taylor sent to fetch Granny?" Sybil asked.
"No, Granny's been here since luncheon," Edith said. "With our having dinner with the new heir, she didn't see the purpose of going home and coming back."
"Ah," Sybil said, frowning as she looked into the distance. "Is there anyone else coming to dinner then?"
"Not that I know of," Edith replied. "It's just the family. Why?"
"Well, there's a taxi coming down the driveway," Sybil noted.
"A taxi? Why would anyone invited to dinner need a taxi?" Edith asked.
"I don't know," Sybil said. "Let's go and see. I'm tired of staying up here."
"Mama said we're to stay here and wait for the gong," Edith said. "She doesn't want us to see Cousin Matthew before dinner."
"Well if I see him, I'll turn away," Sybil declared. "Come on, Edith."
"If anyone asks, I'll say it was your idea," Edith smiled, getting up and taking her younger sister's arm as they left the room.
Mary did not know what to expect to see when the taxi turned on to the familiar long driveway. Though she'd be gone for nearly two years, little if anything, would have changed about the estate's grounds. She saw glimpses of the vast fields, the tall trees and of course the big house rising as they approached. She was filled with a desire to sneak over to the stables and saddle Diamond, taking her horse out across the grounds and reacquainting herself with the Temple of Diana and the other follies and landmarks across the lands, the lands she had grown up on. Despite how horrible her banishment had been, she did not feel any resentment upon seeing Downton Abbey. It was not the house or the grounds that had hurt her.
Her pulse quickened as more of the home came into view the closer they approached. She still carried scars from what happened to her here. She knew out of her family, only Sybil and her Granny would be happy to see her. She expected Carson to be stoic as always but to be glad she was back. But, what about the others? Mrs. Hughes thought she was spoiled before. Would the circumstances of her departure have changed that? Would Anna be glad for her return, or would she see it as an imposition, another drain on her time?
Truthfully, Mary was somewhat worried she would be able to resume her old manner as well. She knew her time in Manchester had an effect on her, but it was more than that. It was Matthew. Matthew had changed her. His love. His support. There were parts to her history at Downton Abbey that she hadn't told him, that she was not very proud of. Would she slip back into those old habits now that she was here? She had warned him that she would be somewhat insufferable as part of their act, but would it be entirely an act if she carried herself in the way she had before?
Mary carried scars from her past, and by returning here, she was about to reopen them.
"Scars are beautiful," Dr. Crawley had once told her in the earliest days of their acquaintance.
"I know that sounds odd. But, a scar is more than an ugly and offensive jagged blemish on our flesh. It is proof of victory. A scar signifies something that happened to us, but that we overcame and persevered through. It is a mark that this person can't be taken for granted, that this person is a survivor. The scar tells that story. It should be cherished; at least that is my outlook."
Mary brushed her fingers at her moist eyes. Sentimentally was no longer permitted and she quickly composed herself. The best tribute she could make to her father-in-law was to support Matthew in his plan and play her role. If they were successful, she envisioned going back to Manchester and visiting Dr. Crawley's grave, telling him all about the adventures that she, Matthew and Isobel had in Yorkshire, and assuring him that Matthew had kept his promise, and she had been restored.
Mary watched Downton Abbey now loom in front of the taxi. She was far from religious, but she still believed that Dr. Crawley was watching over her and Matthew, and he was, like them, anticipating what was to come.
"Test the soup again," Mrs. Patmore snarled at Daisy. "The last thing we want is for the heir presumptive to think we can't flavour a soup right."
"Mrs. Patmore seems a bit on edge," Bates smiled, sipping his coffee.
"You know how she gets when a distinguished visitor comes to eat," Anna smiled at him. "And this one's here to stay."
"Then she shouldn't worry. Even if the soup is no good, she'll have plenty more chances to make it better," Bates said.
"Has His Lordship told you who will be taking care of Mr. Crawley?" Anna asked.
"I assume it'll be Thomas," Bates replied. "Thomas will probably try to stick him with me so he can move in on His Lordship."
"But you won't allow that, will you?" Anna frowned.
"If I'm honest, I probably wouldn't mind," Bates admitted. "He'll be the next Earl of Grantham. I'm grateful for His Lordship's loyalty and generosity, but I can't exactly complain if I'm assigned to his heir, now, can I?"
Mrs. Hughes came into the kitchen, glanced around quickly, then approached them.
"Ah, Mr. Bates, Anna," she nodded. "You can both go up. Her Ladyship wants everything to go perfectly this evening, and so you'll both need to get His Lordship and Lady Edith and Lady Sybil ready as quick as you can. You can wait in the Great Hall and when the gong sounds, go right up."
"Yes, Mrs. Hughes," Anna nodded. She walked towards the stairs.
Bates finished his coffee and put it down on the table. He followed after Anna, trying not to be too obvious as he watched her hips sway as she walked up the stairs ahead of him.
"My Lady, begging your pardon."
"Yes, O'Brien? What is it?" Cora asked, looking over her earrings.
"It's Lady Edith and Lady Sybil, my Lady," O'Brien said. "I saw them heading towards the stairs as I was carrying the clean towels to Your Ladyship's bathroom."
"What? But I told them to stay upstairs while His Lordship gave Cousin Matthew the tour of the house," Cora frowned.
"Yes, my Lady. It seems they found a reason to go downstairs. I thought you'd like to know."
"Thank you, O'Brien," Cora sighed, rising from her vanity and walking towards the door. "I'll go a fetch them before my husband discovers they've been let loose."
Matthew looked at the clock on the fireplace mantle. Mary told him that the dressing gong was rang precisely at six o'clock each evening. It was now half past five and there was no sign of her. If she didn't arrive before he was forced to go up and change, then there was a risk that Robert could intercept her before he came back down. Matthew needed to be present when Mary surprised everyone. If she was early, that was fine as Matthew was with Robert. Even if she was late, as long as Matthew was at the dinner table with the rest of the family, he could protect her. But if she arrived outside of those times, their plan would be off to a howling start.
"Any questions, Matthew?" Robert asked. "I know it's a lot to take in."
"I'm quite impressed," Matthew nodded. "I was actually wondering if I might see a copy of the entail at some point."
"Ah, of course," Robert said. "I was going to say there was no point boring yourself with the minutiae of it, but of course, you're lawyer. I'm sure you're used to such documents."
"A small bit, yes," Matthew said carefully. "I admit that it's in my nature to want to read everything whenever there is such an instrument involved. The duties and obligations given to us can depend greatly on the precise word used."
"You want to be sure that you're truly inheriting all of this and not just a pig farm," Robert chuckled.
"I'm sorry, Robert," Matthew held up his hands. "I meant no offence."
"And none was taken, Matthew," Robert smiled. "You can see the entail soon. But, for now I hope you can be content if I show you the library."
Matthew smiled as Robert escorted them out of the room. They would need to cross the Great Hall to get to the library. At worst, Matthew would be within earshot and standing close to Robert when Mary arrived. Now she just had to get here, he thought worriedly.
"I understand that you had a young woman under your direction," Violet said. "My granddaughter, Lady Mary."
"Mary is your granddaughter?" Isobel asked. "Oh! From Yorkshire, of course!"
Violet looked at Isobel curiously.
"I'm sorry, Cousin Violet. I never knew that Mary was part of your family, you see. The patron for our hospital, Lord Merton, told Matthew several months ago that Mary was from Yorkshire, but we were never told anything else about her."
"Well I suppose the opportunity never presented itself," Violet smiled politely. "And Mary never spoke of us?"
"No," Isobel shook her head. "I like to give my staff as much freedom as possible. If they wish to confide in me, they are welcome to, but we are colleagues more than friends. Mary never volunteered any information, and I never asked."
"Ah," Violet nodded.
Isobel sipped her tea. While there was a strange sense of fun at play acting and reciting the lines that Matthew and Mary had taught her, Isobel still found it a bit tiring to keep the stories straight between the script that she was to recite and the true story that she already knew.
"Did Matthew ever have reason to come visit you at the hospital? Did he ever meet Mary?" Isobel asked.
"Matthew came by the hospital almost every day; he was very close to his father. The three of us would often walk home together," Isobel said. "But I don't think he ever saw Mary. I don't remember introducing them. I believe the first time he ever met her was at my husband's funeral, and that was not a meeting in any event. I told him to go fetch her as I needed to give her instructions for some patients."
"So Mary has never met Matthew before," Violet said. "A strange world, isn't it? Being so close to someone each day and not even knowing you're related?"
"Well, Mary would be Matthew's fourth cousin," Isobel said. "That's hardly a relation, is it?"
"No, I suppose that in practice, it isn't," Violet said.
"Carson, are we expecting anyone? It appears that there's a motor coming up the lane," Violet frowned, glancing out the window.
"Not that I am aware of, my Lady," Carson frowned, looking out the window himself.
Isobel silently said a small prayer of thanks. Mary had arrived, and not a moment too soon from the looks of it.
"Cousin Violet, would you mind if we took a short walk? I'm afraid I have a hard time staying seated for an extended period and I'll need to stretch my legs a bit if I'm to make it through dinner," Isobel smiled.
"Certainly!" Violet nodded. "A quick stroll would do us both well."
Isobel followed Carson and the Dowager Countess towards the Great Hall.
"Here we are, young lady," the driver announced. "Downton Abbey".
Mary paid the man and quickly exited from the taxi. She checked her watch again and hoped that the dining schedule had not changed in the time she'd been away. The dressing gong would not have sounded yet, but the servants would all be scrambling to prepare for Matthew's welcome dinner. This would hopefully allow Mary to get past whoever answered the door without having to face Carson. Though she cared for the butler, she knew that Carson would follow her Papa's direction and would likely try and keep her stuck in the Great Hall while Lord Grantham was summoned. She needed to have free reign over the house to be able to reach Matthew, wherever he was.
The driver removed her trunk and placed it on the ground. She thanked him and watched as he drove off slowly, the gravel spinning slightly under the wheels of the taxi. Mary didn't look up at the house right away. Instead, her eyes were drawn to her trunk. Everything she owned that was important to her fit into this one large box. The clothes that she had rarely worn in Manchester might be useful once again; and there were the new outfits she had selected, or had been given by Matthew. Her sentimental presents were tucked safely inside. She had debated wearing the same outfit today as she'd worn on the day she was sent away, but decided that was a bit too melodramatic. This was a new beginning, and so she chose a light dress that Matthew had bought her, blue with white accents around the neck and sleeves. The burgundy hat that she paired with the outfit was a present from Isobel on her birthday. Mary felt it appropriate to be armed with clothes from her husband and mother-in-law as they entered Downton Abbey together.
Taking a deep breath, Mary held her head up high and stepped to the door, ringing the bell firmly.
Mary felt a slight rush of pride as Barrow's shocked face greeted her. He seemed surprised and intrigued at seeing her. Mary took the opportunity to walk past him, through the inner door and into the Great Hall, giving instructions as she went.
"Barrow, my trunk is outside. Please see that it is brought upstairs. If my bedroom is not available, please have Mrs. Hughes arrange something equally befitting for me at once."
Mary did not bother waiting for his reply or his reaction. She was already into the Great Hall by the time he recovered.
"Of course. Right away, Milady," he said before turning and going outside.
Mary could not have orchestrated the scene any better if she'd told each of the others in advance where they were to go and when. All at once it seemed that everyone had congregated in the Great Hall.
Sybil and Edith had just reached the bottom of the stairs when they made eye contact with her. Sybil grinned in surprise. Edith simply stared with her mouth open.
Granny came in from the parlour with Isobel. Violet Crawley started in shock, her cane stomping on the floor loudly. Isobel allowed the hint of a smile to cross her lips, then stood calmly by.
Carson's eyes went wider than Mary had ever seen before. His mouth opened slightly then he closed it immediately.
Anna and Bates came up from the servants' area downstairs. Anna saw her first and she smiled in surprise. Bates blinked and stopped in his tracks.
"Sybil! Edith! What are you two doing? I specifically told you not to…"
Cora stopped halfway up the stairs, seeing Mary standing there, all eyes upon her. Cora's face paled and a startled "Oh!" escaped her mouth.
But the reaction Mary wanted came as she heard voices to her right.
"I'm afraid that Lord Merton did not mention everyone to me," Matthew said as they approached the Great Hall. "You have three daughters, is that right?"
"Yes," Robert said tightly. "You'll meet Edith and Sybil tonight."
"And your other daughter?" Matthew asked innocently. "Is she here?"
Matthew watched as the Earl tensed at the mention of Mary.
"No," Robert said coldly. "My eldest daughter will not be at dinner tonight. She does not live here anymore, which is a good thing; but I'd rather not discuss the details."
Matthew jumped in immediately.
"Does she live in London then?" he asked. "Perhaps I'll see her during the season? I wouldn't want there to be anyone in your family that I do not know, Robert. Both the discovery of our relation and my arrival is probably a surprise to some, and I'd like to know everyone. That way we can be comfortable together, a true family."
"You won't need to meet her," Robert said dismissively. "It was my choice for her to leave this house, and she won't be returning. I know that you want us all to be comfortable with you under the circumstances, and your consideration is appreciated. But, when it comes to my eldest daughter, you need not concern yourself. All that matters is that I can see that you are a fine upstanding young man with a very bright future ahead of you. Because of that, I would never risk putting you anywhere near her."
They came into the Great Hall and Robert frowned as he saw Cora and his daughters on the stairs. He was about to motion for Cora to bring the girls back upstairs and away from Matthew when he saw his mother, Cousin Isobel and Carson standing across the Great Hall near the entrance to the parlour. His eyes and mind slowly noticed some of the servants nearby as well.
Whatever was going on?
Matthew sensed her presence before he actually saw her. He turned his head in the second after Robert made his condemnation, never even mentioning Mary by name, and there she was. She was gorgeous, and their eyes met briefly before she focused on her father.
"You would never risk putting him anywhere near who, Papa?" Mary asked with a beatific smirk.