Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, October 1913
"I know that you don't hunt, but you'll have to start sometime. Now is as good a moment as any," Robert smiled, walking outside with Matthew.
"I agree," Matthew nodded. "Though I still can't promise I'll be any good at it. If I can stay on my horse, that will be a victory."
"Oh, we don't use horses for the grouse hunt," Robert chuckled. "You'll draw a lot for your first post and walk there. We'll send the servants into the brush to draw the birds out. It's quite simple, really. Just aim and shoot, and your loader will take care of the rest."
"Good," Matthew said. "The less that I need to think about, the better."
Robert's expression soured slightly as he reached the gathered crowd and noticed all of his daughters standing with Cora. Though he had no illusions that Mary was somehow going to be absent from the hunt, her very presence was a harsh reminder of the last hunt she'd attended, and all that had happened afterward.
"Well, let's draw the lots, then," Robert declared, reaching into the hat held by Lynch and moving off to allow others to follow his lead.
"By my count, there are eight more men than women," Cora said pleasantly. "But not to worry, we'll spread the luck around as we go through the day."
"Who shall we begin with?" Edith asked with a smile. "Mama will stand with Papa of course, but what about the rest of us?"
"Lady Mary will stand with me," Matthew said casually, reaching in and drawing his lot.
Robert and Cora looked at him curiously. Edith seemed to pout. Sybil was intrigued.
"I will?" Mary sputtered. "I don't recall having offered, nor you having asked."
"I don't need to ask," Matthew said easily. "I trust you have no objection to commencing the hunt at my side, Cousin?"
"Now wait just a minute. I object to being told what to do without having any say, yes," Mary frowned.
"Then it seems to me that you need to learn that you don't always get a say," Matthew said, looking at her with a bored expression. "When shopping for clothes, you may make all the decisions that you wish. This is a hunt, Cousin Mary. It's for the men to decide what role everyone should play. Wouldn't you agree, Cousin Robert?"
Robert regarded his heir and his eldest daughter for several moments, then smirked. "Quite right, Matthew. Mary, you'll stand with Matthew for the first drive, then he can decide where you're to go after that."
Mary opened her mouth to speak, then decided against it and stalked away.
"Cousin Edith, Cousin Sybil, if you would do me the honour of your company, I'll seek you out later as we switch posts," Matthew smiled.
Edith smiled. Sybil nodded politely. Matthew joined the other men to retrieve a shotgun and ammunition.
"Cousin Matthew is settling in rather well, isn't he?" Edith said, joining Mary and Sybil as they waited for the men to prepare.
"Oh, shut up," Mary grumbled. "I shouldn't be surprised. To expect proper manners from someone like him is a tall order indeed."
Matthew walked over to the front of the group and called for attention. Robert said a few words to announce the beginning of the hunt, and Matthew took the horn from Lynch and blew it loudly. The men set out for their posts, the women and servants following behind.
"Where would you like for me to stand?" Mary sneered as they reached Matthew's first position. "Or should I merely take off my clothes, fall to my knees and await your command?"
"You can't seriously be angry with me over what I said back there?" Matthew hissed, loading his shotgun and frowning at her. "I only said that to ensure we would be paired together, otherwise your father would have sent you off with someone else!"
"Perhaps I'd prefer it!" Mary shot back. "Better to stand with some old foggy than a man who thinks I don't deserve a say!"
"I never said that you don't deserve a say!" Matthew said, keeping his voice low.
"Yes, you very well did!" Mary retorted.
"But I didn't mean it!" Matthew pleaded.
Shots rang out across the field. Mary shook her head and huffed in exasperation.
"Go on and shoot! That is what you're supposed to be doing, you know!" she said bitterly.
Matthew rolled his eyes at her. He looked up at the sky, aimed at nowhere in particular and shot. He lowered his shotgun, opened it, and reloaded. If it was possible for a man's hands to act petulantly, Matthew's were doing just that.
"Why don't you have a loader?" Mary asked with a frown. "Barnard would have found you one."
"I told him that I didn't need one," Matthew snapped, closing the shotgun. "I wanted to be alone with my wife, but apparently she's too furious with my fake chauvinism to care for my company."
Mary sighed and crossed her arms across her front. "Fine. I'll forgive you for your rude behaviour so long as you will admit it was totally uncalled for."
"I was putting on an act!" Matthew whined. "We're supposed to be opposed to each other, remember? If I'd asked you nicely to stand with me, everyone would have been suspicious!"
"Well, you should have warned me that you were going to say something so horrible!" Mary said pointedly.
"When was I supposed to do that?" Matthew exclaimed. "You didn't…" he took a deep breath. "You didn't come to me last night!"
"And if I had, would we have done much talking?" Mary countered.
Matthew's mouth fell open. He eventually smiled ruefully. "No, I suppose our tongues would have been too occupied for conversation."
Mary looked down and laughed. Matthew lowered his shotgun and stepped towards her.
"Don't!" she whispered, stepping away from him. "You can't kiss me! We're being watched! I'm sure of it!"
"How do you know I want to kiss you?" Matthew asked, a ridiculous grin on his face.
"I'm quite certain that kissing is only the beginning. Now, please, take another shot before people wonder why there is a decided lack of activity coming from your post," Mary said playfully.
Matthew smiled at her, then raised his shotgun again. This time, he waited for the servants in the distance to rouse the birds. The loud flap of wings filled the air. As one grouse peeled away from the others, Matthew aimed and fired, sending the bird down soundly.
"Well done!" Mary said in shock. "I thought you weren't very good at this?"
"It isn't overly hard, you know," Matthew smiled, opening his shotgun and hanging it on his arm.
"Good shot, Matthew!" Robert called from across the field. He waved and Matthew raised his hand in reply.
"Why don't you show your Papa how you've come around on me and give me a congratulatory kiss?" Matthew teased, still looking at Robert.
"Stop it!" Mary said, not looking at him. "We haven't much time before we need to join the others. What were you talking about last night, with the Estate books?"
"I took some notes," Matthew said quickly. "I'll have to show them to you, later. I can't quite explain it, but it's the numbers. They look too…clean. Many of the amounts are the same month to month."
"But that's not strange at all," Mary frowned. "We collect the same rent and usually have the same costs."
"It's not that," Matthew shook his head as they began to walk slowly. "There are certain expenses that, by their very nature, should fluctuate each month. But they don't, at least according to the books anyway. On paper, nothing's changed for years. There's something else. Did you know that your family uses five different banks in London?"
"Five? No, I wasn't aware. That seems rather high," Mary said.
"It is. One usually doesn't need more than one principal bank, maybe a second if they offer better terms. Five seems strange," Matthew said.
"Well, you can investigate yourself when we're in London for the Winter Season," Mary said. "They'll all be eager to take meetings with the new heir, and try and sway you to moving more of our holdings to them."
"That's a good idea," Matthew nodded. "In the meanwhile, I'll need to look into the income and expenses – visit some farms, perhaps some businesses in the Village. I want you to look at my notes first, but we'll have to do it in secret. If Robert saw me sharing such information with you, he'd be livid."
"I'll think of something," Mary said as they drew nearer to the rest of the group. "There are places in the house we can use where no one will find us. We just need to find the time."
Matthew nodded, then looked away as they reached the others.
"A fine shot, Matthew," Cora smiled. "Hopefully your luck continues."
"We'll see," Matthew nodded. "Cousin Edith, might I trouble you to stand with me next?"
"Of course, Cousin Matthew," Edith smiled.
"Stand in front of him," Mary said to her sister. "The way he shoots, it's the safest place to be."
Robert glanced at Cora pointedly, then announced the next drive would start in a few minutes time.
Crawley House, Downton Village, Yorkshire, England, October 1913
"Thank you, Molesley," Isobel smiled. "That will be all. Please see that we aren't disturbed."
"Yes, Mrs. Crawley," the valet nodded, closing the door behind him as he left.
Isobel raised her hand and waited several moments. When the sound of Molesley's footsteps had faded down the hall, she turned and smiled to her guest.
"He's a lovely man," Isobel said. "But I am not under any illusions as to who actually pays his wages. Better to be certain before we discuss anything of a sensitive nature."
"I don't know whether to be impressed or scared," Mary smiled, sipping her tea. "I was concerned that we were corrupting you by recruiting you for this mission, but it seems you've taken to it like Sir Francis Walsingham."
Isobel chuckled. "I won't bother saying who that would make you. Now, about the latest assignment you've given me…"
"Yes," Mary nodded. "The supplies for the Cottage Hospital."
"The amounts you mentioned seemed quite high. Are you certain that's what's being spent?" Isobel asked.
"As certain as Matthew's notes can be," Mary shrugged. "It was the first number that jumped out at me. According to the Estate books, we spend almost as much on the small hospital in the Village as is spent at the Royal Infirmary in Manchester."
"So you remembered," Isobel smiled.
"Well, I recall how diligent you were about lowering costs," Mary blushed. "And how excited you were when you achieved your target."
"That was more glee about winning my bet with Reginald," Isobel grinned. "He thought that I couldn't lower our expenditures by more than 5 per cent."
"And you found 10," Mary nodded in recollection. "Matthew told me that you had Dr. Crawley pay for a rather lavish trip to London as your reward."
"Lavish for us," Isobel corrected her. "I doubt we spent anywhere near what the two of you did at the Midland while we were away."
Mary sipped her tea, her face turning scarlet.
"Moving along, your instincts were correct, Mary. Whatever is listed in those books, it's not being spent on supplies. I spoke with several of the nurses and they say they've barely enough each month. They usually have to ration and conserve a bit in the days before the next shipment comes in," Isobel said.
"But that doesn't make any sense," Mary frowned. "Where is all of the money going if it isn't going to buy supplies?"
"I suppose the other question is whether the money is actually being spent," Isobel said.
"How so?" Mary asked.
"It's the books, Mary. All they are is a record of income and expenses, usually based on invoices and receipts. It isn't as though the accountant who maintains the books inspects the actual supplies going into the hospital," Isobel said.
"Or the notes and coins used to purchase them," Mary mumbled.
"That's right," Isobel nodded. "Any record is only as good as the source that it's based upon. And if the source that it's based upon is wrong or false…"
"Then no one would discover the error unless they counted the money themselves," Mary finished.
"Exactly," Isobel nodded. "So the real question, I gather, is was the money recorded to have been spent on hospital supplies ever actually spent? And, if it was, what was it spent on? For I assure you, it wasn't spent on bandages and gauze and medicines."
Mary looked towards the window, her thoughts darkening. After the hunt, there was a three-hour break until dinner. After they'd both bathed and dismissed Anna and Thomas, she'd managed to sneak Matthew into the attics undetected. She wasn't completely surprised when, instead of immediately showing her his notes on the Estate books, he'd instead kissed her fiercely and lifted her on to an old desk. She knew she could have stopped him if she'd wanted to, but they hadn't made love for over three weeks, and when she undid his belt and trousers, his restraint snapped. After they both recovered, he showed her the different figures he'd seen, and the amount for hospital supplies practically leaped off the page.
It was Mary's idea to have Isobel look into the matter. Her mother-in-law had established a rapport with both Dr. Clarkson and the staff, and Isobel was usually at the hospital each day helping out or visiting with patients. She'd obtained the information easily enough, but it was not the answer that Mary was hoping for. If her Papa, James and Patrick had merely overspent and bought more supplies than was needed, that was easily corrected. It never occurred to Mary that the numbers themselves would be wrong.
"I assume that Lord Grantham would not know anything about this?" Isobel asked.
Mary turned back to her mother-in-law and shook her head. "I don't think I want to know how much Papa is involved in all of this. We're going to London next month. Matthew can go visit the banks personally and find out just how much of these records are in fact true."
Isobel nodded and sipped her tea.
Mary reached for her tea as well, hoping the hot liquid would give her some comfort. She'd always taken for granted that Downton Abbey was as profitable as necessary and that money was plentiful. If the amount spent on hospital supplies was wrong on the Estate books, what else was false?
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, November 1913
"Milady," Anna said quietly as she came into the bedroom.
"Anna," Mary smiled, turning around. "I didn't ring for you. What is it?"
"No, Milady," Anna said nervously. "I was told to tell you to go downstairs to the library. It's…well…it's Mr. Crawley that's asked for you."
"Mr. Crawley?" Mary frowned. She turned away and rose from her vanity. "Well, I suppose I'll have to go see what the heir presumptive wants."
"Actually, Milady, Mr. Crawley ordered that I…that I pick out an outdoor outfit for you," Anna said.
"The man presumes to dress me, now?" Mary exclaimed incredulously.
"Those are my instructions, Milady. You're to dress for riding and walking outdoors and go down and meet him in the library."
Mary rolled her eyes and sighed. "Well, let's put something together then. With Papa gone to London for the rest of the week, I suppose that Mr. Crawley is the Master of the House."
Matthew heard the sharp sound of his wife's boots as she neared the library. He closed the book that he was reading and looked up as she came into the room. It took a great effort to not smile when he saw her.
"You summoned me, Cousin Matthew?" Mary asked, arching her eyebrow. She could almost read the conflict inside of him. She had deliberately chosen a long grey skirt and matching plaid coat that Matthew had bought for her in Manchester. She'd completed the ensemble with a burgundy hat that she'd worn during one of their first dates. She knew Matthew would recognize the clothes immediately, and his response pleased her immensely.
"Yes, Cousin Mary," Matthew said professionally, his lip twitching. "I'm going to inspect the Mapes farm this afternoon. I understand that you know the way?"
"Yes, but so do Edith and Sybil," Mary said.
"Good. Lynch is saddling our horses. We'll leave once I've changed," Matthew said, walking past her into the Great Hall. Matthew went upstairs without another word. Mary looked over and noticed the figure of O'Brien, her Mama's lady's maid, disappearing downstairs.
"How did you know that O'Brien was listening in?" Mary asked as she allowed Diamond to slow down to a canter.
"I didn't, but I expected that someone was," Matthew said easily. "With your parents in London preparing for the Winter Season, it's entirely conceivable they would have left instructions to someone to keep an eye on us."
"You don't think they suspect anything, surely?" Mary asked.
"No, they probably wanted to make sure that we didn't fight," Matthew laughed. "Anyway, I couldn't risk going to your room to talk to you directly, so I had to send Anna."
"I doubt that this ride will be a secret. Even if you hadn't involved the servants, it would be impossible to avoid Carson and Lynch at the very least," Mary said.
"Well, I'll wait and see if your parents raise it with me when they return. I doubt your father will do much more than give me another warning about you without actually saying why I shouldn't be around you," Matthew said.
"I suppose I should be thankful that Papa still cares for the family reputation enough to not be able to call his own daughter a slut to other people," Mary rolled her eyes.
"Enough of that. What happened when you went to visit Cousin Violet?" Matthew asked.
"Granny said that Grandpapa always dealt with two banks – Lloyds and Westminster. He never held accounts anywhere else. He most certainly would not have put anything at the Royal Bank of Scotland. He was part of the government committee that stopped expansion of Scottish banks to the rest of England. I didn't tell her about all that you'd discovered," Mary said.
"Then it had to be James," Matthew said. "But how did he convince Robert to open accounts at three other banks? And what were they using them for?"
"You'll have to wait until next month to find out," Mary said. "It's too dangerous to ask Papa about it directly, and you can't take a trip to London by yourself without them wondering what business you have there."
Matthew nodded grimly. The Mapes farm loomed in the distance.
"Well, let's continue our visits here, then," he said, driving his horse forward. "We may as well get the true picture of what's going on here in Yorkshire before we start worrying about what we may discover in London."
Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, December 1913
"You're not nervous about tomorrow, are you?" Robert smiled.
"A little," Matthew admitted, sipping his brandy. "It was one thing to be the centre of attention at Downton, but I fear that a London Society party will be a different animal altogether."
"Don't worry, Matthew," Robert chuckled. "You'll be of great interest, of course. To the gentry, you're a refreshing novelty, and to the women, you're an eligible bachelor. It's normal that you'll feel as though all eyes are upon you. It was the same when I would come to London when I turned of age, and it's no different now."
"It's new to me, just the same," Matthew said. "Though I'm used to speaking to a room full of clients, for example, so seeing the various Earls and Viscounts won't be too intimidating."
"Well, surely you can't be intimidated by all the interested women," Robert added with a smirk.
Matthew frowned at the comment, not quite knowing how to respond, or why the Earl had made the remark.
"I want you to know that I understand the burden of being a bachelor. I've lived through that uncomfortable stage," Robert continued. "You've gone from being a typical young man in Manchester to now having sophisticated ladies practically swooning over you."
Matthew coughed. "I wouldn't say that anyone is swooning…"
"Don't be coy, Matthew. I may be old, but I'm not blind. I've seen how these young women look at you. You're young, your prospects are excellent and you're new. It's a heady combination, I assure you," Robert smiled.
"Cousin Robert, I would never do anything to endanger the family name or bring shame to our House…" Matthew stuttered.
"Oh my dear boy," Robert said in amusement. "No, you are not in question. As uncouth as this topic is, it is important. If it were up to Cora, we would be arranging for a proper lady for you to consider for your future Countess. But, I don't see the need for that yet. A man should enjoy his youth."
Matthew stared at his empty glass. He dared not look at the Earl, lest he betray his fury, or his embarrassment.
'I have a proper lady, you fool! I have a wife!'
"I know that you already are familiar with the need for discretion. Lord Merton informed me that he uncovered no evidence of any relationship of yours in Manchester. No dalliances at university or seductions at your law office. Usually rumours and gossip are quite easy to uncover, but he found nothing," Robert said.
"I'm glad," Matthew replied.
"Yes, exactly!" Robert laughed. "I'm sure you've had your fair share of indulgences, but you've been wise enough to keep them out of sight."
"Would you mind terribly if I did not respond to that?" Matthew asked.
"Of course not," Robert laughed again. "Really, I believe I already have my answer."
Matthew kept looking at his empty glass. 'If only you knew, Lord Grantham…'
"This isn't a trap," Robert smiled. "I'm not out to tease or scold you. I genuinely understand your privileged position, and the desire to take full advantage of it. It isn't openly discussed among our sort of people, but it's quite accepted that young gentlemen of our set have certain…entitlements."
"I suppose that I should thank you for your understanding," Matthew said, trying not to grit his teeth.
"Don't thank me yet," Robert smirked. "While affairs are bound to happen, and it is wise to get these types of urges out of your system, there are certain precautions that you should take. I know this is not the topic you wish to discuss with me, but I assure you that it is for your own good."
Matthew could only nod. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the preposterous direction this conversation was going. He wished that Mary had not already retired with her mother and sisters. At this point, he'd even be grateful if Cousin Violet or his own mother were to walk in and interrupt. But Violet was staying at Painswick House, her daughter's home, and Matthew's mother was back at Crawley House.
"You may be tempted to sample numerous…delicacies…when the opportunities present themselves, and I warn you, those opportunities will present themselves quite quickly. I would recommend though that it be best if you limit yourself to a few select women. The fewer there are, the easier it will be to maintain discretion and their silence," Robert said offhandedly.
Matthew kept himself composed while his stomach lurched several times. A few select women?
"I'll leave the rest to you. Just remember to be careful. Indulge your desires as much as you wish. You'll find that nothing loosens inhibitions more than knowing that you'll one day be an Earl. Women can be just as shallow as men in that regard. They like the idea of having conquered a man with a title," Robert smiled wistfully. "That way, once you marry and your wild days are behind you, you can treat your wife in a proper fashion, as I did with Cora."
Matthew set aside his empty brandy snifter and reached for a glass of water. Truthfully, his lust had only grown stronger after Mary had become his wife. While he'd of course found her attractive in the early days of their courtship, he desired her far more fiercely after he grew to know her. There was something about knowing he was spending the rest of his life with Mary that caused him to become far more…imaginative in that area.
"What about the entail?" Matthew asked, his voice a harsh whisper. "There is that clause…"
Robert smiled a Machiavellian grin and chuckled.
"Any woman that you choose for your diversions should not be foolish enough to expect a future with you," Robert shook his head. "And to those who do, they need not know about the morality clause. A proper lady who aspires to be Countess of Grantham would never demean herself so sordidly. I know that some would think that bedding a servant or a commoner would be more convenient, but I see no reason to limit yourself to a particular class. After all, it isn't as though you're going to broadcast your escapades, so whichever poor chap ends up marrying these women need not know the actual depth of their experience. Just consider it that you're doing them a service – helping to teach them the ways of the world, while also guarding their secrets."
If Matthew could have punched the Earl of Grantham in the face, he would have. The very suggestion was an insult to Matthew and to these faceless women that Robert assumed would readily sate Matthew's desires.
"I wonder what would have happened if I'd arrived at Downton with a wife," Matthew said calmly, his chest tightening in anger.
"We would have welcomed her, of course," Robert nodded. "We aren't so rigid in our ways, you know. So long as she conformed with the terms of the entail, she would have plenty of time to learn to be a proper Countess. It isn't as though you, a fine young man with his head on straight, would ever consider marrying a woman who wasn't pure, so there would be no concerns."
Matthew took a large swallow of water.
"But we're lucky in that you aren't married. Now, you can enjoy all of the benefits of your new status, and you have years to decide on the type of lady you wish for a bride one day. I'd say that I found you at exactly the most opportune time," Robert smiled.
Matthew watched the Earl finish his drink and rise from the table. Matthew did the same.
"That's enough for me. I'm going up," Robert nodded. "Oh, just remember, Matthew – the Berkeley Hotel. Lovely view of Hyde Park, close to Belgravia, sophisticated and discreet."
Matthew could only stare blankly as the Earl of Grantham left the dining room. The party at Painswick House tomorrow evening, when Matthew would have his official introduction to Society, now scared him even more than before.
Berkeley Hotel, Knightsbridge, London, England, June 1887
Robert sat back on the bed, leaning against the headboard. He took a long swig from his bottle of champagne, then realized it was empty. He placed it lazily back in the ice bucket and laughed.
"Another one?" James cackled from his chair across the room. "That's in addition to all the wine and brandy you had at dinner."
"And yet I'm still more alert than you are," Robert teased.
"No, you're not," James shook his head, his own bottle of champagne still sitting on ice. He'd had two glasses and left the rest. "So what did you think of this year's crop?"
"I think I'm glad that I don't need to find anyone until next year at the earliest," Robert sighed. "They all look the same, talk the same, act the same. It's entirely boring."
"What do you care?" James huffed. "Won't Cousin Arthur simply tell you who you should marry?"
"No," Robert said defensively. "Papa says I can choose my own wife. He just wants me to be aware of certain requirements. Anyway, that's not a topic for tonight. I have something else on my mind."
"So do I," James smiled. "Did you notice Phyllis' new dress? She wore it tonight just for me, you know?"
Robert laughed as he looked at his boastful cousin. He had to admit that although James was younger than he was, he seemed to already be content with the direction of his life. He was already engaged to Phyllis Astoria, Dickie Grey's cousin. She was a plain girl, entirely unremarkable. Robert always told him he could do much better, but James was having none of that.
"Good for you, James. But Phyllis isn't here, is she?" Robert smiled.
"No, she went home hours ago. Why are we here? Shouldn't we just be staying at Grantham House?" James asked.
"Not tonight," Robert said.
They were interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Ah, right on time!" Robert smiled. He jumped off the bed and walked out into the outer room. James followed behind him, curious as to who this guest was, arriving so late in the evening.
"Lady Felicity!" James said in surprise as Robert showed his guest into the suite.
"James," Felicity Kane smiled. "Lovely to see you. Robert, this room is delightful!"
She walked around the room taking in the lavish décor.
"Let me show you the view," Robert smiled, taking her over to the window.
"Is that Hyde Park?" Lady Felicity said lightly as she looked out on to the grounds below, lit by streetlamps.
"It is," Robert nodded. "And Buckingham Palace is down the street. Imagine who must have stayed here. Perhaps even royalty."
"Royalty?" Lady Felicity laughed. "Surely not!"
"I don't see why not," Robert said. "We're here, aren't we?"
"Robert Crawley, you scoundrel," Lady Felicity smiled, slapping his chest lightly. "We're not royals."
"I'm the Viscount Grantham," Robert laughed, taking her hand and guiding her towards the bedroom. "And you can be my Countess."
Lady Felicity laughed, then released his hand. "I'm going to go and remove my hat," she declared, walking into the bedroom and closing the door behind her.
"What is she doing here?" James hissed.
"What does it look like?" Robert laughed at his cousin. "She's come to pay tribute to the future Earl of Grantham."
"This is wrong, Robert!" James frowned. "You can't have her here!"
"Why on Earth not?" Robert huffed in amusement. "I'm not the first gentleman to arrange a discrete affair with a lady, and believe me, she won't be my last! Are you scared of her?"
"N…no! I…I'm not scared!" James stuttered. "But why bother bringing me along, then?"
"Because I told her to invite a friend," Robert grinned. "And you should have a treat before you're shackled to Phyllis for the rest of your life."
"I don't want a 'treat'! You're just jealous!" James shot back. "Because we love each other! And you won't get that chance."
"Love?" Robert said bitterly. He huffed under his breath. This was quite tedious on his cousin's part. They used to be a team; they used to have fun together. Now his cousin was just an idle fool, willing to accept his fate without question. He should be grateful for Robert arranging this tryst for him. After all, he was his best friend, his older cousin and a Viscount. James was nothing without him.
"Now, I'm going to go and have my way with Lady Felicity," Robert declared, grinning widely. "Wait for her friend to arrive and let her in when she gets here. Order another bottle of champagne. Don't worry, they won't tell anyone. Have some fun and Phyllis will never know."
"I can't stay here for this," James shook his head. "It's not right."
"What's happened to you, man?" Robert frowned. "What happened to the two of us conquering the world together? You used to never back down from anything. You used to be fearless! Now you're just a whimpering coward. I'm beginning to wonder if Phyllis doesn't have you wearing her knickers the way you carry on."
"I'm not bedding some wench that I never met before!" James protested.
"She's hardly a wench," Robert laughed. "Fine, fine. Do what you like. But if you're going to leave, at least stay long enough to show her in. Send her to the bedroom if you don't want her. I'll find a use for her."
With that, Robert turned towards the bedroom. As he reached for the doorknob, there was a light knock on the door to the suite. Robert grinned at James.
"There, you see? Punctual. I like that in a lady. Oh, come on, James. I'll even go with you to let her in. Heaven forbid you should be alone with a woman," Robert grumbled, going to the door.
James followed timidly behind his cousin. He was confused and not quite sure what he wanted to do. Every instinct told him to flee.
Robert opened the door, a leering grin across his face. Felicity's friend was blonde and fair skinned, and Robert's eyes wandered down her figure. His mind was filled with what he intended to do with Felicity this evening, but the idea he had proposed about having both ladies together was intriguing him. He'd never even thought of the possibility until this evening. If his title alone could get Felicity to spread her legs for him, perhaps it could sway her and her friend to try something even more scandalous.
"Ah, you must be Lady Iris," Robert bowed. "Please come in."
She smiled at him and walked into the suite. Robert introduced her to James, who had composed himself enough to be charming once more. Robert was about to retire to the bedroom and see whether James would follow through with his threat to leave or whether the sight of the curvy Lady Iris would sway him to change his mind.
Another knock on the door caught their attention.
"Probably someone checking to see if we need anything," Robert smiled. "It will save us the call to order more champagne."
He and James went back to the door. Robert opened it swiftly, wanting to order his bottle and get back to Felicity.
All thoughts of debauchery drained away as quickly as the blood left Robert's face. His eyes widened and he thought they might burst from their sockets. His mind quickly raced with excuses and lies to explain what he was doing in a suite at the Berkeley Hotel, part of his suit strewn about the room, with James now cowering behind him, Iris standing in the living room without a chaperone and Felicity, who was most likely lying in bed naked waiting for him.
One hard glance from his visitor told Robert that it was futile to say anything, or resist what was to come.
"You two aren't nearly as clever as you think you are," Arthur Crawley snarled.
Painswick House, Eaton Square, London, England, December 1913
"How are you holding up?" Sybil whispered.
"I'm fine, darling. Spare me the walking around on eggshells. Some foolish gossip from one of these harpies is hardly going to make me cry," Mary smiled.
"Have you heard anyone say anything?" Edith asked.
"No," Mary shook her head. "There's been a number of curious glances, and a few whispered inquiries as to whether it's truly me or not, but that's it. There's bound to be talk after tonight, but it's not unexpected so I'm not troubled by it."
"Edith, Sybil," Cora called. "Come here, please. There are some people that I want you both to meet."
Mary rolled her eyes at her mother's deliberate omission.
Sybil looked at Mary with concern.
"It's all right. Go ahead," Mary smiled. "I'm going to go freshen up. I'm glad that Mama is keeping me away. It spares me having to talk to these boring toffs."
Sybil smiled kindly and left with Edith. Mary took a deep breath, then crossed the ballroom in the direction of the ladies' room.
Truthfully, she'd been pleasantly surprised by how little people seemed to be interested in her. She'd had a few awkward conversations with her former friends and acquaintances. They pretended that they didn't know she'd been away for the past two years. She pretended that nothing was new. It was a familiar masquerade that always took place during the Season, and Mary found herself settling into the steps quite easily.
Aunt Rosamund acted as though she was glad to see her. Never one to dwell on anything before figuring out how to turn it to her advantage, Aunt Rosamund was probably thinking that Mary's return, combined with Matthew's debut would make her party the talk of London for months to come. Still, after smiling through Mary's arrival, Aunt Rosamund was now mingling and chatting away, about as likely to be condemning Mary behind her back as anyone else would be.
The hallway leading to the bathroom was busy with servants carrying trays and guests moving about. Mary recognized Lady Sarah Kensington and two of her friends up ahead of her. She sighed. Of course she would be here. Mary learned from Sybil that Lady Sarah had not married in the two years she'd been in Manchester. The woman likely had been holding on to the false hope that Patrick would marry her, and was now forced to make other plans.
"Have you seen her?" one of the other ladies asked as they turned a corner. Mary approached the wall and stopped.
"Sadly, I have. I don't know how she can afford that dress. Surely Lord Grantham isn't funding her shopping anymore?" Lady Sarah replied.
"Why do you suppose she came back? I'd rather die than show my face in London after that story got out."
"Isn't it obvious? Lord Grantham has a new heir. She probably heard about it and came back to get her hooks in him."
"Isn't he a bit too light skinned for her? I thought she had a taste for dark meat."
"She does, but she also needs a home, and money, and a life, and she's smart enough to know that only a proper husband can give her that. Once she's married, she can take on as many foreigners as she wants."
"If she had any chance with the new heir, we would have heard about it by now. Her parents can't possibly be in favour of such a match. They'd never approve it."
"She's probably desperate," Lady Sarah laughed. "No self respecting man will go near her unless they want to take her for a ride. With the new heir at Downton Abbey, she'll try and seduce him, get pregnant and force him to marry her to cover it all up. Either that or have her Papa buy her off."
"That's mad. You don't think any of that will work, do you?"
"Oh, I intend to make sure it doesn't," Lady Sarah laughed. "I've already met Matthew Crawley tonight, and I expect to get to know him very well by the time the week is over."
"Sarah! You can't be serious!"
"Why not? He's from Manchester, for God's sake! Do you think he's ever seen a woman before who has all of her teeth? Mark my words. He'll be begging me for it," Lady Sarah said confidently. "I may have lost Patrick, but I'll still be Countess of Grantham in the end."
Mary spun on her heel and walked away, her hands balled into fists, her stomach roiling and tears threatening to spill. She bypassed the ballroom and went straight to the foyer. She mumbled to Meade, Aunt Rosamund's butler, for her coat and gloves. Throwing them on, she ran out into the cold night, jumping into the first taxi she could find and ordering the driver to get her far away from Painswick House as fast as possible.
Matthew sighed in boredom. He fleetingly thought it may have been more efficient if he had written some generic information on note cards and passed them out to people as they came up to greet him. He had repeated the fact that he was from Manchester, that he used to practise law, that his mother was a nurse and his late father was a surgeon so many times that he didn't even bother saying his name before reciting the points.
The night had dragged on and his initial fear and trepidation over being examined, poked and prodded had long disappeared. Ultimately it didn't matter if he was charming or not, funny or not, clever or not, handsome or not. He was the heir presumptive to the Earl of Grantham, and that meant he was invited to parties just like these without any further effort. While he did recognize he needed to ingratiate himself to these people to more easily gather information and possibly gain favours in the future, his debut was overall successful by the very fact he hadn't done anything embarrassing all evening. It seemed that once people acknowledged that he spoke English and could string together words greater than two syllables, they moved on to congratulating Robert and Cora and droning on about this or that. For once, the misguided bias of London towards Manchester was working in his favour.
"You're still on your feet, I see," Edith smiled as she came to his side.
"Barely," Matthew smirked. "But I haven't shamed the family as far as I know, so I suppose that's something."
"You've done fine," Edith nodded. "The general reaction is that you're nicer than Patrick and smarter than James. Heady praise."
"Then I'm elated," Matthew said wryly. "Although I must say that I haven't heard the most upstanding opinions on James and Patrick."
"They weren't popular," Edith sighed. "James was rather ruthless and Patrick was rather cruel, when he wanted to be. He wasn't always like that, you know. James pushed him and pushed him and he followed along, hoping for approval that never came. By himself, Patrick could be quite…nice."
"It must have been a great shock, when he passed," Matthew said.
"It was," Edith nodded. "Losing both of them, well, it put our future in danger. For all of their faults, James and Patrick were family. Downton would have survived through them, and the rest of us along with them."
Matthew looked at Edith's faraway expression curiously. "I understand that Cousin Mary was promised to Patrick, before she left Downton."
"She was," Edith nodded. "They never loved each other. He thought he cared about her, but I don't know if he truly did. She never cared about him. She was just doing her duty."
"That sounds rather sad. I may be naïve, but I always assumed that love should be important in any marriage," Matthew said.
"You are naïve, Cousin Matthew," Edith laughed ruefully. "Love has its uses, but it's more important to be secure, to know that you'll be taken care of, to do what's right. Mary didn't love Patrick, but she would have married him, for our sake as much as hers."
"So after Mary left, did it fall to you to take up this duty, then?" Matthew asked.
"I would have," Edith nodded. "If I'd been given the chance, I would have taken him like a shot. But we didn't discuss it, at least not clearly, anyway. Patrick's engagement to Mary was never official, and after she left, he wasn't thinking about marriage. Then he died."
"Well, here's to second chances, and perhaps not being bound by duty," Matthew said, raising his glass.
Edith looked at him for a moment before raising her glass in reply.
"Edith, Cousin Matthew," Sybil nodded as she came up to them. "Have either of you seen Mary?"
"No," Edith shook her head. "I thought that she was staying over here. She isn't going back to Grantham House with us."
"I know she isn't, but I can't find her," Sybil said. "I was hoping to say goodbye before we left."
"She must be around here somewhere," Matthew said, scanning the room. "Regardless, you'll see her tomorrow at dinner. Both of you enjoy your evening and I'll see you both tomorrow as well."
They said their goodbyes and Matthew walked briskly from the room. He hadn't seen Mary for some time as well, and the fact that Sybil hadn't found her caused him to frown in concern. They'd agreed that she would stay at Painswick House tonight so that it would be easier for them to meet up tomorrow to visit the banks together. She would have told him if she was retiring early, which meant there was a very good possibility she was no longer at Painswick House.
Murray's Night Club, Soho, London, England, December 1913
For a supposedly heathen nightclub, the ballroom is actually quite elegant and nice. It's all high ceilings and polished floors, huge pillars and chandeliers. The large band has been playing tangos for most of the time that she's been here, and ironically she's had to refuse four different invitations to dance.
When she first arrived, there was a cabaret show on stage, but she ignored it and took an empty table, ordering a drink without looking at the waiter. Her mood has kept most from taking the empty seat across from her and the only time the staff approach her is to refill her vodka. If she was thinking straight, she'd probably enjoy the music and the entertainment, and perhaps even consider dancing, but she's not thinking straight and the only man she wants to dance with isn't here, and so she drinks and broods and goes over the cackling of Lady Sarah Kensington and her witches in her mind. Their voices give way to the disappointing glances of her parents, which then fade to the sad eyes of her father-in-law, and then it becomes too much so she shakes her head, orders another drink and begins the cycle again.
"Can I interest you in a tango?"
"I don't tango. Go away," she grumbles, staring at her glass.
Her annoyance spikes exponentially as she notices the chair across from her move and the daft man trying to dazzle her sits down.
"Are you certain? You look like the kind of woman who dances very well."
"I never said that I can't dance. I said that I don't, as in I don't dance with the likes of you. Now get up and go bother someone else," she spits, still glaring down at the table.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, love. I made a vow that I would only dance with you for the rest of my life."
Her eyes bulge as her inebriated brain processes the voice and the words and she looks up and he's there smiling at her. She's crying and laughing and gasping all at once and he somehow manages to come across to her, pick her up from her chair and turn her on to the dance floor, just as the band plays a slow waltz.
She's crying into his shoulder and holding on to him desperately. They're much closer than normal dance partners should be, but it's past midnight and they're in a nightclub full of strangers and she doesn't care who sees them anyway. He's here and she's in his arms and nothing else matters.
"The next time that you wish to terrify your husband half to death, just threaten not to make love to me for a month. At least in that case, I'll know where you are," he whispers, kissing the top of her head.
"How…how did you find me?" she mumbles.
"Meade mentioned you'd left earlier. Thankfully the taxi that you took circled back to Painswick House looking for another fare, and after describing you to the driver, he took me straight here. It took a few quid to get through the front door. Why did you come here?" Matthew asks.
"The taxi driver brought me here. Apparently it's the new hot spot to go late at night. I just said I needed to go somewhere for a drink. He said with what I was wearing, a pub was out of the question," Mary replies.
"Thank God for the propriety of taxi drivers. But this is still Soho. I may need to go to Church tomorrow to confess to all the tarts I saw on the way here," Matthew groans.
"What's the bother? You're married to one," Mary sighs.
"Mary," Matthew shakes his head.
"I always knew it was hopeless. This idea of yours to redeem me somehow. But tonight I realized that none of it will make a bit of difference. You could smash the entail tomorrow and take me as your wife and it won't matter. My story's still out there, and always will be. In Manchester we could have outlived it, but not here. London never forgets these things," Mary says, her voice catching as fresh tears well up.
"Where is all of this coming from?" Matthew asks. "Did someone say something to you tonight?"
"No, no one would have the gall to say it to my face," Mary replies. "But I overheard Lady Kensington go on about it with her stupid friends, and they mentioned you, and how they thought the only reason I was back was to seduce you."
"Well, I would not put up a fight if that were the case," Matthew smiles.
"But that's the problem. Even if we succeed in being able to reveal our marriage, my reputation will still taint you. In Society, in the House of Lords one day, it will never leave us alone," Mary says bitterly.
"But you'll still be the Countess of Grantham, no matter what anyone says," Matthew answers firmly. "And no one will be able to take that away from you, not ever again. That's why all of this matters, Mary. You should know better than anyone just how Society works. They're all talk and gestures and propriety, but all that matters is a title, not the person behind it. They may gossip about you for the rest of your life, but once you're Countess of Grantham, they won't be able to refuse you anything."
"You're either the bravest man I know, or the most foolish," Mary sighs, looking up at him.
"I'll settle for either so long as I'm still your husband," Matthew smiles, leaning down and kissing her.
"Take me away from here, darling," Mary smiles back. "Let's find a hotel somewhere. I don't care, I just need to be with you."
Matthew grins. "As you can clearly tell, my body wants to do exactly what you suggest. However, you're supposed to be sleeping at Aunt Rosamund's tonight, so we need to get you back to Painswick House, otherwise you'll be sequestered tomorrow and that will throw us off."
He takes her hand and walks off the dance floor. He pays the bill for her drinks and they move outside into a waiting taxi. They spend the ride back to Painswick House kissing passionately, shielded slightly by the darkness of the car, and the driver's embarrassment. When they reach Painswick House, he sits back so he cannot be seen from the house, and once Mary is safely inside, he returns to Grantham House, paying the taxi driver for his assistance and his discretion.
The Royal Bank of Scotland, Islington High Street, London, England, December 1913
"Mr. Crawley, a pleasure."
"Thank you for seeing me. My cousin, Lady Mary," Matthew nodded towards Mary sitting in the seat next to him.
"Lady Mary," the banker nodded. "What can I do for you today?"
"As I said in my earlier letter, I just wanted to come by and familiarize myself with your branch and your operations. I'm doing a bit of a tour of banks that we deal with in London, so that I'm caught up and can speak intelligently with Lord Grantham about our financial affairs," Matthew smiled.
"A very worthy objective," the banker laughed. "Well, I can certainly arrange a tour for you, and we have several products that perhaps you may be interested in – investments, savings plans and so on. We also have relationships with insurance markets that we can discuss as well."
"Excellent," Matthew nodded. "I can't make any decisions without Lord Grantham's input, of course, but the more I know about your bank, the better."
"Certainly," the banker nodded. "We would very much enjoy welcoming you and your family back as clients."
"I'm sorry?" Mary said.
"Oh, did I say something wrong? Forgive me, please. I just want both of you to know that we value your business and we feel we can offer you products and services that may convince you to come back to us," the banker said confidently.
Matthew glanced at Mary, then looked back at the banker.
"We certainly are prepared to take it under advisement," Matthew smiled. "Besides our savings account, did we maintain any other holdings here? I apologize, but my understanding of the Estate is rather limited."
"Oh, don't apologize for that, Mr. Crawley!" the banker laughed. "You're already well ahead of most of my clients! You know, we often suggested to Mr. James and Mr. Patrick that they expand their portfolio with us. It seemed a shame that the money kept here wasn't earning as much interest as we thought it could."
"Well, Cousin James and Cousin Patrick were always careful about money," Mary smiled. "They wanted to keep everything as liquid as possible."
"They certainly did, yes!" the banker agreed. "We were sorry to lose the account, and without any explanation either, not that you have any obligation to give us one, of course."
"Well, that's all in the past," Matthew smiled. "It's incredible how long it's been since our family last banked here, isn't it?"
"Yes, which is why I'm quite pleased to see both of you here. Two years is a long time, but hopefully we can begin a new era. To have Lord Grantham and his family bank with us would be an honour," the banker nodded vigorously.
"You've given us a great deal to think about," Matthew nodded. "We don't have time for a full tour today, but I will speak to Lord Grantham about what a pleasant visit we had and we'll certainly be back to discuss this further."
"Splendid! Have a wonderful day, Mr. Crawley, Lady Mary, Happy Christmas to both of you."
Mary and Matthew left the bank branch quickly. Matthew hailed a taxi and they got inside, asking to be driven to the next bank on their list.
"Matthew," Mary said nervously once they were on their way.
"I know," he said, squeezing her hand. "James and Patrick closed the account shortly after you were sent to Manchester."
"But what about the numbers in the Estate books? And the bank statements?" Mary asked.
"Clearly they're false. The money that is listed as being at The Royal Bank of Scotland no longer exists," Matthew said grimly.
"But what if it's the same problem at the other banks? Or even at two or three of them?" Mary asked.
"Let's complete our meetings to be sure. But, if the books and statements are wrong, then there is a very good chance that the Grantham Estate may be close to bankruptcy," Matthew said.