Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, December 1913
"The Countess of Sunderland and Lady Sarah Kensington," Carson announced, his deep voice carrying across the large parlour.
Of the two dozen guests mingling with each other, three people in particular turned in surprise and arched their eyebrows suspiciously at Carson's announcement and the arrival of the latest two women.
"Who invited her?" Mary whispered, already knowing the answer.
"Which one?" Sybil asked.
"Lady Sarah," Mary said bitterly.
"She's accompanying her mother," Edith said.
"Fine, then who invited Countess Sunderland?" Mary retorted.
"Mama did," Edith replied. "You know that they are friends."
"I suppose they are in the loosest definition of the word," Mary sighed, still looking across the room as Lady Sarah smiled and greeted a group of older women. "But while they were invited to Aunt Rosamund's party, I did not expect them to make the cut for this evening."
"They probably wouldn't have, if not for…well, you know…" Sybil said quietly.
Mary turned to her youngest sister. "Sybil, what are you thinking?"
"Well, you can't be surprised that Mama is discreetly arranging for young, unattached ladies to meet Cousin Matthew. Tonight's smaller numbers allows for more time to have a…meaningful…conversation with him than Aunt Rosamund's grand affair," Sybil explained, blushing slightly.
"Oh, God," Mary rolled her eyes. "Is that what tonight is all about? Giving Cousin Matthew time to appraise whichever swooning, overheated woman suits his fancy? That's pathetic."
"It's not all that tonight's about," Edith said easily. "But I wouldn't be surprised if it was on the minds of several ladies here, and their mothers."
"Did Papa agree to this?" Mary asked.
"You know that Mama wouldn't do anything formal without his approval. But this is a more casual event, so she has greater power. Tonight is just an initial step, to feel out what Cousin Matthew's attitude is towards finding a future Countess, and what his standing is among Society, now that he's effectively been presented." Edith replied.
Mary looked over at Edith curiously.
"Don't look at me like that," Edith rolled her eyes. "I haven't made up my mind about him yet, though I don't dislike him as much as you do. And no, for your information, Mama has not encouraged me towards him either."
Mary turned away and looked back at Lady Sarah.
"Judging from the comments I heard at Aunt Rosamund's, I'd say that Cousin Matthew is practically the talk of the town," Sybil shrugged.
Mary did not reply, her eyes moving from Lady Sarah and her patronising smile to the other side of the room where Matthew was standing with her father.
"Of all the days for them to stage something like this," Mary muttered to herself.
"Who invited her?" Robert frowned.
"I'm sorry?" Matthew asked.
"Lady Sunderland; Sheila," Robert said, turning back to Matthew. "She's an acquaintance of the family, but I do not consider her close enough to be invited to tonight's more private function."
"Perhaps Cousin Cora is not aware of your feelings on the subject," Matthew suggested.
"No, I expect that she wouldn't be," Robert sighed.
"Well, even for a smaller event, it should not be hard for you to avoid speaking with her, if that is your objective," Matthew smiled encouragingly.
"Oh, don't worry about me, my boy," Robert smiled. "I'll be fine. Besides, it's more likely that Cora invited her to ensure that her daughter would attend for your sake."
Matthew blinked.
"I thought that Cousin Cora would be…reserved…in making such plans?" Matthew mumbled.
"This is her being reserved," Robert chuckled. "If I allowed it, she'd have a line of ladies and debutantes waiting in the sitting room for you."
Matthew looked down and smiled wryly.
"A few words to Lady Sarah should not trouble you," Robert said, patting Matthew on the shoulder. "And who knows? Perhaps you'll consider her worthy for a more detailed conversation another time?"
Matthew's eyes widened.
"There's no need to speak on it any further," Robert said calmly. "Just keep what I said before in mind. And, if she isn't to your taste, don't make a grand spectacle of it."
"Right," Matthew said, eyes glancing about the room.
Truthfully, Matthew was growing more comfortable and familiar with these social events. It had now been months since he'd left Manchester and settled in with his new family, and the routine of each day had become expected, if not entirely welcome. He was used to Thomas attending to him in the morning before breakfast and in the evening before he retired. He was used to smiling constantly and having strangers laugh at his jokes far more than they should have. He was even used to the idea that Grantham House, a stately manor in one of the most desired neighbourhoods in London, was only opened for a few months a year, and sat empty otherwise.
The only thing he could never get used to was being in the constant presence of his wife and ignoring her.
Matthew confirmed quickly after arriving in Yorkshire that his life with Mary in Manchester was far better. There, as now, he had to pretend that he was not married to her when they were in public. The difference of course was that, in Manchester, they rarely saw each other in public anyway, so the illusion was much easier to maintain. Whenever he did see Mary, either at the hospital or walking between his parents' home and that of Lady Philomena, the promise of a private conversation, kiss, or passion, made the distance between them far easier to endure. At Downton Abbey, and here in London, he could look at her, even talk to her, as much as he wished, but that only made the imaginary wall between them seem all the more cruel.
He also suspected that she was deliberately teasing him to a degree. While Mary would not want to prolong their agony on purpose, but she did go to great effort to wear something linked to him at all times. Whether it was a dress, or jewellery, a hat or gloves, Matthew noticed each day that she had something of theirs on her body. It became a silent contest between them, and it was driving him mad. Once, she had come to dinner wearing an outfit that was entirely foreign to him, and he was secretly glad for it. He only discovered much later in the evening that she'd been wearing a pair of lacy drawers that he'd bought for her on their anniversary.
As he looked over at her chatting with Edith and Sybil, he again felt the pang of regret in his stomach. Her burgundy dress fit her perfectly, and the red plumed feather in her hair was sophisticated and playful all at once. It was entirely new to him. He liked it right at first sight. If they were back in Manchester, that outfit would not survive the night. Here in London, all he could do was look, and only surreptitiously at that.
It was not the lack of lovemaking with his wife that was confounding him, and truly his rational mind knew that he was being overly dramatic and petulant about their situation, but he was living part of the life he wanted for her, and had to hold back otherwise. He found that he enjoyed spending time with Mary and her sisters, that the four of them got along quite well all in all, and having to detach himself from their companionship was disheartening.
"Mr. Crawley."
Matthew turned away from Mary and saw lace and chiffon, pale skin and a set of mischievous eyes on a thin face framed by blonde hair. He suppressed his initial instinct to flee, and instead called upon his now overused polite smile.
"Lady Sarah," he nodded. "You're looking well."
"Thank you," Lady Sarah said demurely. "And how are you enjoying the Winter Season? I did not have the chance to speak with you properly at Lady Rosamund's party."
"I'm managing," Matthew said. He could feel eyes in the room upon them, and he silently counted the seconds required before he could leave her presence without being rude.
"I would be more than happy to make things easier for you," Lady Sarah smiled playfully. "I'm quite used to helping the Crawley family. Patrick was a dear friend, God bless him."
Matthew swallowed.
"He must have been quite lucky to have your friendship," Matthew said carefully. The scandalous tale that Mary had told him about Lady Sarah and Patrick's affair rang in his mind.
"You flatter me, Mr. Crawley," Lady Sarah giggled coquettishly. "But Patrick did find me to be useful to him. It would please me if you could say the same."
"I…I shall take that under consideration," Matthew nodded.
"For instance," Lady Sarah said, stepping towards him and lowering her voice. "You may not know many of the people you've met this week, but I do. I know everyone; everyone who's anyone. I could assist you in determining who's acquaintance you should value, and who you should be wary of. You're new here, and everyone loves the new boy. But, you need to be careful, Mr. Crawley. There are many among them who would look to use you, who are concerned only for their benefit than your own."
Matthew's eyes narrowed slightly. "And you are benevolent enough to help me understand who these false friends are?"
"It would be my privilege to help you in any way that you desire," Lady Sarah said, arching her eyebrow at him. "Why, you're surrounded by impostors in this very room."
"Indeed?" Matthew asked. He frowned slightly as Lady Sarah raised her gloved hand and touched his chin, angling his view away from her and across the room.
"Your cousin, Lady Mary," Lady Sarah whispered, Matthew's eyes falling on Mary across the room. "She is not to be trusted. She is a harlot and very dangerous. Not only did she cause a scandal with a foreigner, breaking poor Patrick's heart in the process, but she also played with the Duke of Crowborough's affections, among others. She will go to any length in the pursuit of her own pleasure. I came out with her, you see, and I've seen her tricks, and the damage wrought by them."
Matthew's pulse jumped. He very seldom raised his voice in anger towards a woman, but Lady Sarah was pushing his tolerance without even knowing it.
"I shall thank you not to insult my family, of which Mary is a part," Matthew growled. "Your candour is surprising, but I shall make my own assessments of others, thank you."
"Of course you will," Lady Sarah smiled, completely unfazed. "But as a solicitor, you are well aware of the value of attention to detail, of researching thoroughly before making a decision. Once you've done your due diligence, I'm sure you'll find that some of us are better suited for your purposes than others."
"I shall be mindful of that," Matthew nodded. "Excuse me, Lady Sarah. I have business with Lord Grantham. Enjoy your evening."
"I already have," Lady Sarah replied, smiling back at him. "Until our next meeting, Mr. Crawley."
Matthew nodded politely to her and walked briskly in Robert's direction. He noticed numerous people, including Lady Sutherland and Cora watching his exchange with Lady Sarah. He kept his expression calm as he walked away. He needed to get to Mary, but once again, attention was too focused upon him to allow for that.
"Lady Mary."
Mary turned away from the window and blinked in surprise. Sybil and Edith had been called away by their Mama, once again leaving Mary alone. She'd retreated to the window when she saw Lady Sarah looking at Matthew with a predator's smile. If this was Manchester, she'd walk over and slap the daylights out of her for bating her eyelashes at her husband. But this wasn't Manchester, and he was only her cousin, and she was the shunned daughter of the Earl of Grantham and so she had to stay away.
"Larry," Mary nodded slightly. "Hello."
"Hello," Larry Grey smiled widely. He deliberately glanced down her body. "You're looking very well."
"Thank you," Mary said tightly. The charlatan had the nerve to stare openly at her figure.
"I must apologize for our lack of contact in Manchester," Larry said pleasantly. "I'm afraid that Papa was not very welcoming to you. I kept expecting to see you at the house at some point, but it seems you were kept at my aunt's for the duration of your stay."
"I was, yes," Mary nodded. "But, those days are over now."
"And not a moment too soon," Larry laughed. "It must be strange being back in London after all this time. I've been told that after so many Seasons since you're debut, one becomes more of a survivor than anything else."
"I'm faring perfectly well," Mary replied. "I talk to my parents as little as possible, and they do the same. So far, it's working wonderfully."
"I sometimes wish that I could say the same," Larry chuckled. "Lately all I seem to be hearing about from Papa is this lady or that lady and how well suited she would be for me."
"Your father must have high hopes," Mary said, wondering why he was bothering to even talk to her. No one else was.
"He does," Larry nodded. "And he means well, of course. But, I think I'm quite capable of choosing my own wife."
"Well, good luck with that," Mary smiled, hoping their conversation had reached its conclusion.
"What are your plans tomorrow?" Larry asked.
"Pardon?" Mary blurted, taken aback at his question. "I have business to attend to," she managed.
"That sounds mysterious," Larry smiled. "Can I interest you in coming to the National Gallery? There's a new exhibition that I'm quite interested to see."
"Well, I wouldn't want you to run afoul of your father, not to mention numerous other members of Society," Mary deflected, her stomach seizing at the very idea of walking out with Larry Grey.
"Don't worry about him," Larry smirked. "I told you. I'm my own man."
"You're being rather forward, Larry," Mary said tightly, forcing a smile.
"Well I expect that you're tired of the game at this point, aren't you, Mary?" Larry smiled. "It's far easier to get to the point, isn't it? We both have something we can offer to the other, and the sooner we come to an understanding, the better."
Mary blinked. She couldn't believe her ears.
"Larry, we haven't spoken in years. I doubt that we have a proper foundation for the type of arrangement that you are suggesting," Mary said.
"On the contrary," Larry said. "I think that matches us up perfectly. I can't marry you and you can't hope to marry someone of my standing. That leaves us with another role that you are more than capable of filling."
Mary's lips pursed into a thin line.
"There will be gossip, of course," Larry continued. "Someone like me can't take a mistress without inviting all manner of chatter. I assure you though, I'll be able to handle it. And of course, you need not worry. Any attack against your reputation would seem to be flogging a dead horse."
"A rather generous offer, Larry," Mary smiled coldly. "However, I'll have to decline. For one thing, I'm not anyone's mistress. For another, I certainly wouldn't be yours."
Mary took a step towards him and whispered into his ear.
"You're not man enough for me."
She walked away from him, gritting her teeth behind her closed lips as she seethed.
"Mama's gone up," Mary said as she came into the darkened sitting room. Her father did not even look away from the fireplace to acknowledge her.
"Good night, Papa," Mary said after several moments. She rolled her eyes as she turned for the door.
"I know that today was your birthday," Robert said softly. "I'm not so heartless as to forget that, you know."
Mary turned slowly back towards him. "No, you're not. Just heartless enough not to say anything about it, apparently."
Robert finally turned his head and looked up at her.
"I can't wish you well in good conscience, Mary," he said calmly. "Why are you here? You've had your grand return, thrown our entire House askew. For months, you've done whatever you wanted, regardless of my orders or your mother's entreaties. For what purpose? Just to rile us all up? If you didn't like Manchester, then what would please you? We offered to send you to America! If you want to go somewhere else, then name it. I'd pay to send you anywhere if you would just stop this madness."
Mary took a deep breath, her expression clouding over as fury boiled within.
"How could I possibly walk away from the unique treatment that I receive from you and Mama?" Mary said coldly.
"We gave you everything," Robert said, the volume and tone of his voice rising. "Every bauble and gown, every luxury since you were a child. All I asked in return was that you followed the rules. It was all for your own good. Patrick would have been good to you, but you threw that away for a meaningless tryst. Now, you expect the world to once again bend to your will? I see that Manchester did not humble you at all. Your impertinence is astonishing. I would have been well within my rights to have you thrown out when you dared to return. I've allowed you to stay and resume your old life and to what end? I couldn't pay a gentleman to accept you now."
"What if it wasn't true?" Mary challenged. "Did you ever consider that? Did you ever forget your pathetic ego long enough to wonder whether James and Patrick were even telling you the truth about me? It isn't as though you got along, and yet you were all on the same side when it came to what happened."
"Do not mistake three strong willed men for being at odds with each other, Mary," Robert warned, rising from the sofa and turning towards her. "Besides, they produced witnesses. What reason could I possibly have to doubt the word of four men?"
"I'm your daughter! That was your bloody reason!" Mary shouted. "They told you a story and you believed them! You had your mind made up before I even entered the library that morning. You assumed that I was nothing but a pretty face with a penchant for rebellion; that I would let a man I'd just met into my bed, with no regard for my own self worth or my family name."
Robert frowned and looked away.
Mary stepped forward and pressed further.
"One month," she continued, "For almost one month you kept me locked up in my room like a prisoner. You did nothing to investigate their lies. Not one finger raised in my defence. I left for Manchester so I wouldn't have to stay and watch you and your precious heirs destroy my home. But, they're gone now, Papa. The distinguished gentlemen that you spent so much time grooming to carry on your legacy are gone and I'm here."
"Don't you dare speak ill of James and Patrick!" Robert sneered, causing her to recoil slightly. "I may have lost them, but Matthew is here now, and you won't get any further with him than you have with me. You've seen how the two of you fight. What do you suppose will happen when he inherits my title? Do you think you'll have a place at Downton for as long as he's alive? No, Mary. He'll find a proper wife one day, and she won't tolerate you in our home. Your sisters will be married off and gone away, and you'll have nothing and no one, all because of your own stubbornness. Your path is set, Mary. Nothing can change that now."
"The world is changing, Papa," Mary said, turning away from him. "Be careful that you don't get left behind."
It took all of her strength to walk normally out of the room and across the foyer to the stairs. She reached her bedroom and closed the door behind her. She fought back the tears as she pulled the cord for Anna. She wondered if she had any tears left where her father was concerned.
Mary was able to compose herself and act as though nothing had happened as Anna helped her prepare for bed. However, once she was alone in her bedroom, she started to feel fragile and alone. She looked sadly down at Chekov's The Cherry Orchard in her shaking hands. She thought this gift from her late father-in-law would help soothe her nerves after her fight with her Papa, but it only seemed to emphasize all that she had lost.
Hearing harsh words from her Papa was nothing new to her, but tonight was different. He seemed to have been holding in a great deal of resentment and finally unleashed it upon her this evening. She already knew that she had drawn his ire. She almost revelled in it – each day spent at Downton was another bruise to his ego, a reminder that the daughter he had tried to banish was back and living under his roof. It was his vision of her future that troubled her, combined with the image of Lady Sarah flirting with Matthew.
Mary's original fears that the Crawley family would corrupt him were still present. He spent hours each day with her father, learning about the Estate, reviewing records and the entail and learning how to be an Earl. For the past week, he'd been immersed in London Society, experiencing what his new status would give him – invitations to exclusive parties, attention from lords and viscounts, and covetous stares from attractive women. Mary knew that Matthew was faithful, of course, but the fact remained that being with her was difficult, it required work and effort. Being with Lady Sarah or any of the other eligible women parading around him was easy enough. They threw themselves at him and all he had to do was catch. Even a man as upstanding as her husband would have to be tempted by all the extravagance of Society and the adoration he was now receiving. And it would be easy for him to deny their marriage ultimately. They'd already been doing just that for two years now.
And now it was her birthday, and their anniversary was tomorrow, and she felt entirely abandoned. She knew that he couldn't make a fuss regarding her birthday in front of her family, but he hadn't even wished her well during the brief times that they were in the same room.
Mary kept telling herself that he hadn't forgotten. He couldn't have. For, to forget her birthday was also to forget their marriage. She frowned as tears filled her eyes. She sniffed and held in a sudden sob. Had she really returned to her old life for this?
A knock at the door roused her. She sighed as she rose from bed and put on her robe. This was likely her Mama coming to scold her. Larry Grey had probably whined to Lord Merton about her being rude to him or some other half truth, or her Papa had told her Mama about their argument and ordered that she be punished.
Mary opened the door and was surprised to see the smiling face of Sybil and the less pleased expression of Edith.
"Happy Birthday, darling," Sybil smiled widely holding several presents that were elegantly wrapped. Sybil elbowed Edith in the side.
"Oh, yes, Happy Birthday, Mary," Edith said with a bored expression, waving a wrapped box in front of her dismissively.
Mary shook her head and smiled and allowed her sisters into her bedroom. They all sat down on her bed and placed the gifts before her.
"We didn't forget," Sybil said warmly. "We just wanted to wait until we were alone to celebrate, the way we did when we were little."
"Yes, except for some reason I could not get away with giving you a handmade card this time," Edith added.
Mary rolled her eyes, then opened the presents. She smiled at the gloves, perfume and even the embroidered bookmark from Edith.
"Thank you, both of you," she said, squeezing her sisters' hands.
"I know it hasn't been a very memorable birthday," Sybil said kindly. "But it's just because you've been back for a mere few months, is all. Next year will be different. We'll be able to give you a proper party. You'll see."
Mary smiled sadly at her youngest sister's enthusiasm. Edith's eyes were more sympathetic at the reality that they both understood.
"We may not be celebrating at Downton," Edith said. "But we can still celebrate, wherever we are."
"Of course," Mary nodded.
"Well, don't be so certain," Sybil said pleadingly. "Cousin Matthew isn't as ruthless as you may think he is. I expect he's a large reason why Papa hasn't banished you once again, and that's something, isn't it?"
"He's just doing it for appearance's sake," Mary said in exasperation. "He wants all of the news to be about him. To keep me in the background makes him and Papa seem magnanimous. Anyway, regardless of his motivation, he's an improvement on Patrick. I can handle the former solicitor from Manchester."
"Granny is still suspicious; she thinks his mother mollycoddles him. She says there is something wrong about the picture but she just can't work it out," Edith said.
"She still likes you best, of course," Sybil yawned.
Mary smiled. "I know," she said simply. "Now, back to bed, both of you. Thank you for this. You've made my day, believe it or not."
Mary hugged Sybil warmly and Edith perfunctorily, and her sisters went back to their rooms, leaving her to go back to bed and return to her sad thoughts.
"Lady Sarah seemed to be taken with you tonight, sir," Thomas said as he gathered Matthew's suit from the floor.
"She was, I suppose," Matthew replied, looking at himself in the mirror.
"She was quite friendly with Mr. Patrick after Lady Mary left," Thomas continued. "Some of us thought that he was going to propose to her eventually."
"But he didn't, did he, Thomas?" Matthew asked, not looking at the footman.
"No, sir," Thomas replied, puzzled by Matthew's comment.
"There's a lesson there, Thomas," Matthew said, turning around and facing him. "One's expectations can sometimes be out of touch with reality."
Thomas nodded slowly.
"Thomas, in the short time that you've been with me, I can see quite easily that you are an ambitious man. I admire that. A man who wishes to rise as high as he can go is a good man in my book," Matthew said.
"Thank you, sir," Thomas nodded with a smile.
"That is why you should always be mindful of reality, specifically the reality of your situation," Matthew noted.
"My situation, sir?" Thomas asked.
"Yes. You see, today Carson is the butler of our House and Bates is His Lordship's valet. I would assume that an ambitious man such as yourself aspires to be a valet someday, and perhaps even higher than that," Matthew said.
"It would be an honour to hold such a position in a House as esteemed as yours, sir," Thomas said carefully.
"Yes, well, I expect that you will be promoted in the next while. You've essentially served as my valet since I arrived, and so it's only fitting that you have the proper title at some point," Matthew said.
"Thank you, sir," Thomas replied genuinely.
"Of course. However, you can understand that when I become Earl, I'll need to implicitly trust my butler and my valet. If I were to suspect that my own man's loyalties were divided, even in the smallest percentage, well I couldn't allow that, could I?" Matthew asked, staring at Thomas intently.
"No. No, sir," Thomas swallowed.
"Hypothetically, Thomas," Matthew said lightly. "If I were the Earl of Grantham and my sole heir was a virtual stranger who I had never met before, I would go to great lengths to learn everything I could about him. I would make sure that my solicitor researched him thoroughly before he set foot through my door. And after he came, I would want as many eyes upon him as possible so that I knew everything there was to know about him and about what he got up to."
"If you think that's wise, sir," Thomas said.
"Well, I'm not the Earl yet," Matthew smiled. "And so, as the heir, I must say that my privacy is paramount. I naturally will share details about my daily life with my family, but I can't allow anyone to know where I am or what I am doing at all times. That would be unreasonable and unacceptable, don't you agree?"
"Yes, sir," Thomas nodded. "You shouldn't have to be looking over your shoulder at all times, sir."
"My thoughts exactly, Thomas," Matthew smirked. "So, if I came back to Grantham House late in the evening, after Lady Rosamund's party the other night for instance, I shouldn't have to be worried if my valet spotted me, or who he may be reporting that information back to, should I? Hypothetically, of course."
"No, sir," Thomas said, his voice cracking slightly. "You shouldn't have to be concerned about that, sir."
"Good. I will need to rely on you, Thomas. I expect there will be all manner of people who will ask you about me, and so I require that you be discrete in your answers. I have nothing to hide, of course, but that's not the point. The point is that no one has a right to ask, and it's important that you know that."
"Yes, sir," Thomas nodded quickly.
"Good," Matthew said, clapping Thomas on the shoulder. He kept his hand there and Thomas glanced at it nervously before looking back at Matthew.
"Because everyone has secrets, don't they, Thomas? And I would hate to be careless with any of yours, that is, if I knew any, hypothetically," Matthew said.
"Hypothetically. Yes, sir," Thomas said.
"Good night, Thomas," Matthew said, turning away and going into the bedroom.
"Good night, sir," Thomas said quietly, turning and leaving down the hall for the servant's stairs as quickly as he could go.
Mary opened her eyes slowly. Her room was dark, the embers from the fire glowing faintly. She turned her head, wondering why she had woken up in the middle of the night.
A hand closed across her mouth and she yelped, the noise drowned out before it even left her mouth. Her eyes opened wide and she squirmed before soft lips pressed against her cheek.
"Shh, darling. It's me," Matthew whispered.
Mary turned and looked at his smiling face. He removed his hand and she lunged for him, kissing him deeply and pulling him down over her.
"Happy birthday, Mary," Matthew smiled, kissing her several times. "I'm sorry that I couldn't come to you sooner. Thomas has been watching my every move and I had to wait until I was certain he wasn't about."
"He has?" Mary frowned. "Papa…" she shook her head.
"Most likely, yes," Matthew nodded, lying against her side. "Although I wouldn't put it past Thomas to just be gathering information for later use. The man is rather conniving that way."
Matthew smiled and settled closer to her. He frowned curiously at her beaming expression.
"What is it?" he smiled.
"I was beginning to think you'd forgotten," Mary mumbled, reaching up and caressing his cheek.
"What? Are you mad?" Matthew laughed. "Forget my own wife's birthday? I'm too young to be that senile, Mary, and I'm not foolish enough to risk your anger."
Mary smiled and kissed him again. Her hand trailed down to the open neck of his robe.
"Mary," Matthew gasped. "I'm sorry, but I can't stay long. We don't have much time. The servants are all asleep, but the walls here aren't as thick as at Downton. I'm afraid that I may not be able to be as…quiet…as I need to be. The longer I stay in your bed, the more chance there is that we could be discovered."
Mary chuckled softly as he blushed.
"I won't pretend that I'm not disappointed," Mary said. "I need you, Matthew...very much. But you're right, of course."
"I'll save your present for our anniversary," Matthew said, kissing her again. "I have a plan to get us some privacy for a few hours tomorrow afternoon."
"Do you?" Mary smiled. "My, you're getting rather good at scheming, aren't you?"
"Well, I have a good teacher," Matthew smirked.
They kissed again and Mary finally released him.
"All right. Thank you for coming to me, darling. You cannot know how much I appreciate it. Good night," she smiled.
Matthew only smiled at her, then kissed her again. He moved to her cheek, and followed down to her neck. He pulled at her nightgown with one hand while he kissed her breasts through the cotton.
"Matthew?" Mary whispered, her eyes closing as her pulse sped up and her arousal grew. "I thought you said that we didn't have time?"
Matthew bunched her nightgown above her hips. His fingers reached for the ties of her knickers.
"I said that we didn't have much time, darling," he leered at her, the faint firelight showing his bestial smile. "And we don't have enough time for…that. But, we do have enough time for some things, so long as you aren't too loud."
He kissed her exposed navel, then pulled her knickers down her legs before pushing her thighs apart.
Mary grit her teeth and focused on trying not to be too loud.
She barely succeeded.
Berkeley Hotel, Knightsbridge, London, England, December 1913
"Miss Mary Crawley," Mary announced authoritatively as she reached the front desk.
"Yes, Miss Crawley. Welcome. Please enjoy your stay," the clerk replied, handing her a key.
"Thank you. I'm sure that I will," Mary nodded. She took the lift up to the designated floor and reached the Park Suite without any trouble. Stepping inside, she left her coat on the sofa and went over to the window, smiling at the snow covered view of the park outside.
"It's quite stunning."
Mary turned around and smiled widely as Matthew came into the living room from the bedroom.
"Hyde Park is lovely during the winter," she answered.
"I suppose it is," Matthew smirked, taking her into his arms. "I wasn't referring to the view from the window, though."
"Is that the poetic lyric that charmed Lady Sarah Kensington last night?" Mary asked, her hands going to his shoulders.
"Please don't mention her name," Matthew rolled his eyes. "Another Lady has captured my full attention, thank you."
Mary smiled as he leaned forward and kissed her, pulling her tight to his body. She hummed in pleasure as his hands roamed her back, his obvious need thrilling her.
"God, I love you," Matthew gasped, his kisses becoming more heated.
"Matthew," she replied, her hands moving to his hair as his tongue slipped past her lips.
She had numerous questions for him. How had he arranged for the invitation for tea to be delivered that morning from Lady Cunard? How had he fixed it for a note telling her to retrieve a room key from the front desk to greet her upon her arrival at the restaurant downstairs? How had he stolen away himself to be able to meet her?
As she pushed his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms, she decided that conversation could wait.
"Perhaps I should make you wait more often," Mary smiled, her fingers playing across his bare stomach. "You're far more…enthusiastic…when you are forced to behave for long periods."
"That's hardly fair," Matthew grumbled, massaging her back. "It's seeing you in all of these gowns and outfits – each one more fetching than the next. Your wardrobe in Manchester was decidedly more…"
"Yes?" Mary asked, turning her head towards him and frowning slightly.
"Practical," Matthew said.
Mary laughed and resumed her place on his chest.
"This is all quite scandalous you know, staying in a hotel suite in the middle of the day with no luggage, using the room for mere hours," Mary teased.
"It's not as rare a thing as you'd think," Matthew muttered.
"Pardon?" Mary asked.
"I'll explain later," Matthew recovered. "For now, I wanted to tell you that I think I may have uncovered where James and Patrick diverted the Estate funds. My investigation isn't complete yet, but it's getting close. Is there a way that we can come to London in the New Year?"
"I would usually spend part of January at Aunt Rosamund's," Mary said. "It was always understood that I came back here after New Year's."
"Good," Matthew said. "I'll invent some excuse to come back as well, after you've already left. So long as we're careful, that should do."
"But where are we going? And why do we both need to be here?" Mary asked.
"It may be too dangerous for you to come with me, but I want you in London when I figure out what happened. It's easier to meet and talk here without spying eyes all around us," Matthew said.
"Fine," Mary said. "You arranged all of this, so I'll trust in your planning abilities."
"It was mostly luck," Matthew smiled. "Lady Cunard doesn't keep in touch with your parents, so there's very little risk that they would ever ask her about your supposed tea appointment. As for the hotel, the staff here pride themselves on their discretion. Don't ask me how I know that."
"And how did you get away from Papa?" Mary asked.
"I told him that I had a meeting with Murray, which was true. I stopped by his office to look at the books. What I didn't tell your father was that my appointment with Murray was for this morning, and I told Murray that I had another meeting in the afternoon," Matthew said.
"Thereby freeing up your day without either of them likely to ever discuss your whereabouts with the other," Mary laughed.
"Precisely," Matthew said, lifting her face towards him and kissing her softly.
"I knew that you were clever when I married you," Mary grinned.
"Happy anniversary, my darling," Matthew smiled, kissing her again. "I sometimes cannot believe that we've been together for two years already, that you've put up with me for all of this time."
"Well, marriage is a long business, Matthew," Mary smiled. "I suppose that I'm stuck with you."
"Yes, you are. Irrevocably," Matthew smiled, kissing her again. "Your anniversary present is part of my investigations, so you won't receive it until next month. I did find something for today, though."
Matthew kissed her once more, then slipped from her grasp and left the lavish bed. Mary could not help but stare at his naked body as he walked easily over to his bag and rummaged through it. She smiled to herself. Her behaviour would be considered inappropriate by some, but ogling her husband was one of the few rights she had left, and she intended to use it…thoroughly.
When Matthew returned to bed holding a small object wrapped in brown paper, Mary almost forgot about the gift itself. She blushed when she saw the evidence of his arousal, and it stirred her own delightfully.
"For me?" Mary said eagerly as he pulled the blankets over them once more.
"Of course," Matthew said, leering at her. "There could never be anyone else."
She leaned over and kissed him. He smiled and handed the small package to her. She unwrapped the paper and revealed a small glass jar.
"Strawberry preserves?" she laughed.
"Since its Christmas and there aren't fresh strawberries, I had to settle for preserves. At first I was a little disenchanted," Matthew said as he moved to take his wife in his arms once again. "But, I think it'll do. Hopefully it reminds you of Manchester, when we first met, when I fell in love with you."
Mary stared at the red liquid, before her gaze turned to that of her husband's blue eyes. She opened the jar, the sound of a satisfying smack making her smile as the seal was broken. The sweet smell wafted up to her and she laughed again.
"We'll have to order some toast to spread these on, and some proper spoons," she said, smiling at Matthew.
"Actually, I think we're fine as we are," he quirked his eyebrow, taking the jar from her hand.
"Matthew," she warned, her heart rate jumping as he eased her back down to the pillows. He dipped his fingers into the jar and she licked her lips involuntarily in anticipation.
"No one knows we're here, darling," he said, swiping one of his coated fingers with his tongue before offering it to her. "Everything is permitted."
Mary laughed and tasted his fingers, the sweet fruit heightened by Matthew's dark gaze.
She fleetingly thought of what her old self would think of the wanton use of strawberry preserves in bed. She stuck her fingers in the jar and then inside her husband's mouth. Matthew's second attempt to feed her was not nearly as successful. Large globs of the fruit dropped onto her body before reaching her lips. She yelped in amusement at the cold feel against her warm skin. She then groaned as his lips and mouth moved across her skin, following the trail of preserves that she knew he had spilled deliberately.
She reached up and took the jar from him. He looked at her in confusion, then his eyes widened as she raised up and pushed him on to his back.
"My turn," she whispered before she pulled the blankets down his body.
Matthew swallowed as she dipped her fingers into the jar and proceeded to make him quite messy.
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, January 1914
"I can have Grantham House opened for you, if you wish. You can bring Thomas with you," Robert said as he read the newspaper.
"Thank you," Matthew nodded, sipping his tea. "But that won't be necessary. I was quite impressed with your club when you showed it to me last month, and I think it's time I tried it out for myself."
"Good," Robert smiled. "They'll treat you well there."
"I am certain that they will," Matthew smiled.
"If you need anything while you're in the city, call on Murray. He can assist you with arranging meetings and you can even tour the House if you like, though no one will be there as it isn't in session," Robert added.
"Thank you, but I expect to be quite busy already. I'm speaking to some colleagues about the tax laws and such. I'm hoping to find a way to ease our burden to His Majesty, all through proper channels, of course," Matthew said.
"Of course," Robert smiled. "If the laws can be turned to our advantage, then that's what they are there for, I say."
"I was hoping that you could assist me with a delicate matter, Cousin," Matthew said quietly.
Robert lowered his newspaper and looked at his heir thoughtfully.
"A delicate matter, you say?" Robert repeated.
"Yes," Matthew blushed. "I expect to be taking in some…entertainment…when I'm in London, and I don't quite know where to go. I know that there are some cabarets in Soho, but I wouldn't know where to go specifically."
Robert smiled. "Well, I shall disavow any knowledge of this conversation, or about being aware of what I am about to tell you. When I was your age, there were no cabarets here of course. That was something for the French. Soho was still the place to go for entertainment, however. James and I used to frequent this particular den of ill repute…though I never felt in danger there. It's hidden, of course, beneath a reputable restaurant – Café l'Europe. We stopped going there after we read that the police had shut the place down. Better to do our gambling at the club. Far easier, and legal as well."
"Of course," Matthew nodded.
"If you wish some anonymity, you can head over to one of the other clubs where we aren't as well known," Robert said. "If you take some money off the chaps, they may not like you as much as they do now."
"I'll keep that in mind," Matthew smiled. "Well, I need to pack and get going. I'll be back next week."
He rose from the table and walked briskly towards the Great Hall, his mind using this new piece of information and fitting it in with what he had already learned. Mary was already in London. He needed to get there quickly and see whether his hunch was correct.
Café l'Europe, St. James, London, England, January 1914
"Are you sure that you belong here?" A voice said from behind the bar. The stick thin bartender snuffed out his cigarette as he appraised the stranger before him.
Matthew cleared his throat. "Honestly, I'm not sure. I was given this address and was instructed to come here and settle an account, but I don't quite know who I'm supposed to talk to."
"And who would you be?" the bartender inquired.
"Matthew. Matthew Crawley. I'm here about the account of my cousins, James and Patrick," Matthew said nervously.
The bartender looked him up and down for several moments, then smiled.
"Right then. Have a seat," he said, before turning and walking down the bar into a back room.
Matthew sat down, looking around the room. The furniture and décor were a bit dated, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary about the bar, besides the fact it was tucked into the basement, and the fact that the dining hall above had its own bar.
Truthfully, Matthew did not know what he was expecting. He'd never been in a brothel or gambling den before, and he wouldn't know if this one was one of those or not. The liquor bottles behind the bar were all expensive brands, and he recognized expensive cigar boxes stacked to one side. He was hoping that by coming during the day, he could perhaps talk to someone outside of business hours, and so far he was correct. The place was deserted.
"You're the accountant, are you?" the bartender returned with a thick ledger, placing it on the bar.
"You could say that. I'm more a concerned family member," Matthew replied.
"Well we haven't seen James or Patrick in here for years," the bartender said. "James stopped coming a while back, but Patrick was in here about a year and a half ago. We usually don't take kindly to patrons who stop coming around, especially ones who owe us as much as he does, but the payments kept coming, so we didn't feel the need to track him down."
"Yes, well, we'd like to settle up his account if we could," Matthew said carefully.
"Why's that? He thinks he's too good for us now, does he?" the bartender smirked.
"Not exactly. He's dead," Matthew said.
"Bugger. Sorry to hear that. Patrick was a funny bloke. Ran his mouth too much and couldn't outdrink my grandmother, but he was fun to have around, especially when he was losing," the bartender said.
"You mentioned that the payments kept coming?" Matthew asked.
"Yeah. He wrote us a whole whack of cheques to pay down his debts and we'd credit him any winnings he built up. Course he never won for very long. That was his problem. Always chased after his money."
"Do you have any cheques left? I'd like to settle his account and take them back, if I could," Matthew said.
"Sure," the bartender smiled. "You wouldn't want your family name tarnished if word got out that Patrick was gambling down in here, would you? I figure you've got more to lose than we do."
"You're probably right about that," Matthew nodded.
The bartender opened the ledger and flipped through the pages. He found an envelope buried within and handed it to Matthew.
"Here you are. Looks like there were three cheques left. The balance of his debt's right here. Pay me that amount and Patrick's debt is clear."
He turned the ledger around so that Matthew could see it. Matthew glanced at the records of Patrick's gambling losses, quickly noting the dates and amounts in his mind. He reached into the inner pocket of his coat and took out several pound notes. He counted a few and passed them to the bartender.
"Thanks, mate. If you ever want to take a shot yourself, come by any night after one."
"I'll think about it," Matthew nodded. He tucked the envelope with the remaining cheques into his coat pocket and walked quickly out of the bar. He quickly hailed a cab when he got up to the street. Giving the driver instructions to his club, Matthew took out a notepad and quickly jotted down the dates and amounts that he remembered from the ledger. He removed the envelope from his pocket and looked over the cheques. The final puzzle pieces snapped into place.
He sighed as he looked out the window. He needed to get word to Mary right away.