Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, January 1917
"Lady Cunard asked whether we would be available for dinner in a fortnight," Mary said, rubbing cream into her hands. She glanced over at Matthew sitting in bed from her perch at her vanity. "I told her it would depend on your work commitments, but I am inclined to accept her invitation."
"Mmm, yes, dear," Matthew mumbled, staring intently at the papers spread out before him.
Mary rolled her eyes and rose from her chair.
"She is rather interested in what you do at the office exactly, but I lied and told her that I didn't know. She'll continue to pry, of course, but even she must understand that we can't discuss sensitive matters," Mary said, coming to bed.
"Yes, darling," Matthew said, picking up a page and frowning at it, then looking over at a booklet in his other hand.
Mary shook her head and slipped under the blankets. She turned on to her side to face him, propping her head up against the pillows.
"I suspect that is partly what her invitation is about. She thinks she can ply us with wine and fine food and we'll happily regale her with some thrilling gossip about spies and espionage. If only she knew that your job is hardly cloak and dagger," Mary smirked.
"Mmm, yes," Matthew replied, taking a pencil and scribbling several notes on a page.
Mary rolled her eyes again.
"I expect that after dinner, we'll retire to her sitting room for some adult parlour games. Lady Cunard says she knows two rather burly men who think they can handle me at the same time and she's invited a heavier set woman for you," Mary frowned.
"We'll need to pick up some armour from the pharmacy beforehand then," Matthew said, still not looking at her. "We wouldn't want any consequences from what ought to be a pleasant orgy."
"Matthew!" Mary snarled, slapping his arm.
Matthew laughed and turned to her, pulling her to him and kissing her firmly.
"I'm sorry, darling. Are you feeling neglected?" he smiled.
"Hardly," Mary huffed, snuggling closer to him. "But if you insist on bringing your work home, then you should go to the study and take your papers with you."
"It is rather rude of me, isn't it? You deserve my undivided attention," Matthew teased, kissing her again.
"I have not had your attention all evening," Mary grumbled. "First you played with George until the gong, then you brought those infernal papers to the dinner table, and kept staring at them when we went through. I'm fortunate that Papa is away this week, otherwise I may have been forced to engage him in conversation."
"Perish the thought," Matthew laughed. He turned back and gathered up his papers, stacked them together neatly and placed them into a folder. He deposited the folder on the nightstand, then turned back to his frowning wife.
"There," he declared. "No more codebreaking for tonight."
"Now you've made me feel as though I'm betraying King and Country," Mary huffed as he embraced her once more. "If it's important, then carry on, darling."
"I've made some decent progress with it, but I can leave it for now. It may make more sense to me with a clear head in the morning," Matthew said, kissing her neck.
"What is so challenging about this one?" Mary asked. "I don't mean to be nosey, but…"
"It's fine," Matthew smiled, kissing her shoulder. "This particular message uses a cipher that we're not completely familiar with. Some of it makes sense, but not entirely. I have a basic road map of where I want to go, but the directions aren't entirely clear."
"I see," Mary sighed, closing her eyes as his hands travelled down to her hips, then moved across her silk covered bottom. "Are you feeling frustrated, then?"
"Not at all," Matthew whispered, kissing her again as he squeezed her buttocks firmly. Their lips moved in concert, coming together, then separating as he spoke, their tongues sliding over each other between words.
"A coded message…is a challenge…that invigorates me…" he breathed into her mouth. "The text is…just a series of layers…that beg to be peeled away…to reveal the treasure beneath."
Mary gasped and held him tight as he lifted her nightgown up past her hips. His fingers slid below her knickers, moving over her bottom then around across her thigh.
"Matthew," she hissed, her head falling forward on to his shoulder as his fingers brushed against her centre.
"It's just a matter of patiently applying more and more effort until eventually the defences give way," Matthew smiled, inhaling deeply as he found his target. "The moment that I master it is quite intensely…satisfying."
"Yes," Mary cried. She reached down between them and grabbed his wrist, moving his hand with hers. She cried out again as he curled his fingers inside of her.
"God, Mary," he grunted, leaning over her as she moved to her back.
He slowed his hand as she released, kissing her neck softly as she took deep breaths to calm herself. She finally opened her eyes and smirked at him lazily.
"Feeling rather smug, aren't you?" she arched her eyebrow at him as she ran her hand through her loose hair.
"Merely trying to make amends for ignoring you earlier tonight, my darling," Matthew smiled, kissing her cheek.
"Well, spymaster, I'm feeling rather invigorated myself," Mary purred, pushing him on to his back. Her fingers quickly undid his shirt as she moved over him. "And you have far too many layers of your own at the moment."
"I agree," Matthew smiled, pulling her nightgown further up her body as she kissed his bare chest and slid her hands into his pyjamas.
"Lady Cunard did in fact invite us over, Matthew," Mary said, stretching herself across his chest and side.
"Give her our regrets," Matthew smiled, his eyes closed as she ran his hand up and down her bare back. "We're busy in a fortnight."
"With what? I've not planned anything for that weekend," Mary asked, resting against him.
"I'm taking you out," Matthew smiled. "Nanny can take care of George. I want to have a proper evening out with my wife."
"A proper evening out would include dinner and dancing," Mary smiled, her eyes closed.
"At a minimum," Matthew said.
"Then I shall need a new frock for such an occasion," Mary teased.
"Most definitely," Matthew replied.
"Goodness, what other indulgences could I possibly coerce you into allowing when you are in such an agreeable state?" Mary asked lightly.
"I shall leave it up to your imagination, my darling," Matthew smiled, kissing the top of her head as they fell asleep.
Room 40, Admiralty Building, Whitehall, London, England, January 1917
"What do you think?" Nigel asked Reverend Montgomery.
"This first line doesn't seem right…" Reverend Montgomery remarked. "We intend to begin on the first of February unrestricted warfare…how is that any different from what they've done before? They've hardly been restrained."
"There's a word missing," Matthew frowned, looking at the codebook again, then back at the partially decrypted message. "It's here. The Magdeburg cipher has a different interpretation for this sequence."
"So warfare isn't unrestricted then?" Nigel asked.
Matthew exhaled loudly, then turned to his superiors. "It isn't 'unrestricted warfare'. It's 'unrestricted submarine warfare'," Matthew said.
"But then this next phrase – 'We shall endeavour in spite of this to keep the United States of America neutral.' The Americans shouldn't be concerned with such tactics. U-boats have been giving us fits since 1914," Reverend Montgomery frowned.
"Unless by unrestricted, the Germans mean they will no longer only focus on us," Nigel said.
"My God," Matthew blinked. "They're going after the American supply ships."
"If it's truly unrestricted, then every vessel with an American flag will be targeted – passenger liners, merchant ships, the whole lot," Nigel nodded.
"Call Blinker, now," Reverend Montgomery ordered. "Matthew, keep at it. I want to show him whatever we've got within the hour."
"Yes, sir," Matthew said quickly.
Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, January 1917
Robert held a teddy bear in his arms; the Nanny had just left the nursery with a sour expression on her face. It almost made him smile. Even though his grandson was only a few weeks old, it would appear he was already enforcing his will on others. This morning, Robert had a slight break from his duties, and he wanted to return home and place the newly purchased gift in the little chap's crib undetected. All of the toys that his grandson had seemed to come from a combination of old mementos of Matthew's or items that Mary had purchased in London. Robert felt as though the Manchester side of the family were having an undue influence on the future Earl of Grantham and he needed to even the score.
Robert opened the door to the nursery and quietly walked inside. He stopped suddenly when he saw Mary sitting facing away from him in the rocking chair, the baby obviously bundled in her arms as she rocked back and forth.
"There, there, George," she chuckled. "Easy, now."
Robert smiled. George Crawley. The name of the patron Saint of England. The name of the King. A rather fitting choice, he had to admit. He was afraid that Mary would name the boy after Matthew's late father, thereby creating a constant reminder of who had taken her in when Robert had banished her. He was grateful that Matthew was far more reasonable.
Robert frowned when he heard a distinct sound, as though the baby was smacking his lips.
Mary laughed and cooed to her son some more.
Robert's mouth fell open in disbelief as he deciphered the scene before him. Though his daughter is turned away from him and he cannot see his grandson, the scene is unmistakeable. Even Cora with her American sense of values did not dare nurse her own children. How could Mary even think to do so?
He cleared his throat loudly to announce his presence, and Mary looked across the room with surprise. She quickly readjusted her blouse as she continued to rock George.
"Papa," she said cordially, if not warmly. "We weren't expecting you until next week."
"I had a free morning," Robert muttered, the stuffed bear hanging in his hand.
"Ah, well you can put that in his crib. Nanny will show it to him later," Mary said, turning back to her son. It does not go unnoticed by the Earl that she has implied by her choice of words that she will not be handling his gift for George. To the untrained ear, her comment would seem innocent, but Mary always chooses her words carefully and precisely, and Robert has long learned that, in his case, her intention is to cut deep.
Robert set the toy on a nearby table and stood back, not too close to see exactly what was happening.
"How is the little chap?" He finally asked.
"He is rather fussy actually," Mary said gently. "Isobel is coming up to see him tomorrow. She is worried about a possible ear infection. She said that Matthew had a lot of them as an infant."
The Nanny returned, and Robert said his polite goodbyes, relieved at the timing. With Isobel arriving shortly, the Manchester faction would have the run of the place through the weekend. He shook his head as he went downstairs and through to the library. Earlier, he expected he would have tea before going back to Sandhurst, but now he is tempted to try something stronger.
Dower House, Downton Village, Yorkshire, England, January 1917
"Do you think it's anything to be concerned about?" Cora asked.
"Certainly not," Isobel shook her head. "To be honest, I'm using it as an excuse to go up and see them. Why don't the two of you come along?"
"I'm afraid that I can't," Cora shook her head, taking a sip of her tea. "Although it does feel as though Mary has been gone for far longer than a week or so."
"I was thinking that George could call me Grandmamma, which would then leave Granny for you," Isobel smiled.
"I like that," Cora nodded. "Though I hope I have some time left to get used to it."
"One always thinks there is plenty of time before they utter their first words," Violet nodded knowingly. "Then you look up and they're reciting Shakespeare and you forget your own name for how often you are called 'Granny'."
"But you enjoy it," Cora teased.
"It does have a ring to it," Violet muttered.
Isobel smiled as she sipped her tea. She glanced about the room for a moment, finding her husband's photograph on the mantle. What he must think of her now…taking tea with the Countess of Grantham and the Dowager Countess, about to head off to London to see the two heirs presumptive to the Earl of Grantham. Their life in Manchester was not nearly as aristocratic or lavish as her husband's income could have allowed, and yet here she was. Even still, Isobel had to admit that beneath the titles, her Yorkshire family were far more than paying calls and organizing parties. If she herself hated to be judged by her background, then was it not wrong for her to assume there was no substance to her rich and powerful relations?
"I've been meaning to ask you, Cousin Isobel," Cora said carefully, putting her teacup down. "I know that Mary worked under your supervision in Manchester, and we obviously know that you were far more familiar with her than you let on when you first arrived."
"Yes?" Isobel nodded.
"How was she? As a nurse, I mean. I have such a difficult time picturing it, and yet to hear her speak of her time there, it's as though she found her calling somehow," Cora said.
Isobel smiled at both women, then put her own teacup down.
"You have every reason to be proud, cousin," Isobel said happily. "When I first met Mary, she was a bit of a mess. She wore a rather lovely gown that had no business in a hospital ward, and she was entirely stunned at her predicament. But, when she puts her mind to something, there is no stopping her. She has a way with people, which is how I know she will be a wonderful mother."
Cora looked at Violet and smiled.
"Would you like to hear more?" Isobel said.
"Yes, thank you," Cora grinned.
Room 40, Admiralty Building, Whitehall, London, England, January 1917
"What we know thus far is it's a coded communication meant for Heinrich von Eckhardt, the German ambassador to Mexico," Matthew explained. "We have about 70% of it decrypted so far. It speaks of submarine warfare against the Americans, and should that incite them to enter the War, the Germans propose an alliance whereby they will support Mexico retaking their lost territories."
"Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona," Nigel said. "The rest of the message is likely instructions and details, though we can't be sure until we finish with it."
"How long until you have it?" Admiral Sir William Reginald Hall asked, looking to each man.
"At least a week," Reverend Montgomery said. "The first part was based on an older diplomatic cipher, but Matthew thinks the last bit is new. We've tried to use a cipher given to us by the Russians to decrypt it, but it's slow going."
"But you are confident of what you have so far?" Admiral Hall asked.
Reverend Montgomery looked at Nigel, then looked back at the Admiral.
"Yes, sir," he nodded.
"Proceed," Admiral Hall ordered. "Keep me updated on your progress. I don't want to involve the War Office until we are certain of the entire message."
"Sir, February 1 is less than two weeks away," Matthew said. "That part of the message is clear. Should we not send word to the Americans through the appropriate channels?"
Admiral Hall turned to Matthew and looked at him inquisitively.
"What Matthew means, sir," Reverend Montgomery interjected. "Is that we may have enough already to warn them."
"At the risk of revealing that we both have the capacity to intercept and decode both German and American messages? I think not," Admiral Hall shook his head. "The information, if true, certainly needs to be sent to the Americans. However, we cannot afford to lose our advantage. It would be a political embarrassment were we to disclose that we have been spying on their messages for some time now."
"Sir, with all due respect, if we hold back, then the Germans will attack American ships on February 1. They'll be unprepared and unarmed, sir," Matthew continued.
"Mr. Crawley," Admiral Hall said patiently. "The Germans will proceed on February 1. Nothing will stop that. Such action may be interpreted by the Americans as a clear sign of War, which may finally force them to move off their arses and enter the fray. This message, and the existence of it, shall not change either of those outcomes – the German escalation of submarine warfare, or whatever response the Americans elect to take."
Matthew opened his mouth to speak and the Admiral raised his hand to stop him.
"If we decide to reveal this message, the Americans will ask how we came across it. They will want to know how we were able to decrypt it, and more importantly, how we were able to intercept it from their diplomatic channel. How can we show them the message is not a forgery without revealing that we both know their encryption as well as the German ciphers? If the Germans discover we are able to break their codes, they will change them, putting us at a disadvantage for further messages that may be far more important than this one. Do you understand the gravity of this situation now, young man?" Admiral Hall asked.
"Yes, sir," Matthew nodded. "You need a cover story to sell to the Americans."
Admiral Hall's eyes narrowed as he looked at Matthew. His lips then twitched in a smirk. He looked at Reverend Montgomery and Nigel knowingly, then turned back to Matthew.
"Get me the complete message, Mr. Crawley," Admiral Hall said crisply. "Once all three of you can confirm to me what it says, I'll hear your proposals on a cover story that suits our purposes."
"Yes, sir," Matthew saluted.
Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, January 1917
When Matthew returned from work, he typically went straight to the nursery, and tonight was no different. His feet climbed the stairs with impatience.
As Matthew approached the nursery, he could hear Mary laughing. It was the kind of sound he could imagine from the life he had thought they would have someday in Manchester. The soft banter of voices continued as he heard his mother speak though he couldn't make out her exact words. He knocked lightly on the door, then came into the room.
"Ah, you're home," Mary smiled at her husband. George gurgled as he swayed in her arms.
"Hello, darling," Matthew smiled, coming over and sitting down next to her. He kissed her cheek, then smiled at George.
"How was the train, Mother?" he asked, still looking at his son.
"Wonderfully uneventful," Isobel smiled. "And I'm pleased to report that George is perfectly healthy."
"Thank you," Matthew nodded, looking up at his mother. "I suppose the next thing you'll say is that he gets his fussiness and urge to squirm about from me."
Mary laughed.
"Not knowing anything about how Mary was as a baby, I will have to say yes," Isobel smiled.
"Careful, Matthew," Mary looked at him pointedly.
"I would not dare cast aspersions about how you behaved as an infant, darling," Matthew said, reaching over and lifting George into his arms. He rose from the chair and carried him towards the door.
"But if your behaviour as a young lady is any indication…" he threw over his shoulder before carrying his son out of the room.
Mary huffed and rolled her eyes. Isobel laughed.
"How are you finding London?" Isobel asked.
"Remarkably I am enjoying myself quite a bit," Mary nodded, rising from her chair. "We've been home mostly since we came back, but when we do go out, even if it's just for a walk, I'm not as anxious as I was before. Back in December even, we would still get the odd stare or strange glance from time to time, but I've learned to ignore it. It's not that I'm pleased that marrying Matthew has suddenly given me legitimacy in some people's eyes, but it is nice not to be a complete pariah."
"Let others think what they want," Isobel agreed as they went out into the hall. "And how are things with Lord Grantham?"
"He's not around much, actually," Mary said as they moved towards the stairs. "He spends most evenings at Sandhurst. He did receive quite a shock the other day when he stumbled upon me nursing George however."
Mary smiled at the memory.
"Good heavens!" Isobel exclaimed. "It must have been quite the sight."
"Thankfully, we were facing away from him," Mary said. "But I suspect he was on the phone to Mama sputtering and condemning how Manchester has affected me. Mama called me soon afterward. She had enough tact not to be too overbearing."
"Well it was never my intention to drive a further wedge between you and Robert," Isobel shook her head. "You knew our position on this. Reginald and I were both strong proponents of breastfeeding. But, I can see why it would be considered unheard of in this world."
"I was terrified of it at first," Mary nodded as they reached the parlour and saw Matthew walking around singing quietly to George. "But I find I look forward to it. You must be disappointed that he still needs a wet nurse at night though."
"Not at all, Mary, dear," Isobel said, patting her arm. "You do what works for you and for your son. As I taught you, there is no perfect method for any of this. Whatever feels natural and proper to you, I find maternal instinct is far more reliable than medical textbooks."
They sat down and smiled as they watched Matthew cradle his son.
"Here we are, aren't we?" Isobel beamed. "At the risk of seeming sentimental, everything seems rather golden at the moment."
"Yes," Mary nodded, grinning widely as she played with her rings. "Yes, it does."
Anna opened the bedroom door and brought the tray into the darkened room. She walked easily through the shadows and placed the tray on the nightstand. She turned and began opening the curtains just enough to let light in. Lady Mary hated to take on the full brunt of the morning all at once.
"Good morning, Milady," Anna said as she went to each of the windows.
"Mmm…Anna," Mary mumbled, blinking several times. She stretched her arm out and frowned as she realized Matthew's side of the bed was empty.
"Mr. Crawley had an early breakfast with Mrs. Crawley before he left for work," Anna explained.
"Yes, I do remember him leaving at an ungodly hour," Mary said, sitting up. "Is Isobel still downstairs?"
"She went out for a walk, and I think she is meeting friends later," Anna said, moving over and arranging Mary's pillows behind her before taking the tray to place across Mary's lap.
"I mentioned to Mrs. Crawley that you would be out shopping for most of the day and would return in time for dinner," Anna added.
"Ah, yes," Mary smiled nodding at the idea. "Today I get to shop for my new dress."
"Is it for a special occasion, Milady?" Anna asked, going into the dressing room to fetch her Mistress' clothes for the day.
"Mr. Crawley is taking me out this weekend," Mary smiled, biting into her toast.
"That is as good a reason as any," Anna smiled.
"It is, Anna," Mary nodded as her maid poured her tea. "I need a frock befitting our first proper night out together since George was born."
Madame Kate Reily's, of Dover Street, London, England, January 1917
"What do you think, Lady Mary?" Madame Kate asked, stepping back from the raised platform that Mary was standing upon.
Since she was buying out of season, Mary had the illustrious dressmaker all to herself, and she was enjoying this fitting more than usual. Madame Kate personally supervised every detail while her many assistants floated about the room. With all of her family having returned to Yorkshire, Mary had no Mama to critique her selections, no Edith to snicker or be jealous and no Sybil to fawn over all of the selections. She also did not need to explain herself to anyone. She could take her time and find the perfect dress for her evening with Matthew.
"The colour is good," Mary nodded. "As for the rest of it," she hesitated, turning this way and that and looking at her profile in the mirror.
"We still haven't found it have we?" Madame Kate asked. The dressmaker had outfitted Mary during her Season and had only recently been dressing her again. Of course, Madame Kate had heard all of the rumours about Mary, including directly from some of her other customers. She didn't pay any attention to it. Mary had a keen eye for fashion, which Madame Kate appreciated, and if the dressmaker had learned one thing in her career, it was the more people spoke ill about someone, the more formidable the person must be. Nothing signalled a forerunner in the fashion world like jealousy.
"No," Mary said frankly.
"I have another gown I could show you in this same colour, if you don't mind something modern? Before I show it to you, I must warn you not to expect another gown," Madame Kate said seriously.
Mary was intrigued and nodded her approval.
Madame Kate clapped her hands and the assistant closest to the bureau stepped forward and cautiously removed several pieces of clothing.
"I present the shirt-waist and accompanying skirt, direct from Paris. The dark burgundy and velvet will accentuate your complexion and figure."
Mary was stunned by the glamorous design, but it was certainly not what she was searching for in an evening gown to wear for Matthew. After all, it was simply a blouse matched with a skirt.
"No," she said, even as she stared at the clothing. "It's too simple for the ocassion."
Madame Kate smiled as though she alone knew a secret.
"The future always appears simple at first," she said casually, "And this modern design is the future. After all, it looks like a gown doesn't it? The stitching is seamless and the two pieces of clothing act as though they are one. They are separate and yet together. It is perfect to impress your husband. And, might I add, it will make you the talk of the town."
Madame Kate instructed her assistant to move towards Mary and further inspect the clothing.
"I'm hardly eager to be the talk of the town," Mary frowned. She had to admit that the fabric did feel quite supple and luxurious. She knew Matthew would love it. The scooped neckline and flared waist accented her figure perfectly. Mary could see that without even trying it on.
"If I may suggest, Lady Mary," Madame Kate said quietly. "Perhaps it is time that you take charge of what others say about you, rather than allow others to dictate the message?"
Mary raised her eyebrow and looked over the dress once again.
"Can you remove the sleeves and shorten the hem?" Mary asked, a slight smirk coming to her lips.
"For you, anything, Lady Mary," Madame Kate smiled, clapping her hands once again.
Room 40, Admiralty Building, Whitehall, London, England, February 1917
"I still am against releasing it," Admiral Hall said, shaking his head. "The Germans have returned to patrolling the Atlantic to stop American supplies from reaching us. The Yanks will have to respond. Everything is in motion without having to make use of this and compromise our abilities," he said, waving the decrypted telegram around.
"Sir, there is far more to the message than the resumption of submarine warfare," Matthew said. "We've confirmed that the Germans have actively thrown their support behind Mexico as an inducement to draw the Americans into a War over the former territories. Beyond trying to stop the United States from entering the War, it also suggests that Mexico try and bring Japan to the side of the enemy. This is no longer about warning the Americans. This message contains a legitimate threat to the British Empire."
Admiral Hall looked at Reverend Montgomery and sighed. "He's the lawyer that you found?"
"Tested better than anyone else we've seen, sir," Reverend Montgomery nodded with a slight smirk.
"Matthew, the Mexicans won't engage the Americans. Even with the Germans backing them, they don't have the military power or the resources to take back those territories and hold them," Admiral Hall said.
"Sir, that's all the more reason to disclose this telegram to the United States," Matthew replied. "The threat itself is insignificant, but the political weight that this message would carry may be enough to bring them in."
"So you're a believer that with the Americans, we would turn the tide, then?" Admiral Hall asked.
"I'm a believer in any measure that will end this War and spare my son from being touched by it," Matthew nodded.
Admiral Hall exhaled and looked over the message again. He read each line, painstakingly decrypted by Matthew, Nigel and Reverend Montgomery over the past three weeks.
"Monday," Admiral Hall finally declared. "I'll bring it to the Foreign Office on Monday. But without a strategy on how we are to cover for the manner in which we obtained it, I believe it still does more harm than good."
"We can say we intercepted it through other channels," Nigel suggested.
"How?" Admiral Hall asked. "The Americans know that the cable goes through us. We control it. How else would we come about it?"
"From the Mexicans," Matthew said slowly, his eyes widening in realization.
"Come again?" Admiral Hall asked.
"The telegram has to reach von Eckardt in Mexico," Matthew said, looking from one man to another. "Our cable only goes to Washington. The Germans still need to send it on once it arrives."
"Which means they need to send it by telegraph to their embassy in Mexico," Nigel nodded.
"If we get the coded message on the Mexican side, we can show it to the Americans and tell them that we intercepted it there, not here," Matthew said, his voice rising.
"There would be no dedicated diplomatic channel from the Germans to the Mexicans, so they'll need to use commercial telegraph," Reverend Montgomery added.
"At best they could encrypt it, but they would use a cipher that we already have, and there's no risk in telling the Americans that we have that cipher," Matthew said.
"At worst, the Germans would know one of their codes was compromised, but not the full extent of our capabilities," Admiral Hall said.
"By showing the Americans the message captured in Mexico, together with the proper cipher will prove that the message is authentic, and that will convince them we aren't making this up," Matthew said firmly.
"Well, we need to track down a source at the commercial telegraph office in Mexico then," Admiral Hall said. "Good work all of you. I still have my doubts, but I am slowly being convinced."
"Admiral, sir," one of the office girls called as she approached. "A message for you, sir."
Admiral Hall nodded and took the paper. He scanned it, then passed it to Reverend Montgomery.
"The Americans have just declared they are breaking off all relations with Germany in light of the submarine attacks of this week," Admiral Hall said. "It appears as though the time to strike is approaching. Good day, gentlemen."
Matthew saluted as the Admiral turned and left the office with the decoded message.
"Every once in a while, we do something exciting around here, don't we, Matthew?" Nigel joked.
"We're British Intelligence, Nigel," Matthew smirked. "I should hope we're good for something."
The Savoy Hotel, Westminster, London, England, February 1917
"You seem rather pleased with yourself," Mary smiled as they danced. "You've been smiling all evening."
"Why shouldn't I be?" Matthew teased, raising his eyebrow at her. "I'm dancing with a beautiful woman in a gorgeous red dress. I'm the envy of every man here."
Mary blushed slightly as she looked over his shoulder. She did notice numerous glances thrown their way throughout dinner and now into the dancing as well. At first she thought it was merely the usual interest of hosts and busboys attending to them, but she did see the odd wandering eye of some of the other men in the room, as well as a few caustic looks from the women.
"Perhaps they merely envy you for taking a turn with the infamous Lady Mary Crawley?" Mary whispered to him, shivering as his hand slid along her back. The thin material of her new frock seemed to transmit the warmth of his touch across her skin. "They know exactly what's in store for you. I'm known for serving myself up on a platter to any man, you know."
"The only thing you are known for tonight is wearing a stunning gown that shall have the fashion pages agog by Monday," Matthew said confidently. "As well as marrying far below your station, both in terms of looks and class."
"Don't you dare talk about my husband like that," Mary said mockingly. "I'll have you know that it was he who took pity on me, in fact, and I won't stand for a single false word to be uttered against his character."
"Well I'm afraid that you will have to take pity on me if we are to make it through the rest of this evening, darling," Matthew said against her ear. "The way you look tonight, I am having serious thoughts of renting a suite for the night and spiriting you upstairs this very moment."
"That offer sounds very enticing," Mary said sultrily. "But we both know that you enjoy looking in on George before we retire, even so late in the evening, so there shall be no overnight stays for you, Mr. Crawley."
"Very well," Matthew nodded, spinning them about the dance floor as they waltzed.
"You're still avoiding my question," Mary smirked. "Why are you so enthusiastic this evening? Did something go well at work? When you said that you had to go in on a Saturday, I was afraid you were going to call off our evening out."
"The German Army itself could not stop me from taking you out tonight, my darling," Matthew smiled, kissing her cheek quickly. "But you are right. We had a bit of a breakthrough today and I am hopeful that it will lead to some very good news in the coming days."
"Mmm, well, congratulations are in order then," Mary smiled as the dance came to an end. She nodded to him slightly as she stepped back. "This calls for champagne."
"Are you trying to ply me with alcohol, Lady Mary?" Matthew looked at her piercingly as he escorted her back to their table.
"Not at all, darling," she smiled at him as he held out her chair for her to sit down. "I want you in full command of all of your faculties when we get home," she said playfully, watching him swallow as he sat down across from her.
Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, February 1917
"Is he asleep?" Mary asked as Matthew came into the bedroom.
"Yes," Matthew laughed. "He has a particular way of breaking out of his swaddling blanket during the night. He always ends up throwing his one arm above his head for some reason."
"Well, I never did that," Mary said pointedly.
"And you recall how you slept as an infant, do you?" Matthew laughed, sitting down on the end of the bed.
"I was the most well behaved child, Matthew," Mary glared at him. "It was only once I got to Manchester that I was corrupted."
Matthew laughed, leaning back on his arms as he watched her prepare for bed. He had removed his jacket and vest when he came home, and was now dressed only in his shirt, which was open at the collar, and his pants.
Mary rose from her vanity and walked over to him. She stepped between his legs and leaned over him, kissing him firmly. His hands reached up to hold her hips through her thin nightgown. She smiled against his lips and firmly removed his hands.
"No touching, Matthew," she said thickly. "Not yet."
"Mmm, Mary," he sighed against her mouth.
"Did you like my dress tonight?" she asked lightly, kissing his cheek, then his neck, her hands going to his shoulders and she stood over him.
"Very much," Matthew nodded, his eyelids fluttering closed. "Madame Kate outdid herself."
"Thank you for buying it for me," Mary smiled, her fingers moving down and unbuttoning his shirt. She pulled it from his trousers and pushed it open, baring his chest and torso to her hands.
"Of course, darling," Matthew whispered, his head falling back as she kissed his collarbone. "I wanted tonight to be special for you."
"It has been, indeed," she smiled. She deftly placed her legs on either side of his thighs and sat in his lap. Matthew's eyes shot open. He groaned as she felt her body settle over him.
"Did you enjoy seeing those men stare at us tonight?" she asked, kissing him once more. "Did you enjoy seeing their envious glances? Knowing how jealous they were that you would be taking me home tonight?"
"I…I didn't notice," Matthew rasped, swallowing as she nibbled on his ear lobe and licked his cheek.
"So you don't enjoy showing me off, Matthew?" Mary smiled. "You aren't proud of being the one man to claim me?"
"I…I don't think of you like that, Mary," Matthew exhaled. His hips began moving against her, the thin fabric of her nightgown doing nothing to stop the feel of her breasts rubbing against his bare skin. "You aren't a doll for me to parade around."
"You're such a gentleman, darling," Mary chuckled, reaching down and slowly undoing his belt. "But you still have your pride, don't you? Aren't you the least bit smug that you're the only man who has ever had me?"
Matthew groaned loudly at her words. She undid his belt and reached into his pants. He groaned louder.
"You're my only lover, Matthew," Mary drawled, smiling at his obvious reaction. "You're the only man to ever teach me to do the things that you have."
"God, Mary!" Matthew growled, moving against her hand. "Please."
"I'm yours, darling," Mary said, kissing him, her hand moving faster. "Open your eyes, Matthew."
Matthew opened his eyes and stared entranced at her swollen lips, her dark gaze and her flushed skin.
"Take me," she snarled.
Matthew circled her waist with one arm and held her back with the other. He flipped them over on to the bed quickly, smiling lustfully as he heard Mary moan from her back hitting the bed. They threw off their remaining clothes frantically before he flung the blanket over them and his lips came crashing against hers. She moaned into his mouth as he lifted her leg, spreading her open for him. Her hands moved down his back and grasped his buttocks just as he thrust forward. She responded to him instantly, bucking against him as he moved faster. They both knew they would not last long, the tension caused by her words and their teasing from earlier threatening to snap at any moment.
Matthew captured her mouth once more, their tongues jabbing at each other as their hips moved back and forth in concert. He reached back and took hold of her arm, pulling it off of him and sliding his hand along her soft skin until their fingers linked together. He pushed her hand up above her head, holding it there as they both moved faster, their cries muffled by their joined lips.
He felt her tighten around him and she moaned into his mouth as she melted, her thighs squeezing his hips as he pushed forward. He was with her shortly afterward, their fingers locking together tightly as he released.
The lights of London stretched off into the dark evening sky outside as Mary and Matthew took a brief rest.