A/N. Hello all!
Once again, I thank you for reading this fic of mine. Please please please don't forget to leave a review and big thanks for those who already did. Each review would fuel me drive to write some more. (Yes, I am desperate :P)
Also I'd like to remind you all that this is an Alternate Universe of Downton Abbey and Candy Candy and the plots of the original are slightly changed to fit my scatterbrain - imagination.
Special shout out for the lovely GosiaKin for beta-reading this chapter of A Little Fall of Rain.
Mata ne!
Chapter 6
A cloud of mist formed around her face each time she exhaled. Her heartbeat drummed in tune of her horse's hooves as they pummeled through the earth. Beacon Hill greeted her with the first morning light rising upon its bosom.
It took just one small flick of her riding stick to send her white stallion into a dash. The animal was fast; they quickly reached the top of the mount. From there she could see everything she held dear. Downton Abbey stood proudly at the east, the estate gardens to the west, the village to the north and rolling hills of green pastures on all ends. The estate was the most significant and fertile of lands on Hampshire, and one of the most precious gems of England but to her, it was just home. It was her pride yes, but mostly, it was her beloved retreat, her haven.
The square grand house and land had been in their family for ages and her father taught her how to love and care for it like a cherished sister.
She had always been sure that she would rein queen over it all even if she didn't have the title. It had been settled long time ago that her cousin and fiancé Patrick Crawley will one day inherit the line as the next Earl of Grantham and she, as his wife, would be the Lady of the House. Her future and position was secured and so was her unfailing self confidence. Together they were going to continue the legacy of her ancestors and sire the next string of heirs for their proud family lineage.
Yes. Those had been their plan.
Roaring festivities resonated from the village followed by exultant church bells. Her horse grew impatient and scraped the grass and ground beneath them. She patted her steed's shoulder and pulled the reins. The northern wind pressed hard on her face as the horse galloped away towards the parish chapel.
All the villagers were out on the streets. They cheered when they saw her coming. Each person bowed down as she rode past them. Not a single head bobbed up to meet her warm brown eyes. She searched for an explanation, for the gaiety. Instead, she was greeted with deafening silence as she reached the center of the village plaza. Not one of the faces dared to look up.
With one exception. Suddenly, an old woman dressed in rags and heavily blemished shouted in the middle of the crowd. "Boo! Boo! Boo to the Lady Swine!" she ranted. "The Lady Filth! The Lady Slut. Look at her! Riding with her dirty nose up in the air while she stands naked before us. Shame! Dishonor! Shame!"
Lady Mary Crawley staggered back from the indictment. Cold sweat trailed on her back as she suddenly noticed she was indeed stark naked. The crowd slowly tilted their heads. They looked at her with burning eyes of anger and disgust. She tried to maneuver out of the place but they soon circled around her. Her throat constricted. Her chest heaved. She opened her mouth to scream but to her astonishment, she could not even manage to produce a terrified yelp.
"Shame! Shame! Swine! Slut!" the mob chanted.
In attempt to cover herself with her arms, she lost her balance and fell. She fell swiftly but never reached the ground. She just kept falling and falling and falling in dizzying heights.
"Mary! Mary?" The husky sound of her grandmother's voice was her salvation. Her eyes shot open; grateful to see that it was just another dream.
"Dear child, are you alright? You're soaked in sweat." Martha Levinson, her American grandmamma, rubbed her back for comfort. "Here, drink some water. It will calm your nerves."
"Thank you, Nana. It was just another dream. Thank Lord!" Mary replied out of breath. She gulped down the water to quench her parched throat.
Mary looked around her surroundings. For a minute everything felt out of place until she realized that she wasn't at her room in Downton anymore. She was in a posh hotel in Chicago, sharing the suite with her grandmamma. Even as reality seeped back in, she kept her eyes peeled open, scared that she would relapse into the dream world yet again.
After she caught her breath she slowly took her first steps to begin her morning routine. She washed up, undressed and dressed again. Her grandmother's ladies maid helped fixed her hair and then after an hour she was ready for breakfast.
Despite her efforts to forget her bad dream, it remained vivid in her mind, making her lose appetite. She forced herself to eat anyway but the images of her past kept coming back. She couldn't help but contemplating on her past once more. How quickly life can change! She was the blooming radiant heiress of twenty four when the news of Patrick's death in the Titanic reached their home. How sad it had been for all of them! And how devastated she had been soon after, when her father didn't do anything to fight for her inheritance! How disappointing it was that instead of caring for her, he chose to adopt a distant relative as his entail and gave him everything that was made to be hers– that of course, had she been born a boy…
If only…
And what of this third cousin-once-removed new heir of a joke? A middle class lawyer and son of a middle class doctor?
That alone was enough for everybody to welcome Cousin Matthew with cold shoulders. Except for her father. Of course. The presence of this commoner in their so far impeccable life was a bad news to her and everybody else – but not to her father. He had conveniently ignored his family's uneasiness; he finally had someone he could call a "son". Just like he had always wanted.
And her? Oh, how she had despised this cousin Matthew's face! His face, his lack of control over himself, his irritating opinions, his lack of gentlemanly manners, his clumsy hands, incapable of even holding a knife properly, his entire, full-of-himself persona, his voice – everything! She had wanted to have nothing to do with… him.
Little had she known back then, that later on, he would one day become a center of her universe, whether she liked it or not.
However, Fate had other plans for her and Cousin Matthew. She lost him first to bad advice and the eruption of the Great War delivered the final blow to end everything even before they really started. He had found a sweet girl on one of his leaves and swiftly got engaged. Gone was her first true love and gone was her security.
On her road to perdition, she met Richard Carlisle. He wasn't a charming young man as Matthew. He wasn't a romantic either. But he was beyond rich and powerful. Owning a number of newspaper magnates both in Britain and America; his influence in politics was surreptitiously open. She was flattered when he approached her and proposed a well gauged partnership. Richard felt that he was entitled to be amongst the ruling class and saw that the Mary as his entrée to that life. Well aware of her age and vulnerable position, and to prove that she had moved on, Mary agreed.
It would have been a good match if only her sister Edith kept her nose on her own business. Apparently, her own family was the source of a rumor in London. A rumor that she not virtuous. A rumor that was true. Upon reaching Richards office, the raging gossip was suddenly shot down. He confronted Mary about the matter. Surprisingly, he turned the cards around using the information to secure Mary's loyalty and a speedy union.
It was only weeks before their wedding when her father summoned her to the library.
"Can I ask you something?" Lord Grantham inquired as soon as she got settled.
"Of course."
"Do you stay with Carlisle because he has threatened to expose a story of Mr. Pamuk dying on your bed?"
Her father's words shot ice through and veins and froze her blood. What's worse is that there was no trace of disdain in her father's eyes. Only love and concern. Which hurt her even worse.
"When did you find out?" Mary replied avoiding Lord Grantham's watch.
"Your mother told me when I asked her 'Why do you were still with Carlisle while you were very tired of him.'"
"How very disappointed you must be?"
"Your mama chose her moment well. And you're not the first Crawley to make a mistake."
"To answer your question, it is partly true. Though not entirely." Mary explained. "In Mama's words, I am… damaged goods. Now, Richard is prepared to marry me after all in spite of it. To give me a position. To give me a life."
"And that's worth it?" her father fumed. "Even though he already sets your teeth on edge."
Lord Grantham stood up and poured himself a brandy. He decided he didn't need a drink. He faced Mary.
"Here's what I think." He resolved. "Break with Carlisle. Go to America. Stay with your grandmother until the fuss dies down. You may find the New World is to your taste."
"He will keep my secret if I marry him." she argued.
"Once I might have thought that a good thing."
"I don't want my daughter to be married to a man who threatens her with ruin. I want a good man for you. A brave man. Find a cowboy in the Middle west for you and bring him home to shake us up a bit."
"Oh Papa!" Mary's tears fell on her cheeks. Deeply touched with her fathers support, she threw her arms around him and melted against his protective arms.
And now, she is here. Sadly there were no cowboys in the Midwest however; there was a most popular amiable man in Chicago.
According to her Nana, his family was their number one competitor in the dry foods business. He was held to be good looking, young and generous but also eccentric and a radical. She really wasn't in the mood for anymore fiancée hunting until she finally saw him face to face. All the rumors were true and more!
She was surprised how quickly she was swept of her feet just when she thought she could never love again.