2. The Solicitor's Wife
She is early, and Matthew's last client for the morning is still in his office, so she waits. She has managed to convince the assistant that she need not be announced (she can be quite persuasive, really, and she thinks Granny would be proud); he has gone to luncheon, and she is alone. The door to the office is slightly open, and the conversation slips out to her ears. She supposes it's improper for her to listen, but they appear to be mostly done now, exchanging some idle comments while Matthew finishes doing... something.
She really ought to learn more about what he does all day.
"Are you a dog enthusiast, Mr. Crawley?" the client asks.
"Hmm?" Matthew sounds distracted, like he does when she interrupts him while he's reading. "I like dogs well enough, but I don't have one of my own, if that's what you mean," he says politely.
"I just noticed you have a little toy dog on your desk," the client replies, and her eyes widen in surprise. She knows what it must be that has caught the man's eye, though she hadn't known it had ended up here.
Matthew confirms her suspicions. "Oh, that. My wife gave it to me. As a—a good luck charm, of sorts." Mary feels a slight thrill at hearing the phrase my wife used so casually, referring to her. It is the first time she's noticed it since their honeymoon; they don't have much use for such descriptors at home, where everyone is perfectly aware of their relationship to each other.
"Does one normally need a great deal of luck to be successful as a solicitor?" the client jokes. "Should I be worried?"
"Sometimes, perhaps—" Matthew starts, and she catches the subtle cues in his inflection, realizes that he has paused to consider if he should disclose the full story behind the seemingly odd token he keeps of her. He must have decided against it: "—but in your case, Mr. Barnes, I don't believe we'll need any luck at all. Everything appears to be in order."
Then the men are standing and exchanging pleasantries and she hears footsteps and at last, this Mr. Barnes emerges from the office. He is startled to see her standing there, but recovers well. "Hello," he says, and nods as he passes her.
Mary knocks on the open office door and steps through the doorway. "So this is where you needlessly slave away all day," she says conversationally as she crosses the room to stand in front of his desk. She has accepted his desire to work, and he has accepted her desire to tease him about it: that's just how they are together, as she describes it.
His face brightens when he sees her, and she smiles in return. "Hello, darling," he greets her, coming around the desk to give her a kiss. "I'm glad to see you...and the food you've brought. I'm rather hungry."
She arches an eyebrow at him in mock annoyance. "What makes you so sure I've brought food?" she asks coolly, indicating the basket resting in the crook of her right arm.
"Well, you told me you were bringing me luncheon today, with the promise of your company, as well. As I have found you to be a woman of your word, and because I trust you completely, I have no choice but to assume that you did indeed bring food."
"Good answer," she grants him, "and you are correct in your assumption. But before we eat, I wanted to clarify something."
"Oh? And what is that?"
"Were you ever planning on returning my good luck charm to me? Because I only loaned it to you, you know. I thought I made that quite clear."
"Oh," Matthew says, clearly caught off guard. He reaches for the toy and offers it to her. "Of course, you may have it back if you wish. I only liked having it here because it reminds me of you," he tells her earnestly, all teasing gone.
She takes the toy in her left hand and tilts her head to the side, pretending to consider. "Well, now you have kept your word, and he is mine once again to do with as I please, and I think I shall put him... here." With a small flourish of her hand, she places the little dog back on the desk. "If you are going to be reminded of anything while you work, I suppose I'd like it to be me."
"Mary," he tells her quite honestly, "there's little chance of it being anything else."
"And I am glad to hear you say it. Still, I believe I will leave him here, just to be certain."
"Well then, my dear, with that settled, shall we go enjoy our picnic on this lovely day?"
He offers her his arm, and as they step outside into the midday sunlight, she decides that it matters very little where her good luck charm sits. She feels rather lucky anyway.