Chapter Seven – An Undoing
At Crawley House the next morning, Matthew rose early despite his amorous pursuits with Mary of the prior evening. He believed that he had never slept so well since long before the War, before the nightmares, before his heartbreak with Mary so long ago. When he crossed the threshold of the dining room, his mother was there to greet him.
"Matthew, good morning, my dear! How are you feeling this morning?" she inquired with the appropriate dose of maternal concern.
"I'm fine, Mother," he answered, settling in. "Never better."
"Why, when you left early last evening, Cousin Robert said you had a headache."
"Quite right. I drank more wine than was good for me, I'm afraid." Matthew shot her a quick smile. Moseley poured his tea. "Thank you, Moseley." He picked up the newspaper.
"I'm glad it was nothing more than that. You must be pleased with yourself, having pulled the wool over my eyes so thoroughly yesterday. You gave me not the tiniest inkling of your engagement with Mary." Isobel smiled brightly.
"I rather think I surprised myself," Matthew replied. "You can give yourself some credit, Mother. You reminded me daily of my prospects with her."
"Yes, and you see, I was right all along," she replied smartly. Matthew grinned at her. His mother continued, "I'll be going up to the hospital shortly. Will I see you for luncheon?"
"Unfortunately, no. I have meetings at Ripon and then I'm going to try and see Mary early before dinner."
Isobel sighed. "Somehow I cannot imagine Lady Mary Crawley installed in this house. It doesn't seem grand enough for her."
"Mother…" Matthew started in a warning tone.
"Matthew, you know I'm very fond of Mary. I have no doubt of her genuine feelings for you. But think of it. She is used to a bevy of servants catering to her every whim day and night."
Matthew was matter-of-fact when he answered her. "We will, all of us, have adjustments to make. And we are all considerate rational thinking beings. I'm sure we will manage."
"I'm sure you're right," Isobel gave her son a perfunctory smile. "I'm off then. We'll see you at dinner." She kissed him on the cheek and left the room.
Matthew put down his newspaper and stared out of the window. Adjustments. He had never thought of the more practical aspects of his union with Mary. Things would fall into place, he assured himself. Everything else had up until now. He knew it was early still. But their relationship was so much more than tender sentiments or carnal appetites. It had proven itself, to him at least, to be a love so deeply entrenched in their natures that it would not be denied by any circumstance, no matter how great. They had both travelled a long, meandering and arduous path to get to this point. He felt enormously lucky yet he questioned that it was luck at all. It was simply meant to be and it would be, despite everything or anyone. He reached into the pocket of his tweed jacket, pulled out the scented handkerchief and held it to his nose. Enough, he thought to himself. He would see her later this afternoon. It was time to focus on other things. He folded his newspaper and set off for Ripon.
Lord and Lady Grantham sat in quiet contentment over their breakfast tea, each preoccupied by their respective dailies. They both looked up when Mary entered. "Good morning, Mary," her mother greeted her.
"Yes, good morning," Lord Grantham rejoined. "Did you sleep well?"
"Very well, thank you, Pa-pa," Mary replied. She graced them both with a broad smile.
"You look lovely this morning, Mary. Do you have plans?" Cora's eyes were bright as she addressed her daughter.
"Not really, Ma-ma. I had hoped that we could turn our minds to the wedding. There is so much to be decided," Mary replied. "I'm quite overwhelmed."
"First and foremost, there is the guest list. We can go over that later this morning, if you like," Cora suggested.
"Perfect," Mary answered. "Matthew and I are planning a day trip to London tomorrow. I will have time then to browse the shops."
Lord Grantham looked up from his newspaper. "You're going to London tomorrow with Matthew? Have you told him this?"
"Told him? He invited me," Mary replied in surprise. "Pa-pa, we're no longer children. Besides, I will probably spend more time with Aunt Rosamund than Matthew. He has business there."
"Not very pleasant business. I should think that you would not hazard revisiting Sir Richard Carlisle so soon," her father replied with caution in his phrasing.
"Whatever do you mean, Pa-pa? I can assure you we have no business with him." Mary sipped her tea. "And London is far too big to pose even the slightest concern over a chance meeting."
Lord Grantham said nothing further. He returned to his paper.
Mary paused. "You can't mean that Matthew's business is with Sir Richard?" she asked her father pointedly.
"It is not for me to say, Mary," her father answered. "You best discuss it with Matthew."
"Pa-pa, please," Mary appealed to him. "What has Matthew told you?"
Lord Grantham could not believe that he had wandered into this emotional minefield like a blind man. Thinking he might mitigate his damages, he tried to reassure her. "He is concerned for you, Mary. He means to meet with Carlisle to convince him not to publish the story."
Mary was dumbfounded. Lady Cora's mouth was agape. She turned to Mary, "Matthew knows of Pamuk? You told him?"
"I told him days before he proposed," Mary replied. "Not that it matters. He told me it meant nothing to him. Now I see that he was mistaken." Mary rose from her chair.
"Mary, you are mistaking his motives. Don't be angry," her father urged.
"Please excuse me." Mary did not look at either of them. She left the room quickly.
Lord Robert spoke first. "I know what she's thinking but she's wrong. Matthew is far above such pettiness. And Mary knows him better than any of us." Lord Grantham folded his paper and placed it beside his dinnerware.
"I think we may have underestimated the depth of her feeling," Lady Cora replied softly. "Mary has always hid her fears well. She may be worried that Matthew will have second thoughts."
"Then she doesn't know him at all," uttered Lord Robert.
"I'll give her time to sort her thoughts. Then I'll speak with her." She rose from her chair.
Lady Cora went to Mary's room within the half-hour. She was not there. Despite the best efforts of Her Ladyship and the servants, she was nowhere to be found.