A/N: thanks again for your continued support! I'm glad so many people are enjoying the story :)

"Where did Mary go?" Lavinia called to Matthew, as she struggled to make her way through the kitchen door with three mugs of tea in her hands. "I heard the front door close a minute ago."

Matthew rose from his chair to help Lavinia with the steaming mugs. "She had to leave, something came up. Not sure what, though. I should probably invest in some sort of tea-tray, shouldn't I?" He digressed with a light chuckle, hoping Lavinia would accept Mary's sudden disappearance without further questioning. Luckily for him, she merely looked slightly perplexed but was happy to discuss various other utensils which Matthew's kitchen was in desperate need of.

Lavinia stayed for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. Having recently completed her PGCE, she was fortunate enough to immediately find a job teaching Year 6 pupils in a primary school in North London, and was currently making full use of the opportunity to tell her boyfriend all about her wonderful class and show him pictures of the papier-mâché Egyptian pharaoh masks they'd made on Thursday.

Matthew remained largely quiet during Lavinia's stories and ramblings, smiling fondly at her liveliness. It was a part of their relationship which he greatly appreciated- both of them being so passionate about their careers. He liked having a girlfriend who was so enthusiastic about her job, and even though Lavinia's new job meant she was now away from South London (and from him) for the majority of the week, Matthew was happy for her.

These pleasant thoughts were, however, continually pierced by sharp stabs of guilt. He felt like a cheat, like one of those footballers you read about in tabloids, like some kind of devious evil spirit. He discreetly looked at his watch- this time yesterday I was dancing with Mary, about to kiss her, he thought, recalling his glance at the clock the previous evening. And now I'm sitting with my girlfriend, pretending to attentively listen to her enthuse about her job, playing the good boyfriend, acting perfectly innocent.

Those pangs of guilt, which seemed years old now, were overlaid with fresher ones, springing from his treatment of Mary earlier that day. He'd only seen her cry once before, and that was after an argument with her parents over what she should do with her life; he'd found her sobbing in one of the corridors of her house, despairing over what was to become of her and if she would ever be happy. If it took that much to make her cry, Matthew thought, his words must have really hurt her. But he had no idea how to make amends; he imagined Mary would (rightly) be furious with him, plus any apology to her would necessarily be followed by a discussion of the events of Saturday night. Which is why Matthew was determined to continue to avoid Mary as much as he possibly could.

He knew it was extremely unfair to her; as he'd said to Tom, although she technically initiated the kiss, in reality he was at least half-responsible, given that he'd made every effort throughout the evening to get close to her. Furthermore, Mary had done the right thing by wanting to talk about it the next day. She'd gone straight to him without speaking to anyone else about it. Matthew, on the other hand, had given Tom all the gory details before running into Lavinia's open, unknowing, arms. Still, he told himself, he couldn't handle seeing Mary until he figured out what he wanted. For the moment, he believed that staying with Lavinia in their cosy and gentle relationship was the best course of action (or, rather, inaction).

But could he really continue on without telling Lavinia about the kiss? Was it truly so insignificant to him that it didn't even warrant a mention? He'd certainly deemed it significant enough to share with Tom- didn't that mean something? Matthew's mind was growing weary with all these unanswered questions. Maybe he should take a holiday to get some distance from his self-inflicted problems…

"Matthew?" Lavinia's hand touched his, shaking him out of his cocoon of confusion, into which he'd settled so well over the past 24 hours.

"Sorry, what?" Matthew realised he had no idea what Lavinia had been talking about for the last five minutes.

"I just asked what you thought." Lavinia replied, her expression slightly concerned at the blank look on her boyfriend's face. "Do you think the Toy Museum would be better than the British Museum?" Matthew began to shift nervously, his eyes darting around. He didn't want his 'good boyfriend' façade to slip. "For the school trip?" Lavinia helpfully provided.

"Oh, that! Well…I think the British Museum has more to offer, and they still have that Egyptian mummy on display, which would tie in nicely with what you've been doing in class." Matthew finished off smoothly, impressed with himself for recovering so well (or, at least, better than he usually would). Being with Mary so much must have helped me become a smoother talker, he mused, before immediately berating himself. Stop thinking about flipping Mary Crawley, you piece of scum.

And so poor, tormented Matthew battled his way through the evening with his girlfriend, forcing the self-reproach to his subconscious (where it would inevitably harass him while he slept that night) as Lavinia shyly leant forward to kiss him, her hands settling on his firm chest. Matthew was actually somewhat placated by the kiss, as it affirmed that he did still harbour feelings for her and gave him confidence that he could push forward and put the whole 'Mary' incident behind him. He tried to pour every ounce of affection that he could muster into the kiss, to persuade Lavinia that her boyfriend still loved her, and to persuade himself that was still the same 'Matthew' he'd always presumed himself to be. However, his attempts at persuasion faltered as soon as Lavinia pulled away to begin undoing her blouse. A part of Matthew's mind questioned whether he'd be able to do this, whether he was in a fit state of mind, whether doing this would make him an even worse person. The larger part of Matthew's mind, however, told him that he needed to do this, to confirm that he could continue the life he'd led before last night. So he smiled softly at Lavinia as he reached for her belt…

Matthew opened his eyes and turned his head to look across the bed. Lavinia had fallen asleep. After slowly extricating his hand from hers, he stared up the ceiling. He felt cleansed, in a way. It had been comfortable, familiar, and uncomplicated. Like our relationship, he supposed. He knew he could always rely on Lavinia to make him feel loved.

Yet, he found himself wondering- if Robert and Cora hadn't come home early, would he have lain in bed with Mary last night, like this? He inwardly cursed the traffic from London to Plymouth.

Mary idly flipped the pages of her magazine, uninterested in the haute-couture gowns that graced its pages. Today was passing by very slowly. Sighing from boredom, she casually flung the magazine onto the coffee table and glanced at her legs, outstretched on the sofa. Maybe I should get a pedicure today, she considered as she noticed her chipped nail polish. Actually- no. That would involve going outside.

Mary had spent all of Monday determinedly perusing the internet for job offers, sending off a personal record of four applications in a day, as well as a fruitful shopping trip to the King's Road and a relaxing facial. After spending all of Sunday evening locked in her room, alternately fuming and sobbing over Matthew's callous treatment of her, on Monday morning she awoke with a renewed fiery spirit, and decided to waste no more tears or time on that obnoxious fool. I am Mary Crawley and I do not need a man to feel good about myself.

Come Tuesday morning, however, it was a struggle for Mary to even get out of bed. A new tide of despondency washed over her. She didn't want to do any more job applications; there was no point- she was clueless as to what she wanted to do with her life. She didn't want to go out and pamper herself; there was no point- there was no man in her life to impress, and there probably never would be, at this rate.

Then she realised- over the last few months, every time she'd felt a burst of motivation to find herself a job, or to enrich her life somehow, Matthew had been the cause of it. She hated to even acknowledge it, but whether it was to catch his attention and impress him, or to shut him up and prove him wrong, the only thing that would definitely inspire Mary to take control of her life was Matthew Crawley. Even yesterday, she told herself, the only reason you were so zealous about life was because you wanted the chance to show him what he was missing out on.

Since she'd realised this at breakfast, her mind was once again filled with thoughts of Matthew. Did he really think she was trying to lure him away from Lavinia? Had he lost all respect for her? But why had he kissed her back with such passion? What had he and Lavinia gotten up to after she left? Mary cringed at the thought. Most importantly of all- why did this situation bother her this much? She'd met her fair share of idiotic men before; she'd even dated one of them when she was nineteen, only to find out the relationship wasn't as exclusive as she'd presumed. Yet, even that hadn't troubled her as much as this. Surely her feelings for Matthew can't be this strong? Maybe she was being overly-emotional because it was her time of the month soon? Mary began doing a quick mental calculation…

"You look like such a slob!" Sybil, now home for the summer holidays, laughed as she noticed her eldest sister dressed in a baggy top, leggings and fluffy socks. "It's about 25 degrees outside- why are you in socks, for heaven's sake?" She gestured to Mary to move her feet away so that she could sit down next to her. Mary lazily obliged.

"I'm not in a very 'go get 'em' mood today, Sybil." Mary replied softly, earning a look of concern from her youngest sister. Sybil rarely saw her looking so downcast.

"What's the matter?" Sybil knew she was unlikely to receive a proper response- Mary was famously guarded with her emotions, preferring instead to confide in her diary if she was having a bad day.

"Nothing really, I'm just not feeling too well today." Came the predictably evasive reply. "What are you doing today?" Mary hoped Sybil's answer would miraculously inject some enthusiasm into her to do something productive.

"I'm meeting a few friends in Hyde Park and then I've got a date in the evening." Sybil said excitedly.

"Oh, have you, darling?" Their mother's voice enquired, startling them both. Cora had a talent at picking up on any mention of 'boys' or 'dates' by her daughters, and apparating to wherever the conversation was taking place.

"Er…it's not really a proper 'date' as such, but-"

"Who is it with?" Cora cut off her daughter's feeble attempts at undermining the situation.

"A friend of Josie's." Sybil's reply was purposely vague.

"What does he do?" Cora had learnt to be patient when extracting information from her daughters about who they were seeing.

"I'm not sure about precisely what he does…" Sybil attempts to evade answering the questions were admirable, but Cora's expression made it clear that they were futile. Sybil wore a look of resignation. "He's a security guard." Seeing her mother's horror-stricken face, she hastily added "But he works in a law firm! A really good law firm, in the City!" Fortunately for Sybil, the housekeeper came in at that exact moment, informing Sybil that a package had arrived for her at the front door. She looked at her mother expectantly, the relief clear on her face.

"Go and see to that. But we're definitely going to be continuing this conversation later." Cora said, in her characteristic soft-but-firm tone which only her daughters had the privilege of hearing. Sybil stood up and left the room, her mouth in a petulant little pout.

Cora rolled her eyes and looked at Mary. "Honestly, I don't know what she's thinking, fooling around with these boys. She knows its wholly inappropriate!"

Mary was most definitely not in the mood for a conversation about boys, especially inappropriate ones. She remained silent, hoping her mother would pick up on this and drop the subject. Unfortunately, Mary's silence only served as an open platform for Cora to continue ranting about Sybil's choice in men.

"No matter how many times I explain what sort of man she should be aiming for, she wants to seek out the uneducated, ill-mannered ones, knowing your father and I won't approve." Cora sighed as she set about arranging the pillows on the settees. The housekeeper never could do it correctly.

This comment piqued Mary's interest. "So…are you saying that if a man is educated and well-mannered, he's suitable?" She asked as innocently as she could.

"Well, there are other factors to consider as well, Mary." Cora chuckled, as if this point was so obvious that it was ridiculous of Mary to think otherwise.

"Yes, of course, the money and the social-standing." Mary said drily as she rolled her eyes. "What if he had a good, professional job, and was well-respected amongst people in our social circle?"

Cora stopped what she was doing and looked at Mary suspiciously. "Who do you have in mind?" Mary could tell she'd tried to conceal the enormous curiosity that she felt. Despite her vagueness, this was the most candid that Mary had ever been about men, when speaking with Cora. Cora had a strong feeling that her daughter had her eye on somebody.

"Nobody in particular, I was just asking generally. For future reference." Mary said as nonchalantly as she could. She saw her mother raise an eyebrow at her- an eyebrow that seemed to say 'I am well aware that you are lying to me'. "Really." Mary said firmly.

"Well, again, it would all depend. Someone like James Chamberlain would be fine- the family's money doesn't go back very far but his father used to work in the same hedge fund as your father. He's well-travelled and just finished his CFA, so he'll be earning at least £100,000 a year from now on. And he always makes an appearance at all the society parties and networking events, so he's definitely got a bright future ahead of him." Cora finished. Sensing that this wasn't the answer that Mary was searching for, she continued slowly, her eyes fixed intently on Mary's expression. "Whereas someone like Matthew wouldn't be acceptable."

Mary couldn't prevent her eyes from darting up to meet her mother's. "Why not?" She exclaimed.

"Is there something going on between you and Matthew, Mary?" There was that soft-but-firm tone again, except it was slightly heavy on the 'firm' part. Cora's hand was on her hip and she gazed down at her daughter.

"No, of course not." Mary said dismissively, trying to make her mother's accusation sound preposterous. "But there are so many more men like Matthew than there are like James Chamberlain. I just think it would be a good idea for us to broaden our horizons." She stated simply. "It's not like Matthew's some kind of layabout idiot who wouldn't be able to support a family. Why is he so objectionable? I mean, why are men like him so objectionable…" Mary immediately corrected herself, annoyed that she was focussing on him so much.

The look of suspicion on Cora's face had not left. In fact, it had intensified. "We all know Matthew is a lovely young man, and he's doing well for himself, all things considered. But he's not from the same sort of background as us, Mary. That's what's important. You might not realise it now, but once you settle down you'll see that having the same upbringing and moving in the same social circles is very important in a marriage. It's what keeps you together. It's what makes your family a success. You have to consider the future of this family, of your children and descendents." Cora took the opportunity to dispense her advice, not being used to having Mary as a receptive audience.

"But surely what keeps two people together in a relationship is mutual respect, and friendship…and love?" Mary had made similar points to her parents before, but they'd usually been communicated in a much, much less disciplined tone. "You and Dad grew up in completely different countries, and you're still together!"

"We may have grown up in different places, but our breeding was very similar." Cora gave Mary a pointed look, warning her not to roll her eyes or make a sarcastic comment. Mary had always hated the word 'breeding'- it made her feel like a Labrador. "It helped us overcome all our other differences, because we understood each other. And your father appreciated that I knew how to speak to his colleagues, I knew how to look after the household, I knew how he wanted his children to be raised. And I appreciated similar things in him. We're a different type of family, Mary; we're subjected to much more scrutiny than the average family."

"We're not famous, Mum." Mary pointed out. She'd always felt that her parents were much more worried about their reputation than they needed to be. Her father was CEO of one of the country's leading investment banks, Crawley's, continuing the Crawley family's long tradition of working in the finance sector (one of Mary's ancestors had been Governor of the Bank of England in the nineteenth century). Last year, Robert's older brother passed away, bequeathing ownership of his group of luxury confectionary businesses to Robert; not being one to shirk responsibility, Robert refused to sell the businesses, instead maintaining a consultative role as a non-executive director of the parent company. He was, therefore, a very busy and successful man. However, anyone who didn't read the FT or the business section of national newspapers (which, let's face it, is most people), would probably have no idea who they were. "I highly doubt anybody's life would be drastically altered if I married someone 'middle class'. Besides, that whole notion of 'class' is dying out now."

"Maybe so. But it still makes sense to marry what you know. What if your father wanted to hand ownership of the businesses to his son-in-law, your husband? Would a teacher or a pharmacist be able to handle that? I'm not saying that there's anything at all wrong with those jobs, or with people who weren't privately educated or people who aren't wealthy. People like Matthew are wonderful to have as friends and contacts. But," she emphasised, "what I am saying is that, for a marriage, and to continue this family, those people just wouldn't be suitable. I'm afraid that's just the way it is." Cora stroked her finger down her daughter's cheek, seeing that she was unhappy with what she'd been told. "I know you think you won't find anyone like that who you truly like, but you needn't worry." She said comfortingly, not knowing what other troubles were plaguing her daughter's mind. "You have a queue of men waiting to get the chance to even speak to you. And you still have a few years to make your choice." Cora laughed lightly. "I'm not worried about you, darling. It's your sisters who are causing me concern."

As if on cue, Sybil returned to the living room, in the process of putting on a jacket. Evidently, she'd hoped her mother would have left by now. Her mouth reverted back to its previous pout as she saw that Cora was in fact ready and waiting to continue their conversation. Cora and Sybil were staring at each other so intently that neither of them noticed Mary silently wipe away a tear.

A/N: poor Mary! But do we feel sorry for Matthew too? Or is he still being a bit of an idiot?

The next chapter sees M&M meet for the first time since their rather tense encounter in the last chapter!