A/N: Happy Monday!

This chapter took longer than I'd hoped to write due a stressful week, but... here it is. Thank you SO much for your response to chapter 5 - I'm literally fascinated by how differently different people read it, and... it's just an absolute wonder. Thank you!

To introduce this chapter a little, I have borrowed heavily in scene and dialogue from episode 1x03. I hope you'll forgive me for doing that and understand why, as it is so ENTIRELY repurposed in the AU context of this fic, and actually so much of it just slotted into that context better than anything I could have made up myself. Rest assured that this is the case for this chapter alone, and the next will be back to entirely original.

Anyway. I hope you'll enjoy it, and thank you to EOlivet as always!

ETA: Possible trigger warnings here. Mary/Pamuk themes - just to let you know.

Chapter Six

Matthew blinked and stared up at the little church's side aisles, as golden sunlight streamed in through the stained-glass window spreading dappled patterns of colour over the cold stone floor. A little sigh escaped his lips, nodding as Edith read from the guidebook behind him.

"Yes, you can – see that, in the treatment of the stone," he murmured, his mind far away. Looking around churches of stone… Stone buildings, old, a temple… Mary… "Was the screen a Cromwell casualty?" He shook himself back to the present, taking a physical step to remove himself from the memory.

"I – I dare say," Edith nodded.

He smiled weakly, and stared back towards the gleaming, coloured, shifting shafts of light. He had been a fool. An absolute fool.

All day long, he'd been fielding questions about far more than churches from Edith. Much as it pained him to admit it… perhaps Mary had been right. But – it didn't make any difference, not to him – whatever Edith's intentions, it didn't change his own! And now he only felt desperately, desperately sorry for arguing with her, however unreasonable she had been… however deeply she had cut him. He couldn't help but think, as the day had dragged on, that he had made a mistake. He could have rescheduled with Edith, he would far rather have been with Mary, even if… even if that had meant going on the hunt and looking most likely ridiculous while he was doing it.

"I wonder how Mary's getting on," he wondered absently, voicing without conscious awareness the subject dearest in his mind. His thoughts were ticking over; could he make amends somehow, could he see her, speak to her… Was she thinking of him? Was she sorry? She couldn't… she couldn't have meant what she said, what she thought… She couldn't possibly believe such things of him and trust him so little; not after everything they'd shared. But how he hated himself now, for not believing that yesterday.

Edith, next to him, shrugged. "Alright, I should think. Why?"

"Oh, I just wondered." He muttered, waited a little and tried a more direct approach. "Will she stay with the hunt the whole day?" Perhaps… if not, he might have a chance. He could see her before dinner, before they must hide behind the conventions and proprieties of company and pretend they were as nothing to each other… as she had claimed to believe. But how could she? And how could he apologise, how could he make her see how sorry he was, amongst her family who couldn't possibly understand what they had quarrelled over?

"You know Mary," Edith's wry smile was cold and unaffectionate. "She likes to be in at the kill."

Matthew pursed his lips a little, both at burgeoning realisation that this apparent distaste between the sisters may have accounted in large part for Mary's anger towards him yesterday (and what a fool he had been to not realise it sooner) and at the dashing of his hopes to make his private apology… He only hoped she would understand, from what assurance he could give her in smiles across the crowded dinner table. Which wasn't much at all…

Well. With little else to do, he sighed deeply and suggested one more church before they lost the light. He might as well make the most of it.

As Mary reclined in the steaming, perfumed water of her bath, she smiled to herself as every ache of her mind and body ebbed gradually away. She sponged away the mud flecked across her skin, watching as it swirled and disintegrated in the water. The hunt had been exhilarating; she'd felt the thrilling rush of excitement as they'd raced over the landscape, with confidence and ease and – for a moment she wondered how Matthew would have managed with it before instantly squashing the thought of him. While he had been doing goodness knows what with Edith, she had found herself perfectly at ease in the welcome company of Evelyn Napier and Kemal Pamuk. If Matthew could go off with any woman he liked privately and enjoy himself (her body trembled for a moment though she put it down to her aching muscles), well, why shouldn't she enjoy the flattering attentions of two charming men? Was he the only person she might accept attention from?

No, he was not. And she'd been aware – very aware – that both her companions had found her attractive and desirable. Oh, Napier was already a friend and pretty dull with it, but Kemal… He was exotic and exciting and enticing and she'd recognised that glint in his eyes; one she'd seen in Matthew's, one she knew now she had the power to provoke from more men than her impossible cousin. Oh, he thought that he was special but… no, she could attract attention from far more than Matthew Crawley.

Not that she wanted it, so much – she'd always been pretty confident in her attractions but to have it confirmed in this way was an unexpected thrill – but she wanted Matthew to know that he held no power in that way over her. If he could turn his attentions where he liked, then so could she – and Kemal gave her the perfect opportunity to prove that to him. If he was only here for this evening – well, she need never see him again once he'd left in the morning and it wasn't as though anything could possibly come of their flirtations (such a thought was ridiculous! A Turk!) – then she may very well make the most of the opportunity to show Matthew that he must not take her affection for granted.

With this determination fresh in her mind, Mary chose for the evening the dress which she knew was her most alluring. A deep shade of red with embroidered gold and fluttering cap sleeves, a provocatively fitted bodice offset by her long black gloves, complementing necklace and tall, red feather… If she was going to make an impression, she might as well do it properly.

One look at Edith's sour expression when she appeared in the drawing room told Mary that things had probably not gone as she'd expected with Matthew. So much for that, at least, she thought with a sense of satisfaction. And this was only rewarded further by the appreciative sweep of the men's eyes over her as she entered… Yes, she could be sure of her charms. And whether Matthew's intentions with Edith had been honourable in truth or not (as she now suspected though refused to admit that they most likely were, knowing his nature) he had still belittled and dismissed her concerns, insulting her in the process. That was intolerable of him.

When he was announced into the drawing room with Isobel, Mary fought every instinct to look at him, turning instead to Kemal and rewarding his comment on the limitations of English transportation with a sparkling laugh. She wondered if Matthew would approach her. It was only a little while before he did; and she was forced to turn and acknowledge him as she felt, rather than saw, him appear beside them.

"Cousin Matthew!" she anticipated him, her eyes bright with insincere and cold charm. "I know you must have had such fun today with Edith, but I'm afraid you missed a marvellous time."

"Yes, I –"

"Let me introduce my companions – Mr. Evelyn Napier, you know Lord Branksome's son, and Mr. Kemal Pamuk – who apparently is vital to the cause of world peace, or something like that." She felt an indulgent glimmer of smugness as Matthew's eyes flashed darkly at her praise of them, darkening further when she turned to them to add with a brilliant smile, "My cousin, Matthew Crawley."

"Very pleased to meet you," he muttered ungenerously, shaking both their hands though his gaze only wavered from Mary for a moment. What was she doing?

"I'm sure Lady Mary exaggerates my importance," the Turkish gentleman laughed, and Mary laughed too, waving a hand dismissively.

"Not at all! That's what Mr. Napier assures us all, anyway – or would you call him a liar?" Mary teased, everything about her manner expressive and flirtatious and alluring. And none of it directed at Matthew, who smiled tightly, feeling her cold brush-off as an almost physical pain as Kemal laughed again, leaning towards her.

He'd been wrong, it was painfully clear. She was not sorry, not sorry at all, and was punishing him for his own faults. He was loath to feel that he deserved it, riling bitterly against the injustice of her mockery. Thankfully before he could allow himself to become much more agitated, they were called through to dinner. His instinct was to offer Mary his arm to have at least one word in relative privacy but before he even had the chance, she had tucked her hand through the Turk's elbow and walked away. He pursed his lips angrily and followed them, trying to ignore his rising frustration.

All through dinner, he watched them, and Mary felt it. She felt his bitter gaze burning her from across the table, and while her first instinct was a stab of remorse she was able to quickly stamp it down with her irritation at the fact that he was making his jealousy sickeningly obvious to her family. Perversely, her awareness of Matthew's latent desire for her only served to empower her in her flirtations with Kemal, whose flattery was equally inspiring. She felt wanted and powerful – and how dare these men believe themselves to have some claim to her, simply because she was a woman?

She leaned in closely as he whispered to her, confident in the knowledge that Matthew was seeing it and surely regretting his hurtful dismissal of her yesterday. In truth she found the Turk, handsome and charming though he undoubtedly was, to be a little too forward to her liking – to speak in not so veiled words of satisfaction, indeed! – but as the thought threatened to surface that she preferred and missed Matthew's conversation and company, she firmly reminded herself that it was only this pretence, only for this evening, only enough that he would not take her for granted in future. She did not want to think yet about the likelihood that they would fall back together sooner or later, that they must inevitably find each other again, that really despite everything she knew deep down that… no. She would not give into that thought, not this evening, not yet. She could not give in to him. She turned determinedly back to Kemal, raising her glass delicately to her lips and taking a dainty sip, lavishing him once more with her undivided attention as Matthew looked bitterly on.

She was distracted from her task as Evelyn spoke up.

"Lady Mary rode very well today," he complimented her brightly. She smiled graciously.

"Why did you send Lynch back?" her father asked, then, and Mary bristled with frustration at his treatment of her like a child. As if she needed protection, as if she could not perfectly well take care of herself! But then… she saw an opportunity to further her mission.

She placed her glass down with a flourish and lifted a hand to play with her necklace at her throat.

"I had my champions to left and right," she passed a dazzling smile between Evelyn and Kemal, not gracing Matthew with even one glance. "It was enough!"

Matthew watched her with a heart sinking like lead, as he lowered his fork from his lips with trembling fingers. Her point was deafeningly loud and clear. She did not need him. She did not want him. He felt crushed. She had given him a chance to be by her side, and he had thrown it in her face… and now she was letting him know his mistake, in the most pointed and painful terms.

It took a long while for Matthew to muster enough courage to face her again after dinner. But as much as she was determined, so was he. He was determined to show her that he would not let her crush him, that he would not give her up, because he wanted to prove to her his worth and his apology, and so he re-entered the fray with a brave, smiling face.

Mary did her level best to be as dismissive as she politely could of him. Oh, she could see what he was doing… Trying to ingratiate himself back into her affections, and she'd be damned if she'd let him succeed so easily. How could he be so brash, in the face of how he had treated her and how they had argued, to laugh and smile with her now? But she could not know how the pretence ached, when everything inside him stung and cut from her manner.

When the Turk excused himself from their company, Matthew wondered at last if he was making headway. Napier lingered with them, still, but Mary had not shown such interest in him, and… Matthew could only try with the utmost sincerity now.

"Was it fun to be back in the saddle?" he asked gently, purposefully softening his tone and expression that she might know there was no ill-will remaining, on his part at least.

They were in company, still, and Mary found herself with no option but to respond to his direct address. She only glanced quickly at him, shrugging elegantly.

"Yes! Although I'll pay for it tomorrow," she smiled more knowingly at Evelyn, who could understand her more on this point. Matthew took a deep breath, refusing to be rebuffed, and determined to offer her something to make amends for his folly.

"Would you ever – come out with me?" he asked tentatively, though in his heart he suspected it was too late for such a gesture. But… there was still so much between them, there had been; how could she possibly ignore that? And so he alluded to it lightly, with, "Or aren't we friends enough for that?"

If he'd hoped she might relent to the admission of their friendship, if nothing more, he was mistaken. Mary found herself shocked at his boldness; how dare he make such a joke of their relationship, and in front of Evelyn no less! Matthew registered the shock on her face, instantly regretting his poorly chosen words as she spluttered for an adequate and appropriate response under the circumstances.

"Well, I think it might –"

Thank God for Evelyn, she thought, as he cut over her before she was forced to think of an excuse. She could not grant Matthew anything, not now. And then she was more fortunate still, as from across the room Kemal inclined his head to beckon her, giving her an escape from this dreadful conversation entirely. "Excuse me," she breathed over Evelyn, walking away without so much as a look at either of the two men at her side and not a small amount of satisfaction at her power over the situation, to talk with whom she chose. Not Matthew.

As Kemal beckoned her further, after a moment, into the adjoining music room, Mary hesitated. To go in there with him alone… What could he want? Her heart fluttered in anticipation and fear, knowing what could happen in seclusion from watchful eyes, what had happened with Matthew and… But then she looked back, and saw Matthew watching, and she flared with anger at him again and at the fact that she had, again, thought of him. She needed no more provocation to steel herself to follow Kemal, knowing that with the door ajar and her family only here it was really ludicrous to think that anything might happen, as for one thing she would never allow it to. She took a deep breath and went in.

Mary was shocked, then, to find herself in moments being overwhelmed by Kemal's lips pressing fiercely against her own, and his hands clutching her face. She gasped, panicked, tried to back away but found herself trapped between him and the wall and… the sensation (though not wholly unfamiliar) filled her with fear and repulsion. She twisted her face and he broke the kiss, even as he remained so close to her that she felt she could barely breathe, he was too close, invasive, unwanted… and he wanted to… good Lord, he wanted to… She had never thought he might take her actions as such an – invitation!

Trembling, she pleaded her innocence of awareness, though she wondered at the truth of it. Hadn't she known, hadn't she seen how he was attracted to her? She'd just never expected him to act, not without her desire, or consent, or… Then he tried to kiss her, again, and this time she pushed him forcefully away, her heart pounding as she threatened him with her father's wrath. Matthew… She walked quickly from the room, shaking, stomach churning. She'd known his desire but… well… she knew it from the same expression in Matthew's eyes only he'd never, never taken such liberty with her and…

She re-entered the drawing room and her eyes instantly searched him out but she could not see him. Not that she wanted him, now, she reminded herself – and made her way quickly to Sybil, who was sitting calmly on the plush settee. Mary sat beside her, hoping that to sit might stop her limbs from trembling. She swallowed, moistened her lips and looked around.

"Oh!" Sybil smiled at her, and Mary felt immediately put at ease. "I thought you'd disappeared for a moment. We seemed to be dropping thick and fast, with Cousin Matthew going as well!"

Mary frowned. "What do you mean, with Cousin Matthew going as well?" Not that she cared. She didn't care. She didn't want to see any man, just now, let alone Matthew. She just… wanted to know, that was all.

"He suddenly claimed a terrible headache and excused himself," Sybil shrugged, then leaned towards her sister with a more conspiratorial whisper. "I think he was trying to escape from Edith, actually. But don't tell anybody that!"

She giggled lightly, and Mary chuckled anxiously in return, worrying with a sick feeling that she knew exactly why Matthew had left. Hadn't she given him reason enough? Oh, but he'd deserved it, she must remember that, only… she didn't feel much satisfaction in her actions, now.

After having successfully avoided Kemal for the rest of the evening, Mary retired to bed feeling the weight lift off her shoulders. In truth, after their encounter he hadn't attempted to speak to her again and Mary was desperately grateful for it. Perhaps he was not so ungentlemanly as she'd thought for a moment, and had been wise enough to take her threats to heart.

She was quiet as Anna readied her for bed, and when at last she was ready she crawled beneath the covers. But she was far too restless to sleep, with the events and conversations and expressions of the evening circling her mind relentlessly, and so she picked up the novel from her bedside table in the hope that it might distract her.

Luckily, she had only started it a few days before, and had not had the time or inclination to read it much since. She felt that she would need its length, to engage her thoughts more productively and pleasantly and to settle her enough to eventually sleep. For an hour, she read, and then another, and still her mind raced. Another hour, and she was beginning to feel a pleasant drowsiness at least and then… her bedroom door opened without warning.

She looked up, startled, and when Kemal appeared within her very bedroom she leapt from her bed, tugging the eiderdown off to cover herself, clutched protectively against her chest. She was in her – nightgown, and he, only a dressing gown – Her heart pounded with fear, all pretence of tiredness vanished at her shock.

He would not leave. She tried, he argued, she would scream, but it wouldn't make a difference, someone would come and then –

"We'd be ruined if they even knew we'd had this conversation!" she spluttered, realising that she had only proven his point. She swallowed, and edged back as he moved towards her. They were in her bedroom, barely clothed; not even Matthew had seen her – Matthew! She riled in irritation at herself, that her first thought was again of him, even in the face of this. Would she expect him to protect her? What a ludicrous thought. She shook her head and glared at Kemal. "Let alone if we –"

"Don't worry," he stepped forwards, lowering his head in a gesture of trust, though, really… "You can still be a virgin for your husband."

Mary's eyes widened and without thinking she said, "Don't be ridiculous, it isn't that, I'm – oh…" she trailed off helplessly as she realised what she had just admitted, her gut twisting anxiously as his lips turned up into a wicked smile.

"I see," he said quietly, taking a few slow steps towards her. Mary backed away, only there was nowhere left to go as she felt her bed behind her… He closed in, invading her personal space, and she held the eiderdown as a barrier between them. "And who is your lover?" he murmured. "He is a fool to not be here, to not be beside you every moment…"

Mary opened her mouth to reply but she had no defence, and he was closer still… "It cannot be my friend, Mr. Napier, for he would have told me I'm sure," Kemal continued to wonder. "Mr. Crawley, then –"

"I don't know why you should assume that!" Mary snapped defensively, indignation flaring at his assumption. How dare he assume that her choice of lover was so limited, that she might not attract any man she wished! And he wanted her, so evidently – she felt a momentary rush of confidence at the thought; that it was not Matthew alone who desired her, that for all this impudent man knew she had the power to attract any number of lovers – and she decided at once that it was a preferable feeling to fear, and so she indulged it, to recognise her own allure. She was powerful. She was desirable. It was he who wanted her – not the other way around – couldn't she use that to her advantage, as she had at the start with Matthew?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he calmed her softly, lifting a hand to her cheek. She held firm, setting her jaw and refusing to show her weakness. He carried on, and she held her breath. "Let us forget your lover, your lovers, I don't care – let it be us, just for tonight, and –"

"Hush, please," she whispered, wanting him to just stop talking and making her skin crawl with such words. But his lips were at her neck, now, and as she fell back onto her bed he covered her instantly, kissing, kissing, and Mary's hands pushing weakly at his shoulders were having not the slightest effect. "I'm not – what you think I am!"

It was a weak defence, she knew, as he paused his attentions to look at her, trapping her under the weight of his body and his gaze that made her tremble.

"My darling, you are exactly what I think you are," he whispered, and his smile now had an unpleasantly knowing edge to it. He kissed her again, then her cheek, bringing his lips to her ear as Mary fixed her eyes on the canopy above her, trying desperately not to shudder. "You admitted yourself I am not the first, and I hardly think I shall be the last… You cannot refuse me."

As he nipped at her ear, Mary pressed her eyes closed for a moment and realised with a stab of uncomfortable clarity that he was right. She had no choice, he would not leave, it was going to happen and… she realised with a flash of confidence that she did have a choice. She could… resist him, and he would take her anyway, and she had no doubt that to do so would result in a deeply, deeply unpleasant experience that would cripple her with distaste for goodness knew how long. Or… if it was to happen regardless… She took a deep breath. She could make the best of it, refuse him the satisfaction of claiming her as a prize if it were to be on her terms (for she was not a novice at this, not now) and maintain what shred of dignity she could salvage from it.

She repeated the thought in her head… She was desirable. She was wanted. She was powerful. She could take any man she wanted to, as she wanted, and because she wanted to (she could not acknowledge it as a lie). And then she allowed her arms to drape around his neck as she kissed him back.

TBC

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. I'm sure you can appreciate that was a difficult chapter to write, and I admit to being glad it's over! As ever I'd love to know what you thought - and am terribly curious to know what you wonder will happen from here! Thank you :)

ETA. I don't normally do this, but I just want to justify this chapter. I'm very aware that it's probably not what most of you wanted to happen. To be very honest it's not exactly what I wanted to happen! AU though this is, however, I couldn't justify to myself why it wouldn't. I hope it's very clear that it's not what Mary wanted or intended to happen either. It's like Doctor Who and fixed points... Pamuk was always going to go to her bedroom, because he's a predator. No matter what Mary had done (she gave him a firm rebuffal when his intention was clear!), he was going to go there and do what he wanted. The only thing that could have stopped that might have been interference from Matthew, who would've felt he couldn't publicly do so without making his relationship with Mary obvious (which would be socially terrible) and, with how things had gone, he felt would have been unwelcome. Anyway - that was how I saw it. And this IS an M/M story, it will take a sharp offshoot from canon from this point, and it will have a happy M/M ending. So I hope you can understand why this chapter needed to happen and will bear with me through it!