For once, Matthew actually appreciated the luxury of having a valet. Grappling still with a tricky case at the office had kept him far later than he had intended, but having phoned Molesley on his lunch break and informed him of the arrangements for the next few days, Matthew was able to set off straight to the Abbey following work, trusting that his overzealous valet would see to packing anything he could possibly need, toiletry-wise.

On his bike ride over to the Big House, he again considered the situation with his bewitching cousin. By the time he arrived tonight, it would almost be dinner, and he'd probably have to change straight away. While there was a possibility that he'd be able to talk to her tonight about the new turn in their relationship, logically he realized it wasn't likely. Her family would be constantly about for the majority, if not the entirety, of the time, and the topic of their dalliance was hardly something he wanted to share with the rest of the Crawley clan. Additionally, much to his frustration, Mary seemed rather keen to ignore the whole dilemma; reluctantly, Matthew admitted to himself the unlikelihood that they'd address the issue tonight. Although he wasn't prepared to dissolve all hope, realistically he realized he'd do better to concentrate his efforts on the coming days. Theoretically, it shouldn't be too hard to find a moment alone with her, considering he'd be living in the same house…

But this was Mary he was talking about, and she was far from certain to follow the theoretical, predictable course of action. Furthermore, although she had promised to talk about it with him eventually-which he had no doubt that she would do-she seemed apt to avoid him. He'd already been on the isolation exterior of Lady Mary's walls once, so he fully understood precisely how difficult she could make it to spend any time with him if she so desired.

This time, though, he was determined to succeed. This time he had a plan. Furthermore, this time Matthew was sure some part of Mary (a large part, hopefully) wouldn't want to keep him away.

As predicted, he did have to change almost immediately upon arrival. While Matthew habitually attempted to appear well-groomed (an effort which had increased dramatically since his arrival at Downton, first in order to displace the graceless, middle-class cousin notion, and then to hopefully attract the attention of a certain lady…), he designated extra care tonight in getting the part of his hair, the knot in his bowtie, and the fit of jacket just right. Molesley seemed all too happy to oblige his younger master the extra effort grooming; equally eager, no doubt, to impress the members of the Abbey, for his own reasons.

When he descended to the drawing room, he flustered for a moment, believing he was the last one. Sybil must have caught his anxious glance about the room, for she made her way over to him subtly and smiled, saying, "Don't worry, you haven't kept us. We'll be waiting hours yet for Mary."

He nodded and smiled appreciatively.

Edith, however, was less resigned in her tact, practically bounding across the room. "Cousin Matthew, we are ever so pleased to have you joining us tonight. And how splendid your tails look!"

Matthew returned her smile, admittedly less exuberantly, although he was still happy to see his cousin again."Thank you, Edith. You look well tonight… as well," he finished awkwardly. He'd thought it a safe comment at the time, but the radiant smile on her face immediately alerted him of the misunderstanding. Oh dear. It had been months since the fateful church visit and apparently she still hadn't quite gotten the hint.

"Edith, you know dinner's being served in the dining room, right? Stop trying to devour poor Cousin Matthew." Her voice cut through the room, and Matthew felt himself turning to stare.

Mary appeared absolutely stunning. Her dress, a light violet shade, brought out the luminous ivory quality of her skin, and the cut flattered her form wonderfully. Her elegant updo exposed more of her neck, and Matthew remembered the delicious taste of it when he had planted heated kisses there, merely earlier that day…

Their eyes caught for one intense moment, and then he forced himself to turn away.

As torturous as it was, a key part of his plan involved giving Mary the space she needed… and sadly staring at her ravenously wasn't quite congruent with that idea.

He turned away, and Lord Grantham called them all into dinner.

Mary's eyes tried not to linger on Matthew as he escorted Sybil into the dining room, but damn! it was difficult. She couldn't tell if he had made an extra effort this evening, or if the knowledge of his physical prowess from last night had increased his appeal. Probably a mixture of both. Walking behind him, Mary tried not to notice the snug fit of his trousers on his lean legs, fine hips, or especially across his firm-looking buttocks. Instead she studied the intricacies of his well-styled hair, admiring the perfect waves of his soft golden hair…

She shook her head at the lascivious thoughts as she took her seat. Such observations certainly did not aid her in her plan to avoid Matthew. Determinedly she twisted away from him, attempting instead to engage herself in conversation with her mother. It's just one dinner. I've sat through hundreds of these before, I can do it again, she coached herself.

Still, it remained impossible to entirely avoid looking at him for all of dinner, and once she had seen him, it became even more impossible to reign in her thoughts. About halfway through dinner, Mary found herself staring at his hands… those wonderfully dexterous hands, as they caressed the stem of his wineglass or gripped at his knife, or gently lifted a napkin to his mouth… hypnotized by them, she could not shake the memory of those hands grasping, stroking, loving her. A heady, unbearable heat began to course through her, and the more she attempted to ignore it, the more acutely, torturously it throbbed within her as the memories of the previous night swam before her eyes… and then somehow she found herself staring into his deliciously darkened blue eyes, and it was almost too much. She snapped her gaze away, quickly distracting herself with rather larger-than-ladylike sip of wine.

When the ladies proceeded into the drawing room first, it should have provided her some respite, but instead Mary found herself growing increasingly agitated for reasons she couldn't even understand. She had existed without Matthew Crawley in her life perfectly well for plenty of years, how dare she burn with need for him after one night? Especially when she couldn't even have him. The fact that her body was defying her firm resolution was perhaps the fact that infuriated her the most.

The rest of the females must have noticed she was in a moody state, because they left her alone to pensively glare into the fire; not even Sybil attempted to make conversation after her first two efforts fell flat. Despite her best efforts to ignore the rest of the room, Mary could acutely feel the eyes of her grandmother boring into her. Perfect.

"I hope you haven't missed us too much!" Robert exclaimed jovially, prancing into the room to the laughter of his family, and Mary watched, then deliberately tried not to watch, as Matthew followed him in. He didn't look at her first, but when he caught her staring (again), he offered her a smile, although it seemed weighed down. Unfortunately Mary was well too aware of what those issues might be. Nevertheless, Matthew was acting surprisingly more indifferent about the matter than she had expected. Indeed, his lack of care, so in contrast with his reaction this morning, baffled, and even begrudgingly pained her. She chided herself for these ponderings; they were for the best, after all… weren't they?

Imagine her surprise then when the sofa dipped as Matthew seated himself beside her.

"Cousin Mary, I hardly feel like I've gotten a word in with you this evening," he spoke evenly, his eyes fixed ahead on the fire, rather than at her.

"Well, Cousin Matthew, I haven't felt much inclined for heavy conversation this evening," she replied curtly, a sense of dread filling her. Really, though, Matthew should realize this was neither the time nor the place for this conversation, not with their watchful family swarming about.

"Oh, I didn't mean anything controversial, just a pleasant word or two. How was your day?" Matthew answered lightly, again surprising Mary. What on earth was he playing at?

"Mundane as ever, I suppose," Mary answered cautiously, uncertain where this interaction might next take them. Really, this conversation shouldn't be taking place at all, not if she wanted to discourage either of their affections. But she really was loathe to leave it… and her comfortable position on the couch… and friends could have conversations, couldn't they?

"Well, I'm sorry to hear it. Perhaps tomorrow will be more eventful. It's the weekend, after all," Matthew smirked slightly.

What was that supposed to mean? "Perhaps you're right, although I'm not sure what difference the date makes. You know our people don't have weekends," she failed to keep the play out of her voice, and Matthew laughed.

"It's a pity because they're really a great time. Perhaps you should try tomorrow."

"Heavens, look at the time!" came Cora's cry. "We really should have retired an hour ago; it's criminal to keep the servants up this long!"

Mary looked around, realizing the clock on the mantel read close to eleven, and that her grandmother had already slipped away. Everyone rose with a start at Cora's proclamation, chiming in with their agreement. She started to stand.

"Here, let me help you," Matthew said, offering her a hand. Although his yank to her feet was decidedly more middle class than any of the elegant offerings of her normal circle, she found the touch of his hand thrilling, and despite herself, she tried not to blush as she thanked him.

Matthew and Mary made their way out on the tail end of the exodus; they were about halfway to the stairs when Mary called out, "Wait, has anyone asked Branson yet to bring the car around for Matthew?"

The majority of the party turned to look at her incredulously.

"Didn't you hear, Mary?" her father asked, amused. "Matthew is staying with us for the remainder of his mother's absence."

Matthew tried not to smirk at the shock on her face. Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed it. "Good night, Mary," he said, before turning and making his way down the bachelor's corridor to his room.

Oh dear, Mary thought. In the house with Matthew for an indefinite amount of time.

Avoiding him had just become a whole lot trickier.

sorry if it was shorter than usual. I'll make it up to you next chapter.
please keep the reviews coming. I love reading them.
And if you happen to see Matthew Crawley wandering around lost, feel free to direct him to my room.