Once again, I would like to thank all of you wonderful readers for your encouraging reviews. It truly is more fun to write when you know someone is reading your work. I would also like to thank R. Grace again for her encouragement and the time she has spent reading these chapters and offering her feedback. Thanks also to MrsElizabethDarcy for planting the seed of an idea for the story that will come to fruition in future chapters. Happy Reading!
Chapter 3
She should have suspected the reaction she would receive when she descended the stairs and berated herself for not steeling her mind for such a response. But Mary's thoughts had been so distracted throughout the day, leaving her feeling utterly defenseless and exposed as she, her mother and George approached the rest of their family awaiting them in the main hall.
The silence that surrounded her was deafening, but their stares spoke volumes.
It was finally Isobel who rent the mute curtain, walking up to her daughter-in-law, clasping her hands in hers as she stated, "My dear girl, you look simply stunning."
"As do you," Mary managed, her voice unsteady as she took in Matthew's mother, seeing in her eyes their shared grief that had somehow bound them closely. "Mama told me that you had something special picked out to wear tonight."
Isobel smiled, her dark eyes misty but strong. "I had to wear something cheerful for our George's birthday, and I thought yellow might just do the trick." she stated, nodding her head in approval at Mary. "Black just would not do for such an occasion."
Something cheerful for George's birthday...if only that cheerfulness did not have to compete with so many unspoken memories hovering around them like specters in a great hall. Mary could almost see them, feeling suddenly very cold as she looked towards her son to draw her back to the land of the living.
"I agree completely," Robert joined in, nearing Mary with a smile that nearly melted her heart. "You cannot know just how happy it makes me to see you looking so well, Mary."
"Heavens, it's just a dress," Mary replied, unable to say much more as she yet again had to quell tears forming against her will.
"I hardly think so," Isobel replied, giving her hand a squeeze as she leaned in towards Mary, whispering, "Well done, Mary. I'm so proud of you."
She had not realized just how much Isobel's approval had meant to her until she felt a current of relief wash quickly through her veins at older woman's approbation. Mary squeezed her hand in response, touching her forehead to her mother-in-laws and whispering, "Thank you."
Dear Lord, her hands were shaking…again. One tear broke free as she and Isobel drew apart from each other, sharing so many things left unspoken. Isobel then took Dr. Clarkson's arm as Mary took Tom's free one. Sybbie clapped gleefully in his other, trying desperately to reach out and grab Mary's necklace. Mary took the little girls hand in hers, placing a small kiss on her hand.
"Sweet Sybbie," she breathed, always taken slightly aback at just how much the girl resembled her mother. "You look beautiful this evening, my sweet."
"Doesn't she, though," Cora replied, overhearing their conversation. "I told you that dress was perfect for her, Tom."
Mary smiled at her poor brother-in-law's expression, knowing he would never have a voice in how his daughter was dressed now that they were rooted firmly at Downton. Her mother had taken on that role with delight, revealing to Mary just how much Mama had missed having a little girl under foot to love and spoil.
They all made their way to the Dining Room, Violet hanging back a bit until Mary walked up beside her.
"You do look well, my dear," Granny agreed, speaking in a hushed tone for her granddaughter's ears only. "Although I must admit to being pleasantly surprised that your mother actually convinced you to end your time of mourning."
"I haven't ended anything, Granny," Mary replied, breathing deeply to regain her composure. "I just agreed with Mama that perhaps it was a good idea to put away the black for George's birthday."
"Quite right," Violet nodded as they made their way to the dining table. "But it is a change that suits you, Mary…one I believe you should consider making permanent."
Mary merely nodded and smiled, knowing that this was an argument she did not have the desire or strength to fight right now. This was George's evening—not hers. She only wished that others would focus upon her less and her son more.
Her wish was quickly granted as George was seated beside her in his wooden high chair, something quite unusual for him as he normally took his meals in the nursery. He looked around and seemed to find this new arrangement quite suitable, at least for the moment. Mary knew that he would not be content confined to the chair for long, and a small grin actually tugged at her mouth as she envisioned Papa's reaction when he began to play with his food.
"What a handsome birthday boy we have here," Isobel beamed, kissing her grandson's dark head before taking her seat across the table from him. George held his arms out to her, already desiring to be out of his seat and in someone's lap. Mary handed him a small toy rabbit that George commenced to pounding on the wooden tray of his seat. Sybbie clapped in delight, only encouraging the boy's noisemaking.
"Oh, my" Violet cried, her eyebrows nearly disappearing into her coiffure. "Is there no way to muffle the racket? Could we possibly put a pillow on top or something?"
"Oh, come now, it's his birthday," Cora put in, smiling indulgently at her grandson and looking to her husband for support.
"Quite right," Robert replied, attempting to smile and nod even though it was painfully obvious that the presence of small children at the dinner table was completely out of his realm of comfort.
"He'll be fine once he has something to chew on," Mary stated, smiling reassuringly at her father.
"Carson—can you fetch him a piece of bread or something?" Violet interjected, somehow knowing that the butler would know exactly what to do.
"Of course, my lady," Carson replied smoothly. "I'm sure that Mrs. Patmore will have just the thing for our little lord. I shall procure something for our young lady, as well."
Carson could not resist smiling indulgently at George and Sybbie as Mary looked up to him with profound gratitude. He did treat George as if he were his own grandson at times, although he would never admit to it if anyone questioned him on the matter.
"It's so good to see you smiling," Tom offered, leaning towards her in a conspiratorial manner. "I wasn't sure if you'd be able to tonight or not."
"I was just envisioning Carson's face once George decides to throw his peas across the table," she replied, making her brother-in-law smile back at her in earnest.
"Carson's an old softie as far as the children are concerned," Tom replied, chuckling softly. "I remember when Sybbie got a hold of the paint and actually tried to redecorate the nursery a few weeks ago. I was sure that he'd be so upset, but he praised her for her artistic abilities."
"That doesn't surprise me," Mary confided, smiling at a memory. "He told me the same thing when I attempted to paint Mama's tulips when I was five."
Tom quickly covered his laugh with his napkin, shaking his head at the thought. "I would have never guessed it of him when I first arrived here, you know. No one downstairs would ever accuse the man of being soft."
"Well, we all have our soft spots," she answered, turning her eyes back to her son as he continued to play with his rabbit.
"That we do," he replied, touching his daughter's dark curls with affection.
"So did you enjoy your time in London today?" Isobel asked, looking at Mary with curiosity.
"I did, thank you," she replied, smiling as brightly as she could. "George and I had quite the adventure."
"Did you see any ducks? I know they are quite his favorite," Isobel continued, her smile genuine but looking somewhat strained to Mary's eyes.
"Of course," Mary answered, feeling a measure of relief as Carson set down some crackers on George's tray. "How could we take in London without seeing the ducks?"
"Mary tells me that George also tried his first ice cream today," Cora stated, making a sweet face a Sybbie when she began to play with her napkin.
"And how did that go?" Robert asked, looking a bit concerned as the poor napkin fell to the floor.
"He loved it, of course," Mary replied, anticipating George's next move as he dropped the rabbit off the side of the tray.
"Nice catch," Tom stated as he laid Sybbie's napkin discreetly on his lap beside his own.
"It's become his new favorite game," Mary replied, handing the rabbit secretly to Carson who had stepped up quietly behind her. "You should have seen the poor teddy on the train. If it hadn't been for…"
Mary cut herself off quickly, realizing just how much she had nearly given away. The train ride was still much too personal to share with anyone—a small treasure she was determined to keep to herself for the moment. But her abrupt silence had cause all eyes to be fixed upon her as they awaited the rest of her sentence.
"If it hadn't been for whom?" Violet voiced expectantly, giving her granddaughter a look which demanded an answer.
"The porter," Mary replied, forcing herself to smile to cover up the quiet turmoil that was so blasted unsettling. "He had to retrieve the poor thing numerous times before we boarded the train."
"It's a wonder he was able to do so with all of the bags he was carrying," Cora cut it, looking at her daughter with interest. "You made quite a few purchases in London today, Mary."
"My, my," Violet chuckled, sitting up a bit taller, "did this miraculous porter have multiple hands? How did he manage such a feat?"
Mary's eyes widened slightly in alarm, trying her best to formulate an answer that would satisfy everyone and close the matter entirely. Sensing the young woman's discomfort, Isobel quickly intercepted the conversation, asking, "Oh—what did you find in London, Mary? Any nice gifts for George?"
"Yes," Mary replied, thankful beyond words for Isobel's assistance. "We found a wooden duck, actually. One with a string attached that he can pull behind him once he starts walking."
"I daresay that was a good choice," Robert nodded. "Rosamund and I used to argue over who would get to feed the ducks each afternoon. She always used to sneak down into the kitchen and try to sneak extra breadcrumbs so that she would have more to feed them than I would."
"So that's where all of those crumbs on the floor came from," Violet pondered. "I always wondered if we had mice milling about that no one ever caught."
As the dinner conversation continued without her, Mary quietly leaned over to Tom and whispered, "Mama is on to you, you know."
"What do you mean?" he asked, looking truly confused.
"She set you up today," Mary answered, nearly laughing at his incredulous look. "She knew that you wouldn't be able to keep a secret, so she told you about the house party, knowing that you would tell me."
"You mean that she let me take the heat for telling you about it?" Tom questioned, clearly quite flabbergasted by this turn of events. "She did it on purpose?"
He shook his head ruefully as Mary nodded in affirmation. "A man just doesn't stand a chance around you Crawley women," he mused, giving her a sideways glance before taking a drink of his wine.
If we are mad enough to take on the Crawley girls, then we have to stick together…
She shook her head purposely to ward off a shiver, sipped some water and returned her attention determinedly to her brother-in-law.
"You poor thing," Mary sighed, taking some food from the tray Alfred held before her. She then chanced a glance in her mother's direction and warned, "Watch out, Tom. I wouldn't be surprised if she is making plans for you, too."
"Plans? What do you…?" he began, cut off by the most intimidating Crawley woman of them all.
"So, Mary, what are and Tom discussing in such hushed tones?" Violet demanded softly, staring at her granddaughter meaningfully. "Are you telling him details about the magnificent porter who saved the day, perchance?"
Feeling a prickle of ire mixed with dread, Mary faced her grandmother and replied, "No, Granny. We were just discussing the fact that Tom and I seem to have been left out of some rather large plans that have been put into action recently."
"Mary means the house party," Cora interjected, smiling sweetly at her daughter and trying to smooth over her reaction.
"Oh," Violet retorted, nodding her head in approval. "And are you looking forward to it? I know that I am."
"If you mean the house party you all planned behind my back, then no, I am not," Mary answered, feeling a bit stronger as indignation began to crawl up her spine.
"But why not, dear?" Violet inquired, obviously feigning surprise at Mary's reaction. "Surely you can see that it's a good idea."
"No, I do not, and if you really thought that I would then you would have told me about it weeks ago," Mary stated flatly, daring her grandmother to disagree with her over this issue.
"But I do think that it is a good idea," Robert interjected, looking at his daughter with all seriousness. "Bringing people into the house will add some levity to the place, fill it with life again."
The clang of Mary's fork as it fell to her plate ceased conversation immediately.
"Please forgive my poor choice of words, Mary," Robert apologized, looking truly flustered, "but you know what I mean."
"Yes, I know exactly what you mean," Mary began, the hard set of her jaw fixing her courage to continue. "You mean that there has been too much death in this house. And yes, I agree with that. I, of all people, agree with that."
She rose to her feet, too agitated to remain seated for another moment before she drew breath and continued. "But bringing outsiders into our home will not bring back Matthew or Sybil! No one has the power to do that."
Tom, Robert and Dr. Clarkson rose quickly to their feet as Cora stated calmly, "Please sit down, Mary. That is not what your father meant."
But she would not be silenced.
"If you truly think that by putting on a blue dress that I have suddenly recovered and that I am ready to entertain the world, then you are sadly mistaken. My heart still belongs to Matthew, and it always will, no matter how many people you bring into our home or how many pretty bachelors you parade under my nose!"
The words gushed from her, as she raced recklessly towards the same sort of release that she had been granted this afternoon with her travelling companion. She then started shaking, looking quickly to Tom as she suddenly felt very weak. He clasped her arm, in a show of support and stated calmly, "It's alright, Mary. Nobody would ever think such a thing."
As her eyes filled again, she wilted, her fire suddenly extinguished, and she had to lean against Tom for support. Carson quickly grasped her other arm, the two men holding her upright as her legs shook.
"Do sit down, my lady," Carson implored her quietly. "You need something to eat."
When she looked across the table, Isobel's eyes fastened upon hers, compassion flowing across the table to her daughter-in-law.
"It's alright, dear," the older woman stated calmly, giving Mary her most tender of smiles. "Everyone does understand."
Mary shut her eyes tightly again, attempting to physically block the pain that was threatening to destroy her son's birthday dinner. Tom and Carson helped lower her to her seat again as she opened her eyes, looking over at her son to reassure him that everything was alright after her outburst.
It's going to be alright, Georgie…
She had spoken those very words just hours ago and had meant them. Dear God, would these ups and downs of emotions ever end? Mary fixed her courage, took a deep breath, and took a drink of wine.
"I'm sorry, Papa," she began hesitantly, her voice still shaky from her outburst. "I do know that you meant well. I don't know what came over me."
Her father looked at her thoughtfully, his eyes weighted with concern for her as he responded, "No, Mary, I am the one who should apologize. I should have gotten your consent before planning this party. Please forgive me."
Mary nodded to her father in forgiveness, taking another sip of wine to warm herself.
"I'm sorry, too, Mary," Cora began, her levity from earlier in the evening having deserted her. "But I'm afraid it is too late to cancel on everyone."
"I'm sure your guests would understand if you did," Isobel began before Mary cut her off.
"No—it's alright." Everyone gazed at her, trying to discern whether or not she meant her words. "Truly, it is. Plans have already been made, so we might as well see them through."
"You don't have to put on a brave face, Mary," her father began.
"Yes—I do," she interrupted, looking him squarely in the eye. "I have to put it on everyday for my son." Her chest began to rise and fall a bit too rapidly as she took another drink to steady herself. "But you see, one day I hope it won't be an act. One day, I shall truly be brave for him, and we shall be happy again."
She suddenly could not face anyone after sharing something so personal, her eyes dropping to her napkin which she now grasped as tightly as she had the handkerchief on the train.
Be happy, Mary.
Instantly, Isobel was beside her, grasping her hands firmly as she stated, "You are the bravest person I know, Mary. Your courage is no act, and it does you credit." Her eyes filled with tears that Mary knew so well as she spoke words of affirmation over her departed son's wife.
"I know how hard it is to keep going for your child when all you feel like doing is falling apart. You are an amazing woman and mother to your son. Matthew would be so proud of you."
You will be an amazing mother…
Dear God, he was still everywhere around her but nowhere to be found! Mary embraced Isobel tightly, gripping this lifeline to Matthew even as she knew that they were both accepting his loss on a new level. She had to let go of some of her grief…for George….for herself. But she couldn't let go of him—not yet.
You need to stop torturing yourself, my lady, and live your life…
Isobel patted her hands and moved quietly back to her seat as Mary wished desperately that she could simply disappear into the very walls around her. She must have conveyed her desires without speaking, for the remainder of the dinner conversation passed without further incident or outburst. She was profoundly grateful for being left alone with her musings and memories, still trying to process so much that had been thrown at her today. And some measure of peace finally began to settle again on her fragile spirit as she watched her son delight all of the people who loved him so much.
At the end of the meal, George's birthday treat—a large white cake beautifully decorated—was set before him.
"Mine? Mine?" the child kept repeating, pointing to the dessert before him as everyone applauded.
"Yes, dearest, it's yours," Mary answered, her face finally lighting up in a manner that none of her family had seen in some time. And as George covered himself in cake as he attempted to eat is slice, she actually laughed, a sound that brought genuine smiles to both her parents as they looked meaningfully at each other.
"Well, that bath before dinner was completely useless," Mary stated after they left the table, the ladies making their way to the drawing room while charge of the children was given over to their nanny. "I've never seen anyone so covered in cake!"
"Did you see Carson's face when George managed to get some of it on his tie?" Cora giggled, unable to contain her mirth any longer.
"I'm sure it was the highlight of his evening," Violet pronounced, smiling in spite of herself as they all took their seats.
"Oh, Mary, do you remember when Carson found you hiding under the dining room table devouring the apple tart you had stolen from the kitchen?" Cora continued, tears of laughter actually beginning to form in her eyes.
"Oh, yes," Mary laughed, "How could I forget? He told me that a real lady always eats at the table, not under it."
"Did he scold you?" Isobel asked, eagerly awaiting the rest of the story.
"Of course not," Cora answered before Mary was able to reply. "Carson would never scold Mary! When I arrived on the scene, he had her sitting squarely in the middle of the table, letting her eat as much apple tart as she desired."
"Do you remember how the apples were stuck in my hair?" Mary asked, now laughing in earnest.
"How could I forget?" Cora answered, shaking her head in mirth. "We nearly lost our nanny over that one!"
They were all laughing together, and suddenly Cora realized that it was one of the most beautiful sounds she had ever heard. True laughter had been absent from Downton for far too long, and all four women seemed to come to the same realization simultaneously, gazing at each other with looks of startled wonder on their faces.
"Thank you," Mary stated quietly after a few moments of silence, "for this. I don't know why I was dreading tonight so frightfully."
"I do," her mother stated softly, moving to sit beside her daughter and taking her hand. "And it's alright." She paused momentarily before daring to ask, "Are you sure that you don't want us to try to cancel the house party?"
Mary paused a moment before answering honestly, "Yes, I'm sure. As long as you promise to not try to set me up with anyone."
"I promise," Cora assured her. But Mary had her doubts.
"You can at least tell me who is coming," Mary stated, getting up to take a glass of sherry.
"We've invited several dear friends that we haven't seen in years," Cora replied. "Your grandmother helped us compose the guest list."
Somehow that didn't make Mary feel any better, giving Granny a pointed look that Violent simply returned.
"Do you remember the Gillinghams, dear?" Violet asked innocently, taking a sip of her sherry. "Lady Gillingham passed away two years ago, I believe, but Lord Gillingham, his daughter Emily and his son Anthony are supposed to attend."
"Anthony?" Mary inquired, her brows rising in concentration. "I haven't seen him since I was ten year old." She suddenly gave her mother an exasperating look, setting down her glass and stating, "Really, Mama!"
"What?" Cora replied innocently. "The Gillinghams were always dear friends, and I thought it would be nice for us all to become reacquainted."
Mary sighed, shaking her head. So much for having only old, crotchety bachelors in attendance.
"Then there are the Duke and Dutchess of Hartsford," Violet continued, drawing Mary's attention away from her mother. "You do remember Lillian Roquefort, don't you, Mary? She married quite well when she wed the duke. And I believe her brother will be joining us, as well."
"You mean Edward?" Mary interjected, aghast at where this conversation was leading, but determined to keep her cool. "And his wife?"
"Oh, I am fairly sure that he has not married yet," Violet replied, feigning a confused expression quite badly.
"I doubt he's any less tedious than he used to be, either," Mary stated, moving across the room to sit by Isobel. After all, she did need some support in this matter.
"And then there are Lord and Lady Keeton," Cora continued, this addition actually bringing a small smile to Mary's face.
"I did always like Caroline," Mary stated. "Her company will be nice to have. Do they have any children yet?"
"One boy," Cora answered with a smile, "just a few years older than Georgie. I thought it might be nice for him to have a friend here, as well."
Mary refrained from reminding her mother that George would not remember a thing about this gathering at the tender age of one. She was just glad that the Keetons were actually married and seemed to be devoid of any unattached siblings.
"And finally there is my old friend, Lady Catherine Blake," Violet chirped in. "She is bringing her nephew along, a Charles Blake, I believe."
"And just how old is Charles?" Mary asked, praying that he would miraculously be over the age of 55.
"Well, I don't really know," Violet replied, shrugging her shoulders as if it were a matter of little importance. "I believe he is a few years older than you, Mary, but not by much."
And there it was. At least three young men near her age attending, all of them from good families. Mary stood, suddenly awash with emotion again. As her mother moved towards her in concern, Mary waved her away, turning her back to everyone as she doubled over. Isobel looked pointedly at Cora, both women walking towards Mary slowly to offer her some comfort. But when they reached her, the women realized with a start that she was laughing.
"I don't understand, dear, what is so funny?" her grandmother inquired. "Have I missed a joke?" She looked imploringly to the other women who simply shrugged their shoulders in confusion.
"No," Mary answered, laughing so hard that her sides were beginning to ache, "you created the joke! It would be pathetic if it weren't so ludicrous!"
"You're being so ridiculously obvious, even after you've just promised me that you won't try to set me up! But there are three single men arriving in just a few days, all of them handpicked by you. Dear God, I feel like I'm 19 again!"
"Mary, it's not like that," Cora began, reaching out to her daughter.
"It is just like that," Mary returned, walking away from them all but turning to face them when she felt she had created a safe distance. "Is there one in particular you would like me to take care of at dinner, Mama? Is there one whose family is of higher rank than the others?"
"Mary, that's enough," Cora finally stated, interrupting her daughter's tirade of mirthful annoyance in an attempt to explain. "No one here expects you to pay particular attention to any one gentleman over another. Who you spend time with is entirely your choice. Nobody else will have a say in the matter."
"Then why the inclusion of three eligible men if not to push one of them on me?" Mary asked incredulously, her eyes suddenly devoid of humor. "Do you really expect me to believe that this is some sort of coincidence?"
"No, my dear, it is not," Violet stated firmly, effectively putting an end to all conversation as she stood, moving purposefully towards her granddaughter until they were standing face to face. "Yes—your mother and I personally selected these men to attend, with the exception of one whom we were happy to include at the suggestion of his aunt. And yes, we would like it very much if you found one of them to your liking and moved on with your life. However, I can assure you that no pushing will be done by anyone, for we all know just how you would react to such a thing."
Her own words from a lifetime ago suddenly flashed in her mind, rendering her momentarily speechless. She clearly remembered a much younger, haughtier and foolish version of herself standing in Crawley House for the first time as she both saw and dismissed Matthew with one glance.
I wouldn't want to push in…
Dear God, how utterly stupid she had been! How much more time could she have had with Matthew had she not been blinded by things that were of no true relevance?
"Your mother and I are simply trying to help you re-enter the world of the living," Violet continued, laying a hand on top of one of Mary's and effectively drawing her back into the present. "It can be quite a difficult task when someone we loved so much is no longer a part of it. Dwelling within your memories can become all too tempting, you know."
He was no longer here. No matter how badly she wished it, no matter how many nights she woke herself up crying his name, he was never coming back. She could grieve for him forever, and it would accomplish nothing save allowing her to pay some sort of imaginary penance over his death.
You must stop blaming yourself, my lady. I am sure that it would be the last thing your husband would have wanted.
She then envisioned the man's warm smile, his words of reassurance flowing over her like a caress. She did have to stop these self-destructive thoughts or they would consume her. Mary nodded to her grandmother silently, returning to sit quietly beside Isobel who smiled supportively at her.
"Are you alright now, Mary?" her mother finally asked after several moments of silence, not having any desire to upset her daughter any further.
"Yes, I think so," Mary answered. "At least, I will be. But I do have one question."
"What is it, dear?" Violet inquired, looking at Mary with interest.
"Emily Gillingham—is she married?"
"What?" Cora stammered, not sure that she had hear Mary's question correctly.
"Is Emily Gillingham married?" Mary asked again, making sure that no one in the room could misunderstand her words.
"No," Cora answered, her brows knit together as she tried to decipher her daughter's interest in such a thing. "Why do you ask?'
"No reason," Mary shrugged, effectively giving her mother and grandmother leave to discuss their plans concerning the upcoming party.
"Poor Tom," Mary spoke quietly into her glass, causing Isobel nearly choke on her drink as she was the only one who heard her.