Your responses to Chapter 11 were beautifully overwhelming! Thank you all for taking time out of your busy lives to read and review. :-) Hearing from you truly makes my day. As always, my most profound gratitude goes to R. Grace and On either side the river lie for their amazing support in this endeavor. Thanks so much for being such wonderful sounding-boards!
Perhaps I should post a serious flirtation alert for this chapter (*ahem*)...I do hope you enjoy it!
Ch 12
What exactly had she planned to say to him tonight? Mary's carefully formulated speech had vanished, slipping from her grasp irrationally the moment she saw the man staring at her with such expectation. She was stricken by the openness in his expression, and standing within the shelter of his gaze, she felt...she felt...
Dear God...she felt. And that spark nudged her onward, down the remaining steps, her eyes never breaking contact with his lest she lose her way.
She determinedly cast off weighted guilt layer by layer as she moved in his direction until she stood before him, stripped of several burdensome constraints she had corseted to herself over half a lifetime. And the sense of newly awakened liberation it afforded made her tremble.
"Lady Mary," Charles breathed sincerely, his voice infusing her with a warmth reminiscent of a fine cognac traipsing languidly throughout her body. "You look beautiful this evening."
Guilt quickly pinched her insides as she remembered the speech she had been rehearsing in her mind while dressing for the evening. Words formulated to send him away—to put an end to this flirtation. Words she was now quite certain she could not piece together in any type of coherency as brown eyes held her a willing hostage where she stood. Her breath halted in her throat as he reverently grasped her ungloved hand, anticipation coiling within her fiercely as he raised it slowly in the direction of his mouth.
Then his lips made contact.
A rather alarming boldness welled up and spilled over as sparks shot through a body already raw from exposure to pent-up emotion. She was utterly intoxicated.
"Thank you, Mr. Blake," she returned as smoothly as she was able, returning his gaze with a muted ferocity of her own, "but I do hope that my appearance hasn't been offensive to you up until this point."
The daring tone in her eyes was not lost upon him, the hint of something new emerging within her drawing him in closer as a moth approaching a newly lit flame.
One he most decidedly did not want to extinguish.
His hand enclosed hers in delicate firmness, coaxing her to remain still even as he stepped forward. Bound hands were effectively entrapped between them, his words spoken in hushed tones for her hearing alone.
"My lady, your appearance has never been anything but absolute perfection." He leaned into her, his dimple nearly grazing her ear as he whispered, "Even at 3:30 in the morning, if you will permit me to say so."
She was certain champagne had been unleashed in her veins.
"How very sly of you to seek permission after you have already addressed me in so roguish a manner," she returned, leaning back just enough so that she could stare at him directly. "And just what would you do if I should decide to deny you that right?"
"Oh, dear," Charles stated, feigning a look of consternation as he admitted, "I am afraid I did not account for that possibility. I suppose the most prudent move would be to withdraw and formulate a better strategy."
"You surprise me, Mr. Blake," Mary returned, her expression issuing him a challenge. "I would have never taken you for someone who would withdraw quite so hastily."
"I would never want to disappoint you in such a fashion, Lady Mary," he breathed, his eyes darkening in a rather alarming manner.
"Then see that you don't, Mr. Blake," she quietly fired back, querying her brow at him in a rather arched tone. "It would be such a shame for things to end so quickly, and just when you were finally getting on my good side."
"Is your bad side truly that horrible?" he dared, her eyes flashing in response to the boldness in his. "I may just find it rather intriguing." The crackle in her gaze gave him pause as he pushed forward and asked, "Why are you looking at me in such a manner, may I ask?"
"I am currently deciding if you are truly that fool-hardy or simply that arrogant," she crooned, stretching his smile even broader.
"Would you accept fixedly determined?" he dared, not missing the slight hitch in her breath at his inquiry.
"Not from someone whose best strategy was withdrawing after his first move was thwarted just moments ago," Mary returned, steadying her expression to give nothing away.
"If I had completely withdrawn, then I could certainly understand your frustration," he spoke, drawing her interest as she tilted her head slightly towards him. "But I am rather firmly attached to the task at hand and have merely changed positions, my lady."
"And just what maneuver have you concocted?" she daringly queried, the set of her lips informing him that her expectations were high. "It had better be quite good indeed to atone for the liberty you have already taken."
"It is quite effective, I must say," he said, shrugging his shoulders slightly as he added, "but not necessarily all that original."
"And it is?" Mary pressed forward, unwilling to let him dominate this conversational tango.
"Shamelessly distracting you until I have devised a superior plan of action," he admitted, bowing his head slightly in deference to her judgment upon his confession.
"That is funny," Mary grinned, "for I thought all this time that I was shamelessly distracting you."
Dear God—that grin again!
"And just what ingenious methods have you been employing to draw my attention to you so fixedly?" he asked, his eyes softly demanding an answer.
"Why should I give away all of my secrets this early in the game?" Mary inquired, her gaze pinning him squarely. "After all, would that not give you a rather large advantage?"
"Although pressing an advantage with you might be sorely tempting, my lady, the upper hand in all of dealings should always belong to you," Charles voiced sincerely.
It was at this moment she became acutely aware that he had not yet released her hand. Her eyes flickered to the point where their bodies remained interlocked, her senses responding all too quickly to the intimacy as his thumb grazed her knuckles.
"Speaking of hands, do you ever intend to release mine?" she hesitated, a portion of her needing a modicum of space to draw breath while the other basked in the contact.
"Would you like me to do so?' he inquired, his thumb claiming a soft fold of flesh nestled hidden between two knuckles. Her throat went instantly dry as every drop of blood raced to the spot held blissfully captive.
"It would most definitely be the prudent course of action," Mary replied, "We could be discovered here at any moment."
"I did not ask what was prudent, but what you desired," Charles stated, her eyes casting down in response as a wave of uncertainly swelled beneath her.
"That may depend upon your motives, Mr. Blake," she breathed deeply. "Do you hold my hand as a continuation of your plan to distract me, or do you have an alternative agenda which you are keeping concealed?"
"A worthy question, indeed," Charles admitted, his thumb stroking that spot just enough to drive her quietly mad. "Of course, I cannot answer it, I am sorry to say."
"How can you refuse me when you have promised my grandmother so very faithfully that you are at my disposal?" she dared, leaning back a mere breath in challenge.
"It is a matter of strategy, my lady," he explained, maintaining the distance she placed between them. "If I admit to prolonging a ploy of distraction, then I have once again conceded defeat and given away my methodology. However, if I do have a hidden agenda at work, then revealing it to you would put me at an even greater disadvantage that the one I already face. You must see my dilemma."
"Hmmm," she murmured, narrowing her eyes slightly. "I am not at all certain that you are facing any disadvantage at all, sir, but rather claiming to do so in an ill-gotten attempt to have me take pity upon you."
"Nonetheless, Lady Mary, I am still holding your hand," he returned, grinning broadly at the burst of fire his comment drew from the depths of her orbs.
"And you are a cad, Mr. Blake," Mary insisted, "I find that I have now quite forgotten why I issued you the invitation to stay here tonight in the first place."
The stare was hypnotic, the breath that caressed her knuckles as he dared yet another kiss upon them before releasing her hand from his keeping a probing reminder that her senses were fully charged in his favor.
"Perhaps a peace offering?" he attempted, putting the two gifts before her as she gave him a sideways smile.
"Resorting to bribery, now are we?" she prodded, shaking her head slightly in mock consternation. "How far we have fallen, Mr. Blake."
"Ah, but the length of the fall depends completely upon the height of the tower one is attempting to climb. Would you not agree, Lady Mary?"
The rake!
"Perhaps it is more dependent upon the use of shoddy equipment. One must prepare for the unexpected when scaling a tower," she mused with a beguiling smirk.
"I can assure you, my lady, my equipment is in fine form," he returned without a flinch.
She felt the blush that bled across her skin acutely as she returned, "I am glad to hear it, Mr. Blake."
She could hardly breathe, feeling the effects of him overtake her like the most delicious poison, drugging her sense of both time and reality in the most tantalizing manner. This could get a bit dangerous.
"Now, will you accept my gifts, or will I have to resort to Plan C?" he inquired, flashing her an expression that rather illogically reminded her of the stray puppy residing in the back yard.
"And just what is Plan C?" she queried.
"To get down and beg," he replied, dropping his head in feigned resignation as she laughed audibly.
"I think I would rather like to see that, actually," Mary smiled, halting her laughter as quickly as possible so as not to draw anyone's unwanted attention to their private discourse.
"Why does that not surprise me?" Charles retorted, attempting to place both gifts in her hands as he prepared to kneel down.
"Not here, you silly man!" she hissed, looking around hastily to make sure that no one was observing their exchange as another giggle burst forth from her unbidden.
He returned to an upright stance, running his fingers through his hair as he inquired, "So I assume that you have another time and location in mind, my lady?"
"Another time and location in mind for what, exactly?" a voice cut through, a wave of smothering mortification crawling up her limbs as Mary turned to face her brother-in-law.
"To open these thoughtful gifts that Mr. Blake has brought," she returned smoothly, sliding into her performance persona with an ease that Tom recognized all too well.
"Well, that was very thoughtful of you, Mr. Blake," Tom returned, the glint in his eyes not matching his words as he stared down the other man quite effectively.
"It was the least I could do, Mr. Branson," Charles replied calmly, taking Tom's protectiveness in dignified stride. "I did wonder, Lady Mary, when would be an appropriate time to deliver that particular gift to Master George? I do hope he is feeling better now."
"He is doing much better, thank you," Mary replied, delighted by this change in tactic, "and right now would be a good time, actually. My mother is with him at the moment, although I must warn you that he and Sybbie will be dining with us this evening."
"Are you still minus a nanny, then?" he asked, following her as she began to make her way back up the stairs.
"Our new nanny starts tomorrow," Tom interjected, still standing on the ground floor as his incredulous gaze searched Mary's rather stubborn one.
"Temporary nanny, that is," Mary clarified, smiling at Charles as her eyes flashed Tom a look of warning. "Come, Mr. Blake. George will be delighted to see you again."
"Mr. Branson," Charles acknowledged, turning to face the other man directly, "we shall return in short order, I assure you."
"See that you do," Tom stated firmly, earning him a decided eye-roll from his sister-in-law. She sighed audibly over this primal protective streak asserting itself rather loudly at such an inopportune moment.
After all, it was not as though Tom Branson had been appointed as her keeper.
But Mary did understand the deep origins of his feelings, realizing that it must be nearly as difficult for Tom to witness her flirting with a another man as it would be for her to see him become serious about a woman besides her sister. She did want Tom to love again and be happy, but watching him walk through the entire process could have its uncomfortable moments for her and the rest of her family.
A renewed realization that she was flirting—seriously flirting—with a man who was not Matthew slammed into her, shoving her dangerously near a precipice self-doubt that loomed cavernously before her. Simultaneously, Mary understood that by inviting Charles back into her son's nursery, she was effectively giving him permission to take a step into her life...
Consenting to a dance.
The thought gave her pause as she halted upon the stairs and looked back at him searchingly. Was she ready for this? Dare she take the risk?
"I can wait until later, Lady Mary, if you are having second thoughts over the matter," Charles assured her, ceasing his own progress on the staircase as he allowed her space to think.
She stood suspended, stretched across the bridge spanning the gulf between a priceless past and the possibility of a living, breathing and enticing present looking up at her in search of permission to move forward. There was no longer any doubt of the measured attraction between them—a growing, pulsing entity that kept urging her towards strong arms she knew would be open to her, into an embrace that promised to both cover her wounds and unleash her senses. Yet Mary knew without a doubt that Charles Blake would step back if she asked it of him.
"No," she decided, his small smile of response tugging insistently at the corners of her own lips. "This truly is the perfect time, Mr. Blake."
"Then I am at your disposal, Lady Mary," he replied, transforming her reluctant grin into a vulnerable smile that nearly shattered him.
He closed the gap between them with determined caution, fully aware of just how much these steps forward were costing her. With trembling hands, she accepted his offered arm, startled by her own daring even as she welcomed his encompassing sense of shelter.
"Shall we, my lady?" he inquired gently, smiling as she nervously cast her eyes down to the floor momentarily before giving him a small nod in assent.
They then slowly walked up the remaining stairs together.
Mary groaned inwardly at the beaming smile her mother gave Charles Blake when they entered the nursery, noting the speed with which Cora's eyes took in the gifts, guarded expressions and their close proximity to each other. No matter how fervently Mary might later protest, her mother had already examined the evidence before her and formed her own conclusions within a matter of seconds.
It was probably just better to deal with the entire situation directly and put it to rest rather than have her mother's questions hovering about them insistently for the rest of the night.
"Mr. Blake," Cora began, standing from her position in the rocking chair as George continued to play with his wooden duck. "I am delighted that you were able to join us this evening, although I was sorry to learn of your aunt's illness."
Mary's eyes flew open as the vastness of her oversight pounded in her ears. She had been so blindsided by his very presence that she had neglected to inquire after Lady Catherine! How vastly selfish of her.
"Lady Grantham, I must thank you for both your kind hospitality and your concern over my aunt's condition," Charles replied, noting the look of discomfort on Mary's face and quickly deducing its source. "I am happy to report that Dr. Clarkson believes she has decidedly improved and will be able to leave the hospital tomorrow."
"Are you certain that she is strong enough?" Mary voiced, remembering just how fragile the lady had seemed during their conversation earlier in the day...a conversation upon which she did not want to dwell at the moment. "I would hate for her to suffer a set-back."
"Unfortunately, she will never be completely rid of her heart condition," Charles answered honestly, "but her difficulties do come and go, so to speak. Dr. Clarkson assured me that as long as she gets adequate rest, she will progress just as well at home as she would in the hospital. I do need to see about hiring a private nurse to tend to her, however."
Mary noted the small flicker of pain that flashed across her mother's face, knowing how desperately she wished that Sybil could have been on hand to offer her assistance. But the note of sadness vanished quickly as Lady Grantham recovered her wits and faced the pair with aplomb.
"We already have a room prepared for Lady Catherine," she offered, drawing her eyes together in thought, "and Mrs. Crawley is currently staying with us while repairs are being made upon her house. I shall ask her if she would mind tending to your aunt until a suitable nurse can be found. Would you be comfortable in allowing her to recuperate here at Downton over the next few days?"
"I feel as though I have imposed enough upon your hospitality," he began, his gaze moving from mother to daughter as he stated, "I would not want to overstay my welcome."
"Nonsense, Mr. Blake," Mary responded, steadying her voice even as her words had their desired impact. "Have I not already informed you that you are welcome here?"
"You have indeed, Lady Mary," he replied, giving her a slight nod as he concluded, "I just want to assure you that I shall not take it for granted."
The hint of her smile targeted him with precision, his conceding grin urging her to take aim yet again.
And not a breath of this silent exchange was overlooked by Cora.
"Well, in that case, I shall leave Georgie in your capable hands and make sure that everything is in place for dinner," Lady Grantham smiled, casting her daughter a private look of excitement as she moved past her towards the door. "If you will excuse me, Mr. Blake."
"Of course, Lady Grantham," he bowed as she made her exit from the nursery with blatant haste.
"Please forgive me for failing to inquire about your aunt when you arrived," Mary began once they were alone with George, shaking her head slightly in consternation as she continued, "I am so very sorry."
"Lady Mary, I have already admitted to the fact that I was shamelessly attempting to distract you down there, so please allow the blame to fall squarely upon my shoulders," Charles returned, ensuring that her eyes were fully upon his as he added, "Yours have had to bear much more than their fair share lately. Let's give them a rest, shall we?"
"Only if you tell me the truth," Mary agreed, her eyes narrowing as she sought his assurance. "Will she ever truly recover from this?"
The look of utter defeat cast upon his face answered her question immediately, a cold pit forming in her stomach as he stated, "I am afraid not. The doctor in London told me she would live no longer than six months, but Dr. Clarkson seems to think that she might hold on for another year or two." He ran his fingers through his hair again, shaking his head as he admitted, "I just don't want to see her suffer. She raised me, you know. In every way that truly counts, she is my mother."
"Yes, I know," Mary replied softly, daring to take his hand within hers in a gesture of sympathy that took him by surprise.
"Without her, I have no idea where I might be today," he admitted, squeezing her hand slightly, the pain in his eyes touching her with the softness of delicate fingers. "I owe her so very much."
"I doubt very much that she looks upon it in such a manner," Mary offered, unaccustomed to seeing him in such a vulnerable state. "She thinks of you as her son, and mothers do not keep a tally of debts owed to them by their children, I assure you."
As if on cue, George knocked over his stack of blocks gleefully with his duck, erupting into a round of applause for himself as he squealed in delight.
"Hello there, George," Charles smiled, turning his attention to the boy who grinned up at him in recognition. "I am sorry to have so shamefully neglected you."
He immediately sat down on the floor with the child, beginning to rebuild the doomed structure of blocks much to George's delight as Mary watched in silence, an insistent tugging upon her heart filling her with equal measures of sadness and measured hope.
This was all still so surreal.
"I have something for you," Charles continued, extending the gift towards George and laughing at the boy's response as he clasped it within his dimpled hands and attempted to chew on its corners.
"No, George," Mary corrected, kneeling down upon the play rug and prying the present from her son's mouth. "Here, let me help you."
Charles watched in silent amusement as she cautiously attempted to cut a clean seam in the wrapping with her fingernail, George's impatience growing with each moment the present was out of his eager grasp.
"May I?" he asked, holding out his hand in the direction of the gift as she looked up at him from underneath her lashes.
"I suppose," she replied, laying the package in his large hands and watching in horror as he tore a large gash in the wrapping.
"Here you go, George," Charles smiled, handing the parcel back to the delighted child as he mimicked the action he had just witnessed and began ripping into the paper in abandon.
"Was that really necessary, Mr. Blake?" Mary questioned, giving him that quirked glance that he had already come to cherish.
"Absolutely," he enthused, a gleam returning to his eyes as he assisted George with the remainder of his task. "Unwrapping the package is half the fun, my lady."
He received a decidedly more marked glare in return.
"Book! Book!" George babbled, holding this new treasure as well as he was able as Mary leaned forward to help him, staring at the cover as spontaneous grin crept across her face.
"The Teddy Bearoplane," she read aloud, touching the picture of a smiling teddy bear riding in the described aircraft as it flew over the countryside, making George point to the plane and state, "Bye-bye!"
"When I saw it in the bookstore, I could simply not resist," Charles admitted, looking up at her with an expression that made him rather resemble a little boy, as well. "I know just how much he adores that bear of his."
"It's perfect. Thank you," Mary replied, his thoughtfulness resonating fully within her. "I shall have to read it to him later tonight."
"Would you allow me to do so?" he inquired, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself as her eyes widened in surprise. "Or do I ask too much?"
"No," she whispered, casting her eyes back down to the book as she clarified, "It is not too much. I am sure that he would love that, actually."
Matthew's marked absence assailed her anew, pushing her to her feet as she wordlessly strolled to the window in a futile attempt to dull the ache pulsing deep within. He should be here—here—in this nursery with her...with them. George was his son, for God's sake!
But he wasn't here. And there was nothing she could do to change that fact.
Charles stood and moved quietly in her direction, his nearness felt keenly by her even as he refused to invade the space she had created between them.
"I apologize, Lady Mary, I should not have presumed-"
"No," she interrupted, turning back to face him as she took a halting step closer, clasping her arms around herself as she rubbed them for warmth. "You did nothing wrong, Mr. Blake. It's just that sometimes..."
Stray tears cut her off, spilling on to her cheeks as she struggled desperately to curtail their progress. She finally hung her head in resignation, covering her mouth with her hand as she simply let them fall.
"I know," he assured her, his hands gently encircling her arms as she gazed up at him, allowing him to see the ongoing struggle taking place within her soul. He did know, and there was no need for her to try to explain what was so difficult to put into words. He pulled her cautiously closer until his arms embraced her fully, her cheek coming to rest near his shoulder as his hands covered her back. And she let him hold her, releasing her hurt into him as she pressed even closer, siphoning as much comfort from his touch as she could possibly take in.
A shriek from George broke them apart sharply as they both turned immediately in his direction, Mary's jaw opening in surprise as she saw the child standing upright and attempting a hesitant step in her direction.
His first steps!
She dropped to her knees, smiling widely as she encouraged him through her tears, holding her arms out to him as she beckoned him forward. He was grinning broadly, sensing innately that he was accomplishing a feat vastly greater than his young mind could yet fathom. He faltered once, nearly falling as he caught himself with his hands and pushed his still top-heavy body back upright. The expression of utter determination on his little face made Mary laugh as he staggered once, twice, and finally toppled deliriously into her arms.
She wept at the sheer beauty of it.
"I am so proud of you!" Mary exclaimed, hugging her son tightly to her chest as he giggled. "Did you see what he did?"
"I did, indeed," Charles responded, a huge grin breaking across his face as he reclaimed his seat on the floor. "What a clever boy you are, George!" he beamed, earning himself a most endearing slobbery smile in return.
The lad immediately began to express his intentions of trying to recreate what he had just done, pushing himself from Mary's chest even as he fell onto his bottom in response.
"He knows that he can stand on his own," Charles surmised, his hands motioning the lad in his direction as George pushed himself up and happily complied. "There will be no stopping him now."
Mary watched in breathless fascination as her child teetered away from her, nearly running towards the man whose arms promised to catch him if he stumbled. He was blossoming before her very eyes, gaining strength and momentum as he pressed ever forward, refusing to look backwards lest he lose his footing and miss his destination entirely.
And although the pain of loss still dwelled within her chambers, she quietly determined that if George could do it, then so could she.
Tom had been rather sullen at dinner, but he had kept any pointed opinions or remarks concerning Charles Blake thankfully to himself. Mary suspected that her mother was directly responsible for his silence on the matter, noting quick, pointed glances cast his way from Cora's place at the table. George and Sybbie's presence kept things lively enough, Lord Grantham bearing up quite admirably under the slight strain of having children at the table. But Mary decidedly missed Carson's presence, for neither Mr. Molesely nor Mr. Barrow would take the time to dote on the children in the same fashion as their favorite butler.
Everyone was delighted by hearing of George's progress in walking, Cora regretting the fact that she had left the nursery just minutes before the magical moment arrived. Mary assured her that George would be more than delighted to show off his newly discovered skills after dinner, musing to herself that Nanny Thompson's job would now most certainly be more challenging. She also knew that Isobel would be panting to see this latest development when she returned from her dinner with Dr. Clarkson. She could only imagine the look on her face upon witnessing the first steps of her grandson.
And she couldn't help but wonder at what the woman's response would truly be to Mary's budding new relationship with Charles Blake.
How odd it felt to think of it in such a manner, and actually labeling it as such made her more than slightly nervous. Yet there it stood, no matter what she chose to deem it, and to deny its existence would be nothing short of ludicrous.
Isobel had assured her just days ago that she wanted Mary to move on, to love again and move forward with her life. Yet just as she had witnessed with Tom, Mary could not help but wonder if the reality of such a possibility would be more difficult for her mother-in-law to accept than simply the abstract idea of it. How very ironic that the opposite was proving true for Mary.
The next few days were promising to become more and more interesting, indeed.
The lights flickered unceremoniously at one point, going out all together for a matter of seconds, but just enough to scare Sybbie and make her call out for her father. Tom took her up in his arms immediately, stroking her dark curls as he whispered away her fears. Mary looked to George who seemed to find the entire situation rather exciting as he stared wide-eyed back at her, pointing up to the lights that had suddenly ceased to work properly. But when she moved her gaze to Charles Blake, her heart stopped momentarily.
He was watching Tom console his daughter. And his face was utterly broken.
Charles then took a deep breath and returned his attention to Mary, giving her a small grin and a secret wink he intended to go unnoticed by anyone else in the darkness. But she had seen the roots of something buried deep within him, a pain she recognized and translated rather quickly into a fact of which now she was certain.
She knew that Charles Blake had lost both his wife and baby in childbirth. But Mary was now convinced that his child had been a daughter.
She could not pull her gaze from him, wondering just how he had dealt with not just one but two such staggering gashes to the fabric of his life. Were there still hidden places in his soul where none were allowed to venture, where the pain was still too acute to approach? Was he perhaps seeking for someone who could help him find his way, as well, one who could help him shoulder the hurt life had dealt him as a matter of cruel chance? She had quickly come to perceive him as such a strong and comforting force, an unexpected shelter that had rather magically appeared in her life. Yet he must have his weak points as well, crevices where hurt still lay hidden from most but lingered ever-present just the same.
Was it possible that she indeed offered him the same measure of comfort that he had freely bestowed upon her up in the nursery? The very thought seemed impossible to her in her fragmented state, but there it stood all the same.
The lights flashed on once again much to everyone's relief, forcing Mary to break her concentrated focus upon him and return her attention to the conversation at hand.
"As you can see, Mr. Blake, we have been experiencing some rather unfortunate difficulties with the electricity ever since the storm came through two days ago," Robert explained before placing the next course upon his plate. "I am sorry to inform you that these problems may continue over the next few days. I hope you do not find it too inconvenient for your comfort."
Charles simply shook his head before responding, "Lord Grantham, I have lived most of my adult life in India. The reliability of electricity here at Downton, even in its damaged state, is far greater than that to which I became accustomed, I assure you."
"Nonetheless, I apologize for any inconvenience our problems may cause you," Robert continued. "We have had rather an unexpected string of bad luck here recently."
"I was so very sorry to hear of Mr. Carson's injury," Charles stated as he set down his wine glass. "I was rather impressed by his efficiency and persona during my last visit."
"There is no one like Carson," Mary stated in agreement, "I practically had to force the man to remain in bed to recover. He wanted to oversee the house party with a wrist the size of a cricket ball."
"I am glad you convinced him to take care of himself, but I daresay the man would have still managed admirably, even in an injured state," Charles returned, seeking Mary's reaction to his assumption.
"Take care that he doesn't hear you say that," she put in, looking up at him from her plate, "or he will insist on returning to full duty even with a sling on his arm."
"Mary, have you instructed Mr. Blake that he must keep an eye out for the bat?" Cora asked, noting the rather astonished expression on Charles's face that answered her question immediately.
"What's this about bats?" he inquired, turning to Mary as she rolled her eyes in exasperation over the entire situation.
"It would seem that a bat managed to sneak into the house through a broken window," Mary explained, shaking her head slightly at the utter ridiculousness of the situation. "Unfortunately, no one has been able to locate or apprehend it yet."
"I do hope you will still be able to sleep soundly, Mr. Blake," Cora stated, a shiver running up her spine at the mere thought of the mammal.
"Lady Grantham, I assure you that any bat flying about Downton cannot compare to some of the species I became acquainted with in India," Charles replied, George beginning to repeat the word "bat" in excitement as he clapped his hands.
"Do you like bats, then, George?" Charles grinned, watching the boy in delight as an expression of revulsion passed across his mother's countenance.
"No, he does not," Mary replied firmly in his stead.
"Bats that here are the size of mice are actually the size of cats near my father's estate," Charles continued, illustrating the size difference with his hands for the children's amusement and making Cora's fork pause mid-way to her mouth.
"Well, that would be something to see, indeed," Robert said with interest, earning himself a rather incredulous look from his wife.
"As long as they're not the size of dogs," Mary put in, casting Tom a look that made him hang his head slightly. "A run-away puppy caused a great many problems yesterday, as well," Mary explained to Charles's silent inquiry, stifling the ridiculous urge to laugh audibly at the utter absurdity of it all.
"I see doggie?" Sybbie asked, a bright smile lighting up her features that made Tom just shake his head.
"Sybbie has unfortunately become rather attached to the rascal," Mary explained. "She's given the little beast a name, and that is most certainly a bad sign."
"And just what is so horrible about child and a dog getting on well together?" Charles asked, earning himself a rather pointed looks from both Mary and Cora.
"My thoughts, exactly," Robert chimed in, setting his water glass back on the table as he addressed the entire gathering. "As none of the tenants have claimed the pup, I can see no harm in allowing him to stay here at Downton. The children already enjoy him, and he is a rather fine breed."
His statement was met with utter silence as the lights flickered precariously once more, causing Sybbie to cry out again for her father and George to squeal and clap his hands in unbridled glee.
"And you said you didn't believe in curses," Mary murmured quietly under her breath for Charles's ears alone as the others took up the discussion of the dog.
"I don't," Charles restated teasingly, "but I may have to reconsider my views on voodoo with all of the strange goings on here at Downton."
"If I find a doll in your possession that even remotely resembles me, you're in for it," she bit back playfully, making him laugh in earnest as quietly as he could.
"Promises, promises, Lady Mary..." he whispered behind his napkin, giving her a look that she could not misread.
And the resulting flame that sparked in her eyes assured him that he was in for it, indeed.
I received so many notes stating that you were looking forward to more interaction between Mary and Charles, so I do hope you enjoyed their time together during this chapter! There is much more to come in the next installment which should be posted next Thursday or Friday. As always, I look forward to your thoughts and will be posting musical teasers for Chapter 13 next Tuesday and Wednesday on tumblr. Have a blessed week, everyone!