September 1909
"I say!" Robert exclaimed as Matthew appeared in the doorway of the drawing room. Patrick walked in behind him, smiling rather exuberantly in comparison to Matthew's bashful grin, both dressed head to toe in the splendid freshly pressed tails that demanded the attention of the entire family. Of course, they'd seen Patrick in his uniform before- last year before he'd left for Eton for the first time he'd exhibitioned himself in much the same fashion as this, proud of his new outfit befitting him as a gentleman - but this year Matthew was joining him and so he took pride in being able to introduce his best friend to the world that had been only his for the past year.
"You both look terribly handsome," Isobel said applaudingly. Patrick grinned at her statement and skipped over to her, planting a kiss to her cheek.
"Thank you, Isobel. And may I say you look simply lovely yourself this morning."
Patrick had always been a thoroughly well-mannered boy and he brought a fond smile to everyone's face at the use of his innate outgoing charm. Isobel herself gave an indulgent roll of her eyes and watched on happily as the boy gave a turn to exhibit his new outfit, while her own son stayed comparatively silent.
She did so worry about Matthew going away to school and fervently hoped that Patrick would help to settle him in and rid him of some of the acute bashfulness that rendered him nervous in situations such as these. He was a lot like his father when he was younger in that sense, for Isobel had always been as confident as they come.
Reggie, on the other hand, seemed to be wholly more relaxed at the idea, after all, due to an inheritance from a rather eccentric old aunt, he'd gone to Eton as well and had thoroughly enjoyed his school days- not least because he'd met Robert after a month when the pair of them had wondered out of their dorm after hours when Reggie had put a frog in matron's slippers. He laughed at the memory every time it crossed his mind. Matthew himself, was frightfully intimidated at the notion. He had not shared his father's enthusiasm quite so quickly.
Matthew was unsure where his feeling lay, or even if they were all completely of the same opinion. He was glad, certainly, but nervous. He knew that his connections with the family at the big house gave him uncertain prospects, and he'd been assured that he was most certainly clever enough- more than clever enough- to fit in well and his manner was most agreeable, but he was worried that the other boys would notice how he dressed was different or that his lifestyle wasn't quite as extravagant as theirs. These worries simmered down rather a lot after his father took him into Ripon and bought him brand new sets of suits and tails, shirts, ties and waistcoats – much to his father's amusement- and what Matthew had previously felt as anxiety, now transformed into unbridled excitement.
Mary felt a little put out, watching as her father ruffled Matthew's unkempt blonde hair with an affectionate ease. In the last year or so she'd felt like more of an interloper than a daughter. She'd always been acutely aware of the fact that, as the first born, she should've been born a boy- giving her father an heir to his title and the entailed estate it held with it - but it felt somewhat like she had been so quickly cast aside, replaced and disregarded, with every conversation Matthew shared with her Papa, with every book they read and every outing they took turned him slowly into the son Robert had always wished for. To all intents and purposes, her place seemed to no longer be the eldest child of Lord Grantham and Matthew had unwittingly stepped into the role that should've been hers and duly filled it as well as anyone could have wished for.
In her heart of hearts, Mary knew she shouldn't blame her own feeling of inadequacy on Matthew. It was, after all, not his fault he was a boy and she was not. Nor was it his fault that her father had taken such an interest in him. But she was overcome by the sadness that she had been a disappointment to her parents at birth, and so she found the thought of friendship with Matthew difficult to bear. And, accordingly, she couldn't help but treat him with a teasing hostility.
So, as he stood timidly at the edge of the room in his new suit and tails, she ignored him completely with a disinterested expression on her graceful countenance.
"Well, I must say, I think you two should catch your train unless you want to be late." Violet put in, snapping Mary out of her vengeful reverie and springing everyone up from their seats in order to see the boys into the car to say goodbye.
"Right you are, Aunt, as always." Patrick said happily, practically skipping over to the doorframe and bowing out his farewell leaving behind him a mutually amused smile as everyone laughed.
"Robert?"
Reggie stepped into the library, his intrigue having peaked since seeing his son off to school as to the circumstances that had led to it. If he was completely honest, he didn't quite believe that his friend was responsible for the mysterious funds supporting young Matthew's education. It wasn't that he believed Robert would not have offered them the money- in fact Reggie felt quite sure that his friend was actually gearing up to do just that even in the knowledge that it would never be accepted- but he did not think that Robert would do it anonymously or without Cora's approval- of whom it had been made clear over the past months had been no more informed on the situation than either her husband, Reggie or Isobel had been.
And although his wife had long-since decided that she was absolutely determined to find out who the unknown benefactor was, Reggie found all the mystery unabashedly thrilling.
The Earl pushed himself up to a more dignified sitting position in his armchair and glanced over to where Reggie stood, grinning, by the door. The evening was beginning to darken beyond the ancient walls of Downton Abbey and Robert sat comfortably next to the flickering fire for a moment more, before raising himself to pour his friend a scotch.
"Ah, Reggie!" He greeted. "What brings you here at this time?"
"I wondered," Reggie started, swirling the caramel coloured liquid round the ornate glass as a force of habit before he sipped. "If I might ask you if you were aware that Matthew had been left quite a tidy sum by an anonymous benefactor?"
Robert's eyebrows shot up in a surprise that immediately confirmed Reggie's suspicions that he'd known nothing of the sort. The man placed his drink distractedly on the mantle and indicated via nod for Reggie to continue.
"I thought you didn't, but I felt I should ask all the same."
"I had no idea," Robert said with a shake of his head. "And you have no indication who it is at all?"
"None," Reggie confirmed. "Although, given that you are the only person of whom we're close to that has this kind of fortune at their disposal, I thought it sensible to inquire- even if to just confirm that I am right."
"You're not often wrong," Robert said, "and, although I do admit the thought had crossed my mind to put forward some money into young Matthew's education, I knew you would never accept it as a gift so I never tried to offer it."
"It seems you are not often wrong either," Reggie agreed.
"Clever chap," Robert observed, "whomever he is, to give it anonymously. As that way, you have no means of sending it back, nor the motivation to do so. Very clever."
Reggie laughed, taking another drink.
"I have to say, my friend, I wish I had thought of such a plan, but I can assure you it wasn't my doing." Robert also took a drink, pondering. "I might ask Cora," he said with amusement, "although everyone is so fond of Matthew that I suppose it could be any number of people."
Reggie smiled, a warmth filling him- one unrelated to the whiskey- to know that his son was so loved.
"And there was no indication over who it might be?" Robert asked again, the not knowing plaguing him.
"None, although Isobel is examining the handwriting in comparison to every Christmas card that we've stored in the attic," Reggie laughed. Then a thought struck him. "There was a letter," he added, catching Robert's interest once more.
"Oh?"
"Yes," Reggie elaborated, "A letter addressed to Matthew on his coming of age. I wanted to read it, but Isobel insists that it is absolutely out of the question to do so and I'm not one to fight a battle I can't win."
Robert laughed. "Let's not, either of us, pretend we can win an argument against our respective wives."
The train journey had been long, although not particularly arduous. Matthew had Patrick for company who had done the majority of the talking, which he was well used to by now, and taken on the rather abrasive task of explaining Eton life to his thoroughly clueless and terribly nervous friend. He'd embarked first on explaining houses and house masters and house captains and masters and fags and prep and punishment and had broached so many new subjects that Matthew had to concentrate with all his might to retain the valuable knowledge Patrick was bestowing him.
He felt rather lightheaded by the end of it all, hoping fervently that he'd just be able to mind his own business and plough through. He did not like the idea of being called out in prep, and the prospect of actually being caned terrified him. Most of all, he did not wish to live so far away from his mother. He'd miss reading with Robert, talking with Cora, walking with his father, laughing at whatever witty and marginally rude comment the Dowager Countess would mumble over dinner at a volume just loud enough for everyone to hear her. He'd even miss being ignored by Mary.
Mary. Another thought that made him nervous to dwell on. He wasn't certain why she'd made the executive decision that suddenly she didn't care for him or his company, he didn't pretend to know either, at first he'd feared that maybe he'd done something that had unknowingly offended her but after some thought he'd gone over and over all their encounters and couldn't really even put his finger on the exact time she'd decided she no longer liked him. It had hurt his feelings, more than he cared to admit and certainly more than he allowed to show, but he could hold his own in the face of her jibes- no matter how unfounded- and often managed to turn the tides in the direction of giving as good as he'd got. But it had upset him, that he wasn't afraid to clarify- at least in his own mind.
"Oh," Patrick exclaimed, realising he'd overlooked a crucial detail. "When someone asks your name, it's Crawley. No one uses each other's first names."
"Right." Matthew nodded, gulping.
"You'll be fine." Patrick assured him, sensing his nerves. "You're terribly clever and terribly nice, everyone will like you."
He might be clever and nice, but they both knew one person didn't like him. And she was the person that mattered.
November
Robert sat contentedly at breakfast with his two daughters. By convention, married women were permitted to breakfast in the leisure of their bed. Cora regularly took advantage of this privilege as an indulgence of rank, which explained away her absence that particular morning. She had, however, taken breakfast in bed less frequently as Countess than she had as Viscountess and Robert suspected this might have been a ploy to avoid her mother-in-law when they'd lived together. Downton was a large house, that was certain, but, under the general consensus of all married women, there was no house large enough to accommodate a mother-in-law and her daughter-in-law. Especially ones so differing in opinion and culture as Cora and Violet.
Carson stood loyally at the sideboard, almost unmoving, unless he was addressed by one of the family or to give a conspiratory wink at Miss Mary when she shot him a twinkly-eyed smile, until one of the footmen came in to hand him the morning's post which was distributed accordingly.
Robert opened his letter with his mind elsewhere, focussed on an article of the interior page of The Times that he'd only put down for the purpose of sliding the note from its envelope.
"Papa?" Mary asked, placing her fork down for a moment with the purpose of asking him a question that, at least, she considered important.
"Yes dear?" Robert replied, opening his note and beginning to read.
Before Mary could even start her next word, Robert had risen from the table with a smile on his face.
"Matthew has made the first eleven cricket team for next summer!" He announced, not lifting his eyes to look at either daughter. "I must tell your mother!"
Mary's heart dropped.
If Robert had known how much such a simple act had hurt his eldest daughter's feelings, he would never have left the room. But such an envision had slipped his mind.
Edith laughed.
Mary stuck out her tongue at her sister and resumed her toast somewhat disconsolately.
A/N: I'm very sorry this chapter A: was short, B: wasn't very good, and C: took me so long to write considering, but for some reason I found it really difficult to write, (so much so that I actually started writing a story about M&M as single parents instead), so for that I am sorry and I hope you all stick with this as I can say that more things will happen in the upcoming chapters. I also want to know if anyone wants me to have a particular scene/scenario or prompt to include, if so please do tell me, if not then I hope you enjoy where I've headed this story.