April 1910
Dinner that night had been a tiresome, strange and yet rather torrid affair. It had started off well; Matthew and Patrick had returned for the Easter holidays and a celebration dinner at the big house was thrown, Reggie, Isobel and Matthew included to join the family in their festivities and Mrs Patmore had exceeded herself with the level of banquet they were serves, an amiable feast that put the last supper to shame.
The talk had been good-natured and humorous, the festivities brightening even the darkest of moods, glazing over the most suspicious of questions. The slight tense beginning, when Mary had caught sight of an ugly bruise at Patrick's collar and noticed the fading purple at Matthew's eye and squinted in suspicion, had been pushed out from everyone's minds until the unfortunate turn of discussion that arouse over desert.
The conversation came on to the upcoming hunt, and Robert seemed excited, perhaps more so than usual to play the host, because this year Patrick had turned thirteen and was considered of eligible age to join.
"It will be refreshing to have a young mind amongst our midst," Robert declared happily.
Patrick laughed, his skills on horseback, though admirable, he felt were exaggerated greatly by his cousin and he hoped fervently that Robert had not bragged about his abilities to the house guests too greatly in case their expectations became too much to live up to.
"Well, I certainly am looking forward to it." Patrick nodded agreeably, fork speared with chicken hovering before his mouth. "Although, I must say I am looking forward to next year rather more. It will be exciting to have my friends with me." He glanced between Matthew and Mary as he spoke, shooting each a smile and not-failing to notice with a smirk that, although Matthew awkwardly strayed his gaze from her, Mary looked at him softly. And Patrick had a sneaking suspicion she had no idea she was doing so.
"Well perhaps you could join this year Duck?" Cora suggested.
"Well I don't think it would do any harm," Isobel agreed, smiling.
"What a splendid idea!" Robert put in. "That way you won't have to spend the entire day solely in the company of us old codgers, Patrick," the man joked and laughs reverberated around the dining table, falling silent on Mary alone.
She had been omitted again, but chose not to ignore it this time, whether or not she showed her hurt at the matter she was at least determined to prove herself worthy of at least some attention.
"Matthew doesn't ride," she laughed, rather snootily. The image of Matthew sat astride a horse didn't amuse her in particular, but it was an unfamiliar and estranged sight.
"I ride." He corrected, rather coolly. He would not be a doormat and although her insolence rather irritated him, he was a match for her and she him- both determined not to be walked over by the other.
"And do you hunt?" She asked, it was a leading tone to a dead-end question. She knew he had never been taught about the etiquette of a hunting party and this time she had assessed him accurately.
"No," he told her, "I don't hunt."
"Well I daresay there isn't much opportunity in the village or at school." Violet put in.
"But you're a hunting family," Matthew stated.
Mary sighed down at her plate, smirking playfully. "Families like ours are always hunting families."
"Not always," Robert corrected surreptitiously, an attempt at keeping the peace. "Billy Skelton won't let them on his land."
"But all the Skeltons are mad." Mary objected serenely.
"Do you hunt?" Matthew asked, keeping a casual demeanour.
Silently, both Patrick and Reggie sat inwardly impressed at Matthew's newfound burst of sudden confidence. Neither knowing where it came from, yet appreciating his stance at standing up against Mary's jibes. Reggie thought it was all simply in good fun, the tension between them somewhat amusing, but Patrick knew better.
He knew underneath that this teasing was a playful release of feelings that neither of them ever accepted or observes of themselves and the other alike, and it intrigued him and excited him in equal measure.
"I will next year," Mary answered. "Although I suppose you're more interested in books than country sports."
"I probably am," Matthew admitted freely, uncaring if that made him seem odd in her eyes. "You'll tell me that's rather unhealthy."
"Not unhealthy," Mary shrugged. "Just unusual. Among our kind of people."
The insult was subtle and went mildly unnoticed to those that were not paying undivided attention to the pair, but to Matthew it was a rather low blow- flattening even.
Edith had been listening intensely, equally as interested, although less insightful, as Patrick had been. But Isobel and Cora became uncomfortably aware that the dinner had turned into a duel, a battle of feelings- however unbidden and unnoticed by their owners.
Matthew looked at her with a challenge in his eyes and she felt whatever emotion they displayed as much as he did, the exchange almost softening the previous tension.
The family continued to eat their pudding, this time in silence while Patrick tried slyly, and unsuccessfully, to draw Matthew's eyes to meet his own- wanting to indicate to him that, where he might have looked away, Mary had not.
"What was that book you wanted to buy in the village the other day, Matthew?"
Patrick scoured the shelves in the big library, searching for a particular title that Matthew had spent a good hour musing in an old bookshop they'd visited a few days ago.
Cora and Isobel had gone through to the drawing room after dinner and Robert and Reggie had stayed in the dining room with their cigars and port. Mary, Edith, Patrick and Matthew- too young to join either set of adults, too old be sent back to the nursery with nanny- had disappeared to the library.
Edith sat writing at the ornate old writing desk belonging to her father. Mary lounged idly by the fire in the warmth of the red armchair, a book held beneath her gaze. Matthew sat opposite, a distance away that appeased her, on one end of the sofa, a separate book in hand. They resolutely ignored each other.
"It was a very old copy of The Tale of Perseus and Andromeda," Matthew answered, glancing as Patrick crossed to search another shelf.
"Are you an avid fan of Greek myths?" Mary questioned, looking up briefly from her less than compelling novel. She said it teasingly, ready to make another go at making fun of him for his nonconformist taste, but she owned a copy of the book herself, indeed she treasured it, and this piece of information piqued her interest.
"I have a soft spot for this one in particular," Matthew answered vaguely. "I find it rather engaging, if somewhat whimsical."
His eloquent analysis matched her own feelings and rather took her back a bit.
"Oh," was her only response.
"This copy was, in particular, rather nice. Old and heavily backed with illustrations that fascinated me as a child. I've lost my version now, but, alas, this one was too expensive for my pocket." Matthew expected her to laugh, or at least make a snide comment about his wealth, or lack thereof in comparison to hers, but she kept silent, regarding him rather strangely.
Patrick noticed this. Matthew and Edith did not.
"I've discussed it with Reggie, and he thought your idea was rather novel." Robert told his wife, kissing her briefly as he climbed into bed that evening.
"I'm glad," Cora said happily. "Because Isobel agreed to."
"I think Matthew would make an admirable land agent. He works well with Patrick and he does love the place. I miss taking him on my rounds- I knew father used to do the same." Robert mused, tucking himself under the blankets comfortably.
"If he were land agent, I'm afraid we'd have to refrain from calling him Duck so often," Cora laughed easily and Robert joined in, leaning over to kiss her once more.
"I don't think I could get used to that," he joked, settling back down again, reaching for the lamp chord.
"Robert," Cora said pointedly, stopping him before he removed the light from the room. "There's something I must tell you."
A look of terrible concern crossed her husband's face and Cora dismissed it with a gentle kiss, tutting him for jumping to unfavourable conclusions.
"I went to see Clarkson today," she started, her excitement taking hold. "And, well, it seems I am pregnant!"
Robert's face erupted into a delighted grin and he pulled his wife happily into his arms.
"Oh, my darling, that's such wonderful news!"
Mary escaped to the village to mull over the news. At the end of a few months an addition to the family could either be given in the form of a third baby girl or a first son and heir to the title and entailed estate to boot.
The unexpected burst of rain caused her to make the hasty decision to scramble into the nearest shop and browse slowly before the weather petered out. The bookshop was warm and homely, filled with the scent of dusty old volumes and fresh pages of newly printed novels. She pottered around, eyes gracing briefly over the spines on each towering shelf as her mind wandered elsewhere to the dinner only a week ago when Patrick had mentioned how Matthew had found a rather lovely copy of Perseus and Andromeda.
Only realising it sometime later, she'd started actively searching and seeking out the particular book, wondering between the shelves periodically and creating quite a methodical scouring of the shop.
She found it on the bottom shelf of a dusty, half hidden shelf in the very corner of the room and brought it out from its confining hiding place, holding the delicate pages between her careful fingers as she flicked through to find that Matthew had been absolutely accurate in his depiction. It was beautiful, the pages thin and fragile and the illustrations detailed and colourful.
She smiled, vaguely picturing the younger Matthew from years ago skimming his own hands over the pictures. He'd been a funny boy, even then, and she'd always found him reading in the strangest of places around the estate.
A cunning thought entered her mind and she stowed the book back away behind its counterparts at the very back of the corner shelf so it was practically invisible to someone who was not actively looking for it, obscured by the other spines of its neighbours.
It wasn't that she didn't want to buy it, she very much longed to take it home with her, but she hadn't any money- apparently little girls wandering about with money was frightfully improper, or so Fräulein Kelder said. And it wasn't that she didn't want Matthew to buy it either, despite how it may have seemed. It was simply that she wanted to save this treasure to peruse as her will and the idea of some stranger buying it did not sit well with her. It might have been a selfish thought- and her governess would berate her for being so self-thinking- but she didn't care, and noticing the rain had stopped she wandered out of the shop door, the bell clanging as she left.
She resolved to venture home, not quite having made her peace with the prospect of yet another younger sibling but more so than earlier- the churning in her stomach having ceased by now.
She walked slowly, passing through the square and taking in the scent of the earth after rain.
A shout turned her head to a side street and she stopped in her tracks, nosily watching on as a group of boys from the local school, old boys- much older than her anyway, picked on two others of meeker and smaller stature.
The churning in her stomach started up again when she saw a familiar flash of blonde and blue being knocked to the ground, while an equally familiar countenance with darker eyes and hair stood up for his friend and was subsequently also knocked over.
She observed, frozen, as a fight broke out, or more accurately an admirably pushed back massacre, not knowing what she should do. She felt somewhat ill as an explanation dawned on her for the frequent appearance of different injuries on Matthew and Patrick. She didn't want to think about it, she didn't want to watch, so she ran away.
Halfway into the thick lining of woods that separated the village from the big house, Mary stopped. A guilty feeling swelled inside her and she felt ashamed as her conscience gave her a well-deserved beating for not doing something. But what could she have done? Something, at least, she supposed. Something other than running away.
Regretful, she turned back in her tracks, searching out the place again only to find that neither Matthew, nor Patrick, nor their assailants were anywhere to be seen.
An uncomfortable pit swallowed her stomach and she felt somewhat confused over the worry that seemed to take over. She wasn't supposed to like Matthew, so why did she suddenly feel so strangely concerned for him? How long had this been going on for? She wondered pensively back home, unbridled anxiety giving her an uneasy tingling at the end of her nerves. Why was she so caught up about this? Patrick was her cousin, it was natural for her to feel concern for him- but she'd tried so hard to convince herself that Matthew was not her friend that the fact that she felt so ill at ease for his welfare and upset that he might be hurt, confused her greatly.
"Mr Carson?"
A knock at his half-closed door drew his attention from the interviewing footman and the voice that accompanied it gave Carson occasion to dismiss the boy and permit Miss Mary to enter.
She did not make appointments to see him and, despite that her visits had declined in the frequency since she'd grown older and begun to take lessons, she came down rather spontaneously, seeking his company or advice or simply a short few words to cheer her during her day.
Carson looked forward to these moments, he'd loved her at first sight and since had come to accept that he loved her like a daughter, and he enjoyed the times in his day when Miss Mary would grace him with her presence. When she was younger, she liked to leave him notes and sometimes gift him pictures she'd drawn that he now kept in his desk drawer. She'd run to him at every new discovery and event, every problem or question and he liked this trust that they shared.
What broke his tender heart, was seeing her eyes tinged with red when she entered, still dressed immaculately in the coat and hat she'd returned from her trip to the village in.
"Miss Mary," he greeted, somewhat stunned. "Are you quite well?"
Mary nodded distractedly and moved closer to his desk.
"Would you like to take a seat?" He invited, pulling out her chair and seating himself opposite her.
"I wondered if you might give me some advice," Mary asked, despite her fragile temperament, her voice came out steady and composed as always.
"I'll do my best, Miss Mary. I can promise you that." He said earnestly, listening intently to her.
"If you saw someone that needed help, but you didn't know how to help them, what would you do?" she questioned. Her eyes locked intently to his and he saw the shining glisten of someone that had been crying reflect back to him. He pondered this, an interesting inquiry and not at all what he had been expecting.
"Well," he started, "I suppose I would ask them if there were anything I might do to assist. Or tell someone else that I knew could offer some help on the matter."
He watched as Mary took in his response.
"Do you know someone that needs help?" He asked kindly.
She nodded silently.
"Did you help them?"
She shook her head. "I didn't know what I could do," she elaborated. "I wanted to… or at least, I know I should have. But now I just feel so… guilty and confused and I don't know what how I feel means or what I should do now…"
He decided not to pry for specific details, respecting the privacy she seemed to desire from her omission of the exact situation in the first place.
"I would suggest you talk to the person," he said. "But don't get too caught up. You shouldn't feel guilt over things you can't solve and sorting out confusing feelings is difficult. If I may say so, you're still very young, Miss Mary. There's no need to be able to understand everything you feel quite so quickly."
"Am I?" Mary asked. "I don't feel it."
"We're all behind you, Miss Mary. If you need any help you know that I'm always on your side." He told her, his voice eminently warm and soothing.
"Thank you, Mr Carson. You've always been so kind to me. Always. For as long as I can remember. Why is that?"
"Even a Butler has his favourites," Carson winked, happy to see a smile emerge on her face.
"Does he? I'm glad."