BARGAINING

Part 1

"Is everyone gone now?" asked Anna. They strolled back from the village, chatting easily, each needing a break from the unrelenting emotional pressures on their charges in the main house.

"I think so," said Bates. "His lordship said the last of the cousins were taking the morning train."

"The house will seem quiet now that they've all left. Now is when they'll feel it."

Bates frowned. "I'd say his lordship's feeling it pretty badly already. He hardly says a word. I think he fears another tragedy around every corner."

"Lady Mary, too," said Anna. "Though she's putting a good face on it. Between the baby and her pacing about all night, I don't think she's slept since she came home from hospital. I know her ladyship's worried about her; Lady Mary's just going through the motions, accepting both condolences and baby gifts with the same detached manner." She thought for a moment. "At least this time the lord and lady are going through it together. It was awful after Lady Sybil died, with so much tension in the house."

"So you said." Bates pursed his lips in thought, reminded of that terrible period for himself and his wartime comrade. "I wish I could've been there for his lordship. It was hard enough on him when they lost the baby before the war. I can't imagine what it was like to lose Lady Sybil like that."

"And then to feel like he lost his wife as well."

"They got through that," said Bates, "they'll get through this."

"Is that Isis?" asked Anna as they approached their cottage. The familiar yellow lab that had been lying on their doorstep got to her feet and wagged her tail.

Bates set the bags of shopping on the ground, hung his cane on his arm and nuzzled the dog's neck with both hands. When a quick look around showed no sign of her master, he said, "What are you doing so far from home, eh, girl?"

She rolled onto her back and let Bates rub her belly.

"You've a way with women," laughed Anna. "She likes you."

Bates smiled. "Well, since she's never very far from his lordship, we spend a lot of time together. Don't we, girl?" He turned to Anna. "I'll give her some water and take her back to the house when we get these put away."

They entered the cottage, but pulled up short at the sight of Lord Grantham sitting in the armchair near the fireplace, his coat still on, and his hat in his lap.

"My lord," said Bates. "I'm sorry. Were you looking for me?"

The wearied earl shook his head. "Forgive me," said Robert, getting to his feet. "I was just…actually, I don't know why I'm here. I was walking and… I just wanted to get out of the fishbowl for a moment. I knocked, but…the door was open." He made a move toward the door. "I shouldn't have barged in. Please, do forgive the intrusion."

"Stay," said Anna. "Please, my lord. You're welcome here. It's your cottage anyway." She smiled at him. "Can I make you a cup of tea?"

"You're kind," said Robert, who really didn't want to leave, but couldn't pinpoint why. "Thank you."

Anna left, but not before exchanging a glance with Bates. Though it was John's half-day off, she knew the lord was there to see her husband, and she wanted to give her employer the privacy he needed to get what he came for. She headed off to the kitchen to make the world's slowest cup of tea.

Their line between friendship and service was mutually blurred, but never having hosted an earl, Bates wasn't sure if it was his place to offer Robert a seat or not, or even if in these circumstances he should sit in his presence himself without being invited to. This was surely not a call paid by a lord to his valet, but Bates didn't want to overstep, not with his employer and friend on fragile emotional ground already. Both men remained standing for a moment, until Robert walked to the window and stared quietly out. It was a habit Bates had gotten used to. Robert was always drawn to windows during times of personal duress, and Bates had just assumed it was as much the lure of the comfort promised by the familiar sprawling outdoor views as a longing for the freedom from a lifetime of suffocating responsibilities at Downton.

"I'm afraid the view isn't quite the same as the one you're used to at the big house," said Bates.

"Any view from a man's home is the best view for him." Robert forced a smile. "When we were in Africa, I'd lay awake nights trying to visualize every spot on the estate. Everything, the gardens, the cottages, the stables and back alleys. I'd imagine I was walking the dogs or touring the grounds on horseback with my father the way I used to when I was a boy. I took many nights to get through it all, and then I'd start again."

Bates nodded, recalling their shared experiences. Even in wartime, the lord had resorted to the windows in his mind's eye. "I heard so much about Downton back then I could picture it myself."

Robert turned, blushing slightly. "I must have been tiresome."

"Not at all. You knew exactly who you were and what you would be. I admired your family loyalty and sense of purpose, my lord. I still do."

Robert gave a small nod of appreciation and went back to staring out the window. It was a comfortable silence broken only by the sounds of cups and utensils from the Bates' kitchen.

After a few moments, the valet came closer and stood behind Robert. "My lord, I'm going to make an impertinent suggestion. One you are, of course, free to refuse."

Intrigued, Robert turned to look at Bates. "Go on then."

"Would you like to go for a drink someplace away from here? We could talk," he shrugged, "or not talk. I'd even let you buy me a beer."

Standing stiffly, the lord arched an eyebrow. "It is quite impertinent," he said, but there was no mistaking the glimmer of friendship in his eyes. "And appreciated. I'll order the car and meet you back at the house in twenty minutes."

Bates nodded in agreement. "Very good."

"Please give my apologies to Anna about the tea." Robert replaced his hat and quietly left, Isis jumping happily up at the sight of her master, and they started the long walk back.

Anna came round the corner with a tray just as the door closed behind Robert. "Am I to understand I'm being abandoned on our off day?"

Bates took the tray and set it down. "His lordship sends his regrets about the tea." He took Anna into his arms. "And I send mine about our afternoon plans. He hadn't wanted to talk much before now. I guess he's ready."

"It's all right." Anna kissed him quickly. "I'll keep. I should see to Lady Mary anyway. Maybe she's ready to face it, too."

BARGAINING

PART 2

Cora tapped lightly at the nursery door and entered. She brightened upon seeing her grandson in the arms of his mother, though at the moment, the child was howling.

"How is he today?" Cora peeked over the blankets at the red-faced infant.

"Fine," said Mary. "He certainly has a healthy appetite and, as you can plainly hear, very healthy lungs."

"Sounds a lot like your father." Cora nodded to the nurse, who was hovering nearby, and the young woman took the baby and sat in the rocking chair to comfort him. Cora took her daughter's hand. "Mary, come downstairs for tea. Everyone's left, even your father's gone out. Granny's gone home and Edith's gone for a walk with Tom and Sybbie. It will just be the two of us."

They sat in quiet for a time, sipping and thinking. Cora knew she needed to get Mary to open up, but she also knew that though Mary was very much her father's daughter, her temperament more closely resembled that of her grandmother—a fact that promised Cora no easy ride on any subject.

"Mary," started Cora.

"Don't you start," interrupted Mary. "I'm fine. Really I am."

Cora shook her head mournfully. "How can you be? Darling, it isn't healthy to hold things inside, or to deny the truth of what's happened."

"I deny nothing," said Mary. "I was made a new mother and a widow in the same day. Matthew has died, but I have our son, and he will one day be master here as we planned—"

"Oh, Mary," snapped Cora, a bit more harshly than she intended. "Stop pretending all that silliness is what matters. Of course, your father and I are pleased that you and Matthew married and that you have given life to that wonderful little boy to stand as heir, but my dear, the entail and succession to the title are secondary to the loss you've endured. You have lost your dear husband and your best friend. You cannot continue pretending that you are over it, because I know quite well you are not."

Cora's words hung in the air above the teapot. Mary took her cup in hand and looked away, as if unable or unwilling to make eye contact with them.

It was a long silence that begged to be filled, but Cora held her tongue.

Finally, Mary set her cup back down onto the tray and looked at her mother.

"I remember how mortified I was the first time I realized that it was unusual that you and Papa shared a bed." She shifted uncomfortably on her seat, her perfect posture crumbling a bit. She spoke haltingly, as if every phrase was difficult to express, but she continued. "I was no more than about ten, and I'd overheard two of the younger housemaids talking. I eavesdropped, if I'm honest. Anyway, one of them was quite new, and she was so surprised when she made up your rooms to always find Papa's dressing room bed untouched. The other maid told her with a giggle that you and Papa actually slept together every night. She said that Granny knew and didn't approve either. Then she blamed it on you being American, and the two maids laughed like it was some dirty joke."

Mary stopped and waggled her eyebrows, reliving her childhood confusion. "Of course, I didn't understand it all, but I knew if they were laughing and Granny disapproved, something wasn't proper about it. And I recall asking my little friends about their parents, careful not to give anything away, and realizing that you two were the exception. I thought that made you flawed somehow, and it embarrassed me."

Cora wanted to comment, but remained silent and let her daughter talk.

"Things became clearer as I got older, of course, but I didn't fully understand for a long time, even after…Kemal—really not until I became engaged to Matthew. You see, I came to realize that those other marriages were more like business arrangements, like my marriage to Patrick or Richard or any of those other suitors, would have been. And for a long while I thought, hoped, that would be enough. But yours was…is different."

Cora moved to the sofa and took her daughter's hand. "You never know where you'll find happiness, my dear. I'm sure you know your father and I began as a…business arrangement."

"Yes," said Mary, "but you've admitted that you loved him from the first. And I don't care what you say, Papa would never have married someone he was incapable of loving, not even to save Downton. He just needed time to get past all the obligations and family duty and figure it all out for himself."

"Like you did with Matthew?"

"Yes." Mary nodded. "Only you and Papa sorted out your issues while you were married, and Matthew and I worked them out apart and then married. " She hesitated for a moment, the tears finally starting to flow. "Oh, Mama, if only I had accepted Matthew when he first arrived, we'd have had so much more time, but I was so stubborn and resentful that he was pushing in, and he just wasn't good enough for me." She fought back a sob. "I find myself resenting those lost years. We would've had a houseful of children by now, and he never would have been on that road in the car. Don't you see? Things would have been different for all of us."

Cora soothed her daughter and held her close. "We can't know what might have been, for any of us. And don't romanticize those early days of marriage because they would have been very difficult for both of you. Thankfully, they didn't last too long for your father and me, but they aren't something I'd have wished on you. I spent many nights crying alone in our bed while your father slept in his dressing room in those first months, and with your grandparents practically hovering outside clamoring for an heir. You and Matthew found your way to each other in your own time, and with all your cards on the table. Looking at your time together and your beautiful boy, how can we say that wasn't best?"

Mary took a ragged breath, another touch of anger breaking through her tears. "It's terribly awkward to say it, but I wanted it all. I'm not ashamed to admit I wanted to be Countess of Grantham and all that comes with it. I felt I deserved it…but deep down what I really wanted was a marriage like yours; someone to love me, even when people think he shouldn't. Thirty-odd years and I see the way you still take his arm when you're out walking or the way you look at each other when you dance or kiss or that ridiculous sly grin on Papa's face when I've caught him in your bedroom over the years. It used to embarrass me, but now I admire you for it. I really do. It's easier to be in love these days than it was for you, yet you both did it and kept your dignity and position. That's what I wanted."

"Mary, this isn't about dignity or position, and you know it." Cora's heart broke for her. "And Matthew did love you so. You had the storybook marriage people dream about."

"Had," spat Mary. She was sobbing now. "God, it should have been me! I'm the one no one would have missed. Downton needs Matthew. Papa needs him. I'm just the incubator for the future, and my job is done."

Cora sat up straight. "Mary, don't you dare say that. It isn't true."

Mary wiped her eyes and caught her breath. She seemed to calm a bit, but the tears still flowed. "It's ironic after judging you and Papa, but now I can't imagine sleeping…living without Matthew, just as it was awful seeing you and Papa estranged after Sybil died. He was so lost without you, and now I feel the same. Only mine is forever. I've never been a romantic, but you and Papa belong together and even I, the ice princess of Downton, can see that. I dared to hope for the same, but I'm afraid happiness was just a mirage for me. I thought in Matthew I'd found my oasis, but like all illusions, it was temporary and I came away with only a fistful of sand."

Cora tenderly interlaced her fingers with her daughter's. "Not only. You have your son. And you had a glorious love affair with the man of your dreams, however short. Most people don't ever get to experience that, especially people like us, you said that yourself. Look at poor Susan and Shrimpy, still stuck as strangers after a lifetime of marriage. Hold on to your perfect love, my dear, but don't let it beat you down. Find strength in it and try always to see yourself as Matthew would see you."

I believe more in this Stage will come, covering Robert's chat with Bates, and Isobel and Violet. Just didn't want it to get too long for one chapter. Thanks for reading and for all the positive feedback. It helps keep me going!