Previously:
Downton Abbey, England, February 1913
With both Sybil and Carson staring at him, Matthew realized he was now forced to leave.
"Until dinner then," he said with forced enthusiasm. "Cousin Sybil," he nodded.
"I'll see you shortly, Cousin Matthew," Sybil smiled back at him.
Matthew looked at Mary. She rose from the sofa, then stood still as she stopped herself from stepping towards him. They locked eyes briefly.
"Cousin Mary," Matthew nodded.
"Cousin Matthew," Mary replied quietly. "I…we shall see you at dinner."
Matthew nodded to her, then followed Carson out of the library.
Mary looked to the window and watched Matthew walk down the driveway and into the distance.
Chapter 7:
Downton Abbey, England, March 1913
"Edith, come make a fourth for bridge," Violet called.
Edith smiled apologetically to Matthew and left him to join her Mama, Granny and one of the neighbours at the table. Matthew found himself suddenly alone. He glanced around the room. Robert was speaking with two of the other dinner guests, neighbours who had rode with them in the Hunt. Sybil was speaking to Matthew's Mother, and Mary was speaking with Evelyn Napier and the foreign diplomat, Kemal Pamuk.
Matthew felt the familiar pang of jealousy well up inside of him as he saw Evelyn smiling at Mary. Their easy manner with each other, born from years of visits between their families, was evident once again. Matthew sighed to himself. The proper thing to do was to join his Mother and Sybil in conversation and leave Mary to entertain her guests. Viscount Branksome's son was a respectable suitor and Mary had an obligation to attend to him. Matthew had no right to cut into their conversation or try and visibly compete for Mary's attention. As far as everyone else in the room was aware, he was just her fourth cousin, and he, like the rest of the family, was supposed to give Mary and Evelyn space. Privately, he agreed to let Mary discourage Evelyn in her own time. He had to just get through this visit and all would be back to normal. Well, their current version of normal anyway.
"Drink, sir?"
Matthew turned and Thomas offered the tray to him. Matthew's hand moved from the sherry and picked up a brandy snifter instead. He gazed at the liquid for a while, swirling it around. He looked over at Mary as he brought the glass to his lips and took a long pull. He savoured the heat of the drink.
"Thank you, Barrow," Matthew said absentmindedly. Just because he wasn't supposed to compete openly for Mary's attention did not mean he had to stay away from her either, he decided. His eyes narrowed and he stepped purposefully towards Mary and her two guests.
Robert placed his hand on Cora's shoulder. She continued to play her card game and smiled at his touch.
"Mary is rather popular this evening," Robert smiled as he observed Matthew join Evelyn Napier and Kemal Pamuk speaking with their daughter.
Edith did not bother looking up. She played a card and her lip curled ruefully at her Papa's comment.
Mary looked up and felt her skin warm. What was Matthew doing approaching her in front of everyone? He knew she was supposed to entertain Evelyn and his guest. His gaze seemed very serious, almost determined, rather than the detached and indifferent look that she asked him to use when they were with her family. Despite her surprise, she was secretly glad for his presence. She did not know how much longer she could keep her fake hostess smile in place. Evelyn seemed to only talk about his job and responsibilities, and had a rather annoying habit of turning every topic of conversation back to himself.
Kemal Pamuk was polite, but there was something about the way he looked at Mary that made her uneasy. It was not the gaze of a guest invited to an English Country House for the first time or the courteous look of a dignitary. The way his gaze lingered on her was far more casual than Mary liked, as if he was almost appraising her in a way.
Pamuk had spent the Hunt with Mary and Evelyn. He was often ready with a wry comment that seemed to always suggest a hidden meaning. Mary always enjoyed the Hunt and having the excuse to put Diamond through his paces was most welcome. The company, she discovered, was not. Evelyn was at least wise enough to eventually allow her some respite when Mary barely responded to his stories. Pamuk on the other hand seemed to enjoy the sound of his own voice so much that it didn't matter if anyone was engaging him in conversation or not. Mary pushed Diamond forward rather often as a result, giving her at least momentary freedom from both Evelyn and Pamuk before they caught up with her again.
Sadly at dinner she had found Evelyn and Pamuk to her left and right. It hadn't been a surprise of course, given her Mama deftly arranging it, but it was a depressing precursor to what Mary was enduring now that they'd come through. She had responded to their comments with feigned interest, even laughing and smiling when appropriate, but inside she was bored to tears. She was further perturbed to see Matthew sitting out of the reach of her voice at the other end of the dinner table. She could still look at him, and God he looked handsome in white tie tonight. But she could not smile at him, or talk to him fondly, or allow her glance to linger too long. 'I'll make it up to him' she promised yet again.
Pamuk excused himself. He looked pointedly at Mary before turning and walking away across the room. Mary looked at Matthew and smiled demurely, giving her the chance to pause before having to turn and talk to Evelyn again.
To their collective surprise, Evelyn's attention was suddenly taken, however, by a guest who wanted to discuss the latest developments in India. Seeing that Evelyn was now occupied, Mary turned back to Matthew, who seemed entirely pleased with this new development.
"What?" Mary whispered to him.
"Nothing," Matthew whispered back. "I'm just very sorry that your suitor is unable to pay you proper attention." Mary found Matthew's smirk rather ungentlemanly and yet adorable just the same.
Mary's eyes narrowed. "Your regret seems rather disingenuous, Cousin Matthew," she whispered in mock disapproval.
"Why would you think that, Cousin Mary?" Matthew challenged.
"I don't believe you are sorry at all, in fact," Mary answered. "I think you are quite pleased that Evelyn's attention has been diverted."
"If you are accusing me of wanting to monopolize all of your time, then you are correct," Matthew replied smoothly.
"That is quite improper of you, Cousin Matthew." Mary arched her eyebrow at him, all the while feeling a lightness in her chest. It was dangerous for him to be flirting with her so openly with her family and guests all around them. Evelyn could turn back at any moment. Despite the risk, Mary was far from annoyed at his boldness. On the contrary, she found it rather arousing.
"If what you say is correct," Matthew whispered, causing her to swallow as he set his blue eyes upon her. "You will have to forgive me twice then, Cousin Mary, for I assure you that my improper words towards you are only exceeded by my improper thoughts in this moment."
Mary could not completely stifle a gasp at his teasing words and his deliberate show of looking at her lips before regaining eye contact. She glanced about quickly, ensuring Evelyn's attention was still on his conversation.
She noticed Kemal Pamuk staring at her from across the room. He smiled at her and beckoned her with a slight movement of his head. Mary blinked in shock. He was summoning her? How presumptuous! Whatever for?
Mary sighed. She was tired of both Evelyn and his guest. She did not think she could use the excuse of a headache to extricate herself from the situation though. Her Mama's orders were clear. It was important for them to show their guests some English hospitality. Mary had gamely carried out her duty on numerous evenings like this one, and with Evelyn now occupied, she could not leave his guest unattended.
She looked back at Matthew, her eyes silently pleading for him to understand.
"Excuse me, please," she said before walking away towards the foreign diplomat at the other end of the room.
Matthew was surprised by her sudden departure. He watched as she joined Kemal Pamuk across the room and answered his questions about a painting on the wall.
"I'm sorry, where did Lady Mary go off to?" Evelyn asked as he turned back to see Mary was no longer standing beside him.
"It appears that we have failed to capture her interest," Matthew said drily, trying to mask the hurt in his voice. He knew Mary was merely doing her duty, but that was part of the problem, wasn't it? Her duty always seemed to take priority. Would it be such a disaster if Pamuk was left alone long enough for Matthew to have an actual conversation with Mary?
"I never should have brought him here," Evelyn spat as he watched them across the room.
Matthew turned away from Mary and Pamuk and looked at Evelyn inquisitively. The nobleman seemed almost dejected, like a child discovering his favourite toy was broken.
"Do you not like him?" Matthew asked.
"On the contrary, I like him very much. Unfortunately, so does everyone else," Evelyn said, his eyes never leaving Mary and Pamuk as he took another sip of his drink.
Matthew frowned at the comment. Clearly Evelyn did not know Mary nearly as well as Matthew suspected if he thought her interest could be held by a foreign diplomat she had just met. Mary met dignitaries and aristocrats on a regular basis and was polite with them all, easily changing her demeanour to match whatever mood was required. She had been schooled very well in such matters, just as her sisters had been. That did not mean she liked any of them, or even found any of them remotely interesting. She was simply doing what was expected. Matthew believed he had grown rather adept at determining when Mary was wearing her mask of polite Lady and when she was being genuine. To know that Evelyn Napier could not tell the difference filled Matthew with a strange sense of relief. He made his excuses to Evelyn and walked over to join Sybil and his Mother, his step now much lighter.
The Crystal Palace, London, England, April 1911
"Matthew, there you are."
Matthew looked up and nodded curtly to a man he barely knew. He turned back to the dance floor and took another sip of his brandy.
"Lady Mary looks rather stunning this evening doesn't she?"
"Yes, she does," Matthew replied, hoping his unwanted companion would take the hint that he was in no mood for conversation.
Mary was dancing with yet another nobleman, some Marquess of somewhere who Matthew did not quite recognize and who's name he could not recall. The Marquess whispered to her. She smiled. He smiled. She laughed. Matthew took a longer sip of his drink.
"Her debut Season is this summer, you know? I expect she'll be quite popular, what with her being the eldest daughter of the Earl of Grantham."
Matthew barely acknowledged the comment as he turned away and gulped down the rest of his drink.
"Of course only Society is invited to such events. It's a shame isn't it, Matthew? It's almost cruelly unfair to be so close to such a beautiful woman and know that your background and prospects will never be good enough for her."
The comment was meant to be figurative and innocent, and it would have been taken as such if Matthew's mind was not already filled with trepidation.
"Excuse me," Matthew snapped, setting his empty glass down and walking swiftly to the glass doors leading to the terrace.
The Spring evening air was cool and Matthew welcomed it as a shield against what he had witnessed indoors for the past hour. He looked out across Sydenham Hill and frowned as he saw the lights of the large homes in the distance glowing back, another reminder of that world, of her world.
Matthew sighed. He knew it was foolish to feel so jealous. One needed a right to be jealous, and Matthew had none. He knew he should be back inside, shaking hands with investors and smiling at patrons, doing his duty, rather than thinking about Mary and her leaving the next day. Mere hours separated him from saying goodbye to Mary forever, and he could not shake the sense of dread inside of him.
As he heard the band play another waltz from inside the hall, he tried to compose himself to go back in. Perhaps he could find Sir Campbell and engage him in conversation about his approaching retirement. That would surely help keep his eyes and mind away from…
"So here is where you've escaped to."
Matthew's eyes widened at the melody of her voice. He slowly turned as she came up beside him. He saw dark eyes and raised eyebrows, curled lips and alabaster skin all conspiring to lure him into her spell once again.
He fell willingly.
"I needed some air," he managed.
"Some air? Funny, I thought you came out here to avoid dancing with me." Mary arched an eyebrow in accusation, but her tone was light, as if she already knew she was right and was daring him to disagree.
"No, I wouldn't deliberately avoid dancing with you," Matthew replied quickly. "I just didn't expect you to dance with me, not when your card is already quite full."
"Well I can't be expected to reserve a dance for a man who doesn't even have the courtesy to ask me, can I?" Mary answered confidently. Matthew blinked in surprise.
"I would have asked you," Matthew nodded. "But I just assumed that…"
"You assumed that what?" Mary stepped closer to him. "You assumed that I wouldn't dance with you if you asked me? Really, Matthew, has our time together taught you nothing?"
He swallowed as she neared him.
"It's not that I thought you wouldn't dance with me!" he stated defensively, trying to regain control of the conversation. "I meant to say that I just assumed that you were already occupied for the evening."
"Hmm," Mary pursed her lips and looked up, as if contemplating his answer. "You assumed that because there are all manner of nobles and gentlemen at tonight's gala that I wouldn't have any time for you, is that it?"
The silence between them provided her answer quite loudly, but Matthew capitulated all the same. "Yes, I suppose that is what I thought," Matthew admitted.
"Because I am a Lady and the daughter of the Earl of Grantham and you are just a son of a Doctor from Manchester. So of course I would have no use for you when surrounded by Society, correct?"
Matthew tried to look away as shame and embarrassment built within him, but Mary's penetrating gaze held him immobile.
"If that's the case, then please explain why I have walked out with you, and only you, each day for the past month since we met?" Mary continued, taking another step towards him. "How many gentlemen have I laughed with and debated with and talked to during my stay in London? How many other men do you think I've kissed in the past month, Matthew?"
Matthew swallowed, his neutral expression burned away by her words and her stare. His eyes looked from hers down to her lips and back up to her eyes again. Mary was relentless in her gaze and her words.
"Do you think me so shallow that I would spend so much time with you, then abandon you on the evening before I leave?"
She was standing dangerously close to him now. He could smell her perfume and see the fire in her eyes, even in the low light of the terrace.
Matthew stared at her, mesmerized and speechless.
"Perhaps I misjudged you, Matthew," Mary whispered. "I thought, when faced with the prospect of our parting, that you would do everything in your power to give us a memory together, rather than simply shy away and wallow in self-pity. But, if you are so resigned to our time together ending this evening without so much as a dance, then I shall leave you to it."
Mary looked pointedly at his lips, then turned back towards the hall.
"Mary!" Matthew called, stepping towards her as she turned back around.
Matthew raised his hands out to her in invitation.
"May I have this dance, Lady Mary?"
Mary grinned and placed her hand in his, her other hand going to his shoulder. She shivered as his arm wrapped into place across her back. They picked up the rhythm of the waltz as the music filtered out on to the terrace. He pulled her closer and she obliged willingly, fitting herself against his shoulder as they swayed together.
"I'm sorry, Mary," Matthew whispered. "I would never want to let you go without holding you one last time. It just hit me so heavily tonight, knowing your Season is mere months away and everything that will happen afterward. I couldn't help but think that…"
"Matthew, darling," Mary interrupted him. "I know very well what my future holds. I've known it for years. And that is why tonight is so very important to me. I know I am terrible about showing it, but I am dreading leaving you, Matthew. You must know that our parting saddens me just as much as it does you. But you taught me to live each moment, remember? So, if we still have precious hours left to us this evening, then…"
"Then we shall live each remaining moment, together," Matthew replied.
He twirled her quickly away from the door and towards a darker corner of the terrace. He leaned towards her and she smiled at him before titling her head invitingly. Their eyes closed. Their lips met. They kissed, willing the night to hold them together for several blissful moments longer.
Downton Abbey, England, March 1913
"What is it? Mr. Pamuk you ought to return to the drawing room. We've kept this room dark for a reason," Mary stated as she followed Kemal Pamuk into the sitting room where he stopped before a large painting.
Mary realized belatedly that there was no one else here but them. She looked back over her shoulder at the threshold of the door, the light of the drawing room barely following her.
"Is this picture really a Della Francesca?" he asked.
His voice pulled her gaze back to the painting, partly covered in shadow. Another question about another painting, she thought in exasperation. Well, the sooner she answered his questions, the sooner she could be rid of him. She studied the painting briefly before answering, not bothering to look at him.
"I think so. The second Earl brought back several paintings from…"
Pamuk grabbed her about the shoulders and pulled her close to him. Mary gasped as her back hit the wall and he pressed himself against her. His lips descended towards hers quickly and her eyes went wide in shock.
Mary twisted away and evaded his mouth. She pushed back against him forcefully and stumbled away from him.
"Mr. Pamuk!" she hissed.
"Let me come to you tonight, please!" His tone was low and his eyes raked across her body as he followed her. Mary's mouth gaped at his insinuation and she stepped further away.
"No! I can't think what I have said that has led you to believe…"
"Please. I don't know when we'll meet again. So let it be tonight," his voice was pleading, almost like the whine of a petulant child if the words had not been so vile. Mary's stomach churned in disgust.
Mary stepped away from the wall, circling carefully away from him.
"Mr. Pamuk! I will not repeat your words to my father since it would be rude to cast you out into the darkness, but try that once more and I will not be so courteous! Now, I shall rejoin my mother and sisters. I strongly suggest you return to Evelyn and remain with him. Do not speak to me again unless you wish to spend the evening sleeping at the train station!"
Mary held her chin high as she berated the diplomat. Unaffected, his eyes still leered at her. Mary turned away from him quickly and walked back to the light of the drawing room.
Mary saw her mother across the room, standing with Edith and Sybil. She turned towards the refuge of her family, desperate to get away from the door to the sitting room as quickly as possible.
"Lady Mary?"
She nearly shrieked in surprise at the sound of Thomas' voice. She turned toward him, her face still pale from her shock at the events of moments before.
"Sherry, Lady Mary?" Thomas inquired, presenting the tray of drinks to her.
"What? Oh, yes, Barrow. Thank you." Mary took a glass from him and drank half of it rather quickly, hoping the burning in her throat would settle her nerves. Thomas looked at her for a moment before nodding and walking away.
"What was that all about?"
Mary gasped slightly as she turned and Matthew's blue eyes looked upon her.
"Matthew!" she replied reflexively, trying to keep her voice calm. She began to reach for him, but before she could embrace him, she stopped herself and kept her distance. She could not tell Matthew what just happened. It would enrage him and he would cause a scene. Better to simply make it through this night and with any luck, Evelyn and Pamuk would be gone after luncheon the next day. She willed her hands to stop shaking.
"What was what all about?" she answered nervously.
"I saw come out of the sitting room just now. I thought we had closed it off. Was there something there that required your attention?" he asked.
She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by her father.
"Matthew, it's raining terribly outside. There's no need to drown yourself trying to get home in all of this. I'll have Mrs. Hughes prepare your room and Bates can attend to you. I believe there's still some clothes of yours upstairs that should tide you over until tomorrow. Cousin Isobel will stay as well."
"Thank you, Robert, but that's really not necessary."
"Nonsense. I'm not sending you out in that." A crack of thunder sounded virtually on cue as Robert spoke. The wind and rain did sound intense above the din of the party, and Mary and Matthew both noticed the fierce storm for the first time.
"Fine. Thank you," Matthew said. Robert nodded, then went over to speak to the Dowager Countess.
"Excuse me, Cousin Matthew," Mary said tersely and left without allowing Matthew to resume their conversation.
Matthew watched as she crossed the room and seemed to hide herself next to Sybil and Edith. He frowned in confusion. He turned his head and saw Kemal Pamuk coming out of the sitting room. Their eyes met, and Pamuk seemed to smirk and nod to Matthew, before crossing to the other side of the room and rejoining Evelyn. Matthew's eyes followed him, his gaze quickly growing as dark as his mood.
Matthew did not get the chance to speak to Mary for the rest of the evening. She remained surrounded by Cora, Edith and Sybil and the four of them retired at the same time. Matthew followed later when Robert went up. Matthew's mind was replaying the curious events of the evening as Bates helped him dress for bed.
"Did you enjoy the evening, sir?"
"It was fine, Bates. Did you notice anything particularly curious about Lady Mary tonight?"
"Curious in what way, sir? She seemed to be spending a fair amount of time with Mr. Napier. But that was to be expected, wasn't it?"
"Yes, Bates," Matthew replied plainly. "Yes, I suppose it was her duty to host Mr. Napier. There's nothing curious about that."
"The Earl told me that both Her Ladyship and the Dowager Countess are quite pleased that Mr. Napier came to visit, sir. I'm sure the family is eager to see Lady Mary settled, and the ties between the families are rather deep, sir."
"So I've heard, Bates. No, it wasn't anything between Lady Mary and Mr. Napier that I was referring to. Rather it was something between Lady Mary and Mr. Napier's guest, the Turkish diplomat. Lady Mary seemed to spend a fair amount of time with him as well."
"That isn't out of the ordinary, sir," Bates answered, helping Matthew into his robe. "The diplomat is a guest of Mr. Napier. Lady Mary is required to entertain him also as a courtesy to Mr. Napier. It's part of her duty, as I understand it, sir."
Matthew frowned at the reference to Mary's duty, particularly framed as being an obligation owed to Evelyn. He wished Bates good night, and retired to his bedroom.
Try as he might, sleep did not come to Matthew. His curiosity had been piqued ever since he saw Mary emerge from the sitting room. She had appeared nervous and flustered. More importantly, why had she been in the darkened sitting room with Kemal Pamuk? She could have been showing him a painting, Matthew thought idly. After all, the last he had seen them, they were looking up at a painting on the other side of the drawing room. Pamuk seemed rather interested in art, it seemed.
Matthew turned on to his side once again. The storm continued to rage outside and he could hear the crash of thunder and see the flash of lightning around the thick drapes drawn across his bedroom windows.
"This is ridiculous," he grumbled as his eyes opened once more.
There was something about the way that Pamuk looked at Mary that Matthew decided was far from innocent. It was similar to the way Matthew had caught the Duke of Crowborough gazing at her covetously that one summer at Northbrook House. As Matthew feared, Mary was instructed to ride with Napier and Pamuk during the Hunt, and Matthew had to stay with Robert and some of the older gentlemen. He did not know what was worse – the actual conversation that the three of them likely shared as they rode, or what Matthew imagined they had said to her.
Matthew also remembered their behaviour towards Mary at dinner. The Turk seemed to lean towards Mary when he spoke to her, and gaze at her in a way that Matthew found unnerving. Evelyn had been polite and pleasant, as expected. Matthew did not feel particularly threatened by Evelyn's behaviour. There was something behind the diplomat's polished exterior though; something Matthew decided he did not like at all.
His mind drifted back to Mary. God, she looked incredible this evening. Her red dress was flattering to her figure as usual, but the feather in her styled hair and the touch of colour on her cheeks only added to her allure. Their eyes had met briefly at the very beginning of the Hunt before they were separated, and he had smiled seeing the almost childlike glee in her eyes at being able to ride. Matthew smiled at the visions of Mary that entered his mind. He liked to believe that she wore such a beautiful gown to dinner because she knew he would be there, a silent message from her to him.
Lightning flashed through the borders of the drapes. Thunder cracked loudly from outside. Matthew sat up in bed.
'Well, if I can't sleep, perhaps neither can Mary,' Matthew thought. He smiled to himself. Maybe she would be impressed by his initiative. No one would expect anyone to be out of their rooms with the storm raging outside. He eased his way out of bed and put on his slippers and dressing gown. He opened the door to his bedroom and slipped out into the dark hallway.
It was pitch black, but Matthew walked down the hallway with a practised ease. So strange it was that he was so comfortable in this house now. He knew the upstairs corridors so well that he could manoeuvre with his eyes closed.
The loud crash of thunder covered what little sound his careful footsteps made on the carpet. He stepped past the small table that was set against the wall and around the vase that stood next to it. The old house creaked as the storm raged outside, but Matthew could only think of the comfort of Mary's bedroom as he walked silently down the hall.
Matthew crept past the large staircase and towards the other side of the house. He smirked to himself as his eyes began to adjust to the darkness and he could make out shapes and doorways. He had to be careful. It would be an absolute calamity if he somehow mistakenly stole into Edith's bedroom instead of Mary's.
Matthew turned the corner and jumped backward as a flash of light entered his view. Who could be about at this late hour? Was it one of the servants? Had they spotted him? He leaned forward, peering around the wall. His eyes had not imagined the candlelight that was moving slowly down the hall away from him. He frowned as he saw the clear outline of the footman, Thomas, with Kemal Pamuk of all people, beside him!
Matthew's frown became wide-eyed shock as they approached what he knew was the door to Mary's bedroom. Thomas turned and motioned towards the door, a strange look of resignation on his face. Why would the footman be escorting the Turkish ambassador to Mary's room?
Matthew's pulse blazed and his mind flared with dozens of questions all at once. What were the Turk's intentions in going to Mary's bedroom? Was this a late night tryst that had been pre-arranged and which Thomas was helping to facilitate? Was there far more to Mary's interactions with Pamuk than Matthew realized? Why else would the diplomat be so brazen as to leave the Bachelor's Wing and come to Mary's door?
Pamuk whispered something to the footman and Thomas turned and left down another hall. Matthew pulled back out of view as Pamuk glanced all around him. The Turk turned the doorknob and stole into Mary's bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.
Mary heard footsteps outside her door, then the distinct sound of the door handle turning. She smiled to herself and put her book down. Matthew! He was becoming quite assertive, and she was glad for it. He was just what she needed to forget the horrid events of this evening. It was a waste of her time to think about Evelyn or the dastardly Pamuk. She should be focused on the man in her life who mattered, on Matthew, and his brilliant idea to come to her this evening presented the perfect opportunity.
Mary rose from her bed as the door opened. She froze and her mouth fell open, aghast when she saw her visitor was not at all the man she expected.
"You must be mad!" she hissed at her intruder.
"I am. I am in the grip of madness." Pamuk's gaze was just as lecherous as earlier in the sitting room as he moved towards the bed.
Mary covered herself with one of her blankets. "Leave at once or I'll…"
"Or you'll what?"
"I'll scream."
"No you won't."
Mary frowned at his rudeness. Her reaction only seemed to make him smile as he walked past the bedpost and approached her.
Mary's courage flared with her anger. "How dare you be here! I told you not to speak to me again. Coming uninvited to my bedroom is entirely…"
"What? Don't worry. I've thought of everything. You can still be a virgin for your husband. A phial of blood and he won't be any the wiser."
Mary's eyes widened at the mention of her husband and the suggestion of acts that Pamuk had no business discussing with her. She immediately thought of Matthew, and her heart clenched at what he would think if he knew what was happening at this very moment.
"Do not speak such vile words in my presence! I am promised to another! A man far more worthy than you! Go, now!" Mary pointed to the door indignantly, praying that Pamuk would accept her fierce refusal and leave.
Pamuk stood defiantly before her. He smirked and his eyes devoured her predatorily, avoiding her eyes and raking across her body as if he could see through the blanket covering her.
"Promised to another? And yet I see no engagement ring and Evelyn did not mention any betrothal. In fact, he is rather intent on winning your hand, I believe."
"And despite the kindness he has shown you, you would still act like a savage?"
"He has been a wonderful host indeed. Bringing me here and introducing me to you was worth my trip in and of itself," Pamuk flashed his teeth as he grinned at her.
Mary found herself trapped between Pamuk, the night stand and her bed. The danger of her situation hit her fiercely. Being found with a man in her bedroom was a scandal. If her parents discovered him in her bedroom, all hell would break loose. Mary's mind spun and her pulse pounded in her ears.
"I warn you, Mr. Pamuk! Leave now! One more step and I will scream. Any shame that may come to me from having you found here would be preferable to allowing you to stay!" Mary's eyes narrowed as she marshalled all of the authority she could conjure in her voice.
Matthew stood in front of Mary's bedroom door. His mind was overloaded, trying to process any number of scenarios all at once. Why would Mary betray him? How could she invite this foreigner to her bedroom? Was this why she had so deliberately kept her true relationship with Matthew from her family? Was she simply keeping her options open? Or, was she content to keep Matthew in the background as part of her long term plan, while in the interim she sought out something more…exciting?
Matthew heard their voices through the door but could not make out their conversation. He silently chastised himself. Surely he would not want to remain at the door and hear what other noises may come from within! He needed to do something, now.
Matthew swallowed hard, his heart beating wildly. He steeled himself as he looked down and reached for the doorknob.
"You would make a fine actress," Pamuk sneered. "Do not be afraid my darling. Trust me. It would be better for you if you did not struggle, but in the end it makes no difference to me. I have no interest in you beyond this night. So, let us have this night together. I assure you, I shall give you a memory you shall not soon forget."
Pamuk raised his hand towards her. There was no escape. Oh God.
"Relax, Mary. You aren't my first."
Thunder cracked outside.
Mary had no choice. She drew in a sharp breath. Please hear me.
"MAT…"
A loud and piercing crash sounded from the hallway and Mary and Pamuk both jumped and looked towards her door.
"What in the blazes?! Carson!" Robert's voice rang out from down the hall.
A cacophony of doors opening and hurried footsteps rang out from downstairs.
"Papa!" Mary hissed in realization.
Seizing her opportunity as Pamuk was looking towards her door, Mary shoved him hard in the same direction.
"Leave at once! They'll find you here and I will not be responsible for what becomes of you when I tell them what you have dared try this night."
Opening his mouth to protest, Pamuk frowned, unable to formulate an alternative. He huffed bitterly as he quickly escaped from her room and retreated down the now lit hallway back to his bedroom before the servants could come upstairs.
Mary put on her dressing gown. She waited several moments at her door, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She came out into the hallway. Looking left and right, she realized that the large vase that sat between her room and Edith's room was broken across the floor, pieces scattered everywhere. As Mary looked down at the mess, Edith came out of her room in her dressing gown.
"What…however did this happen?" Edith mumbled.
"I- I don't know," Mary replied, dumbstruck.
Robert and Cora came down the hall to survey the scene, joined shortly by Sybil, Carson and Bates.
"What happened? What was that dreadful noise?" Cora asked. "Oh, goodness! Your mother's vase, Robert!"
"Carson? What's the meaning of this?"
"I am at a loss to explain, my Lord. The vase seems to have fallen over, but I have no idea how that occurred," Carson replied in what qualified as a shocked tone for him.
"May have been the thunder."
Everyone turned to look at Matthew, his gaze was fixed firmly on Mary before he looked down at the broken pieces on the floor.
"I heard the crash all the way in my room across the house. The storm has been rather loud. With old houses like these, you never know what shocks may occur during the night."
Matthew's voice was eerily calm, his expression fierce. Mary's eyes widened in alarm when he glared at her again as everyone else stared at the broken vase.
"Well, I don't know," sighed Robert. "Carson, have this mess cleaned up, and send a footman around to make sure nothing else has been damaged. Girls, be careful where you step. Everyone go back to sleep. Let's hope that's the last of any shocks we'll have tonight."
"Perhaps someone should look in on our guests, Mr. Napier and Mr. Pamuk," Matthew suggested. "We wouldn't want them to be roused out of their beds at this hour. We can't have the Embassy thinking us poor hosts after all."
"Yes. Yes, that's a good idea, Matthew," Cora agreed. "Carson."
"I'll have Thomas look in on both of them, Your Ladyship."
"Fine. Now, off to bed all of you."
As everyone turned to go back to their rooms, Mary caught Matthew's gaze. He was seething. He turned abruptly away and went back to the Bachelor's Wing. Unable to call out to him, all she could do was go back to her room. She locked her door and rattled the knob several times to ensure it held. She quickly put out her bedside light, unable to look at her room without recalling the events of the evening. As thunder boomed outside once again, Mary buried herself under the blankets and fell into a fitful sleep.
Downton Abbey, England, February 1913
"Thank you, Carson," Isobel nodded as he took her coat, draping it over his arm with Matthew's.
"Her Ladyship is awaiting you in the parlour," Carson stated, motioning with his arm for them to go through with him.
"Ah, there you are," Mary smiled as she came into the Great Hall. "Cousin Isobel, Cousin Matthew, I trust the drive over wasn't too difficult."
"Cousin Mary," Isobel smiled back. "There's still a bit of a cold snap in the air, but I expect it will pass shortly. I expect the men prefer it a touch warmer for the Hunt."
"Papa certainly does," Mary agreed. "I don't mind riding in the cold actually, but I can't say the same for Diamond."
"Carson," Mary turned to the butler. "Please show Cousin Isobel through to the parlour. I told Papa that I would help Cousin Matthew find some old maps of the grounds that we keep in the library."
"As you wish, my Lady," Carson nodded and escorted Isobel to the parlour.
Mary turned swiftly and walked through to the library, a confused Matthew trailing behind her. By the time he reached the door, she had already disappeared into the small library. He followed after her.
"Mary? What maps are you talking about? I didn't ask your father for…"
Mary closed the door behind him and pushed him against it in one smooth motion. Her hands went to the lapels of his suit jacket and she pulled him towards her, capturing his mouth hungrily.
Matthew groaned into her kiss, his eyes widening as her tongue pushed past his lips. His arms wrapped around her and she moaned into his mouth as he spun them around and pushed her back against the wall, covering her with his own body.
Matthew pulled away from her lips and kissed her cheek and her neck. Her gloved fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. He finally paused and pressed his forehead against hers, both of them gasping in the same breath.
"I was saying," Matthew whispered. "I don't know what maps you're talking about, but I would be very pleased to keep looking for them."
Mary laughed and kissed his cheek, moving to his neck and the soft skin above his collar.
"Thank you so much for the flowers," she breathed between kisses. "I adore them. It's the sweetest thing anyone has ever gotten me. However did you manage it?"
"How do you know they were from me? You do have many admirers don't you?" Matthew teased.
"I was hoping they were from you," Mary said with a kiss to his cheek. "And when I saw the ribbons, and read the card, I was sure. Thank you, darling."
Matthew chuckled in satisfaction. "It did not come easily, for certain. I had to trust in Molesley of all people. His father has been growing your roses since November, although no one knew the true purpose of any of it, or that it was under my direction."
"Hmm," Mary smiled against his cheek. "Mr. Molesley's roses were an inspired choice. It would have raised all manner of suspicion to get flowers from Granny. Well done, Matthew. Aren't schemes so fun when they come off so brilliantly?"
"I suppose there's something to be said for the thrill of secrecy," Matthew replied, kissing her chastely several times on the lips. "But I would much rather be able to show my love for you in public rather than rely on anonymous messages and stolen moments."
"Of course," Mary said, kissing him back. "But one does need some excitement from time to time."
They composed themselves and went back to the parlour to rejoin their family, each of them confirming to the Earl of Grantham that they had indeed found the maps Matthew was looking for.
Downton Abbey, England, March 1913
Matthew looked out the large window of the library. The sky was grey, the grounds still wet from the rain of the previous evening. When he had first arrived at Downton Abbey in the fall, he was overcome with a ridiculous sense of joy. Knowing he could now come and go from Mary's home as he pleased and see her every day was a miracle, and Downton Abbey appeared magical to him, as if it were taken from a picturesque postcard or fairytale. The place looked altogether more dreary now.
He turned as he heard the door open.
"Oh, my apologies, Matthew. I was looking for Lady Grantham."
"I believe she's walking outside," Matthew volunteered. "Will we be seeing you and Mr. Pamuk at luncheon?"
"I'm afraid not. I'm actually about to say goodbye. They're bringing the car around to take us to the station," Evelyn replied.
"Oh, I wasn't aware you were leaving so soon," Matthew frowned. "Well, have you said goodbye to Lady Mary?"
"I have."
"Well then," Matthew said, not sure what else to discuss with Evelyn. "I suppose we'll be seeing more of you here in the future. Perhaps for the Garden Party in the summer?"
Evelyn smiled at him somewhat wistfully. "Nothing would give me more pleasure, but I'm afraid I'm rather busy at the moment, and expect to be for several months yet. Actually, Matthew, now that I'm about to leave, let me take this opportunity to make myself clear so that we understand each other."
"Yes?" Matthew answered, somewhat confused. What was there to understand?
"The truth is I'm not a vain man, Matthew, despite what you may think of me. I do not consider myself a very interesting person, but I feel it's important that my future wife think me so. A woman who finds me boring could never love me, and I believe marriage should be based on love, believe it or not." Evelyn laughed almost to himself. "At least, at the start anyway."
Matthew nodded. Was Evelyn saying what Matthew thought he was saying?
"My father and Lord Grantham are friends, Matthew. Our families will always be friendly, and I'm sure we'll see each other during the Season when time permits. But, other than being family friends, I see now that's as far as the ties will go, between all of us."
Matthew blinked as he processed Evelyn's meaning.
"Allow me to give you a word of advice, Matthew," Evelyn continued. "Whatever world you think you come from, or whatever fear you have over whether you belong in ours or not, I can assure you there are not very many Lady Mary Crawleys in either world. I don't presume to know what your intentions are. I expect that some arrangement has been suggested to you though, as you are the heir to Lord Grantham and Lady Mary is his eldest daughter. I won't ask you what your feelings are on the subject. Let me just say though that if you are contemplating anything to that effect, you should not hesitate too long where action is required. That would be terribly…boring of you."
Matthew's mouth fell open in stunned silence.
"Goodbye, Matthew. It was good to meet you. I'll give your regards to my father." Evelyn smiled, turned and left.
Matthew thought for several moments before walking out into the Great Hall. If Evelyn had said goodbye to Mary already, then perhaps she was in the Morning Room and he could catch her for breakfast. There was much that they needed to discuss, and he would need to find a private moment for them somehow. As he moved in that direction, Kemal Pamuk was escorted towards the front entrance by Thomas.
"Mr. Pamuk," Matthew nodded. "I understand that you're leaving. I hope you found your time here to be pleasant."
"It was, thank you," Pamuk replied. "English hospitality is unique and very welcome, indeed."
Matthew looked at him intently. Pamuk's face revealed nothing.
"Unfortunately it seems you also experienced some English weather as well," Matthew said with a false smile. "I trust your sleep last night was not interrupted by the rain and thunder?"
Pamuk's eyes seemed to narrow slightly as he absorbed Matthew's words.
"Not at all. I slept rather soundly in fact. The exhilaration of the Hunt must have worn me out."
"Must have," Matthew answered. "Well, all the best with the negotiations then. Good day."
"Thank you. Good day. Oh, and give my regards to Lady Mary, please. I'm afraid I haven't seen her since last night," Pamuk finished with a smirk.
"Certainly! I'll tell her that you said goodbye," Matthew replied immediately. He locked his eyes on Pamuk. "It's a shame that your time with all of us was so short and cut off. I would hate to think anyone would be left wanting from their time with you."
A sneer seemed to flash across Pamuk's face. Matthew returned a smirk of his own to the Turk. Pamuk paused before his eyes darkened and a wicked grin returned to his face.
"Do not trouble yourself, Mr. Crawley," he said with a hint of condescension before lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. "I never leave anyone unsatisfied. For example, I spent a great deal of time with Lady Mary during the Hunt, and at dinner, and after we all went through. She was kind enough to give me a private tour of the sitting room in fact, which was absolutely delightful. She certainly enjoyed our time together last evening as much as I did. We simply could not tire of one another. And of course she would enjoy herself with me. We are of a similar class after all, the two of us. I assure you, a mere moment with me, even an interrupted one, can be far more memorable than a lifetime with another man."
Matthew pursed his lips and returned the Turk's arrogant stare. Thomas cleared his throat and Pamuk smiled and nodded to Matthew. He turned and walked briskly out the door to the waiting motor.
Matthew clenched his fists, barely controlling his rage. He did not bother waiting to see the car take Evelyn and Pamuk away from Downton Abbey.
He turned back to the Great Hall and stopped. Mary stood at the landing near the bottom of the stairs. They locked eyes for a moment. Her face was pale and her eyes wide in shock. Matthew's anger flared and he turned away without a word to her.
"Matthew, there you are!"
Matthew stopped as the Earl of Grantham approached him before he could leave the Great Hall. He slowly turned around, unclenching his fists with great effort.
"Cousin Robert," Matthew greeted him evenly.
"The weather has lifted, and our guests have departed. I was going to take Isis for a walk. Would you like to join me? We can spend some time before luncheon."
"Thank you, Cousin Robert, that is very kind. I'm afraid that I should be getting back home. There's some matters I need to attend to today."
"Oh, very well. Can we count on seeing you and Isobel at dinner this evening?"
"I'll pass along word to Mother. As for me, I have a rather busy day at work tomorrow so I expect I'll spend the evening at Crawley House. Good day, Cousin Robert."
Mary watched as Matthew nodded to her Papa and left, walking determinedly out the door, down the driveway and out of sight.