Previously:
Downton Abbey, England, June 1914
Mary turned away and sat down at her vanity, idly picking at her jewellery in preparation for what she would wear at dinner later on. She closed her eyes and sighed.
Mary had a duty to her family.
Mary had a duty to follow her Papa's orders.
Mary had a duty to support her husband.
Matthew always did everything she asked.
Matthew always wanted to do things right for her.
Matthew never cared whether he was the heir or not, but knew that as the heir he could help protect Downton because it was important to her.
How could she possibly convince Matthew to be someone he was not?
Chapter 24:
Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, June 1914
"Darling, my throat is parched. I need a drink," Mary smiled, running her hand along her husband's cheek as they stopped dancing.
"I think I know just what you need," Matthew smirked. She took his arm and he escorted her off the dance floor. Normally, they would be surrounded by friends and well wishers whenever they had a free moment, but the masks they wore as part of the Masquerade Ball theme for the party gave them far more freedom than usual. Even though Matthew's blond hair was easily recognizable, their guests were far too focused on their own dalliances and socializing to pay any attention to the heir to the Earl of Grantham and his wife.
"Matthew? Barrow is just over there. He can fetch drinks for us," Mary questioned as they moved towards the far hall.
"I have a special drink in mind that I want to show you, Mary," Matthew whispered. His hand rested along her lower back as he guided her past the crowd, the warmth of him spreading through the thin silk of her gown and radiating across her skin. His fingers caressed her briefly before her brought his arm forward again and she took it, restoring propriety as they left the main ballroom and went into the darker hallway.
The sounds of merriment and music drifted away from them as they wandered into the recesses of Grantham House. He smirked at her knowingly as he opened the door to the study. Quirking an eyebrow at her husband, Mary stepped confidently across the threshold, deliberately brushing against his body and smiling as his breath hitched suddenly at the brazen contact.
She shivered slightly as she heard him lock the door behind them. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the low light, the dark wood and leather of the furniture and floor filling her vision. The study was always quiet, being one of the rooms on the periphery of the house, and the air was somewhat stuffier, the musk of books and the leather couches and chairs gave it a particular scent.
Mary walked over to the sofa, swaying her hips as she went, knowing that Matthew's eyes were upon her. She sat down gracefully and turned her gaze towards him as he crossed the room. He gave her a lustful glance that made her lick her lips without knowing it, and he walked past her and stopped at the drinks cart.
She admired him as he worked, his hands picking up bottles and arranging glasses with intent and practised ease. His suit hugged his body in all the best places, and Mary blushed as she allowed her stare to move down his broad back and linger and stray across his buttocks for a moment. Matthew was her husband and they were all alone together in this private room, but still she felt a thrill of forbidden decadence that she could ogle him so easily, when years ago she had gone months without him, desperate for a mere glance of him that was far less scandalous than she was doing now.
"Where did you learn to mix drinks?" she asked idly, craning her head to the side and smiling at him.
"Mainly in law school," Matthew replied, his hands still busy. "I would always become extremely nervous before important events – exams, deadlines for papers, interviews, mock trials – I would pace and fidget in my room until I was almost catatonic."
"So you drank yourself into a stupor to fight your nerves?" Mary asked.
"Not exactly," Matthew chuckled. He turned his head and flashed her a wicked grin over his shoulder. "Alex taught me that the trick is to do all of your studying and preparation work well in advance, then on the night before, when you are quite sure you've done all that you can, to have a stiff drink. Not enough to render you senseless, but just strong enough to relax you and induce a dreamless, calming sleep."
Matthew shook his hands in front of him vigorously. Mary heard the staccato of ice cubes in a glass but could not see what he was doing.
Matthew finished his work and turned towards her. He carried two cocktail glasses over to her. Mary took one from him, gazing at the clear liquid questioningly. He sat down next to her, his free arm sliding along the back of the couch just behind her shoulders.
"It's my own version of a martini," Matthew declared, clinking glasses with her before they each took a sip. "It's mainly gin, a bit of vermouth, but the key is how long to shake it, how much ice to use and when to add the lemon peel."
Mary took a long sip and smiled at the taste. The drink was quite strong indeed, but it was smooth and cold, and the hint of lemon was surprisingly noticeable.
"It's very nice," she drawled, smiling at him as she took another sip.
"It's from America, or perhaps Italy, I'm not entirely sure," Matthew laughed. "Anyway, it's a nice change from brandy or sherry from time to time."
"Mmm," Mary nodded. "So you had one of these whenever you needed to calm yourself?"
"Mostly, yes," Matthew nodded. "Everyone had their own rituals in school. Some would exercise to exhaustion, others would keep studying well into the night. There were the heavy drinkers, and others who indulged in more…deviant behaviour."
"Such as?" Mary inquired in a low voice.
"Umm, smoking for example. Cigarettes were quite common in the dorms and such. Many of the lads would take a few drags to calm themselves," Matthew explained, his gaze falling from her mask to her parted lips.
"Is that all?" Mary continued.
"Well it wasn't always tobacco that they were smoking," Matthew said wryly. "In university one can indulge in all manner of…misbehaviour," he swallowed.
"But there were no women in your school, Matthew," Mary noted. "So that was one distraction you could not indulge in."
Matthew placed his empty cocktail glass down on the coffee table. "No, certainly there were no female students, obviously. But some did find time to arrange for discrete visits in the evenings." He blushed at the implication.
"Really?" Mary questioned with a smirk. "And did you arrange for any such illicit encounters?"
"No!" Matthew declared with wide eyes. Mary bit her lip and smiled at his reaction.
"I…erm…did not consider such a pursuit to be particularly calming," he finished.
"Is that so?" Mary said plainly, placing her empty glass down on the coffee table next to his. She reached out with her gloved hands and calmly removed his mask, leaving it on the table next to their used glasses.
"So you do not find sleeping with a woman calms you down, Matthew?" she teased.
"Not at all," Matthew replied, leaning towards her. "In my experience, with the only woman I have ever wanted to sleep with, it has an entirely opposite effect."
Mary smiled as he closed the remaining distance between them and their lips came together. The taste of the martini lingered on his tongue and her hands slid under his jacket, pulling him closer.
"Mary," Matthew breathed in delight as his mouth moved to her neck.
"You'll wrinkle my dress," Mary sighed as she closed her eyes and felt his weight push her back against the sofa.
Matthew stopped himself and pulled back, allowing her to sit up. His dark eyes sent a jolt of desire down her spine.
"We'll just have to be creative, then," he said with a raised eyebrow as he held out his arms to her.
Downton Abbey, England, June 1914
Mary stared blankly at the ceiling. When Matthew designed their bathroom, he deliberately left the ceiling untouched. He wanted Mary to choose the design and the light fixture to be hung overhead, he explained. After numerous ideas and discussions, she finally settled on an understated but elegant chandelier and accented moulding around the border of the room. She would often lie back in a hot bath, as she did now, and look up at the ceiling and feel her cares and stresses wash away.
Even this ritual was failing her today, it seemed.
She looked towards the door as she heard Matthew's familiar steps come into the bedroom. She kept her gaze on the door, waiting for him. Her fingers ran idly along her wet shoulder. The water was almost boiling hot, just the way they both preferred it. And yet, Mary felt quite cold.
Matthew had a familiar routine when coming home from work. It mainly had to do with wanting to divest himself of whatever happened to him during the day. He often told her that when he left the office, he left work behind, and when he returned home, he did not wish to bring anything from the outside world to their doorstep. It was a sweet sentiment, but terribly naïve, as Matthew often did do work at home. But he would always arrive at Downton with the intent to leave the lawyer behind and return to being her husband. The moment he stepped into the Great Hall, he left his briefcase with Bates or Mason to take to their sitting room, then he would go to his dressing room and remove his jacket, vest and tie, and unless he needed to take tea with any of the family, or see guests, he would remain in his trousers and shirt until he and Mary had to change for dinner.
Hearing him cross over to his dressing room, Mary knew it would not be long now. He always sought her out the moment he came home, either asking Carson where she was or looking for her in the bedroom before he went to change. Mary thought it was rather middle class for him to want to kiss her upon his return from work each day, but she still secretly looked forward to it just the same.
"Mary?" he asked as he knocked on the door. "Darling, are you in there?"
"Yes," she answered, smiling bravely as she prepared to receive him. "Please, come in."
Matthew entered the bathroom and beamed as he saw her reclining in the bath. His smirk was playful and she could almost see him debate in his mind whether or not to join her. Normally she loved enticing him like this when he came home from work, but the subject matter of what she had to talk to him about left her feeling far from seductive at the moment.
"Rather early for a bath, isn't it?" he teased, walking over to her. "Did you go riding today? Feeling the need to wash the dirt off of you?"
"Something like that," she said blankly as she looked away from him and down at the water.
Matthew frowned. He crouched and sat down on the floor next to her, resting his head on his folded arms on the edge of the bath.
"Mary?" he asked. "What is it?"
"What do you mean?" she replied, looking at him, knowing she was doing a terrible job of hiding her emotions. She could have easily carried on a casual conversation with him until dinner and let her parents break the news, but part of her wanted him to pick up on the fact that she was troubled. As usual, her husband did not disappoint.
"Something's the matter," Matthew stated. "You're nervous. Mary? What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," she said quickly, internally berating herself that she was resorting to technicalities to gloss over what was to come. "It's wonderful news, actually. I was sitting with Papa and Mama this afternoon and they told me that Mama is pregnant."
"What?" Matthew blinked in shock. "Your mother is pregnant?"
"Yes," Mary nodded. "She's not very far along, but she was ill for several days and when Dr. Clarkson came to examine her, that's when they found out."
Matthew looked away, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowing. His gaze seemed to linger on her legs, then he slowly rose from the bath, turning away from her.
"That is wonderful news," he said calmly. He stepped over to the vanity and placed his hands on the counter, staring into the mirror.
"Of course they don't know if it's a boy or a girl yet," Mary said, watching him as she saw his shoulders tense.
"But if your mother's child is a boy, then he's the heir," Matthew said ruefully. "And I suppose that leaves me to go back to living on my wits."
"Your wits have served us very well thus far, I would say," Mary said quietly.
Matthew sighed, his eyes staring at his reflection in the mirror.
"They're going to announce the news tonight at dinner," Mary continued, swallowing as she watched him. "The other thing is, Papa feels that while everything is so uncertain at the moment, with your…status…that perhaps you should pull back from advising him on the Estate. At least until we know for sure whether it's a boy or not."
"Advising him," Matthew chuckled mirthlessly. "Yes, I expect he would feel that way."
"Matthew," Mary whispered.
He turned and looked at her, his blue eyes bright. The sun from outside streamed through behind him, and Mary thought he looked remarkably relaxed with his sleeves rolled up and his collar unbuttoned, his hair tousled slightly. But she knew he was not at ease, and he had no reason to be. He walked over and stooped again, leaning down and kissing her lips gently.
"Don't stay in there too long," he whispered, kissing her forehead. "The water will run cold. I'll be back up to change for dinner."
Mary watched him leave, noticing as he closed the door behind him that his hands were balled up into fists.
Home of Isobel Crawley, Manchester, England, September 1912
"Where's the car?" Matthew asked in exasperation, looking out the window yet again.
"Matthew, please sit down," Isobel scolded him. "The car will arrive at 2 o'clock just as we arranged. It's barely half past one."
"The train leaves at three, Mother," Matthew said petulantly as he sat back down in his chair. "We don't want to be late."
"How many times have you and Alex sworn to me that you could catch the London train with time to spare, leaving here barely 15 minutes before boarding time?" Isobel retorted. "I don't see what the rush is now."
"I just think it's important to make a good impression," Matthew said evenly. "I don't want their first thought of me to be that I can't show up at the appointed time."
"I thought the Earl was quite impressed by you a few months ago," Isobel noted, turning the page of her book. "He was quite charming."
"He's an Earl, Mother," Matthew said pointedly. "He's supposed to be charming. He probably spends most of his time practising how to act in mixed company."
Isobel chuckled.
"What are you reading?" Matthew asked, his eyes focusing on the familiar book cover. "Is that mine?"
"I bought it for you, if I recall correctly," Isobel said, smirking at her son.
"Rewards and Fairies," Matthew smiled. "I thought I packed that with my other books."
"You did," Isobel confirmed. "I took it out so I could read it on the train."
Matthew laughed in pleasant recollection. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you continued the tradition. I think you and Papa were the only couple in all of Manchester to buy Kipling's books the moment they were released."
"And why not? You were far too young for us to read you Henry James," Isobel teased. "Besides, I like keeping up your collection. Your father would have wanted it that way. He knew you couldn't be trusted to do that, so the task fell to me."
Matthew rolled his eyes and stood back up to look out the window.
"Matthew," Isobel warned him again. "Sit down. Come, come read to me."
"What?" Matthew frowned, turning and going back to his chair. "Read to you?"
"Yes," Isobel smiled. "Read to me my new favourite poem."
"I don't need to read it, I've already memorized it, as you well know. I'm a grown man, Mother," Matthew smiled, shaking his head. "I don't need to play memory games anymore. Besides, this will end up making you cry."
"Indulge me," Isobel persisted. "The sooner you finish, the sooner the car will arrive."
Matthew rolled his eyes and smirked at her. The sooner he would be with Mary, he thought.
"If you can wait and not be tired by waiting…" Isobel prompted, smiling at him.
Matthew chuckled. "Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, or being hated, don't give way to hating, and yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise," he said, the words flowing through his mind as though the page were spread out before him.
"If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken…" she continued, looking down at the book.
"Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build 'em up with worn out tools. If you can make one heap of all your winnings, and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, and lose, and start again at your beginnings, and never breathe a word about your loss," Matthew said easily.
They were interrupted by a firm knock on the door. Matthew turned and looked out the window. His face lit up.
"The car is here!" he declared, turning back and moving quickly to Isobel, helping his mother up from her chair.
"I expect you to finish the rest of it on the train," Isobel said pointedly.
"I don't know why you love that poem so much," Matthew laughed. "Papa never wanted me to be stoic. You both taught me to speak my mind always."
"We taught you to believe in yourself," Isobel corrected him. "The poem is about discipline, and not crowing about one's victories, or bemoaning one's defeats."
"Just getting on with it," Matthew smiled.
"Exactly, my son," Isobel smiled as they prepared to leave their home for London, and beyond that, to Yorkshire. Isobel was nervous about what they might find when they arrived at their new home to meet their new family. She did not know how well they would get along with these strangers who they now found themselves related to. Matthew had no such concerns.
Downton Abbey, England, June 1914
"Matthew," Mary said quietly, tugging on his shoulder.
Matthew opened his eyes and turned over on to his back. He pushed the blankets down slightly to allow Mary to move against his side. She leaned over him. He looked up at her inquiringly. "Darling? What is it?"
"You've been very quiet since dinner," Mary said softly, running her hand along his bare chest.
"Just tired," Matthew smiled carefully. Even lying in bed in the dark, he felt as though his wife could see right through him. "Tonight's events were rather…draining…I would say."
"I don't know what you and Papa talked about, but I expect that he asked you to hold off on some of your ideas and questions," she said.
"He asked me to leave him alone," Matthew rolled his eyes. "And he's within his rights to do so."
"Papa does appreciate you, Matthew," Mary said. "I know he doesn't show it, but…"
"Whether he appreciates any of us is debatable, Mary," Matthew sighed. "But he's still Lord of the Manor for now, so his word is law. We all have to accept that."
"Then perhaps we should find another Manor for just us," Mary whispered.
Matthew frowned. He looked up at her face in question. His eyes wandered to her pale throat and her bare skin revealed by her nightgown.
"What do you mean?" Matthew asked. "This is our home, Mary. Why would we leave?"
"This is my family home," Mary corrected him. "And I have asked too much of you already to live here under my father's rules and bend to his will. It made sense when you were destined to inherit the title and the Estate, but now that you may possibly be denied what you deserve, I don't know if we should stay. You've been very generous, Matthew, and I love you for it, but it may be time for us to go. It may be time that we set off on our own and make our own life, come what may."
"And what about your family? What about your father? You do love him," Matthew said.
"I will continue to love him, by all means, but you are my husband," Mary said, caressing his cheek. "And I believe in you."
Mary leaned down and kissed him softly. His hands moved up and ran along her back and arm, pulling her close to him.
"What if I told you that there may be a way for us to save Downton from whatever trouble your father has put us in, and secure its future so, God willing, we don't need to revisit these problems again?" he asked quietly.
"I would be all for it, obviously," Mary said cautiously, looking down at him.
"Even if it involved a slight amount of scheming to achieve our goals?" Matthew added.
Mary smiled. "A scheme? Well I don't really have much experience with that," she said sarcastically.
"There's a lot that is unknown, of course," Matthew continued. "The situation may not be too dire just yet. But, you see, I know what I'm doing is right, Mary. I believe I can make Downton safe for all of us, instead of leaving your father to carry on by himself. But I won't do it unless you're with me."
Mary leaned closer and kissed him again.
"I'm with you, darling," she smiled. "Now what do you need me to do?"
"Well, first off," Matthew smiled wickedly. "You're far too overdressed at the moment to be privy to my plans."
Mary laughed as he rolled them over. She wrapped her leg around his waist as he kissed her neck.
"I thought you were too tired?" she teased, her hands moving up his back.
"Don't you remember what I told you, darling?" Matthew replied between kisses. "Sleeping with you invigorates me."
Law Office of Harvell, Carter & Lewis, London, England, June 1914
"Good afternoon, Matthew," Alex smiled, shaking his hand and motioning to a chair.
"Thank you for seeing me," Matthew nodded. "I missed you at the end of the party last night."
"Quite all right," Alex smirked. "You and Lady Mary seem to have disappeared after several dances. I didn't see you in the ballroom for the balance of the evening."
Matthew turned away from Alex's teasing gaze. "Yes, well, Mary and I were occupied, as it were."
"I've heard newlyweds tend to find themselves occupied rather often," Alex retorted.
"Maybe you should find yourself a good woman and see what all the fuss is about, then?" Matthew shot back.
"I know a great deal of good women," Alex said offhandedly. "Sadly, the fact that they are all good women is what stops them from considering my suit."
Matthew shook his head and smirked at his friend's ludicrous comment.
"Your party is the talk of the town this morning, from what I hear," Alex smiled. "Lord and Lady Grantham must be pleased with that."
"They were both beside themselves at luncheon," Matthew smirked. "Cousin Violet bemoaned the fact that we've probably set off a terrible pattern, and there will be all manner of masquerade themed parties next Season."
"I'm sure that the Dowager Countess can cope with the extra attention," Alex smiled. "Now, on to more serious matters," he declared, picking up several papers.
"You found out who those men were who were speaking to Lord Grantham last night?" Matthew asked.
"I did," Alex nodded, handing him the documents. "They represent a number of different parties and perform all manner of tasks, but the one service they provide of note is circled for you there."
"Art appraisal," Matthew said dejectedly.
"Yes," Alex nodded.
"And in a worst case scenario, assuming the current market, is there enough art at Downton and in London to stand as collateral for Cousin Cora's money?" Matthew asked.
"Do you want to know the answer?" Alex asked plainly.
"I don't have a choice," Matthew replied. "I have to know what we're up against."
"Based on my limited knowledge, it's not even close, Matthew," Alex said firmly.
Matthew turned the pages and looked over the information. He sighed as he came to the last page, then returned the documents to Alex.
"You don't actually know if Robert has wasted away all of Lady Grantham's money," Alex pointed out.
"No, no I don't," Matthew said, rubbing his hand across his temple. "I'm just thinking of a worst case scenario."
"Well, if the art isn't enough to pay off Lord Grantham's creditors," Alex began.
"Then he would need to sell his other assets to make up the difference," Matthew finished.
They sat in silence for several moments. They both knew very well what assets Robert owned.
"What do you want to do?" Alex asked finally.
"We can still give Robert more time," Matthew replied. "We don't actually know if he's done anything too drastic just yet. Quarterly reports come out in the fall, so we'll have a clearer idea of what we can do then."
"And if the worst case scenario comes to pass?" Alex continued.
"Then we'll need to take action," Matthew answered.
Downton Abbey, England, June 1914
"Port, sir," Carson announced.
"Thank you, Carson," Matthew replied evenly, taking the glass from the silver tray. He took a long sip, then set it down on the table. His father-in-law sat at the head of the table, enjoying his cigar.
"Life is peculiar, isn't it, Matthew?" Robert smiled, not looking over at him.
"It can be, yes," Matthew agreed, looking down at his glass.
"Why, almost two short years ago, I was scrambling to find an heir and Cora was trying to find Mary a husband," Robert laughed. "How things have changed, haven't they?"
"In that Mary has found a husband?" Matthew suggested, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Robert.
"That, yes," Robert nodded. "And the fact that my search for an heir may have been premature. Rather than looking far across the land, perhaps I did not consider looking closer to home, as it were."
Matthew frowned at the Earl's implication. "Robert, I do recall that on my wedding day you waxed eloquently about how proud of me you were. I hope that my possible change in prospects has not also changed your assessment?"
"Things have changed since then, Matthew," Robert said pointedly. "Although, yes, I am proud to have you as my son-in-law, whatever your prospects."
Matthew swallowed hard as he finished his port.
"I hope you appreciate the amount of responsibility that I carry, Matthew," Robert continued. "I not only have to take care of all of my family and the tenants who depend on us, but now I must guard this Estate for my unborn son."
"Or for your unborn daughter," Matthew interjected.
"Yes, of course," Robert agreed quickly.
"Rest assured, Cousin," Matthew said, staring directly at the Earl. "If Cousin Cora does have another daughter, Mary and I will love her, and I will make sure that she is provided for when I am Earl."
Robert frowned, then restored his neutral expression. "That's very kind of you, Matthew. But, if the sands should shift and Cora finally gives me the son that I have always wanted, then be certain that he and I will see Downton forward together, and our line continue. It must be a relief for you, to know that all you'll need to focus on is Mary's happiness, rather than this Estate business."
"I am adaptable, Robert," Matthew nodded. "I learned long ago that I don't particularly enjoy being a puppet. I prefer to take charge of my own life."
"A worthy goal," Robert nodded. "Well, let's go through then."
Matthew rose and waited as Robert finished his port and got up. The Earl walked towards the sitting room, then paused and turned around to face Matthew once again.
"Oh, I wanted you to know that Jane has been reassigned. I've sent her to work at the Dower House. She has a young son living in the Village, and I thought it best to get her out of this place and closer to home."
Matthew studied his father-in-law carefully. "I'll be sure and tell Mary. You'll find someone to replace her, I expect?"
"Carson and Mrs. Hughes are dealing with it," Robert waved his hand dismissively. "One thing you'll have to learn is that you can't involve yourself in everything that goes on around here Matthew. Best to leave most tasks to those who are better suited to deal with them."
"Make no mistake, Robert," Matthew smiled back. "I am well informed of just what everyone here is best suited for."
Matthew's stare was unwavering. Robert pursed his lips, then turned and went through to the sitting room. Matthew followed, moving quickly to the sofa and Mary's calming and reassuring presence.