Snap out of it Mary Crawley, she told herself. No one was that perfect. Certainly not the man she was supposed to throw herself at to save her father's bacon.
There was no way she'd let on he had gotten to her. So instead she dismissed his apology and put him immediately on the defensive.
Imperceptibly she hiked up the hem of her dress, to show off her legs and crossed one over the other to have him cast his eyes downward towards the spiked heels that shaped her backside to her best advantage.
XX
Matthew deliberately averted his eyes from their intended target. He was not going to fall into that trap. To be the recipient of Mary's caustic rebuke or fulfill her view of traditional male sexism.
He gazed instead directly over her left shoulder and motioned for the server to return to the table. "We'll have some menus."
"Yes sir."
He handed them both a menu.
The man looked expectantly at Mary.
Mary quickly glanced at the wine selection. "I'll have a glass of the Vouvrey." Mary sat back against the cushioned seat. So that's how he's going to play it, she told herself. This could be interesting.
Both took the moment to appraise the other.
Matthew gathered his wits again.
Mary realized he was no fool.
"So do you live in London?" Mary broke the ice. This time with the most innocuous of questions. The 'get to know' type she handed out in so many publicity related discussions.
Matthew relaxed as well. Or tried to. "I do now. I'm originally from Manchester but after uni I settled down in Fulham near Parson's Green."
"Good property around there." Mary agreed. "I helped out some clients when I first began to work for Grantham Limited."
"How long have you been Public Relations director?" Matthew inquired, showing that he had done his homework and knew Mary's position within her family's company.
"About two years." Mary accepted the proffered glass from the server.
"We're still looking at the selections." Matthew admitted. The man withdrew a step.
"Would you like the vegetable rolls as a starter? Then the lobster?" He pitched his eyes once again directly at Mary. But my God her legs were a lovely distraction. He suppressed a twitch of his mouth.
"Sounds delicious." Mary agreed.
Matthew motioned and the server came forward. He ordered for both along with a bottle of Blanc de Blancs Chardonnay.
"I'm relieved to know you're not a complete teetotaler." Mary spoke. "I do like a glass of wine with any meal."
"A recent attempt to take the pledge to lead a healthier life." Matthew took a sip of his mineral water. "I can't say I'm an advocate though."
Mary laughed at his honesty. "My sister the GP would have something to say about that. She's positively religious about diet and sugar intake."
"My mother as well. She spent many years as a NHS nurse before her retirement." Something in common after all Matthew mused. "I rather take the opposite view. A good ale or single malt scotch is the best reward at the end of a long day's work."
"You work a lot Mr. Crawley?" She was more curious about him than she wanted to admit.
"More than is probably good for me Lady Mary. But one has to, hasn't one." He drew her name out as she had with his. "Especially in our competitive world."
"You know what all work and no play did for Jack." She was unconsciously playing with her hair, twisting some loose strands. Gracefully arranging them behind her ear.
"Oh…" He let the word linger on his tongue. "I play, too." God he was flirting with this woman. He needed to watch it.
"I wish I could have continued to combine both the working and the playing." Mary let that truth slip.
Matthew was intrigued. "How does one do that?"
"Not very successfully." Mary demurred with only a touch of bitterness in her voice. She switched the subject back to the matter at hand. "My father works very hard. He expects the same from his associates."
"No shirking?" Matthew joked.
"Absolutely not." She riposted. "And from well-paid hires. So you best keep on your toes."
"I consider myself fair warned." Matthew moved his glass as the starter arrived. He tucked into the vegetable rolls. "But I have to admit to having a lot on at the moment. I'm not sure I could take another client. My business partner …"
"No." Mary returned quickly. "I want you…." Then clapped her mouth shut as she realized what she said.
Matthew's mouth puckered into a sly smile. He slightly raised an eye brow.
Mary recovered as much as she could "We think your acumen and expertise are what's required at Grantham."
"I'm flattered." He said, still amused by the delightfully horrified expression that crossed her face with the verbal gaffe.
"But not enough to accept?" She sensed.
"Let's keep talking, shall we?" And he eased back into the chair. "It's a lovely night. And I for once, don't have any place I'd rather be than right here."
She noticed he stuck to the mineral water even as their meal arrived at the table. He indicated to pour only the lady's glass.
They spent the meal exchanging pleasantries about London and hard to please estate agents and customers.
XX
Mary would not have noticed it. He had singly placed his mobile over what she assumed to be a notepad as she sat down earlier. But after the servers had removed their plates, his mobile buzzed. He picked it up to glance at the name and replaced it.
"The office." He dismissed the message with a finger click. "I'll deal with it in the morning."
Only in those few seconds did Mary see the drawing on the notepad. A sketch really. Of the London skyline. Fully realized yet with a touch of the absurd added. Some buildings outsized, others shrunk. It was quite good.
He noticed she noticed.
A wry smile crossing his face. "Something to pass the time in long meetings. It amuses me to capture things in ways that go unnoticed."
She filed that information away.
"Do you enjoy your work?" She asked instead.
He took a hard pause before answering. "I like the satisfaction of everything coming together." It was so noncommittal, Mary realized.
"The art of the deal as Donald Trump says?" She provoked just a bit.
Matthew guffawed. "Without the egomaniacal fascist overtones, I hope yes. I prefer to be diplomatic and work with a client's strengths to get to a yes."
"And if they still want more?"
"Then I tell them how unrealistic their goals are given the allocated funds they've given me to work with. You do have to let them down gently. But firmly."
"I just imagine you do."
"And yourself?" He turned tables. "What's your skill Lady Mary Crawley?" It was terrible how much he loved saying her full name.
"Procuring reluctant clients like you over to our side of the table." She fiddled with her fork. "That lobster was delicious."
"You don't like talking about yourself." Matthew observed.
"I'm essential." She declared pointedly. "But if I do my job correctly you've gained our trust without even realizing why or how."
"I'd hate that. Then I would have missed out on the enjoyment of our conversation." He said it so smoothly Mary was not quite certain he was serious.
Then she looked at his smouldering eyes. Eyes that seemed to see right into her soul.
She attempted to reassert control over the conversation. "If you accept our offer, even though you will be brought in from the outside on a temporary basis, you will have to pull your weight. My father …."
"Sounds rather desperate to me, if you don't mind me saying so." Cutting to the chase at last.
She looked shocked at his forthrightness. But he could see in her eyes he was right.
"What is going on?" Matthew asked gently. "Something untoward financially?"
"Nothing to do with the family." Mary's emphasis being on the last word.
"Spoken like a lawyer. Are you sure you never called to the bar?" He remarked. "Such dicing of words means only one thing. You're sure there is some fiddling of the books. Just not with your father."
Mary's lips curled inward in thought. How much should she tell him?
"You're not hiring me to investigate remember. Just to help right the ship. I can't do that if you are not honest with me. Changes might have to be made. Changes you or your father might not like. But will aid in returning your enterprise to solvency."
Matthew directed his gaze at her face. Intent on his purpose now. "Can you give me that assurance? The independence to do what I must the best way I see fit?"
"Yes. I can, yes." Mary assured him. Also assuring herself at the same time that Matthew Crawley was just as good as his reputation.
"Settled then. I will have a draft of my usual contract sent by tomorrow morning. We can then convene later in the week at your offices near the Royal Exchange." Matthew had made up his mind. What was generally perceived by the client as a mountain to climb, usually to him was merely a long walk with some inconveniences along the way.
Mary took a long breath then said, "About your fees…"
"Not at dinner." He held a finger to his mouth. "Spoils the appetite." And his eyes twinkled.
She sipped the last drops of the chardonnay. "Deal." And smiled.
Matthew then noticed the owner of Café Bruno making a discrete wave in his direction.
"Excuse me." And he got up.
Mary gazed out onto the last light of the evening. Darkness was about to descend. The fairy lights had come on the balcony and she noticed more patrons had gathered at nearby tables. She had not even noticed them so deep in the conversation with Matthew.
Why was that? When she was out with Henry they generally caused a buzz and others flitted around them wanting to just be in their company. She made small talk. He told stories of his old racing days.
Perhaps that was it. Whole evenings would go by and they would not have even spoken to each other. It would seem they did. If asked, they would say that they had.
But no. They talked to people. They stood beside each other.
They existed in the other's space.
That was about it. It was easy. Comfortable. Maybe that's why they never married?
Mary returned from her discomfiting reverie with Matthew's gentle tap on her shoulder. "Nicolas wants our table." He was doing that twitchy smile again that made her heart beat faster. "It seems we've kept it for over two hours. I told him I understood. Would you like to go downstairs to the bar? I …" He hesitated, not really sure what the hell he was doing. He just didn't want to stop talking with her.
"I'd love too." Mary jumped in. Also not wanting their time to end.
Knowing this would cause a change in their purpose, Matthew persisted with it anyway. He pulled back her chair and smoothly guided her through the crowd and down the steps. The bar was sleek and modern. They found as quiet a table as possible near the back.
Matthew ordered a Laphroaig neat with a water back. Mary turned tables and ordered a sparkling water.
Matthew laughed. "I'm desperate for a drink. I've been a good boy long enough. But I'll have only the one. I am driving."
They settled in. Matthew did not want to talk any more about her family's business woes.
"What you said upstairs." He had been so curious. "About combining work and play. What did you mean?"
Mary sighed heavily.
"If it's a sore subject…" His brow was furrowed in concern.
"No." She said quickly. "Just a sad one."
He waited for her.
"I was a competitive horse jumper." Mary looked up at him. "I loved it so."
"Were you very good?"
"I qualified for the 2012 Olympic Trials. To make Team Britain when the games were in London."
He was impressed. "That's quite the achievement. It must have taken a great deal of effort."
"Yes" her voice suddenly warm and animated. "But it never felt like it. To be one with your horse. That feeling is indescribable."
"Which is why the work was also the play." He understood.
"Then it all turned to ashes." Her voice flat.
Matthew's eyes lowered. "Why?" He asked tenderly.
"My horse, Diamond. He went lame right before I was to ride. When we were training. One of those things. I lost my chance." The dullness, the weariness apparent. "They wanted me to change horses. I wouldn't. Diamond and I understood each other. No other horse was going to take me into the Olympics."
"So you quit?" He tried to understand.
"Yes. A year later I went to work at Grantham." The determination returned. "I had to accept the real world."
"But you could have tried again?" Matthew sat forward. He took a sip of his whisky. "And train another horse in the meantime."
"Perhaps." Mary said shortly. She was reluctant to confess that she had made an abrupt decision and turned her back on her dream. It seemed so dreary to admit that.
Matthew got it anyway. He instinctively recognized just saying that much was more than she would normally have divulged. "Did you jump? Or what?"
"I show jumped and did the three day event. Diamond was magnificent across the long course. We did the Burghley Horse Trials in 2011 and he just soared over the viaduct and the leap." Mary saw it all again in her mind's eye.
Her sadness hurt Matthew's soul. Her voice mesmerized him when she talked about her passion.
"Why don't you try again? Isn't that one of those sports one can do for years and years?" He so wanted to bring back that smile.
She shook her head. "It's just not that easy. I've been away from it. My family's estate has undergone extensive renovations and costs overran. I…"
"I'll do it." He knocked his hand on the table.
"What?" Mary could not have been more surprised.
"I'll invest in you." His voice steady. "I want to. You pick out a horse. Train. I don't know…"
His voice got more dynamic. "…do whatever you want I'm not sure… But I've been looking for new ventures. And this is far more exciting than property or leveraging mortgages."
"It takes time to build a relationship with a horse. I've been away from it all…" But Mary was interested. Could she really go back? Her eyes began to dance with the possibilities.
That's what he wanted to see. "Are you scared?"
She started at that. "I am not. At least not more so than yourself."
He looked quizzical.
"Your sketch. You hid it from me earlier but I see you doing it again. Let me see…" And she took the pad away from his hand.
This drawing was of Mary. He captured her likeness with remarkable skill. And yet with a playfulness that softened her features.
He shook his head. "I can draw. I doodle. It's not marketable. It's not that good. I know it. But you…you make it all the way to the Olympic trials. That's real success. Let's try to do it again."
"What about Grantham LTD? I can't just give up work. And you have your hands full with all your own." Mary could not admit she was bowled over by how he had managed to catch her in a few strokes of a pencil. That he managed to concentrate both on her conversation and his illustration at the same time. "Taking on the company business and this venture? Really?"
"We can do it together. What's the risk?"
"Failure." She admitted.
"Nothing. Do it all the time." He smiled. "It's learning to accept failure to get to success. That's the trick."
A lock of unruly hair fell down his forehead. He looked like an excitable little boy about to get a new adventure.
Mary's mouth turned up. "Let me think about it."
"Good enough." And Matthew rapped the table again. "Did you drive your own car?"
"No. I took a cab."
"Let me take you home." Matthew got up from the table. He shuffled through his tuxedo pockets for his keys. "It's right out front."
"Out front?" Mary was impressed. Parking like that was dear.
"Nicolas and I went to the same college together." He smiled. "Favours."
They moved outside and she heard the chirp chirp of his vehicle's doors. The car was a Porsche 718 Boxster. A flash car for sure. Sleek and modern.
Matthew loved it. His ultimate indulgence.
He opened the door for her. Mary accepted the courtesy and stepped in. He managed to admire her lithe beauty one more time.
He put the Porsche in reverse gear. "Of course it's a manual shift." Mary observed.
"For the love of driving it's the only way to go." He laughed as they carefully maneuvered through the late night London traffic.
A glance at the dash showed it was 2am.
It was much later than Matthew had thought. He pushed the consequences of that from his mind.
He parked in front of the Eaton Square townhome per Mary's instructions. "Thank you Mr…"
"Matthew." He said, his tone dark and rich.
"Matthew." She said it softly, drawing it out.
"I'll be in touch Mary. Your father won't be disappointed."
Had he already forgotten their other, more private arrangement?
"And I expect you to have gotten me up to speed on everything related to equestrianism by the time we next meet for dinner. That way I'll know whereof I speak when we go see potential horses for purchase."
And he smiled again and withdrew the car before she could protest any more. He waved, and she reluctantly turned back towards her front door.
XX
Matthew spent the night at his club. He did not want to disturb Lavinia so late in the early morning hours. She would ask questions of course.
Questions she had every right to ask.
Questions he had no ready answer for.
Mary had upended his life. In one evening, he felt a different man.
And he had no idea what that meant….
XX
Again : thoughts? Views? Thank you soo much.