Take Me Back to Me by And Then We Dance/Downton
Hi guys! It's been a really long time since I've written any fic (not that I haven't been writing, it's just been mostly original stuff) and I was pretty sure that I was in retirement, but the fates had other ideas and this idea dropped into my head about three weeks ago and refused to let me sleep until I started writing it down :) I'm really excited for this, so thanks for joining me on this journey.
Tiny little bits before I begin~~ 1- The title comes from the song The Original Me by Roo Panes, which is a really beautiful song that fits this story perfectly. 2- There is a brief mention of sexual assault (cause you know Pamuk was a thing), so avoid that little bit if that is triggering to you. 3- I've written 25,000 words (6 chapters) so far, so keep checking back for more soon 4- The rating is starting off at T, but there is a chance it might change down the road. 5- The characters, though modern versions that I'm having fun with, belong to Julian Fellows
Enjoy :)
Chapter 1: Phase One- Set Them Up
"You really messed up this time, Mary," Cora said, as Mary collapsed onto the sofa beside her, burying her face in her mug of coffee to hide her tear-streaked face. It was far too early in the morning for a lecture from her mother. Not that it had stopped her from barging in this morning and insisting on trying to amend Mary's problems.
As if I need reminding, Mary thought miserably. In fact, it seemed like every tabloid on every newsstand, each salacious gossip website, and even those celebrity gossip TV recaps were repeating the same thing: Mary Crawley messed up. Of course they phrased it different ways each time: "Mary Crawley's Third Sex Scandal This Year," "Three Times The Charm: A Story of Mary Crawley's Affairs," and "Just Wait Till You See What Mary Did This Time."
The whole thing was stupid. First of all, this sort of thing never happened to men, even if they were the ones who deserved the blame. They never got criticized in the same way women did. Was anyone calling Tony Foyle a slut, a homewrecker? No, he was being portrayed as an innocent man mysteriously seduced by 21st century harlot, Mary Crawley.
None of this would have blown up either if it wasn't for the fact that Mary Crawley was the daughter of billionaire CEO Robert Crawley and his wife, one-hit-wonder musician Cora Levin. Having a famous family automatically put her in a spotlight that wasn't sure she would have chosen for herself. It didn't help that two years ago there had been a short-lived reality show about her family, a brainchild of her father's to help their business. The show had been a flop, but it had been just enough to ensure that every mistake Mary ever made would be splashed across every tabloid for the next century and a half.
"Mary," piped up her youngest sister, as she entered the room dressed in a simple spring dress, her short hair pinned up in a stubby ponytail, "Don't listen to mother. It's all going to be fine."
Mary let out another groan at her sister's painful optimism. It was easy for Sybil to say. She was the youngest, the darling of New York, and loved by basically all of the general public. She was put on magazines for doing charity work. Her online click-bait was "These Pictures of Sybil Crawley at the Animal Shelter Will Melt Your Heart." Sybil Crawley could do no wrong.
"I've got to dash," She said, "I'm meeting Larry for brunch and then we are going to work on painting a mural on a graffiti wall in the Bronx. Is it still okay if I stop by your apartment for dinner?"
"Of course, darling. Will Larry be joining us for dinner?" Asked her mother, as Sybil flitted around the room grabbing her wristlet (a gift from Mary, one of her earliest designs) and dabbing on lipstick.
"No," Sybil explained, "He's got a publicity thing to do. But you can see him tomorrow after the dress fitting. You'll be there, right, Mary?"
Mary groaned again.
Because her perfect sister also had a perfect fiancé. That's right, somehow her little sister, who was finishing her senior year at Barnard, was already engaged to successful, young Congressman Larry Grey while Mary herself was "off sleeping with half the world" (that particular sentence was in an article titled "The Crawley Sisters Special: The Inside Scoop on Sybil's Engagement, Edith's New Book, and Mary's Latest Scandal.") So now Mary was going to be forced to leave Sybil's penthouse where she'd been holed up for the last 24 hours for wedding dress fittings. It was the sort of thing that she would be excited about normally, but with Tony's betrayal and the headlines, the last thing she wanted to think about was love.
"Wait, shhh, girls," their mother said, "it's on."
Mary's stomach churned as she looked at the screen.
"Good Morning New York, my name is Richard Carlisle and welcome to today's show," said the plastic-y face of the morning show host.
Another thing that would make this all better was if Mary hadn't dated and dumped famous "Good Morning New York" host, Richard Carlisle. Their whole relationship had been a mess, one of those things more out of convenience and boredom than romance. She thought they broke up on fine terms. That was till her first scandal came out and Carlisle spent the first five minutes of the show berating her. And the same thing had happened the time after that. It was disgusting, but somehow her family couldn't stop watching it.
"Let's start with today's headlines," the man said, "Mary Crawley, former reality star and daughter of CEO Robert Crawley and singer Cora Levin, has found herself in her third sex scandal of this year."
"There are children dying in third world countries," Sybil sighed, "And this is the headline of the day?"
"It's Carlisle. What did you expect?" Mary remarked.
"Mary's bad luck, shall we say, began in January. As you remember, she dated country singer 'Duke Crowborough.' Their relationship came to a disastrous end when he left her for broody folk artist Thom Barrow."
Mary rolled her eyes. The whole first scandal had been stupid. She had liked Duke. He was kind and thoughtful. She hated country music, so she was better off without him. Near the end of the relationship, he told Mary that he actually was currently in love with another musician, a man. Mary had given him her blessing and encouraged his new relationship. But that didn't stop the tabloids from writing, "Mary Crawley Turns Duke Crowborough Gay." Honestly, it wasn't even a sex scandal, it was Duke trying to live his life and Mary hers.
"The second scandal was far more racy," Carlisle said, nearly giddy at the words. Mary winced as they flashed a picture of Prince Pamuk on the screen. "Mary Crawley was caught in a compromising situation with the Prince in an elevator February. They had been on a date at a fundraising gala in London. Photographers of the incident got some rather revealing pictures that happened to be released online."
What Carlisle, and all other media sources for that matter, failed to cover was that in this particular incident it was only Mary and the Prince's second date together at the very beginning of their non-existent relationship. They had hardly known each other, but the Prince was attractive and well, a prince. She had been in London at the time and agreed to go on the date with him. Half way through, he said he was tired, so why don't they head out and maybe get some drinks someplace else. On the elevator ride down from the party, he had pressed her to the wall of the elevator and began to undress her. Mary pushed him away, horrified- but well- that didn't stop a fleet of photographers waiting in the lobby when the elevator door opened from snapping photos of Mary half naked and dashing them across the internet. She didn't speak to Pamuk again.
Mary had been a mess after that. She was pissed about Pamuk assaulting her. She felt violated that every perv on the planet had now seen her tits. She was furious at the media for the inaccurate portrayal of all of it. Her therapist suggested that she get away for a while. In a split second decision, Mary had booked a flight to Bali and headed there for a month of relaxation.
"Mary's most recent scandal come from her recently trip to Bali," Carlisle began, and Mary buried her face.
How was she supposed to know that Tony Foyle was actually Lord Gillingham, an English aristocrat? Mary was born in England, her accent was a constant reminder of that, but she'd lived abroad, first in America for secondary school and university, then Paris after, for so long that she had forgot that the systems of peerage still existed in England. She knew of Lord Gillingham, everyone had. He was married to model and actress Mabel Lane Fox, who managed to be delicate in looks with a silver tongue for wit. When Mary met Tony on the island, he was fun and comforting. She confined in him about the drama of past few months, about her jealousy over her sisters' success, and the pressure of growing up in the spotlight. Tony offered her a shoulder to cry on, back massages, and kept her company through long afternoons on the beach. It wasn't surprising that she fell for him.
So when guerilla photographers snapped a picture of them making out on the beach- the whole world seemed to very quickly find out about how Mary Crawley had seduced a married man and Lord into a raucous affair.
In the past three months, Mary had been dumped, assaulted, and betrayed. But to the media, she was your run of the mill celebrity whore.
"I just don't get how any woman could do that to another woman," Sobbed Mabel into a microphone, mascara running down her cheeks.
"That was brutal," Sybil admitted, as the screen cleared and went to commercial, "I'm sorry for it. You know that these things never last forever though. Truly. There will be another scandal soon enough and everyone will forget."
"Probably another scandal I commit," Mary said, frustrated.
"Be quiet," Sybil reprimanded.
Two days ago, when the scandal first broke, her gut reaction had been to rush back to New York where her parents and Sybil still lived. She figured her Paris apartment would be surrounded by paps when she got back, so it was best to stay away from it for the time being. Besides, Sybil was the most calming about these sorts of things. Mary had spent the last day lying in the bed of the guest room, doing a combination of binge watching Netflix and crying into a bowl of ice cream. Not one headline read, "Mary Crawley Get Her Heartbroken by Asshole" or "Crawley Heiress Is Hurt For the Third Time This Year."
This morning, her mother had burst into Sybil's apartment and insisted that Mary get out of bed. That was the worst thing about having a one-hit wonder for a mother; she now had all the time in the world to fuss over Mary's life. She currently didn't feel much like the daughter of a once-famous musician, or an heiress for that matter, in her yoga pants, wet hair, and luke-warm coffee- but she supposed it was a start. However, seeing Carlisle recounting her affair on "Good Morning New York" was enough to make her want to creep back under the blankets of the guest room.
"We just need to do something to change your image," her mother said brightly, "Let's use the paparazzi to our advantage."
"How would you do that?" Sybil asked, swinging her wristlet around her arm, and looking at the time on her phone, "Damn, it's late, tell me quickly!"
"By finding someone upright to date Mary," Cora explained.
"That's ridiculous," Mary said, her voice sharp, "I don't need a man to fix my image."
"Just think of it, darling- some sort of humanitarian who wants nothing more than to change the world- dating you," her mother said.
"That sounds unbelievable," Mary snapped.
"That will make it even better," Cora said, "If someone good and honest likes you, that will launch you back into the good graces of society quicker than ever."
"This is stupid. Besides, I slept with a married man, I'm damaged goods," Mary said, gaging a bit at the fact that she was using that term, "No one sane will want to date me now."
"Mary, that is nothing that our money can't buy for you," Cora enthused, "If anything can fix your situation, it's the Crawley fortune."
"So this is your plan?" Mary gasped, "You are going to buy me some sort of humanitarian boyfriend?"
"I think this might actually work, Mary," Sybil said, before grabbing a cardigan and walking to the door, "Anyway, I'm off for real this time."
She pranced out the door and Mary turned back to her mother.
"This conversation is over," Mary said firmly, standing to head back to the guest room.
She got to room and collapsed on the bed. She already regretted getting out of it that morning. Life was much easier if she hid under the covers.
In the corner of the room, her pet rabbit Daisy was hopping around in a makeshift cage. Mary got out of bed to scoop the tiny bunny up in her arms. The soft, tiny ball of fur curled into her and Mary petted her gently.
Mary tried her best to stray as far as possible from doing anything that would mark her down as a vapid celebrity. She had enough problems with that already and didn't need anything to help spur another vengeful headline.
But Daisy was her one exception. She traveled everywhere with her. In fact, she had designed her own special bag that would keep Daisy safe. Daisy also had travel clearance, so she came with Mary on her trips around the world. Was it semi-ridiculous to carry around a bunny? Yes. But the small animal kept Mary calm and sane, so it was worth it.
She slunk back into her bed with the rabbit in tow. Her phone dinged with two text messages.
Edith: Heard the news on TV. How are you holding up?
While the Crawley family was close, her sister Edith was a bit of an anomaly. She had been fondly dubbed "the bookworm" by the press. She was younger than Mary by a year, but clever. Tabloids glowed about her acceptance to Princeton when she was younger, then the world exploded when she published her first novel, "The Mirror," two years after graduation. She had gotten a review in the New York Times and toted as the next thing in "Literary Fiction." Because of this, she lived a rather reclusive life in a cottage in Yorkshire and visited only at holidays. Mary knew why she did it. She wanted to keep her professional life as separate as possible from Sybil's star studded engagement and Mary's scandals. It made sense that Mary was only hearing from her now because she hadn't bothered to tell her the news. Even now, she wasn't sure if Edith really cared or was just texting out of sibling obligation.
Mary: Bad. Things are bad. Mother is worse than bad.
She bent down to press a kiss into Daisy's grey fur. Most days Mary liked Daisy more than people. Today was definitely one of those days.
Mary opened her next text.
Anna: How is Sybil's? Are you feeling any better?
Mary smiled at the text. Anna had been her roommate at Cornell. Not that any of the tabloids care to mention that Mary graduated from Cornell with a degree in Fashion Design and French, or that she got a highly competitive fashion design internship in Paris right after uni. Not to mention that Mary was starting her own handbag company now. Because apparently the media refused to ever portray her in a positive way.
Anna had been the first person she'd called after the photos leaked. She was a balanced woman. She had studied economics and Italian. Now she lived in Italy with her husband, Giovanni. He had been a dashing graduate student while they were undergrads and Mary remembered how hard Anna had fallen for him. They were engaged before Anna graduated and had a gorgeous wedding a year later in Tuscany. Though three years had passed since then, Anna was still happily married and living her dream life in Italy.
If only Mary could ever be so lucky.
Mary: Sybil's was lovely till mother showed up. She is now trying to buy me a boyfriend. Kill me now.
Anna: Oh god.
Mary: You know my mother, she can't have my image be tarnished.
Anna: Forget your image. How is your heart?
Mary: Haven't you heard? I don't have a heart. Everyone knows that.
Mary though miserably about an article she found online which had read, "Can anything be more heartless than what Mary Crawley did to Mabel Lane Fox?" Typical media pitting women against each other. In reality, it was never about her and Mabel. It was always about stupid Tony.
"Mary," shouted her mother, from the living room, "Come back in here!"
"No," Mary hollered back. Maybe if she just stayed in her room long enough, her mother would leave.
"Mary, please," Her mother said again, "I found him."
"What are you possibly talking about?" Mary said, reluctantly leaving the room, Daisy still in her arms, as she shuffled down the hallway.
"Matthew Crawley," Her mother said proudly, "Your new boyfriend."
"What?" Mary said. "Who is that?"
Her mother nodded up at the TV screen where a hansom flaxen haired man with a dusting of a scruffy beard across his fine jawline was standing at a press conference. Her mother paused the program and rewound to the beginning of the segment.
A reporter, thank goodness not Carlisle, was reading, "Matthew Crawley, the humanitarian lawyer and former fiancé of the late actress, Lavinia Swire, has announced in a press conference today that he is starting is own non-profit. You'll remember Miss Swire, while best known as a talented stage actress, was an active volunteer herself. Both Miss Swire and Mr. Crawley contracted a rare tropical disease while volunteering in Burundi last year. While Mr. Crawley survived the illness, Miss Swire succumbed to the disease. Mr. Crawley's new organization will work to fight neglected tropical diseases around the world."
Mary looked at him again. She briefly remembered it making headlines a few years back when Lavinia Swire had become engaged to a man who seemed unknown, but then was discovered to be working as a lawyer for many top humanitarian organizations. She could definitely remember watching the news when it was announced that the actress had died. Lavinia had been talented- Mary remembered seeing her in a Broadway show a few years back. She had soft red hair, a pretty face, and a memorable singing voice. The whole world seemed sad about her passing.
She hadn't know that her fiancé had been infected as well. She felt a pang of despair for Matthew. He must have been terribly ill himself when Lavinia had died. She wondered how he dealt with it. It made her own problems seem small.
"He's perfect," Cora said, bringing Mary back to the present, "He's obviously very attractive. He has a good image. He must be single. He'll be perfect for you. I'll have your father work out an arrangement."
"You can't be serious," Mary gasped. This sounded like some sort of medieval arranged marriage.
"Just you wait. You see, the most important thing is that he is starting a charity. He just set himself up for a bribe he can't say no to," Cora said gleefully, before taking out her phone, "Hello? Robert, darling."
Matthew Crawley smiled as he walked into the restaurant.
Today was a good day and he hadn't had a good day in a while. Since Lavinia had passed, things had been rough. It had been almost a year now, but he still felt haunted by guilt. But today he was finally doing something to make up for it. He wasn't sure he would ever feel redeemed, but at least this was the start.
"Matthew," called a voice, and he looked down to see his mother.
Every Saturday, regardless of whether or not he was launching a non-profit, he got brunch with his mother.
When he had started at Columbia Law, his mother had been in full support of his career, so much so that she followed him to New York despite her whole life still being in Manchester. Now, seven years later, his mother was a successful transplant into New York.
He figured the least he could do to make up for her displacing her life was to oblige to a weekly brunch with her, providing he was in town.
"There you are, Mother," He said fondly, dropping down in the seat across from her.
"You were brilliant at the press conference this morning," She said, her voice swelling with pride. He didn't know what he ever did to deserve having this woman as his mother.
"Thank you," He beamed, placing his phone on the table, before taking a sip of the coffee that must have ordered for him before he got there.
"Truly, I've had many messages from friends asking how they can start donating to your charity," Isobel told him.
"Did you link them to website?" Matthew asked eagerly.
"Just like you showed me," Isobel said, gleefully.
"Thanks, Mother," He said, "Now tell me about your week."
She launched into recounting her week. She worked as a Nursing Professor at NYU and always had an array of humorous stories about her students. She also spent a great deal of time with her book club, full of older women like herself who enjoyed both wine and literary fiction.
"We just finished The Mirror, by Edith Crawley," Isobel enthused, "Have you read it?"
Matthew thought back. He remembered picking it up in an airport last fall and then realizing it was about a woman whose fiancé is murdered before they can marry and must raise their illegitimate child on her own while running a paper. Then he remembered how he thought the idea of a dead fiancé hit too close to home, so he abandoned it in the airport and walked the other way. He flinched at the memory. It had been a year. But it was still so hard.
"No, sorry, I haven't," He said, lying was easier than explaining his sad life to his mother. She knew he was bothered by Lavinia's death, but he didn't want her to know the extent.
"It's truly brilliant," Isobel raved, "You must read it! I'll lend it to you. I can't believe I didn't read it when it came out. There was so much hoopla about it. But I dismissed it, of course, those Crawley's are so vapid- I didn't know their daughter could write something like that."
Matthew smirked, thinking of the Crawley family. He was always getting asked, jokingly, of course, if he was related to the Crawleys. It would be an easy way to change the subject away from dead fiancés. "Can you believe people have the audacity to ask if we are related to them?" He said, rolling his eyes in mock disgust and letting the conversation shift.
They ordered their brunch, blueberry pancakes for Isobel and eggs benedict for Matthew.
"I'm going to run to the toilet," Isobel said, "You can start eating, if the food gets here."
Matthew turned to his phone. There was congratulations text from Tom that he would reply to later. There were a few e-mails from eager philanthropists, which made him smile. There was a kind e-mail from Lavinia's father thanking him for the endeavor.
Then Matthew paused. There was an e-mail from Robert Crawley, CEO.
Dear Mr. Matthew Crawley,
I hope this e-mail finds you well. I watched you this morning at your press conference and I commend your bravery at starting up your own charity.
However, I must warn you that it is a hard road to run such an organization. You have the power to change many lives with your organization and I would hate to see it flounder.
I happen to find myself in a predicament. My daughter, Mary Crawley, has had her named sullied by the media in a series of scandals this year. My wife and I are looking for someone to help her image. We think you would be the perfect person. This may be a personal challenge for you, so we would like to inform you that you would be well compensated for your troubles.
The contract I am drawing up would oblige you to date my daughter till the end of August. Our youngest daughter, Sybil, will be married at that time. We ask that you pose as Mary's boyfriend until after the wedding has finished. If you come through on your side of the deal, Grantham Inc. will donate a half billion dollars to your organization. Think of all the good that could be done to prevent tropical diseases with that money.
You have till tonight at 9PM to either accept or reject my proposal. I'm sure you will understand that this deal is simply too good to pass up.
Sincerely,
Robert Crawley, CEO
"What are you gaping at?" Isobel asked, slipping back into her seat, her voice lifting Matthew's face from the phone he was gaping at.
"It's from Robert Crawley, CEO of Grantham Inc," Matthew said slowly.
"Really?" Isobel said in surprise, "What on earth does he want?"
"He wants to change our lives," Matthew said, staring back at the e-mail dumbly.
Ahhh! I can't wait to hear what you guys think about it! Reviews bring me joy, so feel free to spread some :)