Author's Note: Thanks RHatch89 for the review on the previous chapter! I hope not to disappoint anyone since this is a third part to the "episode," but I promise that this is too relevant to move onto Episode 1.06 just yet. Continue to review and follow!

Chapter Six, Episode 1.05, All's Fair in Love and War, Part Three

The Grantham Village Fair

They drove to the fair in two open air carriages: Mary, Edith, Harry, and Evelyn in one carriage driven by Branson; Dudley, Edwin, Sybil, and Lady Grantham in the other carriage driven by their other chauffeur. The Duke and Duchess of Bradford remained behind, claiming exhaustion, and Robert had business to attend to on the estate. Edwin was more garrulous after changing clothes and smelled less of liquor during the ride.

As they strolled onto the fairgrounds, Cora kept in stride with Sybil. Dudley walked to Sybil's left, while Edwin trudged behind them. Dudley gave Edwin a slight, nearly imperceptible nod to Edwin and the younger brother veered off to one of the amusements. "I hope you don't feel uncomfortable if I remain here, Lady Sybil, but I've grown rather weary with Edwin's company."

"I don't feel uncomfortable at all, Viscount Bradford. If you've spent as much time in the company of your brothers as I have spent in the company of my sisters, then I feel more sympathy than discomfort," Sybil replied.

"What my daughter means is, you shouldn't travel from Bradford Hall to spend more time in the company of your brothers," Cora added.

"That is precisely my sentiment. We spend more than an adequate amount of time in each other's company, hunting wild game on the estate. Do you hunt, Lady Sybil?"

Sybil shook her head but Cora answered verbally. "Sybil doesn't engage in the hunt, but Mary is quite an avid hunter. I hope you'll see her on display during your stay. Lord Grantham and I have taken care to arrange an excellent hunting party for you, since Duchess Bradford wrote to me about your passion as hunters."

"Well, even if you won't hunt, I should hope you'll come to spur us on, won't you, Lady Sybil?"

Sybil glanced at Cora then demurely lowered her eyes to the ground. 'Mama doesn't think I am ready to converse with men until my debut ball, but it is Viscount Bradford who has chosen to be so audacious in speaking to me. I wonder if Mary's suitors are so bold with her?'

"I suppose I could."

"Sybil is an accomplished equestrian, but it is Mary who is the star of the stables," Cora added again.

"Then do you resent hunting, Lady Sybil?"

"Of course not, Viscount Bradford; Mary learned from a young age and was far more ardent about it, but Sybil just has never taken much of an interest in the chase," Cora responded.

"Actually," Sybil said boldly, "I haven't had much opportunity to join the chase before. It has always been Mary's domain. My pursuits have been of a more academic nature."

Dudley chuckled. Even under Cora's admonishing glare, Sybil held her chin up and walked with her shoulders held high. "With all this talk of revolutions and upheavals on the Continent, I suppose this is the closest we'll get to a revolution domestically," he joked.

"So I take it that you don't believe in a woman's right to the vote then? Or in the radical changes being made in Parliament?"

Cora rolled her eyes. "Sybil, darling, don't start down that slope."

"It's a perfectly legitimate question, Mama. Wouldn't you want to know if you'll have another revolutionary in residence for the next two days?"

"To answer your question, Lady Sybil, I find the notion of 'women's rights' to be quite distasteful."

Sybil stopped in her tracks. So did Dudley and Cora. "So you're of the same mind as those high-minded men in Parliament who believe a woman's mind should not step beyond the opinions of her father or her husband? And that a woman should resign herself to do housework, sew, and look pretty for as long as she breathes?"

"I believe that it would serve the suffragettes better to address the issue as one of basic human rights—possession of property, the right to vote—rather than calling it 'woman's rights.'"

"But it is the women who are suffering!"

"As much as it is the Irish who protest under Home Rule, or the people in the Balkan Mountains protest under Austria-Hungary's rule, but there is very little sympathy abroad for either, isn't there? It is only those who suffer alongside them that believe they are burdened by cruel and heavy chains."

"That is because, until one has born those chains of tyranny, one cannot commit to fight in the same struggle!"

Cora patted Sybil's shoulder. "Sybil, dear, we're at the fair. This isn't quite the time for this discussion."

"I apologize, Lady Grantham, but I have no unease with this discussion. I would like to hear more of your daughter's views, as radical as they may be." Dudley grinned at Sybil. She returned the smile without lowering her eyes or retreating.

After dinner

As the plates were cleared from the table, Mary let out a breath of relief. Since Kemal's arrival at Downton, she felt as though she had held her breath the entire time. Kemal and Evelyn had arrived shortly after the Duke and Duchess of Bradford because their carriage had caught in a muddy rut. Even in the light gray traveling suit that did him no justice, Mary enjoyed how impeccably coiffed Kemal appeared. She had so many butterflies flitting around her stomach that it was virtually impossible to eat any food.

Mary was seated between Harry and Evelyn Napier, while Kemal was seated inconveniently between Edwin and Edith. She was grateful that Edwin was extremely entertaining when he sobered up, because it provided ample cover for clandestine looks to pass between her and Kemal. When the party moved to the drawing room, Mary hoped to catch Kemal, but Evelyn maintained his stream of conversation about his foxhounds when they sat on the sofa in the drawing room.

"You see, with foxhounds, it's all about the proper breeding into the dog. That's the thing that makes a great hunting dog. It's what matters more than anything else: the pedigree of the hound you own. If it's a male, you want one bred for its strength and stamina. And you want a male for its strong teeth; he has to have healthy teeth. Females are usually stronger in having a keen sense of smell and beautiful coats."

Mary took a flute of champagne from the tray Carson offered. Its bouquet made her nose tingle from its overwhelming pungency. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered all the faster. Mary chanced a sip. "I suppose it is much the same with men and women, except that women are chosen exclusively for their coats."

"Quite witty, that observation; that was very witty indeed." While Evelyn took a sip from his flute and stared at her over the glass, Mary glanced in Kemal's direction. He was entangled in conversation with Harry and Edith. "I am almost certain that a garden party with you in attendance would be irrevocably entertaining."

"It's my mother who is the hostess and star. I simply attend to display my feats with fire-eating."

"You're an acrobat as well as a comedian? Truly, you are a woman of many talents, Lady Mary."

Mary craned her neck and spotted Kemal standing over her shoulder. "Mister Pamuk! How delightful of you to join our conversation; you should take a seat, please."

"I don't think Kemal wishes to intrude upon our banter. He isn't staying in the country much longer; I suppose English chats have bored him into taking flight," Evelyn laughed.

"No, it is a more personal matter that has taken me from the country. If you'll excuse me, I didn't mean to intrude, but I thought it would be uncouth to not greet Lady Mary." Kemal strode from the drawing room with his champagne still in hand.

"I wonder what is drawing Mister Pamuk from this esteemed land of ours. Perhaps he has been called to defend his homeland from the incursions of the insurgent Balkan states?"

"The American in you must be profoundly strong to make such a supposition. I doubt there is an Englishwoman alive so bold as to make that same conjecture about foreign politics."

"I'm not so bold as I seem, just smarter." Mary set aside her flute of champagne. The bubbly liquor had unsettled her stomach, rather than aiding her digestion. She coughed lightly, and Evelyn frowned. "I'm alright. I'm not nearly so bold as American girls. Did you hear of the American woman who died just this month in a plane crash?"

"That was the Quimby woman who flew over the Channel, wasn't it?"

"Precisely."

"Well I think it is a dreadfully ludicrous enterprise, flying. If God wanted us to fly, we should have been given wings. That Quimby woman would have been more sensible to stay on the ground with her two feet."

"She simply undertook one of life's great risks. She ventured into what was unknown, as anyone should."

"I gather she wasn't married. If she had been married, her husband would have kept her feet on the ground for her."

"I don't know if that bears true with me. Americans are forever climbing higher and higher, going further and further. Look at the new building in New York City. My grandmamma told me she drove by it just this week, and she says it's the tallest in the world. The Americans claim it's over two hundred metres tall."

"That's preposterous."

"Mama seems to be the expert on it. The husband of one of her childhood friends designed the building. Perhaps you ought to ask her if you find me an unreliable witness."

"I'm afraid I'd rather avoid doing that. She's American and as likely to believe the tallest of tales." Evelyn sipped his champagne again.

An ironic smile appeared on Mary's face. "I'm as English as you, Lord Branson…"

"Only half as much, I'm afraid." He chuckled drily at Mary's viperous expression. "I mean to imply that Americans are given over to ridiculous flights of fantasy, of which the Quimby woman seems to be an example."

"I don't believe it was a flight of fantasy that led to her death. In fact, I read in the Times that the American investigators believe she might have crashed because of there was a man on board whose weight caused an imbalance." With that, Mary stood up and strode quickly toward the drawing room door.

"Mary, where are you going?" Cora called after her.

"Excuse me, Mama, but I really must lie down. I'm quite exhausted from dinner. Excuse my abrupt departure, everyone." Mary glanced at everyone except Evelyn before she exited the room.

When the drawing room door closed behind her, Mary stopped and leaned against the wall outside the dining room. The wallpaper felt cool against her forehead; even before going to bed, Mary wasn't willing to risk destroying her perfectly coiffed hairstyle with two peacock feathers to hold her hair in place. She allowed tears to roll from the corners of her eyes and drip to the floor.

'Is this really the best I can hope from my life? Is this the best I shall ever have? To be overlooked in favor of Matthew is horrid enough, but am I to endure the relentless rounds of balls, dinners, and hunts until I am asked to marry? And when I do marry, am I to endure the supremacy of my husband over my own emotions and beliefs?'

"Certainly I hope you understand the predicament in which your declaration puts me," Lord Grantham's voice came from the dining room behind Mary. She started to walk to her room and cry in seclusion. Then she heard Kemal's response.

"Lord Grantham, I do understand…"

"Please, Mister Pamuk, 'your Lordship' is the proper address at such a time as this."

Compelled by her father's glacial tone, Mary turned around. The dining room door was ajar, and she peered in through the sliver of door. Robert and Kemal were seated at the cleared dining room table. 'Why would Papa wanted Kemal to address him like a servant?'

"Your Lordship," Kemal corrected, "I understand the complexity of the situation, but I can assure you that I am genuine in my affections for Mary."

Mary's eyes went wide. Her heart raced. Her stomach clenched. "It isn't the sincerity of your emotions that I question, Mister Pamuk."

"Is it a matter of money then? I assure you that in Turkey, my family is significantly wealthy."

"Do you think I am truly that uncouth as to finagle about money, or to inquire about your family's wealth? This isn't the sort of topic one resolves with a handful of coin. This is a very grave matter, Mister Pamuk, and I expect you to address it as such!" Robert raged.

"By my declaration, Lord Grantham, I meant to absolve you of any concern that I would fail to provide accordingly for Lady Mary. That is all. But I see that there is another issue at hand here."

"And what, pray tell, might that be?"

"Does it bother you, Lord Grantham, that I am a Turk?"

Mary couldn't see her father's face clearly, but she discerned Robert was livid by his ruddy complexion. "Indeed it does! I do not know the entire history of your country, but I know the state it is in now. Do you expect I will give my daughter's hand in marriage to a man who will take her abroad to a nation in turmoil? Do you think I would allow you to risk my daughter's life and security in that way?"

Kemal scoffed. "As I can no sooner change my heritage than I can change my feelings for Mary, I should consider this conversation at an end." Kemal rose from his chair.

"How dare you! You should know better than to stand before a gentleman of the English peerage!"

"You British and your love for traditions."

"If you think your contempt for my country is going to win any favor…"

"I'm not so naïve as to believe such a thing. But I do believe that Mary reciprocates my feelings for her."

"If you love my daughter, you will let her go. You will let her marry an Englishman with land and a title. And there will be no further discussion on this topic. I am off to bed. Good night, Mister Pamuk. I hope I do not have to see you on the morrow."

As Robert approached the door, Mary sequestered herself behind the door. She hid with baited breath until even the party in the drawing room had passed upstairs. When Kemal did not walk by her, Mary went into the dining room. She found him at the dining room table, staring ahead aimlessly. Kemal glanced briefly at her then resumed his staring purposelessly.

"Lady Mary, why do you venture downstairs so late?"

"Whatever else you may decide to do, Kemal, do not push me away." Mary looked around and listened for the sound of Carson or any of the footman or housemaids moving around the main hall. There was no sound from any of them.

"Am I to understand that you heard the entire conversation between your father and I?" Mary nodded, and Kemal chuckled ironically. "He is correct. A woman as lovely, intelligent, and intrepid as you deserves an appropriate English husband. It was foolish of me to come here." Kemal stood up.

"Do you mean to leave me now?"

"My father and I depart for Istanbul in two days. I had one purpose for coming here."

"And what purpose was that, Mister Pamuk?"

"I came to ask your father for your hand in marriage."

"Papa may have declined your proposal, but I have not heard it."

Kemal stared at her with his mouth agape. She had seen that expression on his face before when they coupled that night in her room, and the mere reminder made her heart race in her chest. "You still believe I am much more a rebel than I am. If I accepted your proposal, I would not wish to defy my father."

"But, do you wish to marry me, Lady Mary?"

"I wish to persuade my father to give me away in marriage, or else I risk losing my entire family and all that I am."

"So it is your desire to marry me?"

Mary looked around the room again. "If I am asked properly, I would consider such a thing."

Outside the dining room, Evelyn peered through the crack in the half opened dining room door. He watched as Kemal sank to one knee before Mary, and took her left hand in his.

'You have played me falsely, Lady Mary. If you wished not to accept my proposal, it would have been simple rejection. But to accept the proposal of my companion, Mister Pamuk, and a foreigner at that, it is an insult to my family and my name,' Evelyn thought. 'I will not take this lightly, and no matter how long it would take, I will have revenge for your betrayal, for your insult of my affections, Lady Mary Crawley and Mister Kemal Pamuk.'

"Lady Mary Crawley, will you take me as your husband and become my wife?" Kemal asked inside the dining room.

It was all Evelyn could do to not scowl when Mary nodded and said, "Yes, Kemal, I will marry you."