Paris - Late July 1919
He kissed her pulse point. Felt the beat of her with his lips. He gripped her slender wrist and kissed it again.
"You mentioned a wife." She said. Ravishing him with her eyes. She knew all of him. He lay beside her naked, except for the sheet wrapped around his ankles.
"Did I?" He said, sliding his tongue along the space between her thumb and palm. She shivered. "How careless of me." He lingered, kissing the flesh of the inner palm.
Her laugh was throaty, her mood seductive. She arched her back as his lips made their way towards her neckline. She felt heat as he breathed in and out against her skin. His mouth was cool.
"Oh Mr. Crawley you must think me out of all propriety to accept such an answer." She gasped as his tongue reached her left nipple and felt the gentle tugging sensation of his lips as he drew it into his mouth.
He left off his activity just long enough say, "Mrs. Crawley I hope to leave you without any respectability all night long."
Mary then let out a squeal of delight as Matthew grasped her back and dropped them both down onto the coverlets where he started to tickle her entire torso with quick kisses.
The Certificat de Mariage drifted to the floor on the breeze of their bodies. It was less than an hour ago they signed it. Matthew's knowledge of French legalities had come in handy at the mairie. The British consulate had guided them in the intricacies of a foreign marriage. Their passports and documents checked, they arrived at the town hall where some friendly locals stood in as witnesses. A traducteur assermente was not needed as both were fluent in the language. The exchange of vows had been in French
Moi, Matthew, je te prends Mary, pour épouse
Pour le meilleur ou pour le pire,
Dans la richesse et dans la pauvreté,
Dans la maladie et dans la santé,
Et je promets de t'aimer et de te chérir,
Jusqu'à ce que la mort nous sépare,
Moi, Mary, je te prends Matthew, pour époux
Pour le meilleur ou pour le pire,
Dans la richesse et dans la pauvreté,
Dans la maladie et dans la santé,
Et je promets de t'aimer et de te chérir,
Jusqu'à ce que la mort nous sépare,
Mary perceived a twitch on Matthew's cheek. He wiped a tear away from his face. His lip was trembling as she spoke her words.
This was an outrageous act. But their fierce love had demanded it. Explanations to be made later.
Downton Abbey -early July 1919
Mary had not seen Matthew since leaving Manchester. She realized that the job of sorting all of Isobel Crawley's belongings was a task she could not undertake by herself. She informed him that she intended to ask Anna to come and help.
"I'll see you to the train station." He had walked with her and kissed her good-bye. In the intervening days she had heard nothing from him. Her mother had waylaid Mary's attempt to return to Manchester, saying that Anna was head house parlor maid in addition to her duties as Mary's lady's maid and that she was needed at Downton. Then, a few days later she walked across the second story landing she heard the ring at the front door.
Carson opened the door. Matthew entered. Clearly agitated, he paced the around the saloon. Mary continued to stand on the second floor landing. Watching him.
Matthew tried to make the effort to get his emotions under control. It was as if he only then realized how he appeared to others. He had looked down at his shoes, felt his beard, and grimaced with a touch of embarrassment as Carson approached.
"Ah Carson." Matthew said. "I think I'd better attend to some ablutions before being presented to the family. I left in rather a rush." He put his fingers through his hair. "Could….could someone take my bag upstairs."
"Yes." Carson sonorous tone belied his barely concealed disdain. "I will have James attend to your needs. You do not have a valet, correct?"
"No." Matthew sighed. He did not need Carson's affectations of class right now. But he had vowed on the walk from the train station to not be provoked. He was here to start making an effort to get along. He had promised Mary he'd do so. "I do not. I've been living on my own and had no need while abroad."
With a sniff, Carson walked away.
His attempt at neutral politeness did not last long. He started pacing again. His nerves were shot. He had not slept well since returning from France. From Mary's arms.
Matthew stood alone. Mary took advantage of Carson's disappearance and walked down the stairs. Matthew, seeing her, rushed over. Said he had to return to France. Back to Paris.
He was agitated. She knew he held secrets. He had discovered something about his family and hers. About this past curse he talked about.
But Matthew wasn't ready to reveal it yet to her. He needed more information he said.
He was, however, ready to get on with the promises they had made to each other.
Was she?
"I don't like ultimatums." Mary had responded taking in his disheveled, unshaven appearance, and with his displeasure barely under control. Mary did not know what to make of him.
The life seemed to ebb from him. He didn't want to fight.
"I'm no good for you Mary. I can't be what your family wants." His shoulders sagged, his eyes deep sunk and tired.
"You should have more faith." She had no idea what had happened after she left him in Manchester.
"I should not have asked you to marry me. Let's just forget it." Coming out in a rush, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.
"Why did you?" Mary felt as if the earth was about to give way under her feet.
"I was doing what I thought was right. After …. After our encounters in Paris. It seemed the proper thing to do." His mouth twisted into a tightly pursed expression.
"And are you always a creature of duty?" Mary retorted.
"Obviously not." He scoffed. "I am guilty of many transgressions." He would not look her in the eyes though. He kept his gaze over her left shoulder.
"Maybe you're not the man I thought you were." She pushed back.
"I am most probably not. You deserve so much better." His glazed eyes should have been her clue to give a little on this point.
But that was not her nature.
She refused to relent even a bit. "I deserve some answers. What's gotten into you? Why won't you fight for us?"
"I…." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I …can't." His words barely spoken.
"Then I guess we have nothing more to say to one another." She brushed an imaginary strand of hair away from her face. And with what seemed like the weight of the world on her shoulders, she walked away from him.
Matthew started to walk after her, but just then Robert appeared. "Oh Matthew. Good you're here. Come into the library." And without waiting for Matthew's response, he turned. With a resigned sigh Matthew followed.
Mary returned to her room, agitated and shaking. But with the determination that she would not go down with this ship without a fight.
XX
The dinner guests arrived. George Murray, surprised as anyone that he had been invited to dinner by the Earl of Grantham, took his seat. Gazing around the room, he found his explanation. Matthew Crawley had arrived back, still looking ill at ease but at least properly dressed, and was seated opposite.
Robert entered the room with his mother, the dowager countess. He saw her to her seat and then knelt down to Murray on way to take his own seat, asking if he had brought all the papers for Mr. Crawley to sign.
"Yes. Lord Grantham. I have them in my briefcase."
"Good. Let's get all this over with after our sherry. He might slip our hook again and I need this succession formalized." He passed Murray on and took the middle left seat.
Matthew stood up as Mary entered the room. He sat back down when she did not meet his gaze.
Why should she? He groused to himself. You're a bastard for doing what you did to her earlier. He threw his napkin into his lap. He just wanted this dinner over with, the papers Robert insisted upon signed, and then to leave. There was so much still to be done. He had found some of the missing pieces of information he needed to construct a theory of why his father committed suicide. In rummaging around the desk in his father's library he found letters from a solicitor in Leeds. Something about a potential legal suit Reginald Crawley wanted to bring against a perpetrator named only "Party A" in the carefully worded response.
There had also been other letters. Reginald had written to a private investigator about doing some background work on this mysterious "Party A." The response indicated that Charles Lovell, Inqiring Agent, would be willing to take on the case.
But there the trail had ended. His father seemed to have put any more incriminating letters or evidence in another location.
Matthew had called to see if Gerald Jones, solicitor at large in Leeds was still practicing. He was, but currently out of the country. Matthew sighed and had hung up the phone. The P.I. was also elusive. But he would not let the trail fade, so when the telephone had rung again he rushed over. But it had been Cousin Robert. Some legal papers, having to do with the estate inheritance, had to be signed. Matthew had agreed to return to Downton to sign them. And yes, yes he understood he needed evening dress. Rolling his eyes, he hung up the phone.
He tossed a decorative pillow on the floor and threw himself into a chair in his mother's morning room. Agitated, he strummed his lip with his finger. A few days in England on his hand with nothing to do. The moving and storage company he scheduled was next week. The estate agent was still making his asking price estimates. Or did Mr. Crawley want to let the property instead? Matthew had put off making that decision.
He wanted to get on with things. Or to escape it all entirely. Disappear back to Paris. He really did need to get to Paris. To finish the reports for the British peace delegation.
Reluctantly he made a move to pack what was needed for the trip to Downton. At least he could see Mary. But even that, now that she was gone from his presence, seemed elusive to Matthew. Could he really make her happy? Or was he fooling himself. He should withdraw his proposal of marriage. For her own good.
So with great sadness, he left on the York train. And found himself here. At this table, feeling a fraud for accepting Robert's hospitality even as he investigated past indiscretions of the Crawley clan. Sensing Mary's frustration with him. He self-righteously asserting he was doing what he felt was best for her, even as he left her in the dark as to his reasoning.
Cora entered on the arm of the other guest. A younger man, only slightly older than Matthew himself. A visiting duke it turned out. Much to Matthew's chagrin Thomas Ransome, Duke of Eastmoor was seated next to Mary on Robert's suggestion.
"Let the two of you get to know each other." He had said, in that rather stuffy, overly friendly voice Matthew had learned was Robert's habit with people he wanted something from.
"I should very much like getting to know Lady Mary." And he slid in the chair with ease. Mary nodded politely. She glanced over at Matthew, who looked as if he'd rather be in the ninth circle of hell rather than here.
Serves him right, she thought. She had put herself at risk of scandal because of him. In Paris. In Manchester. Of course she had done so of her own free will. But with the unspoken pact that they were in this relationship together. How dare he renege?
Perhaps he was right. They hardly knew each other. They had been two lonely souls finding solace in the other's body, in the other's lips and mouths, in the connection of limbs and fingers. His touch excited places in her that Mary never knew existed. He had ravished her. She had let him. Even now her body betrayed her, and she felt the need for him to satiate her desire.
He was across the table from her. But he might as well have been on the moon. She could not reach him. He had retreated into himself. Once or twice, in France, she had seen this behavior. His moods shifted dark and light.
She needed to shake him out of it.
He had helped her find her footing again, after the divorce and feeling at odds with the world that confined her. Mary's life, she knew, was inextricably linked to Downton. She could make it a prison. Limiting and repressing her. Or an anchor. Growing old and letting life pass her by. Or, she had concluded on the trip back home after Matthew's surprising proposal of marriage, she could truly make Downton her home. That she, and Matthew…that they could make it work. That both would throw themselves into securing Downton's future.
Even if the beneficiaries would not be their own children.
But not yet. Matthew was not ready. He was still at loose ends with life. With Downton. Missing pieces of a puzzle kept him from settling down. She had tried to calm herself after their argument of the morning. She was no longer angry at him. Or his notion of calling off their marriage. She knew his doubts did not lie with her, with their love. It lay within himself. But he was pushing her away.
Well, she slyly smirked to herself, that could be dealt with right now. And she knew just how to do it.
"Your grace," Mary said, turning to the Duke, "am I remembering correctly that your family runs the Eastmoor Foxhounds? I seem to recall a rather marvelous hunt when I was a child."
"Yes, Lady Mary. That would have been under my father's guidance. I'm hoping to restore the traditions. Now that the war is over and the horses no longer requisitioned for overseas service."
"That would be lovely. We've not had a good hunt for years. I long to get out and feel once again the power of a thoroughbred underneath me." Her voice was laced with seductive intent.
The duke was impressed.
Matthew was slack jawed. He dropped his knife. The clatter reverberated around the room, only causing more attention to be paid to her words. To their effect.
He grimaced as everyone turned to look at him.
A footman rushed in to grab the offending cutlery.
Mary's eyes seemed to roam at random around the table. Until they fell on Matthew. "I suppose you are more interested in books than country sport."
"I probably am. My unhealthy pallor must give me away." His eyes belied his sarcasm. They were contemptuous.
"It is unusual among our kind of people to squirrel themselves away in libraries, squinting over documents, and writing for one's own amusement." Her affected tone was unmistakable.
Matthew's mouth opened and closed again. He shook his head slightly. "Some of us have to make a living."
"Oh discussing money now are we?" She turned her eyes disdainfully back to the duke as if to say, what does one expect from our middle class relations.
The Duke of Eastmoor was growing more interested in this newly divorced woman. His own family had doubted she was a candidate to be Duchess. They had tried to stop him from this visit. Now he was more than happy he had accepted. He was finding this all most amusing.
"I must admit I did some reading recently myself." Mary continued. "I was studying the story of Andromeda. Do you know it?" She turned and bat her eyes at the duke.
Matthew shifted uncomfortably in his seat. What was Mary playing at?
"I believe I am…" but before the duke could say anything Mary said, "She was chained naked to a rock on the coast of her homeland."
"Really? Mary, we'll all need our smelling salts in a minute." Violet tried to cover up their joint embarrassment at Mary's innuendo.
But then Matthew intervened. "In actuality she was sacrificed by her father, King Cepheus, to a hideous sea monster. To save their country from ravaging storms." Matthew looked for the first time that dinner directly in Mary's eyes. "It's a parable against the dangers of misfortune."
"But the sea monster did not get her, did he?" she rejoined. Their eyes remained transfixed upon each other.
"No" Matthew had to admit. "She was rescued by Perseus. Son of a god. Though I suppose that is more fitting considering the woman's aristocratic bent." Matthew rather sourly and sarcastically concluded.
Mary stared daggers at him. But gritted her teeth. If her plan was to work, she had to maintain her act of indifference.
"As I see it, some women need that. I don't need rescuing." Mary said directing her answer to Matthew. But looking to the duke. "I live my life the way I want. What do you think?"
Thomas Ransome thought he had never seen a more beautiful, engaging woman. "I hardly know what to think Lady Mary. Perhaps you should show me this story. Is it in your library?"
"I will find it after dinner. We can have a tête-à-tête in the corner shall we?' She gave a wicked smile.
At the other side of the table, Matthew gripped his fork and stabbed haphazardly at his vegetables. He stewed like that for the rest of the dinner, barely mumbling an acknowledgement to Edith's attempts at conversation.
As he walked into the music room after an awkward cigars and sherry session with Robert, Murray, and the duke, he was raging with jealousy. Ransome effused to Robert about the charms of his daughter. Robert practically glowed with the expectation of a marriage proposal that would make his daughter a duchess. Murray waited patiently for this all to be over so he could get his papers signed and go home to a good book.
Matthew gulped down his sherry, choking with repugnance towards this gasbag of a peer.
Matthew had an inkling he knew Mary's game. He was quite sure she was doing what she did on purpose. To spur him to action. To show that he did care. He did care for her. He did love her. He did want to marry her. And that if he was not serious in that claim, he could very easily lose her to another. Robert was determined to find a position for Mary in society.
The sea monster was not to get her, Matthew concluded. Mary was doing her own rescuing. And it made him only love and admire her more. She really was damnably clever.
He sidled up to Mary who had already begun to make rather reluctant steps towards the Duke of Eastmoor.
"I see what you're doing." He said to her, getting her into a corner. "And I am suitably chastised."
She smiled.
"You can continue your Greek mythology lesson with His Grace..." Matthew's voice was buttery soft. "Or my offer still stands to go back to Paris."
She leaned into his ear, her hot breath making him shiver. "Where's my ticket?"
And as his eyes casually drifted around the room to see if anyone was looking, his lips grazed hers. "Let's get out of here."
XX
Paris
"My father is going to be outraged, you know." Mary said as Matthew's hands wandered without discretion along the soft lines of her inner thighs. She whimpered, melted her body next to his, and was properly distracted for a while as Matthew's nimble fingers brought her to arousal.
"He will adjust." Matthew finally said, after satisfying Mary's immediate need to her enormous satisfaction. "He will have to."
"What about your investigations?" Matthew had confided to Mary what he had found out about his father contacting solicitors and private investigators. "Are you going to go ahead?"
"Yes." He said confidently. "I do. I need to." And he turned her body to face his own. "I need to do this or it will eat at me. We won't have a proper start in life together until I get to the bottom of this mystery. I want to do the right thing by your father. But I can't be a good heir, a good son-in-law even, until I know what happened."
Mary nodded. Leaned her head into his chest. Felt the hair tickle her cheek. Heard his heart beating fast, anticipating her response. "I understand. We will uncover it together. I want to help."
Matthew sighed in utter contentment. He drew her close as his arms encircled her slim body. "I need you. I can't do this alone anymore. I grow more in love with you every day."
Mary looked down at her simple gold band that symbolized eternal love. "I never believed love was necessary in a marriage." She kissed him. "Now I cannot ever think to live without it."
They stayed entangled in each other throughout the dark hours of the early morning.
The cold light of day would come soon enough.
XX
So..are our lovers making the right decision? What do you think the reaction will be back at Downton? Love reading your thoughts!
And yes..careful viewers of Hilde will realize I used a line or two of dialogue. No plagiarism intended...just a love of those words.