The cymbals crash,
And the dancers walk,
With long silk stockings
And arms of chalk,
Butterfly skirts,
And white breasts bare,
And shadows of dead men Watching 'em there. [The Victory Ball, Alfred Noyes]
XX
The family gathered for tea in Rosamund's drawing room. Her mother had arrived from Downton Village to attend a fundraiser for the Red Cross. Her work with the village hospital during the war had extended to serving as local chair of the Red Cross as the war came to an end.
"We will disturb the neighbors. The music could be heard down the block," Violet complained. The trumpets in syncopated rhythm with the banjos, piano, and drums. The beat was lively and hypnotic. Rose had brought her gramophone and was blaring out the latest Dixieland jazz.
Rose bent down, deep kneed and started moving her hands back and forth between and across her legs.
Rosamund shook her head, "What are you doing dear?" She was already on the verge of a headache.
"The Charleston." Rose lost count and she stomped her foot. She tried it again. "How is one ever to get these steps right? I have to take more lessons." She was dressed head to toe as a flapper, from brightly colored head band, to the untrimmed empire waisted skirt and beaded adornments.
Rose reached out to Matthew. "Help me." She pulled him up onto his feet.
"Me?" He choked out. "I don't know the steps either."
"We can learn it together." She tried to place his hands in the proper position on his knees.
Mary interrupted their tomfoolery by asking Rose how she intended to dress for the evening's fancy dress party.
Rose crooned sadly that "As she had no handsome young man to accompany me," giving Matthew quite the bold stare, "I can only go as myself."
She sidled up to Matthew who escaped her clutches on the dance floor and was pouring a cup. She pulled her fingers along his sleeve. "You won't be shocked will you?"
Matthew licked his lips and responded, "It takes a great deal more than you, Miss MacClare, to shock me."
"I take that as a challenge then." She smirked.
"Take it as you will." Matthew snapped back in kind. He took a sip of his drink and despite the shot of daggers look from his wife, he returned to sit next to Mary.
Later as they dressed in their regency get up Mary chastised him. "You mustn't tease with her so."
Anna was affixing some ribbons in Mary's hair. She exchanged a knowing glance with Mary in the mirror. Anna exited the room.
"People might misunderstand Matthew." Mary rotated in her chair to face him.
"Nonsense. We're just having a bit of fun." He sat on the bed pulling on the knee high boots.
"You need to restrain your impulses." Mary admonished him. "I hate to pull rank…."
"Then don't." He said shortly.
The strain had been growing between them ever since his return from Paris.
"Darling" Matthew started again, "I hope you know me better than to think I'm about to start an affaires d'amour with Rose during afternoon tea with Cousin Violet sitting on the divan next to me."
Mary acknowledged the truth of that. "I do. But we're never past it Matthew. Not in the circles in which we socialize. They live and breathe scandal."
"Then I shall endeavor to be on my best behaviour this evening." Matthew reached for her and she moved onto his lap for a kiss. It felt so good to have his arms around her. Her willpower was waning to continue the charade that she did not want to rip all his clothes off this moment and pull him down onto the bed.
And his nuzzling and hot breathes reckoned his own emotional state. He would not stop her.
"Although," His voice needy and weakening her further, "I must warn you, in that gown my dearest…" more kisses reaching to her lips "…loveliest Mary, I might just be the least bit indecently improper."
The kiss was heady. Their lips and tongues intertwined.
"Would you mind that, my love?" He asked.
Mary's "I wouldn't mind that at all…" was lost as Anna knocked on the door to finish Mary's hair.
Matthew reluctantly let her go. "We'll finish this later." He kissed her one last time.
XX
Matthew and Mary strolled a step or two behind Rose. Matthew leaned in, his top hat tipped back so he could whisper in Mary's ear, "Have I told you I learned the tango while in London. After the war?"
"No." Mary was intrigued. "When was this?" She lifted the hem of her dress to ensure it would not be ripped as they made their way up the stairs of the MacGuinnesses London town home.
"After my recovery. My rather eccentric therapist suggested it. Also got me out in the world again. Away from hospitals and convalescent homes. From the sadness of… " He caught his breath. "..sadness of loss."
Mary squeezed his hand in support. "And did it work?"
"As a matter of fact it did." He helped Mary off with her coat and handed both to the footman. He had to speak very loud to reach over the sound of the band. He tapped his foot in rhythm.
"We'll try it out later." He promised. "When the music turns to the proper tune."
"Come on Matthew!" Rose's whole body shook with excitement. "Now!" And with a long shrug of 'what can I do' look towards Mary, he followed.
Mary couldn't help but notice the sly smirk of amusement on his face as he let himself be led away.
"She's lively." A voice from behind. Charlie's wife, Diana, came up to stand beside Mary. "It's good to see Matthew so happy. You've done wonders."
"Me?" Mary was surprised. Matthew had bouts of melancholy throughout their relationship. His sudden disappearances. His inability to sleep. "He keeps so much to his chest." Mary said. "I have to pry things out of him."
"Sounds just like him." Diana sat next to Mary in a window seat. The throng of people was already suffocating. "He was ever the stoic about such things. But his recovery was so very long. Periods of infection delayed his ability to walk. And when he did so, he plunged right back into the war. To forget about his mother."
"I wish I had known her." Mary replied. "They seemed very close."
"He blames himself of course for her death." Diana said. "Typical of him, you know. Taking on the burdens of the world. You've seen that surely?"
Mary watched Diana closely. She really did know Matthew well.
"How do you know so much?"
"Matthew and my first husband were quite close friends. He spent long leaves with us in the country. And then he brought Lavinia to meet me when they became engaged."
"You knew Lavinia?" Mary was curious.
"A little. She was, on first acquaintance, quite the shy, retiring girl. But I could see some fire under those eyes. She loved Matthew very much." Diana spoke her words carefully. "But I knew he did not feel the same."
"Matthew had a high regard for her, I'm sure." Mary knew of Matthew's nagging doubts on that as well.
"Regard, yes." Diana knew well what she wanted to convey to Mary. "But not passion. Not love. I see that now, though. For you."
"We get along very well." Mary demurred.
"It shows." Diana replied. "Matthew was on the verge of becoming something of a wastrel in Paris. The drinking sometimes got out of hand. We thought something had changed. In July, when he visited Charlie. He missed our wedding in late June. He had some pressing business that kept him in Paris."
She looked direct at Mary. "None of us thought it was the Peace Conference matters he rather too loudly declared." She gave a short laugh.
Mary knew exactly what that business entailed. Not that she would divulge it to Diana. She shifted in her chair.
"Whatever that business was," Diana enunciated looking again at Mary with warmth in her eyes, "transformed him into a different man. One with purpose. One who had something to live for."
"He's very lucky to have such good friends." Mary said.
"And you?" Diana asked. "You are happy as well?"
"I've never been so happy in my life." And she was. Despite the fertility issue that now beset her mind, she had never believed she would find such a love, such a deep connection with anyone.
"You must come visit again. When the house is not so full of strangers. Where they all came from I'll never know. We had only 40 RSVPS, the rest are scroungers and hangers on." But Diana was not put out by it. "Most get word from the grapevine or the bush telegraph that a party is on. They are mostly ex-soldiers like Charlie or Matthew. I can't turn them away. They all need to escape."
The noise level had increased even more as the band started up in the next room. "Curly insisted we have one of these new jazz bands." Diana said.
"Curly?" Mary was curious about all these nicknames.
"Burleigh Cuthbert. One of the friends from Matthew and Charlie's regiment. The name's a sort of a cockney slang thing…"
At that the man himself showed up. "Diana, my love." Burleigh threw himself into a chair. "I told you the Dixieland would be a bit hit." And he turned to Mary. "I know you don't I?"
Diana said, "Matthew's wife, you remember. From the Victory March."
"Oh right, Galahad's bride." Burleigh intoned, his voice plummy. "You are a beauty. What did he do to marry you?
"He asked me." Mary cracked back. "Are you married?"
"Me?" He scoffed merrily, "Not chained yet. Not I."
"Might do you a world of good." Diana noted. "Settle down."
"Oh I suppose." He looked around. "But I do see Matthew having a good time outside the bounds."
And all turned to see Rose and Matthew on the makeshift dance floor, doing what Mary knew far too well was the latest dance craze they had practiced all the afternoon.
XX
Matthew had lost track of Mary. She had disappeared in the throng of people, smoke, and noise.
Rose had found herself better dance partners finally, allowing him to escape. His back was killing him. And the banging of pots and pans by revelers reminded him of the popping of guns back in France.
His head was pounding. There were too many people.
He needed to get outside. Finding the doors to the terrace, Matthew walked into the night. Finding a quieter spot in the semi-darkness, he sat down with a heavy sigh and put his head in his hands. Matthew pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. He inhaled deeply and let it out.
Matthew's privacy was interrupted by the door opening. A shaft of light illuminated the new visitor.
Rose walked outside. "You need it as well?" She turned and saw the lit end of the cigarette glowing in the darkness. "It's getting so I could hardly think straight." She came to sit beside him. "Not that I mind that." She shrugged with an attempt at insouciance.
Matthew looked at Rose honestly. "You don't have to always put on that mask, you know," he observed. "Not around me."
"What do you mean?" But the mask cracked, she bit her lip.
"That nothing ever bothers you. That the war, your nursing, doesn't still affect you." He stated it gently.
"How did you know?" Rose's voice got quiet.
Matthew shrugged. "Takes one to know one."
"I'll take one of those." She pulled a cigarette out. "All of us smoked a bit in the lines. Usually behind matron's back."
Matthew lit it for her. "Who was he?"
Rose shuddered slightly. Her lips quavered on the cigarette. "What?" Her word sharp.
"Your young man." Matthew leaned against the side of the bench so as to better face her. "You loved him very much?"
She stared hard at Matthew. Then admitted in a shattered voice, "Lieutenant Peter Carne. He died at Passchendaele Ridge. The 18th of March, 1918. At 11:34pm. Of sepsis." Her voice unnaturally calm.
Matthew was quiet. Then, "You nursed him? That must have been very sad."
"It was. I was with him to the very last moment." She could barely speak.
"But a comfort as well. That he was loved to the end." Matthew's words were kindly. "I know of many of my men who would have wanted the same."
"Mummy and Daddy know nothing about him." She told Matthew. "You won't say? She would not have approved of him no matter."
He shook his head in a promise of secrecy.
Rose put her head on Matthew's shoulder. "What was the point of it all? I had the notion that after the war, he'd be returned to me. As if it was the war that was the dream, a nightmare. And that when I woke, it would all be as if it had never been."
"As if…." Matthew slowly exhaled the smoke. "'Pray God you will never know, the hell where youth and laughter go.' Sassoon has it right. But I doubt our political leaders will listen to him."
Rose sat up suddenly and made to return to the party. "I don't intend to be left behind anymore. I want to forget. I want to live. Live for today. There's no going back. Just pain."
"And can you?" Matthew asked, fearing for her. Her determination to forget.
"I can give it a good try. Better than moping about out here." She cut his look of concern. "And I don't need you telling me I can't."
"Be careful." He cautioned. "There's plenty at this party that will agree with you. They… they might lead you astray."
She scoffed harshly. "Good I say. I welcome it."
And with that Rose left to return to the noise of the bright young things who also wanted to forget.
Matthew stayed behind. He unhurriedly finished his smoke. He suddenly needed to find Mary. To feel her love. To feel alive.
XX
"What did you do in the war?" Mary asked the tall handsome man who made his way to her side. He had offered her some spiked punch. She took it. Matthew was nowhere to be found. She had given up trying to find him.
"I was in the Navy. But now I'm afraid I spend my time in on dry land. I've tried to get up enough money to invest in a business, but for now I race cars at Brooklands Race Track."
"Really?" Mary looked around idly. "I've heard that's all the rage."
"Maybe you'd like to come?" The man stepped forward so he could make sure this astonishingly beguiling woman heard him.
"I don't even know your name?" Mary said, hardly taking in his words.
"Henry. Henry Talbot." He bowed slightly. His tall frame, just towering over her.
"How do you do. Lady Mary Crawley." She held out her gloved hand. He took it.
"So would you come?" He asked again. "I can assure you a very fine outing."
Mary gave a little moue with her mouth. "I'm sure you would." She paused, but added. "My husband and I would love to see the races."
Henry backed away. "You're married?" He stumbled but recovered smoothly. "I didn't know. If I was your husband, I wouldn't leave your side."
Mary laughed. "He's here somewhere I assure you."
"Then let's take advantage of his absence. Would you give this new Black Bottom jig a go?" He held out an arm.
"Why not?" Mary replied. "Perhaps we'll find him out later." If Matthew could dance with Rose, why couldn't she dance as she pleased as well?
The music was boisterous. Mary tried out the steps, but was failing. She was very happy when the tune ended. "I must now go find Matthew." She told Henry. They were still holding hands from the dance.
"No need." The rich voice came from behind her. "For here I am."
She turned, a bit dizzy from the last pirouette. Matthew was staring at her, dark and hooded. "I do believe this dance is mine." He turned to Henry. "I assume you'll release my wife?"
Henry backed away with a nod of his head.
The music started again. A sole guitar with violin and concertina accompaniment. The sharp, rich, discordant notes started.
"It is the tango." The dance of love. Of passion. Matthew reached out his arm.
"It is indeed." Mary replied and took his hand. He snapped her to his chest. "I'd thought you'd never ask."
Matthew took her into a close, tight embrace. She followed his strong lead as he led her through the footwork and long elegant steps. They were chest to chest. The body contact unassailably demonstrating the possession Matthew intended to show Mary.
"Are you having a good time?" He asked when she was close to his ear. He gripped her hand to lead her around the floor. His other slipped along her back.
"I am now." Mary's throaty response sending Matthew into spasms of arousal. Their close embrace connected their upper thighs and hips.
"Your previous dance partner? Who was he?" Matthew tried not to let his jealousy show.
Mary saw it. In his pinched face. And she loved him even more. "I hardly know…I've already forgotten him."
Matthew released her from the embrace to spin her around as the timing indicated.
The music throbbed.
Their eyes, though technically supposed to be over each other's shoulders, remained riveted on each other.
Mary felt him grow stronger, bolder with each turn. She knew he needed her.
They turned away from each other.
When their gaze returned, Mary could see Matthew's eyes smouldered. "We've hardly had a chance to be together since I returned from Paris. I want you desperately. Do you know what I'm thinking?" as he brought her once again cheek to cheek.
Mary said, "I have an inkling you want to fulfill that promise to carry me up a flight of stairs naked." He turned her quickly away and snapped back towards him.
Matthew licked his lips slowly as he rejoined, "You know me too well indeed." He glanced around. "What say you?" He dipped her down until she felt weightless, then slowly brought her back up to meet his lips.
Mary felt her willpower slip entirely. This man. Her husband, her lover. She needed to tell him about her concerns, her apprehensions about her fertility. For she could no longer keep him at bay.
"Let's go find my coat." She cast her eyes up, to the more private rooms on the second landing. "I believe it is upstairs."
His hand gripped hers tight. "I'm all yours." And she led him off the dance floor and up to a room filled with darkness. They fumbled and locked the door.
XX
Yes I must leave it there for now… I promise to finish this three part party set up later in the week. More conversations and … all sorts of things will follow!
As always views, opinions, and reviews are more than welcome.
We still have some to go…