CHAPTER 6 – Dancing in York

Library, Downton Abbey, March 2nd, 1922

Matthew had always wished for a younger sibling. He quickly realised though that he was his parents' late miracle child and reconciled himself to being the only one, which wasn't after all a bad position to be in – except for the war. Leaving Mother alone had been his constant worry for the whole four years and making her responsible for caring for him instead of taking care of her in her old age had been hardly a better prospect when he had thought his paralysis was going to be permanent.

But gaining Edith, Sybil and Tom as his siblings when he married Mary was a true boon for him. He had cared for them already before, of course (well, for the girls – his bond with Tom had only started at the wedding), but now they were his siblings too, not just distant cousins. But in the end it was a cousin who really made him feel like an older brother. Rose was often exasperating and occasionally a real pain to deal with, but she was also charming, exuberant and absolute delight to have around. She had a knack for making him feel simultaneously young and carefree and ancient and boring. Like right in this moment, when she was pleading with him fervently to attend a dance with her.

"Is it anything like the club I dragged you out of in London? Because if it is, no way, I don't think I recovered from that adventure yet."

Rose's pouting look reminded Matthew that he was twice Rose's age and told him clearly that he was getting dangerously close to falling into old and decrepit category in her eyes. It nearly made him laugh out loud.

She huffed in irritation and rolled her eyes, making it even harder for him to restrain the laughter which threatened to come out.

"No! It's a perfectly respectable place, so it shouldn't offend your delicate sensibilities."

"Careful now," he warned her playfully, "Remember that you're trying to convince me to agree."

"Matthew, please! They'll dance the one-step, won't they? I've practiced and practised and I'm dying to try it, but Cousin Cora would never let me go, at least not without a chaperone. Won't you accompany me? Then if we're found out, I can say that you came with me so nothing was amiss."

Matthew gave her a stern look.

"I am not taking you anywhere in secret," he said firmly. "If I agree, we are telling Cousin Cora where we're going."

Rose looked at him hopefully.

"But we will go? And you will convince Cousin Cora to give permission?"

"I'm thinking about it."

"Please! I know you love dancing and you hardly had any opportunity in ages. Not since we were dancing at Duneagle."

Matthew frowned thoughtfully. Rose was right, wasn't she? He did love dancing, especially with his wife, and they didn't have half of opportunity he would have liked. There were so many reasons, of course. It wouldn't have been appropriate when they were mourning Robert, and Mary was recovering from the birth, and they were so busy trying to learn how to manage the estate and keep it afloat. They did dance, alone, to his Victrola, and he treasured those intimate moments with Mary – especially since they usually were just a prelude to most enjoyable things – but he suddenly was eager to take her out to a real dance, with orchestra and people and everything else making it a proper evening out. Their overnight trip to London was glorious, Edith's drama notwithstanding, and Matthew made a resolution to prevent them from burying themselves in work and troubles again. They were young, they were together, they were in love – they deserved to be happy and playful and carefree when they felt like it.

"I will go with you," he said with a smile, which changed to laughter when Rose squealed loudly and threw herself into his arms.

"Now we are facing the real hurdle," Matthew said, his eyes twinkling. "How do we convince Mary to join us?"

Mary and Matthew's bedroom, March 2nd, 1922

Mary stared at him incredulously, then rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"If you give in to George the way you keep giving in to Rose, we are going to end up with another Larry Grey on our hands," she grumbled, but Matthew could see the slightest hint of relenting. He grinned at Rose and pushed his advantage.

"I do feel sorry for how bored she has to be here with us," he said, amused by Rose visibly torn between nodding her head emphatically and fearing offending her hosts. "We were a household in mourning, in a deep countryside. An afternoon of dancing shouldn't be too much trouble."

"Earl of Grantham, dancing at a dance hall with servants and farm labourers?" drawled Mary scathingly. Rose opened her mouth to quarrel, but Matthew raised his hand to silence her. He rather thought he had better chance to win his wife over.

"We don't have to go as lords and ladies, you know. If we dress down a bit, I'm sure we could manage a plausible play as middle class. Lawyers do go to dance halls if they feel so inclined, you know," he said, his eyes twinkling.

Mary did not look amused.

"You might pass for middle class," she sniped. "I will not."

"Even if I dare you?"

Rose's wide eyes reminded him that maybe the discussion should be continued without her presence. He coughed slightly to cover up his sudden embarrassment.

"Rose, could you leave us? I think I and Mary need to discuss the matter further. I will let you know whether she is coming with us or not."

Rose left the room with such reluctance, that he opened the door and checked whether she was not set up to eavesdrop just behind them.

She was.

He looked at her, raising his eyebrows, and she left for real with a huff. He closed the door with a chuckle, then turned back to Mary.

"And what if I just want to feel young and carefree and take my pretty wife out dancing, like any regular fellow and not a mighty and distinguished earl?"

"Well, you do sound tempting," admitted Mary with highest reluctance. "But seriously, The Dansant?"

Matthew looked at his wife.

"Mary," he asked, "Have you ever been to a dance hall?"

Mary's back straightened haughtily.

"Of course not," she answered scornfully. "But I do know I haven't missed much."

"How can you be sure? Maybe an afternoon of fun among the unwashed masses is going to be just a thing? You'll never know unless you try."

"I seriously doubt it."

"But you will go."

Mary raised her eyebrows at Matthew's confidence.

"Why would I?"

"Because you need to keep an eye on me and Rose, of course. And besides..." he added, coming closer to her. Mary eyed him warily.

"Besides?" she prompted. Matthew grinned wolfishly.

"I rather suspect you won't refuse dancing with me."

"Aren't you presumptive?" she shot back but found it hard to keep her composure when Matthew tugged at her necklace playfully, still eyeing her with that hungry expression in his blue eyes. That insufferable man had much too potent effect on her.

"Oh, I know I am. But you will go, won't you?" he said, his mouth a breath away from hers.

"Oh, all right. But just to keep Rose out of trouble," grumbled Mary and kissed her insufferable husband's victorious grin away.

Mary and Matthew's Bedroom, March 2nd, 1922

"Anna, please do come along. His lordship and Lady Rose do rile each other up like naughty children sometimes and I need a second pair of eyes on her while I mind him."

"Wouldn't Mr Branson be better suited for the task?" asked Anna, brushing Mary's hair.

Mary hummed thoughtfully.

"You might be right; he could at least dance with her to make sure she is not making a fool of herself with somebody wholly unsuitable," she rubbed her temple, feeling an oncoming headache. She blamed Matthew and Rose.

Thé Dansant, York, March 4th, 1922

As soon as they entered the dimly lit dance hall, Mary was overwhelmed by feeling that it was all an awfully bad idea. She threw a look at her two companions, but to her irritation they both seemed to be delighted with the place for some reason. Seriously, her earlier complaint to Anna that her husband and cousin were riling each other like unruly children was much too apt. Pity that Tom wasn't in a mood to come with them and provide some much needed balance.

Rose was practically jumping with excitement when she pointed with her finger.

"Oh look, we'll take that table."

"I'm not sure we should be here," complained Mary, looking around. "It seems unsuitable to me."

In fact, the dance hall did not look very threatening – certainly not like the London club Matthew, Edith and Aunt Rosamund all described so vividly to her. There were men and women sitting at small tables, chatting. A band sat on a stage, but there was no music yet. It was clearly a place for working class people though and Mary felt distinctly uncomfortable and out of place.

She sent another resentful look at Matthew and Rose, who didn't seem to share her feelings in the slightest. In fact, Matthew dared to smile at her.

"Come on, Mary, it's good to have new experiences and expand one's horizons," he said mischievously. Mary had distinct suspicions that he enjoyed her visible ire and discomfort more than the actual place. She swore a painful retribution at the nearest occasion.

A waiter approached them to ask for their orders.

"Well, it is a The Dansant, so let's have a cup of tea," suggested Matthew.

"All right, tea," agreed Rose, then immediately called after the waiter. "Oh, but perhaps with something special in mine?"

As soon as the tea was delivered, Matthew promptly exchanged his cup for Rose's, looking at her sternly. She sighed, pouting. Mary just rolled her eyes at them both.

The music finally began to play, making Rose forget the matter of spiked tea.

"Listen! Ah, it's the one-step! Oh, why are they being so slow?" she exclaimed, striking a pose and smiling up at the lads on the gallery. Mary felt the urge to roll her eyes again. She was never so bad at Rose's age, was she?

"Really, Rose. You mustn't be so obvious."

"Why not?" Rose countered immediately, spotting a young man walking straight towards her. "It's working!"

He reached their table and looked at Rose, who welcomed him with a radiant smile. Mary nearly dropped her head into her hands in despair. She fervently hoped that Mama will feel well enough by the time of Rose's debut season to take responsibility for her herself. Thank goodness George was a boy.

"I don't suppose you'd care to dance?" asked the young man confidently.

"Then you'd be wrong, because I'd absolutely love to!"

Matthew stepped in before Mary could.

"Shouldn't we be introduced first?" he asked, looking significantly at the young man. Rose's eyes widened and she shook her head a little bit.

"The name's Sam Thawley. Howdy?"

"I'm Rose... Smith. Hello," answered Rose quickly and got up from her seat, not giving Mary or Matthew a chance to intervene. "And they are my cousins. I hope you know how to do this."

Mary could hear his confident reply before they reached the middle of the dance floor.

"You're in luck. They call me Twinkle Toes."

She glared at Matthew.

"Do you still think it was a good idea?"

Matthew calmly took a sip of his spiked tea.

"She needed some outlet for her energy and this is pretty harmless fun. Shall we dance?" he offered Mary his hand, which she took with a huff.

"We'd better, if only to check Rose isn't getting in too deep."

xxx

Rose was having more fun in this moment than she had for months. She loved living at Downton Abbey, she really did – it seemed like heaven after living with Mummy! – but with Cousin Robert dead it was so dreary and sad. No parties, no guests, no trips to London, nothing even remotely resembling fun. She understood, of course, but she so longed for dancing, company and pretty boys!

"I'm under-gardener for Lord Ellis, near Easingwold. What about you?"

Rose scrambled for an answer. She briefly considered posing as a servant, but a quick look at Matthew and Mary dancing a bit further away put a quick rest to that idea. They did not look working class, even in their plainer clothes.

"I'm visiting my cousins at Downton," she said. "Matthew is a lawyer."

"I thought you sounded posh," said Sam, with disappointment plain on his face. "Your fancy cousin will probably think I'm not good enough for you, won't he?"

Rose could just imagine. She sighed mournfully.

"He probably will, yes," she brightened up quickly. "But we can still enjoy our dance here! It is a good craic, isn't it Sam?"

"Well, it is, with you in my arms," answered Sam, brightening up.

xxx

To her extreme surprise, Mary found she was enjoying herself. The place was still not even remotely to her taste and the people surrounding them beneath her notice, but she was in Matthew's arms and they were laughing their way through the steps of this energetic new dance. The anonymity they enjoyed here only added to their fun – there was nobody here for whose opinion Mary cared in the slightest, so she didn't have to worry about preserving her dignity and could be just as silly as she wanted. Which, right now, with her handsome husband twirling her around the dancefloor, was quite a lot.

"Still annoyed with me for dragging you here?" asked Matthew with a grin.

Mary sent him a glare, but she was afraid it was obvious it was half-hearted at best.

"Yes," she lied. "I was right, it does not befit an earl in the slightest."

"Ah, but we are not an earl and countess here. Just plain Mr and Mrs Crawley, having terrific fun."

Mary raised her eyebrows.

"Are you sure we both are?"

Matthew's teasing glance sent shivers down her spine.

"Oh, I am," he said huskily. "You keep forgetting to keep your frown up. I even caught you smiling."

Mary gave up and laughed.

Which is of course when Rose had to get involved in a fight.

Matthew groaned and ran to get her out, before the situation escalated further. Mary could just imagine the headlines if Lady Rose MacClare, daughter of Marquess of Flintshire, was arrested for participating in a brawl.
Which she was doing, with great energy, shrieking and pummelling the back of a man apparently attacking her dance partner. Matthew had to physically drag her away, against her vehement protests. Mary sighed and ran to help him.

"I can't leave, not when he's fighting to protect me!" cried Rose, struggling to break free from Matthew's hold.

"You can, or do you want to be arrested?" Mary shouted back in pure exasperation.

"We need to get out of here!" said Matthew firmly, as a police whistle announced the arrival of the authorities. "Right, that settles it. Come on! Go, go, go!"

They were lucky enough to manage to get away from the dance hall and into Matthew's AC without further troubles, all too keyed up for conversation.

On the way back, Mary did not say "I told you so", but her ramrod straight back and closed off, a bit smug expression was enunciating it very clearly, judging from the wary looks Matthew kept giving her. She kept her silence until they finally reached Downton and sent Rose up to her room.

"Matthew," called Mary when they reached their own bedroom.

"Yes?"

Mary smiled, hugely satisfied by his cautious tone. It was nice to have an upper hand again.

"We have to do it again," she said, suppressing laughter at his gobsmacked expression. "Just next time, definitely without Rose!"