Notes: I've used dialogue from the show in the scene between Matthew and Isobel.
To Anna's surprise, Lady Mary was standing in front of the open curtains, leaning on the windowsill and gazing out over the grounds when she went to dress her for the day. This was a turn-up for the books given that almost every morning since the death of Mr Pamuk, Anna usually arrived to find her mistress huddled in her easy chair with a blanket over her, looking thoroughly exhausted.
'Milady?'
Mary spun round, a smile lighting up her face. 'Anna! Good morning! Isn't it a glorious day? It looks so beautiful out there. I think I might go out riding this morning.'
'Oh, right. Yes, of course,' Anna said, taken by surprise. Lady Mary had not ridden since the hunt when she'd galloped off with Mr Pamuk and Mr Napier. 'I'll get your riding habit out while you bathe, shall I?'
'Yes, please, if you would,' Mary said, almost skipping across the carpet and catching Anna's hands in hers, squeezing them, still beaming. 'It would be a shame to waste such a humdinger of a day by staying inside.'
'Er, yes, I suppose it would,' Anna responded, staring at her mistress, wondering why she was suddenly in such a good mood after months of her spirit seeming to be squashed under the weight of everything that had taken place.
Something must have happened yesterday, Anna mused as she watched Lady Mary disappear into her bathroom. She knew she'd gone to York. Maybe she'd met a friend or done something that had shaken her out of the melancholy that had been stifling her these last few months. That was the only explanation because this lifting of her mood had started last night when she returned from her trip.
Last night, when she'd dressed her lady for dinner, Mary had positively glowed and had barely stopped smiling as she got ready. And the mood had apparently extended into dinner as when the servants sat down for their meal, Thomas had remarked on how it was entirely possible the end of the world was nigh as Lady Mary had been uncharacteristically friendly towards Lady Edith. He was quickly silenced by a tsking from Mr Carson, but Anna knew how rare that was.
Well, whatever had happened in York, Anna was glad for it, glad to see Lady Mary's spirits restored so much.
She turned to the wardrobe and pulled out the riding habit, smoothing it down and flicking a bit of lint off it. If her lady wanted to go riding today, then it gladdened her heart to see it.
Matthew was in the hallway, putting his coat on to go to work as Isobel came down the stairs.
'You're very late this morning.'
'I'm not going to the office. I'm taking a will to be signed in Easingwold at eleven.'
Isobel nodded, reaching out to brush a hand over his shoulder, dusting off imaginary lint, thinking how much her handsome son reminded her of her late husband sometimes. 'I thought I'd write to Edith to settle our promised church visit.'
'If you want,' Matthew said, unenthusiastically, turning away to check his appearance in the large mirror in the hallway.
'We can't just throw her over when she made such an effort to arrange the last one,' Isobel said, her mild tone belying the knowing look she gave her son. She entirely understood his reluctance to do anything to encourage the affections of this young woman, but she had not raised him to be impolite. And Edith would not be a bad prospect as a wife.
Matthew returned her look, only just refraining from rolling his eyes, knowing exactly what his mother was thinking. 'It's all in your head.'
'I don't think so.'
'Then she's barking up the wrong tree,' he said, firmly.
'Poor Edith. I do hope there's a right tree for her somewhere,' Isobel observed, feeling sorry for the middle Crawley daughter whose futile hopes seemed so apparent to her.
Matthew gave her a look, straightening his lapels as Molesley came into the hallway and circled around them to be ready to open the front door for his master.
'Ma'am, I was wondering if I might take some time this afternoon to help in the village hall,' the butler asked, deferentially.
'Why? What's happening?' Matthew asked, his curiosity piqued.
'It's the flower show, sir. I'll give my father a hand with his stall if I may.'
'Of course, you must go,' Isobel said, nodding at Molesley.
'And so must I,' Matthew said, grabbing his hat and kissing his mother's hand. 'And if you must arrange this church trip with Edith, Mother, maybe you could suggest she brings one of her sisters with her.'
'Is this a case of safety in numbers?' Isobel asked, amused.
'Well, it certainly can't hurt,' Matthew agreed, flashing her a small rueful grin, knowing he'd been rumbled.
'And is there any sister, in particular, you would prefer to join us?' Isobel continued, her tone more innocent than her face.
'Don't, Mother,' Matthew admonished, fixing her with a look. 'Either one would be delightful company, I'm sure.'
'Yes, I'm sure they would,' Isobel replied, unable to completely hide her smile, sure that Matthew was hoping Mary would agree to join them.
'Behave, Mother. I will see you at teatime. I hope you enjoy your day,' Matthew said and then headed out of the door. leaving his mother to her own devices.
Her ride over, Mary handed Diamond off to Lynch, the head groom, and stood for a moment in the stable yard, tipping her head up to the sun, enjoying the warmth of it on her face. She'd thoroughly enjoyed her ride; the rush of speed and the exhilarating feel of the wind in her face as she gave her beloved horse its rein.
Mary smiled, a bubble of happiness rising within her that wasn't entirely due to the pleasant morning she'd spent riding through the estate. She looked around the yard, hearing Lynch in the stable talking to one of the boys who helped him, but nobody else was about. She should go to the house and change for luncheon, but the garage was only a few hundred yards away. And she desperately wanted to see Tom.
She glanced at the house and then turned, walking towards the garage. She had every right to go there. Nobody would question her going to order the motor.
It occurred to her as she walked towards the garage that he might not be there. It was entirely possible he could be out driving one of her family somewhere, but she thought the odds were in her favour that he would be there. After all, it was almost time for luncheon. If anyone had had appointments this morning, they would be back by now.
The garage doors stood open, which was a promising sign. Suddenly, from within came the soft sound of a whistle, a jaunty little tune, and Mary felt her heart skip a beat. He was there.
She quickened her step and then forced herself to slow down in case anyone was watching. She could not be seen skipping towards the garage. That would not do at all.
At the door to the garage, she stopped, peering inside, looking for Tom, a smile already on her lips.
He was standing at the rear of the garage with his back to her, screwing the lid onto a bottle of something.
Ah, there you are, Branson,' she said as if all he was to her was the chauffeur, and she stepped into the garage. 'You're just the man I wanted to see.'
Tom turned at the sound of her voice, a wide, happy smile unfurling on his face. 'Milady. What can I do for you?' he said, the formality of his words belied by the warmth of his tone and the way his eyes danced up and down her body, drinking in the sight of her.
Mary walked towards him, putting a little extra sway in her hips, encouraged by the appreciation in his gaze. When she reached him, she stopped, keeping a respectable distance between them even though she itched to throw herself into his arms.
'Oh, you could do so many things for me,' she said, dropping her voice low, so no-one else could possibly overhear her.
His smile grew wider. 'Oh, yes? Like what?'
'Well, for a start, you could kiss me,' she breathed, lifting the veil on her riding hat, not taking her eyes from his.
His eyebrows rose in surprise. 'Here? Are you sure?'
Mary held his gaze, not backing down, determined to get the kiss she'd come for. 'Is there anybody around? Can you see?'
Tom flicked his eyes up over her shoulder, scanning the yard beyond the garage doors. 'No, there's nobody around.'
'Then what are you waiting for?' Mary asked, cocking an inviting eyebrow.
He smiled, licking his lips and Mary's eyes dropped to his mouth, transfixed by that small action, longing to lean in and kiss him.
Tom reached out, putting his hand on her waist, his touch sending sparks zinging through her and making her suck in a breath. He smiled at her reaction to him, and then gently tugged her sideways until they were standing behind the car, the bulky body of it hiding them from the view of anyone who happened to wander through the yard outside.
He stepped up close to her, both hands on her waist now, gazing at her, heat in his eyes. Mary felt butterflies flutter around in her stomach as he drew nearer. He glanced over her shoulder one more time and then he looked back at her, dipped his head and kissed her.
She sighed happily, raising a gloved hand to his cheek as she kissed him back. The sensation was just as wonderful as it had been yesterday, his lips fitting perfectly against hers. The butterflies inside her took wing, soaring free, as she revelled in it, this marvellous, joyous, wondrous new feeling of being so close, so connected to another person, physically and emotionally.
'Oh, that was lovely,' she murmured, rubbing her hand on the muscles of his upper arm when he pulled back slightly to let them both catch their breath.
'You're lovely,' he said softly, his head still bent towards hers. 'I can't believe you came here like this.'
'I wanted to see you. And I wanted to kiss you,' Mary replied, sliding her hand up to cup his cheek. 'I've discovered that kissing you is my very favourite thing to do.'
Tom chuckled. 'Is it, indeed? Lucky me.'
'I know. Now, kiss me again.'
'Yes, milady,' he murmured and closed the gap between them again, his soft lips once more capturing hers.
Mary coasted her hand up to the nape of his neck and leaned back against the car, pulling him closer to her, revelling in the naughtily delicious feel of his body pressed against hers, pinning her to the car as he kissed her, his fingers curling into her waist.
It was intoxicating kissing Tom. When Pamuk pinned her to the bed, it had been exciting but frightening. When Tom pressed her against the car, it was exciting and exhilarating. She wanted nothing more than to stay there forever. She wanted to wrap her arms – and maybe even her legs – around him and keep him there as close to her as possible. It was as if she couldn't get enough of him, couldn't possibly get close enough to him.
'Oh, my goodness,' she whispered, pulling in deep breaths as the kiss broke, wishing she didn't have to wear a stiff, boned corset all the time. It felt like a barrier between them when all she wanted was to feel him tight up against her, feel the hard lines of his body meeting the soft curves and angular lines of hers, the two of them slotting perfectly together as if they were made to cradle each other.
'Are you all right?' he murmured, moving his head to kiss her jaw just under her ear.
Mary shivered, tipping her head to let him explore her sensitive skin with his lips, feeling incredible sensations zipping through her body. 'I'm… I'm… oh, yes, that feels so wonderful,' she mumbled, the last few words dissolving into a small moan.
'You are so beautiful,' he whispered, kissing his way back to her lips. 'I can't believe I can kiss you like this.'
Mary looped her arms around his neck, still holding her riding crop, and let herself sink into a thrillingly deep kiss that completely took her breath away.
When they broke apart, she gazed at him, feeling nothing but wonder that this was how it felt to be kissed by a man she was attracted to and wanted to kiss.
'I wish we were on your bed like yesterday. I wish we could spend all afternoon lying together doing this,' she said, punctuating her words with small kisses on his lips, excitement filling her at that thought. Lying in Tom's arms yesterday trading kisses with him had been sublime, and she couldn't wait to do it again.
Tom made a small growling sound and pushed forward again, sliding his arms tight around her, crushing her to him as he kissed her once more, passion edging out tenderness.
Mary gasped, feeling something rising inside her, something strong and wild reaching out to match his passion, as she pressed herself as close to him as she could.
'Oh, God, Mary,' Tom moaned as the kiss ended, leaving both of them breathless. 'You're going to drive me to distraction. I'm not going to be able to think of anything but you and kissing you for the rest of the day.'
Mary giggled, delighted by that. 'Good. I don't want you thinking of anything but me.'
'I never thought you'd let me kiss you outside of the cottage. I felt for sure that you'd think it would be too risky.'
'It is risky,' she agreed, pressing more small kisses to his lips. 'But that just makes it all the more exciting, don't you think?'
'You're a temptress, Mary Crawley. You're Eve in the Garden of Eden and I am powerless to resist you,' Tom groaned, giving in to her once more as she tilted her head and boldly kissed him again.
'I don't want you to resist me,' she whispered against his lips before claiming another kiss.
A clattering somewhere out in the courtyard made them stop, Tom lifting a finger to place it on her lips as both of them listened carefully. The noise stopped and a voice called to someone across the yard.
Tom looked down at Mary, still in his arms, her hands resting on his chest. 'You should probably go before someone comes in here,' he said, regretfully.
She kissed the finger pressed against her lips and nodded. 'I suppose I should. I need to go and get changed for luncheon. But surely there's time for one more kiss before I do, isn't there?' she asked, raising a cheeky eyebrow.
He grinned at her. 'Maybe just one,' he said and dipped his head again for one more long, passionate kiss.
Mary groaned as his arms tightened around her again, bending her slightly back until her shoulders touched the rear window of the car. She'd never experienced this before, this heady feeling of not being able to get close enough to another person to satisfy all her greedy senses. She wanted to spend all day kissing Tom, to feel his lips on her face, on her neck, on every inch of exposed skin, his arms around her. It was an addictive feeling. But she had to leave the garage before someone came looking for her.
The kiss broke and he released her, stepping back reluctantly.
'How do I look?' Mary asked, tugging her riding jacket down over her hips. 'Do I look presentable, or have you mussed me?'
'You look like you've been thoroughly kissed,' he replied, his voice slightly growly.
Mary grinned, biting her lip, watching with great satisfaction as he dropped his gaze to her mouth, hunger in his eyes. 'Do I? Well, that's because I have been.'
Tom raised his eyes to hers and took a step forward. 'Oh, God, I want to kiss you again. So very badly.'
Mary put her hand on his chest, holding him back with a light touch, a smile on her lips. 'As much as I want you to, I really think one of us has to put a stop to this otherwise we'll be here all day.'
'That sounds like a wonderful idea, you being here all day,' Tom muttered, leaning forward and stealing a kiss.
'I know, but it's not practical, is it?'
'No, I suppose not.'
'Now, when you say I look like I've been thoroughly kissed, do you think that's what other people will see?' she enquired, a little concerned that her appearance may give away their secret.
He squinted a little, scrutinising her and then shook his head. 'No, they'll see the colour in your cheeks and probably think it's because you've been out riding. Just be glad I have to shave every morning to be presentable.'
Mary looked at him, puzzled. 'Why?'
Tom quirked an eyebrow at her, grinning. 'Because my stubble might make the skin around your lips red if it chafes it.'
'Oh, right,' Mary said, a bolt of electricity zipping through her at the thought of that. There was something enticing about the thought of having his mark on her skin. Something about that spoke to her deep inside her soul.
'And then there'd be no hiding what you'd been doing,' he said, underlining why that would be a problem.
'Which would probably lead to a witch hunt for the man I'd been doing it with, and if they find out, they'll send you away,' she said, ruefully. And then she stepped forward, her gloved hand caressing his cheek. 'So, you'd better keep shaving because I don't intend to stop kissing you anytime soon.'
Tom's smile softened, heat washing through him. 'Good. Because I don't want to stop kissing you. I'll kiss you for as long as you'll let me.'
'Of course, you will,' she murmured, moving closer, her eyes on his. 'I'm irresistible, remember?'
'Oh, yes, I know. Believe me, I know,' he agreed, pulling her into another kiss.
Mary kissed him back and then groaned, giving him a gentle push on his stomach. 'Stop. I really do have to go.'
'Then go,' he said, bending his head forward to keep kissing her as she pushed him away.
'I am. I'm going,' she mumbled, her lips still on his, half kissing, half smiling, making no move to leave.
Finally, Tom broke the kiss, backing away with a small moan. 'Go. Go now, otherwise I am never going to let you go, and someone's going to catch us in here, wrapped around each other.'
Mary nodded, pulling her jacket down again where it had ridden up. 'Has anyone booked you for Thursday afternoon?'
'No.'
'Then put me down in your diary for a trip to Ripon.'
'Ripon?'
'Yes.'
'And will we actually be going to Ripon?' he asked, already beginning to smile.
'Yes. Briefly. But not for as long as everyone else will think we're there,' Mary said, mischievously.
Tom grinned and nodded. 'Thursday afternoon, it is, then. Although, that seems a very long time away.'
'Well, maybe you can think about all the kissing we're going to be doing. I know that's what I'm going to think about until then,' Mary said, her voice low, teasing.
'Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to be thinking about anything else,' Tom said, reaching out to cup her face, stroking a thumb over her cheekbone. Mary tilted her head, rubbing her face against his hand like a cat. 'Oh, God, go. Go before I start kissing you again.'
She smiled as he took a step back, out of reach.
'Goodbye, Tom,' she murmured, then darted forward quickly to steal one more quick kiss before reaching up to pull her veil back down.
She flashed him a brilliant smile and then she turned and was gone, stepping out into the yard, her head high, her heart full of joy.
'All right, tell me,' Sybil said, drawing the brush through Mary's hair.
Mary raised her eyes from the earrings she was arranging in her jewellery box. 'Tell you what?'
'What's got you so merry at the moment?'
'What do you mean?' Mary asked, feigning ignorance.
'I mean you've been moping around here for weeks, and now you're suddenly all sunshine and smiles. It's rather disconcerting to tell you the truth,' Sybil said, pinning Mary with a curious look in the mirror. 'It's as if a fairy has come into the house and switched the real Mary for a jolly, happy changeling.'
'Oh, well, that's charming, Sybil, to know that you think the happy me is the changeling and the miserable me is the real me,' Mary observed, tartly. 'And anyway, aren't I a little too old to be a changeling? I thought that was supposed to only happen to babies.'
'Well, whatever it is, it's nice to see you smiling again,' Sybil replied, beaming at her sister. 'I'm just curious to know why, though. What's happened to cheer you up so?'
'Was I really so dreadful before?' Mary asked, neatly sidestepping the question as her mind flashed to Tom, the source of her newfound happiness, of lying on his bed and discovering the wonder of kissing yesterday, of stealing secret kisses with him earlier today. All things she could not share with her sister, no matter how much she loved her.
'Oh, darling, you seemed so sad and down all the time. I was quite worried about you.' Sybil tugged gently on Mary's hair. 'And don't think I didn't notice you avoiding my question. What's happened to cheer you up so?'
Mary dropped her eyes back to her earrings, poking them about, determined to avoid Sybil's too-shrewd gaze. 'Nothing's happened. Nothing in particular anyway.'
'I wondered if something might have happened yesterday,' Sybil said, and Mary jerked her eyes up to look at her, feeling a jolt of panic that Sybil might have somehow fathomed something about her relationship with Tom.
'What do you mean?'
'Well, you went to York yesterday and then when you came back, you were much happier than you have been. I thought maybe something happened while you were in the city.'
'Oh, no, no, not really.'
'Why were you there? Did you meet someone?'
'No. I went to the art gallery and I walked through Museum Gardens.'
'And that's all?' Sybil asked, a slight frown on her face.
'Yes. I had a lot of things to think about,' Mary said, improvising on the hoof, deciding to put Sybil off the scent by telling her about something she had decided, even if it hadn't been yesterday in York. 'And I think maybe I've just accepted a few things.'
'What things?'
'Well, the entail for one. I've decided not to kick against it anymore. Matthew will inherit Downton along with the title and that's that. Papa says it will take a private member's bill in Parliament to even raise the possibility of changing it and he's not prepared to do that. He doesn't want Matthew to be an impoverished peer.'
Sybil gazed at her sister in the mirror and gave her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze, knowing how hard it was for her to accept Downton would never be hers as she'd always hoped it would be.
Mary patted Sybil's hand, touched by her sympathy after Edith's snide comments on the same matter. Sybil smiled at her and then began brushing her hair in long, comforting strokes again.
'There is nothing I can do about it, so I've decided not to let it get to me anymore.'
Sybil paused mid-stroke, staring at Mary in the mirror in surprise. 'Really?'
'Yes. I've finally realised there's no point in wasting time and energy on something that I cannot alter. It is what it is and that's all there is to it.'
Sybil gave her sister a big smile. 'Oh, Mary, I'm so glad. That's exactly what I hoped you would do.'
'Well, better late than never, I suppose.'
'And you won't be cross with Matthew?'
'No. At least, I will try very hard not to be. It's not his fault that I was born a girl anymore than it's his fault that the law is such an ass.'
'Oh, I am glad,' Sybil said again, resuming her long strokes of the brush through her sister's dark hair.
Mary looked at her in the mirror, the corner of her lips tipping up into a small, amused smile. 'Because you don't want me falling out with the object of your affection, you mean?'
Sybil blushed, flicking her eyes to Mary's in the mirror. 'No, of course, that's not what I meant. I just… I just like it when everyone is friends. That's all.'
'Of course, you do, darling,' Mary said, teasingly. 'And Cousin Matthew's handsome face has nothing to do with it.'
Sybil glanced at her one more time. 'Oh, do shut up,' she said, not quite able to hide her smile.
'That reminds me; you know Cousin Isobel has invited us to go on Edith's church sightseeing trip with them on Saturday?'
'Yes, of course, I do. I didn't think you'd be interested in going, though.'
'Well, I wasn't initially, but actually, I think it might be rather fun now,' Mary said, a plan already forming in her mind.
'Fun?' Sybil replied, doubtfully. 'I rather think that might be overegging the pudding a little. We'll be looking at dusty, old churches while Edith drones on about the history of each of them from that wretched guidebook of hers.'
'I think we should both go. I think it's our duty,' Mary insisted.
Sybil narrowed her eyes suspiciously at her sister. 'Why? You'd usually rather eat spiders than spend any time with Edith. What are you up to?'
'Nothing.'
'Mary,' Sybil said in a tone that indicated she knew that was a big, fat lie.
'Well, someone's got to keep Matthew safe and out of Edith's clutches,' Mary said, quirking a cheeky eyebrow at her sister. 'I suggest we divide and conquer.'
'Divide and conquer?' Sybil repeated, puzzled. 'What do you mean?'
'I mean you should keep Matthew busy while I engage Edith and Isobel in conversation. I'm sure that's a task you won't mind performing diligently,' Mary said, winking at Sybil. 'Between the two of us, I suspect we can make sure the poor man lives to see another day without being ensnared by Edith.'
Sybil giggled, pulling the brush through Mary's hair again. 'You know, you really are rather rotten to poor old Edith.'
'I know,' Mary replied, serenely. 'I live to thwart her. I regard it as both my purpose in life and my joy. Please don't take my joy from me, Sybil. Not when I'm finally happy again.'
'You're incorrigible, Mary!'
'Your job is to stick to Cousin Matthew like a fly to honey paper,' Mary said, raising a finger and pointing it at Sybil in the mirror. 'If I see him spend so much as one second alone with Edith on Saturday, I shall hold you entirely responsible.'
Sybil grinned, accepting the challenge. 'Aye, aye, captain.'
Mary grinned back at her, delighted to be in cahoots with Sybil in destroying Edith's hopes of becoming the next Lady Grantham.
Down the hall, the current Lady Grantham lay in bed, propped against the headboard, her magazine lying abandoned on her lap as she thought about dinner this evening.
Mary had been radiant tonight, a far cry from the meek, mild, quiet creature she'd been since that deplorable incident with the late Mr Pamuk. It seemed like she was finally coming out of the other side of that unfortunate business.
Cora would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that she had mixed feelings about Mary's renaissance. On the one hand, she needed her daughter to be back to her best if she was to find a husband, but on the other hand, she did not want a return to the wilfulness Mary was wont to display when she was on top form. A pliant, obedient Mary was infinitely preferable at the moment.
The Pamuk affair had shaken Cora to the core. She had never believed a daughter of hers – even proud Mary – would be so rash and irresponsible as to take a lover before marriage. Almost three months on and it appeared they had been lucky and there was no sign of a child. Cora was not hugely religious, but she had prayed every day since that dreadful, dreadful night that Mary would not find herself growing big with child and it seemed that her prayers had been answered.
She knew from several discomfiting and thoroughly awkward conversations with Anna that Mary had had her courses twice since the incident. There would be no awkward child to hide away, shuffling it off to be adopted, out of sight and out of mind. Finally, Cora felt that she could stop worrying about that and turn her thoughts towards marrying Mary off. And the sooner the better.
Everything about the Pamuk incident had been horrific, but there was one recurring concern that had not yet gone away. Cora was worried that her daughter had got a taste for sexual relations. She knew only too well how wonderful a good lover could make a woman feel, and it frightened her that Mary may have experienced that with that man. Cora fervently hoped the experience had been a disappointment. And if that weren't the case, perhaps Pamuk's death during or after the act would put Mary off trying it again any time soon.
But still, the worry remained. If Mary had been bold enough to take a lover at her tender age before experiencing the marital bed, she may try it again. And next time they may not be so lucky in covering it up or avoiding a pregnancy.
Mary could not afford to gain a reputation as a woman of loose morals. That was imperative. No man would want her then. No, she had to be married and soon before she could do anything else to ruin herself.
It was a shame she and Patrick hadn't been married before he perished in the icy waters of the Atlantic, Cora thought. Or that nothing had come of the Duke of Crowborough's visit. Or that Evelyn Napier had not been enough to hold her eldest daughter's attention at the hunt on that ill-fated weekend.
Cora was beginning to think that Mary had an altogether too high opinion of herself, and her lofty expectations were causing her to refuse to even consider suitors from highly reputable families. That wouldn't do at all, not at all. Not now. Not when they could ill afford it, especially now when Mary had proved herself so completely irresponsible and insensible to the importance of a pristine reputation.
When she'd been worrying about a pregnancy, Cora had concocted a mental list of prospective husbands for Mary, men who would perhaps be willing to overlook a youthful mistake – even a living, breathing one – in exchange for Mary's quite respectably healthy dowry.
Now maybe she should dust off that list and reconsider it in the light of Mary's currently unblemished reputation. She could cross out the wild cards and the ones that had scraped onto the list and consider the more serious candidates, the ones who could give Mary the life she expected and keep a firm hand on her daughter, keeping her in check, so she did not ruin herself or her family. Yes, it was time to assess that list of suitors once more.
Cora placed her magazine on the bedside table beside her and closed her eyes, mentally running over the list of names she'd compiled. Mary would be at least engaged if not safely married before the year was out if she had anything to do with it. After all, she had two other daughters to marry off and she couldn't have Mary ruining things for them as well as herself. Few families of their social stature would even entertain the thought of affiancing a son to either Edith or Sybil if it became known that their elder sister was a harlot who bedded men outside of marriage.
No, no matter what, she could not allow the prospects of her two innocent daughters to be capsized by the selfish, morally reprehensible behaviour of her firstborn. She loved Mary but she had become a problem that needed to be solved. And quickly.