Author's Note: Hello, lovely readers! Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews for this story, I'm glad you guys are liking it so far. Sorry for taking so long to update, but this chapter is pretty long so I hope you can forgive me for making you wait.
As always, thank you for the reviews, the follows, and the favourites! Enjoy!
It had all happened so fast, Matthew Crawley thought as he took the clothes from his closet and folded them into a large suitcase. One day, he was a barrister for a modest firm on Coruscant, and the next he was getting a message from the Earl of Grantham saying he was his heir. It had all seemed like a prank – albeit an elaborate one – but then the Earl had shown up at the door of the apartment he shared with this mother, explaining the entire situation.
"You see, you're descended from the third earl, and you're my closest living male relative," the Earl had said, sipping his tea. He was very calm about the whole thing, considering his cousins had just passed. A marauder attack, the Empire had said when it was on the holonews. They'd been on a relief mission to the Outer Rim – a great tragedy.
"But… you have three daughters, right? Can't one of them inherit?" Matthew had asked. He must've had a dumbfounded look on his face.
The Earl – or Robert, as he insisted – sighed. "It's all a very complicated and long story, but we're a people bounded by tradition and we can't go about breaking it now. I'll tell you more when you come to Grantham."
Matthew blinked. He couldn't be serious, could he? "Come to Grantham?"
"Yes, of course! You can't very well learn to govern the system from here," he replied, as if it were obvious.
Govern the system. It was real, he was going to be the next Earl of Grantham. Matthew let out a gasp, taking it all in. "I'll need some time… to explain it to my colleagues, to my mother…" he trailed off, the number of things he had to do was already giving him a headache.
"Of course, of course," the Earl said with a smile. "Take as much time as you need. Please contact us when you're ready. We'll send a ship for you."
And so here he was, packing away his belongings. His mother was out, doing some last few errands before they had to leave… something about purchasing a gift for the Earl and Countess. Their large apartment was now sparse, devoid of any kind of evidence that life had once occupied it. The only source of vivacity was outside its large windows, where hundreds of speeders and ships raced through the air. His mother wanted to let out the apartment, so that others may live there while they were at Grantham. Matthew, on the other hand, wasn't ready for that yet. He still had his doubts about the whole situation, and he wondered whether he should just give it up after visiting the system.
"There's no mechanism for you to do so," his mother had told him after he explained everything to her after the earl's visit. "You will become an earl, and you will inherit the estate. Whatever you do with it once you get it is up to you."
Those words stuck in Matthew's head. Did he want to throw it all away?He had no experience governing anything, let alone a planet. An Inner Rim planet, he reminded himself, which provided an immense amount of resources to not only the Empire, but to many other systems that weren't fortunate to have the fertile farmland Grantham possessed.
Who was the next heir after him? Surely if the closest heir was descended from the third, the next heir would even be more distant than that. No, he wouldn't back out now. He at least owed them that much.
They were his family, after all.
"Mr. Crawley." A voice jolted him from his thoughts. He looked up towards the room of the door to see their maid, Alma, standing in the doorway with a distressed look about her. They were one of the few tenants – if not the only tenants of the large high-rise building to employ an actual human servant. Most preferred attendant droids or those stuffy protocol droids, but not the Crawleys. His mother – bless her – thrived on helping those less fortunate than them, and thus provided a source of employment to not just Alma, but to a cook as well.
Robert Crawley had been surprised yet delighted to see the presence of human servants upon his arrival to their apartment, as the Crawleys' estate on Grantham provided employment for a great deal of human maids, footmen, cooks, and the like. Perhaps, in a strange way, it had eased some of the awkwardness upon their first meeting.
"Yes?" Matthew asked in alarm.
"There are two officers who would like to speak with you, they're in the parlour."
Matthew let out a frustrated sigh. Amidst all the commotion, he had forgotten to tell them to meet with Bray instead. They would have to be put off a little longer. The case wasn't due in court until the following week, so at least Bray would have time to collect their statements. Matthew prepared to tell the officers to forgive him for all the hassle, but when he rounded the corner to the parlour, he stopped dead in his tracks. Standing in front of him were most definitely not two young officers from the Academy who had witnessed a speeder accident.
The two men standing before him were older, decorated with a wealth of coloured bars on their olive-green uniforms. The younger of the two men had bright blond hair and gleaming blue eyes, while the other had incredibly sharp features, with grey, thinning hair and equally grey eyes.
Matthew cleared this throat. "Thank you, Alma."
The maid gave a slight bow of her head and left the room, leaving him alone with the two Imperial officials
"I believe congratulations are in order," the older officer said, clasping his hands behind his back. He had a slight smirk at the corner of his lips, like he enjoyed being in complete control of the situation.
Matthew blinked.
"You are now the heir to one of the most important and influential planets in the galaxy," he continued.
"How…" Matthew trailed off, unable to find the right words. As far as he knew, the Crawleys hadn't released any sort of statement about their new heir, nor had his name appeared on the holo.
"The Empire took it upon themselves to investigate the matter fully," he replied. "After the tragedy of losing not only one but two heirs, it is in both the galaxy and the Empire's interests to ensure a peaceful transition of power." The words were said as if he had already become Earl.
A beat passed; Matthew shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know who you are." He hated not knowing who was interrogating him.
"Grand Moff Tarkin, Mr. Crawley," the older man said, a little annoyed. Clearly, he was used to people knowing who he was. "And this is the Imperial Governor of Grantham, Jonas Callen." He gestured to the younger blond-haired man.
"I believe we will be working quiet closely in the future, Mr. Crawley," Callen noted.
"Yes, of course," Matthew replied, still coming to terms with the fact that two high-ranking Imperial officers were in his apartment. He still didn't know why exactly why they were here.
"I do hope our relationship will prove beneficial to us both." This time it was Tarkin who spoke, his deep drawl becoming more intimidating.
"What exactly do you want?" Matthew tried to keep his voice as steady as possible. Suddenly he hoped his mother didn't walk in on them, he didn't know what she'd say.
"I understand you're traveling to Grantham with your mother, Isobel Crawley."
Matthew swallowed, but didn't say anything.
"I hope you'll be a great help to us."
"Help…?"
"The Crawleys are of… interest to the Empire."
Both men gave Matthew a knowing look, and he quickly realized what they were asking of him. "You want me to… spy on them?"
"Governor Callen's contact information has already been sent to your datapad," Tarkin continued nonchalantly.
"What –" Matthew's gaze bolted towards his room, to where his datapad was kept, and then back to the Imperial officers.
"I trust you will not fail us." Tarkin moved towards Matthew until he was standing just above him. "A tragedy has already befallen James and Patrick Crawley. Losing a third heir would be… too much to bear."
Matthew swallowed once more, but it felt as if his throat was raw. Any words he wanted to say couldn't get passed his lips.
"Have a safe journey, Mr. Crawley." Tarkin nodded his head, and the two strode out the apartment. Once the door shut with a resounding click, Matthew's knees buckled from under him, and he fell to the floor in a state of shock.
The visit from the Imperial officers rung constantly in his mind even as he boarded the Granthinian yacht the Earl had sent for them the next morning. His mother, of course had commented how distracted he was, to which Matthew simply replied that he was nervous about meeting the Crawleys of Grantham and taking on this task he didn't particularly desire.
It was the truth – technically.
He couldn't tell his mother about the threats made by the Empire. He couldn't. He knew how she would react, he wouldn't have her thrust into this new life on Grantham with an Imperial threat looming over their heads.
Imperial threat.
Matthew still couldn't quite believe he had been threatened into spying on his family by the Empire. Matthew didn't know what he would do. He supposed he could delay any correspondence to Governor Callen as long as possible, but of course the Empire would get too suspicious and reinforce the threat easily enough. But what if they didn't give him a second chance? The Empire had what seemed like an infinite amount of resources. They could find a way to take care of him quickly.
No, delaying correspondence was too dangerous. Matthew would just have to be careful of what he revealed to the Empire.
Tarkin had said the Crawleys were "of interest" to the Empire, but what exactly were they looking for? The Crawleys were agriculturists. Their people grew wheat and produce, they raised horses, pigs, and cattle. The family conducted relief missions to Outer Rim planets who had little to offer the rest of the galaxy. They weren't building high-tech weapons for the Empire or the head of a galaxy-wide starship manufacturing firm suspected of dealing to the Rebellion.
Matthew turned his gaze from the ship's viewport towards his mother, who was reading on a holopad.
"Did you know that Grantham provides fresh water, grain, and produce to more than a third of the systems in the galaxy?" Isobel Crawley remarked, barely looking up from the screen.
Matthew couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "Mother, are you studying up on Grantham?"
His mother gazed up towards him and blinked, as if the answer were obvious. "Well, of course, Matthew. If I'm going to live on a new planet for the foreseeable future, I would like to know at least a little about it. I would suggest you read up on it, too, if you're going to govern it."
Govern it. Despite everything, even that statement still felt unusual to hear out loud. Him, Matthew Crawley, a barrister for a small firm on Corruscant – one day governing an entire system.
"Oh, Grantham also provides water and food supplies to the majority of the Imperial Fleet," his mother said, reading from her holopad.
A sick feeling twisted in Matthew's stomach. If the Crawleys provided the Empire with a huge quantity of resources, it was no wonder they were "of interest" to them. But even so, the Empire must exert some sort of control over production on the planet, why did they need him to spy for them? Perhaps Tarkin was tricking him, perhaps it was all just some test to prove his loyalty to the Empire, to make sure they'd be able to bully him into submission once he became earl.
Again, Matthew shook his head, willing for the thoughts to leave him. They must be close to the system now, and he couldn't afford to look intimidated or anxious upon meeting the Crawleys.
"Oh, Matthew, listen to this," his mother chimed in again, completely in her own world. "The estate of the Earl and Countess – Downton Abbey – is a huge source of employment. They employ a large staff of maids, footmen, cooks, grooms, kitchen workers, and hallboys to earn a good living. Apparently, the estate has had human employees for hundreds of years, it's part of their tradition."
"Then I'm sure you'll get along quite well," he replied with a smile.
"Sir, ma'am," a new voiced chimed in from the hall of the ship. It was the captain of the vessel who had first met them at the Coruscant port where they embarked. Branson, if he recalled correctly. "The Verdant is coming up on Grantham. We should be dropping out of hyperspace in just a few moments," he annouced.
"Thank you, Captain," Isobel smiled cheerfully. Branson nodded and swiftly left from the doorway.
Within minutes, the blue swirl of hyperspace dissolved to reveal a lush green planet, spotted with white clouds and blue lakes. It was significantly smaller than Coruscant, but beautiful, more beautiful than he'd seen on his datapad. Matthew had traveled off-planet before, of course, for his job – mainly for research purposes, but never to a planet as lush as Grantham.
The Verdant descended into Grantham's atmosphere, and soon the viewports were over taken by white and blue clouds, and then finally the planet's sprawling fertile landscapes surrounded them. Matthew didn't know what he'd imagined it would be like, but it wasn't this.
The ship approached what looked to be a small village surrounded by endless acres of farmland. Off in the distance, was a sprawling estate – the Crawleys' residence, he assumed – also surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens and a large forest just behind it. He had supposed there would be some sort of city around the estate, but the lands were flat for mile and miles.
"It's certainly different than Coruscant," Isobel said as she peered out the viewport.
"That's emphatically an understatement," Matthew replied, deadpan. "It'll certainly take some getting used to. Though I did some research and found a few small firms looking for barristers in the village."
"Oh, good."
The ship slowly made its way to the estate, and finally docked in a large hanger just off to its side. Matthew and his mother looked at each other but didn't say anything. They didn't have to say anything, because they knew what they were thinking.
This was happening, whether they liked it or not.
Once the ship's engines shut down, Captain Branson led them to the ramp, which had already descended onto the hangar floor. Matthew swallowed as a nervous feeling set in. The Crawleys were right there, waiting for him.
"Our luggage?" Isobel asked Branson, turning to him.
"It's all being taken care of, Mrs. Crawley," the captain assured.
Matthew waved it off. "I can –"
"Don't worry, Mr. Crawley. Your belongings are being taken to your residence."
"Our residence… we're not staying at the estate?" Matthew asked, a little dumbfounded.
Branson blinked. "No, no, you'll be staying at Crawley House, a home in the village owned by the family."
Matthew nodded. At least they'd have some sense of privacy. A smaller house meant a smaller staff, of course. Perhaps it wouldn't take as much getting used to as he'd previously thought.
"Come along, Matthew," Isobel chimed, descending the ramp. "We mustn't keep them waiting."
Matthew followed his mother, mentally preparing himself to meet the rest of the Crawley family. But he didn't feel prepared for this, he didn't feel prepared for anything.
"I simply do not understand why we have to rush into this," Cora said as she and her husband were walking towards the estate's hangar.
"You know why we have to," he said, giving her a knowing look. "Besides, Matthew is my heir and he's never once set foot on the system. He needs to know the ins and outs of governing it."
"Patrick was your heir, but he hardly knew anything about governing the system. He and James were all too busy running missions for the Rebellion out of Yavin." She was uncomfortable with this, with all of it. Robert was right though, she did know why Matthew needed to come now. It wasn't just so he could learn to govern, but so they could be seen as accepting a new heir without complaint. The Empire was expecting it of them.
"Still, Patrick was in and out of the house since the day he was born. You saw how many people turned up for the service," Robert continued.
"Yes, but that doesn't mean we can welcome this new heir into our family as if nothing has changed. What if he's in league with the Empire? What if that mother of his is?"
Robert rolled his eyes. "You know, you're starting to sound just like my mother," he said with a slight chuckle. "But this Matthew Crawley is a solicitor, and when I met him on Coruscant he didn't strike me as an Imperial spy. Let's give him a little credit before we've gotten to know him."
Cora didn't say anything to that, and instead sighed heavily. If she had her way Mary would be heir to the system. If wouldn't matter if she was a girl or anything else. For goodness' sakes, on her home planet of Naboo they elected queens as young as fourteen. But Grantham was not like Naboo. Grantham was steeped in tradition – tradition that was expected to be upheld, not changed whenever it suited them.
They stopped in front of the Verdant's descending ramp, and seconds later the new heir came into view. Before she could stop herself, Cora's eyebrowed raised in surprise. Robert hadn't been generous when he had said the new heir was young and handsome. Perhaps – if everything went well – Mary could still become Countess of Grantham. But that was a long way off, she didn't even know if they could be trusted.
"Matthew, it's good to see you again. I hope you've had a pleasant journey," Robert smiled, extending his arm. Matthew shook it, looking a little nervous at the whole situation.
"Thank you, Lord Grantham – Robert. We did," he replied before gesturing to the older woman beside him. "This is my mother, Isobel."
Isobel Crawley. Cora took her in. She was younger than Violet by a decade or so, and all smiles. She didn't share her son's nervousness or anxiety and seemed to want to make herself at home. At first glance she didn't look like she could be an Imperial spy, or seem to have Imperial sympathies, for that matter. But of course looks didn't matter, looks didn't reveal one's alliances.
"I don't believe you've met my wife, Cora, Countess of Grantham," Robert introduced, resting a hand on the small of her back.
"It's a pleasure to meet you both," she said politely.
"I'm sorry we can't give you more of a reception," he continued. "Our daughters are otherwise preoccupied."
"Not a problem at all," Matthew said.
"But we would like you to meet them this evening and get a better look at the estate. Would dinner at eight be alright? Unless you're too tired."
"No, no, that's perfectly alright," it was Isobel who answered this time. "We'd be delighted."
"It's settled then. Neame will take you to Crawley House where you can meet your staff and get settled."
"Thank you," Matthew replied.
"Now, if you'll excuse us," Robert smiled, and the two of them left the hangar without exchanging another word, not to the new heir, and not to each other. Cora was still taking in her first impressions of Matthew and his mother. They didn't seem all that malicious, but Matthew seemed terribly nervous. His eyes kept darting around the hangar, as if searching for someone that was watching them. It was understandable, of course. To be thrust into a new life you've never been prepared for that was so different from your own. Still, it was best to keep one's guard up – they could never be too careful with the threat of the Empire looming over, ready to devour them.
"Here we are ma'am, Crawley House," Neame, the chauffeur announced as the speeder pulled into the gates of their new residence. It was by no means as large as the Downton estate, but certainly much larger than anything Matthew was used to.
The house was three storeys, with large windows, stone pillars, and vines crawling up and down the stone work. He still found it strange that he should be living here. After all, no residence such as this even existed on Coruscant. It was all high-rise buildings where even the wealthiest would have a few floors to themselves, but never such a place with sprawling gardens and greenery.
An older man approached the speeder as the chauffeur opened its doors.
"Can I help you?" Matthew asked, a little stunned.
"I am Molesley, sir, your butler and valet," the man replied, his tone even and serious.
Matthew resisted the urge to scoff. When Lord Grantham had said they would have a staff at their residence he thought he'd meant just a cook and perhaps a maid. He didn't need a butler, or a valet for that matter. He hated the thought of more people surrounding him, suffocating him, when the Empire was already doing that. "I'm sorry, Molesley, but we don't–" Matthew started but was cut off by his mother coming around.
"We're delighted to meet you, Molesley," she said.
"Shall I get your bags?"
"No, that's quite alright –"
"Yes, thank you," his mother spoke over him again, and he shot her a look.
After a lifetime, Matthew and Isobel finally got a moment to themselves in the living room of the house. They'd met their cook (Mrs. Bird), their maid (Ellen), and their kitchen maid (Beth), and he wondered if there was anyone else, but it was just the four of them.
"Why are you doing that?" Matthew asked.
His mother gave him a look. "Doing what?"
"Changing for them."
Isobel scoffed. "I am adapting to my new surroundings, Matthew. They expect us to not know how to behave and I'd rather not confirm their expectations. You saw the way the Countess looked at me – she was practically sizing me up."
"Well, I won't let them change me," Matthew replied. "I have to be myself. I'll be no use to anyone if I can't be myself." He would try to be himself, as much as he could at least. But he didn't know how much of himself he could be, reporting on his family. He still wasn't even sure if he was going to do it. He would have to, sooner or later – the Empire would see to that, but perhaps he could try to put them off as long as possible, say nothing of interest was happening. But would the Empire even believe that?
"And before you or they get any ideas, I will choose my own wife," he continued, trying to shake off the thoughts of the Empire. Perhaps speaking of a different daunting prospect would take his mind off things.
"What do you mean?"
"It's clear they'll want to push one of the daughters at me," Matthew explained. "They'll have fixed on that when they heard I was a bachelor."
"Lady Mary Crawley," Molesley announced, making him bolt around.
A young woman entered the room, dressed in a riding habit. That was something you certainly didn't see on Coruscant. A top hat covered her dark hair, and equally dark eyes seemed to bore into his, as if she had just heard their entire conversation. This was Lord Grantham's eldest daughter, he realized. He felt heat rush to his cheeks, and his palms suddenly became sweaty.
"Lady Mary –" Isobel started, stunned at sudden entrance of the woman.
"Cousin Mary, please," she replied cordially. Matthew was surprised at how quickly Lady Mary seemed to welcome them into her family. But perhaps she was just being polite, under the circumstances. She should resent him, a man upending her whole life, her family through no fault of her own. She probably did. "Mama sent me to see how you were settling in," she continued. If she had heard their conversation, she didn't betray it.
"Perfectly fine, thank you," Isobel smiled sweetly, also not betraying their conversation. And tense moment of silence passed between them. Matthew thought that if he tried to speak his words would come out a garbled mess. It would certainly not make a good first impression. "Will you stay and have some tea?" His mother said finally, the peacemaker she was.
Lady Mary smiled but shook her head. "Oh no, you're far too busy." She then looked directly at Matthew. "And I wouldn't want to push in."
Before he could open his mouth to speak, Lady Mary Crawley left the room without another word. Matthew sighed and gave a defeated glance at his mother. Now it was clear she had heard their conversation, and his suspicions of the resentment she held against him were true. He followed her out of the house and through the front gates, where she was getting ready to leave on her horse with what must be a groom from the estate.
Certainly something you wouldn't see on Coruscant. Matthew couldn't even remember the last time he'd been riding. Before his father had passed, they used to take family trips to systems containing a bit more open air, ones with beaches that smelt of salt water, or where it seemed as if they could run the entire length of the planet with nothing to get in their way. Of course, after his father passed those trips stopped altogether. His mother became more and more involved with her nursing duties, overseeing clinics and the medical droids and such, and he went to university. For a moment, Grantham felt like those systems to which he'd vacationed – the sprawling greenery and tiny villages and open air. But he was not vacationing. He was here because he had suddenly become the heir to the greenery and the villages and the open air – and he wasn't ready for any of it.
Matthew blinked, and caught Lady Mary just as she about to take off. "I'm sorry, Lady Mary," he said, trying to find the right words. But what did it matter – she already thought he was a fool. "You must understand, I was only joking." He winced at his own words.
"Of course. And I agree," Lady Mary said.
Matthew blinked again, not knowing how to respond.
"The whole thing is a complete joke."
"Is he really a solicitor from Coruscant?" Daisy, Downton's kitchen maid asked as she set the servants' dining table for their afternoon tea. It was the only time the staff could talk all amongst themselves without many chores getting in the way. There was breakfast and dinner of course, but Daisy and Mrs. Patmore and the rest of the kitchen staff ate separately, and of course Mr. Carson would most certainly steer the conversations clear of their current topic of discussion – the arrival of the new heir.
"That's what Branson told me," William, a junior footman replied. "He said they didn't even bring that much with them. Just a few bags. No staff or even any droids."
"Imagine that – a solicitor lording over us all high and mighty when he's really no better than us," Thomas, the first footman said sourly from the corner of the table, smoking a cigarette. Daisy could tell the rest of them had to stop themselves from rolling their eyes. Thomas was always like that, always liked to look down on everyone.
"It's a very noble profession," Anna, perhaps the most sound-minded of the housemaids argued. "Besides, I don't believe you've even met him, yet."
"And neither have you," Thomas shot back. "So don't pretend to like him already."
"If I recall correctly, Thomas, it is not your job to decide whether or not you like Mr. Crawley," a new voice rumbled in the servants' dining hall. The staff stood as the butler entered with the housekeeper beside him, and quickly took their seats again. "Mr. Crawley and his mother have been invited to dinner this evening and I expect everyone to treat them with the same amount of respect as you would Mr. James or Mr. Patrick."
A silence filled the hall, followed by a few muttered "yes, Mr. Carsons".
Afternoon tea passed without raising the topic again, but sooner rather than later Mrs. Hughes found herself raising doubts about Mr. Crawley with Mr. Carson in the butler's pantry. He was getting the wine ready for the evening's dinner, and she should have been making sure the drawing room was ready for their guests' arrivals, but she still couldn't put her doubts out her mind and needed to talk about it. It wasn't just that Mr. Crawley had never once set foot on the system before, but that the family's situation was precarious enough as it is with Empire without two strangers coming in and suddenly disrupting the order of things. It had worked well with James and Patrick. But they had become more ambitious than they were careful – and look where that had gotten them. If the Empire wasn't watching them then, they most certainly were now, and that was what worried Mrs. Hughes.
The rest of the staff didn't know of the family's involvement in the Rebellion, of course, but she suspected some would have guessed it. Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson were only two staff members who knew the extent of it, and Carson certainly took it as his personal duty to keep the family safe.
"I know what said earlier, but I don't feel good about this, I don't feel good about it at all," Mr. Carson said, pouring wine into a crystal decanter.
"So, you can't let the topic go either," she replied, clasping her arms in front of her. "I know it's not ideal, but they've got to do it."
"Oh, I know they've got to do it, lest the Empire bring down their wrath upon them. But he could jeopardize the safety of the whole family."
"They won't let him in that easily," Mrs. Hughes argued. "What do you think they were going to do? Introduce him to the Dowager Countess and then take him on a mission? Have a little faith in them."
Mr. Carson scoffed. "I have every faith in the family. But it's not just that. Mr. Crawley hasn't even been to the system before, what does he know of governing it?"
"His Lordship will teach him, of course."
The butler gave a sound of disapproval as he finished with the decanter. "I need to take this upstairs."
"Mr. Carson," the housekeeper said, catching him just before he left. "We must give Mr. Crawley a chance. He deserves a chance."
It wasn't that Sybil Crawley didn't want to meet Mr. Matthew Crawley and his mother, or listen to what Mary had to say about them, but more than anything she wanted to feel the lightsaber in her hands. She wanted to feel its energy flowing through her. The Force was a powerful thing, and Sybil felt it calling every waking moment.
Her grandmother had given a few lessons on how to wield it, under the guise that she was simply visiting her for tea. Though, they both agreed they'd have to make up some other excuse before her Mama or Papa got too suspicious. Sybil was planning on telling them with Granny, of course, but not until the business with James and Patrick and the Empire blew over – if it ever did. The arrival of Mr. Matthew and his mother complicated the matter, as everyone agreed, but she could find a way to keep to herself and not arouse any suspicions. She'd done well hiding the secret from her sisters, after all.
"He's very… full of himself," Mary was saying, pulling up her gloves. Anna had already tended to the girls and left the room to let them talk in private. They were all in Mary's room, watching her decide which pair of gloves best suited her deep red dinner gown. She always took the longest, so it become something of a tradition to visit with her before going down and joining the others in the drawing room.
"Why do you say that?" Sybil asked, rejoining the conversation.
"It's just an impression," Mary replied quickly, making some final adjustments to her hair.
"But do you think he's loyal to the Empire?" Edith asked the question everyone was thinking.
"He didn't seem one way or the other, but we didn't have much time to talk politics," she replied, clearly becoming quite irritated. The whole mess bothered Mary most of all, of course. She had been practically engaged to Cousin Patrick, and had a life set as a senator and the future Countess of Grantham. Now, her future with the estate was uncertain, and her position as a senator was at risk because of the deaths of Cousin James and Cousin Patrick. The Empire may intend to remove her because they most certainly knew about their cousins' rebel sympathies.
"Well, why don't we go downstairs and decide for ourselves," Sybil said, trying to mitigate growing tensions.
Without another word, Mary all but stormed out of the room, Edith following behind. Granny was already in the drawing room when they arrived, along with Mama and Papa sitting idly. No one looked particularly excited. Even Papa, who had said he liked Cousin Matthew when he'd seen him on Coruscant and then again when they had met them at the hangar, but the rest of them didn't seem convinced, Granny especially.
Before they got completely restless, Carson announced that Mr. Matthew Crawley and Mrs. Isobel Crawley had arrived. Isobel was his mother, as they had found out when the family solicitor had been telling him about the new heir. A bachelor, Mr. Murray had said, and apparently not a bad-looking one. Of course, this prospect raised the whole issue of whether Mary would marry him, just as it had been before. But after seeing Mary come back from Crawley House in such an irritated state, Sybil knew getting her to marry the new heir would be difficult.
The family left the confines of the drawing room and lined up in the foyer by the main entrance much like a class of school children. The main staff was already lined up across from them, with many sneaking gazes towards the front doors. Mrs. Hughes was, of course trying to keep them from doing so, but soon enough she didn't have to because Cousin Matthew and his mother were already making their way into the foyer.
Sybil considered Mary's impression of the new heir as full of himself, but if anything, Cousin Matthew looked the most nervous out of all at them. He gazed up and down at his new surroundings – of the grandeur of Downton Abbey, which only seemed to add to his anxiety. His dinner attire looked a little wrinkled, and she caught Mary trying to hide a snicker behind her smile. Edith, on the other hand, seemed quite taken with him and she could see why – he was perfectly handsome with neatly combed blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.
Lord and Lady Grantham stepped up to greet them. "Welcome to Downton," Cora said with a bright smile.
Isobel Crawley smiled back. She too seemed rather in awe of her surroundings. "Thank you very much. It's all so lovely."
"Yes, it's quite the reception committee," Cousin Matthew commented, gazing at the staff. The rest of them stared blankly at his attempt at humour, but Sybil let out the smallest of giggles at the awkward situation.
"This is Carson, we'd all be lost without him," Robert continued, gesturing to the butler whose cold gaze did not falter. "And my mother," he moved on to Violet, who shared the butler's steel gaze. "Mama, may I introduce Matthew Crawley and his mother, Isobel."
"How very nice to meet you," Isobel said, walking up to the Dowager Countess and offering her a hand to shake. "What shall we call each other?"
Violet blinked. "Well, we could always start with 'Mrs. Crawley' and 'Lady Grantham'."
This time, it was harder for Sybil to hold in her giggles. Her grandmother, of course, didn't have to treat their guests so, but she probably felt as if she was testing them in some way.
A tense silence followed for several seconds, as if Isobel were to reply, but Cora mitigated the situation by moving the family into the dining room to finally start the dinner service.
"Do you think you'll enjoy country life? It can be so quiet after a planet like Coruscant," Robert said during the dinner's main course.
"I'm sure I'll find something to do," Isobel replied. "I might look into the hospital in the village. I used to be a nurse, you see."
"I'm afraid it would be very different from the hospitals you're used to," Violet said with a slight smirk.
"I'm sure I'll make do."
"Cousin Matthew, I understand you were a barrister," Cora asked, changing the topic of conversation before Violet and Isobel could escalate. "What sort of law did you practice?"
Matthew smiled and seemed to relax for the first time that night. "Mostly industrial law. There are a lot of factories on Coruscant and many run into some form of legal trouble or another. I've also been to Corellia to study law in regard to their starship industries."
"I've always wanted to travel to Corellia," Edith said, her eyes practically lighting up.
"It can't have been pleasant with all those Imperials controlling everything," Violet commented, to which Robert shot her a look.
He knew what his mother was doing, and Sybil knew it to. This was just another way Violet was testing the new heir, by judging his response.
Matthew was a little taken aback by the comment, but nevertheless gave an even response. "No, not really. They stayed quite out of our hair." Sybil couldn't tell if her grandmother was satisfied with his answer. "Do uh… do any of you work?" He continued in between a mouthful of glazed pork.
Violet looked positively offended by the question, and a silence followed. It wasn't a rude question of course, and plenty of members of noble families of other systems worked, but Sybil knew it wasn't the type of work Cousin Matthew was thinking of. She could tell that he immediately regretted asking the question and decided to save him.
"Actually, Mary is Grantham's senator," she said, giving Cousin Matthew an encouraging smile.
"Yes, it's true," Mary replied, a little haughty. "Granny thinks I'm mad to pursue a career in politics, but I can't help it."
"Oh," Cousin Matthew smiled. "So, you've been to Coruscant?"
"Oh yes, many times. I can never get used to the crowdedness of it all, though." The Imperial presence on the planet didn't help it, either. "And of course, our Sybil conducts many of our relief missions."
"How very noble," he said, smiling at her.
"Yes, we have a long history of donating our resources to other less fortunate systems," Sybil explained. "Fresh water, mostly, but also produce and grain, and even soil to make their lands more fertile for farming."
"Yes, Sybil is always going on about helping those less fortunate," Mary said.
"But, Cousin Matthew, what will you do with your time here?" Sybil asked.
"I've been looking into firms here on Grantham. I'm happy to say that one partnership just in Ripon is looking very promising."
Immediately, Robert set down his cutlery and looked at his heir with shock. "You're looking for a job? Don't you know I mean to involve you in the running of the estate and the system?"
Matthew just shrugged. "Don't worry, there are plenty of hours in the day, and there are always the weekends."
Violet blinked. "What is a weekend?"
Hours later, well after his mother had said good night, Matthew sat at his study gazing over his datapad in agony.
A message from Governor Callen had already arrived: How was dinner with the Crawleys?
A simple question, yet one that somehow demanded an answer. Now Matthew knew he couldn't put off the Imperials as he had previously planned. He sighed, his head in his hands, and thought of what he could possibly write. The truth was they were perfectly alright, apart from the occasional snobbish question or glance, the Crawleys of Grantham seemed perfectly normal, if not a little suspicious of him. And of course, he couldn't blame them for that. Matthew was, after all stranger to these people, set to inherit everything. That alone would be bound to subject one to endless suspicions.
Suddenly, Matthew wondered if they thought him good enough, noble enough to inherit this great system. Probably not, considering, but it didn't matter. His mother's words rung in his ears: You will become an earl, you will inherit the estate. Whatever you do with it once you get it is up to you.
There may be no mechanism for the Crawley family to disregard Matthew as their heir, but he didn't doubt they were trying to grasp at any solution to keep him from inheriting the estate and the system. Still, it was all too soon to jump to conclusions. The Crawleys seemed like a secretive bunch, but it was to be expected considering the situation.
Matthew sighed and gazed back at his datapad, fingers hovering above the keys. Slowly, he began to type.
Dinner was perfectly fine, if a little awkward.
He hoped the governor didn't expect him to write a novel.
Only thirty seconds later, a reply came: Continue to inform me should you discover anything of interest.
Matthew swallowed, inferring what "anything of interest" meant – any anti-Imperial rhetoric, to be sure. He shut off the datapad and laid back on the bed. He'd been on the planet for less than twenty-four hours, and he was already informing on his new-found family to the Empire. Shame rippled through his body, and he wondered long he could keep playing both sides.
