The motorcar rattled over the streets with the same quick speed matching Matthew's own pounding heart. He never thought he would be so nervous to see a house. Hopefully, a house he wouldn't spend too long residing in. He wouldn't be spending any time at all if he had a true choice.

"Here we are, Ma'am, Crawley House," the Chauffeur called. A chauffeur, since when were he and his Mother posh enough to have a chauffeur.

"For good or ill," Matthew muttered as the car stopped and the chauffeur came round to open the door and help his Mother out. "I still don't see why I couldn't just refuse it."

"There's no mechanism for you to do so," Mother sighed. Likely tired of talking him through this for what felt like the hundredth time even to him. "You will be an Earl. You will inherit the estate. Of course, you can throw it away with your habit, that's up to you."

Matthew heard a clearing throat and turned to see an older man standing in stiff uniform. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Mosley, sir, your butler and valet," the man said. As if a chauffeur wasn't ridiculous enough.

"Mr. Moseley, I'm afraid-"

"May I introduce ourselves?" Mother cut him a look before smiling at the man. "I am Mrs. Crawley and this is my son, Mr. Matthew Crawley."

Mr. Moseley nodded and seemed to be looking at Matthew for something. For what, he didn't know, but clearly Molesley didn't find it before turning to the car. "I'll just give Mr. Taylor a hand with the cases."

"I can-" Matthew made a move to reach for his own luggage before his Mother cut him off.

"Thank you, Moseley." The man along with the chauffeur grabbed all the bags leaving him with no choice but to follow them with his mother.

"I won't let them change me," he said firmly.

"Why would they want to?"

"Mother," Matthew signed in frustration. "Lord Grantham has made the unwelcome discovery that his heir is a middle class lawyer and son of a middle class doctor."

"Upper middle class," Mother corrected as if the jump from lawyer to aristocrat was any more believable since they had slightly more money than most.

"He'll have to limit the damage by turning me into me of his own kind."

"When you met him in London, you liked him," Mother huffed as she entered the house.

Yes, a month ago in London, on neutral ground, he liked Lord Grantham. The man seemed pleasantly surprised by everything about Matthew and it was somewhat flattering even as it was a little insulting. But Lord Grantham also put no pretense in his expectations or warnings that his mother, wife, and eldest daughter were highly unlikely to welcome them with open arms. They were treading in dangerous waters and no one, not even Lord Grantham, was a true friend.

"This is the sitting room, Ma'am," Ellen said with the same blank servant stare Matthew realized he was disturbingly coming to recognize. Ellen never had that face before they came. Was she already changing after coming only a day ahead of them?

"Oh, Ellen," Mother fawned. "This is much better than I thought it would be. You have done well."

"Thank you, Ma'am," the maid said with no inflection whatsoever. Goodness, what had they done to her?

"Would you like this in here, ma'am, or taken up to your room," the tall valet, butler, whatever-he-was said with a leather case in hand.

"In here, thank you. So, are you the whole of our new household then?" Mother smiled.

"There's a local girl, Ma'am, Beth. She is to double under house maid and kitchen maid." Really? Five servants? A chauffeur, a butler, a cook, Ellen, AND another maid. Did they all think he and his mother were invalids?

"This is ridiculous-"

"Thank you very much, Molesley," Mother cut him off again. "Might we have some tea?"

"Very good, Ma'am," Molesley said stalwartly before bowing out with Ellen on his heels.

"We can go right now," Matthew stomped as he watched them leave, quite ready to turn tail and run before the fight started.

"Why?" But, of course, his stubborn mother wouldn't.

"Because we do not need a butler or a valet, if it comes to that. We've always managed perfectly well with a cook and a maid, and they cannot expect us to alter our-"

"What they expect, Matthew, is that we won't know how to behave. So, if you don't mind, I would rather not confirm their expectations."

"I have to be myself, Mother. I'll be no use to anyone if I can't be myself," He said more softly. "And before they, or you, get any ideas, I will choose my own wife."

"What on earth do you mean?"

"Well, they're clearly going to push one of the daughters at me. They'll have fixed on that when they heard I was a bachelor."

"Lady Edith Crawley," Mosley suddenly interrupted from behind. Matthew turned and there before him a pleasant looking young woman with beautiful bright red gold hair stood. Her eyes were whiskey colored and warm and seemed to shine with amusement as she entered the room.

"I do hope I'm not interrupting," the woman smiled slightly, moving further into the room as she spoke.

"Lady Edith," Mother said, stepping forward to meet her with an air of polite desperation to resolve his blunder. But she can't have heard him, could she? Not with how warmly she was gazing at them.

"Edith, please," she replied before turning to him. "And do not worry, Mr. Crawley. I'm not the one to be pushed at you. That honor is reserved for my sister, Mary." Ah, so she did. Wonderful.

"I am so sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"You spoke honestly," Cousin Edith cut in. "I can hardly hold it against a man for doing that in his own home. Especially since you only spoke the truth."

"Well, I-," He hardly knew what to say to that. "I apologize all the same. Please, call me Matthew."

"And call me Cousin Isobel. Will you stay and join us for tea?" Mother asked, motioning them all to sit down.

"I would be delighted too, if you both really don't mind the intrusion," Edith said as she gracefully sat on one chair.

"Not at all," Matthew said, feeling very off footed as he settled into the chair opposite her and Mother took the sofa. "So, I am to marry your sister?"

"Matthew," Mother groaned and he too felt like hitting himself for that conversation starter. Edith just laughed as Molesley brought in the tea service.

"Yes, although she is about as pleased with that plan as you are. She is in favor of my mother and grandmother's impossible Plan A to make her the heiress of all. Plan B is the only slightly less impossible marriage plot. Thank you, Molesley," Edith smiled gently and accepted the offered cup of tea from the butler.

"Thank you, Molesley," Mother said distractedly, accepting her own cup. "Should you be telling us this?"

"If you asked my mother, no. But I wanted to prepare you before I invited you to the lion's den."

"Lion's den?" Matthew asked.

"My mother has sent me to welcome you both and invite you to dine with us this evening," Edith said, taking a sip from her teacup. "She wanted to send Mary, but, since I was on my rounds of the estate anyway, I volunteered. You do not have to attend if you are too tired, of course."

"We would be delighted," Mother replied.

"Wonderful. Please come at eight," Edith smiled.

"What is this about Mary, pardon me, Lady Mary being heiress?" Matthew asked, feeling slightly hopeful.

"My grandfather, the last Earl, created a near unbreakable entail ensuring the estate would be tied to the title. I'm sure my father explained some of it."

"He did, yes."

"Well, there is some talk of breaking the entail and making Mary the heiress. However, it can't be done."

"Can't it?" Matthew asked sourly, all hope gone.

"No," Edith said sympathicaly. "I'm afraid it's locked tight. And even if the entail could be broken, my father would never endanger the estate that way.

It's too important to him. Too many people rely on it."

"Rely on it? A house?" Matthew couldn't hold back the scoff that escaped his lips. Did these nobles really think the ownership of one house would matter so much?

"Yes," Edith said, looking directly at him. Caramel eyes met blue and they were filled with deep sincerity. "You may not understand our way of life, even I don't at times and I was born to it, but please respect it. These people, not just our family, but the village and especially the servant's whole lives are built on this system. If you wish to change it or opt out of it entirely, I understand that, but please try to respect and understand the people who care about it before you do any damage. It will hurt them before it truly affects any of us."

Matthew didn't know how to respond to that. He tried to form words but his lips refused to obey. Instead, he found himself just silently gaping at her until she stood, placing her empty teacup on the table.

"Thank you so much for having me, Cousin Isobel, but I must be on my way. I have to complete my estate rounds before it is too late . Oh, but before I go, Cousin Matthew, do you have a proper dinner jacket? Vest, tails, the whole bit?"

"Tails- I- Well, what I have is nice enough," Matthew finally stammered.

"I figured as much," Edith nodded. "I'm afraid that won't be nice enough for grandmother, or Mary. I'll send one down before dinner. I hope you will wear it."

"I will," Matthew heard himself say almost out of instinct.

"Good. Then I will see you this evening, Cousin Isobel, Matthew."

"Goodbye, Edith," Mother stood with her and walked Edith to the door. When she turned back to him, her face was less strained than it had been since he opened Lord Grantham's letter. "Well, at least we will have one friend in the big house."

Yes, it seemed that Lady Edith Crawley was, at least on the surface, a supporter of her middle class relations. He should try to stay close to her and in her good graces for the time being. Although, as he shrugged on the loaned dinner jacket, he wondered if she was merely a plant sent by the other side. Hadn't he said he wouldn't be changed? Yet here he was, dressed in clothes not his own, on his way to dine with aristocracy. How far he had fallen and it was only the first day.

He felt stiff and uncomfortable in both the clothes and his own skin, but Matthew tried to paste on a polite smile as they stepped through the doors of the gargantuan castle and two servants with blank faces took their coats. Even the front hall looked more luxurious than any home he had lived in.

"Hello, again," Lord Grantham stroad toward them confidently. He looked so comfortable, like he belonged here completely. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last, Mrs. Crawley."

"We're delighted to be here, aren't we, Matthew?" Mother said.

"Delighted," Matthew said rather unfeelingly. Robert motioned with a hand and led him into an even bigger, grander room with a row of more servants than he thought possible for one family.

"Welcome to Downton," a lovely older woman with dark hair stepped forward with a pleasant smile.

"Thank you," Mother smiled back. "You've been so kind."

"What a reception committee," Matthew said, looking around at all the pomp and circumstance. His eyes glided over all the staff and luxuries to catch sight of Edith. Her hair shone even brighter when down in the electric light then it had been pinned under her hat in the September sun. Matthew wasn't one to notice fashions, but in her emerald gown she looked even lovelier than she had earlier that afternoon. She met his eyes with a warm smile and nod even as he felt the disapproving gazes from the rest of her household.

"Yes, thank you," Mother added, tightly.

"This is Carson," Robert began to introduce some of the staff and family, but suddenly Matthew couldn't hear him. His eyes had shifted from Edith, noting two young women on either side of her. One, a younger girl in a youthful light blue gown. The other was clearly Lady Mary.

Her hair gleamed dark and lustrous and her deep brown eyes seemed to pierce his very soul. A lithe figure with a pale, swan neck. Her whole face looked to be sculpted from pure ivory as a picture of a goddess of rage as she coldly scanned him up and down. Delicate, scarp, cold, and absolutely lovely. Lady Mary Crawley was the most beautiful woman Matthew had ever seen.

"Come into the drawing room," he heard Lady Grantham say as he felt his world snap back into focus. "We can make all the proper introductions there."

Matthew followed his Mother and Lady Grantham in the direction of this drawing room. His previous determination to stay close to Lady Edith and her warmth was quickly fading in his desire to understand the cold Lady Mary he had not yet been formally introduced to. Perhaps, over dinner, he could learn more about these Crawley ladies and if Lady Mary was as cold and sharp as her gaze implied.