The social season of London was a parade of dinner parties, balls, charity events, and races all meant to make connections between the upper class and alleviate the boredom of life in the country. How long one stayed in London depended on a number of factors.
One, of course, was if you had a true reason to be there. Business, the most notable being the duty as a lord of parliament, was one reason to spend the majority of the year in town. Another, was simply that country life didn't suit some. The first small parties of the season typically began in early November and lasted till the final days in August when harvest pressured every Lord to return home for at least a short while. The final reason was less flattering, desperation to see an unwed son or daughter married off.
Cora was on the cusp of that desperation. She had fallen into a Mrs. Bennett esc frenzy at the idea that she had three daughters of marriageable age without engagements or steady suitors. Mary had been paired with Patrick for so long that, even while not technically engaged, Cora had never worried for her. Edith had always been a concern, but Sybil had always been the baby and thus too young to be considered with suitors until the time finally came. Now, Mary, Edith, and Sybil were all about to be fully out on the marriage market, and Cora might lose her sanity before the season even started.
The only thing that had kept her from rushing them all to London as soon as the season began was Papa. They had only even been to the season between mid March and July, mostly because of Papa's own love for Downton and country life. He had put his foot down this year that they would go in March, as usual, when the first spring coming-out ceremonies would be held, and not a moment sooner.
Edith herself was greatly relieved. The couple months gave her enough time to teach a few farmers how to properly operate the gasoline tractor. She was even able to oversee the first field plowed by the machine. It was a good deal more reliable and quick, and Edith was confident Mr. Carter and the other farmers would put it to good use in her absence. Her extremely unfortunate absence.
The only good thing about another season was the clothes. She had procured an entirely new wardrobe since her last season had been two years ago in nineteen eleven. Now, her closet was filled with shades of umber, sage, seal, bronze, teal, and sunset. Layered skirts with Grecian details of metallic beading and her preferred geometric lines made up her wardrobe, and, even though she had no interest in the social events to come, she was excited to wear her new gowns.
Sybil had pushed for a similar independent style, but Cora was able to curb her more than she had Edith. The whole past year had been spent fretting over Sybil's wardrobe and etiquette and presentation. Before they had even entered the car on the way to the station, Sybil was dreading the whole affair, and Matthew wasn't far from the same feelings.
Matthew had promised to join them in London. He had work to complete in the city, and would make the time to attend a number of functions for Edith and Sybil's sake. The first of which was Sybil's debutante ball.
Sybil floated into the ballroom like a princess. In her lacy, periwinkle evening gown, she was the embodiment of shy grace and sweetness. She spoke to everyone who came her way, offering a compliment and smile to all, and thus many people were drawn to her. Gentle young men entranced by her charm flocked to her. Fellow debutants emboldened by her own confidence and kind encouragements circled around her. And philandering rakes desperate to steal away the innocence of beautiful, naive girls were attracted to her like bothersome flies to sweet honey. Thankfully, Sybil had two protectors batting them away even when Cora and Papa were lost in the crowd.
"Getting a drink for a lady is a gentlemanly thing," Edith drawled, swiping the glass from the young man's hands as he reached out to offer it to Sybil. "Unless, of course, the lady hasn't asked for one, set aside the last two, and yet you continue to offer champagne like it's water."
"She looked thirsty after our MANY dances," the young man shot back with a smirk, glancing angrily at the stolen glass.
"You and I have a different definition of thirst, sir. I believe it may be you who is thirsty," Edith huffed, looking over her shoulder, away from the confused "gentleman", to Sybil as she spoke to a nervous young man who had been working up the courage to speak to her all night. "Regardless, my sister only danced with you twice, despite your pestering. She will not be dancing with you again, Mr. Grey."
Larry Grey puffed up his chest, attempting to stand even taller than his usual height of five nine. It didn't matter. In heels, Edith still had an inch on the man. Or boy rather. "Lady Edith, Sybil and I have been close since we were children! We are good friends."
"You have been acquainted as neighbors. I would hardly call that good friends. I doubt Sybil would either."
"I see you are as close to Sybil as you are to Lady Mary."
"My sister Mary has made her feelings about you quite clear as well. I hope she didn't leave you in any doubt of her rejection. If not, since I see you don't mince words, let me make everything clear," Edith smiled viciously, looking over her shoulder to see Sybil take the other man's hand and join the dancefloor. "My older sister found your advances juvenile and beneath her. My younger sister has spoken of you with more annoyance and displeasure than I can recall her speaking of anyone. You are unwelcome here."
Grey's dark blue eyes blazed and his fists clenched at his sides. He took one violent, jerking step towards her. "You hateful bi-"
"I would suggest you take a step back." Matthew demanded as he stepped in front of Edith.
"And just who are you?"
"A friend. Now, you heard the lady, you are unwelcome."
"Sybil-"
"Lady Sybil is dancing with her preferred partner. I don't think she would appreciate your interruption."
"She will. Later," Larry Grey half snarled and half pouted as he turned and stormed off.
"I doubt that very much," Matthew called after him. He shook his head in angered disbelief before turning to her. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, it takes more than a tantrum to shake me."
"He seemed quite..."
"Sure of himself? That poppinjay has been boasting that he would sweep Sybil off her feet since she was fifteen and Mary rejected him for the last time."
"He just jumped from one sister to another?" Matthew asked, shocked.
"They are both beauties. To boys like him, that's all that matters. Speaking of, did you scare off Lord Tisdale?"
"Yes," Matthew's face twisted in distaste. "What forty year old thinks it's acceptable to flirt so brazenly with an eighteen year old? I'm not even ten years older than her and I find the idea too close to cradle robbing for comfort."
"'Tis' the Season," Edith said dryly, taking a sip from the drink she had confiscated. "I'm sure you have been accosted by a fair number of older women."
"Mostly mothers and chaperones trying to attain my worth," Matthew said. "There doesn't seem to be many young ladies who are that much older than me."
"There generally wouldn't be. A girl of our social class is expected to be out by twenty and on the path of engagement by twenty-five. In the tail end of your twenties a lady is usually rushing to find a match, and by thirty she is truly seen as being on the shelf."
"That's terrible."
"In a way," Edith agreed. "I'm quite looking forward to the shelf though. No parties, no balls, the peace will be marvelous."
"Forgive me, but aren't you only in your early twenties? Maybe twenty two or three, but certainly no older."
"I'll be twenty-one this year, but there isn't any harm predicting the future. I would usually be taking to Mr. Timbale right now myself, but with very different motivations than how he spoke to Sybil."
"But," Matthew said in confusion, "you look beautiful." Edith felt a blush rise to her cheeks as she smoothed any creases in her silk, umber gown. The gown was tiered, and on the edges of the tiers, the belt, and on the sleeves a beaded pattern of bronze, silver, and gold resembled a mix of Roman inspired patterns and future art deco motifs. The gown was beautiful.
"Thank you," Edith smiled at him. "You look quite dashing yourself." It was true. In his suit and tails, with his strong build, and neatly brushed blond hair, he looked like quite the fairytale prince. The ladies of the ball had certainly noticed, and whispers about the mysterious new gentleman had flooded the room all evening.
"Do you like to dance?"
"What?"
"I haven't seen you dance all night."
"I've been too busy watching Sybil."
"You're hardly her chaperon, and she is dancing now. You should be as well."
"No one really asks me."
"I am asking you."
"You don't have to."
"I want to," Matthew said, reaching for her hand and bowing low over it. "Lady Edith, may I have this dance?"
"You may," Edith replied, and together they walked onto the dance floor just as the first strings of the next dance began to play. The song was fast and whimsical. Edith laughed as they merrily fumbled through their roles. Edith had always preferred singing and making music to dancing to it, and Matthew hadn't been drilled on it as he would have if he was born into the upper class. So the two of them laughed and bumbled through the high intensity dance, making sure to avoid bumping into any of the couples performing the dance properly. It was wonderfully fun, and Edith couldn't help accepting another two dances after the first. One, a fast paced Turkey trot and the next a slower waltz that gave them both a chance to breathe.
"Thank you, Matthew," Edith smiled. "That was more fun than I have gotten out of many of these balls."
"It was fun," Matthew said as he led her off the dance floor. "We must do it again."
"We should."
"Edith," a voice hissed. Edith turned to see Mary. If Sybil looked like a princess, Mary resembled a queen. In her draped gown of white and gold she looked like the embodiment of Hera or Aphrodite come to earth.
"Mary, you look lovely." Edith said. "Have you come to claim your dance with Cousin Matthew?"
"I see you have been introducing him to every Tom, Dick and Harry as heir of Grantham," Mary whispered harshly, eyes ablaze.
"Me and Papa. It is the truth, Mary."
"Mary, I hope I haven't offended you," Matthew said gently. Mary shook her head and turned away.
"You owe me nothing. I just expected better of family," she said before storming off into her waiting crowd of admirers. Edith wondered how many were still there because they hadn't heard the news.
Mary was clearly revealing in her first year without Patrick as her shadow. The jealousy of the others was now tenfold, and the ardency of her suitors had grown more than that. She was the belle of the ball, the heiress of Downton. Until people were introduced to the mysterious Matthew Crawley, and now a number of theories and speculations echoed around the room. Mary's night was now tarnished by this blot, and her barely noticeable avoidance of her suitors' touch hinted at even deeper issues. Edith couldn't help but sigh. If only Mary let her be there for her as she was for Sybil.
"I thought she had somewhat accepted it," Matthew muttered.
"Mary and my grandmother won't accept it until a judge's gavel makes it so. Or at least a solicitor looks into the matter," Edith said with a shake of her head. "They don't surrender. They fight to the end."
"I wish there was something I could do."
"Maybe there is or maybe there isn't. Just give it time. They will accept the inevitable eventually, just like you did."
"Yes," Matthew said, turning to look around the room. "I promised Sybil another dance. I should go find her and make sure someone else like Mr. Grey or Tisdale aren't skulking about."
"Please do. I will go get a drink."
"Are you waiting for that Napier fellow?"
"Yes. He couldn't attend the beginning of the night, too much to do with the London Peace Conference, but he promised to find me when he came."
"Marvelous," Matthew said, his face twisting in a way that did not, in fact, seem marvelous at all.
The rest of the ball went wonderfully. Mary and Sybil were swamped with calling cards and promises to dine with one group or another or to ride in Hyde park. Edith herself was able to converse with several groups of friends, male and female alike, that she had made previously in London, and happily greeted Mr. Napier when he finally arrived. He looked fine as ever, and was the second man to offer her a much more stately turn on the dance floor that evening. Like Matthew had said, it was truly marvelous.
It wasn't often, but Mr. Napier made a habit of inviting Edith to a number of diplomatic dinners when he could that spring. On one notable occasion when he didn't have work, he even invited Edith to attend the theater with him. It was a marvelous night, and Edith couldn't help but think how nice it was to have a friend like Napier. Between him and Matthew, it was the best season she had ever had. If only she didn't have to keep the rumors at bay about both of them. Her family certainly believed the ones about Napier, although thankfully the house as a whole seemed to dismiss the speculation about Matthew when she explained he was just being kind by dancing with her so much.
As spring turned to summer and the time of return to Downton approached, all the Crawley women were highly satisfied with how the season had turned out. Cora felt, rightly or wrongly, that at least one of her daughters was halfway to a proposal and the other two were flooded by suitors. It was all going so much better than expected. Perhaps that was why Edith had let herself forget, let herself assume that all would go well, and ignore the dark cloud that lingered on the horizon.
"Edith," Cora smiled, poking her head into the room where all her daughters sat taking their afternoon tea. "Mr. Napier is here to see you. Alone."
"Now?" Edith said surprised. "What could he want?"
"Maybe he wants to ask you out again, Edie," Sybil smiled excitedly.
"My, my, he is desperate," Mary tutted as she took a sip from her cup.
"Don't be unkind," Sybil protested. Edith ignored the quarrel and continued to fix her hair in the mirror. "Mr. Napier likes Edith."
"He liked me first, but he couldn't get me."
"Honestly-"
"Girls," Cora tutted. "Mr. Napier is here for Edith, that's all that needs to be said. Mary, don't be jealous . Sybil, you don't need to fight every battle. Edith, are you ready?"
"I'm not!"
"Yes, Mama."
"Yes, Mother."
Edith slipped out of the room and entered the front parlor where Mr. Napier stood, staring out the window.
"Mr. Napier," Edith greeted. "It's wonderfully surprising to see you. Would you like some tea?"
"I wish I could, but I must decline, Lady Edith. I'm afraid I'm here for a rather regrettable reason. One I felt I must speak to you about face to face before you returned to the country."
"Face to face? Whatever do you mean?" Edith asked as she sunk onto a chair.
"You remember Kemal Pamuk?"
"Yes, I remember him."
"In my time as his escort I found him to be an odious man. He was a dandy and a pillock masquerading as a gentleman who respected and cared for nothing that wasn't his own person. I was glad to be rid of him when he joined his own people in January for the peace conference."
"While I would agree with you, sir," Edith said carefully. "I don't understand what that has to do with me."
"I wish it didn't, my lady," Napier said as he began to pace the front room. "As irritable as I found the man, I did not consider him more than a pest or wish him anything but good health far away from my person. But..."
"But?" Edith prompted. Napier stopped his pacing and turned to her.
"He is dead. He died of a heart attack in the spring during the conference."
"Oh," Edith whispered. Her head began to swim. He was dead. At last. Was it wrong to be relieved? Shouldn't she be feeling guilt? Sadness? Something other than grim satisfaction that a man had died? "I suppose that would be another reason that the Ottoman Empire backed out of negotiations? Along with the coup d'état? I read about it in the newspaper." I wrote about it in the newspaper.
"Yes, but diplomatic matters isn't what I came to discuss. Edith," Napier came to sit beside her, reaching out to grab her hands. His face was twisted in pain, sorrow, and determined honesty. "I want you to know, if I had suspected anything I would have never brought him to Downton. I would never have accompanied him anywhere, but especially not to you and your family."
"Tell me." Edith felt her heart racing in her chest. Her voice came out as a breathless whisper.
"They found a book, a book with a list of names and houses. Pamuk had been drunkenly boasting about his own charms and the "hospitality" of English women. He implied everyone in the book was a conquest. Your name, and your sister's, were in the book."
"God," Edith heard herself breathe. "That bastard."
"A good twenty names were in the book, some diplomats' daughters, some higher nobility. A few are engaged and one or two are even married. Everyone I have spoken to knows it to be the baseless, puffed up rumors of a rake, but someone let it slip to another person and now-"
"Now, it will soon be the talk of all London."
"Yes," Napier said somberly. "Several people have already come to me asking for gossip. I've told them all it was untrue, for Downton or any house we visited. I made sure to tell everyone your dislike for him especially, but Mary-" Napier stopped suddenly and looked at her even more imploringly than before. "Please know I would never consider Lady Mary's character to be in question, but I worry words I spoke prior to the discovery of this book could be used as proof against her. So could his sudden departure from the house."
"What did you say?" Edith said, feeling anger rise in her cheeks.
"Only that she seemed fond of him and she, and the house, was disturbed by his sudden leave. I had no idea such things could-"
"Of course not," Edith cut him off tersely. "You could not have known." Edith quickly rose from her chair. "Thank you for the warning, Mr. Napier. I must speak to Mary on the matter. It seems good we will be returning to Downton before the news becomes common knowledge."
"Edith-" Napier reached out to grab her hand as she turned to leave. "I'm sorry. Truly. I will do all I can to quell the rumors, for you and your sister."
"I know you will," Edith said, softening from her defensive anger. "Write to me. Let me know anything you hear."
"I will. I have enjoyed our time together. I hope... next time I hope it will be with better news."
"As do I, Mr. Napier."
"Evelyn, please," Mr. Napier said. "We have gotten to know each other too well for titles."
"Very well... Evelyn. I hope to see you in Downton next time we meet."
"I shall hope the same. Good day, Edith."
"Good day, Evelyn." Edith saw him to the door and watched him leave. Returning to the sitting room, she saw all three women looking on intently. Even Papa had joined them, looking on worriedly.
"Well," Cora said excitedly. "What did he ask you?"
"Nothing I hope," Papa said. "As he currently hasn't asked anything of me first."
"Robert, must you be so old fashioned?"
"What did he say, Edie?" Sybil asked.
"He... he wanted to speak of Mr. Pamuk." Edith said. "Mary, I must speak to you. Alone."