Church Bazaar, Downton Abbey, August 30th, 1913
"I have not realised how busy a summer in the country is," said Matthew, strolling with Mary among the stalls set up for Downton Church Bazaar. "It seems we have an engagement of some kind every week."
"We are doing our utmost to fit as many engagements as possible into the short span of time when one might hope for a sight of sunshine in England," answered Mary. "Although it's always a nerve-wracking experience. You know the golden rule in England or Scotland. Dress for rain. And yet here we are, optimistically planning garden parties and bazaars and getting white dresses and summer suits made."
"It seems it paid to be optimistic this year. So far, the weather has cooperated for every occasion I attended."
"Let's hope your good luck continues then. I sure had my share of miserable experiences and cancelled events."
"Recently my luck seems to have improved significantly," said Matthew, with a darkened, slow gaze at her. Mary smiled, feeling goose bumps raising under delicate sleeves of her white dress.
"Mary! You look amazing today!" a sudden greeting pulled her out of her preoccupation with Matthew. She raised her eyes to see Tony Foyle standing just in front of them.
"Thank you, Tony," she answered, barely bothering to hide her displeasure at his interruption. "What are you doing here? I did not realise you were interested in our bazaar."
"I'm not," answered Tony with an easy smile. "But I am very interested in good company one may be sure of at Downton. So when I found myself in the neighbourhood, I decided to stop by, and Lady Grantham was gracious enough to invite me to stay for dinner."
"But have you been prepared to attend dinner when you were only passing by?" asked Mary, not believing him in the slightest. Tony grinned.
"I was initially planning to spend the weekend somewhere else, so I had my valet and my luggage with me. Fear not, I won't disgrace your mother's table with inappropriate attire."
He sent a smirk towards Matthew, which made Mary bristle. Whatever she herself had said about her middle class cousin when he first arrived, Matthew did know how to dress appropriately.
"How lucky for you," commented Matthew blandly. Mary had a distinct impression that he was fighting a temptation to roll his eyes and barely restrained herself from snickering. "Now, if you excuse us, I think Lady Grantham needs us to give her a hand."
Mary was rather impressed how deftly Matthew manoeuvred her around gaping Tony, leading her towards her mother, who was standing on the very opposite site of the lawn and clearly in no need of assistance at all.
"Presuming chap, isn't he?" muttered Matthew, clearly annoyed. Mary allowed herself to giggle.
"He is rather, that's true," she raised her eyebrows at Matthew. "But aren't you as well, leading me away from him like that?"
Matthew reddened immediately.
"I'm sorry," he stammered. "I did rather presume that you found him as annoying as I did, didn't I?"
"Fortunately for you, you presumed right," admitted Mary magnanimously. "I did not care for his company at the moment. He can be entertaining from time to time, but right now he was interrupting our conversation."
She paused.
"What were we discussing, actually?"
Matthew raised his eyebrows, his earlier confidence returning.
"The weather."
"Ah, yes. The weather," drawled Mary in a way she knew made most men shiver. To her delight, Matthew was no exception. "Amazing how the right company can make the most mundane topics enjoyable."
xxx
"Have you seen how Mary rebuffed Tony Foyle?" asked Cora, observing the proceedings with interest.
"Quite firmly, that's for sure. A pity, but if she chooses Matthew I am not going to complain," answered Robert, watching with pleasure his eldest daughter strolling leisurely with his heir.
"The question is, will Matthew choose her?" mused Cora aloud. There haven't been any new rumours about Mary, as far as she could gather, but she was terrified her scandal could erupt at any moment despite all their efforts to contain it. She was desperate to have Mary settled before it happened.
Robert looked at her incredulously.
"Anyone with eyes can see that Matthew is besotted with her. He has been for a long time. If only she decides to accept him – and she finally seems to get less stubborn about it – I am sure he will take her."
Cora nodded but bit her lip anxiously. If only she could trust Mary to be reasonable! Vexing girl.
She turned to Edith showing Sir Anthony something at one of the stalls and frowned. Her middle daughter was definitely more practical and single minded in pursuit of her chosen gentleman, but Cora was still uneasy about throwing her at a suitor older than herself. She remembered meeting Sir Anthony, married already, when she came back from her honeymoon with Robert. Edith deserved better. If only young men would pay more attention to her, they would have noticed how sweet and smart she was.
"It's a pity Tony hasn't taken interest in Edith instead of Mary," she said with a sigh.
Robert nodded in agreement. He wasn't very happy at the prospect of becoming Sir Anthony's father-in-law either. Although God knew that if it had to come, better Edith than Mary! Whatever Cora said, he could not imagine his brilliant eldest daughter with a man like Strallan. What a waste it would be! And he couldn't imagine a marriage like that not ending in a scandal one way or another. Edith at least seemed less likely to resort to an affair if she found herself in a boring, loveless marriage. Maybe she would even be happy with such a traditional arrangement and domesticity.
He quickly looked back towards Mary and Matthew, comforting himself in hoping for a much better prospect for his favourite daughter. He firmly believed that Matthew could make her happy, if only she allowed it.
xxx
Sir Anthony himself did end up approaching Robert soon after. He swallowed to steel himself against uncharacteristic attack of nerves. He and Robert had been friends since early childhood, what with them being heirs to neighbouring estates and very close in age. They weren't close friends – they found themselves too different, too boring, even if they shared some interests like shooting – but there was familiarity and ease coming from growing up together, attending Eton together, and getting married within months of each other.
It didn't make it any easier though to approach him about courting the man's daughter when he had a very clear memory of attending her christening.
"Anthony! I hope you are enjoying the bazaar," Robert greeted him in his usual gregarious manner and Anthony did his best to smile.
"Quite," he answered, "Lady Grantham and you made a splendid job of it."
Robert laughed.
"It is a headache to get it done, what with half of the village hating the other half, but I always enjoy the results. Especially on such a fine day. I wonder if the dry spell lasts into the shooting season. Are you planning anything special for the shoot at Loxley?"
For several minutes, they discussed country sports, until Anthony gathered his courage and asked the question which was his purpose for approaching Robert in the first place.
"The York Symphony Orchestra is going to perform at the Great Hall of the Exhibition Buildings. I am a subscriber and I was wondering... that is, if you agree... if I could take Lady Edith to see the performance. I've heard them described as the best amateur orchestra in the country and I think Lady Edith would appreciate it, being musical herself."
Robert gave him a long stare and Anthony did his best to not cringe under it.
It was Robert who gave in and sighed first.
"I dare say she would, old chap."
Anthony found that he could breathe again.
"And... you don't mind me taking her?" he asked carefully, unable to stop himself.
Robert looked at him frankly.
"I'm not going to say that it won't be a bit weird if it happens. You're not the suitor I've imagined for my daughter. But if you are serious about it and if she agrees... I've known you long enough to know that you're going to be a good husband to her."
Anthony felt himself wilt with relief but hastened to tone down Robert's expectations.
"It's much too early for anything like this, although you cannot know how grateful I am to hear it. Lady Edith and I are just friends – although I hope she does not mind my company – and I would love to spend more time in hers – but to hope for more... it seems premature at this stage..."
Robert thankfully took pity on him and stopped his stammering with a friendly pat on his arm.
"Take her to the concert then and see how it goes. We will talk again if the need arises."
Anthony smiled gratefully and walked away in search of Edith to extend his invitation, with spring in his step belying his age and respectability.
Road from York to Downton, September 3rd, 1913
"The selection of music for the concert was quite eclectic, wasn't it?" asked Sir Anthony, driving his Rolls Royce in a relaxed but careful manner Edith was by now quite familiar with.
"It really was! Mozart and Shubert I have expected, but Elgar was a surprise!" she answered enthusiastically.
She really had a marvellous time. She had slaved at her piano lessons as a little girl in hope of developing proper female accomplishments – spurred to a great degree by finding out she was better at it than Mary who had a nicer singing voice but very clumsy fingers – but in the process she had genuinely fallen in love with music. An opportunity to listen to a really nice concert, and in the company of an actual suitor, made her filled with quiet happiness she rarely got to experience in her life.
"The selection clearly reflects Mr Noble's broad musical taste," answered Sir Anthony. "The Orchestra is popularly known as 'Mr Noble's Band' and with good reason. His ambition from the beginning was to make it educational for both the musicians and the public."
"He clearly succeeded. But isn't he moving to America soon?"
"Unfortunately, yes. He accepted the position of Organist at St. Thomas's Church in New York, from what I understand one of the wealthiest churches in America."
"Who is going to replace him then?"
"Probably Mr Edward Bairstow, his successor as Minster Organist, but I've heard that Miss Knocker is going to conduct some of the works."
"It's amazing to hear that such responsibility is given to a woman," said Edith thoughtfully. Sir Anthony looked at her with interest.
"You don't think women are competent enough to handle such tasks?"
"Far from it!" answered Edith. "But they aren't given a chance to very often."
"That is a sad reality," admitted Sir Anthony. "But I am sure Miss Knocker will prove her critics wrong, as many other women do every day."
Edith laughed.
"You should talk with Sybil. She would be delighted to hear you expressing such views."
"Is she political then? Quite unusual for somebody so young."
"Oh, is she! She will talk your ear off about vote for women if you but give her a hint."
"And you, Lady Edith? Do you share her views?"
Edith hesitated.
"I am not sure if breaking windows, setting bombs in churches and destroying artwork is the best way to go about it. And to be honest, I do not really see why I would need a vote. I don't know anything about politics."
"But this is completely untrue!" exclaimed Sir Anthony in surprise. "In all our conversations you've shown much knowledge about numerous issues and an excellent grasp of the most important points of current debates. I would consider you a better informed voter than most of those carrying the right to use it."
Edith felt her eyes widen.
"Truly?" she asked, shocked.
Sir Anthony nodded firmly.
"Truly."
Edith looked at him in awe, hardly believing what she was hearing but seeing only utmost sincerity in Sir Anthony's expression.
Downton Abbey, September 5th, 1913
Matthew and Isobel joined the big house family for an afternoon picnic on the grounds.
"It's a very intimate affair," explained Cousin Cora while extending the invitation during their last dinner at the Abbey. "Just the family."
"Will Sir Anthony come?" asked Edith eagerly and Matthew thought he noticed a brief wince in Cousin Cora's expression.
"It's going to be just the family, darling," she answered with a smile. "It's only a simple picnic. We don't plan to invite any neighbours."
So here they were and Matthew could not stop himself from sharing an amused glance with Mother at how different their cousins' idea of a simple picnic was from their own. Tables and chairs he remembered from the garden party were set up under white canopies, with food served by liveried footmen on porcelain and crystal. The only concession to a proper picnic experience was one big blanket put on the lawn under the shade of one of the cedar trees, but it was clear than only the youngest members of the party intended to use it.
He tried to explain it to Mary and Sybil when they sat there themselves after the meal.
"Any picnics I've ever attended involved eating packed lunches on the ground," he said, barely restraining his laughter at Mary's horrified face and Sybil's fascinated one. "No chair or a footman in sight."
"How undignified," said Mary, but Matthew could see it was more teasing than serious. In all truth, he imagined she looked a bit intrigued.
"How fun!" Sybil corrected her with her usual enthusiasm. "We should do it one day!"
"Surely not with Granny!" said Mary, raising her eyebrows in an uncanny imitation of the Dowager's disapproving stare, and making Matthew burst out laughing at the resemblance.
"Of course not!" exclaimed Sybil, horrified at the prospect. "Just us and Matthew. You will agree, don't you?"
"It would be my pleasure," answered Matthew honestly. No, he couldn't imagine many things more fun than a proper picnic with his young cousins, without any of the older generation or the hovering servants.
Except maybe sharing it with Mary alone...
"Then we must plan it, before the summer ends! Mary, you will come too, won't you?"
Evidently Sybil's puppy dog eyes held magical properties because Mary acquiesced with barely a hint of her usual eyeroll.
"It would probably have to take place in the afternoon, after you come back from work," she said practically. "We've invited some neighbours for a tennis match tomorrow, and the week after it's time for the cricket match. And then we depart for Duneagle for two weeks."
"Ah, the infamous cricket match," groaned Matthew playfully. "Cousin Robert has been talking my ear off about it."
"Has he drafted you into playing for the house team?" asked Mary.
"Of course. I've been also told that I am required to come to bi-weekly practice for the grand event and that refusal is not an option."
Both of his cousins laughed, apparently familiar with Robert's zeal.
"I'm afraid you don't have any way out of it," said Mary apologetically. "Papa treats cricket seriously."
"Especially since the house has not won since 1909," added Sybil mischievously. "If you manage to turn the trend, you will achieve a status of small godhood in Papa's eyes."
Mary rolled her own at that.
"As if he wasn't holding Matthew close to that already!" she said, and Matthew felt unease at the note of bitterness in her tone. He did not feel he could investigate it properly in Sybil's presence though.
Who sent a quick warning glance at her sister and jumped to her feet.
"How about a game of croquet in the meantime? It's been ages since we played!"
To Matthew's renewed amusement, Mary's eyes shone in response.
"Yes! Ask William to bring the things. Will you play with us, Matthew?"
"Why not?" he answered smilingly, happy to see Mary shaking off the momentary gloom. "Are you as competitive with croquet as with the party games?"
Mary smiled at him dangerously.
"More. You haven't seen anything yet, Cousin Matthew."
"Edith!" yelled Sybil, earning herself a rebuke from her mother. "Are you playing with us?"
"I am!" agreed Edith, coming to join them. "It's going to be fun to have an additional player. We didn't really have one since Patrick..."
She trailed off. Matthew sent her a sympathetic glance. Sometimes he forgot that he was replacing another cousin for the girls, one they had actually spent their childhood with.
Mary's scoff broke the somber mood.
"I just hope Matthew is not going to sulk so much as Patrick did if he loses."
Edith turned furiously towards her sister.
"How can you be still so mean about him? He's dead!"
Mary looked at Edith incredulously.
"And I am sorry he is," she said slowly, as if addressing a dim-witted child. "But his death doesn't change the fact that he was an incredibly sore loser."
Edith just glared and allowed Sybil to drag her away to fetch a mallet from William.
"She's insufferable," huffed Mary to Matthew. "She treats anything I say as an attack."
He had been at Downton long enough to know that getting between those two required a death wish but he tried anyway.
"Maybe because it very often is," he suggested gently. "At least where Edith is concerned."
Predictably, Mary glared at him.
"But not this time!"
"No," admitted Matthew in all fairness. "You haven't said anything wrong. But grief does make people lash out."
Mary waved her hand dismissively.
"Oh, it has more to do with the fact that Edith used to have a crush on Patrick and, as you know, everyone expected him to marry me. Whatever I say about him, good or bad, she is reacting like that. I'm the evil stepsister bent first on stealing her Prince Charming from her and now on discrediting his memory," she sighed. "Shall we play?"
xxx
A very enthusiastic game of croquet soon followed, with all three Crawley sisters and Matthew giving their all to win – by any means possible. The older generation watched it with interest from their chairs.
They all exclaimed in unison when Edith managed to stumble over a root and fell. Matthew solicitously helped her to get to the tent, but after Isobel inspected her ankle and pronounced it just a little bruised, he returned to the game.
"He really does look like he is a part of the family," observed Dowager Countess. "Unexpected as it is."
Isobel bristled.
"Should I understand that you expected an ogre?" she asked acerbically. "And that I should feel grateful that you acknowledge now I have not raised one?"
"Oh, don't overreact," answered the Dowager peevishly. "You cannot tell me that you would have felt perfectly at ease with a complete stranger joining the family and with the perspective of becoming the head of it too. Not to mention I cannot say he made the best first impression on me. He did improve on further acquaintance though."
Isobel did not feel properly pacified from the implied insult to her only son, but she decided to accept the compliment to him instead.
"He does seem happy here," she allowed. "Happier than I expected him to be, in the beginning. He expressed so little eagerness for the move that I am truly pleased to see him enjoying the country life as he evidently does now."
"I wonder how much it is due to country pleasures and how much to the company," said the Dowager musingly, watching Matthew and Mary quarrelling passionately but with evident enjoyment about the fairness of her latest shot. They scarcely seemed to have eyes for anybody else.
Isobel sent a wary look at her. She was wondering the same, but she was not sure she could trust the Dowager enough to share her thoughts on the matter freely.
"He does seem to enjoy the time with his cousins," she said cautiously.
The Dowager looked at her significantly.
"I would say one cousin more than the others."
Well, Isobel never backed away from a direct challenge.
"The question is, do his cousins enjoy his company equally? Especially the one with the biggest choice of other friends to choose from."
The Dowager's expression clearly showed that she found Isobel's attempt at subtlety lacking in every aspect.
"More honestly than I've ever seen her," she answered with unexpected candour.
At their side, Edith barely stopped herself from scoffing. If they only knew what Mary's true motivation for giving any attention to Matthew was!
Thinking about the bet naturally led her back to thinking about Sir Anthony and the magical evening they had in York. She realised with some surprise that while she still wanted to win the bet with Mary – oh goodness, did she want to win it! – she had hardly thought about it while spending time with him now. It was such a pity Mama did not invite him...
As if her thoughts brought him to the forefront of the others' attention, she realised Isobel and Granny switched their conversation from Matthew to him.
"Will Sir Anthony come tomorrow for the tennis match?" asked Isobel.
Granny scowled.
"He might. Cora was not planning to invite him, but it seems Edith did it herself."
Edith barely stopped herself from snapping that yes, she did, and she was happy she did. Wouldn't do to bring their attention to the fact that she was listening to their conversation.
"She seems very friendly towards him," observed Isobel placidly. "To be honest, I thought she used to be interested in Matthew at the beginning."
Edith cringed at the memory of the ill-advised church tour and Mary's cruel taunts about Matthew and her laughing about it. She did not wholly believe Matthew was really making fun of her hopes – she liked him too much to believe it – but unfortunately could not doubt that Mary's conclusion was correct and Matthew was not interested in her in the slightest. Not that Edith loved Matthew or had ever had a proper crush on him, far from it. But she had harboured some hope that he can like her better than Mary, considering how absolutely horrid her sister had been to him. It was galling that a few smiles from Mary and he proved to be as foolish and blind as most men when confronted with Mary's poisonous charm. If Mary was present, Edith could just as well not exist for all the attention she received.
So far Sir Anthony was the only exception to that cardinal rule.
Granny dismissed Edith's interest in Matthew with a quick gesture.
"That was never serious," she stated authoritatively. "It's been always clear that if Mary stopped acting like a child, she was the only one who mattered."
And wasn't that the story of Edith's life!
Isobel nodded, increasing Edith's humiliation tenfold.
"I don't think anybody could ever forget that dinner with the story of Andromeda," she noted dryly.
Granny smirked.
"I would risk a guess that Matthew most definitely hasn't."
Isobel shrugged non-committally, clearly unwilling to betray her son's confidence but it was obvious she agreed with Granny's statement.
"Sir Anthony seems to like Edith better though," she observed instead, making Edith reach for a glass of lemonade to hide her happy smile, even though nobody was paying attention to her.
Granny's next words wiped that smile off her face in an instant though.
"As if she wasn't unlucky enough as it was," she grumbled. "Of all the people she could have attracted!"
"I think he is nice," protested Isobel, unknowingly earning Edith's eternal gratitude for her kindness.
Granny scoffed.
"On risk of getting your head to swell, you cannot seriously compare Sir Anthony to Matthew when it comes to a desirable candidate for a husband."
Isobel did not quarrel with that.
"Edith might not have attracted much attention yet," continued Granny. "And maybe she never will, but I should hope that there will be at least one man better than a dull widowed baronet as old as her father!"
Edith could listen no longer without making a scene and she knew better than to start one with Granny. She put her foot tentatively on the ground and, finding it much better, walked back to the house as unobtrusively as possible.
Lady Edith's bedroom, Downton Abbey, September 5th, 1913
She was seething in her bedroom when O'Brien came.
"Sorry to bother you, milady, but your mother wanted me to check if you're feeling alright after your fall."
Edith sighed.
"Tell Mama I'm perfectly alright, just need to rest a bit."
O'Brien nodded but instead of leaving, she seemed to hover at the door. At last Edith, impatient, looked over.
"Is there anything else?"
"There is something that's been troubling me... You remember that Turkish gentleman? Mr Pamuk? The one who died. All sudden like."
"Of course I remember."
"Well... It's Daisy, milady. The kitchen maid. Only she's been talking recently as if she had ideas about Mr Pamuk's death."
"What sort of ideas?" asked Edith, puzzled but intrigued.
"Well, I've no proof and maybe I'm wrong. But I've a sense she knows something but she won't say what," she paused for a moment then finished deliberately. "Something involving Lady Mary."
Now Edith's interest was captured. Entirely.
"How absurd. What could she know?"
"That's just it. Whatever it is, she won't say. Not to us, anyway."
"Have you spoken to Lady Mary about this?"
"I didn't like to, milady. It seemed impertinent somehow. But I thought someone in the family ought to know about it."
Edith nodded slowly, her thoughts whirling. Everybody else was still outside, enjoying the picnic. If they were quick about it...
"Quite right. Bring the girl to my room right now."
"As you wish, milady. I'm relieved somebody will look into it," said O'Brien quietly and left the room.
She returned mere minutes later with a mousy looking, utterly terrified girl.
"I couldn't say, milady. I don't know what Miss O'Brien means. I didn't see nuffin. Well not much," she said, shaking all over.
Edith and O'Brien exchanged a quick glance.
"O'Brien, I wonder if you might leave us?" asked Edith, doubting that the girl was going to say anything in the scary maid's presence. O'Brien looked annoyed but obeyed, leaving Edith to focus on Daisy.
"Now... it's Daisy, isn't it?"
"Yes, milady," whispered the girl.
"I'm sure you see O'Brien acted as she did because she's concerned."
"I suppose so, milady, but..."
"She seems to think that you are in possession of some knowledge that is uncomfortable for you."
Daisy remained silent.
"Because if that is the case, then I don't think it fair on you," continued Edith gently.
Daisy looked up, her eyes widening.
"Why should you be burdened with Mary's secret? When there's nothing in it for you but worry and grief? My dear, my heart goes out to you. It really does."
Daisy's shoulders started to shake and in a moment she was weeping. Edith stepped in and took her gently in her arms.
"There, there. Come and sit down. You've been carrying too heavy a load for too long. Just tell me, and I promise you'll feel better."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is my only variation from canon timeline not coming as a result of the bet between Mary and Edith. I needed Edith to learn about circumstances of Pamuk's death later than in canon where she did just before the salty pudding dinner. Let's just assume it took O'Brien a month longer to get the idea of using Edith to stir trouble.