Mary's bedroom, October 16th, 1913

"You fell off a horse to win a bet?" asked Edith with such incredulity that Mary was not sure whether to be flattered or insulted by her assumption.

Alas, the truth was much simpler and more boring and, after quick reflection, Mary decided to come clean.

"Of course not," she scoffed. "That was an accident. If I wanted his attention, I could have gotten it without dislocating my shoulder."

"Well, it still worked," drawled Edith. "You did get your proposal out of him. Although I'm not sure I believe you haven't done it on purpose. When was the last time when you fell off a horse? When you were fifteen? Anyway, I assume you think you won, since you don't accept Sir Anthony's stated intentions as a proposal?"

"I'd say I did, yes," smirked Mary. "I was the first one to get a proper proposal."

Edith laughed bitterly.

"Of course you would think so. But I don't."

Mary shrugged carelessly.

"So don't. Since none of us is going to acquiesce to the other, we would need an objective referee and since that's impossible, we will just have to agree to disagree."

Edith looked at her suspiciously.

"You're strangely agreeable this evening."

"I have more important things to worry about than whether or not you are capable of admitting defeat."

"Ah, yes. Like what are you going to answer Matthew," drawled Edith, staring at Mary with curiosity. "Why haven't you given him an answer straight away?"

It was Mary's turn to give an incredulous stare to her sister.

"Whatever makes you think that I would confess something like that to you? Frankly, you are the very last person I would confide in, and I assume it's mutual."

Edith was indeed forced to concede the point.

Matthew's Study, Crawley House, October 16th, 1913

It was getting close to midnight, but Matthew was still pacing in his study. Sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. How could he think of sleeping when he, without planning to and completely on impulse, had proposed to Mary?

He had proposed to Mary.

Oh merciful God, why couldn't he have kept his mouth shut?

He tried to tell himself that she didn't refuse him. It couldn't be completely hopeless if she didn't refuse him, could it? She only said that she had to think about it which was of course perfectly reasonable. One should think before deciding whether to bind oneself for life to somebody. Hadn't he thought long and hard before deciding that he wanted to marry Mary?

He swallowed painfully, facing the crux of his turmoil.

No, he hadn't. As soon as he had realised he was in love with her, truly, properly in love with her, he wanted to marry her. He wanted it with every fibre of his being. So, as much as it pained him, he could not escape the thought that since Mary did need time to consider it must mean…

It must mean she didn't feel for him what he felt for her.

And yet, he could not give up hope. She did not refuse him. And the way she kissed him, before Anna came back, with Cousin Cora on her tail… No, there was no way Mary was indifferent to him. Definitely not indifferent. She must love him, or at the very least be attracted to him a little. They got along so well, she so obviously enjoyed his company; surely there were multiple reasons to hope for a positive outcome.

But what could be the difficulty? Was it because she needed to be sure of her own heart or was it because of his current station in life? He did not forget their conversation by the lake; quite the contrary. It was living constantly in his memory. Mary was not raised to expect a quiet, upper middle class life. She was raised to expect riches, splendour, excess, titles, palaces – things which he currently was not able to offer her and in all probability it would be decades before he could. And it rankled, he couldn't deny it, it rankled that this could be the reason. That Mary could love him, but not enough to overcome these kinds of material concerns.

As soon as he thought it, he chided himself for his lack of empathy. Wasn't he listening when Mary was baring her soul to him? When she confessed to him how she had been pushed into an unwanted engagement with her cousin from an early age, without any consideration for her feelings? When she tried to explain to him how much her life was going to depend on the position of her future husband? Did he really expect her to throw all those dilemmas and lessons long drilled into her to the wind in a storm of passion for him?

Well, it would be nice, he thought with a wry smile. But was it fair or realistic of him to expect it?

He sighed as he poured himself some brandy and finally collapsed into his favourite armchair. The thing was, he did not know for sure the reason behind Mary's hesitation. It could be the matter of his status and prospects, it could be doubts whether she loved him enough – or at all – it could be plenty of other reasons he would never be able to guess. There was only one course of action left to him, and in all truth it was not one which he was at all reluctant to pursue.

He needed to spend time with Mary and prove to her that he was the man who could make her happy.

Cora's Boudoir, October 17th 1913

Cora turned from her desk to greet her mother-in-law coldly.

"There's no need to be so prim. I come in peace. Shall I sit here?" she asked, plumping down on to an armchair. "First, tell me how Mary is. I've heard that she is not seriously injured, but I would like to confirm it."

Cora thawed slightly at this genuine concern for her eldest daughter.

"Dislocated shoulder is the worst of it, although she also hurt her head and twisted her ankle," she explained. "But Doctor Clarkson assures us there should be no permanent damage and that she should be well enough to take part in the winter season."

"That is a relief," said Violet feelingly. "I'm not as young as I used to be and getting this kind of news is rather shocking."

They remained silent for a while, both thinking of a different kind of shocking news Violet received recently regarding Mary. It was Violet who broke it.

"Now, I've been thinking. I confess I do not know if I'd have had the strength, mentally or physically, to carry a corpse the length of this house, but I hope I would have done."

Cora stared at her in astonishment as Violet continued.

"You were quite right. When something bad happens, there is no point in wishing it had not happened. The only option is to minimise the damage."

"Or try to. But if the Flintshires have got hold of it..."

"I've written to Susan. I said it was a story made up by Mr Pamuk's enemies to discredit him. Even if she doesn't believe me, she won't tell in case it reflects badly on her. The Ambassador's dangerous, but how many people really go to the Turkish Embassy?"

"It only takes one," said Cora despairingly.

"Well, well. There's nothing to be done about that. We can't have him assassinated... I suppose."

"Robert still doesn't suspect."

"Oh, I should hope not. No, our only way forward is to get Mary settled as soon as possible."

"I have news on that score. Matthew has proposed."

Violet looked up with interest.

"My, my. And has she said yes?"

Cora raised her eyes heavenwards. If only!

"She hasn't said anything yet. Except that she's going to have to tell him about Pamuk."

Violet's eyes bulged.

"For heaven's sake, why?"

"She thinks keeping it secret would be dishonourable."

"She reads too many novels. One way or another, everyone goes down the aisle with half the story hidden."

"But won't he...?"

Violet fluttered her hand dismissively.

"There are a million ways round that! After all, she knew enough for there to be no baby."

Cora was rather miffed by this.

"Or he did," she said pointedly.

"The question is, will she accept Matthew?"

"I'm not sure," answered Cora, betraying just a fraction of the frustration she truly felt with her stubborn daughter.

"Well, if she doesn't, maybe she will accept Tony. He is still as keen on her as ever. But one way or the other, we should have her settled before the Season. It wouldn't do for Mary's scandal to damage Sybil's debut. If she doesn't choose either Matthew or Tony, we will take her abroad. In these moments, you can normally find an Italian who isn't too picky. We'll give her till March."

"Very well. If she is not engaged to either of them, we will take her to Rome in April," Cora nodded decisively. "Thank you for not turning against her. I know you have rules, and when people break them, you find it hard to forgive. I understand that and I respect it."

"In this case, Mary has the trump card."

"What?"

"Mary is family," said Violet with a smile.

Upstairs parlour, Downton Abbey, October 17th, 1913

To Mary's delight, Matthew did come to call as soon as he was off work – and since it was a Friday, she had high hopes she would get to spend more time with him over the weekend.

His visit was evidently anticipated, since she got permission and assistance to leave her bedroom and hobble on her father's arm to the upstairs parlour not far from it. She was dressed in a simple blouse and skirt, easier to put on with her bandaged, immobile arm, and her hair was much less elaborately styled than usual, but she hoped Matthew was not the kind of man to mind. She actually had a sneaking suspicion that he could like a less formal attire even better. He did have simple taste sometimes.

She groaned inwardly at the traitorous thought that it was one of his endearing traits. She really was becoming hopeless when it came to him.

She hoped dearly that they were going to be chaperoned by Anna again – she had no doubts that the maid would be willing to act as her partner in crime again and give them a moment of privacy – but unfortunately Mama was more wily than Papa and settled herself there instead with her embroidery. At least she was gracious enough to pick the sofa on the opposite side of the room than the one on which Mary reclined with her leg dutifully elevated on a pillow.

Matthew brought her flowers.

As she buried her face in the fragrant bouquet to hide her blush, Mary thought that their official courtship had barely started and she already could see that she was going to enjoy herself very much.

She firmly didn't allow herself to consider why it would all inevitably end badly. Not now, with Matthew here, looking adorably flustered himself.

"How are you?" he asked, with a concerned look at her bandaged limbs. "I hope you aren't in too much pain."

"I'm much better than yesterday. At least as long as I don't put any weight on my ankle or try to move my arm."

For a long moment they were sitting in a slightly awkward silence, the elephant of Matthew's proposal and Mary's non-answer standing between them. It was Matthew who gathered the courage to tackle it first.

"Mary," he said with determination which Mary wholly approved of, even if it made her scared as well. "I've been thinking about what happened yesterday – I could hardly think of anything else, thank God I didn't have any meetings with clients scheduled for today! – and I realised that you might harbour some doubts about me or the life you would have with me, which might make it difficult for you to decide on the answer. Like… where we would live, for example, or any other practical details like that. So maybe we should discuss it now, if you want. Unless it's too presumptuous of me to raise this topic before you give me the answer, of course."

Mary's first thought when he started was that there was absolutely nothing that she was in doubt of concerning him. But then he continued and she nearly gaped at him in astonishment, because no, she did not harbour such doubts, but only because she didn't think of it at all yet. She was too occupied with the thought that there was no way he would marry her when he knew all, so it was moot to consider the exact details of their married life.

"It's not presumptuous at all," answered Mary firmly, gathering her wits. In fact now that he mentioned it, she was wildly curious about the vision of their life he had in mind. "I assumed that we would live here, actually."

Matthew startled in evident surprise.

"Here in this house?" he asked incredulously. "Wouldn't you prefer to live in our own house?"

Now it was Mary's turn to be surprised.

"At Crawley House? With your mother?"

"Well, we would be living with your parents and sisters if we decided to live here."

"But it's a much bigger house," answered Mary drily. "Believe me, it's much easier to avoid stepping on each other's toes in a house of this size than yours."

Matthew laughed quietly.

"I do believe that," he answered, his lips upturned in a smile. "But what I would actually prefer is to live without any relatives at all, neither yours nor mine. A house just for the two of us, so we could get to know each other in peace, without everybody being there."

Mary frowned thoughtfully. She didn't immediately dislike his vision, but she couldn't figure out how it would come into being.

"But how would we do it?" she asked, then recoiled in horror at the reasonable answer to that question. "You don't mean your house in Manchester, do you?"

Matthew laughed again.

"No," he answered in a tone dry enough to match her earlier one. "I'm trying to win you over, not make you run for the hills. Although I will point out that you've never seen neither my city nor my house."

Mary scoffed.

"I don't have to. But if not Manchester, then what house do you have in mind?"

Matthew shrugged.

"Some other one. I know your father owns multiple houses on this estate or even a bit further away. We probably could rent one from him, if we wanted to stay close to Downton. Or we could move to London, if you prefer a city which is not Manchester."

Mary's eyebrows shot up.

"London! But what about your job here?"

"I'm an industrial lawyer," explained Matthew patiently. "There are many more opportunities for me in London than in rural Yorkshire. I don't mind staying here, I'm occupied enough, but moving to London would be an easy and natural choice too. I have friends there who would gladly invite me to join their firms or recommend me to some of the others."

"But what about learning estate management from Papa?" asked Mary in puzzlement. "Wasn't that the whole point of you moving here?"

Matthew nodded.

"It was, and I am not putting it completely aside. But now that I've spent a year here, I think I got the basics, and it wouldn't be as if we would never visit or correspond. After all, your cousin Patrick didn't live here, did he?"

"No, he didn't," answered Mary slowly, her mind whirling with possibilities. "Would you prefer to move to London? It sounds like you would like it."

"I do miss living in the city sometimes," admitted Matthew wistfully. "But I've also been thinking about your dissatisfaction with your life here. Wouldn't you have many more opportunities for something to do in London?"

"I've never considered it," said Mary, stunned. "But I guess I would. I do like visiting London, although I've never imagined myself living there full time."

"Then think about it now," urged Matthew warmly. "Have I convinced you about the benefits of living outside of Downton at least?"

She sent him a flirtatious look from under her eyelashes.

"Not completely," she purred seductively. "But you're making a good start."

She inwardly grinned when she noticed his eyes travelling to her lips as he licked his own.

"Then I will keep trying," answered Matthew huskily, not at all unhappy with their conversation. In fact, he found it hard to remember they weren't engaged yet.

Cora, too far to hear their quiet voices, but observing their expressions avidly, smiled to herself in satisfaction.

Library, Downton Abbey, October 18th, 1913

Edith had her own reasons for satisfaction the next day when Carson handed her a letter from Sir Anthony.

"My dear Lady Edith,

I'm writing this letter on the train from Paris to Berlin and I must admit that I find myself wishing the train was moving the other direction. It's hard to believe that our true acquaintance, for all that I've known you all your life, is only of over two months' duration, considering how used I've gotten to your delightful company. What I'm trying clumsily to say is that I miss you, even if I said goodbye to you mere two days ago. This letter is a poor substitute for conversation, but I am glad you graciously allowed me to write. I am eagerly looking forward to receiving your reply.

I spent just a few hours in Paris, enough only to eat a light lunch in-between trains, but I've spent this time imagining playing a tourist with you. Do you know Paris well or would it be a new experience? I remember you telling me that you visited the French Riviera multiple times, but we've never discussed the French capital. It is a marvellous city, although not as breathtaking as the ones in Italy, or so my biassed heart claims. Florence, Rome, Verona hold a very special place in it, in all their sometimes crumbling, but undisputable beauty and with numerous treasures to discover and admire.

Berlin is another animal altogether. It's a city which is meant to impress, determined to do so even. I will try to write more of it when I arrive and see it with fresh eyes and the purpose of capturing it for you to the best of my ability. One looks differently at a place when wanting to describe it to someone else than while walking through the streets on one business or another. The eyes register details which the hurry blurs, the mind searches for words which give definition to usually half-formed impressions. But much as I am looking forward to describing it all to you, I would love nothing better than to have you accompany me on those walks and share all our impressions as they come, in a proper conversation. For now I will have to contend myself with the imagined version of my desired companion, lacking as it is in comparison to the real person.

I hope you won't find some of the sentiments in this letter presumptuous, Lady Edith, but if you do, let me know at once so I can correct my language in the next one. Our last conversation did give me the impression that they would be welcome and I confess my heart is full of hopes and joyful visions of the future. You have brought joy and enthusiasm back into my life, Lady Edith, at the time when I long gave up on ever feeling either again, and with the novelty of those feelings I find it hard to restrain myself in expressing them to you.

I hope you and your family are all well.

Yours sincerely,

Anthony Strallan"

"It's a letter from Sir Anthony, isn't it?" asked Sybil with a cheeky smile, dragging Edith away from reading it for the third time.

"Yes, why?"

If possible, Sybil's smile got even more cheeky.

"You're smiling and blushing," she said. "It can hardly be from anybody else!"

Edith felt herself blush even more, pleased that Sybil picked up on it. She looked around if anybody else did, but the observations she made soured her mood a little. Mama, Papa and Granny were all embroiled in a discussion regarding Matthew and Mary.

"He's been to visit her in the morning," Cora was relating with animation. "He brought flowers again! And we expect him and Isobel for dinner."

"Will Mary be able to get down for dinner though?" asked Robert, puzzled. "I thought Clarkson said she shouldn't walk on this ankle for a week?"

"No, she won't be, but I am sure she would be glad of a short visit from them in the upstairs parlour afterwards," explained Cora. "And Matthew has already asked if it wouldn't be too much trouble if he came by after church tomorrow."

"Which of course it won't be," commented Violet dryly but with evident approval. "Let's just hope something does come out of all those visits and flowers."

"We all already do!" said Robert with emphasis. "It would be an excellent solution to multiple problems. And I sincerely believe that Matthew can make Mary happy. Have you seen how much she laughs with him around? I hardly recognise her."

Cora and Violet exchanged significant looks.

Edith slumped against the cushions of the sofa, miffed. Mary wasn't even in the room and she still managed to overshadow her!

"Edith got a letter from Sir Anthony!" announced Sybil brightly, clearly picking up on Edith's disappointment. She really was a darling.

"That's nice, dear," said Cora distractedly, making Edith sigh in defeat, which in turn was of course noticed by Violet's sharp eyes. She sat by Edith, shooing Sybil away.

"Why are you so morose? I would assume getting a promise of an engagement from your suitor would improve your mood."

"It would, if anybody cared!" blurted out Edith, thoroughly fed up with it all. "I am basically engaged and all everyone is talking about is Mary and Matthew! She hasn't even given him an answer yet!"

"Which obviously increases the interest in the outcome," pointed out Violet. "There is no mystery what your answer is going to be when Sir Anthony proposes; you've made it clear enough."

"It just would have been nice for something in this house to be over me," said Edith miserably. "I think I am going to be the background to Mary and Matthew's courtship until I marry."

Violet looked at her pensively.

"I think you need a change of scenery."

xxx

"My dearest Sir Anthony,

Thank you for such a wonderful letter! Please, do not hesitate to express any thoughts and feelings you would like to share with me – I easily confess I treasure each of those lines. You say I brought back joy and enthusiasm back into your life; well, you made me feel them truly for the very first time in mine. My heart is also full of happy anticipation and I'm counting every day, no, every hour until Christmas and your expected return.

In fact, considering our feelings and expectations, maybe you could call me by my Christian name? We are certainly friends enough for that, aren't we?

To answer your questions, I've been to Paris several times, to see the museums and to accompany Mama on her shopping trips, but I can't say I know the city well at all. I would love to discover it properly, with you as my guide. And to visit Italy and Germany! I've never been to either of these countries, so all my knowledge of them comes from books and newspapers. I do envy you being so well-travelled, this is definitely something I would like to do more in my life.

My family is well, except for Mary, who fell off her horse, thankfully without any major injuries. Cousin Matthew was so overwhelmed by the incident, which he witnessed in full, that he proposed to her the same day. Don't send your congratulations though; Mary has not yet made up her mind what her answer is going to be. Perhaps she needs to deliberate whether she prefers to become the Viscountess of Gillingham or Countess of Grantham. I've heard that Viscount Gillingham is sickly, so I wouldn't rule out her choosing Tony after all, since Papa is in excellent health and much younger.

Not much else has happened since you left – after all it's been only three days even if it seems like an age to me! – so I'm concluding this letter and eagerly anticipate your reply and your views on Berlin!

Your affectionate friend,

Edith Crawley"

P.S. Before I posted this letter I've received an invitation from my Aunt Rosamund for an extended visit to London. Please send your next letter to 35 Eaton Square.

Drawing Room, Painswick House, 35 Eaton Square, October 20th, 1913

After her conversation with Granny, Edith shouldn't have been surprised to receive an invitation from Aunt Rosamund to spend some time in London, but she was. She was also exceedingly happy. It was going to be the first time she went for such a visit alone.

Sitting now in Aunt Rosamund's dark drawing room and sharing tea and pastries with her, she felt grown up, sophisticated and, for once, a centre of somebody's attention.

"It's not an easy life, being the overlooked and less important sibling," said Aunt Rosamund candidly.

Edith stared at her in shock.

"What, have you ever imagined that I was considered half as important as Robert, the heir?" Aunt Rosamund rolled her eyes and reached for a scone. "I assure you, I was not."

Edith hesitated.

"How did you deal with it?" she asked finally.

Aunt Rosamund smiled.

"I decided to live my life how I wanted and enjoy myself. There is freedom in not having all the pressure the golden child has to be under. You and I can afford to make choices neither Robert nor Mary could ever make."

"Like?" asked Edith, intrigued. It had never occurred to her that there was anything she could do which Mary would be prevented from.

"Mama never got reconciled to the fact that I married Marmaduke. She hasn't reconciled to Robert marrying your mother either, of course, however badly we needed her money. That marriage was all Papa's plan and she hated it from the start. It was to save the estate though, just like Mary is expected to keep it, and your mother's fortune, in the family. But nobody was forcing me to marry Marmaduke. I chose him, all on my own, and I was very happy with him," for a moment she looked wistful, but then she looked at Edith intently. "If Sir Anthony is who you want, go for it. He's rich enough and respectable enough that nobody is going to truly object, you know it. And who cares if they ever truly understand what you see in him?"

Edith smiled at her tremulously.

"I don't," she said, her smile growing in confidence. "At least, I'm getting not to."

"Good for you," pronounced Rosamund. "You will be much happier that way."