Cora's sitting room, Downton Abbey, February 1914
Edith reeled from her mother's announcement.
Pregnant! After eighteen years, Mama was expecting another child!
It only took her one look at Mary's still face to realise the full meaning of this news.
Mama wasn't only expecting another child. She was expecting a potential heir.
Which made Mary's prospects uncertain at best.
For a moment, she felt a wild triumph at the thought. She would be a baronet's wife in less than a week, with her own estate and position in society assured. Mary, on the other hand… Well, Mary, for all her ambition, could end up as a simple solicitor's wife and slide down into the middle class, with neither a title, money nor reputation to her name.
The last realisation sobered her momentarily. It wasn't Mary's fault that her reputation was in tatters. Edith bit her lip to stop herself from blurting out an apology which had been hovering on the tip of her tongue for the last two days. An apology which wouldn't help anything and which would be the most dangerous words she could ever utter.
She could not say it, however much she yearned to do so.
"Congratulations, Mama!" exclaimed Sybil, breaking Edith's spiralling thoughts. "It's marvellous! Oh goodness, I can't believe I'm going to be an older sister!"
"Thank you, darling," said Cora with a smile, but Edith noticed that she was throwing an apprehensive glance at Mary, who remained silent. She hastened to offer her own congratulations.
"It is wonderful news, Mama," she said, smiling widely herself. It was, after all. And if Mary was sour about that… Well, it just spoke of her own selfishness. "I'm so happy for you and Papa."
"Thank you, Edith," said Cora, giving her a smile as well. "It will make the house less empty after you and Mary move out – and with Sybil likely to follow soon as well."
Well, that depended on whether Mary would be willing to go through with the wedding in those circumstances, thought Edith dryly.
Mary finally bestirred herself to speak.
"Congratulations, Mama," she said calmly. "This is quite a surprise, of course, but I believe you and Papa must be very happy to have another chance at a boy."
Cora winced, while Sybil looked at Mary with disappointed indignation.
"Mary!" she chided. "This is not the point!"
"Isn't it?" asked Mary cynically, but then sent an apologetic look at Cora. "Not for you, Mama, maybe, but you can't tell me that's not what Papa is thinking about."
"Your Papa loves you all very much," said Cora sternly, with the air of someone who had been telling this repeatedly for many years. "He couldn't have been prouder of any of you. He is very happy about the baby, yes, but it doesn't mean he will love you any less if it is a boy, which is by no means assured."
Even Edith, who had no stakes in this conundrum, had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Mary didn't bother.
"No, but you can't tell me he won't be over the moon if it is a boy – or terribly disappointed if it isn't, as he was every time one of his daughters was born."
Cora flinched in pain and Sybil once again jumped to her defence.
"Mary, this is unkind," she said sternly. "Mama is right, Papa loves us and that's what's important."
Edith seriously doubted that Mary was in any way convinced, but she dropped the topic, only to address head on one even more contentious.
"Have you told Matthew?"
Cora's determined smile turned rather strained.
"Your Papa is telling him right now, on their walk."
Mary huffed and got up, hugging herself as she paced slowly to the window.
"You could have waited until your childbearing years were over before yanking him here and disrupting his whole life, possibly for nothing."
Cora flinched.
"We thought we did!" she insisted. "Mary, it's been eighteen years! The doctor told me after Sybil's birth that I was unlikely to carry more children and subsequent years seemed to confirm his diagnosis fully! I'm sorry that it puts Matthew's prospects – and your own – in the wind, but I can't be sorry to welcome another baby. I'm not going to apologise for experiencing a miracle."
"Of course not," said Mary coldly. "Why should you worry for me when you have another chance at an heir or, at the very least, a less troublesome daughter?"
"Mary!" exclaimed Cora, visibly stricken, and Edith couldn't stand it any longer. It figured Mary was going to be cruel, selfish and unreasonable about it all.
"Are you sure it's Mama and Papa who are going to disappoint Matthew?" she asked, drawing Mary's flashing eyes towards herself. "Or is it you, when you'll drop him like a hot potato now that his prospects are not assured?"
It wasn't Mary though who answered, it was Cora.
"Mary will have to consider the situation carefully and there's no shame in it," she said, looking at Edith with what she considered fully undeserved sternness. "She agreed to one situation in accepting his proposal and now is facing a different one," she turned towards her eldest daughter and added pleadingly. "You have a right to be upset by it all, my dear, just weeks before your own wedding, but please believe that I do worry about you and have your best interests in heart. Whatever you decide to do, I and your Papa will support you to the best of our ability."
"Thank you, Mama," said Mary blandly. "And congratulations again. Please excuse me, I think I have a headache coming."
Cora sighed as the doors closed behind her.
Downton grounds, Downton Abbey, February 1914
To say Matthew was stunned would be a huge understatement. Despite walking on a firm path, he could swear he felt the sands shifting under his feet.
"I want to say I'll make provision for you, if it's a boy and you're pushed out –" offered Robert weakly, so painfully awkward that despite his own tumultuous thoughts Matthew felt an urge to comfort him.
A baby shouldn't be considered bad news.
"Don't worry. I know you can't. If any man living understands the strength of the entail, it's me."
"I can give you Crawley House for life, if it's a help," said Robert, his brow frowning in thought. "And of course give James' house to you and Mary as a wedding present. It isn't part of the estate, I can do anything I want with it."
If there is a wedding, thought Matthew grimly, and forcibly pushed this thought away. No, it couldn't be. Mary wouldn't break their engagement now, not after everything they went through to get to this point.
But he knew how important Downton and the prospect of becoming a countess was to her. His heart squeezed painfully with uncertainty.
"It's very generous of you to offer," he said distractedly. "But you don't have to. If you have a son, you're not obliged to give anything to me and I am more than capable of surviving on my own wits."
Robert shook his head.
"No, I absolutely insist," he stated stubbornly. "Matthew, I turned your life upside down by summoning you here. The least I can do for you and Mary is to assist you two in any way I can. Of course, it might be a moot point; I haven't proved very good at making boys so far – but if it is a boy after all, I couldn't stand to see you struggle."
Matthew smiled wryly, shaking his own head.
"Oh Robert, I wouldn't struggle," he assured him lightly. "I wouldn't become a peer of the realm or possess anything resembling your wealth, but I have enough to keep myself and Mother in comfort – and Mary, if she still wants me in the circumstances."
Robert startled visibly.
"You think she wouldn't?" he asked incredulously, but Matthew fancied he saw growing doubts in Robert's eyes too. He was all too familiar with his eldest daughter's ambition and pragmatism.
"I'd like to think I am still getting married next month," Matthew said composedly. Only he knew how much maintaining that composure was costing him. "But I am not blind enough to expect that the change in my prospect won't matter to her."
He wanted to think so – he desperately wanted to believe it – but he'd never been blind to Mary's faults and he wasn't going to start deluding himself now. He hoped her love for him was enough, but hope was not the same as assurance and expectation.
God, he hoped she loved him enough to marry him anyway!
"You do know I should be very proud to have you as my son-in-law, whatever your prospects," said Robert, visibly troubled, but with earnestness which truly touched Matthew. They'd only known each other for two years and now it was all too possible that their ties would be reduced back to Matthew being just a middle class fourth cousin. Yet Robert was genuinely willing to see his eldest daughter married to him, despite the potential turn of fortune.
But Robert wasn't Mary. Matthew's smile was wry when he did his best to keep his tone light.
"Unfortunately, sir, your daughter is more practical than you."
Mary's bedroom, Downton Abbey, February 1914
Mary was pacing her bedroom, too agitated to keep still. She knew that she desperately needed to calm herself to be able to face Matthew during dinner, but she hardly knew how she was going to do that. For the first time during her engagement, she was grateful that Matthew needed to go back to London in the morning and was only expected back for Edith's wedding. If only she managed to put him off tonight, she would have a week to think in peace.
Oh God, how was she going to face him tonight?
Matthew was a romantic. She knew his views on marriage; the practical aspects of it were the furthest from his considerations. If she raised them now… she could lose him, she knew she could. He wouldn't understand her position – or if he did, he would probably find it abhorrent. Greedy. Grasping. Morally wrong.
But it was still her life!
She couldn't stand the thought of losing him, not after the miracle of keeping his love after everything she had done. That was simply unbearable to think about. But to give up everything she had been brought up to expect to keep him now… It was huge. It went against everything she'd been taught. Love alone was never considered sufficient grounds for marriage in her family. Granny and Grandfather certainly hadn't married for love and neither had Mama and Papa. Aunt Rosamund had been obviously fond of Uncle Marmaduke, but his fortune was a factor in making him somewhat acceptable enough to be considered (even if not to Granny). Love had played no role whatsoever in Mary's tentative childhood engagement to Patrick. Patrick's death didn't free her to pursue love; it forced her to seek a title and position beyond Downton, that's all. Love wasn't the reason everybody had been pushing her at Matthew since the day he stepped his foot at Downton. The fact that she found love with him anyway was a huge bonus, not a given.
But could she give him up now when marrying him potentially kept any prospects of wealth and social influence away from her forever?
Mary never denied that she was ambitious. She wanted power and influence and ability to do things – and in her sphere that meant getting a husband who could provide her with a platform to exercise such power. As the Countess of Grantham, she could lend her social muscle to this interest and that charity, she could entertain the county, she could promote a political candidate, a painter, a new novelist – she could have a life. As Lady Mary Crawley, a wife of a simple solicitor, she would be unlikely to be a major player. She would get invited to things and she'd go to them, but she wouldn't be a power. And Mary was painfully aware that she wanted to be a power. She felt she could acquit herself well if she was.
But could she give Matthew up for a chance of gaining such power by marrying someone else?
Everything in her rebelled at such a thought. She wanted Matthew with everything in her, giving him up was unimaginable. And yet, and yet…
Could she be happy with him without the prospect of Downton in their future?
Mary threw herself at her bed in frustration, the headache she used as an excuse to escape her family's presence pounding for real in her head.
Music room, Downton Abbey, February 1914
To Edith's joy, Anthony arrived early enough that she had time to show him the first wedding gifts before dinner. The music room was already half-filled with them.
"Most of them are not even as hideous as I expected!" she told him with a laugh. "Although I think we will have to find a very dark corner for the vase from Aunt Agatha. She has the most atrocious taste imaginable."
Anthony's eyes twinkled when she pointed out the vase in question to him.
"I'm forced to agree," he said gravely. "It must be one of the ugliest pieces of interior decor I've ever encountered."
They laughed companionably and walked around the room hand in hand, inspecting the other gifts.
"There will be probably twice as much," explained Edith. "My American grandmother is arriving in two days and she promised a suitable gift – which means it's going to be an extravagant one, but she keeps it as a surprise. She announced that since two of her granddaughters' weddings are so close together to Sybil's debut she is going to stay in England until June, but now with the baby on the way I wouldn't be surprised if she waited until birth. I'm not sure who is horrified more, Granny or Papa."
"Mrs Levinson is quite a character," agreed Anthony. "I've been in her presence on several occasions over the years and each of them turned out to be memorable."
He hesitated for a moment.
"Did she write what she thinks of your choice of a husband?"
Edith stroked his cheek in reassurance.
"She's happy for us," she stated staunchly. "It doesn't mean that she's not going to give you hell or ask terribly impertinent questions, but she will treat Matthew the same way, I'm sure. Grandpapa was much older than she was; she doesn't see that as a problem."
Anthony nodded, leaning into her hand and grasping it to kiss afterwards.
"How's Lady Sybil?" he asked with clear concern. "I hope the incident two days ago wasn't too upsetting to her."
Edith waved her hand.
"Oh, Sybil is alright. Everyone babies her, but she would need much more than Larry's drunken kiss to upset her. She's only mad that she didn't manage to break that vase on his head. He would do well to keep away from her for the foreseeable future, lest she does it anyway."
"I'm glad to hear it," said Anthony, but his frown didn't disappear. "I must admit I was also glad to see that scoundrel downed by Mr Crawley for what he did and said. How is Lady Mary? I hope she is not too shaken either by the vile things he mentioned?"
Edith squirmed uncomfortably.
"You know Mary," she muttered. "Not many things can rattle her."
Anthony looked at her with scrutiny she would be very happy to avoid.
"Not even rumours of this calibre?"
Edith's eyes widened.
"You heard of them?" she managed to ask.
Anthony nodded, his expression grave.
"When I was in London," he explained hesitantly. "Mr Pamuk's death caused quite a buzz in diplomatic circles… And the rumours of its circumstances are rather sensational."
He doesn't know it was me who started them, Edith told herself firmly, doing her utmost to quench her sudden panic. He wouldn't be so composed if he heard that.
"The rumours are wrong," she forced herself to speak. Her conscience twisted her stomach painfully at the admission. "It's not what really happened."
Anthony nodded.
"It's what I thought," he said, his eyes full of compassion. "It must be extremely difficult for your sister and the whole family."
Edith winced.
"It is," she said miserably, then hastened to add. "But not everybody knows, so please don't raise the topic. Especially with Papa."
"But Mr Crawley knows, doesn't he?" asked Anthony with concern, getting visibly relieved at Edith's nod. "That's good. I wouldn't wish on him to hear it without warning. I could tell he was distressed at Mr Grey's words, but of course the insults were bad enough to cause that."
"Mary told him before," said Edith, yearning for nothing more than changing the topic. As in the answer to her prayers, Carson rang the gong for dinner. "Come on, let's not be late."
Drawing room, Downton Abbey, February 1917
To Mary's relief, she managed to successfully avoid Matthew through the whole dinner. She came down very late, when they were all on their way to the dining room, and thank the stars and her mother, they were seated away from each other. She didn't miss concerned glances Matthew kept throwing at her nor the mournful look when she left the dining room with the rest of the ladies, and she didn't have much hope of avoiding him later in the evening. She could claim headache and retire early, but such a move would carry its own repercussions. Matthew couldn't help interpreting it as a rejection and she didn't want that. She couldn't stand the thought of rejecting him, but she still couldn't see how she could go through with the wedding and then spend half a year in uncertainty of her fate.
Mostly, she was terribly confused and vexed by it all. How could her parents do that to her and Matthew?!
Being accosted by Aunt Rosamund and Granny immediately after reaching the drawing room while Mama and Sybil kept Isobel occupied didn't help.
"Of all of you, Sybil might find joy in a cottage. But not you."
"We're hardly going to live in a cottage," said Mary sullenly. However small she considered Uncle James' house in Kensington, it certainly wasn't one. "Besides, we don't know it'll be a boy."
"Exactly," continued Rosamund, undeterred in the slightest. "So ask Matthew to postpone the wedding until the child is born. If it's a girl then wed him happily, and will be as it was before."
"If I delay, won't he think I'm only after him for his position?" asked Mary rhetorically. She knew he would. "Besides, I'm not sure I want to put him off, even without the title. We get on so well, you know. And he's terribly clever. He might end up Lord Chancellor."
Aunt Rosamund was clearly not concerned with that line of argument though or impressed by Mary's estimate of Matthew's intelligence.
"And he might not! Come along, Mary, be sensible. Can you really see yourself dawdling your life away as the wife of a country solicitor?"
Something stirred in Mary at yet another instance of putting Matthew down.
"He's an industrial solicitor," she pointed out coldly. "His current firm is in London."
Rosamund waved a hand dismissively.
"Same difference," she said decisively. "He's not going to be a part of our sphere if you have a brother and as his wife, neither will you."
Mary recoiled from the truth of those words, but to her surprise Granny, who until now stayed silent, stepped in on Matthew's side.
"I should pay no attention to Rosamund's words, Mary," she said sternly, earning herself an eyeroll from her daughter.
"But, Granny, she got a point," said Edith, in Mary's opinion utterly unnecessarily. Nobody asked her for her opinion on the matter. "Mary can't be completely naive."
It was nice to see Granny ignoring Edith's input entirely as she focused on Mary.
"Mary, listen to me. If you take Matthew now when his whole future is at risk, he will love you to the end of his days."
Mary, Rosamund and Edith gaped at her in equal surprise.
"I've never known you to be romantic, Mama," said Rosamund incredulously.
Violet scoffed.
"I've been called many things but never that."
"And what happens if the baby is a boy and Matthew loses everything?" asked Edith and Mary had to stop herself from slapping her. How was any of that Edith's business?
"Mary can always change her mind," answered Violet blithely. "Of course, the wedding must be postponed, but it can't come from Mary. I and Cora can easily take the blame for that."
"I couldn't do that to Matthew!" protested Mary, feeling genuinely queasy at the thought of deceiving him like that. No, never. Whatever she decided to do, she needed to be honest with him. He deserved nothing less from her. "It's not how we are together… Excuse me, I think I need to cool down for a bit. The fire is too hot."
She got up to walk away from them all, but Granny caught up to her with a sprightly step belying her age and cane. Her eyes were sharp as she stopped Mary with her hand on her granddaughter's arm.
"I know those men of the moral high ground," she said seriously. "If you won't say yes when he might be poor, he won't want you when he will be rich. Thread carefully, my dear. And don't mind Rosamund. She doesn't know what she's talking about."
Mary nodded and finally managed to retreat to the empty corner of the room by the window. Her stomach felt queasy with nerves as she waited for the men to join the ladies.
That moment came much too soon.
She was not at all surprised that Matthew made a determined beeline for her as soon as his eyes spotted her in her corner. She forced herself to give him a welcoming smile but she could see that he was in no way deceived by it. Sometimes his perceptiveness was mightily inconvenient.
"Quite shocking news we received today," he said without preamble, keeping his voice low to avoid being overheard.
Of course he wasn't willing to wait and let her think. Of course he confronted her immediately. But seeing the anxiety in his eyes, Mary didn't have the heart to snap at him.
"Shocking is one word for it," she said dryly. "Potentially life changing, at least for some of us, is another."
She noticed Matthew subtly bracing himself, but when he spoke, it was clear that he hesitated to raise the question plaguing his mind the most.
"Your father said he will give us the Kensington house as a wedding gift," he said, his mouth rising in a wry smile. "He obviously feels guilty."
Mary rolled her eyes, grateful for the reprieve, however short.
"He should. I have no idea what he was thinking, bringing you here when this was still a possibility. It's so unfair to you."
"He couldn't predict it would happen," said Matthew with much more understanding than he should have, in Mary's opinion. But then his eyes focused on her intently. "If I come out of the whole adventure with nothing more than you as my wife, I'll still consider myself the luckiest man on earth. But will you be happy enough with such a prospect, Mary?"
Mary froze. There it was, the question she'd been wrangling with the whole day and one which she still felt woefully unprepared to answer. Everything in her was screaming for more time, for postponing that conversation until she was sure, but she saw with dreadful certainty that Matthew would not allow that. Granny's words about men of moral high ground rattled in her head.
If she won't say yes when he might be poor, he won't want her when he will be rich.
The all too familiar prospect of Matthew not wanting her tipped the scales for her. She hadn't tortured herself for months with that thought, with the assurance that he wouldn't – couldn't – want her after what she'd done, only for her to waste the miracle which was his love and forgiveness now. She wouldn't give him up, not for anything. She would sooner set herself on fire than give him up after all this time of believing that she was neither likely to receive nor deserving of either.
Besides, Mama was likely going to have another girl.
She shrugged, feeling the tension leave her body and her smile grow genuine.
"Can anybody predict whether they'll be happy or not?" she asked philosophically, then laid her hand on Matthew's arm before his face could fall. "But I think we definitely should accept Papa's gift while he's feeling guilty enough to be so stupidly generous. If Grantham House is not to be in our future, it would be handy to own a property we can sell to buy a more representative one when you're the Lord Chancellor or somebody equally important."
The joyous, incredulous smile on Matthew's face made her heart flutter.
"What if I remain a plain London solicitor instead?" he asked, but his tone was more teasing than anxious now.
Mary smirked.
"Then we better pray for another sister for me," she said, feeling curiously light and unbothered after the whole day of agonising. "If you're going to be so impractical about things."
"I suppose developing ambition is going to be the price for dragging you down to the dreaded middle class then?" he asked, getting imperceptibly closer to her, his voice getting lower. Mary barely restrained a shiver.
"You'd better, darling," she whispered, her eyes not leaving his. "I have faith in you."
"Looks like the wedding is still on," noted Violet with satisfaction, throwing a victorious glance at her daughter.
Rosamund scoffed, looking at the pair in the corner, who were standing definitely too close to each other to be considered proper. She wouldn't be surprised if they forgot there were other people present in the room.
"I hope you'll remain equally happy with yourself when Cora has a boy and Mary is left with nothing."
"It won't be nothing," protested Robert, looking much too happy and relieved in Rosamund's opinion. Then again, her brother grew less practical every year, ever since he decided he loved Cora after all and did his utmost to forget his true reasons for marrying her. "There is Mary's settlement, I'll give them James' house and I'm assured Matthew is going to rise in his career – his marriage to Mary should give him all the connections he needs to succeed, even if he wasn't as bright as he is."
"She still will waste her potential on him," pronounced Rosamund. Mary wasn't her favourite niece, but Rosamund would be first to admit that the girl was a born society hostess. Such a presence! "She should have chosen the Foyle boy."
Now it was Violet's turn to scoff.
"Only if she wanted to be bored out of her mind before the honeymoon was over. He doesn't have one original thought behind those charming dark eyes," she said scathingly, then looked at the besotted couple. "But it would be good if we managed to postpone the wedding."
"I don't think it's going to be feasible," said Cora slowly. "Mary is so stubborn – and it might be better to have them married before the season, as planned."
She looked significantly at Violet and Rosamund, who threw a cautious look at the oblivious Robert.
"It might be," admitted Rosamund reluctantly. "But if you do have a boy after all, I'll be sad to see Mary so reduced."
"It would be ironic to see Edith outranking her," said Robert complacently. "It's definitely not a scenario which we've ever foreseen. But I won't be unhappy to have a son and I won't be unhappy to see Mary married to a good, honest man who loves her very much. I freely admit I used to fear a worse outcome for her."
"Haven't we all," sighed Cora, then looked fondly at her youngest daughter discussing lively with Isobel about some charity project of hers. "It might fall to Sybil to make a truly brilliant match."
"What we should do," muttered Violet thoughtfully, but with growing determination in her eyes, "is to find how we can support Matthew's career until he earns a title in his own name. Just in case."
"Like you were ever satisfied with Marmaduke's!" observed Rosamund bitterly.
"Marmaduke," said Violet loftily, "was a grandson of a manufacturer. Matthew is a Crawley, however distantly related. And if Mary wants him," she added, narrowing her eyes, "and he's not the heir, after all, it's our job to take care of our own. The Crawleys stick together."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Next chapter, Edith's wedding. Let's see how it goes in this story!