Matthew hadn't returned home yet. Instead, he was just walking around the village, observing the construction of the fair, watching the people excitedly bustling past, and turning over in his head the information he had gathered again and again. How was he to tell the Dowager of this? Would she even believe him? Her words echoed in his head repeatedly.
"I'll pay you the compliment that I do not believe you wish to inherit just because nobody has investigated properly," she had fussed before continuing to demand he look into the entail and find a way to get himself disinherited. Funny, a year ago he would have jumped for joy at the prospect of throwing it all away, lock, stock and barrel. Now, her request made words of protest crawl up his throat and worry crease his brow. He liked his life here. He did not want to leave Downton, but the Dowager was right.
Matthew couldn't take it all from them by mistake, and he wouldn't. He would take it from them legally with full certainty it was his. It was a relief to him. A relief to know his life here was assured and justified, but Matthew knew it would be a dagger in the heart to them. The Dowager would be furious. Mary may never forgive him for it. How was he to tell her?
Matthew paced through the stalls of the fair, watching as final touches were added and the first people of the night came to partake in the games and merriment. Absent-mindedly, he became one of them himself. Not out of merriment, but he needed something to do with his hands while his mind raced. It was during the coconut saloon game that he saw her.
Lady Mary was as lovely as ever. Dark tresses pulled under her hat, and dressed finely in a way that showed off her elegant figure. Her siren eyes saw him, and in a moment she was walking towards him. "Cousin Matthew," she called.
"Mary," Matthew felt his mouth go dry. He gestured awkwardly to the game he had just finished before he continued on. "I wanted to have a go before I went home. How about you?"
At her lack of scorn, Matthew reached into his pockets for more change. He gave it to the stall vendor who thanked him and handed each of them a coconut.
"Thank you," Mary said softly.
"You're welcome," Matthew nodded, turning to throw one of his coconuts at the set up pins. "I didn't expect you to come to the fair. I thought, if I saw any one from the big house, it would be Edith."
"Usually, you would be right," Mary said. "But Mama demanded she come to Sybil's fitting and Sybil asked sweetly. It was a combination even she couldn't stubbornly ignore."
"And you?" Matthew asked. Mary seemed rather down. Her high walls lowered as a cloud of tiredness and resignation hung over her. He didn't expect it of Mary. He didn't like that their first pleasant interaction since London was so unlike her.
"Someone needed to check in on things, be the face of the family. I'm sure if Papa had known you would be here, though, he wouldn't have bothered sending me," Mary muttered, throwing a coconut at the pins.
"Speaking of, do you know if your father is doing anything this evening?"
"Well, he's not coming to the fair," Mary sassed, a bit of her bite back, as she threw the last coconut.
"Seriously," Matthew pleaded. Mary stopped to look at him before the two turned and began to walk away from the fair games.
"Well, having dinner with his family."
"Could I look in afterwards?"
"May I ask why?"
"Your grandmother paid me a visit today and I'm... Well, never mind, but I would like to see him."
"Granny came to see you?" Mary said in surprise. "Is it all part of The Great Matter?" Matthew didn't say anything to that. He just nodded and continued to walk forwards.
"Well," Mary asked after a moment, "are you enjoying your new life?"
"Yes, I think so," Matthew admitted, looking for her reaction. She had an air of non interest. Whether or not that air was true, he didn't know. "I know my work seems very trivial to you."
"Not necessarily. Sometimes I rather envy you, having somewhere to go every morning."
"I thought that made me very middle class?"
"You should learn to forget the things I say. I know I do."
"How about you? Is your life proving satisfactory, apart from The Great Matter, of course?"
"Women like me don't have a life. We choose clothes and pay calls and work for charity and do the season, but, really, we're stuck in a waiting room until we marry," Mary said, her voice filled with tired frustration.
"But," Matthew hesitated, "doesn't Edith do more than that?" Mary's wistful look into the distance turned to a stoney glare.
"Edith is in the same boat. She just likes to pretend she isn't, and hers isn't sinking." Suddenly, Mary's rage gave way to melancholy. "Although, I suppose she isn't the only one anymore."
"I've made you angry."
"My life makes me angry, not you."
They walked for a while longer, coming to the edge of the fairgrounds were Lynch sat with his and Mary's tied horses.
"Come after dinner," Mary said, gracefully climbing atop her horse. "If it truly involves The Great Matter, Papa will want to hear it. I'll let you in after the others have gone through."
"Thank you, Mary."
"You can thank me by giving me some good news for once," Mary jerked the reigns and, before Matthew could respond, began to trot away with Lynch on her heals. Matthew felt a headache growing. How was he to tell her?
That night, Matthew snuck into Downton like a thief in the night. He watched Cousin Cora, Sybil, and the Dowager walk stately into the drawing room. He glimpsed Edith's beautiful hair before she too followed them, leaving only Mary to turn, let him in, and lead him to the library.
When Robert finally joined him, Matthew was exceedingly grateful. Finally he could tell someone the whole of it. He could speak the definitive truth, and ask for advice as to how on earth he would tell the man's mother, wife, and daughters. To this, Robert just sighed and got up to pour a drink.
"Where's Thomas?" Robert asked, as he reached for the decanter himself.
"I'm afraid I let some of the servants go down to the fair, my lord. I didn't know we'd have any visitors tonight," Carson admitted ruefully.
"Well, that's alright. They don't have much fun. You should join them," Robert said, turning with two drinks in hand. He offered one to Matthew and took a seat. "So, what did you say to Mama?"
"I haven't spoken to her since her visit, but I have looked through every source, and I can't find one reason on which to base a challenge."
"I could have told you that."
"I'm not quite sure how to phrase it when I tell her."
"She shouldn't have put you on the spot like that. It was unkind."
"I'm afraid they'll think I've failed because I don't want to succeed."
"She will think that regardless, but I don't. And nor will Cora."
"Of course, it's impossible for Mary," Matthew said, looking down and circling the rim of his glass with a finger. "She must resent me bitterly. And I don't blame her."
Robert was silent for a minute, looking at him with a thoughtful expression, as if he had just realized something. "The truth is nothing I haven't warned her of for months. In time, the wound will heal. Perhaps, if you are there for her, it will heal faster, but it will take time."
"I'll do what I can," Matthew promised. "But now the question is, what do I say to Cousin Violet?"
"Oh, don't worry about that. I can handle her."
"Really?" A voice called out. Matthew quickly stood to her feet and turned to see the Dowager standing in the doorway, her granddaughters and daughter-in-law standing behind her. "Well, if you can, you must've learned to very recently."
"Mama!" Robert said in alarm. "What are you doing here?"
"I asked Carson. Did you think you could hide your little meeting?" The Dowager snipped. "Now, since this conversation seems to be about me, I feel obligated to take part. I assume you found an answer to my question." The Dowager said, ordering an answer with her statement as she came into the room and sat on a chair. Behind her, the others fluttered in.
"I'm sorry," Mary apologized as she came to stand before him. "I tried to hold her off."
"Robert?" Cora asked. "What is this about?"
"Mama paid Matthew a visit," Robert explained. "Asking him to look into the entail."
"Grandmother," Edith snapped angrily, her brown eyes burning as brightly as her hair. "How could you ask that of him?"
"He found an answer didn't he? Didn't you?" The Dowager dismissed. "Now, how can we challenge the entail?"
"Well, It-" Matthew began, looking around at all the eyes upon him. Edith looked angry as she stepped to his side, reaching out a hand to steady his arm. Mary stood before him, looking up at him imploringly with her soft, dark eyes. "There isn't a way."
"What?" Cora, the Dowager, and Mary all said at once. One with confusion, one with shocked anger, and the last with heartbreak. Matthew could barely look at her. Edith gently squeezed his arm.
"I've looked up every statute, examined every precedent. I even asked my associates to look over the matter, but nothing can be done. There isn't a single basis on which to challenge the entail. Not as the law currently stands."
"Tommyrot!" The Dowager cried.
"We all knew it, Grandmother," Edith argued. ""This isn't some great surprise."
"I don't believe it! There must be some way. You must have overlooked something. Or ignored it. There has to be some way."
"There isn't," Matthew said, looking from the Dowager to Mary who was staring into the distance. Regret was choking him, but still he croaked,"I am terribly sorry."
"You will be sorry when I-"
"Enough!" Robert thundered. "This is the end of it! The end of it! The entail is unbreakable. Matthew is my heir, not Mary. It was a hopeless dream you all pushed from the start, and I will hear no more of it."
"Then I will see myself out as you will hear nothing else from me," the Dowager said bitterly, storming out of the room. "Carson! Bring the car around!"
"Mama," Robert groaned in frustration, turning to follow after her.
"Robert!" Cousin Cora called before he passed the doorway. "Is it true?"
"Yes, my dear," Robert said more gently. "It is."
A moment of silence lingered over the room. Sybil and Cora seemed lost, Mary stood frozen and far away, and Edith continued to stroke his arm gently like she was soothing a skittish colt. Matthew didn't know exactly what he felt, just numb and miserable and guilty.
"I'm so sorry, Cousin Matthew," Cora finally said.
"No, no. I'm sorry."
"You did all you could," Edith comforted. "Even though she never should have asked it of you."
"I was glad to help."
"Girls, it's time to go up," Cora said. "This has been quite enough excitement for one evening."
"I'll stay," Mary said, snapping back into reality. "It's about me after all."
"I will as well," Edith said. "We can't leave Cousin Matthew all alone."
"Edith," Cora began before she sighed. "Very well. Sybil, come along."
"But-"
"You have to go to Ripon tomorrow. Come along." Cousin Cora and Sybil made their way out of the library, leaving only Mary, Edith and Matthew behind.
"I am truly sorry," Matthew said again quietly.
"I know you are," Mary replied. "You really looked into everything?"
"Everything. Nothing currently would warrant a challenge. The estate is too linked to the title, and Cousin Cora's fortune too linked to the estate. To break the entail, we'd need a private bill in parliament, and even then it would only be if the estate were in danger, which it's not."
"You don't have to explain it to us," Edith said softly. "You shouldn't have even had to do it at all. It was cruel of Grandmother to ask you to essentially disinherit yourself for the sake of something we all knew would never happen."
"We certainly didn't ALL know that," Mary snapped.
"What? You think this is the first time something like this has happened. It's the basis of a number of novels, shows," Edith said, her face giving way to a secretive smile at the end. Matthew was surprised by the amusement. It seemed cruel. "If the law allowed it, there would be many more heiresses running about."
"Don't act like this is about the law," Mary retorted. "It's the entail. We are living in the twentieth century. A woman could inherit. Should inherit!"
"No old house is that progressive. Nor do I think they should be when the law says a woman can't get the title with it," Edith said calmly. "This house isn't some simple family house, Mary. It's a legacy, a duty. Did you expect Papa to throw away decades of tradition and a lineage of Crawley Earls at Downton? For you?"
"Yes!" Mary cried, trying to be angry but she was close to tears. "Yes, I did."
"Mary," Matthew comforted, shaking off Edith's arm to go to her side. "It's alright. I'm sure if he could-"
"He wouldn't," both girls said. One with certainty and heartbreak, and the other with such detached coldness he barely recognized her as the warm woman he knew.
"How can you be so unfeeling?" Matthew asked in disbelief as he turned towards Edith. She looked up at him, her whiskey eyes swirling with frustration and distaste. She stepped forward, eyes ablaze and hands clenched at her sides.
"This has gone on for over a year. It began before the search for James and Patrick even stopped. From the moment they died, all the talk of this house has been about Mary getting her "due". A due she wasn't owed when a different man was heir, but now it's different. Now it's you, a middle class lawyer, and, no matter how much they claim to like and respect you, they weep at the idea that Mary isn't the heiress. Doesn't that set your teeth on edge? It does mine."
"But still," Matthew refuted. He didn't want to think about what she said. "Can't you be kind?"
"To a woman who did this to herself? Who pushed every rumor, and believed with her whole heart that for others to do right by her they had to give her an entire estate and or fortune? No. I feel pity that mother and grandmother pushed her so, but barely even that. It was good enough when Patrick was alive. It's still good enough for me and Sybil. Why did she think she deserved all of Downton? For the rules to suddenly not matter? Just for her."
"Stop it!" Mary snapped. "You jealous, spiteful little liar! You know why it was different with Patrick! You know I had to marry him."
"I know you chose to marry him because they told you too. How is that any different than this," Edith retorted, eyes locked on Mary like some predator. "Other than the fact they all saw him as beneath us, and therefore were willing to push for better."
"Edith!" Matthew cried harshly. "Enough!" He couldn't hear this. Mary shouldn't be hurt like this. Edith should be acting so coldly and spitefully. What had happened? Why had she changed?
Edith stopped and looked between them. Matthew realized he had moved to stand in front of Mary, to protect her, one hand holding her own in comfort. "I see, " Edith began. "Well, it is as it should be. I'll be off to bed.
Edith stood and turned, but stopped halfway to the door to turn. "Matthew, remember what I have said tonight. I know I will." And with that the woman was gone. The woman, because Matthew didn't know if he could call her Edith.
"And so the truth is revealed," Mary said shakily but with growing strength, her walls again coming up. She stepped from behind him and walked to stand before the fireplace. "You haven't ever seen the truth about me and Edith have you?"
"Nothing like that, no."
"She has never forgiven me. Not for taking the man she loved."
"Patrick," Matthew stated hesitantly. He had thought that rumor wasn't true.
"She tried to pretend otherwise, but I knew. I always know. She pretends to Papa, Sybil, the world, that she is some virtuous, forgotten wallflower and I'm the evil siren, but the truth is we are alike," Mary said, staring into the flames. "Proud and judgemental. But I admit my faults. She hides them. She is so good at lies. Has such a streak of jealous rage. And you don't know, until you see it yourself."
Matthew didn't know what to say. He had known Edith for months or, at least, he thought he had. But the girl he knew didn't align with the woman he saw tonight. Was Mary right? Was it all a facade and this the truth? Was this vulnerable young woman who Mary was too?
"You should go," Mary said, walking to the bell to ring for Carson. Then she turned back to him. She was still so beautiful, even now as she dabbed at drying tears on her elven face. "So my sister despises me for a dead man, and my father won't fight for an inheritance I could never receive regardless of his efforts. I suppose I mean nothing in all this."
"On the contrary," Matthew said earnestly. "You mean a great deal... a very great deal."
"You rang, my lady," Carson said as he came in.
"Yes, Carson," Mary said. "Mr. Crawley was just leaving. Do you know where his lordship is?"
"Gone to bed, my lady. He felt tired after he put Lady Grantham into the car."
"I bet he did. Thank you, Carson." Mary nodded to the man as he stepped out, a look of concern on the old butler's face. Matthew approached Mary one last time before he followed after him.
"I'm sorry. I wish I could think of something to say that would help."
"There's nothing," Mary dismissed. "But you mustn't let it trouble you."
"It DOES trouble me," Matthew insisted. "It troubles me very much."
"Then that will be my consolation prize," Mary breathed, holding out her hand to bid him farewell. "Goodnight, Cousin Matthew."
"Goodnight," Matthew reached out and held her hand, and, for a moment, he felt a spark unlike he ever had before.
As Matthew left the room and then Downton as a whole, he couldn't help but think over the many events and revelations of the evening. Something had started tonight in that library of conflicts, secrets, and heartbreak. He just hoped, whatever it was, it didn't have more waiting around the bend.