A Scandalous Affair - Dublin Notes
Christmas at Downton: Part 3
Crowley House
Matthew chewed slowly, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat as he gripped his knife, knuckles white. The beef in his mouth tasted like ashes. Overhead, the light cast long shadows across the dining table, occasionally flashing off the silverware.
The dull lighting mirrored Matthew's mood.
Lavinia glowed in the subdued light, her eyes sparkling as she recounted her day with Mary. Matthew shifted in his seat, noting his wife's many smiles. He hadn't seen her this happy since shortly after their honeymoon, before the glow of their marriage began to fade.
Lavinia's eyes crinkled at the corners, her smiles open and unguarded, her enthusiasm palpable as she shared anecdotes from Downton with Mary.
The high-pitched scrape of Matthew's knife across his plate was a counterpoint to Lavinia's light tone.
'Mary, Mary, Mary,' practically every other word from Lavinia's mouth was 'Mary.' It made his chest tight. His mother didn't help, peppering Lavinia with questions about Mary and her 'oh so exciting life in Dublin with Tom'. Matthew took a gulp of his wine.
He had already endured a reading of an article about their book launch and all the notable personages who attended, including a damn photo of Mary and Tom in all their finery.
Every mention of Mary sent a fresh wave of bitterness through him, the memory of her beauty in the photo twisting his guts. That bastard Branson had looked suave and perfectly matched to Mary. 'He was meant to be uncomfortable and out of place,' he thought morosely.
Matthew tried to console himself with the knowledge that Branson was barely taller than his wife.
In the photo, only joy shone in Mary's eyes. He felt a surge of bile in his throat. Maybe if Mary was as miserable as he was, he would feel better. These thoughts only darkened his mood further as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
'Was it evil to wish unhappiness on someone you loved?'
'God!'
Matthew swallowed the food painfully as he looked at his wife's happy face.
"It was such an interesting experience," Lavinia said, eyes sparkling with delight as she recounted her afternoon. "First, she had me pose as if I was writing a letter. She sketches so fast," she exclaimed. "I thought it would take hours, but the likeness was very good."
Isobel nodded, keeping the conversation going and drawing attention from Matthew's silence.
"This was the thrilling bit," Lavinia continued. "Tom had me stand behind a door so that I was barely visible, Daisy posed by the fireplace with Thomas standing behind her holding up a brass candlestick, as if he was about to strike her," Lavinia paused to sip her red wine, her tongue darting out to capture the last drop.
"Maybe I will volunteer to be sketched too," Isobel said thoughtfully, eyes full of interest. She watched Matthew nervously, noting the sour set of his mouth and the tension in his shoulders. "It sounds exciting," Isobel commented.
Isobel's eyes flicked to her son repeatedly. She feared she knew why he was in a black mood. She loved her son dearly but regretted encouraging him to marry Lavinia. She wasn't blind to how badly the marriage was going, despite Lavinia's efforts.
She was still certain that Mary wasn't the woman for him and felt vindicated by Mary's apparent happiness in Dublin. 'Why couldn't Matthew see this too!'
"I wonder if Tom will want to murder me," she speculated.
Matthew sighed heavily and shifted again.
"Daisy was terribly excited by the whole thing," Lavinia said before taking a bite of her potatoes, savouring the flavour before swallowing. "Mary made a copy for her; it was very considerate."
Isobel nodded while adding extra gravy to her plate. Her eyes flicked to Matthew as he fidgeted.
"I was wondering if I could ask for a sketch to keep," Lavinia confided. "But I already have several sketches from Mary," Lavinia paused. "Mary's a professional artist now; it seems wrong to ask for one." Lavinia looked to Isobel for her opinion.
"If she sketches as fast as you described, I'm sure it wouldn't take her long," Isobel suggested, a furrow appearing in her brow. She found it difficult to imagine Mary working; drawing and painting didn't seem like real work, not like nursing.
Matthew slammed his fist on the table, startling everyone, including himself.
"Matthew!" Isobel sharply reprimanded, a scowl of unhappiness on her face.
"Sorry, Mother, that was harder than I expected," he excused. Sighing as he noticed Lavinia's paleness and how she looked down at the table. He ground his teeth at his wife's timidness. 'Why couldn't she be bolder,' he thought annoyed. He couldn't imagine Mary reacting the same way.
"We will be staying at Downton from tomorrow. I'm sure you can ask Mary about her sketches then," he said sharply.
He was dreading their stay at Downton now. When he agreed to the visit, he imagined comforting Mary, offering support, sharing secret words of regret.
Now, he would get a front-row view of her perfect marriage and happiness with Branson, the bloody chauffeur. And he would have to act happy about it. He scowled darkly.
Isobel sighed quietly as she noticed Lavinia withdrawing into herself, while Matthew scowled at the mention of going to Downton.
Isobel's heart thudded with apprehension, sensing something significant would unfold over Christmas.
She desperately hoped that seeing Mary truly settled with Tom would finally release Matthew from Mary's hold on his psyche. That it would heal the break between him and Lavinia.
Dinner continued in stifling silence until Mosely entered to remove their plates for dessert.
Isobel, determined to break the silence, began a neutral conversation about the decorations in the chapel for Christmas services.
Lavinia gave her a watery smile and tried to join in.
Isobel gave Matthew a speaking look, prompting him to join with feigned joviality, which no one believed but everyone ignored.
Isobel smiled widely to compensate for the tension, all the while feeling a sense of dread. She would be happy when Mary went safely back to Ireland.
Downton Drawing Room
The fire blazed in the hearth of the Drawing Room at Downton, offering necessary warmth to combat the icy chill of winter in the Yorkshire Downs. The gentle drum of rain against the windowpanes added to the cozy atmosphere.
Matthew sighed with relief upon realizing Tom wasn't present in the drawing room to begin their Christmas stay. Tom had gone into Ripon to visit one of the larger book sellers in the region. Matthew had gritted his teeth and smiled through his annoyance when Edith excitedly told him that Tom had sold ten thousand copies of his book and earned royalties of £500.
'£500—that's more than £150 more than I make as a solicitor each year,' he seethed. He went to university; how could a former servant be earning more than an educated man? He stretched his neck, trying to relieve the tension across his shoulders.
"Whatever is the matter with you, Matthew?" Edith asked, looking at her cousin quizzically.
He turned to his cousin, who was sitting next to him on one of the plush settees in the room. "I think I am getting a toothache," Matthew prevaricated, pleased with himself for coming up with that excuse.
Edith frowned and placed her hand on Matthew's arm in sympathy. "How horrid for you," concern reflected in Edith's eyes. "Do you want me to talk to Mrs. Patmore? I'm sure she could make softer food for you," she suggested.
'Damn!' "It only hurts on one side. I just forget sometimes and bite down on the wrong side," he explained, hoping Edith wouldn't mention this lie to his wife or mother.
"Why didn't you go to the dentist?" Edith said, her attention fully on Matthew.
Matthew grimaced, unsure what to say next.
Sighing, Edith shook her head. "Really, Matthew, all you men are the same. Your tooth won't magically get better if you wait long enough."
Throwing his hands up as if to protect himself, Matthew smiled. "I surrender, Edith. The earliest appointment I could get was in the New Year."
Reaching out, he squeezed Edith's hand. "Thank you, Edith, for your concern," he managed to say sincerely. At least this conversation distracted him from Mary.
Just then, he heard Mary laugh, and his attention was drawn to her again.
Mary, Lavinia, and Sybil were gathered on the opposite settee. Lavinia was laughing as she held Mary's hand, while Sybil smiled at whatever story Mary was telling. Even from his position, he could see the tightness around Sybil's eyes and the nervous twitch of her left hand in the folds of her skirt.
"Matthew, there's no need to worry about Mary. You can see how happy she is," Edith consoled warmly, completely misinterpreting Matthew's look.
"Happy, yes, very happy. I can see," he managed to say past the lump in his throat. His eyes went back to Sybil, as she shifted in her seat. It seemed the Crawley sister he would be commiserating with this Christmas would be Sybil.
Just then, he caught Sybil's eye, and she turned to look fully at Matthew. The pair shared a pained smile of understanding.
A moment later, his mother and Cousin Cora entered the room. With his observant mother present, he would have to make a more concerted effort to appear unaffected by Mary's presence.
Turning back to Edith, he asked about her latest article she was writing for The Sketch.
"Ireland is truly beautiful," Mary enthused as she told her family about her new life. "As I wrote in my letters, Tom and I went on holiday to Tramore, a lovely seaside resort with a long, wide beach."
The firelight reflected off Mary's face, adding warmth to her features. She took a sip of tea from a delicate porcelain cup that had been in the family since her grandmother's day.
"I heard it rains a lot," Cora said curiously, leaning closer to her eldest daughter.
"Oh, it does. I own a pair of galoshes that get plenty of use," Mary smiled brightly, eyes crinkling at the corners. "But when the sun is shining, it's so vibrant. The greens are so varied, and the sea is a sparkling deep blue," she sighed.
"Well, my darling, it sounds delightful," Cora said. "Maybe I can get your father to visit one day." Cora looked doubtful, but she and Mama were working on Robert. She had already noted a slight thawing in Robert's attitude towards Tom.
Ever since it was revealed how well Tom's books were doing, Edith and Mama had assured everyone that he was on his way to being very successful. Though £500 didn't sound enough to live on in Cora's opinion.
Mary's smile faltered slightly, and she bit her lip. She didn't know if that would be a good idea.
"What is the sentiment towards the English right now in Ireland?" Edith asked, curiosity piqued. Since becoming a writer, she had become more interested in current affairs.
Mary smiled overly brightly at the question. Matthew noticed the artifice in her expression and narrowed his eyes.
"Oh, you read about it in the paper. But neither Tom nor I have seen any violence," Mary said confidently, leaning back in her chair. Her face fell into the shadow cast by Sybil, who was sitting next to her.
Mary's eyes darted around the faces of her family. Only Matthew looked suspicious. She didn't mention the trouble Tom had with his colleagues when he worked at the Times.
"Did I mention we spent the weekend shooting at Curraghmore?" Mary said, hoping to deflect attention from the political strife in her new country.
Cora frowned. "Is that the seat of the Marquess of Waterford?" she asked. "I was very sorry for Beatrix when I heard about the death of her husband before the war. Of course, she is married to the Duke of St Alban's now."
Isobel nodded with interest.
"How did you come about an invitation to Curraghmore?" Sybil asked quietly.
Turning to face her sister, Mary said, "It turns out that the current Marquess follows Tom's writing. He even had a first edition of Tom's poetry." The pride in her husband was evident to everyone in the room.
"Does Tom even shoot?" Matthew asked, gripping his teacup tighter.
"Oh yes," Mary said blithely. "He used to spend summers with his grandfather, a farmer in County Cork. All farmers need to be able to shoot." Mary shifted in her seat, a gentle frown forming as she looked at Matthew.
"Well, that's excellent. He will be able to join the other men for the New Year's shoot," Isobel said, breaking the tension her son had created.
"Yes, how wonderful," Matthew gritted out through a false smile.
Mary's eyes shifted to Lavinia, who was sitting quietly beside her, hands gripped together in her lap.
"Tell me, Lavinia, what is your progress on the nursery?" Mary asked, gently placing her hand on her friend's arm.
"Oh yes, Lavinia, did you find the paint you were looking for?" Edith added eagerly, trying to move the conversation along.
Lavinia sighed in relief, sharing a small smile with Edith. "Yes, eventually," Lavinia said. "Isobel and I found the exact shade we were looking for in York." Lavinia sat straighter in her chair. "There's a workman coming after Christmas to paint the nursery."
"What colour did you choose?" Mary asked with curiosity, all things babies a particular interest to her at the moment.
"Oh, it's a lovely soft buttery yellow," Isobel informed the room with a smile.
"That sounds lovely, Lavinia," Cora complimented.
"Have you thought about a nursery yet, Mary?" Lavinia softly asked her friend.
"Well, we already have such pretty wallpaper in our second bedroom. I don't think we need to do anything with the walls." Mary smiled, her cheeks flushed as she shared her plans. "Mrs. Branson's neighbour's son is a carpenter, so Tom has commissioned a crib and a tall dresser for the baby." Mary looked dreamily around the room, squeezing Lavinia's arm in happiness, confident the other woman would understand her excitement.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Sybil turned to Mary. "You must tell me if you need anything, so I can send it to you in Dublin," Sybil said with a genuine smile, before her eyes flicked to Matthew. She had noticed how tightly he held his cup.
"I would try and knit you something, but my skill hasn't improved since I was a child," Sybil added with humour.
"Don't look at me either. I will have to purchase you something as well, I'm afraid," Edith joined in, laughter reflected in her eyes.
"It's quite alright. Mrs. Branson and Tom's sister are knitting enough to clothe the baby for a year," Mary told them.
Cora frowned, not liking how much more involved Tom's family was in Mary's life now. She was more determined than ever to persuade Mary to come back home, especially since Mary only had that horrid doctor in Dublin to look after her.
"I will ask for your baptismal gown to be brought out of storage and review it for any necessary repairs," Cora said, wanting to be included in providing for her first grandchild. "It's so wonderful to think that the gown you wore when you were baptized will now be worn by your child." Cora smiled brightly, her eyes a bit watery from emotion.
Mary wisely refrained from mentioning to her family that she and Tom hadn't decided yet whether the baby would be baptized as a Catholic or in the Church of England.
At that moment, there was a commotion at the door, drawing the occupants of the room from their conversation. The ornate wooden door swung open, and Tom strolled in, carrying a large box with a pink bow on top. The bottoms of his trousers were wet from the rain, and his cheeks were still flushed from the cold outside.
Mary's heart sank at the sight of the box, though she gave her husband a welcoming smile.
"Afternoon, everyone," Tom greeted jovially. "Mr. Carson told me you were in here."
Tom swiftly approached the settee and bent to kiss his wife on the cheek. "I wanted to show you this," Tom said, shaking the box for emphasis. "Before changing into dry clothes. It's raining 'cats and dogs' outside."
Sybil discreetly stood from her position next to Mary and went to sit next to Isobel, partially occluding her view of Tom and Mary.
Tom sat next to Mary in the now-vacated seat, with the box carefully balanced on his knees. Mary could feel the excitement emanating from her husband, his shy glances an indication that he wanted her to ask about the box.
"Gosh! That's a large box, Tom. Are you giving Christmas presents out early?" Edith inquired, looking at the box with interest.
Tom bounced slightly in his seat. "It's a present for the baby," he told the room, as his deft fingers started to undo the elaborate bow.
Mary quickly surveyed the room and noted that most people were interested in seeing what Tom had bought. Her frown deepened when she noted how pale Sybil had suddenly become.
Tom finally managed to get the box undone and wrestled the lid off. He placed it on the table and revealed crinkled white tissue paper. Mary surreptitiously crossed her fingers, hidden by the folds of her skirt.
Tom pulled back the paper to reveal a dress made from blue and white striped material, with a simple ruffle at the hem and sleeves, adorned with pretty blue, white, and red flowers embroidered on the bodice.
Mary sighed in relief. Apart from the size, this dress wasn't too outrageous. Tom had brought home some truly horrendous clothes for the baby so far, but he was always so pleased with his purchases that Mary couldn't bear to hurt his feelings. She had resolved that the baby would just wear them when visiting Grandma Branson.
Tom proudly held up the dress for all to see. It was clear to the women present that the dress was meant for a child of at least three.
The women divided their attention between Mary and Tom, puzzled frowns on their faces. Even Sybil looked confused, sitting beside Isobel. Matthew looked a mix of bored and annoyed.
"That's for Mary's baby?" Cora asked, leaning forward slightly as if a different view would explain things.
"Yes," Tom said tentatively as he finally noticed the puzzled faces. "Mary told me she prefers simpler styles for the baby," he added.
"That's right, Tom. I do think plain styles suit babies better, and it will be easier to change the child too," Mary hurriedly said.
"I only asked because the dress is... quite large," Cora said weakly.
Tom's eyes grew large with alarm as he turned to Lavinia. 'Did he make a faux pas?' he frantically thought as he gazed at Lavinia and her larger baby bump. "I, uh, didn't think to get anything for your baby," he apologized.
Lavinia smiled warmly. "Oh, I wasn't expecting another gift for the baby from you, Tom."
She side-eyed the dress and couldn't help glancing at Matthew, who looked annoyed. Matthew hadn't bought anything for their baby. Until now, she had chalked it up to him being a man and having a general lack of interest in babies. Now, her heart ached at the contrast between Tom and Matthew.
"In my experience, babies tend to be quite small," Isobel offered, glancing at Mary's small baby bump and the massive dress.
"Uh huh, the dress is small," Tom pointed out reasonably.
"I like the flowers on the bodice," Edith said with a smile.
"Yes, the stripes are lovely, Tom," Cora quickly added.
Tom held up the dress again to admire his purchase, his smile bright, features soft.
"It's charming, Tom," Mary said as Tom handed her the dress. She could see it was of good quality, and it would be darling for their little girl to toddle about in.
From her friends, who all had children many years ahead of her, she knew that not many fathers were as invested in their babies. She was thankful that Tom showed interest, even if he did seem to think she was having a baby elephant. She gave her husband's hand a gentle squeeze in thanks.
"What's everyone doing in here?" Robert said as he strode into the drawing room, hoping for some tea and cake.
"Papa, Tom was just showing the dress he bought for Mary's baby," Sybil told her father.
Mary held up the dress for her father to see.
"Jolly good, I like the..." Robert waved his hand around in front of him. "Frills!" It was a pretty little dress, though he wondered how Tom and Mary knew they were having a girl. He didn't think the doctors could tell that.
Tom hummed happily under his breath as he carefully packed away the dress. "I'll just run this up to our room," Tom said, giving his wife a fond smile before leaving the room.
Robert walked over to the bell pull, deciding it was time for more tea.
"Mary dear, that dress is for a child of at least three," Cora tentatively said.
"I know, Mama," Mary sighed before smiling at the room's occupants. "I've told him how small babies are, and his mother has told him too. He just doesn't seem to understand. He's never really been around a baby before. His sister's baby was already thirteen months when he met him for the first time."
"If you like, I can give him a tour of the hospital. I think there's a mother who has just given birth," Isobel offered practically.
Lavinia smiled at Mary and patted her arm gently. "I will send you a photo of the baby to show Tom. Maybe he just needs to see it for himself."
Matthew rolled his eyes. He saw the sad look Lavinia gave him as 'perfect Tom' showed off the dress. He's a man, for God's sake. Why is he buying baby clothing? He could feel a headache coming on from the tension in his jaw.
"Too big? It looked about the right size to me," Robert offered, puzzled by the talk of baby sizes. Babies were small, the dress was small. Sometimes he just didn't understand women, he thought as he shook his head gently.
The ornate wooden door to the drawing room swung open, and Carson entered. "You rang, my lord?"
"Ah yes, Carson, I think it is time for more tea," Robert announced.
"Very well, my lord," Carson said gravely before exiting the room as quietly as he had entered.
The conversation turned to the upcoming party in two nights and the guest list.
"Mama! Not Larry Grey, he is such a bore," Sybil complained.
"Sybil darling, I can't invite Dickie and not invite his sons too, especially as I know they are both at home," Cora explained.
"I am looking forward to seeing dear Dickie," Mary exclaimed.
"As per your request, I also invited Sir Anthony, Edith," Cora said with a slight worried frown. Of all her daughters, Edith had always struggled to find a beau, unlike Mary and Sybil. But really, she didn't think Sir Anthony was the right fit for Edith.
"Thank you, Mama," Edith said simply, sharing a quick knowing look with Mary. She liked Sir Anthony. He was a gentle soul, always kind to her, and best of all, he preferred her to Mary.
The competition between the sisters seemed for naught now, as Edith could see how happy Mary was with Tom. It was astonishing, as Mary had always been the most socially conscious of the three sisters.
It gave Edith a prick of hope to see Mary so happy with someone so unexpected. It made her think there was someone for everyone in the world, easing her romantic heart.
"Well, we shall have a jolly time," Robert said, starting to feel enthused about Christmas. He always liked this time of year and the social whirl of country life. "At least we don't have to put up with that dreadful Sir Richard Carlisle," he said decisively, completely missing the annoyed look from his wife.
Sybil went pale at the mention of last year. Everything was different now, her life plan completely changed. She looked at her pregnant sister, who was quietly chatting with Lavinia.
Mary had never looked so happy; she practically glowed. Sybil had imagined it would be her, having a baby and welcoming Tom into the family. Last Christmas had been too close to the end of the war, and she hadn't made up her mind if she would accept Tom's offer. But still it had been a secret fantasy of hers.
She tried to swallow the lump in her throat and hold back her sudden tears. She didn't want to embarrass herself by crying in front of her family. She hoped Carson would hurry with the tea; she needed a distraction.
Matthew scowled. He wished Sir Richard were his only barrier to Mary. He should have broken it off with Lavinia and asked Mary to marry him. He could have done it too; Mary had cared for him so tenderly during the war. She would have accepted him, he was sure.
There had been that dance between them, it had been the perfect time to say something, but his honour and prior commitment to Lavinia had held him back.
Isobel sighed as she noticed Matthew glowering in Lavinia and Mary's direction. 'God, I hope he doesn't do anything foolish,' she thought, her stomach twisting.
The drawing room door opened again, and Carson entered, followed by Thomas and Albert. The conversations paused as the three servants bustled about preparing the tea service.
Robert smiled as he saw the sliced Christmas cake Mrs. Patmore made each year. He rubbed his hands together and got comfortable in his chair, ready for tea.
Carson manned the tea urn, while Thomas passed around the teacups and saucers, followed by Albert with the cake.
Quiet descended on the room as the occupants concentrated on eating and drinking for the next five minutes before the conversation picked up once more.