"Are you ready for the hunt today, sir?" Molesley asked as he lathered Matthew's face with the white, warm shaving cream. It always made Matthew smirk when people found out that Molesley, the valet who could become so flustered by the slightest thing, gave the smoothest shaves in all of England. In his day to day life the man could be startled and shocked (even now that he'd never lost the confidence Matthew had stolen from him) but when he was on the job, and especially when he had a razor in his hands, his nerves were as steely as his blade. Robert had once expressed doubt when Matthew had told him such and he'd told the Earl to give Molesley a try.

Matthew was still unsure if Robert had been joking when he'd suggested hours later, still rubbing his smooth cheek, that they might consider swapping valets.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Matthew said as Molesley checked the razor for sharpness. "Truth be told, I'm doing it more to keep up appearances than the thrill of the hunt, as it were."

Molesley frowned at that as he began to swipe the razor along Matthew's right check. "I thought you liked hunting. You've been working with the horses up at the big house to make sure you have a steady hand for months now. I thought you were rather keen on the day."

"I think I'll rather enjoy hunting," Matthew said, mentally reminding himself that at this point in his life he'd never been hunting before. "I just don't see the thrill of the fox hunt, that's all." He paused, allowing Molesley to perform a few more passes with his razor before speaking again. "In all actuality there is so little I do. The dogs do all the work… I just sit on a horse, dressed in a silly red jacket, and then proclaim it all a 'jolly good show' even if nothing happens. I'd rather be bird hunting, as that at least sees me walking about. Perhaps stalking after a buck? But fox hunting seems like it is a lot of pomp for doing so little."

"Ah," Molesley said, motioning for Matthew to lift his chin so he could get along his neck. "So you'd prefer to be a bit more proactive. Chase the prey rather than let it be brought back to you."

"Yes," Matthew murmured, stilling the conversation until Molesley had finally finished with the trim. He took the warm towel his valet offered and patted his face while the other man got out a bottle of lotion, the strong smell that was almost medicinal in quality but that everyone, even himself, would label as a good clean scent filling the room as Molesley gathered a bit in his palms before lightly working it over Matthew's cheeks and neck. "This isn't a hunt; it's a horse ride with a lot of barking. I want to do some real hunting! Actually have a gun in my hand instead of a mug of drink and a riding crop!"

"I can see that," Molesley said as Matthew stood up, ready for his valet to help him get on the stupid jacket that made up the uniform of the day. Honestly Matthew hated the damn thing and wished he'd never have bought it but he wanted to put on a better show than he had the last time when he'd completely bowed out of the hunt. At the time he hadn't wanted to be put on show, treated like a new painting that Robert wanted to unveil. He'd also not wanted to go out with Mary watching him; not after her snide remarks about him not being able to hunt. The last thing he'd wanted was for her to see how right she truly was. But now he saw that skipping the hunt had only reinforced everyone's opinions that he wasn't quite… right… to be the future earl. Only a few of the upper class didn't hunt and they were seen as being strange and a bit mad by those that viewed the scorning of tradition as a cardinal sin. It had also led Edith on, with his act of kindness making her believe that she had a chance of him taking notice of her. She'd seen it as the first step in courtship while Matthew had seen it as a way to avoid Downton and Mary's smug face as she rode on Diamond and joined Mr. Napier and the Turkish prick (that would forever be his title in Matthew's head) in their silly little play hunt.

He had fixed part of that problem already, having made clear to Edith before the holidays where his feelings for her lay and the two had begun to build what Matthew hoped would be a strong friendship on that foundation. It helped that Sybil had been there to guide Edith in the right direction, once Matthew had told her all about her sister's failed attempt to woe him in the previous lifetime. And today he would set about fixing the second part by making a proper showing at the fox hunt. He'd wear the silly outfit and ride on his horse watching the hounds do all the work and pretend it was all oh-so-exciting.

No matter how much he didn't want to do it.

"If we are to hunt then let it be a true hunt," Matthew complained as Molesley ran his brush over the jacket's shoulders. "I want to be in the grass, stalking some true game. Let me match my wits against theirs, their skill against my own. I want to feel my heart race and the tension build. For God's sake, at the very least let me carry a gun!"

"I don't know how fun that would be for the likes of Lady Crawley," Molesley commented. "She is joining you, is she not?"

"Yes," Matthew conceded. "Still, that shows how silly this entire hunt is. It is a chance for her to wear a new outfit and ride sidesaddle. We might as well stay on Downton's grounds. We could all just sit down and drink tea and clap as she performs tricks." Matthew shut his eyes and centered himself. He knew that anger would do no good; that had always been his mistake, back in the last time line: letting his temper get the better of him. His frustrations would boil over and when he should react with calm and carefully thought-out words he'd instead lash out and say something he'd instantly regret but the damage would already be done. "I'm sorry, Molesley. I shouldn't talk like that in front of you."

"It's all right, sir," the valet said, putting his brush away and motioning for Matthew to sit so he could help tug on his boots. Technically he should have had them on before he put on the bloody crimson jacket but the things made his arches ache so bad that if he could have gone barefoot all the way up to the Abbey instead of wearing them he would. "I take it as a sign of how relaxed you are in my company. It shows I've done something right."

"You've done more than just 'something', Molesley, You've been a godsend, keeping me from putting my foot in it a thousand times."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Molesley said humbly, flashing a flustered smile as he grabbed Matthew' black hunting boots. "You've done rather well for yourself. I think you would have managed just fine without me."

"With the large things, perhaps, but there are always-" Matthew grunted as Molesley twisted his foot to force the boot on, "-little things that can cause problems, that can snowball into major issues. You've helped me steer clear of those."

"Well… thank you, though I'm not sure I deserve the praise," Molesley stated. "Do you know who else will be joining the hunt?"

"Lady Mary, of course. She loves all sorts of hunting but this is one of the few where she is on near equal footing as the men so it is her favorite. A few men from the neighboring estates. Not the Skeltons, as they aren't fans of hunting or at least the head of the family isn't. Nor the Greys… we invited Lord Merton but his sons, naturally…"

"Oh yes," Molesley said with a quick nod as he got the other boot firmly in place on Matthew's already-aching foot. "I imagine that we won't be seeing much of the Grey sons around Downton any time soon. Better for their health"

"Better for their health?" Matthew asked

"Well… a fox hunt involves some spirits and then riding a horse which is known for not being that slow or steady…"

Matthew chuckled. "Ah, yes. Wouldn't do for Larry Grey to become sick during the hunt… or on the fox." Molesley let out a snort at that before containing himself and Matthew shook his head. "Is there anyone that likes that man?"

"Himself?" Molesley asked.

"Touché." Matthew inspected himself in the mirror. "Lady Mary also convinced them to invite a Mr. Evelyn Napier."

"I don't think I'm familiar with him."

"He's the son of Viscount Branksome, I believe," Matthew said, pretending he hadn't researched the man or the prick and learned so much about them that he could have written their biographies. "If Edith is to be believed the two of them have been corresponding."

"Ah, that makes more sense then. A way to allow her family to meet the gentlemen before they formalize any relationship."

Matthew bit his tongue to keep from muttering about how there would be no formalizing of any relationships with other men when it came to Mary so long as he was around. Instead he added, "From what I hear it won't be the stuff of romances Lady Marry was hoping for; it seems the Hon. Mr. Napier is bringing a guest."

"Oh?" Molesley asked.

"Yes," Matthew said, forcing himself to keep his voice casual despite the rage he felt. He sometimes wished Sybil hadn't said a word of what she suspected had actually occurred between Mary and the Turkish Prick… and what Mary had failed to admit even to herself. It made it all the harder to play the game. Bad enough that he'd thought his wife would fancy the turk in front of him. To know how he'd violated her… Matthew forces the rage down, promising the inferno in his heart that soon enough he will feed it the Prick's blood. "A Turkish diplomat. Kemal Pamuk."

"My word. Now that is a tongue tangler if I ever heard one," Molesley said, eyebrows raised to the near top of his head. He shook his head and said in near exasperation, "I find it so hard to take foreigners seriously when they have names like that. Makes them sound rather silly, doesn't it? 'Kemal Pamuk'. Feels like I have jam in my mouth."

Matthew smirked. "I suppose they might say the same about us and our names."

"But at least our names sound normal," Molesley said, missing Matthew's point completely. "Matthew, Joseph, Peter… those names are common, simple."

"And then you have a man named Evelyn," Matthew pointed out.

"…well, still better than 'Kemal'. I'd rather be called Elizabeth than that."

"I'll remember that!" Matthew said with a laugh before rolling his shoulders and turning his back to the mirror. "Well, do I look like a proper little hunter?"

"Like you stepped out of a picture book, sir," Molesley said, handing him his hat. "And you're sure that you'll be staying at the big house tonight?"

"Indeed. I imagine the dinner afterwards will be a long one and I know there is talk of a rather elegant breakfast in the morning so I thought it best to just spend the night. I already let Carson know I'll be needing William's help. He'll be a poor replacement for you but we'll manage."

"I don't mind coming up to the house."

"But I do," Matthew said earnestly. "It won't do either of us any good if you are half asleep from walking up and down from the house. Better for William to attend me tonight, you get a decent night's rest, and then be able to come tomorrow morning to assist me before we both walk back together. Besides, I'm sure my mother will return tonight and I'd feel better if you were here, Molesley. If I can't be here to protect here then I want you ready."

"Well… of course, sir. I certainly understand." Molesley puffed out his chest a bit before hurrying over to Matthew's dresser. "Then I think while you're off I'll begin preparations myself to get everything you might need settled. I'm thinking I'll bring both sets of tails, just in case. Wouldn't do to have something happen to one and we are left in a lurch. I can bring them up while you hunt and be back here to have supper with Mrs. Bird."

"Smart thinking with both sets. Might end up in black tie," Matthew said, remembering fondly the disastrous dinner when Alfred had burned his jacket and Robert's shirts had disappeared.

The valet shuddered. "Heaven help us. Yes, the regular and the backup. And a few other changes for the morning, in case I am delayed." He paused, considering a few things quietly to himself before nodding. "I believe I will treat this as if you were off to London for 3 days."

"No need to go to that much trouble-"

"No trouble at all. In fact it prevents trouble. I'd rather lug the stuff up there and not need it than to risk not having the shirt or socks I need. I'll head up while you're on the hunt and have Mr. Carson show me where you'll be staying for the night. That will give me time to unpack and make sure everything is organized."

"Well, I trust your judgment and lay myself in your steady hands." Matthew put on his hat and scoffed in good humor. "But truthfully I'd rather send you to the hunt and I have me pack."

"Not sure that would be a good idea."

"Oh, I don't know… maybe Lady Mary would fall for you."

Molesley blushed and blustered at that while Matthew merely grinned and headed out, ready to make the long walk to the house…

…and the Turkish Prick.

~A~O~O~O~F~

"I still don't know about this."

Mary glanced over at Papa, who was watching as the horses snorted and the hounds swirled about like water draining from a foamy bath. Lynch was doing his best to keep the animals under control but when one had that many hounds it became a near impossibility to get them to all behave. As such the hunters and their mounts were left shifting, trying to avoid the canines that, honestly, knew just how close to get without truly getting in the way. Mary watched him grimace as one of the dogs leapt up onto Thomas as he was attempting to bring a drink to one of the riders; to his credit he didn't even flinch but Mary could tell that this was not a fun time for any of the footmen. She knew that her father would be having a word with Carson to see about giving Thomas and William a bit of extra time off once this was all done, in favor for their steady nerves in the face of barking dogs and nervous horses. That was his way, after all; while Carson, Mary knew, thought all duties were just that papa saw these situations as being above and beyond the call of duty and sought to reward steady hands.

While the footmen were feeling ill-of-ease, even if they didn't show it, Mary was feeling rather delighted about the outing at hand. There were so many things that she, as a woman, was simply not allowed to take part in. It drove her mad to know that if she had been born a boy her papa would be involving her in so many more events and rituals of the estate, preparing her for the day when it would be hers to guide. Even on most hunts she was little more than a source of cheer, expected to follow around this man or that and offering encouraging words and clap like a brainless beauty whenever they managed to take out a bird. The fox hunt though was different. Here she was on equal footing with everyone else. She rode with them, dressed like them, drank with them (though never as much even though she knew she could, in the words of her American grandmother, 'drink them all under the table'), and celebrated a successful hunt with them. It was one of the rare activities where she could forget that she was seen as the disappointment because of her gender and was merely Lord Grantham's eldest child.

Which was why she didn't like her father's tone when he spoke of his worry.

"Whatever do you mean, papa?" she asked him, glancing over at him; he wore his normal day suit and not a red jacket and crisp black trousers nor even a black outfit to match her own. The greatest irony was that while she loved the fox hunt and saw it as one of the few things she could do with her father in recent years he had found excuse after excuse not to participate. It wasn't anything to do with her, of course, she realized that. It was more that her father didn't actually enjoy hunting. Oh, he liked parts of it: the playing with the dogs, the gathering outside to have a meal (though with fine china and servants, of course; this wasn't the African bush), the chatting with old friends, the strolls through nature… but the actual raising of a gun and killing an animal? That he could do without. Mary had the suspicion that if her father could have had all the trappings of a hunt without actually hunting a single thing he'd throw such parties every week.

Her father screwed up his face a little as he watched several of their friends chatting to themselves. "I fear that this isn't the right way to go about truly introducing Matthew to everyone. And yes, I know that we've held plenty of dinners but this is Downton's first large event since Matthew came here and it should be a chance for him to truly shine. Making him hunt seems rather cruel."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Mary said with a slight smile. "I think it is rather smart to make him dive in headfirst. It is easy to pretend to be one of us when you are at a dinner table and can rely upon others to cover up your faults but the fox hunt will force him to show once and for all if he can show any progress in developing himself or if we are stuck with a country lawyer bumbling about."

"You rather make him sound like a dog we are taking to show," her father said in a huffy tone. "You do realize that we are supposed to be helping Matthew, don't you? Downton and him and linked; if one sinks so does the other."

"Then let us hope that he learns to swim rather quickly."

Her papa muttered to himself before stating, "I suppose it is a good sign that he wanted to participate at all. I had worried he'd find a reason to duck out at the last minute but he's approached this with an open mind."

"Yes, he has," Mary admitted. That had surprised her. She'd thought for sure that as the time grew closer to the big event that Cousin Matthew would find some reason or another to avoid the whole thing. She'd taken a bit of devious pleasure in describing all he would encounter and had been disappointed when he didn't flinch or falter in his commitment to participate. She had felt a touch bad at teasing him so but whenever her nerves got the better of her she looked at Downton and reminded herself that this was her home and he was the man trying to steal it away. That always serves to strengthen her resolve.

Her father's voice cut through her thoughts. "Though I suppose you are partially to thank for his willingness to be a part of this."

"I.. I don't know about that," Mary said, hating out her voice faltered and sputtered. "He is still a poor hand when it comes to Mercury."

"Oh, he selected a horse then?" papa asked and Mary bit down her annoyance at his pleased tone. Her father had been nudging Matthew to select a horse from their stable to call his own, thinking it would make a wonderful gift.

"No, he has not," Mary said, only to drop her voice and mumble, "I… selected it for… him." She jutted her chin out and added, "But only because I was afraid he'd ruin all the horses with his utter inability to ride. This way only one is scarred for life." She wondered if her father would buy that excuse and from the way he was smiling it was clear he wasn't.

The truth was that what had started out as a chore for Mary had actually become a touch… enjoyable. Not that she'd ever use that word, oh no. Not at all. But riding with Matthew was no longer some painful task that she had to take on out of duty, like Hercules performing his 12 Labors. He'd been polite with her suggestions but also knew how not to speak to her in such a way that he came off as a brainless cretin who meekly did exactly what she commanded. He would follow along but also question and probe why she made such suggestions and take in her answers and absorb them into his mind. And as he took in her suggestions there was less need for her to direct him. That had led to some painfully awkward and silent moments until Matthew had begun to ask her about her childhood, for he wanted to know just how different growing up at Downton had been compared to her own upbringing. Mary had been happy to tell him all about her wonderful and privileged upbringing (for she was still a touch bitter over his comment about how the middle class was so much better than her and her kind) and how wondrous it truly was. Of course that had meant learning about his own childhood, for she couldn't make him feel as if his youth was wanting when compared to her own if she didn't know what life had been like for him growing up.

'And thankfully he manages to make such tales at least interesting,' she thought to herself as she watched Lynch try and get the dogs under control. 'Too many people would have made their tales boring affairs that would have seen me falling asleep and slipping off Diamond's saddle but Matthew somehow made growing up in Manchester of places sound interesting!' She chuckled to herself. 'And it has given me plenty of gossip that would make many here salivate.' Mary paused, lips pursed in thought as she considered why she hadn't spoken to anyone yet about Matthew's tales of childhood embarrassment. 'I suppose it is because I know he has material about myself that he might use to blackmail me.'

Why she'd told him about the day when she was five and she'd decided she was going to be a footman and convinced Mrs. Hughes to help her make a tiny set of livery so she could serve Mama and Papa in the drawing room she'd never know.

'It was because he told me about how he went through his cowboy phase and used Cousin Isobel's stockings as a lasso.'

"What's so funny?" papa asked, nudging her.

Mary quickly wiped the smile off her face. "Nothing!" she stifled a chuckle (which she wanted to call malicious and full of evil intent but even she knew that was a lie). "Nothing at all."

"Hmmm," her father said, sticking his hands in his pockets and rocking on his heels. "Why do I suddenly have the terrible feeling that the rest of my life will be filled with women plotting all about me but whenever I ask them what they are doing they will say 'nothing at all'?" Mary opened her mouth to respond only to snap it shut when he father pointed out a figure coming towards them. "Isn't that the chap that you and your mother were keen on inviting?"

"Evelyn Napier, papa, and Mama more than me, to be honest," Mary stated. When her father glanced at her she let out a small sigh. "I was corresponding with him but I fear what mama is hoping to be something of a fairy tale has turned into a story from the Strand that tapered off without a true ending."

"And why is that?" her father asked and Mary found it odd that he didn't sound disappointed. She'd thought for sure that he'd mourn the fact that she'd turned her nose up on another potential match. But instead he discussed her failure to find a husband like one would converse about the weather. It made her both glad that she was no longer seen as a white elephant that papa was desperate to offload and mortified at the hint that her family was already coming to accept her as the spinster that never married and folded dresses for her sisters.

She didn't voice her concerns, however. It wouldn't be proper to tell her father how his mild words had sent her heart fluttering with both fear and delight. That would be positively… American. Instead she merely stated, in her most aloof tone, "I fear I mistook the interest in the new for a spark of something move."

'And because he wasn't Matthew!' a traitorous little voice in her head sang. It was a voice that had been growing in volume over the last few weeks and was annoying her to no end.

"And there is no chance that you might be wrong? You know sometimes men and women-" Papa shifted and Mary smirked slightly; it was always amusing to see how flustered he got when it came to discussing anything concerning the connection between the genders with her or her sisters. He'd get all blustery and sputtery, like Carson would if he found spots on the silverware. When she'd been younger she'd once paid Sybil a few coins to walk up to their father and, in her most innocent voice, ask where babies came from. Mary had never known a human face could turn so many colors in such rapid succession. "Well, you know… sometimes they start one way and then believe… that… the thing is-"

"Peace, papa, peace," Mary said gently, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "And yes, I am afraid that I'm not wrong. In order to have a happy life with someone I believe they must find themselves able to talk with the person they entangle themselves with. Like you and mama."

Her father smiled at that. "Yes, that is true. And you and Mr. Napier?"

"At first I thought it possible but as time has gone on I have found that it is harder and harder to write to him."

'Because he isn't Matthew!' the voice called out again, mocking her. She mentally gave the voice a shake before continuing.

"It is nothing he has done and I do hope we can be friends but I don't want to lead him on. Mama thinks that something might come out of it this weekend but I have my doubts."

"You'll wait till the end of everything before telling him though, right? I'd hate to ruin the hunt with a Shakespearian drama performance."

"Do not worry, I'll choose my moment well. Besides, it may not matter… he invited a friend to join him, after all, so romance might not even be on his mind."

Her father didn't get a chance to comment as by then Evelyn approached them and warmly greeted them both, shaking papa's hand before taking Mary's own and kissing it gently. Mary smiled politely though she did feel a twinge of disappointment that there were no butterflies in her stomach nor fireworks going off like they wrote about in all the tales of romance. Instead she was acutely aware that she now had Evelyn Napier's saliva on her knuckles. Looking him over as he chatted with her father Mary was disappointed in how he looked, wondering how it was that he could wear such a fetching fox hunt outfit and somehow look so… plain. He wasn't ugly, by any standards, but there wasn't anything that she could latch onto that would make her heart tremble. Instead he merely looked as he always did, no different even dressed up.

She found herself all the more disappointed.

"I must thank you for allowing me to come… and allowing me to bring Mr. Pamuk," Evelyn said politely.

"Where is your friend?" her father asked, scanning the grounds as Evelyn moved to assist Mary onto Diamond. Had she been the type of woman to get all a flutter over the smallest of gestures she'd have blushed from his thoughtful nature; instead she found herself annoyed that he believed that she needed his help.

But rather than say this she focused on her father. "Oh papa, if he were here he would be easy to spot!" Mary turned to Evelyn and smiled cheerfully. "Isn't that right? A short little man with greased back hair and a thin black moustache and a wide smile?"

Evelyn turned as a rider came around the corner of the house and approached them atop his horse, leading the mare into a steady trot. "Not quite that…" he said dryly.

It wasn't only Evelyn's words that were dry, as Mary suddenly found herself quite parched as she stared at Mr. Kemal Pamuk.

It wasn't one single thing about him that made her stop in stare in shock. It was rather his entire being; every little piece adding up to one stunning, jaw dropping form that left her gaping like a dullard unable to understand even the most basic of equations. She gripped the pommel of her saddle tightly as her mind was suddenly filled with adventures in foreign lands and breathless escapades that left her panting and laughing with thrill and excitement. In those few moments Lady Mary Crawley saw in Kemal Pamuk a life of danger and exhilaration. She saw herself swept away from the home she'd always known and journeying to far flung lands and meeting exotic new people and experiencing things that no one in her family, maybe no English woman in all of recorded history, had ever experienced. She saw her and Mr. Pamuk holding hands as they fled from dark dangers, laughing as they ran from death and once more proved themselves the betters of the Reaper. A life that was never boring and never what she could hope to predict. One that left her breathless and wanting for more.

"Lady Mary Crawley, I presume?"

"You presume right," Mary said, hoping her voice didn't actually sound as squeaky to everyone else as it did to her. As Kemal went on about having to change in a shed she found herself unable to actually hear the words he was saying as his smooth voice flowed over her like a beautiful piece of music. Finally, realizing that he was waiting for her to actually say something, she managed to sputter out, "Well, you don't look disheveled to me."

"Is this everyone?" Evelyn asked politely.

"Not quite," papa said before Mary could speak up. "We are still waiting for Matthew."

"Ah yes, your new heir," Evelyn said with a slight smile. "I missed him when we saw each other in November. I've been looking forward to meeting him." He glanced over at Mary, surprising her when he said, "Everyone is quite interested to see him… he has become quite the talk at the parties I've attended."

"Is that so?" Mary asked.

"I hope nothing too dreadful," her father said.

"Quite the opposite, I'll admit," Evelyn said, steadying his horse when one of the dogs got to close and startled it. "Word has spread, as it always does, of this mysterious lawyer you've found who acts as if he were born into our society rather than the middle class. Many of the men wish to see if the legends are true about him-"

"Legends," Mary said with surprise, "don't let him hear you say that! Will give him a swollen head." In the back of her mind though she found it odd to consider that people were telling stories about Matthew… and in a positive light as well.

"-and the women… well, far be it for me to gossip, Lord Grantham, but you shouldn't fear about his dance card should he join you all for a Season."

Her father puffed up at that, as if it were him that Evelyn had complimented, but Mary merely rolled her eyes. "I'm afraid they are in for a disappointment, then. Cousin Matthew is-"

"My word!" her father exclaimed and Mary turned, as did most of them men readying for the hunt, and watched as Matthew rode towards them at a full gallop, handling Mercury like a man born in the saddle, easily moving her along the yard and around the milling dogs without blinking an eye. He just as deftly brought the horse to a stop before them, looking about him with a humble smile as the rest of the hunting party stared at him in startled surprise.

"Sorry I'm late," Matthew said, adjusting his red jacket which, Mary dimly realized, fit him perfectly and let her see his lean, trim body despite the many layers.

"Now that was an entrance," someone said to Mary's right and Matthew blushed a bit as the gathered men chortled, their laughter breaking up their surprise that the middle class lawyer from Manchester could ride like the best of them.

"My deepest apologizes," Matthew said, adjusting his top hat before stroking Mercury's mane. "I was making my way here from the Village when one of the baker's assistance was nearly run over by a carriage. She dropped her basket and was in such a sobbing state that I took her back to her employer and explained what happened. It didn't feel right for the poor girl to be blamed for the acts of a fool. I insisted on writing a note to pay for what was lost and by the time it was all settled I saw I was dreadfully late."

"A rider and a hero all in one package," Evelyn said, extending his hand. "The tales I've heard of you seem to be true, Mr. Crawley. Evelyn Napier."

"Nice to meet you," Matthew said, turning his horse to talk to Mary's father, completely missing Mr. Pamuk extending his hand to greet him.

Mary didn't hear what Matthew said to her father. Instead she had another vision, only this time it was of Matthew… and what life would be like with him. She saw herself as Countess of Downton, hosting parties and discussing matters of the estate and watching as her own sons and daughters grew up and experienced life for their own. Since she had met him she'd seen Matthew as a bother, the pretender to the throne who was seeking to take what belonged to her and acting like he belonged when she knew he did not. But now, seeing him ride and mingle like everyone else, she was struck that, had she met him at a party and only known him by his title… she would have talked with him. Danced with him.

Fallen for him.

Much as it had been with Pamuk there was no one thing that triggered it. Instead it was as if suddenly her eyes had been opened and she saw all of him at once and the annoying, mocking voice in her head crowed in victory as she realized the truth. It wasn't that she was the only one who saw Cousin Matthew for what he truly was… it was that she was the only one who hadn't been able to move past him being middle class to realize that what he had once been no longer mattered because he was something else now. Something amazing. Where Kemal Pamuk offered something new and strange and enticing Matthew offered something stable and strong. Kemal was the daring adventure one went on when they were bored; Matthew was the bed one longed to return to, that one questioned why they'd ever left it in the first place.

"Are you ready to go, Lady Mary?"

She turned to stare at Evelyn… and saw a life of them sitting across from each other, reading their separate papers, Evelyn wondering who they knew in Larchmount until she reminded him of her sister and then he'd ask her how Sybil was doing. And then Mary and he would return to their papers and wait for themselves to get fat in their old age.

"Are you quite alright?" Matthew said, touching her arm.

She forced a pleasant smile on her face, startled and a little bit scared of how he'd done that so many times… and suddenly now the tips of his fingers made all the hairs on her arms stand on end. She turned to glance at Mr. Pamuk but he merely gave her a look that made her squirm like a rabbit cornered by a wolf. "Perfectly fine!" she said, sounding much to chirper to her own ears. "Shall we go? I think we shall go!" She spurred her horse on, not bothering to look back even as the others moved to join with her.

Maybe, if she galloped hard enough, she could outrace her conflicting feelings.

~MC~MC~MC~MC~

Author's Notes: Author's Note: So only one piece of information to share before we get to the plot bunny: Matthew riding in at a full gallop? That is based on how my material grandfather rode up to my grandmother for their first date. She came to the farm, wondered where he was, and he came racing from the barn on his horse, performing a few tricks before trotting over to greet her. My grandfather longed to be a cowboy and when he passed my grandmother gave me his cowboy hat, the only one he ever owned; it now hangs with my own cowboy hat in my apartment.

Now then, let's move on to my plot bunny. This one even comes with a suggested title: Tea Cups and Warp Cores.

Stardate 44002.3. Captain Robert Crawley of the USS Downton (a galaxy class star ship) has just received the dark news of the Battle of Wolf 359. It was a battle that cost the Federation much but at the very least Robert can breathe easy that his daughter, Lieutenant Mary Crawley, second officer of the USS Titanic, was one of the lucky survivors, though almost her entire crew, including Captain James Crawley and his son Patrick (no relation to Robert), were unable to escape and are listed as killed in action. Mary has returned to Downton with a cold, seemingly unfeeling shell about her, but Robert knows that she is clearly in pain, as does the Downton's Councilor, Lt. Anna Smith. Still, Mary assures her father that she is fine and makes it clear that she wishes to continue her childhood goal of being made Captain of the Downton, just as Robert took over for his mother, Admiral Violet Crawley. She has already put in to replace the Downton's former first officer, Commander Panswick, who has been selected to captain the USS London.

Star Fleet though makes a bold announcement that rocks Mary's hopes: despite Admiral Violet Crawley's own politicking, it has been decided that a young up-and-coming Officer will be transferred to the Downton as Robert's new First Officer. Matthew Crawley, a distant cousin of the illustrious Crawley family, had been at that point the first officer of the USS Manchester and during the Battle of Wolf 359 took command when his captain was killed, buying time for the crew to escape before Matthew himself was forced to abandoned the bridge seconds before the Borg were able to capture and assimilate the Manchester. Though the Manchester was a small ship that hardly holds a candle to the likes of the Enterprise or the Downton, Matthew's actions at Wolf 359 ensured that nearly 90% of the crew of the Manchester survived. Futhermore, he drew Borg attention away from ships such as the Saratoga, allowing their own crews to escape destruction and assimilation. All told, Star Fleet estimates that Matthew's actions saved the crews of 8 star ships and he has been hailed at the Hero of Wolf 359.

Thus the stage is set as the USS Downton prepares to begin exploring unknown worlds once more, with a brewing power struggle between its second officer and its first… and the family drama that comes from so many Crawleys in the same ship.

Yes, this would be a crossover with Star Trek, which would see the drama of Downton take place on a star fleet vessel. With some barriers ripped away but better chances for fighting, feuding, intrigue, and romance, it would lead to quite a bit of fun.

As for the officers, I see it working out like this:

Commanding Officer- Captain Robert Crawley, who comes from a long line of captains and took over for his mother, Admiral Violet Crawley. Robert loves how Star Fleet currently is, with focus on exploring, and fears that the events of Wolf 359 will spell doom and turn Star Fleet towards war.

First Officer- Commander Matthew Crawley. Formerly the first officer of the much smaller Manchester, Matthew is used to a much more lax ship and thus causes friction with the more rigid command structure on the Downton as he is much more personable with the men and women under him. But Matthew hides a dark side as he is still haunted by the events of Wolf 359 and with a mixture of Survivor's Guilt and PTSD hates the focus that has been placed on him.

Second Officer/Science Officer- Lt. Commander Mary Crawley. Former Second Officer of the USS Titanic, Mary spent several of her formative years studying on Vulcan as part of a cross-schooling program and thus tends to take a Vulcan mindset when it comes to emotions. She comes off as cold and unfeeling but does have a heart.

Chief Engineer- Lt. Tom Branson. Formerly one of the engineers on the Manchester, he was one of the few people brought over by Matthew. He clashes with the older crew members due to his dislike of the Prime Directive and quiet support for the Maquis.

Chief of Security- Lt. Charles Carson. A carry-over from when Violet commanded the ship, Carson feels Star Fleet has become too liberal when it comes to those that work on their ships and how they socialize. He frowns on how officers mingle with lower ranking members and feels that a ship should be run like the great houses of old.

Tactical Officer- Lt. John Bates. Many have said that Bates could have been a captain by now but has never taken up command out of loyalty to Robert. He and the captain are best friends and often spend time together in Robert's quarters discussing the workings of the ships. Bates has a robotic leg (which he gained saving Robert from some Romulans) and purposely lips to trick people into thinking he is weaker than he is.

Councilor- Lt. Commander Anna Smith. She joined the crew a year before Wolf 359 and suddenly finds herself dealing with more problems than she ever expected. A captain whose daughter has returned to the ship, said daughter hating the new first officer, a first officer with PTSD from Wolf 359 and who fights with his mother… and that is just the top three members of the crew!

Chief Medical Officer- Commander Isobel Crawley. Matthew's mother and the former CMO of the Manchester, she was the one that dragged Matthew from the bridge of the Manchester during the Battle of Wolf 359 and this has caused some issues between them as Matthew his haunted with those he could not save.

Flight Control- Ensign Thomas Barrow. Thomas desires to move up in the world and fears that he will never be able to do so on the Downton. He becomes an early ally of Matthew, seeing him as the right man to shake things up. Thomas just got out of a long relationship after finding out his boyfriend was cheating on him and this has left him bitter.

Navigator- Ensign Sarah O'Brien. Her family has a long running hatred of Klingons after her grandfather was killed by a Bird of Prey attack and she tends to be a bit xenophobic all around.

Communications Officer- Lt. Junior Grade Edith Crawley. Mary's sister, Edith had attempted to get a position on a different star ship before Wolf 359. Now she feels overshadowed by Mary once more and with Star Fleet wanting to keep the crawleys together she seeks to establish herself.

Transporter Chief- Chief Elsie Hughes. The woman that Robert calls 'The glue of Downton', she is the one the entire senior staff turns to in times of need, even Anna.

Notable other members of the crew:

Cora Crawley- Robert's wife and a famous Holodeck program designer. Her most famous works are a series of Holostories taking place in the early 20th century at an English estate. While never having been a member of Star Fleet she understands what it means to her daughters.

Ensign Sybil Crawley- A recent graduate of the Academy, Edith works under CMO Isobel Crawley in med bay. She is a propionate of AI rights.

Mrs. Patmore- She runs the favored bar on the Downton, The Abbey. In a world of replicators, Mrs. Patmore (don't ever call her by her first name!) specializes in using raw replicated ingredients to create fully made dishes. Legend says that her food actually made a battalion of Klingons settle down, eat in peace, and then offer her several marriage offers.