"Home is the hunter, home from the hill!"
Sybil hid her smirk as she followed after her parents, Edith at her side. "Do you think anyone will realize he spent the last hour searching for the perfect quote to greet everyone?" she asked her sister, Edith biting her lip so not to laugh. The last time she'd been through all this Edith had been out with Matthew looking at churches; Edith had thought that Matthew wanted to get to know her better while Matthew had admitted to her the other day he honestly just was interested in architecture. Sybil, for her part, couldn't remember what she'd been up to but knew that she'd pretty much avoided much of the events of that weekend. This time, however, she refused to be cooped up and it wasn't just because she was now nearly 10 years older and more sure of herself. The time when she'd been awkwardly trying to figure out who and what she wanted to be had long past and with her new maturity came a feeling of being comfortable in her own skin. There was no need to hide herself away because she didn't know how to be a part of the events of the weekend.
'And,' she thought, glancing at her mother and smiling slightly, 'I don't want to waste a minute of being with everyone.'
She couldn't quite call it a cliché as the knowledge had come about from her dying and then her soul traveling back into the past, but she'd still come to realize just how precious every moment of life was and she didn't want to waste it. Despite what her and Matthew were attempting (or perhaps, more accurately, BECAUSE of what they were attempting) at any moment any of them could die. Mary could slip from her horse and crack her head open. Her father could have a heart attack. Her mother could die to that horrid flu. The only one she didn't fear for was Granny and that was only because Sybil was convinced if all the Heavenly Choir came to collect her soul Granny would tell them to be quiet and their wings were gaudy and the Angelic Host would look down at their sandals and mutter apologizes before flying off. As such Sybil wanted to spend as much time with her family as she could and thus why today she'd sat with her parents and Edith (who she'd roped into joining them) while waiting for Matthew and Mary to return with their guests. They hadn't even done anything special, just been in the same room together, papa searching for a good quote to use to impress everyone and make them think he was more well-read than he was (oh, he was well read but not enough to, as Tom would have said, 'pull quotes out of his arse'), her mother had been working on some sewing project, and Edith had been reading up on, of all things, the history of London (apparently Matthew had talked with her and used his future knowledge to give Edith's confidence a bit of a boost and now she was determined to live up to the person he said she could be) while Sybil herself had merely pretended to read while soaking in the normalcy of it all.
She'd thought it to be bliss.
Not that it had all been wine and roses for Sybil (and ironically at her new young age she was getting neither of them to begin with). She and Matthew had discussed how annoying the family could be at times when it came to change, the two of them having remembered what papa and Granny could be like but not just how extreme it could be. It had taken Sybil by complete surprise when Gwen had told her a week earlier about O'Brien discovering the typewriter and revealing it to the entire staff, embarrassing Gwen and forcing her to tell them of her dreams. It was the first time since she'd realized that Matthew had also traveled back to the past that she'd been startled by an event, for she remembered that Evelyn Napier and Pamuk had been at the dinner where Gwen's desires had been discussed. She didn't quite know how the timeline had become so altered that Gwen's secret had been revealed a week early… and yet revealed in a similar way. Sybil had cornered Anna while she'd helped her dress and forced the maid to reveal that several in the staff had, just like in the previous timeline, taken wicked joy in making Gwen feel bad for her choice and fill her with doubt.
While Sybil Crawley had never been known for being able to hold her tongue when she was passionate about a cause... Sybil Branson was the wife of an Irish Radical and seeing Carson whispering to her father as she and her sisters had joined mama, papa, Granny, Matthew, and Isobel in the drawing room had set her off with rage that had never been seen from her in Downton before.
"How could you, Carson?" Sybil exclaimed. While she didn't raise her voice she did glare at the butler with a look so fiery that it was by the grace of God he didn't melt. She knew that she was making a scene but she honestly didn't care, nor that it would be, to an outsider, quite humorous to see a girl who hadn't even had her first season brow beating the butler of Downton like she was mistress of the household. "How could you allow that to happen to poor Gwen? Do you have no heart? No soul? Who are you to judge her so harshly? To allow others to do so without stepping in?"
"Sybil!" papa sputtered in surprise, the rest of the family looking at her. She felt Mary go to grab her arm but she shook it away, moving towards Carson and jabbing her finger into the bewildered butler's chest., not in the mood to be restrained.
"Carson?" mama asked. "What is this about?"
"Yes, please tell them, Carson. Tell them what you did to poor Gwen."
Carson stared at her, wide eyed, and stammered out. "I'm... I'm afraid I don't quite know what you are talking about, my lady."
"You broke her spirit!" Sybil practically snarled. She trembled, forcing herself to calm slightly, before deciding finally to focus on Matthew. He had been through this incident before and she knew how he would fall in the matter. While not as much of a radical as herself or Tom Matthew was a good man who did care for the staff and wasn't like the rest of her family were currently, seeing them as little more than decoration. Oh, in time they'd come around to realize that Downton and the name Crawley were built upon just as much the servants as they were the family members proper but at the moment she didn't trust a single one of them. "Our maid, Gwen, wishes to become a secretary. She has been taking lessons in her free moments, mailing them out and such. And today O'Brien," she shot her mother a dirty look, "decided to steal her typewriter and put it out for the entire staff to see." She turned as Matthew gave her a look that screamed, 'What the bloody hell is going on?' and leveled Carson with a dark stare. "And rather than defend Gwen and punish O'Brien for sticking her crooked nose where it didn't belong-"
"Sybil!" her mother exclaimed, deciding it was her time to be scandalized.
"-Carson here decided that it was his right to torment poor Gwen for daring to dream. Isn't that true?"
"My lady," Carson said, trying to get control of the situation. Sybil knew that he'd never faced her fury; no one had, not really. Not until Tom. They all just thought of her as a silly little girl who got passionate about foolish things and would mature and marry a duke and become a perfect little wife who set aside her ideals like a child did their dolls. It was time for them to learn how foolish that thought was. Time to mean the woman Tom has nicknamed Queen Mab after one particular row with a neighbor back in Dublin. "It is one of my many duties as butler of Downton to ensure that the staff is protected. This means not just from physical threats but ones to their standing and character. When someone as young as Gwen makes a mistake like this-"
"A mistake?!" Sybil exclaimed.
"Oh Carson," Matthew muttered, rubbing his forehead. "Now you've done it."
"So it is not a mistake to dream? To wish to better yourself? Is this true for all the servants?" She gestured at Thomas, the footman's eyes going wide and the smile he'd been wearing as he watched the spectacle falling from his lips when he realized he was now the focus of Sybil's tongue lashing. "Does that mean Thomas here can never hope to be a valet or a butler? He must forever be a footman, never hoping to move up, because it would throw of kilter how you deem the world to be? Or what if he desires to leave service, to become a doctor or a lawyer? Do his dreams not matter? Are all who live downstairs little more than slaves, patted on the head and told to never hope for something more?" Before the butler could comment Sybil added, "Or perhaps it is because Gwen is a women and dreams are only for men?"
"That is enough!" her father bellowed, cutting her off before she could say something vulgar. "We are not barbarians and we do not behave this way! Sybil, you will apologize to Carson at once for this... this... foul display."
Sybil licked her lips, her head drooping. "Carson, I am sorry... for Gwen and how you treated her." Her head snapped in her father's direction, defiance written on her features.
"Sybil, to your room at once-" her mama had begun only for Granny to hold up her hand.
"A moment, Cora, a moment. It is clear that this is more than dear Sybil latching onto a new crusade and nothing will be solved by locking her away so she might fester in her indignation." Granny looked at Sybil, her gaze hard, and Sybil realized that even with an addition ten years to her life she was still a touch frightened of her grandmother. And with good reason. "Now, if you could without acting like a madwoman escaping from the asylum, tell us why you have such a personal stake in what the maid does?"
Sybil took a breath before holding her head up high and proud, her voice calmer but no less passionate. "I bought the typewriter for Gwen. I've been assisting her for nearly a year. I have made her dream my own."
It had been a chore to convince Gwen to let her help her. In her first life Gwen had only told her about her dream after buying the typewriter, using every penny she had to buy it and pay for the mail-order courses. This time Sybil had gotten Gwen to tell her of her plan months earlier and then told the startled maid that she wanted to buy the typewriter for her. Gwen had been fearful of such a gift, trying to argue that Sybil couldn't do such, but Sybil could not be deterred and in the end Gwen had agreed, thanking her over and over for the gift. She then assisted her with her courses, checking over her work and mailing them out herself when Gwen was disposed.
"Why would you do that?" Edith asked.
"Because I believe it is the right of every person to strive towards happiness."
"And you're saying that Gwen isn't happy here at Downton?" Robert asked. "If we are that cruel of task masters why doesn't she simply leave?"
"Because she isn't unhappy here, papa, but that doesn't mean that she couldn't have more happiness." She looked about, seeing that none of them were getting it and she felt like screaming in frustration. Why did they all have to be so stubborn and make any small change a massive fight? Why couldn't they-
"I think, if I might interject, that this is a question of settling for something decent and moving towards a chance at greater happiness."
Sybil forced herself not to cry even as she mentally called out, 'God bless you Matthew!'
"Yes, Gwen could be happy here all her days…she could become like Mrs. Hughes and run all of Downton and know a peaceful life. But she also believes that there may be more happiness to be found out in the great world. It is the same reason that we strive to make Downton better and simply not settle for it being merely an 'average' house."
"But is it worth the risk?" Granny asked even as Carson gasped in horror at Downton being seen as 'average'. "Here she has steady employment, she knows who she works for and what we are like, there is little danger of harm coming to her… why toss herself into the fire when she could be comfortable here?"
"That was my opinion on the situation as well, my lady," Carson said, piping up and making Sybil silently call him a few names that weren't fit to be said in decent company. "It is something I have seen time and time again, where a younger member of the staff who is, well, naïve to the world, believes that they might go out to conquer it without realizing the danger they are putting themselves in. All I wished to do was ensure that young Gwen did not throw away the opportunities that have been given to her on some… flight of fancy."
Before Sybil could snap about that last comment (or complain about how Carson continued to talk of 'young Gwen' like she was an infant), Cousin Isobel rallied to the cause. "But who are we to tell someone not to take a chance?"
"People who are wiser?" Granny asked dryly.
"But that's just it. Sometimes we aren't wiser, not when it comes to matters of the heart." She looked about the room, her eyes steely and hard and Sybil fought back a grin, delighting in having Cousin Isobel in her corner. "Is there a single one of us who can say that we did not listen to others when we were told not to do something and enjoyed the sweet taste of victory when we were proven right?"
"But we've also faced the pain of defeat," Granny interjected. "Is it not our duty to ensure the maid and others like her do not suffer needlessly? That they learn from our mistakes?"
"Of course," Isobel said, "but there are times when we all must leave the nest and the safety it provides."
"I agree with Cousin Isobel," Edith said and Sybil mentally danced about as she scored another to her side. Rapidly she was seeing this as a true debate where winning meant swaying more to her side. She had Cousin Isobel and Matthew, as well as Thomas as he was once more nodding ever so slightly to their arguments. Edith made four. "It is fine to want to protect her but we can't lock the servants away… they aren't our slaves as Sybil pointed out. If Gwen wishes to explore a new aspect of her life is it not our duty to allow her to do so?"
Papa merely shook his head. "I can't believe we are discussing a maid wanting to become a secretary before dinner."
"It is something to consider, Robert," Matthew chimed in. "After all, would you not rather have Gwen leave thinking us so kind for allowing her to pursue her dream rather than waste away here, bitter at us stifling her hopes?"
"Well, of course not," papa blustered. He paused for a moment, mulling things over before speaking, "I suppose no harm has come of any of this. Sybil, so long as you apologize to Carson-" she opened her mouth but her father held up his hand, "-apologize for airing this all out like this rather than in private I believe we can all move on."
Sybil though shook her head. "I'm afraid I can not do that, papa."
"And why not?" her father asked, his voice taking on a mixture of weariness and annoyance.
"You are asking me to apologize to Carson for doing this out in the open and I am sorry for that," she turned and looked to the butler, "and I truly am. However, that does not excuse him doing the same thing to Gwen."
"Well now, Sybil, it wasn't Carson who brought young Gwen's typewriter out for all to see," Granny stated.
"That's right," Sybil agreed. "It was O'Brien and from what I've heard Carson did little to reprimand her for her actions. O'Brien had no right to expose Gwen like that."
"I'm sure O'Brien was concerned for Gwen, that is all," her mother said.
Mary, for the first time since the argument began, huffed in annoyance. "Oh come now, mama, you can't believe that! Even I know that if a servant wishes to address an issue they should see Mrs. Hughes or Carson. Dragging the maid's property out for all to see is hardly a good way to help them, now is it? Sounds more like O'Brien was looking to make a jest out of the maid." Mary turned to Carson and looked at him. "Don't you agree that there would have been a better way to handle this?"
There were few true facts in the world, Sybil had found, but before her was one of them: Carson loved her sister and would always side with her, even when she argued against a point he'd just made. "You are correct of course, my lady. I will take Ms. O'Brien aside and explain to her how we do and do not deal with concerns at Downton. I should have done that sooner." Sybil merely continued to stare at him and finally the butler added, "And I will apologize to Gwen for my actions."
"There, is it all settled? Can we eat?" papa asked in annoyance.
"Will you allow me to continue to help Gwen?" Sybil asked.
Her father let out a moan but Matthew cut him off. "I don't see the harm in it, Robert, so long as Gwen doesn't neglect her duties. It shows the staff that we care for them and it will help Sybil see a bit more of the modern world; she'll need to know about such things when she is Countess of her own estate. Gwen can educate her on how things are run downstairs and then, when it is her time to help her husband select new staff, she won't be caught on the bad foot." Matthew smirked. "Think of it as lessons from a private tutor."
"Oh Robert just say yes so we can eat," mama said with a tired smile.
"…alright, fine. So long as it does not detract from her world or cause any problems for the house of for you… you may help the maid become a secretary."
Sybil's face burst into a smile and she rushed over, kissing him on the cheek. "Oh, thank you, papa, thank you!"
"You can thank me by allowing me to finally dine," he said in a grumpy humor.
Still, despite the bit of unpleasantness that came with family Sybil had enjoyed being with them again and wanted to spend as much time as she could with her family.
There was another reason, however, why she'd wanted to be waiting with her father for Mary and Matthew to return and it was in the shape of the Turkish rapist that was trying to shift so he was standing next to Mary only to find Matthew forever blocking his path. As her father mentioned that the riders had truly been in battle ('how did they get so dirty? Did they all roll about in the mud instead of ride in it?') and Mary made a joke about the hunt Sybil forced a smile on her face while repeated a calming mantra to herself.
'You can't kill him here, you can't kill him here, you can't kill him here, you can't kill him-'
Sometimes she wondered if Tom's gentle teasing that she was secretly an Irish baby that some radical had slipped into Downton as the ultimate revenge on the aristocracy was true. A proper English lady didn't have to remind herself that she couldn't murder guests in the main hall.
"And this is my mother. Mama, Mr. Kemal Pamuk," Mary said.
"Charmed," the diplomat said, leaning down and kissing her mother's hand, his eyes drifting up so he could gaze at her, a flame of desire flashing in his eyes.
'You can't rip out his intestines and strangle him with them, you can't rip out his intestines and strangle him with them, you can't rip out his intestines and strangle him with them-'
"And aren't you going to introduce us?" Edith asked even as Sybil wanted to do nothing more than to grab both her and Mary and drag them far away from the leering deviant standing before her. The way he was looking at her made her skin crawl and she didn't get how anyone in the room could stand it, let alone find it attractive. Sybil didn't find Pamuk's gazes enticing or inviting; they made her want to throw her arms up over her body to cover her form even though she was wearing modest clothing. She tried to remind herself that he hadn't done anything yet and that it wasn't fair to judge a man for a crime he committed in another time and life, but as the Turkish Prick, as Matthew was fond of calling him, took Edith's hand and kissed her knuckles all Sybil could remember is Matthew's story of Mary's encounter with the man. Sybil could almost hear her sister's weak pleas, begging him to leave her room and him forcing her to submit, threatening her reputation in order to sully it anyway. It made her stomach curdle like she'd eaten bad cheese and all she wanted to do was flee.
'No, all I want to do is tear off his manhood and shove it down his pompous throat,' she thought to herself as Pamuk focused solely on her. She glanced up at Matthew, his face a cold mask as he fought not to react to Pamuk's actions, but then her gaze was dragged away from her friend/brother-in-law-from-an-alternate-future as the Turkish Diplomat moved towards her, a smile tugging on his lips.
"And who might this be?"
"My sister, Sybil," Mary said.
"You know," Pamuk said as he took Sybil's hand, his thumb running along her palm, "when Evelyn told me that I must come to Downton to truly experience the beauty of England I did not see the point. What could such a far off manor offer that London could not? Now I see what jewels have been kept hidden-ACK!"
"Oh," Sybil said, pressing her fingers to her mouth in her feigned surprise as the diplomat ripped his hand away, clutching it to his chest. "Are you alright, Mr. Pamuk?"
Kemal took a moment before nodding. "I'm find, Lady Sybil. I believe your nail has done a bit of damage to my finger, though." He held up the bleeding digit, a thin red line weeping blood that oozed down his hand and towards his wrist, one drop swelling and growing before falling to the hardwood.
"Are you alright?" Mary asked, rushing to his side. Sybil fought the urge to roll her eyes and she could see that Matthew was barely managing to avoid doing the same himself; one would think that the Turk had lost his hand rather than get a cut on Sybil's admittedly sharp nails (which she may or may not have filed to sharper-than-normal points just in case the diplomat tried something). Mary took his hand in her own, running her fingers along his. "Do you have a handkerchief?"
"It is all right, Lady Mary," Pamuk said smoothly, though he did not act to pull his hand from her. "Just a scratch is all."
"I am terribly sorry, Mr. Pamuk," Sybil said with false sweetness. "I am used to dealing with men with much stronger hands. Carson!" She waved towards the butler, who raising his eyebrow in question. "Could you please have Thomas fetch some bandages for Mr. Pamuk? And do tell him to be gentle… I would hate for anything to hurt his delicate skin." From the corner of her eyes she could see that the Turk didn't like that affront to his manliness but he couldn't call her out on her 'kindness' and thus could only stand by as Thomas came over and moved to show him where his room would be.
"What was that about?" Mary hissed as their parents and Edith moved on to chat with Matthew and Evelyn Napier, being the odd man out, ambled over to Carson to weakly ask him where his own valet was so he might change.
"Whatever do you mean?" Sybil asked with all the sweetness she could muster.
Mary glared at her sister for a moment before letting out a huff. "I don't know what your game is but if you wish to be cunning you should be more subtle. Now, let this be the end of it. I won't have you ruin tonight pulling pranks like a child."
"You are ruining things well enough," Sybil stated, nodding towards Evelyn. "Wasn't he the one you invited to visit and not Mr. Pamuk? You are being such a gracious hostess, ignoring a man you've corresponded with for months for some random forgeiner."
"I… don't know what you're talking about," Mary said quickly, trying to hide how flustered she was by Sybil hitting the mark true. "I will keep this between us but no more games or I'll ensure mama knows all about what you are doing." With that she turned, walking off with as much dignity as one could muster when they were splattered with mud, asking Carson to send up Anna to draw her a bath before making her way upstairs.
Sybil wanted to talk with Matthew but her father and mother were dragging him over to make their goodbyes to the hunters that would not be staying for the evening dinner, Edith deciding to head upstairs herself so she might begin getting ready. That left Sybil by herself with only Carson remaining in the room.
"If I might be bold… is everything alright, my lady?" Carson asked, still remembering the tongue lashing for the week earlier but doing his best to let it move past them.
She debated lying but decided in that moment that in this moment she needed another ally. Pamuk had proven to be even more charming and forceful than she remembered and she was concerned that Matthew's plan for dealing with the Turkish Prick wouldn't work out as he hoped. "I don't trust that man, Carson. Not in the slightest."
"I must admit he isn't the first person I would want staying at Downton but he seems harmless enough," the butler stated.
"That's just it, Carson… he does a good job of making people think he is harmless. And if there is anything I've learned in my 25 years, it is that those are the people one should fear the most." She moved away, deciding that after that confrontation she needed time to gather herself before Anna arrived to assist her in dressing.
She did not hear Carson murmur "25 years?"
~A~O~O~O~F~
"Are you alright, Matthew?" Robert asked, sipping on his drink. The two of them were standing by the fireplace, watching as the rest of the family and their guests milled about, enjoying a post-dinner drink and the conversations that such always brought about. "You seem a bit out of sorts. You aren't coming ill, are you?"
Matthew blinked, realizing that he had been wool gathering and failed to listen to Robert. The two of them had been discussing Dr. Clarkson's request for some new equipment when he'd spotted Mary chatting with Evelyn Napier and the Turkish Prick. He remembered idly that in his first life he'd stood with them, not contributing much to the conversation but honestly feeling too awkward to be around anyone else. Robert hadn't grown close to him yet in that previous life and their conversations had been filled with the lazy small talk men made when they honestly don't know what to say. His mother and Sybil had been discussing something, he had no clue, but it hadn't felt proper to join in with them, while Cousin Violet and Cora had been scheming; most likely it had been their final talk before requesting him to look into the entail.
He couldn't remember exactly when they'd asked him but he knew it was around this time of year. 'I wonder if they will try again?' Matthew pondered. 'With Robert and I getting along much better this time and my charm offensive on Edith winning her to my side… and Sybil and I already united in working together… I suppose it is possible that they won't even attempt it. I have tried to show Mary I won't be a disaster as Earl and our friendship has grown quicker than it did last time, so perhaps she'll ask them to set aside their attempts and accept things.' He watched as Mary laughed at something Pamuk said and he clenched his hand into a fist. 'But curse it if I've done all this only to make her more receptive to that bottom feeder's advances-'
"Matthew?" Robert said, touching his arm and making Matthew jump.
He ran his fingers through his hair before taking a sip of his brandy, settling his nerves. "I'm sorry, I've been terribly rude, haven't I? What were you saying?"
"It can wait for tomorrow. It isn't anything life threatening." Robert pursed his lips together, brow furrowed in thought. "At least I don't believe it is. Clarkson tried to explain what he wanted but I'm afraid it all went over my head." Matthew managed a chuckle at that. "Mama would think Cora had corrupted me with her American sensibilities but if something is bothering you would it not be better to talk it over with someone rather than to allow your mind to wrap about itself?"
"Hmm… you're right, of course," Matthew said. "I was watching Mary talk with our guests."
"Ah," Robert said with a slight smile. "I should have known." He turned his gaze towards his daughter, watching as she talked with Pamuk. "Cora had hoped that bringing Mr. Napier here would spark something more between him and Mary but it seems it has only ensured nothing will come about it. She's more taken by his friend than she is with him."
"That's what worries me, Robert," Matthew said.
"Whatever do you mean?"
Matthew sighed. Sometimes it was just so hard to have so much future knowledge and not be open with it. He'd wondered early on if he'd ever reveal the truth to the family, that for him this was his second time living the events at Downton, but he'd reasoned that at best they would be angry at him using his future knowledge to his advantage and at worse have him committed. It was a secret only he, and now thankfully Sybil, could be privy too but that meant that at times like this were all the more difficult. All he wanted to do was grab Robert and demand he throw the Prick out of his home before he took advantage of Mary. Because of his secret, however, he had to find a way to hint at the danger without coming out and stating it. He could practically hear Robert scoffing at him if he came out and just told him of the danger.
"Come now Matthew, don't you think that is a bit much? I admit that he is a bit different but he seems a nice enough chap for a foreigner. Oh look, Mary had decided to take him on a tour of Downton! Let's not bother them, as I would hate to prevent her from telling the long history of her bed. It was bought by my great grandfather, you see…"
No, he had to dance about the issue carefully if he hoped to prevent tragedy.
"When I met you I knew instantly that we would get along famously," Matthew said. "I didn't even need to hear you speak and by the end of the night I knew that we would have a friendship that would last a lifetime."
Robert, though confused by the odd change of topic, smiled at that. "I felt the same way, Matthew."
"But have you ever had the opposite feeling? That someone you've met is a danger and that nothing good can come from their presence."
Robert mulled this over. "Yes but it has been years, honestly. I get the feeling I won't like someone but I dare say the last time was during the Africa Campaign. You feel that was with Mr. Pamuk?"
"I can't explain it, Robert," Matthew said, jawing working slightly as Mary once more laughed at another one of the Prick's little quips. "I look at him and I fear that people are too captivated by his looks and his smooth words to see what type of man he truly is."
Robert murmured slightly at that. "Matthew… are you sure that your dislike with Mr. Pamuk isn't coming from another source?"
"What do you mean?"
"Mary and you have been spending a great amount of time together, have you not?"
"She has been teaching me to ride-"
Robert held up a hand. "Matthew, I will never claim to be the type of father who understands what goes on in his daughters' heads. Trying to read Mary is like trying to understand the thoughts of a stone or a piece of glass. Edith is like a bird that can be still only to burst into flight without notice. And Sybil is like the sea; just when I believe I have a grasp of her she changes. But I do know Mary's patience and I doubt she is such a poor teacher and you are such a woeful student that it would take you this long to learn the basics of riding." He sipped his drink. "Your time together has evolved into something more than just lessons, hasn't it?"
Matthew glanced over at Robert, as hard as it was to tear his eyes away from Mary and Pamuk. "We've become friends, Robert, I'm happy to say. It hasn't been easy, of course, but Mary no longer looks at me as one would a thief who was caught stuffing silverware into their sack."
"That is how she sees you, I agree. But that isn't how you see her." Matthew turned to stare fully at Robert and the older man smiled slightly. "You love her, don't you?" Matthew's mouth opened and closed for several moments as he tried to figure out how to deny it but Robert cut him off. "It is no use to claim otherwise. It is clear to me that you've grown to love Mary."
"…I have," Matthew finally admitted, feeling that it would be useless to try and put Robert off the truth. He smiled sadly as he spoke, speaking both of what Robert knew and what he never could, the truth the same for both. "God help me but I have. It feels like I've loved her for years."
Robert smiled, not realizing that Matthew was speaking literally. "There are people, when they first meet her, who don't understand how anyone could care to be around Mary or how she could inspire such loyalty in people. I'm sure you'd thought the same thing. But when one gets past the mask she wears for the world and truly sees who she is… it is hard not to love her."
"Yes," Matthew said with a sigh.
"Have you told her how you feel?"
"No. It… would not end well," Matthew said.
"I suppose it wouldn't. I think Mary could never handle a man who loved her before she loved him. I fear that is what has happened with Mr. Napier. Mary needs to feel as if she is the one in control, that she is deciding when love must bloom. You're wise to hide your feelings for now." Robert placed his hand on Matthew's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "But you can't let how you feel color your thoughts. If you aren't willing to let her know how you feel then you must accept she will be around others like Mr. Pamuk… and you can't allow that to taint how you see them."
Matthew nodded even as he mentally disagreed with Robert. He didn't blame the older man, as he didn't know what Matthew did, of the pain that Pamuk would cause. He had been the reason Mary had been so unwilling to wed him the first time when all else believed it was because of the baby that had never come to be and the loss of the role as heir. Pamuk's death had led her to be in Carlisle's grasp and the stain on her reputation had haunted her for years. Mary had admitted that it had been Edith who had leaked the story to the Embassy and as revenge Mary had ruined her relationship with Sir Anthony before the war. One dark night, when Mary had been pregnant and wracked with emotional upheaval, she had admitted that Pamuk's death had been also learned by Vera Bates who had sought to use it as a weapon against Anna and Batesand when Carlisle had prevented her from revealing the tale for a quick buck the vile woman had killed herself and framed the poor valet for it.
It seemed that Pamuk was the reason for so many of the tragedies and pains at Downton. Matthew wouldn't have been surprised to learn at this point that the Turk had been best friends with Archduke Ferdinand.
Needing a breath of fresh air Matthew excused himself and made his way out of the drawing room. But his feet took him not to the main entrance but down the hall, slinking in the shadows like a thief as he heard Mary's voice echo softly. He measured his steps so he might not make a sound, hiding behind a corner as he listened in.
"Is this picture really a Della Francesca?" he heard the Turkish Prick say, Mary's answer cut off with a muffed gasp. Matthew dared to peer around the corner and saw red as he watched Pamuk grasp Mary's face as he kissed her, forcing her against a wall. He grabbed his left wrist with his right hand, squeezing so hard he lost feeling in his fingers as he witnessed Mary ('My wife! That is my wife you bastard!') struggle against his grip. He didn't know what he'd have done if he had seen her melt into Pamuk's embrace but that never came to pass as just as fiercely as the kiss had begun the Turk ended it, breaking away and leaving Mary red faced and wide-eyed.
"Let me come to you tonight, please," Pamuk whispered, as if adding a 'please' would forgive his actions.
Mary shook her head and Matthew silently cheered her on. Her next words though chilled his heart. "I can't think what I have said that has led you to believe-"
'Nothing!' Matthew screamed in his own head even as the bastard continued to pressure his wife to let him… Matthew didn't want to even think about it. Sybil's words of how Mary had placed all the blame on herself when it had been Pamuk who had been the guilty party rang in Matthew's head and he felt such shame for not assuring Mary the winter night she'd told him all about Pamuk that she was blameless. For she had colored the tale with her own guilt, leaving out how the vile man had pressured her and made her feel as if she had led him on when it was clear to Matthew that the man was little more than a sex-crazed cad who used his silver tongue to trick those who drew his attention into not just giving into his desires but also believing that they were the ones to allow it to come to pass.
Even as Mary told Pamuk that she would not inform her father of his hideous actions Matthew pulled away, his thoughts going to, of all things, his military training at the start of the war. One of his commanders had once given a speech where he stated that he understood that the young men would not want to kill. They would do so to save themselves or because it was ordered of them… but there was a difference between committing the act because it was needed to survive and wanting to kill another human being. Matthew had not truly understood until he'd killed his first German, a man a year older than him with a chipped tooth and eyes that were set slightly too close together. The brave bastard had charged at him while he'd been out on a patrol, stabbing Perkins with his bayonet before letting out a war cry and charging at Matthew. He'd reacted without thought, drawing his service revolver and emptying it into the charging German, sending the man flopping bonelessly to the ground. As Matthew had looked down upon him, wondering if he had a mother at home who wondered if he were warm, a woman that he'd loved and lost because she too couldn't decide if she wished to marry him, and if somewhere in Heaven there was a dear little chap who wouldn't be born because the man that should have been his father had died… Matthew had understood what his commander had meant: he'd killed the man but not wanted to see his death.
But as he neared the drawing room and heard Pamuk, who'd arrived before him, now chatting with Edith while Mary stood off to one side, trying to strike up a conversation with her grandmother, Matthew knew only one single truth: He wanted the Turkish Prick dead. He wanted his revolver and he wanted to unload every bullet ever made into his body. He wanted to hang him from Downton's high ceilings and watch as he gasped his last breath. He wanted to plunge a blade into the man's stomach and as the Turk's eyes dimmed whisper "You shouldn't have touched MY WIFE!"
But rather than marching over and strangling the forgiven bastard that had dared to kiss his Mary Matthew walked over to Robert, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Matthew?" Robert said, setting down his drink. "Are you alright? You're pale as a sheet, man!" He leaned in and whispered, "Did you confront-"
"No, of course not," Matthew said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing his forehead. "Robert, it seems as if my breath of fresh air has only made matters worse. Would you mind terribly if I called it an early night-"
"Think nothing of it," Robert said quickly, motioning for Matthew's mother to come over. "Isobel, Matthew has come down with something and will be going to bed early."
"Do we need to call Dr. Clarkson?" his mother asked and Matthew hated causing her fear. "You look so pale and her hand is shaking…"
Matthew shook his head. "No… I think I merely overdid it today. Too much riding and too much of a fine meal… I think all I need is a good night's rest. If you could call for William? I'm sure he could handle helping me tonight. I would hate to have Molesley rushing about at this hour. He can come in the morning and hopefully a good night's rest will have righted me."
"If you are sure, Matthew?" Isobel asked. "Moseley might be better, if you are out of sorts…"
Robert smiled slightly. "It will be fine Isobel. William can handle Mathew finely enough. Carson?" The butler nodded and came over. "Mr. Crawley isn't feeling well; I fear he has taken ill. Is his room read?"
"The maids turned it down this morning, my lord. Mr. Crawley will find it perfect for his needs."
"Very good," Robert said.
"Do you wish to go now, sir?" Carson asked. Much to Matthew's surprise the butler, in a softer voice, asked, "Can you manage on your own, sir, or should I assist you?"
"If you would have William help me I would be all right," Matthew said. As Carson called William over to explain the situation Matthew glanced at Sybil, who gave only the barest of nods.
He'd done his part… now it was up to her.
~A~O~O~O~F~
Author's Note: Before we begin, I want to let you know that over on Archive of Our Own Rmlohner took up my Chapter 8 Plot Bunny. It is called Best Served Cold… please read and review it!
So, let's get this out of the way: while I wish I could claim that Gwen's secret being revealed early was some major hint about time being altered or Sybil and Matthew screwed up history or that next chapter Booster Gold would arrive with Ted Kord, Doc Brown, Sam Beckket, and Kagome to fix time… yeah, there is a more mundane reason.
You see I normally write these chapters by watching the episode, taking notes on what I want to focus on, and then writing out the chapter. But here I made a bit of an oopsie. I hadn't watched Episode 3 in a while… and in fact believed that the events with Pamuk took place in Episode 4. Then, as I was reading the fanfic 'If Things Were Different' and it got to the part with Gwen's typewriter being revealed and Sybil, Tom, and Matthew defending her at the dinner table, I thought I'd screwed up and skipped that scene in the show, believing it happened in Episode 3. And it was a thing I wanted to cover. But I knew I couldn't just make a whole chapter about that scene so I decided to make it a flashback (a trick I have used in A Man of Iron when I want to show a scene that is important to cover… but NOT important enough to make it its own chapter that breaks up the flow of the story). It works well as a way to cover both events that happened in the past and how they affect a current chapter; here it let me show Sybil is different from how she once was, being more bold and willing to fight for Gwen and Matthew more supportive.
And then, as I was reading the wiki for Episode 4… and realized that NOPE, it occurred in Episode 3… and Pamuk was there. As was Evelyn. After I'd already written over 2000 words. Worse, this wouldn't be a minor edit to insert them, as that scene is supposed to show that Sybil is more bold (and bolder than Matthew, actually) and thus explain why she would risk hurting Pamuk as she does here. Removing it and shifting it to AFTER Pamuk's greeting of Sybil would mean rewriting Sybil's thoughts… and then almost entirely rewriting the scene to take place at dinner, include Pamuk and Evelyn, change Sybil's reasoning for bringing it up then, and worst ruin the flow of cutting to Matthew dealing with Pamuk.
The only other fix would have been to make it it's own chapter… but the problem is it doesn't work on its own as I would have nothing to add to it to make it the proper length and it would mean taking the next chapter, Pamuk invading Mary's room, and putting it here when that is such a long chapter already that it would make this a monster.
Thus I decided to use timey wimey stuff to say that Matthew and Sybil's actions have caused time to flutter a bit and O'Brien found the typewriter sooner. But, as we've already seen, time is mirror and if you alter something it still will occur but in a new way. So things basically happened the same but one week sooner.
This has been your peak behind the curtain!
Now then, time for another plot bunny. So this is an interesting one from my original plot bunny notes that I wrote up when I first decided to include a story idea at the end of each chapter.
The year is 1947 and for the most part the world is very much the same as our world. WWII happened. We are moving out of that dark time and into an age of stability before we enter the chaotic 60s and 70s. There is only one difference: ten years earlier, in 1937, Philo Taylor Farnsworth revealed that he had finally perfected the Television, so that (in this world) they resembled our modern TVs. WWII actually saw the United States work to improve tv technology, seeing the benefits of it, and by the War's end TV was exactly like it was for us now, able to beam shows across the globe thanks to Tesla getting involved, the mad genius himself, and getting us 2018 tv systems in 1945. There is only one problem… there is nothing to show on the devices. Networks are forming but have nothing to air.
More on that in a moment.
The post-war world has brought big changes to the Crawley family. George Crawley, the heir of Downton, is a war hero and one of the most famous men in Britain for his daring rescue of pinned down British soldiers who were stuck behind enemy lines and being one of the first to march into Berlin. But he remains unmarried and much to his mother Mary's consternation he spends more time with his cousins than he does seeking a bride. George knows that his mother wants him to marry but he hates how women just want him for his title and fame; he also hates how he's been glorified in the war. See, WWII was his chance to live up to Matthew's legacy and even with all he did he still feels like he failed. Worse, the trauma of what he went through has affected him greatly… he spent the end of the war liberating concentration camps and the images of the poor souls, the smell of the ovens burning the dead… George has placed his room in the Abbey in a deserted wing so no one wakes up to hear his screams. The only ones he can talk to about this are his cousins as the girls are the one ones willing to listen. And the only woman he sees on a regular basis that isn't family is Rebecca Bates and their arguments and debates are the stuff of Downton legend (more on that in a moment).
Meanwhile, Sybil Branson is about to pull her hair out. She worked in a factory after the war but now that the men are returning home it is seen she should go, get married, and be a good little housewife. Her father encourages her to do what she wants but Sybil can also tell he is worried. Worse, Sybie knows that she doesn't act like a lady should. Despite Cora's attempts to make her into a proper lady Sybie is the daughter of an irish radical and as such is a radical herself. What's worse is that Sybie has so many questions about life and love and sex… but she has no one to talk to. She has no mother to turn to. And just like George add in that she's heard stories of Sybil… and feels as if she lives in her shadow.
Marigold Pelham has come down from her home to take over her mother's magazine officially, as Edith has decided to finally retire. Marigold is a determined woman who constantly works to prove herself, secretly knowing the truth of her birth (having learned about it when she turned 18) and feeling that it is forever a stain on her. She is determined to not let being a bastard child keep her down. Furthermore, her and Edith no longer get along as Marigold feels that Edith doesn't understand what it is like to struggle… that she has wealth and power and a grand title and thus doesn't understand the struggles of real life. She sees her mother as out of touch and it was only Bertie suggesting she take on the magazine that got Marigold a chance to slip away from her mother.
As for Rebecca Bates she, despite having spent her younger years in the Downton Nursery, finds the whole estate eye-rolling. She is friends with George, Marigold, and Sybil but that doesn't stop her from arguing with George about it, complaining that his whining of "oh, I'm famous, boo hoo!" is pathetic (as George doesn't tell her the truth of why he hates it). Her little brother, Matthew Bates, meanwhile is off like his namesake to be a lawyer and Rebecca finds that a more noble life. Rebecca has a good relationship with her parents but also feels that still see themselves as servants when, thanks to their hard work rebuilding the Grantham Arms, they have become upper middle class and John is actually preparing to open a second hotel… and Rebecca believes that soon the name 'Bates' will hold more wealth and power than 'Crawley' ever has.
Our first chapter would open with some shocking news: Robert has managed to save Downton! See, WWII hurt the great estate, as did the depression the entire world went through, and it appeared it would once more collapse. But Robert for once came up with a brilliant money making idea: at his club he met with a man in this new television business, a Julian Fellows, who commented that he was looking to produce a show for tv but just didn't know what to air. He and Robert would talk about the silly, sad shows that aired and how none were entertaining. When Robert mentioned that his outlandish life could be a show it suddenly struck Lord Grantham… why not? He and Julian wrote up a contract and Robert signed away the story of the Crawley family to Fellows, with the residuals ensuring Downton will get a cut of the money for years to come.
While much of the family has no interest in watching this show, this 'Downton Abbey' series, as Robert told them it would be a documentary and they all think it will be boring, Sybie is interested. So she calls George, Marigold, and Rebecca and suggests over dinner that the four of them should watch the show together each week, just for a laugh.
The story would deal with the four youngsters watching their parents on Downton Abbey. But it wouldn't be a react fic… not entirely. Instead we'd see their lives and how events in the show affect them. Marigold, who doesn't have the greatest relationship with her mother due to her knowledge of her birth, seeing her mother not as the perfect daughter of an earl but as a woman who fought for all she has and thus coming to understand her better. Sybil connecting with a mother she never knew, to the point that when they get to the episode with Sybil's death Sybie is screaming at the tv to not let it happen, as the character has become her mother, the only one she's known. George and Rebecca, meanwhile, would see how their mutual parents caused themselves pain by being pig headed… and eventually realize they are making the same mistakes.
