It was remarkable how less than a year could change one's perspective on life. Last fall, Matthew would have pawned off this opportunity on any Tom, Dick, or Harry who asked. Now, looking up at the walls and spires of Downton Abbey, he couldn't feel more blessed.
Matthew understood now. He understood the legacy and importance of this place. He understood the responsibility he held to it as its future Lord. His work on the tenant cottages showed him that. Robert showed him that… and so had Edith.
A part of him, deep down, had some hope that tonight would be the night he would speak to Edith. The night they could air their grievances and finally put an end to the silent tension, but as Matthew and his mother hurried into Downton, nearly late, it wasn't Edith's warm wide orbs that caught his eye. Instead, a dark gaze under long lashes beckoned him forward.
Mary's face softened with a smile when she saw Matthew. Seemingly letting the hard veneer crack to reveal hidden warmth as he entered the room. In that moment, she was all he could see, and he became drawn to her like a man in a trance.
She was beautiful. Dressed in scarlet and gold, Mary looked like a goddess of love and beauty in Matthew's eyes. She was elegant, stunning, refined, and actually seemed to care for him. She still retained her wit and poise, but it was far from the cold, aloof woman he had met before. No longer were her barbs hurtful or glares aimed to kill. Now her taunts were playful and her looks were fond. It was a change Matthew knew his past self would hardly believe, but in the present he was grateful to see this other side of the woman he was beginning to fall for.
"You're late," Mary scolded congenitally as he came up to her, not looking at all bothered by the fact.
"Branson had some difficulty with the car," Matthew explained. "You look wonderful."
"Do I?" Mary preened, taking a delicate sip from the glass in her hand. "People always say red is my color."
"Lady Mary," Mother greeted reservedly, trailing up behind Matthew. "How good it is to see you. How are your sisters?"
"Sybil is well, but Edith is rather out of her element tonight," Mary sighed.
"Oh? How so?"
"Evelyn," Mary began. Matthew tensed at the name and how familiarly she said it. "Or rather, Mr. Napier has returned to Downton. Mama is pressuring us to make the most of it."
"As in… marriage?" Matthew was even more uncomfortable at that idea than he was at the man's name.
"Of course. That's all they think about these days," Mary scowled. "Not that it's very likely with Edith."
"Why ever not?" Mother demanded. "She has been writing with him, and if he likes her and she likes him."
"She has all but rejected him, poor man. Not that I think they would be particularly well matched," Mary said, shaking her head in pity and disdain as she languidly moved her glass up to take another sip. "Evelyn just has too noble a heart. He seeks to play the knight, but Edith isn't fond of playing princess."
"Then who is the dragon?" Matthew asked over his Mother's grumblings at her words. Mary froze for a minute, glass nearly to her plush lips, before putting it back down.
"Didn't I tell you, Matthew?" Mary halfheartedly laughed before turning to stare across the drawing room. "You shouldn't mind the things I say."
Matthew turned to follow her gaze. The room was more crowded than normal. Several older gentlemen, a number of whom he recognized from last year's November hunt, and their wife's stood talking to various members of the family.
In the sea of gray, black and brown hair, Edith's fiery locks shone like a beacon. She stood on the opposite side of the room, looking soft and feminine in a peach gown and hair tumbling around her shoulders. Matthew could only imagine the hairstyle would look outlandish and provocative on Mary or any other woman, but, on Edith, it appeared as natural and lovely as she was.
By her side stood a tall man, dressed impeccably in suit and tails. Matthew recognized him immediately as Napier. The man who had once sympathized with him over Mary's dismissal now seemed hung on every word of the second daughter. He stood, proud and confident, as he spoke to the other nobles, but always turned back to her, seeming pleased to have such a woman on his arm. Edith didn't seem at all displeased by his attention either. Although, how she could be satisfied with a man that bounced from her sister to her, Matthew didn't know.
Was this a poor match? Was Mary mistaken on Edith's feelings? Could she not see the way Edith leaned closer to the man even as they stood by side? Was there something he was missing? The way his stomach twisted at the sight of Edith and Evelyn made him hope so.
"Matthew, there you are! And Cousin Isobel," Robert's voice called above the din of the drawing room. He stepped forward from the group of lords he had been speaking with to where they stood. "Good, now everyone is here. Come, I'll make introductions before dinner."
Matthew was reluctant to be pulled away by Robert, but Mary silently waved him on before moving towards Edith and Napier across the room. He didn't get a chance to observe them as Robert led him around the room to introduce and reintroduce him to Grisby, Weston, and Strallan.
Weston was a proud man and what Matthew had initially expected of the aristocracy. He spoke reservedly, very formal and not particularly interested in conversing with the "young buck" as he called Matthew. Grisby too was not interested in conversation with him, but that was largely because Matthew knew little about hunting and remembered Edith's past warnings from the hunt to not mention horses. Instead, Matthew left Lord Grisby to ramble on to an increasingly irritated Lord Weston about his darling Welsh Cob mare, Camila.
The last man was Sir Anthony Strallan. The man seemed kind and intelligent. He was as pleased to speak to Matthew about his work as much as he was discussing hunting with Grisby, if not more so to avoid the steely glares of Weston. That said, no matter how gentle and knowledgeable he seemed, he was rather socially inept. Matthew could have kissed Carson when he finally informed them all that dinner was ready, releasing him from the dreary, rambling conversation he had become entangled in.
"Enjoying your conversation?"
Matthew turned to see Mary reaching out to take his arm in a silent demand to escort her to dinner. It was a demand he happily obliged. "I enjoyed it well enough. Sir Strallan seems like a nice fellow."
"Nice, perhaps, but terribly dull," Mary said as they strolled with the rest towards the dinning room. "You must save me at dinner. Mama has gotten it into her head that all her daughters must marry by dawn, and apparently I'm a match for Sir Anthony."
"Strallan?" Matthew was flabbergasted. "That seems like a-… a poor match."
"Quite," Mary snorted, nodding to Carson as they crossed the Saloon. "But if they think Napier and Edith are a good match, anything is possible."
"They don't seem that ill suited," Matthew hesitated, looking ahead at the couple as they reached the dining room. They were linked, arm in arm, like him and Mary, and at the table Napier made a point to pull the chair out for her. Even from his position across the table, Matthew could see the fetching blush bloom across Edith's checks. The shade accentuated even more by her peach dress.
"We'll see," Mary huffed, sliding into the chair Matthew pulled out for her. As the first course was served, Mary sighed and turned to smile at Sir Strallan who sat to her left, leaving Matthew to then to Lady Weston on his right. Thankfully, she was a remarkably more pleasant woman than her husband was.
While discussing the weather and local events with Lady Weston, Matthew found his gaze wandering. Mostly, it would wander to Mary stiffly carrying on small talk with Strallan. She would occasionally whisper an amusing comment or complaint to him under her breath. However, on occasion, his sight would travel farther to Edith and Napier.
The pair seemed deeply engrossed in conversation. Through the first courses, they proceeded to lean closer and closer, speaking in hushed tones and trading sweet smiles. Edith looked softer than Matthew had ever seen. Napier seemed, in that sedate gentlemanly way of his, to revel in it, the lucky bastard. Although, Edith herself seemed to split her attention between him and Strallan.
"Mmm, there's no doubt about it," the man said. "The next few years in farming are going to be about mechanization. That's the test, and we're going to have to meet it. Don't you agree, Lady Mary?"
"Yes, of course, Sir Anthony. I'm sure I do," Mary said distractedly before turning to Matthew slightly. "Are we ever going to be allowed to turn?"
Matthew couldn't help but pity the poor man even as his heart warmed at the idea of Mary wanting to speak with him. While he himself would love to discuss mechanization with Stallan, the man had yet to observe that Mary was not likewise inclined. Not like Edith was.
Matthew had never gotten the chance to discuss her gasoline tractor with her. He had heard from Robert it was a success, but he had little knowledge of the specifics. Perhaps if he had not been so hasty they could have-
"Sir Anthony," Edith interrupted. "I know it is so hard to meet the challenge of the future and yet be fair to your employees."
"That is the point precisely," Strallan said, seeming pleasantly surprised by her insight. "We can't fight progress, but we must find ways to soften the blow."
"I should love to see one of the new harvesters, if you ever let me. We don't have one here, although I have been looking into it."
"You, Lady Edith?"
"Yes, me. I bought a gasoline tractor from America last year to rent out to the tenants. It has proven to be very successful so far. In future, I hope to save enough to do the same with a harvester if it proves to be as market changing as I suspect it will be."
"Remarkable," Strallan breathed.
"We have one at Branksome," Napier added. "My Father has told me it's a marvel, and the farmers are thankful for it. Although, it does cost a pretty penny. Nearly six hundred pounds, not accounting for shipping."
"It would take you years to save up that sort of funds," Robert argued, turning to his middle child. "Why don't you just use money from the estate?"
"Papa?" Edith asked in confusion and surprise.
"Well, the tenants all seem to have benefited from your first purchase. So, when your ready for a second, let me know so we can see together if it's something I can help with."
"Really, Papa?"
"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it, dear girl."
"Thank you, Papa." Edith's smile was bright and contagious. Matthew felt his own face split with a grin at her obvious joy and determination to make the most of this opportunity. He would have said something, congratulated her somehow, if he could, but they locked eyes. Instantly, Edith's glow dimmed, and she made a point to turn away to a smiling Napier without another glance.
Matthew was almost relieved to turn his back to the two of them when Cora motioned for a turn. At last he was able to trade the sporadic gossip and small talk with Lady Weston for a conversation with Mary. She seemed just as relieved for a different reason.
"Mama has released me. Thank God," Mary murmured to him.
"Sir Anthony seems nice enough," Matthew half heartedly defended.
"If you want to talk farming and foxes by the hour," she joked, causing a smile to bloom on both their faces. Matthew shook his head, turning the conversation away from the poor man.
"I'm rather looking forward to the flower show tomorrow."
"Mm," Mary hummed in agreement. "Where Mr. Mosley's roses will turn everybody's heads. But if you tell Granny I said that, I'll denounce you as a liar."
"I wouldn't dare. I'll leave that to my fearless mother."
"Oh? Then I should watch out. I'm hardly your mother's favorite relation."
"I wouldn't say that," Matthew protested. "At any rate, you could hardly be the least favorite. That honor goes squarely with your grandmother."
Mary chucked at that, nodding to the footman as he delivered the next course. "How were the cottages?"
"They're coming along well. I'd love to show you."
Mary gave him a strange look, twirling her utensil on her plate. "I'm usually not a part of such things. That's usually Edith's forte."
"Well, if you don't want to you don't have-"
"I don't do anything I don't choose to, Matthew," Mary said firmly before softening. "But I think I would like to see them. With you."
"Splendid."
"Sir Anthony don't-" Edith's voice called out before a choking and spitting filled the room.
"Oh, Good Go-God!" Strallan sputtered, spitting out a chunk of food into his embroidered napkin.
"What on earth?!" Robert said, looking from his wife to their rude guest.
"I do apologize, Lady Grantham, but I had a mouthful of salt."
"What?" Cousin Cora cried before quickly sampling her own plate.
Mary began to laugh immediately, her dark eyes sparkled with mirth. Seeing her joy and Strallan's twisted expression, Matthew couldn't help but chuckle with her.
"Everyone," Cora announced, "put down your forks. Carson, remove this. Bring fruit. Bring cheese. Bring anything to take this taste away. Sir Anthony, I'm so sorry."
Mary had grabbed her napkin, attempting to use it to muffle her giggles, but the bell-like sound was still audible. Matthew grabbed his own to do the same with about equal success. It was so good to laugh with someone at such a stuffy occasion like this.
"I would hate to be Ms. Patmore's kitchen maid when the news gets out," Robert said.
"Poor girl," Sybil agreed. "We should send a rescue party."
"I'm terribly sorry, Sir Anthony," Edith said, much more seriously. "I tasted the meringue myself and tried to warn you, but not in time."
"Well, you kept your composure better than I did," Strallan replied. "Don't fret. These things happen.
In the corner of the table, Matthew and Mary continued to choke on their laughter as the servants brought new trays into the room. As his mirth subsided, Matthew realized he felt several pairs of eyes upon him and Mary. One was all too familiar. Mother was glaring daggers at him and particularly at Mary. It was a glare he remembered all too clearly from his childhood. He was sure that, even as a grown man, she would have words that would make him feel like the boy he once was when his dinner was over.
The second pair felt different. Still a touch familiar but altogether removed from the familial watch of his mother. Matthew glanced across the table to catch a glimpse of Edith's gaze, disappointed yet accepting. As if she expected him to behave in such a way and therefore couldn't bring herself to be properly angry. It made something in his chest twist even as she quickly looked away. Edith still wouldn't meet his eyes.
The last glare was as determined to meet his gaze as Edith was to avoid it. Napier glared. Eyebrows furrowed and mouth twisted into a stoic line, he stared straight at Matthew and Mary with judgment and disdain. His thoughts of the matter were clear. His thoughts on THEM were clear, and the results were far from favorable.
After everyone had sampled a portion of the new course, Cora called for the ladies to go through. Mary left his side reluctantly, still obviously amused. As soon as the last skirt had swished through the doorway, Robert motioned for Carson and generously offered cigars and alcohol to the remaining lords. Weston and Grosby accepted both, Strallan denied both, and Napier only accepted a cigar.
Matthew fiddled with his glass of brandy while Napier leaned back in his chair. Neither really joined into the main conversation that Grisby had quickly turned to horses and hunting except to give appropriate responses and polite nods. It wasn't until the liquor was drunk, half the cigars burned away, and Robert commanded that they all join the ladies that the conversation shifted their way.
"I hope the salty pudding didn't spoil the evening for either of you," Robert commented as they walked towards the drawing room.
"On the contrary," Matthew said. The event and Mary's subsequent laughter had made his evening.
"Yes," Napier said stiffly, still observing Matthew as if he were dirt under his shoes. "It wasn't a problem. Edith has been quite the kind and courteous hostess."
"I'm glad to hear it," Robert smiled. "You and Edith seem to greatly enjoy each other's company, Mr. Napier. Perhaps we can discuss the topic more in my study on the morrow."
"I would be glad to," Napeir agreed.
"Good!" Robert laughed, jovially putting the man on the back. "And Matthew, should I be calling you to my study to discuss a daughter too?"
"I don't think you have to worry about that," Matthew chuckled, his heart warming at the mere thought.
"All the same, I'm glad you and Mary are getting along. There's no reason you can't be friends."
"No reason at all."
"I don't suppose there's any chance that you could sort of… start again?"
"Life is full of surprises," Matthew replied, feeling the hope for it burning in his chest. After a night like tonight, he could believe in anything.
"Wonderful," Robert said before Weston's voice distracted him and caused him to fall back where he and Grisby were, once again, bickering about horses. Or rather, about how much Grisby was obsessed with them.
It was an awkward moment. Napier didn't falter, didn't look at him, just continued to march forward toward the drawing room like a soldier on parade. If Matthew hadn't been listening, he likely wouldn't have thought he was speaking to him.
"Mr. Crawley," Napier began. "Forgive me, but you seem to hold the same affection for Lady Mary as you did last year."
"Yes," Matthew nodded. "I don't easily change my affections." The words like you did were unspoken.
"No," Napier said seriously. "But Lady Mary does."
"What are you getting at?"
"Mr. Crawley, I do not mean to anger you or slander our hosts. God knows they have been nothing but generous and forgiving to me, but you remember last November. You remember how quickly her gaze can turn, and today she-"
"Just because you disapprove of our amusement does not mean you can make such broad claims of her character."
"I am not. It's not about that, disgraceful though it was. I do not wish to presume anything about last November, especially in light of current rumor, but her advances today have lead me to believe that perhaps-"
"Advances? What advances do you claim to have seen?" Matthew asked. He did not believe it. Napier must be mistaken, clinging to supposedly bygone affection for Mary and therefore seeing what he wanted to. Mary wouldn't make advances on Napier. Not when Edith was so attached to him.
"Surely you can't be that blind," Napier argued. "She did much the same to me as she did to you."
"That is enough," Matthew snapped, glad to see the drawing room door and the end to this conversation approaching. "I will not hear her spoken of in such a way."
"Regardless, I felt obligated to tell you, from one rejected admirer to another. I hope you can realize that and find a better target for your feelings." The worlds like I did were unspoken.
"That won't be necessary," Matthew said, stepping through the doorway. Most of the ladies were all gathered around the piano or sitting around the fireplace. The one lady who stood alone by the bookshelves, adorned in red and gold, was Mary.
She looked up and, just as it had before, her face softened into a smile. Her eyes warmed and the cold shell cracked to reveal her hidden depths. It was a smile for him.
"Ah, I've been waiting for you," Mary beamed, walking towards him with the grace of a fairy. "I found a book over here, and I think it's just the thing to catch your interest."
"Oh, really?" Matthew smiled, but that smile froze and soon slipped from his face. Mary didn't walk to him. She didn't look at him. Instead, she glided past him without a glance as she went to the person her smile was truly meant for. Mary went to Evelyn Napier.