Chapter Text
September 1912
We look like a funeral procession , Mary thought at the sight of her entire family dressed up and waiting to greet their distant cousin, come to claim his bloodless conquest. And perhaps, in a way, they were. They mourned their heir. They might as well be mourning themselves. At least, Mary was. All the plans that had been made for her; the life her parents had already set and rolled out in front of her whether she’d liked it or not, was now forever lost in the icy waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
She and her mother were the last to join the group at the library a few minutes before 8 o'clock. Her grandmother had adopted a funeral attire. Knowing her, it was intentional.
Her father was the picture of serenity, and her mother had her usual cordial and friendly air about her as she sat down next to him. Sybil and Edith were the only ones standing, and they gave her tense smiles. Their futures were also affected, although perhaps, not as massively. It had been a private joke that since Mary would remain at Downton, her sisters could avoid getting married if they wished, their home would be secure. Oh, well. Mary returned the smile to them, before turning to the last person she considered family.
"Good evening, Carson."
Carson gave her his signature bow and greeting. She saw honest sadness and regret in his eyes and had to take a deep breath to push the resentment and anger she felt about the current situation back into their box.
Her father must have managed to see signs of it in her expression before she contained it, because he turned to her as she took a seat next to her grandmother, and spoke, with his usual gravity "Mary, I would truly appreciate it if you didn’t make these proceedings harder than they already are."
"I can’t see how I of all people would influence tonight’s proceedings in any way, Papa.”
Her mother turned her eyes heavenly "Honestly, Mary, now is not the right time."
"One would think once our cousins arrive would not be the right time. "
Her mother kept an insistent gaze on her "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, dear."
"But the highest form of intelligence, Mama. If you mean to quote Oscar Wilde at me, at least remember I enjoy reading him more than you do."
She heard Sybil chuckle and that was enough for her. Her youngest sister turned to look out the window she was standing next to, the one that overlooked directly to the front of the house, before leaning over Edith to speak to her "Mary! I see a carriage outside; it must be them."
Mary nodded, sagely. "I suppose our virtuous cousin managed to overcome his ethical quandary and accept a massive inheritance. I am ever so pleased."
She watched her grandmother stand gingerly, before she turned to her in commiseration "It must help him to think he is doing us a favour by accepting a title and a vast fortune. Nothing is stronger than the middle-class ideals of equality."
Mary stood by the door next to Carson and let her grandmother through, trying not to look too triumphant at her indignation.
The rest of her family passed by her to line up at the hall downstairs, as was expected, and her father gave her a last, serious warning, as they were walking out the library "will you be able to behave as an adult woman, or must I send you back to your room?"
"That depends on what characteristics you would attribute to an adult woman, Papa. From what I've seen, they don't really amount to much, so you might prefer to save your breath, and tell them I had to retire early."
For a moment they just stared at each other. Mary realised she wouldn't really care if her father chose to treat her like a child in that moment. He didn't get the chance because they heard a commotion downstairs and shelved the argument for a later time.
Mary kept quiet for most of the dinner. She let her mother and father entertain, watched her grandmother sigh, trade barbs with Cousin Isobel, and turn to her with forlorn looks that made her smile, until the conversation turned to Cousin Matthew's plans to get a job in Ripon. She heard a laugh and realised it had come from her when she noticed the entire table turn to stare at her.
Matthew Crawley had pinned her with an arrogant smirk "I suppose you don't think a gentleman should hold a job, Cousin Mary."
Oh, he wants to play? Mary didn't even put her spoon down. She merely shrugged, feigning indifference "I apologise, Cousin Matthew. I suppose I laughed out of joy."
If it were any other man, she would have felt sorry at his perplexed expression. As it were, she paid no attention to his reaction, and could only see the mixture of anger and disappointment in her father's eyes, as her mother let out a long-suffering breath.
She knowingly ignored both before she continued "I do believe it's up to you to decide how to spend your time. And I'm honestly glad of your abilities if you believe that you will be able to hold a full-time job and at the same time learn all you need to know about farming, and agriculture. About modern machinery and realty management; about investments, and land ownership, not to mention hold meetings with tenants, and partners, and lawyers, and working with our agent to ensure the hundreds of people who depend on this household will continue to earn a living. And, to maintain this lifestyle for yourself, and your mother, and any potential bride pushed your way. Even though, of course, it is a lifestyle you clearly deem beneath you, but are nonetheless all too happy to embrace it with ease, as you say."
She relishes seeing him at loss for words, before she concludes "It took my father, my late uncle, my late fiancé, and our agent, Mr Jarvis, to manage Downton up until now, but I suppose, you must have superior means that weren't available to them. I commend you."
She doesn't get the chance to enjoy the gleam in Granny's eyes when her father cuts the conversation short before Cousin Matthew could even hope to formulate a reply, with a final "we will discuss this later" and a pointed glare sent her way.
Mary assumes the "we" refers to himself, and his new son and heir. She ignores her father, and tunes out the rest of the conversation.
The next morning, she wakes up feeling drained. But she has a full day planned out, so she rings the bell for Anna, and makes herself get up and wash. It wasn’t too long before she was rushing to the kitchens, where she watched the usual manic work cease in her presence and allowed herself a moment of embarrassment for interrupting it all.
"Good morning, Mrs Patmore. I hope I've not rushed in too soon?"
The reliable cook smiled widely "Good morning milady. Not at all, I've got all you asked right here." She motions to a big basket "Miss Withers will be more than happy to see you today."
Mary opened the basket and smiled back to the cook. "I will be happy to see her I dare say. You've outdone yourself Mrs Patmore. Thank you so much."
"Happy to do it milady."
Mary nodded. "I'll send Lynch to pick it up, we'll head to the village right after breakfast. Do you think you could ask Carson to add a bottle of wine as well? His choice. Miss Withers has a preference for reds."
"From your cellar milady?"
"Sure, why not. We hardly ever drink any of it. Don't worry, I'll let his lordship know. I'm heading up to breakfast now."
"So, your charity work will cost me a wine bottle from my own cellar."
"I'd hate to call it charity Papa. Unless you now frown at us showing kindness to some of our oldest, and most hard of luck tenants?"
"I thought you didn't believe in showing kindness."
"I show it to those who deserve it."
"Mary, can you please not argue with your father at the breakfast table?"
Mary bit her tongue, and breathed, silently following her mother's order by turning to her sister.
"What are your plans for today, Sybil, darling? Would you like to come with me?”
"I wish I could, but I have more than a dozen letters that have gone ignored for weeks, and I simply must respond today, or it will never get done."
"That's alright darling. How about you, Edith?"
Edith shook her head, a slight disgust on her face. "Please no, Mary. Miss Withers and her sister are kind, but I simply cannot. You as Queen of the county must make yourself available for worship, but I have no taste for it."
"They don't worship, they appreciate. And gossip. Maybe they don’t gossip as much anymore as Miss Withers really hasn’t been feeling great lately. But in any case, it’s a fairly decent exchange for our continued support."
"I wouldn't mind it myself, if I were them." Sybil adds “A well-maintained house, shared with my sister, in the place where I grew up. I suppose they might have liked to have had children, but it still sounds like a decent living, at their age.”
Mary nods, solemnly "You might be right."
“Are we now singing the praises of spinsterhood?"
Mary rolls her eyes at her mother's dramatics. "Hardly. But there's benefits to every lifestyle, and I suppose peace and quiet is theirs."
"Didn't you just say you show them kindness in the face of their misfortunes?" Her father points out.
"Yes, because their parents left them destitute with hardly any dowries to sustain them, let alone find husbands, at a time when they weren't even allowed to get a job without losing their social status. Unlike your beloved heir, who can keep a job in Ripon, and wait for his illustrious inheritance to fall in his lap.”
She changed the subject swiftly, before her father took offence “In any case, I can empathise with their lot in life and also find it in myself to see some joy in their peaceful existence." She folded her napkin and finished her tea "Or need I remind you Papa, that they were the ones who warned us over the building issues? Jarvis had ignored the other tenants for months."
Her father took a sharp breath, and apparently chose to ignore her last point, turning back to his newspaper. "Enjoy your visit dear."
She left without saying goodbye.
Matthew liked the village. The houses were well maintained, the people seemed to be leading happy lives. However, it did seem as though they might be in some serious need for a source of entertainment. The greatest, currently, was himself, judging by how they whispered about him just out of his earshot (but within his line of vision, as if unbothered by the fact that he knew they were speaking about him).
What he did find strange, was the short, bordering on rude, way of speaking and greeting they employed. He didn't get anything other than a "hello" and "How may I help you, sir", emphasis on the Sir, out of them, no matter what he said. He'd spent a long day negotiating his time and explaining his professional experience at the most prominent law firm in Ripon, and all he needed was to pick up a couple of books he'd ordered from the bookshop in the village, and head back home.
As he walked out of Mr Short’s bookshop, after yet another borderline rude exchange with the locals, he felt a shift in the air. Like the balanced peace had been disturbed by some great force, and he noticed that he was no longer the one all eyes were turned to. It didn't take longer than a moment to spot the figure that had plagued his thoughts for the past week, in the form of Lady Mary, ironically, on top of her high horse.
He was glad to see he wasn't the only one affected by her presence. By the very essence of grace, she presented as she dismounted. The first time he laid eyes on her he felt as if his head was submerged underwater, and all he could do was take in the vision in front of him without speaking, or breathing. Stuck in a state of suspended animation until the lady in question deigned to release him. He looked at the people around him and noticed several similar expressions and was glad.
He turned back to the object of their fascination when a young child, who couldn't be more than 4 or 5 years of age, run up to Lady Mary, pulling at her skirt with his chubby hands to get her attention as she was handing over the reins of her horse to the ever-present groom. He saw a heavily pregnant woman try to rush, to stop the child, and he feared the worst. But Lady Mary looked down, and her entire face shone with joy as she greeted the boy and picked him up to settle against her hip for a cuddle. Matthew was certain his jaw must have hit the ground he stood on, as he watched his fastidious, aristocratic cousin speak with this village boy in a way that showed she's known him all his life.
When the errand boy's mother caught up to them, he was even more shocked to see Lady Mary's wide smile turn to the mother as well, as she engaged with her in amicable conversation, before placing the boy back on the ground next to his mother. She turned to pick something the groom was handing over, and that was when she spotted him, probably looking entirely foolish, gawking at her from across the street. Her eyes shone, like they had over the dinner table that blasted evening, and he realised she was about to set him straight again, although over what he had no idea, and when she sent a terse smile his way, and spoke his name, he realised there was no escape. Not with half the village watching. He took a deep breath and crossed the street to properly greet her.
"Mr Crawley, may I introduce you to Mrs Johnson?"
He exchanged pleasantries with the woman who was, apparently the wife of one of Downton's tenant farmers. Mrs Johnson looked at him with a measuring gaze, before turning back to Lady Mary, the same gaze softening to something mournful. "Milady, we were so saddened to hear about Mr Crawley, and Mr Patrick. How terrible it must have been for you." He noticed her looking back at him, fleetingly, and it occurred to him then, when he caught her accusatory gaze. Why everyone in the village was so short with, apparently, the undeserving usurper of their darling Lady's fortune.
They must not know her very well , he uncharitably thought, and then berated himself for his own unkindness when he noticed a shadow pass swiftly over Cousin Mary's expression, before she quickly hid it behind her well-practiced mask of politeness "thank you, Mrs Johnson. It has been a very difficult time, we all loved Patrick very much."
That was the first time he heard the name of her deceased fiancé pass her lips, and he watched her intently for a hint of emotion. But he saw none. He told himself that even if he had seen sadness he wouldn't know if it were for the loss of the man she intended to marry, or the loss of Downton. He supposed that in her eyes, they were probably one and the same. He berated himself for thinking ill of her yet again but was pulled from his reverie when he heard his name mentioned.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I was just saying to Mrs Johnson that I'm visiting the misses Withers. Miss Ann Withers had been ill for quite some time, and I wished to see her, now that she's feeling better. Would you care to join me?"
A million excuses run through his mind, but as both women stared at him, one with open curiosity, the other with a clear challenge, he discarded all of them and instead said "if the Misses Withers wouldn't find an imposition in me paying them a visit?"
"Not at all, they are expecting me, and I'm sure they'll be glad to meet you ."
He nodded absent-mindedly, wondering what his beautiful, yet shockingly cunning, cousin had cooked up for him now.
"In that case yes, I would be happy to join you."
He watched her turn to the boy yet again, with the same kind smile she'd never bestow on him "It was lovely to see you young Mr Johnson."
The boy giggled, utterly charmed. He tried, and failed, not to be charmed himself when he saw her reach in a hidden pocket in her skirt and pull out a wrapped candy.
"Now, I'll hand this over to your darling Mama, and if she deems you a good boy, you can have it after supper, if that sounds all right with you Mrs Johnson?"
"That's very kind of you milady."
Cousin Mary turned the same kind smile to the woman as she wished her and her son well, before she moved on. Matthew was still standing there, probably looking utterly ridiculous to Mrs Johnson who was staring at him with a smirk that told him she knew something he didn't, before he managed to gather his wits about him enough to lift his cap slightly in goodbye and follow his cousin down the road.
He tried not to feel too awkward standing next to her, but he couldn’t help it. There was that strange feeling in his stomach every time she looked at him. Like his insides were dancing a jig. She’d turned to a narrow cobblestone path from where they’d left Mrs Johnson and had now knocked on the door of a small cottage.
They didn’t need to wait long before he heard some shuffle from the other side as the door flew open, and a slight middle-aged woman, with her hair in a severe bun, and thick glasses over her eyes, was standing in greeting. “Oh, my goodness, Lady Mary, so wonderful to see you! Please do come in.”
He watched his cousin as she offered a kind smile to the woman, one that appeared to be genuine, before she walked in “It is lovely to see you Miss Agatha, thank you for having me.”
“Oh, please my lady, it is always such a pleasure!”
“Miss Agatha, may I please introduce you to my cousin, Mr Crawley? We run into each other in the village, and I thought it would be a good opportunity for you to meet. Matthew, this is Miss Agatha Withers, one of our longstanding tenants.”
“How do you do.” Matthew said, politely.
Miss Agatha seemed to be at a loss for words for a moment. “Well, it is... a pleasure, to meet you, Mr Crawley, I’m sure. Please come in.”
Matthew assumed that the word “pleasure” had been liberally used for his cousin’s sake, but he kept that comment to himself as he followed Mary, and Miss Agatha, to the drawing room. It was a cosy room with blue wallpaper, and comfortable looking furniture, where another woman was already seated on one of the armchairs, next to an open window. He presumed this was Miss Withers, as she looked to be a sister to Miss Agatha, but slightly older. He took notice of the house and was happy to realise that it was in a really good shape, if modestly furnished.
“Ann, Lady Mary has come to visit, as promised! Please milady, have a seat, I’ll just bring us some tea.”
As Miss Agatha walked out the room, Miss Withers looked about, and Matthew realised she must have trouble seeing, as she couldn’t really focus on his cousin.
“Hello Miss Withers, you look much improved since I last saw you. Doctor Clarkson must be happy with your progress?”
Matthew watched, somewhat shocked that his cousin looked hopeful as she offered her hand to the older woman, who grasped it tightly in both of hers. “My dear child. So nice of you to come!”
Miss Agatha came back with the tea set, and Matthew waited for his cousin to take a seat on a settee near Miss Withers, which allowed her to hold on to her hand, and he sat next to her, careful to keep a respectable distance between them.
Lady Mary placed the basket she’d brought with her on a small table in the middle of the room “I’ve brought you some things from the Abbey, Miss Withers. Courtesy of Mrs Patmore. With our best wishes for your swift recovery. I hope I remembered all your favourites.”
“Oh, my darling girl, we are ever so grateful. How are your dear sisters? All three of you girls were the sweetest children I ever looked after.”
Ah, a former nanny . At least that explained the familiar way of address, he thought.
“I’m sure that’s too kind. I remember us as being quite mischievous, but I’m glad it’s the happy memories that have stayed with you all this time.”
Miss Withers seemed confused for a moment, as she didn’t reply. Matthew looked to his cousin, but she wasn’t bothered by the slight awkwardness.
She turned to Miss Agatha then, who was pouring their tea. “Lady Edith and Lady Sybil send their love to you both. They wished to see you, but they’ve been neglecting some of their responsibilities for far too long.”
Miss Agatha laughed “Oh my Lady, at your young age, with parties, and balls, and beaus to be had, no wonder they fall a bit behind on the practical side of things.”
“Too true.”
Matthew noticed her turn to Miss Withers then, who had tightened the hold of her hand on hers.
“Miss Withers, I’ve been so rude, may I introduce you to my cousin, Mr Crawley?”
Miss Withers looked confused “Mr Patrick is here, dear?”
“Oh, no Miss Withers, my apologies, my cousin Mr Matthew Crawley.”
“Mr Patrick is a sweet boy; I do hope we’ll get to see more of him soon.”
Lady Mary gives her a sad smile “I’m sure we will, Miss Withers.”
Miss Agatha speaks to Matthew then “Her memory isn’t what it used to be. Doctor Clarkson says there isn’t much to be done about it, so we try to keep her comfortable.”
Matthew nodded in understanding.
“How are you finding Downton, Mr Crawley, is it to your liking?”
Matthew laughed, nervously “What’s not to like?”
Miss Agatha continued to watch him, expectantly, so he pushed himself to continue. “Well, it is a lovely village. And we can lead a much quieter life than the one we had in Manchester.”
“Do you find so? I wouldn’t think the life of the Earl of Grantham as quiet.” She shared a laugh with Lady Mary.
Matthew smiled, awkward still “Well, thankfully Lord Grantham is still a young, healthy man. I’m sure you won’t have to worry about my rein as an Earl for many years to come.”
“I suppose you are right.” She turned back to his cousin then, the concern returning to her eyes “You must be terribly busy, Lady Mary. We are so happy you made the time to visit with us.”
“I’m always happy to see you, Miss Agatha.”
“Lady Mary takes such good care of us, Mr Crawley. She’s sorted out our roofing issues and put in new wallpapers in all the rooms. And such lovely colours, too. And Mrs Gilbert, from Redwood Farm, told me, Lord Grantham helped them get a new tractor for the fields, they can get double the work done in a day now, she was so grateful milady.”
“Of course.”
“Mr Jarvis said you’ve made plans to build another row of cottages?”
“Yes, on Cliff Mews. It will mostly be for some of our tenant farmers who wish to retire. It’ll be more comfortable for them, and they won’t have to worry about working the farms anymore.”
“Will you... oh, I suppose you won’t have the time to observe the proceedings milady. I suppose Lady Grantham will wish for you to spend more time in London now, won’t she?”
“I... Yes, I’m afraid we do have a lot of social obligations in London. We were in mourning, all through the summer you see, and Mama wishes for us to... Renew our acquittance with some of our friends in the city.”
“Oh, of course.”
Matthew is almost certain he understands the underlying meaning of their conversation, but it clears up for him when Miss Agatha speaks again “What about your acquittance with Mr Crawley my Lady, have you known each other long?”
“Oh, I’m afraid not. We only just met when Mr Crawley and Mrs Crawley moved to the village. And Mr Crawley is such a busy man.”
Miss Agatha seems almost offended as she looks back to him “Busy enough to not be able to become better acquainted with a Lady as charming as our Lady Mary, Mr Crawley?”
“I-”
“Mr Crawley and Lord Grantham will work together, to ensure Mr Crawley becomes comfortable with all matters of the estate, Miss Agatha, as Mr Patrick had done before him. Us Crawley ladies know better than to interrupt the men at work.”
Matthew saw some steel in her gaze when she looked at him, but it was gone all too fast.
Miss Agatha was making less of an effort to conceal her distaste for how he chose to spend his time. He was suddenly beginning to feel his cousin’s frosty exterior might be for his benefit, as well as for hers, as the hostility between them would be much more pronounced without it. Miss Agatha spoke to him then, and he turned his focus back to her. “I see. Well, if I were you Mr Crawley, I’d try to find the time to tour the estate with Lady Mary.”
"Indeed?”
“Oh, most certainly. No one knows these lands better than her, and Lord Grantham of course. But his lordship is a busy man, he doesn’t have the time to acquaint himself with the local people as much as Lady Mary has.”
Matthew sneaks a look at his cousin, who is decidedly ignoring this conversation, with a polite smile on her face, staring at her hand, still held by Miss Withers.
“I shall have to try my best to get myself in her good graces.”
“That you must! Unless of course, you’d prefer a tour with old Mr Jarvis?”
Matthew feels himself blush and curses his complexion “No, certainly not.”
Miss Agatha thankfully moves on to local gossip after that, giving his cousin a detail analysis of all the deaths, and births, and family and business issues imaginable. Matthew is shocked when Lady Mary asks questions regarding many individuals, which could only mean that she truly knew all these people under her father’s care. Finally, his cousin stood up.
“We will not take up any more of your time Miss Agatha.”
“Oh, not at all your ladyship. It’s been so wonderful to see you after so long.” She turns to her sister “Ann’s condition has made visits uncomfortable for some people, so we appreciate the company. Don’t we, Ann?”
Miss Withers smiles, politely, as his cousin bends to reach her “It was lovely to see you Miss Withers. I’ll send you a card soon, maybe we can all walk to the church, when the weather’s improved?” She directs the question to miss Agatha.
“We would love that milady.”
His cousin is about to follow him out the room, when Miss Withers calls after her.
“Lady Mary, dear?”
“Yes, Miss Withers?”
“Three be the things I shall have till I die-”
Matthew watches his cousin as she smiles sadly to Miss Withers, and replies “Laughter, and hope, and a sock in the eye.”
“Bravo, my brave girl.”
Miss Agatha sees them to the door. “Have you heard from Lady Gillingham at all, your ladyship?”
“Not in some time.”
“It’s just that, I’ve heard from Mrs Somersby, the housekeeper, we’ve kept in touch, both of us so many years in service. His Lordship Lord Gillingham has been feeling rather poorly.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, perhaps Lady Grantham would like to forward her wishes. His son, Mr Anthony Foyle, is such a lovely young man you know, we hope his father will recuperate, so he can further assist his son in taking over the estate. You see?”
“I understand, Miss Agatha. Thank you.”
Matthew lets out a long breath when they make it back to the main road.
Lady Mary clears her throat. “Did you enjoy the visit, Cousin?”
He doesn’t take the bait but chooses to be honest. “I did. I found it rather enlightening.”
“Did you now?”
“Oh, most definitely. Although, I did question one thing.”
“What was that, pray?”
“You were certainly not “just the sweetest” child, Cousin Mary. We may not know each other that well, or that long, but of that I am certain.”
That gets a surprising laugh out of her, and he feels rather proud of himself “Miss Withers was my favourite nanny, so she’s rather fond of me.”
“I could see that. And you’re rather fond of her.”
“I am. I hope you understood I didn’t invite you along to simply meet my old nanny.”
“Rest assured. I’ve been taught my lesson.”
She looks pleased, but he continues, almost willing her to see things from his perspective “You must understand, my life was upended very suddenly. I need my work; I believe it will be a positive influence on my handling of estate matters in the future. But I would be grateful, if you could introduce me to Downton. And its people.”
“Hm. I’m not sure I will be able to fit you in my busy schedule, but since you asked ever so nicely, I shall do my best to accommodate you.”
“Thank you.”
Her look is unforgiving, and he understands she wants to make sure he won’t think she’s doing him any favours. “Please, don’t thank me. I won't shy away from my duty to Downton because of your arrival. I have an obligation to look out for the interests of these people. And that includes ensuring the next Earl will be confident in his knowledge of what Downton and its people need.”
He sees her groom approach with her horse then. “Will I see you at the village hall, this afternoon? When they’ll vote for the new board member, for the hospital?” He doesn’t know why it’s suddenly imperative he’ll get another chance to talk with her. Why he wishes so much to change her obvious distaste of him.
Her eyes shine as she mounts, and says without a hint of irony “Oh, most certainly. I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”
He tells the story to his mother after they’ve returned home from the village hall.
“It sounds like Cousin Mary is more involved with Downton than you thought.”
“Well, she’s known most of these people all her life.”
“Hm. It must be difficult for her to accept that she will have to leave them all behind.”
“Mother-”
“I only say it as I see it. You have no interest in her, as you’ve said, and she’s a young woman, she’ll need to get settled. And from what you described her mother is already hard at work in finding a suitable match for her.”
Matthew ignores her point. Not because she’s wrong, but because for some reason it’s not a subject he wishes to discuss. He doesn’t want to think about how his very clear dislike of the idea of marrying one of the Crawley girls, has resulted in an array of suitors being paraded at Downton for Lady Mary to take her pick.
“I suppose you’ll have to make the most of what time you have got. She seems quite aloof to me, but she’s certainly a beautiful woman, so I don’t suppose it will take long for her family to secure a position for her.”
“She’s not aloof.”
“Oh?”
“You didn’t see how those people spoke to her. They were kind, and they cared. The entire village worships her.”
“Well, she is the local royalty, Matthew.”
“It’s not just that. She knows them. What problems they have, what they need. She helps her father provide for them. I wouldn’t call her aloof at all. I think she acts like she doesn’t care, for whatever reason.”
“You seem to have thought on this for quite some time.”
“Am I not allowed to find a person interesting and attempt to know them better?”
“Of course, you are. But you can no longer claim to have no interest in any of the Crawley girls.”
Oh. Matthew thought. Oh .