Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“There’s one for you, Sir,” Molesley said, holding out a silver tray. Matthew looked up from the piece of toast he was liberally applying jam to with a slightly confused look on his face. He took the letter and was surprised to see Lavinia’s handwriting on the envelope. Whatever would she be writing to him about? He hadn’t spoken to her for the past six days. Not since she had told him that she had witnessed him—no, he couldn’t think about that.

He had tried to talk to her many times. But he had always been turned away from her door. She was sleeping or resting, the doctor was in with her; there was always some excuse. He had needed to talk to her though, and no one seemed to be willing to let him do so. It had been the most miserable week of his life. He needed to explain to Lavinia, and he obviously couldn’t talk to—no, he still couldn’t think about that.

In the time since, he had thought of all the things that he should have said in the moment, but he had been too stunned by Lavinia’s words to form any sort of coherent thought.  How could she think that they should call off the wedding? Everything had already been arranged. If she really thought this was best, why had she even come back in the first place? Especially if she had already been having doubts about him and—NO!

Well, there was nothing for it, he would have to open the letter and see what she had said. Maybe she’d changed her mind and was asking for him to come see her. He picked up the letter opener and ripped open the envelope. Shaking out the letter, he felt his jaw drop as he read the words:

My Dearest Matthew,

I hope you will be able to forgive me, but by the time you read this I will already be on my way back to London. I simply cannot marry you, as much as I may want to. I have already explained the whole situation to your mother, and she has graciously offered to take care of everything for us. Even she agrees with me. I had thought of writing to Mary as well, but I really think you should be the one to tell her yourself.

Please, Matthew, know that I am doing this for you. I cannot allow you to deny yourself real love after all you’ve been through. You are a good and honorable man, and I love you so much for it. Please know that I don’t think you never loved me. I just don’t think that you love me as much as you love her. I truly am not angry. Nothing would make me happier than knowing that you’re happy, so please, don’t waste this opportunity with feelings of guilt or regret. Isn’t this better? Please, be happy, for all our sakes.

With all my love,

Lavinia.

Matthew stared down at the letter in his hand and his abandoned breakfast. He read through the letter a second time, this time sticking at “even she agrees with me.” He looked up suddenly to see his mother watching him closely.

“She’s off, then?” Isobel asked, her face remarkably clear.

“How long have you known about this?” Matthew asked, his voice pained.

“She told me of her plans several days ago,” Isobel said picking up her cup of tea and taking a sip. “She asked me not to say anything—to anyone—until after she left.”

“How could you have kept this from me?”

“She asked me to.” Isobel fixed Matthew with a piercing glare. “She didn’t want to argue about it and her mind was quite made up, and Matthew, I can’t say that I disagree with her.”

“So she says,” he handed the letter to Isobel. He watched her as she read through it quickly. “How much did she tell you?”

“You mean, did she tell me that she thinks you’re still in love with Mary?” Isobel asked, setting the letter down beside her plate. “Because she didn’t need to tell me that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice raised in slight panic.

“Matthew, everyone knows how you feel about her. Just as everyone knows how she feels about you,” Isobel sighed. She knew Matthew wouldn’t want to hear it from her, but it was high time someone did tell him.

“Yes, we all know how Mary feels about me…” his voice trailed off bitterly. Violet, her grandmother, had said that Mary was in love with him, but if she’d loved him—for some time, apparently—then why would she have refused him? And why would she have engaged herself to Carlisle, of all people?

“Do you know how Mary feels about you?” Isobel had that sharp look in her eyes again.

“Of course I do,” he said crossing his arms in front of himself like a petulant child.

“Well, obviously,” Isobel said feeling her patience with him beginning to wane. “You’re acting exactly like someone who has everything figured out.”

“Really, Mother, what would you have me do?” his voice rising a bit. “Run up there and make a fool of myself so she can reject me all over again? She’s marrying someone else! Just like I told Lavinia when she suggested we call of the wedding.”

“You did not!” Isobel said, shocked. “She told me that you had tried to change her mind but not that your reasoning was that ‘Mary is marrying someone else.’ What a horrible thing to say to her.”

“Why is that such a horrible thing to say? It’s true.”

“You can’t see why saying that you’re marrying her because the woman you’re clearly in love with is marrying someone else might be hurtful?” she shook her head. “Matthew, I don’t even have words to describe how disappointed I am with you.” She pushed her chair back and stood up. “Now, we have quite a few things to do today. I suggest you finish your breakfast and get ready to go up to the Abbey with me because I very much agree with Lavinia that you need to be the person who tells Mary.”

“It won’t make any difference,” he said morosely.

“Either way, you need to be the one to tell her.” She paused before adding in a slightly softer tone, “you might be right, but you also might be very wrong. I think you owe it to Mary either way.” With that, she turned and left the dining room, leaving Matthew to stew, his appetite quite gone.

The car ride up to the Abbey was tense. Matthew was still furious at Isobel for keeping Lavinia’s plans from him and was refusing to even mention Mary. Isobel was perfectly happy to not talk about it, knowing that anything she said at this point would probably come out ruder than she meant it to be. She had watched Matthew suffer through the heartbreak of losing Mary before, only this time there was no war to run off to. She wondered if he would pack up and move back to Manchester if Mary refused him again. That was probably a needless concern though.  Anyone with eyes could see that Mary still loved Matthew as well. Isobel had suspected as much from the first time she told the family that Matthew had signed up to fight and her opinion only became firmer as the war had dragged on. Isobel would also never, as long as she lived, forget the sight of Mary calmly and quietly wiping sick from Matthew at his absolute lowest. If anyone had asked which of the three Crawley sisters Isobel would guess to be the most dedicated nurse, she’d never have thought of Mary. Yet there she’d been, absolutely devoted to Matthew’s care, no job below her, not if she could be of help. No, Isobel thought to herself, Mary would not be likely to break Matthew’s heart again if she could help it.

The car came to a stop with a lurch and Isobel heard Matthew let out a heavy sigh, gripping the handle of his walking stick before getting out. They were greeted at the door by Thomas, who told them that Lord and Lady Granthem were in the library.

“And what about Lady Mary?” Isobel asked him, giving her son a pointed look.

“I’m not sure, ma’am.” Thomas said, noting the strange looks that Matthew and Isobel were exchanging. “I could find out and let her know you’re here, if you’d like.”

“Yes, thank you, Thomas,” Isobel said.

“Should I have her join you in the library?”

“I think I need some air,” Matthew said suddenly, his face paling at the thought of actually having to talk to Mary for the first time in a week. His knuckles were white on his stick. “I think I’ll actually go out for a walk.”

Isobel’s eyes narrowed at Matthew before she turned back to Thomas and said, “yes, Thomas, that would fine. Thank you.”

Matthew turned abruptly and headed back out the front door. He gulped down the fresh air and wiped his face with his free hand. He couldn’t do it. He felt sick at the thought of having to face Mary. He turned to walk back to the village, but his legs felt weak and he’d yet to attempt that far of a walk. He decided instead to go over to a bench and wait until Isobel had had time to tell the family. He began making his way over the familiar path slowly.

Back in the library, Robert, Cora, Violet, Edith and, unfortunately, Sir Richard Carlisle looked up in mild surprise as Thomas announced Isobel.

“Mrs. Crawley, Milord,” Thomas said before curtly closing the door.

Isobel gulped. Well, at least everyone was here. That would make the task easier, only having to do it once.  She wondered briefly if she should wait until Mary had been cooked out and joined them but decided that she would still rather have Matthew tell her himself and jumped in without preamble.

“I don’t know if you’re aware yet,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “but Lavinia has returned to London this morning. She asked me to thank you all for your kindness and to tell you that she’ll miss you all and that…” she gulped again, before pressing on, “she regrets that she probably will not be seeing any of you again.”

“What?” Cora was the first to speak, she still looked pale in her own recovery. “What does she mean? Of course she’ll see us again.”

“Well,” Isobel said slowly, acutely aware that Sir Richard’s eyes were boring into her. “The thing is, she and Matthew have decided to call off the wedding. She asked me to relay the news. She wanted to slip away with as little fuss as possible.”

“I don’t believe it!” exclaimed Robert. “What could have possibly changed?”

Isobel thought for a moment how best to explain but Violet had got there before she could. “I would imagine it’s more a case of nothing having changed and a realization of that fact.” Violet was watching all the gathered members closely. Robert was rubbing his forehead, obviously in thought; Edith seemed mildly interested but rather unbothered by this strange turn of events. Cora and Sir Richard were, however, exchanging concerned looks while Isobel shuffled her feet uncertainly.

“Where’s Mary?” Cora asked, a slight hint of fear in her voice.

“She said she was going for a walk,” Edith supplied. “Shall I go fetch her?”

“No…” Cora glanced again at Sir Richard. This news would have to be contained. Just because Matthew was no longer marrying Lavinia, nothing else would need to change. She tried to give him an encouraging smile, but worried that she hadn’t quite conveyed her meaning.  “I suppose this means, we can focus on your wedding now, Richard,” she tried to sound light and airy, “given that we don’t have to reschedule the other one…”

“Quite. I’ll go find Mary and give her the news.” Sir Richard said as he strode from the room, an almost thunderous look on his face.

Mary was sitting on her favorite bench on the grounds trying to read the book in her hands: The Hound of the Baskervilles. It was her third attempt to read it, and while Matthew kept touting its praises, she just couldn’t enjoy it. She sighed in frustration as she heard the sound of gravel crunching and looked up. Matthew limped into view leaning heavily on his stick with a deep frown on his face. “Why do you look so cross?” she asked, “is Lavinia still refusing to see you?”

Matthew startled at the sound of her voice. “What? I…no. Well, not exactly.”

“Ah, well, she’ll have to talk to you sometime,” Mary said treading carefully. He hadn’t spoken to her at all since the night they’d danced, and she didn’t think he’d be likely to be talking to her now if she hadn’t caught him off guard.

“No, she won’t.” He said, sitting down heavily on the bench beside her. Mary was intrigued but didn’t want to push. She looked at her hands instead. The silence between them was deafening, and just as she was about to speak, Matthew sighed heavily. “She’s gone. She left this morning. Apparently, Mother helped her pack, and I was none the wiser.”

“Oh,” Mary said softly, “I…I’m so sorry, Matthew.”

“Why?” He looked up at her, his eyes haunted. “Why would you be sorry?”

“Matthew…” she trailed off, words failing her.  What could she possibly say to him to make this better?

“She heard us, you know?” he said. “She heard everything I said…and saw…when I…” he shook his head. Mary felt her eyes fill with tears. Her throat suddenly dry.

“I…I didn’t know…” she struggled for something to say to help. “I am sorry, Matthew. But you must know, I don’t regret it.” Her voice was so quiet that Matthew barely heard her.

“You don’t?” Matthew said with a bitter laugh. “Could have fooled me.”

“Why would you say that?” Her voice sounded hurt; he hadn’t expected that. He looked back to her to see her staring at him with an incredulous look on her face.

“Come on, Mary,” he said, his anger rising. “You’ve always treated me like a plaything.  You flirt with me when it’s convenient, you string me along for months, I’ve always loved you and you’ve never loved me!”

“I’ve…never…” Mary began, taking deep steadying breaths, “I think you’ve had a shock today and you must be very tired after…everything. Maybe you should leave.”

“I don’t want to leave,” he said, crossing his arms again.

“Well, that’s new,” Mary said, throwing him a dirty look. “Isn’t that what you do when things get too hard to deal with? Run away?”

“I have never run away,” he grumbled.

“What do you call it, then? You were already planning on moving back to Manchester and then you went and joined the army. You wouldn’t even talk to me.  I didn’t refuse you, Matthew. You did that to us.” Her voice was calmer now and though her perfect mask was in place, Matthew could see a slight flush to her cheeks as she stared him down. “You disappeared for two years and then showed up here with a fiancée that you’d known for all of five minutes and asked me to take care of her.”

“Mary, I…”

“No, Matthew,” Mary held up a hand to silence him. “I had to sit here by myself with no word of how you were, what you were doing, nothing. I was constantly worried about you. Even when the family did know what you were doing, they tried to keep it all from me. No one wanted to tell me you were missing, no one wanted to tell me the details of your injury, the only reason I knew as much as I did was because I refused to leave your side! But yes, you’re right, I must have never loved you.”

The silence following was so much worse than anything that she’d said to him.  He sat there, staring at his feet. “I…” he began, “I didn’t think about it that way.”

“Well, maybe you should.” She stood up, lip trembling, and smoothed her dress before turning to him and saying with an icy voice, “I don’t care if you go or stay, but I’m going back inside.” She began to walk away and as she heard the bench creak as he began to rise, she added, “don’t follow me, I think we both need a moment.”

He watched her, her back still to him, reach up and wipe her eyes before continuing back to the house. He sat there feeling wretched.  He didn’t know what had possessed him to say that she hadn’t loved him.  He thought back over the war and realized that everything she’d done had been an act of quietly professing her love for him. If she hadn’t loved him, why would she wake at dawn to see him off at the station? Why would she have given him her lucky charm? What of that look on her face when he and William had walked into the library while she was singing? What of all those hours sitting with him at the hospital? What of Cousin Violet telling him that she did love him, and he’d ignored it all. Too stubborn, his pride still too bruised to see it for what it really was. It had never occurred to him how hard the war had been on her, watching from a distance.  He thought of Lavinia, constantly professing her love for him, crying on Mary’s shoulder about all her fears of losing him, like in a bloody Austen novel.  And he’d thrown it all back in her face, saying it had all been a game to her. He wanted to chase after her, apologize, but he knew she wouldn’t talk to him now. He sighed, and got to his feet and began the slow, agonizingly long walk back to Crawley House.

Mary was able to make it all the way up to her room without seeing anyone. As she shut the door behind her, she leaned up against it and felt the tears finally fall freely from her eyes. She felt her body quake with sobs as she slowly slid down to the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees. She hadn’t cried like this since that awful summer day when she thought she’d lost Matthew forever. She didn’t realize how long she’d been sitting there like that until she felt someone try to open the door. She scrambled out of the way to see Anna come in. She attempted to wipe her eyes and say something, but no words came to her.

“Milady?” Anna asked. “What are you doing up here?”

“I can’t be down there.” Mary sobbed. “I had an awful fight with Matthew, and I just can’t bear the thought of being around anyone. Can you please tell them all I’m feeling unwell?”

“Of course, milady,” she thought for a moment, “would you like me to help you into something more comfortable? And then I’ll bring up some tea for you.”

“Thank you, Anna, that would be wonderful.”

* * *

Isobel stayed in the library with Violet and Cora for quite a while going through all the things that would need to be done with the wedding called off and organizing the gifts to return. At any sound she’d jump slightly, hoping to see either Matthew or Mary but as the hours stretched on and neither appeared, she began to worry. Eventually Sir Richard returned, not looking any happier than he’d been when he’d stalked from the room earlier that morning.

“Did you find Mary?” Cora asked hopefully.

“No, she seems to have quite disappeared,” he said, casting a suspicious look at Isobel, who looked calmly back, silently wondering where Matthew had gone off to as well.  She didn’t think they would still be together somewhere, but she also knew that they could very well be. She glanced at the clock on the mantlepiece, it was quite late in the afternoon by now, perhaps she should go back home. Matthew might have walked home by now.

She rose to her feet saying, “It’s later than I thought it was. I should get back home to Matthew; he’s probably wondering where I’ve gotten to.” She hoped that Sir Richard would believe that Matthew had been home all day, but even at that thought she chided herself. As far as she knew, Sir Richard had no quarrel with Matthew and wouldn’t. “Do you suppose the car could be brought round for me?”

“I think I’ll go with you,” Violet added. “Save them getting the car out again.”

Cora rang for the car and when Thomas came in, she asked after Mary, hoping to still be able to smooth Sir Richard’s nerves.

“Anna said she’s upstairs in bed, Milady.” Thomas answered. “She didn’t feel well after her walk and asked to have a tray in her room tonight.” He nodded at the ladies and left to summon the car.

“Oh,” said Cora frowning, “I do hope she’s not sick now too.”

As soon as the car began to pull away, Violet turned to Isobel with a piercing look. “What do you know that you’re not telling the rest of us?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Isobel began to protest but one look from Violet quelled her instantly. “I don’t know much, anyway. All I really know is that Lavinia called off the wedding because she felt that Matthew loves Mary more than he loves her. I get the impression that there’s more to it, but I don’t know what it is.”

Violet sniffed. “Well, at least she figured it out before the wedding. I wonder what the rest of it is. You don’t suppose it has anything to do with Mary’s sudden bout of illness?”

“What are you suggesting?” Isobel asked incredulously. “Nothing too improper, I hope.”

“No, no, nothing like that.” Violet said with a wave of her hand. Mary wouldn’t be that foolish again and she doubted Matthew would go along with it anyway. “With Mary not being around at all today, do you suppose she knows anything about it yet?”

“If you don’t say anything to Sir Richard…” Isobel began, as Violet scoffed. “Well, Matthew was supposed to tell her today, but he barely even came into the house. I suppose they could have happened to see each other in the garden but I won’t know anything until I find him.”

“Hmm,” Violet sniffed. “Well, I hope he’s at home when you get there. Do tell me if you learn anything useful. I wonder how we’ll be able to rid ourselves of Sir Richard now. Matthew would make a much more suitable husband for Mary.”

“Hello, Ma’am,” Molesley greeted her as she came in front door of Crawley House.

“Have you seen my son anywhere by any chance?” she asked, removing her hat and handing it to him.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, his eyes flickering in the direction of Matthew’s study. “He came home a while ago and locked himself in his study. He hasn’t been out since. I tried to offer him some lunch, but he said he didn’t want any. Is there anything I get for you?”

Isobel pursed her lips. If Matthew was determined to act like a petulant child, well then that was how she’d treat him. “Yes, Molesley, some tea would be lovely. Have it sent to the study when it’s ready.”

Molesley nodded and left as Isobel steeled herself for the impending argument. She didn’t know all of what had happened between him and Lavinia—or him and Mary—but she would have to drag it out of him.  He was far too old to punish, but perhaps she could still intimidate him. She knocked on the door to his study and when he didn’t respond she called out, “Matthew, I know you’re in there. Molesley already told me. You must let me in, my dear. A worry shared is a worry halved.”

She listened, and when he didn’t respond still, she decided to push in. She turned the nob and the door opened with a slight creak. The room was dark, with all the curtains drawn and only one lamp on. She saw Matthew slumped in his chair, a glass of whisky in his hand. He glared at her but didn’t protest so she continued into the room and sat down in the chair across from him. “I assume you talked to Mary?” she asked.

“Why would you assume that?” He grumbled, staring into his glass.

“Well, no one has seen hide nor hair of her all day,” Isobel said, casting him a sideways look, “and since you seem to be in such a lovely mood yourself, I wondered if you had anything to do with her suddenly feeling so poorly.”

At that, Matthew’s head shot up. He turned wide eyes to his mother as he asked, “she’s not sick too, is she?”

“I frankly have no idea.” Isobel took a breath. “All we know for sure is that at some point before we arrived this morning, she told Edith she was going out for a walk and that some point after that she told Anna she wasn’t feeling well and had retired for the day. Since you were outside in that same time, I wondered if you had seen her.”

“Yes, Mother” he sighed. “I did see her. I wish I hadn’t, but I did.”

“Did…you tell her?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“She said she was very sorry.” He downed his drink. As he stood to pour himself another, Molesley came in with the tea. “No thank you, Molesley. I don’t want any tea.”

“Mrs. Crawley asked for it, Sir,” Molesley said timidly.

“Yes,” Isobel said, “I did. And you will have a cup, Matthew. Have you eaten anything today?”

“No.”

“Molesley, please ask Mrs. Bird to send some sandwiches as well,” Isobel asked, ignoring Matthew’s grumbling.

“She already added some to the tray, Ma’am,” he said, “would you like me to serve?”

“No thank you, Molseley.” Isobel said, rising to prepare a cup for Matthew. “I need to talk to my son. I’ll ring if we need anything else.”  She pushed the cup into Matthew’s hand and put her hand on his shoulder to push him back down into the chair. When the door clicked shut behind Molesley she turned back to son. “Now, you really expect me to believe that this mood was caused by Mary saying she was sorry.”

“Well, it is!” He growled.

“Matthew, there has to be more to the story than that.” Isobel stood over him, being as imposing as she could. He looked to the side in an effort to avoid eye contact.

“We might have said other things as well…” he mumbled, glaring at his tea.

“And what would those things be?”

“I don’t want to talk about it with you.”

“Well, who would you rather talk to?” she asked, exasperated. “Should I call Robert down here? How about Sir Richard?”

“Definitely not.”

“Well, then I guess you’re stuck with me.” She sat down and sipped her tea. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I said something really stupid,” he took a reluctant sip. Isobel raised her eyebrows but when she didn’t say anything he sighed and continued. “I told her that Lavinia had…overheard a conversation between us. When she said that she was sorry, but that she didn’t regret anything, I don’t even know… Something inside me snapped and every ungracious thought I’ve ever had about her came out.”

“Oh, Matthew,” she said reaching over and putting her hand on his knee. “What did Lavinia overhear?”

“I really don’t want to talk about this with you,” he said, then thought better and added, “no offense. I just don’t want to talk to my mother about my relationship problems.”

“And who would be better?” she asked sympathetically.

“Honestly,” he sighed heavily, “I wish I could talk to William Mason.”

“Well, how about you do? He’s next door in the graveyard.” Matthew gave her a withering look. “Or you could talk to me and just pretend it’s him. I won’t say anything. Unless you want me to, of course.”

“I don’t know that that will help,” Matthew said slowly, “You’re still my mother.”

“It can’t hurt to try, surely?”

He sighed. She was right, it couldn’t hurt. And if what she’d said that morning was true, she already knew that he loved Mary and nothing he had to say would be too much of a shock. “I’m not proud of any of this,” he began, “but when you and everyone else went upstairs with Dr. Clarkson that first night, Mary and I were alone in the hall and…” he swallowed, “I asked her to dance.”

“That doesn’t sound too shocking,” Isobel said hopefully. He gave her a dirty look and she stopped talking.

“We didn’t just dance,” he heard her breath catch, but she didn’t interject again so he pressed on. “I told her that I wished I could marry her instead of Lavinia and then I kissed her.  Lavinia caught us at that point. I actually hadn’t talked to her at all since then.”

Isobel waited a moment and when he didn’t go on, she ventured a question, “and Mary doesn’t regret kissing you?”

“Apparently not,” he said wearily into his teacup. “But, oh Mother,” he looked up suddenly with tears in his eyes, “if she doesn’t regret it and if she does love me like Cousin Violet says, why is she marrying Sir Richard? Is it the money? Am I really not enough for her?”

Isobel looked at her son, her heart breaking for him. She wanted to gather him to her like she had when he was a little boy and tell him everything would be alright, but this was so much bigger than a skinned knee or a lost toy. “Did Mary say that she’s still planning to marry him?” Isobel asked simply.

“She didn’t have to,” Matthew sobbed.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, I…” he began, “I don’t know.”

“Are you sure you’re being fair to her?” she asked carefully.

“I don’t know,” he moaned. “I wish William were here, he always knew how to keep me together.”

“Well,” Isobel was pensive, trying to think of the right thing to say, “what would he say to you if he were here?”

Matthew closed his eyes and thought. What would William say? William had prized honesty and communication. He always said just the right thing or asked just the right question to guide Matthew without making it sound preachy or like he was giving advice. Talking to William made it seem like you had all the answers all along, you just didn’t know it at the time. He smiled and opened his eyes to see his mother’s expectant gaze on him. “I suppose he’d say I’m being an arse and I should just talk to her.”

Isobel chuckled, “That sounds like wonderful advice,” she patted his arm and then added, “why don’t you come with me and have some dinner and then get some rest and you can go up and talk to Mary tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

Isobel and Matthew had a quiet dinner and while he did feel better for having got some of what had been weighing him down for the previous week off his chest, he couldn’t fully relax. He sat in the drawing room with Isobel after dinner, his mind still racing, agonizing over the things he’d said to Mary that morning. There was nothing for it, he couldn’t wait until tomorrow, he had to speak to Mary tonight.  He got up, told his mother he was going out and ignored her as she tried to dissuade him. He walked as fast as his stiff legs would take him up to the Abbey; he paused as it loomed into view, lights shining like a beacon in the night, drawing him closer. 

He checked the time and assessed that they would probably be finished with dinner by now. Isobel had mentioned that Mary said she wasn’t feeling well but he had no idea if she’d come down to dine with the rest of the family. He weighed his options. Carson would never allow him to go up to see her and would insist on announcing him properly. Thomas might help him, but he would be unlikely to keep any of it to himself. The person he really needed was Anna. He didn’t know the housemaid well, but Matthew knew from William how close Mary and Anna were. He figured she would probably be on duty cleaning the dining room once Robert and Sir Richard joined the ladies so he just had to find a way to remain undetected until he could sneak in to see her, hopefully on her own.

He quietly opened the front door to the empty foyer. He heard voices to his right as Robert and Sir Richard came out into the hall and walked to the drawing room. Once the door closed behind them, Matthew eased open the inner door and stole into the dining room.

“Oh, Mr. Crawley,” a surprised voice said. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“Anna?” he asked, blushing slightly.

“Yes, Sir?”

“I need to talk to Lady Mary.” He began, trying to keep his voice steady. “Is there any way you could help me see her?”

Anna’s eyes flicked upward as she bit her lip. “She’s upstairs, I don’t think she’ll want to come down, Sir,” she said apologetically. “And…I’m not entirely sure she’d want to see you…”

“I said things I shouldn’t have today; I just can’t leave it without apologizing.” He looked at the ground. “Please let me at least do that?”

Anna thought for a moment, and then setting down her clearing try, seemed to make up her mind. “Follow me, Sir. I’ll take you up there, but I’m not promising anything.”

Matthew thanked her as she beckoned him to follow her through the servery and to the servant’s stairs. “It will be easier to get you up there if we use these stairs,” she explained. Once on the gallery, Anna led him through the maze of corridors to Mary’s bedroom. She knocked and bid Matthew to wait while she went in to speak to Mary. The minutes dragged by as he waited. Finally, Anna pulled the door open and motioned for him to enter. Mary was standing near the foot of her bed, an incredulous look on her face. “I don’t know what you think you’ll achieve by coming here like this, Matthew,” she said in her most imperious voice. She had clearly not forgiven him yet.

“I only came to apologize,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I shouldn’t have said what I said this morning. I didn’t mean it. I was mad at Lavinia and myself, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“Anna, you may leave us,” Mary said. Anna looked at Mary with wide eyes but nodded and quickly withdrew. When the door clicked shut Mary turned her eyes to Matthew. He gulped as he really looked at her for the first time. She was wearing a dressing gown pulled closed over a night gown, her long chestnut hair in a braid over her shoulder. When Anna had offered to bring him up to her bedroom, it hadn’t occurred to him what it might mean. His eyes scanned over the room and he noted the rumpled bedclothes and the books and magazines strewn over the bed.

“I didn’t expect you to already be in bed,” he said sheepishly, feeling a flush creep up his neck.

“I wouldn’t normally,” she said plainly. “But Anna suggested it when I was upset earlier. I wasn’t exactly feeling up to being around everyone else, not with them all working on cleaning up your mess.” She said it with no emotion, but it still bit.

“The last thing I would have wanted was to make trouble for everyone,” his eyes cast at the floor, not really sure where to look. “I wouldn’t have planned it this way.”

“Hmm,” she pursed her lips. “Of course not, though it was rather presumptuous to ask us to host your wedding here in the first place, what more is it to have us cancel it all as well?”

“Don’t punish me like this, Mary” he begged.

“Shouldn’t I?” she asked, her eyebrow raised. “Isn’t this what I do? Play with you?”

“Like I said earlier,” he breathed, “I said things I shouldn’t have and I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean any of it.”

“Of course you did,” she continued to stare him down and he felt his flush deepen. “You wouldn’t have said it otherwise. You’ve even accused me of it before, so you’ve obviously been feeling this way for quite some time.”

Her words stung him. He opened his mouth to reply, but words failed him. He looked to the side and seeing a settee and several chairs, nodded at them, “do you mind if I…?” He trailed off, glancing up to see her steely gaze. “It was an awfully long walk.”

“I thought you were only here to apologize; you’ve done that.” He marveled at her ability to remain impassive.

“Are you dismissing me, then?”

“Matthew,” she sighed, “I’m tired. You’ve insulted me enough already. So, unless you have something more to say, yes, I think you should leave.”

Matthew started to turn. Then, realizing he might never get another chance turned back and asked simply, “why are you marrying Sir Richard?”

“I don’t see how my reasons are any concern of yours.”

“Mary, I love you,” he said, eyes briming with tears. “I’ve always loved you and from what everyone says, you’ve always loved me as well. If that’s true…”

“It doesn’t matter who I love,” she rubbed her forehead.

“Why not? What could possibly be more important?”

“You know it’s more complicated than that,” for the first time, she didn’t sound calm and collected; she sounded weary. “I have to do what’s expected of me. I have to make an appropriate match for the good of the family.”

“I thought I was the match that is good for the family,” she heard the sound of desperation in his voice.

“You were,” she sighed. “But that was a long time ago and things are different now. Now I must marry Sir Richard. I’m sorry, I wish it wasn’t this way, but it is.”

“How can that be possible?” he frowned. “I understand how it was different when Cora was pregnant, but surely now…”

“It has nothing to do with your prospects,” she cut him off. “It’s about me and what I’ve…” she stopped talking and thought for a moment. Then, she shook her head and pressed on, “I can’t explain it any more than that, I’m sorry. I think it’s best you leave now. I have no idea if Mama will come up and check on me before she retires, and no one can know you were in here.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” Matthew closed the gap between them and reached for Mary’s hand. “If you care for me at all, please tell me. If I must lose you, at least let me know why.”

“I can’t tell you,” her voice was barely above a whisper. “You will despise me if you know the truth and that I really could not stand.”

“Mary please,” his voice was strained, “nothing could be worse than this.” He leaned his stick against her bed and gathered both her hands in his, rubbing her knuckles with his thumbs.

“Matthew, I can’t,” she let out a small sob. “Please don’t ask this of me.” He saw the tears collecting in her eyelashes as she kept her eyes lowered, looking at their hands.

“I just don’t understand what could be so awful that you can’t tell me and binds you to him.” He gently pressed her hands to his lips.

“Sir Richard…knows something…” she shuddered, “about me. About something that happened a long time ago."

"And you told him, but you can’t tell me?”

“I had to. Mr. Bate’s wife threatened to sell it to the newspapers, and I asked him to buy the story to silence her. I couldn’t ask that without telling him the story.” She pulled her hands from his and turned away, sinking onto the stool in front of her vanity. Matthew swayed slightly and grabbed the poster of her bed to steady himself.

“Does he despise you?” Matthew asked, the color draining from his face. He looked around and stumped across the room to a nearby chair and sat. Mary’s back was to him, but he could see the strained look on her face in the mirror. He watched as she began picking up objects from the table before her, fiddling with them and returning them in a nervous way. She finally looked up and saw his reflection watching her closely.

“He says it puts us on even ground. That it’s no longer that he’s marrying above himself, because he knows that I am not…” she covered her face in her hands, not able to bare his gaze.

“You’re not what?”

“Virtuous.” The word hung in the air, despite it being barely audible. Matthew sat there stunned.

“Wha… when? How?” he asked as he began to recover himself.

“Years ago, before the war.” She dropped her hands and studied his face in the mirror. He was no longer watching her but staring at her bed with a look of dismay on his face. “It’s why I never answered you when you asked me to marry you back then. I wanted to tell you first, but I was afraid that you would withdraw the proposal. I couldn’t accept you without telling you, but I couldn’t tell you either. When I had finally made up my mind to do it, Mama was pregnant, and everyone was telling me to delay—even though I never wanted to! In the end I waited too long; you withdrew the proposal anyway and joined the army. I thought I had lost you forever. I had already met Sir Richard when you brought Lavinia here that first time and so I swallowed it all and let you be happy. I tried to tell you so many times, all of it. How much I loved you, how I’d wanted to accept even without the title, everything. I’m sorry I was such a coward, but it’s too late now. Can’t you see that?”

“You…wanted me without the title?” he asked, still not looking at her.

“Yes,” Mary sniffed, wiping tears from her face, “everyone thought I was mad.”

“Why couldn’t you have at least said that?”

“What was the point?” she almost laughed. “I still would have had to tell you about Kemal.”

“Kemal?” his ears perked up, “you mean, Mr. Pamuk, that diplomat that died?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“That’s who it was? Did…did he die here?”

Mary’s eyes flicked to the bed, and she slowly nodded. “Yes, Anna and Mama helped me move him back to his room. That’s why Mrs. Bates could use it against her husband. He wanted to protect Anna.”

“And Sir Richard promised to not publish the story if you marry him?”

“Yes”

“Mary,” he sighed, “that’s blackmail, you can’t marry someone who is blackmailing you.”

“I won’t be able to marry anyone if he publishes, either,” she said incredulously.

“You could marry me.” He said it so simply, looking at her for the first time since her revelation.

“You don’t mean that,” she turned to face him.

“I do.” he said simply, holding her gaze. “I meant it when I said I’ve always loved you. This doesn’t change anything.”

“You don’t mean that, either,” she said putting her hands in her lap. “I’ve been made different by it, I’m ‘Tess of the d’Urbervilles’ to your ‘Angel Clare’.”

“Don’t joke about it,” he shook his head. “I am not Angel Clare. I don’t quite know what to think about it, but I know it doesn’t change who I know you to be.”

“Oh,” she said, nodding, tears still swimming in her eyes.

“I just…” he struggled for the words, “I just have to ask. Did you love him?”

Mary looked shocked, as if he’d slapped her. “How could I have loved him? I didn’t even know him!”

“Well then, why did you…?” he gulped, “No, I don’t need to know about that.”

“I didn’t even want him here.”

His head snapped up and he looked her in the eye. She looked miserable, tears streaking her face, completely vulnerable. “What do you mean, did he force you?”

“No…” she thought back to that night, her mother asking her the same question. “He didn’t force me. He…I don’t know, he just came in. I asked him to leave but he didn’t. And he kept saying I’d be ruined anyway so in the end I gave in.”

“So, you’re telling me,” he said, rubbing his forehead, “you didn’t invite him, he refused to leave, and he threatened you with ruin either way?”

She didn’t respond at first. She picked up the tie of her dressing gown and began twisting the fabric in her hands. “Yes…That’s about it.”

“Do you honestly think he’d have left you alone if you hadn’t given in?”

Mary was pensive. She’d never thought of how that night might have been different if she’d held her ground. She remembered the way he’d pushed her into a wall downstairs in the music room when he’d first kissed her; how he’d pushed her to the bed and pinned her down. She was suddenly aware of Matthew watching her. “I don’t think so,” she sniffed, pulling her dressing gown tighter around her, “no.”

“Well, my dear, perhaps Tess of the d’Urbervilles is more apt than you had intended.” He shook his head again, “one thing is very clear though.”

“Really?” she asked. “What’s that?”

“You absolutely cannot marry Sir Richard.”

“But my secret will be safe if I do.”

“It’s not worth it, Mary.” He got up, crossed the room and stood, bracing himself on the mantlepiece. “You’ll save yourself a month of scandal with a lifetime of misery. I can offer you so much more than that. We can even leave the country to ride it out if you want. I don’t care, as long as I can be with you.”

“Matthew, I…” she got up and took a few tentative steps toward him as he turned to look at her.

Just then the door began to open and Cora’s head poked into the room. “What are you doing out of bed, my dear?” she asked, stepping into the room, her eyes landing on Matthew’s walking stick which was still leaning at the foot of the bed where he’d left it. Mary’s eyes flicked from it to Matthew and back to Cora as she stood rooted to the spot. “Mary,” Cora said slowly, “what’s that doing in here?”

Mary shifted slightly, hoping to block the view of the mirror with her body. “What’s what doing in here?”

“That looks like Matthew’s stick. Why would you have it?” Matthew shuffled slightly and at the sound Cora turned her head to see him trying his best to blend into the wall. She stared at him with a look of horror on her face. Turning back to her daughter she cried, “Mary, have you learned absolutely nothing? How can you be doing this again?”

“Mama, that’s not what this is!” Mary sobbed.

“Cousin Cora,” Matthew interjected, “I came up here to talk to Mary. She didn’t ask me here; she had no idea at all until I showed up.”

“How did you even know where her room was if she didn’t tell you?” Cora asked, clearly unconvinced. Mary looked at Matthew, terror in her eyes.

“I…” he swallowed, playing for time, not wanting to give Anna away, “I knew where it was from when Lavinia was sick. Mary let her lie down in here and I came up to collect her before I knew that Dr. Clarkson wanted her to stay here.”

Cora narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion, but she couldn’t contradict him as she’d been sick in bed at the same time. “Well, it’s very late and I think you should leave right now. Go downstairs now and have the car brought round, I’ll be down in a minute to see you out.” Mary picked up the stick and held it out to Matthew apologetically. He took it, nodded to both of them and left.

“Mama, I…” Mary began but was immediately silent at seeing the thunderous look on her mother’s face.

“I will talk to you about this later. I have to make sure that Cousin Matthew gets home.” She turned and swept from the room, leaving Mary quite alone. She climbed back into bed and once more pulled her knees to her chest, rocking slightly for a few minutes before the door creaked open once again.

“May I come in, Milady?” said a timid voice.

“Yes, Anna,” Mary sighed, “please do.”

“I’m ever so sorry, Milady,” Anna began, “I was trying to stay close by so I could warn you if anyone was coming but Lady Edith needed me, I came out of her room and saw Mr. Crawley and her Ladyship on the stairs.”

“It’s not your fault, Anna,” Mary said, holding a hand out to the maid. “I should have made him leave long before then. But we were talking about, well,” she shrugged, “everything and I quite forgot. Is anyone else awake still?”

“No one will see him leave,” Anna said, taking Mary’s outstretched hand, “if that’s what you mean. And I doubt very much that her Ladyship wants anyone else to know about it either.”

“Oh,” Mary said, wiping the tears from her face, “that’s a relief. I told him everything, you know? About Mr. Pamuk and Mrs. Bates. He says it doesn’t matter and that he still loves me.”

“That’s good, isn’t it, Milady?”

“Yes…” Mary shrugged again, “but what are the chances that Sir Richard will let me out of the engagement?”

* * *

Isobel sighed with relief as she heard the front door open and shut. At last, Matthew was home. She prayed he’d just been out for a walk. “Matthew?” she called out anxiously, “is that you?”

Matthew came into the sitting room slowly. “I didn’t expect you to still be awake, Mother,” he said as he sat heavily on the settee.

“To be quite honest,” she said, laying down the book she’d been reading, “I was waiting for you. I hope you didn’t do anything too rash.”

“I took William’s advice,” he said with a half-smile.

“I see,” Isobel bit her lip, thinking how best to continue with the conversation. “Would you like some tea, my dear? I think Mrs. Bird already retired for the night, but I’m sure we could manage it ourselves while you tell me all about it.”

Matthew’s face broke into the first smile she’d seen all day. “Yes, Mother, I think some tea would be perfect.” They got up and walked together to the kitchen. “I know you didn’t agree with me going up there tonight, but I’m glad I did. I was able to apologize and now things are much clearer.”

“Well, you’re right,” Isobel said, setting the kettle on the stove, “I would have had you wait until tomorrow, but you do seem to be in better spirits now. Have you resolved things favorably?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s resolved at all,” Matthew said opening cupboards and setting out the tea things. “But we did talk about many things, and most importantly, I know how she feels about me now.”

“And?” she asked, daring to hope.

“She does love me,” he frowned, thinking of everything else she’d told him. “And her delay before the war had nothing to do with Cousin Cora’s pregnancy.”

“What could it have possibly been?”

“I don’t know that I should tell you,” he said slowly, “she didn’t even want to tell me, I don’t think she’d like it if you knew as well.”

“But she did tell you, in the end?”

“Yes, she did,” he took the cup of tea his mother offered. “I understand why she was hesitant to tell me, she was sure I would despise her for it.” Isobel nudged a plate of biscuits to him, and he picked one up.

“Do you despise her?” she asked, taking a sip of her own tea.

“No.” he said simply. “I never would, never could. If anything, I think I love her more for the fact that she wouldn’t accept me without telling me.”

“How very noble of her.” They sat in silence drinking their tea together, Isobel pondering this new information.

Chapter Text

The following morning, a note was delivered to Crawley House addressed to both Isobel and Matthew.

Please come round this afternoon for tea at three o’clock. There is an urgent matter that we need to discuss.  ~Cora

“That seems rather ominous,” Isobel said, handing the note across the table to Matthew. “I wonder what could be so serious?”

Matthew felt his stomach drop. “I would imagine it’s a scolding, rather,” he said.

“What on earth would she be scolding us about?” Isobel laughed but sobered quickly at the sight of Matthew’s face. “Oh no,” she said, “what didn’t you tell me?”

“Well,” he began, “I suppose it’s probably about finding me in Mary’s bedroom last night.”

Isobel rubbed her forehead, “You and Mary were in her bedroom? I was picturing this heart to heart in the library.”

“Anna didn’t think that she would want to come down as she’d been in bed for hours already, so she took me up there instead,” he said in a rush, before adding: “Nothing inappropriate happened. We were just talking. I didn’t… ‘ask her to dance’ again, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Isobel opened her mouth to reply just as Molesley came in with a second envelope, this one addressed to Isobel only. She took it and opened it to find a second summons: this one to the Dower House.

“Oh dear,” Isobel explained, sighing. “Cousin Violet has demanded an audience as well. Is there anything else I should know before I’m sent into the lion’s den?”

“I can’t think of anything,” he shrugged. “It really was perfectly respectable, we just happened to be in a bedroom. She got out of bed to talk to me.”

“Goodness, Matthew,” Isobel shook her head, “you’re painting quite the picture. I suppose you’ll be lucky if they don’t already have a special license drawn up and force you two down the aisle.”

At that, Matthew blushed a deep scarlet and Isobel, completely exasperated, left him to his breakfast in peace, readying herself for her meeting with the Dowager.

Isobel was promptly shown into the drawing room to find Violet, brandishing a note at her, very similar to the one that Isobel had received.

“Why is there to be a war counsel ‘to discuss the urgent handling of Matthew and Mary’s impropriety’?” she demanded in greeting. “What did he do?”

“Why do you assume it was Matthew?” Isobel responded icily.

“Please, Mary knows better by now,” Violet scoffed, “at least she had better. Did you ever manage to find him yesterday?"

“Yes, he was home when I got there.” Isobel sighed. There was no point in trying to hide any of what she knew. “I was able to get him to tell me the rest of what happened with Lavinia and Mary. Apparently, Lavinia caught Matthew kissing Mary the night she fell ill. I would imagine that was the impetus for her calling off the wedding. When he told Mary about it yesterday, they quarreled. I gather he made a proper fool of himself.”

“While admittedly not the best,” Violet said, eyeing Isobel suspiciously, “I don’t see how that necessitates a family meeting.”

“Matthew couldn’t let it rest,” Isobel continued, “so he went back up to the house after dinner last night. He tells me Cora found him in Mary’s bedroom.”

“That foolish girl.” Violet shook her head, “You’d think she would have learned her lesson the last time.”

“What do you mean ‘the last time’?” Isobel asked interested. “If I share all of my information, it seems only right that you share yours.”

“It’s just that this isn’t the first time Mary has let a young man into her bedroom and been caught.” Violet said airily.

“What on earth do you mean?” Isobel asked, the wheels in her head turning as she ruminated on what Matthew had divulged to her the night before. “This wouldn’t by any chance have anything to do with Mary’s reluctance to accept Matthew’s proposal before the war, would it?”

“How much do you know about that?” Violet’s eyes narrowed.

“I only know that Matthew said she told him her reasons for not accepting it and that he seemed satisfied with her answer. He didn’t think she’d like me to know the details, so he didn’t divulge them.”

“Hmm,” she nodded. “Well, that’s probably for the best. The less who know all the unsavory details the better. Matthew doesn’t mind, though?”

“No, but now I really do feel like I should know,” Isobel answered plainly.

“The basic story is that Mary allowed a male guest into her bed, and he promptly died.” Violet sniffed, “I only got secondhand details from my niece and Cora filled in the blanks when I confronted her. How long has Matthew known?”

“She told him last night,” Isobel couldn’t suppress a rueful laugh, “which seems rather ironic now, knowing that Matthew found her in bed.”

“Mmm, yes,” Violet said. “Does Matthew say what his intentions are?”

“He hasn’t yet,” sighed Isobel, “but I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he intends to fight for her.”

* * *

Breakfast at the Abbey was a tense affair. Mary sat staring resolutely at her plate, refusing to speak to anyone. Sir Richard watched her suspiciously, not wanting to talk about Matthew and Lavinia’s called off nuptials in front of everyone else. Robert was stealing furtive glances between the two, wondering how they could possibly rid themselves of Sir Richard. He had never liked the brash newspaper man, and he made little secret of it. He would much rather have Matthew as a son-in-law and didn’t understand why Mary had refused him in the first place. What was more, Cora had come to bed the previous night complaining of “Matthew’s impropriety” regarding Mary. This was puzzling as Matthew was the very image of propriety and Mary had been sick in bed all day so when could they have even seen each other? He supposed all would be clear at Cora’s family meeting. He had tried to ask questions about it last night but Cora was too mad to talk about it. He hated feeling out of the loop and decided to speak to Mary about it as soon as breakfast was over.

“Mary,” he said as she rose from the table, “I wonder if you might join me in the library?”

Mary looked at him in surprise and nodded in a resigned sort of way.

“I was hoping she would come for a walk with me after breakfast,” Sir Richard interjected, also wanting to talk to Mary on his own.

Robert frowned, seeing Mary’s face pale at the suggestion. “No, I need to speak to my daughter. She can join you later, if she wishes.”

Sir Richard threw his napkin to the table in frustration and swept from the table. “Thank you,” Mary said quietly to her father once he was gone, “I know I’ll have to talk to him eventually, I just haven’t figured out what I want to say to him yet.”

They left the dining room together and crossed the hall to the library. “I assume you’ve heard the news about Matthew and Lavinia?” Robert asked kindly.

“Yes,” she said simply.

“Did your Mama tell you when she checked on you last night?”

“No, I knew before that,” Mary said, trying to gage how much he might already be aware of. “Matthew told me himself yesterday morning.”

“I see,” he closed his eyes pensively. “I’d have thought you would be happy at that news.”

“I might have,” she began, “if things were different. But seeing as I am engaged elsewhere, I don’t see how it makes any difference.”

“You haven’t even set a date, Mary,” Robert said. “I see no reason why you two can’t call it off. You don’t even seem to like him.”

Mary sighed deeply, “I don’t think he’ll agree to that.”

“Why not? What if I withdraw my blessing?” Robert asked.

“Papa,” Mary cried, “please don’t do that.” Robert looked at his daughter with concern etched across his face. “I don’t want to call off the engagement.”

“Even though Matthew is free now?” he reached out and clasped Mary’s hand in his own, “I wish I could understand, Mary.”

“Oh, Papa,” Mary looked around the room desperately, not wanting to tell her father the truth. “I’m doing this for you, please know that. It has to be this way.”

“You must know, my darling girl,” Robert said, trying to sound reassuring, “that this is not what I want for you. If you were marrying anyone for me, you would be marrying Matthew.” Mary shook her head but didn’t say anything else. Robert decided that perhaps he would get farther with Cora after all and left Mary in search of his wife.

He was, however, mistaken. Cora was still unwilling to divulge details, insisting that he would find out at tea with everyone else. She had spent the morning trying to soothe Sir Richard and was left with zero doubt that he would indeed publish should Mary choose to throw him over. Of course, he was still unaware of Matthew and Mary’s late-night tête-à-tête. She was unsure how he would react to that news. Her hope was that the family would be able to convince Matthew and Mary of the absurdity of whatever it was that they were up to. While she felt bad for them, they had had their chance. She couldn’t have hoped for a better match for Mary at this point—all things considered—and Matthew was young and handsome and would be able to find some other woman to marry. He might even be able to get Lavinia back, if he put up a decent fight. She also hoped, in vain, it turned out, that she could persuade Robert to be on her side, but he had, unfortunately, decided to support Matthew’s suit. Cora was exasperated, to say the least, but was reluctant to share the details which were tying Mary to Sir Richard. Before long, Violet and the Crawleys arrived.

Everyone made polite chit chat while Carson and Thomas laid out the tea. Once they left the room Cora decided there was no good beating about the bush and decided to jump right in, hoping to get it over with before either Sir Richard or Edith decided to join them.

“I’ve asked you all here to discuss a very serious topic,” she began. She noticed Matthew and Mary glance at each other guiltily before looking away. At least they seemed properly ashamed of themselves. “I need you all to help me convince these two,” she gestured at Matthew and Mary, “to drop whatever ridiculous scheme they seem to be involved in.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Matthew interjected, his voice rising in indignation. “There is no scheme to speak of. I told you last night that I simply needed to talk to Mary.”

Mary rolled her eyes, “Matthew, I don’t know that you’re helping.”

“Last night?” Robert asked surprised, “Matthew wasn’t here last night.”

“Yes, he was,” Cora said, glaring in Matthew’s direction. “He and Mary had some sort of…” she struggled to find the right words, “clandestine meeting.”

“Well,” Violet said with a laugh, “that sounds rather exciting.” She glanced at Isobel who was trying her best to look appropriately shocked by Cora’s revelation.

“It wasn’t a clandestine meeting,” Matthew said through gritted teeth, “it wasn’t shocking, there was nothing inappropriate about it.” Cora glared at him, and he amended his statement, adding, “well, the venue wasn’t the best, I’ll admit, but everything was perfectly respectable. Like I said, I had to speak with her, and it couldn’t wait.”

“What was so important that it couldn’t wait for today?” Robert asked, feeling like he didn’t really want to know more about any of it.

“I…” Matthew faltered.

“He had to apologize,” Mary supplied, not looking at him. “We had had a rather nasty row and he wanted to apologize. He was only here for a minute. Really, all this fuss is not necessary.”

“And why did he feel the need to go up to your room?” Cora asked.

“He was in her room?” Robert asked, sinking into a chair wearily.

“Yes,” Cora, Matthew and Mary said in unison.

“How did he get upstairs?” Robert asked, Violet and Isobel exchanged looks, also curious.

“I used the servants’ stairs,” Matthew admitted. “I didn’t think Mary would come down if I asked, so I went up myself. She had no part in it. If you’re going to be mad at anyone, be mad at me.”

“We are mad at you,” Cora said. “I never would have expected you to put a young woman’s reputation at risk like that.”

“Cora,” Isobel ventured quietly, “I know you’re disappointed with them, but doesn’t this seem a little extreme? Surely, they were more exposed to impropriety when Mary was nursing Matthew than by this. It’s not like they were caught doing anything other than talking. From what Matthew said to me, they were on opposite sides of the room.”

“Oh?” Cora rounded on Isobel, “You’ve no problem with your son visiting the bedrooms of unmarried women in the middle of the night?”

“It wasn’t the middle of the night, it was half nine,” Isobel scoffed, “they’ve talked later than that, often without a proper chaperone, many times.” Matthew gave his mother a half-hearted smile, thankful for her defense.

“Her reputation is already in enough trouble,” Cora spat, “this is far more serious than any of you seem to be treating it!”

“What do you mean?” Robert asked, looking from his angry wife to his terrified daughter.

“I assume, she is referring to the story of Mr. Pamuk, the Turkish diplomat, dying in Mary’s bed,” a voice drawled from the entrance of the north library. All heads turned to find Sir Richard stepping out from behind the columns. He looked smugly at the shocked faces looking at him. “Or didn’t you all know about that?”

Mary sobbed and covered her face in her hands. Violet reached over, patting her back supportively as Robert stared at Sir Richard, fury building as he rose to his feet.

“I beg your pardon?” he spat.

“Oh yes,” said Sir Richard, coming further into the room. “Not only did Lady Mary take a lover, but she tried to cover it up when he died in her bed. And then was good enough to hand the story to me in an effort to prevent it from being published.”

Matthew clenched his fists. He looked to Mary who was still crying in her grandmother’s arms. If he’d thought he hated Carlisle before, it was nothing to how he felt now.

“Don’t worry,” Sir Richard continued, “I still intend to marry her. I will keep the secret safe from prying eyes,” his eyes locked on Matthew’s, “I highly doubt anyone else will be so willing.”

Matthew was on his feet, “You’d be wrong, Sir,” he said doing his best to keep his voice steady. “As it so happens, I know all about Mary’s past. Probably more than you do. It makes no difference to me.”

“I never took you for a man with no standards,” Sir Richard drawled again, pulling himself to full height and looking Matthew directly in the eyes. “Then again, you seemed to have no qualms about carrying on with another man’s intended right in front of your own fiancée. It’s no wonder she left you, you weren’t even married yet and already abandoning her for the arms of a sl—” but he never got the word out as Matthew landed a punch square on his jaw, sending the older man reeling backwards.

“Matthew!” Cora exclaimed, eyeing him angerly and rushing to Sir Richard’s side as he lay, sprawled on the floor.  “Why would you do that?”

Sir Richard scrambled to his feet and launched at Matthew, tackling him round the middle and knocking him off his feet. They tussled for a minute, rolling into a table and sending a vase crashing to the floor before Robert interceded. “Stop this at once!” he bellowed. The two men released each other, still glaring and clenching their fists menacingly. “Now, I think I need to speak to the two of you, separately. Matthew,” he said turning to his heir, “will you join me?” He turned to leave, not waiting for a response.

Matthew stood up, smoothed his hair, and picked up his stick. He paused briefly before Violet and muttered, “sorry about the vase,” before moving to follow after Robert.

Robert led Matthew across the hall to the smoking room. Once Matthew shut the door behind them Robert turned to him and gestured that he sit in one of the deep leather chairs.

“I take it Sir Richard’s revelation was not a surprise to you?” he asked.

“No,” Matthew said. “To be fair to Mary, he didn’t tell it particularly well. He was rather mistaken about some of the details.”

“And what details would those be?” Robert asked. He poured two whiskies and handed one to Matthew before settling himself in another chair.

“I would very much hesitate to call Mr. Pamuk Mary’s ‘lover,’” Matthew said slowly. He swirled his drink before taking a sip. He didn’t think that Mary would particularly like being painted as a victim, especially to her father. “Mary’s willingness to participate in the entire event was dubious at best. And while yes, she did flirt with him and enjoy his attentions, she did not invite him.” Matthew took another drink while Robert appeared to ponder this new information.

“How long have you known about all this?” Robert asked.

“She only told me about it last night when I asked her why she’s marrying Carlisle.” He glared into his drink, still bristling at the callous way Carlisle had told the assembled family about Mary’s past. He looked up to meet Robert’s eyes and said: “He’s blackmailing her with it. You cannot let the marriage go forward.”

“What would you have me do instead?” Robert asking, appraising his young heir.

“You could threaten to press charges,” Matthew supplied. “You’ll have to mean it, though. Carlisle won’t want people to know that his fiancée is only with him because of blackmail. He’ll try to call your bluff, but you must stand firm.”

“And what of Mary?” Robert asked, “What would happen to her in all this?”

Matthew was pensive. He knew there was a chance for scandal either way. However, he also knew that nothing would keep him from Mary’s side. “There is a chance that the whole thing would have to go to court,” Matthew said slowly, “I don’t think it’s very likely, though. I suspect the main reason he wants to marry her in the first place is for her connections to society. To throw her to the wolves at this point would reflect badly on him. Yes, he could publish, but you have far more proof of the blackmail than he has proof of the scandal.”

“What proof is there of either?” Robert asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Well, Mary admits her role in the whole thing so yes, it is substantiated, and she did tell Carlisle the story herself, so he does know it’s true. However,” he paused. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to incriminate Anna and Cora. “Mary says he did specifically purchase the story from Mrs. Bates. That means there is a paper trail. Mr. Bates and Anna can corroborate this. I am fairly confident that he does not want society to know that he sought out incriminating information about the woman he’d proposed to and then proceeded to blackmail her into accepting. It would not paint him in a particularly flattering light.”

Robert sipped his whisky as he thought over this course of action. “And where exactly do you fit into all this?”

“Me?” Matthew choked on his drink.

“Yes, you.” Robert watched him closely. “Would you still accept Mary if she were embroiled in scandal?”

“Of course I would!” Matthew said indignantly. “Robert, I love your daughter very much and I frankly couldn’t care less about a scandal.”

Chapter Text

There was a light knocking on the door and Mary lifted her head from her pillow wearily. “Who is it?” she called tentatively.

“It’s just me, dear,” came Isobel’s voice. Surprised, Mary got up and went to open the door.

“You’re not who I expected to come,” she said, gesturing for Isobel to enter. “Would you like to sit?”

“Your grandmother wanted to,” Isobel explained, “but I asked if I could do it instead. I was fairly sure I would only say something rude to Sir Richard and that didn’t seem particularly helpful,” she paused before adding, “I don’t know that Cousin Violet is any less likely to be rude, but she at least has a little more authority in the family.”

Mary smiled weakly, then turned and whispered, “you must think so poorly of me.” She sank into a chair and stared at the floor morosely. Isobel came and sat as close as she could, grasping Mary’s hand tightly.

“No, my dear,” she assured Mary. “I don’t think poorly of you at all. Everyone makes mistakes at some point, and you were so young at the time.”

“I just hate that you had to hear about it that way,” Mary pulled her hands out of Isobel’s grasp. She hated feeling pitied, no matter how kindly it was intended.

“Well, to be perfectly honest,” Isobel confessed, “that’s not how I heard about it.”

Mary’s eyes grew wide in horror, “Matthew didn’t tell you, did he?”

“No,” Isobel soothed, “he didn’t. He told me that you’d told him why you didn’t answer him in 1914 but didn’t give me any details. Cousin Violet told me this morning. I have to say, I agree with him that your honesty regarding accepting his proposal only raises my esteem for you.”

“That’s good to hear,” Mary sniffed. “He didn’t tell me that. He was so lovely about the whole thing. He offered much more kindness than I deserve.”

“He loves you very much,” Isobel said, patting Mary’s hand again. “He was besotted with you right from the beginning, you know. If he wasn’t put off by you calling him a sea monster before even giving him a chance of friendship, I’m not sure anything would be able to.” She smiled at Mary warmly.

“Oh, I was so horrid to him, wasn’t I?” Mary asked, a brief smile on her lips. “I shouldn’t have teased him so, but I was mad at the whole situation and took out all my frustration on him.”

Isobel cocked her head to the side and appraised Mary for a moment. She then chuckled and added, “it probably didn’t help that you overheard his callous remarks about your parents pushing you at him.” Mary shrugged. “You might be curious to know that he regretted that comment almost immediately. He never said anything to me about it, but he sulked all afternoon when you left.”

“He’s so awful when he’s in a sulk, but…” Mary paused. She opened her mouth and then changed her mind. Finally, she shrugged and said with a smile, “Sometimes, I say things I know will annoy him just so I can see him pout. Is that wicked of me?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Isobel said with a conspiratorial smile. “I used to do the same thing to Reginald all the time.”

* * *

Cora had just about got Sir Richard calmed down by the time that Robert and Matthew emerged from the smoking room. Robert beckoned for Sir Richard to follow as Matthew looked about the library. He wanted to try to speak to Mary again and he noticed her absence from the room immediately. Curiously, his mother was also missing. Violet, seeing his confusion, took pity on him. “Mary went to lie down,” she said placing a warm hand on top of his. “Your mother went up as well to try and calm her down.”

“Is there any way I could talk to her?” he asked, trying to avoid Cora’s eyes. “I would like to get her opinion on the plan Robert and I came up with. It is her life, after all.”

“No,” Cora said firmly. “I don’t think you need to go talk to her.”

“My dear,” Violet said, holding up a hand to silence Matthew. “I don’t believe Matthew was suggesting going up to her again. We can call for Anna to go and fetch her.” Matthew gave Violet a thankful look. She was right, he hadn’t intended to go up again.

“Thank you, Cousin Violet,” Matthew said, wandering over to the tea that lay forgotten. “I had rather hoped to speak to her down here.” He picked up a biscuit and turned to look directly at Cora, “it’s not something that needs to be discussed in secret, you both, as well as my mother, would be more than welcome to join in the conversation.”

They stood for a minute in a stalemate until Edith wandered into the room. “Oh, is tea ready? Shall I call Mary and let her know?” she asked, unaware of the thick tension choking the air.

“Yes, Edith,” Matthew said, not taking his eyes from Cora’s, “that would be a wonderful idea.”

Edith shrugged and left in search of her sister. The movement stirred Cora and she moved to pull the bell, summoning Carson to get the tea refreshed, having long gone cold. Soon Edith returned with Mary and Isobel. Matthew came and stood next to Mary as she helped herself to a cup of tea. “I think I’ve come up with a way to get rid of Carlisle,” he whispered to her. “It should be fairly painless for you. Your father is talking to him now.”

“Well, that’s rather rich of you,” Mary said raising her eyebrows, “deciding my future for me, you know how I love for people to do that.”

“I’m not deciding your future,” he said soothingly. “I’m merely trying to help you free yourself from that blackmailing bastard. Besides, you don’t really think your father would let you marry him at this point? I just gave him some legal perspective on the best way to make Carlisle know he’s no longer welcome.”

“And…?” she asked skeptically.

“And assured Robert of my undying love for his daughter and desire to be considered as a potential suitor,” Matthew said, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

Mary smiled, sipping her tea, “I see,” she said coolly, “and what, pray, did he say to that?”

Matthew licked his lips expectantly as Cora’s voice rang across the library, “Mary, please come sit with me.” Matthew blinked and swayed after Mary as she moved away to join her mother. He turned back to the table and fixed his own cup of tea, grumbling as he crassly shoved a madeleine in his mouth.

“Yes, Mama?” Mary asked sweetly as she perched delicately on the edge of the red settee next to her mother.

“Perhaps you and Matthew should distance yourselves from each other a bit,” Cora said tersely. “I don’t think your fiancé is a fan of how close you two are.”

“My fiancé?” Mary sniffed. “You don’t honestly expect me to marry him now? He was supposed to prevent the story of Pamuk coming out and he just announced it to an entire room. He told the one person I didn’t want to ever find out. He didn’t hold up his end of the bargain, why should I have to hold up mine?”

“Mary, I have worked too hard to keep this scandal out of the papers to let you ruin everything now!” Cora exclaimed.

“You’ve worked too hard?” Mary hissed. “What have you ever done, other than guilt me about the whole thing?”

“I’ve protected you from yourself over and over!” Cora said, her voice rising. “I tried to stop you from trying to ruin your chances with Matthew, not that it worked. I did stop you from throwing your life away by nursing an impotent cripple!”

“He is not an impotent cripple, Mama,” Mary hissed through clenched teeth before pausing, trying not to lose her composure, “and even if he was, I’d rather be with him than Richard. I love him.” She sat breathing heavily, unaware that the chatter of the room had died out, everyone frozen listening to the ensuing argument.

“You don’t know what you want,” Cora said imperiously, “if I hadn’t gotten Lavinia back here, you would have chained yourself to him with no hope of a future. You’ve never been able to make good choices, or we wouldn’t be in this position in the first place.”

Mary opened her mouth to argue but before she could speak another voice rang across the room.

“What do you mean ‘if you hadn’t gotten Lavinia back here’?”

All heads turned to Matthew, standing stoically in the middle of the room. Cora flushed and sat looking at Matthew with wide eyes. “I…” she began, gulping, “Mary was far too attached to you. Richard and I talked about it, and we agreed that you needed a nurse and Mary wasn’t it.” She tried to sit a little straighter, but her resolve waned slightly under Matthew’s furious gaze.

“You discussed my life and my needs with Sir Richard and decided that the two of you were the best people to make decisions for me?” His hand on his walking stick trembled in anger. “You sought out Lavinia and brought her back here—against my wishes—in order to chain your own daughter to that…to Sir Richard? What makes you think you have any right to interfere in my life in this way?”

“I wasn’t interfering in your life; I was protecting my daughter from a scandal she brought on herself.”

“She was r—”

“Matthew!” Mary cut him off before he could finish. He blinked at her as she fixed him with a warning look. “We don’t need to go into it. She made her decision a long time ago. She sees me as a lost soul and nothing I say or do will change that,” she paused and turned to her mother, feeling all restraint leave her body, “but as for the scandal, no, I did not bring that on myself. I flirted with Kemal, but I did not invite him to my bed. I did everything I could to protect this family and our name. I lived with your ire, and sold myself to Richard to keep it quiet, but even that wouldn’t have been necessary if it hadn’t been for Edith, so once again, I beg of you, focus on her for a change.”

All eyes swiveled from Mary to Edith, who had been sitting unobserved in a corner listening with interest.

“What on earth do you mean by that?” Edith said, jutting her chin out defensively.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Mary spat at her. “Why don’t you tell them what you did?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Edith said, her voice rising in panic.

“We both know that’s not true,” Mary said, her cool composure back, “Evelyn told me years ago, about your little letter? And you even admitted it to me when I confronted you about it.”

“What letter is this?” Violet asked, her eyes narrowing at Edith.

“Edith wrote to the Turkish Ambassador,” Mary said icily tearing her eyes from her sister. “The only reason anyone believed the story was because Edith confirmed it.” She shrugged, then added, “of course, I have no idea how accurate Edith’s version is, but I’d assume not very. Evelyn didn’t give me any details.”

“Edith!” Violet exclaimed, “What on earth could you have been thinking? You wrote to a foreign embassy to expose your own sister to scandal?”

“Well, she deserved it!” Edith said wildly.

“What did I do to deserve that?” Mary asked.

“You…” Edith thought furiously. What had Mary done to deserve trial by scandal? “You stole Patrick from me! And Sir Anthony…and Matthew!”

Mary scoffed as Matthew turned to Edith, completely shocked, “I was never yours for Mary to steal,” he said plainly. “If anything, one could say you tried to steal me from her.”

“Just like Patrick,” Violet said, trying to sound kind. “I’m sorry Edith, but Patrick wanted Mary.”

“Only because he didn’t know he had a choice!” Edith was verging on hysterical.

“Patrick knew all about your crush on him,” Cora said quietly. “When your Papa and I arranged the whole thing with James, Patrick chose Mary specifically.”

“You really betrayed the whole family because you were jealous?” Isobel ventured.

“I wasn’t just jealous…” Edith said wildly. “You don’t know! Mary has always been awful to me!”

“Only in response to you,” Mary said.

“Oh, you always think yourself so superior, don’t you?” Edith snarled.

“Say what you will about me,” Mary replied haughtily, “at least I know what I am. I have a temper and sharp tongue, and I do say things I don’t mean, but I at least acknowledge it. I don’t constantly play the victim and blame everyone else for my own failures.” She stood up, placed her teacup on the table before taking a deep breath and adding, “I am still rather tired. I think I shall retire early again.” With that, she swept from the room, leaving her mother and grandmother to deal with Edith.

She made it to the stairs before she heard the library door open and shut again. “Mary,” she heard Matthew call out, “I’m sorry for what I almost said in there.” He caught up to her and reached his hand out to her tentatively.

“Oh,” she said startling slightly at his voice. “It’s fine. Of all things that just came out, that hardly seems like the worst.”

“Still,” he said, taking her hand, “I shouldn’t have said it. I was just so in shock about what Cora said about Lavinia and the way she was speaking about you.” He looked up at her, “If that’s how your mother was treating you, I completely understand why you were so reluctant to tell me. You must know, my darling, you can tell me anything. I will always support you. You’ve done so much for me, with no expectation of anything in return. I don’t know how I will ever be able to make it up to you.”

“Matthew,” she said, cupping his cheek, “you don’t owe me anything.”

“Yes, I do,” he swallowed. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday about never leaving my side, and then what both our mothers said today about you nursing me. You really were so devoted to me, and I didn’t even notice it. I gave all the credit to Lavinia, but she barely did anything compared to you. I was so stubborn and blinded. And now it turns out that she didn’t even come back on her own…” he trailed off bitterly.

“I didn’t know that Mama and Richard did that,” she said, glancing down at their clasped hands. “I suspected that Richard had something to do with it, but I didn’t know for sure and definitely not that Mama was involved. I was so mad at him that night when they came in together. That was the night that I knew that I would never be truly happy and that I’d made a terrible mistake in trusting him.”

“Oh Mary,” he said closing the gap between them and kissing her. He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers and said, “you never have to worry about him again, I will do everything in my power to make sure you’re safe and he can’t harm you in any way.”

She slipped her fingers into his hair and breathed in the comforting smell of him. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes. “I trust you,” she said and kissed him again. She heard a door open to her right and they stepped apart from each other as her father and Sir Richard emerged from the smoking room. Matthew, looking around and seeing them stepped in front of Mary as if to shield her from Sir Richard.

“I should have known you two would be sequestered somewhere together,” Richard said, his voice dripping with venom. He began to mount the stairs, but halted as Robert placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Richard,” he said in a warning tone, “if you cause any more trouble today, I will not hesitate to have you thrown out of this house. I suggest that you take some time to calm yourself down before dinner.” Richard glared at Robert but did not argue, opting to push roughly past Matthew and Mary on his way up the stairs. Robert turned to Matthew then and said, “I believe we have a bit more to discuss, would you and Isobel join us for dinner? I’ll go ring down to Crawley House to have your things sent up.”

Matthew stayed rooted to the spot watching Robert’s retreating form. “I guess Richard hasn’t gotten his marching orders yet…” he said, more to himself than to Mary.

“You know,” Mary began, “you still haven’t told me of this masterful plan that you’ve concocted. Do you suppose I could be let in on it at some point?” she asked, arching her eyebrow at him.

“Yes of course,” he said, turning back to her. “Since I’m apparently staying for dinner, we have some time to go over it. Perhaps we can take a walk and discuss it?”

“That sounds lovely, I’ll go get my hat,” she smiled. “You had better wait here though, I don’t think Mama would be very appreciative of you joining me upstairs again.”

Chapter Text

Robert, feeling tired but overall optimistic, sought out his wife. He was quite pleased with his conversation with Matthew but worried that Carlisle would not give up Mary’s hand without a fight. He had stubbornly dug his heels in during their conversation, which only strengthened Robert’s resolve to be rid of the odious man permanently. He was also particularly troubled by the completely different ways the two men seemed to view Mary’s past.

To hear Richard talk, Mary was a wanton harlot. Robert couldn’t help but wonder how Carlisle would even want to marry her, if this was his real opinion of her. He supposed the real attraction was her title. He felt guilty, remembering that for all intents and purposes, he was barely any better, having only pursed Cora for her father’s money. Was it really so different to marry a woman only for the father’s position? But Robert had grown to love and appreciate Cora. Mary and Carlisle had already been engaged longer than it had taken Robert to fall in love with his wife. If they weren’t in love by now, he doubted it would ever happen. Mary seemed weary whenever Carlisle was mentioned and on edge whenever he was around. If she was indeed only with him to prevent the story of Pamuk being published, it was not worth it. He wanted his daughters to be happy, and Mary very obviously never would be married to Sir Richard Carlisle.

Matthew, on the other hand, had implied that Mary had been violated in some way. He felt sick thinking that one of his guests would have been so brazen as to force himself on one of his daughters. He resolved to learn more about the encounter but the thought of asking either Mary or Cora made the task seem insurmountable. Talking to Cora would probably be easier but given her devotion to supporting the match with Carlisle, he doubted her objectivity. He had puzzled over Cora’s support for Carlisle for some time. He had accused her of seeming unfeeling when she had summoned Lavinia back to Matthew before his miraculous recovery, and now he began to suspect that Cora had known of the blackmail and the scandal all along. Her adamance to split Matthew and Mary apart earlier in the day supported this theory. He hated thinking that his own wife would sacrifice their daughter in this way, especially if she was a victim in the scandal in the first place. His only hope was that Cora had not known the full details of Mary’s encounter with Pamuk. He sighed as he headed back into the library, determined to question Cora. He was unprepared for the argument that he stumbled into.

Edith was standing in the middle of the room, with her chin held up defiantly. Cora was ashen faced, and Violet looked thunderous. Isobel was sitting in the middle of it all looking uncomfortable, unsure how to extricate herself from the fray. “I simply cannot believe that you would put the family at risk like this!” Cora was saying to Edith.

“How am I the one in the wrong?” Edith snapped back. “The ambassador had the right to know!”

“What ambassador?” Robert asked, stepping into the conversation.

“Your daughter,” Violet began, pointing at Edith with her cane, “decided to write to the Turkish Ambassador detailing how the unfortunate Mr. Pamuk died.”

“How did you even know about it?” Robert asked, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of him. “Did everyone know about this before me?”

“That’s not important…” Edith said, looking slightly guilty for the first time.

“I think it’s very important,” Cora said.

“Well, it’s not!” Edith cried, stamping her foot.

“Given that there are several versions of what happened,” Robert said, “it is incredibly important.”

“What different versions are there?” Cora asked, rounding on Robert.

“Sir Richard makes it seem like Mary was the one to initiate the entire affair; Matthew seems more under the impression that Mary is a victim of sorts,” Robert said choosing his words with care.

“Of course Mary wants Matthew to think she was a victim!” Edith yelled. “Heaven forbid that someone sees Perfect Mary for what she really is: a heartless bitch who just takes whatever she wants and doesn’t care who she tramples over in the process!”

“Edith!” Cora exclaimed, “how could you say something like that?”

“I think you’re being a little unfair to Mary,” Isobel put in cautiously, “I know she can be a bit prickly at times, but she hardly ‘tramples over’ everyone. She was incredibly kind to Lavinia always…”

“Cousin Isobel is right,” Violet said, gesturing to Isobel. “Even when she could have undermined Lavinia, Mary protected her secrets.”

“Everyone always takes her side!” Edith said wildly.

“Edith,” Robert said in what he hoped was a calming tone, “what do you think happened between Mary and Mr. Pamuk?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Edith gestured vaguely, “Mary spent the night throwing herself at him, invited him back to her room, somehow killed him and then dragged him back to her own room!”

“That’s not exactly how I remember the night going,” Isobel tried to interject.

“Why are you even trying to defend her?” Edith exclaimed. “She’s corrupting your son; I’d think you’d want her exposed for what she is.”

“Isobel is right, though” Violet said, nodding in Isobel’s direction. “I don’t remember Mary giving Mr. Pamuk any more attention than she did to Mr. Napier or Matthew. She flirted with him, but no more than was appropriate.”

“Matthew said that Mary did not invite him to her room,” Robert added.

“Well, that’s ridiculous,” Cora snapped. “Mary told me herself that he didn’t force himself on her.”

“Apparently,” Robert said with a sigh, “she only agreed to it after he had told her she was ruined either way. I have to say, he probably wasn’t wrong.”

“Of course he wasn’t wrong,” Violet said imperiously. “Just listen to us now, she was ruined by just flirting with him. Who would have listened to her if he’d been found in her room? I have to say, her agreeing to keep him quiet makes much more sense. I’ve always thought that she should have known better.”

“That poor girl,” Isobel said sadly. “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been having to live with all this; being vilified for something beyond her control.”

“I can’t believe you all feel sorry for her!” Edith yelled, stamping her foot.

“You still haven’t told us how you know any of this,” Robert said. “I hardly believe that she would have taken you into her confidence about it.”

“It’s not important how I know!”

“I think it is,” Robert tried to soothe her. “Did you witness something?”

“No…” Edith bit her lip and shifted her feet. “O’Brien brought it to my attention. She said that one of the younger maids had ideas about Mr. Pamuk and that someone in the family should know.”

“So she told you about it?” Robert rubbed his forehead. “Why didn’t she bring it to Mrs. Hughes? Wouldn’t that be her jurisdiction?”

“I don’t know,” Edith said, her confidence wavering, “I didn’t think that much about it. Anyway, she brought the girl to me, and she told me that she had seen Mary moving the body. And then I—” she paused, trying not to incriminate herself. “—well, I heard Mary and Mama talking about it and I filled in the blanks.”

“And at what point did you decide that revealing family secrets to a foreign government was a good idea?” Violet asked.

“I…” Edith struggled, “I, well, I don’t remember that either.” She looked at the floor guiltily. She remembered being very mad at Mary for stealing Sir Anthony Strallen’s attention. She remembered being upset that Mary had bested her with both Sir Anthony and Matthew. Surely there had been more, though. Hadn’t there been? Mary had insulted her. But, she supposed, she had been fairly awful to Mary as well. She had challenged Mary. She had ignored propriety to make Mary look bad and, true, she had succeeded, but Sir Anthony had still been interested in Mary when Mary paid attention to him.

“I don’t suppose that it is important at this point,” Robert said, feeling a headache growing. “We’ll deal with Edith once we take care of this business with Sir Richard.”

“What do you mean, Robert?” Cora asked, narrowing her eyes at her husband.

“He has to go, my dear,” Robert said in surprise. “I’m not letting him marry Mary.”

“Of yes you are.” Cora said, pulling herself up as straight as possible.

“No, I’m not. I’ve never liked him, Mary clearly doesn’t like him, and I don’t think he even likes Mary that much.” Robert sighed. “He’s no better than a fortune hunter.”

“He’ll publish if Mary throws him over!”

“Let him try,” Robert heaved himself out of his chair, “I’ll sue him for blackmail if does. I don’t want to argue or fall out over this, but I will not allow him to marry my daughter, I’m putting my foot down.”

* * *

When Mary returned to the hall, Matthew was nowhere to be found. As she set off in search of him, she noticed the front door was open and Matthew was standing out front with his back to the house. She approached apprehensively. She wasn’t entirely sure why, but she was suddenly very shy to be around him. She was still slightly in shock that he did not despise her. Had it really been less than twenty-four hours since she had told him about the whole sorry business and had he really reiterated his declaration of love? She felt certain that any moment she would wake up and it would be the day of his wedding to Lavinia and he would be lost to her forever. But no, as she silently stood beside him, she felt the cool April breeze on her face and he turned, a warm smile on his lips.

“It was too oppressive in there,” he explained, “I had to get outside.” She nodded as he offered her his arm. She tentatively took it and they started off together down the drive.

“Do you have anywhere in mind?” she asked.

“Not particularly,” he said, “I really just want to be with you. Privacy might be nice, but given, well, everything, we might want to stay somewhere in view, avoid looking like we’re up to no good.”

“You’re probably right,” she sighed. “Do you really think we can get rid of Richard? I don’t think he’ll go easily.”

“He’s blackmailing you,” Matthew said, stopping suddenly and looking her in the eyes. “It’s a crime and your father is willing to pursue it. If you’re willing, that is.”

“Papa will fight for me?” she said in disbelief. “Even after everything I’ve done? He’s never fought for me.”

“Mary,” he said, his voice strained, “you have done nothing wrong. You were a victim. You did everything you could to protect your family including allowing yourself to be blackmailed. I will not allow you to continue blaming yourself for this.”

“You won’t allow me?” she arched her eyebrow at him.

“Well,” he shook his head, “I’ll do everything in my power to convince you not to blame yourself.” He chuckled before adding, “I doubt I can forbid you to do anything. You’re far stronger than I am.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that…” she said, turning away and continuing along the drive.

“I do,” he fell into step with her and placed his hand on top of hers. “I’ve been thinking a lot about everything you said to me yesterday. It had honestly never occurred to me how hard the war was on you. You were right, I joined the army to distract myself. I didn’t care what happened to me. I told Mother not to let the family know where I was. I emulated you. I built up walls to protect my heart. But you filled my brain, Mary, and what was worse, I didn’t want you to leave me. I thought I was only hurting myself, so it didn’t matter. It never once occurred to me that you were hurt by my actions as well.” He sighed. “I knew it was hard on Mother, the worrying, but she at least had correspondence from me…Lavina too, I guess. And I knew how you were. You were safe. You were here and even though I never asked, Mother told me what you were doing.” Mary made a surprised sound which made him smile. “Not just you, of course. She would talk about the whole family. ‘Edith is learning to drive, Sybil wishes she could do more the war effort, Mary is…’” he trailed off.

“I don’t recall doing anything worthy of being mentioned,” she said quietly.

“She told me about little things, that you’d been up in London, how sad you were when Diamond was sent to the front. I almost wrote to you when I got that letter. I know how much Diamond meant to you. But I was still mad at you, so I let the moment pass.” He paused bitterly, before shaking his head slightly and continuing, “she always put in more about you than anyone else, it was as if she knew that I needed to know, even if I wouldn’t admit it to myself.”

“Did she ever mention the missing picture?” Mary asked.

“No,” he answered. “What missing picture?”

Mary glanced around to make sure no one was listening, even though they were quite some distance from the house by now. “The one I stole from Crawley House.”

He chuckled, “you stole a picture from Crawley House? Which one, why?”

“It was a portrait of you,” she said solemnly. “I was over for tea, not long after you left, and it was sitting on Cousin Isobel’s desk in the drawing room. I had gotten there early, and she wasn’t back from the hospital yet. Molesley let me wait and I was looking around, I really never have spent much time there, it’s too difficult. I was just looking at everything, taking in the you-ness of all of it. Imagining you sitting in the chair by the fire reading, thinking about where I would sit in the evening if we were…. Anyway, I saw the portrait sitting on the desk, I didn’t have anything of you, so I took it. I felt awful. Every time she came up to the house, I thought she’d ask about it, but she never did. Now, I wonder if she left it out for me to find.”

“That sounds like her,” he smiled, “should I ask her about it?”

“No,” she said in mock indignation, “of course not! And admit that I was so weak?”

“What was I thinking?” He replied with a smirk.

They walked a little further in a companionable silence before turning off the drive and heading out across the park to one of the follies.

“I need you to understand that this might not be easy,” Matthew said somewhat suddenly.

“What might not be easy?”

“Sir Richard.” He said frowning. “He might try to fight it and then all the details will come out anyway. I will do everything in my power to prevent that, but I need to make sure you understand the risks if this is the route we plan to take.”

“That does rather seem to defeat the purpose,” she nodded. “I don’t think he wants a scandal though. Well, not a scandal that makes him look bad. I don’t think he’ll care about making us look bad.”

“That’s exactly what I’m counting on,” he said. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but the main attraction to him is your title?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, “he wants to be a proper aristocratic gentleman and he wants me to be his ticket into the club. Honestly, in a world in which I’d never known you, we probably would have been a good match. I never expected a love match, so a rich and powerful husband would have been what I wanted. Unfortunately, you had to show up and ruin everything.” She glanced at him and saw an amused smirk on his face.

“I can’t say that I’m sorry to have ruined your plans,” he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “But if it makes you feel any better, you’re the last person I expected to fall in love with.” She laughed. “If his main goal is to break into society with a lovely aristocratic wife on his arm, he can’t risk getting involved in a court case alleging his fiancée only agreed to marry him because he was blackmailing her.”

“No, all the doors in London would slam shut in his face.” Mary agreed. “Whether they believe his story or not—there have been rumors for years—they wouldn’t risk allowing him anywhere near them. What would stop him from doing it to them as well? There’s not a family among our lot that isn’t hiding something.”

“So,” he looked at her hopefully, “does this mean that you want to move forward with this plan? It will only work if we mean it. He’ll try to call your father’s bluff and Robert will need to stay strong.”

“Matthew,” she stopped and pulled his arm so that he turned and stood before her. “I have regretted letting you walk away from me for five years. I never thought I would get a second chance; I never thought I deserved one. The only reason I didn’t answer you back then was because I never thought you’d be able to forgive me. I would gladly give all this up to be nothing more than the wife of a country solicitor, so long as you are by my side. I will do whatever it takes to be able to be your wife.” She placed a hand on his chest and pressed a kiss to his lips. His arms went around her waist and he pulled her against him, propriety be damned. The kiss deepened. Mary’s hands gripped the lapels of his jacket, pulling him fully against her chest. He was instantly reminded of the first time he’d kissed her, that night in the dining room. Desire flared up inside of him, a desire he hadn’t felt in years. He had felt the stirrings of a week ago as they’d danced, but it was nothing compared to what he felt now.

“I need you,” he breathed against her mouth.

“I need you, too,” she gasped as he shifted to kiss her jaw, her ear, her neck.

“No, Mary, I need you. Where can we go?” he murmured into her.

“Matthew,” she pushed away from him gently, pretending to be shocked, “you’re not really suggesting….”

“No…” he looked down, panting slightly, “yes…. No.” He took a deep breath, “no, I’m not suggesting that. I want to, God, I want you so badly. I don’t know how I’ll manage until we can be married. Mother joked about a special license this morning when I told her Cousin Cora found me in your room and right now that doesn’t sound like that bad of an idea.”

“No, everything needs to be beyond reproach now,” Mary said, twining her fingers into Matthew’s. “There needs to be no hint of scandal or a rush to do things. An engagement needs to be announced during the Season, and a society wedding in the autumn. If we try to rush any of it, people will think the worst, especially given that we were both engaged to other people yesterday.”

“Autumn?” Matthew blanched at the thought. “You want to wait until autumn?”

“No, I don’t want to wait,” she said tugging his arm and turning to continue on their way out to the folly, “We must wait until autumn. Even if Richard does let me go without a fight, he will still try to undermine us if we put one toe out of line.”

“Mary,” Matthew said solemnly, “that’s an awful long time to wait.”

“It’s been five years, Matthew,” she said, “seven from when we met. I think we can control ourselves for a few months more. We’ve plenty of practice.”

“That hardly seems the point,” he replied with a smirk. “After four years in the trenches, I’m not much inclined to deny myself of happiness, even if I do understand it’s necessity.” He sighed and kissed her again. “This engagement will be torturous.”

Isobel stood at the window of the library watching Matthew and Mary make their progress across the park smiling to herself. “It definitely seems they’ve made their decision,” Violet said, joining her.

“Yes, it seems they have.” The two women smiled at each other and continued to watch them as Matthew paused to kiss Mary again. “I think we’re all in for a long engagement. They’re going to keep us on our toes.”

Chapter Text

The first thing Richard noticed as he joined the family in the drawing room that night was that Mary was very obviously not talking with Matthew. She was sitting on the sofa with Mrs. Crawley, chatting amiably, while Matthew was standing next to the Dowager’s chair talking with Robert. Cora and Edith had not come down yet.

Carson came in to announce dinner right as Cora arrived. “Are we not going to wait for Edith?” Richard asked as everyone else began to shuffle out of the room.

“No, Edith will be having a tray tonight,” Violet said stiffly as she brushed past him on Matthew’s arm.

Richard was pleased to see that Cora had sat Matthew at the far end of the table from Mary. She was directly across from him, at her father’s left. Unfortunately, Isobel was seated between them, and Mary seemed quite content to talk to her through the entire meal. From this vantage point, however, he was able to notice that Mary was, for some reason, not wearing her engagement ring. He made a note to speak to her about that once the men joined the ladies in the drawing room after dinner.

A thickness had settled over the room, despite Cora’s attempts at making light conversation. Mary was resolutely not speaking to either Richard or Cora. Robert was trying to keep the peace but would only speak to Richard when absolutely necessary. He was very warm with Matthew, however, chatting away about any and all topics. Violet and Isobel were arguing about whatever they argue about. Richard could not wait until he and Mary were married and he could move her to London and they could be away from all of them as much as possible.

Finally, Cora rose and gestured for the women to follow her to the drawing room leaving Robert, Matthew and Richard in an uncomfortable silence. Carson brought round port and cigars and Matthew made quite a show of settling in. He and Robert exchanged a significant look as Robert lit his cigar.

“So, Richard,” Robert began with a sigh, “I’ve had some time to think about everything that’s been said today, and I think it’s only fair to let you know, sooner rather than later, that I have zero intention of permitting you to marry my daughter.”

Richard choked on his port. “Robert, perhaps we could have this discussion in private?” he said, gesturing to Matthew.

“Oh no,” Matthew interjected, a pleasant smile on his face, “don’t mind me.”

Richard glared at Matthew and turned to face Robert. “With all due respect, Robert—”

“I think Lord Grantham would be more appropriate,” Robert cut him off.

“With all due respect, Lord Grantham,” Richard began again through gritted teeth, “Mary—”

“Lady Mary,” Matthew added, smiling innocently.

“Lady Mary is over twenty-one, so I don’t need your permission to marry her.”

“Oh, but I think you do,” Robert said, puffing his cigar calmly. “I happen to be aware of your arrangement with her. You promised to purchase the story of Mr. Pamuk from Mrs. Bates in return for her acceptance of your marriage proposal. That sure sounds an awful lot like blackmail to me.”

For a brief second, a look of panic passed over Richard’s face before he quickly schooled his features. “I don’t know what you mean, Lord Grantham,” he said slowly.

“I think you do,” Robert said, blowing out a puff of smoke. “I know how long it took her to accept you, and I know that both Mr. Bates and Miss Smith are willing to go on record that Mrs. Bates sold her story to you.”

“Oh,” Matthew added, leaning forward, “you might also be interested to hear that Mr. Bates was willing to give us a copy of the contract signed by both his late wife and you.” Matthew paused, pouring some more port into his glass. “The thing I find most interesting about the contract is the date. I suppose it’s just a coincidence that it was drawn and signed the day before you ran a notice announcing your engagement to Lady Mary?”

“Was it?” Richard asked, trying to keep his voice free of any emotion. “I don’t recall any of that.”

Matthew sat back and regarded Richard for a moment. He glanced at Robert who gestured for him to continue. He reached into his breast pocket and withdrew several folded pieces of paper. “Well, luckily for us, we don’t have to rely on your memory. I have here a copy of the contract and a clipping of the engagement notice,” he said laying the papers out on the table.

This time, Richard was not able to school his facial expression as easily and Matthew was pleased to see him turn a lovely shade of puce. “I don’t have to listen to this,” he said rising. “You have nothing. If you will excuse me, I would like to speak with my fiancée.” He rushed from the room, attempting to look in control but failing, his evident panic etched on his features.

Richard rushed across the hall and into the drawing room. “Mary,” he began, “I would like very much to speak with you privately.”

Mary sighed and rose to her feet. She had been dreading this altercation all day. “Let’s go into the library,” she said. Before she moved away, she felt Isobel reach up and give her hand an encouraging squeeze.

They walked in silence through the hall and into the library. As soon as the door clicked shut, he wheeled around. “Do you have any idea what your father is trying to do?”

She looked at him with the calmest of expressions. “No.”

“He has threatened to prevent us from marrying.”

“Oh, is that all?” she asked shrugging.

“Is that all?” he said indignantly.

“Well, since I have no intention of marrying you after your performance today,” she said as imperiously as she could manage, “Papa revoking his permission seems a bit like a moot point.”

“After my performance? I am not the one who was found engaging in questionable behavior, Mary,” he spat.

“Perhaps not,” she said cocking her head to the side, “but you are the one who told my entire family about Mr. Pamuk. You were supposed to protect that secret, and you told one person who I most wanted to never learn of it.”

“So, your precious Matthew Crawley had to find out about your dalliance,” his words dripped with venom, “I fail to see how that is a detriment to our marriage.”

“I was not referring to Matthew,” she said, eyes flashing. “Matthew already knew. You told my father. Everything I’ve done since that night has been done to prevent Papa ever finding out. You failed to uphold your end of the bargain and now I have no desire to uphold mine.”

“I will publish, you know,” he said, his eyes flashing.

“Go ahead,” she gestured as if to encourage him. “I’ll be fine. I could not care less about my prospects on the marriage market anymore, I have zero interest in London and everyone who I care about already knows. You have far more to lose by publishing than I do.”

“I have nothing to lose from publishing.”

She arched her eyebrows at him. “I’m surprised at you. I thought you were smarter.”

“What?” he asked indignantly.

“If you publish the secrets of your former fiancée, all the doors in London will be shut to you forever. No one will come near you. No one will trust you. You will be persona non-grata.”

“You forget who I am,” he said blanching slightly.

“You are nobody,” she said coolly. “You are a middle-class upstart. You will never be anything more than that. You need me, or someone like me, to be fully accepted. I will always be the daughter of an Earl, the cousin of an Earl and a Marquess, a Lady. I may have a tarnished reputation, but you can’t take away my birth. You will never have that. You will always be on the outside looking in. If you betray me, you betray all of us and no one will ever take a chance on you again.” He opened his mouth to say something, but she held up her hand to silence him. “Oh, you’ll still have your money and you’ll still be accepted among the wealthy middle-class, but you will never be accepted in the aristocracy.”

A muscle twitched at the side of Richard’s mouth. “You’ll regret this,” he raised his hand to strike her.

“Not as much as you will,” she cautioned. “Go ahead and hit me. If you think my father is angry now, I can’t imagine how angry he’ll be if you hurt me.”

He lowered his hand glaring at her. “I suggest you think it through, carefully,” he replied.

“Richard,” she said wearily, “if you think I have not been thinking carefully about this all day, you are an even bigger fool than I thought. Can you not see that we won’t make each other happy?”

“What does happiness have to do with it?”

“You care so much about winning that you’re really content to be married to someone who cannot stand to be in your presence?” she asked incredulously.

“I always win,” he said, running his hand through his hair.

“You won’t this time,” she raised her chin and stared him down defiantly. “I am perfectly willing to let you say whatever you want about the dissolution of our relationship. You can walk away the wronged party, whatever you have to do to feel better about this, but no, I will not marry you. My father has promised to support me in this; you have already lost. Don’t make it any worse than it has to be.”

Again, she saw the muscles in his jaw working furiously. He reached out and picked up a trinket from the table next to him and hurled it at the wall just to the side of her head. Suddenly the door flew open, and Matthew bounded in pulling her to him in one fluid motion. “Mary are you alright?” he asked, taking in the smashed decoration on the floor.

“Oh, here he is, the man who can smile and smile and still be a villain. Can she not even be trusted to get rid of me on her own?” Richard said, wiping his hands on his trousers.

“I heard a crash,” Matthew said, turning to Richard as Robert walked in. “We were on our way to the drawing room when I heard it.”

“Sir Richard,” Robert said, taking in the full scene. “I think it’s time for you to say goodnight. What time shall I order the car for you in the morning?”

“How smooth you all are,” Richard said glaring around the room. “You haven’t heard the last of me yet, I promise you.”

“Perhaps,” Robert said, “but I think it’s best if for now, you retire.”

Richard pushed past Robert, Matthew and Mary out into the hall and up the stairs. “How did it go?” Matthew asked, turning to Mary and rubbing the tops of her arms, barely resisting the urge to pull her fully to him in an embrace.

“He was rather angry at the end,” she said gesturing to the floor, “I don’t think he’s accepted it fully, but he will. I’m sure deep down, he knows I’m right.”

Matthew wet his lips and moved ever so slightly closer to Mary as Robert cleared his throat. “Perhaps I should go inform your Mama that Richard will be leaving in the morning,” he said turning to leave. “You two will join us in the drawing room in five minutes.”

“Of course, Papa,” Mary said, pulling herself free of Matthew. Robert shut the door and Mary turned back to Matthew with a shy smile.

“I’m surprised he left us alone,” Matthew said incredulously as Mary walked over to the settee.

“Don’t get used to it,” Mary smiled, sitting down. “We will always be surrounded by chaperones once the engagement is official.”

“Is it not now?” Matthew sat next to her, picking up her hand and caressing it gently.

“Well,” she said coyly, “you haven’t actually asked me.”

“I did to,” he pressed a kiss to her hand. “I asked you last night.”

“You did not,” she said primly. “You said I could marry you, even though no one else would have me, but you didn’t ask if I wanted to.”

“And do you?” he said, scooting closer to her on the settee.

“Do I what?”

“Do you want to marry me?” leaning close enough that she could feel his breath.

She bit her lip and smiled, leaning back slightly. “That would be telling,” she said darkly. “I won’t answer unless you ask me properly.”

“Well,” he sat back and appraised her. “I suppose it’s a good thing I had Molesley bring this when he brought my suit up to the house tonight,” he said pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. Mary gasped as he slid from the settee and kneeled before her opening the box. In it was a ring. A large square emerald sat in the middle with diamonds inlaid into the setting on either side in a triangular pattern. “Lady Mary Crawley, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Oh, Matthew! Yes! Of course!” She said grasping both his cheeks and pulling him in to kiss her. “Where did this come from?” she asked as he pulled the ring from the box and slipped it onto her finger.

“I bought it in London before Sybil’s ball,” he said, coloring slightly. “I had hoped to give it to you while we were there.”

“You kept it all this time?” she asked, admiring the way the firelight caught in the facets of the emerald.

“Yes,” he said, settling back on the settee and putting his arm around her. “I put it in a drawer in my desk at home. Even when I was most mad at you, I never stopped loving you and I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it. Do you like it, darling?”

“Matthew, I love it!” She turned and kissed him again. “It’s so beautiful! And so very fashionable.”

“The jeweler said it was the latest style from Paris,” he linked his hand with hers and angled it so he could admire the ring on her. “I liked it because it was bold and beautiful, like you.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve had it all this time,” she said snuggling into him.

“Mary,” he said very seriously, “there has not been a day since the first time I saw you in the sitting room of Crawley House that you haven’t been in my heart. Of course I kept it.”

“It hasn’t been quite that long for me,” she said with a slight frown. “I honestly don’t know when I started loving you. I resented you for so long, and then one day I remember being thrilled that I ran into you. And then I’d start going out of my way so that I might ‘accidentally’ see you in the village.”

“You did not!” He gave her a surprised look.

“If you tell anyone, I’ll denounce you as a liar,” she said solemnly.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he chuckled reaching up to stroke her cheek and kissing her again. “We should probably think about heading back to the drawing room. Your father is bound to send a search party if we stay in here too much longer.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, laying her hand gently on his chest and kissing him languidly. “I suppose.”

“Mary,” he reluctantly tore his lips away from her, “you said we have to be beyond reproach…”

“You should never listen to the things I say,” she leaned back into him, pressing kisses along his jaw.

“Actually, my dear,” he said, “I think you were correct before. As much as I am enjoying this, and would very much like to continue, we can’t.”

“Oh, I know you’re right, of course,” she sighed, tucking her head into the crook of his neck, “but this is so lovely, and I don’t want to share you with anyone else at the moment.”

He kissed the top of her head and gently stroked her arm. “I know exactly what you mean, but we really should be going through. If for no other reason than to share the news.”

She nodded and together they slowly rose, making their way together to the drawing room.