lady_mary | Entries tagged with sybil crawley

After so many months bound at Milliways, Mary almost doesn't notice when her door home unexpectedly reappears one day.

(Almost.)

What began as an inconvenience eventually became a relaxing, if strange, holiday from the realities of home, but once she's sees the door, Mary knows it is her duty to return.

Anna welcomes Mary back as if she had only returned from a normal morning walk, judiciously choosing not to comment on Mary's change of outfit and shoddily styled hair.

(Even months at Milliways couldn't give Mary the skills to style her own her hair well. Some days she resorted to braiding it, like a much younger woman, but couldn't quite bring herself to wear it down.)

Mary spends the afternoon not hiding, but reacclimating herself to much more lavish surroundings, until it is time to dress for dinner.

~*~

Mrs. Crawley hasn't visited since Matthew left to take up his commission in the Army. Mary doesn't miss her company, specifically, but she can feel the hole Cousin Isobel's absence leaves in their Downton social circle, not the least because there's no one left to take up Sybil's side of things against Granny and Papa in dinner conversation. That role could fall to Mary, but she usually opts to make digs against Edith rather than taking any political stand.

Matthew writes, but not very often, and only to Papa. He reads the letters aloud to his daughters at breakfast. Those days, Mary's morning ride lasts longer than usual.

~*~

Mary is more conscious of Matthew's absence at Downton than she was at Milliways, but it's becoming an old ache. What she's surprised to realize is that she misses the friendships she had begun to build while she was away.

Anna, as always, is Mary's sounding board at home. She listens patiently, doesn't judge harshly, and gives advice that is both frank and kind. Mary shares stories about the many new people she's met: the foreign queen, the elf woman with the strange tattoos, the foul-mouthed American police woman, the faerie squire—even the unruly mob in unusual matching suits.

Anna begins to teach Mary to dress her own hair, and when Sybil finds out—she catches Mary practicing one day—she insists on learning, too. They hold practice sessions in Mary's room and can't resist the urge to use their meetings to share gossip along with hairdressing instructions. To Mary's surprise she find herself having fun.

~*~

If she were a different person, Mary might throw herself into work, but of course there isn't any work to do. (There are charity functions to attend in support of the war effort, but those are simply social obligations.) Instead, she decides to continue her musical study.

Edith finds Mary in the music room one day, practicing a tricky passage of Chopin.

"Mary?" she asks. "You're the last person I expected to find here."

Mary scowls at her. "I took the same lessons you did."

She doesn't really want to fight about this. It's not worth it. But with Edith, the worst always slips out.

She keeps practicing anyway, ignoring Edith's disbelief at her skill after so many years of neglect. One of these days she'll find herself at the end of the universe again, and she needs to be ready for Ysalwen's first lesson.

Two years earlier, Mary could never have imagined seeking advice from a pirate. But then, she never imagined seeing her future sink to the bottom of the Atlantic, or die, suddenly, in her bedroom. A more pious woman would see her current predicament as penance for her sins. But Mary, she... holds a tête-à-tête with the Pirate King.

Perhaps she'll need Elizabeth's advice again. Pirate's know something of revenge, don't they?

Her thoughts fly ahead of her, though. First, a decision.

Mama said to to accept Matthew, and stay silent about Mr. Pamuk, but that was before the baby. If Lady Grantham has a son, will she still think so kindly on her eldest daughter marrying an ordinary Manchester solicitor with no title and no fortune? Aunt Rosamund certainly wouldn't. She has been vehement that Mary should wait until the baby is born to accept Matthew. Or to refuse him.

It's too cold. Too calculating. It's too much the woman Mary is reputed to be, while Matthew makes her want to be anything but. Elizabeth did say that her own husband found out her secrets before their nuptials, and he married her still. If Matthew loves Mary as she loves him, she can only hope he will forgive her past. The news that Matthew may not be Papa's heir after all complicates matters, but when Mary thinks of deserting Matthew now, she feels a sense of loss. She truly believes what she told Aunt Rosamund; Matthew may never be a Lord, but he has the wits and the charisma to rise to power on his own, especially with Mary at his side to navigate society. Mary could... she could adapt to having lesser means, given time. Probably.

And better to have Matthew no than no one ever! God, the humiliation of hearing from Evelyn Napier, a man she considers a friend, that Edith is the source of the rumors about Mary and Mr. Pamuk. It's bad enough the Evelyn knows her shame, and now he knows that Mary's own sister is against her. Edith will ensure that Matthew finds out, sooner or later, so Mary would rather tell him the truth herself.

Yes, when she returns to Downton, it will be time to stop putting Matthew off. He's waited long enough for a response to his proposal. Mary will tell him the truth, and if Matthew will still have her, they'll be married.

~*~

It's late when Mary sends Sybil away. Sybil noticed Matthew's absence at dinner--an urgent matter at his office in Ripon said Mrs. Crawley, looking pointedly at Mary--and Mary's stoic silence, and recognized that something was wrong. Mary confessed the truth to her sister, or most of it at least. She told Matthew a secret about her past, and it irrevocably changed the way he sees her. She feels so foolish and ashamed. She doesn't deserve to be happy, and she said as much, sobbing into Sybil's shoulder.

Sybil embraced her, petted her hair, ensured Mary that she is beautiful inside and out and if Cousin Matthew can't see that, he doesn't deserve her. Mary doesn't believe Sybil, but her voice is comforting.

Alone, Mary awkwardly pulls at the fastenings of her dress. She hears a stitch rip and several beads fall to the floor as she struggles out of the dress, but eventually she frees herself. Her jewelry is carelessly discarded on the dressing table, and her hair cascades around her face inelegantly, mostly free from its pins.

The sad woman in the mirror has become too familiar.

~*~

The Crawley family is now to be unlucky in all things. Mama is still recovering, physically and emotionally, from losing the baby. Papa is haunted by the news that the baby would have been a son. (His sadness that he would finally had a real heir doesn't make Mary feel any better about her own position in the family.) Edith is disappointed in love, rejected by Sir Anthony Strallan. Edith can glare daggers at Mary all she likes; she deserved it. And England is at war again. Papa is already talking of taking up his post in the army again and of the sacrifices they shall have to make at home.

Mary feels like she's sacrificed enough of her happiness without having to forego luxuries. Let it be someone else's turn.

And Matthew has volunteered to serve his country, of course. He would insist on doing the right thing, even if it places his life in danger. Matthew and Mary may not be on speaking terms, but she doesn't want him to die. While he's alive, at least she knows her home will be taken care of, not by her, but by someone fundamentally decent, not by a stranger. And she just doesn't want him to die.

There is at least a small silver lining to the dark clouds gathering about Downton. The imminent war effort is all anyone can talk about. No one has time to gossip about an Earl's daughter's rumored indiscretions.

For now, it will have to be enough.

[Mid-afternoon in the Milliways library]

She finds Mary sitting in the library, though not the one at Downton. This is Mary's escape. But even in her haven, Mary is as formal as ever, sitting ramrod straight in what looks like it could be a rather cozy chair if cozy were a concept Mary knew the first thing about.

Sybil is struck by how young Mary looks. She recognizes that blue morning dress—it had been one of Mary's favourites, and later looked quite fine on Anna. For the moment, Mary is absorbed in a book, so for once her expression is unguarded. She looks... surprisingly unhappy. All those years ago, Sybil had never realized just how much her elder sister kept hidden beneath a confident public facade, but in retrospect it's painfully obvious.

"Mary," she says, breaking the silence of the library as she steps forward.

Mary startles, but in an instant a blank mask settles over her features.

"Sybil? What are you doing here? And what have you done to your hair?"

"I arrived." A vague answer, but quite suitable for Milliways. "And I cut it. Don't you like it?"

"It's terribly unfashionable, darling."

Sybil laughs gently. Mary did always speak her mind. "That's where you're wrong," she says as she sits in the cozy chair nearest to Mary. "It's the latest thing."

After a moment of confusion, Mary suddenly realizes what's going on. This place is so strange.

"Sybil, how old are you?" she asks.

"Twenty-four," Sybil answers. It's a close approximation of the truth.

Sybil can't stop the pained look that appears on her face when Mary says, "This morning you were only sixteen. You're practically an old woman now!" If Mary notes Sybil's expression, she lets it pass, too busy wondering at the absurdity of the situation.

For really, how often does one come across one's baby sister, suddenly five years older than oneself? There are so many things she would ask, but knows she should not. Chief among them, does Granny succeed in breaking the entail? So much rides upon it.

"Mary, I..."

"Sybil, don't," Mary interrupts. "Whatever it is, I'm dying to know, but I know you can't tell me."

"Yes, well." Exactly what topics of conversation are left on the table, then? Sybil glances at Mary's book, now resting in her lap and settles on, "What's that you're reading?"

"Perseus and Andromeda," says Mary. "From a book that hasn't been published yet."

"Oh! Cousin Matthew!" exclaims Sybil, remembering the dinner party at which Mary accused poor Cousin Matthew of being a sea monster.

"What about Cousin Matthew?" Mary says with a scowl.

"You've just met him, of course!"

Sybil is smiling bemusedly, the wholly irritating expression of someone who has skipped ahead to the end of the story.

"Don't tell me he's still around! Sybil!"

Of course Sybil can't tell her, as they've already established, so she does her best to hide her laughter. Her best is not very good.

"He's really not that bad, Mary, you'll see." She knows Mary won't listen to her now, but as the temporarily elder sister she must impart some advice, however vague. Her sister is travelling a bumpy road, but Sybil at least knows that the destination will make the journey worthwhile.

A quiet moment passes before Sybil rises, and Mary right after her.

"It's lovely to see you, but I should go." This Mary, so young and so angry at the world, is not the woman she needs to speak to, but she'll have to do. She grasps her sister's hands and looks her straight in the eye. "Love her for me, Mary, please."

It's clear that Mary has no idea what she's talking about, but she nods anyway.

Sybil leans in to kiss Mary on the cheek then turns to leave. This is Mary's sanctuary, not hers. "Goodbye, Mary."

"But Lady Catherine is right," says Mary. "Elizabeth is beneath his station."

"And you'd have her marry Mr. Collins instead?" asks Sybil, making a face that conveys her utter contempt of the parson in question. Clearly her sister has all the wrong ideas about Jane Austen's novel.

"You must admit that it would be practical. It's the best offer she has."

"You can't really believe that!"

"And why not?"

"Where's your sense of romance?"

"Do you think romance bought that dress you're wearing?"

Mary catches Anna's eye in the dressing table mirror. She's trying to suppress a smile as she pins Mary's hair in place, but Mary spots it anyway.

"I can practically hear you pouting, Sybil, darling, but it's true. I'm sure romance is lovely, for people who can afford it. Some of us must look to our futures."

Sybil, as ever, is not easily put off.

"Mary, please don't suggest that you're going after the new heir."

"Of course not!" As if she would. "Anyway, if Mama and Granny have their way, he won't be the heir for long."

"What? But I thought the entail was fixed!"

"The title, yes. But the house and Mama's money... it's just about the only thing Mama and Granny can agree upon."

"Mary, that's wonderful!"

"Well it's not final yet. But I can't imagine those two would allow themselves to fail. Isn't that right, Anna?"

"I should certainly hate to stand in the Countesses' way, M'lady."

"Quite right, Anna."

"Then you can marry for love," Sybil insists.

"I'll marry someone who'll help carry on Downton's legacy. No. Don't protest. You'll see things differently when you come out next year. The decision to marry is your whole life, and you can't throw your life away for a handsome face and pretty compliments. Trust me."