Tresapes - Tresapes - Tumblr Blog

poem by gazan poet nadine murtaja—(nadine.with.dr on instagram) shared on ig by majazz project

Downton Abbey Favorite scenes S3 E1 “…I should hate to be predictable.”

We are good people and we've suffered enough.

Downton Ficlet #3

“You must be careful not to break Sybil’s heart. I think she has a crush on you,” Mary said fixing Matthew with a piercing stare as they sat in the dining room eating the sandwiches Mrs. Patmore had prepared.

“Well, that’s something no one would accuse you of,” he said putting down his glass.

“Oh, I don’t know….” He noticed her hand go directly to the necklace she was wearing. She always did that when she was anxious or uncomfortable. He wondered what she could be anxious about now. 

“I assume you speak in the spirit of mockery.”

“You should have more faith!” She said, sounding a little surprised. Matthew wasn’t sure what type of game she could be playing, but he wasn’t going to let her get away with it.

He leaned in closer to her. “Shall I remind you of some of the choicest remarks you made about me when I first came here?” She glanced down, looking almost ashamed. He repositioned so that he could regain eye contact with her, “because they live in my memory as fresh as the day they were spoken.”

“Oh, Matthew,” she smiled and shook her head, ever so slightly, still fiddling with her necklace, “what am I always telling you? You must pay no attention to the things I say.”

They stared at each other for the briefest moment, before coming together in a passionate kiss. Matthew felt Mary’s hand go almost immediately to his neck; soon her fingers were inching their way into his hair, her thumb gently caressing his cheek. His hands automatically went to her, one on her waist and the other to her cheek, his fingers brushing against her hair. She shifted in her chair, moving closer to him. He tightened his grip on her waist and felt her lean into him, encouraging him. Her other hand gripped the lapel of his jacket. His mind raced with need for her, all other thoughts completely abandoning him. He could feel his fingers tingling with excitement where they touched her bare skin. It was so soft and smooth; he’d never felt anything like it before. The only other time they had touched, she’d been wearing her evening gloves. He had felt exhilarated then, but it was nothing compared to this.

He had lost all sense of time. Had they been kissing for seconds or for an eternity? All he knew was that this was right. He needed to know that he could kiss her like this any time he wanted. He wasn’t aware of deciding to say anything when he heard the words “marry me” escape him. It wasn’t a question; he’d said it as a fact. He wanted her, no, needed her, to marry him. She felt him laugh slightly against him. He pulled away and fixed her with the most poignant look he could muster. “I’m serious, Mary. Marry me.”

“Are you sure, Matthew?” she asked. She looked at him significantly. What was behind that look, he wondered. It wasn’t shock, exactly. It almost looked sad.

“Yes, I’m very sure,” he said. He leaned in again to kiss her, willing her to be convinced.

“I…” she trailed off as he kissed her neck. “I’ll have to think about it.” Her words brought reality crashing down around him. He pulled away again and looked at her, a hurt expression on his face. “It’s not that I don’t care for you!” she said, trying to reassure him. “It’s just…you know how much marriage will affect me. I just need to make sure that I make the right choice, for the right reasons.”

“I don’t think I can begrudge you wanting to be sure you choose me for the right reasons,” he said smiling. “Do you suppose I could kiss you again?”

“Yes, but then I think we should let the maids in here to tidy.” He kissed her again and then reluctantly let her guide him back to the front door.

* * *

“Did Sybil get settled alright?” Isobel asked him, coming out of the drawing room at the sound of the door opening.

“Sybil?” He frowned, placing his hat and gloves on the hall table. “What about Sybil?”

“Matthew!” Isobel chided him. “She was injured, and you took her home. Did she get settled alright?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, suddenly remembering. “Yes, Robert was furious, of course.”

“I’m not surprised,” she looked at him frowning. “Are you alright? You look off. Have you had anything to eat tonight?”

The question took him by surprise and made him smile involuntarily as he remembered his quiet meal. “Yes, Mary had them make some sandwiches.”

“That was very good of her.” Isobel seemed contented with his answer. “Now, it’s late and we’ve had a long night. We should both turn in.” She turned and began to climb the stairs.

“I’ll be up in a minute,” Matthew said. “I’m actually rather keyed up after…well, after everything. I might read a bit.”

He wandered to the drawing room and picked up his book. He opened it, but couldn’t focus on the pages, his mind wandering back to the Abbey. He wondered if Mary was still awake as well. He had taken his time walking home. He couldn’t remember a thing about the walk. Normally he’d have enjoyed the sounds of the night: crickets, owls, even the swooping of a bat. Tonight however, he could focus on nothing but the memory of holding Mary in his arms.  He’d dreamt about it long enough; he’d loved her almost from the moment they’d met. He wet his lips, remembering the feeling of hers against them. He had never felt this way before. He’d kissed girls before, of course, but it was never like this. He could not imagine ever spending a day without Mary Crawley from now on.

* * *

Mary opened the door to her bedroom and saw her maid, Anna, laying out her night gown. “Did Mr. Crawley go home, then?” She asked. Mary tilted her head and smiled affectionately.

“Yes.” She came to stand in the middle of the room as Anna began undoing the buttons of her dress. “You know he did. I’m sorry we kept you all up so late. But I couldn’t let him starve. He completely missed his dinner, thanks to Lady Sybil.”

“That’s alright, milady,” Anna said. “Mr. Carson wasn’t too happy about the lateness of the hour, but he’d do anything for you, so he didn’t grumble too much.”

“I’m glad he wasn’t around when Mr. Crawley left,” Mary said with a slight blush.

“Oh? Why’s that, milady?” Anna asked. Mary sat at her vanity and started pulling off her jewelry as Anna began helping her remove her shoes.

“Mr. Crawley was quite flustered.” Mary smiled, recalling Matthew’s reluctance to leave. “If Mr. Carson didn’t like the time, he definitely would not have approved of that at all.” She gave Anna a significant look. There were not many people that Mary felt she could be completely open with, but Anna was high on the list.

“Are sandwiches so improper?” Anna asked as she began removing pins from Mary’s hair. “I can’t imagine how they could fluster Mr. Crawley so.”

“I don’t think it was the sandwiches that caused it.” Mary blushed again. Anna met Mary’s eyes in the mirror. It might be impertinent to ask, but she could tell that Mary was bursting to tell her more.

“And what did, milady?”

“He proposed to me.” A wide smile broke across Mary’s face. “We were talking and then he kissed me and proposed!”

“Will you accept him?” Anna smiled back. “Do you love him, then?”

“I think I do,” Mary said, turning to look at Anna directly. “I really think I do. I don’t even know when it happened. Probably much longer ago than I realized.”

“That’s wonderful, milady!” Anna was genuinely happy. “You deserve real love. I always hated the way they pushed you at Mr. Patrick. I’m sorry if it’s impertinent to say so.”

“Oh Anna,” Mary laughed, “I don’t care a fig about all that. You’re a better friend to me than anyone. I think you can say something like that without worrying.” She frowned suddenly. “The only problem is….” She trailed off, biting her lip.

“There’s a problem?” Anna asked, suddenly concerned.

“I have to tell him.” Mary looked into to Anna’s eyes. “I can’t keep it from him. Mama says I should, but I can’t. Matthew is so good. He would be crushed if I hid it from him. It wouldn’t be honest.”

“Can I say something, openly?” Anna looked thoughtful. Mary didn’t say anything but nodded. “Mr. Crawley is a good man, and he wouldn’t propose if he didn’t truly love you. If you’re honest with him, I don’t think it will change anything.  But secrets never keep. I wouldn’t try to hide it from him.”

“I’m sure he’ll despise me….” Mary looked down, her lip trembling. “How can I expect to be worthy of him when I’m damaged goods?”

“I don’t think you are, milady,” Anna said kindly. “Everyone makes mistakes, and I think Mr. Crawley will be very reasonable if you tell him.”

“There are rumors already, Mama told me a while ago.”

“All the more reason to tell him,” Anna said as a matter of fact. “It won’t help for him to hear it from someone else.”

“You’re right, I suppose.” Mary sighed as Anna finished tying her hair back. “I’ll have to tell him. The hard part will be getting the courage to do it. I wish I had Sybil’s strength.”

She bid Anna good night and climbed into bed.  There was a book on her bedside table. She opened it and turned to a page with a small note scribbled on the margin in pencil. She smiled at the words and ran her finger over them, wondering if their author could feel it.  She wondered if he was still up as well. If he felt anything like her, he was thinking far too much to go to sleep. She imagined how lovely it would be to have him here, just to talk to. Yes, she was sure she loved him. The big question was, did he love her. Not some image of her he had in his mind, but the real her. And would that love be enough to withstand the truth of her wretchedness? She didn’t know how she would gather the strength to tell him, but she would have to. The only other question now was when?

Downton Abbey Series 5 (2014) - Michelle Dockery as Lady Mary Crawley.

a girl of fear, a woman of anger— look how we've grown

girls contain multitudes, heather o'neill / king, florence + the machine / The Affront (L'affronto), by Antonio Piatti / In the Dream House, Carmen Maria Machado / this pin / cassandra, florence + the machine / What If This Were Enough?: Essays by Heather Havrilesky) / crush, richard siken / the closest thing i could find was this soundcloud link / a womans beauty, susan sontag / a vision of fiammetta, dante gabriel rossetti / stop me, natalia kills / fury, yevgeny yevtushenko

everyone say god bless you to @pe4rl-diver for the sources

work song by hozier / mahmoud darwish

It took a while to shoot the scene by the coconut stall at the fun fair, so Michelle and I had a competition. I think she beat me 10-1 - she was uncannily good.

-Dan Stevens

Matthew and Mary Ficlet #2

Prompt: Matthew plots how to get Mary to visit a pub with him

A/N: Though I set out to wright something light and fluffy, the angst took over. Unfortunately, setting it between the trial and the Servant’s Ball is a fairly angsty time for Matthew so the tonal shift is probably truer to character.

Matthew rested his head on the back of the train seat and closed his eyes. It had been an incredibly long day. He and his mother had risen early and gone to York for a murder trial. His cousin’s valet had been charged with the murder of his first wife and had, unfortunately, been convicted. Matthew and Isobel had chosen to support Mr. and Mrs. Bates along with Mary, though if Matthew was honest with himself, he had only gone for Mary. Mary’s maid, Anna, was the unfortunate Mrs. Bates and he knew that Mary would be by Anna’s side. Matthew had worried that Mary would need as much help as possible to help keep Anna calm, and as a lawyer, Matthew felt he could help explain the proceedings to the two ladies.

After the verdict, Robert and Mr. Murray had suggested that they take Anna to a pub to help calm her nerves and explain the next steps. Isobel, Matthew and Mary decided to join in as well, Mary devoutly holding Anna’s hand the entire time. As Mr. Murray and Matthew talked over how to get the sentence commuted to life imprisonment rather than death, Matthew couldn’t help but think about how much he would be enjoying himself to be sat in a pub with Mary under different circumstances. As it was, he kept sneaking glances at her, seated to his left side, arm around Anna and eyeing her pint suspiciously. He had placed it in front of her with a flourish when they first sat down, and she had given him one of her sharp glares. “Do they not serve tea here?” was her only response. She had yet to touch the glass. Matthew suppressed a smile, noting to himself that this was not the time for one of their sparing matches.

However, now that they were on the train back to Downton, Matthew’s mind was free to wander. There was not much conversation in the carriage. Mr. Murray had gone directly to London. Robert and Isobel occasionally would attempt some small talk and Mary was sitting with Anna as tears streamed silently down the maid’s face. Matthew’s fingers itched to reach over and hold onto Mary’s hand which was sitting on her lap tantalizingly close to his own. He could feel the eyes of his mother—and her father—watching him and didn’t dare. He contented himself to instead catalogue the image of Mary in a public house into his brain. He smiled inwardly as he recalled the way she took one single sip from her drink with a pinched look on her face before turning to him and saying “there, I drank it. Happy now?”

He was not, it seemed, happy now. All he could think about was how to manage another pub outing with Mary. One where he would be free to tease her. Preferably without an army of chaperones or, heaven forbid, her odious fiancé. She had offered to come with him to lay Reggie Swire’s ashes in Lavinia’s grave; perhaps he could suggest that they go to the Gratham Arms and drink to his memory? No, that wouldn’t work. Isobel would be bound to join them in the churchyard, and he couldn’t very well not invite his mother to the pub with them. He thought of the time, years ago now, that he had invited her to inspect the refurbished cottages with him. That was the type of outing he would need to come up with. They had never managed to go see them. He had gotten mad at her for some misunderstanding and by the time they were friends again too much time had passed. And after that, well then there was the failed attempt at an engagement and the War.

He bitterly thought of all his regrets from the past six years, and now he would soon lose her forever. She hadn’t set a date for her wedding yet, but she had stubbornly insisted that she would still marry Sir Richard Carlisle. He had told her that she didn’t have to, that she would always be welcome with him, but it made no difference. Her grandmother had once told him that she still loved him. It wasn’t that he doubted Violet’s words—and there had been that one glorious kiss—but as her engagement to Carlisle dragged on, he couldn’t help but feel despair mounting inside him. He could feel her slipping through his fingers. He simply had to do something. Even if it was just to find a way to have one drink with her in a pub.

He and Isobel bid Robert, Mary and Anna goodbye at the station and walked home together in silence.  Once they got to Crawley House, they had a quick supper and Isobel announced that she would retire early. Matthew kissed her cheek and wished her good night. His head was still reeling from his turbulent thoughts, so he padded off to his study to read before turning in. He picked up his book, but soon cast it to the side, as it only kept Mary in his mind. She had given it to him for Christmas a little over a week before. He had picked out the same book for her and they were both reading it; planning to get together in a few days and discuss it. He caught sight of the notes he had begun to scribble in the margins and felt a pang in his heart. Would this be the last book they read together? He stood up and poured himself a healthy serving of whisky and downed it. He told Molesley to lock up and that he would not need any further assistance tonight. The last thing he wanted was for Molesley to fuss over him. He undressed quickly and climbed into bed, willing sleep to come quickly.

Unfortunately, it did not. He lay, staring at his ceiling, thoughts of Mary filling his brain. It wasn’t just the day’s memories that he puzzled over. There was also her assertion that she had to marry Carlisle and that he would despise her if he knew the reason. He had known—and loved—her for the past eight years. He could not imagine anything that could make him despise her, and he was plenty able to come up with horrifying scenarios to keep them forever apart. 

As the hours crept by and sleep evaded him, his mind kept returning to moments in his past. The first time he ever saw Mary; how he had been lamenting the current Earl and Countess pushing one of their daughters at him, only to find himself face to face with the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. One of their earliest dinners; she had challenged him, likening him to a hideous sea monster. The first time he held her hand; offering her sympathy over the unfairness of her father’s home and mother’s fortune being passed to him. The time they had laughed over a salty pudding and planned a visit to see the cottages; he thinking that maybe she did not despise his very existence, only to have his hopes dashed as she rushed to greet the “old bore” her mother had been pushing her at that night. He cursed himself for not listening to her the next day when she tried to apologize to him. Instead, he let his bruised ego brush her off. They had barely spoken to each other for months after. It wasn’t until Christmas that they had mended their fences. Every year the Crawley’s played charades on Christmas night and Robert put Matthew and Mary on a team together, hoping to break the ice between them. Matthew and Mary had surprised everyone by winning every round that night. It was that night that Matthew first had the idea to leave books for Mary. He spent the next few months hiding books around the Abbey for Mary to find. She never directly mentioned them but would make offhanded comments that let him know that she had read the books and suspected their origin. Before long he found a book sitting on a side table in his own drawing room that smelled faintly of Mary.  Next, he recalled a terrifying night: the night of the 1914 election. Mary’s younger sister had been injured in a fight. He had been in the right place at the right time to bring her home from the election and once he had ensured Sybil was in his mother’s capable hands, he rushed to the Abbey to fetch Mary. Mary was horrified to hear of her sister’s injury and to thank him for his gallant deed arranged for a supper of sandwiches to be served to him in the dining room. It was that night that he had kissed her for the first time, unable to hold back the emotions any longer. It was also then that he proposed. A rushed and sloppy proposal that had tumbled out of his mouth before his brain even registered that he was speaking. Mary had said she needed to think. He waited months for her answer, finally withdrawing his proposal, convinced that she did not love him. Another rash decision: one that he desperately wished he could take back.

Finally, he made the resolve that if nothing else, before the week was over, he would find some excuse to get Mary to join him for a friendly drink. They could laugh and joke and pretend that they had their whole futures together. And then he would bow out, move back to Manchester and leave her to her own life. His heart ached at the thought of life without Mary, but he knew he could not witness her life with Carlisle.

* * *

He woke more tired than he had felt the night before. He composed a note to Mary letting her know when to meet him to place Reggie’s ashes. In it, he included what he hoped was a casual invitation to go see the long-forgotten cottages. He hadn’t been around to see the job completed, after all. He had tried to think of some other ruse, but his mind kept returning, as if those blasted cottages had been the catalyst for all their missed chances.

He was pleased to receive a return note at teatime. Mary would be happy to join him on a tour. He began planning.  He asked Mrs. Bird to pack a picnic lunch for him, sandwiches, preferably the same as they had eaten that night in 1914. He wondered if Mary would notice. She probably would, she was sharp enough, but would she catch the significance of them? They would place the ashes tomorrow and go on their outing the following day. He breathed a sigh of relief that at least his plan was in action.

* * *

Laying Reggie’s ashes did not go as Matthew had planned. It was a somber affair, which Matthew had expected. What he had not expected was Mary’s startling announcement. She pronounced that she would soon be leaving, from the sound of it, much sooner than he was prepared for. The even more shocking announcement was when Isobel stated, as a matter of fact, that Mary was still in love with him.

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but it’s as plain as the nose on your face,” she said bluntly.

Taken aback, Matthew said, “I thought you didn’t like her for throwing me over.”

“That’s a different conversation.”

“Mother, it has to be like this,” he protested. “I’m afraid I can’t explain why, at least…I’m not going to.”

“Something to do with Lavinia?”

“Maybe”

“Well, you see, I think you’re wrong,” Isobel began. “Lavinia wouldn’t have wanted this. She was a sweet girl, a kind girl. She wouldn’t have wanted you to be unhappy.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Matthew cut her off. “I deserve to be unhappy. So does Mary.”

“Nobody your age deserves that!” She turned to him, “and if you are, and you can do something about it and don’t, well, the war has taught you nothing.”

“That’s your opinion,” Matthew said, looking away from her.

“Yes, it is.”

Matthew shifted his weight and then stomped off out of the churchyard, his mother’s admonishment ringing in his ears.

* * *

That night as they entered the Abbey for dinner, Isobel once more implored her son to fight for Mary. She knew Matthew was stubborn, but she also knew that there was no one in the world that he loved more, nor was there anyone Mary loved more than Matthew. As it turned out, the fight for Mary became much more real than Isobel could have predicted. Mary had made the decision to call off her engagement to Sir Richard, something he was not prepared to take lying down. Soon the other members of the party could hear his raised voice emanating from the library. Matthew, unable to bear the thought of Mary dealing with his temper alone, rushed in to help. Isobel did not hear all of what was said, and Matthew certainly did not fill her in afterwards, but apparently a small scuffle had broken out between the two. Matthew emerged from the library, hair disheveled and bow tie askew announcing that he was ready to go home. He did not wait for Isobel or the car to be brought round, instead he stomped off into the darkness.

* * *

Isobel was shocked the following morning when Mary showed up at Crawley House. Molesley showed her into the drawing room and Isobel noted that she had clearly taken great care in selecting a fetching walking suit, one Isobel suspected was a favorite of Matthew’s.

“I’m sorry to surprise you, this morning” Mary began, perching on the sofa. “I had expected Matthew to come up to the House but when he didn’t, I thought perhaps I had gotten the time wrong. Since I was ready, I decided to come and meet him here.”

“Do you have plans with Matthew today?” Isobel asked, surprised. “He never said.”

“Oh,” Mary frowned, her perfect mask slipping for the briefest moment before she smiled and added, “it was nothing, really. Maybe he forgot, or I got the day wrong.”

Isobel was not used to seeing Mary seem so unsure of herself. She assured the girl that Matthew had probably lost track of the time and she would go find him for her.  What she found was Matthew, holed up in his study and brooding. “You do know Mary is here to see you?” she asked tentatively.

Matthew looked up, startled by Isobel’s voice. “No, I didn’t know. Why?”

“She seems to think the two of you had made plans for today.” Isobel answered. “She had expected you to collect her and when you didn’t, she walked here.” She noticed the color drain from Matthew’s face as he leapt to his feet.

“I completely forgot!” He seemed almost frantic as he started looking around his study. “I need to check with Mrs. Bird about the sandwiches, and I’m not dressed for walking!” Isobel watched with amusement. It was the liveliest she’d seen Matthew in ages.

“Tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.” She said supportively.

“Offer Mary some tea and tell her I’ll be down in a minute,” he said, turning around wildly. “I still can’t believe I forgot.”

Isobel assured her son that she would and turned to find Molesley. She ordered the tea and returned to find Mary reading a book that had been sitting in the drawing room. “He had a bit of a late start this morning,” she assured Mary, “but he’s just coming now. I’ve asked Molesley to bring you some tea while you wait.” She paused, noticing the book in Mary’s hands, “What were you reading? I don’t recognize that one.”

“Oh, this?” Mary shrugged. “It’s The Secret Garden, I loaned it to Matthew ages ago. He laughed at me for loving it so much, but I read A Little Princess to Sybil when she was young and it’s by the same author.”

Molesley brought the tea and the two women chatted politely about the weather and wondering if Mr. Murray had made any progress for Mr. Bates yet. Matthew burst into the room, still seeming flustered but there was no denying the sparkle in his eyes as they fell on Mary. “I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting,” he began as she rose from her seat. “I suppose we better head off while the weather is with us.”

Mary followed Matthew to the hall and noticed the basket that he was picking up. “What’s this?” she asked with a coy smile.

“I figured since I kept you waiting, we might miss luncheon. Mrs. Bird was kind enough to make us up a few sandwiches.” He smiled and opened the front door, stepping aside to let her pass through, thankful that his error had made the sandwiches seem more natural.

They set off down the lane, chatting amicably. He suspected that she knew that the whole outing was just a cover to spend time with her but at this moment he did not care. He hadn’t spent time without the added difficulty of one of them being engaged to someone else since before the War. They arrived at the cottages and rested against a wall eating their sandwiches.

“Of course,” Matthew began, “They’re occupied now so I can’t give you a tour of the inside changes like I would have when the work was being done.”

“Do you suppose Papa would have let us go into them on our own like this?” Mary said, the smile on her lips again. “It would be very scandalous, the two of us with no chaperone inspecting the dark nooks and crannies.” She tore a little corner of her sandwich nervously.

Matthew gulped. The thought of hiding away in some dark corner with Mary was almost too much to bear.

“You know, this kind of sandwich always makes me think of you.” She said, her voice low.

“Whyever for?” He asked, hoping against hope, it was for the same reason that they made him think of her.

“You probably don’t remember,” she said, her eyes trained on her hands, “but they’re what we ate together the night you proposed to me.”

Matthew swallowed the urge to whoop with joy and instead tried to put on a casual air as he said, “Oh? I hadn’t noticed. Given that you never even answered me, I’m surprised that you remember.”

“Oh Matthew,” she said, reminding him even more of that fateful night, “I’m so sorry that you ever doubted me. You must know that it wasn’t because of Mama’s pregnancy or even that I didn’t love you enough. Everything was so complicated, and I just couldn’t tell you. I still can’t. I know you’ll hate me all over again, and I just cannot lose your friendship.” She turned suddenly; Matthew too spellbound to ask what she could have meant by that confession. The wind picked up and she shuddered. “Golly, it’s cold today. Maybe a walk wasn’t the best idea.”

“You know,” he said, seizing the opportunity, “we’re not that far from the Grantham Arms. We could pop in there to warm up before I take you home.”

She turned back and gave him an appraising look. “You’re not just trying to get me to drink beer again, are you?”

“Why would you say that?” he asked, feigning innocence as they began the walk back to the pub.

“It’s just a thought,” she said smiling. “Don’t think I didn’t see all those glances checking to see if I drank the last one. I’ll go, but I don’t want beer.”

“I suppose beer is too middle class for you?” he asked chuckling, and very pleased at how well his plan was working.

“Don’t push your luck.”

“After you milady,” he said with a slight bow as he held open the door for her. “I’ll go fetch us drinks while you get a table.” Mary pursed her lips in derision but hurried off to find a place to sit. There were two tables available: one was right in the middle of the room and very public. The other was tucked back in a quiet corner. She knew which one she would prefer, the question was, how much trouble would she be in if word got back to mother, or worse her grandmother? In the end she chose the table that was more removed. She figured in the end that though the repercussions would be worse, the chances of her being spotted were less and those were odds she could deal with.

Soon, Matthew appeared by her side with two pints. “Now, before you say anything, yes, I do expect you to drink this.” He held up his hands to stop her protests. “It’s no use arguing with me, it will warm you up more than any cup of tea.” She made a face and took a sip. Matthew couldn’t help but laugh. He picked up his own glass, “No, you’ve got to do it like this.” He took a large swig.

“I will not!” she cried indignantly.

“You can’t say you drank beer if you’re only going to take those pitiful little sips.”

“Who says I want to say I’ve drank beer?”

“I think you’re afraid.” He teased. “You think people will think you’re too middle class if you do?”

“I am not afraid.” She eyed her glass. Slowly, she picked it up and raised it to her lips. Then she lowered it slightly, opened her mouth to say something, changed her mind, took a deep breath and began to chug down the beer. She finished it, placed it on the table and placed both hands on either side of it and panted slightly, trying to regain her composure.

“Brava,” Matthew said, clapping. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” She looked up and glared at him, her expression clearly telling him to wipe that smile off his face. “Would you like me to get something else more to your liking?”

“Yes” she panted.

Matthew got up to fetch her a cup of tea, still smiling. He was still troubled by her imminent departure and her conviction that he would despise her, but he’d deal with that later. For now, he would treasure this moment.

• I will not have you without the darkness that hides within you • I will not let you have me without the madness that makes me • If our demons cannot dance, neither can we •

Nikita Gill

Downton Abbey pictures - season 3

(shakes the dust off this blog) Hello

Downton Abbey Ficlet

Prompt: Edith is convinced that Mary is exaggerating about her marriage (Season 3 AU)

“It really is the most amusing sight, Mama,” Mary was saying to Cora while sitting in the drawing room one afternoon. Mary and Matthew had been married and living in their “cottage” for several months now. Edith half listened. She hated that Mary always felt the need to gloat about her happy marriage. Mary didn’t seem to care at all that Edith might not want to listen to all her stupid stories while she was still hurting from the humiliation of Sir Anthony jilting her at the altar. How could any of Mary’s stories even be true anyway? Surely no one really acted the way Mary described.

“And then, he knocked over the lamp!” Mary exclaimed as Cora began laughing.

“Really, Mary,” Cora said, “What do you tell the servants?”

“Well, I tell Anna everything anyway, so she didn’t even ask when she saw the lamp.” Mary laughed. “And since Matthew doesn’t use a valet, that’s not much of an issue. And the other staff know to keep their distance if we haven’t rung for them. And of course, they’re usually out of the house most of the day on Mondays since we’ve designated it our private day.”

“Doesn’t Matthew have to go to the office?” Edith injected suddenly.

Mary looked around, “Oh, Edith, I forgot you were here, you were sitting so quietly. No, actually, Matthew brings home files on Friday to read through at home on Mondays and then goes back into the office on Tuesday. It was one of the compromises he made when we got married so that we could have more time together since he spends Saturdays with Papa working on the estate and Sundays are taken with church.”

“Well, isn’t that lovely for you.” Edith huffed and left the room. She just couldn’t sit and listen to Mary any longer. As she stomped off up the stairs, she began to think of a plan to prove to everyone that Mary was completely exaggerating about her marriage, and then Edith would be the one laughing.

* * *

The following Monday Edith decided to put her plan into play. After breakfast, she got ready to go out and pay calls.  As she headed down the drive, she turned off toward the village first. She had planned the whole day. Mama had needed some invitations delivered to Isobel, Granny and Mary so she offered to deliver all of them; a perfect cover for her to stop in at Mary’s. She went to Crawley House first and had a lovely visit, Isobel chattering away happily about her newest charity. Next, she went to the Dower House to see Granny, who also seemed to be in high spirits, though she seemed a little surprised when Edith mentioned going round to Mary’s next. “Does Mary know you’re planning to visit?” she asked with raised eyebrows.

“No,” Edith said stubbornly, “I wouldn’t have thought that I need to have an appointment to visit my own sister.”

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you when you’re not received,” Granny said.

Edith picked up her bag and bid her grandmother goodbye, quite confident that even Mary wouldn’t be so rude to refuse her sister entry. She made her way over to Thistledown Cottage, the recently refurbished house on the estate that Matthew and Mary had moved into after their honeymoon.  She had to admit that the house was quite cozy looking, though much smaller than anything she ever would have expected Mary to be comfortable in. Edith had been rather surprised when listening to Mary and Cora’s conversations about Mary’s staffing needs. They had chosen to have a rather small household: Anna as a lady’s maid; Daisy as a cook; a new butler, Molesley having stayed on at Crawley House; and only two maids who lived in the village.

She took a breath as she approached and rang the front doorbell. It was only a moment before Borodin, the butler answered the door.

“I am here to see Lady Mary.” Edith said with a haughty air.

“I am very sorry, milady,” Borodin began, “but Lady Mary and Mr. Crawley are not available at the moment. If you leave your card, I will inform them that you stopped by.”

“I know she’s here,” Edith protested. “She told our mother last night that she would be home all day.”

“Be that as it may, they are indisposed just now and are not receiving visitors.”

“I’ll wait then.” She insisted, raising her chin.

“I cannot permit that milady.” Borodin said. “Mr. Crawley and Lady Mary will not receive any visitors today, but you may visit tomorrow.”  He shut the door without any further fanfare. Edith stood on the doorstep in shock.  She had never been treated this way before. Well, there was more than one way to skin a cat. Afterall, she still needed to deliver the invitation.

She took a minute to regroup and decided to go round to the kitchen. It was undignified of course, but she could always say that she had wanted to give her regards to Anna and Daisy. However, as she approached the kitchen door, she was horrified to hear voices coming out of the open window.

“He shut the door in her face?” Daisy was saying incredulously.

“Yes, that’s what Lizzie was saying,” Anna replied. “She was dusting the hall and heard the whole thing.”

“I thought the whole family knew not to visit on Mondays?” Daisy said.

“Yes, but I don’t think they know the real reason.” Anna answered. “I don’t think Mr. Matthew is out there telling everyone about ‘Naked Mondays.’”

The two women dissolved into laughter as Edith was left to puzzle what “naked Monday” could possibly mean. And how dare they laugh at her. If she had thought she was insulted before, it was nothing to how she felt now. Now she had to find out what Mary was doing.

She left the kitchen yard and looked back at the house. It had quite a pretty garden, and Edith noticed a tree growing close to what she was fairly sure was the drawing room window. It would provide a decent cover if she happened to sneak over and peek into the room. It was getting close to luncheon but knowing Mary she’d probably be sitting in there at this time of day. Edith glanced around and seeing no one else about, decided to take her chance. She crept up close to the tree and leaned around to get a good view into the room. She could see the back of Mary’s head over the back of a sofa with her back to the window. She seemed to be lounging in a rather relaxed position and, if Edith was not mistaken, it looked as if her hair was down. How odd.

Suddenly, she heard a noise and pulled her head back behind the tree. She listened intently as the drawing room door opened and closed. “My darling,” she heard Matthew say. “Have I ever told you how absolutely breath taking you are?”

“Every day,” Mary replied happily. “And I never tire of hearing it. You’re quite breathtaking yourself. But you know how I feel about that dressing gown. I suggest you get rid of it before I get cross.”

Dressing gown? Why would Matthew have a dressing gown in the drawing room? Edith ventured a quick peek around the tree and to her horror saw Matthew stripping off his dressing gown in the middle of the room in broad daylight. If Edith had thought it couldn’t get any worse, she was mistaken as she saw Mary rising, also completely naked and going to meet Matthew. She clapped her hand to her mouth and fled, Matthew and Mary thankfully too distracted by each other to notice her.

* * *

At tea the following afternoon, Edith stared intently into her teacup while the conversation went on around her. Both Matthew and Mary were there and talking with other members of the family. Violet was sitting next to her on the sofa and noticed her strange behavior. “So, how was your visit yesterday? Was it productive?” She asked.

Edith startled. “What? Oh, yes it was fine.” She said blushing.

“Was it?” Violet pushed. “You seem so jumpy. What’s wrong with you today?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me.” She glared in Mary’s direction.

“Edith, what’s new with you?” Edith jumped as Matthew sat down across from her.

“Nothing,” she replied too brightly, blushing again and struggling to find a place to look. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Matthew, not after what she had witnessed the previous day, and she could feel her grandmother’s sharp eyes watching her. “You know, I think I might be getting a cold. I have an awful headache. Maybe I’ll go lay down until dinner.” She got up and rushed from the library.

“Whatever is the matter with Edith?” Matthew asked Violet.

“She probably tired herself out yesterday, running errands for Cora. When she left me, she said she was on her way to Thistledown to see Mary. Did you not see her?”

“No,” Matthew replied, thinking. “I do think Borodin said she stopped by, though.”

* * *

Edith remained jumpy and uncomfortable around Matthew and Mary for the next few weeks. Mary joked that it was an improvement to her normal behavior, but the sudden change bothered Matthew, though he couldn’t quite figure out why. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and resolved to find out what was going on. He cornered her after dinner and asked her point blank.

“Edith, I must know, have I done something to offend you? Why won’t you talk to me anymore?” He began without preamble.

Edith jumped. “Oh, no, you haven’t done anything to me…. No, I can’t talk to you about it, it’s too embarrassing.” She covered her face in her hands and moved off to another part of the room.

“What was all that about?” Mary said, appearing at Matthew’s shoulder.

“I have no idea.” Matthew shrugged. “She says it’s too embarrassing to talk to me about. I have no clue what I could have done to make her so jumpy around me.”

“Hmm,” Mary thought for a moment. “I have an idea. I’ll talk to her.”  She walked over to Edith. “You know, Matthew is very concerned about you.”

“Why would he be?” Edith asked defensively.

“Because you have barely spoken to him in weeks?” Mary shrugged. “I don’t understand why, but he likes you and doesn’t like the thought that he’s offended you somehow.”

“He hasn’t done anything to offend me.” She paused. “I just, I saw a different side of him recently and it was rather shocking, is all.”

“A different side?” Mary asked, then suddenly she understood. “Have you been spying on me again? Haven’t you learned by now that nothing good comes from that?”

“Of course I haven’t!” Edith protested.

“Then what ‘different side’ could you have possibly seen that makes you so uncomfortable?” Mary pressed. “You do know that Borodin told us that you called on us and were very upset that you weren’t admitted. I think you were spied on us and saw more than you wanted to.”

“Well, what were you two thinking being in your drawing room like…like that?” Edith hissed.

“You mean in our own house?” Mary asked. “We can do whatever we want there. It’s one of the main reasons we moved to our own house: so we can do whatever we want without you or anyone else being underfoot.”

“It’s indecent!”

“So what if it is? We’re married and can enjoy each other’s company however we choose.” Mary paused, “perhaps one day you’ll be lucky enough to understand, I hope so anyway. It’s much more fun than being so prudish. If you don’t want to know what we do behind closed doors, don’t peek behind them. Live by the sword and die by the sword, or didn’t you learn that lesson?”

“I…” Edith tried to interject but Mary ignored her and continued.

“Now, please do whatever you have to do to be able to move on. I don’t know what you thought you’d achieve but it has clearly backfired. Now, I don’t care if you’re too embarrassed by your own idiotic fancies to talk to me, but Matthew clearly does. I don’t like him to be unhappy, so figure it out, or perhaps we’ll have to have more private days that I suggest you respect in the future.” With that, she left Edith and went to rejoin the others.

I don't think JA presented Lydia as a hated character. I think Lydia was a victim of circumstance and a cautionary tale at the same time.

It wasn't her fault that her life took the turn it did, exactly because she was very young. It was her family's fault, her father's fault, that he didn't teach her how to look after herself in a world that was out to get her, or look after her like a parent of a teenager should have. And Mr Bennett, in a rare moment of self-reflection, takes ownership of just how much of a useless father he'd been. Not that he adjusts his behaviour after the fact, and JA makes a point of that, because recognising our faults is not enough if we don't work on them.

Lydia was living proof of how delicate the position of women was, not just as individuals but collectively as a group, given that the mistake of one could destroy many of them.

OVERHATED CHARACTERS POLL: Lydia Bennet (Pride and Prejudice)

Feel free to explain your position in the comments or tags, but any harassment, over-the-top fighting, or personal attacks will result in you being blocked. Do not attack real people, be they fans or creators, over fictional characters.

okay no offense to Carson and Mrs Hughes who are precious but can someone please explain why we get more of their wedding than Mary and Matthew's?? like sorry but I very much would have liked to hear my perfect ship exchange vows! I also spend a lot of time wishing we'd heard Mary tell Matthew she loves him but WHATEVER JULIAN

“Many people seem to think it foolish, even superstitious, to believe that the world could still change for the better. And it is true that in winter it is sometimes so bitingly cold that one is tempted to say, ‘What do I care if there is a summer; its warmth is no help to me now.’ Yes, evil often seems to surpass good. But then, in spite of us, and without our permission, there comes at last an end to the bitter frosts. One morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. And so I must still have hope.”

— Vincent Van Gogh

Darcy's first proposal is a clusterfuck on so many levels, and I love it, but I think my favorite is how much shit he talks about the Bennets. None of it is untrue, but also, real bold words for you to say to a woman who is currently being forced to spend weeks on end socializing with your insufferable aunt, Fitzwillaim. That's a nice glass house you got there. Would be a shame if someone... threw stones.

still iconic of mary to dump a dude after she went on a weekend of sex with him

No, for a list of reasons:

If he loved her back, he would have married her. The family just wanted the estate and Cora's fortune to stay with the estate, they wouldn't care which daughter would marry Patrick (and this shows because they don't stop Edith from flirting with Matthew).

Fake Patrick. Fake Patrick used what he knew from OG Patrick to persuade Edith he was her cousin. He used HER love for Patrick, saying "because you were the one who really loved me" but never once he even implied Patrick returned her feelings. Because he knew he didn't, and didn't want to push his luck, not knowing just how much Edith knew about OG Patrick's feelings.

Edith herself said "I didn't know Patrick knew" (that she was into him). Which shows that he didn't pay her even enough attention to notice she was in love with him. According to Fake Patrick he did know (but apparently didn't care enough about it to do anything).

Edith would have treated the situation very differently if her feelings were returned. In season 1 she was sad Patrick died, and she resented Mary for not being as sad (or not expressing her sadness to the level Edith wanted from her) but that was it really. I think she would have been much angrier, and much more vicious from far earlier on if the man she loved, loved her back and still planned on getting engaged to Mary (which would have made no sense anyway, see point 1).

 ♔ downton abbey meme→ nine quotes [9/9]