Oh my gosh, I cannot believe how long it's been since I updated this story! I finished my last ever university exam on Friday, so now I'm freeeeeeee! Thank you so much for all of your reviews and your encouragement; hopefully you will stick with the story despite my shameful lack of updates in recent months. In this chapter, Mary is 15 and Matthew is 16 and it sort of stretches over three months ish. It's maybe a mild T and it's an extra long chapter, just for you! Please R&R, I can't wait to hear from you guys after such a long absence :D LMC

Matthew walked quickly across the quad, as quickly as he could without running, hoping desperately that he wasn't going to be late for Latin. Glancing around, making sure no one was watching, he clutched his books to his chest and began to run. He had almost made it to the other side of the ivy strewn quad, one hand reaching out for the door handle, the other balancing several heavy textbooks, when he was startled by a booming-

"Crawley!"

He stopped dead and turned with some trepidation to find the sports master a few paces away.

"Yes, sir?"

"You seem to be growing at an alarming rate, Crawley."

Matthew was momentarily thrown by the seemingly arbitrary statement, but certainly glad he had escaped reprimand for running between lessons. He coloured slightly as the masters' eye swept critically over him and his too short blazer, not to mention the too short trousers which were now very definitely displaying his navy blue socks.

"Well, uhh...yes, sir."

His teacher heaved an exaggerated sigh as Matthew surreptitiously glanced at his pocket watch, his fingers beginning to fidget by his side with nerves as he contemplated the consequences for his lateness.

"For goodness sake, write to your mother today for more clothes. And I want to see you on the field at two o'clock."

"Sir?"

"Redman has broken his leg, so we need a new fly half and you'd be a good size for that now. Two o'clock."

"Yes, sir."

"If you're going to run about, then we'd better put it to good use!"

XxX

The Lady Grantham's sat on the Downton lawn at a perfectly appointed table, taking afternoon tea in the mild English sunshine.

"Mary's been looking terribly down in the mouth lately," observed the elder Lady Grantham.

"Mmm."

The Dowager sighed. "Fifteen really is the most trying age."

"Don't get me started! Raising three very English daughters is hard enough, but whenever I say anything at all to Mary, she just looks at me like...like I'm the stupidest person on Earth!"

"Yes, well... how about a change of scenery? Do you think that might raise her spirits?"

"Perhaps. Why, what did you have in mind?"

"An old friend of mine, Lady Ashford, has recently moved to Paris with that ghastly new husband of hers. She asked me to visit whenever it was convenient, but of course I would never dream of swanning off to Paris by myself. If Mary were to accompany me though, it might be quite bearable. And she could take in the culture, improve her French; it would be a simply marvellous experience to have before her first Season."

"Mary is a little young to go abroad...but with you as chaperone, I'm sure that no harm could come to her. Yes, you take her to Paris and we can finally get some peace!"

XxX

"To Paris? Paris? Are you serious, Mama?"

"Yes, darling!"

Cora laughed at Mary's disbelieving face. "Every young woman should visit Paris at least once and you could even start buying things for your first Season; not dresses of course, but gloves and ribbons and lace..."

The list went on for some time "... and shoes!" Cora paused to take a deep breath. "So, what do you think, Mary?"

"Well, I suppose... that might be alright," Mary conceded ungraciously, looking at her reflection in the mirror and patting her hair into place.

"I'll book the crossing for you and Granny tomorrow."

Sybil tugged at her mother's dress.

"Why can't I go, Mama?"

"Oh, Sybil darling. You're only nine!"

"So?"

XxX

Matthew tackled his Eton opponent to the ground for the fourth time that day, bruises already starting to form on the arms and legs of both boys.

As the whistle blew for full time and the boys sighed with exhaustion and relief, Matthew's opposite number came to shake his hand.

"I say, you were marvellous!"

"Thank you, I wasn't sure if...I mean, it was my first match."

"Well, you were a tough opponent to play then ..."

"Matthew Crawley."

"Ah. Evelyn Napier."

The two boys made their way across the field to the school, more than ready for their tea. Matthew was accosted by one of the upper fourth boys outside of the dining room, pulling him aside to whisper excitedly-

"Crawley, Crawley! The sixth are going to the pub tonight and they've invited us to go because of how well we played today!"

"But we're not allowed, you know that."

"I know but...please? It'll be such fun. They've managed to get hold of a key so we can sneak out after lights out."

"It's all very well sneaking out for fun, Lawson, but really I think the sixth push it too far. What would our mothers say if she they knew we were sneaking around, drinking after dark?"

The younger boy drooped with guilt as Matthew's words seeped into his conscience.

"I...I know you're right, Crawley. But we don't want to be thought wet, do we?"

"No, but just tell them we have some prep that we have to do tonight."

"Alright then."

XxX

"What do you think about all this, Mama?" frowned Robert. "I think it's far too soon, much too soon."

Cora sighed in frustration at her stubborn husband.

"Robert, whether you like it or not, Mary is fifteen years old now. She is a young woman, not a little girl anymore. It's high time."

"But really, Cora, we aren't going to present her at court for another two years. At least. Is it really necessary?"

"Absolutely! And I refuse to take Mary to Paris if you deny her this," insisted his mother.

Under the piercing gaze of both his wife and his mother, Robert knew that this was one battle he was certainly not going to win.

"Fine. She can wear her hair up. But I'm warning you, Mama; I won't have any man coming near Mary. That is out of the question. You must guard her with your life."

"Robert, my dear. Mary is family. Would I allow anything less?"

"I supposed O'Brien can go with her as her ladies maid."

"Robert! Are you out of your senses? I couldn't do without O'Brien for twelve hours, let alone twelve weeks!"

This was getting far too complicated for Lord Grantham, who, if truth be told, just wanted to get back to his book.

"Very well. Hire a new maid for Mary. Do whatever you like. But I beg you never to have a conversation with me about ladies hair ever again."

The Lady Grantham's smiled at one another, their antipathy towards one another momentarily suspended in their shared triumph. Mary, hearing the news with her ear pressed firmly to the keyhole, grinned and ran up the stairs to her bedroom, where she immediately began planning exactly how her hair should look.

XxX

Despite numerous dress fittings, trips to hat makers and hiring Mary's new maid (a quiet, fair sixteen year old called Anna), it seemed mere moments to Mary before she was stood on the deck of a large ship in Dover, hair newly coiffed, about to cross the Channel for the first time.

"Oh, isn't it wonderful, Granny?" smiled Mary, as she breathed in the fresh salty air.

"Yes, my dear. Although perhaps my sea legs are not what they once were. I think I'll go inside for some tea. Though God knows what appalling tea one will find on these modern ships."

The Dowager, her face now a very faint tinge of green, still managed to walk like she was at the head of a coronation procession, her regal air not in the least affected by her seasickness.

Mary stayed up on deck, the sea air whipping up her hair under her brand new hat which she was clutching to her head. The wind had become a bit too much for the other passengers to bear and the deck was now deserted, but she didn't want to miss this. The waves and the water and the wind...it was glorious. Staring far out to sea, she lost herself in thoughts of what she would find on the continent...

"Hello!"

Mary jumped in surprise and grabbed the railing beside her as a boy a little older than her appeared by her side.

"Oh, I do beg your pardon. I expect you thought you were alone up here."

Mary said not a word. Whatever was one supposed to say to boys who appeared out of nowhere and talked to you? Whatever was one supposed to say to boys?

"Am I disturbing you? If I am, just say so and I'll pop off back inside to my mother. Although I am glad to find that there is somebody under fifty on this boat!"

Mary laughed in spite of herself. She noticed he was a good looking sort of boy, with dark brown hair that was as neat as it possibly could be in this terrible wind. Warm brown eyes, fairly tall, he looked respectable at least...

"Are you travelling on to Paris..." he paused.

"Mary. I mean, Lady Mary. Crawley."

"How do you do, Lady Mary? May I introduce myself? Evelyn Napier."

Mary held out her free hand, the other still desperately holding her hat firmly against her head.

"How do you do, Mr Napier?"

"This wind is simply ghastly, isn't it? Shall we go inside? And perhaps we can talk a little more and you can tell me all about that formidable looking woman with the cane and the purple hat..."

XxX

"I hear from Lady Ashford that you've made quite an impression on the young Mr Napier."

"Granny!"

"I wasn't born yesterday, my dear! He's quite the handsome young man..."

"Granny, please!"

"Well, what do you think of him? He's the heir to Viscount Branksome, you know. I suppose it helps for you young girls that he's tall, dark and handsome."

"Granny, please stop! He's just over there, he might hear you!"

The Dowager merely chuckled at her granddaughter's evident discomfort.

"I haven't said anything embarrassing about you and Mr Napier, have I?"

"Oh god. He's looking over now. Don't turn around, Granny."

Violet immediately turned around and waved to the Napier family, receiving an awkward sort of wave from Evelyn.

"Granny, how could you?" Mary hissed. "Now he'll know we were talking about him!"

"But we were, my dear."

"Now you've made him feel awkward. Oh dear, he's coming over."

Evelyn shyly made his way over to their table (he was still a bit frightened of Mary's indomitable grandmother.)

"Good morning, Lady Grantham, Lady Mary. Lady Grantham...my mother was wondering, perhaps Lady Mary would like to accompany us to the Louvre this morning? Only if it's convenient, of course."

"Mr Napier, this is positively providential! Mary was just saying to me how much she wanted to see the Louvre, weren't you, Mary? But I was feeling a little worn out to accompany her. She was terribly disappointed. Now I know she will be in safe hands."

Mary almost gaped at this barefaced lie and began to protest that she had said no such thing, but Evelyn got in first.

"I'm sorry to hear you're not feeling your best, Lady Grantham. You must rest for as long as you please today. My mother would be delighted to have Lady Mary along for the whole day."

"The whole day? My, my... well, off you go, Mary. Have a lovely time."

XxX

"Do you still have a governess, Lady Mary?"

"Yes, I do."

"She'll be leaving you soon, I imagine?"

"I don't think very soon, Lady Napier. Not for another three years, I imagine."

"Goodness! How old are you, my dear?"

"Fifteen."

"Only fifteen! Gracious!" Lady Napier's eyes were so wide that she reminded Mary greatly of a picture of an insect she had seen many years ago in one of her childhood books. "I thought you must be seventeen at the very least! So you haven't had your first Season?"

"Not yet, Lady Napier."

Evelyn interjected, trying to spare Mary from his unstoppable mother.

"Mother, please stop asking her questions! You're embarrassing her!"

"Am I?"

"No, not at all."

Lord Napier put down his newspaper and looked at the blushing girl seated by his wife.

"You are embarrassing her, Helen," he said with a half smile. "Leave her alone for now, my darling."

XxX

Walking about the gallery with Evelyn by her side had been quite nice, Mary decided. He was very handsome...although there was no escaping the fact that he was just a tad dull. They were sat at a table in some fashionable eatery close to the Louvre, where Mrs Napier had insisted on going. Mary sat by Evelyn, listening politely to him; he had completed his final term at Eton only a couple of weeks ago, he had been cricket captain and played rugby. They had won every game except the final one against Marlborough, but then, they did have a brand new fly half who was jolly good...

One word cut through Mary's consciousness like a knife.

"Marlborough?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, I must seem terribly dull. Of course a young lady doesn't want to hear about rugby!"

"No, please tell me. You said you played Marlborough, Mr Napier?"

"Yes, they have a new fly half. Awfully nice fellow, but I can't quite remember his name..."

Mary opened her mouth to ask more questions, memories she'd thought quite buried away were bubbling to the surface, but her curiosity was to go unsatisfied due to an unwelcome interjection from Lady Napier.

"Evelyn, dear?"

"Yes, Mother?"

"You must be boring poor Lady Mary half to death with all your talk about rugby! Talk to me, dear."

Mary reluctantly turned to face Lady Napier and tried to fend off the barrage of verbal attacks as well as she possibly could.

"So who is making your dresses in Paris? Mademoiselle Vionnet is making all of mine, but of course, she is one of the best dressmakers in the city..."

"Oh, Monsieur Poiret is making mine. He's the best dressmaker in Paris; Granny says none of the others can be trusted to get anything done on time and his fabrics are so much nicer than anyone else's. But I'm sure yours will be quite lovely."

Lord Napier had been peering over his newspaper (to which he seemed to be surgically attached) watching the exchange and gave a small snort when Mary put his wife in her place. He flicked his newspaper up again and he became absorbed once more.

A young man entered the room and noticing Evelyn sat there, immediately bounced over and clapped him on the back.

"Napier! How are you, old boy? Isn't Paris the pits? I haven't seen a pretty girl in weeks!"

Evelyn and this man fell in to a whispered discussion, occasionally stealing furtive glances at Mary. After a time, Mary began to notice their gaze and dropped her eyes to her lap to disguise her embarrassment.

"Evelyn, dear. What can you and Mr. Laurence find to talk about in such secrecy? Do tell us," prattled Lady Napier.

"Laurie was just saying that Lady...uh...asking if Lady Mary was going to the ball this evening?"

"I shouldn't have thought so! She isn't even out!"

Mr Laurence and Evelyn exchanged a quick glance before Mr Laurence responded.

"What a pity. Are you sure you can't come, Lady Mary? I would very much like to dance with you."

"Leave her alone, Laurence! The poor child doesn't know where to look now!"

XxX

"It's written all over your face, my dear."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Granny."

"You're planning something."

"I am not!"

"And if I'm any judge, it's something to do with that ball and a certain young man..."

"Well, there was a friend of Mr Napier's..."

"Gracious! Another one? What it is to be young and beautiful! Go to bed, my dear. You'll have your share of balls and believe me, they aren't as wonderful as you girls envision. Such a crush of people! It's a wonder no one is killed...although there was a masked ball in Paris where..."

She trailed off and made her way to her bedroom, leaving Mary sat in their shared sitting room.

Mary supposed she couldn't actually go to the ball, but there was no harm in looking, surely? She slowly unlocked the door and crept down the corridor to the balcony overlooking the ballroom, the dance now in full swing. Men floated their graceful partners smoothly around the ballroom and Mary shivered with a pleasant anticipation that soon, she would be able to join dances and put on beautiful dresses and be spun dizzily around by a handsome man...

"Lady Mary?"

"Oh!"

"I saw you watching from the balcony and I... did I startle you?"

Mary shook her head.

"Good. I'm glad."

"Are you enjoying the ball, Mr Laurence?"

"Not at all."

"Oh?"

"You see, there was this one girl I wanted to dance with but I couldn't ask her..."

"Why couldn't you?"

"Because she was watching from the balcony."

"Oh. Oh... you mean me?"

Mary's eyes dropped first to the floor, then looked everywhere possible but at him. There was an awkward pause as she tried hopelessly to think of something witty or...or anything really to say. The silence was cut by his deep voice, quietly dropping another compliment.

"You're so beautiful."

Mary had never been called beautiful before. Oh, her Papa would compliment her on a new dress, Granny would say that she was a well looking girl, Mama would say how pretty she was, but the word beautiful had so much more depth and feeling behind it. It was something so much more than just an offhand comment. The word itself made her simultaneously elated (she had finally been called beautiful by a handsome man!) and supremely uncomfortable, especially when she was in such close proximity to this man. Her heart was pounding in her chest, almost painfully and she couldn't concentrate on another word he was saying to her. His dark eyes were sweeping over her face and her body in a way that made her want to run back to her room and lock the door, back to the safety of her grandmother.

"Would you care to walk with me, Mary? I saw a delightful room just down the corridor that I would love to show you."

Mary stood up abruptly, in the same second as Mr Laurence reached out his hand to touch hers. His gesture went unnoticed by Mary and as she dusted off her dress, his hand floated uselessly back down to his side, his gloved fingers clenching and fidgeting in annoyance. Luckily, Anna came around the corner to save Mary from further conversation.

"Milady?"

As Anna's friendly face came into view, Mary practically beamed in relief, but quickly schooled her face into its calm, careful mask.

"Yes, Anna? What is it?"

"I... Lady Grantham said to tell you to come back to your room."

Mr Laurence made a curt bow to Mary as she made her escape with Anna by her side.

"What did Granny say, Anna?"

"Uh, nothing, milady. She's asleep. I hope you don't mind, but ever since I heard Mr Laurence talking about you earlier, I thought I should keep an eye on you."

"I certainly don't need looking aft... Mr Laurence was talking about me? What did he say?"

"Oh, I really couldn't say, milady."

"Anna!"

"We shouldn't talk of it here; let's go back to your room."

The two girls made their way down the corridor and into Mary's lovely cream and gold room, Anna locking the door behind them.

Anna raised her hand to Mary's ear and whispered what she had overheard as she was walking out of the hotel earlier that afternoon. The name of her mistress being spoken had caught her interest and she had listened to what the gentleman had been saying about Lady Mary, although she wished she hadn't. He was certainly no gentleman.

"He said that he was going to..."

Mary trembled slightly as Anna recounted the conversation.

"Was that all he said?"

"No, milady...but I really don't think you should hear..."

"Tell me," Mary ordered. "Now."

"Well, he said that you were..."

Although her face had paled slightly with Anna's words, she managed to ask composedly: "Is that everything?"

Anna gulped.

"No. He said that he would like to..."

As Anna told her the last snippet of conversation she had heard before the men had retired to the smoking room, Mary gasped and clapped her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide in shock.

"But what does it actually mean?"

Anna plaited Mary's hair for bed and told her everything.

XxX

School prize day was the one day of the year that all of the Marlborough boys looked their best; ties neatly knotted, hair neatly brushed back faces scrubbed to gleaming whiteness. Their parents were coming, so naturally they had to make them proud.

"The classics prize is awarded to Matthew Crawley."

Matthew made his way up onto the stage to shake hands and to receive his prize with pride; he had worked so hard this year and his mothers smile as he made his way back to his form made him glad of it.

The boys sat straight up on their forms in the old school hall, clapping politely as the prize winners went onto the stage to collect their prizes for literature, mathematics, French, theology... the list did go on a little and the younger boys in particular began to fidget, or to sneak a sweet from a neighbour.

"It's such a lovely day, I won't keep you much longer," droned the headmaster. "But now we come to perhaps the most important announcement of the day. Although it is not a prize per se, I'm sure that you can all comprehend the honour of becoming next year's Head Boy."

Whispering and speculating broke out amongst the boys, the result of having bottled up all of their energy all afternoon. The headmaster indulged them for a moment and then raised his hand for silence. He got it immediately.

"This young man truly embodies the spirit of Marlborough. He has impressed us all with his dedication to his studies, entering the top class next year a full two years early. But more than that, his honesty, integrity and good manners have earned him a great deal of friendship and admiration, as well as the respect of the younger boys and the staff. It is with great pleasure that I announce that, starting in September, Matthew Crawley will be Head Boy."

There was one split second of silence as the news sunk in.

Then the boys exploded. The raucous cheering had some of the more genteel ladies in the audience covering their ears, but how could anyone else mind as they watched the flushed blonde sixteen year old trying to let the news sink in as hundreds of boys clustered around him, patting him on the back, giving hearty congratulations and cheering his name. Amidst the chaos, Matthew turned around and saw his mother beaming with pride, dabbing delicately at her eyes with her pocket handkerchief. Although supremely happy in this one moment, he couldn't help wishing that just one other face could have been there to smile at his success, her dark eyes brimming with happiness for him...

XxX

Mary wasn't sure she could look any man in the face ever again. Not knowing...that. But as Evelyn joined them for breakfast and she noticed the way he stared at her when he thought she wasn't looking, she realised that a gentleman would be content to settle for pleasant conversation and her pretty smile. She would take her example of what a gentleman should be from Evelyn and from Ma...

"Mary, dear. Anna told me of your conversation last night."

Mary tried to look as unruffled as possible as she sipped at her tea before asking-

"What did she say?"

"About this dreadful Mr Laurence and what he said."

"Oh."

"It's all very well to have suitors, Mary, but a gentleman would never take advantage of a lady, or put her in a compromising situation. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Granny... but please, can we not talk of it anymore? Or ever again?"

Well, I hope you enjoyed that! Reviews are much appreciated... I think in the next chapter, Matthew comes back to Downton...