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lavinia swire: brunch time hero
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severalstories asked for a Mary/Lavinia fake dating modern AU. And when someone asks for a Mary/Lavinia fake dating modern AU, you don't just say no to that!It’s one thing to have a one night stand with Richard Carlisle because you’re drunk and depressed and the person you were going to marry is now marrying someone else, who just so happens to be the loveliest someone else you’ve ever set eyes on.
It’s another thing to have Richard Carlisle decide he fancies you. And show it by stalking you.
Well, all right, Mary has no proof that he’s actually stalking her, but he does have the freakish ability to show up wherever she doesn’t want him to be. Then again, maybe the universe just hates her.
In this instance, Mary and Lavinia are out to brunch together, sans Matthew. Everyone Mary has ever met seems convinced that she and Lavinia are going to murder each other – or rather, that Mary’s going to chainsaw Lavinia into pieces while Lavinia kindly and graciously lets it happen – and if there’s one thing Mary Crawley hates, it’s doing what’s expected of her. Lavinia gladly agreed when Mary phoned her up to ask her; she must be sick of their nonexistent great rivalry too.
Now, what had been a fantastic meal is abruptly shot to hell.
“Oh God,” Mary groans, rolling her eyes and doing her best to shrink behind the floral centerpiece.
“What?” Lavinia says, peering around. “Is it your gran?”
(To be fair, Mary has railed on a bit about Granny. She can’t help it: it seems Granny does nothing but hurl creative insults at Lavinia day in and out, and Mary’s so sick of it she could scream. Calling Lavinia a mousy little piece is so wildly inaccurate that it makes Mary’s brain ache. “Have you ever actually seen Lavinia, Granny?” Mary burst out a few days ago. “Why, of course I have, dear,” Granny replied, affecting surprise. “Why do you think I’m so indignant on your behalf?” Mary hasn’t spoken to her since.)
“It’s Richard,” Mary hisses as the Richard in question raises his hand in a wave and starts heading over.
“Richard the one you hooked up with Richard?” (Mary hadn’t meant to mention anything about that, but it’s easier to talk to Lavinia than she’d expected.)
“The very one.”
“Oh, bother,” Lavinia says, frowning sympathetically. Somehow she makes Pooh Bear slang irresistibly charming.
“Mary,” Richard says when he reaches them, grinning. He’s handsome, Mary will give him that, but that doesn’t make up for the fact that he’s far too smug to endure sober.
“Richard,” she replies coolly. “This is Lavinia.”
He nods Lavinia’s way. “Pleasure.”
“Indeed,” Lavinia says doubtfully.
“I’ve been hoping to catch you again,” Richard says, immediately abandoning the fact of Lavinia’s existence. “You’re a hard woman to pin down, Miss Crawley.”
“Yes, well, I’ve been busy,” Mary answers, all carefully polished bitchiness.
“Too busy to return my calls?”
“Yes, I’m afraid. Exactly that level of busy.”
“What a shame.”
“Is it, though?” Mary pretends to deliberate, tilting her head mock-thoughtfully.
Richard chuckles, mistaking insult for flirtation. Mary decides that she’s sick of her own taste in men.
“The truth is, Richard, she’s seeing someone new,” Lavinia interjects, startling everyone.
Richard squints down at her. “Is she?”
“She is,” Lavinia says, reaching across the table and placing her hand very deliberately atop Mary’s. “And if you don’t bugger off, someone new is going to be very cross with you for mucking up her lovely romantic brunch.”
Richard stares, uncomprehending, for a moment, and then lifts his eyebrows in amusement.
“Very well,” he says, bowing out. “I know when I’ve been beaten. Ladies, enjoy your romantic brunch.”
“Will do,” Lavinia promises sweetly, and lifts Mary’s hand to her mouth to kiss her knuckles.
Mary prides herself on never bothering to be rattled by much. It’s so seldom worth it. Which is why it makes no sense that she may pass out in a second. For a mousy little piece who’s never without a pastel colored cardigan sweater, Lavinia is a very gallant hand kisser.
As soon as Richard’s out of the way, Lavinia drops her hand. It’s in no way disappointing. Honestly.
“Sorry,” Lavinia whispers, giggling a little. “It was the best way I could think of to get rid of him quick.”
“Lavinia Swire, you may very well be a perfect person,” Mary replies. She’s aiming for hyperbolic charm, but as she speaks the words they feel terribly true.
“I hope not,” Lavinia replies, her eyes sparkling. “That sounds very boring, doesn’t it?”
Matthew, you lucky prat, Mary thinks. I ought to be jealous of you and not her.
And then, after an inconvenient moment of realization (ushered on by Lavinia’s gaze and her bright smile): Oh, damn it.
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Ha, that is so Mary! I can just imagine her dry tone as she says it, so it almost sounds like it's not an insult.
Bravo! This is beautiful.
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