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dollsomeso happy together - Matthew gets engaged. Mary is heartbroken. (But will only cry in front of Carson, of course.) And then Mary meets Lavinia, and everything changes. A series of modern AU vignettes.
Part 1
Somehow, Mary’s invitation to take Matthew and Lavinia out to dinner turns into Matthew and Lavinia being invited to Mary’s parents’ house for dinner. And the whole bloody family invites itself along too.
“This ought to be hellish,” Mary says to her reflection as she freshens up her eyeliner.
“Maybe it will make it easier having them there,” Anna suggests.
Mary meets Anna’s eyes in the mirror.
“There’s a point where it stops being kindness,” Mary says, “and you just become a pathological liar.”
“You’re right,” Anna agrees after a moment. “Good luck.” She kisses Mary’s cheek, then adds with a devilish smile, “You’ll need it.”
+
Mary leaves late on purpose, and when she breezes in, everyone is there already. Sybil’s got only Gwen with her – “Tom couldn’t make it,” she says more than once, as if everybody’s heartbroken at his absence. Robert can’t seem to decide whether he’s more uncomfortable with Gwen or Lavinia; he keeps looking back and forth between them and then pretending he’s not doing it. Cora’s making up for it by being excessively friendly and shooting a series of warning looks at her husband. Edith is watching the whole scene like she plans to put it in some novel that no one will ever bother to publish.
Granny squabbles away with Isobel like always, but Mary’s doubtful even her favorite rival will keep Granny off of Lavinia’s back for long.
“I started to think you might leave us hanging,” Matthew says when Mary comes in, not even bothering with hello. He smiles at her, hope in his eyes, and Mary knows what he means by teasing her. Look, we can still be good friends. Nothing’s truly lost, not really.
He’s always been such a sweet idiot about things like that.
Lavinia is sitting beside him, dressed in a floral sundress with a green cardigan over her shoulders, the same one from the Facebook picture. (Perhaps it’s strange that Mary recognizes it.) Her hair is down loose, curled but going flat and pinned to the side with a hair clip. She looks about twelve, the poor thing.
Mary leans across the table, offering her hand. “Lavinia, it’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Mary.”
“And you.” Lavinia clasps her hand for a minute, staring up at her with bright eyes. “I’ve heard so much about you from Matthew.”
“God,” Mary says, letting her eyes drift teasingly over to the Matthew in question.
“No, good things,” Lavinia rushes to assure her; she blushes just slightly.
Not only good things, then.
Matthew looks at Mary a certain way, while Lavinia and Mary laugh politely together over nothing in particular, and it’s all she needs to be convinced. All she has to do is give him the chance to be with her again, and he’ll take it. Nothing’s changed there. He might not know it yet, but she can tell.
She feels an irrational stab of disappointment. She’s not sure if it’s in herself or in him.
Poor Lavinia, Mary decides. She must have no idea what she’s gotten herself into.
+
If it were possible to break up with one’s entire family, Mary would.
Except for maybe Isis. (No matter how many times Cora says that the dining room isn’t the place for a dog, Robert insists.) She at least knows how to treat Lavinia with some genuine interest and common decency.
“I’m so sorry, Lavinia,” Cora says. “If she’s bothering you, we can put her out—”
“No, no, not at all, she’s lovely,” Lavinia says, looking genuinely delighted as she scratches Isis’s ears. “I’ve always wanted a dog, but my dad’s allergic.”
“Perhaps we’ll get one, now that we’ve got our own place,” Matthew suggests, grinning at Lavinia. There is something just the slightest bit unrecognizable about him when he’s talking to Lavinia. It’s like Lavinia’s Matthew is genuinely as good and kind as Matthew likes to make people think he is. Mary’s Matthew always had a bit more bite. Mary would have been bored by him otherwise.
“Are you entirely sure a dog should be your priority?” Granny wants to know.
“Oh God,” Mary murmurs.
Edith looks gleeful.
“What does that mean?” Lavinia asks, wary.
“I’m only saying that sudden engagements often result in sudden babies,” Granny replies placidly.
“That’s not why,” Matthew is quick to say.
“Oh really,” Granny says. She leans forward in her chair. “Then do tell us: why?”
“Violet, must you be such a waking nightmare?” Isobel inquires, gripping her fork.
“I’ve found it agrees with me,” Granny replies contentedly.
“Well,” Lavinia says, “we’re in love, I suppose.”
“You suppose?” Granny says, looking like Christmas has come early.
“I mean, I suppose that’s the reason why,” Lavinia says. She’s clearly flustered, a bit, but it surprises Mary that she keeps on talking anyway. “People can be in love and ... and still marriage isn’t always right.”
Mary does not, does not, does not look at Matthew. Why would she, when the scalloped potatoes are infinitely more fascinating?
Thankfully, Sybil sweeps in. “Marriage is such a tired old idea anyway. It’s crap – sorry, Granny.” Granny titters, none too scandalized. “Why, I never want to get married at all.”
“Good,” Robert says, “because it would take a hell of a pitch indeed to get me to pay for that wedding. Er. No offense, Gwen.”
“None taken, sir,” Gwen says, looking rather lost.
“Taken!” Sybil protests. “How could you—”
“You might as well, Daddy,” Mary interrupts, for the good of everyone. “I think you’re off the hook with regards to Edith and me. We’re a pair of old fashioned spinsters in the making.”
“I don’t intend to be a spinster,” Edith pipes up.
“Oh, Edith,” Mary says sweetly. “Some things are beyond our control.”
“If you decide you’d rather not marry into this clan, I’d entirely understand,” Matthew says to Lavinia, making everyone laugh. For some reason.
Lavinia shrugs. “I’ll stick around for Isis.”
Mary hadn’t expected her to have a sense of humor – how could you expect it from a strawberry blonde in floral print with (what must be) a favorite cardigan? She laughs, a small but genuine laugh, and Lavinia catches her eye across the table and gives Mary a quick bright smile.
“What me, Gwen, and Tom have is every bit as valid as what you and Mummy have!” Sybil is exclaiming furiously to Robert meanwhile.
Mary lifts her eyebrows, and Lavinia hides her laugh behind her hand.
Part 1
Somehow, Mary’s invitation to take Matthew and Lavinia out to dinner turns into Matthew and Lavinia being invited to Mary’s parents’ house for dinner. And the whole bloody family invites itself along too.
“This ought to be hellish,” Mary says to her reflection as she freshens up her eyeliner.
“Maybe it will make it easier having them there,” Anna suggests.
Mary meets Anna’s eyes in the mirror.
“There’s a point where it stops being kindness,” Mary says, “and you just become a pathological liar.”
“You’re right,” Anna agrees after a moment. “Good luck.” She kisses Mary’s cheek, then adds with a devilish smile, “You’ll need it.”
+
Mary leaves late on purpose, and when she breezes in, everyone is there already. Sybil’s got only Gwen with her – “Tom couldn’t make it,” she says more than once, as if everybody’s heartbroken at his absence. Robert can’t seem to decide whether he’s more uncomfortable with Gwen or Lavinia; he keeps looking back and forth between them and then pretending he’s not doing it. Cora’s making up for it by being excessively friendly and shooting a series of warning looks at her husband. Edith is watching the whole scene like she plans to put it in some novel that no one will ever bother to publish.
Granny squabbles away with Isobel like always, but Mary’s doubtful even her favorite rival will keep Granny off of Lavinia’s back for long.
“I started to think you might leave us hanging,” Matthew says when Mary comes in, not even bothering with hello. He smiles at her, hope in his eyes, and Mary knows what he means by teasing her. Look, we can still be good friends. Nothing’s truly lost, not really.
He’s always been such a sweet idiot about things like that.
Lavinia is sitting beside him, dressed in a floral sundress with a green cardigan over her shoulders, the same one from the Facebook picture. (Perhaps it’s strange that Mary recognizes it.) Her hair is down loose, curled but going flat and pinned to the side with a hair clip. She looks about twelve, the poor thing.
Mary leans across the table, offering her hand. “Lavinia, it’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Mary.”
“And you.” Lavinia clasps her hand for a minute, staring up at her with bright eyes. “I’ve heard so much about you from Matthew.”
“God,” Mary says, letting her eyes drift teasingly over to the Matthew in question.
“No, good things,” Lavinia rushes to assure her; she blushes just slightly.
Not only good things, then.
Matthew looks at Mary a certain way, while Lavinia and Mary laugh politely together over nothing in particular, and it’s all she needs to be convinced. All she has to do is give him the chance to be with her again, and he’ll take it. Nothing’s changed there. He might not know it yet, but she can tell.
She feels an irrational stab of disappointment. She’s not sure if it’s in herself or in him.
Poor Lavinia, Mary decides. She must have no idea what she’s gotten herself into.
+
If it were possible to break up with one’s entire family, Mary would.
Except for maybe Isis. (No matter how many times Cora says that the dining room isn’t the place for a dog, Robert insists.) She at least knows how to treat Lavinia with some genuine interest and common decency.
“I’m so sorry, Lavinia,” Cora says. “If she’s bothering you, we can put her out—”
“No, no, not at all, she’s lovely,” Lavinia says, looking genuinely delighted as she scratches Isis’s ears. “I’ve always wanted a dog, but my dad’s allergic.”
“Perhaps we’ll get one, now that we’ve got our own place,” Matthew suggests, grinning at Lavinia. There is something just the slightest bit unrecognizable about him when he’s talking to Lavinia. It’s like Lavinia’s Matthew is genuinely as good and kind as Matthew likes to make people think he is. Mary’s Matthew always had a bit more bite. Mary would have been bored by him otherwise.
“Are you entirely sure a dog should be your priority?” Granny wants to know.
“Oh God,” Mary murmurs.
Edith looks gleeful.
“What does that mean?” Lavinia asks, wary.
“I’m only saying that sudden engagements often result in sudden babies,” Granny replies placidly.
“That’s not why,” Matthew is quick to say.
“Oh really,” Granny says. She leans forward in her chair. “Then do tell us: why?”
“Violet, must you be such a waking nightmare?” Isobel inquires, gripping her fork.
“I’ve found it agrees with me,” Granny replies contentedly.
“Well,” Lavinia says, “we’re in love, I suppose.”
“You suppose?” Granny says, looking like Christmas has come early.
“I mean, I suppose that’s the reason why,” Lavinia says. She’s clearly flustered, a bit, but it surprises Mary that she keeps on talking anyway. “People can be in love and ... and still marriage isn’t always right.”
Mary does not, does not, does not look at Matthew. Why would she, when the scalloped potatoes are infinitely more fascinating?
Thankfully, Sybil sweeps in. “Marriage is such a tired old idea anyway. It’s crap – sorry, Granny.” Granny titters, none too scandalized. “Why, I never want to get married at all.”
“Good,” Robert says, “because it would take a hell of a pitch indeed to get me to pay for that wedding. Er. No offense, Gwen.”
“None taken, sir,” Gwen says, looking rather lost.
“Taken!” Sybil protests. “How could you—”
“You might as well, Daddy,” Mary interrupts, for the good of everyone. “I think you’re off the hook with regards to Edith and me. We’re a pair of old fashioned spinsters in the making.”
“I don’t intend to be a spinster,” Edith pipes up.
“Oh, Edith,” Mary says sweetly. “Some things are beyond our control.”
“If you decide you’d rather not marry into this clan, I’d entirely understand,” Matthew says to Lavinia, making everyone laugh. For some reason.
Lavinia shrugs. “I’ll stick around for Isis.”
Mary hadn’t expected her to have a sense of humor – how could you expect it from a strawberry blonde in floral print with (what must be) a favorite cardigan? She laughs, a small but genuine laugh, and Lavinia catches her eye across the table and gives Mary a quick bright smile.
“What me, Gwen, and Tom have is every bit as valid as what you and Mummy have!” Sybil is exclaiming furiously to Robert meanwhile.
Mary lifts her eyebrows, and Lavinia hides her laugh behind her hand.
