April 10, 1912

Mary knew why her mother was pulling her aside even as the older woman grabbed her arm. "Mama, don't start."

"Don't give me that tone," Cora Crawley shot back, a rare frown crossing her face. "It's a lovely day, and we're about to go on a lovely trip, on a luxurious ship. And you're acting like we're taking you to your death."

"Well, my life will be over once this trip ends," Mary shot back, although she was careful to keep her voice soft, so that her father and Patrick's father, James, couldn't hear. "Yes, it's a lovely ship by all reports, and visiting Grandmama at her estate in Rhode Island is lovely as well, but then we return and I am handed over to Cousin Patrick as his bride."

"We're not having this discussion again." Cora's eyes flashed angrily. "You accepted his proposal. You're twenty-two, Mary. The offers aren't going to get any better, and Patrick is an excellent match. You'll be a countess, by marrying Patrick, the estate will stay together." Cora turned around and looked at Patrick. "You could do worse. He's good looking, and he adores you, and you know each other. Why are you being so stubborn?"

Mary bit her tongue. She had agreed to the match, after all, and for all of the reasons her mother had just outlined. It wasn't, as an abstract idea, a bad marriage at all. Patrick, with his dark hair and green eyes, was handsome, young, and titled. That he was her second cousin was only a small problem. With his being her father's heir, the estate would be maintained and through her, her father's line would continue. And Patrick did like her, he said so often enough. "I know, Mama... I just wish there was more, I don't know... flair, with Patrick."

Cora sighed and took her hand. "I do understand, Mary. I didn't get to choose my husband at all, and I admit... I wished for more flair at the start, but I grew to love your father very much."

"Not everyone is as lucky as you and Papa," Mary retorted, but she wasn't up for a lengthy fight. The truth was very hard to argue. Patrick was in almost every way an excellent choice for husband. She just didn't feel any spark between them, and unlike her mother who married a stranger, she had known Patrick since they were small children... and she didn't think he had outgrown some of his flaws. The ridiculous, overly expensive trip to America, for example. It was a wedding gift, from Cousin James, an ocean voyage to America on a ship rumored to be more luxurious than the finest hotels. That was all about Cousin James's and Cousin Patrick's arrogance. Patrick especially liked to make a big show of how expensive the trip was and how exclusive. It was sad really, he sometimes acted like he didn't know that rich people didn't need to brag incessantly about the privilege of their lives.

He walked over to them, his face a bright smile. "Isn't it magnificent, Mary? They say it's unsinkable!"

It was like talking to a silly little boy in a man's body, she thought tiredly. That was the real problem. Patrick at twenty-seven still seemed as flighty as a schoolboy and she had a feeling that marriage wasn't going to change that. She forced herself to smile. "Oh Patrick, don't be silly, no ship is unsinkable."

He shook his head vigorously. "Lady Mary, you're the one being silly. This ship has water proof compartments!" He grinned and took her arm, leading her to the gangplank. "I know you haven't been thrilled with this trip, or with me, but I do hope the ship pleases you." He grinned impishly. "I do recall how fussy you were when we played house as children. I do want this trip to be a delight for you. For your parents and Lady Edith, and Lady Sybil as well of course, but especially you." He leaned in close. "I know we're just friends right now, and our marrying is something of a business proposal, but I must tell you, I was well pleased when Father suggested that I consider you as a wife."

And there was the second problem, Mary thought darkly as she allowed him to lead her up the gangplank to the ship. She had to be suggested to Patrick, and to Patrick, it was essentially a transaction. A convenient transaction, no doubt because he was her father's heir, and he didn't have to bother to make an effort to get to know her. He had visited Downton as a child and thought that she was still a child as well. Or, she thought with irritation, he thinks I'm simple minded because I'm a woman. Time to put paid to that, she thought as she stepped on the deck of the ship. "I just disagree that watertight compartments make a ship invincible. Papa and I were discussing the Titanic's design over dinner once we knew we'd be on the maiden voyage. The water tight compartments are really only effective with the ship being crashed into the specific compartment. If too many compartments fill up, the ship will sink." She had been surprised at how her father hadn't been taken in by the hype. At least, the hype about the unsinkable features. He was impressed that Cousin James had made such an extravagant wedding gift in the form of first class tickets on the maiden voyage of White Star's most luxurious liner.

"Mary, there's no reason to worry." Patrick's tone took on an edge of condescension. He led her over to her family. Her father and Cousin James were barking at the attentive stewards about their trunks while her two younger sisters were looking at the ship with wide eyed glee. Of course, for them it was just a fun trip to America, with the added bonus of being on such a fancy ship. Patrick likewise was taken with the rich surroundings but then his eyes lit up as he spotted another passenger step onto the deck. "Well, isn't that interesting?" He held up his hand and waved at the fellow. "Matthew! Come over and say hello!"

A friend from school, Mary suspected as the fellow walked over. Patrick tended to go on about his chums from Eton and the newcomer, in good traveling clothes, certainly had the look. But, she noticed as the man walked over, he looked a bit more suspicious than a true friend would look. Friendly, but wary. She wasn't surprised. She had attended enough parties and dinners with Patrick to know that he could be a wicked tease and he tended to pick at sore points as a sort of game.

The stranger joined them. "Patrick, I didn't know you were going to New York." The man was handsome, Mary realized with a start, tall, blond, and blue eyed. He was well dressed, his suit was expensive, and his accent was right, and yet just by Patrick's stance and amused look, she already suspected that the fellow was someone socially below them. Likely not a peer, she considered, although Patrick technically wasn't a peer and wouldn't be until her father died.

Patrick grinned. "I'm going to visit my fiancé's American family for the spring and summer, but I think the bigger question, Matthew, is what are you doing here? Weren't you toiling away at Oxford, reading law?"

Matthew smiled slightly. "I'm a solicitor now for Braxton and Campbell. Mr. Braxton was needed by one of our clients in New York City for a court case but took ill at the last minute. Since I was assisting him, I was chosen to go in his place."

"And so you lucked into a first class ticket, isn't that jolly good luck?" Patrick laughed.

Matthew nodded, although he didn't seem quite so amused. Then he looked at Mary, and his jaw dropped in surprise. For an instant, Mary was offended, and then she was amused. It was always fun to disarm a man so easily, and she realized that however well educated this Matthew might be, he was the sort that was befuddled by a pretty girl.

At least at first. He turned to Patrick. "Is this lovely woman your fiancé?"

"Not just my fiancé," Patrick chimed, "but family as well." He waved grandiosely at Mary. "Lady Mary Crawley, let me introduce you to your... what is it, third cousin twice removed I believe?"

"Once removed," Matthew corrected. He eyed Mary more carefully. "I'm Matthew Crawley, Esquire. You must be one of Lord Grantham's daughters. Patrick often mentioned his little cousins fondly when we were at Eton together."

Mary rather doubted that but had no chance to ask as Patrick slapped Matthew on the back. "Join us for dinner tonight, Matthew. You must have some evening attire worthy of this ship, especially since you're now serving such highly placed men."

Matthew nodded, but Mary sensed he was stung by Patrick's words. Not deeply stung, but annoyed. "Have one of the stewards send me the time. I'm sure it will be lovely." He tipped his hat to them both politely and made his way down the promenade deck.

"Isn't that lovely," Patrick breezed, "Cousin Matthew is a good chap. Your father will like talking to him, he was always terribly clever at everything."

Mary found herself full of questions as they joined her parents and sisters by their pile of steamer trunks. "I don't recall any Cousin Matthew in the lectures from Granny about the succession. I don't recall you mentioning him from school either."

Patrick rolled his eyes. "You don't remember my telling stories about poor little Church? Our distant cousin from Manchester who was a King's Scholar? Who the house master made wear my hand me down school clothes until the bloke out grew me?" He grinned. "I must say, I'm impressed with how well he's done for himself. I can remember catching poor little Church darning his own socks like a dirty street child. And I doubt Cousin Violet ever felt the need to mention him. The connection is fairly distant. Although I suppose if anything happened to me or Father, he might be more important..." He shook off the thought as quickly as it came, but Mary put it aside to ask about later. Granny wasn't coming on the trip but her mother did keep an eye on the potential male heirs. If something did happen to Patrick, it was unlikely that James would have another child to inherit, and her father would move down the list.

The nickname Church did remind her of Patrick's stories from school, and while she had no affection for the lower classes, she understood why Cousin Matthew had looked so wary. Patrick had been a year ahead of the poor cousin on scholarship and his stories usually involved making Church the butt of a joke, or forcing him to complete some silly schoolboy task that usually resulted in some humiliation. Matthew, she suspected, sounded successful in his work, and might not welcome the reminder of his schoolboy humiliations. "He sounds quite successful if he's being sent on an expensive trip by his employer. You always made Church sound like an ill mannered gutter child." She was curious, and suspicious. It hadn't escaped her that Patrick wasn't always especially honest when telling tales.

Patrick shrugged and smiled artlessly. "Matthew was always clever. Sometimes too clever. He wasn't poor in the truest sense but his father was a doctor. Died, as I recall, and the mother was a nurse so he had the birth but not the money. A nice chap, all things considered." He shook his head. "I suppose we were rough on Matthew as boys but you're right, it sounds like he's done well enough. Well enough to be up here in first class, even if it is by someone else's bad luck."

Mary considered the stories she remembered from childhood, and wondered.

0o0o0o0

Sybil slowed her steps and then ducked behind a pillar. She knew where their room was, if she got truly lost she knew she could just ask a steward to get her back where she needed to be. And sticking with the family as they toured around the ship was boring her to tears. It shouldn't be boring, that was the thing. She found the ship fascinating. Not just the fanciness of the Grand Stairwell, although she was suitably impressed with it and with their ornate suite of rooms.

No, what she really found interesting was the organization of the ship and the people aboard it. It didn't escape her notice that the ship's decks were rigidly aligned with passenger class. She, dressed in a fine frock, was smiled at by the ship's many stewards no matter whether she crossed from the first class promenade to the second, while the second class passengers got more of a firm look when they got too close to the entry to first. The third class deck space had a barrier as well, and she knew better than to try to cross the barrier into third class. She was seventeen, and dressed like the first class passenger she was, which meant if she did more than look over the railing at the young men from third class playing football on the deck, a steward would quickly intervene. She'd seen it happen already, to two girls who looked older than her. She was a rebel at times, but she had no wish to gain her father's attention by getting dragged back to their shipboard quarters by a tattling ship steward.

The young men were kicking the ball when one them was too exuberant and sent the ball over their heads and up to the deck Sybil was watching from. She picked up the ball and one of the young fellows waved at her. "Please, love, throw us the ball back!"

She smiled at him. He was good looking, young but perhaps a little bit older than her, with sandy brown hair, blue eyes, and a lilting Irish accent. "Only if you promise to score the next goal for me!" She tossed the ball to him, which he caught deftly.

"Who will I be dedicating the goal to?" He asked it with a flourish worthy of a courtier.

"I'm Lady Sybil Crawley," she called down. The young man bowed deeply and grinned and then the game resumed in earnest. Sure enough, her new admirer took on the other men and after a bit of robust play, scored the next goal. She cheered wildly, and just then the ocean wind blew her gaily decorated hat off her head and down into the swirling mass of football players. The friendly fellow from before grabbed the hat and jogged to the stairwell that led to the second class deck. How clever, Sybil thought as she went to the gate, I can get his name. She frowned at the steward who was already trying to shoo the fellow away. "Let the fellow return my hat like the gentleman he's being, and let me thank him properly."

The steward frowned. "Yes, milady," he muttered, his accent a thick muddle.

She took the hat through the gate. "I didn't get your name," she prompted.

He grinned. "Tom Branson, milady."

"Well, thank you, Mr. Branson, for rescuing my hat." She struggled to find something else to say. "Why are you traveling to America?"

He shrugged. "My family decided to emigrate. I had a good job as a chauffeur for a rich English lady but everyone else was struggling. Some cousins in Boston bought our tickets. I suppose it will be good for us, but I'll admit to not being taken with the idea."

She felt a wave of sympathy for him. "I didn't want to come either. This is a trip to celebrate my sister's engagement to my father's heir, but Patrick is a twit and a bully at heart, and my sister is miserable." Which made her mother miserable which upset her father even though he still hadn't realized that Mary wasn't happy about it.

Tom looked at her and then at the steward, who was still watching them. In a low voice he said, "I have a nice suit of clothes, I could sneak up to the second class parlor tomorrow night if you could get free. If you want to talk, that is."

Sybil smiled. "It will need to be after dinner, but yes."

0o0o0o0

Matthew's white tie attire, Mary saw quickly as he joined them at the top of the grand stairwell, was brand new, and expensive. It was also well fitted, so with his blond hair and blue eyes, he cut a dashing figure. It was obvious that any number of young women, John Jacob Astor's new young wife included, were eying him. To his credit, he was blushing like an awkward schoolboy, which only made the circling single first class ladies more excited.

Patrick, of course, was amused at first and then off put by Matthew's presence. It was rare, Mary realized, for Patrick to have any competition at a family gathering. Which meant, once the formal introductions were made, that he was going to put Matthew in his place for daring to outshine him. Or at least try to.

"Well, that is certainly not one of my old suits," Patrick said cheerfully as they gathered and made their way to the dining area. "You've certainly stepped up in the world, Matthew, if you can afford a gentleman's tailor." He turned to James and Robert. "I'm sure you remember what a little ragamuffin Cousin Matthew used to look like?"

Matthew's smile didn't change but Mary could see his eyes tighten just a little. "Most of us mature as we get older, Patrick. We've both been out of short pants for some time."

Mary almost snickered, but didn't. Actually laughing would have Patrick in a snit all evening, even if he did deserve Matthew's gentle chiding. Matthew, to give him credit, was trying to deflect Patrick's not so subtle digs at his lesser social status without being blunt to the point of boorishness. "Cousin Matthew, you do seem quite mature. Perhaps you'll do me the honor of escorting me to our table?"

He nodded agreement, and Edith happily latched onto Patrick. More the pity, Mary thought and not for the first time, that Patrick never really seemed to notice that Edith adored him. What intrigued her, as the dinner progressed, was that Patrick was increasingly annoyed that his barbs about Matthew's background didn't seem to be landing anywhere. Matthew made no attempt to conceal or embellish his background as the son of a middle class doctor, or about the fact that he did indeed work as a lawyer. And Patrick didn't understand, Mary realized, that Robert was impressed with the distant cousin and his accomplishments. It was something Patrick was going to need to learn, she considered. Yes, by dint of being middle class and working as a lawyer, Matthew was ranked lower socially, but her father was either defusing or simply ignoring Patrick's more mean spirited digs.

"Do you work in estate law at all, Matthew?" Robert asked during a lull in the conversation. "It seems like every day something is changing."

"I have been building a client base." Matthew sipped his glass of wine. "But I'm sure you must have representation for such things, Lord Grantham."

"Oh, no need to be so formal, Matthew," Robert's tone was jovial. "You are family after all. Please call me Robert. And I do have representation but while he's a good chap, he's also close to retiring. If he had a son following him in the business, I wouldn't consider leaving him, but when he decides to retire, his firm will close. So, if Matthew is a solicitor and familiar with estate law, I'd rather have our business handled by family." He gave Patrick a friendly look. "These are the sort of things you'll need to consider when you're the Earl, Patrick. It's always a good idea to utilize family resources." Patrick rolled his eyes as Robert went on. "I admit, I didn't quite remember the family connection at first but then I recall hearing that you graduated summa cum laud at Oxford. That's excellent. It certainly looks like you've done well. Are you a partner yet?"

Matthew shook his head, his expression amused. "Not for a few years, I'm afraid, but things like taking on this case in New York certainly improves my chances. I've gone from being 'you lad' to 'young Crawley' already so it bodes well. As of late, my mother has been less concerned about my employment and more concerned about my social life." He blushed slightly at the various knowing looks he received. "She admonished me to not hide in the ship library and to have dinner with some lovely young ladies so I am glad to be able to tell her I did follow her advice." Mary was rather impressed. For someone who wasn't raised as a peer, he was doing a good job in complimenting the young women at the table as well as establishing to their father that he knew better than to chase after the man's daughters without permission.

"I'm afraid," Patrick said, his tone more congenial, "that you'll likely find yourself with many invites. It's a large ship, true, but you'll find that ladies of breeding like to sample different wares. You're quite the marvel to them, someone from the lower classes cleaned up and made presentable."

It was insulting, and Mary suspected her father was about to rebuke Patrick but then Matthew simply chuckled. "If all it takes is a good suit, then we should all be danced attendance to, but truth be told, if that's all that impresses the ladies, then I am likely better off hiding in the library."

"Well said," Mary laughed. She caught Patrick's irritation and began to suspect that the one being reduced to school boy status was Patrick, not Matthew. Why not encourage it, she thought. Patrick needed to learn some manners if nothing else. "I admit, I find that dinner has left me feeling a bit in need of some fresh air. Perhaps, as you're escorting me tonight, Cousin Matthew, you would be so kind as to take me to the promenade?"

Matthew rose almost immediately. "Of course, Lady Mary." She wasn't surprised that he was happy to leave. She was beginning to understand some of the issue between him and Patrick. A lot of it, she was certain, was that Matthew was far more intelligent and Patrick knew it. Add in the fact that Matthew was better looking, and she was probably doing Patrick a favor in removing Matthew from the circle of gentlemen. Some of the men at the large table who weren't family had been displeased at how unkind Patrick was being.

Matthew took her by the arm and led her out into the brisk night air. "I must thank you, Lady Mary, for giving me an excuse to depart early." He smiled at her as he led her to a railing to take in the night sky and ocean. "I'm afraid I've never really enjoyed formal occasions."

"I'm surprised," she said easily, "because you were handling yourself quite well against Patrick's not so subtle insults." She chuckled and after a moment, so did he.

"You are correct," he admitted, his grin lighting up his face in a way that she had to admit made him all the more handsome, like a naughty school boy sharing out a bit of fun. "I suppose I shouldn't press him so, it's certainly not hard to pin him to the ground in a fight."

A light went on in her head. "It's funny," Mary grabbed a hold of the railing, "what little I know about you is all from Patrick's stories of little Church, our distant cousin who was a King's Scholar. And most of his stories were… about mean spirited pranks he pulled against other little boys. I don't even know why he called you Church as a nickname, although my guess was that you were in the choir."

Matthew's face took on a more serious caste. "I was a choirboy, but that's not why he calls me Church."

"Then, why does he?" Mary waited until his silence grew annoying. "Oh, come now, how ribald of a story can it be that a mere woman can't hear it?"

"It's not that." He seemed to consider his words carefully. "You've mentioned that you and Patrick are to be married. It's the sort of tale that may not be complimentary."

She waved his objections away with a gloved hand. "Nonsense. Patrick and I will be formally engaged upon our return from America but this is not a love match. I assure you, I am well acquainted with Patrick's flaws."

"And as a highborn woman, a lady, you may even agree with his views," Matthew added. "He calls me Church because when he found out I was a scholarship student, and worse, actual family, he told everyone I was as poor as a church mouse. Poor little Church, as poor as a church mouse, who was so poor he wore second hand uniforms and darned his own socks."

"Were you? So poor?" Her own prejudice was there, she couldn't deny it, but she also recalled Patrick's tendency to exaggerate.

Matthew shrugged and looked out over the water. "We were never rich in the way you and Patrick are rich, but we didn't spend nights at the workhouse either. We had a nice house, there was a maid and a cook while my father was alive. There was never any question that I would have schooling, but my father wanted me to go to Eton the way he did, as a scholar. And then he died in my first year and that made things… more difficult. My mother went back to work as a nurse to make sure the house was maintained and that there would be money for university for me. She worked and struggled for me so when the headmaster suggested saving my mother more than a few pounds by my using Patrick's old school clothes...I accepted it despite knowing how I would be mocked. Because it made things easier for my mother. No, we weren't poor. We didn't live on a lavish estate but I had every necessity and more than a few treats. Even now, Patrick makes it sound like I went home from school and worked in the coal mines." He was clearly trying to not sound angry.

"When did you pin him to the ground?" She smirked at his surprise. "Oh, come on. He's obviously smarting about something. God knows he can't be upset that you outdid him in actual school subjects. Trust me, I remember Cousin James regaling us with how he was arguing constantly with the headmaster over how poorly Patrick did in maths and Latin and well… all subjects really."

Matthew nodded but she sensed she hadn't entirely set him at ease. "I made captain of the cricket team. Patrick expected to get it because he was ahead of me and when he didn't make captain, we fought. And I won, and the teacher in charge of the team made him shake my hand and call me the winner, and apologize." He sniffed. "I won't lie, it felt lovely to blacken his eye and teach him a lesson."

Mary found herself more depressed than amused. "That's not the story he told about the cricket team… but frankly, its not a surprise."

"You're not in love with him." He said it as a fact. It was forward but she decided not to bristle at him. It was rare for anyone to listen to her objections to Patrick, and she suspected the distant cousin was a kindred spirit when it came to Patrick.

"No, I'm not." She eyed Matthew, wondering how much he really understood. "If my father had a son, it would matter less who I married, but he didn't. So, Patrick will inherit the estate and the title and the money and by marrying him, my father's grandson at least will have the title."

"And Patrick is agreeable because you would be a wife that suits his own idea of his status," Matthew muttered. "This isn't medieval times. You can't be dragged to the altar." He hesitated. "If you're worried that refusing would leave you cast out, then consider that you do have family that doesn't approve of forced marriage."

It was sweet, she realized. His concern was genuine, and she wondered if he realized how he was putting his heart out on his sleeve. Best to dash it, she told herself firmly, he's sweet and I'd like to know him better, but I am to marry Patrick and there's little chance this cousin could even pass muster. "It's not that… that blunt. If I had fallen in love with a suitor, then my parents would have been well pleased and Edith would get her wish to be shoved at Patrick. But I didn't fall in love with anyone suitable, and now I am twenty two, and not seventeen and the estate needs to be managed." She sighed and looked out over the railing at the dark waves of water. "I'm probably making more fuss than I should. It's not the worst match I could make. Mama was hinting that I should consider a neighbor gentleman who is my father's age."

"I feel sorry for you." Matthew looked at her and then away. "I don't mean to be forward but… I might be the son of a doctor, as poor as a church mouse, all the things Patrick said, but my parents loved each other dearly and that's the sort of marriage I want for myself." He shook his head. "I couldn't be happy, standing at the altar, if I wasn't certain my bride wanted to be with me."

"Well, I'm sure your bride will be more than willing." Mary let her voice take on a cheery tone. "Patrick is right about one thing. You won't have any trouble meeting young ladies on this ship. I suspect they'll track you down in the library."

He smiled at her. "Really? I've been told quite often that I expect too much intellectual conversation from women."

"Yes, you'd put off the witless little things who will chase you because you're quite dashing to look at, but the cleverer women will like that you expect them to speak with you like an equal." She found herself blushing slightly. "I must admit, I quite like it. But you're also a surprising mix of innocence and charm. Coupled with your excellent work prospects, you should have no difficulty finding a woman to love such a man."

He sighed. "Alas, I suspect that the one woman I've met that I wish I could attract is determined to marry my second cousin as a part of a business deal." He smiled wistfully at her, and for an instant she felt more than just friendly affection. Why does he have to have such pretty eyes on top of everything else, she wondered. Then she forced it back down. He was sweet, and had a school boy crush and he had to be shied off for so many reasons. Even though she was suddenly intensely curious about him.

"See? There's that artless charm again." She made a point of chuckling. "Oh, Matthew, you're sweet to compliment me so, but the truth is that I would be a terrible wife to an up and coming solicitor. And you'd find me a trial, with my attachment to the upper class." She patted his arm reassuringly. "I've worried you with my troubles, and for a lawyer, you're really far too kind. I will marry Patrick, and perhaps I will be like my mother and fall in love with my husband after the fact. And you will find that woman that wants to be there at the alter with you, I am sure of that."

"Perhaps." He did seem to accept her gentle rejection, as she expected. It hadn't escaped her that suitors that ranked lower tended to use their manners more when rejected. He gave her a look, a look of concern. "But let's be friends at least, and get to know each other on this trip. You might find it helpful to have someone to talk to that isn't committed to seeing you marry Patrick, if nothing else."

"Then let's plan our excuses to see each other." She knew it was a bad idea, because she was encouraging his affection when the best plan for both of them was to step on it firmly and kill it, but the idea of seven days of Patrick and his dull views was a horror show. "For starters, you will dine with the family. I probably won't even need to suggest it to Papa, he likes you, and he finds Cousin James a dreadful stuffy bore."

"What does he think of Patrick?" Matthew's eyes lit up with amusement. "I shouldn't ask but…"

"He worries that Patrick views the estate the way a child views a cookie jar, that he can keep reaching in and grab a cookie, and that the cookies will never run out. He continues to hope that Patrick will mature and begin to realize that there's more to being the Earl than throwing parties." She waved away the topic. There was a point where it was just too easy to discuss Patrick's flaws. "Have you read Frankenstein? By Shelley?"

He looked at her quizzically. "Not recently. Have you? That's a bit of a… rough book for a lady."

"I'm quite strong of heart, and I've always wanted to discuss it with a well read man. We shall have some grand discussions, in the library, I think." It would be a welcome relief, and completely innocent. The flaw in the plan, she realized as Matthew smiled at her again, was that she suspected it would be quite easy to enjoy spending time with Matthew. I will just need to be firm, she told herself, and make sure he understands that we can only be friends. That way at least some portion of the dreadful trip will be entertaining.