April 1912

Mary looked up as the door to her room opened, expecting Anna to come in to dress her. She sighed and leaned back against the pillows of her bed.

She was incorrect in her assumption. Instead, it was her father who came in.

He never came in her room; at least, not when she was undressed.

"Papa?" she asked, pushing the covers off and standing up. "Papa, what is it?"

He shook his head, and Mary looked at him more closely. His eyes were teary. Her heart beat in her chest, faster than she thought was humanly possible.

Her voice grew more panicked. "Papa..."

"The Titanic," he finally said.

She drew in a sharp breath. "Yes, the Titanic. That's the ship Patrick is on, isn't it? He's off on some sort of business trip."

"Mary, the Titanic... It sank last night."

"Oh," she replied, unable to think of anything more helpful to say. She sat down on her bed, absorbing the information. "You're telling me..."

Robert rushed to his daughter and took her hands. "There is little chance that Patrick survived."

"So my husband is dead."

He kissed her head gently. "It's not for sure, my darling, but it is certainly looking that way. I'm so sorry..."

Mary, however, did not cry. She stared her father in the eye. "He's dead. He's dead and there's no chance of me inheriting, no chance of me ever marrying again."

"Mary, you should not be thinking about that now."

She raised her voice. "It's only practical, isn't it? No respectable man is ever going to want to marry a woman who cannot give them a heir. Which means I'll be living on the charity of whoever inherits."

"Mary, you'll be well taken care of."

Her glare was full of ice. "How do you know? If you were to drop dead this minute, would you be able to assure a safe future for me?"

Robert stepped back. "Mary, give yourself time to grieve before worrying about all of this."

"I didn't like Patrick. In fact, I think we would have had many miserable years together, especially because I could not give him the one thing he needed. I think he resented me for that."

"It was not your fault that the birth rendered you unable to have more children. Patrick shouldn't have held that against you."

Mary let out a laugh, but it lacked any humor. "My son died minutes after he was born. And then the doctor told me that this dead little boy ruined me beyond repair. No wonder Patrick resented me. No wonder he ran off on a business trip! I don't think he was planning to die, but since he was stuck in a terrible, fruitless marriage, he probably didn't mind too much!"

"Mary! How can you be so heartless?"

She turned away from her father, her hands clenching the sheets. "My son died a month ago, minutes after he was born. My husband died last night. Now I'm alone. And I never had a heart in the first place."

"You must be kidding."

Sybil paced around the room, unable to process the information. She was fuming, and with good reason. And nothing her parents happened to say could calm her.

Robert placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder to still her. "We've found the new heir. He's a respectable young man..."

"He's middle class, though," Violet remarked, from her position on the couch. "A solicitor of all things! The day a solicitor becomes an earl..."

"In any case, despite his less than desirable origins, he has a good reputation, he works hard, and he is the new heir, so we'll have to accept him as part of the family."

Sybil stormed over to where most of her family was sitting. "Accepting someone as part of the family and marrying them are two very different things. You want me to marry a man I've never met. You want me to marry a man you've never met! How can you trust him? How can you simply hear about this man from our lawyer and say that he's the right man for your daughter to marry? And why me, anyway? Why are you engaging me to someone when I'm hardly sixteen?"

"Edith is already engaged, and Mary, well..." Cora said, with a sigh.

From her corner of the couch, Mary shot an icy glare at her mother.

"Ah, and because women are only useful for one purpose?" Sybil ranted. "Is he even agreeing with this? Or are you just going to fling me at him and hope that he takes the bait?"

Cora stood up and patted her daughter's arm. Sybil frowned and pulled away. "His mother agrees with us, that this is the best course of action. Of course, she was hesitant, but when we described our reasons, when we described you, she agreed."

"There's a part of me that's rather tempted to run away right now." Sybil said defiantly. Her statement elicited little more than rolled eyes from the rest of her family.

Mary coughed intentionally. "Sybil, I'm sorry, but that's a terrible idea. We don't want to kill you."

"Just to make my life entirely miserable."

"I had to live through the same thing..."

Mary's hard voice made Sybil shudder. "Exactly. It was horrible, seeing how you and Patrick hardly got along. Especially after the birth... I don't want that."

"Well, I don't want to talk about it, so kindly don't bring it up."

Robert poured himself a drink. "Sybil, you've read too many novels. An aristocratic marriage is not meant to be a love affair."

"You and Mama are in love."

"We were lucky," Cora replied. "And hopefully you'll be lucky too."

Sybil spotted a figure in black on the bench. Her steps quickened. As she suspected, it was Mary. She held a book that she most certainly wasn't reading. She didn't look sad, but she didn't look happy either. There was simply no emotion on Mary's pale face.

"How are you?" Sybil asked, closing the gap between herself and Mary with a few easy steps.

"That's a rather stupid thing to ask," Mary replied bluntly. "My husband is dead."

Sybil pressed her lips together. "But you didn't love him."

"No, I didn't. But he's still dead." Mary put her book down. "And what about you? There's something you want."

"I'm frustrated," Sybil said. "How did you stand it? Being forced to marry a man you don't love... Papa's never even met him, how does he know that Matthew Crawley is a good man?"

Mary sighed, sitting up straighter. "Sybil, our marriages are never going to be for love."

"Edith's is."

"Edith got lucky, although I'm not quite sure why she's in love with a bumbling old man twice her age. I don't know what she sees in Sir Anthony Strallan."

Sybil rolls her eyes. "You're terrible, Mary." But a smile graces her lips. "Speaking of Edith, she's rather frustrated. Apparently Papa wants her to add two more guests to the list for her wedding."

"And why is this such a problem?"

"Because she doesn't know them. Papa wants Matthew and his mother to come to Edith's wedding."

Matthew put the letter down on the desk and rested his face in his hands. "You've agreed to this."

"From what I've heard of Sybil, she sounds perfectly lovely," Isobel defended, from her seat by the window. "And unless you want awkwardness, I'd compel you not to refuse."

"Of course she's described in glowing terms, it's her father writing to you. I don't even want this. Not the earldom, not the house, not any of it. But I'm expected to take it all on and marry their daughter?"

Isobel straightened in her seat. "Look, Matthew. They are entrusting you with enormous responsibility, and they've never even met you."

"They have no choice, it's the law. It might be a stupid law, but it's still the law."

"The least you can do is marry her. That way, they will trust you. They won't try to make your life miserable."

Matthew gazed over the letter. "How old is she?"

Isobel hesitated. "Sixteen..."

"She's sixteen? That doesn't feel quite right."

"I'm sure they'll allow her to have a Season beforehand. Apparently she's very mature for her age."

Matthew stood up and put a hand on the mantle by the fireplace. "It all seems so sudden... And so wrong."

"We're invited to the wedding of one of their other daughters, in September," Isobel mentioned.

"When was this?" He hadn't heard anything about it earlier.

Isobel held up a letter. "It came in the mail this morning, after you left for work. We're invited to the wedding, to meet the family."

"It seems an odd time," Matthew replied thoughtfully, taking the invitation from his mother. "Nobody invites strangers to their wedding."

"To be fair, you're engaged to Sybil."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Not by choice."

September 1912

Sybil smoothed the fabric of her blue bridesmaid's dress and looked in the mirror. "Is it too long, do you think? I didn't realize how much shorter my shoes for the wedding are."

"I think you'll outshine Edith, darling," Mary responded, sitting on Sybil's bed. "Although that isn't hard to do."

Sybil gave her sister a chiding look. "I don't want to outshine Edith, it's her wedding day,"

Mary smirked. "You just want to impress Matthew."

"No, of course I don't! Or at least, that's not my only motive. But I've never met him, and it doesn't matter anyway. We're being forced into a marriage no matter what."

"Can I give you some advice?"

Sybil nodded weakly.

"Don't hate him. I know I'm not one to talk, but I disliked Patrick even before I knew we were engaged. With Matthew, maybe you can have a fresh start. I've never met him, maybe he'll be completely terrible, but Papa did meet with him in London, and he had good things to say. Darling, I just want you to be happy."

"Can I be happy though?" Sybil asked, her tone despondent.

Mary gave her sister a tight smile. "I'd advise you to try."

"I know you were resigned to it, to marrying for duty, but that's not what I want! It's not what I ever wanted! I want love, Mary... I know maybe I'm stupid, and I've read too many novels, but I want much more."

"I understand," Mary said. "I used to think that. Maybe I still do... But nobody wants a wife who can't give them an heir."

Sybil sat on the bed next to her sister and clasped Mary's hands. "Look, you'll find someone. And when you do, you'll know they want you for who you are. Not just... as something to produce heirs for them and simper while hanging on their arm. Because you're so much more than that."

Mary laughed hesitantly. "You're a darling, Sybil. If only I could believe you... Let's go to Edith's room and watch her preen."

The morning coat was incredibly uncomfortable, as was Matthew. He stood in the corner of the library, a glass of champagne in his hand. He knew no one, and as such had no one to talk to.

Sybil spotted him across the room. She didn't know exactly who she was, but she had a feeling, seeing as he was one of the few she did not know at the wedding. He wasn't bad looking, certainly. He was tall, with blond hair and blue eyes that were easily visible even from her vantage point across the room.

She took a few quick steps over to the corner of the library and cleared her throat. "Are you Mr. Crawley?"

"Yes..." he stuttered. "And you are..."

"Sybil," she replied, forcing a smile. "Sybil Crawley. Well, Lady Sybil Crawley, if my father's around." She took a quick glance over her shoulder. "But he's on the other side of the room. So it's just Sybil for now."

He didn't relax. "So, just Sybil, you're the girl I'm supposed to marry?" he asked. He wasn't disdainful, simply reserved.

"I hope I'm not a disappointment," she said, her tone tight. "I was to my governesses. I was appalling at French."

"I never had a knack for languages either," he replied, loosening slightly. "Thankfully I had a good teacher who helped me learn enough to graduate. But don't worry, you're not a disappointment."

Sybil flashed a grin; still forced, but not entirely so. "I'm glad. I'm assuming you're not exactly a fan of this arrangement either?"

"Not particularly. But I didn't get much say in the matter." Matthew sighed. "I'm not angry with you, if that's what you're worried about. You likely had even less say in this than I did."

"I'm afraid I had no say. But my sister was in a forced marriage, and I am to be as well."

Matthew's face grew puzzled. "This was a forced marriage? Your sister looked so happy..."

"Not Edith. She got to choose. But Mary, my oldest sister, she was married to the previous heir."

"So why am I not being forced into marrying her? Not that I have a problem with you' or anything, you're just so... young right now. Is it because she's already been married?"

"No, because..."

"Let me explain."

Sybil glanced over her shoulder and saw Mary walking toward them. "Lady Mary Crawley, I'm assuming you're Matthew?"

He nodded dumbly. His eyes were transfixed on her. "Yes, um.. That would be correct. I was just talking to your sister, wondering how we got into this mess."

"They don't want me to marry you because I can't have children. Five months ago, I went through childbirth, only to have my son dead after minutes and my womb destroyed beyond repair. If you were to marry a barren woman, it would mean no heir, and that would be a problem." Mary glanced away quickly. The bluntness of her speech hurt.

Matthew gave her a sympathetic smile, the only thing he could think of to alleviate the awkwardness. "So you've been cast aside?"

"I suppose I have been. In all honesty, I'm more annoyed about being cast aside for the inheritance of this whole place. It should have been mine, but it has to go to a male."

"The law can be stupid," Matthew said.

Sybil gave him a sideways glance. "You're a lawyer, aren't you?"

"Doesn't mean I always agree with the law," he replied, smirking slightly. "It's nice to meet you, Lady Mary. Your sister here seems quite sweet."

"She's a darling, if you treat her right. If you offend her, be prepared to have your head ripped off," Mary said, her tone casual but indulgent.

"Hey!" Sybil shouted indignantly.

Matthew smiled. "I'm glad, actually. I do hope we can at least be friends, Sybil. It will make life much more bearable."

"I agree," Sybil said. "I'm not a fan of this, but I don't want to hate the man I have to spend the rest of my life with."

It was a truce. It wasn't much, but it was a step, and both felt relief wash off of their chests. Mary observed this, and though she was happy for her sister, she felt a little bit jealous as well. "I think they're dancing already," she said, as the silence grew heavier.

"I suppose I should ask you to dance, shouldn't I?" Matthew asked shyly, holding out a hand to Sybil.

"Maybe you should," Sybil replied, taking the offer.

"Well, that's one daughter married," Robert said, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He, Cora, Sybil, and Mary were gathered in the library late at night, after all the guests had gone. "And what did you think of Matthew, Sybil?"

Sybil looked at her lap. "He was nice enough. I won't live in misery and squalor the rest of my days, and I don't think he'll treat me badly. But I'm still not liking it. I hate not having a choice."

"Welcome to the world of being a woman," Mary muttered.

"If you're going to be cynical, Mary, we don't need to hear it," Cora scolded.

Sybil sighed and leaned her head back against the couch. "Mary is right, though. Why shouldn't women have choices? Why can't they marry for love, or work if they want to, or choose their own path?"

"You've gotten Sybil into suffragist mode again," Robert groaned, shooting a glare at Mary. "Anyway, I've invited Matthew to live here, in the village. I'm thinking Crawley House, it's decent sized and no one lives there right now."

Cora nodded. "I suppose that's alright. But I don't see why he needs to live here right now, Patrick didn't until he married Mary."

"Mary and Patrick knew each other since they were children, but Sybil and Matthew barely know each other, and Matthew knows nothing about the running of the estate," Robert explained. "And besides, wouldn't you rather get to know this young man who is going to marry our daughter?"

Sybil stood up. "Really, I don't have to marry him... I mean, I'm perfectly happy to have a choice." Her voice dripped with sarcasm and Cora gave her a disapproving glance.

"You seemed to like him," Mary remarked.

"I was giving him a chance. I don't want to hate him," Sybil said, with a roll of her eyes. "Look, I don't hate him. But I don't love him the way I think a husband and wife should love each other, and I don't think I ever will."

Robert closed his eyes and leaned against the back of the couch. "You met him once, give it time."

"As long as he stays kind, I won't hate him. But I still would rather choose someone for myself."

Mary stood up and patted her sister's shoulder. "It's better than what I had. Come on, let's go to bed." She did not glance back as they left the room.

Matthew yawned as the train trundled back to Manchester, his eyes drooping. It had been a long day, and he was not really a party person. But it had been interesting, meeting the family that would soon call themselves his own.

"So you liked Sybil?" Isobel asked, prodding his out of his thoughts.

He shrugged. "She was nice enough. We'll get along. But it isn't what I wanted."

"To be fair, I don't think it's what she wants either, but she was still perfectly civil to you and me. She seems sweet."

"If both of us are against it, why force it?" Matthew asked. "It doesn't seem right."

Isobel shrugs. "It's the way most aristocratic marriages are, I think. And since you will be an earl, it seems you will have to be part of that system. I can't say I like it either."

"But you're still making me marry her," Matthew muttered.

"As much as I believe in standing up for your beliefs, I think this is one battle you shouldn't fight. I think it shows that you're amenable to the family, and that you're willing to work with them. They're giving you everything. The least you can do is console them that you're worth it."

Matthew groaned and stared out the window. "What if I'm not? I'm just a lawyer, it's no use thinking I'll be a good earl."

"Well you can certainly try."

So you're probably al wondering why I'm starting a new story if I'm so terrible at updating me other stories... This one is different. I wrote it for Nanowrimo, which, if you're not aware, is a challenge to write a 50,000 word novel in a month. I accomplished that, and this fanfiction is the result! So while it does need a lot of editing, I should be able to update consistently. That aside, this will bea Mary/Matthew and Sybil/Tom story, even if this chapter doesn't look like that. Thank you for reading, and please review!