Downton Abbey 1. Kiss me

'Kiss me,' came that brisk confident tone that Charles so often adopted.

Mary's wide eyes snapped from where Tony and Miss Mable Lane Fox were about to emerge succeeding the pleasant- though be it rather awkward- dinner they'd had.

'What?' her voice was much harsher than she'd meant it to be nonetheless she couldn't do anything to stop it from being so; this new chapter of his proposition had been so unexpected and he hadn't yet allowed her enough time to consider how she felt about it.

'Now,' he said urgently.

But she didn't want to kiss him. She didn't want to kiss anyone under circumstances such as these.

It was too late. He'd pressed his lips stubbornly against hers and she had found herself powerless in his ardent grip. Although Mary didn't doubt that this was all part of Blake's plan to help her ward off Tony, she couldn't deny that the way that Charles held her harboured something much more tender than mere procedure.

From the corner of her almost-shut eye, Mary saw Tony and Mable enter the vicinity and Tony's hat fall from his hands as his gaze lay upon the area that she stood in, lips still glued to Charles.

When the kiss ended, for some reason Charles didn't look at Mary but instead downwards. He knew Tony had seen.

Mary wanted to look at Tony, to perhaps say that it wasn't what it had seemed and that her loyalties currently lay with no one but she was too preoccupied glaring at Charles.

Tony looked ready to punch someone and for a brief moment it appeared as though Charles was going to be the victim. But then his fist, which had been hovering in mid-air, dropped hopelessly and Tony stalked out, shaking his head in disgust.

'Tony, your hat,' muttered Miss Fox feebly, picking up his discarded clothing and following her ex. Before she was out of sight though, she turned gracefully on her heel and fixed Mary and Charles with a disdainful look, 'well done.'

Mary couldn't tell whether she was being sincere or else insulting Charles' achievement though Blake seemed to assume that it was most likely the second of the two.

'Charles,' Mary hissed.

He looked up, sporting an innocent expression so uncharacteristic of his usually twinkling eyes, 'what?'

'You know perfectly well what!' she could hardly get her words out she was so irate that she couldn't help trembling a little. She considered hitting him herself and compensating for Tony's moment of weakness, 'you can't just grab me and kiss me without my consent.'

'Why not? It worked, did it not?'

Mary couldn't believe what she was hearing. She scowled at Charles, 'this is not how I wanted to reject Tony. Chances are now he'll never speak to me again.'

'You wanted to get rid of him.'

'I wanted to let him down gently, not eliminating all intentions of his ever speaking to me again. I want to be friends with him still, or acquaintances at least,' her look of loathing intensified as she uttered the next words, 'but I doubt that's something that you're familiar with.'

'What's that supposed to mean?' Blake didn't sound offended; he sounded curious.

Mary curled her lip and narrowed her eyes, 'you know, I've been out with you time and time again. We've talked, we've even laughed. We've danced through the night. But…' she looked away from him, 'I still don't know you.'

'Course you do,' he dismissed her declaration.

'No I don't,' she sounded more resolute this time, 'I don't know anything about you. I don't know who Charles Blake is. As a matter of fact I think I'm right in saying that I've only ever spoken to the real you is…' her throat tightened unnaturally, 'when we were in the… with the pigs,' she hung her head, 'sorry Charles, I know it's not what you want to hear but you're just not the sort of person it's possible to grow close to. I don't know what you were thinking kissing me.'

For once he didn't speak. No smart return was shot at her. Nothing at all was said, even when they embarked on their journey back to Downton. After all, there was nothing to say.


	2. You're right

'Milady, are you sure everything is alright?' asked a concerned Anna for about the tenth time that evening as Mary stared blankly out of her bedroom window.

Mary had joined and left the dinner table late. She had joined late naturally because she had been out. She had left late because, upon settling herself down, she had come to realise that her she didn't have much of an appetite and left. She had also been on the opposite side of the table to Tony and, what with his unwavering gaze fixed determinedly on her, she had found herself somewhat discomforted.

Blake didn't turn up to dinner at all and Mary wondered whether the evening's events had been cause for him to reconsider his recent behaviour regarding the whole scandal with Tony previously.

'I'm fine,' Mary replied bleakly, taking off her jewellery, 'you can leave now if you want.'

Far from wishing to remain in a room in which such tension and uncertainty was present, Anna hastened to leave but before she was able to do to, a knock sounded on the door.

It's unusual rhythm led Mary to believe that she had a shroud idea of who was knocking therefore she hurriedly blurted out, 'I'll get it,' and raced ahead of Anna, who had begun to advance on the door.

Mary opened the door a little crack and was surprised at what she saw. Through the little gap between wall and door there stood present a burst of colour. Once her eyes had adjusted to the vibrancy of it all, Mary comprehended that this was a bunch of flowers, and a rather huge one at that, as though someone had got carried away whilst picking them.

From one side of it poked out the head of who was carrying them: it was, as Mary had suspected, Blake. His facial expression was most peculiar, as though he was unsure of whether he was supposed to be there and was wondering how on earth the days events had led him to being so.

'Charles,' she replied coolly.

'Hi,' was his reply.

Mary opened the door a little wider. Although she didn't want another encounter with him, like the one she'd had earlier, she was intrigued at this gesture of his and wondered whether he was actually doing this out of genuine remorse.

'I'll just be going, milady,' muttered Anna and she squeezed through the gap made by the door that wasn't consumed by flowers before disappearing into the rooms beyond.

Mary felt that it was Blake's turn to speak, perhaps to even justify this unexpected turn of events but rather annoyingly he didn't say a word.

'Come in,' she took the flowers off him with one hand and opened the door to allow him access, 'be quick. If anyone finds us in here alone, with these,' she held up the flowers indifferently, 'they'll think something's going on between us.'

'We wouldn't want them to think that,' murmured Blake, taking a reluctant step inside.

When Mary had closed the door behind him she made to put the flowers in a vase near the window, 'whatever inspired you to get these.'

Blake shrugged, 'to say sorry… and to say you're right.'

Mary almost dropped the vase.

She turned round, disbelief etched all over her face, 'what?' She had never heard a remark such as this leave Blake's lips; surely he was much too proud, much too arrogant.

'You're right,' he repeated, his face expressionless.

'Well this is new,' she put the vase down and folded her arms, 'what about?'

'Everything,' he sighed as if admitting this brought him no pleasure whatsoever, 'you do know nothing about me.'

Mary looked down, 'I'd like to.'

A ghost of a smile crossed Blake's face but it was gone moments later, 'you free tomorrow morning?'

Mary's eyes narrowed, 'yes…'

'How would you feel about joining me for a walk,' he proposed.

'Where?' she asked, startled at his request.

'Anywhere. You can get to know,' the corners of his mouth twitched, 'the real me.'

'You sure I won't regret doing that?'

Charles bit his lip before confessing, 'you probably will, but at least you won't be able to pull that face you always pull whenever you're irritated at me as often.'

'What face?' demanded Mary indignantly.

'There it is,' grinned Blake, amused at the creased brow and wide-eyed stare he was being confronted with, 'so, what do you say? Tomorrow, me and you, no plans, no jokes, no ulterior motive.'

Mary exhaled and thought about it though upon further study she found that there wasn't really much to think about.

'I will regret it but, alright. Tomorrow morning then.'

'Tomorrow morning.'

Charles left. Mary waited until he was out of eyesight to smile.


End file.

Downton Abbey, Hurt-Comfort, Romance