Chance encounters
Title: Chance encounters
Author: vladnyrkii
Fandom: Downton Abbey
Characters & Pairings: Mary Crawley/Richard Carlisle
"This happiness should have been hers" The dissolution of their engagement allowed Mary to live her dreams at last whereas Richard left Downton defeated. Eighteen months later, he enjoys everything life has to offer to a single millionaire whereas she struggles against financial difficulties and a shaky marriage. A collection of snapshots about their chance encounters.
After the Bates' appeal debacle, Mary decides to follow Violet's advice and travel out of England for a while in order to set things right in her marriage while Richard followed his father's advice not to wait to proceed with his planned trip to New York.
A big thank you to my wonderful betamrstater!!
2
Two hours.
Two hours since Richard Carlisle had become her lover.
Was it because of all the heartache that had preceded Mary's impulse on her first night on the Syracuse? Was it because she knew that this thing - whatever it was - could not, should not last so she was intent to live every second of it fully? Was it because of the man who was not her husband currently trying to locate his cigarettes in the mess of clothes on the floor of her cabin? Whatever the reason was, Mary felt happier than she had been in a very long time. In fact, she was positively giddy, and could not stop a mischievous, satisfied grin from forming on her lips.
It felt good.
Only clad in a towel secured around his waist, Richard was rummaging through his coat pockets before searching in his trousers while she stretched lazily on the bed they had only left to share a warm bath an hour or so earlier. It had been his idea and, if she had felt jealous of his obvious experience with women before, she was grateful now for his attentions and ability to overcome the unavoidable awkwardness that had begun to creep between them as soon as they had managed to catch their breath, lying on the bed, covered in sweat.
Taking a lover given the state of her marriage was not that uncommon in her world.
Taking a lover before having given birth to a living heir was more uncommon.
Taking your former fiancé - the man against whom you had sought protection in your current husband's affections - as your lover was very awkward, and some might say a recipe for disaster.
However, as she observed Richard exclaiming in triumph when he finally found his cigarette case and his matches, she just could not imagine herself being elsewhere at the moment, especially when he joined her under the covers, his towel forgotten somewhere on the way.
"Do you mind?" he leaned back against the pillows and asked with unexpected shyness that left Mary a bit puzzled. Considering their latest activities, his naked presence in her bed was not something she minded at all, even if she should.
"Not at all…"
Mary was about to tease him about his sudden excess of manners, planning to snuggle against his warm frame - no wonder he was never cold, the man seemed to have his own central heating system - when she realized he took his presence here for granted too, and was in fact about to make himself even more at home.
"Wait, you don't intend to smoke here?" she exclaimed, slightly alarmed. The smell of tobacco on his clothes was one thing, the taste on his tongue yet another, but smoking around her bed was an idea she had a very hard time to wrap her mind around.
"You just said you didn't mind," he replied plaintively, his unlit cigarette between his teeth, his box of matches in hand.
"I didn't realize you meant here, in my stateroom. In my bed."
Smoking was simply not an activity suitable for a bedroom. Outside, yes, in an office, of course, after dinner, naturally - Mary had to admit she used to enjoy the fainting smell of smoke on Matthew's hair before, and she definitely did not dislike it on Richard - but in the bedroom, it was totally unimaginable.
"Can I corrupt you?" came his daring answer, the offending item still clenched between his teeth. Of course, Richard Carlisle would try to bargain his way out of this.
With his wet hair brushed back, the shadow of a beard on his chin and the way he held his cigarette, Richard looked perfectly unsuitable. And even, in a way... adorable. The same sight which would have sent her running three years before awakened a new surge of desire in her lower belly now.
"Don't you think you corrupted me enough tonight?" she replied as she crept closer, resting her hand on his thigh.
"Says the woman who literally jumped on me…"
His attention was back on her, entirely.
"I did not."
Her hand progressed further to caress his renewed arousal, eliciting a satisfied groan from him. Mary looked up mischievously to discover his head tilted back, his closed eye, his cigarette dangling between his lips, ready to fall down.
Her diversion tactics were a complete success.
Silently, she sat up to retrieve the still unlit object from his lips, discarded it on the floor and proceeded to replace it with her own tongue.
Richard did not protest, at all.
Emboldened by his reaction, she straddled him, grinding their hips together. After the Pamuk debacle, Mary had thought that the only thing that a woman could do was accept a man's caresses, and pray he would not collapse on top of her. Married life had helped her to discover a whole new world in which a woman was her husband's equal. It was very reassuring to notice that Richard was willing to play the same game, if the gaze he fixed on her was any indication.
His hands were not idle, rising to cup a breast, tease a nipple, settling on her waist to increase her rhythm, slipping between their bodies…
Like their first time, it was awkward, their rhythm was erratic at best - they did not know each other in that way, yet - but it did not stop Mary from biting her lips when she lowered herself onto him, enjoying how he remained motionless to give her time to adjust, taking delight in the way he filled her completely, physically, and emotionally. Very soon, heavy breathes filled her cabin, accompanied by muted moans and murmurs of each other's name.
Yet, like their first time, Richard pressed her hip insistently to stop her movements.
"Mary…"
She groaned in frustration. Why didn't he let them finish?
"I'm sorry," he panted. "But we can't afford…" His regretful smile told the rest of the story, and Mary had to fight a second of panic. She had been so lost in the moment that she had forgotten the world outside her cabin. Fortunately for her, Richard had remembered.
With a sigh, she collapsed on the mattress, unsatisfied, on the verge of tears. Richard was her lover, not her husband; they had to be prudent, of course. The unwelcome, harsh reality had invited itself in their bubble.
"C'mere, sweetheart."
Obviously, Richard was still in the mood - another sign of his long experience, surely - and proceeded to kiss his way down her body, effectively rekindling her passion. His tongue teased her nipples before he went lower to her navel, making her squirm and tense under his touch. Then he went even lower, indicating her to spread her legs a little, kissing the inside of her thigh, until…
"Richard?"
A pair of amused eyes looked up at her. "What? Never done this before?" Instead of talking her into whatever plan he had devised, he kissed her between the legs, caressing her with his tongue with no warning.
Mary had to close her eyes and stifle a moan. When she opened her eyes again, she saw that the aroused expression on his face revealed he enjoyed himself as much as she relished his ministrations. Noticing his raised eyebrow in a silent question, she nodded her approval. Seemingly content with her answer, he came back to his task once more, with unmistakable enthusiasm, using his tongue and fingers, bringing her to her release.
Mary was still catching her breath when Richard began to try and attract her attention back to him with insistent kisses on her shoulder, in her neck, on her jaw, gently grabbing her hip, getting closer and closer, silently reminding her of the fact he was not finished yet. Feeling his arousal against her thigh and the instinctive movement of his hips, she decided she definitely had to work on her skills as an illicit lover. She let her hand wander down his lean and muscular body and wrap itself around his arousal, eliciting a relieved sigh from him. Richard rolled on his back, taking Mary with him, kissing her, combing her hair with his fingers as she caressed him until he let out a deep groan, and spilled himself.
"Mary…"
The expression on his face at this moment was breathtaking, and Mary did not want to leave the cocoon they had just made for themselves anytime soon.
They were in trouble, both of them.
-/-
"Stop looking at me like that."
For the last ten minutes, they had been lying on their sides, idly caressing each other, unable to put an end to the physical connection.
"Like what?" Richard murmured, lost in the contemplation of the contrast of her messy short hair with the white pillow.
Something had happened this time, he could feel it, and Mary knew it too. If not, she would not try to escape from his adoring observation. Richard would be lying if he said it had been the best experience in his life on a physical point of view. Married life had taught Mary a lot, but she lacked the audacity to which he was more accustomed. In return, he had been clumsier than usual, feeling like some youngster at times. However, saying that the experience had left him breathless emotionally would be a blatant euphemism. Never before had he felt such a connection to anyone.
"Like that, as if you…" Her lower lip was trembling slightly.
He stopped her ramblings with a kiss. No need to go this sad place yet.
"I'm tough, I can handle it…" he lied. As if he had been able to handle the heartache the first time!
Her raised and disapproving eyebrow showed Mary was not convinced either. Nonetheless, she continued playing with his mussed hair.
"I don't feel deserving of any adoration, right now," came the sad confession. She did not dare meet his eyes.
"Why?" What was he thinking? Of course, she would feel regret! All of this was nothing but an ephemeral dream.
"I feel like I'm playing with you once more, and I'm not very proud of it," she admitted with a trembling voice, blinking her tears away.
That was unexpected. Or not, if you considered their last conversation at Downton, their first honest talk in months, in years even.
"It's different," he simply said, not really sure why the situation was different, but certain it was for reasons he could not explain for now.
He leaned to claim her lips in a gentle kiss, willing her to stop blaming herself.
"You've been unhappy, you needed a change, and I was the lucky passerby." As if it was that simple. "This," he gestured between them, "has nothing to do with our past." This was true. Richard had been in love with the girl who was his fiancé, deeply so, to the point of idiocy like his father said, but now, he was on the verge of falling hard for the woman in front of him. Two years of happiness and difficulties and heartbreak and hope had transformed her into an admirable woman. That was the first difference, yet he could not say it out loud.
"For one," he skipped directly to the second reason that sprung in his clearer and clearer mind. It was as if the heavy fog that had invaded his brain for the last weeks lifted at last. "You're married, meaning that there can't be any string attached between us, no pressure. You can step back anytime you want, and I'll respect your wish. It's different."
"Like you respected Eliza's decision?" She sounded curious now, curious and a bit unsettled. Obviously, she had not got used to such direct and open conversations in her marriage to Crawley.
"Exactly." The memory of the way the artist had put an end to their relationship still stung a little to be honest. "I promise." That much he owed to Mary, given how he had behaved during the farce that their engagement had been.
She reached for his unhurt hand, lifting it to her lips, still unable to look at him.
"The thing is… I know I should be ashamed, but I can't, I…" she stopped in the middle of her sentence, kissing his fingers again.
How could he answer this? He had abandoned the traditional constraints of moral long ago, and lived in a world more used to playing with these codes than respecting them. It was not only her marriage vows Mary had broken tonight but the edifice of moral values ingrained in her mind since her childhood. Even in the middle of the Atlantic, the weight of her family's expectations was present. The discovery that some selfishness was sometimes vital, and commendable, was far too recent for her… Mary had to learn and focus on her needs, only hers, and not her family's if she wanted walk out this whole ordeal healed and stronger. She had to stop listening to what others said or thinking about what they would say. Richard had learnt this lesson a long time ago, when his mother passed away: licking one's wounds was a lonely process, and one had to help oneself before even thinking about the others. Believing that self-sacrifice was a way to heal only lead to regrets - like his own father had confessed the night after Richard's trip to York - or even disaster. If thinking this way made a selfish man out of Richard, so selfish he was.
"Mary, deep down, how do you feel?"
She looked up, surprised, clearly not expecting this turn in their conversation, then closed her eyes, pondering her answer.
"Good, incredibly good," she admitted at last with a shy smile that made him catch his breath. "But…"
"No buts… I may be a little biased here, but how you feel is what must count. If you want me to leave, I'll go; if you want me to stay, I won't move a limb." Richard felt like a poker player with a pair of eights. "If you decide it's only for tonight, so be it, but…" he did not dare go further, for he feared to betray himself. Tonight, he had obtained everything he had wished for, all the answers that had gnawed at him since Christmas 1919. He had not been mistaken; they would have really had a chance, in the right context. Of course, he wanted more - he would be a fool not to - but finally knowing that he had not wasted his time and affections for a mirage, the fruit of his confused mind, was almost more than he could ask for.
Tonight could give him closure at last, or it could offer a second he would never have dared to wish for. Whatever it was, he would wake up a happier man in the morning.
"I shouldn't, but I don't want this to end," Mary mimicked his gesture. "It's irresponsible, selfish, but it feels right to me."
"It doesn't have to end immediately, you know," Richard suggested hopefully. They seemed to want to same thing. "We still have ten days or so until we reach New York. We can decide then."
She crept closer to him, her free arm snaking around his torso, her hand drawing invisible patterns along his spine.
"I just want you to hold me. Even if it's so wrong…" she went on, snuggling against his chest, silently inviting him to hold her to sleep.
"This I can do," Richard answered as he took her in his arms, trying to make light of a situation that was threatening to overwhelm him quickly. Unable to close his eyes, he contented himself to caress her hair as he listened to her falling asleep snuggled up against him.
They were in trouble, both of them.
Author: vladnyrkii
Fandom: Downton Abbey
Characters & Pairings: Mary Crawley/Richard Carlisle
"This happiness should have been hers" The dissolution of their engagement allowed Mary to live her dreams at last whereas Richard left Downton defeated. Eighteen months later, he enjoys everything life has to offer to a single millionaire whereas she struggles against financial difficulties and a shaky marriage. A collection of snapshots about their chance encounters.
After the Bates' appeal debacle, Mary decides to follow Violet's advice and travel out of England for a while in order to set things right in her marriage while Richard followed his father's advice not to wait to proceed with his planned trip to New York.
A big thank you to my wonderful betamrstater!!
2
Two hours.
Two hours since Richard Carlisle had become her lover.
Was it because of all the heartache that had preceded Mary's impulse on her first night on the Syracuse? Was it because she knew that this thing - whatever it was - could not, should not last so she was intent to live every second of it fully? Was it because of the man who was not her husband currently trying to locate his cigarettes in the mess of clothes on the floor of her cabin? Whatever the reason was, Mary felt happier than she had been in a very long time. In fact, she was positively giddy, and could not stop a mischievous, satisfied grin from forming on her lips.
It felt good.
Only clad in a towel secured around his waist, Richard was rummaging through his coat pockets before searching in his trousers while she stretched lazily on the bed they had only left to share a warm bath an hour or so earlier. It had been his idea and, if she had felt jealous of his obvious experience with women before, she was grateful now for his attentions and ability to overcome the unavoidable awkwardness that had begun to creep between them as soon as they had managed to catch their breath, lying on the bed, covered in sweat.
Taking a lover given the state of her marriage was not that uncommon in her world.
Taking a lover before having given birth to a living heir was more uncommon.
Taking your former fiancé - the man against whom you had sought protection in your current husband's affections - as your lover was very awkward, and some might say a recipe for disaster.
However, as she observed Richard exclaiming in triumph when he finally found his cigarette case and his matches, she just could not imagine herself being elsewhere at the moment, especially when he joined her under the covers, his towel forgotten somewhere on the way.
"Do you mind?" he leaned back against the pillows and asked with unexpected shyness that left Mary a bit puzzled. Considering their latest activities, his naked presence in her bed was not something she minded at all, even if she should.
"Not at all…"
Mary was about to tease him about his sudden excess of manners, planning to snuggle against his warm frame - no wonder he was never cold, the man seemed to have his own central heating system - when she realized he took his presence here for granted too, and was in fact about to make himself even more at home.
"Wait, you don't intend to smoke here?" she exclaimed, slightly alarmed. The smell of tobacco on his clothes was one thing, the taste on his tongue yet another, but smoking around her bed was an idea she had a very hard time to wrap her mind around.
"You just said you didn't mind," he replied plaintively, his unlit cigarette between his teeth, his box of matches in hand.
"I didn't realize you meant here, in my stateroom. In my bed."
Smoking was simply not an activity suitable for a bedroom. Outside, yes, in an office, of course, after dinner, naturally - Mary had to admit she used to enjoy the fainting smell of smoke on Matthew's hair before, and she definitely did not dislike it on Richard - but in the bedroom, it was totally unimaginable.
"Can I corrupt you?" came his daring answer, the offending item still clenched between his teeth. Of course, Richard Carlisle would try to bargain his way out of this.
With his wet hair brushed back, the shadow of a beard on his chin and the way he held his cigarette, Richard looked perfectly unsuitable. And even, in a way... adorable. The same sight which would have sent her running three years before awakened a new surge of desire in her lower belly now.
"Don't you think you corrupted me enough tonight?" she replied as she crept closer, resting her hand on his thigh.
"Says the woman who literally jumped on me…"
His attention was back on her, entirely.
"I did not."
Her hand progressed further to caress his renewed arousal, eliciting a satisfied groan from him. Mary looked up mischievously to discover his head tilted back, his closed eye, his cigarette dangling between his lips, ready to fall down.
Her diversion tactics were a complete success.
Silently, she sat up to retrieve the still unlit object from his lips, discarded it on the floor and proceeded to replace it with her own tongue.
Richard did not protest, at all.
Emboldened by his reaction, she straddled him, grinding their hips together. After the Pamuk debacle, Mary had thought that the only thing that a woman could do was accept a man's caresses, and pray he would not collapse on top of her. Married life had helped her to discover a whole new world in which a woman was her husband's equal. It was very reassuring to notice that Richard was willing to play the same game, if the gaze he fixed on her was any indication.
His hands were not idle, rising to cup a breast, tease a nipple, settling on her waist to increase her rhythm, slipping between their bodies…
Like their first time, it was awkward, their rhythm was erratic at best - they did not know each other in that way, yet - but it did not stop Mary from biting her lips when she lowered herself onto him, enjoying how he remained motionless to give her time to adjust, taking delight in the way he filled her completely, physically, and emotionally. Very soon, heavy breathes filled her cabin, accompanied by muted moans and murmurs of each other's name.
Yet, like their first time, Richard pressed her hip insistently to stop her movements.
"Mary…"
She groaned in frustration. Why didn't he let them finish?
"I'm sorry," he panted. "But we can't afford…" His regretful smile told the rest of the story, and Mary had to fight a second of panic. She had been so lost in the moment that she had forgotten the world outside her cabin. Fortunately for her, Richard had remembered.
With a sigh, she collapsed on the mattress, unsatisfied, on the verge of tears. Richard was her lover, not her husband; they had to be prudent, of course. The unwelcome, harsh reality had invited itself in their bubble.
"C'mere, sweetheart."
Obviously, Richard was still in the mood - another sign of his long experience, surely - and proceeded to kiss his way down her body, effectively rekindling her passion. His tongue teased her nipples before he went lower to her navel, making her squirm and tense under his touch. Then he went even lower, indicating her to spread her legs a little, kissing the inside of her thigh, until…
"Richard?"
A pair of amused eyes looked up at her. "What? Never done this before?" Instead of talking her into whatever plan he had devised, he kissed her between the legs, caressing her with his tongue with no warning.
Mary had to close her eyes and stifle a moan. When she opened her eyes again, she saw that the aroused expression on his face revealed he enjoyed himself as much as she relished his ministrations. Noticing his raised eyebrow in a silent question, she nodded her approval. Seemingly content with her answer, he came back to his task once more, with unmistakable enthusiasm, using his tongue and fingers, bringing her to her release.
Mary was still catching her breath when Richard began to try and attract her attention back to him with insistent kisses on her shoulder, in her neck, on her jaw, gently grabbing her hip, getting closer and closer, silently reminding her of the fact he was not finished yet. Feeling his arousal against her thigh and the instinctive movement of his hips, she decided she definitely had to work on her skills as an illicit lover. She let her hand wander down his lean and muscular body and wrap itself around his arousal, eliciting a relieved sigh from him. Richard rolled on his back, taking Mary with him, kissing her, combing her hair with his fingers as she caressed him until he let out a deep groan, and spilled himself.
"Mary…"
The expression on his face at this moment was breathtaking, and Mary did not want to leave the cocoon they had just made for themselves anytime soon.
They were in trouble, both of them.
-/-
"Stop looking at me like that."
For the last ten minutes, they had been lying on their sides, idly caressing each other, unable to put an end to the physical connection.
"Like what?" Richard murmured, lost in the contemplation of the contrast of her messy short hair with the white pillow.
Something had happened this time, he could feel it, and Mary knew it too. If not, she would not try to escape from his adoring observation. Richard would be lying if he said it had been the best experience in his life on a physical point of view. Married life had taught Mary a lot, but she lacked the audacity to which he was more accustomed. In return, he had been clumsier than usual, feeling like some youngster at times. However, saying that the experience had left him breathless emotionally would be a blatant euphemism. Never before had he felt such a connection to anyone.
"Like that, as if you…" Her lower lip was trembling slightly.
He stopped her ramblings with a kiss. No need to go this sad place yet.
"I'm tough, I can handle it…" he lied. As if he had been able to handle the heartache the first time!
Her raised and disapproving eyebrow showed Mary was not convinced either. Nonetheless, she continued playing with his mussed hair.
"I don't feel deserving of any adoration, right now," came the sad confession. She did not dare meet his eyes.
"Why?" What was he thinking? Of course, she would feel regret! All of this was nothing but an ephemeral dream.
"I feel like I'm playing with you once more, and I'm not very proud of it," she admitted with a trembling voice, blinking her tears away.
That was unexpected. Or not, if you considered their last conversation at Downton, their first honest talk in months, in years even.
"It's different," he simply said, not really sure why the situation was different, but certain it was for reasons he could not explain for now.
He leaned to claim her lips in a gentle kiss, willing her to stop blaming herself.
"You've been unhappy, you needed a change, and I was the lucky passerby." As if it was that simple. "This," he gestured between them, "has nothing to do with our past." This was true. Richard had been in love with the girl who was his fiancé, deeply so, to the point of idiocy like his father said, but now, he was on the verge of falling hard for the woman in front of him. Two years of happiness and difficulties and heartbreak and hope had transformed her into an admirable woman. That was the first difference, yet he could not say it out loud.
"For one," he skipped directly to the second reason that sprung in his clearer and clearer mind. It was as if the heavy fog that had invaded his brain for the last weeks lifted at last. "You're married, meaning that there can't be any string attached between us, no pressure. You can step back anytime you want, and I'll respect your wish. It's different."
"Like you respected Eliza's decision?" She sounded curious now, curious and a bit unsettled. Obviously, she had not got used to such direct and open conversations in her marriage to Crawley.
"Exactly." The memory of the way the artist had put an end to their relationship still stung a little to be honest. "I promise." That much he owed to Mary, given how he had behaved during the farce that their engagement had been.
She reached for his unhurt hand, lifting it to her lips, still unable to look at him.
"The thing is… I know I should be ashamed, but I can't, I…" she stopped in the middle of her sentence, kissing his fingers again.
How could he answer this? He had abandoned the traditional constraints of moral long ago, and lived in a world more used to playing with these codes than respecting them. It was not only her marriage vows Mary had broken tonight but the edifice of moral values ingrained in her mind since her childhood. Even in the middle of the Atlantic, the weight of her family's expectations was present. The discovery that some selfishness was sometimes vital, and commendable, was far too recent for her… Mary had to learn and focus on her needs, only hers, and not her family's if she wanted walk out this whole ordeal healed and stronger. She had to stop listening to what others said or thinking about what they would say. Richard had learnt this lesson a long time ago, when his mother passed away: licking one's wounds was a lonely process, and one had to help oneself before even thinking about the others. Believing that self-sacrifice was a way to heal only lead to regrets - like his own father had confessed the night after Richard's trip to York - or even disaster. If thinking this way made a selfish man out of Richard, so selfish he was.
"Mary, deep down, how do you feel?"
She looked up, surprised, clearly not expecting this turn in their conversation, then closed her eyes, pondering her answer.
"Good, incredibly good," she admitted at last with a shy smile that made him catch his breath. "But…"
"No buts… I may be a little biased here, but how you feel is what must count. If you want me to leave, I'll go; if you want me to stay, I won't move a limb." Richard felt like a poker player with a pair of eights. "If you decide it's only for tonight, so be it, but…" he did not dare go further, for he feared to betray himself. Tonight, he had obtained everything he had wished for, all the answers that had gnawed at him since Christmas 1919. He had not been mistaken; they would have really had a chance, in the right context. Of course, he wanted more - he would be a fool not to - but finally knowing that he had not wasted his time and affections for a mirage, the fruit of his confused mind, was almost more than he could ask for.
Tonight could give him closure at last, or it could offer a second he would never have dared to wish for. Whatever it was, he would wake up a happier man in the morning.
"I shouldn't, but I don't want this to end," Mary mimicked his gesture. "It's irresponsible, selfish, but it feels right to me."
"It doesn't have to end immediately, you know," Richard suggested hopefully. They seemed to want to same thing. "We still have ten days or so until we reach New York. We can decide then."
She crept closer to him, her free arm snaking around his torso, her hand drawing invisible patterns along his spine.
"I just want you to hold me. Even if it's so wrong…" she went on, snuggling against his chest, silently inviting him to hold her to sleep.
"This I can do," Richard answered as he took her in his arms, trying to make light of a situation that was threatening to overwhelm him quickly. Unable to close his eyes, he contented himself to caress her hair as he listened to her falling asleep snuggled up against him.
They were in trouble, both of them.