Lady Madeline Crawley lived to follow the rules made by society...
That was... until 1913...
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{ Tom Branson x OC }
{Brief Platonic OC x OC }
{ Downton Abbey seasons 1- film }
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The year 1912 was cast with dread. First with the sinking of the Titanic, then with the arrival of the new heir. In the background there was still the constant tug of war over Mary's inheritance and position, and all Madeline Crawley could do was sit with tightly screwed eyes as she anticipated the blow up of their world.
But until then she would go about life just the same. Her debut season had gone off exceptionally well last summer, according to her parents, and though no gentleman had seemed ready to propose, her nineteenth birthday was still a few months away.
The sun attacked the tall glass windows that stretched the span of the library. Madeline so close to the glass the heat bloomed over her back. In her hands was her embroidery. Flowers of all types growing by thread and her very fingers.
Yes, another season was coming, and with it came her prospects, but she could not help but dread the inevitable. All her life people spoke of her like cattle. Which guy would she trap in marriage? What titles would she inherit? What connections would she build for her family?
No one wished to discuss literature with her, or commend her for her talent with a needle and thread. Compliments were always directed towards her looks, or how lucky some man would be someday.
Her needle stabbed the fabric as her teeth grit. She was sewing blindly at this point, if her gaze was not centered on the abyss that was Downton Abbey's library, then it kept lingering to the letter that sat beside her.
To Madeline Crawley, it read in fancy scrawl, but it wasn't that that spasmed the fibers in her nerves. It was the name under hers.
The Baron of Penwood
She knew no Baron of Penwood, but it was probable he was some boring suitor she had encountered during her season. Perhaps they had shared greetings or even a dance, but nothing memorable, and like all the other letters she had received over the last year she was somehow going to misplace it...
"It's not of my doing. It's all Mary's own work." Madeline yelped as her mother's voice travelled around the corner. In a flurry of trembling movements she managed to shove the letter down her dress, if her mother saw it she would insist upon inviting him over. Which would lead to courting, and upon that starting she would be allowed no escape.
Her hands resumed their work just as her parents and grandmother entered the library. "Branksome's a dull dog, though I don't suppose that matters," her father reasoned, not minding to look in her direction. The conversation went on her parents going back and forth until her mother's gaze surveyed the room
"Oh, Maddie," Cora crossed the room to kiss her daughter's forehead, "How are you darling?"
"Alright I suppose." she swerved to the room's other two occupants, "Hello Papa, Granny."
