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oom: I can't give up actin' tough; it's all that I'm made of / Can't scrape together quite enough to ride the bus to the outskirts of the fact that I need love

The Easter respite at Downton has passed quickly, and it's time again for Lord Grantham's family to return to London.

Mary's had a chance to talk to Anna about which outfits she'll need in London, and now that that's settled and Anna is at work packing her trunks, there's really nothing left for Mary to do. Her riding gear is already packed, so that's out of the question, and she's too restless for reading.

Lucky, then, that the library door opens into Milliways instead. After six months away, it's a welcome site, if only for the change in routine. She orders a pot of tea—it's too early for anything stronger, for her at least—and settles in.

[ooc: Open all weekend! Expect slows, as mun will be cleaning her house all weekend as well.]

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"Good evening, Lady Mary."

Thayet, resplendent in full court dress, a green gown draping her body and a small, sparkly crown upon her head, pauses with a swish of elegant skirts beside Mary and her pot of tea. The smile that has been plastered upon Thayet's face eases into true pleasure, a measure of contentment after several strained hours of diplomacy.

"I'm pleased you found your way back." One never knows if others will. "How have you been?"

Thayet may have introduced herself all those months ago by just her Christian name, but even then Mary knew she was a woman of breeding. The style of her dress may be unfamiliar, but her outfit and bearing can only be described as regal.

It's not so much that she's been presented at court as the court is presented to her.

"Good evening, Your Majesty," says Mary, rising from her place at the table.

"It's an honor to see you again." And a genuine pleasure. "I am well, thank you, ma'am."

A true English reply.

And a lovely one, except...

"Thayet," she reminds Mary, tone kind but firm and patiently long-suffering. "Just Thayet, if you please."

Her eyes say ignore the crown, won't you?

"You've caught me out." She smiles, acknowledging that she really should have revealed her title before now. Hopefully Lady Mary won't mind.

It goes against all Mary's training, but if Her Majesty wishes it, then it must be so.

"As you wish, ma... Thayet. And you must call me simply Mary."

It would be rude to insist otherwise.

"I didn't realize you were incognito."

Her tone suggests that the queen might have chosen a more subtle ensemble in that case.

"Mary," she nods, smiling. "No, not today. This was unavoidable."

Her gaze shifts ever so slightly upward. Guiltily? Never.

"Or rather the steward awaiting me outside our chambers was unavoidable, preventing a change into something more... comfortable."

Her Majesty the Queen of Tortall looks rather sheepish for a moment.

"I prefer to avoid drawing attention to my status here. It's not a secret by any means," she's proud to be who she is, "but being just plain Thayet is a nice change."

Thayet's comment about comfort brings back a sudden memory of Sybil's request for a looser corset. Edith, being Edith, was horrible about it and accused Sybil of getting fat, but Mary silently agreed with her youngest sister. Fashion might dictate discomfort, but that didn't mean she must enjoy it.

It hadn't occurred to her that Milliways could be a retreat from that sort of obligation.

"Won't you join me for tea?" she asks. "You can tell me all about whatever event you are escaping from."

Because surely a gown like that is not everyday wear, even for a queen.

Now that it has, hopefully she will take advantage. The Horse Lords know Thayet has appreciated the opportunity to be a bit more informal.

"Certainly," Thayet answers, smiling pleasantly as she takes a seat. She settles her skirts around her before adding, "Not the event so much as the company," and looking around for a wait rat. "Though that admission flies in the face of diplomacy."

Diplomacy. It's not one of Mary's favorite things, not with her last real interaction with a foreign diplomat.

She probably doesn't hide the brief grimace she makes at the mention.

"It's one of the unpleasant requirement of society, isn't it? Always pretending to tolerate intolerable people."

It's easier to like people here at Milliways, but also easier to avoid the people she doesn't like.

The grimace is appreciated.

"Oh, yes." Thayet smiles. "I am simply blessed with a surfeit of intolerable people."

Beat.

"And also with a husband who recognizes the inherent hypocrisy in the system."

That part is serious.

"How fares Downton Abbey and all within its walls?"

"That's very lucky that your husband is so understanding."

Mary does not expect to be so blessed, but she will insist that her husband respect her, at least.

"All are well, but... it has been a difficult year."

"We are a most unusual royal couple," Thayet says with evident amusement. "So I am told on a daily basis."

It doesn't seem to faze her.

"Matters of inheritance?" she inquires, concerned and hoping it's nothing worse.

There are worse things, after all.

"Matters of inheritance, yes. It seems that in that regard, my future is settled."

And not in her favor. Cousin Matthew shall have it all.

"In other respects, life is as unsettled as ever."

Edited 2013-03-17 20:13 (UTC)

"What other respects?" Thayet inquires conversationally. Additional tea has arrived; she uses it to occupy her hands and eyes, so that Mary doesn't feel as pressured as she might pinned under her gaze.

"Principally, my lack of husband."

If she doesn't have an inheritance, she needs a husband instead.

"Ah."

Thayet sips her tea, looking serene.

Wry, "You mean you haven't managed to produce one yet?"

"Not for lack of effort, I assure you, on my part or my family's."

Mary pauses, unsure exactly how to proceed with the more serious turn this discussion (confession?) could take.

"There was a man—the Honorable Evelyn Napier—who I thought might offer. I made... mistakes, and he rightly moved on."

"Oh?" Thayet asks, elegantly shaped eyebrows arching. "If he is so easily dissuaded, clearly he was not the right man for you."

She can't imagine any mistakes Mary made would be so very serious.

"Did you care for him?"

"He is the grandson of the Earl of Oxford. He is kind and well liked by all of society. We might have been happy together."

Thayet is undoubtedly smart enough to notice that Mary did not actually answer her question.

"He should have been the right man for me, yet I proved I could not be the right woman for him."

And I shall regret my actions every day for the rest of my life.

Thayet does indeed pick up on Mary's lack of an answer. She is well-versed in the art of deflection.

"Might have been, should have been." She pretends to hesitate, tapping a finger against her lip. "I believe your answer then, Lady Mary, is no."

"In marriage I need a partner, not a lover."

Her tone is matter of fact, almost abrupt. If she's mad at anyone, though, it is herself, not Thayet.

"Believing anything to the contrary was my problem."

Ah.

Thayet struggles to keep her expression neutral. She feels badly for Mary but doesn't want her to feel pitied. On the other hand, she also knows that dwelling on these problems will do her little good.

"I was lucky," she notes. "It was most unexpected."

A deep breath in, held for a moment, and she nods slowly as she exhales.

"I was an exile, or more accurately a political refugee. I had no hope of ever returning to my country. Any thought of a royal wedding had vanished from my mind. I sought only to make a decent life for myself, a new start in Tortall. Then there was Jonathan."

She folds her hands on the table.

"Perhaps you will be surprised as I was."

Mary's not an exile from her home country. At least, not so long as no one knows. She prays it will never come to that.

"I am sorry for the harsh circumstances of your meeting, but it does sound like you were very lucky indeed."

Is it self-defeating or just realistic that Mary doubt that she could have the same luck?

"Maybe you are right. I have met the Prince of Wales though, and I admit I didn't like him much."

Thayet laughs.

"Did he trod upon your feet as you danced? I knew a prince like that once."

Beat.

"What do you do for fun?" she inquires, tilting her head.

"His highness is a fine dancer, in fact."

She's shared a dance with him, once or twice, and seen him dance many more times.

"The problem is I find him far less charming than he thingks himself."

And far less charming than many other ladies.

"Fun? I'm not sure I'm allowed that. Granny would be quite shocked if she thought I were having any."

"How dour."

Thayet considers Mary's (attractive, intelligent, quite possibly bored out of her mind) face.

"Have you been out back?" she asks, making an elegant gesture at the door.