This one shot was prompted by a discussion on this scene at the super cool Downton Abbey fan forum (link in my profile), where the idea of how the scene would continue was discussed. This is my own interpretation of how the scene (from episode 6) could continue, and also my own thoughts of what we do see of the scene.
All dialogue (up to and including Matthew saying, "we should see more of each other") and characters belong to Downton Abbey, but the thoughts of the characters are my own interpretation.
Ok, well, I hope you enjoy reading and any reviews are much appreciated!
Mary was sitting on the warm wooden bench, her mind filled with the words in her book and the thickly woven leaves of the Cedar tree offering her much needed shade from the hot May sunshine beating down around her. At least she was pretending to focus on the words in her book, but her thoughts had fallen into the incredibly appalling habit of switching towards a certain fourth cousin whenever she gave it half the chance. Mary would like to blame the current cause of this affliction on the book she was trying to read; North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell. The fictional town it was based on was Manchester where Matthew and his mother heralded from and Mary couldn't help but think of him whenever the main romantic hero appeared. An occurrence which she found quite frustrating and distracting, especially as the similarities between the characters in the book and her own predicament did not go unnoticed by her.
However, this affliction of her thoughts falling upon a less than desirous topic had been with her for rather some time and she could pin point the cause far too well for her own liking. The cause being a certain dinner party and flower show which, whilst they were nearly a year ago now in happening, still remained as fresh in her memory as the day they first occurred. Mary couldn't think upon that dinner party without wincing; her behaviour then upsetting her far more than she cared to admit, especially considering the almost disastrous effect it'd had upon her friendship with Matthew. Over dinner they had been getting on so well, just talking and laughing and enjoying each others company; with no bickering, or insults, or makeshift lies and ambiguities between them. But then Mary had to go and ruin it all didn't she? Her silly feud with her sister causing Mary to rise to the petty challenge and flirt with Sir Anthony to prove her point. She hadn't intended Matthew to get caught in the crossfire, she hadn't even considered he might care or take her actions the wrong way. It was only as Mary watched Matthew leave, as she saw his retreating figure walk down the path and away from her, that she realised what she had done and how much it pained her. She'd tried to apologise though, the very next day when she'd seen him, but it wasn't enough to fix things; Mary's actions of the night before had driven a wedge between them, caused a stalemate Mary had no idea how to overcome.
She remembered vividly the words of her sister as Matthew had walked away at the flower show and the irony within them, "I suppose you didn't want him when he wanted you and now it's the other way around". Those words had cut Mary deeply though she was loathed to admit to them, especially to her sister, who Mary partially blamed for all the trouble. They stayed with her though and chased through her mind until Mary finally conceded that they were true, that she did want Matthew and now, it seemed, Matthew no longer wanted much to do with her. She still saw him, of course, he occasionally came up to the house for dinner or to speak to her father, but they rarely spoke, not properly anyway. He was polite to her, but guarded, wary and never sought out any conversation. Mary had the feeling he was avoiding her too; he always disappeared soon after church on a Sunday morning and Mary saw him very seldom around the village, despite her rather more frequent visits there in the late afternoons. Visits that, whilst they were entirely innocent - Mary was simply being helpful in offering to visit the post office and the local shops more often, - they very rarely coincidentally led to her seeing him, except perhaps at a distance.
It wasn't long after Mary had finally accepted the fact that she had grown to like Matthew that she decided her opinion had changed once again. It was a slow change, but Mary was nothing but if not practical and, as Matthew was making it quite clear he longer had any regard for her, if he ever did, why should she harbour any regard for him? Also Mary had apologised to him, it was quite ungallant for him to hold it against her so. And thus, Mary had reasoned away her feelings as simply being a slight moment of weakness, before convincing herself they were all now quite in the past, that the only thing she now desired of Matthew was friendship. Of course, this did not seem to stop Mary's thoughts from continually jumping back to him, which was not only frustrating and annoying, but made it harder for her to maintain that friendship was all she wanted from Matthew. Still, she did her best and whenever thoughts of him took a more romanticised viewpoint, which happened far more frequently than Mary cared to admit, she quickly pushed them down with the fierce determination that any chance they had was gone and buried and that she certainly didn't want anything from a middle class solicitor anyway!
As these thoughts swam around Mary's mind, the sudden, jarring sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel nearby caught her attention and pulled her from her reverie. She turned her head to look in the direction of the noise and felt her heart skipping a beat as she saw none other than Cousin Matthew walking down the path, as if her own thoughts had somehow conjured him into being. A large number of ideas ran through her mind then, first and foremost was whether he was searching for her. She didn't let herself dwell upon whether she would be pleased if that was the case, or whether she was happy to see him, as she had the distinct feeling she would not much like the answers. Still, as he noticed her and stopped his walking to turn towards her, she found herself sitting up quite quickly, shutting her book and smiling. Far too warmly than was probably appropriate, she said, "Hello. What are you doing here?" It was only once the words were out of her mouth that she realised how direct she'd been in her question and she wondered what Matthew would think of her unusual prying.
Matthew didn't seem to mind her slightly accusing questioning though, for he smiled warmly at her as she spoke and tipped his hat in greeting. "I'm in search of your father." Looking out across the vast, lushly green lawn, he continued, "Carson thought he was outside."
"He's in the library," Mary quickly answered, pointing over her shoulder and back towards the house. It was rather unlike Mary to give such useful and immediate answers to questions and she tried to pretend to herself her lack of a witty remark had nothing to do with her disappointment that he had not come to see her, because she was not disappointed. Why should she be? She could at least acknowledge though that she was a bit worried her quick and hasty reply would be interpreted as a brush off and give him an excuse to turn around and leave. She didn't want him to go just yet; on such a fine day a bit of company would be quite pleasant, even if it was only her distant, middle class cousin.
"Oh…" Matthew breathed quietly before smiling at her somewhat shyly and bashfully, seemingly unsure whether he should remain or not.
Mary couldn't help but return the smile hoping to encourage him to stay, ignoring the way her heart leapt as he made no move to leave. After all, she did see Matthew so infrequently now and Mary was simply content that, for a change, he seemed pleased to see and talk to her. Perhaps the bright, May weather and the fresh, spring air had put him in a more favourable mood this fine afternoon, or maybe the surprise of their meeting had left them both somewhat unguarded. As the silence stretched between them though, Mary found herself asking, somewhat nervously and inarticulately, "What is it?"
"Nothing much," Matthew began, starting to walk towards her, "I've had an enquiry about one of the farms."
"Oh," was Mary's barely audible reply, finding herself far too relieved and delighted as he came nearer. Why her heart suddenly started thundering more loudly in her chest and why she found it difficult to catch her breath, Mary did not know. Perhaps she was getting more affected by the bright May sunshine than she thought. Still, hot weather or not, she did her best to compose herself, putting her book beside her and, using the excuse to avert her eyes from Matthew, she took a deep, steadying breath. As the hot but fresh air reached her lungs, she relaxed slightly, though she was still somewhat agitated as she sat back and put her hands in her lap, clutching each tightly to stop herself from fiddling.
"So," Matthew breathed, as he came to sit next to her on the bench, causing Mary to feel somewhat short of breath again. Yes, she certainly had been outside in the heat for too long. She let out a little sigh as he turned towards her and continued, "What's new at the big house?"
He was sat so close to her now, only a few inches away and his face so near to hers that Mary was finding herself quite light headed. "Sybil, mainly," Mary answered, pleased that her voice at least sounded somewhat normal, though inside she was feeling quite out of sorts. "She's discovered politics, which of course makes papa see red." Mary swallowed, and tried hard not to fidget awkwardly, finding herself more than a little nervous trying to make polite conversation. It wasn't something she usually found difficult and Mary was determined to attribute it to nothing more than the surprise of their encounter and the uneasy relationship between her and Matthew that had developed after that dinner party.
"I admire Sybil's passion, though." Matthew praised, sitting back comfortably on the bench with a bright, enthusiastic smile.
Mary quickly spun her head around in surprise at his comment and wondered why she felt a sudden surge of annoyance that he should admire anything about Sybil. Why on earth should she care what Matthew thought about her youngest sister? Mary herself agreed with him and so she found herself saying, with rather more guilt than she intended, almost as if she had somehow betrayed her own sister, "Of course!" The abruptness of her reply made Mary pause and she did her best to sound her usual composed and witty self as she continued, "But then I like a good argument, papa does not."
"If you really like an argument…" Matthew began, before pausing nervously.
"Yes?" Mary asked when Matthew stalled in his talking. She risked a quick glance in his direction and found herself quite intrigued by the teasing sparkle that seemed to have crept into his eyes.
"We should see more of each other." Matthew finished, his teasing sparkle now spreading to his lips and causing him to smile in a very cheerful and playful way.
Mary quickly turned her head away from him then, embarrassed and unable to think of a suitable reply, though his suggestion and cheeky expression brought a small smile to her own lips. It also set her heart thudding again and conjured up many thoughts that were somewhat distracting. She wasn't entirely sure what he meant by that comment; if he was serious about wanting to spend more time with her, or simply making a joke out of how they often did end up arguing - or discussing, as Mary preferred to think of it. She wasn't sure which she preferred it to be, though the thought of spending more time with Matthew, whether it was arguing or not, was a thought she found far too appealing and somewhat thrilling.
A moment later she was unable to resist the urge to glance again in his direction, curious to see his expression, though seeing that he was still watching her, she quickly looked away. She felt his gaze on her for several moments, before he seemed to stare out across the grounds as if his life depended on it. Mary took this opportunity to look at him again, before the whole play of stolen glances at each other began once more. It was only then that she released she'd not yet answered his question, if it was a question that is. Too much time seemed to have passed now since he'd asked it and Mary felt the silence dragging on. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it was a bit awkward, or maybe Mary just felt awkward, to still be sitting so close to Matthew. She struggled for something to say, not just to fill the silence, but because she wanted him to talk, because she wanted to talk to him, properly this time, without any of their usual bickering or their frosty civility. This was the first time they'd properly spoken in months and Mary wanted this to be a step forward, not just another stolen moment to be forgotten about. Though a step towards what, Mary did not let herself consider.
It was Matthew who spoke first though; leaning forwards in his seat he turned towards her and said, "I'd better go find your father, see if he's still in the library. I don't want to miss him again." He didn't make a move to leave though and Mary wondered, perhaps hoped, it was because he was waiting for her to encourage him to stay.
Mary wanted to; she didn't want Matthew to leave and, even if they sat there in silence, his presence next to her was rather comforting and enjoyable; Mary could at least let herself admit to that. However, she was unable to find the right words and instead answered, "Yes, of course."
Her response was too quick, for Matthew stood up as soon as her words were spoken, leaving Mary worried he may think she had tired of his company. Even if she didn't find herself surprisingly tongue-tied, she couldn't exactly tell him the reverse was the case and, now that he was already standing up, she had no reason to invite him to sit again. She cursed herself for not thinking of conversation earlier and then further cursed herself for caring so much. Still, she did not want Matthew to leave thinking ill of her behaviour, so she quickly replied, "It was nice speaking to you, Matthew." Despite the overt friendliness in her words and tone, Mary did not regret saying them; they were true and there was no harm in encouraging Matthew in friendship, especially when she was rewarded with a beaming smile from him. She couldn't help but guard herself a little though, by quickly adding in the hope of distraction, "I hope you find my father."
"Yes, indeed. Goodbye Mary." He tipped his hat and smiled at her once more before turning away and heading towards the path. Mary watched him, telling herself it was only polite to do so, though she couldn't help feeling a little caught out when he turned around as he reached the path and waved at her. What was more mortifying was Mary suddenly finding her own arm held up and her hand waving. She quickly dropped it, but the damage was done, her uncouth behaviour had been seen. Still, the teasing, friendly smile that played on Matthew's lips once more, before he turned around, somehow made it not feel quite so terrible and she continued to watch him until he walked out of sight, the giant trunk of the Cedar obscuring him from view.
With far too deep a sigh and feeling suddenly, and quite alarmingly and unreasonably, lonely and bereft, Mary picked up her book once more. If she'd found it difficult to concentrate before, it was now an almost impossible task, for thoughts of Matthew were now completely occupying her mind. She was pleased, far too pleased, at their conversation, however stilted and awkward it had been. She felt as if they had finally made a break through, after so many long months, and were now at least able to behave as friends towards one another once more. Mary was also finding it more and more difficult to avoid thinking of what else could be between them and to justify her own feelings and reactions towards Matthew. Mary shook her head solemnly and pushed these thoughts away, there was no use rifling through them when their outcome would not change anything. She didn't even know what it was she wanted, only what everyone else wanted for her and, even then, Matthew himself remained a mystery to her. He'd seemed pleased to see her and had enjoyed her company, but she didn't know if there was more to his behaviour than mere pleasantry and gentlemanly civility. One thing she did know for certain was that it was getting late now, the shadows of the trees stretching further across the manicured lawn and the temperature taking on a faint chill as a late afternoon breeze began to stir. It would be time to dress for dinner soon and, sure that Matthew's business with her father would be complete and him no longer present, Mary decided it was safe to return to the house.
Well I hope you've enjoyed reading and it didn't feel like too much of a regurgitation of the scene. Reviews are always welcome.