A/N: For UK viewers this would be missing scene from episode 3. For US viewers PBS mashed ep 1 and 2 together for episode 1 so this would be missing scene from episode 2
Uniforms, I have many. I have the semi-formal suits which I dress in to tend my patients. I have surgical whites for when I operate. My khaki Army uniform and my dress uniform. I remember when I wore it for the fundraiser at the Abbey. The other soldiers had the bright red coats trimmed with black denoting they were soldiers. My dress uniform was deeper shade of red and the coat colors was reserved. A signal that I'm a doctor. To a lesser degree I have Black tie and white tie for the occasions that I dine. Over the years I have become adept at wearing the garments, my surgical skills have also allowed me to care for them. I have been known to wield a sewing needle to mend seams. I'm sure a woman would laugh if she saw me sewing but there are days that I don't have the time to take an item to the tailors.
She has invited me to her home for dinner. It has been six months since her son has been taken from her. In that time I have been with her every night. In the beginning I watched her sleep having sedated her. She wasn't frantic she was eerily still, merely sitting in an armchair staring out of the window as if waiting for him to appear. She sat for nearly twelve hours before I was called for. I administered a sedative and waited for it to take effect. I then maneuvered her to bed.
During the day I was at the hospital, during the night I was with her. I made her eat, and sleep. Slowly she began to feed herself yet still I came. After a month it became habit, I would dine with her. Around the third month we became formal, on Fridays I would remove the Black tie uniform from my wardrobe. She herself would preen herself into a beauty. She is out in the Village now in the Uniform of Mourning. Black, black, black. When I see her I acknowledge her, I remove my hat fully instead of just lifting it. This earns me a small smile and I cherish it. She should know that she is woman first, a damned fine woman, instead of a poor widow and now a childless Mother.
I have been invited to dinner again, we talk of neutral things before walking towards the drawing room. I open the door, "I gather the Abbey is once more to be a scene of great splendour. Are you going up there for any of it?"
She moves toward a small table to pour coffee, "I'm supposed to go for dinner on the last night. To hear Melba sing."
I stir my coffee, "Oh, I envy you. But you don't sound very glad."
She turns towards me, "I don't want them to spend their days in Stygian gloom. I really don't. They say "life must go on" and of course it must."
I can sense there is something more and give voice to it, "But it seems disloyal to Matthew"
I can see that I'm right but she quickly adds, "Not disloyal exactly."
"What does Lady Mary feel?" I ask.
She seems to shrug, "Oh you know Mary. She's always quite opaque."
Her words seem wrong as if she's speaking about herself. Her head lowers to the coffee cup in her hand and she fiddles with the spoon. It suddenly hits me, she doesn't want to spend her life in Stygian gloom yet she can't ask for what she wants. Probably due to the misguided guilt she feels after Thirsk. Since she won't ask I know what I must do. I put my cup and saucer down and move towards her taking hers from her hand before placing it back on the serving table. I gently cup her face and lean in to kiss her. I can feel her hands run up my arms before anchoring behind my neck.
I tease her lips apart with my own and she emits a small moan. I use my teeth to pull on her lower lip before kissing the sting out of it. I want her to know I want her, that this kiss shows desire not pity. This beautiful creature is not one for pity. I want to continue this but I'm mindful of the servants, I don't want her to lose the respect of her staff and through gossip the respect of the village. I draw back to look at her, she is beautiful, face flushed and the rapid rise of her breasts as she draws in more oxygen has me breathing hard as well. All the months have been leading up to this.
"Stay, I want you." She whispers.
I cock my head towards the door, "What about the others?"
She smiles, "They're dismissed after dinner. Clean up the mess in the morning."
Her fingers thread through mine and I return the pressure. I lead her out of the drawing room and up the stairs. I stop on various steps to kiss her, she is becoming more bold. Her hands are inside my jacket running her fingers along my sides. Her bedroom is near, I remember carrying her up to this room after Matthew's death. Now she is being lifted in passion not grief, I've wanted this, wanted her for so long. After Thirsk I resolved to be her friend, the best I could for it was what she had wished. Nonetheless, sometimes my dreams would be filled with her and of things a gentleman shouldn't think about.
Nimble fingers flick open buttons and soon the uniform of black tie and uniform of mourning lays rumpled on the floor. I watch as she steps back purposefully standing on her black dress, digging a heel in. She holds out her hand I take it, she pulls me toward her and I find myself stepping on her dress as well.
"I'm sorry" she whispers.
In an instant my hands cup her face, "Are you all right? Do you want to stop?"
Her eyes are glassy with unshed tears, "No, I don't want to stop. I just need to say 'I'm sorry', sorry for-"
I cut her off with a kiss, it doesn't need to be said.
Her body is soft against mine and she smells intoxicating. I run my hands up and down her back as we kiss. On the next pass of my hand I go further and cup her bottom and pull her against me. She moans and I use the opportunity to let my tongue learn the shape of her mouth. I feel tugging, she is moving backward and again I find my feet stepping on her dress grinding it into the floorboards.
She falls backwards with a laugh and takes me with her and I laugh too as we fall to the bed. It takes a moment for us to orient ourselves. I want us to be aligned on the pillows, we should be comfortable. She kisses me again and I allow myself to be lost in them. We kiss and kiss. I suck on her neck and she gently bites my shoulder. It's as if we are making up for all the kisses we missed out on. My right leg is trapped, for she has wrapped her own around it and I find it hot.
She rolls her hips and my own hips snap forward, I'm losing my control. Gently pushing on her shoulders I gain her attention, "Say it"
She is confused and I swallow my mouth suddenly dry, "All you have to do is say it and I will."
Her hand rises before she runs her forefinger down the midline of my face starting from my forehead, down my nose to stop at my lips.
"Stay and make love." She whispers.
I kiss her again before using my knees to nudge her legs apart. Her body is glorious and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep my body from giving into it's baser instincts. Slow, I tell myself. I take a deep breath through my nose and move forward. The sigh she emits has tears springing to the corners of my eyes. She is welcoming, she is smooth, she is hot!
Her nails gouge into my shoulders and I love it. She throws a leg over my hips and I love it. She whispers my name and I'm lost. My instincts take over, I push up with my hands to see her below me. Her hair has come undone from it's knot, slowly spreading over the pillow. One of her hands is extended over her head, fingers splaying reaching for something. I reach for it and twine our finger together. Her thighs squeeze around me and I watch her face as she breaks. Now she is perfect.
When she comes back to me she kisses again forcefully. My instincts once again take over and soon I break too. Her legs are secured around me while my arms cradle hers. We are now in the uniform of lovers.
We doze for awhile before I must leave. She helps me gather up the piece of my black tie. I pick up her dress and notice that we have done some damage to it. "I can fix that if you like?"
At first her face shows confusion but quickly clears, "Of course you can stitch, you're a surgeon."
"Well, would you like me to or would you prefer a seamstress mended it?"
She takes the fabric from my hand, "Neither, no more black."
Days later she goes to the Abbey to for dinner, not in a black dress. I want so badly to go with her but I can't.
Not soon after I receive a phone call, I can hear wailing. I pack my bag and leave. It's Mrs. Patmore, she seems all right now. Panic attack most likely. When I get a invite for the concert I can't hide my smile. I placate Carson by stashing my bag out of sight. When she sees me in the great hall the smile she carries finally reaches her eyes. While we can't sit next to each other I do take a seat behind her. Together we listen to Dame Nellie.