As Mary lay with her feet propped atop two pillows, she fought the urge to cry. There was no doubt in her mind that the situation at hand warranted her fragile emotional state but she refused to give in to tears. She was not prone to weeping and prided herself on the number of occasions that she kept a "stiff upper lip" when others (more often than not, Americans) would allow adversity or sorrow to break them. Though present circumstances were dire, Mary vowed she would not join the ranks of the melodramatic even as her pregnancy wreaked havoc with her emotions.

She fought back the tears that were welling in her eyes and bit her lip to stop it from quivering; and for a short while, she managed to clear her mind of troublesome thoughts by taking inventory of the room that had become her and Matthew's safe haven since he had returned to her in January. It was in this room that they discovered all that mattered to them as best friends and lovers.

Mary found the color of the walls warm and inviting and the fire in the grate mesmerizing. She took special notice of the light flooding through the tall windows as the rays of sun captured the tiny particles of dust floating in the air making them appear golden. Her eyes settled on the lovely white clock that rested on the mantle of the fireplace and she kept her focus on the second hand on its face as it came full circle. Small distractions like these kept her fears at bay and her familiar surroundings comforted her. Then she made the mistake of peering over her protruding abdomen.

As soon as she caught sight of her ankles, the battle was lost. Her hands began to tremble as she saw the swelling had worsened, all definition of bone now gone. She entwined her fingers and rested them on her ever expanding stomach so that Matthew would not notice how rattled she was. She could not stop thinking about Sybil; or more to the point, Sybil's death. Her hope was that her musings would not be discovered by her husband as she knew how worried he would become. Yet it was impossible to hide her condition from him.

Matthew had noticed what was wrong as soon as he saw her in the dining room at luncheon. He excused himself quickly and telephoned Dr. Clarkson, asking him to come to Downton at once. Upon his return, he insisted Mary relax in their bedroom with her feet elevated as Doctor Clarkson had instructed.

She obliged both spouse and physician by remaining in bed with her lower extremities raised while Matthew made tracks throughout the room. Now Mary hoped the good doctor would arrive soon as her husband parading back and forth was aggravating her already frazzled nerves.

"Darling, please sit down," she pleaded. "You are wearing out the carpet."

Mathew, passing by the foot of their bed once more, stopped short and managed a smile in her direction before heading over to the window. He peered out the glass in search of Dr. Clarkson but found the road that led to Downton empty. While stationed there, he began absentmindedly tapping the window frame with his index finger. The sound of it was reminiscent of a woodpecker drilling a hole in a tree and Mary found it maddening.

"Matthew!" she cried out in an exasperated tone. "Would you please stop fidgeting and sit with me. Dr. Clarkson will be here soon enough." Then, she patted the spot next to her on the bed, indicating where she wanted him.

Looking over his shoulder one last time to be quite certain no car had appeared, Matthew left his self-assigned post and joined Mary on the bed and took her hand in his.

"My darling, you are trembling," he said, alarm clear in the tone of his voice. "What is wrong?"

Mary sighed, "You know what is wrong, Matthew."

She pointed to her propped up feet and said, "This is how Sybil's ankles looked before…before...," she replied, unable to finish.

Matthew pulled her into his arms. "Mary, you are making yourself ill by dwelling on a condition that you do not know you have. You shouldn't be worrying this way."

"Why shouldn't I?" she spat. "Isn't that why you petitioned Dr. Clarkson to come at once? Isn't your fear that I may have preeclampsia the reason you have been pacing back and forth like a caged animal for the last 20 minutes?"

Matthew didn't answer immediately. Instead, he placed his hand behind Mary's head and gently guided it onto his chest. Her head lay directly over his heart and she could hear it beating wildly. It confirmed what she suspected all along. Matthew was putting on a brave face for her benefit but was as terrified as she was.

As soon as he began to speak, Mary raised her head to face him.

"I have never lied to you, Mary, and you can rest assured that I never will," Matthew stated emphatically. ""Yes, I have been alarmed since I do remember Dr. Clarkson mentioning Sybil's (as he put it) "thick ankles" as one of the symptoms of preeclampsia. But that was only one of the symptoms of the dreaded malady that took your dear sister's life."

Mary knew that what Matthew was saying made sense. It was true that her head did not ache nor was her mind muddled. For the first time that day, she considered there might be another explanation for her condition.

Matthew continued. "Darling, I refuse to let my fear overtake my common sense and I want you to do your best to do the must be other causes for this type of manifestation during pregnancy which are not life threatening."

Mary smiled before placing her hands on each side of Matthew's face and pulling him down into a long kiss. They were interrupted by someone, which they both presumed was Dr. Clarkson, knocking on their bedroom door. Matthew rose and opened it to find his and Mary's presumption correct.

Dr. Clarkson quickly entered the room and greeted them both. He was pleased to find his patient had followed his instructions as he was not entirely sure she would.

"I'm very sorry you are not feeling well, Lady, Mary," he offered as he took his stethoscope and blood pressure monitor out of his bag and placed both on Mary's nightstand.

Then he moved to the opposite end of the bed and carefully examined her ankles." Well, you certainly are retaining a lot of fluid," he said. "Have you been standing for long periods of time in the last day or two? Eaten any salty foods as of late?"

Mary replied that she did not think she had been more active than usual, although she had taken a couple of long walks when she felt restless.

"As for salty foods, I have had a craving for deviled eggs this week and Mrs. Patmore has been kind enough to accommodate me on more than one occasion," she added.

"I see," said Dr. Clarkson flatly before continuing with his examination.

First, he checked Mary's eyes by asking her to follow a light that he shone in them and then he checked her heart and blood pressure. Once done, he began placing his diagnostic tools back in his bag. While he did so, he asked, "Have you had any other discomfort? Headaches? Confusion? Blurred vision?"

Mary replied that she had none.

Then, Dr. Clarkson turned to Matthew and asked, "Would you mind stepping out into the hallway so that I can determine the size of the baby?"

Matthew looked over Dr. Clarkson's head at Mary, and smiled nervously. "Of course, he replied. I will wait outside the door until you have completed your examination."

Mary hated the internal probing. It was unsettling to say the least to be examined in this manner. She was ever so grateful that Dr. Clarkson did whatever was necessary quickly. Then, he opened the door and told Matthew he could rejoin them.

It seemed to Mary that the doctor was silent far too long and the expression on his face appeared ominous. She took both as an indication that something was wrong and Dr. Clarkson was searching for the right words to relay the bad news. At that moment all Matthew's sound advice was forgotten and Mary found herself gripped by fear, her memories of the night Sybil died filling her mind.

Mary remembered clearly her sister crying out in pain and then convulsing as those who loved her most stood by and watched in horror powerless to help her. She saw herself in her mind's eye screaming that Sybil was not breathing and then Tom kneeling beside his wife, tears streaming down his face as he begged, "Please love, breathe," over and over. Her mother had fallen to her knees beside her youngest daughter and sobbed uncontrollably as the two doctors in the room let them all know there was no hope.

In less than a minute, Sybil was gone.

Mary remembered, too, finding Cora sitting beside her dead sister's body in the middle of the night, requesting she be left alone to say goodbye to her baby. Then she pondered the aftermath of her sister's death - the deep wedge between her parents, the intense pain Tom had to deal with every day missing Sybil and raising their baby girl without her.

Is that my fate? she wondered.

She thought about Matthew without her in his life and concluded that he would never again be truly happy as she knew first hand that she could not achieve it when she thought him dead. And what of George? Surely, he would forget her. It angered her that her son and the baby she was carrying, like Sybbie, might never know their mother.

Frightened and incensed by her thoughts, she asked herself what would have been the point in her and Matthew being given a second chance in life if she was meant to die?

Silently, she prayed, Dear Lord, please do not part us. Let Matthew and I live to raise our children together.

Dr. Clarkson's voice broke Mary out of her reverie. "I think you need to shorten your walks and eliminate any foods with a high salt content from your diet. If you follow my instructions, I believe the swelling will subside in a few days."

Mary was speechless as she heard a voice in her head that sounded very much like Sybil's saying, "All is well. You are going to be fine."

Matthew, incredulous upon hearing Dr. Clarkson's assessment of the situation asked, "You mean she is in no danger?"

The doctor understood why Matthew needed reassurance. He would never forget how Sybil Crawley died and still regretted that he was unable to convince the Crawleys to get her to the hospital before the baby was born.

"She shows no other symptoms of preeclampsia, Mr. Crawley. I believe she will have a healthy baby and from what I have just discovered during my examination, quite a large one."

He looked then to Mary and advised her to rest because she would need all the strength she could muster when the time came.

Mary swallowed hard as she digested Dr. Clarkson's information about the size of the baby while Matthew clasped his hand and shook it vigorously, thanking him more than once for laying their fears to rest.

Clearly pleased that all was well with Lady Mary, Dr. Clarkson gathered his bag and made his way to the door. Matthew cautioned his wife to stay put while he ushered him out of the house and promised he would be back soon. When he returned, he smiled broadly as he kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the bed next to Mary. He immediately took her hand and brought it to his lips placing a kiss on each of her fingers, then her nose and forehead before claiming her lips.

The future Earl and Countess of Grantham remained in the same position the entire afternoon. At one point, as Matthew moved his hand in circles over Mary's stomach, the baby kicked with such force that it bounced slightly. They both laughed, all tension gone, and discussed names for their second little miracle.

On October 29th, Victoria Crawley was born. The delivery was not an easy one as Dr. Clarkson's assessment of the baby's size was accurate but there were no complications. Mary insisted that Tom drive Matthew to the hospital and back to the Abbey until they were all, once more, safely under Downton's roof.

..

AN: Thoughts? I know this is just a one shot, but if you liked it, please let me know.