Disclaimer: (Do people even write disclaimers anymore?) If it were mine, this fic would not be necessary, because a certain character would still be alive.

A/N: Hello old (and new) friends! It's been a while – a long while, in fact, since I tried my hand at some fanfiction. I've been out of the game for what feels like FOREVER. It's been a long time since I've had time to write something other than my school papers, but this is an idea I've had for a few months now.

I think it will end up being about 10 chapters, give or take, and it will be about Mary and George and life without Matthew while his presence/absence is felt around them all the time. Each chapter will take place on one of George's birthdays. So, I hope you enjoy my first attempt at Downton fanfiction! Thanks for reading!

He was the light of her life. Everyone in her life knew it. She had once remarked in a kind of crude joke that apparently she only ever had room in her heart for one man at a time. That was why on the same day she was introduced to her son, she lost her husband and the father of what was destined to be her only child.

She often told him that he was the only reason she had made it through the first year after his father's passing. One of the last things Matthew had ever said to her was that she would be a great mother, and she would be damned if she was going to prove him wrong.

From that day forward, she only had eyes for him. And though he knew that she was heartbroken by her husband's passing and had never completely recovered from it (and probably never would), he also knew that she always did her best for him, just as he did his best to never let her down. Just as he knew she would do anything for him, he knew that he would do whatever it took to make her happy.

1926

For his fifth birthday, his mother took George to London to see his first show. Before the show, she took him to dinner at the nicest restaurant he'd ever been to. And though he really wanted to impress his mother with how well he could behave, he couldn't help watching the other people in the room.

"George, really!" his mother had exclaimed when she realized he wasn't listening to a word she was saying. "It's rude to stare!"

He looked up at her wistfully. "Sorry, Mama."

She had to refrain from smiling at the expression on his face. Mary had never been able to resist that face – he looked so like his father.

She set about fussing over his appearance, smoothing his hair and ensuring he didn't have food on his face. "I wish you would have slept this afternoon on the train. Nanny will kill me for keeping you out so late."

"I'm five, Mama! I don't need a nap!" he insisted, ducking as she moved to wipe something off his face.

She couldn't help smiling this time. "You are growing up faster than I can believe. Well, I suppose we don't have anything planned for tomorrow. You can sleep the day away."

Before he could respond, a man appeared over his mother's shoulder. "Lady Mary Crawley," was all the man said, and George saw his mother stiffen slightly and put on a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes as she stood, turned, and said, "Sir Richard – how lovely."

"May I introduce my wife, Lady Anne Carlisle?" he said, stepping aside slightly so his wife could stand beside him.

"How do you do?" She nodded slightly to the woman. "This is my son, Mr. George Crawley." George stood at this point as well and took the man's proffered hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, young man," Sir Richard said, and George got the distinct impression that this man was not nice, nor could he be trusted. "And where is Mr. Matthew Crawley this evening?" Sir Richard asked.

Yes, George decided, he definitely did not like this man.

He saw his mother's smile falter ever so slightly before she responded. "Unfortunately, he passed away a few years ago."

"I'm so sorry," he said immediately, and George was surprised to see that he actually looked it. "I didn't mean – "

"I know you didn't," his mama interrupted. "Thank you."

His mother changed the subject as she usually did when others mentioned his father, and George, growing bored with the conversation, started watching the waiters walk by with trays of delicious looking desserts. He heard the man ask "What brings you both to London this evening?" and his mother's reply of "We're staying with my sister for the night. It's George's birthday, so we're going to see 'Peter Pan' at the theatre, and we'll catch the train back to Downton in the morning."

They continued with their grown-up talk for a few more minutes, and George continued eyeing desserts until he heard Sir Richard say, "We'd best be off," and before George had a chance to hide the fact that he'd been daydreaming of the chocolate cake he'd just seen pass, the man laughed and said, "it looks as though this young man has his eye on dessert." Sir Richard reached into his pocket and handed a few small coins to George before saying, "Happy birthday."

Sir Richard left and his mother ordered him a piece of cake.

"Mama?" he asked as he dug in to his dessert.

"Yes, darling?"

"How do you know that man? He didn't seem very nice." Another bite.

"What makes you say that?" She placed his napkin back on his lap. "He bought you a dessert, after all."

George shrugged. "I just didn't like him. And he made you sad."

"How do you know he made me sad?" she asked gently. She often marveled at how perceptive her son was. He was able to pick up on her thoughts and feelings more than anyone else in the family. He was terribly clever for one so young. Terribly, terribly clever – like Matthew.

"He talked about Papa. You don't like that."

When his mother didn't respond, he continued, "Do you like him?"

She looked at him for a moment but didn't answer. And for the first time that night, George was unable to read his mother. She looked as though she wanted to answer but thought better of it – she couldn't trust herself with words when it came to Sir Richard Carlisle. "You don't, do you?"

Instead of responding, she simply asked a passing waiter for the time and said, "Let's hurry and eat this or we'll be late." Yes. He was definitely perceptive – too perceptive for his own good.

That night, when they had returned to the flat his Aunt Edith shared with his Uncle Michael, he heard his mother tell his aunt about it as he was given one last birthday treat (cookies and hot chocolate) before finally being sent to bed. "He was just showing off for his new wife," Mama had insisted.

"You don't know that," Aunt Edith had said. "Maybe she's changed him for the better. Maybe he's a genuinely nice person because of her. Maybe he's finally found the right woman."

His mother seemed slightly annoyed by what his aunt had said. "Yes, I do know. He used to do the same for me. He bought Haxby for me, remember?"

George dropped a piece of his cookie on the floor, and his mother looked over as though she had just remembered he was still awake. She quickly ushered him off to bed.

As he drifted off to sleep that night, he thought back on dinner and realized that just as he had not liked Sir Richard, his mother had been no more than polite to the man; and though she didn't answer him when he had asked about it, maybe she didn't particularly like him either.

Either way, the cake was delicious.

Hope you liked it so far! I would love some reviews…they would definitely make my day!