Happy Christmas Eve and Merry Christmas. This is my Tumblr Secret Santa exchange gift for Meraiceril. And it was a joy to write. Writing a M&M fic every Christmas is now such a Christmas tradition for me. I hope you will enjoy it half as much as I enjoyed writing it. This is set in the Easter Rising universe where M&M married midway through WWI. This takes place during Mary and Matthew's first Christmas. Feedback will be given glasses of egg nog and generous slices of fruit cake.

.~.~.~.~.

December 23rd, 1917- London

The rehabilitation clinic was small and quiet. Matthew supposed the one benefit of Robert's intervention was that from day one he had received tip top care. Other men with mild shell shock had been shipped back to the front. Matthew had been given a long leave, assigned treatment, and in the New Year he'd begin a London posting. He wouldn't have to go back to the trenches. He was immeasurably grateful for that. The old pre-war Matthew would balk at the special treatment and secure posting. But Matthew had spent large parts of three years amid mud, rats, disease, beseeching God to grant him just one more day. It had very nearly shattered his mind. Now that he was beginning to mend, it felt it no dishonor to avoid going back to a place he was completely sure would eventually do him in. The war had killed his ideals and his notion of duty and honor. He felt no need to let it slaughter his psychical body as well.

And of course he wasn't quite as well as they believed. People thought he was well or as someone put the other day, "Quite your old self." He wasn't dribbling in his pudding, and his hair was starting to grow back, and it was a start but it was a very rough start at that. Not to mention he had a responsibility now. He had a wife and he had decided just over six months ago that his chief duty for the rest of his life was to love, cherish and ensure Mary Crawley knew that there was one person on this Earth who would never let her down.

God knew that save her Aunt Rosamund and Sybil every other member of her family had let her down in the worst way imaginable. When Carlisle had published her scandal rather than rally around her, instead of giving her the understanding and love she needed, they had cast her out. Instead of defending their daughter they had sided with the people who called her a whore.

Matthew had decided that to go back to war, and let Mary flounder amid her family's actions was obscene. It did not make him a noble man, but it did make him a husband. And he had decided that being Mary's husband simply meant more than any other consideration. Nothing else mattered.

Mary had brought him back, and now he hoped he was bringing her into a new life. The family had already been ready to be rid of him-shellshock and all. Then the Pamuk scandal had severed Mary's relations with the family. So he and Mary had packed up and left had walked out of Downton arm in arm, taken a train and married in a registry had not matched either of their fantasies of what their wedding ceremony would be. But they had promised to love and cherish one another, that promise and the promise of a life together over rode any other fantasy. Marriage they assured one another meant a great deal more than the marriage ceremony. Thus, they were married in a government office and began the task of building a life together.

The family had settled upon them a small house in Morden, Matthew had thought to reject it as the act of charity it so obviously was, but Mary had said, "They owe us that at least", and he'd decided that was about right. So they had moved into a very small house in Morden a rural area outside London. And here with only Mrs. Bird and a housemaid, Matthew and Mary had begun the process of healing each other.

Now all that remained was this single doctor's appointment and then he and his wife could focus on Christmas and planning for the New Year. In spite of his inclinations Matthew felt very nearly hopeful. So as he waited for the doctor's return he felt himself smiling.

The doctor who had stepped out of their session to address another matter returned smiling at Matthew cheerfully sharing, "Mrs. Crawley is waiting outside?"

"Mrs. Crawley?" Matthew asked confusedly before noting, "My mother is in France. Oh," He said suddenly confusion evident in his words, "You mean my wife."

The doctor smiled, "I know you are newlyweds, but old chap if you don't remember being married we may need to take a tougher look at your condition."

Matthew chuckled admitting, "I'm not used to people referring to her as Mrs. Crawley."

The doctor's expression became curious, "That is her name, that is how she introduced herself to me."

Matthew had to quickly summon his wits saying, "Well yes of course that is her name now."

The doctor smiled agreeably and made a few notes before saying, "Well I think we are just about done here. I am not going to schedule any further appointments until after the New Year, however I gave Mrs. Crawley my phone number if you should feel any distress or concern please telephone me." Grinning he said conspiratorially, "My mother-in-law is spending Christmas and the New Year with us. I would not object a patient visit." He laughed at his own joke questioning, "Are your in-laws visiting for Christmas."

Shaking his head Matthew answered coolly, "No."

.~.~.~.~.

Mary had taken to accompanying Matthew on his appointments. He still became nervous in crowds, but that alone did not account for the reason she accompanied him. Instead, she had come to enjoy the novelty of walking arm and arm with Matthew. They had been married six months, yet only in the past three months had Matthew been able to leave the house and ride to the clinic. Three mornings a week Aunt Rosamund's driver arrived at their home to motor Matthew and Mary to the clinic and back. Mary had come to cherish the trips and their short walks to the clinic nearly as much as she enjoyed their domestic times.

Morden had been her mother's punishment, she was certain of that, but it had been a blessing. Away from the constant prying eyes of the family, ineffective old Clarkson, and the gossipy villagers both she and Matthew had begun to heal. People in Morden and at the clinic did not see the whore who bedded a Turk or the shell shocked future heir who had pulled so much of his hair out that his head had to be shaved. They saw Matthew and Mary Crawley a young newly married couple who were dealing with his war related injuries. And as Mary was very keen to keep matters as such she never ever mentioned her courtesy title. Lady Mary had made a mess of her life; Mrs. Matthew Crawley seemed to be finding her feet as a solicitor's wife.

This morning she had busied herself reading her novel-Mr. Britling Sees It Through. Matthew had spoken often of his fondness of H.G. Wells. When he had been away she had read one volume of Wells after another. Her father had been mildly scandalized and spoke blushingly about the content. She was certain after Mr. Pamuk he probably wondered even more about her Wells readings. She was trying not to think about her parents so she forced the thought aside. It helped that Matthew walked out smiling when he saw her. And seeing him so happy, she was nearly happy enough not to mind that her parents had not spoken to her in months.

"Finished darling?" She asked closing her book and rising.

Matthew nodded twisting his scarf around his neck, "Shall we luncheon before we go home?"

"That sounds wonderful; do you think Rosamund will mind us keeping the automobile?"

Matthew pulled on his gloves before answering, "I think not, particularly since we're dining at her house." He smiled and leaned over kissing her cheek. "Nice surprise?"

Mary smiled wrapping her arm around his. "Very." She agreed as they stepped out of the clinic, walking toward the car which was parked further down the street.

Once they were outside Matthew said, "Say the doctor mentioned you introduced yourself as Mrs. Crawley."

Mary smiled stating, "That is my name now."

"Lady Mary Crawley is your name." He noted glancing over at her. "I never thought you'd ignore that."

Mary sighed observing, "Lady Mary would invoke an entirely different response." She was not certain this was strictly true, however it made accepting her parent's behavior far easier if she pretended others were as fixated by the scandal as they were.

"But it is who you are."

"Not now." She insisted firmly in the tone she knew would best terminate the discussion. "I need to just be Mrs. Crawley, at least for now."

Matthew stopped and turned facing Mary resting his hands on her hips. "Only remember I happen to be in deeply love with Lady Mary Crawley."

Mary smiled almost in spite of herself saying, "You do have a way with words Mr. Crawley." She leaned forward kissing his cheek. "Now come on your wife is very hungry."

.~.~.~.~.

"I think the way Robert and Cora are behaving is perfectly ridiculous." Rosamund pronounced virtually the moment they sat down for luncheon. "You should be considered a war heroine."

Mary glanced at her aunt over her wine glass, "I believe you are alone in that perspective on the situation." Mary had given up asking her aunt to cease mentioning the scandal in front of Matthew. It simply was a lost cause, Rosamund was a bull forever stomping across the china shops of society.

Without obvious rationale Rosamund switched focus asking bluntly, "Matthew are you feeling better?"

"I guess," He said absently. Mary knew that her husband found Rosamund's swift conversational changes taxing. He was well enough to handle most chit chat, but Rosamund galloped around conversational topics with such speed that Matthew's fatigue was already evident, and they had only just begun to eat.

"Darling," Mary requested smiling at him. "I left the snaps Edith sent in my bag would you mind fetching them for me?"

"Certainly," He agreed rising and hurrying from the room. It was, Mary thought, a rather positive statement on her husband's good nature that he would immediately acquiesce to such a request without thinking to ask why she simply did not get the snaps herself. He was such a good, kindly husband that she wondered how she could have ever questioned marrying him. Whatever her feelings about her disgrace she would never cease thanking her stars that the disaster led to her marriage. Having Matthew as her husband was worth any previous heartbreak.

Rosamund watched him exit the dining room, making sure he was out of earshot before asking, "So is he truly recovering?"

"Yes but the nights are still very difficult. Neither of us is getting much sleep." She shared reaching for her water. "Still he is doing so very much better. I am so proud of him."

"I think what you've done is very noble."

Mary waited for the but she expected Rosamund to offer, and was pleased to find her aunt earnestly meant the compliment. Still the idea she was heroic or particularly good was laughable. "Hardly," Mary scoffed lightly promising, "I am a very happily married woman. If anything," She said glancing down in her soup, "Matthew is noble to take me on."

Rosamund offered a soft smile saying, "I was terribly wrong you know." Seeing Mary watching her she explained, "I caused you to hesitate and for that I am eternally sorry. I see now," She said kindly, "How very right you are for one another." Mary smiled gratefully Rosamund, she was beginning to realize how very lucky she was to have her aunt's good wishes and support. From the moment she had surprised her niece by arriving at the registry office, Rosamund had been such a firm and consistent support, a woman that Mary felt terribly grateful to have in her corner.

"Here they are," Matthew announced returning with the photographs Edith had taken of Strallen's new agricultural machinery. Mary had not thought to show them to Rosamund, still she had wanted to give Matthew a reason to escape so she could privately answer Rosamund's questions regarding his health and the photographs had provided a welcome excuse.

Rosamund flipped through the pictures barely disguising her boredom noting, "Edith must be the only woman of our class who uses her camera to document farm work."

"She's a decent photographer." Matthew said before taking a sip of his wine. "I have a feeling with the changes we are seeing she may be documenting a time that may be passing into history."

"As if England won't always be a rural farming country," Rosamund dismissed teasingly.

"I don't know," Matthew disagreed reaching for his spoon, "This war has already changed so much, it wouldn't surprise me if mechanization quite reshapes the country as we knew it."

"Oh Matthew," Rosamund laughed cheerfully. "This country is a poky farming land and it always shall be."

"I suppose we shall see." Matthew allowed evenly.

Finding the discussion of agriculture and Edith terribly tedious Mary decided to shift the subject inquiring instead, "Aunt Rosamund I know you have luncheon plans for Christmas, but I do hope you will visit our house Christmas afternoon."

"Oh I would like that," Rosamund instantly agreed seemingly happy at the invitation.

"We are going to sing carols." Matthew promised smiling happily.

"As long as we don't play that damn game," Rosamund said sounding relieved and causing Matthew and Mary to chuckle happily.

.~.~.~.~.

After luncheon Mary had gone upstairs to freshen up before she and Matthew motored home, leaving her husband sitting in the drawing room with Rosamund. "You do know how hurt Mary is," Rosamund stated not quite able to make it a question.

"I do." Matthew agreed lacing and unlacing his fingers, a nervous gesture he had not gotten a hold of, though he supposed noticing it was a promising start. "Her parents haven't even sent her a Christmas card." He shared, admitting, "I thought I had come to understand Robert and Cora, but clearly I do not." He shook his head declaring, "To treat their own daughter like that…I can assure you that I will show my own children a great deal more consideration."

"There is no mechanism to deal with a situation like Mary is in," Rosamund said philosophically. "She's a social disgrace to any decent household or so the aristocracy believes as well as anyone she associates with…"

Matthew sat back crossing one leg atop the other, "I believe you are kindly trying to tell me they've written me off since she's settled in my household."

Rosamund looked down at her lap. "You must know I don't feel the same."

"I'm not upset." He assured her in the flat voice she had come to recognize as a symptom of his disorder. "My condition alone marks me as unstable and unacceptable to them." He ran his finger along the crease of his pants. "Truth be known it's a relief." Seeing her disbelieving expression he fought against lacing his fingers, instead flattening his palms against his legs, "They've settled us with a very nice house, and once the war is finished I can provide for my wife. Perhaps not as she was once accustomed to but I do believe I can make Mary happy."

Rosamund smiled saying, "I believe you will." Knowing he was unlikely to answer her compliment, she inquired, "And are you looking forward to returning to work?"

Matthew nodded saying, "I only hope I can be of some use. And I am grateful for Robert's intervention in that matter."

Rosamund frowned then spoke stating, "I do hope you know my brother is not the cause of your and Mary's treatment." As if there was a mystery she explained, "It is all the doings of the American."

"Cora saw a chance to keep the estate in her family."

Rosamund rolled her eyes dramatically noting, "She has convinced herself Edith will produce for Strallen the male she could not deliver for Robert."

"I'm not certain it's that biologically tidy."

"I am a barren woman, Matthew." Rosamund admitted glancing away before forcing her eyes back. "I know the perils of placing bets on fertility."

"She has a 50/50 chance." Matthew argued pragmatically. "She could well give Cora the grandson she craves."

"Strallen is an old man, and Edith is a weak young woman," Rosamund declared firmly, "Cora may find she's placed her faith on the shakiest of sands."

"Well at least Mary and I are well done with the whole matter." He stated with surprising firmness. "They were quick enough to find us both wanting." Matthew did not disguise his sense of disgust at the situation.

"Oh Matthew," Rosamund consoled sounding surprised by his innocence. "If the child is a girl, you and Mary will have to step back into the fray." Years later Rosamund would still recall Matthew's look of complete surprise and confusion as if he had dealt a game of cards not reckoning on his opponents' maneuver.

.~.~.~.~.

"You know you have been extremely pensive," Mary observed half-way into their ride home.

Matthew jerked as if he had been shaken awake from a deep slumber. "What?"

"Darling," Mary's tone instantly softened and her expression became concerned. "Are you alright?"

"Of course, of course," He responded too quickly trying to justify his preoccupation. "I was just thinking."

Mary eyed him clearly dubious of the veracity of his statement. "You look so terribly serious my dear, it must be a very deep, dark subject. Was it something you and Aunt Rosamund were discussing?" Mary questioned before offering, "You mustn't take her seriously. She always says the most outlandish things."

"Yes," He granted mechanically, "Yes, of course." Then wanting to lighten the mood he said, "But it was nothing very serious. We were just discussing your Christmas present."

"I hope you haven't been fretting over much about that," She said dismissing the entire idea. "I do love getting presents and by Christmas 1919 I expect you to delight me…but for this year our marriage is more than gift enough." As if to illustrate her point she lowered her head resting it on his shoulder.

"Yes our marriage has been a gift to me as well. The best gift," He insisted fingering her ring under her leather glove, trying to force Rosamund's words from his mind. "But I still plan to spoil you."

Mary's face flushed with pleasure, and she beamed delightedly up at her husband assuring him seductively, "I suppose if you are not overly pleased with the gifts I purchased, I shall have to endeavor to find other ways to ensure that you are a completely satisfied husband on Christmas morn." Listening to her words Matthew's face grew very, very scarlet even as his smile spread.

.~.~.~.~.

Crawley Residence-Morden

As had become her habit when the car turned down the path before their house Mary cheerfully exclaimed, "We're home." The first time Mary had seen their small house in Morden, she had to swallow her disappointment. Compared to even Crawley House it was a very small residence in a very rural area. Frankly she had feared she and Matthew would forever be bumping into each other. Isobel, who had been with them that day, had helped her see sense. "This is just the type of cozy residence that best suits a newly married couple," She had insisted. And indeed Isobel's wisdom had proved apt. The house was small, but not to small and Mary had found that she was very happy sharing it with Matthew. Once they stepped into the foyer she announced, "I'm going upstairs to take off my hat."

"Rosamund picked up a new gramophone record for us." Matthew told her asking, Shall we listen to it?"

Mary smiled agreeing, "Oh that would be nice."

"Hurry up then darling," He called moving toward the library, an oddly mysterious smile on his face.

When Mary came downstairs, only few minutes later, she walked toward the library playfully complaining, "I don't hear music."

"Come in darling," Matthew urged from behind the partially closed door.

"Well," Mary said taking in the sight of a beautiful Norway spruce standing by the window so beautiful and green. "Oh darling! A Christmas tree." She sighed appreciately.

"A nice surprise?" He questioned hopefully looking quite the pleased boy.

"As nice as nice can be," She said crossing the room and embracing him. "What a lovely, lovely surprise."

"I know the tradition is to wait until Christmas Eve, but I was never very good at following traditions, and I wanted us to decorate our tree together and have some time to enjoy it before the holiday."

"I told you darling we are a family now, we can make any traditions we want." Mary reminding him adding matter of factly, "Most of the old traditions we are well rid of." A momentary pique came into her tone at the emergence of past Christmas memories, and she pushed the memories aside wanting to focus on this Christmas, this man, and their new family. She and Matthew, as she had told him from the first day they were married, were now their own family, and could make their own rituals, routines and traditions.

Matthew stepped away saying, "I understand what you mean about new traditions," Matthew granted crossing the room to his desk. "But I was hoping we might continue a few old ones as well." He lifted a box out his bottom desk drawer. Opening the box he removed a large silver star. He held it aloft explaining, "My grandfather made this for my grandmother for their very first Christmas together." As he spoke he ran his fingers along the edges of the star. "And she gave it to my father who gave it to my mother for their first Christmas. And now I'm giving it to my wife for our first Christmas together." He said extending the star to Mary.

"It's beautiful," She said feeling tears pooling in her eyes as she took the ornament in her hand thinking how beautiful it would look atop their very first tree, and their second, and their tenth and their twentieth. The idea of sharing so many holidays with her husband sharing a life with him made the tears spill from her eyes.

"Not to sentimental." He sounded nervous, seemingly concerned that she wouldn't like the present.

Mary shook her head before promising, "Absolutely not and it won't be to sentimental when we give it to our son to give to his wife."

"Or our daughter to give to her husband," He emphasized pointedly noting, "Our first born."

Mary had never been terribly articulate, and at such moments she felt there was only ever one appropriate response to such a statement. She crossed the room and reached up cupping Matthew's face with her hands, kissing him passionately; seeking to convey with her lips just how very much his words had moved her heart.

And when their lips parted Matthew feeling breathless and so very, very in love could only say, "Happy Christmas Mrs. Crawley."

"The happiest Mr. Crawley," She agreed kissing him again saying again, "The very happiest!"

.~.~.~.~.