1912.
Mary Crawley, alone in her room, looked at the black dress spread on the bed. She sighed. Her fiancé died a few days ago, but the reason to her boredom was somewhere else: she hated black.
In her whole life, Lady Mary didn't really mourn anyone, this was the first time, and this was incredibly… annoying. They were in April, the days began to be hot and sunny again, and wearing black clothes was rather inconvenient, particularly when it was to mourn someone she didn't really love.
Mary and Patrick's union had been decided by her parents, claiming it was the only way to keep Downton, and everything she wished now was that their engagement would remain secret, so that she would have to grieve only her cousin and not the one who should have become her husband.
When the news of Patrick's death has been announced to the Crawley family, Edith was heartbroken, and for a moment, Mary, who was still standing in front of that black dress, wondered why she wasn't the sad one. Maybe because she realized that, as terrible as it was, Patrick's death had freed her from this terrifying life ahead of her, which would have been spent with a husband she didn't love, whom she married in order to save Downton and her family.
No, she didn't understand why she had to be sad when everything she saw was a new life waiting for her, in which she would at least make her own choices, and for God's sake, marry someone she would want to.
1914.
In July 1914, a new heir was expected by Lord and Lady Grantham, and as much as Mary was happy for her parents, this announcement came at the wrong time. Indeed, Matthew proposed to her before she went to London with her mother, and she assured him an answer when she comes back. But everything was different now, as Aunt Rosamund said, planting seeds of doubt in her niece's mind.
What if the baby was a boy? He would for sure inherit Downton and Cora's fortune. Then, Matthew would return to his previous life among the middle-class, and they will probably never see him again. Was it what he deserved, after spending two years in this family, after his proposal? To the Dowager Countess, Mary's Granny, it wasn't. They loved each other, they were meant to be together, so why did she have to think about it? There was only one answer to give to Matthew: it was a 'yes'. And Mary should have listened to her grandmother. But the young Lady was a stubborn person, and instead of accepting Matthew, she waited.
Standing in the Downton gardens, alone, Mary Crawley had lost everything, and so had Downton. No more heirs, no more marriage, and a war. She was wrong, she will be down for a very long time.
1919.
Mary glanced one more time at Lavinia's tombstone before returning next to Sir Carlisle. She was crushed with guild, as much as Matthew was. It was like they dug her grave themselves before pushing her into it. The kiss they shared killed the poor and fragile Miss Swire.
Mary couldn't deny it, even if it was painful to say: Matthew was right. They couldn't be happy now, not after what happened. The only thing they could do was trying to live with it, it was their punishment for having wanted each other so madly, and despite their respective fiancés.
The only choice of life she now had was to accept Sir Carlisle, and let Matthew go. He's not allowed anymore in her heart. Mary shivered. Was it that cold when she went out for the first time this morning, or was it just the perspective of abandoning every hope of happiness that turned her blood to ice?
The feeling of freedom she felt at Patrick's death was far away now. How could she imagine that she deserved such love and happiness? Has war changed her that much? And why was it now, when she could do nothing but letting Matthew go, that she really wanted him?
On this cold April day, Mary Crawley was mourning her impossible love for Matthew Crawley, and that was incredibly painful. For both of them.
1920.
It was late in the night when Mary went back in her room. Before going to bed (even if she was sure she couldn't sleep), she wanted to see her mother. She implored her to go to bed, in vain. Death stroke once more in the Crawley house, and this time, took Sybil away.
Mary sat on the left side of the bed, turning her back to her beloved husband.
"I'm afraid I might not be of good company tonight, my Dear," she whispered without looking at Matthew, who left the warm sheets of the bed to sit next to his wife. They both stared at the window, no one wanting to break the silence. After what happened on this terrible night, they needed to rest, and to accept the recent and still shocking event.
"Oh Matthew," said Mary, holding back her tears. Her husband immediately wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and gently kissed her temple. He didn't care about the propriety of the situation, the only thing he had in mind was to support his wife on this moment. "Do you think our family is cursed?" she asked after a moment, turning her head towards him. The loss was even more unbearable that, this time, it was someone she truly cared about and loved, and Mary didn't know how to cope with it.
Matthew didn't say anything, he could only share his wife's sorrow. The woman who was always described as a heart-stoned person was in fact the most sensible he ever met.
"Cry if you want, my Darling," encouraged Matthew, knowing that it will make her feel a bit better. "I am here. And I always will be," he promised to the woman who just burst into tears in his arms.
1921.
An old English proverb says 'You can't have your cake and eat it'. All her life, Mary Crawley hoped that she would be the exception to the rule. The moment where she held her newborn son in her arms, where Matthew was near her, repeating one more time how much he loved her and how they were going to be happy together, was when she thought she was this famous exception.
Maybe she was too happy, too proud as a wife and as a mother to realise that persons like her don't deserve such happiness and peace. Was life testing her? After Sybil's death, she thought that maybe they had enough misfortune, that now it was time to enjoy life. But it wasn't enough, would it ever be?
Matthew survived four years of war, an injury that could have turned him into a vegetative state, and as a couple, they went through doubt, self-hatred, and grief. But there was one thing they didn't plan, something that ruined their lives, their love, and their heart: death. His death.
It has been six months since a stupid car killed her husband, and Mary couldn't move on. She was cold, and nothing could warm her broken heart. She missed every gesture of the one she loved, from a hand on her shoulder to a soft kiss on her lips.
Some nights, unable to get to sleep, Mary stared at their wedding picture for hours, wondering what she did wrong to deserve such pain. It was like they stayed a few months in the warm light of happiness, and then she was plunged in the dark, alone. That wasn't fair, but life was not, and will probably never be sweet to her.
THE END.
Hello!
Thank you for reading this text, I hope you enjoyed it! I love working on mourning Mary, especially when it has something to do with Matthew (In the show, Cora's miscarriage, with Lavinia and Sybil's death, do have consequences on the relationship between Mary and Matthew).
I also hope this text is understandable, without any huge mistakes (I'm French, English isn't my mother-tongue ^^). I'm sorry if there is!