A/N: This is my first story here, I hope I did Mary some justice in this fic. :) Also, I'm to warn you; this wasn't beta'ed and I'm not an native speaker, so there might be mistakes. Please tell me what you thought!

She hated this. Even though for many around her she might seem strong, not affected by the emotions that every now and then continued to rage inside her body, only few knew it was only a façade, a mere shell. And like many other objects, a shell could rupture. She tried her best to prevent that from happening, for outsiders to see her true feelings, considering it a weekness. But over the last few days, the chest that contained her emotions began to crack. The tension surrounding her new brother-in-law, her father on the brink of ruin and the fact her own husband could save the only place she called 'home' but refused to do so only made it worse. Of course she knew his reasons, she knew what pride resided in his heart, and all the other things that kept him from saving the house and the estate. She knew, she just couldn't understand. Despite the things people might have thought about her, she did try to understand. It was just too difficult. Her husband had loved someone else, and she knew what it meant to love, and be loved. But to put it rather harsh, that love had gone away and gave them the opportunity to start again. So why wouldn't he use the money neither Lavinia nor her father, Regie could use anymore, to save Downton? Why couldn't he see that no good would come just by giving it away?

She knew this wasn't fair on him. Even though she too was engaged to somebody else during the war, he really loved his fiancée while she did not. It certainly was harder for him to let her go, knowing she would never come back again. There was always a chance seeing sir Richard again, while Lavinia was never to be seen again in the busy streets of London. While she was glad her engagement was called off, she knew it had been harder on Matthew. A lot harder. He had been heartbroken by Lavinia's death. And even now, she still couldn't believe she was granted another chance to love the man she once loved, despite all the things they, but especially she, had done wrong. She loved him very dearly, very deeply, in a way she never knew she could before, and her feelings were answered. Only now and then they would argue, mostly on the trivial things and particular matters that didn't seem to care much. This time, however, it was different, very different. She had been in shock when the announcement of her father's financial ruin had been made, and ever so relieved when Matthew told her about how he would inherit Regie Swire's fortune. She had thought everything was solved, everything would come together if he would invest in the place and they could continue to live as they were used to. But she had been wrong. How she hated to be wrong, even on small afairs. Her heart had suffered from distance this had created between her and her husband and the fights she had found herself in before she knew it only made it worse.

Even now, lying in bed, her thoughts continued to wonder and they couldn't seem to be stopped. She felt a light tuck on the duvet while her husband turned. She wondered if he was awake as well, thinking about the things they'd said to eachother, a few hours ago. When she'd confessed she'd read Regie's letter, naturally a fight was born.

''It wasn't your decision!''

''Well, I made it my decision! Do you want to hear what he says?''

''No.''

She did love her husband; they were both just so insufferably pig-headed. She knew opposites attracted, but they were almost one and the same. It seemed a miracle they had fallen in love, at last. It seemed so strange; she never knew war could sprout love.

''To start with, Lavinia must have written to him on her last day, only hours before she died.''

''Well, that's nonsense. There was no letter found in her room.''

''Be that as it may, she wrote to him after she tried to persuade you to call off the wedding and you wouldn't.''

''This is quite impossible.''

She remembered the pain of not being taken serious, the soft ache in her heart returning as she lay quietly. After his words, she had taken the letter and read it's contents out loud for him, even when he didn't approve. But he had to know the words that were dancing before her eyes, neatly scribbled on a piece of paper. He had to know the truth.

"'She loved and admired you for this sacrifice of your own happiness and she commended you to my care.'"

''I can't listen to any more of this.''

''You must.''

She had continued reading, feeling his gaze becoming more intense with every word that had left her lips. Then, when she had reached the end, she was almost hopefull. Hopefull that now he had heard the words, true words, he would come around. He didn't. He even believed she had faked it. She didn't know for certain, though, as they had not truely spoken their minds to one another. His harsh words still echoed in her wondering mind.

''You sure you didn't write it.''

''I assume you know his hand?''

''Not well enough to test a forgery.''

She felt something wet dripping down across her cheek, but she didn't make any effort to remove the liquid that made it's way from her eyes. No one could see her now, anyways. The gaping emptiness between them seemed hollower than ever before, the longing in her heart made every minute torture.

''Besides, she couldn't have written to him without our knowing.''

''I'm not accusing you of faking it.''

While he said he didn't, it certainly didn't feel like it. She wasn't sure she'd ever felt so betrayed in her life.

''So it won't change your mind?''

''Not yet it won't.''

The distance between them sended shivers through her entire body, the cold almost unbearable. Carefully, she turned around, seeing her husband was still facing the wall. She debated whether she would seek his attention, but in the end her heart won it over her wondering mind.

''Matthew..''

It was only a whisper, but so soft she wasn't sure he heard it. He might as well be asleep. She tried again, a little bit louder.

''Matthew,''

Her husband moved and faced her. His eyes were immediately alarmed upon seeing her tear-stained cheeks. Before he could ask her whatever the matter was, she had already answered.

''I'm cold.''

His gaze softened, but still he seemed unable to speak. She wondered if he noticed the double meaning in her words.

''I'm cold..''

She repeated it, much softer now.

''I'm so sorry..''

His voice cracked on unusual places. She looked up to his icy-blue eyes and locked her gaze in his. Without further things said they crossed the distance between them, snuggling up to one another. The cold that had tortured her only moments before seemed so distant, as from another life now she found herself in Matthews arms again. Her head rested on his chest, his heartbeat calmed her down completely. She was almost shocked with how content she could be just by lying in the arms of her lover, his hands slowly caressing her hair. The warmth radiating from his body made her sleepy, and she looked up to lock with his gaze once more, but his eyes were closed. She decided just to be statisfied with pressing a soft kiss on his lips, before falling into slumber again. She heard him murmur something, and looked up with a questioning look. He smiled softly.

''Are you warm enough yet?''

She couldn't help herself as she let out a small sigh, pressing her body against his again.

''Not when it means I had to let go of you.''

He pressed his lips against her hair before he answered.

''Even if it did; I'd never let you go.''