Sybil found him exactly where she knew he'd be, sitting on the stone bench in the churchyard. She paused at the gate to draw in a deep breath. Entering this place always took something from her, and she had to draw up her courage.

She crossed the grass, walking along the row of gravestones, and quietly took her customary seat beside him, pausing for a moment in respectful silence. Two gravestones stood before them, marriages over before they even really had the chance to start, and she was certain Edith was making the situation worse if the phone call she'd overheard was true

She supposed it was true. It was at best a disgustingly cruel joke if it wasn't, but such cruelty wasn't Edith's style. It meant things had to change. Now Sybil had to take things in hand. Life was for the living. Matthew had made that same point to her not so long ago. The reminder had hurt, but it had been what she needed and now she needed to shake him out of his own despair. She took his hand gently, and reassured when he squeezed it.

She spoke, in a soft, and gentle tone, because she doubted he could face much more. "I know you're in terrible pain but this has to stop. You're alive and she is not. I know exactly how it feels to have the person you love the most ripped from you in the blink of an eye. That's why you have to listen to me. I know what you're going through and this, this isn't what she wanted or expected of you. Sitting by her grave in the cold and the rain… It won't bring her back and it's not what she ever wanted or expected for you. If you think I don't know that you're trying to catch your death of cold, guess again." It was worse than that but she was willing to go slowly.

Matthew stared unblinking at the grey stone before him, the lines of his face fixed and the corners of his mouth pulled down. After a long moment, he finally said, "I'm not trying to catch my death of cold." He swallowed. "I just… I was going to walk into town and then I saw the church. And then… I got lost in thought." He sighed. "It's hard finding things to do with myself. By myself."

"You have a baby, a child who needs you," she said quickly. A child he could barely hold without weeping. She understood that sensation all too well.

"The nanny Robert and Cora hired does everything." Matthew answered softly. He spoke with new determination, as if he had come to some sort of decision. "Robert and Cora would gladly raise him. They need him, I can see it in their eyes."

"George needs you, Matthew. Mama and Papa are trying so desperately hard, but they need you too. Your mother needs you. She's so worried about you. We all need you." Sybil paused, eyeing him closely. "Do you remember when you found me here, a month after the accident? You said it was fine to cry and be sad but not to forget that little Kate still needs a mother especially now that her father is gone. Well, little George still needs a father, especially now that his mother is gone." Sybil gripped Matthew's hand tightly. "I need you. When… when Tom died, you were the one who held us all together. You and Mary threw me a lifeline and refused to give up until you pulled me out of the ocean of my despair… And when Mary died," Sybil's breath caught because it had been such a shock, was still such a shock that one moment Mary had been holding her baby son and the next she was convulsing. "When Mary died, we were all reeling so hard, we just let you grieve and grieve and none of us stepped in." She chuckled, despite it all. "I think it was in all of our minds that Mary would step in and set you to rights. It sounds daft, I know."

After a moment he nodded and chuckled slightly. "I know," he said after a moment. "I keep turning my head and expecting to see her, and have her soundly chastise me for being so maudlin."

She squeezed his hand. "It's my turn to throw the line, and it's your turn to grab ahold. I'm not saying to not grieve, but it's time to let yourself be happy again. Mary didn't want you to be miserable and unhappy. She didn't plan for this, she didn't plan to leave you, no more than Tom planned to leave me. But you need to come back to us and you need to start living again."

Matthew was quiet for a long moment. "I don't… I don't know how. Every plan we made, it was the two of us."

"Then start simply." She stood up and offered her hand. He eyed it a moment, then clasped it and allowed her to pull him to his feet. She stood back and gestured at his clothing. "We're going to the house. You're going to change because you're soaking wet and then you're going to pick a new bedroom. Sleeping in your dressing room is depressing. You need a change of scenery." Truth be told, they all needed to stop treating Mary's bedroom like an untouchable shrine. It wasn't healthy for any of them.

"All right…" He sighed heavily. "I'd thought of moving back to Mother's, just to get some perspective but I didn't want to take George away from Cora and Robert. Perhaps I could take one of the rooms closer to the nursery." Then he seemed to really look at Sybil for the first time, and his brow furrowed in worry. "Sybil, what's wrong?'

She hesitated, but only for a moment. Tom had always liked Matthew, in part because Matthew was usually much quicker than her father to figure things out. Matthew also worked better in a crisis. This latest crisis wasn't major, not in comparison to her husband dying in a car accident the day after their daughter was born, or Matthew's wife dying in childbirth, but it was at the very least a distraction from Mary's death. "Papa got a phone call from Edith. She's decided to run off with Michael Gregson to Germany of all places. Did you know he is married and his wife is insane? He's going to Germany to get a divorce and Edith is joining him."

Matthew actually smiled. "You didn't think to lead with that? I assume your father is enraged and is planning to go directly to Germany to drag her back."

"Mama, actually. Papa seemed more resigned." And angry that, as he had put it, Edith had picked the worst time imaginable to behave like a child. Sybil didn't know if she agreed. Edith had been unhappy for some time. Michael Gregson did seem to love her and it wasn't as though Downton was such a cheerful place to be these last few months. Edith wanted love and her own family and she wasn't being overwhelmed with offers from more suitable candidates. "I didn't lead with that because I wanted you to hear what I had to say first. I want you to return to us because we care about you, and I want you to start living again, not just because you can distract yourself when there's a problem to solve. I meant what I said." She held out her hand. "You pulled me out of the water when I was drowning. Please let me help you."

After a moment, he took her hand. She hoped it was the start he needed. He had been a grieving shadow for far too long, made worse that he was expected to soldier on while the family had been perfectly content with her taking two weeks to numbly cry. The most that had been demanded of her was nursing dear little Katie and that bright spark of joy wasn't an example Matthew could emulate. She remembered that all too well and in following the family tradition of letting Mary, and Matthew by proxy, have her way, they were allowing Matthew to sink into despair.

Sybil Branson simply wasn't going to allow that.

0o0o0o0

It felt so wrong, taking his things out of the dressing room, he was certain that it would do nothing to ease his aching heart, but it was something to do on a dark dreary afternoon. The new room was bigger than the dressing room, and decidedly more masculine, no doubt if Robert had sons instead of daughters, it would have suited a young man very well. There was a desk, and an armchair by the window and it was near the nursery. He hung several of his suits in the wardrobe and then went down the hall to the nursery. He worried about little George. He ducked in to the room. Nanny West was seated, doing some knitting while the two babies slept in their cribs. Little Katie looked to favor both her parents when she got older but there was no question that George was the very image of him. He wasn't sure if that was God being kind or cruel.

He strode back down the hallway to his old room. Mosesley was still fussing with some shirts. "Mosesley," Matthew said easily, "I can finish up here. Why don't you find something to read in the library? A rainy day is a good day for reading."

Mosesley nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Crawley. I'll make sure the new room is sorted." The older man hesitated. "Are you all right, Mr. Crawley?" Mosesley looked embarrassed and awkward. "If you don't mind my saying so, I think this… this will help you and I'm glad you're stepping forward. I can't imagine how painful it's been. I've been worried about you, we all have."

"Thank you, Mosesley," he said, meaning it. It touched him in a surprising way. It never occurred to him that any of the house staff even liked him, the way most of them scurried away from him. "I admit, that comes as a surprise."

"It's… awkward, sir." If anything, Mosesley seemed more nervous. "Mr. Carson considered Lady Mary to be… the child of his heart, even if there was no blood between them and he's quite devastated and…"

"And he blames me for her death because I got her with child and that's what killed her," Matthew finished. "And he's the butler and has the power to torment anyone who doesn't agree with him. I'll talk to Robert about it."

Mosesley looked stricken. "I wasn't… That wasn't my intent. To tattle. Mr. Carson is… grieving terribly."

Matthew sighed. "I know. And he's not thinking something that I haven't thought myself, but his right to grieve doesn't allow him the right to inflict his pain on others." God knew having the old man glaring at him every meal made everything taste like ashes, but he suddenly understood why his valet looked so concerned. "Don't worry, Mosesley, his lordship has been worried about Carson. He's not going to sack the poor fellow over his grief." If anything, Robert would probably send the poor man on some sort of enforced vacation.

Again Moseley hesitated. "It's not my place but… you know it wasn't your fault, Mr. Crawley? Lady Mary wanted a child, very much."

A rush of anger rose in him, but he forced it away. Mosesley was trying to be kind. Mosesley wasn't one of Mary's intimates, he wasn't to know that Mary had wanted children mostly because it was required that he produce an heir. Matthew could admit only to himself that he had wished until the moment George was born that the baby was a girl, so that Mary would be willing to have another. "Whoever's fault it was, this is where we are now. Go on, Mosesley, enjoy the rest of the afternoon before I find us another pointless chore."

He waited until the man was gone to step into the bedroom proper. It was as neat as a pin. Anna no doubt had put everything in order. No, he reminded himself, not Anna. Anna had been too upset. Madge then, or possibly Mrs. Hughes herself. Someone had moved all of his things to the dressing room so that he'd have no reason to look at her things. He took a seat on the edge of the bed. Her shoes were there, peeking out from under the bed. Whoever had picked up the room had missed them, no doubt because Mary had kicked them off disdainfully. He picked them up and looked at them.

"Are you all right, Matthew?" He looked up at the sound of Sybil's voice. She was standing in the doorway. In seconds though, she was seated at his side. "I'm glad you're taking my advice. What have you got?"

"Mary's shoes…" He tried to smile. "She… hated these shoes. My ugly baby flats, she called them. She didn't mind that I was taller than her, she liked that, but she also liked being close to eye to eye with me. Dr. Clarkson told her to stop using heels and she did, and whenever we went walking, she'd remind me how she intended to throw these out as soon as the baby was born." I'm not going to cry, he told himself. I'm not going to cry because Sybil has her own troubles, her own grief, and she's taken the time because she's worried. "I suppose I shouldn't just let her clothes and things sit here. Don't you or Edith want some of her clothes or jewelry?"

For a surprise, Sybil began to laugh. "Oh Matthew, you're certainly not a woman. You're just like Tom, you have no idea."

He decided to play along. It was good to see someone laugh, especially Sybil. "I've never had it questioned that I wasn't a woman… but how am I like Tom?"

She chuckled again. "You have no idea how complex a woman's clothes are. You could lend Tom a shirt or a jacket and it might hang a little off but it would look well enough. It's not the same for women. Mary and I are both slim but she was several inches taller. Her clothes would look all wrong and too big on me. And while Edith and Mary were closer in height, Edith has a… a fuller figure. Even done up with the corset extra tight, she'd pop the seams. And Mary's style wasn't hers or mine for that matter. And Edith's on her way to Germany…"

"You're right, I had no idea," he said after a moment. "Still," and he gestured to the full wardrobe, "it seems silly to just let everything sit here. What did you do with Tom's things?"

"I kept a few things I knew he liked or that I liked seeing him in." She put her hand on his, gripping it reassuringly. "His cap, the jacket he liked to wear when he was walking about the estate, some of his ties… and I gave the rest to one of the charities your mother works with. There's all those refugees from Russia coming in." She stood up suddenly. "This isn't something you need to decide today. Granny has come for tea so we need to show off the great grandchildren and prepare for the row at dinner that neither of us is to blame for."

Matthew also rose. "Actually, I'm afraid I knew about Michael Gregson being a married chap and interested in Edith. It just… has been the furthest thing on my mind. It's funny, really…"

"Funny? Delightfully shocking is how Cousin Rose has put it," Sybil said. "I didn't think Edith had it in her… and here she is topping Tom and I by running off to Germany. We at least went to a slightly respectable place."

"It's funny because I'm glad for her," Matthew said. "Michael does love her, and if she's willing to go to Germany with him, then she must love him. She deserves that, to be happy."

"So do we, Matthew. So promise me you won't tell Papa you knew anything about this. It's bad enough we're going to be yelled at."

"Maybe just you," Matthew said. It was nice to be able to talk about something, anything that wasn't Mary. "I mean, maybe I did catch a cold. Perhaps I should go lie down in my new bedroom and rest."

She grabbed his arm. "Oh no you don't. I am not facing them alone."