Teach Me.

Mary arrived back at the flat much later then she had originally intended to and as she stepped through the door the smells and sounds drifting from the kitchen indicated that Matthew had already began preparing dinner. As she removed her coat she smiled to herself but a bubble of trepidation built up in her stomach at the same time. Before she could dwell further on the subject she heard her name being called out and darted her head up to look down the corridor leading to the main living area.

"Mary is that you?" She could hear Matthew's rich tones call over the sound of whatever creation he was making.

"No, it's a burglar." Her tone was heavy in sarcasm as she teased him from her spot in the hall, "Who else could it be Darling, are we expecting someone?" She surprised herself at her choice of words as she worked her way along the hallway.

"Just us tonight, I thought I'd spare you the prospect of entertaining guests after you said you'd be working late." His back was to her as he stood at the counter; she used this to her advantage and snuck up behind him, wrapping her arms around him.

"So, what masterpiece are we having tonight?" She whispered into his ear, although she could not see his face she could tell he smiled.

"Sea bass," he murmured as he tilted his head back to kiss her temple, "followed by your favourite, chocolate profiteroles, all homemade of course." Normally Mary's mouth would be watering at the thought of that meal but her stomach bubbled with anxiety, she needed to distract herself.

"Sounds delicious," she inwardly cursed herself at how false it sounded so tried to rectify the matter, "you're going to have to show me how to make it one day."

Having grown up in a large country estate with a house full of staff, Mary had never had to lift a finger when it came to cooking and cleaning. When she first moved out it came as a complete shock to the system when she had to learn to fend for herself and if it wasn't for her stubbornness she problem would have ran back home with her tail between her legs. Now after a couple of years away from home she had mastered some basic meals but was nowhere near the standard of Matthew. His upbringing couldn't have been more different than hers, living with just his Mother after his Father passed away when Matthew was very young. This had resulted in him picking up many skills from his Mother, including a knack for both cooking and baking. At first Mary had teased him over the matter when they had begun dating, but the joke soon turned on her when Matthew discovered she struggled with even boiling an egg.

"I can right now if you wish," it took a moment for the words to register and she found herself agreeing without meaning to. They shifted positions, Matthew now with his arms secured around Mary as he placed his hand over hers, the piping bag secured tight. She found herself uncharacteristically giggling as his stubble covered jaw tickled along the soft skin of her neck. Deep in concentration she followed his instructed and piped small balls of pastry balls along the baking tray.

"I must say you look rather adorable when you bite your lip," he laughed as he moved across the kitchen to place the tray in the oven; "sit and I'll bring the fish over. We can finish making those after we've eaten."

They settled into an unusual silence at the dinner table as they ate, the only sounds the scraping of cutlery on plates. As always the food was delicious, but she did not know if it was the right time to approach the matter that had plagued her mind all day. She could tell Matthew had noticed something was out of sorts with her and she needed to distract him in the way she knew best. Her foot slipped from her shoe and she moved it up his calf, Mary had to stop herself from laughing at his reaction. A deep blush spread over his cheeks and he nearly dropped his fork in surprise.

"So." Her voice was thick as a smirk spread over her features.

"So?" He questioned, his voice becoming higher as her foot moved up and down his leg.

"How did work go?" She found herself laughing at such a mundane question and could tell there was some disappointment from Matthew. What little did he know.

"Well, um," he mumbled as he struggled to find words, "my new trainee started today, young chap called William. He has the potential to do well, like he has the knowledge base, just lacking in the confidence."

"Reminds me of someone I know." Mary chuckled as she pushed her plate away. It was true, when she first met Matthew she could remember how painfully shy he could be, almost to a frustrating level. It took some tough love on her part to bring him out of his shell but he still had some of the traits, especially the tendency to blush.

"Hey now!" He sprung up in his own defence, "it doesn't help when your mentor's Daughter judges you within five seconds of meeting you now."

"Well Darling, the tie you were wearing wasn't really suitable for a dinner at a Park Lane hotel now was it?" She stood up quickly and gathered their plates up to take to be washed, the action bizarre for Mary.

"Mary, is everything okay?" He asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Hmm. Why wouldn't it be?"

A soft moan escaped her lips as she dipped a finger into the bowl, sucking the warm chocolate sauce from her fingertip. Her eyes closed in delight at the rich taste and she could hear Matthew laugh behind her as he filled the profiteroles with cream.

"Darling, this is utterly divine! You'll have to take this bowl from me before I devour the whole thing," she praised as she dipped her finger into the sauce once more before the bowl was pried from her grasp.

"You looked like you were enjoying that far too much," he chuckled as he held the bowl tightly and a mischievous look appeared on his face.

"Mary," he began, "it seems you have chocolate, just," he paused and dipped his finger into the bowl before wiping it across her cheek, "there!"

"MATTHEW!" She was taken back in surprise but joined him in laughing, "you're going to make me untidy!" Her hand reached behind her to grab a cloth to wipe her face but his hand captured her wrist, bright blue eyes meeting her dark brown ones.

"Nothing wrong with that in our own home," Matthew was unable to hide the blush that raged across his cheeks from his own forwardness. When they first met he would have been a bumbling mess for the next quarter of an hour after saying such a thing but now he cheekily leaned forward and swiped chocolate across her other cheek.

"That's it Crawley," her tone became serious as she stepped back, her hands feeling along the counter for what she desired. There it was- the piping bag which she grabbed up and squeezed directly at him. His hair and face became covered in the whipped cream as he stood in silence, astonished at her comeback, "all's fair in love and war. Darling." Mary cooed before finally laughing.

With both of them wearing more of their dessert than eating it, they stood at the kitchen counter and picked at the now ruined profiteroles. Mary sighed in delight as she bit into the first one, the contrast of the crisp pastry to the cream and chocolate an assault on her senses. As she was distracted Matthew came up behind her in an identical position to how she approached him earlier. The familiar aftershave made her grin, which only widened when he reached out and kissed her cheek, his tongue darting out to the chocolate sauce still there.

Behind her she could hear the clink of dishes as Matthew finished the washing up, at his insistence, but Mary's mind was focused elsewhere. The piano keys in front of her suddenly seemed daunting as she stared down at them, her fingers shifting along them trying to decide what song to play. Her gaze shifted up to the picture that rested on the piano top; it was the pair of them at one of her Father's charity events talking and completely oblivious to everyone around them they were that engrossed in one another. The memory made her smile as she lowered her fingers to the keys, deciding on a jovial piece as they danced up and down the piano. From the kitchen she could make out Matthew's attempts to hum along with the piece as he sped up his cleaning in time to the rhythm of the music. As a child Mary remembered resenting her piano lessons, her Father forcing her to learn and choosing a strict teacher from Germany who would smack her fingers if she made an error. She was sure it wasn't allowed but this teacher was highly esteemed and no amount of begging would shift her Father's resolve to change them, and Mary Crawley didn't beg.

Her thoughts were brought back to her current predicament and that reflected in the music as the melody suddenly became more solemn and slow. Long chords and low notes replaced the high allegro of before and it seemed to be noted by Matthew. Although she did not look directly at him, she sensed him take the spot next to her on the bench, and the music became an unknown mix of sound as his hand pressed over hers to stop her playing. A thumb brushed over her pale skin as he lifted the hand up and kissed it, it was then she finally looked at him. He looked concerned as his other hand reached out to touch her cheek as he asked once more if she was okay.

"More than," she nodded as she pulled her hand away and back to the keys, returning to playing.

"It's fascinating to watch you play. I never really learnt an instrument as a child, most of my time spent with my Father we went sailing," he paused and swallowed, "and after he passed, Mother wanted me to learn life skills." This formed an idea in Mary's head.

"Well, I can teach you now my Darling," she looked across and nodded, "only a simple piece but a thank you for the cooking lesson. If you can call it a lesson, more a glorified food fight." She teased as she took his hands and lead them to the keys.

It took a moment to place Matthew's hand on the right notes to produce the chord and Mary matched her own fingers into the same chord just an octave higher on the keyboard. She showed him the sequence he needed to play and although he was rough to start with he soon picked up the supporting harmony. Now it was time for her to challenge him as she began to play the melody, she looked towards him and saw his brows knit in concentration to keep in time.

"You're doing well." She commented midway through the piece as her fingers moved with ease along the keys, the piece soft and melodic.

"It's much harder than it looks," Matthew admitted and relaxed his hands as they came to the end, "I'm impressed you didn't even have to look at the sheet music."

"Well I used to play this duet with Edith, when we did have our moments of getting along. It's a lullaby that we used to play for Sybil." She looked away as she recalled fighting her younger sister for space on the piano bench on their upright piano in their playroom. They would often wake the youngest Crawley sister up with their bickering, the exact opposite effect to what the music intended.

"It's a beautiful piece," Matthew interrupted her thoughts; "I can see why it's used for a lullaby."

Her stomach twisted and her mouth felt dry and she finally uttered the words, "You'll have to learn to play it better Darling. We will be playing it a lot…" his confused expression let Mary know he had not caught on.

"What I mean Matthew I wasn't working late tonight. I was at the doctor," still no recognition came, "goodness Darling for someone so smart you can be dense! The reason I've been off lately wasn't stress, Matthew, I'm pregnant."

Fin.