Dear Matthew,

I realize you are in the trenches, in conditions far more horrible than I could ever imagine, yet I hope you find time to read this letter. It is my confession to you. I had thought of keeping my feelings for you bottled up till the day I died but I do not have to now. We are getting married to different people and perhaps, no, indeed for the better. You see, Matthew, this is the way aristocratic marriages work and I am now destined to be at Sir Richard's beckoning. Do not think I am bitter dear cousin, I understand what I'm getting myself involved in. Still, I cannot walk down the aisle without you knowing how I feel about you and before I am dragged off to Haxsby or London. Please, for the moment, forget about Sir Richard and Lavinia. I am not asking you to betray her, just put her out of sight for the moment seeing as she will be in your sight for the rest of your life soon.

I'm going to say it straightforward, no sugar on top, I loved you Matthew. Heaven knows I did not care for you at all in the beginning, but I never despised you, not really. I knew my parents would want to pair me with you just like they had paired me with Patrick and I could not handle the thought. When I also became aware you were a middle class solicitor, I put my foot completely down. I assumed you would be unaware of customs, traditions, and values, which Cousin Matthew, you were unaware. You also had no shame in denying the fact you knew nothing of being a large landowner or what silverware to hold during dinner but you acted more stoic than I could have ever managed.

It drove me mad when I realized how genuinely kind hearted you were. As I started to "string you on", I realized how much our conversations had started to mean to me. I was gratified when you professed wanting to spend time with me rather than anyone else from our family, and relieved when you showed no romantic interest in Sybil. I know Matthew that you are going to ask about why I said no to the engagement.

I was scared. I was scared of my feelings towards you and the fact I might be a solicitor's wife more than a countess. I was scared I would never get the chance to be a countess. Part of my brain told me that I must realize the type of man I had in front of me, the kind that comes around once every hundred years. Still the prideful part of me knew if mama had a boy, I would be pitied. The eldest daughter of Grantham married to the would-be-heir solicitor. I did not want to seem like a pawn that moved according to everyone else's needs. I must stress, I am not a pawn. I let myself lose sleep over the notion that I would either be the future Mrs. Matthew Crawley or not. I let the rational, prideful part of me take over. For a long time, especially after I'd learned you had enlisted, I indulged in self-pity. Never again, because I realize that I would not have been good for you. You might be coming up with objections in your head, if you still have any feeling for me regardless, but this is the truth. I have terrible secrets that even you cannot uncover.

We have found people now though Matthew. Is this not something we both should be rejoicing over? Especially myself, because I do not want to see a look of loathe every time we cross paths at Downton for parties, holidays, and other events. I hope you will forgive me for being so cruel to you, it was the only way I knew how to act, as wrong as it was. If you are wondering about Sir Richard, he is comfortable so I shall be as well. He is not loving, we do not need to be loving. Do not pity me Matthew. I will be mistress of a fine estate and be secure enough to have no worries. It sounds blatantly cold, but that is the way things are done. I know if you ever have daughters you will fight the issue, but Matthew sometimes it is the only way.

I hope you are somewhat comforted by the notion that we may be on better terms the next time we meet. Mama and I will gladly have Lavinia over for tea.

I know such words are not meant for letters, but Matthew I am to be married sooner than later and I had to let you know. I know you are not fond of Sir Richard, but please do be civil. You are always quite the gentleman.

A Perseus after all.

Your cousin,

Mary Crawley

Her hands glossed over the pages that she had never sent. Their paths went different ways only to fuse again later. It was not easy after he got injured, and her being verbally abused by Sir Richard but Matthew had saved her. He saved her like he always did, like he was still doing. His voice reminding her to be present for the sake of their son, his son.

Mary took a deep breath as she flicked through the jumbled belongings, some from her childhood. It was then that she saw an envelope with her name on it. "What is this?" she mumbled. Mary pulled it out and took a shaky breath as she recognized the handwriting. "Matthew," she whispered. The envelope was sealed, with no return address, no idea of when it was sent. Mary considered burning it. Why was she to be tortured by the constant memories of her late husband? She decided to open it and nervously started to scan the page.

My darling Mary,

I know you immediately must be startled by this greeting Mary. I have decided to not hide my feelings like a coward and profess to you what I have felt since the day I met you. We are meant to be together Mary. Although I am not a cold mannered man or a weepy romantic fellow, I have of course heard of a soul mate. That one person you meet who changes your life and makes your world explode to the point you must question if this is an illusion, a dream. That person makes you truly understand why life is so magical because you would do anything, give anything to satisfy this person. That person is you Mary Crawley. When I first came to Downton there was only one positive side I could see to it, I would not go a day, a dinner, without seeing your face. Of course your beauty is not the only thing I love about you but your intelligence also. You are indeed the smartest, wisest woman I have ever come in acquaintance with.

I don't know whether to assume you are in shock or not. Of course you knew my feelings for you but I never expressed them so deeply in the proposal. I do still love you. If you think I'm a fool, because you have said cruel things, then I suppose that is what I am in your eyes. I was frustrated with you for quite a while, even a bit still. Then I thought to myself why spend my, perhaps, dying breathes hating when I could equally express myself with my adoration for you. There is not a day that goes by when I do not find more and more qualities I love about you.

I hate that you're marrying Sir Richard. He is hardly a 'Sir'. True, I have not formally talked to him for an allotted amount of time but he seems rather vain. Please don't think I have forgotten about Lavinia and tossed her to the side. She is a sweet girl of course, but she isn't you. I want you to leave Sir Richard, and marry me when I am fully recovered and know I shall not be leaving Downton anytime soon.

I will treat you how you deserve to be treated Mary, as the future Countess of Grantham. Truthfully, there is no man on Earth that is deserved of your love but I will spend every moment till the minute I die trying to be enough for you. If you do not wish to marry me, I will accept that and no harsh feelings between us will arise. I love you and want the best for you, whatever you decide that is. I love you Mary Crawley.

Yours,

Matthew

P.S. God it feels good to admit that.

Mary shook in horror at the words she read. At first she almost felt as if she could go back to that time, him looking dashing in his uniform and her starting to feel useful for the first time in a while. He had loved her from the beginning. When he first proposed, a tiny part of her mind wondered if it was just infatuation but this was clear love. She could picture him covered in dirt and cuts but that boyish grin on his face as he sealed the envelope. But then what had happened to cause her not to receive this? Had he decided he was best after all with Lavinia? What if someone had needed him and he pocketed it and later forgot to mail it? Her head spun as scenarios washed over her. Of course, she supposed, they ended up together in the end so maybe it didn't matter.

"I miss you," admitted Mary to the air. Her vision clouded, her jaw partially jutted in defiance. Mary Crawley was not one to admit things. Yet, these last years all she did was admit to Matthew, but it made her happier and care free. "I miss you and I do not know how people expect me to move on."

The tears trickled down, slowly like the pain left her each day. She knew one day she'd be able to smile properly again and laugh without feeling pressure to. She also knew there would never be another man like Matthew, not for her.

"I wish I were strong enough," she whispered as she stood up with shaky legs. Her eyes immediately focused on the picture of Matthew in his military uniform. She'd felt a sense of pride rush through her every time she heard someone address him as "Captain Crawley". He was a hero. He had saved people. He saved her.

He saved her from throwing herself into a loveless marriage where she'd be the equivalent of a slave. He saved her from conforming to the rules of an aristocratic woman, and let her have a say in life and in Downton.

He saved their son from living a life without a mother. Because he was there when she saw the knife left out downstairs as she had ran downstairs without thinking. He was there whispering how much he loved her, how he lived through her, as she looked away from the object shimmering on the counter.

He had saved everyone from the pain of losing her. Because she was wrong.

"You're wrong about one thing."

"Oh? And what is that?"

"I would never—I could never despise you."

No one in that house wanted to see Mary Crawley dead.

True, she was wrong. There were many people who loved her, who wanted to love her. But there was only one person that her world revolved around. The man was covered in grime from days cooped up in the same dirt trench. The man who tucked the envelope into his uniform pocket. The man who sat in his wheelchair fumbling through his things and happened upon it, but discouraged threw it aside. The man who tucked the letter under her stuffed dog before climbing in bed and whispered how he fell more and more in love with her every night he got to see this side of her.

The man she could not hug because he was somewhere better, even though it's without her.

So Mary pulled his robe on that she had tucked away, she slipped the letter into the pocket, and walked to the bed slowly as he had although there was no one waiting for her. She slipped under the covers, wrapped in the scent of him that she swore was still there. She did not know when she would find the joy again in life, but this little piece of love Matthew had left for her was enough for the night.

I just had this need to write something Matthew and Mary. This was just a spur of the moment thing, I guess I'm just really missing the Downton Abbey with Matthew (Dan Stevens) since he was my favorite character. For those of you following my unconventional love story about Downton I will be updating soon, don't worry. Much love to everyone who read and please review.