Lyrics from Stephen Sondheim's "Company"
Marry me a little,
Love me just enough.
Cry, but not too often,
Play, but not too rough.
Matthew forwent his bicycle, deciding the walk to Downton would do him good. It would give him time to think over his decision.
England was at war with Germany.
Mary had rejected his proposal.
And Downton was still in need of an heir.
If England was not at war, he would be gone by now. He'd be on the train to Manchester, happily. Now that didn't seem to be an option. The previous night, having watched the staff quietly clear away the remains of the party, he turned to Robert, requesting an audience with Sybil the next morning. Surprised, Robert agreed,
"Are you certain?" he asked carefully.
"Quite sure."
"Very well…I'll…see her mother has her ready to meet you."
It was a funny way of putting it, but Matthew knew Robert meant that Cora would speak with Sybil, probably to let her know what Matthew intended to ask her.
England was at war with Germany, and Downton needed an heir. He intended to enlist as soon as possible. If the war was to last any length of time, they'd need men, and Matthew wished to be of the most use, both to Downton and to England. Downton needed an heir, and if he could go to war with the knowledge that the fate of Downton was at least somewhat secure, he might sleep better at night.
Keep a tender distance
so we'll both be free.
That's the way it ought to be.
He'd thought long and hard all that previous afternoon, after the guests had departed. With Mary's assurance before the dreadful announcement that she simply wouldn't marry him, Matthew felt heartsick. He felt rather foolish as well, thinking that Mary actually felt the same as him. He thought about his duties to his country, and his family, and felt torn. He wanted to do right by Robert and Cora. Downton Abbey was their home, as well as their daughter's home. He'd come so far, it would be a shame to give up now. Anyway it seemed wrong to simply leave after everything they'd done for him and his mother. If he was to go away, he could at least leave with a clean conscience that he did his best.
I'm ready!
Marry me a little,
Do it with a will.
Make a few demands
I'm able to fulfill.
He'd come to the conclusion that Sybil was best for him rather quickly. She was like-minded, forward thinking, and while she was still perhaps young, she showed the most promise when it came to the future of Downton Abbey. Besides, Edith seemed taken with Lord Strallen and he didn't want to ruin her chances with him. He thought about married life with Sybil, as brief as it would probably be (one never can be sure with a war, and he wasn't sure if he hoped he'd be killed in action or not. He chalked it up to nerves and a broken heart for the time being). Sybil would be a good wife, to be sure, a little more political than most, but he liked that she knew her mind. She was willing to work, and not afraid to try new things. Already she'd spoken of being a nurse, and hang him if he didn't feel some pride at her eagerness to do something, anything for the war-effort.
Want me more than others,
Not exclusively.
That's the way it ought to be.
I'm ready!
I'm ready now!
He knew he wouldn't demand much from her, how could he? No more than he'd expect her to want of him. He'd perform his duties as husband, and do his best to protect her, care for her. That he knew he could do, and would most probably take pride in it. He did want to be married, he'd been ready to take on that role for quite some time now. He'd waited though, hoping Mary might feel the same way. He wondered if Sybil had ever hoped someone would love her. He almost hoped so, or else he'd feel guilty for still being a little in love with Mary.
Matthew also knew though, that his marriage to Sybil would be based on love. At least a kind of love. In that respect at least he could be true to his ideals. The door to the Abbey opened before he could knock. Carson seemed extra spiffed up, if that were possible.
"Good morning Mr. Crawley," the butler said in his usual grave manner.
"Good morning, Carson." Hat and gloves off, he handed them over, along with his umbrella.
"Lady Sybil is in the study."
"Thank you."
He crossed the foyer, noting the usual staff was not about, and the family was nowhere to be seen. Carson followed him as far as the doors, and then closed them quietly behind him. Matthew turned to the room, finding Sybil by the window.
"Mother says you've come to propose."
She turned, facing him, hands laced before her. He might have smiled. It was exactly how he imagined her reaction to be. He might have smiled, except she seemed quite serious, and come to think of it, so was he.
"Yes I have, is that alright?"
"Yes, but I suppose it's more surprising than anything. We all thought you would be proposing to my older sister." She did not use Mary's name, which gave him pause. Was Sybil upset with her? There was a spark in her eyes, and Matthew noticed her cheeks were flushed. Her right eyebrow quirked up, the same way it did when he'd witnessed her arguing with her father about women's rights. She had been arguing, but with who? Her mother? Or Mary?
"I'd like to say now, before either of us says any more this has nothing to do with Mary."
"Doesn't it?" Sybil asked quietly.
"No of course not," Matthew tried to laugh.
"Don't lie to me." Her voice was soft, and quite serious. "If we're to go through with this, I must ask you not to lie to me, and I won't lie to you." He sobered, nodding.
"I'd like you to know that I shan't ever take a lover." She did not flush at all as any other women might. She met his gaze, nodding.
"Nor will I."
"I am going to enlist."
"Then we'd best be married and sorted before you're shipped out. I think Mama and I can manage in a few weeks."
"I- I'd like to do things properly," he said, fumbling through his pockets for the box. "And I wasn't lying, earlier," he said. "If we're to be married, this isn't about Mary, or- or anyone else. This is between you and I. I won't bring anyone else to the table if you won't." there was some hesitation, as if she had some small regret, but Matthew chose to ignore it when she volunteered no information.
"Agreed."
You can be my best friend,
I can be your right arm.
We'll go through a fight or two-
No harm, no harm.
"I know you want to be a nurse, and I think that's very fine," he went on. "If, if I enlist, and you go to school for it, we might be gone at the same time, and graduate by November."
"We could be married in December," she nodded.
We'll look not too deep,
We'll go not too far.
We won't have to give up a thing,
We'll stay who we are.
Right?
Okay, then.
So he proposed to her. Sybil let him kiss her for the first time there in the study, and she felt a small stab of fear. That night they announced their engagement and everyone toasted them, Mary hiding bitter tears behind her champagne glass. Matthew and Sybil ignored the whispers about them in town. He held her arm when they waited at the station together, waiting for the train to take them to their respective destinations: Matthew to the barracks, Sybil to a medical school where she'd be trained for nursing. Doctor Clarkson would be in need of any and all helping hands. The diamond engagement ring glittered in the sun whenever she took her gloves off. He looked down at her, smiling with encouragement.
I'm ready!
I'm ready now!
They wrote back and forth over the months, discussing wedding plans, what they were learning. Matthew found himself genuinely glad of her letters, happy to find them in his post box. He told her if he got wounded in France he'd demand she be his nurse and she responded that she wouldn't do him much good since all she'd been taught is how to roll bandages. He was given leave and traveled to London to visit her. He saw her in her uniform and smiled, bending to kiss her and she let him. She murmured that his own uniform suited him very well and he'd do them all proud. They had dinner at some restaurant, he couldn't remember where. Talking was easier now, the distance had made it a little easier. He found he liked seeing the ring on her finger now.
"Everyone asks me who," she said, smiling softly.
"What do you tell them?"
"That it's from the man I'm going to marry." She spoke as if she were proud, truly proud to be calling him 'husband' and it warmed his heart. His leave was only for two days so he bid her goodbye early the next morning, she got up early to see him off.
Marry me a little,
Love me just enough.
Warm and sweet and easy,
Just the simple stuff.
They both were released from their respective training by early November, each passed with flying colors. Returning to Downton was odd, and both, having been used to drinking tea from plain china and eating sub-par food, were almost at a loss when it came time for dinner. Matthew was glad, seeing Sybil in her finery again, and he waited for her at the foot of the stairs.
"I'm glad to see you all dressed up before I go," he said, when she asked why he was smiling. "I know, I know, women aren't peacocks for men's enjoyment, but I like seeing you all dressed up. It gives me something to think of when I'm away."
"Who else would he be thinking of?" Edith asked, coming down the stairs, heading into the parlor. Sybil said nothing, but Matthew squeezed her hand in reassurance.
"Only you," he murmured. "I made a promise and I will keep it."
"I know you will." Her smile was genuine.
The wedding day arrived and everyone but the bride and groom was in a fluster, rushing to and fro, seeing that everything was just right. Even Mary seemed to want things just so for the big day. She'd explain later that she simply wanted there to be one last nice day before everything changed. Matthew deserved that at least. Besides, she was sure, deep down, that Sybil was best for him, even if she was still lying to herself about her feelings. She'd rejected him once and that was enough. There was no going back now, so she threw herself into doing everything she could to see to his happiness, his and Sybil's now. Mary was glad that Sybil looked nothing like her. She was glad her tastes were altogether different, nothing for Matthew to look at and wonder about the what-ifs. Of course, knowing Matthew, he wouldn't let himself. That was the good thing about him. He made promises he intended to keep.
Marry me a little,
Body, heart, and soul.
Passionate as hell
But always in control.
Want me first and foremost,
Keep me company.
That's the way it ought to be.
I'm ready!
I'm ready now!
Matthew and Sybil's wedding was the last big social event in York. Despite the gay occasion, they decided simple was best, considering England was still at war. A big, flashy wedding would do nothing but stir up a good deal of resentment. Flowers in the church, and a dinner party at Downton were all they really wanted. Anyway no one really felt much like dancing. They rented a cottage in the Lake District, and had a lovely honeymoon. They returned, somewhat closer, and more reluctant than before to part. It wasn't until Matthew received his marching orders that it occurred to Sybil he might not come home, and she clung to him that night, and Matthew did not have the heart to turn away from her, finding he did not want to leave her anymore than she did. It was good to be wanted by someone.
"You must tell me what it's like," she said softly, after. "When you write to me from the front, don't keep things bottled up. You know that's what most of the soldiers do, and then they come home and everything is different."
"I'll tell you what I can," he said uncertainly, not sure that the matters of war ought to be on Sybil's mind, so far from the front. It would only worry her. "I don't want to upset you," he clarified.
"I'm already upset," she curled against him. "I'd rather have the truth from you than whatever third-hand story the newspaper prints out." He stroked her dark hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"I promise," he murmured.
Oh, how gently we'll talk,
Oh, how softly we'll tread.
We'll build a cocoon
Of love and respect.
Matthew and Sybil lived on the letters they sent and received. It was that little extra that gave them something to get up for in the morning. Knowing she had someone in France, fighting for England, for her family, for her, it made her all the more determined to do what she could, to be strong for him, for them. He returned from leave, somewhat hoping to find her swollen with-child, having kept it a secret, but when he found her quite the same size, he only kissed her, shrugging in response when she asked him if something was wrong.
"I'm only surprised to see you out of uniform," he said. "I'm so used to seeing nurses and aprons."
"I know, I got dressed up," she confessed. "I see grey and olive drab all the time, I felt like we could use a little color." Their reunion was a happy one, their parting was bitter, though Sybil did her best to hide her tears from him. He was a little amused as she wiped her eyes, complaining that she'd always promised herself she wouldn't be a silly milk-sop at the train station. He kissed her red cheeks, thumbing away her tears.
"Write soon," she said and he promised he would, requesting the same of her. The words tumbled out of their mouths without thought and with every intention. It was habit, but the feeling was not lost. 'Write Soon' could have meant 'I love you' if either stopped to really think about it.
I'm ready.
Two years Matthew and Sybil were devoted in their letters, devoted in their lives. Sometimes she'd wonder at things, wonder if this was any sort of marriage, and he would too. Two years and four visits home, the last one just before a very big battle to be fought. She saw him off, once more crying quietly and she let him kiss her wet cheeks, promising he'd be home again soon. Months passed and the war raged on.
"When this is over," he wrote to her,
"When the war is over and you're home," she'd write.
"It will be so good to see you every day, when I read your letters I can see you saying everything as if you were right there next to me."
"I miss you very much, husband-mine. Your leave is never long enough. Everyone wonders after you've gone away if this time I'll surprise you next visit with a baby. I'm close to telling them perhaps we just need more time together than two days."
He laughed aloud at her frustration, for it mirrored his. He wanted so many things in life. He wanted the war to be over, to be home again, and to be a father. During the Battle of the Somme, the whistle between his lips, he thought of Sybil, as he often did, before he led the charge over the trenches. When a shell hit the earth not far from him, and he felt William clinging to his arm as they sailed through the air, he thought of Sybil. He thought of what to write her when he woke up (for this fall would surely render him unconscious) that if he was hurt bad enough, he'd be sent home, and they'd have a little more time together.
I'm ready now.
The room was warm, and it smelled sterile. The fact that he was in an actual room was clue enough that he was not on the front anymore. A cool hand came over his forehead, and he sighed at the touch, at the blissful silence of the room, and the distant birdsong from the open window.
"Matthew," the voice was soft and familiar.
"Hmm?"
"Can you hear me?"
"Obviously," he slurred. "Where's William, he's my batman, he was with me when the shell hit."
"Yes, I know, he's here too."
"Where's here?" he asked. "Am I still in France?"
"No," the familiar voice sounded as if they were amused. "You're in England." His eyes felt sandy, but he forced them open, blinking at the harsh light pouring in from the windows. "You're home, Matthew,"
"Am I?" he breathed. His eyes were blurry, he blinked again, clearing his vision and he at last saw the nurse who turned the compress on his forehead. She smiled at him. "Never seen a pregnant nurse before," he croaked, tears forming. Sybil smiled, bending to kiss him. "Sybil, my Sybil," he managed over and over. "Promised myself I wouldn't be a milk-sop, crying over my pregnant wife." She laughed, kissing his wet cheeks. She took his hand, for he was still weak from the morphine, and placed it on her belly. "How far are you?"
"Almost six months," she said. "You and William were wounded during the Battle of the Somme, and were in France in a make-shift hospital for quite some time. It took us ages to track you down…we thought…" she couldn't finish the sentence, and he tugged her closer, wanting to kiss her.
"M'not," he said, pressing kisses over her face. "I'm here, I'm right here."
"You'll be home, you and William, for a good long time,"
"That bad, huh?" he asked. He lifted his head, trying to look at himself. He noticed then his left arm bandaged down to his elbow, and the empty space where his hand should have been. "Oh."
"Don't think about it now," she pressed her forehead to his. "You're still perfect."
"I'm not," he said. "But it could have been worse."
"But it wasn't, and I'm grateful, and a little bit selfish that now you're home for good."
"What about William?" her eyes were sorrowful then, and she didn't speak right away. "That bad?" his voice was soft. She nodded.
"He's very comfortable."
"Good," Matthew said. "He protected me, if it weren't for him…"
"We'll do everything we can," she promised. "Are you hungry? Do you want anything?"
"You," he replied, tugging her close with his good arm. "Just you."
I'm ready.