There was a soft breeze blowing as Mary balanced baby William on her lap. It was a glorious afternoon; the sun was shining, the air was warm and the birds were singing, but Mary barely noticed it. She focused on rocking William gently in her arms until he became drowsy.
Mary revelled in the peace she got whenever she escaped from her family with little William, the last memory of her husband. There was something comforting in sitting alone in the grounds with her son. She lowered her gaze to William and smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead as he fell asleep. The baby was swathed in white, instead of black, as Mary couldn't bear dressing him in black when he was the only thing which made her smile now. If he wore black, the bitter memories would flood back every time she set eyes on him.
"Mary?"
Mary glanced up, mildly startled. Edith was standing underneath the nearest tree, wearing a rather tentative expression. Mary looked away unenthusiastically.
"Yes, Edith?" she replied wearily.
"I was only wondering if you were alright," said Edith quietly, approaching her and coming to a halt as she reached the bench Mary was currently sitting on.
"I'm fine," Mary replied, with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She hoped Edith would leave her alone; she had come out here so she could be on her own – surely Edith could understand that if she had wanted company, she would have remained in the house.
Much to her chagrin, Edith lowered herself onto the bench beside her older sister. For a few seconds, they sat in complete silence, which didn't seem to bother Edith in the slightest. She stared aimlessly around the grounds, smoothing down her black dress distractedly. Mary couldn't help feeling slightly relaxed; it was hard not to, when the sun was shining down on her, the sky was perfectly blue, and the smell of freshly cut grass was in the air. For a few seconds, she could forget all about the horrible events of the last couple of months.
She felt Edith shift slightly and glanced at her sister, suppressing a heavy sigh as she was brought back to reality and remembered that she was currently in the company of her younger sister. "Edith," she said abruptly, breaking the rather peaceful silence which had descended on them both. "I would prefer to be alone."
"Yes, I've no doubt you would," said Edith with a small sigh. Mary looked at her sharply.
"I don't think there's anything wrong with that," she said coolly.
"I'll remain here for a little while longer," Edith replied with unexpected firmness, her gaze travelling down to William as the baby stirred in his sleep. Her lips curved upwards in a smile.
"Mary?" she said slowly, almost cautiously. "Can I hold him?"
Mary's brown eyes widened in surprise. Although Edith had commented before about what a lovely baby William was, she had never once actually held him, or spent much time with him. In fact, Mary had got the distinct impression that Edith had been avoiding her, perhaps unsure how to talk to her after what had happened. She eyed her sister suspiciously for a few seconds, but eventually handed William over.
Edith's smile widened as she held William in her arms, rocking him back and forth as Mary had done earlier. Mary had been about to tell her to be careful, but realised that there was no need. Edith was holding William as though he was made of glass.
The next few minutes passed in silence. Eventually, Mary couldn't bear it any longer.
"Edith," she began, and Edith looked at her.
"I know what you're going to say," she said bluntly. "And I'm not going to leave you on your own. Not yet."
"Why are you sitting out here with me?" said Mary suddenly. "We've never been particularly close. Don't tell me you're worried about me!"
To her surprise, Edith laughed. "Mary, what a ridiculous question! Of course I'm worried about you. We all are."
"I suggest you all keep your noses out of my business," said Mary sharply, and instantly regretted sounding so harsh. She appreciated her families concern towards her, she really did, but she wanted to fight her grief alone.
Edith shook her head. "Mary, you have to stop ignoring everyone, and to actually let us talk to you. You won't improve if you choose to bottle up your emotions, and refuse to let anyone in. I wish you would talk to someone-"
"I'm fine!" Mary interrupted, her voice raised slightly. "I'm doing perfectly fine on my own." She bit back the words, "why would you care anyway?" and held out her arms. "Please give me back William, Edith."
Edith handed over the baby, and watched as Mary settled him in her arms. "But surely you want to try and move on?"
"Move on?" Mary repeated incredulously, snapping her gaze away from William and focusing on Edith in disbelief. "Edith, my husband has died-"
"I didn't mean it like that!" Edith interrupted quickly, her blue eyes anxious. "I really didn't, Mary. But the first steps to rebuilding your life would be to talk to someone..."
"I don't need to talk to anyone," Mary cut in.
Edith smiled sadly. "But you do. And I'm here for you to talk to."
"Edith, we have never been close. We still aren't." Mary pushed down the feelings of guilt as she spoke. It was perfectly true, after all. They had always been bitter rivals, and although they weren't quite that bad any more, she doubted they would ever be close. "I don't see why you're suddenly acting as though you care about me…"
Edith took a deep breath. "I know we haven't always got on, and we're both to blame for that. But I want to help you, Mary. I care about you because you're my sister, and sisters should love and support one another. I think the first time I actually realised that was after the loss of Sybil." Her voice broke slightly on the last word, but she continued to talk nevertheless. "We need to pull together and help each other, we need to forget all our petty disagreements in the past, and we need to try and move on from that. I want to help you."
Mary stared at her in pure shock. "What a speech," she eventually managed to say, her head spinning.
"Well, I meant every word of it," said Edith firmly.
Her stomach fluttering with nerves although she wasn't entirely sure why, Mary nodded slowly. "Perhaps you do have a point," she admitted slowly, hating the fact that she was actually agreeing with Edith. "But I don't need anyone to help me."
Edith chose to ignore this last sentence. "Mary, I understand how much you are grieving for Matthew, and it is perfectly understandable, of course."
"Please leave me be," said Mary quietly, ashamed at the fact that her voice was shaking slightly. She lowered her eyes to William, and tried to ignore Edith.
"But Mary-" her sister began.
"Have you come out here to gloat?" Mary interrupted suddenly. "Because if you have, than please don't bother."
Edith's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and hurt. "Do you really think I'd do that? After everything I just said? Mary, I'm a far better person than I once was!"
Mary could have kicked herself. She wasn't sure what had made her say that, but she certainly regretted it.
"I don't mean to sound harsh, but what I think you're forgetting is that I'm grieving for Matthew as well!" Edith continued. "Why would I come out here to talk to you simply to point and laugh?"
"I'm sorry!" said Mary quickly. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm not used to having you being...concerned about me, that's all."
Edith sighed. "Well, I am concerned about you. And I won't keep going on about it all if you don't want me to. But just think about this. Matthew would want you to carry on. He wouldn't want you to spend all your time grieving."
To her horror, Mary felt a lump rise to her throat. Swallowing hard, she shook her head. "I don't want to forget about him!"
"No, and you never will!" said Edith. "You'll always remember him; nothing could ever make you forget about him. What I meant was that you should try and continue with your life, whilst remembering him with every second that passes. Just…don't hide away. Talk to others, and we will help you."
Mary stared down at William as she fought back her tears. For a long while, neither of the sisters spoke.
"Thank you," said Mary eventually, once she had managed to compose herself. "I think I needed to be told that."
Edith's only reply was a soft smile. Mary didn't trust herself to talk for the next few minutes, and they were passed in silence. She wanted to talk to her sister, she really did, but she couldn't think of what to say. Mary wracked her brains as she tried to recall the last time she and Edith had had a decent conversation with one another, and she was slightly shocked to discover that they probably never had.
"So, how are things with your newspaper job?" Mary forced herself to say, wildly picking a topic of conversation out of thin air, not wishing to linger on the subject of Matthew for any longer.
A smile lit up Edith's face. "Quite good. Very good, actually."
"How is Mr Gregson?"
Edith's cheeks coloured a little. "Yes, he's very well, thank you."
"I was very rude to him," said Mary heavily as she remembered the first time she had met Gregson. That had been only a few days before Matthew had died. Her throat tightened.
"Don't dwell on it," Edith replied, a little too quickly for Mary's liking, and she knew that the same thought was running through Edith's mind.
She cleared her throat. "So, dare I ask what's been happening with you and him, then?" It surprised her that she was genuinely quite interested to know, although this could also be because it helped take her mind off Matthew.
"Nothing much," Edith replied simply. She hesitated. "I would like for you to meet him again. When you're feeling up to it, of course. You could always come down to London with me?" She spoke hesitantly, as though afraid of hurting Mary. Or maybe she was afraid of Mary's reply.
It was probably a mixture of both, Mary thought.
She nodded in response to Edith's question, and unexpectedly felt a glow of satisfaction as Edith beamed at her. "I'm so glad, Mary! Only when you feel like it, of course. But you might like to visit London for a bit."
"I think it would probably do me good," said Mary sincerly. She glanced down at William, who had began to stir.
Edith looked at her. "I'll leave you alone now, if you want. Do you want to come back up to the house with me, or would you prefer to stay here?"
"I'll come with you," Mary replied as Edith's earlier words about Matthew flashed through her head. Deep down, she knew her sister was right. It seemed strange that she had just taken advice from the person who had once tried to ruin her, but Mary knew that Edith wouldn't never even consider doing that now. She had changed.
She followed her sister up to the house, wearing a small smile.
Matthew was gone, but she wasn't alone. She had the support of everyone else, even Edith. And that meant something.
A/N: Sorry about the bad ending! I can never write good endings to stories.
I've never written any stories about Mary or Edith before, so I hope this one was okay - I love both the characters, but I don't know if I wrote them very well. I'm sorry if this fic came across as rushed.
I'll be grateful for any reviews! Thank you for reading this, hope you liked it :)