A/N: "I've run out of ideas for things to write," said I. "Write something involving strawberries!" said Silvestria.

So I did.

I envisage this as set in July 1913, a few weeks before the flower show and episode 5.

Thanks to Silverduck for the polish, as ever :) Also, she reliably informs me that it is possible to get 'grass cuts', much the same as paper cuts, that sting a lot and also bleed rather a lot. Just so you know. (Spoilers? Nooo...)

Hope you enjoy :)

Strawberry Fields Forever

Shifting patterns of dappled sunlight played upon the grass as Matthew sauntered across the estate. He'd just been to talk to Lord Grantham about one of the farms, and the topic had quite put him in the mood for a walk across the fields. Not being in any particular hurry, he decided to take a more circuitous route home across the further reaches of the estate. As he wandered further from the house and the main paths, he began to come across some wilder, less tended areas of land. He liked the less polished feel of them, enjoying the feel of thicker, longer grass under his shoes.

Squinting in the beaming sunlight, sweat started to prickle uncomfortably at the back of his neck. It was a swelteringly hot day! It suddenly occurred to him that he was in a remote corner of the estate, quite alone and unlikely to happen upon anybody. Smiling slightly to himself at the freedom of it, he shrugged off his jacket and flung it over his arm, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath of fresh, summer air as he loosened his tie a little. Deciding that he wasn't quite comfortable enough yet, he quickly rolled up his shirt-sleeves to the elbows and removed his hat, swinging it gently by his side as he walked, whistling happily to himself. As he crossed another field boundary, he stopped and peered into the distance. This field seemed to be spread across with some sort of knee high shrubbery – stooping slightly, he saw it to be scattered about with fresh, wild strawberries – and away in the middle of the field he was sure he could see a figure bending low amongst the foliage. Or did he imagine it? Blinking against the sunlight, he continued on his way, stepping carefully between the shrubs.

Crouching down amongst the strawberries, trying to refrain from actually kneeling in case she muddied her dress, Mary halted in her task as she heard a faint noise carry across the air. Was that… whistling? Frowning gently, she arched her back and looked up in the direction of it. A small gasp escaped her lips and her eyes widened as she realised that, unmistakably, Matthew was walking towards her! Where on earth had he come from? And why was he here? Blushing, she quickly ducked her head again, hoping fervently that he hadn't seen her, knowing already that it was a futile hope.

"Mary?" His annoyingly rich, deep voice carried to her ears across the muggy air. With a gentle sigh, she resigned herself and stood up, brushing her hands together to clear them of dirt.

"Cousin Matthew, hello…" her voice trailed off pathetically as she looked at him properly and realised the state of him. Her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink as she desperately tried to stop herself staring at his bared forearms or the tantalising glimpse of skin where his collar was open, and how he looked ever so slightly dishevelled all over, a result of the sticky heat. Her heart fluttered a little at the sight of him, as he stopped walking and smiled at her, his lips parting just a little. Lord! Was this really Matthew she was thinking of in such a manner? The notion terrified her as much as it enthralled her. Digging her nails into her palms to quash the worrying thoughts of her cousin, she regrouped herself and tried to regain control. "What brings you to this corner of the estate? It is so remote; one might almost suspect that you had purposefully sought me out here!" Her breath caught slightly as she desperately tried not to hope that that was in fact his reason.

"On the contrary, it is a very pleasant surprise to have come across you!" Matthew blundered, realising with a small thrill that they were quite alone, on a far-flung corner of the estate far from the house… He shook himself to banish the thought. This was Mary; she resented him, he knew, but – did she look just a little pleased to see him? Had her cheeks flushed just a little more when she saw him? He stammered as he realised he hadn't answered her question. "I've just been speaking with your father; I'm on my way home, but seeing as the weather is so beautiful I thought I'd take a more exploratory route." Did he dare add that he was now glad that he did?

"Oh." She smiled brightly at him, overly so, as if it would disguise the tremor of her heart at the notion that seeing her was pleasing to him. Oh, why did she care? She couldn't quite admit it to herself, but over the last few months she had found herself inexorably softening towards Matthew. She didn't want to, she was supposed to resent him, and his perpetual 'goodness' irritated her so! But… he was so kind, and he talked to her, really talked to her, and seemed to actually listen to what she replied; quite unlike any man she had known before. He was good-natured and good-humoured, he was intelligent, he was quick-witted – he had dared to stand up to her! And… she swallowed nervously as her eyes flickered across him. He was undeniably very, very attractive. He was infuriating and priggish at times, yes; but worryingly, she was beginning to find the whole notion of her cousin Matthew very appealing indeed.

He pressed his lips into a warm smile, sensing that he would get no further response from her. His eyes flicked down to the basket on the ground by her feet, and an absurd notion popped into his head and out of his mouth before he had properly processed it.

"I assume your reason for being here is to pick these fine strawberries – I have no hurry to be home; would you like some help? Two pairs of hands can accomplish twice the work!" His hands gripped his hat nervously as he held a forced, hopeful smile, fearing that it was too ridiculous a thing to suggest. Were they on good enough terms to idly pick strawberries together, or would she merely think him a pathetic fool? To his pleasant relief, she smiled shyly after a moment's pause.

"Yes, it is. I thought Mrs Patmore might appreciate them. Also it is so peaceful out here; I find the labour quite relaxing. You can assist me if you like, yes, thank you!" She clasped her hands nervously together as she replied, her voice sounding frustratingly high and breathless. He had looked so earnest, and now so delighted, that she couldn't refuse him – and if she was honest with herself, she didn't want to.

"Excellent, I should be glad to! Now, where have you already covered?" He stepped towards her as she pointed out the areas she had already picked from. Matthew nodded, and thought for a moment. "I see you only have the one basket. We had better work fairly close to each other then so that I might share it; or else I'm afraid my hat will have to serve!" He blinked and licked his lips nervously at the suggestion of proximity. For goodness sake, he was a grown man! To be so unsure of himself seemed ridiculous! Yet around Mary, he couldn't help but find himself not unpleasantly on edge, and earnest to induce her good opinion.

"Oh!" Mary exclaimed. For a moment she looked nervous; then recovered, her eyes flashing a little at him. "Well. I believe you are quite correct, cousin Matthew; and it wouldn't do at all to ruin your hat with strawberry juice." He drew in a sharp intake of breath at the velvety tone of her voice.

"Very well, then!" He laid his jacket and hat down by Mary's basket then straightened again, rubbing his hands together in readiness. Mary smiled to herself, trying not to entertain her pleasure in the fact that he had decided to leave his jacket off.

They earnestly set to work, settling into an easy silence. Both concentrated more than was really necessary upon picking each strawberry, only allowing themselves the occasional snatched glance at the other, trying to ignore the tremors shivering through them when they happened to reach into the basket at the same time. The whole thing was making Matthew dreadfully hot, really uncomfortably so. If only he could remove his constricting waistcoat as well… He sighed, standing up. Pressing his hands to the small of his back he stretched, then wiped his hand across his face in an attempt to cool himself. Mary allowed herself to watch him stretch, her eyes widening in slight embarrassment as he turned and looked down at her, surely having caught her stare. She felt suddenly breathless, and stood up slowly.

Her eyes were fixed in fascination to his face. Matthew was obliviously unaware of the fact that when he had wiped his face, he had inadvertently left a smear of dirt in a diagonal streak across his forehead and cheek. Mary's immediate reaction was to reach out and wipe it off, but she had no gloves on, and it was Matthew! Why had she not simply immediately pointed it out to him with a laugh of gentle mockery? His brows furrowed lightly in confusion as she continued to stare at him. Frustrated at herself, her lips opened and closed ineffectually a couple of times before she could make herself speak.

"You, er… Matthew, there's a bit of mud –"

Matthew's eyes widened, his pulse raced as she reached out a hand towards his face, taking a slight step towards him. Unfortunately, her eyes had been so fixed upon him that she had not thought to look where her feet were. Her foot caught upon the basket that lay between them, causing her to stumble forwards towards him with a soft cry of surprise. Instinctively she threw out her hands to steady herself; one fell squarely upon Matthew's chest and the other was caught by his own, as he had equally instinctively reached out to catch her. His other hand grasped her arm firmly. Her eyes flashed up to meet his, uncomfortably aware that her heart was hammering, telling herself firmly that that was purely down to shock.

"Are you quite alright?" Why did he sound so breathless? He gulped, hoping fervently that she would not take his actions as too forward. He was very, very aware of her hand upon his chest, and the concern that she must be able to feel his heart pounding caused it to pound even more. He took a deep breath to calm himself, but it was not easy with the feel of her wonderfully soft, slender hand clasping around his. He should let go. Why was he not doing? After what felt like an eternity, he finally made sure she was steady and pulled his hands away from her, feeling instantly bereft at the loss of contact.

"Yes, yes I'm fine, I am sorry." She gasped as he let her go, and her hand fell from his chest. She cast her eyes down, feeling slightly bashful, when a sudden realisation hit her. "The strawberries!" she exclaimed, remembering exactly what she had tripped over.

They immediately stooped and recovered the spilt berries. Feeling suddenly exhausted from the heat and the exertion, Mary sat down heavily upon the ground, deciding that her dress could simply be cleaned later. Seeing her sit, Matthew decided to follow suit, arranging himself far less elegantly but probably more comfortably amongst the low shrubs. Leaning back on his arms, he tilted his head back and took several long, deep breaths. Mary smiled. Now that her nerves had settled a little, she really felt quite perfectly at ease. She didn't seem to be very much bothered by the fact that she was sitting in the middle of a strawberry patch alone with Matthew. The thought did not make her particularly nervous or uneasy. She simply felt quite happy and peaceful. It was a strange feeling!

It did not last long, however. Matthew had decided to make the most of the situation by helping himself to a strawberry or two. Mary could not tear her eyes away as he picked up a large, juicy one, his fingers deftly twirling it briefly before his soft lips closed around it, wrinkling slightly as he took a bite with relish. Her breathing became worryingly shallow as he finished the fruit then… licked his lips to rid them of juice. She was utterly transfixed. His lips looked so soft… How could a man's lips be that soft? Her consternation only increased as, completely oblivious, he ate another and then tantalisingly licked the juice from his fingers. She felt an uncontrollable urge that it should be her tongue, her lips working upon his - Lord what was she thinking! Her brows rising sharply in horrified shock at herself, she dug her nails fiercely into her leg curled underneath her to banish the entirely inappropriate thoughts from her mind. It was Matthew! And she did not, she most certainly did not think of him in that way! She could not!

Probably with so much haste as to draw attention to herself, Mary decided that they had sat idly long enough and should renew their labour with fresh determination.

"Come, Matthew!" she uttered brusquely, determined that she must not allow her thoughts the opportunity to wander further. "These strawberries will not pick themselves, you know!" She swiftly stood up, brushed herself down and picked up the basket, marching to a fresh area before crouching once more in the shrubbery, setting about her task almost fiercely.

Bemused, Matthew's eyes followed her, his lips twitching in slight amusement. What on earth had affected her so? Shrugging slightly to himself, accepting that Mary was a wonderful, enthralling mystery to him, he pushed himself up and followed her to resume his assistance.

They worked in silence. Matthew could not put his finger on it, but felt sure that the atmosphere had shifted slightly. There seemed an uncomfortable tension in the air, and he could not think what had caused it. He desperately hoped that it was simply the heat, and the effort of their labour, rather than anything he may have inadvertently done. Had she been offended that he had reached out to her, demonstrating perhaps that he thought her incapable of recovering herself? Maybe he should not have presumed to eat some of the strawberries. Could it be that he had simply outstayed his welcome? Yet, she had invited him to continue… He shook his head, resigning himself to concentrating upon the task in hand. Attempting to understand Mary was futile.

Making good progress, they continued in this manner, largely ignoring each other, for a good while. Just as Matthew felt like the silence was returning to a more comfortable one, the air was split by a loud yelp from Mary. Matthew looked up sharply at her cry, dropping the strawberry in his hand. Mary had rocked back onto her heels and was clutching her hand, staring at her finger from which a bright red drop of blood was oozing. He quickly shuffled closer to her, frowning in concern.

"Mary? What happened, are you hurt?"

"No, no, I'm quite alright, it is only a grass cut," she hissed through her teeth. This took a moment to register with Matthew.

"Pardon me, a grass cut?" He stared incredulously at her.

"Yes! Have you never had one? Oh, it stings!" With a passing grimace, Mary took her finger to her lips and sucked gently at the small wound. Though he knew she was hurt, the action had a strange effect on Matthew, and he found himself unable to look away. His eyes fixated on her lips, and how they gently flexed as she sucked at it. She raised her head briefly to inspect it, and he could see the wet shine of her skin where her lips had been. With desire pooling in his belly and heat prickling throughout him, Matthew continued to stare in tremulous fascination as her lips parted again, and her tongue flicked out a fraction of a second before they closed around her finger once more.

"N-no, I can't say I ever have," he eventually stammered out a strained reply. Mary paused in her ministrations to raise her eyebrows disparagingly at him.

"Really? Did you never play in long grass as a boy, cousin Matthew?"

He frowned gently at her.

"Mary, I grew up in central Manchester. I think you overestimate the existence of the garden I had access to."

Their eyes locked for a moment in an unspoken challenge, each trying to work the other out. It was interrupted as Mary drew a sharp breath through her teeth as her cut stung her once more. Berating himself for his un-chivalrous behaviour, Matthew shuffled a little closer. For such a little cut, it was bleeding quite profusely. Without further thought, he whipped out his handkerchief. Mary looked at him in enthralled surprise as he tenderly took her hand and wiped at the small wound, before carefully wrapping his handkerchief firmly around her finger. Only once he had finished did he raise his eyes to hers, forgetting just yet to let go of her hand.

"Thank you," she whispered hoarsely.

Matthew's breath caught as he realised just how close he was to her, and that he was still holding her hand. Panicking slightly, he let go, rocking back on his heels to increase the distance between them, feeling more reassured once he had done so. Tapping his fingers lightly against his thighs in distraction, he cast his eyes around them.

"It was nothing, really. Anyway, I see that your basket is getting quite full now; and you really should have your finger washed properly, I'm sure my handkerchief won't do it that much good at all. If you are ready to return, shall I walk you back to the house?"

He took her elbow gently and helped her to stand up. She didn't need his assistance, but accepted it anyway. Her immediate thought was to dismiss his offer to walk back with her; she did not need him! But, he was smiling so sweetly at her. She wavered, with a small flutter of her heart. She supposed it wouldn't hurt, to let him think that he was being noble and chivalrous… She gave him a bright smile, recovering her cool composure.

"Yes, you may. Thank you!"

Matthew nodded. He swiftly stooped, throwing his jacket over his arm and placing his hat into the same hand, before picking up the basket brimming with strawberries with his other. Glancing around to make sure nothing had been left, he turned to smile at Mary before setting off, picking his way through the shrubs whilst keeping a careful eye on her.

They made their way slowly back to the house in companionable silence, with only brief interludes of polite, pleasant chatter. Each was too busy trying to work out the tumult of feelings within them. Mary was really quite unnerved by her apparently growing attraction to Matthew, and was finding it more and more difficult to deny. Oh, she had been able to excuse her slips and brief fixations 'til now, but it was becoming harder and harder to do so. She was reluctantly beginning to consider that she really might quite like him. And she was just beginning to not really mind that.

For his part, Matthew was busy considering the fact that, instead of now making his way home as he had been, he was now in fact going backwards upon his route. He glanced sideways at Mary, allowing himself for a brief moment to really look at her and appreciate her beauty, the way the sunlight caught her skin and made it glisten slightly where the heat had caused her, even her, to sweat a little. When he had set out for home, he had certainly not envisaged meeting her of all people, or spending an hour or so picking strawberries of all things. With a gentle sigh of contentment and a slight quirk of his lips into a smile, he decided that he didn't mind at all.

Fin

A/N: Thank you for reading! As always I'd love to know what you thought, I'll go ahead and say that reviews make my day, so if you're inclined to please do leave one!

I shall also warn you that both Silvestria and Silverduck have prompted me to write an AU version with slightly less UST and a bit more RST. Good idea? Look out for it!

Thank you! :)