"Shall we," he asks as they step onto the street. He holds his arm out and barely suppresses a grin. The sun catches the lock of hair that has escaped from his hat and he looks alive with the promise of tomorrow. London is at play all around them, the day is but young and Mary smiles.
"We shall," she says, threading her arm through his and they move to the rhythm of the city.
They walk aimlessly, shrugging off their worries and the sun only shines more brightly. They walk not as Matthew Crawley, Esq. and Lady Mary Crawley, the future Earl and Countess. They walk as Mr. and Mrs. Crawley, as Matthew and Mary.
(They are two people in love and first names are all that is required.)
Their strides fall into sync and Mary laughs quietly as she catches sight of their reflection in a shop window.
"We match," she explains and Matthew chuckles.
(They are polar opposites who have been reconciled.)
"The last time you wore that coat we were going on our honeymoon," he says and the memory of it draws them closer. He reaches to touch the embroidery on her collar and Mary closes her eyes as his thumb brushes against the back of her neck.
(This.)
"The last time you wore that suit we almost called the whole thing off," she replies with an arched eyebrow and Matthew catches his breath.
It's wrong, he knows, but these are the 1920s and he'll do as he damn well pleases. He's aching to kiss her but she strides on and the moment passes.
She stops suddenly at the corner of Fleet Street. (This.)
The day is bright, the sky is clear and she takes the plunge because these are the 1920s and she's always done as she pleases. She twists her neck so her lips touch his and this is what sublime means.
Adjective: of such excellence, grandeur, or beauty as to inspire great admiration or awe. This is what novels that stand the test of time are written about but she is no author and they are not characters and no syllables could capture this.
(They are transcendent.)
She smirks as they re-emerge and their steps start again, in sync, and they pound the pavement of their world. She wore red last time she was here and now she wears blue, and it is a blue that matches her husband's and she decides that blue is her favourite colour for red has brought her nought but happiness and despair. Blue is Matthew's colour and she is Matthew's wife.
They move together and there's a silhouette in the top window of a building.
He didn't publish. He loved (loves) her. They walk on an elevated plain and he changes his blue tie for a red one.