Her dark gaze was transfixed on the twisting flames, the crackle of the fire the only sound in the room. It was quiet times like these when she allowed herself to feel, to remember what it was like to care for someone, to be cared for in return.
She had loved so many when she was a little girl, her parents, her sisters, Carson. As time passed, she began to understand the obligations of being an heirless earl's eldest daughter, tarnishing her girlhood fancies of romance and family. She learnt to stop feeling, stop loving so openly in order to protect herself from hurt. Then he had come into her life. At first she despised him and all he represented as he became the son she could never be for her father. Then his kindness, his intelligence, and his differences from the men she was used to—men of her own class—had slowly reawaken the love that used to blossom in her heart as a girl. She nurtured that love through the war, caring only for his welfare and happiness even if that meant accepting choices that would forever take him from her. After the war, for a few brief moments, a stolen dance, a kiss she still dreamt of, she had had him back to herself. But that was for far too short a time before he turned her away, and she married a man she could never love…for there would only be one love for her. And, in the past year, she had re-learnt to squelch her emotions. Now she found herself reveling in fortifying her heart against the traitorous emotion to safeguard herself against what her marriage had swiftly deteriorated into.
If she was honest, her marriage had not started out so horribly. Richard had pursued her and accepted her shortcomings. Of course, he had also insured her matrimonial acceptance by threatening to reveal her sole indiscretion. An imprudence she had confided to him in order to stop it becoming public knowledge rather than just innuendo. She might have been able to handle the scandal, but could not subject her family to social ruin at her own hand…could not subject him to it. So she had entered into a union with Richard. She ought not to complain. He was generous with his money, if prone to speak of it far too often. He was temperate with her privately, at least in the beginning until he became frustrated with her lack of response amorously. She blamed herself for that; she seemed to be passionless behind bedroom doors, feeling nothing from her recklessness years before to her marriage now. Of late though, he had continuously remarked on her frigidity, since his desire for children had become paramount to him and her seeming inability to become pregnant had become a source of contention.
She smiled sardonically. These quiet moments also made her think too much, of things best pushed aside. Maybe if Sybil had not already announced her second pregnancy and Edith her first, only months after her marriage—to the horrid bore Sir Anthony—Richard might not have become so obsessed with having children. He certainly was persistent in his attempts when he was home. Thank God his business kept him in London, and he allowed her to toil in the country. However, her reprieve from his company was to be short-lived. He was returning in mere hours for her parents' dinner party at Downton.
Downton…how she used to dream of being its mistress; now, she found it hard to step foot on its grounds. Even though it was a relatively short trip to her childhood home, she stayed away. When she was forced to visit, it was both a relief to return to the familiarity of home and a sadness because the moments of happiness she had felt there were long since ended. Tonight, Matthew would be there with his new love, a war widow from Ripon-funny how her thoughts always circled back to him. She really ought to put him in her past, especially since it was he who decided they could not be together given the circumstances surrounding Lavinia's death. His bloody honor, she both adored and loathed the quality. When she did not see him, she would convince herself she had fallen out of love with him, but then they would inevitably meet. Their eyes would lock while politely discussing familial goings-on, and she would realize she could never put her feelings for him in the past. She thought, unfortunately, Richard realized that too.
She was so lost in her myriad of thoughts that she did not notice when the door opened, did not look up to see who had come in until she felt hands settle around the base of her neck. "Darling, I thought you would be out running errands by now. Not dreaming in front of the fire."
Mary closed her eyes before answering, not wanting her thoughts of Matthew tarnished by the reality of her husband, "Richard, I didn't think you would be home for a few hours."
He leaned down behind her, his hands remaining where they were, "I wanted to see how the estate was getting on. I have been away too long." When she did not turn to greet him, but continued to stare into the flames, he could not help but add, "I assume it was not me you were thinking of as you were staring longingly into the fire? Hmm? I remember that look on your face near the end of the war, whenever dear cousin Matthew was in the room." His hands tightened infinitesimally on her neck. "What you are not even going to deny it?"
Not moving, for fear his grasp would increase, as it had in the past, Mary embraced her haughtiest tone, "Really Richard. I was just relaxing before tonight. Edith will be there and you know how her sniping takes all my patience."
"And I always thought you looked forward to the sparring." He did not remove his hands, but continued pressing into her pulse. She would have a bruise, but nothing her lady's maid could not conceal. "Maybe I can postpone my estate business, for a nice afternoon with you my dear." He mocked her obvious aversion of his presence by lacing his voice with insinuation. He moved one hand to trail down her dressing gown covered shoulder. Mary held still until he began to push the indigo silk off her. She could not do this so soon after ensconcing herself in thoughts of Matthew. Somehow it would sully them, intertwining them too much with her present life.
Richard removed his hands to take off his jacket, and Mary took the opportunity to escape her chair and move away, quickly turning to face him. "Richard, I have to start getting ready for the party soon. You wouldn't want me to be outshined."
"Oh Lady Mary, I think we both know there is little likelihood of that. You are like a rose beautiful to look at, but prickly to the touch." He threw his jacket recklessly behind him and stepped towards her. When she stepped back, he admonished, "Now, now do not think you can walk away from me."
He grabbed her by the arm, as she clutched her wrap closed, her only visible sign of nerves at his harshness. Mary refused to show any fear, she never did. Instead she icily stared at him. "We are not doing this now." She struggled to disengage her arm from his grasp, but he had proven to be quite strong, stronger than she ever would have guessed prior to their marriage.
Using his leverage, Richard tugged her towards him, "We are if it is to my liking. And it has been sometime. Long enough for me to know there is still no child."
"We must not speak of such things," the last thing Mary wanted was to bring a child into this unholy union. She truly worried that her dislike of the father would transcend to the child, scaring it for life.
"We may not have to speak of it, but…"he let the words go unsaid as he moved to kiss her. As always, Mary neither engaged him in the kiss nor tried to stop him. "I see you haven't been pining away for my affections." At that Mary tried once again to pull from his hold. She really could not bring herself to engage him so now. Richard only increased his grasp on her. "You will have my child Mary, and you will act as my wife on every level."
"Richard, let us just have some tea, talk, prepare for tonight." Finally she looked him in the eyes, but refused to plead with him. As he constantly reminded her, she was a lady and such subjugation was beneath her. She had lowered herself to beg for his help once, but never again.
"Mary, Mary you are anything but dense. You know that is not what I intend." He tried to kiss her again, only to have Mary turn her head away before contact could be made. "You are trying my patience." He gripped her chin in his free hand, "Do not test me further."
Fire lit in Mary's eyes, "Do not speak to me like that. I may be your wife, but I will not be spoken to as a naughty child." She tried to move from his hold once more, but succeeded in only inflaming his anger.
"Why try me so Mary? I give you everything you want, and only ask for you to be my wife and bare my children." He softened briefly, but Mary had learnt that he always seemed kinder before his actions became the exact opposite. "And do not think of another man who will never be anything more to you than a cousin, unless you want me to destroy the both of you."
"Do not insinuate such things. Matthew is far too honorable," Mary rarely mentioned his name to Richard, choosing not to incense his jealousy. For some unfathomable reason, today she wanted to emotionally injury him, even if she could not physically.
"I need not insinuate anything. It has always been there and will always be there…your bloody love for him. Enough of this." He thrust her from him, not caring that the momentum sent her sprawling against the solid hearth. "My lady, I will leave you for now to dream your dreams of your Galahad. But do not mistake, that I can and will return to the holy sanctity of your chambers whenever I want." Richard stormed out of the room without a glance back.
Once she heard the door slam, Mary allowed her tears to flow. God, how she had ruined her life. Happiness had once been within reach, now she had nothing that mattered.