Downton Abbey doesn't belong to me.
A Perfect Years' Beginning
Matthew went through the drawers again and failing to find what he was looking for he pulled them all out.
Nothing.
He thought of going to ask Moseley but he didn't want it to seem more important than it was although it was the most important thing in the world.
"What are you looking for?" Lavinia had asked him. "Maybe I can help you find it."
"It's not important," Matthew lied. "It's just … something I've misplaced. I'm sure I'll find it soon enough."
She had found him going through the laundry again, after almost turning the sitting room upside down.
"Why don't you ask Moseley or your mother?" she suggested. "They may have seen whatever it is you're looking for."
Matthew smiled trying to remain calm; Lavinia was just trying to be helpful after all. "I will."
"Your mother and I are going over to the big house," she reminded him, "we have to decide on the menu and the decorations."
"Have fun," Matthew told her, thankful that his opinion on those matters wasn't required.
000
He remembered the day Mary had given it to him at the train station – a child's toy dog. How he had kept it close to him when he was in the trenches. He had taken it everywhere with him every day, in fact he felt naked without it.
When he'd been brought back to Downton after he'd been injured Matthew hadn't been surprised to find that the little dog was about the only personal effect he'd had on him. Everything else, Lavinia's photograph and the letters from everyone else had been lost. Gone forever.
Matthew had lost so much but he still had the dog.
His good luck charm and most prized possession.
000
A few days later he was sitting with Lavinia in the sitting room when his mother walked in with the dog and it was all Matthew could do to maintain his composure. He was so relieved; he'd thought he had lost it for good. He noticed the curious – and suspicious – glances from his mother and Lavinia when he grabbed the dog and quickly pocketed it giving some lame excuse about how it may be bad luck not to keep it.
He'd found his good luck charm, everything was going to be alright now.
000
"Here," Matthew said to Mary, taking off his jacket and draping around her shoulders. They were standing outside in the snow and Mary had just agreed to marry him. After all the years and everything that they had endured – war, sickness and death, being engaged to other people – they were finally going to be together.
Together. Matthew liked the sound of that.
Mary pulled the jacket closer around herself and without knowing why she found hand going into the jacket pocket. Her hand came out with her little toy dog – it was looking a little worse for wear.
"Matthew," she said, surprised and pleased, "don't tell me you carry this everywhere with you? Even now?"
"Someone once told me that it was for luck," Matthew replied, "and I think I need it all the time. Don't I?"
Mary was touched. She'd known that he had carried it to battle; she had seen it when he'd been brought back, wounded. But she had thought that since the war had ended and then his engagement that he hadn't kept it, that he'd most probably lost it or even given it away.
"I had sort of misplaced it for a while," Matthew explained, taking her into his arms, "but I found it."
"Oh, Matthew," Mary told him, "what am I going to do with you?"
"Love me, I hope," Matthew replied, "at the very least as much as I love you."
She smiled at him, a smile full of brilliance, hope and mostly love. She couldn't honestly remember a time when she hadn't loved this man. She couldn't imagine a time when she wouldn't love this man.
Putting the little toy back into the jacket pocket, she took his arm and they walked together back into the house.
0000
The End
