Author's Note: This story is my 2014 MM Secret Santa gift for andthenwedownton. I drew much of the ideas and inspiration from her wonderful tumblr page, andthenwedance. For those of you who have been so generous with your reads, reviews, and favourites of Breaking Bread and Shifting Sands, this story takes place in the same modern AU and showcases a collection of Christmas scenes between Mary and Matthew spanning the years before and after those two stories. Thank you everyone for your continued support and happy holidays to you all.
Special thanks to patsan for organizing this event once again and for her continued friendship. Thanks to Willa Dedalus and Lala Kate; knowing the both of you makes me a better writer.
The title is taken from the song Christmas Time by Bryan Adams.
There's Something About Christmastime:
Queen Mary's School for Girls, Yorkshire, England, December 2004
"You made it!" Mary smiled, running into Matthew's arms and hugging him tight.
"Of course I made it," he smiled, inhaling the floral scent of her hair. "I knew you'd be cross with me if I didn't."
"Very cross," Mary smiled, stepping back from him. She turned and greeted Isobel while Matthew nodded to Cora and Robert. The parents then took their seats while Mary and Matthew remained in the aisle with Sybil.
"Each time I come here, I can hardly believe I'm in a school auditorium," Isobel smiled, looking around. "It's grand enough to be a grand salon in Belgravia."
"And costs about as much," Robert joked. "We thought about sending the girls to another school, but Mary likes that she can ride here, and Edith and Sybil grew up with many of the girls in their House. When it comes down to it, they like the school, so we keep them here."
"Well, you must be very proud," Isobel nodded. "Mary headlining the show is quite the accomplishment."
"She's worked very hard," Cora smiled. "She's up before the servants to go in for practices and rehearsals most days, on top of her other school work. I also think that she's dedicated herself far more this year. It may be her last in organized dance, so I think she's secretly trying to enjoy every moment."
"Have you decided on where she'll go next year for sixth form?" Isobel asked.
"London, for certain," Robert nodded. "She's trying to decide between Ashbourne and Holland Park. They've both offered, as well as some others."
"Robert wants her to go to Westminster," Cora smiled wryly. "But Mary is intent on doing interior design, so she wants to go to a school with a more specialized program."
"How modern of her," Isobel smiled. "She's certainly one of the more driven sixteen-year olds that I know of."
"How is Matthew finding things?" Robert asked.
"Very well, thank you," Isobel smiled. "I think he's cautiously optimistic about the rest of the year and his exams. He doesn't cope well with uncertainty. I also think that he is a little bit desperate to leave Manchester; to get away from his mother."
Cora reached over and squeezed Isobel's hand in understanding. "I've been telling everyone that he's going to end up at Cambridge," Cora grinned. "He's done so well for himself. We're so happy for him."
"I just wish that Reggie were here to see it," Robert sighed. "He would have been so proud. Eighteen years old and bound for law school. It's truly wonderful."
"Yes, Reginald would have been very proud of Matthew," Isobel nodded, squeezing Cora's hand in thanks. "Though he would have chastised me for letting his only child go into law instead of medicine.
The three of them laughed knowingly.
"Where's Edith?" Matthew asked. "I wanted to wish her good luck."
"She's getting changed," Mary shrugged. "She's on in the first Act, so she has to be ready. Make sure you pay attention. If you blink, you might miss her."
"Mary!" Sybil frowned at her. "You're very harsh."
"No, I'm not. We all conform to a pattern, and that's hers. To always be in the background," Mary said, laughing at her own jab at her sister.
"Mary," Sybil sighed. "You could be nicer to her."
"Don't worry," Mary said to Matthew, ignoring Sybil's rebuke. "Sybil will let you know when we're on stage. I'll be up in the second Act. My dance is near the end," she said proudly.
"I know, Mary," Matthew smiled. "I've seen this show before, remember."
"Yes, but you haven't seen it with me in the lead role," she arched her eyebrow at him in challenge.
A bell chimed overhead and the various parents and family members began heading towards their seats while the students left for backstage.
"The curtain is about to go up," Robert called to them. "Mary, get going. Good luck, darling."
Mary smiled at her parents, and hugged Sybil. She squeezed Matthew's hand, then walked briskly down the aisle to the curtained door to the side of the stage and disappeared.
Matthew wandered over to their seats, sitting down between his mother and Sybil. The lights dimmed overhead and Mary's dance instructor came out to polite applause. She said a few brief words, then the show began.
"I do enjoy how faithful they are to the original production," Isobel whispered. "Some of these modern adaptations are simply wrong."
"Yes, Mother, it would be tragic if we had to watch anything but giant mice and gingerbread soldiers," Matthew said wryly.
As they watched the scenes of the first Act unfold, Matthew shifted in his seat and settled in. He could almost close his eyes and know exactly what was happening by the notes of each song, and he found himself recognizing different students in the show, older now and having been promoted to more prominent roles. Though he was mainly just here to see Mary and Edith, he and his mother had been coming to these recitals for so long that it had become a bit of a tradition for them.
"There's Edith," Sybil pointed. "She's one of the snowflakes in the front, second from the left."
Matthew smiled as Edith took her position on stage for her ensemble scene. He knew that she did not particularly enjoy dancing. She preferred playing the piano. She took dance lessons and dutifully participated in the recitals and performances because her Mama insisted that she do so. Having to attend the same school and being part of the same dance company as Mary did not help. Mary loved to dance, and was quite good at it, which led to inevitable comparisons between the sisters. As Matthew watched Edith rise up on her toes and twirl her way through the scene, he smiled at her encouragingly. There was nothing particularly wrong with Edith's dancing. It was just that she was rather mechanical and rigid in her movements. Though Matthew had no idea about the technical terms, he would say that Edith was a fine dancer, but not particularly extraordinary. Her assemblé was sound and her arabesque was stable and solid. But there was no flair or elegance, no aplomb. She danced the way she seemed to be feeling – with indifference.
Matthew applauded with the rest of the family as the first Act came to a close. They stayed seated as others moved about and went out into the foyer of the school. After several minutes, Edith appeared, having changed out of her costume. Her hair was pulled tightly back from her face and she still had sparkles around her eyes and rouge on her cheeks and lips. She accepted flowers from Cora and nodded politely as everyone else congratulated her.
"Well done, Edith," Matthew smiled, leaning over and hugging her.
"Thank goodness that's over with for another year," Edith said sheepishly. "Are you coming back to the house afterwards?"
"We are, yes," Matthew nodded. "We're staying over through next week actually."
"How lovely," Edith smiled. "Right, well I'll see you after the show. I'll be off to the side while Mary accepts her adulation."
Matthew laughed knowingly and Edith said goodbye to her parents before returning backstage as intermission ended. Matthew sat back down, looking to each side of the stage intently, wondering from which direction Mary would make her entrance.
"Mary's solo is up next?" Matthew whispered.
"Yes," Sybil nodded.
He looked carefully up at the stage, the lights fading down. He had caught glimpses of Mary in some of the earlier scenes, but she was moving about the stage with other dancers. Now the scene was empty, no one else before them. The spotlight appeared at stage left and Mary came out, walking slowly from the wing.
Matthew swallowed. Her hair was tied up in a classic bun, with a thin tiara holding it in place. Her arms and shoulders were bare, thin clear straps holding the bodice of her costume tight to her body. Her alabaster skin was contrasted against the light pink and silvery white of her outfit, the fabric tapering down to her waist and the flared tutu that seemed to float across her hips. As she assumed her opening stance, Matthew breathed out, staring at her long legs, her slippers tied to her feet with pink ribbons that stretched elegantly about her ankles.
Matthew had seen Mary dance before, but she looked different this time – less impish, more regal. The sight of her transfixed him, but it was when the opening notes of the familiar song rang out and she began to move that he was truly captivated. He leaned forward in his seat, watching as she went through the movements with ease, a beatific smile on her face. She was beautiful and graceful and commanding, angular and sharp in one movement before seamlessly switching to soft and fluid the next. Her every step and expression seemed to be telling part of a story, the emotion and passion palpable in the air. By the time she reached the series of quick pirouettes to end her solo, Matthew was bewitched. He heartily led the applause as Mary exited the stage.
"She was quite good, wasn't she?" Sybil smiled.
"She was wonderful," Matthew agreed.
Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, December 2004
"Would you like tea?" Mary asked, leaning over and pouring Matthew a cup before putting the pot back down on its matching ornate plate and sitting back on the sofa.
"What?" she asked, looking at his smirk.
"Nothing," Matthew shook his head. "I just always find it funny to see you helping yourself at luncheon."
"It's Downton tradition," Mary shrugged. "The servants have their feast at lunch time and we have ours in the evening."
"I know that, but I would have expected that you would have required them to have their lunch early and then serve you, like they normally do," Matthew smiled.
"Don't be stupid. It's Christmas Day. In the whole year we fend for ourselves at Christmas lunch and on New Year's Eve. It doesn't seem much to me. We can deal with it," Mary huffed.
"Of course," Matthew teased. "You are thoroughly modern after all, aren't you?"
"Careful, Matthew," Mary frowned. "I haven't given you your present yet. I can always hold it back, you know."
"And I haven't given you yours yet either," Matthew said confidently. "And I think you ought to be nice to me, because what I have gotten you this year is absolutely spectacular."
Mary blinked in surprise. "Given that you of all people know how picky I am, that's a very bold statement to make."
"It is," Matthew nodded. "But even if you don't like it, you wouldn't dare insult your best friend by rejecting his Christmas present, would you?"
"That depends. I suppose I will need to know more about the gift in question first," Mary smirked.
"Well, my history is quite good," Matthew replied. "I can't recall a gift that I've given you that you haven't absolutely loved."
"How do you know I wasn't just being kind?" Mary asked playfully.
"To pull that off, you'd have to be a good liar. Are you a good liar?" Matthew countered.
"Not good enough to try it, apparently," Mary laughed.
"All right, everyone, let's have at it," Cora smiled, nodding to her daughters.
Mary, Edith and Sybil all got up and went over to the large Christmas tree. They each retrieved all of the presents for their parents, Granny and Isobel first, then brought them over and handed them out. Next they fetched the gifts for each other and Matthew.
Robert opened one of his presents first, followed by Violet, then Cora and Isobel. So it went, with the requisite oohs and aahs and pleasant thank yous as books, socks, shawls and sweaters were unveiled.
"What in the world?" Violet frowned, staring at the open box on her lap.
"It's a mobile phone, Granny," Sybil laughed. "We all thought that you could use one."
"So it will be easier for us to get a hold of you," Edith explained.
Violet lifted the thin silver device out of the box and looked at it in confusion. "And how does one dial without any numbers?"
"It's a flip phone," Edith smiled. "Give it here, Granny."
Edith opened the phone for Violet and passed it back to her. The Dowager Countess carefully brought the phone to her ear.
"There's no sound," Violet said.
"You need to turn it on, Granny," Mary rolled her eyes. She took the phone and activated it. "We already set it up for you and arranged for your monthly plan. You just dial as normal."
"Here, I'll be your first call," Sybil smiled, taking out her own phone and dialling the number for Violet's new mobile.
Violet jumped slightly, startled by the whimsical tone coming from her phone. She stared at it for several moments.
"Press the green button to pick up," Matthew said.
Violet touched the green button, drawing her hand back immediately as though the device had a disease.
"H…Hello?" she said, frowning as she brought the phone to her ear.
"Hello Granny. It's me," Sybil chuckled.
"Good Heavens. Is this an instrument of communication or torture?" Violet asked, shaking her head at her granddaughters.
Mary wandered over to where Matthew was sitting on the sofa and sat down next to him.
"Well? I'm waiting, you know," she said, looking at him inquisitively.
"You're always so impatient when it comes to getting presents," Matthew smiled.
"And you're always so tediously slow when you give them. You enjoy making me suffer," Mary said pointedly.
Matthew laughed and presented her with a box wrapped in blue paper with a white ribbon. Before Mary could take it from him, he held it back.
"Wait a minute…where's my present?" he asked.
Mary rolled her eyes and picked up a small box from the table in front of them. "Show me yours, and I'll show you mine," she said, arching her eyebrow at him.
Matthew swallowed nervously, then composed himself, hiding behind a polite smile. He handed her the present and nodded as he took his gift from her.
"You first," Mary smiled. "I want to prepare myself for how 'spectacular' my present will be."
Matthew chuckled, then opened his present. Mary laughed as he made a show of tearing the wrapping paper and ripping open the box enthusiastically. He paused and his eyes widened as he pulled back the tissue paper inside.
"Mary," he whispered. "I…thank you…"
He ran his fingers across the embroidered crest that he knew so well. He smiled at the stitched on roses, the familiar red chevron and the lion between two closed books.
"Let's see how it looks on you," Mary beamed, taking the Trinity College scarf out of the box and wrapping it around his neck. Her hands smoothed out the fabric as she ran it across his shoulders. Matthew smiled from the warmth of her touch.
"There. Now you look like you belong at Cambridge," Mary smiled at him. "I also got you matching cuff links and a tie. You won't go anywhere on campus without having some reminder of me with you."
"As though I could forget," Matthew smiled, running the scarf through his fingers. "Won't you be texting me throughout the day like you always do?"
"Next year, I'll be living in London and busy with sixth form, Matthew," Mary said haughtily. "I'll be far too busy for the likes of you."
"A good thing that I'll have your scarf then," Matthew smirked. "That is, if I do end up getting into Trinity."
"Oh please," Mary rolled her eyes. "They would be lucky to have you. Don't pretend as though you have anything to be concerned about. You'll get in. I know you will."
Matthew smiled at her encouraging words.
"Right. Now go ahead and open your present," he smiled, nodding towards the box in her lap.
Mary smirked and carefully untied the ribbon and unfolded the wrapping paper from the box. Matthew rolled his eyes as she refolded the paper into a neat square and set it aside before opening the box.
"Oh, Matthew," she exclaimed, taking out the lovely blue cashmere sweater. "It's gorgeous."
"I'm glad you like it," Matthew beamed. "But, that isn't all of your present actually."
She frowned at him in confusion, then looked into the box again. She lifted up the tissue paper and gasped slightly. Buried underneath was a set of rulers and drafting instruments, as well as a hardcover edition of a well-known book, Interior Design.
Mary's mouth fell open and she looked at Matthew. He smiled back at her. She'd confided in him numerous times about her arguments with her parents regarding how she wanted to be an interior designer and how they thought such a career choice could only lead to failure and unemployment. Though they now were grudgingly allowing her to go ahead with her dream, they were not entirely in support of it. No one was. No one, except Matthew.
"Thank you," Mary whispered, leaning over and hugging him close.
"Is it spectacular enough for you?" he asked, holding her against him.
"Yes," she nodded against his shoulder. "Yes, it is."
"Happy Christmas," Matthew said.
"Happy Christmas, Matthew," she replied, holding him close.
"Mary, Matthew!" Sybil called. "Come on, we're going to play Cranium!"
Mary and Matthew let each other go and got up from the sofa.
"Sybil, I don't know why you insist on playing every year. Matthew and I always win," Mary said lightly as they followed her sisters to the games room.
Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, London, England, December 2006
"You know, I thought that once you were done with ballet, I would never need to sit through this performance again," Matthew smirked as they walked across the cobblestone road towards the large glass atrium.
"Don't be stupid," Mary rolled her eyes, slapping his arm. "It's a Christmas tradition."
"So is mistletoe, but I don't see Carson hanging it above every doorway at Grantham House, or at Downton," Matthew teased.
"Are you so desperate that you need to resort to using shrubbery to help trick some poor girl into kissing you?" Mary asked mischievously. "I thought a Cambridge man would be far more suave than that."
Matthew blushed slightly. "No," he grunted with mock indifference. "I'm only saying that a Christmas tradition is hardly a valid reason to keep watching this same play over and over again."
"Well, I'm going in," Mary said with her trademark air of superiority. "I wanted my best friend to come with me, but if you would rather not, then I shall go without you."
"Now, now, don't be like that," Matthew smiled, shaking his head and putting his arm around her shoulder. "You know that I couldn't watch The Nutcracker without you. Who else would show me when I was supposed to applaud?"
Mary laughed as they reached the entrance. Matthew stepped in front of her and opened the door, moving back and holding it open, allowing her to enter first.
"Such a gentleman, Matthew," Mary grinned as she nodded to him and walked through into the large gathering hall.
Matthew smiled to himself as he watched her go past. He sighed before following her inside, taking out their tickets to show to the usher.
Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, December 2006
"God, it will be such a relief to get out of here," Mary sighed dramatically as they walked down to the kerb. "Is it just me, or has it been even gloomier than usual this year?"
"It's just you," Edith replied. "You complain about the weather every year."
"And finally Papa has listened," Mary said smugly. "I highly doubt that it's raining in Mallorca."
"You're sure that you can't come along, Matthew?" Sybil asked. "It seems wrong for you to be spending Christmas by yourself at Cambridge."
"Matthew's too busy to do something as juvenile as going off to Spain with us, Sybil," Mary smiled. "Even Isobel recognized it. She left for America without him. He'll be far happier surrounded by books and scholars debating the world's mysteries and eating treacle."
"Hardly," Matthew shook his head in amusement. "As much as I would enjoy watching you gallivant along the beach, my pro bono trial begins in January and I need to prepare. I thought that it would be adjourned until later, but it appears not."
"Proper ladies do not gallivant, Matthew," Mary arched her eyebrow at him. "We merely lounge, and tan, and drink, and revel in the fact we aren't here in dreary London."
They reached the waiting car. The footmen were loading the family's luggage for their vacation.
"You're sure that we can't drop you anywhere, Matthew?" Robert asked. "It's no trouble at all."
"Thank you," Matthew nodded. "But I still need to run some errands today before I head back, and I'm going to be all over the place. I'll just take the Tube."
Matthew shook hands with Robert and wished him and Cora happy holidays. He hugged Sybil and Edith and they ducked into the car. Mary stood by looking down at the pavement as he said his goodbyes. He finally reached her and she looked up at him, her eyes playful.
"Last chance," she said. "You can prepare for your trial just as well in Mallorca as you can at Cambridge."
"Sadly I can't cross-examine witnesses over Skype," Matthew smiled. "And my supervisor will want to meet to review my notes and my opening. Don't worry about me. Go and have fun. Don't miss me too much."
"As if I would," Mary huffed. "I'm sure that there are very handsome Spanish pool boys in Ibiza that will keep me sufficiently distracted."
"I'd like to see you try and get away to one of those infamous parties with your parents watching your every move," Matthew laughed.
"You underestimate me, Matthew," Mary smirked. "Keep in mind that my parents go to sleep early in the evenings."
Matthew swallowed slightly, then smiled bravely. Truthfully that was the problem. He'd been on vacation with Mary before, and it was exactly that type of scenario that he wanted to avoid. He enjoyed spending time with her and her family, of course. He always did. But inevitably there would always be a boy – someone to clamour for her attention, and Matthew found such incidents, while innocent on the whole, ended up ruining his vacation more often than not. Cambridge was better for him. Cambridge was safe. Cambridge wasn't filled with images of Mary prancing around in a bikini flirting with some muscled Neanderthal who barely spoke English while Matthew had to sit back and endure it.
"If you're worried that I might get into trouble, you should come along and protect me," Mary joked. "You could pass for my older cousin."
Matthew bristled slightly at the reference. Being her older cousin was hardly the role he envisioned.
"You can take care of yourself perfectly well," Matthew replied. "Just remember that most mobiles have cameras now."
"That won't stop me," Mary declared. "In fact, I'm going to use the camera on my mobile quite often. I'm going to send you pictures each day showing you the sunny skies, white sands and crystal waters that you're missing out on."
"I can't wait," Matthew smirked. He gave her a hug.
"Happy Christmas, Matthew," she said, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek.
"Happy Christmas," he mumbled and kissed her back.
"Mary, we're going," Cora called from the car.
"I'll text you when we land," Mary said, patting Matthew's arm affectionately. "Love you!"
Mary turned and stepped into the waiting limousine. The footman closed the door behind her. Matthew watched as the car pulled away from the kerb and headed off down the street.
"Love you," he said, as Mary's car disappeared into the distance.
La Suite Impériale, Shangri-la Hotel, Paris, France, December 2014
Mary dropped her bags of purchases on to the carpeted floor. She placed her key on the ornate glass side table behind one of the sofas and crossed through the living room. She entered the master bedroom and shook her head, a smile coming to her lips as she took in the sight of Matthew's bare back, his arms splayed to his sides, his head turned against the soft pillow. He looked exactly as he had when she left him in the morning.
She walked over to his side of the bed and sat down, staring at him for several moments. Had it really been four months already? Four months. Four glorious months having Matthew as her boyfriend. When he first suggested they take a trip together, her instinct was to say no. It seemed too rushed, too strange to be going away with him all alone just the two of them. Not that she was at all concerned about being alone with him during the day and sharing his bed at night. They'd done that so many times in the past four months that the rare occasions where she did go to sleep without Matthew beside her somehow seemed wrong to her now, as though something was missing.
But in London, with their separate homes and separate lives, they could escape from each other during the day. They spent most of their days working, keeping in touch but rarely seeing each other, except for the odd lunch with Sybil or Edith. Their nights were comfortable and lovely, and Mary thought they'd found the perfect balance of spending enough time together to keep their passion burning, but not so much that they'd become bored with each other, or worse, discover all of each other's flaws.
She had to concede that the week in Paris had been heavenly so far. Touring the Louvre, walking through the snow covered Tuileries, having croissants and hot chocolate every day, it was all relaxed and comfortable and easy. For four months, Mary had dismissed the excitement she felt with Matthew as merely the high of a new relationship. Matthew was her best friend. Of course the early days of this new dynamic between them would be fun and happy. But as early days became months and Mary's feelings only grew stronger, she had to admit it – she could get used to this.
"Matthew," she whispered, leaning over and kissing his forehead.
He groaned in reply, his eyes still closed.
"Matthew, darling," she smiled, brushing his hair away from his face. She leaned down again and caressed his cheek, then kissed him softly on the lips.
He blinked several times, then smiled dumbly at her.
"Mmm…Mary," he said thickly, adjusting himself in bed and opening his eyes more deliberately.
"You need to wake up, you know," Mary smirked, playing with his hair again. "I've already been to the spa, gone shopping and you've been sleeping the entire day away."
Matthew turned over on to his back and sat up slowly, reaching his arms out in front of him and stretching languidly. Mary leaned against his shoulder. He turned and kissed her lightly.
"I'm still recovering from last night," he said smugly.
"Well you wouldn't be so worn out if you hadn't insisted on having that extra round of drinks," Mary teased.
"It wasn't the drinks that wore me out," Matthew smiled, grinning as Mary blushed. "Or the dancing. Or how you practically assaulted me in the back of the cab."
"You weren't complaining," Mary said, arching her eyebrow at him. "And if you call what I did 'assault' then what do you call groping me on the dance floor and in the back of that same cab?"
"Foreplay," Matthew grinned.
"You aren't cute, you know," Mary smiled, kissing him lightly. "I still can't believe you suggested going to that club, or that you bought me that dress to wear."
"All part of the plan, love," Matthew chuckled. "I wanted to have the experience of getting you very drunk and taking advantage of you."
"Was that what you were attempting?" Mary laughed, kissing him quickly. "It seems to me that I was far more sober than you. I was afraid you were going to pass out on me the way you stumbled through the door."
"Mmm, but I didn't pass out, did I?" Matthew grinned, kissing her again and wrapping his arms around her.
"Matthew," she smiled, closing her eyes. Her hands ran across his bare chest, and around to stroke his back. "Is this the next phase of your plan then? Luring me back to bed?"
"Unfortunately, no," he said, kissing her once more before releasing her. "I need to get up, shower, change. We'll save the bed for…later."
Mary laughed as she stood up and gave him room. "Where are we going for dinner?"
"You'll see," Matthew called, walking towards the bathroom.
"Are we doing anything afterwards?" Mary asked.
"You'll see," Matthew laughed.
"Well, what should I wear?" Mary frowned.
"Your black dress," Matthew said, disappearing through the door. "The little one, with the lace," he added.
Mary rolled her eyes as she headed towards her dressing room. The man was up to something.
Opera Bastille, Paris, France, December 2014
"You know that I hate surprises," Mary grumbled, crossing her arms in front of her.
"Darling, don't you like it when I'm mysterious?" Matthew joked, taking her hand in his and placing it on his thigh. "It makes me seem more dashing and sophisticated, doesn't it?"
"No," Mary said pointedly. "It makes you seem more annoying, actually. I love you for many reasons, and deliberately keeping me in the dark is not one of them."
"Patience, Mary," Matthew smiled, kissing her hand. "We're almost there."
"Almost where?" she rolled her eyes.
"Ici, ca suffit, Monsieur Crawley?" the driver asked.
"Oui, c'est parfait, merci," Matthew said quickly.
The windows of the hotel limousine were tinted so dark that Mary couldn't see outside very well. She peered out her side of the car and could only see a large open square, likely centuries old, which was hardly of assistance since they were in a city full of large open squares that were centuries old.
The car came to a stop and the driver got out to open the door for them. Mary stepped out first, her eyes noticing the towering bronze column in the middle of the square, with the golden winged statue atop it, reflecting the streetlamps surrounding it. Against the evening sky, the scene was quite majestic.
"Place de la Bastille?" Mary asked, turning to Matthew in confusion. "We were just here yesterday."
"We were," Matthew nodded. "But we weren't there."
Matthew took her arm in his and turned her away from the kerb. She blinked in surprise and smiled as she took in the looming glass and metal façade of the Opera house. She laughed with delight as she saw the large banner hung across the archway at the top of the staircase.
"Matthew," she exclaimed. "For real?"
"It's a Christmas tradition," Matthew said, arching his eyebrows at her. He took out their tickets and showed them to her as he escorted her towards the stairs. "Since we aren't in London, I thought you'd enjoy seeing how the Paris National Opera performs your beloved Nutcracker."
Mary squeezed his arm as they went up the stairs. The modern building was far different from the traditional opera houses and theatres she was used to, but she didn't mind. Her head was still spinning happily at Matthew's surprise.
Matthew stepped ahead of her and pulled open the glass door. He moved back and allowed her to walk in first. Mary grinned as she stepped past him.
"Thank you, darling," she said as she went in.
"My pleasure," Matthew said, smiling to himself as he followed behind.
Office of Mary Crawley Interior Design Inc., Mayfair, London, England, December 2016
Mary stared at the seven frames leaning against the wall. She frowned as she glanced from one to the other. She crossed one arm in front of her and rested the elbow of the other on top of it, flicking the pen that her husband had bought her years ago for their one month dating anniversary between her fingers.
"Light them up," Mary said.
Anna flicked the switch and the frames were all backlit by soft white lights. She stepped forward and looked at the displays in greater detail. Finally, she sighed and dropped her arms to her sides.
"I just don't see it," she shook her head. "Why would any man possibly want all seven Star Wars movie posters framed and mounted in his basement?"
"And don't forget that you have to leave wall space in the design for Episodes VIII and IX," Anna smirked.
"Please don't remind me," Mary scowled. "And don't think that I've forgiven you for forcing me to go buy the lightsabers myself. I think the store clerk almost fainted when I asked about them."
"Oh, come on. It was harmless," Anna smiled. "It's every boy's fantasy that a woman as sophisticated as you will be into Star Wars. And he didn't faint because you asked about the lightsabers. He fainted when you asked about the Princess Leia bikini."
Mary blushed and looked down at the floor. "That was just meant as a joke," she mumbled.
"Oh, really? You do realize that we can see each other's browser history on our office network, don't you?" Anna grinned.
"It was nice of Liam to sign the first poster, wasn't it?" Mary said quickly, changing the subject.
"Mr. Neeson was very kind, yes," Anna agreed. "He's so nice in person. I was expecting him to be carrying a gun or something."
"He's a big teddy bear," Mary smiled. "And he still remembers what a great job we did on his kitchen."
"Well perhaps this client will give you a glowing testimonial that we can put on the website and in our marketing materials," Anna smiled, nodding towards the large posters. "Something like 'The Force is strong in this one'."
"Oh, shut up," Mary groaned, turning and walking over to the large table along the wall. She picked up some fabric swatches and rearranged them. "I told you. I don't try and change the taste of my clients. I only take what they want and try and limit the damage. What time is it?"
"Just past four. Why?" Anna asked.
"Matthew should be here soon," Mary said, picking up a colour reel and comparing different shades with the fabric swatches. "We're going for an early dinner, then over to the Coliseum."
"Oh, tonight's The Nutcracker?" Anna asked.
"Tonight," Mary nodded. "We're hosting everyone next week so tonight was basically the only night we had free."
"I'm shocked that Matthew continues to go with you every year," Anna smiled. "But I guess that he knew to expect that before he married you."
"He did," Mary smiled. "I know he doesn't particularly enjoy it, but I always make it up to him."
"Hence the search for the Princess Leia outfit?" Anna joked.
"Anna," Mary frowned. "I'm nearly three months pregnant."
"You're barely showing," Anna retorted. "And I've seen the way Matthew still looks at you. I highly doubt he would object if you were to dress up for him, pregnant or not."
Mary blushed again. "Matthew isn't some obsessed fanboy. He likes Star Wars and he's seen all the movies but he doesn't get carried away."
"What the? This is brilliant!" a voice cried.
Mary and Anna turned around as Matthew came into the room. He beamed at the display of Star Wars posters as he walked over to Mary.
"Hello, darling," he said, kissing her on the cheek. Mary blushed and looked down at the table. Married for seven months and she still loved his public displays of affection.
"Anna," he nodded to her assistant. He took a step forward and stared at the framed movie posters again. "For a client?" he asked.
"Yes, a doctor who clearly never outgrew his teenage years," Mary rolled her eyes. "We're converting his basement into a shrine."
"Are these lightsabers?" Matthew exclaimed, walking over to another table where numerous long boxes were stacked. "You even have the Mace Windu one! And these are the expensive replicas, not the children's toys. They're so rare!"
Anna turned to Mary and looked at her knowingly.
"Are you sure that you know how to do the hair right?" Anna whispered. "I think that Princess Leia had her hair up in a bun in the bikini scene."
Mary's cheeks flushed crimson. She glared at her assistant.
"Let's go, darling. We'll be late for dinner. Where are we going?" she called to her husband.
"To Hawksmoor," Matthew replied, still entranced by the lightsaber boxes.
"Matthew," Mary said. "Those belong to the client."
"Right," Matthew nodded, reluctantly putting down one of the lightsaber boxes. He waved goodbye to Anna and left the room.
"For your information, Princess Leia actually wore a long braid in that scene," Mary said, raising her eyebrow. "And I've been practising how to do that, thank you. Good night, Anna."
"Have fun!" Anna laughed, sharing a knowing look with her boss. Mary caught up with Matthew at the elevator and linked her arm in his.
London Coliseum, London, England, December 2016
"We survived another year!" Matthew pumped his fist as he held the door open for Mary to leave the Coliseum. She rolled her eyes at him as she took his hand and they walked down the pavement towards the car.
"If I had known that you would be so petulant about going, I would never have invited you to my recitals when we were younger," Mary huffed. "You never complained back then."
"That was different," Matthew smiled at her. "You were dancing in the show. Of course I was going to go."
Mary opened her mouth in pleasant surprise. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" she said gleefully. "Even back then? When I was eight years old?!"
Matthew blinked in realization. "No! Of course not! I was ten, Mary. That's disgusting," he frowned. They walked for several metres, Mary still smiling at him. He let out a long sigh.
"It's possible that I may have begun looking forward to seeing you perform a bit more when you were…erm…fourteen," Matthew mumbled.
"Matthew! You were sixteen!" Mary chided him.
"It was that damn snowflake costume," Matthew blushed.
"Ahh," Mary smiled, looking ahead as they walked. "The neck was rather low cut."
"Can we please not talk about this? I would rather not discuss how I was leering at my wife when she was in high school," Matthew grumbled.
"I'm surprised, is all," Mary said smugly. "Normally boys are obsessed with whoever does the Arabian Dance. That costume is far more revealing."
"I wasn't just interested in whichever girl was showing the most skin, Mary," Matthew rolled his eyes. "Give me more credit than that, please."
"Well, what was it, then?" Mary asked, smirking at him.
"It was that it was you," Matthew said easily, staring right back at her.
Mary beamed and looked back down the street.
"A pity that I left all my dance outfits back at Downton," she grinned. "Though they wouldn't fit in my current state," she added, patting her stomach.
"You're beautiful," Matthew smiled. "I don't need you to dress up for me."
"Well, that's a shame," Mary said mysteriously, avoiding his eyes. "Because I have a surprise planned for you, for being so gallant to escort me to see the Nutrcracker again this year."
"A surprise?" Matthew blinked. He opened the passenger door and Mary stepped in elegantly and sat down. "What kind of surprise, exactly?"
"You'll see," Mary said, raising her eyebrow to him. "But I am quite certain you will enjoy it."
Matthew nodded and closed her door. His imagination ran wild as he circled the car and got into the driver's side.
London Coliseum, London, England, December 2018
"Sybil, darling, please be careful with him. He's not quite balanced all of the time, especially when he tries to run," Mary called, frowning at her youngest sister.
"Got it!" Sybil shouted back as she half walked and half waddled up the aisle with George, holding his hands above his head. The toddler squealed as he wobbled side to side, his blond head bobbing back and forth as he scampered away with his aunt.
"I sometimes don't know who is more of a child," Mary rolled her eyes.
"Darling, he'll be fine. Sybil is wonderful with him," Matthew smiled, rubbing his hand on her knee.
"I know," Mary sighed. "It's just that it seems he just learned to crawl and now he's practically sprinting all over the place. He wasn't supposed to start running for another six months at least."
"Well he does have athletic genes, you know," Matthew said smugly.
"Thank God his Mama is a proper sportswoman," Mary nodded. "If he inherited your coordination, he would have face planted on the kitchen floor by now."
"I was only four years old at the time and I tripped over the cat!" Matthew whinged, frowning at her. "I never should have let Mother tell you that story."
"And what is your explanation for getting a concussion as a teenager when you were playing football?" Mary asked, arching her eyebrow at him. "I almost fainted when I saw you knock heads with that other boy."
"Well, that's different," Matthew rolled his eyes, then smirked at her. "I was too busy staring at you in the stands and he crashed into me going for a header."
"Matthew!" Mary scolded him. "You can't be serious!"
"That red sweater of yours was a personal favourite of mine," Matthew whispered playfully.
Mary's eyes widened in alarm. She smirked and looked down at her lap. "It was Edith's actually, and it was a size too small."
"I disagree. I recall it was a perfect fit in all the right places," Matthew smiled.
"Matthew!" Mary blushed. "I always thought my best friend was such a gentleman. Little did I know you were full of raging hormones just like every other boy."
"Now that's unfair," Matthew said easily. "I was far better at hiding it around you than those other lads."
Matthew squeezed her thigh and she slapped his hand, though she did nothing to remove it from her leg.
"Mama!" George squealed as Sybil carried him back to their box.
"Hello darling," Mary smiled, holding out her arms. "Come sit with Mama and Papa. The show will begin soon and you must be very quiet."
Sybil handed the boy to Mary, who settled him in the seat next to her. Sybil helped her strap him in to the booster seat, and he clapped his hands as he looked down on the stage below.
"It's a shame that he won't ever be able to wear your Sugarplum Fairy costume," Matthew joked.
"He could always be the Cavalier, or even the Prince," Mary said. "Anyway, I'm sure Mama hasn't given up on having a granddaughter one day. She's saved all of our clothes and costumes in the attics at Downton to pass them on."
"I have no doubt," Matthew laughed. "Perhaps in a few years if we're fortunate enough. I think it would be lovely for you to have a girl, actually."
"I agree," Mary said quietly. She turned and smiled at him.
"And we may not have to wait very long at all," she said, swallowing nervously.
Matthew nodded. When Mary continued to stare at him expectantly, he blinked, then raised his eyebrow in question, then his mouth fell open.
"Wh…what…what are you saying?" he asked carefully.
Mary grinned.
"Are you saying we may be having a daughter soon?" Matthew asked.
Mary leaned over and kissed him.
"Happy Christmas, darling. I'm pregnant," she whispered in his ear. "About five weeks. It could be a boy of course, but I think a little girl would be very nice, wouldn't it?"
"As nice as nice can be," Matthew smiled, kissing her softly.
fin