Mary was not awoken out of excitement or trepidation, but rather as she was every day: by Anna pulling back the curtains briskly, allowing sunlight to flood the room. Before she could fathom what day it was or recall her plans for the day, Anna reminded her.
"Today's the day M'lady," she smiled excitedly. "I was told to wake you earlier, so you can take your time getting ready."
Mary lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Wedding day.
"Jane and I will be up soon to assist you," Anna said brightly as she bustled from the room.
Mary did not move. She was quite content to lie there in bed, the sun warm on her face and the sheets more than accommodating. She imagined what would happen if she did not move. Her mother would come up first, no doubt. Perhaps Granny, too. They would want to speak of how special this day was, how proud they were of her, how marriage gave her independence as well as influence, all that nonsense. They would find her in bed, unmoved. Perhaps they would think she was ill. Perhaps they would think she was dead. She would fight the urge to blink, to breathe. Perhaps she would pull a Juliet, escape somewhere once everyone thought her dead. Travel to a far off land, start a new life.
She rolled her eyes at herself and forced herself out of bed. She knew she didn't have the courage to do that, even if she had any reason to want to. Her life was settled now.
Looking into her mirror, she studied herself. She looked no different. Yet by the end of the day, she would be Mrs. Carlisle rather than Miss Crawley. She realized that with this thought came no excitement, no yearning. She felt nothing.
Her door was pushed open ajar and her mother appeared, wearing an excited grin. Her mother was evidently more excited than she was.
"Oh good morning mother," Mary said, wondering if she sounded cheerful enough. It seemed she did, as her mother didn't question her mood.
"Mary, my dear," she gushed, drifting over to sit on the edge of Mary's bed, opposite her daughter who sat at her dresser. She gave a wide smile. "Today's the day!"
Mary nodded, stretching her own smile as far as she could. "It certainly is."
Cora took Mary's face in her hands. "It's so hard to believe this day has arrived. That you're going to be a married woman." Her smile remained, yet her blue eyes were sad, loving.
"Yes, it must be a relief, to finally see me married." Mary's words were not harsh, though they hinted at resignation.
Cora simply smiled at her daughter, before finally leaning over and kissing her on the forehead. "You know I wish only the best for you, my dear."
She stood. "There's still so much to do. Soon enough the guests will be arriving and Mrs. Patmore's stressing over the food- I have to see to it all."
"The others are downstairs having breakfast if you'd like to join them. I'm not sure where your father has got to, but your sisters are down there. And Matthew and Isobel of course," she made her way to the door, offering one last proud look at her daughter. "It would be best to eat something before Anna and Jane help you get ready."
Mary did not hear her mother leave, her thoughts were on Matthew. He had arrived last night with Isobel; they had traveled from London and were staying for the wedding. It had been over a month since she had last seen him. He had smiled. It wasn't genuine, she knew that. He was still hurt, he was merely trying to conceal that dark side of him for the wedding. He had smiled at dinner, had spoken with everyone, had laughed appropriately with everyone else. Yet she had seen it. The break in his façade as he gazed outside, the forced joviality in his tone, the emptiness in his eyes that remained even when he smiled. She had wanted nothing more than to speak honestly with him, to ask him how he was coping. At dinner there was no such opportunity- however later on in the evening she had found him in the sitting room after her father had retired. He was sitting in an armchair by the fire, staring somberly into the flames.
Not sure what to say, she approached him slowly, sitting tentatively on the couch nearby. He looked up at her, blue eyes unbearably empty.
"How are you?" she had asked gently.
He was staring into the fire again. "Coping," he replied, his voice barely audible.
At least he didn't pretend around her.
She nodded. She had no idea what to say, what to do. She felt frustrated; she hated feeling this way, so useless and unsure. A nuisance.
They sat in uneasy silence. All that could be heard was the crackling of the fire- everyone else seemed to have retired to their rooms.
After a while Matthew bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Mary. I'm sorry that I can't be happy… that I can't show more joy for your wedding."
But I could never be happy now, don't you see?
"There's no need to be, Matthew. I wouldn't expect that of you," her voice faltered. Not after Lavinia's death. "Not after all that's happened."
She chuckled coldly. "I'm not even sure if I can be happy."
Matthew looked up at that. "Oh do try." His tone was no longer cold, it was gentle. "We have to be strong, you and I... We need to pick ourselves up..."
She could only look at him, lost as to what to say and confused at the unbearable sadness within her. She envisioned her future and it held no happiness. She felt her eyes well with tears. Ashamed, she tried in vain to blink them away. She hated herself for crying in front of others. She turned away. She knew Matthew was looking at her.
His tone had reverted back to cold and resigned.
"I shouldn't have come. I've inflicted my unhappiness on you and ruined your joy already. I'm sorry."
Mary turned quickly. "No," she said sadly. Her tears had subsided though she knew her eyes were rimmed with red. "I need you here. You of all people."
He simply nodded. "As long as you want me here."
After what seemed like a long pause, he placed a hand on her own. "I know I'm not doing a good job of showing it, but I do still care for you, Mary," he said earnestly. "And I wish you all the best for your marriage."
Their eyes met and Mary wanted to say something yet she didn't know what. The moment passed and Matthew rose to leave. He no longer needed a walking stick and Mary listened as his even footsteps grew quieter as he exited the room. Only when she was sure she could not hear them had she allowed herself to cry.
The memory of their conversation left Mary with that same hollow feeling. She rose from the dresser and gazed out the window, staring at nothing in particular. It was as if she was gazing at her future. There would be no passion, no adventure. She couldn't help envying Sybil. Her younger sister took risks, she was courageous. She had risked everything for love- love with a chauffeur! - and she would have the life she wanted, one devoid of regrets. Even Edith, who at present clearly felt left out, had the opportunity to find love, to find happiness. Mary envied them both, though she would never admit to it.
In less than six hours her fate would be sealed. Well, there was no point wallowing in self-pity. This was what she had chosen.
A knock at the door startled her. "Lady Mary, are you in there?"
It was Anna and Jane. Mary took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She smoothed her skirt, made sure there was a smile on her face.
It was time to get ready.