"He wrote that letter assuming I was Lavinia's one true Love!"
"You were!" Mary exclaimed, hurrying after Matthew as he strode away from her angrily. "You were!"
"Well, then can't you see why I can't take that money? I'd be taking it under false pretences. I'd be doing nothing more than stealing!"
"You can! Oh, Matthew, for God's sake, listen to me!"
Mary would have liked nothing more than to tear her bun out and run a hand angrily through her hair, but the future Countess of Grantham didn't do that. Ever. Instead, she reached out for Matthew.
"Can you accept that you were Lavinia's one true love?"
"I suppose so."
"Well then, Lavinia would have wanted nothing more than to see you happy. You've said yourself more than once that you'll only be happy if I'm happy. And I won't be happy if we have to leave Downton. Which logically means you won't be happy either. Lavinia wouldn't want that. Can't you just take the money and give it all to Papa, if you don't want it? In her name, if not in yours. Please!"
Mary was begging him now, tears starting in her eyes. Matthew had his back to her, but something caught in her voice and tugged at his heartstrings. He turned slowly to face her.
"How can you know what Lavinia would want? You were never exactly the best of friends, Mary."
"And why not? Because I was jealous! Because I loved you as much as she did and I wanted you to be mine. But I know what I'd want for you if it was the other way around. I'd want you to be happy. I'd want you to save Downton. Your home, Matthew. Your home!"
"Downton always comes first with you, doesn't it?"
"Is that so surprising? I'm a Crawley!" Mary snapped, before regretting her harshness. "Matthew, I'm sorry. It's just…I grew up here. I've never loved anything like I love this place. And it's yours now, too. Ours. I just want to share it with you. Share it with you and our children. I want to make you happy, but I can only do that if I'm happy, and I'm never happier than when I'm at Downton. Lavinia knew that. She understood. Please. She's making it possible for us to have the happiness that she couldn't. Didn't she say herself that it was for the best, really, when she died? If you get the money then, this is her last gift to you, Matthew; her last gift to you because she loved you. You've just got to stop being so stubborn and accept it."
"Why can I never say no to you, you vixen?" Matthew's voice was soft. Mary gasped.
"You'll do it?"
"Of course."
Mary had to stifle an undignified squeal of joy. She was about to spring into Matthew's arms when he held up a hand.
"On one condition."
"What?"
"That we don't steal Edith's thunder. We'll tell everyone after the wedding."
"Everyone except Papa. We have to tell Papa. I can't bear to see him go around under the weight of his worry."
"All right. Your father, then. But no one else. Do I have your word, Mary?"
"Oh, now that I can live with! That I can live with! Thank you, darling! Thank you!"
Unable to control herself, Mary leapt into her husband's arms, crashing her lips against his. All of a sudden, the bright spring day seemed a thousand times brighter.