Resurrection - Part II

by MsMenna

This is the second part of my original tale that details the events that took place on New Year's Eve, 1922 that transform Mary Crawley's life as well as that of many others at Downton. It goes hand in hand with "Patient #9, only this time we see Matthew Crawley's return to his home and family from his wife's point of view. This plausibly brings Matthew back.

The future Countess of Grantham's hand remained locked firmly on her husband's forearm as she trudged forward on the gravel beneath her stylish but impractical pumps. Feeling secure that she would remain upright with Matthew's able assistance, Mary looked behind her and smiled at his mother and Joseph Cosgrove, the Scotland Yard investigator who had worked to discover her spouse's identity in London, the two of them hard on her t-strap heels.

Looking beyond Isobel and the detective, she could barely make out the outline of the black sedan that Matthew had arrived in, the car now a good distance away and nearly swallowed up by the darkness. Her gaze returned then to the beacon of light that had guided her and Matthew thus far and the shadowy figures mulling about it, no doubt to see with their own eyes if what they heard was true.

She was too far out to discern which of the servants had let their curiosity get the better of them. But barring any further complications in her navigating the terrain in unsuitable shoes, all would be revealed soon.

Focusing his attention on his wife's plodding steps, Matthew asked, "How are your ankles holding up?"

Mary turned her head to face him and smiled, "They are fine, darling, and I feel confident that as long as I don't break into a trot, they will continue to serve me well."

The man who was responsible for her sore ankles as well as the impromptu gathering of servants in the courtyard chuckled, the sound cutting through the chatter up ahead and putting an abrupt halt to it.

Noting the effect that Matthew's outburst of laughter had on Downton's staff, Mary imagined more than one of the servants had just experienced the hair on the back of their neck rising and felt sympathy for them as there was no logical explanation for what they were about to see.

It truly is a miracle, she told herself, not for the first time in the last hour. It must be as she could not find a plausible reason for Matthew's return. Putting divine intervention aside, there were still many questions that hung in the air which she was anxious for him to address.

"Once we are alone, I'll explain everything," he had whispered in her ear as they took their first steps back home.

That promise offered her some consolation as she felt certain that Matthew would be very eager to see George. She reasoned, too, that although their family would likely not want to let him out of their sight, they would not delay his reunion with his son.

With only a few yards left to go, the moon broke through the angry clouds that had threatened snow all day and shone light on the massive honey colored structure the Crawleys called home. As it beamed down over the flagstones that led to the rear entrance of the house, Mary got her first look at the clearly startled servants that blocked it.

They look as though they've seen a ghost popped into her head, followed quickly by and why wouldn't they?

Seeing the bewildered faces before him, the future Earl turned to Detective Cosgrove to enlist his assistance.

"Joseph, would you be kind enough to escort my mother into the house? Mary and I will join you shortly."

The sound of Matthew's distinctive voice gave the dumbfounded staff another jolt as it eliminated any possibility that the man standing before them was a doppelganger, an imposter of some kind. Though none of them uttered a word, the sound of more than one set of feet shuffling nervously on the pavement was testament to their unease.

Cosgrove nodded his head and guided Isobel toward the small group blocking their way. He smiled politely once he reached them and the line of servants parted like the Red Sea upon Moses' arrival, their eyes glued on the tall stranger and Mrs. Crawley until they passed through the door that led to their domain and it closed soundly behind them. Then in unison they turned their heads to what appeared to be an apparition and Lady Mary, their eyes wide.

The eldest Crawley daughter's gaze was first drawn to Mr. Molesley, Matthew's former valet, who stood dead center in the group, appearing to Mary very much like a gold fish that had just discovered a cat peering into its glass bowl. Knowing that if she looked at Matthew, the two of them would burst into giggles, she kept her eyes focused straight ahead and did her best to keep her composure. Then hearing her husband clear his throat, she glanced his way, deducing he was trying to get her attention. It was abundantly clear he had the servant's.

"Right, then" Matthew managed before the sound of someone moaning in the crowd followed by a woman's shriek stopped him in his tracks.

Mary's head snapped toward the cries where she discovered her husband's erstwhile valet swaying on his feet beside Miss Baxter, her mother's lady's maid, the latter tapping the side of his face to bring him around.

Are you quite well, Mr. Moleslely?" Matthew asked in a calm tone.

Snapping to attention, the servant responded, "Yes, Sir." before taking three long strides forward, grabbed hold of his former charge's hand and began shaking it with so much enthusiasm that not only did Matthew's arm begin to vibrate but the one looped around it, as well.

It soon became clear to Mary that Mr. Molesley, beside himself with joy at his employer's return from the dead, failed to take notice of her jerking her arm free and distancing herself from her husband as though he were a live wire.

Viewing Mary's quick departure out of the corner of his eye, Matthew did his best to quell his desire to burst into laughter, though his lips began to twitch convulsively. Catching sight of his amusement, Mary glared at him, her eyebrows raised high before she, too, succumbed to the humor in the situation and smiled.

Still oblivious to his surroundings, Molesley's eyes remained fixed on the man standing before him as he bellowed, "Welcome home, Mr. Crawley". Then he pulled back his hand and began fishing in his pant pocket, coming up quickly with a crisp, white handkerchief and putting it to good use.

Mary averted her eyes as the servant dabbed at his and then proceeded to honk into the starched linen until his nose was clear. When she felt certain his ministrations were complete, she looked up and found Mr. Molesley squaring his shoulders and bowing his head in her direction.

"Pardon me, Mi'Lady," Molesley offered, stuffing his handkerchief back in his pocket.

Her presence finally acknowledged, Mary nodded at the short, balding man and returned to Matthew's side, relatively confident that it was safe to do so.

Focusing his attention once more on the future Earl of Grantham, Molesley proclaimed, "My belief that life is inherently unfair is not as strong as it was a few minute's ago, Mr. Crawley."

Then the once butler, valet, footman and perhaps valet again, returned to his original post with a look of contentment plastered on his face.

Matthew's expression, alight with amusement for the past five minutes, turned solemn as he told Mr. Molesley that he was pleased his return had such a positive effect on his view of life in general. Then his eyes veered to the woman standing beside him, who by the look on his face, he still could not place.

Taking notice of her husband's perplexed expression and following his line of vision, Mary introduced Miss Baxter to him and once the formal introduction complete, caught Matthew's eye and mouthed," I'll tell you later."

...

Though she had managed to remain solemn throughout Mr. Moseley's outpouring of emotion, Mary could not help but break into a huge grin at the sight of Mr. Carson's open mouth, her smile widening with each second it remained that way.

Standing next to the head butler was Mrs. Hughes with her right hand over her heart and the other studiously engaged in poking her male counterpart, clearly in an attempt to jar him out of his stupefaction.

As she focused her attention on the two head housekeepers, Mary felt Matthew give her hand a quick tug, indicating he was as amused as she was by the comedic scene before them. She did, however, begin to worry that Carson would be embarrassed by his behavior if he didn't regain his composure soon.

Thankfully, Mrs. Hughes' third attempt was the charm and Carson closed his mouth, cleared his throat and stepped forward with his hand extended.

"Mr. Crawley, I am not often lost for words but at this very moment, I can find none that will adequately express how pleased I am to see you."

Matthew grasped the butler's hand and thanked him for the words he had managed to find. Then he asked, "Is Mr. Barrow still under-butler, Mr. Carson? I would have thought the 'doubting Thomas' would be here."

Carson smiled and replied, "Very witty, Sir," before he added, "I'm afraid Thomas' absence is my doing. With guests in the house, I requested that he stay put."

"Ahh…, I see," Matthew said.

Then the man who had come to Downton as a footman when he was 14 year's old and worked his way up through the ranks and into the hearts of the family that ruled the estate addressed his admittedly favorite Crawley daughter.

"Mi'Lady, I'm overjoyed that Mr. Crawley has returned to you."

Fighting back tears that were threatening a return appearance, Mary thought of how Carson had supported her when she believed Matthew dead, sometimes at his own peril.

She could see him in her mind's eye telling her that she was allowing herself to be defeated by her loss. Not wanting to hear the truth, she had lashed out at him viciously; but the butler stood his ground and their confrontation ended with her in his arms, soaking his fine livery with her tears as the pain that had been pent up inside her was released.

"Thank you, Carson, for that and your unending support," Mary said, clearly moved by the moment and her memory.

"Which you will always have, Mi'Lady," Carson said before stepping back in place.

Mrs. Hughes quickly moved into the vacant spot left by Downton's head butler with a huge smile planted on her face and the corner of a crumpled handkerchief protruding from her sleeve.

"You are a sight for sore eyes, Mr. Crawley," she said in her own unique brogue as she clasped his hand. Then with tears welled in her eyes, she added, "Welcome home," before nudging Mr. Carson off to the side and joining him.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. I appreciate that," Matthew said, clearly touched by the outpouring of affection he had received thus far.

As the head housekeeper inched closer to Carson, Mary got a clear view of Anna and John Bates, who had until then been partially concealed by their much taller supervisors. Seeing that her father's valet had one hand resting on his cane and the other under his clearly distressed wife's elbow in order to prop her up gave rise to anxiety for Mary, as well.

Keeping her eyes fixed on her lady's maid and Bates in the event she or Matthew needed to intervene, Mary watched closely as Anna recouped from the shock of seeing Matthew. Then she let out a sigh of relief as she saw her tap her husband's arm, letting him know he could remove it.

Bates took a quick look at his wife to be certain he was no longer needed. Finding he was not, he promptly released her. Then Anna raised her head, threw back her shoulders and made her way to Matthew with tear-stained cheeks and a quivering smile.

"Mr. Crawley, as you can see, I am overcome with emotion, delighted beyond words that you have returned to Downton…and to Lady Mary," she said, her lips still trembling.

Then turning to her mistress, she reached out her hand to her and smiled. Mi'Lady…I have prayed each day for your happiness...but even in my wildest dreams, I never could have imagined this."

Throwing Debrett's Proper Etiquette to the wind, Mary took a step forward and pulled Anna into an embrace. "Oh, Anna…I doubt anyone could have."

The two women needed handkerchiefs once they released one another as did many others who witnessed their exchange. Matthew discretely slipped his into Mary's hand while Bates did the same for Anna before he addressed him.

Though she was anxious to get into the house, Mary could not deny her father's valet a few moments with the man he had aided so well when he lost the use of his legs in battle.

"Mr. Crawley, I don't know how this is possible, but I thank God that it is. It is wonderful to have you back, Sir," he offered with a huge grin on his face and an outstretched hand.

Leave it to Bates to verbalize so simply yet eloquently what we all are feeling, Mary thought.

Then just as the valet and lady's maid stepped back into place, it began to snow, the white flakes multiplying quickly. Mary was now happy to see it since it motivated the servants to return to the house and their preparations for their New Year's Eve party. One by one, they offered her and Mathew their good wishes before scurrying inside.

"Do you remember the last time we stood outside the house like this oblivious to the snow coming down on our heads" Mary asked?

"Yes, I do, my darling wife…every last detail," he said before pulling her into a long kiss.

When they broke apart, they took in each other's appearance and laughed at the sight of their hair speckled with flakes of ice, faces dripping wet as the snow melted on their still warm skin. Then the future Earl and Countess of Grantham joined hands and set off for home.

..

Mary and Matthew made their way through the freshly painted but drab colored halls where the servants spent their days with a bounce in their step, eager to reach the main floor and the loved ones who awaited them. However, the sight of Daisy, the housemaid who assisted Mrs. Patmore in preparing meals, weeping in the head cook's arms brought them to a dead halt.

"There, there, now," Mrs. Patmore said as she gently patted her protégé's back.

Well, that explains why they weren't part of the receiving line, Mary mused, taking in the touching scene before her. Then seeing that the woman Daisy looked to as a mother figure had the situation under control, she quietly gestured for Matthew to keep going. Mrs. Patmore raised her head just as he turned the corner, appearing startled to see her standing a few yard's away.

Mary quickly bowed her head, waving off any formal greeting and set off to join Matthew, leaving Downton's cook to her ministrations. As she passed the two servants, she wondered if Daisy was thinking of her late husband William and cursing his fate. After all, the footman had saved Matthew's life during the Great War, his act of bravery costing him his own.

Surely, Daisy must think it unfair that Matthew has cheated death twice while William given no chance to survive, she concluded. Then again, how much in life is fair, she asked herself, knowing with certainty that the footman's death at such a young age was a tragedy

She had liked William very much and would be forever grateful to him for his sacrifice. Then her musings were put to rest as she came upon her mother-in-law and Joseph Cosgrove waiting for her and Matthew at the foot of the stairs leading to the main floor.

It was clear by the detective's bow and sweeping gesture toward the staircase that he wanted them to take the lead. Matthew acquiesced, nodding his head quickly in acknowledgement of his friend's silent request.

"Wait, you'll need this," Mary said, slipping her arm out of one of the sleeves of Matthew's jacket.

Assisting her with the other, Matthew replied, "I think it looks much better on you," and then winked at her.

Detective Cosgrove looked from Mary to Matthew and then opined, "He is right, you know."

Mary shook her head in mock disapproval while her husband chuckled at the friendly jibe before asking her if she would mind helping him with his neck tie as 'he was having a devil of a time with it.'

She smiled, remembering how often that had been the case in the past and said, "Come here and I'll see what I can do."

Her husband's tie righted, Mary took hold of his arm and they headed upward and onward.

...

Reaching the Great Hall, Mary found the family members that she and Isobel had quit so abruptly gathered around the massive Christmas tree in the center of the room. Engrossed as they were in conversation, no one noticed them at first. Then a loud gasp, which she attributed to her sister Edith, alerted the room that the man of the hour had arrived.

Mary's heart began to race as she took in the sight of their loved ones rushing toward her and Matthew like a herd of cattle hearing lightening strike. But she remained steadfast in place, unwilling to let go of her husband until she saw Tom bolting passed the tight knit group as if they were standing still. At the sight of him charging, Mary's fear of bodily harm overrode her newfound possessive nature and she broke free of Matthew, leaping quickly out of the way.

Safely on the sidelines, she saw Tom crash into her husband, nearly knocking him off his feet before he pulled him into a bear hug.

"Good Lord!" he bellowed. I cannot believe my eyes. I needed two shots of whiskey to calm my nerves when I heard the news."

Hearing Matthew grunt under his vice like grip, Tom released him and took a few steps back, giving the rest of the family an opening that they filled quickly.

Mary looked on with happy tears as her father stood face to face with his successor.

"Good God, it really is you, Matthew." he said taking hold of his shoulders. Then taking a step back, he clasped his hand and said, "Welcome home, Son."

"I am so pleased to see you, Robert," Matthew said smiling broadly at his father-in-law.

"As I am, you…though it is still hard to believe that I am…seeing you that is. Forgive me if I seem flabbergasted, Matthew. I can't seem to help it."

"There is no need to apologize. Truth be told, I have experienced that same feeling more than once myself today,"Matthew replied.

The Countess of Grantham tapped her husband's shoulder, gently reminding him that there were others waiting to greet their son-in-law. Robert acquiesced to Cora's request and joined Mary, pulling her close and planting a kiss on her forehead.

She took notice then that not everyone that she and Matthew had left behind were in the room paying her husband homage.

"Papa, do you know where the others are? Isobel and Joseph Cosgrove were right behind us when Matthew and I made our way up. They should have arrived on our heels and Granny is nowhere to be seen…nor is Doctor Head or Clarkson."

"Don't fret, Mary. There is nothing to be alarmed about. The two physicians conferred and concluded it best that my mother remain in the drawing room under observation in the event Matthew's reappearance may prove to be too much of a jolt. They are all there now, including Isobel and Detective Cosgrove. We'll join them soon."

Reasoning that if her grandmother was not well, her father would not be standing beside her, Mary felt her unease over her absence begin to lessen. Still, she would speak with her mother about it.

Then, returning her eyes to the procession before her, she said, "Isn't it wonderful, Papa?"

Following her gaze, Lord Grantham smiled and said, "Yes, Mary, quite wonderful."

..

She didn't mind sharing Matthew with her family as she knew how they had suffered when they believed him lost to them forever. Yet even though Mary knew he was in loving hands, she was not ready to lose sight of him. Not just yet.

At that moment, she was glued to his side as they headed to the drawing room along with her mother to see the Dowager Countess, who Cora confirmed had been relegated there by Doctor Carson and Doctor Head for her own good.

"But that is absurd, Mama," Mary spat. "I can understand Dr. Head being concerned as he doesn't know Granny. But surely Clarkson knows she is made of stern stuff."

Matthew interjected, "She is, darling…but your grandmother has had the stuffing knocked out of her more than once in the last few years. I for one think it is better to be safe than sorry."

An image of the Dowager leaning heavily on her cane, her face contorted with pain the day after Sybil died sprang into her head, quickly followed by her grandmother clutching her handkerchief to her chest with tears welled in her eyes the day she brought George home from the hospital.

"Yes, it is better, Matthew," she conceded softly before adding in an elevated voice, "But how in God's name did they get her to agree to it?"

Cora explained that even though the Dowager Countess had put up a good fight for a considerable amount of time, in the end she allowed herself ushered into the drawing room because Isobel pleaded with her to do so.

"So, she did it for Mother's sake," Matthew said.

"Well, that makes sense," Mary chimed in. "Granny wouldn't dampen Isobel's joy by arguing with her today.

The Countess continued, "Once there, your grandmother was deposited into her customary wing chair and Matthew's mother took the one beside her. Carson told me the only time he saw Isobel leave it was to check on the Dowager's heart rate. Apparently, she slapped Doctor Carson's hand with her cane when he tried to do it and he hasn't come near your grandmother since. Even Doctor Head is giving her a wide berth."

"I'm sure he is," Mary said before she broke out into peels of laughter as she envisioned the family physician being reprimanded as though he were a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar and the renowned neurologist raising a white flag.

Stifling his own amusement, Matthew said, "I have to admit I feel sorry for Doctor Clarkson. He really has had a rough go of it today."

Her face suddenly awash with guilt, Mary said, "I'm afraid rougher than you know, darling."

Seeing Matthew tilt his head in a questioning manner, she reluctantly promised to tell him what she meant later.

Cora smiled knowingly before she took the lead through the door into the drawing room with Mary and Matthew in tow, the pale green wall covering and white wainscoting in deep contrast to the bold black and gold leather in the Great Hall, creating a more subdued ambiance.

Mary still held the opinion that her grandmother was a formidable woman. However, she could not feel completely at ease until she saw for herself that she suffered no ill effects since learning of Matthew's resurrection. With that in mind she bypassed her mother and husband and made her way with alacrity toward the elderly matriarch of the family.

After looking the Dowager Countess over discretely but carefully, Mary breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God, she appears to be fine…Piqued but fine.

She turned then and found Matthew being led to the woman he often had referred to as a force of nature by her mother and Edith, each with a firm hold on one of his arms.

Once the others that were gathered in the room saw the three headed in the Dowager's direction, all conversation ceased, a collective breath held as they awaited her reaction to seeing Matthew in the flesh.

Mary's gaze alternated between her grandmother and the trio coming her way. The elderly woman's eyes grew wider with each step Matthew took in her direction until Mary thought she bore close resemblance to the owl that preyed upon the mice near the stables.

Then, the procession coming to an end, the Dowager Countess eyed her nephew as though he were an entry in Downton's annual flower competition and she the head judge.

Her head cocked to one side and a sly grin planted on her face Violet Crawley said, "I am a firm believer in the maxim, 'You cannot keep a good man down'. However, I must admit that I never thought that applied to those we had buried."

Amidst bursts of laughter, Matthew responded that he was pleased that she had not lost any her wit in his absence. Then he bent down and kissed her cheek to the delight of everyone present, especially the Dowager.

..

He'll want to see George now, Mary reasoned. I'm sure he is chomping at the bit to hold him in his arms. As much as I am to see it, she conceded.

Seeing Matthew striding purposely in her direction confirmed Mary's assumption, though unfortunately his mission was halted half way by Dr. Clarkson with his hat in hand on his way out.

Noting the look of gratitude on her husband's face as he spoke with the physician, Mary berated herself for eviscerating Clarkson earlier. Though it was true that the doctor's proclamation of Matthew's return had seemed utter madness at the time, she was wrong to berate him the way she had. An apology was in order.

No, there is no way of getting around it, she told herself. I must tell him how sorry I am. But, when? Should I express my regret to him now or wait until we can be alone? Perhaps visit him at the hospital and prostrate myself before him in a more private setting.

While Mary silently debated the opportune moment to deliver her mea culpa, Clarkson made the decision for her by heading for the door. Tomorrow it is, then, she said silently, catching sight of the back of the doctor's head. Her eyes still following the physician, she saw him stop once he reached Isobel and took note of her mother-in-law's bright smile as he did.

As she watched Clarkson and Matthew's mother chatting amiably, Mary wondered if she had been so wrapped up in her own circumstances as of late that she hadn't noticed there had been a friendship, if not more, blooming between the two. The possibility of Isobel finding love again brought a smile to her face.

Once the family doctor was gone, she returned her attention to Matthew, who she now discovered had been waylaid by Tom. Though she was eager to have her husband all to herself, she could not help but smile as she took in the camaraderie between the two men, grateful to see it again.

Five minutes later, Matthew stood before her and said, "Darling, I don't want to put a damper on the festivities, but…

"You would like to see George," Mary finished her husband's sentence.

He shook his head as if astonished and replied, "You've always had an uncanny knack of reading my mind"

"Well, considering the circumstances, I think I would have been able to come to that conclusion even if that were not the case, Matthew," she teased.

"Yes, I can see what you mean," he said, smiling.

"Let's just sneak away," she proposed. "I'm sure the family will be able to deduce where we've gone off to, and I have no doubt they will treat Dr. Head like royalty after what he has done."

Matthew nodded and took hold of her hand, pulling her swiftly out of the room toward the stairs. Then he stopped abruptly.

Seeing the reason why he did, Mary felt a wave of heat rush over her face.

Standing huddled together was Lord Gillingham and Charles Blake, the two eligible bachelors who had come to Downton to woo her, only to learn that her husband was still alive.

Mary was grateful that the two had had the good graces to remain in their rooms up until this point in time, though she truly could not blame them for letting their curiosity get the better of them now. Yet she wished she could make them disappear in the same manner the magician at her Charity function in Leeds had done a few week's ago to his lovely and leggy assistant.

A long moment of silence ensued where all three men simply stared at her. Then Mary broke it by making formal introductions.

Smiling weakly in Tony Foyle's direction, Mary said, "Matthew, this is Lord Gillingham, an old friend of the family."

Releasing Mary's hand, Matthew, reached out his own to the tall, dark haired gentleman before him.

"I'm happy to make your acquaintance, Lord Gillingham," Matthew said, taking a firm grip on the hand that had clasped his own.

"And this is Charles Blake," Mary said. "He has been working with Evelyn Napier on behalf of our illustrious government in determining the viability of the great estates in the County as we go forward.

Charles stepped up and smiled broadly as he shook hands with the future Earl of one of those estates.

"A daunting task, I would imagine," Matthew said.

"Quite," Blake replied congenially, smiling again before retreating back to his original spot.

Then, once more, the room was devoid of sound.

After what she considered an abominably long time had passed, Mary took the reins again.

"If you will excuse us, Gentlemen, we are on our way to visit with our son," Mary said.

Both men sprang out of the way as if they were back fighting in the Falklands and their ship had just been fired upon. In unison, they said, "Of course."

Matthew nodded in their direction. Then he and Mary took the first set of stairs leading to the Gallery.

..

As she put some welcome distance between herself and her erstwhile suitors, Mary's heartbeat began to return to its normal pace, but it didn't remain that way for long as the Nursery loomed before her and Matthew.

There is nothing I can do about it, she reminded herself as she pondered her son's reaction to meeting his father for what would seem the first time in his life to the toddler.

Yet her logic did nothing to alleviate the anxiety she felt as she and Matthew stood at the door of the room their son shared with their niece, Sybbie.

Mary stopped short of turning the doorknob to take a quick look at Matthew and found him nervously biting his lip, clearly on pins and needles. The sight of her husband's anxiety weighed heavily upon her mind and heart.

"Matthew, it will be fine," she said, the tone of her voice the same that she used in calming George when he was fretful.

At that, her husband managed a nervous smile.

"Of course it, will, darling," Matthew said, though without much conviction.

Still gripping the doorknob, Mary took hold of Matthew's hand with her free one and brought it to her lips.

"George will love you as much as I do," she said. "It may take a little time, but I promise you that he will."

Matthew nodded his head and smiled. Then he took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.

"Ready?" Mary asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Matthew replied.

And she opened the door.

..

The Nursery was as he remembered it, a bright and airy room thanks to the tall windows facing the front of the house. The top half of the walls displayed a floral pattern on a cream colored background and the lower, wainscoting. Matthew thought it a typical nursery in a home where aristocrats raised their children, and George and Sybbie were that.

He did not recall the single bed with the mahogany headboard that rested in one corner or the nightstand next to it with a miniature version of a medieval castle resting upon it. Nor did he remember the wooden rocking horse that still was in motion, having recently been used. It stood a few feet away from the white metal crib that had been Sybbie's when he saw it last and now would be his son's.

There were a variety of other toys strewn about the room which Matthew assumed would have been picked up and put back in their proper place had he and Mary not arrived unexpectedly. Clearly, they had disrupted the duties of whoever was in charge of the Nursery.

A short, stout woman wearing a crisp white cap, who Matthew rightly assumed was George's Nanny, stood in the center of the room with the fair haired toddler in her arms and Matthew's smile lit up brighter than the Christmas tree in the Great Hall.

The little tyke became excited upon seeing his mother and squirmed in his caretaker's arms as he tried to reach her, crying out, "Mama…Mama!"

Mary crossed the room quickly and took George from the servant's arms. As soon as she had him situated safely in her own, she kissed his forehead.

The Nanny was summarily dismissed, upon which time the women informed Mary that she would be giving Miss Sybbie her bath in the event Mr. Branson came to the nursery.

George's attention fixed quickly on his mother's gold necklace and he twisted and turned in her arms as he tried to get hold of it. Doing her best to foil the toddler's mission, Mary caught sight of Matthew in her peripheral line of vision grinning widely.

Then, she heard her husband exclaim, "Mary, the color of his hair has changed."

Running her fingers through George's golden locks as she had done so many times his father, Mary replied, "I know, darling. His hair grew lighter and lighter with each month that has passed since his birth until he became a miniature version of you."

Matthew balked at that, insisting that George was the most beautiful child he had ever laid eyes upon.

It was during their debate regarding his being the spitting image of his father that the tiny heir to Downton was finally was able to get hold of the object of his desire and yanked so hard on his prize that he jerked his mother's head along with it.

"He has quite a strong grip, "Matthew said chuckling.

"That he does," Mary said with labored breath as she grappled with George, prying one finger at a time from her necklace while his father looked on with amusement.

Taking pity on his wife, Matthew came to her side and asked, "Can I help?"

"Would you like to hold him, Matthew," she asked as much for him as herself.

He hesitated a moment, then replied that he would like to very much but was fearful that he would frighten him.

Matthew's words confirmed her suspicion as to why her husband didn't rush up the stairs to see their son the moment he entered the house.

"I think… he will be…just fine," Mary countered as she pried the last tiny finger from the gold chain.

Keeping George at arm's length, she carefully and gratefully passed him to his father.

Please don't let him cry, Lord, she prayed silently. Matthew's heart will break if he starts wailing.

Her prayers were answered before long as George did not make a peep when he came to realize that he was no longer being held by his Mama. Instead, he fixed his father with a wide-eyed stare, clearly as fascinated with the stranger holding him as he had been his mother's necklace.

"Darling, this is your Papa," Mary said looking into the baby's big blue eyes. "He is the man in the picture that you like so much in Mama's room, George…the one near my bed. You remember it, don't you? This is your Papa."

The little tyke's preoccupation with his father's face was halted momentarily when he heard his mother's words. Now he looked from one parent to another as if he were contemplating them.

Then as though he had understood exactly what his Mama had told him, George reached out a chubby little hand to the man who was holding him along with his own breath and cried out, "Papa!"

Mary looked at the scene before her through a veil of happy tears as she heard Matthew say, "Yes, my dear little Chap, I am your Papa."

Then she looked up to the heavens and for the second time that day mouthed, "Thank you".

...

George was rubbing his eyes again. That and his frequent yawning were clear signs that he was ready to be put down for the night.

She judged her husband must have come to the same conclusion, as he was now gliding around the room with George's head clasped to his chest, singing him a lullaby.

The melody was one she had heard before, a popular Scottish tune that her father's cousin Shrimpie would sing to her cousin Rose when she was a baby.

Sitting on Sybbie's bed, Mary's thoughts wandered back to the first time she had heard it, the moment she had discovered the Marques of Flintshire in this very nursery consoling his wailing daughter with "The Cradle Song".

It certainly is a fitting tune, Mary thought, as she recalled what Cousin Shrimpie had told her regarding its origin. The author had gone into a room he wasn't meant to where he found a mother bending over a cradle. Looking at the two, he imagined her to be worrying about her son, who was heir to a title and large estates and the song was born.

Now, the sound of Matthew's melodious voice filled the room as he crooned to their little Prince,

"Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,

Smiles awake you when you rise.

Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,

And I will sing a lullaby:

Rock them, rock them, lullaby.

Care is heavy, therefore sleep you,

You are care, and care must keep you;

Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,

And I will sing a lullaby,

Rock them, rock them, lullaby."

Mary's own eyes were beginning to droop by the time Matthew concluded serenading George.

"Darling, I think he is asleep," brought her out of the fog of sleep that was overtaking her.

She opened her eyes and blinked a few times, becoming adjusted to the light in the room. Then she saw Matthew standing at the railing of George's crib with him cradled in his arms.

Mary rose quickly and joined them, reaching out her arms to take George so that she could give him a proper kiss 'good night' before laying him in his crib. The scent of baby shampoo lingered in his tussled hair as well as talcum powder in the crook of his neck.

Leaning over the baby's head, Matthew inhaled deeply and then smiled.

"Nothing smells better than a child after their bath, Mary declared." Not even the most expensive of perfumes."

Matthew teased, "Not even Chanel?"

Mary looked up and smiled. "Not even Chanel."

Then she bent over the crib railing and gently lowered George onto the mattress before covering him with a blanket that nearly matched the color of his eyes. When she rose, she took hold of Matthew's hand and they stood side by side peering over the white metal bars at their little Prince.

After a minute or two had passed, Mary said softly, "Darling, you promised you would tell me everything when we were alone."

Taking his eyes off George for a moment and fixing them on Mary, Matthew replied in the same soft tone, "So I did...and since for all intents and purposes we are alone, I will do my best to explain what happened after I left you and George at the hospital.

Assuming his explanation could not be easy to put into words, Mary said, "The short version will do for now, Matthew. We have a lifetime to fill in all the tiny details."

"The short version it is then. Now that I know it, the explanation for my disappearance and reappearance is a simple one, really."

He took a moment to gather his thoughts and then began, "Dr. Clarkson did believe I was dead when he found me lying beneath my overturned car the day our son was born...and he had every reason to believe I was. I was not breathing nor did I have a pulse and my eyes held the vacant stare of a dead man. No other physician who had examined me would have come to any other conclusion. ."

A chill ran up Mary's spine as she envisioned the scene Matthew had just painted. She bit her lip hard as she waited for his next words, drawing blood in the few seconds it took before he continued. The metallic taste in her mouth made her grimace and she swallowed hard.

"Though he believed I was gone, Clarkson did his best to resuscitate me. Miraculously, the steps he took did bring me back to life…just not in time for him to realize it."

Matthew paused then, his eyes boring into hers, searching them. She wondered what he was hoping to find there and silently prayed that whatever it was, he would. Then he blinked and looked away for a few seconds before returning his gaze to her and continuing his explanation, leaving her uncertain as to whether he found what he was looking for or not.

"I know this must sound like science fiction, Mary," but Dr. Head has read about cases such as mine where the heart stops and restarts long after the efforts to resuscitate it end. I assure you there is medical proof that backs up Henry's theory as to how I survived."

Mary placed her hand gently on her husband's arm and said. "I believe you Matthew."

Nodding his head once in her direction, Matthew let out a sigh of relief. Then gripping the rail of the crib with one hand, he stared at the wall behind it as though the tragic events that took place that fateful day were playing out upon it.

"I woke in a dank, dark room without any knowledge of who I was, where I was or how I got there. However, it didn't take long for me to deduce I was in a morgue as I soon discovered a handful of mutilated corpses lying on metal tables."

"Dear God, you must have been frantic." Mary interjected, unable to remain silent.

"That I was," Matthew replied, shaking his head back and forth. After a long pause, he continued, "You see, a fuel tanker and bus collided that day in Thirsk that resulted in many gruesome deaths. The bodies of those who perished, or what was left of them, were sent to Graspeys. The funeral home was quite crowded that day."

Mary clasped her hand over her mouth, stifling another outburst.

"I roamed about in the darkness searching for a way to get out, banging into the tables that contained some poor soul or another, even knocking one over…though thank God it was empty. Then I found a door that led me out onto the street. Once there, I spotted a lorry parked across the way with the back panel door up and bolted for it. I managed to climb inside and hid behind some stacked boxes.

Matthew paused then, shaking his head once more before adding, "I must have fallen asleep. The driver discovered me when he was making a delivery at The London Hospital and he left me there."

Finally veering his eyes from the wall to Mary, he said flatly, "I think you know the rest."

"Dr. Head told us you were admitted to the Head Trauma Ward without any identification but I left to find you before he gave any further details. Am I right to assume the man who brought you to the hospital did not leave his name?"

Nodding, Matthew replied,"The nurse at the front desk followed him out into the street in an attempt to get it but he disappeared into the crowd. No one at the hospital had a clue at the time I was admitted as to his identity or what his involvement may have been in my accident. That was one of the things Joseph Cosgrove uncovered later on, but by then my silent benefactor had migrated to America and since my identify was unknown..."

"The proprietor at Graspeys told us that your body had been accidentally cremated. We buried your ashes...or so we thought we did," Mary said, still reeling over what she had learned of Matthew's ordeal.

"Yes, I know. Doctor Clarkson relayed that important bit of information. Rest assured that Joseph will be paying the funeral home a visit", he said, his voice tinged with anger. Then, more calmly, "Is that enough for now, Mary? My mouth is beginning to go dry."

"Of course it is, Matthew," she said. "We will leave it here until you are ready to tell me more."

He smiled, releasing his grip on the crib rail and caught sight of the time displayed on the watch Mary had given him on their first wedding anniversary.

"Darling, if I remember correctly, the dinner gong will be ringing shortly" he said.

Jolted by Matthew's correct assumption, Mary replied, "You do. It will, and we must get going.

Then she took hold of Matthew's arm and pulled him out into the hallway.

..

Standing outside the Nursery, Mary's thoughts raced through her head. This is New Year's Eve, after all and even though dinner won't be a grand affair since we are serving ourselves, I must let him know that he can change if he is inclined to do so.

"Anna is waiting for me, darling. She is going to press my dress and tidy my hair before dinner," she said running her hands over her crumpled Worth design. "I'm afraid our reunion has taken a bit of a toll on both."

"You still look quite lovely," Matthew insisted.

Mary smiled disbelievingly before adding, "And I would imagine that Mr. Molesley is waiting for you in your Dressing Room."

"I'm afraid he will be wasting his time if he is as I didn't bring any clothes with me except for essentials. Sorry."

After assuring Matthew that there was no need for him to apologize, Mary surprised him by letting him know that if he did want to change, he could.

"Your garments have been cleaned and covered to keep them fresh." she informed him. Then added for good measure, "And don't worry, nothing smells like mothballs."

Matthew chuckled. "It is not that, Mary…I just…Well, I would have thought you had packed away my clothes and donated them to some charitable organization or passed them on to the servants a long time ago."

Mary shook her head back and forth and replied, "Everything is just as it was the day we left for Duneagle, Matthew."

"That was very good of you…But, darling, I must admit I'm perplexed as to why you kept any of it," Matthew said.

In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought before she replied, "There were times I would come into your dressing Room and rummage through your clothes…slip into one of your jackets or coats…"

The sad look on Matthew's face almost stopped her from continuing, but she had vowed to herself that she would keep nothing hidden from him.

"There was a remnant of your scent on them, you see…It would sooth me when I….when it was…suffice to say there were moments when I found your loss quite unbearable, Matthew."

"Oh, Mary, I am so terribly sorry for all I put you through," he said in a strangled voice, his palm cupping her cheek.

She appreciated his touch, but would not let him berate himself. Not now. Not ever. He had, after all, done nothing wrong. The tragedy that befell them both that day lay at her feet.

Though she was upset, common sense prevailed. Realizing that someone could come upon them at any moment, Mary inclined her head in the direction of their bedroom and headed for it with Matthew in tow.

Once there she asked Anna to give her and her husband a few moments of privacy. The maid nodded, smiled and made her way into the hallway.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Mary hissed as soon as she knew Anna was out of hearing distance. "If I had listened to you… not been so stubborn in insisting we go to Duneagle …pushed myself into early labor and then, fool that I was, insisted you stay behind while I took off with Anna to return to Downton, you would never have had that accident."

She paused then, her eyes still resting on her husband but vacant as it was not him she saw now. Instead, she envisioned what the day her son was born could have been if not for her actions.

In her mind's eye, Mary saw herself lying in a hospital bed with George in her arms and Matthew at her side. The two of them were smiling broadly at Tom and Edith, who were the first to arrive to greet the newly born heir presumptive. Her Papa and Mama came next, her father bubbling with nearly as much pride and excitement as Matthew as he held his grandson in his arms. Matthew remained steadfast, not budging until Isobel insisted all the visitors leave so that the new mother could get some rest. Then frowning, he announced he would hitch a ride back to Downton with his brother and sister-in-law. Edith teased Tom had better drive carefully as he would be chauffeuring precious cargo in the backseat. Her sister's last words, "George, after all, needs his father," bringing a halt to her imaginings.

She shook her head violently, breaking herself out of her fantasy and cried out, "It was my fault," Matthew. You never would have been driving on that damned road if not for me."

She found herself in her husband's arms the moment she stopped speaking, her head resting on his chest with his hand clasped behind it.

"What you have just said is utter nonsense," he began. "The only person responsible for the accident I had on the day George was born is me. I took my eyes off the road and overreacted to the sight of an oncoming vehicle. That is the reason it happened, Mary. You must believe me, darling."

Matthew let go of her then and took a step back before he placed his hand under her chin and guided her head up until their eyes met.

"You mustn't blame yourself, Mary. You did nothing wrong." Then, wiping a tear from her cheek, he added, "And my darling, if that truly was to be the last day of my life, I could not ask for anything more than what you gave me – my son in my arms and your kiss."

Tears streamed down her face and she swallowed them along with the lump in her throat. Finding merit in her husband's words, she looked into his eyes with her chest still heaving and said, "You truly are an excellent solicitor, Matthew."

At that, the future Earl let out a sigh of relief, wiped his wife's face with his handkerchief and kissed her.

Time stopped at that moment for Mary as did all rational thought of anything but Matthew's lips on hers, his hands moving down her back until they took a firm hold on her hips and pulled her up against him. As their kiss deepened, she felt his tongue slip into her mouth, inviting her own to dance. Accepting the request, hers circled his in a perfect waltz as heat flooded through her body, making her head feel dizzy and knees weak.

Then the dinner gong rang.

..

Matthew did dress for dinner with Molesley's able assistance.

Sitting on the window seat near Mary's vanity as he watched Anna styling her hair, Matthew said, "I highly doubt I will ever get used to not dressing on my own, again."

"Well, I hope that you can, Matthew, for Molesley's sake," Mary said veering her eyes from the mirror to him. "He did not fair well in your absence at all. In fact, before Carson allowed him to return to Downton as a footman, he was working in the village as a laborer filling cracks in the street pavement. Anna ran into him one morning covered with sweat and grime. It was the only work he could find. Apparently, he was nearly destitute."

Matthew looked to Anna and found her nodding somberly in agreement with Mary.

"What? Why didn't Mother keep him on?" he asked, clearly astonished by what he had just heard.

Mary paused to gather her thoughts and then replied,"I can't say for sure but I suspect the sight of Mr. Molesley may have brought back memories of your first days at Crawley House that proved too painful for her. He was the first person from Downton to greet you, wasn't he?"

"Yes, he was and I gave him quite a hard time of it back then as I did not feel the need for a butler or a valet. Your father set me straight by telling me that I was doing Molelsely a disservice," Matthew replied before he turned his head and stared out the window in silence.

Mary looked on as her husband contemplated whether or not he was doing Mr. Molesley the same disservice now. Though, truth be told, she knew what his decision would be before he made it.

"There is nothing to be done for it then. If I am to sleep at night with a clear conscience, I'll just have to grin and bear Molesley's assistance…at least for now," he announced before he took notice that his bow tie was askew and took steps to rectify it.

Her eyes drawn to her husband's fidgeting, Mary eyed him appreciatively. He is even more handsome now than he was when I first met him. I doubt there is a man in all of England that looks better in white tie than he does.

She sighed softly then as her head became filled with thoughts of their kiss in the hallway and how it made her feel.

"That is very good of you, Mr. Crawley, "Anna said, breaking Mary out of her musings.

Then the maid placed the hairbrush she was holding on the vanity table.

Her eyes back to the mirror, Mary patted the side of her head and said,

"Very nice, Anna...Thank you."

"You're welcome, Mi'Lady. Now, if you will excuse me, Mrs. Hughes needs my help downstairs."

Mary nodded in the maid's direction while taking note of Matthew moving up behind her.

"You look marvelous," she said as she caught sight of him in the mirror.

Turning her head back around, Anna smiled and concurred, "Yes, you do, Mr. Crawley…very smart,"

"Thank you, both," Matthew said smiling and bowing his head.

Once he heard the door click behind Anna, he rested his hands on Mary's shoulders as he took in her reflection in the mirror. Then he brought one hand up, lightly touching the band that circled her forehead near her right ear.

"I'm sorry you lost your feather. Although I must admit the sight of it sticking up in the air did remind me of a peacock whenever I looked at it," he teased.

Mary did her best to give him as menacing a look as she could while she stifled a giggle.

Returning his hand to her shoulder, Matthew bent over Mary until his mouth reached her ear and whispered, "You take my breath away."

She could feel the blood rush to her face, settling on her cheeks as her husband's words as well as the close proximity of his body left her speechless for a moment. Then she reached over her shoulder and took hold of his hand, bringing it to her lips and planting a soft kiss on it.

Matthew smiled broadly at her reflection in the mirror, his eyes locked on hers for a long moment before he spoke again.

Giving Mary's hand a gentle squeeze, he said, "Now, we had better get going or Carson will blame me for our being late to dinner."

At his urging, she dropped Matthew's hand and rose quickly from her seat. Then headed for the door saying, "Well, since I cannot recall a time when Carson has blamed me for anything, I believe you may be right; though his nose will not remain out of joint for long, since he has a New Year's Eve celebration awaiting him downstairs. We will be serving ourselves this evening."

Remembering this was one of the two days in the year that the Crawleys fended for themselves, Matthew said, "Right, Downton tradition."

..

Though they were not late for dinner, Mary and Matthew were the last to arrive in the dining room. There they found the other members of their family in addition to the London guests, each of them either piling food on their plate or settling into a seat at the table.

It was clear that although they would not serve the Crawleys and their guests a meal tonight, the servants had put a great deal of effort into preparing the food that filled the trays on the sideboard as well as creating a lovely ambiance in the room. Two long rows of polished silver candle holders with formal tapers graced the center of the finely draped table interspersed with crystal vases filled with pink miniature roses and bone china plates were stacked neatly on the sideboard.

Scanning the room, Mary found Tony Foyle and Charles Blake were nowhere in sight.

"Mary, both Lord Gillingham and Mr. Blake decided that considering the circumstances, it would be best for them to return to London. They asked me to bid you and Matthew a very happy new year,"her father announced as if reading her mind.

Thank God, Mary said to herself while she nodded her head and smiled as nonchalantly as possible in her Papa's direction. However, she could tell by the expression on Matthew's face when she handed him a plate at the sideboard that he had not been fooled by her performance.

This just won't do, she admonished herself while she smiled sweetly at him. I must brush on up my poker face.

Seeing the deepening crease between Matthew's brows and his nervous smile in return made her feel even worse.

Mary filled her plate, though she wasn't certain until she took her seat at the dining table and looked into it what she had chosen. As she brought a forkful of perfectly cooked lamb to her mouth, she knew whatever accompanied it didn't matter as she had no appetite.

In contrast, Matthew was making a noticeable dent in the food on his plate, which was overflowing with ham, roasted chicken, potatoes, asparagus, and glazed carrots.

The more disquieted he is, the more he eats, Mary thought taking a quick inventory of the mountain of food Matthew had piled in front of him before returning her attention to her own.

In between the clatter of fork and knife to plate, the conversation flowed freely as it always did when the Crawleys gathered for a meal.

"We've invited Mrs. Head and Miss Pomeroy to Downton for the evening, Matthew," the Earl of Grantham announced. "Their train will arrive at 11:00, leaving time to spare for them to ring in the coming year with us."

Mary saw that Matthew was very pleased by the news. She was, as well, since she looked forward to meeting the woman who nursed her husband back to health and Dr. Head's wife. Yet she hoped the new additions would not mean the celebration would go on later than usual. Truth be told, she looked forward to being alone with her husband very much, even though she did worry that her reaction to Tony and Charles' early departure might put a damper on their reunion.

Thankfully, Matthew's attention was drawn away from her apparently transparent face by Dr. Head's conversation with her grandmother, which as far as she could tell began with her giving him details of her recent bout with bronchitis and had now had progressed to a vigorous discussion regarding the Spanish flu.

"One can only hope that dreadful disease is not as prevalent as it was last year," the Dowager Countess said.

"Yes, over 800 people lost their lives to it last January...but we can do more than hope, Lady Grantham," Doctor Head said. "If proper precautions are taken by individuals such as covering one's mouth when sneezing or coughing and washing hands often, the disease could be much better contained."

Mary saw Isobel nodding her head across the table, clearly in agreement with Dr. Head but unable to voice her opinion since her mouth was full.

Her mother, however, was free to do so as her plate was now empty and offered, "It truly is the most dreadful sickness. I nearly succumbed to it myself a few year's ago...and I might have if it weren't for Miss O'Brien, my former lady's maid, refusing to leave my side."

She shouldn't have left you two year's ago, either, Mary seethed sensing her mother's pain at being abandoned by a woman she clearly had valued and trusted. It irked her still that Lady Flintshire, her father's cousin Susan, had the consummate gall to lure the maid away from her mother while at the same time place her daughter under her care, sending Rose to live at Downton while she took up temporary residence in India.

"Former, Lady Grantham?" he said with a hint of hesitation. "Hopefully, she…Miss O'Brien…did not become contaminated herself in taking care of you and…?"

Doctor Head's mention of Miss O'Brien caught Mary's attention and she put her bitterness aside and focused on what he was saying.

"No, she had a very strong constitution, her father interjected. In fact, I don't remember O'Brien ever being ill during her employ here. Do you, Cora?"

One look at her mother's face told Mary that her Mama did not want to speak about her lady's maid any longer and she hoped that her Papa would change the conversation.

"I don't believe I do, Robert," Cora nearly whispered before she picked up her wine glass and drained it.

Finally seeing his wife's discomfort, the Earl put an end to the topic by stating, "Miss O'Brien quit her employ quite abruptly, Dr. Head, to take a position with a relative who was going abroad to India. Cora is still pained by her disloyalty and patent disregard for her feelings."

"I see," Dr. Head said, realizing he had opened an old wound.

An uncomfortable silence ensued then until Matthew cleared his throat and declared that his father-in-law must be in his glory since Howard Carter had found the entrance to King Tutankhamen's tomb in the Valley of the Kings.

Mary knew that her father had been ecstatic when he learned of the famed archaeologist's discovery and had spoken of the event often. Now he was giving any one within hearing range an accounting of what had been found in the ancient burial place while her mother beamed at him. Both pleasing her immensely.

She took hold of Matthew's free hand under the table then and squeezed it before flashing him a smile that matched her Mama's, grateful that her husband had the knack of diffusing unpleasant situations, and even more that he was here doing so again.

The conversation at the dining table was still lively when the ladies rose to make their way through to the drawing room, leaving the men to their port and cigars. Since Mary was last in line, their discussion reached her ears. The topic at hand was political now, which came as no surprise to her considering Tom was in the room, and it was his booming voice that reached her ears first.

"I favored the coalition, Dr. Head," her brother-in-law declared before taking a deep drag on his cheroot. "But, the Conservatives did prevent another war with Turkey…and that sits fine with me."

Mary stopped short, waiving to the others to go on without her as she wanted to hear more, especially Matthew's opinion on the matter. She was curious to learn if his time away from Downtown had altered his positions in any way.

"Apparently it sat well with the voters, too, since they have sent David Lloyd George packing," Dr. Head declared.

"That they did," Tom agreed. "With the Great War still fresh in the minds of so many, I'm not surprised the vote went the way it did."

There was a long silence then which Mary assumed was testament to just how fresh that war was on the minds of the men in the Dining room.

Matthew broke it by offering, "I think the nation as a whole has come to have a deep appreciation for diplomacy. Although I concede there are situations where war cannot be avoided, in light of the last one, I think the powers that be will do everything they can to avoid another."

All conversation ceased for a long moment, the silence in the room only broken by the sound of a glass being placed down on the table or man drawing on his cigar before she heard Matthew's voice ring out once more.

"Still, I'm not done mulling over whether or not some retaliatory action should have been taken against Turkey. After all, British and French troops were attacked along with the Greeks. Certainly the handing over of allied territory to quell the Turks can be construed as weakness on our part."

He is still the same man I married, Mary thought and smiled. Matthew never was one to rush to judgment.

"We rewarded them for breaking their word, dishonoring the treaty that they signed," Detective Cosgrove argued, a note of disgust plain in his voice. "Our action cannot be seen as anything but weakness," he spat out.

"I was grateful that war was prevented, as well," Dr. Head opined. "Though I think it wrong that the Turks suffered no consequence whatsoever for their aggression. I disagree with popular opinion that this so called Chanak Affair was solely responsible for the dissolution of the Coalition. It is my firm belief that it was coming apart at the seams long before this uprising. David Lloyd George and Winston Churchill's war cries were just the straw that broke the camel's back," he concluded.

"Here…here…," the Earl of Grantham cried out. "I couldn't agree with you more, Dr. Head. The entire situation was mishandled. I'm sorry to say that the Turks outright strong-armed us into giving them back Constantinople. "

Mary agreed with her Papa's assessment of the situation and nodded her head. Then, realizing how long she had been eavesdropping, she turned on her heel and headed for the drawing room, thinking her Mama would be popping her head out soon to summon her.

Reaching her destination, Mary found Edith and Aunt Rosamund huddled together in yet another private conversation. Taking in their conspiratorial behavior for the second time that day, she became more inclined to uncover whatever the two of them were hiding. Yet that would have to wait. For the moment, she focused her attention on the remainder of her female relatives, who were seated at the card table engrossed in a game of bridge. Quickly taking in the expressions on the player's faces, Mary deduced that Isobel and her grandmother were trouncing her mother and cousin Rose.

Spotting her daughter, Cora rose from her seat and headed toward her, declaring, "I was beginning to worry about you, Mary."

"There was no reason for you to, Mama," Mary replied, debating whether or not the reason her mother laid her cards on the table was due to concern or her bad hand.

"All the same, I was just about to set off to find you," Cora replied.

"I'm perfectly fine. It is just…Well, I wasn't ready to let go of Matthew just yet…if that makes any sense."

Taking hold of her hand, her mother smiled and said, "Of course, it does my darling daughter."

...

As Mary and her mother approached the ladies who were holding their cards close to their breasts at the table, her grandmother addressed her Mama with impatience.

"Well, are you playing or not, Cora?" the Dowager Countess demanded.

Mary let go of her mother's hand and jutted her chin at the empty seat at the table.

"It is my fault, Granny," she said in an attempt to calm the older woman's pique. "Mama was detained because of me," she declared as her mother eased herself back into her chair and the game at hand.

The Dowager Countess took a look at her cards and snapped, "Nonsense, Mary. Your mother made the decision to bolt. Although I can't say I blame her," she added throwing down the Queen of Hearts with a gleam in her eyes that was mirrored in Isobel's.

Then the sound of male voices floated into the room, signaling the men were coming through. The card game was forgotten for the moment and all eyes drawn to the open doorway.

Mary heard her father and Doctor Head's laughter before she saw them pass the threshold. They were followed closely by Tom and Detective Cosgrove, still knee deep in political repartee and on their heels was the man of the hour.

"Matthew!" Isobel cried out as she caught sight of her son coming through the doorway. "I'm very happy you've come to join us."

As am I, she thought as she took in the sight of her husband walking toward her with a huge grin planted on his face.

"I'm very pleased to be joining you, too, Mother…as well as the rest of this lovely group," Matthew added upon reaching his wife at the card table.

Then he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close enough to whisper, "Especially you," in her ear.

The feel of her husband's warm breath on her skin combined with the sound of his sultry voice made Mary's knees go weak and she had to steady herself. Matthew's firm grip on her shoulder made it clear to her that he was aware that they had and she could not help but blush. Quickly, her eyes darted around the room to see if any one had noticed her burning cheek, but she found all eyes were fixed on her husband.

They wouldn't notice if I turned green, Mary concluded as she took in the reverent expression on her mother's face and her Granny beaming at Matthew. Then she tilted her head to get a good look at him herself and found him smiling broadly at each of his admirers, clearly touched by their outpouring of affection. Thinking of how often she had lost her composure in the last few hours, Mary had no doubt it could not be easy for her husband to retain his under the circumstances.

As if to prove her point, Matthew cleared his throat. She knew him well enough to know that that was a clear indication that he was moved by something someone had said or did. Her bet was on Isobel as she had not taken her eyes off Matthew since he walked in the room and the love in her eyes spoke volumes.

There was a great deal of love and admiration in the room, she thought as she saw her Papa make his way to her mother at the bridge table and kiss her cheek. Then he stood behind her with one hand resting on her shoulder. Cora reached up and laid hers over it, smiling brightly at him. The sight of her parents' devotion to one another brought a smile to Mary's face that she saw was shared by Tom, who was beaming at his father and mother-in- law from across the room.

Then the Earl turned his attention to his heir and said, "I'm sorry if we have made you feel self-conscious, Matthew. Speaking for myself, I find it hard not to focus my attention on you."

Shaking his head back and forth, Matthew replied, "Not at all, Robert. It is completely understandable that you…that all of you…," he said spreading his hands wide apart to encompass all present, "…need to see me...hear me speak...because it reassures you that I am here, despite it being impossible. I feel the same way."

Taking Mary's hand, he continued, "And if I haven't said it…or if I have, it bears repeating…I highly value each and every person in this room and am exceedingly grateful to have you back in my life."

Silence fell upon the room, followed by more than one person clearing their throat.

..

Thomas Barrow, the under-butler, wheeled a stacked serving cart into the drawing room, breaking the solemn mood of the group that occupied it in order to provide them with refreshments. Though he was eager to join the celebration taking place in the Servants' Hall, he did not rush off after his job was completed.

He had not forgotten the time he and the future Earl of Grantham took tea together in a muddy trench during the Great War nor how he had treated him after it had ended. The news that Matthew Crawley had not perished the day his son was born made Thomas very happy, especially for Master George, since he was quite fond of the little chap. That being the case, he took the time to ensure that the future Earl of Grantham knew it.

"Thank you, Mr. Barrow, not only for your kind words but for bringing us these wonderful refreshments," Matthew said gesturing to the cart. "Both are very much appreciated."

Thomas bowed, "You're quite welcome, Sir."

The smile on the under-butler's face didn't fade until he reached the Servants' Hall and Mr. Carson asked him what he was grinning at.

..

Bottles of Pol Roger, Winston Churchill's favorite champagne, chilled in polished silver buckets filled with ice from the Crawley's recently installed refrigerator.

Dr. Head's eyes widened as he caught sight of the label that graced the bottles and he approached his host with a glint in his eye.

"My favorite, Lord Grantham," he said taking hold of one and raising it eye level. Then as he took note of the year, he asked, "However did you manage to get your hands on this vintage? I have found it quite difficult since the War. "

"It is nearly impossible, Dr. Head," Robert replied as the physician passed the champagne to him. Then putting the bottle back on ice, he smiled. "That is why I am so grateful that we stored a few cases in our wine cellar some years ago."

The physician returned the Earl's smile. Nodding his head in approval, he said jovially, "A very wise move, Sir. I am extremely grateful that you did, since I will be a beneficiary of your prudent behavior."

"We only bring it out on special occasions," the Earl added as he caught sight of Mary and Matthew laughing together across the room.

Following the Earl's line of vision, the neurologist grinned like a Cheshire cat before saying, "I can't think of any more special than this."

...

Mary was pleased to see her Father and Matthew's physician getting on so well as she knew how much it pleased her husband. She, too, was grateful that is was so as she considered herself in Dr. Head's debt. The physician had, after all, not only played a huge role in saving Matthew's life but had him take up residence in his home. She shuddered to think of what could have happened to Matthew if Dr. Head had not interceded on his behalf.

Seeing her Papa and the neurologist smiling in their direction, Mary bowed her head and beamed back at them. Then she turned her attention to Matthew, who she found was smiling, too, though his eyes were scanning the room and not fixed on any one in it.

Giving his arm a light squeeze to get his attention, Mary asked "What is it that has brought that smile to your lips, darling?"

Matthew responded quickly, "I love this room. The color reminds me of the sea at Bath on a bright, sunny day and the Crawley family has spent many happy evenings here," he mused out loud. "Though it isn't my favorite…that would be the library."

"It is Papa's, too," Mary declared. "I am not surprised considering how much you love to read."

"That is true; I do, and I was never at a loss to find something I found worthwhile among the thousands of books housed there. However, the variety of reading material is not the reason the library is my favorite room. It is so because I am fairly certain I fell in love with you in that room."

She quirked her head, surprised to hear the declaration, her curiosity now piqued, and she couldn't help but ask, "Are you saying that you can recall, albeit by your own admission not precisely, the moment your romantic feelings for me became known to you?"

Matthew drew her toward the nearby window, the spot having been vacated a few minute's earlier by Tom and Joseph who were keeping a close eye on the amount of snow falling.

Peering out the windows at the light flurries that melted as they hit the glass, Matthew replied, "I believe so…, he replied. Though I was enamored with you from the first moment we met, I…"

"Are you referring to the day I came to Crawley house to invite you and Isobel to dine at Downton?" Mary said cutting Matthew off.

"Yes, but…," he managed before being interrupted again.

"Is that so?" Mary spat out disbelievingly. "As I recall it, you were moaning at the prospect of one of the Crawley girls being pushed at you when I first met you." Then narrowing her eyes, she added, "And as I mounted Diamond to ride back to Downton, I remember quite clearly that you appeared mortified…grieved… even apologetic. But you did not…even by the wildest stretch of imagination…appear smitten."

"You would have seen that I was if you had turned around while your mount was trotting off," Matthew challenged.

Mary huffed, "Are you saying that you became smitten with me once you saw me riding my horse?"

"What I am saying…or what I have been trying to say…," Matthew clarified with a look of exasperation on his face, "...is that despite my discomfort over your arriving at such an inopportune moment, I was, in fact, strongly attracted to you from the moment I recovered from the shock of your arrival ...and that attraction grew stronger over time until I found myself in the throes of love…in the library."

Then noting his wife's silence, he added, "I assume you would like me to elaborate."

"You assume correctly," Mary said and smiled, clearly enjoying their walk down memory lane.

Matthew began, "Your grandmother had asked me to try to find a way to break the entail. After I had exhausted every possible means to do so, I came to Downton to inform your Father of my findings. You were kind enough to assist your Papa and me by letting me in and keeping my presence a secret. Unfortunately, the Dowager Countess unearthed what was transpiring under her nose and walked into the library at the very moment Robert was boasting that he could handle her...to which your Grandmother replied that he must have learned to do so recently…or something to that effect," he relayed before chuckling.

Mary followed suit, "Yes, I remember that I was supposed to keep her here but failed miserably. Carson let the cat out of the bag and she promptly took off for the library.. with me hot on her heels. I caught up with her just as she was chastising Papa and it was all I could do not to burst out laughing."

"The look on his face when he heard Violet's voice was priceless," Matthew bellowed. Then added, "Understandably, your Papa retired early that evening and …"

"We were left alone," Mary finished his sentence.

Matthew stared into Mary's eyes and finished the recollection with, "and I made it clear to you that I did care very much that the entail couldn't be broken…that Downton could not be yours…And you told me that my being upset about it would be your consolation prize and extended your hand to wish me a good night."

"Yes, I know," Mary said.

"What you do not, is that when I took it, I felt as thought an electric current were running through me, one powerful enough to knock me off my feet. I had never experienced that with any other woman before. I knew at that moment that what I felt for you was much more than physical attraction, though there was that in spades…I knew with certainty that I was falling in love with you."

Spellbound by the sound of his voice and his deep blue eyes, all Mary could manage to say was, "I see," before she and Matthew were broken out of their reverie by Tom, brimming with excitement.

He flashed Mary a quick smile before asking his brother-in-law, "Did you know that Joseph Cosgrove was one of the first police officers on the scene when Sir Henry Wilson was assassinated?"

Surprised by Tom's question, Matthew didn't have an ample chance to form a response before he launched into another.

"He tried to resuscitate Sir Henry, but after taking 7 shots, the man was beyond anyone's help...poor soul. He bled to death right before Joseph's eyes on the pavement in front of his house, which I have learned…Good Lord, Matthew…the shooting took place minutes away from where you were living in Eaton Square. Did you hear the shots? Were you witness to any of it?"

"No, I…," Matthew began before his brother-in-law interrupted him.

Are you aware that Joseph arrested O'Sullivan and Dunne, the two killers?

"I…," was all Matthew got out before being squelched again by Tom's ramblings regarding Sir Henry Wilson's murder by two IRA members in Eaton Square in June.

Mary rolled her eyes and interjected, "Tom, how can Matthew answer any of your questions if you won't stop rattling on?"

Tom hung his head before inhaling and exhaling deeply. Then he offered Matthew an apology.

"I'm sorry…I guess I got a bit carried away. It's just…," he said searching for the right words to explain his behavior. Then, not finding them readily available, he shrugged his shoulders and said, "Sorry," once more.

Mary smiled, shaking her head back and forth like a mother of an over zealous child, at times worn out by their behavior but loving them dearly all the same.

"No apology is necessary, Tom," Matthew said softly. "I am fully aware of how important Ireland's independence is to you as well as the fine line you have had to navigate ever since you became a member of this family. I would expect you to have an avid interest in the events that have transpired this past year. I know you well enough to understand the emotional impact they would have on you."

Tom raised his eyes to meet his brother-in-laws and smiled. Then he said, "Thank you, Matthew. I don't think I've told you often enough this evening how absolutely wonderful it is to have you back. This place was not the same without you."

"I'll attest to that," Mary chimed in.

Just then the sound of the Dowager Countess' voice cut through the chatter in the room bringing everyone's eyes to her.

Staring up at the Scotland Yard investigator who Tom had just gushed over, Violet Crawley, a coquettish smile gracing her face, asked, "Has any one ever told you that you bear a striking resemblance to Douglas Fairbanks, Detective Cosgrove?"

Mary looked at Matthew with raised eyebrows before turning her head to the window in order to hide her laughter.

"Your Granny is flirting with Joseph," her husband whispered in her ear.

At that, Mary lost all semblance of propriety and burst into giggles. Tom did his best to cover his sister-in-law's amusement by mimicking someone with a respiratory ailment and launching into a coughing fit, his hacking prompting Matthew to pound him on the back and Mary to thrust her glass of champagne in front of his face, insisting he take a sip.

Robert Crawley put an end to the antics on display by reminding Tom that if he wanted to pick up Mrs. Head and Lilian Pomeroy at the train station, he had better get moving.

Joseph Cosgrove, appearing thoroughly amused by the shenanigans, asked his newly acquired friend if he would mind company on his errand. Once assured by Tom that he was welcome to join him, the detective made his excuses to the ladies, who remained with their mouths agape at the Bridge table.

Then, with Tom at his side, Cosgrove took hold of Violet Crawley's free hand (the other in its customary place on her cane) pressed it to his lips said, "I have been told I resemble Mr. Fairbanks, Lady Grantham, but I never saw it. However, now that you've made the comparison, I will contemplate it more seriously."

Isobel began to cough in earnest at hearing this and Matthew rushed to her side asking, "Are you quite alright, Mother?"

She smiled and pointed to the drink in her hand croaking, "Oh, yes…I just swallowed the wrong way."

Nodding his head, Matthew narrowed his eyes at the detective. With a cheeky grin in place, said, "Perhaps you had better get going, Joseph."

Cosgrove, keeping a straight face turned to Tom and said, "I'm ready if you are."

And the two men were off in a flash.

..

Mary's eyes alternated between Matthew and the clock on the marble mantelpiece as she awaited the return of her brother-in-law with the woman who had cared for her husband while he was a patient at The London Hospital. She felt certain that the light dusting of snow that lay on the ground wouldn't hamper Tom since he had worked many years as a chauffer before marrying her sister and still was an excellent driver.

Now, checking the time once again, she felt certain it wouldn't be long before she found her brother-in-law and Detective Cosgrove escorting Downton's last two guests into room. No sooner had the she made her assumption than Mary was proven correct as she saw the Irishman heading toward her and Matthew with a petite brunette with fair skin and striking eyes on his arm.

Good Lord, she is beautiful, Mary thought, willing herself not to stare at Lilian Pomeroy.

Her brother in law and Matthew's former nurse were followed into the drawing room by Detective Cosgrove and Mrs. Head, who was almost as tall as her escort and had as commanding a presence as her husband. Catching sight of him, she tapped the detective's arm to disengage her own and quickly set out to join the physician.

Dr. Head met her half way and once reunited, he took both of her hands in his before placing an affectionate kiss on her cheek. Mrs. Head beamed when he did so, making it clear to all present that she and her husband shared a happy union.

Mary turned to her husband and found him smiling broadly in the Head's direction as he drew her close to him.

"I can't wait to introduce you to them, darling," he whispered in her ear.

Tom approached the two of them with Nurse Pomeroy's arm still locked with his, though not for long as Joseph Cosgrove caught up with the two and relieved him.

"I'm sorry, Joseph," Tom said quickly stepping off to the side. Then looking admiringly at the lovely woman he had just released he quipped, "But you can't blame me."

Now with a firm hold on his future wife, Detective Cosgrove responded, "No worries, Chap. I understand completely."

And then the moment Mary had been waiting for arrived.

Matthew smiled at the handsome couple that stood before him and addressing Lilian first said, "Lilian Pomeroy, I am happy to finally be able to introduce you to my wife, Lady Mary Crawley."

Mary smiled and holding her hand out to the young woman smiled and said, "I am very happy to meet you, Miss Pomeroy."

Removing her arm from her betrothed's, the nurse took Mary's hand and replied warmly, "The pleasure is mine, Lady Mary."

"Please call me, Mary," the future Countess pleaded. "And I hope you will as well, Detective Cosgrove."

"Only if you address me as Joseph," Cosgrove replied.

"Done," Mary said smiling broadly at the two.

"I would prefer my Christian name, as well, Mary," Lilian said. Adding, "I'm hoping we will soon become friends."

Mathew looked from Mary to his former nurse and declared, "I have no doubt of it."

And the ice was broken.

...

After Matthew introduced Mrs. Head and Lilian to the rest of the family, he stood in the center of the room and tapped the side of the champagne flute to get the group's attention.

"Please forgive the interruption...," he called out, "...but I have some wonderful news that I would like to share with you."

Once there was silence, he continued, "Last evening my two good friends, Joseph Cosgrove and Lilian Pomeroy, became engaged to wed."

"Splendid….How wonderful….You're a lucky man, Joseph," filled the air.

Matthew raised his hand once more to be heard. Then he continued, "I'm afraid my regaining my memory has stolen a bit of their thunder and I'm truly sorry that it has. My hope is that I can bring their wonderful news back to the forefront by asking that you all raise your glass to the happy couple and wish them good luck and happiness."

Mary heard, "Here, here" intermingled with "Congratulations" ring out as she raised her own glass high and followed suit. Then she took a sip of the most expensive and coveted champagne in Downton's wine cellar, the tiny bubbles tickling the inside of her nose.

Scanning the room she found the man who had wisely procured a sizeable stock of the sparkling wine looking deeply into her mother's eyes and smiling. Then she saw him raise his glass once more, this time in salute to the woman he made his bride over three decades ago. Soon they will be celebrating their 33rd wedding anniversary, Mary mused, her eyes still on her parents.

Seeing her mother reach out for her father's free hand, she touched upon the life the two had shared in her mind. Though it was true that the Earl and Countess of Grantham had many blessings during the time they shared as man and wife, Mary conceded they also suffered great heartache.

Her sister Sybil's face the moment before she died came to mind and she flinched. Mary wondered, and not for the first time, how her parents bore burying their youngest child. If anything ever happened to George….

"Mary, is something wrong?" Isobel asked.

She blinked, having been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't seen Matthew's mother had joined her, and then shook her head to clear it.

"No, Isobel," she replied. "I'm quite well. Something reminded me of Sybil. That's all."

Seeing the doubt on Matthew's mother's face, Mary added, "Truly, I am fine."

"Well, if you decide that you're not, I am here," Isobel offered, clearly still not certain that her daughter-in-law was telling the absolute truth.

"Thank you," Mary said. "I promise that I will keep that in mind," she added and smiled.

Mary had not had the opportunity to speak privately with her mother-in-law since the two had retrieved Matthew from Dr. Head's car and she was grateful for the few moments they could share before protocol dictated they mingle with the guests.

"This has to be the happiest day of my life," Isobel Crawley declared looking across the room at her son, who was laughing at something Tom had just told him.

"Mine, too," Mary echoed following her gaze. She continued, "I once thought it was the day Matthew proposed to me. Then it became the day I married him. That was followed by the moment I learned I was pregnant with George. However, today tops them all," she said raising her champagne glass to her lips.

The two women who loved Matthew the most remained silent then, standing side by side as they gazed at him with matching smiles planted on their faces.

After a few minutes, Mary broke it with, "Thank you, Isobel."

"For what?" she replied.

"For always being there for me," Mary smiled.

Isobel grasped her daughter in law's hand and said, "You're welcome, my dear...and rest assured, I always will be."

...

Noticing her sister Edith sitting alone for the first time that evening, Mary made her way toward her, but she was waylaid by Lilian Pomeroy, half way there.

"Lady, Mary…," Lilian began and then correcting her salutation, uttered "Mary," and smiled.

"No worries, it will come easier after you say it a few times," she said.

Lilian nodded and smiled again before she continued, "Mary, I am hoping that you… and Matthew, of course…will spend some time with Joseph and me whenever you are in London. We both would like to get to know you better." Then added, "And we are so looking forward to making Master George's acquaintance."

Mary replied, "I would like that very much, Lilian, and I have no doubt it will please Matthew, as well. It is clear that you both mean a great deal to him…and I am…well…"

Words didn't seem enough at that moment. She needed to make it clear how grateful she was for what the woman standing before her did.

Reaching out and taking hold of Lilian's hand, Mary said sincerely, "I am forever in your debt."

Lilian was surprised by Mary's gesture but left her hand in place. Then she turned her head, setting her eyes on Matthew, who was now chatting with her fiancé nearby.

"I wish I could have done more," the nurse said, her gaze fixed on her former patient. Seemingly mesmerized by him, she added with a gleam in her eye, "It is not every day that a man like Matthew Crawley comes into your life."

After a long moment, Lilian blinked and then returned her attention to the wife of the man she held in such high esteem.

Mary looked deeply into what were without a doubt extraordinary eyes that changed as if by magic from the color of the Channel on a bright, sunny day to the stormy grey it morphed into when the clouds rolled in. She searched their depths until she found what she was looking for.

So that's how it was, she thought and felt her heart lurch.

..

For the next 10 minutes, Mary and Lilian touched upon a variety of topics beginning with but not limited to the weather, the nurse's duties at the hospital, Mary's role at Downton, Isobel sharing Lilian's vocation, unemployment, the price of bacon, even Joseph Cosgrove's resemblance to Douglas Fairbanks. Yet not once during their chat did either of them mention Matthew.

Having run out of safe subject matter, she was relieved when Doctor Head approached them with a request and apology as he needed to speak with the nurse privately about a patient at the hospital and whisked her away.

Alone at last, a jumble of emotions vied for supremacy as Mary contemplated what she had just discovered. Then, she took a deep breath and set her sights on Matthew. Jealousy, won out, the green eyed monster, rearing its ugly head and though she did her best to quell it, she could feel her eyebrows raise, her lips press tightly together as she took in her husband still happily engaged in conversation with Joseph Cosgrove.

She felt a tiny pang of remorse as she saw Matthew's smile evaporate under her glare and did her best to soften her expression. But it was too late. Noting her husband making his excuses to Detective Cosgrove and headed her way, Mary swallowed hard.

What in God's name am I going to say to him? she asked herself as she saw Matthew flash her sister a cursory smile en route to her.

Mary noted that Edith, now seated comfortably on the pale pink sofa a few yard's away, was diligently working on emptying her third glass of champagne. Deciding that no matter what she said, she didn't want her sister to be privy to it, Mary inclined her head toward the piano, signaling Matthew to join her there.

Once she felt certain they would not be overhead, she said softly, "Did you ever come to the realization that Miss Pomeroy was in love with you?"

Matthew blinked and and his jaw dropped.

"What do you…What gives you the impression that she…Did Lilian…?" he stammered before shaking his head in exasperation.

Seeing him squirm, Mary couldn't help but take pity on him.

"Don't worry, Matthew, I have no doubt that Lilian Pomeroy is devoted to Joseph Cosgrove, though I suspect you will always hold a special place in her heart."

At that, he let out an audible sigh of relief, the sound quickly drowned out by a woman's laughter near the entrance to the room. Turning in unison with his wife, the two of them found their bone of contention giggling like a schoolgirl as Joseph Cosgrove whispered in her hear.

Noting that the young woman appeared even more beautiful as she reeled with glee, Mary frowned before turning back to Matthew.

"I think I would have preferred you had been nursed back to health by someone closer to Isobel's age…perhaps with a wrinkle or two and graying hair."

At that, Matthew could not help but laugh, himself.

As she waited for the clock to strike 12, Mary looked about the room and found that Lilian Pomeroy was not the only one in high spirits.

Propped on the arm of the sofa, Tom was grinning ear to ear as he relayed Sybbie's first encounter with the tooth fairy. Doctor Head and his wife were chatting beneath the crystal chandelier with her parents and Cousin Rosamund as if they had known each other for ages; and to her surprise, Mary found Edith had managed to shake off her dourer mood and was now sharing an amusing anecdote with Isobel and her Grandmother near the fireplace that was clearly delighting the two older women.

"I must get her to drink champagne more often," Mary said with her eyes fixed on her sister.

Following his wife's gaze, Matthew gave her a reprimanding look and said, "Some things never change."

"But thankfully, some do," Mary said, flashing him a brilliant smile.

Taking her meaning, Matthew's lips curled upward into a broad grin.

The two of them stood silent for a long moment, happily gazing into each other's eyes until the patriarch of the Crawley family broke the spell they were under by announcing everyone should fill their glass as midnight was fast approaching.

Seeing her champagne flute was empty, she handed it to Matthew and asked him if he wouldn't mind refreshing it.

"Of course. I won't be a minute."

Which is about all that is left to this year, Mary thought as her eyes were drawn to the gilded clock on the mantle, the second hand inching its way toward the XII on the timepiece.

As 1922 ticked away, she reflected on how drastically, yet wonderfully, her life had been changed on its final day.

Just this morning, I woke a widow raising George without his father, searching to find a way to pay his death taxes, wondering whether I could ever love again. Now none of those things matter. ...All is well again thanks to….

"Here you go, darling," Matthew said passing Mary a glass of champagne. "Your father will be making a toast in a few seconds."

She managed a quick 'thank you' before she saw her father's gaze shift from the clock to the semi-circle of happy faces before him.

"Happy New Year," Lord Grantham, bellowed with his celebratory drink held high in the air

Mary felt tears welling in her eyes for what seemed the hundredth time that day and reached for Matthew.

"There has never been a better one," the Earl added to his toast as he found his eldest daughter and her husband locked in an embrace."

Wrapped in her husband's arms with his warm lips pressed against her own and heart beating steadily beneath the palm of her hand, Mary thought, I couldn't agree with you more, Papa.

..

AN: First, I ask if you have enjoyed this story, please leave a word or two. This has truly been a long labor of love for me and your encouragement helps.

Resurrection, like Patient #9, was born out of frustration that the epic romance between Matthew and Mary Crawley did not end as is should have with a joyous happily ever after. In my AU, they always do.

Resurrection, Part III will be up soon. Thank you for your patience. RL got in the way of my progress. As I said earlier, it is complete but needs polishing.

All Downton Abbey characters belong to Julian Fellowes and I thank him for them even if I didn't care for where he took them. The rest come from history and my imagination.