A/N: Tried to post this as a drabble answer to a M/M goodbye meme, but it would not post. It's not edited, but ah well. Nothing fancy, just my head-canon about our Darlings at Sybil's ball in 1914. Some of this has been mentioned in TED, which reminds me, thank you so so much for the enthusiastic Reviews I got on the last chapter! I'm working on the next instalment, and hope to post it very soon ;)

Not Yet

A wayward strand of hair had come undone from her elaborate hairdo. She discretely tucked it back up into the knot Anna had worked on for an hour. From across the room she saw him surrounded by a bunch of her father's acquaintances. He looked more comfortable than he had at the start of the ball. Mary smiled fondly as she recalled his slightly panicked expression when he arrived on the scene and was introduced to all the pomp and ceremony that belong to an aristocratic event of this size.

He met her gaze then and his mildly bored expression morphed into a excited smile, his round cheeks gaining colour. Mary suddenly realized that she mirrored his enthusiasm when he hurried over, his eyes fixed on her and thus nearly bumping into old Lord Mintern who toddled across the room after a few too many glasses of champagne. Both men seized each other up in confusion. Mary covered her mouth to hide her laughter.

He'd made her laugh so often tonight, it was quite disconcerting. At their first dance, which she had grudgingly promised to Matthew, he had stepped on her feet twice, apologized effusively and swore he had practiced with Isobel beforehand. His clumsiness paired with his candour had amused her greatly and once he had relaxed, it turned out that Matthew was in fact a exceptionally good dance partner.

"I just met your godfather." he informed her. "Ah." she replied, not giving away anything else. He'd become very sure of himself as the night progressed and she wanted to tease him a little. Under other circumstances, Mary might have even danced with a string of other prospective suitors, just to make it clear that she had not committed herself. Not yet. Not one-hundred percent yet.

She took another sip from her glass.

Alas there had been no string of candidates this year. Ever since those unsavoury rumours had started to circulate, she had not received much attention from anyone. No invitations to come to tea, or suitors who would ask for the honour and privilege to write to her...

Oddly enough...she did not mind. Because she had Matthew now, who was more attentive, more earnest and more open with his affections than any of the other men who had ever courted her. Mary wondered whether Matthew had grown suspicious that he did not seem to have any rivals for her hand. Had he ever caught any of the gossip about her? If so, he never showed...

"Shall we...would you perhaps like to...get a bit of air?" Matthew suggested. Mary turned to see him point towards an open door that led out onto a balcony. "Yes, why not?" she smiled up at him and led the way. Behind her she could hear him breathe very loudly and wondered if he was even aware of this action at all.

Together they watched the stars in the clear night sky over London. "You can't see them properly in the city." Mary remarked. "At Downton, they shine more brightly...more beautifully." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Matthew was not watching the stars at all. "Downton is very beautiful." he said quietly. Mary blushed. "So you've come to love it after all?" she spoke in a teasing manner, but there was also a slightly nervous note to her voice.

Matthew seemed to edge closer. "You know that...I do." He licked his lips nevously and she had to smile again. In a sudden fit of boldness, he took her gloved hand and held it fast in both of his. "So...how about it then?" She could feel him tremble, standing as close as he did.

She wanted to say yes. The word was on the tip of her tongue. Yes. Yes, I do. Yes, I love you, too. Yes, Matthew. "Hm.." she turned away. Somehow, Mary had pictured this differently. He did not kneel or make a speech. Isn't this what a bride should expect? Of course Patrick had done neither of it, but then again, she had never wanted to say 'yes' to him, so the point was mute.

Her hand was still caught in his and she realized that he was breathing harder, perhaps trying to gather up the nerve to make a speech after all. Was it wrong to demand a 'proper' proposal when she was hardly a 'proper' bride? The terrible truth that she had not told him...not yet. Perhaps this was the moment, before he went any further in his pursuit...

"Matthew, I..." She bit her lip hard. "Yes?" he gasped and she felt his blue eyes burn into her skin. "...I...well, I haven't decided yet." Mary inwardly cringed at her own cowardice. But how could she ruin this night? This beautiful moment, when he looked at her with such earnest adoration...

"Oh...I see." He did not try to conceal his disappointment. He never pretended. She turned towards him and without giving it much thought, Mary leaned upwards and pressed a soft kiss to his pale cheek. Behind them, another figure appeared in the shadows, then halted abruptly.

"There you are...oh." Her father looked flustered at having caught the couple in a seemingly intimate moment. Mary drew back quickly and Matthew immediately started to mutter a string of apologies, clearly afraid that he might have brought Mary into a compromising position. Robert quickly waved him off. "Not to worry. Not at all." he assured them and turned to leave, with a curious new spring in his step.

Mary sighed. Papa wanted her to say 'yes' so badly. Everyone did...except for Edith perhaps. "Matthew..." she touched his arm carefully where he offered it to lead her back inside. It was time to return to the ball. They could not stay out here forever. "Yes?" He sounded reluctant, as if he feared she would say something to his disadvantage.

"Aunt Rosamund has invited me to stay on in London...for a while." She watched his reaction. He tried to smile, but the strain was evident. "Sounds nice." he commented wrily. Together they trotted back towards the interior of the ballroom. A few paced away from the door, Mary paused. "I will give you my answer...when I'm back at Downton." she promised.

Matthew's features were impassive. "Right." he murmured, a sad smile playing around his lips. Her procratination was clearly not to his liking and she did not blame him. There were so many things still unsaid between them. "And...I'm almost sure that..." she checked herself at the last moment, but smiled reassuringly up at him. He seemed to accept it as an unspoken promise. Surely he must feel it...

That she wanted to marry him. That she was sure...well, ninety-nine percent sure...

"Will you come to the photographer with us tomorrow?" she wondered when they re-entered the ballroom. Matthew's face brightened at her casual invitation. "I'd love to." he said quickly. The cloud of discontent had evaporated at last. "We could have your picture taken, too." she suggested.

Mary laughed out loud at the deep blush that spread from the tips of his ears to the tip of his nose. He shook his head, laughing along with her. His modesty and bashfulness tore at her heart. He was so very different from the pompous peacocks who used to swarm around her at a night like this...

"Will I get a picture of you, too?" Matthew demanded then, as he led her onto the dance floor for the last waltz of the night. Mary took his hand willingly and pulled one perfectly drawn eyebrow upwards. "No." she replied honestly, her smile teasing. "Not yet."

Thanks so much for reading :) Aaaarghhh I will miss them so much *wails*