Hi everybody! Here's the next chapter (finally). I hope I can update this more consistently but unfortunately school starts back up in a month, so I may be even more sporadic. Apologies for that in advance. Anyway, the vows in this chapter do not belong to me, and neither do the wonderful characters who I am writing about (because really, would I ever kill off Matthew or Sybil?). Reviews are amazing and encouraging and help me write faster, and thanks to all of you who reviewed the last chapter. They are always very much appreciated. Enjoy the chapter!
"I'm perfectly sure half the kingdom expects you to run away and back out at the last moment," Edith commented as Anna, the head maid in the castle, dressed Mary in her blue wedding dress. The wedding morning has dawned, another foggy day, and ina. Few short hours, Mary would be married.
"I'll have you know, I'm not Sybil," Mary replied in the most sarcastic of tones.
"Oh please," Sybil muttered. "Can you really imagine me doing something that foolish?"
Mary and Edith glanced at each other. "Yes."
Sybil frustratedly stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind her. Mary rolled her eyes. Much as she loved her eager little sister, Sybil could be so blind. So naive.
"She is simply jealous. She seems to like Sir Matthew far more than you do. In fact, I think all of us like Matthew except for you," Edith said bluntly, a mocking tone in her voice.
Mary stood up abruptly, taking Anna by surprise. "If you insist on berating me on my wedding day, I'm afraid I don't want you in here. Actually, yes, it would be better if you would leave. You certainly aren't helping me stay calm."
"As if the great Princess Mary could ever lose her calm," Edith muttered. "I suppose you're dreading it."
"What?"
Edith smirked. Her haughty older sister was so easy to provoke, and Edith's own jealous feelings were forgotten when she was teasing Mary. "Your wedding. Or your wedding night, I suppose."
"Get out." Mary's voice was even, but she was shaking. "Edith, get out." Edith rolled her eyes but stepped out of the room.
Mary was nervous, incredibly nervous, but she would never admit that to Edith. With only a week's notice, she was dedicating her life to a man she barely knew. The wedding was happening quickly, he had only arrived a month ago. A month ago her life had completely changed. They had quickly went through the betrothal ceremony, and had mostly avoided each other ever since.
After her nighttime encounter with her future husband, Mary hadn't talked to him much, other than the usual pleasantries. Instead, she observed him, rather preferring that method of getting to know him. He was well-meaning, always, endearingly so. He had an tendency to be awkward and clumsy, however, which the king and queen became annoyed with quickly. Edith and Sybil were enamored with him, and often sung his praises. Mary knew they were both rather jealous of her position, but she would trade with them in a heartbeat.
Matthew was a better man than Mary had thought he would be. She had expected a pompous, self-satisfied, brassy knight to knock down the door of the castle and assume control of his bride. Instead, she had been given a gentle man who was more suited to be a scholar than a knight, who didn't approach her constantly and make amorous comments like many of her friends' fiancés had. He kept a respectful distance.
Oh, he had faults, to be sure. King Robert had asked if he would like to go on a hunt the day before his wedding, and he had refused. He obviously didn't understand not to refuse a king's offer and that made him rather an idiot in Mary's view. When asked why, he had said, "I think it is rather ridiculous to hunt animals for sport. There are many starving people who would put the animals to much better use. I don't believe shooting for entertainment is an honorable pastime." To this, Mary had given the mother of all eye rolls. He was so self-righteous, so annoyingly moral.
He was also one of the moodiest people Mary had ever met, and that was saying something seeing as she was a sister to Edith. One minute he would be chatting excitedly, the next he would be staring into space or rifling through one of the two books he owned, his head in a completely different world than the one his body resided knew she was being irrational, but these sudden mood swings annoyed her greatly. How could a man go from happily discussing whatever to staring at something without seeing it, obviously deep in thought, in a matter of seconds. His moods, especially his sullen, cranky ones, caused her to dislike the thought of marrying him.
But what frustrated Mary most was not him, but his pushy, interfering mother. How such a woman produced such a pushover of a son (and he seemed to be, as Mary had seen Sybil ask him to do things with her that she shouldn't have asked for, such as riding her horse outside the village walls, and he would gladly oblige) was beyond her. Every detail of her wedding had been contested by Isobel Crawley, who Matthew had admitted, was pushing him into the marriage.
"I do love her dearly," Matthew had said to her in a rare conversation about meaningful subjects. "She's a wonderful mother, and she's taught me so much. She's just a bit...stubborn."
"A bit?" Mary had scoffed at his understatement. If her mother and grandmother had not also been stubborn, her wedding would have been a completely different experience.
Matthew had shrugged, and his attention was drawn away by Sybil once again.
"Are you ready, your majesty?' Anna asked, placing a tiara on top of her elaborate hairstyle.
Mary snapped out of her thoughts and stared at her reflection. "I believe so. Is Sir Matthew already at the church?"
"He should be," Anna said, smiling gently at Mary. Anna was the maid of honor, and had been attending to Mary for the past week. She handed Mary a bouquet of orange blossoms and opened the door. "Shall we go?"
Mary stood up, careful not to damage her dress. "I suppose." She stopped in front of the door and took a deep breath, steadying herself for the upcoming ordeal. In a few short hours, she would be married. That was incredibly frightening, but nearly every woman went through it. It was the natural order of life for her kind of women. They got married. It wasn't strange, but it was frightening all the same.
Matthew's hands were sweaty. He wiped them on his clothes, hoping no one would notice. It wasn't even that warm, being a foggy spring day, but he was sweating profusely. So many people, most of them unknown to him, were gathered around the steps of the church. They left a pathway, however, for the bride to come through. His bride.
He shouldn't be so nervous, Mary was a fine woman. She was lovely and beautiful and she seemed to be capable of strong love; Matthew had seen how close she and Sybil were. He and Mary could at least get along, which was far better than many marriages.
But she had avoided him.
She had been civil, of course. It was the least that was expected of women. She had spoken to him occasionally, asking about his enjoyment of the area or how he had slept the previous night (the answer to the former being 'very much' and the answer to the latter being a very hesitant 'well'). But civility could only get them so far. Most of the time, she proceeded to ignore him, instead choosing to sit silently and quickly divert her gaze whenever he looked at her. She obviously wanted nothing to do with him.
That, to him, was a terrible basis for a marriage. Well, it wasn't as if either of them had the choice. They could give the priest reasons to not go forward with the marriage, but that would only cause them more trouble in the end.
So here he stood, on the steps of the church, waiting for his bride.
The priest came out of the church, and began a long-winded speech which Matthew caught barely a word of. He was too absorbed in his own thoughts. The priest told him to kneel, and so he did, still not focused. Everything was simply white noise. "Do you understand what you are about to engage in, Sir?"
He managed to catch the priest's question and squeak out an 'I do.' The priest then tapped him on the head, saying something about the king and such, and Matthew stood again, shaky on his feet. Why was he so nervous?
The procession began. First down the aisle between the crowd came Edith, Anna and Sybil, being Mary's bridesmaids. Next, a couple children from the village came, with flowers and gifts. They were cute looking children, but they seemed rather old for the job. One looked as if she was twelve or thirteen. Old enough to marry, he thought. He was rather old to get married, even though he was only in his twenties. Most boys and girls got married in their teens. Boys far younger than him had gone through this. If they could, why couldn't he?
Lastly, Mary began to proceed down. He turned to catch a glimpse of her, walking down magisterially on her father's arm. She certainly looked the part of her role as princess, a beautiful sight in her blue dress and her veil.
She stood to his left, breathing shallowly. Maybe she was just as nervous as he was. She stared at the priest, not seeming to see him. Was she trying not to shake? Were her hands as sweaty as his? From what he had seen, Princess Mary Crawley was a master at hiding her emotions. He couldn't know how she was feeling.
"We are gathered together here in the sight of God and His bounty of angels to join together this man and this woman in a binding of life; it is an honorable estate, ordained in paradise, and into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be bound." The priest was looking out at the crowd now, and Matthew once again snuck a peek at the many people in the kingdom of Downton who had come to see his wedding. He knew very few of them.
"At this day of binding, if any man do alleged and declare any impediment, why they may not be coupled together in matrimony, by God's law, or the laws of the realm; and will be bound, and sufficient sureties with him, to the parties; or else put in a caution to prove his allegation; then the solemnization must be deferred, until such time as the truth be tried." The priest challenged anyone to come forward with reasons for them not to marry. Matthew had a sudden, and ridiculous urge to give a reason for the wedding to stop, but it would do him no good in the end.
Silence descended over the crowd, and after a few seconds, they all shouted "Let them marry!"
Matthew swallowed and stole a glance at Mary. She was still staring ahead, not looking at anything in particular.
"Man, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"
He took a deep breath, and the words came out sounding rough, as if he had a scratchy throat. "I will."
The priest nodded, and turned to Mary, who snapped out of her blank stare long enough to look at the priest. "Woman, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"
"I will." Mary's voice was dull, monotone, but her voice shook. She was nervous too.
The priest then asked who was giving Mary away, and Robert answered, placing Mary's hand in the hand of the priest. Mary almost seemed to be glaring at her father, as if she was angry about the marriage. She probably was. The priest placed Mary's right hand in his, after confirming another sort of blessing. He immediately wished his hands weren't so sweaty; he hated the slippery feel of her hand in his. But then again, perhaps her hands were equally sweaty.
"Repeat these vows after me," the priest said. Matthew closed his eyes, took another steadying breath, and nodded as the priest began to speak.
"I, Matthew, take thee Mary, to be my wedded wife," he said, croaking the words out. Damn it, why couldn't he speak normally? "To have and to hold from this day forward..."
He could barely listen to what the priest was saying. His mind felt fuzzy, confused with everything going on. What if he said the wrong words? He was to be king someday, he couldn't just say the wrong words at his wedding. That would embarrass him in front of the entire kingdom, and most importantly Mary. "For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, for fairer or fouler, in sickness and in health..."
Matthew didn't know what he was saying. How could he promise these things in the most sacred of ceremonies if he wasn't even sure? Marriage was a strange business. "To love and to cherish..." How could he love and cherish a woman he barely knew? It was maddening, the way these traditions worked. "Until death do us part. According to God's holy ordinance, and thereunto I grant thee my love."
He had said it. He had vowed to marry her and love her forever, despite the fact that he barely knew her. It wasn't right, but he knew he would hold to the vows. He had promised his love to her, and he would keep his promise.
Mary said her vows, in that same cold monotone. She seemed cool and confident, but her hand was shaking in his. She didn't look at him, instead looking right past his shoulder, just as he had done to her. This was not a prosperous start to their marriage.
Rings were exchanged, binding them together, though neither sounded entirely convinced of their speech. They kneeled, the priest praying, and the whole crowd said another prayer. Matthew heard none of the words. All he could think about was how strange this all was.
Their right hands were once again joined, feeling sweaty and slippery. For the first time in the ceremony, they looked into each other's eyes. He darted his gaze away as they made eye contact, and he wouldn't have been surprised if she did the same. They couldn't even look at each other, how could they be married?
"For as much as man and woman have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth each to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce therefore that they be man and wife together, in the name of the God, our bishop, and our king who is the protector of the Holy Spirit and our people. Amen."
He was married. It was time to kiss his bride.
They leaned into each other and barely brushed lips, both acutely aware of the awkwardness of the situation. Just as quickly as they had leaned in, they pulled back. The crowd cheered, but neither Mary nor Matthew smiled.
"May God bless, preserve, and keep you; the Lord mercifully show his favor whilst looking upon you; and so fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace, that ye may so live together in this life, that in the world to come ye may have life everlasting. Amen." The priest so gave his blessing, and Mary and Matthew, once again joining sweaty hands, walked through the middle of the crowd.
The feast was far too loud and extravagant for Matthew's liking. Far too many people were drunk. Even Mary, who seemed to be the most respectable of women, seemed a little bit tipsy, though she seemed absolutely sober compared to some of the village men.
All the guests filled the great hall, most coming up and offering their congratulations. "She is a prize, good sir. My father had hoped that she and I might marry, but I am quite confident she will be very happy with you," one man, about his own age, said. "It is very nice to meet you, Sir Matthew. I am Sir Evelyn."
Matthew smiled, but it was forced. "How lovely to meet your acquaintance. You are a friend of the royal family?"
"Very much so. I have known the princesses since we were children. Well, I ought to offer my congratulations to Mary."
Evelyn left, and went over to Mary, who was on the opposite side of the room. One would expect the newlyweds to be standing together, but except for their vows, they had not spoken. They had barely even made eye contact.
He rubbed his eyes. It had been a long day, and the feast seemed to be far from over. He was tempted to become drunk as well so that he would not have to remember this night. So that he would not have to stand around awkwardly on the side of the room, not knowing quite what to do. He had better judgement than that, however. It would not do him any good to get drunk, not on his wedding night.
Damn. It was his wedding night.
He didn't know what to do, where his bedroom was now, if Mary even wanted him that night. Was he supposed to share her bed, to make love to her despite the fact that they were so awkward around each other? What on earth were they supposed to do?
There was only one way to find out. He had to discuss it with Mary. There couldn't be a more awkward topic for his first conversation with his wife, but he supposed there wouldn't be much else for them to talk about. He didn't even know what to say to her.
Matthew made his way across the crowded hall, over to where Mary was. She was staring into space again, drinking what could not possibly be her first drink of the night. "Hello, Mary."
She looked up at him, finally made eye contact with him, and looked at her feet once more. "Yes? Is there something you desire?"
"I was only wondering where we were going to...sleep tonight."
"Ah, you want what all men desire," she said coldly.
Matthew blanched at her, but quickly gathered his composure. How could she assume something like that about him? He had tried to be respectful of her, not speaking to her in ways that would make her (and admittedly him) feel awkward or embarrassed. Did she really think he was like that? They truly didn't know each other. "No, no, not at all... If you would rather not, I don't mind... Whatever you feel comfortable with."
She shrugged. "We are expected to produce an heir. Mama has set up a new bedroom for us."
"Very well then," he said awkwardly. He still wasn't sure how to talk with her. "I suppose I will see you there later tonight." He began to walk back across the room, but he heard Mary's voice, far more emotive than he had ever heard it.
"Matthew, wait!" She ran up to him and grabbed his hand. "If we are to be proper newlyweds, I suppose the best thing to do is to sneak away before the feast is over. At any length, it shouldn't be an interesting feast much longer. Everyone is drunk, for heaven's sake."
He smiled bashfully. "Very well then. Show me to our chamber."