So, she has been found, what will happen next? I still have no idea how long this story will end up being, but I'll get the third chapter up faster than I got this one up. I love this and, well, I couldn't really help what ended up happening…. ;-)! Matthew is in America on a business trip type excursion, something I'll try to explain more fully in the next chapter. I own nothing but the plot, as everyone well knows, so without further ado…
His breath coming in shallow gasps, Matthew stood on shaking legs as he saw the pianist come out onto the floor.
"If you'll just excuse me…" he stammered, leaving the confused Parkingsons far behind. Weaving over to the man, Matthew tapped him on the shoulder and inquired as to where he could find the lady.
"Very sorry sir," he replied with a smirk, "but the lady is not inclined to take visitors after a show."
Matthew could tell that this line was well rehearsed and had repeated it to many eager men.
"I must insist. Its urgent family matters," Matthew persisted.
"Family, ehh?"
"Yes, please take me to her."
"Err, come with me then," he decided after a moment, remembering Rose's odd reaction after the show. The pianist led him off the floor and through the stage doors, bringing him into a dark, narrow corridor.
"Wait here," the pianist instructed before he entered a room off the corridor and closed the door behind him. Matthew could hear muffled voices from inside the room before the man stuck his head out of the door.
"If you know her family, what is the name of her father?" he asked.
Matthew smiled.
"Lord Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham."
The pianist looked back into the room and then opened it wide, letting Matthew in as he made his way out.
"An earl, ehh…you think you know a person…" he muttered, shaking his head as he let the door fall closed behind him. She was sitting at a well lit vanity in the corner, and he could see her playing with her necklace in the mirror.
"What is it? What happened?" she whispered, not looking at him.
"Nothing. I said that so I could get in to see you," he replied softly, still standing by the door. A heavy silence hung in the room, both full of a million and one things to say but neither quite sure how to begin. Mary felt as if she might explode, she was so full of emotion at feeling his presence and hearing his silky voice. His reflection in the mirror alone was testing her control so she didn't dare turn around and face him. Matthew couldn't stand it.
"Mary" he whispered, so many different inflections in his voice. It was a question, a statement, a plea, an expletive, fervent thanks.
"Oh Matthew!" she exclaimed, whirling around and facing him, springing to her feet as their eyes met. Without another word, they came together and embraced, Matthew burying Mary in his arms.
"I was so worried, Mary, I was so worried," Matthew spoke into her hair, voice overloaded. She looked up at him with tears in the eyes.
"Oh, I'm so sorry."
"I see you are wearing the necklace I gave you," he smiled, looking down at the glinting jewels.
"Every day. I never got a proper chance to thank you for it, so thank you. Thank you so much, it's the most beautiful piece of jewelry I've ever seen."
"It reminded me so much of you."
"Everything that is light when all is dark," she whispered
"All the passion brought to life," he murmured.
"It's been so dark," she told him so softly he wasn't even sure she said it.
"Without any passion," he finished, staring into her glowing eyes. It was all too much, finally seeing her, knowing she was safe, holding her tightly in his arms; he lowered his head to hers and sighed when their lips met, feeling her soft lips under the thick red lipstick. It quickly turned into something they had ever experienced before; it was raw and full of need. Mary's fingers tangled in his silky hair as his hands slipped down and gripped her hips. They dove in, an animalistic desperation for each other blossoming as all the light burst back into their worlds and years of suppressed passion bubbled forth. Mary was so caught up that she hadn't noticed Matthew backing her up and shuddered as her back hit the wall, aware that every inch of her was somehow in connection with his body. Her knees were weak, giving out under the heat and he sensed her slipping, so he lifted her slightly, enabling her to wrap her legs around his waist. The skirt on her dress fell to the side and Matthew's hands ran up and down the silky skin of her bare legs, sending shivers shooting up her spine. There was nothing but the intoxicating sensation of skin on skin, the flames of desire; there was nothing else left in the world in that moment, there was only Matthew and Mary. Nothing else mattered.
There was a bang on the door. They broke apart, startled back into the real world. They looked at each other with hazy eyes, breathing in ragged, broken gasps. Someone banged on the door again.
"What?" Mary called, her voice low and throaty; the sound of it sending an electric hum throughout Matthew's body.
"What are you two doing in there? There is a gentleman and lady asking for your friend," the intruder called.
"He'll be out in a minute." Mary responded, her eyes never leaving Matthew's. Still burning inside, Matthew rasped,
"What do we do?"
"Whatever we must," Mary breathed. Their faces were just centimeters apart and her warm breath blew across his chin, sending chills down the back of his neck. They stared at each other for a second more before coming together again, melting into each other and pouring out their souls.
"Matthew…"
"Mary, I have lost you too many times. I will not lose you again, whatever it takes; I am never letting you go again."
"I would do anything for you," she responded quite simply.
"Please come home Mary, please come home with me. Please."
"Yes. Yes, of course."
"To England?"
Mary kissed him again, lovingly and gently.
"Of course my darling." She whispered, "home" she sighed, almost in awe of the idea.
"Come with me tonight. I cannot let you out of my sight, not now that I have found you."
"How scandalous," Mary smiled.
"This is America."
Mary laughed and unwound herself from Matthew's embrace, walked over to a rack by the dressing table and pulled on an old black coat. Matthew smiled when he recognized it; it was the coat she had worn the night he had saved Sybil all those years ago. The night they first kissed.
"Are you staying with the couple you were sitting with?" she asked as she straightened her dress and fixed her hair, re-pinning the rose.
"Yes, the Parkingsons. They are very accommodating, and I seriously doubt any abjection to having the famous Silent Rose stay under their roof."
"We had better hope so," she replied, holding the door open for him. She followed him out, taking his hand tightly as they walked back down the corridor out into the bustling world.
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