Early June 1919
Matthew goes to church every Sunday. He doesn't talk to anyone. He tries to come just as the service starts and he leaves as soon as it's over. It doesn't bring him much relief, but these days, there isn't much that does.
It's been a beautiful spring. The rain has been light and infrequent, which Matthew appreciates, because his back and legs ache every time it storms. The skies look ominous today, though, and Matthew is contemplating leaving the service early when Mary walks in with Edith and their mother.
Matthew sits as still as possible to not call any attention to himself, but Mary notices him straight away. She acknowledges him but doesn't say anything, and continues to the front just in time for Travis to begin.
Matthew and his mother have been invited to the big house for dinner this evening, so it's a bit serendipitous to run into his cousins. He is planning to attend, for a change, and now that they've seen him he probably can't make up an excuse to avoid it.
It's not that he's been avoiding Mary exactly - the thought half true flits across the back of his mind - it's just that family dinners still feel a bit awkward. No one mentions Lavinia, which is both a blessing and a curse. There's some estate business he wants to talk about with Robert, though, so he figured he'd give it another chance.
Matthew ends up staying for the whole service, and even though Travis' sermon from Ecclesiastes is filled with just as much censure as it is hope (A time to rend, a time to sew, he thinks. It's clichéd but it's true), he feels a little bit comforted. He makes it back to Crawley House just as the rain starts, but the skies have cleared by the time he and his mother set off for dinner.
It isn't until afterwards that Mary comes to talk to him. "I saw you in church this morning. Did you enjoy the service?" she asks.
"I'm not sure 'enjoy' is quite the word for it," Matthew says, "but I felt better afterwards, and that's something, at least."
These two sentences make up what is almost the longest conversation they've had since Lavinia's funeral, and oddly, Matthew doesn't mind. (You've missed her, says that same quiet voice in his head).
"I'm so glad you're here," Mary is saying. "What with the rain, we weren't sure you'd come."
"It was good to get out," he says affably. "I'm starting to feel a bit restless cooped up at home, and I wanted to talk to your father. Also, I could use the exercise." Matthew motions slightly to his legs, and he watches Mary's eyes light up in recognition.
"Your stick!" she exclaims, smiling. "You've left it at home."
"So I have," Matthew acknowledges. "I have been walking short distances without it, and I thought I'd try leaving it altogether today."
"And how are you feeling?" Mary asks him, and for a moment Matthew feels he is the center of the universe.
"To be honest, I was a bit worried about the rain. Sometimes it aches when - well, I seem to be always able to tell when it is going to rain, in any case." Matthew pauses. "But right now I feel fine. Better than fine."
Still smiling, Mary reaches out and touches his arm. "I'm so glad," she says.
Matthew looks at her, letting time stop, although really it's just a moment before Cousin Violet calls Mary over. Matthew goes to talk to his mother, and he feels lighter than he has in weeks.
