On their first morning at Duneagle, Mary and Matthew were awakened by the bagpipes they had been warned about the night before. They both groaned, and Mary put a pillow over her head in a failed attempt to block out the noise.

"Someone go and throw that stupid instrument on a bonfire," she muttered.

Matthew snorted with laughter. He was already wide awake and found Mary's sleepiness and bad temper hilarious.

"It's an instrument of torture, not of music," she continued, flinging the pillow on the floor when she realised it made little difference to the noise. Matthew laughed again and turned to kiss her.

"Does this make being awoken at such an unsociable hour more bearable?" he asked as he drew away.

Mary smiled. "Slightly. But honestly, how do they live with this every morning? It would drive me insane." She sat up, realising it was pointless trying to sleep again. She looked at Matthew. "How's your back today? Are you up for getting up for breakfast, or will you have it in bed with me?"

Matthew rolled his shoulders slightly and stretched carefully before answering. "Not too bad. Yes, I'll get up."

When Matthew was up and in his dressing room, Mary leaned back on the pillows and breathed deeply. She would have taken breakfast in the breakfast room, but she was worried she might be sick again. Sitting up that morning had made her dizzy. She truly had thought she would feel better once they were here, but apparently that was not the case.

When Anna brought in her breakfast tray her fears were confirmed. The smell of the coffee made her suddenly nauseous, and she ran to the bathroom just in time. Anna followed and hung back as Mary was sick.

Mary was fed up of being ill. This really was getting ridiculous; to have a stomach bug that lasted this many weeks couldn't be normal.

Then it came to her. She had heard that phrase before. Edith. When she was describing morning sickness. Her heart began to pound. She had been sick most days for weeks now. That wasn't normal, not for an ordinary stomach bug. Yet apart from tiredness, she had had no other symptoms of a more serious illness. Her symptoms matched what Edith had described almost exactly. She bit her lip. Could it be possible…?

"Anna?" she said slowly. "What's the date?"

Anna grinned to herself. Finally Mary had noticed what was going on with her body.

"The second of September," she answered, trying to keep her voice calm.

Mary frowned as she tried to remember how long that made it since her last cycle, and her eyes widened as she did the calculations in her head. Surely it couldn't be right? If it was, that meant it had been… two, maybe three months, or near enough. How on earth had she failed to notice?

"Anna?" she began again, suddenly breathless with excitement. "You don't think… might I be… could it be possible that I'm…?"

"Pregnant?" Anna finished for her. "Yes, Mary, I believe you are, and although I'm no nurse, I'm fairly certain."

Mary stood still for a minute, trying to take it in. She had given up on the hope that this might ever happen, but she remembered Isobel telling her that if it were possible, they might need to be very patient. They had been patient, and had tried so hard not to be disappointed when nothing had happened, to the point that she had almost convinced herself it would never happen.

But it had happened. She was certain of it. It was surely the only logical explanation for the sickness and tiredness, both completely out of the ordinary for her, who had always been healthy and energetic; she couldn't remember being ill once in the last few years, and travelling had always made her excited rather than tired, until the journey the day before. And while her cycle had never been perfectly regular, she had never been more than a week or so late. She almost laughed at her success at stopping herself thinking about it; she had known she had good self-control, but she had somehow managed to ignore very obvious symptoms for several weeks.

This was real, it had to be. She really was pregnant.

She gave a wordless cry of delight and went over to embrace Anna tightly. Anna held her, tears forming in her eyes. She was so very happy for her friend. She had suspected that Mary might be pregnant for a few weeks now, but fearing that she might be wrong, had remained silent. Also, she hadn't really like the idea that she had known something so private about Mary before Mary had realised herself.

Mary took deep, calming breaths.

"I've been rather an idiot, haven't I? It was staring me right in the face, and I didn't think." She laughed, then became serious again. "I mustn't get too excited. I must see Dr Clarkson before I tell anyone anything. Nothing's certain. To raise their hopes, and then disappoint them… no, I couldn't do that. Oh, why did I have to find out while we're here?" she said, talking to herself more than to Anna.

"Could you talk to Lady Sybil?" Anna suggested tentatively.

Mary though for a moment before answering.

"No. She's family, and I want everyone to find out together. Besides, although I have great faith in her nursing abilities, I would feel more certain if a doctor were to confirm it."

"Could you call a doctor here? Lord and Lady Flintshire must have one."

"No. I couldn't keep it secret, and if I wouldn't tell anyone why I wanted a doctor, they would worry, especially Matthew. That's not how I want everyone to find out. And I'd rather see a doctor I know. No, I must wait. But Anna, surely after several weeks, and with the sickness, there can be little doubt?" Mary asked, her voice full of doubt, knowing so little of pregnancy.

Anna smiled reassuringly. "There can be very little doubt. I'm sure we're right, although I can see why you want to keep it secret until you know for sure. What about Mr Crawley, will you tell him? Because he's been so worried about you these past few weeks. Just imagine how you would feel if he was sick almost every day for over two months."

"Oh, no! I can't tell him until I'm certain. We've waited so long… and it's only a few more days."

Anna nodded understandingly, but secretly thought Mary ought to tell her husband. However, it was not her place to say anything; this was Mary's decision, and hers alone.

Mary pulled away from Anna's embrace and stood smiling radiantly.

"How am I ever going to keep from letting it slip? It's just so wonderful, how will I ever keep it to myself?"

"I'm sure you'll manage. I mean, you've managed to keep it secret from yourself for weeks," Anna assured her, smirking.

Mary laughed.

"Oh, I'm so happy for you! And to think, you and Lady Edith pregnant at the same time!" Anna continued.

"I hadn't thought of that," Mary said slowly. "That will be strange. And there will only be a couple of months between the children. No, I mustn't think like that yet, not until I know for certain. But Anna, it's so hard not to!"

Then Mary was suddenly overcome by nausea again, and rushed over to the toilet. When she stood up straight again, she smiled weakly.

"I suppose this will stop me getting too overexcited," she said shakily after taking a sip of water.

"Do you think you could manage some toast? That sometimes helps, I've heard. And I'll take the coffee away if it makes you ill."

"Thank you Anna, I think I will eat something. But how on earth am I going to explain to everyone why I suddenly can't bear the smell of coffee?"

"I'm not sure. I suppose you'll just have to find excuses not to be too near when it's being drunk. You'll manage it, Mary, and it is only a few days."

Mary smiled gratefully, then went through to the bedroom where her breakfast was waiting on a tray. She realised for the first time why Anna had been bringing her dry toast every morning.

"You knew, didn't you," she said, looking hard at Anna, but with a smile playing about her mouth. "How long?"

"A few weeks," Anna said guiltily.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Mary asked.

"I wasn't certain. And I wanted you to discover it for yourself."

Mary smiled. "You know, I'm glad you did. Will you stay with me until Matthew returns? I don't want to be alone now."

"Of course I'll stay if you want me," Anna said.

Mary got back into bed and pulled the covers up around her, then set the tray down on her lap and began to hungrily eat the toast. She ate only one slice, thinking that was safest, but it did help. She talked to Anna until Matthew came back from breakfast to find her.

"Still in bed, darling?" he said, smiling as he came into the room and saw her sitting up in bed, still in her nightdress. "If you're not too tired, Susan wants to show us the gardens. Rose said she wanted to meet us in half an hour, by the back door, so you'd better get up now if you want to go. Do you?"

Mary nodded, not trusting herself to open her mouth.

"I'll go to my dressing room and read, so you've got peace to dress. Knock when you're ready," Matthew continued.

When he left, Mary breathed a sigh of relief. She had been scared she would let her secret out as soon as she saw him, thought her voice or facial expression would give her away. But apparently she had controlled herself well enough, even while her heart had been bursting with joy.

The tour of the gardens was more than a little uncomfortable. It soon became apparent that Rose and Susan had just had another argument, and they were speaking with exaggerated and almost sarcastic civility to each other, while behaving perfectly naturally with their guests.

Robert and Cora tried their best to change the subject of conversation to anything that it was impossible to disagree about, but this turned out to be impossible; whatever opinion Susan held, Rose was certain to disagree, even when everyone present could tell that she didn't believe the opinion she was expressing, but was simply disagreeing with anything her mother said on principle. If Susan told the party that a certain part of the garden had been there since the early eighteenth century, then Rose was sure to say it was the late seventeenth century, even though, at the beginning of the tour, she had loudly confessed to knowing nothing about the gardens and caring less.

All in all, it was a thoroughly unenjoyable tour, despite the beauty of the gardens and Susan's encyclopaedic knowledge of them.

Mary, however, felt as if she were floating, flying, soaring high on wings of joy. She was pregnant. Matthew's child was growing inside her. What did anything else matter? Susan and Rose could argue as much as they liked, but all Mary could think that was if she had a daughter, she would love and cherish her far too much to fight.

Of course, everyone would hope for and expect a son, and she wanted to do her duty to Downton by providing an heir. But she knew she would love any child of Matthew's equally. And besides, if they could have one child, perhaps it would be possible to have more. True, it had taken over a year for her to become pregnant, but it had taken Edith just as long. And it wasn't as if she and Matthew didn't try often enough. After years of marriage, they still felt like newlyweds when it came to showing their affection for each other. Making love in the middle of the night when she woke up to help Matthew change position was not unusual, and lie-ins were not often spent sleeping.

The future didn't matter at the moment though. All that mattered was that Matthew was going to be a father. And she was going to be a mother. Mother. The word sounded strange and foreign on her tongue, and she realised she had said it out loud.

"Mary? Did you say something?" Matthew asked, looking up at her.

"No darling, nothing important," she replied. But Matthew looked at her bemusedly as he saw the light in her eyes and the broad grin she was wearing. He could see she was fighting it, but she looked happier than he had thought anyone could possibly look on this disastrous garden tour.

"You're happy about something. Tell me."

Mary wished she could, but controlled herself. It was only a few days until she could have the pregnancy confirmed, and then she could tell him. If she was right.

"I'm just happy to be here. I love the highlands. And the weather is lovely, and you're here… everything's just so wonderful," she said.

Matthew could tell that there was more. There was something specific that was making Mary deliriously happy, and he was desperate to know what it was. But clearly he would have to wait; she was clearly not going to tell him now.

The tour seemed to go on forever. The tensions between Rose and Susan got worse, and both were trying to get everyone else on their side. Sybil began to think she was leaving Emmeline alone too long. Anthony began to worry that Edith shouldn't be on her feet this long. Matthew's back was getting painful enough that he knew he needed to lie down. Mary was getting tired and hungry; one slice of dry toast was not a large breakfast. But she didn't mind now she knew the reason for her tiredness. She would gladly endure anything for this child she was carrying.

It was Cora who finally asked Susan politely if perhaps it was time to return to the house. She could tell that Edith had had enough, and she understood Sybil's need to be with her child. Susan readily consented, and they went back.

Over luncheon, Shrimpy, who had not accompanied them around the gardens, having muttered something about finding guns for Robert and Tom as an excuse, began to talk enthusiastically about the shooting practise they were going to have that afternoon with the gamekeeper. He claimed that this gamekeeper was the best shot in Scotland, and therefore the world. He was looking forward to having Tom to teach because he had never done it before.

"What shall we do this afternoon then?" Mary asked Matthew quietly. "Do you want to watch Papa and Tom? Or we could go to the spot in the garden where I always used to sit and read when I came here and had had enough of Edith?"

Matthew smiled, but shook his head. "You must do whatever you like, but I'm afraid that after that interminable tour, I'm done in. I think I'll be spending the afternoon in bed." He took in Mary's worried expression, and took her hand. "It's alright, Mary, it was just a long journey yesterday. If I rest properly today, I should be fine by tomorrow."

Mary squeezed his hand. "I know. I'll lie down with you. How does a back massage sound?"

"Heavenly. But you don't have to. This is our first day here; you don't need to spend it in bed because of me."

"I am very much looking forward to spending the afternoon in bed with you. It's not like there's anything exciting going on anyway."

What Mary said was true, although she omitted the fact that she was actually rather tired herself, and could really do with lying down anyway. This way, nobody would be suspicious of her unusual tiredness.

"Well, how was your first go at deerstalking?" Matthew asked Tom. They were in the drawing room for pre-dinner drinks, and Matthew, Tom and Anthony were sitting together, their wives in a corner of the room with Rose.

"Well, it was only a metal deer and it didn't move, but I still managed to be told by that gamekeeper that I'm doing it all wrong. It was worse than the New Year's Day shoot; at least then there's only Sybil to watch me miss."

"Well, from what I remember, Robert's not the best at it either," Anthony said smiling slightly.

"No, actually, he's not. He was told off for shooting as if the deer was a pheasant. But then, he's so good at pheasant shooting, it's hardly the end of the world. It was good not to be the only one to be told he was useless though."

"Goodness, a country sport Robert is not an expert at. I didn't think it existed," Matthew said and the others laughed. "When are you actually going to shoot anything that's not metal?"

"The day after tomorrow," Tom answered. "Tomorrow, we're all going on a picnic, apparently. I'm not sure it will exactly match what my idea of a picnic is though; I can't see the Dowager sitting on a rug on the grass."

"Don't worry," Matthew said reassuringly. "Mary says that Rose is planning on going on another picnic in a few days' time. Without her parents, or Robert and Cora and Cousin Violet. I expect that will come closer to your idea of a picnic. It will be like the picnic we had at Downton last summer."

"Well, I suppose I can wait until then," Tom said.

In their corner, Mary, Edith, Sybil and Rose were planning for their secret late night meeting.

"Come as soon as you can, once the house is quiet," Rose said.

"I apologise in advance if I'm late," Sybil said. "It depends how long it takes Emmeline to settle."

"It's alright, we can wait," Edith assured her.

"I'm quite excited, you know," Rose said. "Everything is so different from the last time we did this."

"We're not telling you anything an unmarried girl shouldn't know, so don't get your hopes up too much," Mary said, looking hard at Rose and knowing that getting her hopes up was precisely what her younger cousin was doing.

"Don't wait up for me, darling, I have no idea how long I'm going to be. All night if Rose had her own way, but she won't. I'm serious though, you need your sleep," Mary instructed Matthew as she prepared to leave for Rose's room.

"I rested this afternoon. And it's hard to sleep without you by me side," he protested. He looked at Mary's stern expression and laughed. "Alright, alright, I'll do as you say. But don't be long; you need your sleep too."

Mary smiled, pleased with her victory, then kissed Matthew quickly but lovingly on the lips and left.

She crept upstairs, shivering slightly in her summer nightdress and dressing gown; it might be summer, but she had forgotten that for some reason, Duneagle was always cold. It felt silly creeping around as if she was doing something wrong. It was childish. But then, the whole tradition of talking in Rose's room was childish, and yet she was still slightly excited. There was something thrilling about whispering and giggling after everyone else was in bed. And somehow, she seemed to be able to stand Edith on these occasions, although that was less important these days; she had a civil and occasionally friendly relationship with her sister these days.

She found Rose's room and entered without knocking. Edith and Rose were sitting on the bed, Edith plaiting Rose's hair. It was like a scene from the past. They looked up when she entered.

"Mary! Come and sit down," Rose said. "Sybil's late. It must be Emmeline."

They waited another twenty minutes for Sybil, during which time Rose ranted about her mother and lamented her misfortune at living 'in the middle of nowhere', and Edith and Mary did their best to offer their sympathy.

When Sybil arrived, she looked flustered. "Sorry," she said as she sat down heavily on the bed. "She just wouldn't settle. She cries every time I put her down, and keeps calling for me every time I try to leave her. It must be because it's a new place; she's so good when we're at home. I almost had to bring her with me, but Tom's dealing with it."

"Is it hard work, having a baby?" Edith asked.

"Very," Sybil replied. "It's ridiculously tiring for the first few weeks and months. But it's worth it, it really is worth it. It's a different kind of love than anything you will ever have felt before, fierce and almost frighteningly strong. You'll love it Edith, I know you'll be a great mother."

Edith smiled gratefully. She was looking forward to having her child, but she was nervous too. Sybil seemed so natural as a mother, but how would she know what to do when it was her turn?

"What's it like, being pregnant?" Rose asked, looking at Edith's stomach in an attempt to see the bump through the loose white nightdress.

"Like magic," Edith replied. "To have a person growing inside you, well, it feels like a miracle. Morning sickness isn't fun, but you know it's because of the baby, and you are prepared to endure anything for the baby."

Mary listened with a smile on her face. Edith was describing precisely how she felt. She wanted to tell them now that she was feeling the same way as her sister, but of course she didn't. She drifted off into a world of happy thoughts, imagining a tiny version of Matthew bouncing on her knee. She placed her hand on her flat stomach. Or was it flat? She thought perhaps there was something different. Was it slightly more rounded? Yes, she thought it was, although she might just be imagining it. This made her smile even wider; it was further proof that she and Anna were right, and she was getting more and more certain. Now she knew, it seemed so ridiculous that she hadn't noticed before.

While Sybil and Rose continued to discuss pregnancy, Edith was watching Mary. Mary was usually the centre of attention, always involved in conversations unless they bored her. To begin with, Edith thought her sister simply didn't like talking about pregnancy because she was jealous, and she understood, knowing what it was like to be jealous. Mary's hand was resting on her stomach, and Edith thought she must be wishing there was a child there. She was sorry for Mary then; it must be hard for her to see one sister with a small child and the other pregnant when she couldn't have a child herself.

But when Edith looked at her older sister's face, expecting to see sadness and longing, she saw joy and something that was almost smugness. She didn't understand. What on earth was Mary thinking about? Why was she smiling as she touched her empty stomach?

But there was something familiar about the emotions reflected on Mary's face, and in the way her hand seemed so natural and right on her stomach. Edith gasped. Could it be…? But no, that was impossible.

Mary heard the gasp and saw Edith watching her. She stared at her sister hard, annoyed to be caught so obviously daydreaming. Edith looked away.

They both began to listen to the conversation again.

"Do you want more children?" Rose asked Sybil.

"Yes, at some point I suppose. But we need the money from my job, and I'm not sure I'm ready for the exhaustion of a baby again yet. And… well, after last time, I think Tom's still worried. The doctor said I had healed well enough that he thinks it would be safe, but you know what men are like in these situations," Sybil replied.

"What, does that mean you don't sleep with your husband and… be intimate with him?" Rose asked, surprised; Sybil and Tom seemed so close, and so I love.

Sybil smiled knowingly. "No, it doesn't mean that. It simply means that we… take precautions."

The other three stared at her in amazement.

"Really?" Edith asked, her eyes wide. "I thought Catholics didn't agree with… that?"

"No, they don't generally, but Tom is a Catholic by tradition and habit rather than because of any deep faith. He does believe in God and everything, but he's practical, and the truth is, it just wouldn't be sensible for us to have another baby now," Sybil replied.

Rose was blushing furiously, and Mary and Edith were still staring at their little sister in shock. Then they looked at each other in silent understanding. For every month they had been desperate for a child, for every month they had been disappointed, Sybil had been ensuring that she didn't become pregnant. The world was so unfair.

Mary wondered how she would have felt if she had been told this yesterday. Now, she was surprised, but because she had her own secret good news, it didn't matter, and she could understand how it might be more difficult for Sybil to have lots of children in the life she led.

The four of them continued with their conversation for another hour or so. Every time Rose tried to find something out which it was considered unnecessary for her to know, one of the others steered the conversation back to safer topics.

Eventually, Sybil said she needed to go and check that Emmeline was asleep.

After her departure, nobody could think of anything to say, and after a minute, Mary said,

"I think I shall go now too. I tried to make Matthew promise not to wait up for me, but I know he will anyway. I'm looking forward to the picnic tomorrow."

"Our picnic without the parents will be better. I can't bear having Mummy breathing down my neck all the time and telling me I'm doing something wrong. But still, perhaps it will be fun, if the weather's decent. Goodnight Mary."

Mary stood up and then had to sit down again. She felt suddenly dizzy and faint.

"Mary? Are you alright?" Edith asked, concerned. "Should I go and find Sybil?"

Mary forced herself to smile.

"No, I'm perfectly fine. I must have stood up too quickly."

She took a few deep breaths and rose again, slowly this time. Her head swam, but she kept her balance and forced herself to smile and walk carefully to the door.

"Goodnight," she said.

Edith looked at Rose. "I'm going after her."

"I'll…" Rose began, but Edith stopped her.

"No, don't worry. Goodnight Rose."

Edith rushed out of the bedroom and saw Mary walking slowly down the corridor.

"Mary!" she called in a whisper.

Mary turned and smiled. "I'm fine Edith, don't worry."

"You are not fine Mary! I've just seen you nearly faint just because you got up to quickly. Are you ill? You've been looking tired for weeks."

"Thank you for pointing that out Edith, I really appreciate being told I look tired," Mary said dryly. "Listen, I promise I'm fine. I know I'm perfectly fine, so don't make a fuss. Goodnight."

Edith stood still for a moment. Should she follow Mary to make sure she got back to her room safely, or should she do what Mary clearly wanted her to do and go to bed? She made her decision.

"Mary, wait," she called, still in a whisper. "I think… I think I know what you're hiding."

Mary spun around and stared at her sister with wide eyes, her hands going automatically to her stomach. This was all the confirmation Edith needed to continue.

"You're pregnant." It was not a question, but a statement of fact.

"How… how did you guess?" Mary asked faintly.

"Well, you've been tired for weeks. You looked happy when we were talking about pregnancy, as if you understood. Your hands keep going to your stomach, whether you notice it or not. You felt dizzy when you stood up. And then you told me you know you're fine. I'm not wrong, am I?"

Mary studied her sister's face. Edith was not the first person she would have chosen to know. But she couldn't lie outright, and besides, Edith was pregnant herself; she would understand, and it would be good to have someone to talk to who understood.

"You're not wrong."

"But… how?" Edith asked. Everyone knew Matthew couldn't have children, so how on earth was Mary pregnant? There was really only one explanation. But surely she wouldn't have… been with another man?

The old, jealous Edith of the past took over for a moment. Yes, she thought, that would be just like Mary, to use some man to give her a child and Downton an heir. Of course, they would pass it off as Matthew's, and Papa would be so delighted, he wouldn't ask any awkward questions or allow anyone else to ask them. And Matthew was far too nice and in love with Mary to say anything. Oh yes, Mary was a scheming bitch.

"How do you think?" Mary said softly. "You must know how it works," she said, gesturing to Edith's stomach.

"You wouldn't… even for you, Mary this is…" Edith said under her breath.

Mary frowned in confusion. "What on earth do you mean?"

"Well, we all know it's not your husband's so…" Edith said, still shocked at her sister.

Mary stared at her in shock, and suddenly saw it as Edith must see it. Nobody but she and Matthew had known there was a possibility of children. To everyone else, it must look as if she had…

"No!" she cried, forgetting to whisper. "I know what you're thinking, and even for you Edith, I'm surprised. How could you think I would do that? I love Matthew!"

"I don't doubt it. But you love Downton more, don't you."

Mary gasped. She had been accused of that so many times in the past, and it had brought her such pain. To hear it now was awful to her.

"No, Edith, you're wrong. I will swear on anything that this child is Matthew's."

Edith looked carefully at Mary. She could usually tell when her sister was lying; she had enough experience of it. And now it did not seem as if she was lying. Her eyes were wide open and seemed to be imploring Edith to believe her.

"But Mary, how?"

"With love and patience," Mary replied simply.

"You mean… Matthew can…?" Edith said slowly.

Mary nodded. "We've known for quite a long time, not far off two years. You don't need the details, but I assure you I am carrying Matthew's child as legitimately as you are carrying Anthony's."

They were silent for a minute.

"I'm so sorry," Edith breathed eventually. "And, oh Mary, congratulations! Who knows? How far on are you? How long have you known?"

Mary smiled. "Don't be sorry, I understand how it looks. We didn't tell anyone because we didn't want to raise anyone's hopes, but now, I see the situation we've put ourselves in. I think I'm just over two months along, but I'm not certain, and I only found out this morning. We'd almost given up, you see, after all that time, so I wasn't counting the days or anything, and I thought I had a stomach bug. Only you and Anna know. I haven't even told Matthew yet. I was going to wait until I'd seen Dr Clarkson. After all we've been through, I want to be sure."

"Well, I'm fairly sure. You'll have to tell everyone soon, or they'll guess like I did."

"It's only a few days before we'll be home and I can go and see Clarkson. Then I'll tell the family. Oh Edith, it's so exciting, isn't it!"

"Yes, it is. And Mary, I hope you know I'm really sorry for thinking what I thought at first, and that I am genuinely happy for you. I know we've not always been the best of friends, but you are my sister, and we're going to be going through this at the same time. We might as well do our best to get on a bit better."

Mary felt her eyes filling with tears. This was ridiculous, she told herself. Was the baby already affecting her emotions? But it was so unexpected to hear this from Edith, especially after what she had said only a few minutes ago.

They looked at each other, and without having to say anything, walked towards each other and embraced.

"Goodnight Edith. And please, don't say anything to anyone, including Anthony. Promise me, please."

"I promise," Edith replied solemnly.

They let go of each other and went off to their rooms.

Mary was surprised when she got to her room and found Matthew asleep. She had been certain he would wait up for her, despite her instructions not to. She was glad to see him sleeping peacefully. She wasn't sure she could have kept her secret if he had been awake.

She settled down next to him, curling up close so as much as possible of their skin was touching, and fell asleep.

He was walking along the path that led to the front door of Downton Abbey. It was obviously summer, and the birds were singing. The weather was beautiful.

He heard another sound, sweeter even that the birdsong, and looked up to see Mary sitting in the window seat of one of the open first floor windows, singing tune he didn't know.

"Mary!" he called out. She looked at him, smiled brightly, and disappeared. For a moment, he wondered where she had gone, but then, inexplicably, she was standing next to him. She took his arm, and they strolled slowly to their bench, Mary still singing sweetly. They sat down, their arms around each other's shoulders. Somehow, it was autumn now, and the trees around them were clothed in leaves of rich, warm colours. One fluttered down from the tree above them, and he caught it and threaded it carefully into Mary's hair. She smiled at him. She opened her mouth to say something…

And suddenly, there was a loud noise. The sound of an explosion. A shell. He looked around, and instead of seeing the house and the trees and the green grass, there was an endless stretch of mud, the ground littered with broken bodies. He looked down at himself, and saw that he was wearing his army uniform, which was covered in blood, although whether it was his or not, he couldn't tell.

Mary's screams cut through the deafening roar of the guns, but Mary herself had disappeared. He had to look for her. He stood up, and found that the mud was so deep, his feet were immediately sucked in. He pulled them free and began to wade towards the trench, which was only a few feet away. In there, he would be safe and he could look for Mary. But the mud was too wet and deep for him to move, and he was stuck.

Then a huge shell exploded in front of him, and he was thrown backwards, flying for what seemed like forever. Finally he hit the ground hard. Everything went black, but he could still hear the birds singing and Mary screaming.

"Help me!" he heard her scream.

He had to help her, to save her. He opened his eyes, and saw the grey sky above him. He tried to stand up, but his legs wouldn't obey him. But he had to rescue Mary. He rolled over and dragged himself through the mud on his front, each inch of movement taking enormous effort. He looked about for her, but couldn't see her. All he could see from his position on the ground were the bodies and the barbed wire.

"Mary?" He called. "Where are you?" The sound of the guns was so loud, he couldn't be sure she would hear him, so he called her name again and again, as loud as he could. And finally he heard her voice calling back to him.

"I'm here, Matthew, I'm here."

He looked back, and there she was, back in the direction he had just worked so hard to come from. She was caught in the wire, her bright red dress preventing her from escaping. But was it really a red dress, or was it white and stained with blood? He couldn't tell. And the enemy was coming. He could hear them now, their voices saying things he didn't understand. And above it all, the sound of the guns and the exploding shells.

"Come back to me, darling."

"Mary! I'm coming to save you!" he called, and slowly managed to turn himself around and drag himself towards her. But he was so slow, and the enemy were running, as if the mud didn't affect them.

"I'm coming!" he called again, redoubling his efforts to reach her.

"You can't save me, Matthew. It's too late. You can't do anything. You're useless, you're only half a man. No, not a man at all. There is nothing you can do. I'm dead. They're coming. Goodbye, Matthew!"

The soldiers reached where she was trapped, and surrounded her, and he heard nothing but her screams. Then the mud was sucking him in, drowning him. He struggled, but the mud only pulled him in deeper. And it wasn't just mud, he suddenly realised. There were white hands, bone with no skin attached pulling him down. Skeletons, dead men. The men he had killed, he realised without knowing how he knew.

And he heard her voice, Mary's voice, calling to him, "Matthew! Matthew!"over and over again. And he couldn't save her. He couldn't save himself. He didn't want to save himself. He deserved this. These hands were than hands of the men he had killed, and they were getting their revenge.

"Matthew! Wake up! Darling, wake up, you're having a nightmare."

Mary watched in horror as he thrashed about in the bed. She leaned closer to him carefully, and kissed him desperately, willing him to come back to her. She had been woken suddenly, but wasn't certain whether it had been by Matthew or by the storm that was raging outside. She hated thunderstorms now. As a child, she had found them exciting, but now, they invariably meant nightmares and flashbacks for Matthew. Tonight seemed particularly bad. She had been trying to wake him for what seemed like ages, to no effect, although she had heard him saying her name several times, always sounding tortured and terrified.

"Matthew, please, wake up! I love you, I love you, I love you. Please!"

His eyes suddenly flew open, wild and full of fear, not like his eyes at all. She kissed him again, holding him tight, although he wasn't moving now.

"Matthew, darling, come back to me. You're home, you're safe, I'm here."

"Mary?" he whispered, as if he couldn't quite believe she was really there.

"Yes. I'm here. It's alright, it was only a nightmare," she said, stroking his hair, which was damp with sweat.

"They had you. I couldn't save you. I'm so sorry," he said, his voice shaky.

"Nobody's got me, Matthew. I'm here. We're both perfectly safe."

She leaned over slowly and turned on the light, and Matthew instantly calmed down. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're safe. You're here with me. Everything is alright," she said soothingly.

Then his body began to shake with sobs, and she saw his eyes, which were his again now, were full of tears, which were beginning to spill down his cheeks. She held him and kissed away the tears.

"Tell me," she asked softly.

"They were pulling me down, trying to drown me. The men I killed. And all the time, you were calling my name, begging me to save you. But I couldn't. I couldn't do anything. Because I'm nothing, Mary, I'm useless. I couldn't save you. What kind of a husband am I?"

"Darling, it was only a dream. I didn't need saving, because I'm perfectly safe here with you," Mary murmured. She felt like crying herself, but that was hardly going to help things, so she swallowed her tears and concentrated on Matthew. "It wasn't real, darling. This is real, this. Me." She held his hand to her chest where he would be able to feel the beating of her heart.

This calmed him somewhat, but the agitation was replaced by sadness.

"No, it wasn't real. But this is. It is real that I wouldn't have been able to save you if it was real. It is real that I wake you up in the night like this quite regularly when you need your sleep. It is real that I'm a grown man and I'm frightened of thunderstorms. It's pathetic. It is real that half my body may as well not exist. It is real that I'm not a proper husband to you, and I can't give you children. I can't give you anything."

Mary held his face in her hands and looked deep into his eyes. He had given her everything she had ever wanted, and now, if she was right, he had given her a child too, even if he didn't know it yet. To hear him talking like this, even when she knew he wasn't thinking straight, was awful.

"You have given me a life that is better than I ever imagined a life could be. You are not nothing, Matthew, you are my husband, and I love you," she said, desperately hoping he would believe her.

Matthew looked away from her. "But you can't pretend we have a normal marriage. You give me so much, and I…."

"Our marriage is better than normal, darling, it's perfect," she said, and she kissed him again. He didn't respond, just lay there. Then the lightning flashed again, and then the thunder came, louder than before and obviously closer. Matthew jumped violently, then began to tremble uncontrollably again. His eyes were wide and dark with terror again, and Mary could see that he was no longer seeing the bedroom, but the desolated landscape of France. She pulled him close to her, and he clung to her as she whispered comfortingly in his ear. He didn't seem to hear her, and the trembling grew worse when they heard thunder again. Mary didn't know what to do. This was worse than it had been for a long time, and it seemed there was nothing she could do to help him.

"It's only thunder, Matthew. You explained it to me once, do you remember? Something about electricity. I'm afraid I didn't understand it very well. You'll have to explain again," she said, trying her best to remain calm. Sometimes talking to him normally like this helped bring him back to her. This time, however, it didn't. He was moaning now, and the sound made Mary want to cry, but more than that, to wish desperately that she could take away the awful memories that haunted him still, three years after he had come home.

She tried singing to him, something else that sometimes worked, as if she was singing a lullaby to a little child. But the thunder, and Matthew's moaning were drowning out the sound of her voice, and she realised that this wasn't going to work either. So she gave up, and just held him, hoping, wishing, praying for the thunderstorm to move on.

Then, without planning it or thinking it through, or even actively deciding to do it, she kissed him and said suddenly, "I think I'm pregnant." And finally, finally, Matthew stopped moaning and seemed to come back to himself again, still trembling, but back in the present. He drew away from her slightly.

"What?" he asked shakily, pushing himself up on his elbows and staring at her.

"I'm pregnant, Matthew. You have given me a child, and it's here, growing inside me." She took his hand, and guided it this time to her stomach, where she had been sure she had felt something earlier.

He gasped and stared at her as he felt the tiny, almost imperceptible difference in her body. If he didn't know every inch of her so well, he would never have noticed. But he did notice. How could this be true? After being told he would never father a child, after nearly two years of waiting and hoping and being disappointed, here was his beautiful wife telling him she was carrying his child. In the middle of this nightmare, this seemed like the best dream he had ever had.

"My God, Mary! When… How… I can't believe it! I'm not dreaming, am I?"

"You're not dreaming," she confirmed, kissing him on the lips, as if to prove it. This time, he did respond, kissing her back hungrily, desperately, pulling her down to him so their bodies were locked together in a tight embrace. With the next rumbling of thunder (thankfully slightly quieter and further away) he stiffened again and clung to her so tightly it was almost painful. Soon though, he calmed down a little, took several deep breaths, and relaxed his hold on her, realising it couldn't be comfortable for her.

When they drew apart slowly, Mary saw his eyes were lit up with joy, and filled with tears of happiness, where only a few minutes ago, they had been filled with tears of fear and grief.

"I'm going to be a father," he whispered. Then he laughed loudly and repeated it again, almost shouting, "I'm going to be a father!"

Mary laughed too, then put her hand over her mouth.

"Hush, darling, we'll wake the whole house," she said, still laughing.

"I don't care. I want to wake the house. I want everyone to know that my wife is carrying my child," Matthew said, although he did lower his voice a little.

"Not yet. I haven't told anyone yet. I wasn't going to tell you until I'd seen Dr Clarkson. I want to be sure before anyone else knows. And even if I was sure, I would want to keep it our secret for a little while."

"Are you not sure then?" he asked, alarmed, feeling a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach.

"I'm as sure as it is possible to be without seeing a doctor. And you felt it yourself. And when I've been ill and tired recently, well, this is why. Anna is sure too. She guessed before I did. And Edith guessed earlier, although she's sworn to secrecy. But still, I'd rather wait until we're home."

Matthew's smile returned and he stroked her hair gently.

"Whatever you want, my darling. How long have you been…?"

"Two months, I think. Maybe a little longer. But I didn't know until less than twenty-four hours ago. I suddenly realised when I was ill this morning. Or rather, yesterday morning. "

"You were ill again? Oh Mary, you should have told me. You shouldn't have gone on that stupid tour of the gardens, you should have stayed in bed," Matthew said.

"I'm going to be ill again tomorrow, I should think, and for days and possibly weeks after that, so I wouldn't start worrying about that. There's nothing wrong with me, Matthew, every woman goes through this when she's expecting. And I can't act differently or someone will guess."

"You must look after yourself though, and the baby, even if that means somebody guessing."

Mary smiled at how wonderful Matthew was being about this, and how concerned for her welfare. His nightmare seemed forgotten in the joy of the good news, and she wished she had something as wonderful to tell him every time he woke up after a bad dream.

"I love you Matthew."

"And I love you. So very much. And I love our child already. Now, you need your sleep. You must look after your health. I… I'm so sorry for waking you. I… it's just the thunder, I can't…"

"Hush, darling, I know, I know. It's perfectly alright, you have no reason to apologise. You lived through hell for four years, longer than we have been married. It's not your fault. But you're home and safe now, here with me. And our child." She frowned slightly. "You know, I really didn't mean to tell you yet. We have to face the possibility that I'm wrong. Although I don't think I am. I'm glad you know. It's been hard enough to keep it secret from you for the last day. I don't know how on earth I would have managed until we go home. But you're right, we both need to sleep. I think the storm has moved on, or ended now. I think you should turn over. You were in bed quite early. That's probably too long on your back already. Side?"

"Yes, alright. Facing you."

"Of course." Mary searched for pillows to support Matthew on his side, but there were only the ones for their heads. "We'll have to ask Anna to find us some more tomorrow," she said, half to herself. She helped Matthew roll onto his side and used the two pillows from her side of the bed to support him, then snuggled up close to him so she could share his pillows and feel his arms around her, holding her tightly and making her feel safe and protected and blissfully happy.

They fell asleep together and slept peacefully and undisturbed for the rest of the night.