Mary was at the hospital promptly at 6 o'clock the next morning. Isobel briefed her on the night: Matthew had not stirred at all, but the last hour he had started to, so it was likely he might finally be coming round. If he did, she needed to get Major Clarkson immediately while he was conscious, so he could complete his assessment and diagnosis. She outlined the procedures again, and said that Nurse Ellison had offered to supervise her until Sister Thomsen arrived mid morning, so that she could go home and rest.
"What a good idea," she said, looking appreciatively at Nurse Ellison across the room. "Can we trust that Mrs Bird and Molesley will take good care of you?"
Isobel gave her a tired smile. "I know that they will. And Mary, thank you so much for stepping up like this."
"It is nothing," she said.
"It is a lot more than nothing," said Isobel fervently, giving her a look of real gratitude. In the past year, her impression of Mary had completely changed. Gone was the vain, haughty girl she had first met back in 1912. In her place was a hard working, dedicated young woman who never complained. She'd watched in some amazement how Mary had taken so quickly to her role as a VAD. She never flinched at the most unpleasant of tasks that might come a nurse's way. And she had a calmness and unflappability about her that both the patients, and the other nurses appreciated.
Isobel left, and Mary started on the morning's tasks, beginning with checking and cleaning each wound and re-dressing as necessary. This was something she didn't need supervision with immediately.
Around mid morning, Matthew began to stir. "Matthew," she said gently "Matthew, can you hear me?"
Matthew's eyes swam. He was aware of a terrible stabbing pain in his chest, each time he took a breath. His skin felt like it was on fire. There was something white above him, and then the shape of someone's face. A very nice face framed by dark hair. Someone he knew... things went out of focus again, but after a few minutes his vision started to sharpen, and he realised he was in a hospital and that he was looking at the white ceiling. The nice face was still there. And now he knew who she was. Mary. He felt a warmth steal through him and he started to smile. But where is Lavinia? a voice in his mind was asking. He felt suddenly confused. His body was responding to Mary… but it was Lavinia to whom he had promised his heart. He shut his eyes again, exhausted both by the pain and his conflicted emotions.
Twenty minutes later, he stirred once more, and this time he tried to answer Mary's questions. "Matthew, are you feeling a little less groggy now?"
"Where's Lavinia?" he murmured.
"She will be arriving tomorrow," Mary answered him gently. "Do you know where you are?"
"Yes," he breathed. "Downton."
"I'm going to get Major Clarkson now, try to stay awake. He needs to examine you when you are conscious," He felt the mattress move as she got up, and he had the odd feeling of missing her presence already. He was relieved when she quickly returned, Major Clarkson behind her.
In his no-nonsense way, Major Clarkson got straight to business. "Captain Crawley," he said. "I need to ask you some questions, and then I'm going to examine you, all right? I must warn you that it may be painful." Matthew gave a brief nod by way of answer.
When it was time for the examination, Mary got Nurse Ellison and another duty nurse to assist her to move Matthew onto his side. The movement caused him to cry out, and Mary inhaled sharply, concerned for him. Major Clarkson barked out one question after another, taking notes, and poking and prodding.
By the end of it, Matthew was exhausted and clearly in a lot of pain. Mary, with Nurse Ellison overseeing her, administered him a shot of morphine, and then she smoothed his forehead with a damp cloth. "Thank you," he managed. "Try to sleep now," she said gently, and within minutes he was.
Mary was briefing Sybil at the end of her shift when she heard voices outside the ward. One of them was unmistakably her father. And then they heard Isobel. A door slammed, and they both looked at each other in surprise. They had expected that Isobel would rest for the full day until the night shift.
"What's this about?" Mary whispered.
"I'm not sure. Unless Major Clarkson is giving them the prognosis?" answered Sybil.
"That must be it, but why drag Isobel back in when she needs the rest?" Mary pondered. Then she gasped. It must mean that the news was not good. They both looked at each other, not sure whether to speak. Then Mary gave a slight shake of her head. They would hear soon enough, and in the meantime, it was easier to focus on practical things. She started back briefing Sybil from where they had left off with the handover.
She had washed up, and was putting her coat on, ready to leave the hospital, when Major Clarkson came into the cloakroom and said "Nurse Crawley, a quick word if I may."
She looked at him expectantly. "I have given Lord Grantham and Isobel my opinion of Matthew's condition, and I think it important that you, as a member of his nursing team also have it.
"There is a low chance of him surviving his injuries, but that you already knew. If he pulls through," and here he paused and took a breath, "he will not walk again. He has no feeling below his waist. My examination of him when he was conscious confirmed what we suspected. He is paralysed." He turned and left, not wanting her to see his own emotion at having to share the devastating news.
Mary sat slowly down on the bench in the cloakroom, everything in the room too bright, too harsh. Major Clarkson's words echoed in her head.
This cruel, barbaric war. What a terrible price that Matthew had paid, would continue to pay if he even managed to live. She realised she was about to be sick and ran to the bathroom. She retched until she had nothing left, and then she sank to the floor shaking. She stayed there, crying quietly, for quite some time, and then she gave herself a little talk. Now just remember, you're the cool, calm Lady Mary. That's what you are. Matthew is going to need you to be strong. And so is Isobel. And now it's time to get up and keep going.
She sat for another few minutes steeling herself, and then took a deep breath, got to her feet, rinsed her mouth and washed her face. Then she left the hospital and walked quickly home.
Mary had the afternoon shift the following day, and when she arrived, she was surprised to see Lavinia, who had arrived that morning, running crying from the ward. She brushed past Mary almost unseeing, and left, her sobbing clearly audible until they heard a door shut.
"What was that about?" she asked Sybil, frowning.
"I think Matthew has broken off their engagement," said Sybil sadly.
"What?" Mary said incredulous.
"Major Clarkson gave him the news this morning. He's taking it very hard. The bit about not having children, in particular, is what I think made him send Lavinia away."
"What do you mean, not having children?" she asked, confused.
"Didn't Major Clarkson tell you that part, Mary?" Sybil asked gently. "He has no control of anything below his waist."
"Oh," Mary said shocked, suddenly realising the full and terrible implications of Sybil's words. "Poor poor Matthew! This is just so unfair!" tears pricked the back of her eyes.
"War is never fair," Sybil said grimly. "All these young men dead, others with permanent injuries. Cut down in their prime. What a waste. She spoke angrily, her voice low. "Is it really worth it Mary? All this needless suffering? Why can't we sort out problems between countries without hurting each other?"
They were silent for a moment, Sybil angry, Mary grief-stricken, for the second time in as many days as she contemplated what Matthew had ahead. Finally, Sybil said quietly, "Mary, I can't bear to keep thinking about it. Let's just focus on now, shall we?" Mary nodded. It was too awful to dwell on what Matthew had lost.
Sybil picked up the clipboard, and said "This is what I need to tell you," and she began systematically going through the handover with her.
Matthew was awake and restless when Mary began her shift.
"Did you hear that I have sent Lavinia away?" he said tightly.
"Yes, and it seems to me a rash and unnecessarily hasty thing to do! You should be giving yourself, and her, a chance!" she said in a firm tone.
"Lavinia is young. She will fall in love again, with someone who can give her children and a proper life. I can't be with any woman, not like this, not ever," he said, his voice dark.
"But what if she would want to be with you, on any terms?" said Mary, hating to hear him talk with such little self worth.
"No woman would want to be with me. I can't be a proper man anymore. I'll spend my life being bathed and dressed and lugged around by other people. I can't bear to think of it. I don't even want to live with myself!" His face paled suddenly and he said weakly, "I, I think I'm going to be sick!"
Mary managed to get a bowl to him, and under his chin just in time. When he had finished, she lowered his head back onto the pillow and wiped his mouth gently with a cloth. She smoothed his forehead and said soothingly, "It's all right Matthew, it's perfectly all right."
He looked at her and gave a bitter laugh. "Really?" he said. "It's quite ironic, don't you think? A few years ago you turned down my offer of marriage, and now I lie here, a cripple for life. You must be pleased you had such a lucky escape! I wish they had left me at the front," he said harshly. "I would have been better off dead." And his eyes darkened.
Mary couldn't bear it any longer. She said firmly, trying not to let anger into her voice, "Matthew, you have survived the war. You must not, cannot think like this when you've got to battle now for your very life!"
He said nothing. He just looked at her, his lips trembling and his eyes deep pools of despair and defeat.
"Matthew, you can get through this," she tried again. "And you must get through it. Your mother needs you for god's sake!"
"Does she need me? Does she really need me like this? If I do survive, I won't have a normal life!" his voice was shaky.
Mary nodded. "You are her son. You are her only family. She will want you, however, whatever, as long as you are alive! Your life will be different. But you are resourceful and you have your mind, Matthew. You will adjust. You will make something of your life!" She was angry now. "Don't you dare say you would be better off dead!"
Her words must have got through because they seemed to jolt something in him and he muttered "Sorry."
She took his hand and squeezed it, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "That's more like it," she said. She sat with him, holding his hand until his breathing evened, and then she said, "Now, how about something to eat." He gave a small nod, and she fetched a bowl of broth and began to feed him.
That evening, just after Anna had left her bedchamber, Mary heard the sound of someone crying. Pulling on her gown, she went into the hallway to find out who it was. In the guest room nearby, she found Lavinia sitting up in bed, sobbing uncontrollably, a white shawl spread loosely around her dainty shoulders.
"Lavinia, whatever is the matter?" she asked, and she sat down on the bed beside her.
"Matthew has broken our engagement. He has sent me away. He wants me to return to London and not see him again," she sniffed.
"I'm sure he'll come around," Mary said reasonably. "Unfortunately it was today he got the prognosis and he has taken it very hard, especially about not being able to give you children."
"He might, but," and she looked at Mary with a queer light in her eyes, "I'm not going to push him on this. You see, it's not just now, but it's been for a while, that I've thought, I've seen…"
"Lavinia, what is it?" asked Mary looking at her closely.
"I don't have Matthew's heart," she said with a sob. "If I did, well, of course I would stay, and not allow him to push me away, but I know that I don't. So I won't."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, Mary, I might as well say it. It is you. You have Matthew's, heart. He still loves you. Today, when I arrived he was asleep. As he awoke he seemed to be in some sort of pain and he was calling out Mary!"
"But isn't that just because I'm nursing him?" Mary protested.
"Perhaps, but when he realised it was just me… I swear he looked disappointed!" and she began to cry again.
Mary stared at Lavinia, speechless.
"And please," and at this Lavinia gave Mary a serious look, "It's not just now. I'd been wondering about things for a while. Ever since that trip, he had with the General, and he'd seen quite a bit of you. He seemed to change toward me somehow. I know you'd had some sort of fight in the past, and that you have only recently made up. Perhaps in getting over it, he has rediscovered his love for you."
"I don't know what to say," Mary said. "I am engaged to Sir Richard and…"
"We both know who is the better man, Mary," Lavinia said gently.
She was silent a moment, staring toward the window. Then she turned to Mary and said, "I feel better for having told you all this. And please remember I am not leaving him because he is wounded and may die, but because his heart is with you and, as much as it pains me, because I do love him very much, I do not want to stand in the way of any remote chance you may have with him if... if he lives." Tears trickled down her cheeks, and Mary wordlessly handed her a handkerchief from the nightstand.
Mary returned to her room in a daze and readied herself for bed. Was Lavinia right? Was Matthew still in love with her? And what now? He was so resolute. "I could never be with any woman." And whom did she love, really in that way? Richard? Matthew? In her heart, she knew it was Matthew she loved. Fondness, yes that was the most she felt for Richard. But did she want to break things off with Richard? There were certain attractions about the type of life she could have with him at her side.
And if Matthew survived, would he want her anyway, if she confessed to him about Kamal? She knew she would never, could never, be with him unless she had told him about that first. And what if he rejected her when he found out? Was it worth risking not only his love but also his friendship?
No, Matthew was far too good a man. She was damaged goods, and therefore she would have to make do with Richard. As he himself had said when she had first told him what had occurred with Kamal "well at least that means we will come to the marriage on slightly more equal terms."