Chapter four
A/n: I'm overwhelmed by the positive response my little story garnered from you and the kind reviews you left me to bring a smile into my day. So, I hope this last chapter will meet the expectations I unwittingly raised in you. And don't you worry, I've got plans and ideas to write. It's not over. Not by a long shot, just for now. Once more thanks to you all for reading and reviewing.
"Dear God, they assassinated Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie in Sarajewo!" exclaimed Robert the next morning behind his paper.
"What does that mean?" Sybil asked.
"It means the Austrian Emperor is short of a successor."
Mary had slept very little during the night, in fact she had been devising plans how to win Matthew back, devising plans of a future without him, thinking about how she could salvage the last of her tattered reputation, dreaming of how it might have been, if she hadn't pushed him away on her bed in a moment of panic. How wonderful it would have been to be made love to by him and to make love to him in return. How life could have turned out, if she hadn't been so angry with Matthew and wanting to punish him for going church visiting with Edith; if she had screamed instead of accepting her fate and trying to make the best out of an impossible situation. If she hadn't let her damnable pride get the better of her and admit in time she had been in over her head with Pamuk instead of deluding herself by thinking she had been in control.
"Mary, we all know you have no heart, you don't have to remind us on a daily basis. The poor man. One of the most powerful men alive and first his son and successor dies in a tragic accident, then the empress gets killed and now this. I feel very much for him. So many tragic losses. How can he bear it?" Edith spoke up and Mary rolled her eyes.
The bleary-eyed Matthew kept his eyes on his plate, where he pushed his cold eggs from one side to the other and around and around. He felt no appetite after tossing and turning the entire night, trying to sort out the cold facts from rumours, wishful thinking and what Mary had told him, trying to figure out how to go on with her, what do to do about Robert and his family's scheming and what to do with his life. Whether he could bear to stay in Downton or where to go, if he didn't. When he had managed to nod off for a couple of minutes now and then, his dreams had been plagued by vivid visions of a half-naked Mary with her hair left down, opening her arms and beckoning him to come to her.
"But I thought he committed suicide because he was in love but his family was against it?" Sybil was bewildered, but bit heartily into her toast. She felt somewhat giddy from last night. While she still thought the entire evening had been rather an unnecessary fuss she couldn't help but rejoice in the fact that she was now officially no longer a girl, but a young woman! An adult whose voice would be heard from now on!
„Of course he did, Sybil darling, but it's more tactful to say it was a tragic accident with a gun." Violet reprimanded, cutting her piece of trout, mulling over the strange behaviour of her eldest granddaughter and her son's heir.
"Do they say if there will be an official investigation? Have suspects been apprehended, Robert?" Matthew spoke up after shooting a cold glare at Mary over the breakfast table for her unfeeling remark. He made an effort to keep up appearances and act normal towards Robert. He had his pride, too, and by continuing to play the eager puppy, he would fool them for a change. He was his own man and not a puppet – for no one.
"No, nothing of that kind yet. I certainly expect there will be at least an investigation. Austria-Hungary's position is weak on the Balkans. They will have to show their power in some way. But I would presume they want to be sure, before they take any action or inform the press of any results."
"To die because of love just like Romeo and Juliet ... Matthew, would you commit suicide over a woman you can't have?" Sybil asked innocently.
Matthew, about to swallow a gulp of tea, started coughing.
"Of course not! Nowadays men take a post in the colonies or join the army or do something equally stupid but noble. Besides, Matthew is a mild-mannered English lawyer not a hot-blooded Italian noble son. The most he would do is to move." Mary piped up again with a smile designed to take the sting out of her words. She hoped to mend fences with him by engaging in their usual banter and reminding him they had history. That she knew things about him few others did and certainly no one at this table. But Matthew didn't look at her, preferring to shrug non-committal.
"Sarajewo, that's Serbia, isn't it? For years it's been one thing after the other on the Balkans. Oh, why do these people have to be so uncivilised? So much unbridled nationalism makes one uncomfortable." Violet bemoaned. Now she knew that there was definitely something up between Mary and Matthew. He didn't look at her; she sent him glances that Violet would swear on her husband's grave were pleading. And Mary didn't plead, ever! Did Matthew know?!
"Wasn't that unfortunate Turkish chap heading for a conference for the Albanians? Mary, you had some long talks with him, do you recall?" Robert folded his paper and casually buttered his toast. Violet didn't know if she was to be glad that her guileless son had so few powers of observation or if she should despair of it.
„No, Papa, I'm afraid, I couldn't say. We didn't talk about politics."
Edith snickered and was surprised to see a dark look directed at her from Matthew that startled her. Did he know? If so that might explain why he looked like death warmed over and Mary so bleary-eyed. First she had thought they must have spent the night together. For weeks now she had observed that something was going on between the cousins, some strange undercurrent, whenever they were together. She was far from being an expert on these matters, but oughtn't they to look somehow, she didn't know, happier, if they had? But if Matthew had learnt last night that his precious Mary was nothing more than a slut, then she could very well imagine him tossing and turning the entire night and Mary, too, if she knew that he knew. All her dreams of becoming Countess of Grantham now dust in the wind, because surely no decent or honourable man would ever be able to forgive or accept something like this? And Matthew was one of the most decent and honourable men she knew.
Matthew looked surprised at Robert, then at Mary questioningly. Was there a chance that her father didn't know? Mary's subtle nod confirmed it. And Matthew felt his world's axis shifting back into place by a few degrees.
„Well, I'd like to think it's romantic to want to elope with your secret love." Sybil spoke up again.
"Well, I do hope you don't plan to elope any time soon, my dear", Violet commented rather weakly, busy sketching a timeline who was when and where last night.
"Besides, what would have happened, if Romeo and Juliet had indeed eloped? Where would they have lived? How would they have fed themselves? Eloping is quite nice in theory, but in real life not very practical." Mary dismissed the notion.
"Well, they were both young and healthy. They could have worked for a living, for instance." Sybil argued back.
Violet gasped. "Juliet was a lady!"
„So? At least Romeo could have become a merchant or something" Sybil didn't want to concede defeat.
"Papa, won't mama come down?" Edith asked. All that talk about love and romance only served to remind her that once again no gentleman had paid her any particular attention the night before. On the other hand, what did it matter anymore? Before the family had left for London she had been driving out with Sir Anthony again and this time he had kissed her cheek as goodbye. They always had such a nice time together and they always found so many things to talk about. Once they had even stepped into a small inn for tea! Well, she wouldn't be surprised, if he proposed soon. And wouldn't that be the joke of the century, if she married before Mary, who liked nothing better than to flaunt her desirability in front of Edith? She would feel entirely vindicated for years of humiliation, unfair treatment and belittling at every turn. Her mouth curved into a small triumphant smile, quietening the insistent voice of remorse that reminded her that she had only wanted to let the ambassador know how his fellow countryman had died. That his wife would gossip all over London had been unforeseen by Edith and never been her intention.
"No, sweetheart. Your mother feels quite under the weather. Something she ate last night doesn't agree with her."
"Curious. I sampled everything and I feel quite alright." Violet jumped onto the next topic. There could only be one explanation for the dynamics between the young folks. First she had seen Matthew leave the room after almost brushing against the Rooke-Beauchamps girl. She had left only a couple of minutes later and both weren't to be seen for at least ten minutes. Long enough for a clandestine lover's meeting, but not long enough for any serious business. She had well observed how Matthew and Mary's best friend had talked now and then during the winter ball, how they had smiled and laughed with each other. Considering the ice age between him and Mary, it had been not unexpected for him to turn to other girls, if he was starting to look for a bride. And hadn't he made quite an impact on the marriage pool that night? The girls had practically stumbled over each other to garner a few moments with the new stallion Robert had brought on the market. But Matthew hadn't shown any preference to them until Lady Eleanor had entered the playing field. Well, she would bring a fair sum with her, Violet supposed not quite satisfied, yet not discontent. But nothing seemed to have come out of that and Mary and Matthew started peace talks and things heated up again between them only to reach some sort of stalemate over the last few weeks.
Now back to last night: Mary most of the evening alone and unappreciated, Matthew and Eleanor out for quite enough time. Violet had raised her glasses, when she had returned. No, the young woman hadn't the airs of having shared a few passionate kisses with her lover; in fact she had looked a bit pre-occupied. Matthew hadn't returned. Mary had left the ball-room and wasn't seen for the rest of the evening. Then Sybil and Larry had gone out after some talking. But not a minute later she had returned a bit flushed. Matthew had intercepted them after coming down from upstairs and taken the young man home, as Violet had learnt later.
And to return to this morning, it was all so obvious – somehow Matthew must have learnt of Mary's misdeed and confronted her. And it had not gone well between them. So, who had told him? The answer was equally obvious. Larry Grey was family. He stood to gain nothing if he told tales. The Rooke-Beauchamps girl on the other hand stood to gain everything, if she drove a wedge between her alleged best friend and the man she had set her sights on. She was the culprit who may have cost Mary the only decent offer she would ever get! Now what to do? Nothing was official between Matthew and Lady Eleanor - yet. If she, Violet, was to intervene, she would need to act very quickly and bring back Matthew to heel.
"Well, I'm sure it's nothing. Matthew, do you still plan to head back to Downton today?"
"Yes, my holidays are over."
"My dear boy, why do you insist on keeping that job?" Violet asked with an affectionate smile.
"Because I like that job, dear cousin Violet. There's something infinite satisfying to earn one's living on one's wit." Feeling his mood lifting up he sent her his first true smile of the day.
"Well, we will stay for another couple of days, as we planned it. Mary, you still with Rosamund for the July?"
Mary nodded. The door opened.
"Good morning, everyone. I do apologise. I'm afraid I rather overslept", Isobel sat down and let Carson pour her a cup of strong tea.
"Now Sybil, what are your plans for the first day as a proper young woman?" she addressed the youngest Crawley.
And so the murder of the Austrian archduke and his wife became quite forgotten, when the family engaged in making plans how to spend the rest of their stay in London before the season was officially over and Violet trying to figure out a way to salvage what she could.
Mary let her hand trail over the top of "their" bench's back under the big old tree. "If you really like an argument, we should see more of each other" Matthew's flirting echoed bittersweet through her memory. That afternoon they had learnt that they didn't necessarily have to do or say something in order to enjoy each other's company. Instead they had spend some time just sitting on this bench, throwing timid glances at each other from time to time to make sure that yes, the other was really there, and listening to the birds singing in the trees and announcing the return of life and joy after a long and cold winter of no communication between them since that night she had let herself be provoked by Edith and hurt Matthew so very badly as a consequence. It had been only a few months ago, when it seemed to them that all was possible again.
Well, time had stopped to be measurable in seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks. These days time was a blur to her. She still could not believe England was at war. To her it was all so inexpressibly silly. Only, it wasn't so silly anymore. Not when her father was just paying a visit of condolence to the village's blacksmith. Just measly three weeks into it and Downton had already their first fallen soldier to mourn. The short and impersonal telegram of the War Office to inform Mr. Steven Oldroyd of the death of his youngest son Jake had sent a shockwave through the entire village and the abbey. The war had suddenly turned from some abstract concept into harsh reality.
So much had happened in such a short time since her father announced the outbreak of war during their annual garden party. Still in London she had learnt from Evelyn Napier that her own sister was responsible for the start of the rumours about her lost virtue by sending off a letter to the Turkish embassy. Immediately she had started planning for her revenge and when Edith triumphantly announced Sir Anthony had a question for her, she had seen her opportunity and exacted her revenge to its full potential.
Only, what had come afterwards had not been part of her plan. Instead of quietly accepting defeat, as she usually did, Edith had told her parents what her evil sister had done. Her father, already on edge because of Matthew's strange withdrawal from the family and plans to enlist on top of his worries about Cora and his unborn child and whether it would be a boy this time, had not left things alone, as he usually did, but had been determined to get to the bottom of things to make this silly feud between the sisters stop for once and for all, now that it had affected so severely the future of one of his daughters. And eventually it had all come out. Robert, incensed beyond belief and thinking Edith had ruined all chances for all of them and not just Mary and furious with Mary's lack of judgement, had summarily declared them equally guilty of the family's disgrace and decreed both his eldest were to be sent off to atone for it and thus went against his mother's express wishes for the first time in his life to her utter astonishment and vexation!
Only yesterday her parents and her granny had sent off a crying Edith to Duneagle for a year-long exile. Up in Scotland there would be nothing to distract her from thinking about her misdeeds. For Mary it was decided that she best proceeded with her original plans to leave for New York with the next ship. Maybe the war and her exile would make people forget her story enough to secure an acceptable match at least for Sybil. Preferably she, Mary, would find herself a husband over there and only return to Downton as a respectably married woman. In any case, she was not to return for at least a year. Naturally Edith couldn't understand why Mary was favoured with a stay in one of the largest cities of the world, while she was supposed to shrivel up at the end of the civilisation. And another quarrel turned Downton for a few days into a warzone on British soil. Her mother, sporting quite the small baby bump by now, had been most relieved to see her most quarrelsome daughters separated from each other. Her unexpected late pregnancy didn't turn out to be as easy as her previous ones and she found herself often in need of additional rest and loved to luxuriate in warm, delicately scented water to soothe her nerves.
Feeling nostalgic and melancholic Mary's eyes glanced over the park that surrounded her home and let her feet take her where they wanted to say goodbye. They took her to the stables. Almost immediately she spotted Matthew talking quietly to Sapphire in her box, stroking her elegant neck. The mare stood still in somewhat of a stupor, ears turned forward, listening intently to what Matthew had to tell her and Mary felt a wave of longing and jealousy crash over her. What wouldn't she give for being Sapphire for just five minutes, to hear his smooth and warm baritone whispering secrets and sweet nothings into her ear and feeling his hand in her hair and on her naked skin? Her eyes greedily took him in from his white shirt down to the brown leather boots, wanting to commit every single detail of him to memory. She couldn't know, when or if she would ever see him again.
Her steps echoing on the paved floor alerted him finally to her presence.
„What are you doing here?" he asked not unkindly and thus for the first time voluntarily initiated an exchange of words since her return from London. He reached for his tie and jacket, only to leave them alone again. After all that had happened between them and with their future so uncertain adhering to the proper dress code was the least on his mind.
"I've come to say goodbye to Diamond. You?"
"Came to say goodbye to Sapphire, obviously" he answered.
Mary opened Diamond's box and greeted her horse with a soft stroke over his long nose. Eagerly the gelding took the offered apple. She felt Matthew's gaze on her like a caress.
"Mary, can we talk?"
She stiffened for a moment, before she nodded. It might be their last and only chance she realised with mounting despair.
"But away from prying eyes and large ears" she voiced her terms.
"Then... go riding with me" he offered.
"But I'm not wearing my riding costume. It will take ages and..."
"Just meet me at the tree trunk at the fork up to Oak Ridge. I'll take care of everything else."
Too eager to spend some time with him she readily agreed and shut Diamond's box behind her.
Mary hadn't sat for long on the tree trunk, when she heard a horse approaching. Looking up she saw Matthew on a bareback Sapphire coming closer at a leisurely speed to let the horse warm up. Savouring the view she allowed a small self-deprecating smile to play around her mouth. How could she have ever thought she preferred dark hair to his blond?
"Hello", he greeted her. "Come, step onto the trunk and I hoist you up." He moved a bit backwards to make room for her.
"Where are we going?" she asked a bit breathless a couple of moments later.
"Just wait and see." He nudged Sapphire gently. Slowly Mary got used to the unfamiliar position of sitting sideways in front of Matthew and feeling his arms around her as he held relaxed the reins. She relaxed as well and began to enjoy their unconventional ride.
"Alright there, Mary?" she heard his gentle voice in her ear and it send delicious shivers down her spine. She nodded and let out a surprised yelp, when Sapphire started to trot. And now Mary had inkling, where their journey would end. She gripped the mare's mane tighter with one hand and with the other she held on tight to the back of his shirt, pulling at it by degrees. Matthew's arms closed around her tighter lest she fell off.
When they had moved down the slope of Oak Ridge, Matthew kicked Sapphire into full speed. Taking the reins into one hand he sneaked his other arm securely around Mary's waist. A short time later they had reached their destination: Grantham's Brook. Matthew brought the heavily breathing Sapphire to a gentle stop. They were quiet.
"You never won one of our races, hmh?" Mary broke the silence, when it became stifling. A gentle breeze cooled heated skin and played gently in their hair. Birds were chasing insects in the sky, the brook murmured. It was peaceful. They felt as if they were the only people on Earth.
"No", he confirmed quietly, staring at her ear, half covered by her hair bound in an elegant knot. Everything about Mary was elegance and grace to him from her powder blue coloured blouse down to the darker coloured skirt and black leather shoes, including her dainty ear and delicate neck that seemed to be made from white porcelain. In fact, he had only to bend slightly forward and his lips would reach the pulse that beat steadily if slightly elevated under the warm skin. His heart began to align to the rhythm of hers.
"And you never really tried too hard, especially later", Mary mused, looking out over the wide swale. A whiff of her hair found his nose and he breathed in deeply the scent, closing his eyes in helpless longing.
"No. I found I preferred losing, when it made you so happy."
She swallowed hard, tears forming in her eyes.
"If you had won, what prize would you have demanded from me?" She still looked away from him with unseeing eyes. Regrets, there were so many regrets, she drowned in them.
"I would have wanted…" a kiss from you, your love, your promise of an 'I do' "... some token of affection or regard from you: A handkerchief or one of your hairpins, a true smile, the honour of accompanying you to dinner and the privilege to sit beside you, something small." He shrugged.
She sobbed and Matthew wordlessly offered her his handkerchief. An irony that wasn't lost on her and she chuckled ruefully.
He wanted to…. But there was still Pamuk. There was still so much left unsaid between them. And now with her going away and him joining the army…. Time had run out for them. They had wasted it on useless quarrels, silly power games, sheer stubbornness and petulant pride.
"We were once happy, weren't we, Matthew?" Her voice trembled.
"Yes, I'd like to think we once were; only we didn't know. We were like children in a dream, you and I."
"And then I ruined everything."
Matthew kept silent, struggling with himself, before he changed the topic.
"This land, was it ever worked?"
"No, not to my knowledge. It's always slightly flooded and swampy. I remember, years ago it all turned into a large lake for over a week after it had rained like forever. It is said that over there was once a windmill to dewater the grounds, about two hundred years ago. You can still see the remains of the foundation walls, naturally they're overgrown by now." She pointed further up the book, grateful for his tactful diversion.
"What would you do with it?"
"What? How do you mean?"
"I mean what I say. What would you do with the land, if it was yours?"
"Matthew, what are you asking?" Hope flared brightly up in her. She looked up at him. His face was so close to hers, she could feel his breath in her hair. It wouldn't take much to close the distance between them.
"Just answer the question, please."
"Well, I never really thought about it. I guess…."she struggled to come up with an at least half-baked idea. "Rebuild the mill and dewater the area, I suppose. Have some cattle graze. Or some fish ponds perhaps?"
How easy it was to imagine their future. One day they would ride out, their firstborn on his pony between them and his younger brother in front of his father on good, old Sapphire and show them what their parents had done to the now fertile soil years ago. They would have a picnic and their little crown-prince would try to teach his younger brother how to catch a fish in the brook. He, Matthew, would read quietly a book to Mary, who would lounge on their blanket, pulling out daisy petals in a little game of "he loves me, he loves me not", teasing him with her smiles, whenever the last petal proved "he loves me". And her bare foot would slowly find its way under this trouser leg to distract him until he would put the book away to kiss her familiar sweet lips softly and unhurriedly, while their daughter slept peacefully in her cradle-like basket.
But... there was always a "but" between them.
Suddenly he climbed down from his horse and held up his arms for her to let him help her slide down. Linking his arm through hers he began to walk. Left to her own devices, Sapphire started to nibble on the grass.
"Mary, I want you to know something. I wrote my last will a couple of days before. My worldly possessions only contain of some money in the bank, shares, furniture at Crawley House, clothes, books, trinkets, the likes and my father's house in Manchester. It's very little compared to Downton, but I want it to be yours. I only ask that you look after mother. She will need someone, when I'm gone."
"Matthew, no! Nothing will happen to you."
She stepped away and turned her back on him, lest he didn't see her deep distress. Why was he talking about dying? Had he some sort of premonition? People didn't die at the age of 26! Only they did. Jake Oldroyd died. Pamuk died. Dimly she remembered once having caught her mother crying in the library when her father had fought in the Boer War and they hadn't heard from him in months. And she felt the same nameless fear now she had felt then. Shivering she embraced herself for warmth.
"But it could. People die in wars. It's no use to turn a blind eye." His voice was firm.
She turned around again, filled by a sudden rage.
"So, why did you enlist then? Why do you leave everything behind?" She didn't dare continue the sentence… why do you leave me behind?
"Mary, England is at war. It is my duty to fight for my country and my King."
"Nonsense! Don't you dare talk of duty! You have only one duty. And that is towards your family. And Downton needs you. It needs its heir." I need you.
"No, it doesn't need me precisely, just an heir, any heir. In a couple of months you might have a little brother. And he will be the heir and I will go back to living on my wits. And you made it quite clear the other night that you'd rather not follow me."
"It's probably going to be another girl anyway with their track record. You can't go! Not now!" Not ever!
"But what if it is a boy this time?"
"Oh Matthew, you always make everything so black and white." She exclaimed exasperated. "Do you think Papa will chase you by the court, if it'll be indeed a boy? He loves you, no matter what happens and you will always be his son. Have you still not learnt that lesson after two years? Besides, think about it from a more rational point of view. Let's assume for a moment I'll have a brother. Papa is closer to 50 than 40 and he will be an old man before my brother will be old enough to be educated on estate matters and what it means to be an earl and peer of the realm. God forbid, but Papa might not even live to see him grow up. And Jarvis has already been estate agent under my grandfather. He won't be around for much longer. Who do you think is better equipped to take on any of the tasks than you? So how can you say that Downton does NOT need you? That we don't need or want you? You are Downton's future, Matthew, and Downton is yours!
Now to your next point of contention: My seeming unwillingness to live on smaller means. Matthew, I understand you were deeply hurt by the Madisons, I truly do, but you can't... if you want to be loved only for you, I suggest you book a passage to the South Seas and settle on an isolated island. There you and your native wife can run around in loincloths and you fish with a net in the surf, she cracks coconuts and plants yams and you have your ever happily after. But in England you have to accept that love doesn't pay bills and every woman or at least her parents will consider your prospects, if they have a bit of a sense left that's not burned out yet by a heated gaze from your blue eyes." She argued exasperated. Really, she tried to be mature and sensible, but he was so...Matthew!
Matthew's mouth dropped open and he took a step backwards, away from her. He felt assaulted by images her words carried and had no defence against them.
"Mary, this is futile. I'm an officer in his Majesty's army now. Tomorrow I leave for training."
"Then go! Run away! Be a noble fool! Isn't that what men do and call it a matter of honour?" she screamed at him.
With a desperate wail she leapt at him and crushed her mouth against his, trying to tell him without speaking that she was terrified to lose him, that she loved him. It took only a moment before Matthew's lips softened under hers, before they parted to allow for a much deeper kiss. Only when they moaned into each other's mouth Matthew tore himself away. He would not let himself carried away. He still had his piece to say and to pretend that all was well, it was too easy.
"Mary…no."
She followed blindly, seeking his mouth again. "Yes. Matthew, I lo…"
"DON'T SAY IT. Not unless you mean it, Mary. And foremost, don't say it just to make me stay." He turned away from her.
"So it was only words last year? About loving a woman so much, you would forgive her? I see. How you must despise me." She whispered brokenly.
He turned back to her. "Mary, I don't despise you. I feel so many things, when I think of you, but not that. I feel angry. I'm hurt. You have no idea how hurt I am. I'm very disappointed."
"Because you won't be the first, I understand."
"No, not because of that. Besides, you said almost nothing happened. You need not tell me the precise details, if you rather not... But… Mary, you wanted to keep it a secret from me. What would have happened, if I had never learnt it at Sybil's ball? Would you have ever told me? And when would you have told me? Before our wedding? In our wedding night? In a couple of years? Or never at all? I told you I would want to know and you kept it from me all this time. That you didn't tell me last year, I can understand. But that you didn't tell me, once I... You purposefully deceived me." His voice was hard.
"So you won't forgive me for Pamuk, ever?" She was defeated.
"Mary, to forgive you for Pamuk is easy. I'd be the worst hypocrite imaginable to condemn you for a moment of lust. What I find hard to forgive is that you didn't tell me before I had to learn it from elsewhere."
"I wanted to... but I didn't know how. You set the bars so impossibly high last year. Remember, you said you'd forgive her if you loved her beyond sense and reason. Well, how was I to judge, if you did? You held a pistol at my head and told me either to take you or to leave you. Black and white. Yes or no. Not once did you tell me you loved me. Not once have you ever indicated that you might seriously consider marrying me or that you held deeper feelings for me at all beyond some flirting. That it is more than lust and desire for you! You didn't even propose to me in a proper manner. You made it sound like a business deal, and as if you were rather indifferent to whether I'd accept you or not, because hey, if it's not Mary, then it'll be another fish in the sea. So, how can you expect me to bare my shame to you on such feeble grounds?" She objected.
"What are you saying? That our flirting, our talks, our rides and all the time we spent together meant nothing? That you couldn't possibly know what I feel for you after that? What do I have to do to prove myself to you then? Die for you? Will you comprehend then that I love you?"
Silence, but for their agitated breathing.
"You… you do?" She barely dared to hope.
"Of course I do!" He shouted at her and forced himself to calm down. "I love you, Mary, and I like to to think you love me, too, but right now I just don't trust you", he finished quietly and therefore most gravely.
"What does that mean?"
"My trust in you and what you tell me is broken. And it cannot be regained by simply wishing for it. It needs time to rebuild." He took a deep breath. "I think you were right about suggesting a year apart. It'll give us both time and opportunity to reflect on the situation. Besides, even if I were to forgive you and you were able to look past the very real possibility that you would marry a simple country lawyer or the future estate agent on Downton, in any case a man with limited means, and we'd just love each other no matter what, your father would strongly object to a wedding under the circumstances. He is determined to see you banished for a year to punish you for your misdeed and to repair the damage done. Family honour wills it. Besides your mother and cousin Violet would never agree to a hasty wedding; considering the rumours about you, it would only add fuel to the fire."
Mary nodded. Matthew was right.
"So where does it leave us? What if a year has gone by and we still have war?"
"That won't happen. War will be over by Christmas, everyone says so. I will be in training for at least three months. Mary, chances are I won't even have to go on the continent to fight. I will just wait for you here at Downton. And in a year's time we will meet again and then we will make a fresh start and see where it'll lead us. And either we will marry or we won't. But if we do, it will be in an orderly fashion and because we truly want it. We will take our time and really get to know each other and decide, yes, we love each other so much that we cannot wait for another single day to spend apart for the rest of our lives. And there will be no pressure from our families. We will do what we want and on our own terms. And we won't make a mess of it again. That much I promise, Mary."
"Sealed with a kiss?" She allowed a small, but a bit teary smile play around her mouth, which he returned.
Hesitantly, then purposefully he reached for her hand to pull her towards him. She went readily and settled her arms on his shoulders, while his hands found a resting place on the small of her back. Purposefully and slowly their faces came closer, eyes fluttered shut at the very last possible moment. This kiss was unlike any they had ever shared. It was slow and deliberate and carried a world full of meaning: a promise for the future.
Ende