A/N: thanks so much for all your support and reassurance about this story! I'm really glad so many of you are enjoying it I suppose I got a bit paranoid about whether loads of people secretly thought it was inappropriate but weren't saying anything!
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Matthew ran out of the shower and into the bedroom to his ringing phone, the droplets from his hair leaving a trail on the floor behind him.
"Hello?" He answered without taking the time to check who it was.
"It's me." Came Mary's voice. "Are you OK? You sound a bit panicky."
"Yeah, fine." Matthew replied. "I just thought it might be the office calling." He attributed the lightening of his heart at the sound of Mary's voice to relief that he didn't have to go in to work (it being a Saturday).
The past few weeks had seen Matthew and Mary interact with increasing frequency. They'd swapped email addresses and enjoyed sending each other messages or articles, usually with the intention of baiting the other, but sometimes to share something of genuine interest. They'd also spoken on the phone and even met for a post-work coffee a few times; the discussions were mainly about finding investors for Matthew's project, but conversation inevitably flowed into other, diverse topics, and they both disconnected the calls and walked out of the cafes with smiles on their faces and renewed energy to face their days.
"You're such a hard-working boy, Matthew." Mary said, and Matthew could hear her teasing smile in her tone.
"And it's making me rather dull, I'm afraid; I think I need to take a holiday some point soon." Matthew walked to his wardrobe to pull some clothes out.
"Well, I don't have a holiday to give you but I do have something else to offer..." Mary began.
"Oh?" Matthew stopped rifling through the shelves, intrigued.
"I booked two tickets to go and see the Bolshoi ballet tonight, but Ash has changed his mind about going so I've got a spare ticket. I thought you might be interested?" She asked, and Matthew was sure he detected a hint of shyness in her usually confident tone. "But if you're busy then don't worry." She added, over-compensating the nonchalance.
"That sounds great, actually." Matthew said, also not wanting to sound too enthusiastic. "I'd heard they were in town but forgot to try for tickets. Plus, Sophie's at her parents' place this weekend so I'm just hanging out around the house alone."
"Oh, that's worked out well then." Mary smiled, ignoring the surge of excitement inside her at Matthew's acceptance.
"It certainly has." Matthew replied. There followed an awkward silence, neither party knowing what to say.
"So...I'll meet you at the Royal Opera House at about 6.30 then?" Mary said eventually. "In the lobby."
"Great, see you then." Matthew waited for the click and then disconnected the call himself. Blowing the air out of his cheeks, he turned his attention to the 'smart' section of his wardrobe.
...
"So why didn't Ash want to come?" Matthew asked as they took their seats. "Not a ballet fan?"
"He's seen the Bolshoi several times before and he says he's bored of them." Mary replied, slipping off her coat. "To be honest, I think he wanted a bit of a break from me too." She added with a little scoff. Matthew watched her intently as she looked around the hall, gazing down at the orchestra and the stage. "I don't see how he could tire of something so beautiful and captivating, though." She said dreamily.
"No. Nor do I." Matthew agreed quietly, not just talking about the ballet.
...
"Thanks for coming with me. I'd have been rather disappointed to miss it, but I didn't fancy going to the ballet on my own." Mary chuckled lightly as she turned the corner. She'd driven to Covent Garden, whereas Matthew had gotten the tube, and had insisted on driving Matthew back home; after all, she owed him a lift.
"No problem– thanks for asking! You saved me from a weekend of feeling like I should be painting the second bedroom." Matthew replied.
"I find it interesting that I saved you from a weekend of feeling like you should be painting, rather than actually painting."
Matthew laughed. "There is quite a distinction, I agree. In my defence, though, we don't actually need to paint it– we've been contemplating moving house in a year or so, so we thought we'd gradually spruce our place up bit-by-bit to help it sell more quickly when the time comes." He explained.
"Why do you want to move?" Mary had a sinking feeling that Sophie wanted a bigger place– one which would accommodate children.
"We're not that fond of our area, really." Matthew's answer provided Mary with much relief, although she suspected that babies must be another reason, in Sophie's mind at least. "We never envisaged the house as a long-term residence. It was just that we wanted to get on the property market and it was the only place we could afford at the time."
"That makes sense." Mary nodded. "It's a sensible way to go about things."
"Did you and Ash live together before getting married?" Matthew asked, suddenly realising that he didn't know. It felt strange not to know such basic facts about her life.
"No. We only moved in to the house about three months ago." Mary answered, and they both paused to consider how recently they'd met. It felt like it had been so much longer, like they must have been part of each other's lives for a much greater period of time. "We lived with Ash's parents for a couple of months before that, until the renovations were completed."
"Oh I see. Where do his parents live?" Matthew asked interestedly. He was willing to wager they lived in a country manor.
"We stayed in their house in Arkley, right on the London/Hertfordshire border. They have an estate in Cornwall, though."
Close enough. "Must've been nice." Matthew said inquisitively as he watched the London roads whizz past through the car window. Having had no proper connections or encounters with the upper-echelons of society, he was curious to hear about that way of life. He turned to look at Mary when he was met with silence. "Mary?"
"It was nice…in a sense." Mary began slowly. She'd never spoken about that time, not in any depth. She sighed. "The house was more than comfortable, everything was provided for me, rent-free. But it was…a bit of a struggle, socially."
"What do you mean?" Matthew asked. He was watching Mary carefully as she spoke– something in her demeanour had changed. She seemed downcast, almost defeated.
"His family…Ash comes from a line of estate owners. His parents, and their parents, are used to having their own way. His father grew up being able to boss the domestic workers around, totally unchecked. They still carry the same attitude, regardless of who they're speaking to." Mary continued staring straight ahead, despite having stopped at a traffic light.
"So you don't really get along with them?" Matthew asked softly, feeling like he should tread cautiously in this conversation.
Mary shook her head. "I had to take it one day at a time. It was a very long two months." She laughed, trying to keep the conversation light, but failing as her voice was devoid of any humour. "Our outlook on life is completely different– they don't agree with me having a job in business, as a woman, for starters."
"What? Why not?" Matthew blurted out, and Mary smiled at his liberal outrage.
"They think now that I'm married, I should stay at home. It's not within their capacity to understand why women would want to pursue a career…or at least, a career which doesn't involve cookery or textiles."
"But-" Matthew protested.
"I know, Matthew." Mary smiled. "I threw all the arguments I had at them, trust me. But their nineteenth-century views were not to be changed. So, all I can do is avoid the subject with them and pursue my career anyway." She shrugged, finding a spot to park in– they'd reached Matthew's house.
"I suppose lots of people have problems with their in-laws. At least you don't have to live with those problems now." He regretted the words immediately after speaking them– he'd been presumptuous about her marriage, and judging by the expression on her face, his presumption was inaccurate.
Mary's eyes were fixed on the dashboard, but her mind was elsewhere. Was she still living with those same problems? She didn't think so. But there were definitely other issues. They'd been troubling her, niggling in the back of her mind, but she'd had nobody to tell. Until now. "When Ashley and I moved in together," she began softly, "I…I missed my family. Almost immediately." She confessed. She looked up to Matthew and saw his brow knit in confusion. "You don't know me well enough to understand exactly what that means– but, basically, when I was living at home I couldn't wait to get married and leave. I thought I had it tough." She scoffed at herself, at her own naivety. "But after I got married, I became very aware of what was now missing from my life; there's no challenge, no excitement, no wit. I miss the conversations I used to have, I miss the conversations I used to overhear my parents or my sisters have. I even miss the arguments!" She laughed. "It probably sounds bad to say it, but at least my mind was being stimulated during arguments with my family."
Matthew did nothing, said nothing– he just listened. He could tell that this was the first time anybody was hearing Mary say these words and divulge these concerns about her marriage. In a strange way, he felt privileged to be the one she chose to speak to about it. More than that, however, it troubled him to see her so dissatisfied with her life. But he didn't see how he could help.
"Someone– a friend– asked me the other day if Ash and I ever fight." Mary continued, her thoughts flowing more freely now. "And I realised that we never do– we never have. Not one single fight, and we've been together for three years. Isn't that strange?" She asked rhetorically. "My friend said 'aren't you lucky?' and started complaining about the tiffs that she and her fiancé have been having. Then I went home and realised– we don't fight because…we don't care." Her voice grew more emotional as she spoke, less controlled. "He doesn't care if I come home late without telling him where I've been, or if I disagree with him about politics, or if I take another man with me to the ballet." She gestured frustratedly at Matthew. "And I can't even be angry at him for it because I wouldn't care about any of those things either." Mary paused, her breathing slowed down, her mind still reflecting on the last five months and beyond, trying to find a way to summarise her relationship. Eventually, she was provided with a word. "Indifference."
Matthew's heart broke for her. It tore him apart to see such a vivacious, enthralling woman having the life slowly drained out of her. He watched her for a few moments longer, unsure if she had anything left to say. They both sat in the car in silence, parked in front of Matthew's house.
"Why did you marry him?" Matthew asked tentatively. It was a very private question, but he felt it was necessary to know. If it had been love, maybe there was still hope for her marriage– a marriage still so young. Maybe he'd be able to see her happy.
Mary took a deep breath. "I was very attracted to him– and I thought that was important. I'm not attracted to men easily, so I presumed that meant he was special." She scoffed again at her own naivety. "He's from money, so I knew I'd be secure. That was important for my parents, too. We got along well enough; things were never exciting with him, but they were stable and steady and I knew what I was getting with him so it seemed a sensible idea to marry him. He ticked all the boxes."
Matthew nodded in understanding. She wasn't in love. His emotional reactions to this news were conflicting and confusing.
"It was a decision purely based on logic." Mary said with a deliberateness which caught Matthew's attention. Her eyes met his with a knowing look, and he remembered the conversation they'd had over tea in her kitchen. "I thought love can't possibly be for everyone, so there's no point sitting around waiting for it and dreaming about it. 'The world can't support that many ballerinas'." Mary recalled ruefully. "A flawed piece of logic, it seems."
He sat in silence, trying to process his thoughts, as Mary sat in silence, trying to collect herself.
"I should probably head home." Mary declared eventually, her guard up again. "It's getting quite late."
"Of course." Matthew said softly, still watching her intently in case there was anything else she wanted to say. Seeing she was determined to end the conversation, he conceded. "Thanks for the lift."
"No problem." Mary's smile didn't reach her eyes. She watched absent-mindedly as Matthew got out of the car.
"I'll speak to you soon." Matthew offered, as a kind of reassurance. He wasn't entirely sure why that would be reassurance to Mary, but he felt some bond had been forged between them over the last few weeks, which they both took pleasure in and comfort from.
Mary merely nodded– gratefully, he thought– before she turned her attention back to the road, and drove off.
…
A/N: I wanted to avoid making M/M's respective spouses terrible people– just the wrong people for them. I hope that came across! As always, please review!