A/N This chapter takes place at the end of October/beginning of November. Sorry for the long wait. I'm going to try to get chapters out faster as I have the next couple written, but between revising them and my regular school work, it's hard to know when one will be updated.
The next month was spent trying to regain some form of normalcy, though it seemed as if that would be impossible due to all of the changes.
Matthew was still trying to figure out exactly where he belonged. Yes, he was family, but he also was a wounded soldier. He did his best to only stay in the main areas for the convalescence home as he wasn't comfortable with letting everyone know that he was supposed to be the next earl, if this Patrick fellow wasn't who he said he was. Matthew was conflicted in his feelings with regards to Major Gordon. If Gordon was the true heir, then Downton was rightfully his, but if he wasn't, Matthew was determined to come to the bottom of it. He briefly considered sending a note to his friends at the firm, but decided against it. After all, Robert had sent everything to Murray who was more than capable.
One day when he was in a corner of the library with a book, Robert, who had been in the area partitioned off for the family, opened the curtain and asked for him to enter. Matthew looked up in surprise, but a quick glance around showed him that no one had noticed. He manoeuvred his wheelchair into position and slowly rolled into the small, private area, hoping that none of the other soldiers had seen him. He was also grateful that he was finally strong enough to wheel himself for the most part. It meant that in some small way he was starting to gain a sort of independence.
"Is there something you need?" he asked once the curtain had been closed again.
Robert sat down in his chair across from where Matthew had stopped. "I do have a question for you," he said.
"What?" Matthew inquired, wondering what was so important that Robert felt it needed to be asked privately.
"Now, I don't want to try to get your hopes up, but Clarkson is a country doctor, though he is a very good one," Robert stated. "I was wondering what you would think of getting a professional from London to have a look at you."
Matthew eyed Robert sceptically. "Why?"
"Matthew, we don't have to do it if you don't want to, but just in case there is some other explanation …"
"Robert," Matthew interrupted. "I appreciate your concern, but my back is broken. I know what a broken back means. A second opinion wouldn't change anything. It can't change anything." Matthew pounded his hand into his knee for emphasis, though he winced slightly at the pain it caused his hand.
"Matthew, in cases like these, it's always best to get a second opinion, no matter how fruitless it might seem," Robert continued. "Who knows, there could be something we can do to help you."
Matthew looked down at his lap. There was some truth in Robert's statement about how second opinions could be helpful. He remembered that his father always valued a second opinion and always tried to get one. Well, it couldn't hurt to get one as he already knew what the outcome would be. There really only was a single possible outcome. "Very well, I'll do it," he said at last with a long sigh, "but I highly doubt it will change anything."
"Thank you. I'll contact John Cotes," Robert replied. He got up and placed a hand on Matthew's shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. "You have been a brave man through all of this."
"It wasn't me," Matthew said quickly as he looked up at Robert. "If it hadn't been for Mary …" His voice trailed off as he didn't know what he should or could say. Yes, Sybil had been a big encouragement as well, Mary was the one who had spent hours by his bedside reading, talking, or just sitting with him.
"I'm glad she was there for you," Robert finished quietly. "And don't forget, the rest of us are here for you as well. I want you to know, that no matter what happens with this whole Patrick incident, that we're here for you. You're still family."
Matthew nodded in understanding and relief. "There's something that I want to ask of you," he began, then stopped. How should he word this?
"Yes?" prompted Robert, who stepped back and sat down again. Matthew was grateful for that as it meant he was no longer looking up to see Robert's face. It was so awkward to have to look up or talk to someone who was behind him. He much preferred it if whoever he was talking to was sitting down across or next to him. He found it easier to talk to someone if they were at about eye level with one another.
Matthew took a deep breath, as he remembered Robert's startled reaction back in 1912 when he announced his intentions, then continued. "As you know, I used to work as a lawyer. Well, until the time comes for me to become Earl of Grantham, if it ever does, I'd like to go back to doing that." There he had said it and hopefully Robert would understand his reasons. This time it wasn't simply because it was his profession, but because it was a profession he was certain he could still do.
"Is that because that profession is something that you currently are able to do?" inquired Robert after a few seconds of silence.
"Yes," Matthew answered, relieved that this conversation was going differently than the one six years previously. "While I was in the hospital, Mary reminded me time and time again that I still had brains. Going back to being a lawyer hadn't even crossed my mind until she reminded me that that was a job with mainly brains." Matthew still wondered why Mary had encouraged him to speak to Robert about this. After all, she had been rather put off by the idea of being related to a middle-class lawyer and now she wanted him to go back to that profession.
"Do you think you can get back into it?" wondered Robert. "It's been nearly four years since you left the firm for the army."
"I know," Matthew admitted, "but I do hope that I can. I still have some friends on the firm that I could contact. There might be an opening at Harvell and Carter in Ripon, which would allow me to stay here. I'd have to get someone to drive me there, but that should work." He had forgotten that even if he managed to get a job, he still would need help in getting to it. No matter which way he turned in life, there would always be something hampering it from now on. However, he was determined not to give up. In all honesty, he genuinely hadn't wanted to live when Doctor Clarkson had pronounced his sentence, but Mary, Sybil, and his mother had helped him to see otherwise. Even though he still was depressed and in mourning over his legs, he was determined to figure out how to live and adapt and trying to get a job would be one way.
"If you feel as if doing something like that will help you, you're more than welcome to do so," Robert stated. "And I'm certain that Branson would gladly drive you into Ripon as often as you need."
"Thank you," replied a relieved Matthew. He knew that the war had changed everyone and was relieved that Robert no longer thought down on people who actually worked a job. Granted, Sybil probably played a large role in that change. "I wasn't certain what you'd think. I'm not running away from Downton, but I need to do something that I know I can do."
"I hope you can work this out and I can always put in a good word with whatever firm you want to work for."
"I want to try to get in on my own work if possible," Matthew stated firmly. "I don't know how accepting they'll be though because of … because of this." He gestured towards his wheelchair as his voice trailed off. He still couldn't bring himself to say the exact words out loud and wondered if he ever would be able to. "I hope my old friends can look past it and still see me," he finally finished.
"If they're true friends, they will," Robert said firmly. "I know you've been told this multiple times, but you're still Matthew Crawley. Nothing can change that."
"Mother told me that when I was still in the hospital," sighed Matthew, "and I know she's right, but I just struggle to believe it sometimes. I-I feel like I've changed too much to still be me."
Once again, Robert reached forward, this time grasping Matthew's hand. "You may have changed, but you're still our Matthew."
"Thank you," Matthew said again. "I really mean it."
Robert smiled gently. "When are you going to contact Harvell and Carter?" he inquired.
Matthew furrowed his brow. He hadn't yet thought of that. "Probably not 'till after the New Year," he said quietly. "I won't be in any fit state to work, even at a desk, for quite some time yet."
"You'll get there," Robert assured as he stood up. Matthew nodded in response and slowly began to wheel himself out and soon settled himself back in his corner with his book.
"What was that about?" wondered Edward Blair, a fellow officer and childhood friend, who had been in the same regiment as Matthew.
"Just trying to figure things out," sighed Matthew. Edward was one of the few who knew just how he was related to the Downton Crawleys, mainly because Matthew knew Edward would keep his secret. "Robert wants me to get a second opinion about my back and I told him I would."
"Well, it can't hurt," Edward replied. "And you should be thankful you have the opportunity to get a second opinion. I know I would have tried to get one if it would have changed anything."
"But your situation was life or death," Matthew replied quietly, remembering the shell blast that had nearly killed his friend which happened mere days before his own injury. "The amputation was the only way to keep the infection from spreading to rest of your body."
"And you're right," Edward finished, as he looked down at the empty space where his right leg should have been. "I know for the both of us, what really matters is that we survived the war, mostly in one piece, and at least both of us have the ability to get some sort of job in the future."
Matthew slowly nodded. "I just wish these fours years hadn't had to happen. Ultimately, there is bound to be some purpose, but right now, nothing is making sense. I just hope that the end is soon. Lord Kitchener was right when he declared the war would last at least three years."
"Everyone is saying that the end is bound to be near," Edward replied. "The Germans are retreating."
"I just hope their right this time and it isn't yet another false hope," sighed Matthew. There had been too many false hopes during the war and they had been there right form the beginning. Deep down Matthew believed the rumours that there was talk of peace, but he wouldn't believe it until it was announced from the War Office.
Thankfully, the rumours that the war was soon to be over were found to be true as a few days later, Mary was sitting in the small library when an excited Matthew wheeled himself through the doorway. "Matthew!" Mary cried. "You shouldn't be exerting yourself like that." She expected some sort of retort, but Matthew didn't give one. "Is everything all right?" she continued. "Did something happen?"
"Yes, everything is fine," said Matthew breathlessly, "and yes, something wonderful happened."
"What?" asked Mary slowly.
"The war, it's over!"
Mary stared at him in astonishment for several moments. "Truly?" she asked.
Several other recovering soldiers had been in the near vicinity and had heard Matthew. Quickly those who could hurried over as fast as were able and entered the small library, even though that area generally was reserved for family.
"Is it really over?" one of them asked.
"Yes, Charlie, it is," Matthew replied as the first genuine smile in years decorated his face. The past four years had been filled with so much pain and terror, but at last, they were about to be over. The world would be forever different because of the war, but at last, repair could finally start to happen.
He continued, "Well, it isn't legally over, not till the eleventh, but the point is, they're going to sign the Armistice. We won. The sacrifices weren't for naught." His eyes glazed over slightly as he thought about everyone who had died or had been injured in the war. Yes, the Allied forces had won, but the sacrifice had been great, too great.
"Oh, Matthew, that's such wonderful news," cried an elated Mary. She desperately wanted to jump up and hug him, but restrained herself from doing so as she knew that action would be considered improper. "Does Papa know?"
Matthew nodded. "He's the one who told me and he's planning on giving a formal announcement of it after dinner, though by that time most everyone will have heard." He smiled ever so slightly as he remembered his reaction when Robert had told him the war was over. If he hadn't already been in his chair, he knew that he would have collapsed in surprise. At any rate, he had been completely shocked and completely relieved at the same time. He still wasn't entirely certain if he could believe Robert, but he had seen the telegram and knew it was true.
Mary sank down into her chair, full of complete relief. Thank God the war was nearly over. There was a definite end date in sight, though why it couldn't be over right this instant was beyond her. It had probably had something to do with formalities. It had been four long years since the war had started. So many friends had died on the front or had been injured. Was it wrong that she was so relieved that Matthew had returned alive when so many others hadn't?
Matthew slowly rolled closer to Mary. "Mary, is everything all right?" he asked gently as he placed a hand on her knee.
"Oh, Matthew," Mary sighed as she gently placed her hand on top of his, "everything's fine. The war is over, but …" Mary gently fingered his hand as she felt the every so slightly raised scaring that the shrapnel had left. Everyone, even those who had survived the war without any major permanent injuries, had scars.
Matthew nodded, knowing what Mary was thinking and also knowing that there wasn't a need for words at the moment. He doubted that there ever would be a need for words as nothing could ever accurately describe the horrors of the past few years.
"Sometimes I wonder what the point of it all was," he said with a sigh. "All the hurt, all the destruction, all the lives lost or forever changed. Why did it happen?" He paused for a moment, but continued before Mary could speak up. "I know that you're simply going to repeat what you and Mother told me in the hospital: that there is a purpose, but it isn't know yet. I do know that, but I struggle to understand it. … Why was I allowed to survive? And why did it have to be this way?" He was constantly asking himself these questions. Yes, he was grateful to be alive, but what was life when it was reduced to life forever in a wheelchair?
"I don't know," Mary answered simply. "I wish that it didn't have to be the way it is, but I am ever so thankful that you survived and so is the rest of the family." She gave a slight inward shudder at the thought of Matthew not being there. She may never be able to be his wife, her actions and Matthew's determination to not wed had taken care of that, but he was here and wouldn't be going anywhere dangerous ever again.
Matthew looked concernedly at her, but didn't say anything. Gradually the few soldiers who had entered the room left to go spread the news amongst the others in the house, leaving him alone with Mary. Once they were alone, Matthew rolled as close to the sofa as was possible. He desperately wished that he could sit on the sofa like a normal person, but that was not to be. "Mary," he began, then stopped as he wasn't entirely certain how to word what he was about to say. "I just want to tell you that if it hadn't been for you and Sybil during those first dreadful days in the hospital … well, I highly doubt that I would be here today." He had only seriously contemplated taking that drastic action once, but the thought had briefly crossed his mind multiple times. He had a feeling that he never would have acted on it, but still, that thought was that thought.
"Oh, Matthew!" Mary gasped in horror. "I…I…" She was at a loss for words and couldn't figure out what she should say.
"D-Don't say anything," Matthew stammered, "especially to your father. H-He doesn't need to know that."
"I won't. I promise," Mary replied gently. As she rose to her feet she said, "Matthew, just remember, you might be paralysed, but that doesn't change you who are deep down."
As he watched her go into another room, Matthew knew that she was correct, though he didn't yet believe it. He hadn't understood that there was a difference between knowing and believing until his injury. Yes, he knew that inside he still was himself, his mother, Sybil, and Mary had all made sure of that, yet at the same time he still was struggling to believe that and had a feeling that he would carry that struggle for the rest of his life. For know though, there was the hope of the war's end within the week and he had Doctor John Cotes visit to look forward to.
For those of you who are history buffs (like me :D), Lord Kitchener was a British Field Marshal and became Secretary of State for War during WWI. He appeared on multiple war posters during this time telling Britons that their country needed them. He also is known for accurately predicting that the war would last for several years, despite the original belief that the war would only last a few months.
