Well this chapter took longer than I expected to get out. But here it is picking up where we left off with Matthew leaving Downton and returning to his flat in London.

XX

Matthew, after a long train ride, got into his Camden Town flat. He thought about going into chambers, but instead called the office and met up with one of the clerks over a meal to see if there was anything urgent. He then returned to the flat where he fell asleep.

At only 570 sq. ft. it was just enough space. Matthew enjoyed the contrast to the vast estate of Downton. As a lease holder he had enhanced the value of the property with some modern kitchen innovations and hardwood flooring. The flat had a kitchen, small living area, bedroom and a wrought iron staircase that led to an open space terrace overlooking the Camden High street.

In their tête-à-tête before he left Downton that same morning, Mary had been incorrect about one thing.

He had never brought any woman to Downton.

Only here.

The place Mary had never visited.

Early in their marriage he asked her join him in London. But she seemed uninterested in either the goings on at the Old Bailey or the chance to be with him in the evenings after he had finished.

Later on he simply stopped asking. London became a kind of refuge away from the drama of Downton.

The surreal coincidence of his being accepted into chambers and receiving the letter from Lord Grantham meant that he dealt simultaneously with two life altering events. Yet strangely after being called to the bar he had settled rather easily into 2 Equity Court and the banking and commercial dispute resolution in which he had specialized.

He worked hard at the job.

He thought it at the time it was the right thing to do. To show those at Downton that he did not need their money or their title to be successful.

Even so, the rumors of being the head of chambers 'fair haired boy' (or worse) stung. It did not help that the pompous and vain chambers head, Guthrey Fainshawe, had fixed Matthew in his sights as soon as heard about his meeting with Lord Grantham. How the man even found out Matthew never knew, but it dogged him

Fainshawe liked the idea of a future earl in chambers.

So it made him work even harder. He was ranked in Chambers Guides, reviewed in several journals, and his name was whispered for better things. He had agreed to travel all across Europe and at one time travelled for a month to Singapore and the Asian branch office.

But the result was that he and Mary sometimes went weeks without seeing each other.

None of that helped his marriage.

No good for any marriage. Especially one as fragile as theirs.

So it was just as much his fault their marriage failed as Mary. He would have carried on with their marriage. That was true. But that did not make for success. She had been right to end it.

He had kept the London flat after the divorce; indeed spending more time in London than in York. The few liaisons with women over the years, while pleasurable in the moment, rarely lasted. He met a few after work but would inevitable sabotage things by not returning calls or becoming distant and disinterested.

Work got him through the years. It had become an end in itself. A series of accomplishments to make up for other failures.

But no matter how much he procrastinated, Matthew had to face Fainshawe eventually. Better to get it over with.

Early the next morning he walked over to the chambers' offices ostensibly to check in. But he knew as soon as walked in the door that the gossip machine would go into overdrive. Just as he suspected when he sat down in his office chair, his mobile buzzed. Fainshawe wanted to see him. He groaned slightly and said he'd be right there.

"Sorry of course to hear about your… uh…what … uh former father in law's death. Unexpected wasn't it."

Matthew simply nodded. "Please just get to the point…" he begged in his head. He shifted in the chair wanting to leave.

"So you're Earl of Grantham now, eh." Fainshawe actually clapped his hands together so pleased with this news. "I have some clients who would like to meet with you…"

Before he could say anything more Matthew interrupted "Right. Right. But I'm really only in town today to check status on some of my current disputes…" And he got up to leave. "I've got to go back for the funeral in a couple of days so I have limited time…"

He expected an argument. A reprimand at the least. Fainshawe hated being interrupted.

But he got an affirmation instead.

"Of course, of course." And he held out his hand to take Matthew's. "I appreciate you coming in at all under the circumstances."

Matthew swallowed hard. Deference? From Fainshawe? Fucking hell, he thought glancing up through skeptical eyes; he really is in a rarefied air now.

Matthew accepted the outstretched hand. He blinked. "Thank you for understanding."

Fainshawe grasped Matthew's fingers tight. "But you will meet with these gentlemen soon." The smile was oily, obsequious even. But the message was clear.

"That's more like it." Matthew thought, reassured that Fainshawe was the toady boot licker he always thought.

Matthew retreated back to the safety of his office. He took up his mobile and began responding back client calls that he had deferred while in York. His was still working on their issues, he reassured them using his most mellifluous voice. After it was all he could take, he rang off and threw his head back into the seat of the chair.

He finished up some paper work and met with the clerks working his case load. He received some strained condolences from colleagues.

Eventually he just left. He'd deal with all of the rest later. Matthew met Will Mason for a drink at the corner pub. His only real friend from chambers, Will was another lawyer who had also pupilled under Charlie Carson.

"There you are, milord…" Will's open faced smile greeted Matthew when he slid onto the pub stool already holding a pint in hand.

"Don't you start." Matthew grinned and took a long pull on the ale.

He stretched out. "Oh God. I just need to sit and drink." Held up his hand before Will could open his mouth again. "No. Very serious here. Drink first. Talk later."

After a considerable silence between the two friends where the only things Matthew absorbed were the noises of the pub, the ordinary small talk of the people around him, and the dry and hops taste of the pale ale as it felt good sliding down his throat.

They ordered burgers and tucked into them.

"So you saw Mary." Will finally ventured.

Matthew looked up from his food. "Well that's not getting right into it…"

"Bored with dancing around issues. I'm a lawyer. Get right to the point. How'd she holding up?"

He tightened his lips. "As well as can be expected. Mary's strong. She has inner reserves she doesn't even know she has."

"…where do you guys stand?"

Will could ask the question as Matthew had told him all about his complicated relationship with his ex-wife.

Matthew tilted and shook his head quickly, expressing in a light tone, "Not sure." Which was better than what he would have said just two days previous.

"She's with her mother and sisters." With some hesitation on the last words of the sentence.

"… and?" Will picked up on it.

Matthew looked at him from under his eye brows. He scowled slightly. "And her boyfriend."

"Oh." Will snuffled slightly. "Oh shit!"

"Yeah." Matthew scoffed. "Flew in on his private jet." He nodded in bemusement as Will looked up. "Oh yes he did."

"That's gotta be rough. This is the boss, right?"

"Yes. I couldn't take it so I left. He'll still be there though when I get back for the funeral."

He hesitated. Pulled on his eyes and rubbed them. "I've got to lead the service along with Cora." He grimaced. "My new responsibilities."

"Life can really deal it all to you at the same time can't it." Will tried to sound philosophical. "But damn that's a lot to take in."

He looked over at Matthew. "So you know what this calls for?" He nodded as Matthew's mouth slightly opened up to a grin.

"More drink?" He said, hopefully.

"You got it." And Will got up to get another round.

Matthew returned to his flat only a touch worse for wear as Will had stopped him before it got to oblivion, a point Matthew said would have felt rather good at the moment.

XX

The early morning knock on the door punctured the air like a battery of incoming artillery fire, but it woke him up. Groggy, but awake.

Matthew pushed his tangled hair out of his face, rubbed his stubble, cursed that he did not brush his teeth, and stumbled to the door.

Opened it to find his mother. He leaned on the door frame and groaned.

"Matthew." Isobel Crawley's crisp vocal intonation sounded the same as it did when he was a truant teenager. Her eyes took in her son's appearance in one glance. "It's after 11 am. I've been trying to get you all morning."

And she bustled in tutting her son's disheveled appearance.

"Hello, Mother." Matthew said resignedly, and kissed her cheek. "Give me ten minutes. Go put the coffee on."

And he rushed to shower and change.

Returning to the most welcome intoxicating fragrance of freshly brewed coffee, he took the cup from his mother's proffered hand, savored the heat and the roasted taste, and drank it down.

Isobel had taken the early morning shift at the retirement community where she supervised the nursing staff. After a long career at the Royal London Hospital, she found this semi-retirement to be to her liking. She and Matthew were to return to Downton by the late afternoon train. So there was just enough time to get him ready once again to face the music up North.

They had been in communication so Isobel knew the lay of the land at Downton.

She also saw the signs that her son was once again feeling the combined mix of unease and delight that was his base emotional level whenever Mary entered ( or re-entered) his life.

But this time, it had the added stress of his newly minted aristocratic status.

Neither of them quite knew what the future held. She remembered back to the day when the embossed and sealed letter came in the mail decreeing her middle class, scholarship educated son to be the heir to the great estate of Downton. Open mouthed after reading the missive, Matthew had said "They want to change our lives."

If truth be told, Isobel did not care a fig for such life changes. She only cared about her son. Not the title. Not the land. And not, if she was being truthful, Lady Mary Crawley, who had thrown her beloved son over without so much as a by your leave.

For that she found it hard to forgive.

"You must not let them dictate your life." She said emphatically over the coffee. Matthew was going over all the new responsibilities the earldom entailed.

"I'm going to have to, Mother. You know that."

"You let them choose your own wife. Look how well that turned out. She hurt you. …"

"Mother." His clipped tone stopped her. They had been all through that. "I won't have you speak ill of Mary at a time like this."

She put up her hands. No more discussion on that topic. Isobel knew Matthew was right. Robert had been a good man and a good father.

It had at first seemed odd to Isobel that Matthew stayed on so much at Downton after the divorce. Until she visited and realized that Robert and Matthew had developed, apart from their in-law status, an unusual in loco parentis relationship. Robert clearly relished having a son, even if it was under strained circumstances. And Matthew had grown to admire Robert and even indulge the older man's wishes. Like the gun range that the two men had planned and designed over months.

Matthew's own father had died when he was 17 from a massive heart attack. And although it drew mother and son particularly close, Matthew rarely talked about his father. So Isobel had encouraged this relationship with Robert.

Even if it meant having to live with the ghost of his failed marriage.

He seemed perfectly willing to do it. And that, in and of itself, was distressing to Isobel.

Now she worried he was setting himself up yet again to be hurt. But she said nothing.

They finished the light lunch Isobel had prepared and they got ready to leave.

XX

The even toned, polite voice was well practiced. "Lady Marley, so good of you to get back with me. We all know Dad and Lord Marley go way back and it's wonderful he'll do a reading." Mary's head nodded as she took in the older woman's voice on the mobile.

She had been at the arrangements for the funeral for the past couple of days. The service was to be early the next morning. Cora and the rector of St. Mary's in the village had made sure accommodations for distinguished visitors had been arranged properly. Prince Andrew had already phoned and said he'd be there as a fellow veteran of the Falklands campaign.

Mary turned to the list on the desk in the library. Cora had written down several names and numbers of individuals that she particularly wanted to have a role in the service.

Ryan and Edith were in the other room largely trying to stay out of the way. As a freelance journalist for several on line publications, Edith said she'd write up the obituary and send it into the newspapers. Sybil had taken on the responsibility of dealing with Mrs. Patmore and the food for the luncheon following the funeral service.

At the moment though, Mary needed a rest. It was late afternoon and the sun was streaming in after a morning of rain and gloom. She wanted to get outside

The decision to sit on the bench under the large, sheltering oak tree was an excellent idea. She had sat there since her childhood, reading or day dreaming.

Mary's thoughts allowed her some respite the day before the funeral. Thoughts of her father though were never far from her mind.

Matthew's presence also provoked memories as she closed her eyes and tried to rest as the warmth of the sun penetrated her body.

Matthew had found her sitting on the same bench on a similarly hot day early in their marriage.

They had reached a stage in their marriage where they had gotten past the awkwardness of their honeymoon but still had not reached a comfort level. It was still walking around on eggshells, acknowledging their attraction but unable to connect. Their guards up against being hurt.

That day though, Mary thought, was a good day. She was tired that day as well. But it was because her mother had her arranging tables and fixing decoration for the annual Downton Village flower show. She hated it as only a 21 year old could. So she played hooky and came back to the Abbey where she flopped down on the bench.

That was where Matthew had found her. He looked knackered as well. He sat down next to her. Gave her the goofy grin that always made her smile back.

"What are you escaping?" She asked.

He looked over. "Your father takes the village cricket match very seriously. I've spent the past two hours listening to him go over all the players' strengths and weaknesses."

Mary smirked. "You should never have told him you played." Matthew quirked his head and nodded.

"Well you got off lightly. I've spent all morning taking orders on flower arrangements." She rolled her eyes.

"Ah the problems of the aristocracy." Matthew spoke off the cuff.

"Never mind, then." Mary, trying to cut him off.

"I'm just kidding." Matthew retorted. "I'm sure it's quite demanding. Especially the taking orders part."

He enjoyed their sparring. Hoped she would take it in kind.

She did.

"Oh that's nothing compared to the cut throat rivalry between the competitors."

He pursed his lips. "Sounds like something out of Midsomer Murders. 'Death among the Roses' or something…" He trailed off he got her to smile once more.

"I have you know that the village takes it very seriously. …" she paused… "Even if I don't."

"There were rumblings of voter fraud last year." She said as Matthew suppressed a snort. He bit his tongue and looked over.

"Well you can't just leave it there…" He said, "What happened?"

"Granny and the head gardener at Downton Mr. Molesley used go back and forth every year on the best village rose. Well Granny's won for the past four years and the Molesley's backers demanded a recount last year."

The glare was causing his eyes to look opaque and Matthew squinted in the sunlight.

"And what happened…"

"They backed down and Granny won." She sounded quite satisfied at the outcome.

Matthew resisted another snort but Mary sensed his disapproval.

"What." She demanded with a touch of insouciance. "I have you know Granny works in her garden every day. I think that was quite the right decision. Don't you?"

"Well what if her rose was not the best in the village?" He responded in kind.

She looked at him from above her eyes. "Who's to say they were not. It might have been a case of simple village jealousy."

"Well I'd have to know more about the roses in question, I'm afraid." He intoned mockingly.

"Spoken like a true lawyer." She rejoindered.

They both laughed. He reached out and clasped her hand in his and they went for a walk.

XX

Matthew noticed her from outside the garden room window. He opened the French doors and strolled out. His mother had gone upstairs to unpack. The rest of the family was busy.

He cautiously approached her under the shaded tree. She felt his presence and stirred. Opened her eyes and blinked in the contrasting sun and shade.

"Matthew." She said more warmly than he expected, "I was just thinking about you."

"Good things I hope." He said cautiously, still not sure exactly where they stood with each other.

"The village flower show debacle." She decided not to question his caution. She had, she knew, earned that guardedness. It was a new goal of hers to earn back his friendship.

"Ah yes." He sat down on the bench next to her. Maintaining the space in between them.

"Molesley had to wait two more years it turned out before he won again." He smiled back at her. "Violet was quite put out."

He moved so that he was facing her with his leg slightly resting on the space on the bench in between them.

"How's it going here?"

"We've made all the arrangements. Mother is finishing up some personal things. The security detail is going over the church right now." She said, turning her lips slightly into a concerned frown. "With Prince Andrew coming they're taking no chances."

"I suppose not." Matthew responded uneasily. If he was intimidated by the presence of royals at the funeral he was determined not to show it.

"Robert would talk very little about his service in the war." He finally said.

He shook his head. "My own father did his national service in Germany. He did his time and got out. He would simply say 'not the most pleasant two years of my life' and leave it at that."

Mary had rarely heard Matthew speak of his father. She turned to him.

"I bet you were the perfect son."

"Not always." He said, quietly, a memory tugging at the edge of his mind made him squirm slightly on the bench.

He looked off in the distance, squinting again as he invariably did as the glare of the sun struck his blue eyes.

Mary remained quiet but curious. She waited for him to speak again. It looked like he wanted to say something.

"When I was at school." He started but hesitated. "… I was on scholarship at Mowbray. Dad was proud, of course, but grateful as he could not have afforded the tuition. So I knew I had to do well. But you know, you get there, try to make friends… fit in." His voice got distant, his hands pushing out from his body as he tried to conjure up the boy he was.

"There were a group of us. God, you know… bored teen age boys stuck at school when you wanted to be anywhere else. We used to meet out behind the old tennis courts that no one used anymore. Fred…my roommate… would bring beer or liquor. Sometimes he brought other things."

"Friday afternoons we'd meet. Hang out."

He turned to Mary. "One afternoon I was to go down to a certain street at a certain time to meet a guy who had …. had some weed to buy. I was to get it and bring it back."

Mary lips curled inward and her eyes widened. "Don't tell me…"

"Yeah. I got caught. Undercover coppers. They didn't want me but I went in to the station with the collar. The dealer." He chuffed at his own stupidity.

"I was going to be booked." He looked Mary in the eyes. "But more important I had to call my Dad to get me out. To tell him why I was there. To tell him I would probably lose my scholarship because of it."

He grabbed his hair in chunks and nervously pulled it back over his head.

"I thought it was the worst thing I ever had to do. But I was wrong. What was far worse was waiting for him to show up. The disappointment in his eyes made me cringe."

"He finally saw me sitting in one of the chairs by the station desk. I barely met his eyes. He walked on past me and into a room. Came out and took me home."

"I don't know what he did. But I never got a record and I never lost my scholarship."

"So you weren't punished?" Mary asked.

Matthew sigh turned into a choked gasp. "He died the next year. I never got to show him that I finished up ok. That his trust in me was justified."

"He knew, Matthew. Because he was your father and you were his son."

Matthew gave her a half-smile and nodded.

Mary said quietly, "I know that look of disappointment well. It's just as bad as any other kind of punishment. I let Dad down when I flunked out. Let myself down of course. But somehow it was worse with Dad."

"At least you had the time with him to made amends." His face got more animated and said, "I know you made him proud when you graduated from Stanford. He was walking on air after that phone call."

Mary trembled beside him. She reached out and took him by the arm. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

Matthew started to say else something but stopped himself. Mary inquired what it was and he tried again.

"I never quite understood why you flunked out the first time around. By the time I arrived at Downton you had already come back home. But I was damned impressed that you had got into the London School of Economics in the first place."

"Thank you for that." She pulled a loose strand of hair back her ear. "But I realized once I got there that the determination to get in was one thing. The discipline and interest needed to stay was quite another."

"I hated it frankly." She frowned. "Not just the work, but the driven atmosphere of the place. I just didn't fit in. So I stopped trying. Stopped going to classes."

Shaking her head, Mary continued, "I went to a party one Saturday. Met a guy. I was so down in the dumps and self-hating I realize now. I knew he was wrong. Ended up dumping me after a week. Told me I was too frigid and not worth the effort. All in front of my so-called friends at another party as he hit on someone else."

"Nothing more humiliating." Mary said, "I crept out. Went home. Cried all day. Packed my bags and came home."

"I never told anyone." She turned on the bench. "But I hated myself for weeks. I didn't care what happened after that. Dad never asked what happened. I let him assume it was all because of the grades."

"God Mary, then I show up and we're pushed together?" Matthew hated himself at that moment. "No wonder it didn't work. It could never have worked. You weren't ready for any of that. I should have known better."

"You weren't to know." She said lightly, "and you weren't to blame."

He nodded imperceptibly. Could it be they were becoming friends at last?

Just then Cora called to Mary from the house. They got up to go back inside.

XX

The funeral proceeded according to the ideas set out by Cora. Several readings by close friends and family. Robert's favorite hymns. Prince Andrew reminisced about the younger Robert Crawley and their shared experiences on the carrier Invincible.

Matthew ended the service. His rich baritone voice echoing through the small church sanctuary as he took his time reading the lines from Shakespeare's Cymbeline

Fear no more the heat of the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and taken thy wages...

Violet held Mary's hand on the left. Mary and Cora, seated next to each other, hands clasped as they comforted each other. Cora's other hand entwined with Sybil's who held Edith's hand on her right. Ryan bowed his head as the bearers lifted the coffin and headed towards the burial site in the churchyard where all the Crawley's had been buried for over a century.

Guests mingled inside the Abbey and outside on the terrace as Mrs. Patmore had set up tables and food in both locations.

Ryan grabbed Mary's attention and reminded her that they had to get going. It was unfortunate timing but they had to get to Manchester airport and his plane before nightfall if they were to get back to California. The Foundation had its annual benefit in two days and both the chairman and the head of donations and sponsors had to be present.

Mary knew this to be true. She could not miss the Benefit. She and Anna had worked very hard setting everything up and she needed to be there to help organize things behind the scenes as well as greet and thank the many sponsors and donors to the foundation. She was the face of the Foundation that most sponsors knew and trusted.

Cora was to travel the next day to California on a commercial flight. Ryan had offered to take her as well but Cora needed to stay overnight to pack and complete thanking everyone in attendance. She would stay with Mary in California for the next several weeks as Matthew adjusted to his new role as Earl of Grantham. And figuring out her new station as Dowager.

Mary nodded to Ryan and began to look around the room for Matthew.

She needed to find Matthew. To tell him. Mary had put off this moment earlier as they were talking so easily and in such confidence about private matters that neither of them had disclosed during their marriage.

She found that she had reached out to him and he responded. That this mattered. This was important and she could not break that bond by telling him she had to leave later that afternoon.

Now it had to be done.

Matthew was doing his best greeting everyone and taking their condolences. He also felt the locals both aristocratic and commoner were sizing him up as the next Earl. He was going to have to work with the villagers on land rights issues. He was to now socialize more often with the local gentry types and the closest aristocratic neighbors as well.

He was trying not to feel intimidated by it all.

Matthew's eyes wandered across the room and as usual fell onto Mary. She was in black. She looked up and felt his eyes upon hers. They locked gazes across the room. She tilted her head slightly towards the library exit.

He followed her out.

They met outside the library. The crush of guests made them escape into the confines of a smaller hallway off to the left. The privacy allowed them to talk more freely.

"Matthew." Mary said, before he could say anything. "I've got to go very soon. We… we have to get back to Palo Alto for a very important Foundation event. I helped plan it. I have to be there."

Matthew stared at her. Unblinking. Trying to take in her words.

"You." He looked askance as people walked by and their voices drowned out what he was about to say.

"You're going?" Querulously as if he could not believe he was comprehending her words.

He furrowed his brow.

"I have to." She said gently. She took his hands in hers. Both quavered at the touch.

"But we… we… just…" He could not finish his thought. She was going? When was she coming back? There was so much more to say. So much more he wanted to say.

They stood looking at each other. So close that they felt each other's moist breath.

She turned her face up to meet his eyes. Such sad eyes. Eyes that could never lie.

She could not just leave it at that.

Mary moved so that her lips touched his. Lightly at first. She tasted his tongue. Savoring the sensation.

Matthew trembled. "...She was not his. She was not his." He reminded himself.

The moment over took him.

He lifted her frame closer to his body. His arms went around her waist.

His lips touched hers back. His mind empty. Her lips consumed his only want. His need to feel her against him again.

They crashed into each other's. Unwilling to break the space between them. Nothing keeping them apart. Their lips molded together. Flesh. Tongues. Pressure. A delightful frisson wrapped through their bodies.

A kiss, deep and penetrating, that was just theirs. A transcendent moment of forgiveness.

A kiss without expectation or causation. Just the need to touch and be touched.

Breathless they parted.

Neither knowing what it meant. A new beginning? Or an ending?

Neither cared to take in the consequences. It was enough that they were together.

Matthew let her go. Mary's hand lingered on his arm and he held it out as she touched the length of his sleeve until it reached his fingers. They intermingled their fingers until she let go completely.

There was no need for further words. This healing moment would be theirs forever.

The future would take care of itself.

XX

Okay so that's more or less the first part of this story. We'll pick it back up a few weeks later with Mary in California and Matthew at Downton. Hint: the fun is just starting!