Matthew was awake before the sun rose. He was happy for a few seconds as he lay warm and comfortable under the soft covers. He had been dreaming, and although the details of it were already fading, it left him with a sweet glow of contentment. Mary had been in the dream, laughing, beautiful, perfect.
Then, as he did every morning, he tried to move, and remembered about his legs. The happiness evaporated, as it did every morning. He could never decide whether he would rather wake up remembering, or carry on like this. Was it worth the pain when he remembered for the few seconds of happiness when he first woke up? It was almost like being told the terrible news again every morning, but those few seconds of forgetfulness were bliss.
This morning though, something else ruined his mood too. He had to talk to Lavinia. He tried to recall the expression on her face when she had walked into the room last night, to look for any clues about what she had heard. But her expression had been unreadable, and was even more so from memory.
He pushed himself up into a sitting position with difficulty and switched on the light beside his bed. He would read until Bates came. It wasn't much, but he was so pleased that he could do that now. There had been so many mornings when he had woken early and had to lie there in the dark until someone came to get him up. That had been when he felt most useless.
He was cheered a little when he thought of how much better he was now, how much stronger. He thought his upper body might be even stronger than it had been before. He still couldn't get out of bed and into his chair alone, or dress, but he could sit and he could get around the ground floor of the house well enough. And more importantly, he was no longer quite so helpless. To Dr Clarkson and Mother's surprise, he had regained continence. Apparently, this meant that his injury was an incomplete one, and for a while, they had hoped for further improvement. It hadn't happened, but even so, it was wonderful to have some control over his body, and it had lessened to some extent the disgust he felt for his body. And it meant there was no longer the danger of infection from the catheter.
The fact that these small improvements were so important to him made him feel depressed again. Why should he be grateful that he could do things he had first learned to do as a tiny child?
He sighed and turned his attention to his book for distraction.
Mary was awake too. She had woken hot and damp with sweat after a nightmare. The details were sketchy, but it had been about Kemal. She remembered the horrible feeling of him, suddenly still and silent on top of her and inside her. She shuddered. That had been the worst night of her life. Why was it she couldn't stop re-living it in her nightmares? They kept the memory of that night fresh in her mind so she could never forget.
She turned her mind to the previous evening, and winced when she recalled what Matthew was saying when Lavinia had come in. She had to talk to Matthew again, had to tell him what she hadn't told him last night.
Then she thought of Richard. He wouldn't let last night go. He would know she had been with Matthew when she had disappeared and he would press her to set a date again. Perhaps she could suggest a date that was months away and he would leave her alone. But that would make it somehow more real.
After breakfast, Matthew asked Lavinia to take him outside in the garden. He wanted to be alone, with no chance of being overheard when he talked with her.
It felt strange doing this with her instead of Mary. They were silent for a few minutes. Matthew was unsure how to begin. Eventually, though, Lavinia began for him.
"Don't ever let me be a nuisance, Matthew. Don't ever let me be in the way," she said quietly but firmly.
"You could never be in the way. What do you mean?" he asked her. She was quiet for a minute.
"I… I heard you and Mary talking. Last night. I wasn't eavesdropping. You were talking quite loudly." She stopped and took a deep breath. "Matthew?"
"Yes?"
"Do you love me?" she asked. Matthew opened his mouth, but Lavinia spoke before he could say anything. "No, don't answer yet. Think about it. Do you love me, really love me, love me like you love… like you love Mary?"
"Lavinia, I…"
"No, let me finish. Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me? Not out of duty, or honour. Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me out of love? Because I love you, Matthew, but love means that you put somebody else's happiness before yours. I don't think either of us would be happy if we married without love on both sides. I could never be happy if you weren't."
"Lavinia, I have told you a thousand times…"
"Yes, I know, you'll never marry. But whatever you say and however many times you say it, I think you will. The question is whether it will be me or Mary."
"Lavinia! Mary and I … we're not… she's engaged to someone else. You know what happened between us before the war. I'm engaged to you. If I do marry, which I will not, it will be you. You are beautiful and clever and kind and you've stayed with me even now. I admire you greatly."
"You 'admire me greatly'. But do you love me Matthew? Can you say truthfully that you love me? That you love me at least as much as you love Mary, because whatever you say, it's clear to everyone that you love her?"
Matthew was silent. He couldn't lie outright to her. Until last night he could have said that he loved her, but he had realised that he had been deceiving himself. He couldn't bear to see her unhappy, but he couldn't lie to her. And didn't she have a point? Could they really be happy in a marriage with love on one side and duty and honour on the other? There were plenty of marriages like that, but they never seemed terribly happy, and Matthew didn't want to condemn Lavinia to an unhappy marriage.
Besides, he suddenly thought, he had been trying to persuade Lavinia that he was not going to marry her for months. Perhaps this would do what his many arguments with her had failed to do. It would cause her pain, yes, and he hated that. But that was better than the pain and misery she would feel in the future if she ended up married to him. He stayed silent.
"I thought you couldn't," Lavinia said sadly, "I think I've always known you still loved her. From the moment we walked into the room at that concert in 1916, and I saw the way you two looked at each other. Until then, I had thought that you felt the same for me as I felt for you. You were so kind and so caring towards me, I thought it was love. But then I saw you and Mary together and I knew then what real love looked like. You were so right together, are so right together. I've been deceiving myself all these years, and so have you. We just needed proof. And that is what I got last night."
They were both silent again. What was there to say? They both knew Lavinia was right. They reached a bench, not the one Mary always sat on, and Lavinia sat down.
"Will you marry Mary now? Because my greatest desire now is to see you happy, and I believe she will make you happy. You may find it hard to believe, but although I hate the idea of her, I rather like Mary." Lavinia was speaking in a voice that was strangely emotionless.
"I don't find it at all hard to believe, because I know you are a wonderful person, Lavinia. I admire that you can like her. But I can't marry her for the same reason I can't marry you; I can't condemn her to the life she would have as the wife of a cripple. And she's engaged to Carlisle."
"If you call yourself a cripple one more time Matthew… And you wouldn't be condemning her to anything, just like you wouldn't have been condemning me to anything. We are adults, Matthew, and capable of making our own choices. As to Sir Richard, she clearly doesn't love him. If you were free, I'm sure she would…"
"No. She says she has to marry him. I think he knows something about her, some secret he's threatening to expose. She won't tell me what it is. Sorry, I shouldn't be telling you this. You're the last person I should be burdening with my problems with Mary!" Matthew suddenly saw the ridiculousness of the situation, and almost laughed. He didn't though, seeing that Lavinia would certainly not feel like laughing.
"No, don't apologise," she said quietly, "I know what he's like, I know what it's like to be in his power. Do you think Mary tell you if you tell her about… what's just happened between us?"
"I don't know. Maybe. I doubt it."
"You have to try though. I think… I think it's better if I leave now, go home. I think we know where we stand. I have to try to move on. I don't think I can bear to stay here. I'll leave today, or tomorrow. I'll say Papa needs me. He's still not well, you know. I want you to be happy. Do everything you can to be happy Matthew. And don't forget me. You owe me that, I think." Lavinia was struggling to keep her composure, and couldn't meet Matthew's eye.
She got up and took him back to the house in silence.
Lavinia left on the next train. Matthew felt guilty to feel relief at her departure. He wasn't sure when and how to tell the family that she wouldn't be returning. He had to speak to Mary first though, to finally force her to disclose her secret.
He would have to wait until later though. She had gone to Ripon for a dress fitting. The girls were all getting new evening dresses, their first since before the war.
Mary was distracted during the fitting. She really couldn't care less about dresses. There were other things on her mind. Had Matthew spoken to Lavinia? She kept hearing his words in her head: 'It's you I…' Surely it was 'love' that he would have said if Lavinia hadn't come in?
Sybil noticed that her sister's thoughts were elsewhere. When they arrived home, she caught Mary's arm as Edith and Cora went into the house.
"Are you alright Mary?" she asked.
Mary looked at her little sister and thought how impossible it would be to explain everything to her. She appreciated Sybil's concern, but it wouldn't do anyone any good for her to unload all her cares to Sybil. She had to sort out her problems herself.
"I'm fine," she said irritably. She only realised when she saw the hurt expression on Sybil's face how unkind her answer had sounded. But it was too late to un-say it, and it was better that Sybil didn't know what was going on, so she walked into the house without apologising or explaining.
She went straight up to her room and lay face down on her bed, wondering what she ought to do, and getting nowhere.
She didn't realise how long she had been there until Anna came knocked and came in.
"It's time to change, Mary. Are you alright?"
"I don't know what to do, Anna. I've been avoiding everyone all day. I think Lavinia overheard Matthew and me talking last night. We said some things that… well, I'm not sure how much she heard. I think Matthew was going to speak to her this morning."
"I thought you knew. Miss Swire has gone home, she left just before lunch. It was all very sudden. I think she said her father was ill and needed her. But if she heard… well I don't know what you were talking about but…" Anna looked at Mary as she finished speaking, hoping Mary would tell her.
Mary took a deep breath.
"She walked in when Matthew was half way through telling me… telling me he loved me," Mary said, her voice shaking with emotion.
Anna gasped and then smiled.
"Then you talked to him. What happened? Will you still marry Sir Richard? Or did Mr Crawley…"
"Don't get excited, Anna. He didn't propose. We're both still engaged. And I still have to marry Sir Richard. But if Lavinia's gone then maybe… But even so, he said last night that he was still determined not to marry because he said he could never be a proper husband to any woman. But Anna, that matters nothing to me. I love him. I will always love him. That is all there is to it."
"Did you tell him that?" Anna asked.
Mary closed her eyes. It seemed so simple and obvious to tell Matthew how she felt when she was discussing it with Anna. But whenever she found herself alone with Matthew, which was unusual anyway, the time never seemed right somehow, or they were interrupted, like they were last night. What would have happened if Lavinia hadn't come last night? She would never know. She opened her eyes again and looked at Anna.
"No. Maybe if Lavinia hadn't interrupted. But nothing changes the situation with Sir Richard." Mary sighed and got up to dress.
"Even so. You have to speak properly with Mr Crawley."
"I know," Mary replied.
It was easier said than done, however. With Lavinia gone, Sir Richard was keeping an even closer eye on Mary, as was Cora. She found it impossible to slip away, since one or the other of them always seemed to be with her, watching her every move.
But that evening, when everyone else had gone up to bed, Robert caught her arm.
"I need to talk to you Mary," he said, his voice low. "Come to the library."
She followed him, curious as to what on earth her father could want to talk to her about. He very rarely spoke to her alone, and she could not recall a single occasion in the last few years on which he had sought her out specifically for that purpose.
When they entered the library, Robert sat down heavily on the sofa and gestured for her to sit opposite.
"Why are you marrying Carlisle when he so clearly gets on your nerves, and when you clearly don't like him?" Robert began, looking at Mary intensely.
Mary was speechless. This was not the sort of thing she usually spoke about with Papa. Had the tension between her and Richard been so obvious? And how on earth could she answer him without telling him the truth?
"Is it because he is threatening to expose the fact that Mr Pamuk died in your bed all those years ago?"
Mary nearly fainted with shock. How did he know? Oh God, he knew her secret. He must hate her, must be so disappointed in her.
"When did you find out? Did Mama tell you? How disappointed you must be," she asked when she had recovered herself sufficiently.
Robert sighed.
"I can't pretend I'm not disappointed. But more than anything, I'm saddened to find that you told Carlisle before me. Did you ever mean to tell me, Mary? Do you not trust me enough?"
"Oh Papa! I just couldn't bear the thought of what you would think of me, what you must think of me now. I had to tell Richard, or the story would have been published. He is all that stands between me and ruin. I am so sorry Papa. I know what you must think of me, and I deserve it all," Mary said sadly.
"Your Mama chose her moment well. Perhaps you were right not to tell me; I'm not sure I would have reacted well then. But we've all lived through a war since then. There's nothing like a war to put things into perspective. But that is why you are going to marry Carlisle? That is the only reason?"
"Yes. And Papa, I'll never find another man who would be prepared to marry me knowing my shame. There are rumours already; didn't you ever wonder why I was so much less popular in the last season before the War? Even if Richard didn't publish (and I think he would), I am in Mama's phrase 'damaged goods'. Richard is my only hope of a position, a life."
"And is that worth it?" Robert asked her. Mary didn't, couldn't reply. Then Robert continued, "What about Matthew? Your Mama says you didn't marry him before the War because you couldn't tell him. But Mary, I think you underestimate him; he is a good man and he loved you; he would forgive you. Is there not hope for you yet? If you were married quickly, surely any scandal would lose much of its power? If you were settled when Carlisle publishes, it would die down eventually. And I think you and Matthew would both be so much happier together. Is it really impossible? Any fool can see you still love each other."
"You forget Lavinia, Papa. Matthew is engaged. And you can't just make plans like this without consulting him."
"I'm not. You must speak to him. You must tell him. Then you can decide what to do."
"But don't you see, Papa? Matthew may love me now, but will he when he knows? He will despise me. He has perfect, pure, good Lavinia. He wouldn't want a… a whore instead," Mary said bitterly.
"Mary! Do not use that word to describe any woman, especially not yourself!" Robert said, shocked.
"I'm sorry Papa. But I'm afraid it's true. You are right that Matthew is a good man, but that is precisely why he would not love me if he knew the truth. He deserves to marry a good woman, not one like me. He would despise me if he knew what I did."
"You can't know until you tell him. If it doesn't work out between you, you could always go away, to America. You could stay with your Grandmother, find some American to marry; I doubt they read the gossip columns of English newspapers over there. Whatever happens, you must not marry Carlisle. I don't want my daughter to be married to a man who threatens her with ruin."
"Oh Papa!" Mary exclaimed, and rushed over to where he was sitting. She embraced him, crying tears of relief.
Robert held her and felt how small she was, how fragile and frightened she was in this harsh world she had to live in. He wished he could protect her from everyone and everything that night hurt her, but he was horribly aware that he couldn't. He could save her from an unhappy marriage though, and he would ensure that he did.
Mary went to sleep that night more hopeful than she had been since before the War.
I promise they will talk to each other soon, but when were things ever simple and easy for Mary and Matthew?
Thank you again for the nice reviews, I'll try my best to live up to them.