Previously:

Downton Abbey, England, July 1918

"Mary," Matthew breathed out, his arm coming across her waist, his other arm moving up her back, his fingers splaying across the nape of her neck their bodies pressed together.

Mary breathed against his skin, gasping and kissing him, crying out as her senses blazed as she released on top of him. Matthew moved against her again and again, holding her tight in his embrace as he reached his own peak.

Their hearts pounded against each other, the heat of their bodies seeming to cover them completely as their breathing calmed and they kissed languidly. They were no longer at Downton Abbey. They were no longer bound by rules, family, War, obligations or expectations. There was no danger. There was no fear. There was only them. Mary and Matthew. They were in their haven, their sanctuary, just the two of them, filled with each other as they willed time to stop and the coming dawn to hold back a while longer.

Chapter 7: It Can't be Long Now

Amiens, France, August 1918

"Major Lewis, another one's arrived," Alex's batman announced.

Matthew and Alex looked up at a young man giving them a crisp salute. They returned the gesture and he came inside Alex's tent, joining the other men gathered around the table.

"Lieutenant Campbell, at ease. Please to meet you. This is Captain Crawley. He'll be with you tomorrow morning," Alex said curtly. "Matthew, Lieutenant Campbell, Canadian 1st Division."

"Lieutenant," Matthew nodded.

"Captain," Lieutenant Campbell nodded back. "It will be good to have you and your boys with us tomorrow, sir."

"Well if your men are half as good as they were last week, my fiancée will have far less to worry about," Matthew replied.

They gathered around the table in Alex's tent as he explained the manoeuvres, referring to several coloured pins on the map, and pointing out different positions. They nodded and remained quiet, the gravity of the coming day sinking in.

"Gentlemen, I do not need to impress upon you how important tomorrow's offensive will be," Alex said, looking each of them in the eye as he glanced around the table. "As we all know, this is not a raid, but a much larger scale attack. Months of planning have gone into this first strike tomorrow. Our goal is simple – push the enemy back and by doing so, open up the rail lines. If we win a narrow victory, we shall gain valuable ground against the Germans. But, gentlemen, if we succeed entirely, we will gain a significant advantage towards possibly ending this War once and for all."

Alex paused, noticing the frowns and creased brows that greeted his news.

"Nothing is won overnight," Alex said calmly. "But much can be lost. If you wish to go home; if you wish to see those you love as soon as possible; then do your jobs tomorrow. Win the day, gentlemen. Win the day, and you shall be a step closer to home."

Alex allowed his words to linger before dismissing the men. They all saluted and nodded to each other, filing out of the tent one by one, their eyes showing all the possibilities that danced in their minds at what tomorrow may bring.

"Matthew," Alex called quietly.

Matthew turned and looked at him from the doorway.

"Try not to get lost tomorrow, will you? I can deal with Germans and Austrians and Turks. I would rather not have to deal with an irate Lady Mary."

Matthew's eyes widened in surprise, then he composed himself and shook his head.

"Yes, Sir, Major, Sir," Matthew nodded, exchanging a smirk with Alex and leaving into the night.

Downton Abbey, England, August 1918

"Mary, what do you think of this?" Cora asked, handing Mary a piece of paper. "I spoke to your Aunt Rosamund and she expects it can be in the Times for next weekend."

Mary glanced at the paper and rolled her eyes. "An engagement announcement, Mama? Is this really a priority right now?"

"Well you yourself told me that Cousin Isobel has approved," Cora replied.

"Yes, she was kind enough to write to me and give us her blessing. A blessing that she would be entirely justified in withholding, I might add," Mary said pointedly.

Sybil smirked at Edith in understanding.

"It was her son's decision," Cora noted. "She can hardly object to that. My point being that now that she has given her blessing, we should publish the banns. It's what's expected, Mary."

"I hardly think what's expected has the same meaning in times of War, Mama," Mary sighed.

"Mary you continue to confuse me. I thought you'd be thrilled to announce your engagement to Matthew formally," Cora said.

"I am thrilled!" Mary retorted. "But I hardly think crowing about my engagement is proper when my fiancé is risking his life each day. When Matthew returns and I know he is safe, we can do all manner of wedding planning. For now, my thoughts are with him, and something as unimportant as publishing wedding banns can wait."

"You weren't this difficult before he released Lavinia and told you he loved you," Cora huffed.

"I wasn't a lot of things before then," Mary said enigmatically.

Sybil smiled and Edith shook her head.

"Fine, I will hold off for now. But I'm writing to our friends to tell them the news. If you are to be married by Christmas, Mary, then preparations must be made. A proper wedding cannot be planned overnight," Cora warned.

"Suit yourself," Mary replied drily. "Matthew and I will be married when he next returns. The precise details are not important."

"Did Cousin Matthew say when he was returning next, Mary?" Sybil asked.

"No, darling," Mary smiled. "He can't know this far in advance. He says that events are changing all the time now at the Front. He can't be sure where he'll be or what he'll be doing from one day to the next."

"So you don't know where he is, then?" Edith asked.

"He can't say," Mary answered. "He was last in France, but who knows if he's moved on from there or not. His last letter mentioned that he may not be able to write for a short while. He didn't elaborate."

"All of that secrecy makes things sound quite serious," Edith remarked.

"It is," Mary nodded, picking up her tea cup and taking a long sip. She looked out the window at the fields in the distance. "Quite serious, I expect."

Amiens, France, August 1918

Matthew huddled with his men in the cramped compartment. The noise of the engine was deafening, which was welcome as it drowned out the noise of bullets pinging off the armour all around them.

"Not what you're used to, is it, Sir?" Lieutenant Campbell smiled at him.

"Not what I would prefer as a mode of transportation, Campbell!" Matthew shouted back. "But if it keeps us shielded from enemy fire, it'll do!"

"We've reached the third objective!" A shout came down from the driver. Matthew nodded to Lieutenant Campbell.

"Guns ready!" Matthew called to his men. The soldiers steadied themselves as their tank pitched to and fro across the rough terrain. Matthew turned to William, sitting beside him.

"Stay with me, Mason," Matthew said. William nodded back to him.

"Go! Go! Go!" Matthew yelled.

The compartment door opened in the hull of the tank and the dull light of day streamed towards them as they ran out. Gunfire sounded all around them as the British and Canadian forces returned fire at the enemy, allowing Matthew and his soldiers to run out.

"Right! Right!" Matthew screamed, sprinting across the field towards a row of tents in the distance.

Matthew aimed and fired as he ran, barely stopping as he saw German soldiers retreating before them. He led his men down a slight hill, the combined firepower of the Allies overwhelming the lines of German soldiers in front of them. Matthew glanced all about, his eyes wide and his heart racing. He looked for any sign of a counter offensive, of an ambush, of the enemy rallying and coming back towards him. As he cautiously led his men towards the enemy tents, he was shocked to see no one rising to oppose them.

Raising his hand, Matthew crept silently towards the larger command tent. He pointed for his men to disperse to the two separate entrances. Standing to the side of one door, he looked over at Lieutenant Campbell and his men stationed across the doorway from him.

Nodding to Campbell, Matthew curled his fingers into a fist. With a yell, the British and Canadians raced into the tent, guns raised.

Matthew pointed his rifle squarely at the stunned face of a German officer seated at a long table. His men surrounded them quickly, guns drawn. The Germans rattled tea cups and dropped forks on to their plates, staring all around them in shock.

"Do you speak German?" Lieutenant Campbell asked Matthew, his eyes locked on the enemy officers who sat motionless with their hands raised above their heads.

"I don't think we need a translator to tell them what their predicament is," Matthew smirked.

"Assemble them outside and have them escorted back to Amiens," Matthew ordered. His men quickly moved to comply and the German officers were rounded up and shuffled outside the tent.

"Seems a shame," William said, causing Matthew to look at him quizzically. "I meant that we interrupted them in the middle of breakfast it seems," he smiled, nodding towards the unfinished plates of eggs and sausages.

Matthew rolled his eyes and smirked, nodding for William to leave the tent.

"How very rude of us, Mason," Matthew chuckled.

Dower House, Downton Village, England, August 1918

"Mary," Violet smiled. "Come in, come in."

"Hello, Granny," Mary nodded, taking a seat and accepting tea from the butler.

"Has there been news from Matthew?" she asked.

"I received his latest letter yesterday," Mary nodded. "He sends his regards. He says that things have been going very well, but he couldn't elaborate."

"No, of course not," Violet agreed. "But that is good news."

"Yes," Mary agreed, sipping her tea.

"And I expect that your parents are eager to see you married upon his next leave?" Violet asked.

"I'm the one that's eager," Mary smiled. "Papa is staying out of it, and Mama just wants it all to be done properly whenever it happens."

"That is an improvement over what she previously thought," Violet chuckled.

"I didn't give her much choice in the matter," Mary smirked.

"Your mother can do one thing well," Violet said. "She is as adaptable as a chameleon. She knows what rules to follow in any given situation."

"Sometimes at the expense of what is right and wrong," Mary huffed.

"Perhaps," Violet smiled.

"I wanted to ask you something else, actually," Mary said, putting her tea cup down. "It's about Grandpapa."

"Goodness, have you found another skeleton?" Violet smirked. "I thought I'd cleaned them all out, or buried them."

"No, nothing like that," Mary smiled. "It's just that I was thinking about how fortunate he was to have Mama's money to invest in Downton."

"Yes, yes, quite fortunate," Violet agreed. "Times were tough back then. The Levinson money was most welcome, far more than the family behind it, I can tell you."

"Granny," Mary rolled her eyes.

"Oh, do not misunderstand me. Your Mama and I have become friends, much to my surprise. It's her mother that is a different story," Violet said pointedly.

"Well Grandmamma likely won't be able to make the crossing for the wedding, so you'll be pleased to hear that," Mary noted.

"That's the best news I have been told all day," Violet said completely seriously.

"But once Grandpapa had Mama's money, did he change anything about the way the Estate was managed? Did he do anything to ensure we wouldn't be in the same predicament again?" Mary asked.

"You must know, Mary, your Grandpapa shared very little with me about Estate management. It wasn't my place to know, he would say. I would venture that he shared almost as little with your Papa, in fact. He was very stubborn. I think that's where you get it from," Violet smiled.

"Possibly," Mary smiled back. "It just seems strange though that we haven't done anything to change with the times for decades."

"Well, when your husband is the Earl of Grantham, he can change all manner of things as he wishes. That's his right," Violet said.

"Certainly, but I'm concerned about what will be left to rule over once that day arrives," Mary replied.

"If you are worried, Mary, you should speak to your Papa," Violet said.

"I think Matthew already tried, with predictable results," Mary answered. "I don't want to step on Papa's toes."

"My dear, when it comes to Downton and trying to change tradition, I can assure you that a great many toes will need to be stepped on if you are to ever get anything done," Violet looked at her seriously.

"I wouldn't know where to begin," Mary sighed.

"You're a Crawley woman," Violet smiled. "That's a better start than any."

Saint-Mihiel, Lorraine, France, September 1918

"Eyes open, men," Matthew warned, looking around as they walked through the worn paths.

With the air calm and no sign of the enemy, Matthew's soldiers spoke casually as they moved forward.

"The Americans certainly did a number on them, didn't they?"

"The Germans were already retreating. They were sitting ducks, they were."

"A bit too enthusiastic though. They left their supplies behind trying to push forward."

"That's why they couldn't take Metz. Bunch of arrogant bastards, if you ask me."

"Come on, Wakefield. How can you have a go at them when they blazed the living daylights out of the Germans? We're lucky to have them on our side."

"Nice of them to join in after we've been slogging through the muck for 3 years."

"Quiet!" Matthew ordered, his eyes narrowing as he noticed movement in the distance.

"Mason," Matthew called. "Do you know what that building is on the hill?"

"Looks like a Church of some kind, sir," William answered.

"More precisely, a Benedictine Abbey," Matthew replied. "One that should be abandoned."

"Did you see something, sir?"

"Yes, Wakefield. There's someone up there. We'll circle around beyond the road and come up on the back of the hill. It could just be refugees seeking shelter when the Americans began their bombardment. Let's find out for sure," Matthew said.

Quickly and quietly, Matthew's soldiers ran across the field, avoiding the road leading up to the Abbey and moving to the back. A rock-strewn hill rose before them ending in a low wall. The towers and glass windows of the Church stood behind the wall.

Pointing to several spots along the wall, Matthew sent his men up the hill, moving along to the side himself with William. They reached the wall without encountering anyone and circled around to the courtyard.

"Seems deserted, sir."

"Seems that way, yes," Matthew answered, frowning.

They walked into the Abbey and went from room to room as quietly as possible, deeming the Church and the living quarters clear and empty. Matthew couldn't help but smirk as they moved through the large building.

"Almost feels like home, doesn't it, Mason?" he asked.

"I'm half expecting Mr. Carson to jump out and scold me for tracking mud across the floor," William smiled.

They gathered in the large library, or what was once the library, empty and broken shelves greeting them as they came in.

"All clear, sir. Whatever it was that you saw, it's gone now."

Matthew looked around, staring at the empty shelves, the floor covered with dust and decrepit furniture.

Matthew suddenly raised his hand for silence. His men immediately complied. He stepped gingerly behind an empty shelf and pointed to a fallen tapestry across the floor.

They surrounded the spot, guns drawn.

"Mason," Matthew whispered. "Seems strange that we're in a library and not a single book can be found, wouldn't you say?"

William nodded.

Standing off to the side, Matthew reached down and pulled the tapestry back off the floor.

His soldiers gasped in surprise.

A large trap door was built into the floor, its wooden planks and large metal handle untouched by dust.

"Wakefield," Matthew said. "Take Thompson, Millar, Cavendish and Wiggins and go down to the stables. Wait for us there."

"Yes, sir," Wakefield nodded and the men dispersed.

Matthew lifted the trap door to reveal a set of stairs leading downward. He led the rest of his troops into a narrow hallway. Lighting torches, the British moved quickly along, hearing nothing but their own footsteps.

Eventually, they noticed daylight in the distance and came out into the musty interior of the Abbey stables.

"Captain!" Wakefield called. "How did you know the passage came here, sir?"

"Just a guess, Wakefield," Matthew said. "There's usually a secret passage or two in old buildings like these. They built them as an escape route, but I think someone may have used it for an entirely different purpose."

"Over here, Captain!" Wiggins called. "Tracks! Fresh ones too. Looks to be one horse and a wagon."

Matthew came over and inspected the tracks in the mud leading away from the stables.

"That was what I saw," Matthew nodded. "The Americans came through, but in their haste to get to Metz, they didn't bother to inspect this place, and why would they? It's supposed to be abandoned and even looks that way at first glance."

"What should we do about these tracks, Captain?" Wakefield asked.

"We follow them," Matthew said.

It did not take long for Matthew and his soldiers to catch up to their quarry. Deep in the forest, they easily surrounded and captured six German soldiers leading a horse and wagon piled high with paintings, sculptures and dozens of books taken from the Saint-Mihiel Abbey. Facing a squad of British soldiers, the Germans surrendered on sight.

"Do you think this lot is worth anything, Captain?" Wiggins asked, looking over the wagon of artifacts.

"Most likely," Matthew replied. "But not to us."

Matthew's soldiers escorted their prisoners and the stolen treasure back to the British command position. Matthew turned over the wagon to the French military for safekeeping.

"Thank you, Captain," the French Lieutenant nodded to Matthew. "We'll make sure these are secured until we can restore them back to the Abbey."

"It was our pleasure," Matthew nodded.

Matthew and William walked back to their tent. The shape of Saint-Mihiel Abbey still visible in the distance.

"It was kind of nice, being in an Abbey today, wasn't it, Sir?" William asked.

"Yes, it was, Mason," Matthew smiled. "Very nice."

London, England, September 1918

"The benefit to this dress is that the sash across the waist makes it far less bulky and more sleek," the dressmaker cheered as she motioned to the fabric laid across the table.

"That's very nice," Cora smiled. "What do you think, Mary?"

"It is quite nice," Mary said politely, offering nothing more.

Sybil and Edith looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

"Please give us a moment, Mrs. Wilson," Cora smiled.

"Of course, Lady Grantham," the dressmaker nodded and went into the back of the boutique.

"Mary," Cora frowned. "This is the fourth boutique we've been to today and the twelfth dress you've seen. A little more enthusiasm would be appreciated."

"I'm sorry, Mama," Mary sighed, looking at the dress again. "I just can't be interested."

"Get her home right away, Mama," Edith smiled. "Mary must be coming down with a fever. She suddenly doesn't want to shop."

Sybil laughed.

"Any of these will do," Mary huffed, ignoring Edith's remark. "But none of them are particularly…I don't know…special."

"Special?" Cora repeated.

"Yes," Mary nodded. "It's my wedding day, Mama. Some of the details I can do without, but my dress…it's the first thing that Matthew will see when I come into the Church. It has to be…special."

"Mary," Sybil smiled. "Cousin Matthew will be dazzled with anything that you wear."

"I dare say that the wedding dress won't be what he is most looking forward to seeing you wear that day," Edith laughed.

"Edith!" Cora scolded her. "Don't be so vulgar!"

Mary turned away and bit her lower lip to contain her smile.

"All right," Cora sighed. "We'll keep looking. But, Mary, you must decide, and soon."

"Yes, Mama," Mary smiled.

Cora walked away to go fetch the dressmaker.

"Considering what you've gone through to get your groom, choosing a dress should be child's play," Edith whispered.

"You don't know the half of it," Mary said lightly.

"It is so exciting, isn't it, Mary?" Sybil smiled. "It's so close now! Cousin Matthew just needs to come back and you'll be married!"

"Yes, Sybil, it is very exciting," Mary nodded, turning her head and looking at the silk dress laid out before her once again. Her fingers automatically rubbed her engagement ring.

"Matthew just needs to come back," she whispered.