A/N: So I've discovered that happy Matthew is harder to write now... Thank you all for your wonderful reviews and comments!
Never Such Innocence Again 7/?
Matthew came back from the club late in the afternoon in a pensive mood, pleased at the possibilities offered him, but saddened by what had happened to so many friends, and he marked himself lucky that he had only a shattered leg and not a shattered mind. So many of the men he knew from school and from years of practicing law had come back from the war mere shells of themselves, brittle and sour. If they joked, the laugh did not reach their eyes. The ashes on cigarettes hung far too long, and the answers sometimes came too slowly. He knew he had his dark moments and would continue to, but... he shuddered. If he could do nothing else in his lifetime, it would be to ensure his own children never had to face this.
He found Mary in her study, reading, the pale afternoon light already waning and the lights on. She did not look up when he came in and he watched her for a moment, her dark head bent over the papers. A memory of her underneath him, writhing and warm, made him dizzy for a moment and he was suddenly glad of his stick. He was not sure he could wait until night, much less wait the weeks it took for the banns to be read, and he wondered if she might agree to a special license. Then again, he thought as she looked up, they needed to go to Downton. Everything needed to be settled there.
"Hello, dear," she said softly. "Did you have a nice lunch?"
He could only grin at her.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing," he said. "That's just a nice thing to hear when I come home."
Her breath caught and her eyes filled with tears, and he was quickly at her side, pulling her up into his arms. "My dear, what is it?"
"It's silly," she said. "But you just called this home."
"You're here. Mother's here. Lily's here. Of course it's home. Although," he paused. "I should pay rent, or the taxes, or something. Just to feel a little responsible for it, until you start eating me out of house and home at Downton."
And she laughed as she wound her arms around his neck. "I take it you've found a job," she said, in between kisses.
"As a matter of fact, I did. They need a company law expert at Lavery's firm, and since I did some consulting for him before the war, and I know what he really got up to at university, he's taking me on. I'll start next week." He kissed her, longingly. "So you needn't worry. You're not taking on a bounder, or a layabout. I shall pull my own weight, my lady."
"I wasn't worried about that," she said softly.
"Sit with me," he whispered back.
They were quiet for a long time in that large chair by the window, simply holding each other as they watched the sky darken.
"Granny telephoned," she said, softly, as the streetlights flickered on.
"There's a sentence I never expected to hear."
She laughed. "Well, after the usual stops and starts, she got straight to the point. Rather, Mamma got straight to the point after taking over the call. We've been invited for Christmas."
"Ah," he replied. "And?"
She didn't answer, her fingers toying with his tie.
"Why did you stop speaking to your father?"
She looked away. "You know why."
"I know what my mother said, and what I said to your father about it. What happened?" He tipped her chin toward him, gently, his fingers barely touching her.
"What did you say to my father?"
"That I wanted a full accounting from him of the treatment of my mother and my child following Lavinia's death. I understood the need to secure the succession, but I failed to see how that meant the people I loved wouldn't be looked after in some fashion. I also didn't understand why he felt you wouldn't be the best person to take on Downton." Her face darkened and he let her pull away again as a soft gong sounded.
"Time to dress," she said and started to stand up.
He pulled her back for a kiss. "This isn't settled."
"No," she said, sadly, and his heart broke for her a little. "It isn't." She stood up. "If you want to see Lily before she goes to sleep, now would be a good time to go up."
He found his mother in the nursery, Lily all but asleep, yawning in her crib with the lights already lowered. She gave her father a drowsy smile and a little crow at his kiss, but her baby eyes couldn't stay open and she slept as he hummed to her.
"Not even two days," he said. "And it's as if.." He did not finish.
"Yes," she said, understanding him perfectly.
They walked in tandem down the nursery staircase. "We've been invited for Christmas at Downton," he said.
"Yes, I know. I spoke to Violet."
"You spoke to Cousin Violet?"
She smiled. "It's amazing what a common cause can do for women of a certain age. How do you feel about it?"
"It's not how I feel, it's how Mary feels." He negotiated the landing and leaned against the wall for a moment, waving off her concern. "It's up to her."
"Violet's posted the banns."
"What?" He stopped again.
"Well, I assume she's done it, since she told Mary she was going to the church the very second the telephone call ended and that was some hours ago."
He didn't quite know what to say.
He was not the first to come down to dinner, and as he walked into the drawing room, he was greeted by an armful of Sybil. "Thank God!" she said happily. "It is really you."
He found that funny. "Who else did you expect?"
"No one, it's just... Ah, Campbell. Oh, well done, those look lovely!" She took one of the gleaming glasses from his tray, the orange liquid inside shimmering in the glow of the room.
"What is it?" Matthew lifted the glass to his nose and sniffed.
"Sidecar," she said. "To you. Being home."
"Cocktails?" He grinned. "Shouldn't we wait for your sister?"
"She'll be hours yet," Sybil took a sip.
"Will I?" Mary's voice suddenly made him think of Violet and he laughed aloud as he turned to see her. "Hello, darling," she said as she kissed Sybil's cheek. "I see you've commandeered poor Campbell. What is it tonight?"
"It's called a Sidecar. Cognac, Cointreau, and lemon. It's meant to warm you up if you're riding in a sidecar."
"Which of course, we've all been doing," Mary muttered dryly. "Cognac before dinner?"
Matthew laughed again.
"What's so funny?" Mary tasted it and smiled.
"Oh, no. You'll probably kill me."
"Unlikely, since I've just gotten you back." She put down the drink with a slight shake of her head at Sybil, who shrugged and continued drinking.
"You sound like Cousin Violet." He retreated behind Sybil at Mary's mock frown. "Did she really post the banns?"
"Mary!" Sybil nearly spilled her drink. "Matthew? Are you?"
"He seems to think so," Mary said. "I didn't suggest it. It was her idea."
"It's a wonderful idea. You can be married at Christmas! Oh, Mary!" She hugged her sister, who gave Matthew a wry look over her shoulder.
"It's up to Matthew," she said.
"No, Mary. It's your decision."
"What's Mary's decision?" Isobel greeted Sybil, cheerfully took a cocktail and smiled at the three of them.
"Granny's wedding scheme." Mary replied.
Isobel shrugged. "Well, it's quite tidy, isn't it?" She looked to Matthew. "A quiet church wedding with just the family, and an opportunity to clear the air. And I think you might want it done quickly." Her eyes met her son's over the top of the glass, and he had the grace to blush slightly at her look.
Mary had been right. Debating Sybil was a full-time occupation at dinner, which he enjoyed tremendously, even if it left him a little exhausted by the time the pudding was finished. She had always been passionate, but now, just one term into university, she was incredibly well-informed and nuanced in her arguments. Then again, he thought, so was Mary, who had pointed out holes in several of Sybil's ideas.
She was seated with his mother, laughing about something, and it made him happy to see the two women he loved best in the world so close. He turned back to Sybil, who was gleefully recalling a lecture on Malthus. "University suits you," he said.
"It's wonderful." Her eyes were shining. "If you'd told me four years ago this is what I'd be doing, I wouldn't have believed you. But now I can't imagine myself doing anything else."
"Are you sticking with politics?"
"I like economics, actually. We'll see." She looked over at Mary. "You must send Lily to school, she'll be so much better prepared than I ever was. Thank heaven for Papa and his Latin obsession, but my mathematics... " Her eyes rolled.
"Why did your father and Mary fall out so badly?"
Sybil's face fell. "Papa wants to fix it. Mary's just so..."
"Unforgiving?"
"No, Mary forgives. She doesn't forget, though. Ever. Edith can tell you that."
"But why was it so bad?"
Sybil glanced over at Mary and her voice dropped. "After it went through Parliament, he tried to apologize, and she wouldn't accept it. I think she took issue with the reasons Murray gave."
"What were they?"
Sybil shook her head. "No, that's Mary's story. Not mine. Back to Lily. You and I must stand firm on this. Whatever it takes, if you need me as your co-counsel on the case. A real school for Lily, no matter what."
He raised his glass and they toasted the agreement. "I'm not sure Mary will ever let her out of her sight. But we've got years yet to talk her into it."
"I'm so glad," Sybil grasped his arm. "I'm so sorry about Lavinia, but I'm glad you and Mary found each other again, and that Mary's been like a mother for Lily."
He smiled at her. "Thank you." He looked over at Mary, whose eyes met his and the smile on her face took his breath away. "But, you see, she isn't like a mother. Lily will know who Lavinia was. I shan't let her forget her, just as I won't. But Mary is Lily's mother."
"Is that why you're getting married?"
"No," he said. "I love Mary and I can't imagine my future without her."
"That simple?" she said wistfully.
"Love is anything but simple," he said. "Especially with Mary."
They walked up the stairs as they had the night before, slowly, arm in arm, only this time it was not the unknown that pulsed around them, but rather the known, the need that had not stopped coursing through him all day, and from the way she caressed his cheek as he rested briefly on the landing, he could tell she felt the same way.
The upstairs hallway was as it was the night before, lights low, with Smith and Campbell at their respective posts, only as they crested the top step, Mary gave a barely perceptible nod and the two disappeared into the bedrooms, leaving Matthew and Mary alone. And it was as if this had been going on for years as he kissed her, as if every night for a dozen years they had dined together and walked upstairs together as husband and wife. "We need to remember to actually get married," she whispered. "Because it feels like we already are."
He smiled against her mouth. "So what about marrying at Downton at Christmas? Just family?" She didn't answer, and he continued. "The other option is St. Peter's, of course, but we've only got three weeks before Christmas, and Cousin Violet's paved the way for us with the banns. Either way, we're unmarried by the time we get to Downton. Unless..."
"A special license?" She did not look at him.
"My family is here," he said quietly. "I just don't want you to regret anything." Her head tipped into his chest and he pulled her even closer. "Mary, do you think you can ever fix things with your father?"
It was a full minute before she could calm her voice enough to answer. "Even in the face of having to hand over his estate to a another total stranger, he still didn't think I should have it, still didn't think it could be done. It only took three months." She paused, her voice cracking again. "Three months, and no one even batted an eyelash in Parliament, and if you think for one minute it was because of my connections now, my solicitors had so many plans for so many contingencies, and it turned out they didn't need any of them. They hadn't yet found a living descendant, I'd been asked to pay the taxes, and just like that, the whole thing was done. And I couldn't speak to him again after that, because..." She tucked her head against his shoulder so he could not see her eyes. "The argument Murray made on behalf of my father was that the entail should remain in place because a childless widow was a worse option. God knows who she would marry and then where would the estate be? Or if she didn't marry? I wasn't a publisher, a property owner, an independent person to them. I was just... a woman who couldn't be trusted." She sucked in a half-sob, and his arms tightened around her.
"Mary," he said softly. "Do you really believe your father thinks that?"
"It doesn't matter," she replied. "Now you're home, and all is as it should be in Lord Grantham's eyes, and I suppose Granny's right. We're family and we don't have to like each other, but we should at least be on speaking terms."
"It does matter." He stroked her cheeks, kissed her eyes, her cheek, her lips, lingeringly, breathing her in for a moment. "My dear, he's hurt you terribly, but I think you need to hear each other out."
"Why?" She rested her forehead against his for a moment.
"Because," he said slowly. "I've only known my daughter for two days and even thinking there might come a time when she wouldn't speak to me rips me to pieces."
He could not tell if it was a sob or a laugh that broke from her. "You are a good lawyer. Downton it is, then." She kissed him again. "Come to me tonight?"
Now, nearly three weeks later, as the train sped north to Downton, Matthew could tell she was still uncertain. She was as jumpy as a cat after two days of being unusually quiet and distracted, as distinctly unlike herself as anything Matthew had seen. His mother was watching her like a hawk, seemingly as worried about her state of mind as he was.
They were all in the first class compartment together, a tight fit, but Mary had refused to allow any of their party to travel in open cars with other passengers, citing the Spanish flu. His new valet Armstrong had gone ahead to take care of the heavy luggage, leaving them with Anna.. Smith, he would have to remember to call her.. the nanny, his mother, and Sybil, who was entertaining Lily merely by being Sybil and telling her about Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations. Mary was staring out the window, her face shifting constantly in thought, and he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and smooth away the worry from her eyes.
They would marry in a week, the Monday after Christmas, and he was not sure how he would stand being physically apart from her until then. He had thought the passion would cool after the first blinding days, but it had only intensified, burning them up night and day, as they shocked each other more and more with their mutual lack of concern about propriety. He found it impossible not to touch her whenever she walked by, and she found every excuse she could to drop a kiss on him. Twice they had been caught by Anna in her bedroom, and he was certain his mother was perfectly aware of their behavior, which should have disturbed him more than it did. Initially he believed it was the nearly six years of unrealized desire, coupled with the long stretch of abstinence they'd both known, but now he knew it was far deeper than that. She was embedded in him in some way, and he was a part of her, and something just wasn't right if they weren't together.
It had been a whirlwind three weeks, with wedding plans, work, which he was enjoying immensely, and Christmas shopping, which he did not enjoy quite as much. He had agonized over a perfect present for Mary, and the last place he expected to find it was at his club, but there it was, and now, after days of his mother helping to smuggle the perpetrator in and out of the nursery while Mary was out, it was finished and with the rest of the presents in the heavy luggage already at Downton. He could not wait to see her face when she opened it.
There were two cars waiting for them when they arrived, one for the luggage and servants, driven by a man neither Matthew nor Mary knew, and the other for them, driven by Edith.
"You should have a little uniform," Mary remarked as she kissed her sister's cheek.
"Oh, stop," Edith said companionably. "Come on then. They're not waiting outside today. It's too cold."
Carson was beside himself, or as beside himself as a butler of his great experience and standing could be when he laid eyes on Mary, who had done the unexpected and carried in Lily herself. "M'lady," came out with a little choke, and Mary's own eyes were a little wet. "Mrs. Crawley. Mr. Crawley. They're in the library."
"Thank you, Carson," she murmured, and let him lead the way.
Matthew watched as her shoulders tightened and he took her arm. "Ready?" he asked.
"No," she said. "But I won't ever be."
There was a great hubbub as they entered, with Cora's ebullient hello and hug, and Violet moving at shocking speed to kiss first Mary's cheek, then pat Matthew's arm in unabashed affection. "Welcome home, my boy," she said, surprising no one save Matthew, who was at a loss for words. "And hello, little one." Her hand stroked Lily's cheek, who responded with a dazzling smile. "The Crawley blue eyes. Look, Cora."
"Good trip, darling?" Cora murmured as she greeted her daughter. "You look so tired. Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." Her tone was slightly sharp, and Cora and Violet both looked at her with some concern. "Truly."
"My dear chap." Lord Grantham's voice rang out across the library. "Welcome home."
He could not help but be warmed a little by the man's enthusiasm, as angry as he was about what had happened while he was gone. Robert looked thinner, older, and as he shook Matthew's hand, a slight grimace of pain crossed his face. At first, Matthew thought it might be some illness or injury, but then Robert's shoulders tightened, exactly as his daughter's had, and he turned to face her.
"Welcome home, Mary."
In twenty days and nights with Mary, Matthew had seen the businesswoman, the lover, the mother, and the sister, but he had not seen this Mary and he had all but forgotten she existed. Her eyes, which only this morning were warm with love and desire as she curled up in his arms, were hard. No sweet smile softened the iron clench of her jaw. Disdain, fury, and coldness all swirled around her as she regarded her father. She spoke but three words, and to all present, it was perfectly clear she did not mean them.
"You're very kind," was all she said.
TBC
