A/N. Thank you so much for the reviews! It's lovely to get positive feedback, motivates me to update regularly. Promise! So here's the last chapter for today, but it's the longest so far. Enjoy!

Chapter VII.

Matthew had steeled himself upon entering the grand house, his future estate.

Until then, it still had the effect of a holy place on him, not so much for its own grandeur, but for what was sitting inside it.

He vaguely wondered what she might feel in anticipation of seeing him again.

Was she as nervous as he was, as impatient and yet terrified.

How could he possibly be perspiring in this arctic climate?

In the hallway, the footmen came to relieve them of coats and hand luggage. He barely heard Lavinia's praise over the splendour of the impressive hall.

"This way, if you please." Carson said, indicating to the main hall, where all the household staff was assembled to one side, and the family a bit closer to the fire place.

"Captain Napier! Matthew! Welcome back!" Lord Grantham said, bursting forth to shake hands with them.

Likewise, Sybil sprang forth and kissed her father on the cheek.

"Papa! I've missed you!" she said, the joy of reunion plain on her face. Matthew had tried not to peek, but his eyes had disobeyed him and sought out the figure of Mary Crawley, draped in a black gauze dress, standing tall and elegant between her mother and sister.

She did not look at him. Her eyes were on Napier, who came to kiss her hand.

"There you go, my darling. I promised you, I'd be back for Christmas."

She rewarded him with a smile, genuine but oddly tense.

"The way I recall it, Mr. Napier, you promised me the war would be over by Christmas." Mary said, her voice not nearly light enough to be teasing. Napier chuckled nevertheless.

"Not quite what I said, love. I promised you'd have me back by Christmas and I..."

To Matthew's amusement, Sybil had unceremoniously pushed aside Evelyn Napier to embrace her sister.

Could it be possible that this woman had grown even more beautiful during the war years?

While everyone else had lost weight and looks, Mary had bloomed into womanhood.

Now that he was looking at her properly, Matthew noticed everything.

Her hair was still a mass of chocolatey lustre on her head, though she wore it differently now. Her face was just as perfect, as bright and rosy as years ago. Her brown eyes, darker than the night, were momentarily dancing with joy at seeing her little sister.

Most people had grown rather gaunt and care-worn during war time. He himself had lost his boyish roundedness, had become tough and hardened by the years of battle and life in the trenches.

God, she was beautiful, he could not control the way his eyes would roam over her soft curves, the way her breathing made her chest rise and fall or slight parting of her lips as she listened to her sister's words.

Without warning, he felt a sharp surge of unbidden desire. He exhaled, as if he'd received a punch. This was not appropriate.

But by God, they could not have developed anymore differently.

Whereas he looked like the living-dead, a soldier, war-weary and haunted, she was full warm-blooded life itself.

What was more, she seemed genuinely happy next to Evelyn Napier. Her hand rested on his arm.

Matthew blinked quickly, fighting against the all too familiar bite of jealousy. He could afford none of that now.

"Matthew, how wonderful to have you back home, safe and sound!" Cora said, reaching out her hand.

It took about a split second too long for him to rip his eyes off Mary and react to her mother's kind words of welcome.

"Ah, yes...thank you very much, Cousin Cora. I'm glad to be back...home." he added, with a wry smile.

Was it his home, he still didn't know...

Lord Grantham was just busy introducing Lavinia to the staff, assigning Ethel to take care of her during her stay.

Staff members eyed her rather curiously, all of them aware that they were introduced to their future mistress.

When he turned around again, he jumped.

Mary was standing in front of him, closer than he had been to her in three agonizing years.

Up close, he did notice some very slight lines around her eyes, the only indication that she may not have been so unfrayed by the war as he had believed.

Somehow, perhaps only to him, those lines made her even more beautiful, adding a brilliant warmth to her features, especially when she smiled, as she did then.

"Welcome home, Cousin Matthew." she said in her perfectly polite voice.

"Thank you." he replied rather stiffly and took her hand.

The touch of his care-worn hand on her soft fingers made Mary's heart thump wildly.

Their eyes locked in shock for a split-second, as if an electric current was running through them, from one's flesh to the other and back.

Mary did her best to compose herself, to keep her countenance.

She had watched him with her parents from a safe distance and what she had seen deeply disturbed her.

Was this her Matthew? The blonde, jovial Matthew, round faced and gentle...

Not anymore. He had lost his puppy-dog appearance entirely. Of course, he would have grown thinner, she had already seen it last spring.

His floppy blonde hair was sleeked back very accurately, and oddly darkened, suggesting it rarely saw the sun. His face also appeared sharper, harsh and set, as if his jaw was locked in perpetual tension.

Yet, the most disconcerting change was in his eyes. Mary had very likely fallen in love with Matthew's eyes the moment she had met him, back when he would still look at her with a mixture of hopeful adoration and timid awe. Like a little boy who saw a firework for the first time...

He did not have that look in his beautiful blue eyes when she stood in front of him now.

It was something else entirely, far more intense.

A haunted look, almost frightening, as if his eyes wanted to tell her something desperately, but were brutally restrained from it.

"Tea is served. Shall we go into the drawing room?" Cora interrupted and led the way, one arm draped around her youngest daughter.

Polite conversation ensued over tea. Matthew mostly talked to Robert, inquiring after the estate and the village.

All three men studiously refrained from discussing the trenches in front of the Ladies, saving the horrors of war for until after dinner.

"Tell us everything about London. How is my aunt? Have you gone to many social events?"

Edith asked, addressing both Sybil and Lavinia, who sat perched next to Mary, looking uneasy.

"I still work in a large hospital in Westminster. The things I've seen there were quite gruesome, but it also opened my eyes to..." Sybil stopped upon seeing her mother's face.

"Please, Sybil dear. Must we talk of hospitals now? I'm sure there were more pleasant diversions in London than giving medical aid."

Mary couldn't agree. "Don't listen. We're proud of your work. It's not for everyone to be so selfless and unfazed at the sight of misery."

Sybil smiled at Mary, grateful for her support.

"I must agree with you, Lady Grantham. There were more appropriate diversions for us, but it has all become rather gloomy." Lavinia said to Cora.

Before anyone could react, Carson entered. "Milord, the Dowager Countess of Grantham and Mrs. Crawley have arrived."

Lavinia turned a delicate shade of green. She did not particularly like Matthew's pushy mother and from all accounts, the Dowager Countess was a dragon, who was likely to snub her.

Isobel embraced her son heartily, never minding social graces.

For the first time that night, Mary saw a glimpse of the old gentle Matthew when he kissed his mother on the cheek. This furtive display of affection pained her more than she allowed herself to admit.

Dinner was served and to Matthew's surprise and delight, his mother had not exaggerated when she wrote that Cousin Violet and herself have become quite friendly of late. Their joined efforts for the village and the war must have brought the two unlikely women together after all.

Conversation flowed easily between people who had not seen each other in a while.

Lady Grantham questioned Sybil about London and Aunt Rosamund's salon.

Isobel was delighted with Sybil's efforts on the medical front and asked about new treatments.

Edith was quite taken with Lavinia, for various reasons. They appeared to share an interest in all things Mary detested, from extensive shopping tours at Harrod's to plum pudding.

Her father, Evelyn and Matthew were discussing military statistics, while her mother mercilessly joined in the older Ladies' cross examination of poor Sybil.

Mary felt alone in a room full of people.

She pushed the braised beef around on her plate, feeling unable to eat in his presence, despite being hungry. She caught snippets of conversations, all of which seemed dull and insipid to her.

"...we saw this darling set of china, a rosebud pattern..."

"Dear me, in my days, chloroform has only been used by women on unwanted kittens."

"Molesley said that nearly all tickets have been sold for the Dance. I dare say it's quite a success."

"..no, no, I hear that Jones had been assigned to another regiment..."

She was about to give into her urge to get up and excuse herself with a headache, when she noticed a full plate on the other side of the table, as untouched as her own.

When her eyes rose up to the person who sat behind it, she froze.

Matthew was staring at her.

After a shocked second or two, both averted their eyes.

How long had he been looking? Mary blushed furiously, so much so that Evelyn leaned over to her and whispered gently: "Are you that happy to see me, my darling?"

She smiled at him, whispering back, "Ohh..don't flatter yourself, darling."

When he cocked an eyebrow, she added softly,"„A Lady should always exhibit exactly three-quaters of the joy shown by her suitor at a reunion...regardless of how much she actually feels."

Evelyn laughed out loud and Mary's blush returned. She had meant to tease him, of course, but not for him to make a spectacle. Everyone was looking at them.

Violet pursed her lips and Edith, reliable as always, said loudly, "Really, Mary...what stories are you telling Mr. Napier? We could all do with a good laugh."

Mary glared at her sister for a second, then smiled again. "Merely the rules of etiquette we've been taught at Lady Sutton's School in London...if you recall any of it."

Evelyn still looked as if he had just heard the best joke in a long time.

"I must say it is quite reassuring to know that young Ladies learn to employ a sense of mathematical estimation in their behaviour towards gentlemen."

Lord and Lady Grantham chuckled politely, as did Miss Swire, who thought it wise to blend in with her future relatives.

Matthew's face was drawn, out-glowering even the Dowager Countess herself.

Unlike the rest of the party, he had heard every single word Mary had whispered to Napier.

Through Robert's low murmur about army stats, Cousin Violet's lamentations about modern medicine and Lavinia's somewhat nervous chatter, Mary's voice, speaking so quietly and gently, had sounded like a beautiful and long unheard song to his ears.

It resonated through the room, painfully taunting, because her sweet teasing words were not meant for him. She was telling her fiancé how much she had missed him.

Matthew swallowed hard. And Napier, the undeserving fool, was laughing about it. He did not understand her meaning at all...

Sybil for her part, was offended.

"And what is so funny about a woman applying mathematics in her daily routine?" she wondered. "It's certainly not our fault we are taught uselessness by governesses or at finishing school. If more women were to attend university, we would have more female scientists or economists or politicians..."

The Dowager Countess coughed and sprayed half a glass of Grenache over her lilac taffetta dress.

Cora, who had been ready to reproof her youngest child any second now, looked relieved.

"Oh my dear, are you alright? Here, have another napkin. Carson, we need a second plate for Lady Grantham."

But Violet Crawley had composed herself quickly. "No, no. Don't bother, Carson. I've quite lost my appetite. Let it not be said that I'm unqualified to economize with my dinner.

Sybil knew better than to be stubborn and press the matter. Instead she patted her grandmother's arm and said, "There, there, Granny. You know, I'm just talking. Times are changing so much, we just can't help moving with it. No need have an argument about it tonight."

Robert smiled at Sybil, thinking she had grown up rather fast. There was a time when she would have made a scene at the dinner table.

It was Mrs. Crawley who had the good sense to introduce a new topic. "I agree, there are more pressing matters at hand. We had just been discussing the Charity Dance. Molesley had been so kind to organize the ticket sale for us and happily people had been very generous."

Mary looked relieved at the change of topic and smiled, truly delighted about the success of their little cause. "That's wonderful news." she agreed.

Matthew noticed the change in Mary's demeanour, how her face was glowing happily in the soft lights of the candelabras. More lovely than Matthew had ever remembered her.

Evelyn took her hand and pressed it briefly to his lips, so quickly that the gesture went nearly unnoticed.

The dull ache in Matthew's broken heart, usually sedated by the horrors of war, burst into a full-fledged pain, so intense he felt his stomach clench and sweat break out on the back of his back.

Trying his best to ignore it, he took a liberal swig of wine.

Thankfully, the women thought it best to move into the drawing room for further discussion of ball related issues.

William served Scotch to the gentlemen. Matthew made sure he didn't drink too much, despite the sudden despair he felt.

Anything that made him loosen his tongue or shortened his temper would momentarily be more perilous than a walk in 'No Man's Land'.