A/N : Terribly sorry for the long delay. I travelled a little and then all the school work caught up with me. Holidays are coming soon so I'll try to update again before Christmas. Enjoy this chapter and please tell me what you think. I do not own Downton or the characters etc.

Chapter 7

When Matthew knocked at the Dower House on Wednesday, he still had absolutely no idea why Lady Grantham wanted to see him. It surely seemed like a strange thing, that she would like to talk to him, and that such an invitation came up after the disastrous dinner of the previous week.

During the past days Matthew had tried not to think about what happened during the dinner too often. There was no point really. Even if he would think about it day and night, he wouldn't be able to change the facts. It was too late. So he tried to occupy himself as best as he could. He read, he took long walks in the crispy white snow. The woods were particularly beautiful at this time of the year.

But his mind always ended up wandering to Mary. And in those moments he didn't know how to feel. A part of him wanted to smile, because she was beautiful, because of her laugh, because of the kisses they shared, in another life it seemed. But another part of him wanted to scream, to break something, because she would most definitely never be his. Not now. And he missed her, so terribly much.

Matthew didn't even know why he was so surprised by the turning of events. Every single person that meant something to him, that he ever loved, had been taken away from him.

The door finally opened and Matthew was led upstairs. Before he could even realise it, he found himself in the drawing room where the Dowager Countess was waiting for him.

"Mr. Hartley, I'm glad you came. Please come and sit." She said pointing at the settee in front of her.

"Thank you for inviting me Lady Grantham." Matthew replied, sitting down where he was told.

"Well, Mr. Hartley, there is some things I would like to talk to you about. But only if you're going to be honest with me, or else there is no point at all." Said Violet very seriously.

What could she possibly want to talk about that seemed so important Matthew wondered. To be honest it made him quite nervous. This was Mary's grandmother after all. Could she know what they had done? "As a lawyer I'm quite fond of the truth Lady Grantham. I do promise to be as honest as I can." He finally answered, seriously.

"This might not please you, but now that you promised." Continued Violet with a glint in her eye. "May I know what is going on between you and Mary?"

Well, that was straight to the point thought Matthew. "I, I'm not sure what you mean." He replied, panicked, rubbing his hands together, trying to calm is nerves.

"I am not blind Mr Hartley, and I know my granddaughter." She paused a moment, looking intently at him. "Do you have feelings for her Mr Hartley?"

Matthew surely wasn't expecting such a question. Not so directly anyway. He probably looked terribly foolish. After a moment, he looked down at his feet "You see, I care for her very much Lady Grantham." He paused, taking a deep breath. "I think I do, have feelings for her I mean." What was the point in lying?

And he did. He couldn't deny it anymore. He realized it only a few days ago, when it finally sank in that she would never be his. She was marrying someone else, he didn't stand a chance, but he liked her very much… he loved her. Surely that was it. He loved her.

"I see." Violet replied slowly. This young man surely had the merit of being honest. He meant it; she could see it, even though she already had an idea of his answer. She was watching them during the New Year Party, especially him, when James announced their upcoming wedding. The look on his face had told her everything she needed to know.

"And what do you intend to do about it?" Continued Violet.

"I can't do anything about it anymore."

"Mr Hartley, it is no secret that James has never been my favourite. But I wouldn't push Mary towards anybody else if I knew it wasn't the best thing for her. I care for my granddaughter very much, but I believe she's making the wrong choice."

"What do you mean? Even if she was not engaged to someone else, she would never choose someone like me Lady Grantham." Matthew replied convinced of what he was saying.

"Are you certain?" Asked Violet looking at him square in the eyes. "Mr Hartley, maybe if she knew that you are not exactly who you are pretending to be…" Violet tried to explain before Matthew interrupted her.

"If you're talking about my parents money Lady Grantham. I don't care to know how you found out. Honestly I don't. But I don't want to have anything to do with that money, not now, not ever." He didn't mind her knowing. Truly he didn't, but that stupid money, the money that got his parents killed.


He was 18 when it all happened, when his life changed forever, irrevocably. He remembers all the details so clearly. As if it all happened yesterday really. Except it had been years, memories of his parents sometimes fading away in the distance, inexplicably. Every time he tried to keep them close, to catch them, to stop them from escaping his mind. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not.

He was 18 when it all happened. He was at school, in another city; packing is bags with avidity, ready to go home for the holidays. And that's when the news came in. He remembers one if his teacher, his favourite one, coming into his room. He did not look him in the eyes. How odd. And then he told him.

Thieves. House. Parents. Gunshots. Money. Gone.

He hated that money. Without all that money his parents wouldn't have died. He wanted nothing to do with it.

He remembers going home, a policeman at his side. "Just in case" they said.

The silence was deafening. The air was so heavy he thought he was going to suffocate.

He remembers the tears, the funerals and everyone's pity. He couldn't care less for their pity. Apparently his story was too tragic.

So when he went back to school where nobody knew the real reason (a miracle if you ask him) he told everyone it was a car accident. A simple accident, and it was less tragic somehow. They told him they were sorry. He was too.

But he still hated that money. Still associated it with their deaths. So he never used it.


"That would be all right I guess." They were now drinking tea. She asked him to tell her to story, and so he did. He knew she would have found out the truth anyway, she already knew for the money. And in exchange she told him things, about James, that perhaps he'll be able to use at his advantage at some point. "Do you have a plan Lady Grantham?"

"I do have a plan." Violet replied simply.

"And may I know what it is?" Inquired Matthew.

"It's quite simple my boy, you need to make her understand that there is another option. She never had the liberty to choose. Everything has always been imposed on her. You make her understand that and I'll play my part." She concluded happily.

"You seem very confident Lady Grantham." Replied Matthew, smiling.

"I am. Be convincing. I'm sure you can do that."


Matthew decided to walk home. So much had happened within the last hour. This meeting turned out to be quite interesting. After he had told Mary's grandmother about his parents, they discussed the subject for a little while, coming to an understanding of some sort. And then there was the plan.

He couldn't possibly know if it was going to work. But there was someone willing to help him. He couldn't say no to that. And he would be a fool not to try anything at all. Mary was worth it, he knew it, could feel it.

He loved her. And he would fight for her.

The fact that he came to that conclusion really was a big step for him. He spent the last few years avoiding human contacts in general, going to work and then going home. No parties, no rendez-vous. He spent years thinking that he would never be able to fall in love, to have his own family. The only thought of losing someone else always present. But she had barged into his life, knocking on his door. And then it was too late. He started caring for that woman, for Mary. And he just couldn't stop. He was in to deep he realized.


Hot alcohol-smelling breath on her neck, wet lips tracing down an unwanted path. She couldn't move, his grip on her too tight, possessive. You are mine. No words were needed. She understood perfectly, he had made his point enough times tonight. Never do that again. Threatening, always threatening. Fingers were squeezing her upper arm, marking her skin. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't. She couldn't. No words, no sounds were coming out of her mouth. She tried to move away. Even harder, his fingers… his lips, she wanted them away. Never again, Mary.

She woke up, sitting herself upright in her bed. A cold layer of sweats making her shiver. It was the third night in a row…

This was completely ridiculous. Her brain needed to stop playing tricks on her while she slept. She only wanted to stop thinking about it. Was it too much to ask?

She tried to go back to sleep. It did not work. She rolled over. Still, sleep did not come.

It all happened last week, after the New Year Party. The guests had left, the rest of the family gone to bed for the night. He was quite drunk. She hated it, every second.

The whole thing was so frustrating. She hated it but there was nothing she could do about it. They were getting married. She would be a good wife, she would.

She would save Downton.

She got up, wrapped herself into a blanket and went to the settee next to the window. She wrapped herself up comfortably and sat. It was snowing a little, snowflakes falling effortlessly to the ground. Everything seemed so peaceful out there.

She stayed there for a while. Enjoying the silence. She could see the edge of the wood in the distance, Matthew was somewhere in that direction, in his cottage. She found herself wondering about what he was doing. Was he awake too?

It was so wrong to be thinking about him when she knew very well that she shouldn't. But she couldn't help it. And sometimes she wondered, what if...

But she would always stop herself immediately. Such thoughts were... they were silly. Completely silly...