PART FOUR: Reestablishments (One of Two)
Mr. and Mrs. Matthew Crawley settled into their bedroom that same night with unusual tension. Anna had come and gone; Matthew had quickly replaced his work clothes with comfortable, satin sleepwear. And as for Mary - as if the last thing on Matthew's mind were his pregnant wife - she perused a novel so intently that her husband's added weight when he got into their bed hardly caught her attention.
Sitting there feeling purposeless, the new father's mind ambled through the evening's proceeds: two celebratory matters, his and Mary's announcement, the family all there. The last of these pressured his vocal chords into piping up. "...Mary?"
His tone had been careful: perhaps too careful, because the woman's eyes did nothing but blink at the white pages before them. Impatience to discern his wife's frustration prompted Matthew to ask again: "My darling?"
Mary first simply looked up at him; he was beside her on her left, now caressing her hand in a conservative manner so as not to irk her. He understood his wife at this point, and God knew the absolute last thing he would do on purpose would be to evoke annoyance. After considering Matthew's request, Mary gave him her default smile. "Matthew," she responded.
"I wondered if - if anything bothered you earlier, seeing that you were a bit quiet throughout dinner." Sliding his hands away from hers pained him (after all, just today they they had discovered the truth for which both had yearned and waited), but he wanted her to know how seriously he desired to hear her internal conflict. And then Matthew suddenly felt lightheaded, causing him to cringe whilst he supported his head with his hand.
The abrupt turn of events alarmed Mary. "Are you all right? Matthew, is there anything -"
"Water, please," breathed the man, his body flattening out as he eased underneath the bedcovers. He repeated, "I need water."
"I know why you're suddenly taken ill," assured Mary as she hurried out of bed to pour a glass. "You hardly ate at dinner. I watched almost the entire time; you would simply continue to devote your time to conversation." She neared his side of the bed with the glass of water and gestured for him to sit up to drink. "Here."
After he drank half of the glass, Matthew handed it back to Mary. "You hardly talked, on the other hand. What was on your mind?"
"Please don't worry," replied his wife boldly. "Now, do get some sleep so that nasty headache leaves you."
Her answer upset Matthew greatly. "My darling, you can't keep these things that bother inside your head. I'm here to listen and to encourage. Not to forget love."
"It works the other way, too," reminded Mary. "So I'd be burdening you were I to tell you."
"So there surely is something." It felt good to Matthew to make such a declaration, but Mary shrugged and pulled herself back under the bedcovers. Reading appealed to her at this moment, if it could appease Matthew's eagerness to drain out her sorrows.
Of course, he wouldn't let a book hinder him. "Mary, nothing will stop me. I don't mean to be obnoxious, truly. But so much has happened today, and I'm afraid it frightens me a little." Although she did not move, Mary's eyes froze on a particular sentence in the novel that begun, "And, forgetting that concern comes before the resolve of any conflict that would ever arise between them..."
"...All I am trying to convey to you," continued Matthew softly, "is how much I love you, and how much I wish to help. Now, especially."
In a moment too fleeting for Mary to comprehend, her entire tune altered. She sensed the genuine nature of her husband's words, and it comforted her. As if a barrier had broken from between them, Mary put down the book and turned to face Matthew directly in the eyes.
"I don't think I've told Isobel how ardently I appreciate and love her."
...
Crawley House rose to the overcast sky that sulked above it. Sunshine was hardly a word that morning after the birthday celebration, though to Mary and Matthew - who had just arrived in front of Isobel's home - rich enthusiasm encompassed the space around them. Their talk the previous night had resulted in their decision to arrive unexpectedly for a visit with Matthew's mother.
"My, what a surprise!" exclaimed Isobel, who had opened the front door to find her son and daughter-in-law standing in good cheer. "Do come in, but I must ask what brings you here."
"Talking," replied Matthew, beaming at his mother before leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Mother, we don't require anything to eat or to drink."
"Mary," Isobel greeted the young woman, motioning for Mary to come through the entryway and into the living room. "It's so lovely to see you again. Please, sit."
"Thank you, Isobel," acknowledged Mary politely, her voice bearing a sort of confidence that communicated warmth to her mother-in-law. Matthew could tell the two were getting along beautifully already.
Once the three were seated comfortably, Matthew questioned his wife, "Would you like to begin, my darling?"
"Only if you'll consider it a mere confession, and not a plea to God for mercy," Mary told him with light humour. Isobel smiled and promised, "We won't judge your speech, my dear."
Mary cleared her throat and began: "Yesterday, Isobel, Matthew and I were far from earth in joyous thought. We were honoured and blessed to have you and the rest of the family there with us to celebrate both occasions. But with regard to the library... Matthew and I are not upset by it. We love you - I'm sure you know your son well enough to predict that he loves his mother - but as for me..."
"You're very kind, my dear, and I myself predict your next words," Isobel admitted quietly. She looked fervently at her daughter-in-law, seeing in those dark brown eyes the sincerity of her intent for visiting. In Mary's face Isobel perceived the longing that the young woman felt on account of making amends with her mother-in-law; and Isobel adored that. But she made it clear to Mary that no such speech was necessary.
"When Matthew told me he was going to marry you," Isobel proceeded, "I couldn't believe my ears. Not because it was hard to imagine, after the war and what even happened before that. But I was rather beside myself with elation because I had the feeling that you and my son would finally be married. And then the wedding drew near, and you never quite lost sight of the words, 'Thank you, Cousin Isobel.'"
"Mary still called you 'Cousin'?" Matthew questioned, his lips forming a smile. Mary would have chuckled, had she not been on the verge of crying. She was touched by Isobel's generous portrayal of her, ever still disbelieving she - Mary Crawley, to herself the epitome of failure and of unkindness - deserved none of what her mother-in-law imparted. Nevertheless, Mary allowed Isobel to continue.
"Anyway, I want you to be assured that I know you are appreciative and that you care... Just please don't forget that I do."
"Of course," whispered Mary. She leaned over to embrace Isobel tightly, clinging to the moment for as long as possible. Matthew reverently looked at his lap, grinning all the more for the sake of both women whom he loved, each uniquely and fervently.
