The cuts had been tended to and Matthew got up to leave. Mary had hidden herself away in her room. Matthew had shown great courage yet she felt unworthy of it. She had given away her most prized possession to a man out of boredom. The fact that Matthew had defended her honor made her smile yet it was tempered by the fact that he had also swung his fists for Lavinia. The dead would forever haunt them. For her it was Mr. Pamuk, for Matthew it was Lavinia.
Isobel wasn't going to let Reginald haunt her, not that he would. When she did think of him she let herself remember times good and bad. Nostalgia could be a dangerous sentiment. Not everything in her marriage was rosy and it would be foolish not to remember. She still worried about Matthew, while he had finally followed her advice and had fought there was still an unresolved element.
The next morning saw the departure of Sir Richard Carlilse. Matthew was hopeful that Mary would come to him, that they could start to be with one another yet she stayed away. The news of stay of execution lifted everyone's spirits and the servants ball was to be held. Isobel was going to go and Doctor Clarkson also had been invited to attend-for the servants.
Watching Carson and Mrs. Hughes dance with Lord Robert and Lady Cora had Isobel wanting to run. While she and Richard were lovers it seemed insulting to pair them up to dance somehow. Richard was dressed for the occassion and he drew near to her and extended his hand. They too joined the mass of dancing bodies.
Matthew saw Mary loittering and asked her to dance.
"Are you sure you want to dance with me?" She asked.
"I don't want to dance with O'Brien" came his soft reply and she emitted a sharp laugh before clamping her mouth shut.
As she came into his arms both of them remembered their last dance, where they each stole a kiss from each other.
"I noticed Sir Richard had gone this morning."
"Yes he returned to London."
Matthew couldn't help but smile at this fact.
Mary stuttered, "I'll be leaving too."
Matthew tensed, "When?"
"When I can square everything away with grandmama." She delivered.
"Are you sure it's what you want?"
She shrugged, "What I want is to avoid a scandal."
Mary ploughed on, "Sybil ran off and married a chauffeur, I've slept with a diplomat, and Papa's valet is a murderer."
Matthew rolled his eyes, "Sybil is making a life in Ireland with a journalist, what happened to you is gossip, and Bates has been stayed his from execution and we will overturn it."
Shaking her head Mary sighed, "I have to go."
Pulling her closer Matthew spoke, "There is always going to be a scandal or some sort, there are always secrets."
"you don't have any secrets" She fired back.
Matthew moved them closer to a corner, "Not anymore, you know everything well…" he trailed off.
Mary's head shot up and Matthew weighed his options and decided to tell her. "My mother and Doctor Clarkson are close, I believe they will marry."
Mary was confused, "Why are you telling me this?"
Matthew huffed a breath, this was more trying that he thought it would be. "It's the only secret I have and it could lead to scandal. What would they say of the mother of the future earl of Grantham marrying a common doctor?"
Indignation fired in Mary, "She can marry whoever she wants!"
Matthew had been waiting for this his face showing his eagerness, "Exactly!"
The quartet had stopped and Mary took her leave, she went outside into the snow. Was he truly asking what she thought? Or was it her desperate hope? Matthew had followed her, "Would you stay if I asked you to?"
Mary's heart hammered in her chest for it was more than she could dare to believe. She was going to follow her heart.
Isobel and Richard had left the Abbey, bundled warm they walked through the Village. Their breath's were visible as they walked along the path.
With the snow falling everything was quiet, only the soft crunch of their feet along the path made any noise.
"Would you come with me to Manchester?" She asked him.
Richard increased the pressure of his hand on hers in reassurance, "Of course, may I ask why though?"
"Reginald is buried there." Was all she said.
She didn't need to say anything further, her vow to him was one that never should have been made and she was going to dissolve it properly. Two weeks later Reginald Crawley's grave had fresh flowers on it. Isobel had come to terms with the fact that the vow she had forswore upon his death was a vow that no one should keep. Richard stood by her side as she lovingly swept off his gravestone, speaking to him. One of his hands she held as the other continued to brush over Reginald's tombstone. "Hello Reginald, this is Richard."
