Disclaimer: I do not own Downton Abbey
I don't know if an A/N is really necessary, this chapter is self explanatory! I promise you won't hate me too much ;)
"Thank god they are ok," Matthew heard his mother breathe and he immediately walked into the sitting room hopefully.
"Who are you talking to?" he asked wearily.
"Edith dear," Isobel said softly. "The doctor has been to see Elizabeth and Theodore seeing as they have visited just the other day. He will follow up but it seems as though they have no symptoms." Matthew nodded and collapsed on a chair.
"Oh," he managed to mutter and put his face in his hands.
"Our Lily is strong," Isobel said fervently, grabbing her sons hands almost harshly. "Do not give up. Do not give up on her." Matthew's head snapped up.
"Do you think that is what I am doing? Giving up on her," he whispered. "I'd never give up, I'd fight for her, hope for her, and I'd give up MY life for her."
"Papa," he heard Bertie call. The eight year old came out from behind the door.
"Bertie," Matthew sighed. "What are you doing awake?" Although he spent some part of his days at Downton, he spent his nights at Crawley house. It did not feel right, sleeping in bed without Mary in their own bed, fully aware of where she was and why.
"Is Lily going to die," Bertie asked.
"Why on earth would you say that?" Isobel bit her lip.
"I heard one of the village people saying it yesterday, when we were outside," Bertie informed him. "Everyone knows Lily has scarlet fever and one of them just said it is a shame that she's going to die. William told me not to believe them but-"
"And he was right to," Matthew nodded. "Lily is not leaving us yet."
"Yet," Bertie gulped. "But she still could."
"Pray for her my boy," Matthew sighed. "Your Mama and Dr. Clarkson are taking very good care of her, now we must do our part and pray."
"But I never got to say goodbye," Bertie choked out. Matthew sighed and got to his feet to embrace his son.
"And you promptly will never have to," Matthew gulped. "Now go to bed son."
"Do you have a picture of her?" he asked. "I promise I'll give it back but, I want something to pray over." Matthew nodded and had his son follow him up to his old room. There were two guest rooms, the first had been used by Sybil the first few days until Tom used this as a sign that Sybil was much older now, and it was time for them to move into the agent's house. Tom did not choose his timing wisely, because now Mary and Matthew would have to find a tutor for the boys at a very short notice, but at the moment no one in the family felt like learning, or for Matthew, even breathing.
On his fireplace sat the picture. It had been taken recently and was not necessarily traditional. Although Lily was wearing a dress, bought by Cora, instead of a stoic expression they usually tried to make children have, Lily could not stop giggling that day. It had been her birthday and almost every photo they had gotten was blurry because she was moving so much. So when Mary and Matthew eventually got the picture, her curly haired was framed around her beautiful face that was so wide in a smile neither of them had the heart to get another taken. It was so Lily.
Would it be the last picture ever taken of her?
"Here son," Matthew said. "I'll come in and get it after you are asleep."
"Thank you Papa," Bertie smiled sadly before leaving and walking down the short hallway to the guest bedroom. Matthew followed much more slowly so Bertie wouldn't know he did so.
"Lord," he heard Bertie say. "Are you there? Because, my baby sister is very sick and I love her very much. I'm sorry for stealing William's watch the other day and please don't hold that against me when I ask you this," Bertie gulped. "Please help Lily live. Our family needs her and she needs us. So please…" If he said anymore Matthew didn't know, overwhelming sobs began to wrack his body and he snapped his hand over his mouth.
"Matthew," Isobel sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Oh Mother," Matthew cried and turned around to her embrace, crying on her shoulder.
"Shhh, shhh, it's okay," Mary whispered as she all but held her daughter up over the edge of her bed as she vomited into a basin. Dr. Clarkson watched Lady Mary with careful eyes. It was so like during the Great War when she rose to the challenge of becoming a volunteer to help with Matthew, and he watched as she demonstrated her skills as a mother though seldom in the village believe she would be a very good one. "Mama's here, Mama won't let anything happen to you my darling." Lily's body finally collapsed from fatigue and Mary laid her back on the bed.
"Mama," slipped past Lily's dry, cracked lips, but nothing more. Gently Mary stroked her cheek and forehead, her fingers feeling just how hot her head still was. It was only three days, but it felt like three weeks.
Gently Mary dabbed a cloth on the edge of the child's mouth to wipe off the sick that was still there and Lily's lips trembled against it before going still. Her whole body still. Mary allowed herself to lose composure for a second, wiped away a tear, before she straightened up, grabbing several cool towels and placing them on Lily's forehead and arms.
"Lady Mary, may I have a word," Clarkson said, and now got a full look of her appearance. Exhaustion radiated from her like waves. Her own cheeks were flushed, her eyes dull and surrounded by circles, she hadn't slept in days. With concern, he felt her pulse.
"It's Lily who is ill not me," she hissed. "What is it?"
"I just wanted to inform you that on the test I did earlier, when you were sleeping, on the chair I might add," his eyes were full of disapproval. "Her lungs sounded considerably clear."
"So she doesn't have pneumonia yet," Mary breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank heavens."
"Scarlet fever is not that cut and dry, she is not out of the woods yet," he reminded her.
"But it's a start," she sighed. "I'm going to ring Matthew tomorrow, I'm afraid I have been worrying him with my lack of communication. Some good news is better than no news at all to give him." She looked at Dr. Clarkson who looked down worriedly. "What is it?"
"I must go back to the village, many more children have begun to fall ill to it," Dr. Clarkson said.
"I'll be fine here," Mary said. "And so will Lily."
"You have become quite the nurse," he commented.
"I had to be, for the sake of my child I had to be," Mary told him confidently. "Now go, no other children should have to suffer because we are keeping you." Dr. Clarkson tipped his head to her, opening the door just as Anna was outside of it.
"Milady," she gasped in surprise. In her hands sat a tray of food. "We've made up a tray for dinner. Mrs. Patmore added some broth for Miss Lily, to see if she will try and have some."
"Thank you Anna, so very much," Mary smiled behind her mask, but Anna knew it was there. "Thank Mrs. Patmore for me as well."
"It is no trouble milady," Anna smiled back sadly. "We all want to see Miss Lily well."
"I know you do," Mary's eyes welled up with tears. "And that's what makes me so appreciative. My daughter seems to be more popular downstairs at three years old than I ever was."
"We're all praying for both of you milady," Anna told her.
"I cannot promise I will eat much," Mary informed her. "But it's very much appreciated. Now please go, we all may not catch it as easily as children but if anyone else falls ill in this house I will never forgive myself."
"Try to eat some," Anna emphasized, curtsied, and left the hall. Mary shut the door tightly behind her and turned to Lily who's eyes were still closed but Mary knew she was in too much pain from her throat and fever to sleep.
"Darling," she whispered, taking off the cloth's she previous laid on her. "Look what Mama has?" Lily didn't open her eyes. "Broth, do you think you can try and have some for me. I know you can't swallow well, but there is also water. Do you want to try that?" No response.
As careful as she could Mary brought her up to a sitting position and shook her gently.
"Lily please open your beautiful eyes for Mama," she practically begged and thankfully Lily did so.
"No," she whispered, shaking her head at the broth that was now in Mary's hand.
"Try for me sweet girl, please," Mary said. "It will feel good on your throat." A spoonful was brought to her lips and Lily opened her mouth timidly. She tried to swallow but she cried out in pain, spitting the contents in her mouth onto her nightgown and bed. "It's okay, it's okay. Try a little more darling please."
"No," she whimpered.
"Just swallow very slowly, tiny sips," Mary soothed. The look Lily gave her broke Mary's heart, but she was insistent. This time there was hardly any broth on the spoon and it went down Lily's throat with ease. "There, see that was not so bad." Mary managed to get two more spoonful's down before Lily refused.
"Papa?" Lily suddenly said and Mary gulped. Her fever had been so high the past few days that Lily had barely noted her father's absence. Today was her most conscious day and there was one man missing.
"Lily, Papa cannot be here right now."
"Does h-he not… love m-me any-"
"No," Mary said almost harshly. "He loves you very much Lily, it's just… only one of us can stay with you while you're sick." Lily closed her eyes. "And I know it's scary darling but he loves you so much and he wants to be here." She saw how her words were comforting. "William, Bertie, Grandmama, Grandpapa, Gran, everyone loves you very much and they can't wait to see you." Mary's voice dropped to a whisper. "You've survived this long Lily, you must fight, please keep fighting baby girl. Please." Lily was asleep, and now with her finally relaxed Mary lifted the nightgown off of her in order to clean her up.
Mary wanted to close her eyes as she looked at the telltale rash of the disease; particularly under her armpits, her neck, and the back of her legs. She looked so small bathed in red; it was so ironic because that was her favorite color. She felt Lily's head; it felt the same as before, which wasn't good.
She turned to another nightgown; she had asked her mother yesterday to buy more, because they were going through them quickly throughout the day as she threw up or dirtied them.
"You are my baby girl," Mary cried. "And I love you so much." A chill ran through Lily and Mary piled more blankets on top of her before disposing of her nightgown and looking at her tray. It was sandwiches but that was all Mary could stomach, it was so hard, so hard to watch her baby girl suffer.
"The sweetest little girl under this roof should not be suffering like this," Mrs. Hughes shook her head.
"I've sent up some broth, perhaps she'll try some," Mrs. Patmore mentioned.
"Mr. Barrow, you are rather quiet," Bates pointed out. Thomas was sitting down, staring into space.
"Well I don't want her to die, do I?" Thomas scowled. "Unless you're trying to say something."
"None of us want her to die," Mrs. Hughes snapped. Anna had tears in her eyes when she made it back down to the servant's hall.
"What's happened?" Daisy questioned, walking in.
"Miss Lily does not look well," Anna shook her head. "And Lady Mary is exhausting herself. She hasn't left that room since she took ill."
"Are you thinking the worst?" Mrs. Patmore spoke up.
"Lady Mary's not about to give up on her," Anna commented.
"I'm not afraid to admit Lady Mary is not my favorite person under this roof, but her daughter is exactly like her," Mrs. Hughes reassured the servant's hall. "Don't count her out."
"I'm sure Lady Mary would appreciate it," Thomas muttered.
"Hello?" Matthew answered the telephone.
"Matthew," Mary breathed. "Oh how I've longed to hear your voice."
"Mary!" Matthew exclaimed. "Wh-What is it? What's wrong? Is Lily?"
"She's fine," she sighed. "She's sleeping, her fever is still rising but she's becoming more and more aware."
"Has she eaten anything? Mother was over yesterday and Robert informed her and she told me that she hasn't."
"I got her to have some broth yesterday afternoon," Mary sighed. "I'm afraid her throat is too sore and it's too hard for her to swallow."
"How are you darling?" Matthew asked.
"Oh Matthew," Mary cried. "She's so suffered. I… I can't stand it but I won't leave her. Not until she is better."
"Are you okay," Matthew reinforced. "Are you taking care of yourself?"
"How do I have time for myself when Lily is so sick?" Mary said. "How are the boys? Not too devastated over no studies I hope." She tried to make a joke but Matthew could hear the pain in her voice.
"My darling when was the last time you have slept, really slept?" he asked.
"Do not be worried about me Matthew, just worry and pray for Lily," she protested. "Are William or Bertie around, may I just say hello."
"Bertie is playing outside with one of the-"
"Not one of the village children I hope," Mary snapped. "Clarkson said its spreading like wildfire in the village. Get him inside at once, please Matthew."
"I'll fetch William for you," Matthew told her and put down the telephone briefly. "William!" He called. The boy appeared from what used to be his office, holding a book in his hand.
"Yes Papa?" he questioned.
"It's your mother," he nodded to the telephone. "She wishes to speak with you and I must get your brother."
"Is it about Lily," William whispered fearfully.
"No, she just wishes to speak with you," Matthew shook his head.
"Mama," William breathed. "How are you?"
"There's my boy," William could practically hear the strain in her voice. "How are you getting on at Gran Iz's, behaving I hope."
"Of course Mama," he chuckled. "Though I've had to have tea with Granny for the past two days since she's been calling on Gran Iz."
"I suspect she'd prefer to get updates on Lily there rather than risk exposure here," Mary commented softly. "Are you keeping up with your work, I'm so sorry that Miss Emily has had to go with Sybil though I suspect she may be let go by Tom any day now."
"Mama how is Lily," William asked. "Papa will tell us nothing, is she getting better?"
"I'm not sure the correct word is better, but she is getting on, she's pushing through like we all knew she would," William wanted to run to Downton and into his mother's arms just to comfort her. He wanted to take back all the times he disobeyed her, he wanted to take back all the times he ignored Lily or yelled at her to leave him alone. He wanted his baby sister healthy.
"Tell her that I love her very much Mama, if she's awake," William said quietly.
"I will my darling, and I love you," Mary sighed.
"I love you too Mama," William replied earnestly. He passed the phone to Bertie who had similar sentiments but quickly passed it on to his father, angry at both of them for making him come inside on a nice day.
"He'll understand," Matthew sighed. "Now, I want you to tell me everything that has been happening. It is not fair on you to have all this burden only on you. Cousin Violet is here, and she has been informed by your father that this is the first time you are leaving the room. Now tell me why."
"It's just," Mary murmured. "When she sleeps she gets the chills, and the only thing to comfort her is more blankets and me, I wrap her in blankets and I wrap myself around her even though I know I should not."
"You should not," Matthew growled.
"Or when she's throwing up, she can't sit up by herself, and she almost always gets it on her nightgown no matter how hard I try to get her to the basin," Mary's voice grew quieter. "I'm the only one in this house here all the time that knows all of this, and Clarkson has other patients he must see to. I'm the only one who got her to eat or to talk or to even try and sit up."
"I feel helpless Mary," Matthew hissed. "I do, I can't stand it. I can't stand that you have to go through this alone, help her alone."
"Dr. Clarkson said that the fever typically lasts five days, this is the fourth, if she keeps going at the rate she is, our baby girl-"
"MARY!" Matthew heard someone shriek on the other line.
"Matthew I must go," Mary hissed. "Mama? Mama what is it?" He heard the phone clatter to the ground but the fear in Mary's voice made Matthew have to keep a grasp on the desk that the phone sat on to keep standing upright.
"Mary!" he called into the phone. "Mary what's happening!"
"It's Lily," he heard Cora whisper harshly.
"Oh dear God no!" Matthew screamed. "Mary! Mary!"
"Matthew?" he heard Cora pick up the phone.
"Cora, what is it?" he gasped; tears were running down his face.
"She started coughing, fairly hard though she wasn't conscious Matthew," he heard the sorrow in Cora's voice. "It's gone into her lungs is what Clarkson said."
"She has-" he couldn't say it. "Will she- Is she?"
"They don't know," Cora shook her head. "We must wait and see."
"Thank you… for telling me," he closed his eyes and put down the phone harshly. He turned around and found his mother there, Cousin Violet, and his boys.
"Papa," Bertie whispered fearfully.
"Boys go to your rooms," Matthew said harshly.
"But Papa," William protested.
"Now," Matthew snapped and seeing his Papa's face red with tears made both of them not want to cross him.
"Matthew," Isobel tested.
"It's gone into her lungs," he cried out, sitting down, his head on his hands. "I'm sorry Cousin Violet, that you must see me this way but…"
"Nonsense," Violet placed a tender hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw that her eyes had tears in them as well and made no excuses of having a cold for the time being, though she would say so later. They seemed to show her age a lot more prominently before, as if she was thinking that she was supposed to go before her great granddaughter, that it was almost time for her to go, not Lily's. "Your daughter is reason enough for me to see you as such." Matthew nodded and stood up, straight into Isobel's arms.
"It's not a death sentence nowadays my dear boy, she could still live," Isobel murmured into his ear. "We mustn't give up hope, not yet. Not when there is still a chance and there is still a chance."
"Oh mother," Matthew whimpered. "What if I can never see her again?"
"Do not think like that Matthew, please, not now, when Lily needs our prayers now more than ever," Isobel shook her head and let him cry on her shoulder.
"Help her, help her please," Mary begged, almost screamed as she watched her daughter cough and struggle to breathe as the pneumonia that was almost always a consequence of scarlet fever settled into her daughter's almost convulsing body. Her heart wrenched, hearing the words her brother-in-law said to Dr. Clarkson in the very same house eleven years ago when Sybil died.
Now she knew what her Mama felt like that day.
"There's nothing more we can do Lady Mary," he shook his head. "If the pneumonia does not kill her, if she survives the night, she will live. But I must warn you, it seems far advanced. "
"Do not tell me that," Mary hissed. "My daughter will fight, she will fight. She is only three years old." Dr. Clarkson leaned down and listened to the child's lungs again, she was not even conscious yet she seemed to be struggling all the same.
"I hear a large amount of fluid," he sighed. "If she begins to throw up or cough it up, she must be made to sit up and get it out. It may be what saves her."
"I'll do whatever you need," Mary whispered.
"When was the last time you slept Lady Mary?" he asked.
"If you will be led to believe I will leave Lily at a time like this, you are sadly mistaken," Mary snapped. "Oh my baby girl, my poor, poor baby girl." Lily's hair was slick with sweat as Mary rhythmically stroked it.
"Mrs. Hughes has had the maids make up the guest room down the hall," he said quietly. "I'm there if you need me, do not hesitate to ask." Mary nodded and gulped, she had to wait until Clarkson left until she was to do what she was going to do. He nodded at her, turned to the door, and exited down the hall just as Mary tore her mask that she still wore over her face off.
Immediately she did what she was longing to do.
She kissed her hand, she kissed her cheek, she kissed her forehead, and she kissed her hair. The touch she longed for, the comfort she had wanted to give her daughter for so long.
As if it resurrected her, Lily's eyes fluttered open, her mouth attempting to form words before suddenly clear vomit replaced it.
"Good," she whispered. "Oh that's my good girl. Keep going, keep going please my darling. It's alright." She sat her baby upright, held the basin under her head, and murmured soothingly as her tiny body writhed in pain. "That's it. As much as you can darling." Lily shook with effort before going still, ever so still, her eyes fluttering close.
"Oh my baby girl, you are so strong, so strong," she whispered. "I love you so much. I'm incredibly proud of you for fighting this long." A lump grew in Mary's throat as tears spilled out of her eyes, she bent down beside her bed instead of her usual perch on the chair. Her hand grasped Lily's tightly. "Dear Lord, you've blessed me ever so much. You have given me a family I never deserved. Two boys so strong and handsome, a husband who loves me, and this beautiful angel sitting in front of me. I did not deserve them, I don't deserve her, but Lord, she does not deserve this either." Mary's voice cracked with grief. "She's only three years old, she has a life ahead of her and it's not fair. Not fair that she must suffer." Mary pressed her lips to Lily's hand and lifted her eyes to the ceiling. "I'm afraid I've asked too much of you, after all I've done to be discredited in you. You saved and protected my Matthew during the Great War and he has given me my children in return. If someone must die, please Lord, let it be me."
"Or me," a new voice said from the door. Mary jumped up in surprise, relief flooding her limbs as she saw Matthew standing there.
"Oh Matthew," Mary gasped and ran towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Matthew," she began to sob.
"I'm here darling, I'm here," Matthew cried with her. Mary's face buried in his shoulders and Matthew held her tighter.
"I love you so much," Matthew could hardly make out her muffled sob but he said it back anyway. Mary stepped back and looked at him seriously. "What are you doing here?"
"I could not let you be alone with this," he murmured. "I am her father; I shall see her through this too."
"But what about Bertie and William," Mary sniffled. "They need you too."
"They need you as well, but it seems you have given up the mask," he eyed it discarded in the room.
"It's the only comfort I could provide her," Mary whispered. "She's… oh Matthew she's…"
"She's going to have you and me by her side until it is all over," Matthew took Mary's hand and walked to his daughter's bedside and gasped slightly. Ever so lightly he bent over, kissed her forehead, and settled in a seat. He took one of Lily's hands and reached over her body to gesture for Mary's hand. Mary did the same, connecting all three of them. "We are in this together, all three of us."
"All night," Mary whimpered. "Dr. Clarkson said if she survives the night she'll live." She heard Matthew's breath hitch.
"I've come just in time then," he sighed.
"Thank god you did," Mary closed her eyes as Matthew began to speak again.
"Our God, which art in heaven…"
So this was an overall depressing chapter I guess, sorry. But you got to see moments of William and Bertie being concerned for their little sister, Matthew, Isobel, and Violet too! There is a reason for this whole storyline I promise you! Sorry if some of the symptoms/things are not historically accurate. I hate history, a lot! Haha (:
Please review and let me know what you think! The recent response has made me so appreciative and I have been on a roll for writing this story, I am several chapters ahead now!
