Lord Grantham was at a loss for words.

Here was his eldest daughter, and she had just admitted… he didn't even want to think of that.

He forced himself to look at Mary, his Mary, whose eyes were shining with unshed tears.

He couldn't believe that she had…

"Please, say something, Papa…" she begged him.

"What shall I say, Mary?" he inhaled, sharply, trying to get a hold of himself. "I'm disappointed, very, very disappointed… I would never, never have thought that you could be so… I would never have thought you could behave like that… Or that you could hide such a thing from me… And I can't understand why you have insisted to have Matthew with you, if you wanted to tell me this…" he finished his scotch in one gulp, trying to restore his self control.

"I'm so sorry…" she said, and she clamped her hand over her mouth to hold back from sobbing.

He was utterly surprised when Matthew spoke up.

"Lord Grantham, I… I understand this looks quite strange, but… I am here to ask for your consent. I have proposed to Mary, and she has accepted to become my wife." Matthew looked up at Mary, smiling tenderly, threading her fingers with his.

Robert felt he definitely needed to sit down, and so he did.

Well, I can't say my life is boring, he thought. What else is going to happen in this house?

"Did you know about this?" he asked Matthew, a hard shade in his voice. "When you asked her to marry you?"

"Yes, Lord Grantham, Mary had already told me. I don't think any less of her for that." Matthew answered, squeezing Mary's hand in his.

Lord Grantham pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger, trying to sort his thoughts.

"Well" he stated "I guess that you know what you're doing …" he smiled tentatively to Matthew. "You have my consent, Matthew." He shook his future son-in-law's hand, and then…

He looked to Mary, seeing a wide range of emotions on her face as she looked at her fiancé and then at him, sadness and regret and pure, unadulterated joy etched on her beautiful face.

"Thank you, Papa" she whispered, her face wet with tears, and he felt a sudden surge of love for his daughter shot through him. He turned to her, hugging her briefly, whispering "I'm happy you chose him, Mary" before letting her go.

Lady Violet Crawley, The Dowager Countess of Grantham, was reading a novel in her drawing room, just after lunch, when someone rang at the door.

It was an unexpected visit, but she was quite pleased to see her granddaughter, Mary, entering the room.

"Hello, Grand-mama" she kissed her cheek before taking a seat on the sofa across from her.

"I am really happy to see you, Mary, but… Is everything all right? Has something happened in the big house?" the Countess asked.

"Oh, everything's quite fine, Grand-mama…" Mary answered.

"It's that quite that scares me" the old lady remarked. "I can tell something has happened, dear, so I can see no point in wasting time with formalities."

Mary told her about the letter from Sir Richard Carlisle, and the Dowager Countess was quite indignant.

"But there's something else you need to know, Grand-mama. Matthew and I are getting married." She finished, smiling, and she gave a shocked look at her grandmother, whose commentary to the announcement of the engagement had been a jubilant "Finally!"

"My dear girl, it was evident to anyone who had a pair of eyes that the two of you were bound to end up together. It has took you a scandalous amount of time to figure it out, but now that you have… Congratulations!" the old lady finished, winking her eye at her flabbergasted granddaughter.

"Thank you" Mary said, as soon as she recovered. "Will you come to dinner tonight? We'll announce the engagement officially".

"Of course I'll come" Lady Violet smiled. "I'll see you later, dear."

Anna noticed with a certain amount of surprise that Lady Mary had put an extra care in the selection of her clothes for that night.

It was bound to be a quiet family affair, and yet the young woman had chosen to wear one of her new gowns, a dark blue sleeveless dress embellished with silver embroidery.

Mary was literally bursting with excitement.

She had told Granny, her parents and Isobel already knew, and yet she was impatient to announce officially her engagement to Matthew.

She couldn't wait to be married to him.

Smiling at the inappropriateness of her thoughts, she put on her gloves, carefully concealing the ring he'd given her, and stepped down the stairs.

He was there, at the bottom of the staircase, waiting for her, and her heart skipped a beat.

She didn't notice a thing apart from Matthew; she looked at him, and she took in everything: his blue eyes, brilliant in the brightly lit hall, his red jacket, highlighting his broad shoulders, his kind smile, the way his face lit up when he saw her appear at the top of the stairs, his lingering gaze locking in hers as she descended.

She bent to kiss his cheek, and he stroked her arm lightly, whispering "You're so incredibly beautiful" in her ear.

They entered the dining room together, but, before taking their usual seats at the table, they stopped in the middle of the room, attracting everyone's attention.

"Matthew and I have an announcement to make" Mary said, her voice resounding high and clear.

She placed a hand on his shoulder, and Matthew took over.

"Mary and I are engaged to be married" he declared, smiling brightly.

Commotion exploded; Sybil and Edith launched themselves at Mary, congratulating her and starting to question her about the ring, the dress, the veil, the invitations, Sir Richard…

In the meanwhile, the older women smiled knowingly, and Robert offered Matthew a drink, making small talk with his future son-in-law.

Luckily for Mary, who was already tired of answering Edith's impertinent questions, Lady Grantham soon announced that the dinner was served.

That evening was a happy family party; everyone had pleasant moments and for two or three hours they were all able to forget the war and the sorrow it caused.

Matthew had a strange feeling in his lower back; it felt like someone was pinching him hard, but Dr. Clarkson had told him he could occasionally experience a bit of discomfort owing to his injury, and so he decided to ignore it, being far too happy to be bothered by something like that.

By the time the hour to retired had come, however, his back was hurting quite a lot, and his whole upper body had become tense and uncomfortable.

His mother had accompanied him to his room, and Mary was waiting just outside; she would come in once he was safely tucked in bed.

Isobel had noticed his stiff posture, so he told her about the pinching feeling.

She rubbed some salve into his skin, to try and ease the pain, and then she let Mary in, leaving.

"Mama has asked me to set the date" Mary informed him, taking his outstretched hand and sitting down on the edge of his mattress.

"When would you like it to be, darling?" he asked her, smiling.

"I don't know" she answered, her brow furrowing in concentration. "We have to wait at least three weeks, so that the bands can be read… that brings us at the middle of October…"

He knew that the Pamuk scandal would be at its worse by then, and he didn't want it to tarnish their memories of their wedding day.

"How about a Christmas time wedding?" he suggested. "We could get married in the first days of the new year". Mary liked the idea, and they celebrated their agreement to marry on 4th January 1919 with a gentle, long kiss, that sent Matthew's heart beating wild.

He couldn't believe it; being so happy still seemed somehow impossible.

Two months before, he had been in France, fighting, and after that… after being wounded, he had been through so many emotions that he found it hard to believe it was really happening.

He had been convinced, certain, that he would spend the rest of his life alone, that he would never have the chance to live a normal life, and yet, thanks to Mary, her presence, her love, here he was, holding her hand, kissing her… engaged to her.

"My Mary…" he whispered, smiling tenderly.

She smiled back, her eyes soft.

"I truly am, you know. Yours." She was looking at him, her love for him written all over her face. "Only yours, Matthew. Always."

She kissed him, her hands threading in his hair, and he felt a familiar sensation stir in his stomach.

But he knew it wasn't possible, he would never be able to offer himself to her in every way possible, and desperation settled heavily over his heart.

"I love you so much, Mary… if only there was a way I could really be what you need me to be…" he had suddenly become somber, sadness clear in his blue eyes. "I don't deserve you" he muttered, and he felt Mary's gentle hands on his face, her tender gaze locking with his when he looked at her.

"Matthew. I couldn't be happier and you know it. Deep down, you know it. And there's something I have realized long ago, just after I said good bye to you in Downton Station all those years ago. We have tried to ignore it, and we've hurt each other, because we can't… Please, don't try to be strong and sacrifice yourself for me… Because I know perfectly well that I wouldn't be happy with anybody else as long as you are in this world." She stroked his cheek, wiping away gently the few tears he hadn't been able to hold back. "And I know you feel the same about me."

He kissed her, unable to talk, pouring in the kiss every emotion he couldn't express with words.

"Forgive me?" he asked, tentatively, taking her hand in his and squeezing it gently.

"Sometimes, I just feel so… hopeless… I couldn't do this without you…" he admitted.

"I'm here, and I will always be. I promise." She said, showing him the ring he had given her that very morning, firmly in place on her finger.

"You can't imagine how much I like that" he joked, emotion clear in his eyes while he looked at his ring on her finger, and took in what it meant.

"I hope that is as much as I do", she smiled brightly, kissing him one last time before standing up and bidding him good night.

"Good night, my love". He kissed her knuckles, and let her go.