Hello!

You might have noticed that I have changed the rating to "M." No, nothing between Mary and Matthew-yet. It's something that happened in the past. . . But don't worry, Mary and Matthew will get there eventually! (They have to get married first and there's still a few chapters to go before then. )

I also wanted to mention that the composition "Threnody" by Goldmund (album The Malady of Elegance) has been the music in my head (and playing on my iPhone)for many parts of this fic-in this chapter, the second half when they are talking on their bench. I just thought I would mention it.

As always, I cannot begin to express how much your support of this story means to me-thank you!

Chapter 10

"I know my ability to concentrate isn't what it should be," groaned Matthew, throwing down his pen and rubbing his eyes, "but this contract is impossible. It's giving me a headache and I'm only half way through it. No wonder the client changed firms."

He and Mary were in the library. He had recently started back with Harvell and Carter. He wasn't accepting much work yet—Mr. Carter had made it clear that he was to set his own pace. But he was so happy to be practicing his profession again, to have a purpose to his day, to know that even if his body didn't work his brain still did, he knew he would take on more soon. Mary thrilled to see the change in him.

But it was quite an adjustment after so many years in the army, where his mind was on constant alert, jumping from one thing to the next. And, well, there was also the happy problem of daydreaming about Mary, wondering where she was and what she was doing. So Mary often wrote letters or read while he worked, and that did help his concentration. Until it didn't.

Matthew turned his wheelchair from his desk to face Mary, seated in a chair by the fire. "I need a distraction," he pleaded, wheeling towards her. Mary looked up from her book and, as usual, the way he looked at her, those blue eyes, made her heart beat faster. But-

"Oh, you'd like me to read to you?" she asked, trying to keep a straight face.

"No."

"Well, then, would—"

"I'm sorry to bother you while you're working, Matthew," said Cora, bustling in, "but could you please look over the guest list for your family and friends one last time, as the invitations will be posted tomorrow? I just came from your mother's and she thought it was complete, but she wanted you to see it." Cora handed Matthew a list and then turned to Mary. "And Mary, we need to start thinking about flowers and your bouquet. Would you look at this magazine? There are some wonderful ideas, I think," she finished, smiling.

Mary had told her mother seven weeks, and Cora was satisfied. It would take effort, but she could plan a very nice wedding in that time, and Mary left her to it. Why seven weeks? Matthew had asked, pleased that it was settled and that Mary seemed very happy about it. It just seemed right. Not too long, not too short, Mary had answered rather vaguely, then added, Well, the weather should be better. Perhaps. We can hope. And again, Matthew could tell that she was holding something back, but this time decided not to probe further.

Matthew had asked his oldest and closest friend, Jack Forrester, a solicitor in London, to be his best man. They had grown up together in Manchester, gone to school and university together, both pursuing law degrees, and had signed their commissions at the same time. Matthew had been Jack's best man when he married Alice in the fall of 1914, right before they were deployed to France. It had been almost a year since Matthew had seen them when he and Jack both had had leave in London. Jack was injured right after that. The wound to his eye became infected and never cleared. He wore a glass eye now. But he had missed Amiens.

"I think this is everyone, thank you," said Matthew, handing her the list. "Mary and I do appreciate all you're doing." And he truly meant it. "I had a letter from Jack this morning. He, Alice, and his parents will arrive two days before the wedding. Jack and Alice will stay here and his parents will stay with Mother. He said Alice was writing you."

"Her note arrived this morning, as well, thanking me for the invitation to stay here. His parents are quite welcome, too, but of course I understand why they would want to stay with your mother," Cora replied, smiling.

"Yes, they've seen so little of each other since we moved to Downton, they'll have a lot to catch up on. I can't wait for you to meet them all. Jack is the brother I never had, and I know you will love Alice."

Mary realized with a pang how little she really knew about his life before Downton.

"I'm so glad they can come early so that we can have some time together," she smiled, then turned to her mother. "Mama, these arrangements do look lovely, and I'll start thinking about my bouquet, I promise."

"Good. I'm going to talk to Mrs. Patmore about the cake. It's not too soon to start thinking about that, you know," said Cora, hurrying out.

It wouldn't be the quite the grand affair that she had first envisioned, but Cora had realized that more intimate can be just as elegant; she threw herself into planning every detail, and Mary was happy for her to do so. Although, much to her surprise, Mary had to admit that she was becoming quite excited about the whole thing herself. Really, it was her dress—oh, her dress! It wasn't finished yet, of course, but it would be everything she had ever dreamed of, and she could not wait to see the expression on Matthew's face when he saw her in the church. Yes, everything was falling into place.

But there would be no honeymoon trip. Mary was determined to find a way for Matthew to travel one day, and Matthew learned quickly not to bring up how difficult this might be and knew better than even to broach the idea yet of her, at some point in the future, traveling without him, he being just as determined that she not limit her world because of him. But they had both readily agreed that even a short trip was just too much to plan before the wedding. Matthew was quite relieved; working out the logistics of hauling him around was the last thing he wanted to be doing right now.

Because the truth was, after so many years of denying and repressing their love for each other, they really felt as if they were on a honeymoon already. Every look, every touch, every conversation, every moment together, even if it was simply being in the same room while reading, was new and wonderful. The family seemed to understand this and left them alone as much as possible, but even with others present, they felt apart and on a journey of discovery.

"Now, let's see," said Mary rising as her mother passed through the library door. "You wanted me to distract you." She came around behind his chair and started rubbing his temples gently.

"Mmmm. That's very, very nice. But I need a bit more of a distraction, I'm afraid." He tilted his head back and looked up at her hopefully. She started to lean down, her mouth soft and her lips parted, and then, just as they would have met, she straightened up. Matthew gaped at her.

"You want a distraction. I have an idea!" Mary said, her eyes twinkling.

"Well, it better be a good one," said Matthew, trying to look put out and not laugh.

"Look at this beautiful day!" she exclaimed, the sweep of her arm taking in the nearby windows. The weather, although still quite chilly, was unseasonably warm for mid-February and the sun was shining brightly. At the moment, at any rate. "Why don't we bundle up and go to our bench, and I can distract you there?"

"That would be perfect," said Matthew, his face breaking into a smile. They hadn't been there since late fall and it hadn't been "our" bench then, not the way it was now, and he so loved hearing her call it that. He pulled her to him for a quick kiss. "You're perfect," he added softly.

Ten minutes later, they met in the great hall. Mary took in Matthew in his jacket and cap and said, "You're not wearing your coat."

"No, I have to be lifted out of the chair to put it on; that's too much trouble. The jacket's fine," he assured her.

"Of course, I should have realized about the coat," she said, chagrined.

"Why, how could you know that?" he smiled up at her.

She frowned a bit, then smiled, as well. "Hang on, I'll be right back." She hurried upstairs and returned a few minutes later carrying a small, gray woolen blanket that Anna had found for her.

"I don't need that," said Matthew firmly.

"You do, it's still cold, and your jacket doesn't cover your legs," replied Mary, pleasantly and equally firmly.

"But I can't feel my legs, and so I can't feel if they're cold, so what does it matter?" he said, trying to keep his voice even, but not entirely succeeding.

"The fact that you can't feel if they're cold is exactly why it matters, and I shouldn't have to explain that to you," she returned, unable to keep a note of exasperation out of her voice. Then, she leaned down and kissed his forehead. "I know you hate how it looks," she said quietly, her eyes softening. "But you can't take a chance that you might catch a chill. After all, you have a wedding to attend in a few weeks." She held up the blanket. "When we get to the bench, we'll cover my lap, too."

Matthew looked away as he felt his face grow hot. How had she known that was why he didn't want to use it? It made him look even more like an invalid, reminding him of those first awful weeks in the chair, before he was strong enough to be dressed in his uniform, when his lap and legs were always covered. Yes, cover up the cripple's shame, he remembered thinking at the time. And now he thought: You are pathetic. You can't bear to look at your legs, but you don't want them covered, either. He looked up at Mary and, giving her an apologetic smile and himself a hard mental shake, took the blanket and laid it over his lap, and after Mary tucked it around his legs, he reached out and took her hand and held it to his cheek, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Forgive me. I'm just being stupid."

"Not stupid," she said, leaning down to kiss him tenderly.

They headed out through the library's French doors and into the fine day. Mary's hand rested on Matthew's back as he pushed himself. Matthew breathed deeply. It was so good to be outdoors! They were visiting Isobel regularly, now, and had made it up the steps to Granny's for a proper tea. (When time permitted, Branson would take the "back way" home and he always noticed something that caused him to pull the car over, the same thing happening on the drives they had begun to take out over the dales. It was very odd, said Branson, and he apologized every time, but he never seemed able to figure out what was wrong. Mary and Matthew weren't concerned.) But this was so different than just going to and from the car: the feel of the sun and the slight, chilly breeze; the smell of the damp earth and with it the promise of spring; the sound, now and then, of the wind in the trees and a bird's chirrup. It had been too long.

"I'm so glad you suggested this," he said softly, as he pulled up next to the bench.

Mary sat down and adjusted the blanket so that it also covered her lap, and then leaned against him as his arm came around her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head and she turned to him, taking his face in her hand. They kissed slowly and deeply, Matthew's hand pressing her thigh, and then settled back again with a sigh. They were more likely to be interrupted in the library, but here they were out in the open, after all, and felt rather exposed. Matthew pulled her close again, stroking her neck. It didn't matter. They were together.

They sat in a companionable silence for a few minutes, looking out over the grounds. Suddenly, Matthew pointed, saying in a hushed voice, "Look." A fox was making its way along the edge of the trees, its red coat standing out against the dark bark of the trunks. "They really are beautiful creatures."

Mary's eyes followed as the animal trotted along. "Yes. Yes, they are. Quite beautiful." Oh, Papa. Cousin Matthew doesn't ride. I ride. And do you hunt? No. I don't hunt. The fox disappeared into the trees. Mary didn't move. After a moment, she roused herself and, turning to Matthew, asked with a smile, "You said Jack and Alice have two children?"

"Yes, Edward—Teddy—was born almost nine months to the day after they were married," Matthew chuckled. "He's nearly four; Charlotte's almost two. They're both quite adorable. Alice's parents will be staying with them while Jack and Alice are here. And, actually, I think from something Jack wrote about Alice's 'feeling better lately,' that there might be another one on the way. I know they want another child."

Their gaze returned to the fox which had stopped, alert, hearing something that they could not. Then it recommenced trotting along, finally disappearing behind a hillock. Mary was quiet for a bit. Then, looking at him, she started to speak and but stopped herself and looked down.

Matthew took her chin and gently tilted her head up. When he saw the pain in her eyes, he thought he knew why, and his heart ached. "What is it, dearest?"

She swallowed, trying to overcome the tightness in her throat. "If I had told you at the garden party about . . . about what happened . . ."

"What would I have done?" Matthew finished, after a moment, when she didn't go on. He had expected that she would ask one day. But what was so hard about the question was that he knew why she asked right now. They were both thinking the same thing: that they, too, could have married in the fall of 1914; that they, too, could have had children, but never any now. And worse, for him, was knowing that, when he found out that Jack had proposed to Alice, he had considered writing Mary, even coming back to Downton to see her. But, he had convinced himself that if she had loved him, she would have accepted him; unable to bear the thought of another rejection, he had done nothing. What a fool he'd been.

Matthew smiled sadly as he stroked her face, her sorrow and regret reflected in his eyes. "If you mean, would I have still wanted to marry you . . . yes, oh, yes," he answered, his voice low. He paused and kissed her forehead and they looked at each other with glistening eyes, both thinking about what might have been. "Does that make it worse or better?" he asked gently.

"I don't know," Mary answered, her chin quivering. "I'm glad to hear it, though." And she did manage a smile.

Matthew was quiet for a moment and then went on, "If you mean, how would I have reacted right then . . ." He looked away and sighed. "I've asked myself that question so many times since you told me." He turned to her and took her hand, his thumb caressing her. "Would you have told me the way you told me in the library, or would you have started out by saying 'I took a lover?'"

She gave him a brief smile. "Probably the latter."

"Well then, I would have been stunned. But, I would also finally have known that you loved me and that you wanted to marry me. It might have taken me a bit to get past the shock and to realize that, though, although I know eventually I would have. I hope you would still have accepted me."

"Of course," she breathed softly.

He kissed her hand. "Bless you, darling. I'd like to think I would have given you your ring that same day— I carried it with me always and had it with me even then," and at that her breath hitched, "but if I'm honest with myself, I can't be sure." He paused and looked away again. "Although, I would have been the worst kind of hypocrite if I hadn't."

She puzzled over this last statement, and then her eyes opened a little wider. "Matthew, have you been with a woman?" she asked softly.

He took a deep breath, exhaled, and looked at her. He didn't mind the question; in fact, he was relieved. The friendship they had forged during the weeks and months after he had returned to Downton gave them an ease with each other that had only grown stronger with their love now openly acknowledged. But that didn't make everything easy to talk about.

"Yes."

"Lavinia?"

"Good Lord, no!"

"Then, in France?"

"No. At university. A couple of months into my first year."

And she realized that, of course, it had to have been before the garden party for him to have said what he had. "You don't have to tell me more." She held his cheek.

"No, no, I've been wanting to tell you, I just didn't know how to bring it up." He paused for a minute, biting his lip, and then went on, "A friend and I (oh, God, he realized, too late, she'll guess it was Jack) were with some older students at a pub, and it was the first time we had ever had much to drink. And the older students found out that we had never. . . experienced relations with a woman. So, they decided that there was nothing for it but to take care of things that night, and we had let ourselves get drunk enough to agree, even though we were both scared to death. There was a young barmaid at another pub, she was very friendly and always 'happy to oblige the lads,' as she put it." (Janie's pretty and nice, she's not a real whore, she doesn't do it for money, although we always give her something, she just likes us students, says she's part of our education.) Matthew's cheeks were pink. "It was over so fast, almost before it started."

They had decided Jack would go first, being the elder by two months. He had come out looking slightly dazed, stumbling down the stairs. Matthew had opened the door with a shaking hand. Janie was waiting for him in her slip and chemise. The chemise was unbuttoned and Matthew's mouth went slack as he stared at her full breasts. "Now, dearie," she said reassuringly, unbuckling his belt and starting to work on the buttons of his trousers, "don't you worry about a thing, I'll take care of you. I'll educate you and maybe some of your book learning will rub off on me." And she giggled at her own joke. He felt himself get hard and erect and start to throb. She brought him to the bed and pulled him down on top of her and when she touched him, he groaned into her breasts, and she took him, and he entered her and groaned again, and his hips started to thrust, his body seeming to know what to do even though he didn't. She brought her legs around him and she moved against him, and his hips began to buck, and he grunted and bucked and suddenly he cried out and went under a blissful wave, the release so intense, he simply collapsed. "You did just fine, dearie," Janie said patting his back as if he were a child, as he lay there breathing heavily against her neck. It had all happened so fast. Somehow, he made his way downstairs, where he was stood a round. He didn't remember much after that. He was seventeen.

"The next morning, I was so ashamed, it was the only time I ever was glad my father had died. I became a monk for the next few months, did nothing but study, eat and sleep. Eventually, I managed to stop feeling bad about it, although I've always regretted it." He took her hand. "So you see, I would have been quite the hypocrite to have judged you."

"And you never. . .in France? No one could have blamed you," she said, quietly.

"I would have blamed me. Oh, there was plenty of opportunity in France, of course. The thing was, you know, I went away to forget you, but it didn't work. I lived on the memories of our being together. (And imagining making love to you.) So it would have been like . . . soiling my memory of you; I couldn't do that. And then, eventually, I was engaged to Lavinia . . . Anyway, no, I never did. I had sworn that I wouldn't be with a woman unless she was my wife," he finished, his voice breaking at the last.

"Don't regret it," Mary said, looking at him tenderly, steadily. A tear trickled down her cheek, and she brushed it quickly away and tried to smile.

And Matthew knew she meant: Don't regret that you have at least had that. And he knew that she meant, too: I don't regret that you have at least had that. And he loved her for it. He brought her to him and held her tightly. Oh, God, Mary, if only it could have been you, just once. If only we could have been together once.

"I should have told you," she whispered.

He shook his head, gently holding her face, his eyes brimming. "I should have come back."

He pulled her to him again. "I know it's so hard," he choked out. "About Jack and Alice, I mean. It's as if they have the life we should have had. I'm so sorry, darling."

They held each other a while longer. And then, Mary sat back and wiped his face with her gloved hand and he found his handkerchief and wiped hers.

"We musn't look back," Mary said decisively, taking his handkerchief and blowing her nose. She thought for a minute. "When you change one thing about the past, who knows what else might change? We could have gotten married, and you might have been killed a month later. We just can't know, and we must simply be happy that, as Sybil said in her ridiculous toast, it all seemed impossible and our love prevailed." And it really didn't sound ridiculous as she said it, and they sealed the resolution with a kiss.

"And," she went on softly, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze, "we must be happy for Jack and Alice. I know I shall be very glad to meet them." She brushed a lock of his hair off his forehead.

The fickle February weather had changed and gray clouds covered the sun.

"We'd best go in," said Mary, holding out her hand. "Look, there's a drop." She folded her part of the blanket back over Matthew's lap, tucked it around his legs, and they set out.

"And I want to learn more about your life in Manchester. Perhaps our first trip, when we decide to take it, should be there."

Matthew's eyes lit up, and he stopped wheeling and looked up at her. "Really? You would want to go to Manchester? I would love to show it to you," he smiled as Mary started pushing the chair. And as he began to describe enthusiastically where they might go and what they would see, he decided that perhaps he wouldn't mind being hauled around, after all.

As she listened to him, Mary realized that all their heartache, all that had kept them apart, had somehow been what had brought them together again and had only made their love for each other stronger, deeper. Would they have had this love if things had happened any other way? And she felt a peace with their past that she had not known before.

"Darling, do run ahead before you get soaked," Matthew urged as the rain drops, still sparse, started coming faster.

"No," she smiled. "No, I like it, it feels good."

"It does, doesn't it?" he laughed and took off his cap, turning his face up to look at her. She stopped pushing and came around, leaning down as his arms came up to hold her, and she took his head in her hands, and they kissed and felt the rain.

Thank you so much for reading-reviews are like a starry night!