I apologize that this is fairly short chapter in which not a lot happens, but I wanted to get this posted before I go away to uni ( I wasn't able to get it posted earlier this week because I was on vacation and the hotel didn't have wifi which I could stay connected to for more than two minutes). I see this chapter as the end of Act I to this fic, Act I being Mary's downhill spiral – which means that after this, things may start to go uphill for both Mary and Matthew. However, this may mean that it will be an extended period of time until another chapter to this is posted, so be warned that a short hiatus may be taking place (so please do not ask me to update soon or when I will update).
That being said, I hope you enjoy this short chapter, and have enjoyed the story so far. Your reviews are very encouraging, and I hope you continue to read and review even when I'm not updating as regularly. So thank you for reading (even though I'm causing more angst than is probably healthy)!
Chapter Ten
January 1922
The train was due to leave at eight, so both Mary and Sybil were roused at seven to dress and then be downstairs for a quick breakfast. All of Mary's things were already packed, and Sybil was bringing a case of clothes that would last her for a few days. If it was needed, she'd have Tom send her other luggage down to Mary's house.
"Are you sure you're ready to travel?" Sybil asked Mary, seeing her sister repeatedly yawn and fruitlessly rub the fatigue out of her eyes. They had only gotten about six hours of sleep, and she knew that was hardly the amount of time Mary usually slept for. On top of that, Mary's grief would have exhausted her. "We can take the next train, and you can sleep for another hour or so."
Mary shook her head and groaned, "The sooner I get away from this place, the better."
Sybil nodded. "Then you go downstairs and get some breakfast. I just want to say goodbye to Malachy first."
Mary didn't feel all that hungry, but Sybil would insist that she eat something anyway. And it wasn't so bad knowing that she'd have a meal alone: it was too early for Henry to be downstairs. She didn't want to see his face at all; if she heard him coming down the stairs, she'd hurl herself into the car and drive to the station herself, with or without Sybil and her luggage.
But when she went into the breakfast room, she got a surprise that she wasn't sure how to react to. Matthew was sitting at the table, already eating, and he looked up as Mary came through the doorway.
"Mary … good morning," he said haltingly. "How are you … I mean, how do you feel? I heard last night that you were ill."
"I'm alright," Mary said. She collected herself and went to the sideboard for some eggs. The thought of eating meat right now made her stomach turn. "What are you doing up so early?" she asked as casually as she could.
"I'm catching the early train back to London," Matthew explained. "I telephoned the house last night, said I would return a bit earlier than I planned."
Mary remembered how Matthew had been at the telephone while everyone else was in the drawing room before dinner. "I see," she murmured. "Is there a reason why you're returning home early?"
"I was thinking it might be best if I didn't stay for too long," Matthew answered, sounding rather glum.
"Oh." Mary gathered what she wanted onto her plate, which wasn't very much of anything, and sat down across from him. The table wasn't very wide, and yet she was getting the sense that they were separated by a great distance. "Were you not enjoying yourself?"
"No, I did – it was a very enjoyable holiday. I'm very grateful to your parents for inviting me here." Matthew sighed, his eyes cast downward towards his cup of tea. "Only I've just been getting the feeling that … I've got work at home, and I'm afraid that I'll forget about it if I leave it for too long."
That couldn't have been the real reason, Mary thought, or at least the entire reason. It was as though he were in fact afraid of overstaying his welcome, as if he was a stranger to Downton and the family.
Or was it because of yesterday, she wondered fearfully, of everything that had happened between them?
"Good morning, Matthew," Sybil chirped as she strode into the breakfast room. Matthew nodded a silent response.
No one lingered in the breakfast room for much longer: as soon as Sybil finished off her toast and egg, the car was ready to take them to the station, and hats and coats were gathered and donned. Mary got into the car as quickly as she could – the sooner they were off, the less chance there was of Henry waking up early and wanting to give her a goodbye kiss. She didn't want to see his face at all, or she might indeed feel the urge to retch.
Luckily, they set off for the station without any unwanted people causing delay, and they arrived promptly for the 8:00 train to London. Mary and Sybil sat in the same compartment, but Matthew went into another, leaving the two of them by themselves.
As soon as the train left the platform, Sybil decided to pick up where the conversation she and Mary had been having before Mary fell asleep left off.
"When Henry does go home, what do you suppose you'll do?" she asked Mary.
Mary gave a tired shrug of her shoulders.
Sybil pursed her lips. "I mean, are you going to tell him what you tried to do last night? You said, right before you fell asleep, you didn't know how he'd react if you did."
"And I really don't," Mary said. She shook her head. "Sybil, I don't want to think about any of that right now. I just want to rest."
Sybil nodded. "I understand. But at some point, we should talk about it."
"What for?" Mary said. "How can I know what he'll do if I tell him?"
She didn't even have faith, some small sliver of hope, that Henry would understand what she had gone through, that he'd allow her to leave him. Henry couldn't be so cruel as to keep Mary bound to him after hearing what she had tried to do … but then again, Sybil didn't know him, and evidently Mary didn't think she knew him well enough either. To not know a husband's mind like one's own was an unfamiliar concept to Sybil.
"What if I were to tell him instead?" Sybil offered. "He might understand it better coming from me."
Mary shrugged again. "He might. He can't blame you for being moody or ridiculous because of pregnancy. But even so, I'm still not sure he'd let me go." She leaned back against the cushioned seat. "He likes the life he has with me too much. And he's absolutely head over heels by the fact that he'll be a father. I don't think he'd give all that up just for my sake."
Sybil saw the hopelessness return to Mary's eyes before she closed them, clearly intent on sleeping. "Just let me rest, please. I told you, I don't want to think about it for the rest of the day," Mary murmured.
That was the end of this discussion, Sybil realized. If she pressed the matter further, Mary would only continue to clam up and get more upset. Sybil did not want to give Mary cause to be angry or upset at her, yet they would only have a couple of days before Henry returned home, and Mary's injury wouldn't come close to healing in that time.
She looked at Mary's injured wrist, covered by her gloves and the cuff of her coat. Sybil had gotten her a proper bandage, but the single scar would remain visible for a long time afterwards. Henry was no fool – one day, he would notice that scar, and he wouldn't have any trouble guessing how Mary had gotten it.
"Alright then," Sybil said. "I may go down to the dining car for another cup of tea – unless you think I should stay here with you?"
Mary opened her eyes, looking at Sybil through the slit in her eyelids. "Do you think I'll try again?"
Sybil's stomach lurched. "Don't – don't say that. Don't even think like that," she said sternly.
Mary sniffed. "I won't try anything, believe me. How could I in here, anyway?"
"Even so, I won't leave you alone for more than five minutes," Sybil decided.
Mary's eyes completely closed again. "You do that."
Matthew looked away from his newspaper to check his watch, and to his dismay he realized the train had only been moving for an hour. The journey felt agonizingly slow, like a whole day had already passed yet the train had gone nowhere. He was alone in the compartment – no one seemed to want to take an early train to London on New Year's Day.
He wanted to get back to London as soon as possible, not because there was any pressing need or engagement he wanted to attend to, but so he could return to normalcy. His days were predictable, his interactions with people were limited to the household staff or his business partners, and he wouldn't be constantly reminded of the past … with the exception of the house that reminded him of Lavinia. It had been hers, after all, of course her memory would linger there.
But he had learned to live with her ghost sitting at the table, lying on the bed next to him. Sometimes he imagined her silhouette standing at the end of the hallway, coming to greet him when he came home from the office. He hated himself for not getting used to an empty room, the silence in the evening – it had been more than a year, and he had never learned to live with the fact that he was living his life alone.
He looked up from his paper again when he heard a tapping on the compartment door, and saw Sybil standing in the corridor. He motioned for her to come in, waiting for her to explain what she was doing here.
"Can I talk with you?" she asked.
Matthew frowned. "What about?"
Sybil took a deep breath. "It's about Mary."
She stepped into the compartment and closed the door behind her. Matthew folded his paper and put it aside as Sybil sat in the seat across from him. "Is she alright?" he asked. "Where is she?"
"She's asleep," Sybil answered. "I don't want to leave her alone for too long, which is why I need to talk to you quickly."
Matthew had an odd feeling about this. Why was Sybil wanting to talk to him about Mary? What possible reason was there … was it something to do with yesterday at the shoot? He couldn't think of anything that might be wrong, aside from the light inside Mary that he could sense had dimmed. Was there a reason behind that that Sybil was going to reveal to him?
"I told everyone last night that I was taking Mary home because she was ill," Sybil began, "but the truth is, she isn't really – not physically, at least. I'm taking her home because …" She seemed to have momentary difficulty forming her words, but Matthew waited patiently for her to collect herself.
"I'm taking her home because last night … last night, after dinner, she tried to kill herself," Sybil said finally.
Matthew felt like a bullet had just struck him in the chest, and his breath stopped in his throat. Sybil's words echoed in his head, over and over again, that horrible truth that he didn't want to believe, even though the way his gut twisted inside him told him it was indeed true.
"Wh – what?" he stammered.
Sybil nodded. "Tom and I found her in time, and she'll be fine, but I needed to take her away from Downton, to give her time to recover before Henry came home."
"But why … why did she do it?" Matthew said in a half-whisper.
Sybil looked down glumly. "She's terribly unhappy. She … she doesn't love Henry anymore, and she feels trapped because he apparently still loves her, and now that she's pregnant … she wants a different life, but she can't see a way out of her marriage to Henry."
"She doesn't love Henry anymore?" Matthew repeated.
Sybil shook her head. "It's difficult to put it into words, but Mary is … it's not just that she doesn't love him like she thought she would – she's not herself when he's around. And she's lost nearly all her will to live."
As best as she could, she explained to Matthew the problems in Mary's marriage and her pregnancy, the ways Henry chinked at Mary's will to live, and with every sentence Matthew's eyes widened and his face paled more and more. To finally hear, after believing all this time that Mary was happy with her life, that she was miserable beyond measure and living without hope that things might get better for her … he felt so sick inside.
"I've tried to think of some way to convince her that she can get out of this marriage, that there is something better out there for her, but I think she's lost all hope," Sybil explained.
"Because … because Henry thinks she still loves her, and because she's pregnant," Matthew said, harking back to what Sybil had just explained.
Sybil nodded. "She doesn't think a divorce is possible because Henry might not allow it. And even after what she tried to do, she still doesn't think he'd let her leave him."
"Wouldn't he, though? If Henry loved her?" Matthew questioned.
"His sense of love isn't really … it's not enough to let her go," Sybil said.
From the way Sybil described it, Matthew could understand why Mary thought her situation was inescapable. Loneliness sounded a much better condition than living in constant fear with someone he thought he knew, the will to live slowly cracking until it shattered completely. He remembered Mary sitting a few compartments away – had Tom and Sybil not found her in time, she wouldn't be there at all. That thought alone could have sent his breakfast back up, and he swallowed hard to stifle the feeling.
"So … if you haven't told anyone else," he said, "why are you telling me?"
Sybil leaned forward. "Because I believe that you can convince her to see that she can have another life, and if she believes that, then she will have the will to fight for a divorce."
"Me?" Matthew spluttered. "Why me? How could I—?"
"Because when I see you and Mary together, I can see her come back to life a little bit," Sybil said. "You two are still friends."
Matthew looked at Sybil. "Yes, well—"
"And what's changed?" Sybil asked; that silenced Matthew. "You loved her – a long time ago, yes, but she remembers that. And I think that somehow, when she's around you, she can feel that again."
Matthew really couldn't make head or tail of what Sybil was getting at. "I … I still don't understand – what do you want me to do?"
"Bring her into your life," Sybil answered. "I can't stay with her in London forever, and she needs to know that there is someone who she can trust, who can make her see that she can have another chance at being happy."
"What do you mean, 'bring her into my life?'" Matthew still couldn't understand exactly what Sybil was asking of him, and he was afraid of what she really meant. "Does Mary even know what you're talking about?"
"I haven't said anything to Mary," Sybil confessed. "But I know, if you made it known to her that you care about her, she won't see her life as so hopeless."
Matthew couldn't deny the fact that he did still care about Mary – as Sybil had said, he wanted to think of himself as still her friend. And despite what Mary had said at dinner the night before, how she had implied that their friendship was a thing of the past, Matthew hoped that she didn't really mean it. Still, he couldn't say for sure if she saw him the way he saw her, if she really did believe that any amity they shared was lost to the past.
"Listen, Sybil, even if I did – as you put it, let her back into my life – would she even allow herself to?" Matthew sighed. "She's a married woman, what if she got the wrong idea about … about us being together?"
"Then make it clear that's not what you want," Sybil answered. "Invite her out to dinner one night, or go for a walk in the park with her. She's alone quite often, I'm sure you could arrange something easily."
She stood up before Matthew could come up with another objection. "Please, just think about it. I don't know who else I might turn to or who in London could help her." She slid open the compartment door. "And to be honest, I believe you need her as much as she needs you," she added.
Sybil disappeared down the corridor, her last words echoing in Matthew's head. He was left completely perplexed and shocked, not just from the revelation that Mary had actually attempted to kill herself only last night, but also that Sybil had called upon him to help her. Not that he had been given much example on how to do so.
He truly wanted to help her if she was unhappy – but not only was he unsure how to, he questioned if Mary was willing to have anything to do with him. Would she honestly accept a sudden invitation from him to go for a walk in the park? He couldn't say for certain – with Mary, he couldn't anticipate anything anymore. Standing with her at the shoot yesterday morning, how could he have predicted that she'd try to kill herself hours later? He didn't really know her anymore – she wasn't the same person he remembered. And he wasn't about to do something bloody foolish that would ruin what little interaction they did have.
Matthew picked up his newspaper again, but he couldn't concentrate on anything he was reading. All his anxious thoughts were affixed on Mary, her unbearable unhappiness and loneliness. If Sybil really believed he might do something to help lift Mary's spirits, then who was he to deny her his help? There had to be some small way he could reach out to her, but nothing he thought of seemed good enough in his mind.
When he left the compartment briefly to walk down to the dining car, he passed the compartment which Sybil and Mary occupied. Sybil was engrossed in a medical notebook and didn't raise her head to see him standing in the corridor and looking in. Mary likewise did not see him, as she was sleeping soundly with her head leaning against the window. Matthew stared at her for about a minute, trying to imagine what she must feel every day that she remained married to Henry Talbot. Trapped in an unhappy marriage – being widowed must seem far preferable to her, Matthew wondered.