Chapter 10

Mary April 1919

Time seemed to have stopped. Nothing mattered except the two of them: not the Spanish Flu, not the upcoming wedding, not the heartbreak of the past. It felt like they were dancing together in the absolute calm of the eye of a storm. Mary knew, somewhere in the very peripheral of her mind, that she shouldn't be dancing with someone else's fiancée like this, but it was too late to stop now; they had to finish what they had started.

As the gramophone played on, she looked up at Matthew. She was acutely aware of the space between them and Matthew's hand on her lower back. She wanted to say something, but her mind seemed to be curiously unfocused.

"We were a show that flopped" she ventured in reference to Matthew's description of the music they were dancing to.

Matthew's gaze softened and he pulled her closer in to him. She felt as though she might stop breathing. How could something be so wrong and yet feel so right at the same time. She felt Matthew's lips graze her ear:

"Oh God, Mary!" he whispered.

She felt the hairs on the back of her neck tingle. She knew how dangerous this was, but she couldn't stop it, not now.

"I'm so so sorry" Matthew continued.

"Do you know how sorry I am?"

Mary had a moment of pure clarity: Matthew had never stopped loving her, just as she had never stopped loving him. She felt a strange sort of peace in that knowledge despite the fact that it didn't, and couldn't, alter their respective situations. He loved her: that was enough.

"Don't be" she responded looking up at him.

"It wasn't anyone's fault, and if it was, it was mine."

Matthew April 1919

Matthew knew he should stop dancing with Mary. He knew he couldn't be trusted with her in his arms like this, but he couldn't bring himself to end it, not yet.

Since his conversation with Cousin Violet he'd gradually come to realise that she was right; Mary was in love with him, and he knew that, rightly or wrongly, he loved her back; that he had never really stopped loving her. He couldn't believe how blind he'd been, both to her feelings and his own, and how the two of them had managed to so spectacularly ruin any chance of their being together. His apology to Mary just now, whispered into her ear, was genuine and heartfelt. He'd always thought she was responsible for breaking them apart, but now, whilst he still didn't fully understand everything, he had begun to see his own hand in their separation: his proud and impulsive haste to leave Downton, his refusal to see her during those two years, his rushed engagements to Lavinia. He had been as much of a fool as she had been.

He knew he should end the dancing, but he felt that he owed Mary more than a whispered apology. In a matter of days he would be a married man and she deserved an explanation.

"You know Cousin Violet came to me and told me I should marry you" he said by way of a start. He knew she wouldn't be able to resist asking him more.

"When was this?" she asked looking at him in surprise.

He smiled.

"A while ago. When we knew I would walk again" he replied.

"Classic Granny!"

A slight pause. He wondered if she would shut things down there. They should stop, but he wanted the chance to be honest with her just once.

"What did you say?"

Here was his chance. He subconsciously tightened his embrace of her closing the space between them.

"That I couldn't accept Lavinia's sacrifice of her life, her children, her future, and then give her the brush off when I was well again. Well I couldn't could I?"

"Of course not" Mary replied quickly.

Now he had started being honest he couldn't stop. He needed her to know how he really felt; just once before he had to box those feelings up again.

When he spoke it came out hoarsely; his voice betraying his feelings. Love, longing and regret. Deep deep regret.

"However much I might want to"

He closed his eyes as Mary responded.

"Absolutely not"

He opened his eyes and looked at Mary. She was so beautiful, always so beautiful, and in that moment he felt like she was finally his. Everything faded into the background except the two of them now no longer dancing but standing still as the room seemed to spin around them.

Without thinking he kissed her and suddenly nothing mattered except that he was with her and that she was with him. He was where he was always meant to be.

It was a different kiss than the last time. That one had been full of promise of things to come; this one was simply of the moment. A never repeatable expression of all that should have been. He didn't want it to ever end.

"Hello?"

Lavinia's voice caused Mary to spring from him like she'd touched a live wire. There was a sharp stab of guilt in the pit of his stomach and he felt sick.