Author's Note: A bit of a shorter chapter but I am sick so...but I expect another one tonight because I am excited to write it. The Dowager Countess makes a bit of an "appearance" so to speak here. I love her so much.

Mary did, in fact, get up and get dressed. When she went to the mirror to do her hair, she found that she grinning without being aware of. Don't get ahead of yourself, Mary, she told herself, this could all go to pieces in an instant. After all, her mind ruefully added, it usually does.

She was downstairs at the little desk by the door when the duo came in. Without looking up at either one of them, "I see you're not just staying here, Matthew, but living here since two telegrams and a letter are addressed to you here," she said dryly.

But then Grace's laughter made her look up at the two of them, framed in the sun shining through the doorway. Grace was cuddled up against him, her head pressed to the space between his jaw and neck and one of her little arms was around Matthew's shoulder, playing with his hair. She was giggling to herself. "And how," Mary continued in that same dry tone (though she had to work at it this time), "did the two of you both get grass staines on your knees."

"Grace?" Matthew asked. "Would you like to take this one?"

"Mo'," she said, rather sweetly gazing up at Matthew.

Mary only raised her eyebrow at Matthew. "We were playing. And there may have been some wrestling."

"Wrestling?" Mary sputtered.

"Gentle wrestling," Matthew added, while Grace continued to look up at him as if the sun rose and fell with him, lazily twirling a piece of his hair between her fingers.

"Gentle wrestling?" Mary asked. "Girls do not wrestle."

"Well you see, Lady Mary, I seem to recall you giving quite a speech about how your daughter would be allowed to run and play and that no one would ever tell her to act like a lady," Matthew replied, tongue in cheek.

"Was it very gentle wrestling?" Mary asked, more kindly this time, a little worry entering her voice. "She is still rather little."

"Very gentle," he assured her in a soft tone. "Gracie, your mama has been most severe with us this morning. I think it means she must come and give us a kiss."

Mary rose and wrapped her arm around his neck on the side that Grace wasn't on. "Ma," Gracie murmured, a bit sleepily. "Here's your kiss, darling," she replied and leaned forward to press her lips to the baby's. "And here's yours, darling," she kissed Matthew warmly, his free hand gripping her waist, the sun warming their back. "I love this," he whispered. "Us."

"We should go," Mary replied, "to get the certificate. If we put her in the pram, she'll easily fall asleep."

"Oh, Mary," he replied, a lilt of excitement in his voice as he gave her one last vital squeeze. "Do you think Grace and I ought to change?"

"I'm afraid if we change her, she won't fall asleep and when we go get this certificate, you'll both just have to appear ridiculous."

"Do I appear ridiculous to you?" he asked warmly.

"Only sometimes," she whispered into his ear, and pressed a kiss to his next, before leaving the three way embrace for the pram.

"But it was so easy," Mary said in a daze only an hour and a half later, her hand on Matthew's elbow, since he insisted on pushing the pram. "We just had to sign some documents stating we weren't presently married, show some ID, and we have an appointment to be married in four days..."

"Well it didn't hurt that you were Lady Mary Crawley and that I signed as the future Earl of Grantham," he conceded.

"Yes, I know, but they don't know what that even means, they're just always stupidly impressed by it, silly americans."

"I can't believe that after living here for nearly three years and having an American mother, you would speak of your countrymen that way."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, please, Matthew. You know I'm English through and through."

"I don't know," he teased. "Not even a lady's maid in sight." She pushed at him with her hip.

"Is the baby still asleep?" Matthew asked.

"Yes," Mary said. While she appreciated that Matthew followed her (ridiculous) rules of not speaking of certain things in front of Gracie (though it was obvious she couldn't understand), she was already nervous over what topic would come up.

"It's just that I'm sure one of those telegrams is from Mr. Murray. I asked for a suggestion of a lawyer in New York," her hand squeezed his arm. "I have no details of course. But I hope to go there late and sort out how to make Grace, officially, legally mine."

"Oh," Mary gulped.

"I don't want to upset you but I feel that it's necessary..."

"I just never thought. How stupid of me."

"Not stupid," he said gently. "It's just that I'm a solicitor and these details of the law are my business. So Mary, I must ask you...what name is on the birth certificate?"

"Well Gracie's of course, and mine," but she squeezed her eyes shut after her attempt at a joke. "I had to put unknown for the father. I couldn't..." she whispered. "I just couldn't put anything other than that. I didn't want her to ever know the circumstances. And I didn't want to give him any power over us, even if it was just his name on a piece of paper. I wanted him completely gone from our lives."

"Mary, I'm very sorry that you had to do that then and alone. But for us, this is the best possible situation." He touched the hand on his arm for a moment before returning it to the handle of pram. "This way we can just have my name added to it. If you'd named someone else, we would have had to received his my permission to adopt her." She looked up at him. "This way, there is no question, whenever we return to Downton, that Grace is mine in every way and if anyone dares to question the biology of our situation, we have proof otherwise."

Mary was silent for a moment, taking it all in. "Her name is Grace Violet Crawley."

"Your name will be too in a few days," he grinned. "Though, Cousin, I don't think you'll have to alter your signature very much."

Mary squeezed his arm again. "But how will it be changed from unknown to your name?" She paused, gripping his arm meaningfully. "The right name."

Matthew smiled. "I have no doubt that Mr. Murrary has found me a lawyer who knows exactly who I am and who the family is, who won't mind doing us this favor. I'll just give him some story about how confused women can be after birth and so on and so forth. We'll guffaw back and forth. There may be some money involved and it will be done. Honestly, I hope to go today, depending on what Murray says. I want this taken care of as soon as possible. There is only one other thing...Who else knows for certain that Grace is not biologically..." he just couldn't bear to finish the sentence. He didn't even like to think of it.

"Only Granny and Mama know for certain what happened and they will lie for us without question. Papa knows that there is a baby but Granny fairly reamed him out not to ask about Grace's parentage and as far as I know, in all the letters, he has complied and not asked since Granny practically threatened his life..."

"So I can expect quite the welcome from your father when we return with Grace in my arms then," Matthew tried to laugh but his collar felt tight.

"He loves you. He's always loved you. You're a son to him more than I am daughter to him after I deserted him."

"Mary, I'm sure that's not true."

"Are you?" she raised her eyebrow at him.

By then they'd reached home, and Mrs. Larsen was smoking on the steps of the brownstone in her trousers. "So are you married then?" she asked, in that voice that sounded as if it were rubbed in gravel.

"In four days," Mary told her.

"What are you going to wear?" Mrs. Larsen asked, blowing smoke in the direction out of the baby's pram.

"Oh I'm sure I have something..."

"You must wear white," Mrs. Larsen demanded cooly, puffing on her cigarette.

"We're getting married at the courthouse, Mrs. Larsen and besides, I have a child. It would hardly be appropriate..."

"What would hardly be appropriate is to let that pig of a man, keep you from wearing white," Mrs. Larsen said rather harshly. "I'm sorry to speak of it, since you've never taken me into your confidence over the whole matter, and understandably so," but she didn't seem that sorry, "But I've been with you for three years now and I know what I know and I see what I see. Your grandmother isn't here and neither is your mother so I'm telling you. You will wear white; you deserve to wear white. I know a place, we'll go tomorrow." (Matthew's gaze went to her trousers)

"Mrs. Larsen..."

"And when that baby," she continued as if Mary hadn't spoken. "Looks at the photograph of her parent's wedding, you will be wearing white and you..." She looked Matthew up and down, her eyes spotting at the grass stains. "Do you have something suitable?"

"I'm sure he does, Mrs. Larsen."

"I'm not sure," she replied in that distinctive voice.

"Didn't I tell you he's going to be an Earl someday?" Mary said, grinning up at Matthew teasingly, and winking at Mrs. Larsen.

"Well lah dee dah," she shrugged unimpressed. "And what will that make you, the Queen of England? We're going shopping tomorrow. Take that baby and put her in her bed and I'll be in to start my cleaning after I finish my ciggy."

Mary lifted the baby and Matthew the pram, neither one of them able to completely stifle their laughter. "I'll take Grace up," she whispered. "You read your telegrams."

"Oh my darling," Mary whispered, so quietly it was just her lips forming the words as she entered the nursery. "Your Papa really is the smartest man I've ever met. We are so lucky to have him." She laid the baby in the crib and left the door ajar. When she came down, Matthew was waiting for her. "I'm going to see the lawyer now. I want this taken care of as soon as possible. Do you have a copy of the original?"

"Yes," she told him, going to the desk, rifling through some files to find it. "Here we are," she handed it to him. "Matthew," she called before he could leave. "Let me fix your collar." He endured her help but she knew that the collar was fine. "I only wanted to say that I love you. And such good luck."

"Your lucky charm is in my pocket." And before she could ask or communicate her shock he grinned, took her face in his hands and gave her a light kiss before leaving. Mary went back to the desk to read her letters, the first of which was from Granny. If she had to choose someone she missed the most, it would have to be Granny. Not that she loved Granny more than the rest of them but she just simply adored her wit, the turn of her head, how she could quiet an entire dinner with one sentence. Mary hoped one day to be very much like her and as such had also given Grace her middle name. Moreover, it had been Granny who had been there after...everything and even before, trying to break the entail. She may not know where she stood with the rest of her family, but Granny had made it quite clear that she was on Mary's side. For all those reasons and more, she adored Granny's letters.

My dearest Mary,

And Grace too of course. However, despite your obvious skills, Mary, when it comes to being a mother, I still highly doubt you have taught a one and a half year old to read. But I've been wrong before...Once in the late 1860's, I believe.

How are you two? Are you still enjoying that horrid New York? I must say that it is beautiful at Downton this time of year, the grass so green, the house so proud. Shall I renew my entreaties to please come home? I think I shall and with new vigor as well.

First, let me start simply, now I don't wish to alarm you, my dear girl, but I am getting older (gracefully of course) and one never knows what might happen to a person. And really, if I had one dying wish it would be to hold Grace Violet Crawley in my arms before I die. But don't let me depress you, dear.

Also, I really feel as if you miss Downton, at least a little. I can hear it in your letters. How you ask after the family? And even Carson? (who I should also add that while healthy is also getting up in age and I am sure if he knew about Grace it would also be his dying wishto hold that dear child in his arms and as I said, Mary, one never knows what may happen). You don't have to come forever. But do, please come for a visit. I also have one more argument to add (Please do not think that Cousin Matthew, our family's heir/solicitor is the only one who can form a well though out argument).

My final cherry to add is that Sybil is coming and in June and she is bringing little Robbie (she insists I use this nickname and I oblige her though I always thought Robert a fine name in and of itself). She is also bringing that husband of hers who, and perhaps you may hear me sigh all the way across the Atlantic, I have been lectured to call Tom and not Branson. Is it my fault I am a comedian and suggested that if only Ireland and England were connected by land (and of course, if they could afford a car, which they probably can't) Branson could drive them here! (He is an excellent driver). Apparently, Sybil did not take too kindly to that and wrote me making me promise to call Branson Tom and Robert Robbie or she wouldn't come for June (the whole month, they managed, can you believe it?). Now, I know how you have always loved Sybil and preferred her to Edith (maybe it is not fair to say so but I have never been a liar) and I know you would love to spend time with your youngest sister, and maybe a few minutes with Edith. And think of Robbie and Gracie, two cousins, nearly the same age, who have never even met, not once. Do they not deserve to know one another, the little American girl and Irish boy? (Oh what has become of this fine English family. Personally, I blame your mother).

This is my argument and after reading it over, I think it is a lovely one. I cannot imagine anyone with any brains in her head denying the fact that I am right and that you must come in June if not before.

Also, on a slightly different note, I feel I must tell you that Cousin Matthew is...in New York. Not to worry, dear, he isn't looking for you. Just on holiday. But I must remind you, he never did marry...For all his horrid sentimental talk about how much he loved you and needed to see you after you left (of course, I could not be moved to reveal anything, not that I had anything to reveal...and also all those feelings he was expressing, it made me dizzy. How could one man feel so much and stand upright at the same time?) All I am doing is warning you, darling. If you want to find Matthew, a kind, gentile man, who has always been true to you (at least since you left...ironically) then find him out, I say! I have always been fond of Matthew, which is a miracle really, considering his mother (haha, my dear, haha). I believe he would still have you. I believe he would still be happy to have you. But, if on the other hand, you wish to avoid such a man, beware of those very particular eyes he owns and keep a watch out.

Now write me back immediately and tell me that you will come in June. You are a smart girl after all. Haven't I always said? And of course update me on all of Grace Violet's doings. But don't waste too much paper on that, dear, since you will be coming in June, if not before.

All my love,

Granny

"Oh Granny," Mary murmured, smiling. "Don't ever change."

Matthew came back not two hours later to find the girls in the kitchen, eating cheese and apples. "So?" Mary asked as soon as she saw him. He kissed the top of her head and then the top of Grace's, who clapped upon seeing him. "It will be done by the end of the week."

Mary closed her eyes in relief. "Oh darling, I also have news."

Matthew stopped in the midst of removing his jacket. "Good or bad?"

She smiled, "Just news. There's a letter from Granny over on the desk I think you should read."

He went and got it and then brought it back to the table so he could sit with them. Grace immediately shoved a piece of cheese in his mouth. "Yum," he muttered and began.

"Cousin Violet is..." Matthew said when he was halfway through.

"Something, dear, the word you're looking for is something," and Mary took a bite of apple from Grace's hand.

He had to laugh out loud when he got to the part about him. "Well at least we know she won't be disappointed that we're married."

"Of course not, that's what she always wanted, even though she could never put her full weight behind the match out of love for me," Mary told him. "I can't tell you all the things she said over the years. I believe she referred to Lavinia as that little blonde piece."

"She said that?" Matthew asked laughing. Mary nodded, urging the baby to eat some apple, but whose attention was on Matthew trying to feed cheese to him, which he finally took, to Grace's relief. "What do you think about the rest of it?"

"You know," she said with a sigh. "It's the first time out of the millions of times that she's asked that I would even consider it, after talking to you about it of course."

He smiled. He couldn't help it. "Well after dinner and after we put this one to bed, we'll talk about it."

"On the couch, of course" she added, arching her eyebrow.

Author's Note: So the question of the birth certificate is explained but *if* they go to Downton they will have a lot of explaining to do. How could this baby be Matthew's? And when did they get married again? And oh by the Isobel, you're a granny! All I can promise is that there is a bumpy ride ahead, with some peaks of fluff and happiness. What do you think of this continued domesticity between the three Crawley's? I hope it is believable. And is this wedding actually going to happen? While Mary was doing her hair, she seemed to think it impossible based on their history of constant disappointments...Please review.