Mary summonsed Anna unexpectedly early the next morning.
"Good morning m'Lady," Anna said. "You have morning shift today," she said conversationally, assuming that was the reason for her dressing bell being rung so early on a Sunday.
Mary did not answer directly. She was seated on the stool in front of her dressing table mirror.
"Anna," she said coolly, "How can I cover this up?"
Anna gasped. Mary's left cheek was badly bruised and she had also sustained a small cut. Her left eye was beginning to blacken.
"What happened?" she said in horror, a strong suspicion beginning to form in her mind. The memory of the pale, withdrawn Mary who had returned from the visit to Haxby a few months prior came flooding back.
Mary took a deep breath. "You and I know will know what happened. Anna, I had a fight with Sir Richard. But the family will know that I tripped and fell and hit the side of my dresser. Is that clear?" Her voice was firm and resolute and her expression belied none of the fear and upset she felt inside.
Mary has her cool, calm face on, Anna thought. This is her way of surviving. But what does this mean for the pending marriage? Surely she cannot marry him now!
Anna wanted to ask her what the fight was about – had she called things off? The staff downstairs had already noticed that she had become less fond of Sir Richard in recent months, and the popular talk was that she was going through with the marriage out of a sense of obligation to Lord and Lady Grantham. Also suspected, but only alluded to among a very few loyal to Mary, was that a spark remained between her and Matthew.
Anna looked at her. The cool, calm look was still on her face. Best be business-like this morning, and not ask any questions, Anna thought.
"I think we can do something with a little powder. And I know you don't like rouge, but I could put on just a little and I believe it might help. But first lets make sure it's very clean, all right?" she said gently.
Being careful not to press too hard, Anna gently sponged the cut on her face, and then patted it dry with a soft towel.
She applied some salve, and then she went about applying the powder and rouge as judiciously as possible.
"There, how is that?" she asked.
Mary surveyed her appearance in the mirror. From a distance, it wasn't too noticeable, but up close the swelling was still apparent, and the bruising around her eye couldn't be hidden.
She sighed. "Well, I guess this will have to do."
She turned to Anna then, and the cool, calm expression had gone. "Will they believe me?" she said uncertainly. "Can I pull this off?"
"I'm sure you can m'Lady… but, m'Lady, if he has hurt you, wouldn't you want to tell them? Lord Grantham would not be pleased!" Anna said worriedly.
"Oh, Anna," Mary said and she stood and began to pace. "I have to face this. Alone. I cannot break things off with Sir Richard. He will release my scandal and ruin my family! It is not me I worry about now, it is Sybil and Edith and what it would mean for them. And how could I ever face Papa?"
"Vera Bates is responsible for this, isn't she?" Anna said, and her mouth set in a thin line. She was shocked at what Mary had just revealed.
"It's not completely her fault, well it didn't start with Vera, there were others," said Mary. She stopped pacing and looked at Anna, anguish on her face.
"If it is anyone's fault, it is entirely mine. I, never, ever should have flirted with Mr Pamuk when we went horse riding! I have only myself to blame for this whole sorry mess."
"Mr Pamuk came to your room without your bidding, and forced himself on you, m'Lady," Anna said firmly. "This is not your fault!"
Mary gave a huge sigh and wrung her hands. "Society does not see it that way. If this got out, society would see only a ruined woman who has shamed her family." She paused and shut her eyes momentarily.
"And for now, I just need to get on and face the day as best I can." She walked to her stool in front of the mirror and sat down, smoothing her skirts. She looked up, set her chin and said evenly, "Anna, could you please do my hair."
A short while later, Mary made herself go to the front door to farewell Sir Richard, whose train was due to depart at 8.00am.
"I trust you slept well," she said formally, as they walked to the front door.
"As well as can be expected away from one's own bed," he answered. "Please thank Lord and Lady Grantham for their hospitality. And regarding our conversation last night, whilst I remain disapproving of you continuing with this nursing, I can see that you are needed here if the state of those two excuses for men who joined us after dinner is anything to go by," he said stiffly.
"So I am prepared to allow you to continue with your work until we move to Haxby. I will be back from India in five weeks and expect a firm date to be set and agreed with your parents for the wedding by then."
Mary nodded, her face impassive. He kissed her hand and then turned to the car and climbed in. Branson shut the door and loaded his bag into the trunk. Sir Richard gave her a brief wave as the car departed.
Mary turned and walked slowly back into the house. She felt numb, the full horror of the situation in which she found herself too much to consider all at once. At the great hall, she paused, not sure what she was supposed to be doing.
You're on duty this morning, silly, she told herself, and with a little shake, she headed to the ward, even though it was twenty minutes before she was due to start.
Half-way up the hall, she saw the door to Matthew's bedroom open, and Nurse Ellison came out. "Nurse Crawley," she said, closing the door quietly behind her. "You're early! I must say, I'm quite pleased. Captain Crawley has had a rough night."
"What happened?" she asked.
"I thought he was just having a nightmare but he didn't come out of it. A bad flashback I think. I gave him a mild sedative and a shower and he's calmer now, but he's still not himself. I have another patient overdue for medication. Could you take over so I can sort that out?"
"Of course," Mary answered.
"Good morning, Matthew," she said, walking into his room. "Thank you for last night." He did not respond, so she sat down next to him and said "Matthew, look at me. It's Mary." While he managed to look at her this time, it was clear he was still not himself. Hmm, she thought. Perhaps breakfast will help. The routine of it, like any other day. She took him to the dining room and at the sideboard, she asked what he would like. When, again, he didn't answer, she set about plating up eggs and bacon, with toast and marmalade on the side, knowing that they were usually the dishes he would choose.
At the table, she set the plate in front of him and fetched herself a meal. He still hadn't touched his when she sat down, so she looked across at him and said gently. "Matthew, you need to eat." She put the fork and knife in each of his hands and said "Watch me, all right? And you do that too." He looked at her and finally seemed to register with what she had said. She picked up her own knife and fork and began to eat. And slowly, Matthew began to do the same.
The food did what she had hoped, and by the time Mary brought him a second cup of tea, he was back to almost back to himself.
They made small talk for a while and then Matthew gave a start and said, "Why aren't you breakfasting with Richard?" looking around as if he expected to see him.
"He left on the early train. He sails to India tomorrow," she answered coolly.
"Oh," Matthew said, suddenly confused. "I thought he was here until tonight."
"That had been the plan, but some last minute business matter had come up meaning he had to leave earlier," she answered evenly.
"Last night…" he started to ask, as he came even more fully back to the present.
"Matthew, let's leave last night for a moment. I just want to know how you are right now, Nurse Ellison said you had a flashback?"
Matthew nodded and his eyes darkened. "I don't know what triggered it because it started when I was asleep," he said.
"Was it something you've had before?" Mary asked delicately.
"Yes. It was… I don't know if I can say it, Mary, it's just too terrible. Someone I knew. They… died in a horrible way. I, I saw it," he shuddered. "It keeps coming back and it's like I'm right there," he looked away from her, tugging absentmindedly on his table napkin.
"Is the talking therapy helping?" she questioned.
"Maybe." He turned back to her and shrugged his shoulders. "But it's still happening," he sounded desolate.
"Keep at it, Matthew. You have been in the war, and around the horror of it almost four years. It's too much to expect to recover from that straight away," she said earnestly.
"Perhaps you are right," he looked down at the table. "But it's very hard all the same. Sometimes I don't know what is worse. Not walking, or having these horrible turns."
Mary gazed at him, her eyes full of compassion. "The war has dealt you a pretty tough hand," she said. She was quiet for a few moments, studying him.
"It humbles me how well you deal with it all," she remarked eventually. "So much pain, and then these terrible flashbacks."
"Am I really dealing with it well?" Matthew looked at her disbelieving.
"Well, I think so. God, if I imagine myself in your shoes I think I'd be the most ungrateful, grumpy and sourfaced patient you could ever imagine, and yet you, for the most part, are unfailingly polite, uncomplaining and dignified!"
She smiled at him, and he shrugged and attempted a smile in return. Tiredness was overtaking him again and he stifled a yawn.
"I'll take you back to your room so you can rest," Mary said quickly. "Have you had enough to eat?"
Matthew nodded and folded his napkin up, placing it on the table. Mary swallowed the last of her tea, and then she stood up and took Matthew back to his room.
Nurse Ellison was just finishing remaking the bed when they entered.
"Captain Crawley," she said kindly. "I'm glad to see you're back to yourself. How was the breakfast this morning?"
"Very nice, thank you," Matthew said courteously, trying not to think about the hell he must have put the older nurse through when in the throes of his unpleasant flashback. "I hope you get a chance to have some yourself before you leave!" he forced himself to add.
"I intend to, very soon, she said with a smile. "And then I'll be looking forward to some sleep! Do you want to lie down?" she asked noticing how pale he was.
Matthew nodded, so she and Mary lifted him out of the chair onto the bed. He had become so thin, it was now an easy job, although it always left Mary disconcerted. She couldn't wait for him to get his strength back – a lingering fear of him getting ill whilst in such a weakened state haunted her. She worried how vulnerable he would be if he contracted the terrible Spanish flu, which was being talked about in the newspapers. It had been devastating overseas, and it was now showing up in some of the returning troops and hitting many of them very hard.
Nurse Ellison's voice snapped her out of her reverie, and she made herself focus on the handover notes the nurse thrust into her hand. After Nurse Ellison left, Mary bustled about refreshing the water in the jug and tidying this and that, until Matthew said quietly, "Mary. Please stop."
Mary turned to him. "What is it Matthew? Should I leave you to sleep?"
"No. Not at all. I'm feeling better now I'm lying down," he paused. "I wanted to ask you how you are," he said. "Is that all right?" his tone was solicitous, gentle.
"I don't want to trouble you with my worries, Matthew," Mary said firmly. "You're dealing with so much yourself!"
"I appreciate your concern, Mary," Matthew said after a moment. "But, you know, I think that if I have someone else to think about it might actually help me. To get my mind off the flashbacks." He gazed at her intently. "If you do want to talk then I really think you'd be doing both yourself, and me, a favour."
"Oh," Mary said, initially surprised. And then she remembered how, for herself, having Matthew to focus on, ill as he was, after that horrible trip to Haxby with Richard, had really helped her to get through the following weeks. Perhaps it could be the same for him.
Matthew patted the side of his bed. "Sit here a moment, Mary." Obediently she sat down and looked at him.
"What did he do to your face?" he said, taking her hand.
"He… he..."
"Hit you," Matthew said bluntly. "With his fist."
Mary nodded, and she began to shake, her composure rapidly disappearing.
"What else did he do?" Matthew asked, knowing instinctively there was something else.
To his surprise, Mary stood, and she slowly and gingerly took off first her apron, and then her blouse, not caring about Matthew seeing her only in her corset. There was an ugly bruise, in the perfect shape of a handprint across her upper arm.
Matthew hissed and swallowed, and then he set his jaw. Wordlessly, he handed her back her blouse, and once she had buttoned it, he reached up and helped her pull the apron back over her head.
"Why have you not broken your engagement with him?" The same blunt tone.
I, I…" Mary was at a loss at what to say. She knew she had to find a way to tell Matthew, but her irrational fear that he would despise her remained.
"Mary," Matthew said more gently. "I don't know what you are hiding. But it seems to me that Richard is using whatever it is to blackmail you into marrying him. That is no basis for a marriage, and if he has beaten you now, before you are even betrothed, then God help you when you are in a marriage to him! No matter what you might have done, you do NOT deserve to be treated that way, ever, by any man!"
Mary looked at him and gulped. Matthew was right. It was blackmail. And he had beaten her. It was time. She had to tell him… had to trust.
She took a deep breath and began.
"Do you remember, a long time ago, a Turkish gentleman, Kamal Pamuk, who visited Downton?"
Matthew paused. "How could I possibly forget? He died here!"
"Yes, he did die." she paused and looked away. Then she gave a gulp and looked back at him. "He, he… died in my bed."
Matthew stared. "Go on," he said, his mind starting to race.
It all came tumbling out. Her infatuation during the horse ride. Her shock at his unexpected kiss outside the drawing room. Him coming to her room late that night, her with no idea how he knew which was her room. His threat, saying should she scream, that she was already ruined. Her decision to let him have his way. Him dying… on top of her just when… and at that, she began to sob uncontrollably.
"I can't get his face out of my mind, Matthew!" she said anguished. She felt his hands on her shoulders then, gently pulling her back against him.
"Shhh" he said gently, "It's all right Mary," and he stroked her hair. In his mind, the situation was very clear. Mary had been taken advantage of by a young man with no scruples. In her innocence (and he clearly remembered the vain, yet naïve young woman he had known back then) she had got herself into a very difficult situation, which was then made far worse by the fact that the young man in question had literally died in her bed.
"What did you do?" he asked when her sobbing had quietened.
"Anna and Mama helped me to move him back to his room."
"Cora?" Matthew said in amazement.
"Yes. Mama was very good about it. Although that is why she is so keen to see me with Richard. To get me a good position in case it ever comes public. It wouldn't have the same impact for a married woman."
"How did Richard learn of all this?" Matthew asked suddenly.
Mary took a huge, shuddering breath. Then she unexpectedly sat up. "Matthew, are you all right? I completely forgot about your chest, have I hurt you?" She said anxiously.
Matthew smiled. He'd always found her ability to switch from concern about herself to others so instantaneously quite disarming.
"Mary," he chided her gently "I love how you are always so concerned for others! I'm actually quite comfortable, I've had very little rib pain the last few weeks, and the physical therapy is helping with the rest. But even if I was in pain I'd happily put up with it, as right now you're the one whose needs are more important!"
Mary looked at him, humbled, again, at his calmness and understanding in hearing the whole sorry tale.
"There is quite a bit to tell," she said sadly. "Should I fetch some tea before I start? And ohh," she checked the watch pinned to her apron, "I need to do the medication round."
Matthew nodded. "Let's take a break so you can do all of that. Come back with the tea afterwards."
After she had completed the necessary medical tasks and checked in with her other patients, Mary fetched a tray of tea and scones for them both from the dining room and returned to Matthew's room.
Once they were settled with their cups, she began again. It was a long and complex tale. The unknown servant who had told Edith what had occurred, and repeated the story outside of the house. Edith's betrayal. The letter to Lord Grantham that was hidden from him by Cora. That Papa still didn't know. The invitations that stopped coming that very next Season. The shock at discovering Vera Bates somehow had obtained information about the scandal, and that she was prepared to release it if Bates did not stop his attempt to divorce her. Mary's decision to entrust Richard with her secret, so that he could contract with Vera and then force her not to release it.
She stopped, exhausted from the effort of recalling it all, and emotional from the turmoil that it rekindled in her.
Matthew took her hand and slowly stroked it.
"A very sorry mess. And all caused by the actions of a detestable young man with no scruples."
"But it was all my fault," Mary said sadly. "I should never have flirted with him!"
"Mary," Matthew said firmly. "Look at me. You were not to blame. You did not invite him to your room. You asked him to go and told him you would scream. The only mistake you made, if it was a mistake at all, was in believing him when he said you would be ruined if you screamed, simply by a man being found in your room! Please don't blame yourself!"
They were both silent for a few minutes, and then Matthew said slowly. "I do have some more questions.
"What happened with Richard, that time you went to Haxby? What did he say to make you so upset?"
Mary told him how she tried to break off the engagement with him, saying she had realised they had so very little in common, and how Richard had grabbed her arm and told her he had the power to destroy her, and that he would use it if she broke things off.
"Good God," said Matthew, deeply shocked.
"And… what about last night? Why did he hit you?" he asked very gently.
Mary paused. She wasn't quite sure how to put it, given the answer involved Matthew himself. Oh, what the hell, she swore to herself. She was in too deep now, with all she had shared with him. She took a deep breath and continued.
"He accused me of flirting with you when he saw us reading the papers together in the recreation room," she said sadly. "And then he said he was going to forbid me to nurse you, or indeed, nurse anyone. I told him that what he wanted was unreasonable and that I would not stop nursing. And that's when… he hit me."
"I wish Eddie and I had been quicker!" Matthew burst out.
"Ohh, that's right. You came in and asked about that book," she said looking at him in surprise.
"And you seemed to cotton on to our game, because you went and found it!" Matthew answered.
"You know, I almost did that unconsciously. I think I was so shocked by him hitting me... and then so relieved that you were both suddenly there," Mary's voice trailed off.
"Thank you," she said, and she swallowed. "You... you weren't too late... he was raising his arm to strike me again when you came in!"
"The bastard," Matthew muttered under his breath.
She looked at him frowning suddenly. "How did you know I was there?"
"My time to do some confessing," he said. "Sybil came to see us just before, saying she was worried about you. She didn't like the way Carlisle had been talking. She asked us to check on you, so… well Eddie and I decided we'd pay a visit. We made up a ruse, which we hoped might avoid him getting suspicious.
"And it worked," Mary remarked, the corners of her lips twitching.
"I only wish we'd been able to confront him," Matthew said grimly.
"It would have been the wrong thing to do. He'd probably be publishing today! And I have a horrible feeling he would have taken a swing at you too," she said and gave an involuntary shudder at the thought. "I think what you did do was far better... if nothing else, he's gone away none the wiser."
A look of hopelessness came over her face. "I wish there was something I could do to get out of this! And even if I knew what to do, I don't know if there is time. He wants a firm date fixed for our wedding when he is back from India in five weeks. And he has made it clear that when we marry I am not to continue any of my work – not the nursing, and not the administration," Mary said sadly.
"Maybe I just have to go through with this," she said, almost to herself. "And be strong. Just imagine what it would mean for Papa if word got out! And Sybil and Edith would never find good positions!"
"No!" Matthew said firmly. "There will be something we can do to allow you to call off the engagement and stop him publishing your story. I just know it. Men like Carlisle... they always have secrets they don't want exposed. We just need to find those and use those to bargain with, in exchange for him keeping his mouth shut!"
"I wouldn't even know where to start," Mary said, her hopeless tone continuing. "And who could possibly help me?"
"I can, Mary," Matthew said unexpectedly. "I'm a lawyer for god's sake. This is the sort of thing I know exactly how to do!"
Mary stared at him in surprise. "But how, when?" She countered, looking at him with a mixture of joy at hearing him reclaiming his own profession and saying he could help, and disbelief because he really, really wasn't that well yet and how on earth could he possibly do the work when he was so weak and tired so easily?
"There has to be a way," Matthew raged, almost to himself. "I need to go to my former firm. Mary would you come with me to the office? We could get Charles started on the case, and from there we could work up a plan."
"Matthew," she said tremulously. "You can do this? You will do this for me? You really will?"
"Why on earth would I not, Mary! It's something I can help with! I have got the skills and I know others who can help. He is blackmailing you into a marriage you do not want. It is outrageous, and you must be free of him."
She smiled at him then, her eyes brimming with tears, and feeling, for the first time in months, a little bubble of hope. Maybe, just maybe she could be free of Sir Richard, without the horror of her scandal tainting the lives of her family forever.
She looked at Matthew and noticed he seemed far away for a moment.
"What is it Matthew?" she asked a little timidly. She still had little real sense from him what he thought of her, following this long-winded confession.
"When you turned me down, all those years ago Mary… was it because of what happened with Mr Pamuk?" he asked delicately.
She nodded. "I wanted to tell you. But I didn't know how. I didn't want to say 'yes' to you unless you knew. And I dithered around so much… and then you…" her voice trailed off.
"And I thought it was because you didn't love me," Matthew said, his tone unreadable.
"It, it was the opposite, Matthew... you were, you are such a good, honourable man. I could not imagine marrying you unless I had told you first… and been fully honest with you... Oh, I wish to God I had at the time! But I didn't," she said with a shake of her head.
She looked at him hesitantly, trying to read what he was thinking. His blue eyes lifted to hers and he said slowly "I'm really glad this is all out in the open Mary," and he smiled.
"You… you have forgiven me then?" Mary countered, keeping her eyes on his.
Matthew smiled again. "No. I haven't forgiven you. You don't need my forgiveness! You are not to blame for all this Mary! What matters is making sure you have a happy future. For now, let's just focus on getting Carlisle out of the picture, shall we?"
He held his arms out. "Let me give you a hug. You look like you need it." And Mary fell into his arms and began to cry with relief.