Thomas Barrow let Carson's harping roll off his back as he left the servants hall. It was grating when the older man decided that certain events needed 'a more experienced' touch but considering the number of extra duties he was being saddled with, it was helpful. Carson also did a good job in shutting down the rampant 'who will Lady Mary choose' nonsense as well. He didn't much care, beyond a certain relief in knowing that Matthew Crawley wasn't some huge unknown while Henry Talbot was. Matthew would be the Earl of Grantham when Robert died and whether Lady Mary chose him or not, the man would make changes. It sounded like whatever else he'd been doing living as a bohemian gardener, he'd been making some money as a poet. He wasn't going to bankrupt the estate. In contrast, Thomas had his doubts over Henry Talbot's and Tom Branson's car venture.
He grabbed the small suitcase he'd picked up from Crawley House and made his way upstairs. Matthew was going to stay overnight at the main house for the hunt instead of staying with his mother. It really couldn't be argued with, if anyone had wanted to try to argue with Isobel Crawley. Shooting parties meant the guests would want to bathe and change their clothes and it was silly and unkind to expect Matthew to walk back and forth from Crawley House several times each day when they were hardly stuffing the house to the gills with guests. It also made it easier if he spent the night for him to get a decent amount of rest, something that Thomas suspected was a concern.
So where to put Matthew, he pondered as he walked up the stairs. It would be disrespectful to shove him off into the guest wing, because he was family. But putting him too close to Lady Mary's room would be disrespectful to Henry and invited talk. Near the nursery, he decided, letting a slight smile come to his face. It was close enough that if anyone wanted to meet during the night, it could be passed off as checking on the children.
He was unpacking Matthew's clothes when Matthew himself stepped into the room. "Barrow…I can… unpack my th-th-th-things…" His face grew red, both from the effort and from embarrassment.
What side do I pick, Thomas asked himself. It was easy, really. Matthew was George's father, and George was a kind little boy who adored him despite what he was, and Matthew had always been fair to him. That meant he needed to be diplomatic. "Of course you can, sir. But it is my job to make sure you're taken care of while you stay here. If you need anything, I'll be functioning as your valet and in case Mr. Branson didn't mention it, Mr. Carson is acting as the butler this weekend so that I can be available if you wish to spend time with your son." He didn't see the point in dancing around it. Not when Branson said it was Matthew who had the concern.
If anything, the man turned even flusher with embarrassment. "That's… for G-George's sake. I don't… I don't… want him fr-frightened if s-something happens. I'm s-sorry." The stutter and stammer was much worse for some reason, Thomas realized
"Don't apologize for having good sense, sir," Thomas said it easily. He agreed with the task on several levels. George was five. He was a clever little boy but still very young, and if Matthew had a seizure while they were alone on a walk, there wasn't much danger in it, but it would surely frighten the boy. "I don't mind having a break from managing the wine cellar."
"I s-suppose not… but I d-do appreciate it, B-Barrow." Matthew looked around the room. "This is n-nice." He smiled ruefully. "And it… lets M-Mother and I have… a break."
Barrow found himself nodding along at that. Isobel Crawley was a kind woman, but she could be a bit overbearing in her need to fix and control things. Made worse in that Matthew was her son, and there wasn't much fix to some of the problems. Thomas knew exactly why he'd been designated as Matthew's temporary valet, he had medical training of a sort, and Isobel insisted. He was hardly a nurse but he wondered if a change of scene might help Matthew. As he watched, the man suddenly turned an off shade of grey. Does that mean what I think, he wondered.
"Matthew!" They both jumped at the sound of Lady Mary's voice. She stepped into the room, her eyes completely on Matthew. "Matthew, I need to talk to you. It's important."
It sounded important from the worried yet hopeful tone. She's made her decision, Thomas thought, and why do I think it's about to go toes up? As he watched, Matthew nodded, raised his hand, and then his eyes rolled back in his head, showing nothing but the whites as the man began to twitch. Duly noted, Thomas thought as he dropped the shirts he'd been folding and grabbed Matthew as he collapsed, your stutter gets much worse and you turn white as a ghost right before you decide to thrash about.
"Matthew!" Lady Mary cried out. She dropped to her knees beside them both, and was almost punched for her troubles by Matthew, who was flailing on the floor. "Oh my god, please don't die, please don't do this to me again!"
"Calm down, Lady Mary!" Thomas said as he did his best to stop Matthew from inadvertently striking her. "He's not dying," although it wasn't unheard of for epileptics to die during fits, "he's just having a seizure. It will stop." She watched as Matthew shook uncontrollably, her eyes wide in horror. It lasted longer that the incident two days earlier, Thomas was close to telling her to go call for Dr. Clarkson when the shaking ended. "There," he said, feeling just a touch breathless himself, "he's stopped. Perhaps you could fetch me a towel, Lady Mary?"
"A towel?" She looked at him quizzically.
He gestured to Matthew. "He's a bit frothed up like a mad dog." It wasn't the worst he'd seen, there had been a poor fellow in the wards who not only frothed like an animal while seizing but wet and shat himself. Matthew was lucky to be spared that indignity. "He might feel better if he doesn't wake up like this…"
Mary seemed to shake off her shock. She got to her feet and went to the small attached bathroom and came back bearing a towel. "Was it like this the other night? Why isn't he waking up?" Her worry and fear were obvious and it was making him nervous because Matthew wasn't coming around. Finally, the man's eyes fluttered open. It was a relief, even if the man looked dazed and confused. "Mr. Crawley, let's get you up off the floor and onto the bed."
"W-what?" Matthew was surprisingly limp and shaky in getting up onto the bed. He looked around the room, clearly not understanding what had just happened. "How… how did I… get on the f-floor?" He seemed to almost hug himself as he crossed his arms. "A s-seizure… I h-had a s-seizure…" He shook his head. "I was… t-talking to you… And Mary w-was here…" He looked around, and Thomas wasn't surprised to see that Lady Mary had quietly exited. No doubt to let the man collect himself and to collect herself as well. Matthew might have missed it but he hadn't. Lady Mary had been crying, from fright or concern, it didn't really matter.
"She stepped out. To give you some privacy," Thomas lied easily.
"She… w-was horrified," Matthew wiped his face with the towel. "At least… she knows n-now. What she m-might be choosing. This w-was… a b-bad one…" He patted himself down. "I'm n-not wet… there's that. That c-can happen … with bad ones. I d-don't understand… they haven't… c-come this close t-together in over… over a year."
An idea formed in Thomas's head. Life was different for Matthew in Cornwall. Thomas had listened to the talk as he held trays and served food and Matthew's life was very different in a number of ways. "Mr. Crawley… may I ask you a question?"
"Yes, B-Barrow, of course."
"How often did you drink wine or liquor on say, a weekly basis, in Chepstow?" Thomas had a suspicion, a strong one, that it wasn't often.
Matthew shook his head. "Not… not v-very often really. People t-tend towards… coffee in the artist crowd. It's ch-cheaper for starters. None of m-my friends drink… Why are you… asking that?"
"Because one of the doctors I worked with in the war always told the boys who came back with fits like yours not to drink. That it made someone prone to fits more likely to have them. And here, you have wine and liquor at every meal except breakfast and drinks after dinner as well. May I suggest I replace your wine glasses with water or coffee for meals? And his lordship stocks club soda in his bar so you can stand about with a glass in your hand like everyone else?" Thomas didn't think it would be much of a sacrifice as long as a fuss wasn't made.
"Dr. Alford… he d-did mention that… but I m-might have a… glass of beer once in a while at best. I just… n-never had the habit." Matthew gave him a look. "It won't s-stop the seizures but if it's the tr-trigger… it's worth trying." Then he took in the room, and patted the bed. "Since this… is my r-room for the w-weekend, I might g-get some… rest before dinner."
Cora found Mary sobbing in her room. "Mary, what's wrong?" she asked. What else is wrong, was the real question. There wasn't much else that could go wrong, in Cora's opinion. Except that Mary would choose Henry over Matthew. She didn't dislike Henry, far from it, but she knew who Mary loved best. She also knew that despite her proud patrician disdain, Mary cared deeply about what people thought about her and her family. There were pluses and minuses to both choices. If she chose Matthew, she'd be a loyal wife who went back to a man with failing health as soon as she found out. If she stayed with Henry, many people in society would consider it just and right since she married the man as a widow and his child didn't deserve the stigma of bastardy. The downside to Matthew was that Mary would need to make some significant changes in her life. Matthew was used to a different life, a life he enjoyed, a life where his every moment wasn't a spectacle. Cora doubted he would want to live the way Mary did with Henry, with jaunts to London and parties.
And if Mary chose Henry, the downside was that she'd always know she left Matthew alone of her own free will. She would regret it and have no one but herself to blame. "Mary, you're alone in your bedroom crying, obviously something is wrong."
Mary wiped her eyes. "Matthew had a seizure. I… I hadn't seen one before. It was quite dreadful, Mama. On minute I was about to tell him something and the next he was rolling around on the floor shaking and frothing at the mouth."
"Yes, I imagine it was quite like poor Lt. Reynolds when he was taken with a fit. And I remember how you and Dr. Clarkson tended that man and how you told him that his life wasn't over, that there were many soldiers who had injuries and that people would understand. You even helped him change his pants. I know it's upsetting because it's Matthew but if you're worried that you not strong enough to handle it, you're so wrong." Cora took her hand. "Mary, you are the strongest of my daughters, I've always known that. You have borne heartache that I cannot imagine. I worried, I won't deny it, that you'd never come back from Matthew's death but you did. You were ready to tend Matthew in a wheel chair. This actually looks easier than that. If you choose Matthew, you just have to be careful to not overtax him. It sounds like he's found a lovely way to support himself with the poetry, Edith showed me his work. I'm not surprised he's getting published, he's very good. You enjoy managing the estate." She paused. It wasn't difficult, what she was about to say, just not something people said aloud often. "You're so obviously still in love with him, and him with you. He wants you, he obviously isn't angered that you got married. Yes, Henry will be upset but he'll be more upset if you choose him over the baby and not because you love him more than Matthew. Do you? Love him more than Matthew?" She knew the answer, she just wanted Mary to say it.
"No," Mary admitted. "And Edith made the point to me earlier that the child coming with be… treated shamefully no matter who I choose." Which, Cora thought, was Edith projecting her own fears more than a little. People would talk about Mary's child, but it was hardly the result of illicit behavior on anyone's part. Mary wiped her eyes. "I went to the room we've put Matthew in for the weekend to talk to him to see…if he thought he could bear spending some time here and some time in Cornwall. Only, as soon as I said his name, he started having one of these spells… Mama, it was awful and he could die during them. Cousin Isobel thinks I'm shallow but I'm not. I asked Dr. Clarkson about it. I could choose Matthew and a day, a week, a year from now he could simply have one these fits and die."
"Mary…" How to counter that fear, Cora wondered. It was a reasonable one, one she had herself, made worse that Matthew had been declared dead for so long. It was understandable that Mary feared going through the heartbreak a second time. "Mary, Matthew could die tomorrow, I agree. So could Henry. So could your father. Or you, for that matter. I never expected, when Sybil and I stood outside that evening and watched the sunset that she was seeing her last. And if you knew the fear I had, the fear I still have, when you and your sister talk of children… but you can't live your life fearing death. When your father was so dreadfully ill, I was frightened beyond belief, I admit that. But with that fear came the great joys of my life. You can't spend your life dreading what might happen, Mary."
"I came back from my walk with Edith thinking I knew what to do. And now…Oh Mama, what if Matthew has one of these seizures at a dinner party? It can't be helped, I know that, and people will be so unkind to him. That's what he's been dreading. And I know he'd stand by me in similar circumstances and," her voice hitched, "I don't know that I am as brave as he is, Mama. I don't know that I am worthy."
"Of course you are, Mary," Cora sat down beside her and pulled her into her arms. Mary had been the first to pull away from hugs as a child. It was an indicator how upset she was. The last time she had allowed it had been the day of Matthew's funeral. "Of course you're worthy. If you choose Matthew, you will adapt, because you love him. Are you worried how Henry will react?"
Mary nodded, which wasn't a surprise. Henry was a nice enough fellow, dashing and able to hold his own against Mary, but Cora suspected he'd never been the spurned one in a romance. Truth be told, she worried about how he'd react to Mary deciding upon Matthew. And Mary was going to choose Matthew, it was just a matter of getting the two of them alone together long enough for them to talk uninterrupted.