Author's Note: So there have been some problems with the website that they are working out. You may not have been getting update notifications but you should be now. Hey and guess what? I'm still hacking away sick so expect more today. Golden12: loved your comment. Yes, they have decided to go with the nunyabiznass line. Your reference to the Godfather (one of my favorites) is perfect. Unfortunately, Sir Richard will not be sleeping with the fishes. As for what Richard can do, well, I think Richard has surprised us all at the lengths he will go to be an utter a-hole.

Just a reminder, Julian Fellows made all these little guys and they belong to him. Except for Grace and Mrs. Larsen. They are mine. :)


Chapter Twelve

The next morning Mary woke alone...again. This time, even finding the note beside her, she was quite perturbed.

Lovely Mary,

I've taken Gracie Girl to the park to feed the ducks. There will be no "gentle wrestling," I promise you. Sorry to slip away but I thought Grace and I could give you some peace and quiet while writing to your Granny.

Love, Matthew and Gracie

"Oh, you coward," she hissed. But nonetheless she got up and dressed and then went down to the writing desk to begin her task...alone.

Dear Granny,

I do hope you are sitting down.

Are you?

Well then, I am happy first to tell you that I will come in June to Downton. I will send you a telegram noting the exact date and time once I have booked passage for us.

Granny, are you sure you are sitting down?

Only because, it won't just be me coming. By the time you get this letter, Matthew and I will be married. Oh, it is still so strange to say aloud or even write down. But in a few days time, yes, we will be man and wife. Granny, I wish you could see him with Grace. And you will, and soon! He's fixed everything; he is so clever you know. He's changed the birth certificate so it has his name on it and everything. He's trying to teach her to call him Papa. He dotes on her and she looks at him with adoration. In every single way, Matthew is Gracie's father. I am certain. I don't think that I could be more sure of it.

I really hope you were sitting down when you read that last paragraph, Granny.

Though we are excited to come for June (perhaps for the summer, depending on how things are) the changes in our...family status bring up a few difficulties. I care nothing for what people think of me. I used to, as I think you know. But that all changed when...it is Gracie I care about and Gracie I want to protect and I know that I can trust you with this as I can trust no other. You see, Matthew is Gracie's father, do you understand? And Matthew and I (by the time we reach Downton) are married. And the timing of things, for Gracie's sake, cannot be clear to anyone. I must ask you again for discretion and subterfuge at the same time. If anyone questions the timing of things, you must put them off, and if that cannot be done, I implore you to...well, lie. This also means that you must go to Mama, with what I have explained. I know she is not as good of a liar as you are (I mean that as a compliment to you) but you must make her aware of the necessity of this for Grace's sake. There is a great deal at stake for her. Also, if you could break the news to Papa, that Matthew and I are married, and that we have a daughter (in that order, please). If he is upset or objects, if he wonders why I left, or why Matthew hasn't been involved then Matthew and I have bravely, for Grace's sake, decided to take up the mantra of, "That is none of your business." In the worst case scenario, delay his questions for Matthew and I and we will handle it. Or try to. The funny thing is, all the reasons and fears I had when it came to returning to you all, are so much put to rest with the knowledge that Matthew will be beside me.

Finally, I must ask you one last favor. This is the hardest of all, perhaps. You must go to Cousin Isobel and tell her that she not only has a daughter in law (feel free to be hazy about when that wedding exactly took place) but that she has a grandchild who is one and half years old. Granny, please be gentle with her. Can you even imagine what she will feel when you explain this to her? Tell her that we are coming in June and will be staying with her at Crawley house, that Matthew will be writing to her soon, that we will explain it when we see her (though we don't plan to explain it all to her. We don't want anyone to know the true details of what happened so many years ago than absolutely necessary and for now that is only you and Mama and even knowing that, in my heart, in Gracie's heart, and on paper, Matthew is Grace's father. When you hear him talk of it, I know you will see that he believes it too). Granny, I cannot express how important it is that you are gentle with her. Not only must a room be prepared for Matthew and I (we can simply use whatever he had before) but a room must be made up for Grace. Can I also prevail upon you to find a crib, a changing table, a pram, a baby's high chair, and...a rocking chair? I know that is an awful lot but it can be used. It need not be fine. If it were for me, I would ask for nothing! But baby's do come with a lot of accessories.

Granny, I cannot express to you how much I love you and how thankful I am for all that you've done for us over these years. I know that I can trust you completely and that is why Grace's middle name could be none other than Violet, the strongest, smartest, bravest woman I know (I am sucking up but it is true nonetheless). I hope that you are happy with the news. I believe, if things go well, we may be prevailed upon to stay for the summer...and then...and then I do not know. But the exciting thing is that you are going to meet Grace Violet. I hope she lives up to all your expectations and I believe she will. Finally, and I feel like a spy for even asking, please destroy this letter after reading it. It's Grace's future we hold in our hands, you and I, and Matthew too. We must tread as carefully as we can.

All our love,

Matthew, Mary, and Grace

Matthew returned with a sleeping Grace in his arms not soon after that. He went right up to the nursery without so much as a glance at her, and Marry followed quite huffily, the letter in her hand. When he left the nursery the door ajar, she grabbed hold of his cuff and dragged them into their (she didn't understand why she had to call it that when he couldn't even manage to wake beside her) room. "Read this, please," she said. "I would like to know your opinion before I send it."

He seemed not notice the way her eyes were narrowed and that she was tapping her foot rather rapidly. He took it from her, reading it with a quiet smile on his face, nodding every now and then. "Why, darling," he said. "It's just perfect." And then he leaned in to kiss her.

"I don't feel much like kissing you right now, Matthew Crawley."

He thought she was joking, she had to be, after he entreaties to please just take my nightgown off the night before so he leaned again and she...she bit his lip. "Ow," he cried.

She moved away from him. "When we are married, do you plan on never waking beside me? I'm not just trying to get my expectations in order." It was funny really, since she used to think it so embarrassing the way her parents shared a bed.

"Mary," he murmured in that consoling way of his, coming near to reach for her hand.

She dodged him. "No, no. I want my question answered."

He looked pain. "Can't I promise that once we are married I will wake next to you?"

"Does that mean it has to do with our rules?" she replied in that stubborn way of hers.

Grimacing, he laced his hands together. "In a round about way."

"In what round about way?"

"It's only that in the morning...when I wake beside you...it is much harder, it's impossible for me to follow the rules...I'm more..."

Maybe it was the fact that he seemed to be so adorably uncomfortable that had her supplying, "You're more randy then? In the mornings?

"Mary," his eyes went to the ceiling. "How in the world do you even know that word?"

"I did live in a house full of officers for quite awhile. I know a few other words you would be surprised to hear too. But I won't bother you with those now."

"Mary," he repeated, stepping closer to her and taking her face into his hands. "I don't leave in the morning because I don't want to be there. I leave because I so desperately want to stay."

She looked at him, tilting her head, examining his answer and in the end, it seemed to please her because she leaned forward and kissed him, softly, in apology. His hands moved from her face to her hair, knocking aside pins. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself to him, as she always seemed to want to, need to do and before they knew it they were taking steps backwards towards the bed, her thighs hitting the edge, and the both of them following onto the already made up covers. But they didn't stop and they didn't mention rules. One of Matthew's hands dragged itself out of her hair to slide down the side of her body, to rub one hardened nipple and then to her hip and thigh, pulling her skirt up with his fingers, until he could touch the skin above her garter, to grasp it in his hand. She wanted to gasp and groan but she didn't want to stop kissing him because then he would say something like we must stop and she did not want to stop. She did not want to stop at all.

In the end it was Mrs. Larsen, calling from down the hall, smart enough not to walk towards the open bedroom door. "Lady Mary, it's time for us to find you a wedding dress."

They pulled away from each other immediately. Matthew very gentlemanly smoothing her skirt. "I'm sorry," he whispered, against her ear. "I just broke every rule we've had."

She stood a bit wobbly and pulled Matthew up with her. She rested her hands on his hips and whispered in his ear, her breath hot: "I don't care. I love you. I want you." And then with a little squeeze to his midsection she was off, adjusting her blouse as she went, sticking pins back in so that by the time she met Mrs. Larsen at the top of the stairs she looked perfectly presentable, although Mrs. Larsen laughed at her anyway.


The next morning Mary woke up earlier than normal. It was the day before her wedding and she had a wedding dress and even, upon Mrs. Larson's insistence, bought something for the wedding night. It was all happening, really happening. She turned her head to look at Matthew, who lay asleep beside her, on his back, one hand low on his stomach, and she smiled, her fingers itching to touch, her body wanting, wanting, wanting. Then she was shimmying across the bed, lying on top of him.

"What?" he asked before she pressed her open mouth to his and before he could think about rules his arms were banded around her and she could feel, against her leg, that he did wake particularly randy.

"Now," she said, around kissing him, nipping at his lips, sucking and pulling. "I'm about to break a lot of rules and I don't want any complaints from you." She teased her tongue with his and brought her own hands to the waist band of his pajamas and freed him. If that stunned him, her small hand around him, had him groaning so loudly she nearly laughed but instead opened her mouth over his to absorb it. It felt delicious and she could feel him growing larger and hotter in her hand. "Now I've never done this before," she admitted as she started to stroke him. "So perhaps you could...help me a bit." His hand covered hers, wrapping her fingers firmly around him, and sliding their joint hands up and down. It was so interesting and delicious really how the skin slid but beneath it he was so hot and hard and she made a humming sound in her throat. He could not even be prevailed upon to kiss her back anymore; he simply did not have the faculties. He leaned his head back, his own hand falling away, while he groaned, and trembled a bit. "Mary," he gasped. "What?" she replied. "Should I...?" Then she began to pump him all the more quickly back and forth. She felt so powerful, so proud, that he wanted her this much, that she could do this to him. "Mary," he groaned. "Stop." "Why?" she asked, only increasing her pace. "Because I'm going to...to..." She kissed his neck. "That's perfectly alright. You just go ahead." And he did.

She stopped moving her hand after he finished, but she kept her finger around him, holding him gently, less firmly, for just a moment longer, before taking her hand and wiping it on the side of the bed, on the sheet. She kissed him then again, making a sound deep in her throat with great pleasure. "Was it alright? Was it okay?" she asked. "I've never..."

"Mary," she could tell he was parched, his head leaned back, still lightly panting. "Any better and I think I would have died. But you didn't have to..."

"I wanted to," she whispered into his ear. "I liked it." She felt him shudder, almost like an aftershock. "But it's back to the rules now, you know. Until our wedding night."

He took a deep breath. "Good thing that's tomorrow night then."

The baby began to cry. She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "I'll get her. You clean up. I'll ask Mrs. Larsen to clean the sheets later today." She thought it best not to add that it had been Mrs. Larsen's suggestion in the first place, yesterday after Mary had broken down, just so worried that she had caused him any type of pain.

He nodded, or at least he thought he did, as she flitted out, practically skipping in her nightgown. He on the other hand, had to lay on the bed like a dead man for a few more minutes, before he could move.


Author's note: So what do we think of Mary's letter to Granny? Is Granny up to the task? Can it be done? And what do we think about this *new* (Is she really new?) Mary? Please review. I'll do my best to post if I can get enough motivation and the cough syrup doesn't put me to sleep, and the next chapter is their wedding and wedding night! xx