Chapter 20

Despite Matthew's insistence that he confront her mother by himself, Mary stood with her ear pressed against the closed door, listening as best she could to Matthew's strong, masculine voice as he detailed for her probably-shocked mother just how unhappy he was with her actions.

"I understand your concern, Cousin Cora. Really I do. You love your daughter, and wish the best for her. I can understand that. But Mary and I are adults, and, as such, are entitled to make our own choices about our futures. It was not your place to interfere, and I would thank you not to go behind our backs in such a way again."

Her mother, who clearly wasn't as comfortable speaking freely with Matthew as she would have spoken with Mary herself or with her father, gave only perfunctory responses to Matthew's chiding. Mary suspected that she would receive the full brunt of her mother's displeasure at a later time. It also occurred to her that her father would need to be forewarned to expect his wife to be in less than excellent spirits for the rest of the evening, if not longer. She resolved to ring for him after Matthew was through with her mother.

Then what she had feared most happened. Her mother started detailing all the reasons why this marriage wasn't in her best interest. Many of the reasons, Mary knew, had been on Matthew's mind already.

"Mary's reputation may be tarnished, but I don't believe all hope is lost. She may yet find someone who will still have her, someone who can give her a full life and a family of her own. If you truly cared for her..."

"Do not imply that my care for Mary is less than it ought to be!"

Mary jumped at Matthew's sudden angry tone. Apparently, her mother had struck a nerve.

As Matthew continued to voice his displeasure, Mary began to worry that one of his angry meltdowns was immanent. The poor darling wanted so much to begin doing things, handling things, on his own again, but his emotions were still too unstable to fully allow it. She would have to intervene soon. Her hand poised on the door knob, Mary resolved to speak with Dr. Clarkson about Matthew's lack of emotional stability and violent changes in mood and temperament. Perhaps there was something that could be done. Surely he wasn't the only convalescing soldier to face such challenges?

Apparently, Matthew's anger was fueling Cora's, whose voice had become harder and louder since she last spoke.

"Perhaps marrying you is the only option for Mary, and perhaps it isn't! We wouldn't know, would we? You haven't even given her a chance to try. Because of you, Mary refuses to accept my offer to..."

Mary's heart gave a frightened lurch as she realized what her mother was about to divulge. She had never wanted Matthew to know about the proposed trip to America, or about the hope that she could wait out the end of the scandal, or marry and start a new life there. Panicked, Mary threw open the door, effectively interrupting her mother's tirade, and not a moment too soon.

Seeing the drawn look on Matthew's face as he struggled to gain control of the turbulent emotions that threatened to overwhelm him, Mary went straight to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. She wanted to give Matthew his independence back, and, some day soon, she would. His wounds, both physical and emotional, were still in the healing stages, however. For the time being, he still needed her, and she wouldn't abandon him, not even at his own bidding.

"Mama, there's no point in discussing this further," Mary huffed irritably, ready to put an end to the subject, and her mother's interference, once and for all. "Matthew has made our wishes known, and there can be nothing further to be said on the subject. Now, if you would be so kind as to have Carson locate Papa and send him to us."

"Mary Crawley, I didn't raise you to speak to me in such a way!"

"I am not a child any more, Mama! Now, please, let us have done with this... pointlessness. Matthew and I are getting married in a mere three weeks. Your time would be better served making what plans you desire to make for the wedding. Now, I wish to speak with Papa."

Without another word, Lady Grantham gathered what dignity she could after being so roundly scolded by her eldest daughter, and left the room.

The first of the banns were read on Sunday. On Monday, a newspaper reporter and a photographer arrived to complete the arrangements for their fancy, quarter-page wedding announcement.

Mary wore her best day dress and her long strand of pearls, as well as a pretty little hat in the newest fashion over a slightly more elaborate hair style than she usually wore. Matthew was to wear his usual uniform, of course. Though he would be wearing his cap in the picture, Mary, for some reason Matthew couldn't fathom, spent ages fussing over his hair, running the comb through it until his scalp was sore and applying more mousse than he supposed strictly necessary. At last, he could take no more and snatched the comb from her hands with an exasperated groan.

"Mary. Darling. Angel. Sweetheart." His tone was tense, almost pleading. "I appreciate your efforts. Truly, I do. But...I am quite capable of combing my hair by myself. In fact, I would like to start doing so from now on, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Mary nodded, slightly crestfallen.

Matthew was still put out with her for stepping in and assuming control of the situation with her mother. He had scarcely said a word to her the previous day, and the constant tension had put her on edge. Apparently, it had done the same to Matthew. On top of all that, Mary had also begun her monthly courses that morning, so she had a headache and some abdominal discomfort to contend with in addition to the tension with both her mother and with Matthew.

The previous day had been a tense one in general at Downton Abbey. Lord Grantham had been furious when he learned of Cora's inviting Lavinia to Downton without discussing it with anyone. He had specifically told her he didn't want her interfering with Mary and Matthew's relationship - that they were to be allowed to make the decision on their own - and she had deliberately gone against his wishes. The news of Lavinia's visit had also reached Isobel's ears, as well as the Dowager Countess', though how the news travelled all the way to the Dower House in only a few hours would forever remain a mystery. For once, the two older ladies were united in their convictions.

Cora, facing disapproval and enmity from every side, decided it was in her best interest to back off and allow Mary to throw her life away if that was what suited her. She threw herself even more whole-heartedly into the running of the convalescent hospital that her home had become, as well as into making what wedding plans she could with the disgracefully short amount of time given her. She may not approve of the marriage, but she would see to it that the wedding itself wouldn't shame them.

Matthew had kept himself occupied with her father most of the day Sunday, leaving Mary feeling discouraged and saddened that he seemed to be trying to push her away. In truth, he wasn't upset with Mary as much as he was frustrated with himself and his situation in general. He was beginning to feel almost like himself again, and, with that, came the desire to function as he once had. Reminding himself that this was an impossibility had become a daily necessity, one that seemed increasingly difficult to accept.

There were, of course, moments when he felt more than happy to allow Mary to take the reins and to minister to him in the firm but gentle way that only Mary could. He knew that there were times when his mind became overwhelmed with grief and anger, times when his still-mending body became exhausted, and times when a task needed doing that he simply no longer possessed the capability to perform. He was glad that Mary was there when he needed her, but he was beginning to feel the need to do what he could do for himself, even if it was only something so small as combing his own hair.

It occurred to Matthew, after he snatched the comb from Mary's hand, that he didn't have a mirror in his room. Frustrated, he dropped the comb onto the table, and did the only thing he could think to do at the moment. He grabbed Mary around the waist, pulled her down onto his lap, grasped her face with both hands, and proceeded to kiss her senseless.

Mary was shocked by his sudden, aggressive move, but remained still and allowed him to kiss her for as long as he liked. Truthfully, she wasn't in the mood for affection that day. Her head ached; her body ached; her stomach was beginning to churn. After Matthew's reticence the previous day, she would have thought to welcome the contact. It had been at least twenty-four hours since he had last touched her affectionately, but both nature and circumstance seemed to conspire against her that day.

Eventually, they found themselves situated under the great cypress tree on the lawn with the house at their backs, taking direction from the photographer, the reporter, and Lord Grantham. When the photograph was finally taken, Mary was positioned standing slightly behind Matthew, one hand on his shoulder and the other at her side. The only posing Matthew had to do was to arrange his hands neatly in his lap, but even that had seemed ridiculously complicated.

It was a long, torturous process to Mary, whose discomfort was growing by the minute. After they were finally released to return to the house, Matthew turned to look at Mary, and was immediately concerned.

"Mary, darling, are you alright?"

"Oh, yes. It's nothing," Mary answered quickly, forcing herself to perk up so as not to draw further suspicion.

Matthew wasn't fooled in the slightest.

"You're pale as a sheet. You look like you should be in bed."

"Really, Matthew. I'm fine," she protested again.

Mary knew she really should be in bed. She already would have been if not for the appointment with the newspaper people and her dedication to being available to Matthew at all times. She didn't want to go upstairs to bed, where he couldn't follow her. No matter his mood, she hated to be separated from him, especially after missing him for most of the previous day.

Matthew tried questioning her again, but Mary resolutely grasped the handles of his chair and began pushing him back towards the house. They went straight to the private library and ordered tea. Mary hoped it would help her head, but she had little hope for its success with the twisting pains in her lower belly. She couldn't hide her grimace as a particularly uncomfortable wave of pain hit.

"Mary, something is wrong. I can see that you're ill."

Matthew reached for her hand, and, finding it cool and clammy to the touch, truly began to fear for her.

"Darling, you really must go to bed. Perhaps Clarkson ought to be called."

Mary shook her head emphatically, then winced as the movement caused a sharp pounding behind her eyes.

"Matthew, I'm not ill. This is perfectly normal."

"Normal!" Matthew cried, stupefied and even more worried. "You look awful!"

"Thank you! That's just what every girl wants to hear from her future husband!" Mary snapped, feeling all the irritability that accompanied her time of the month overwhelming her patience, even with Matthew.

Matthew was stunned and hurt by her outburst. She hadn't spoken to him in that mocking tone since the earliest days of their acquaintance. He was only trying to show concern for her health, yet she reacted with anger and offense. His eyes grew wide as Mary's face crumbled and tears began to form in her eyes.

Was this what he was like during his meltdowns? If so, he would have to start controlling them better, for Mary's sake.

"I'm so sorry, Matthew. I didn't mean to snap at you," Mary squeaked out pitifully as she fought to regain her composure.

"Darling, I'm becoming terribly worried for you," Matthew spoke gently, giving her hand a light squeeze. "Won't you allow me to have Carson call for the doctor?"

"I don't need a doctor, Matthew." Mary gave him an eloquent look, begging him to accept her assurances that she was alright and leave it at that.

Matthew was not to be put off. He would know what was wrong with his fiance, and see to it that she received the care she so obviously needed.

"But...I've never seen you so unwell. I will call for Clarkson, with or without your consent." Matthew pulled his hand away and began wheeling himself toward the door.

"Wait!" Mary reached out a hand to halt his progress. "I'm really fine. It's...it's only my monthly." She spoke the last word so softly that Matthew almost didn't catch it.

His brows knitted together in confusion for a moment before it dawned on him.

"Ahh," he acknowledged with an awkward nod. "Well, perhaps you don't need a doctor, then."

"No," Mary agreed with a nervous laugh. "I should think not."

"You do still look like you could use some rest."

Mary shook her head again, more gently this time.

"I don't want to leave you alone."

"Mary, I'll be fine. You need to rest," Matthew tried again.

Mary only shook her head again, refusing to even think about leaving his side and going where he couldn't find her if he needed her.

After a moment's thought, Matthew's eyes brightened as an idea came to him.

"You can use my bed, if you'd like," he offered happily. "I could take care of you, for a change."

Mary initially wished to protest the notion of him taking care of her. She was his nurse, not the other way around. But the thought of being able to curl up in a bed and sleep away her discomfort sounded entirely too tempting to turn down, especially if she didn't have to leave Matthew to get to it.

"Would you? let me use your bed?" she asked softly.

Matthew smiled fondly at her. He thought he had never seen her look so vulnerable before, and it awakened his protective instincts, which, in turn, made him feel more like the man he once was.

"Of course, my dear. Come."

Mary rose and Matthew started propelling himself forward again, just as Carson entered with their tea tray. Matthew immediately assumed control of the situation.

"Carson, Lady Mary and I would like our tea in my chamber, if you don't mind."

"Of course, sir," Carson answered, then stood aside as they exited the room.

Once they were left alone in the darkened bedroom, Matthew busied himself with turning down the covers and urging Mary to lie down. Mary did as he bid, no longer able to contemplate resisting.

She did think it very sweet when he wheeled himself to the foot of the bed and gently slipped each of her shoes from her feet. He ran his long fingers up and down her hight arches a few times, causing her toes to curl. She smiled adoringly at him as he pushed himself up next to her and drew the covers over her legs. Immediately, she curled up on her side, facing him. A whimper escaped her as the motion inevitably caused discomfort.

"What hurts, darling?" Matthew asked sweetly.

"Mostly my head. And here." She gestured to where her hands were pressed against her lower abdomen.

Matthew gently touched her folded hands, wishing there was something he could do to alleviate her pain. As for the ache in her head, he thought that taking her hair down was the best possible solution to that problem. He had to draw in a steadying breath as his trembling fingers delved into her soft waves, searching for, and carefully extricating, each pin. Mary sighed contentedly as the pressure of her tightly-twisted coiffeur gave way.

Entranced by the tempting sight of her dark hair lying on his pillow, Matthew ran his fingers through it, spreading it out so that it covered all of the pillow but where her head rested.

"I never realized it was so long," he marveled quietly. "It's very soft."

"Thank you. That's more like it, future husband," Mary responded sleepily, but with a teasing gleam in her half-hooded eyes.

Matthew chucked softly at her self-depreciating comment, glad that his ministrations already seemed to be taking effect.

"Would you like some tea?" he offered.

"No, thank you," Mary answered wearily, allowing her eyes to flutter shut. "I think a nap will be just the thing."

"Sweet dreams," Matthew whispered in her ear as he leaned down to place a soft kiss on her temple.

He watched, utterly captivated, as her face relaxed in repose, the lines and creases caused by her discomfort smoothing out in blissful relaxation. Watching her fall asleep - in his bed, her hair covering his pillow - was one of the most erotic experiences of Matthew's life, even more so than the one time he had actually succumbed to temptation and had intercourse with an attractive librarian at Oxford. It was ironic, he thought, that he could say that his most titillating experience with the fairer sex took place after he lost his ability to perform as a man, but it was true. And it was all because it was Mary.

An hour later, he still sat beside Mary's sleeping form, holding a pair of dainty leather shoes in his hands. The pretty detail on the buckles became obscured as he was suddenly overcome by the urge to weep.

She was just so lovely. And he was so broken.

He remembered the brief glance of her feet that he had been afforded as he removed her shoes. Her tiny, delicate, perfectly-feminine feet. They were so beautiful. Had she not been ill, he could have lavished hours of tender attentions on her feet alone, touching and tasting every delicate dip and curve until he knew them all by heart. He determined that, one day, he would indulge himself in such a way. He couldn't make love to her, but he could have that.

Thinking about the reason for Mary's indisposition had reminded him anew of all that she was giving up to marry him. These monthly times would never cease to come when she fell with child - his child. He would never have the sweet torture of waiting for her courses to end each month so that he could make love to her again. There would never be a rosy-cheeked little girl with Mary's dark hair and his eyes. There was so much that they would never share.

Mary awakened a while later to the sight of Matthew sound asleep with his head resting against the back of his chair. Her shoes were still in his lap.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter, everybody! I didn't spend as much time on Matthew's talk with Cora as some of you might have liked, but I felt like it disrupted the flow of the story too much if I did.

A couple of you mentioned the hair combing thing in your review of the last chapter, so I had to give a little nod to that. See, your reviews really do have an impact. :)

Anyways, we learned something new and interesting about Matthew in this chapter - he's a bit of a foot man. ;)

Until next time, guys!