So this chapter starts the slow burn that will lead toward a hunt at Downton that literally changes the entire arc. And my goal is to publish it on New Year's Day because after that the entire arc shifts in a new direction. So the next few chapters are crucial and full of some hints of where the story is headed. In the meantime feel free to feed me some feedback.

.~.~.~.~.

"Ladies and gentleman," The speaker intoned arranging her face in the most somber of expressions as she continued her speech. "A new tide is sweeping across our great country. It is time to end the shameless killing of life. It is time we stop butchering for the mere pleasure of our palate." She drew in a breath letting her words take effect. Then with deft suddenness she began anew speaking almost angrily her words spewing out like shells from a gun, "The senseless slaughter of men on fields of war is rightly viewed as appalling. We cry out against such actions as we should. Yet, nightly very civilized, proper and respected Englishmen across this nation sit down to consume a meal butchered as savagely as men cut down in battle. We mourn and mourn the loss of our proud heroes, yet we spare not a thought for the dear sheep and cattle and venison that appear on our plates each evening."

Matthew turned his head regarding his sister-in-law saying amusedly, "This was not exactly the sort of political meeting I anticipated attending."

Sybil smiled saying, "That you are surprised to be surprised by me is as Granny would put it, disappointing."

Matthew's lips drifted upwards as he said, "We are forever learning, I suppose."

"The only thing I have learned is that a great many vegetarians have appalling fashion taste." Rosamund sniffed glancing around the room with a disdainful expression.

"There are a great many things more important than pretty frocks, there is passion, and politics, and convictions and beliefs." Sybil exclaimed passionately.

"Undoubtedly," Rosamund allowed before adding, "However one can feel and believe such things while in a lovely frock with appropriate accessories.

Matthew looked downward to disguise his smile at her words.

The speaker's rising crescendo caused all three to return their attention to her, "I ask you one and all to sign the role…join the growing number of English men and women who are willing to forego the pleasures of animal flesh in favor of a meat free lifestyle."

Neither Matthew nor Rosamund evidenced much surprise when Sybil rose and crossed down the aisle mere moments later. Instead Rosamund merely queried, "Do you think it was tactless of me to order roast duckling for luncheon?" Matthew merely arched an eyebrow continuing to watch his sister-in-law sign the roll, gifting her with an easy smile when she turned facing him triumphantly.

.~.~.~.~.

Striding into the tea room Isobel glanced around before recognizing her daughter-in-law ensconced at a corner table. "I am sorry I am late. The clinic is always busiest on Saturdays. I can never understand why," Isobel offered taking the chair opposite Mary. "One assumes problems do not only exist on the weekend though our appointments might suggest otherwise."

Mary had listened to Isobel's lecture without showing the slight sign of interest or of disapproval, regarding the entire tale with the same blank expression that she seemed to favor to greet much of life. At length, she offered a tentative smile offering, "I am glad you could find time."

Deciding to neither take offense at the words nor easily dismiss them Isobel admitted, "I was somewhat surprised by your invitation."

Feeling slightly affronted by her tone Mary remarked in the very coolest of tones, "You do dine with us each Sunday."

"Yes." Isobel agreed in the chilliest of tones. Being relegated to the sideline of her boy's life hurt terribly, all the more because she was certain Matthew had placed her there. But she could hardly blame him, and as such Mary had become a handy target.

"Never less," Mary began clearly wanting to get back to her topic. "I felt we ought to have a nice chat on our own."

"I was wondering why you suggested us meeting here."

"The house is rather full at the moment," Mary stated smiling though the smile is a bit strained.

"It must remind you of the bustle of Downton." Isobel replied deciding to soften her tone.

Mary nodded recognizing the truth in her mother-in-law's words. "Once upon a time I supposed I relished such bustle and activity."

"And now?"

Mary had never considered herself terribly articulate. And she loathed the American habit of analyzing one's emotions. Still, lately she had felt herself more introspective. "I suppose the past few years have changed me. " A small smile crossed her face as she admitted softly, "I rather enjoy having Matthew to myself a great deal of the time." She admitted sounding surprised as if only just recognizing the fact. "Sybil is generally so busy with school and her work, most evenings it's just Matthew and me. " Mary ran her fingers over the handle of the spoon dragging her nail over the raised design.

Recognizing Mary was slightly uncomfortable with admitting such feelings Isobel decided to shift the topic saying, "I presume you invited me here for a reason."

Mary nodded gratefully stating, "I was hoping you could assist me with locating another doctor."

"I hope you are not unwell." Isobel said feeling a flush of concern. Matthew's spirits were so tenuous. And despite his protestations and talk of convenience she knew that his happiness was bound solely with the woman seated across from her. If anything, anything were to happen to Mary….Isobel was not certain her boy could take another blow.

"Not at all," Mary answered reassuringly. "But with Matthew's condition and my sister's pregnancy I simply wish to find a physician I have more faith in…And one whose manner is more aligned with my expectations."

Isobel glanced up replying, "I am surprised that you do not seek such advice from your sister." Isobel said adding in an admiring tone, "Lady Sybil most likely knows any number of such men."

"Undoubtly," Mary acquiesced before adding, "But knowing her tastes her choice of doctor would sit cross legged on the floor chanting and offering gibberish." Mary shook her head saying, "I should like someone a tad more practical than that."

"I hardly think the rest of your family would consider me the more practical one." Mary smiled and the pair felt an easiness that was unlike their earlier encounters.

.~.~.~.~.

"So Mary has embraced her committee work?" Rosamund drawled sounding rather bemused by the notion. After the meeting they had returned to Rosamund's house for luncheon.

"Well good for her I suppose." She declared striding into the dining room. "For me I can never stomach that sort of thing."

"Don't you feel you ought to work….improve the world?" Sybil prodded curiously.

Taking her seat Rosamund shook her head answering, "I suppose I ought to… but I can never seem to figure out how one manages such things while retaining any level of respectability." She shook her head as if confused by the mere notion. "When I married dear Marmaduke he suggested I go to those things with his devil of a mother." She did not pause or even seem to notice Matthew and Sybil's soft chuckles. "After a few weeks he no longer suggested such things."

"Why?" Sybil questioned taking her own seat, seeing Matthew rolling up against the opposite side of the table.

"Well the truth of the matter is," Rosamund confessed with a disarming frankness. "I can only go to so many committee meetings before the urge to burn down offices, destroy golf courses and smash glass simply overtakes me."

"I did not know you were a suffragist." Matthew said spooning some of his fruit.

A puzzled expression crossed Rosamund's face. "I wasn't." Without significantly pausing Rosamund carried on remembering, "I suppose I became a tad to militant." She shrugged idly finishing her story with a vague, "After Marmaduke fetched me from the jail he never mentioned me doing committee work again." Angling her head a pleased smile covered her face as she said, "A good thing, I suppose. Left to my own devices I had the makings of a martyr or a murderer."

Having realized it was best to take Rosamund's reminisces with a grain of salt, Matthew reached for his glass taking a refreshing gulp of water before remarking, "I am famished."

Facing him Sybil stated, "It goes without saying that I will not be eating meat."

"Of course not." Matthew replied having expected such a declaration since the meeting.

"Why ever not?" Rosamund questioned having not given the first thought to such an occurrence after the meeting. Amid the speaker's declarations she had felt a certain revulsion at the notion of luncheon, but once they had stepped into the cool air her appetite had returned. Now she felt a certain fog in regards to the meeting. Certainly she remembered the speaker and the topic, but she felt little compulsion to consider the topic once she left the hall. As such, she viewed her niece's words with a mixture of surprise and growing confusion.

"I simply refuse to continue to propagate the murder of defenseless animals."

"Doesn't propagate refer to reproduction." Matthew felt a blush spreading across his face and neck at mentioning the topic.

"I had a governess," Sybil offered blithely by way of an explanation for her lapse in syntax. "I can no longer consume animals that were slaughtered merely for my pleasure." Sybil saw Matthew react slightly; his gaze altering, the slightest twitch in his hand, yet her tone only became more pointed as he insisted. "The senselessness must stop."

Sighing Rosamund said, "I do admire your conviction for change, and your desire to improve the world. Mercy knows there are many things that need improving." Seeing Sybil's smile she flagged a bit before continuing, "But I do not understand why it must impact my table." Fearing Sybil was about to interrupt her Rosamund quickly interjected, "Change can be wonderful and necessary, but it can also be self-serving and frivolous."

"You think me self-serving?" Sybil asked, the slightest gurgle in her words betraying her fears.

Rosamund reached for her hand applying the slightest of pressure saying, "You never. Your methods and ideas sometimes…. I embrace my frivolousness but I fear you will not be able to do the same. And if you cannot you best shed such affections early, or else you will drown beneath their weight."

Accepting this rebuke with a faint smile Sybil stated doggedly, "I still am not eating any meat."

Rosamund smiled accepting this and vowing, "Well I shall happily consume your portion." As if invoking the food, the butler entered the room stiffly, a silver serving tree stretched before him like a gift being proffered for the assembled company. Reaching the table he set the tray down lifting the cover with a dramatic flourish. The sight of the duck, the smell…usually so appetizing, and so very welcome became something else entirely. Rosamund lifted her napkin using it to cover her nose from the scent. Matthew physically recoiled, turning from the bird. Watching them Sybil could only smile victoriously as her aunt said in a strangled voice, "I think we should prefer vegetables."

.~.~.~.~.

Lifting her tea cup Isobel inquired interestedly, "And how is Edith?" Seeing Mary's inquisitive gaze upon her Isobel explained, "Of course I was told of her news. Your grandmother wrote me." She said delivering her final words as a subtle rebuke.

Mary glanced upward replying in a clipped tone, "Behaving as if she was the very first woman to conceive a child." Mary's answer was purposefully flip; and as such she knew unacceptable to Isobel. Therefore, she paused only a moment before replying more thoughtfully, "She seems quite pleased. Of course it is early days."

"Yes."

"Of course," Mary continued tartly. "Now that Edith has become a proper brood mare, Mama and Papa could not be happier." Mary said adding, "Papa has already consulted Sir Philip Tapsell about assisting with her care."

Isobel nodded familiar with the name, though little more than that. "And you. How is the news affecting you and Matthew?"

Mary looked upwards seemingly puzzled, "We are excited about becoming an aunt and uncle, of course." There was a touch of confusion in her words, as if she was puzzled by the question.

Isobel for her part seemed equally confused prodding, "Still I assume it is difficult."

"Difficult?" Mary repeated as if sounding out a foreign and dimly understood term, "Not especially."

Sensing Mary was either unaware or purposefully ignoring her meaning Isobel explained her meaning stating, "I refer of course to the idea of children."

A long moment passed before Mary replied, "I see."

"Matthew always wanted to be a father." Isobel said softly a kind of sadness resonant in her tone. "I can hardly imagine how this must be affecting him."

"He would have been a wonderful one." Mary agreed sadly before saying, "He hasn't mentioned it beyond his role as uncle."

"Matthew does not mention a great many things." Isobel said adding, "That does not mean he does not consider them deeply."

Sensing something of a challenge in her mother-in-law's words, the slightest hint that she did not know her own husband, Mary replied with forced sanguineness; "Still it's best not to dwell on things that are never to be."

Isobel glanced into her tea asking, "Is it really so easy…putting things that way."

"Only on the days I can convince myself to believe those words." Mary replied with more frankness than was her wont. Recognizing the incongruity in her statement she shrugged her shoulders.

"Still you must feel…" Isobel pressed seriously. "You must think of children."

Mary paused seeming to consider Isobel's words before answering, "Not to excess."

"But you must have thought…"

"I expected to have children certainly." She sighed a little as if aggravated to be reminded of such things, "I was aware of my duty."

"Duty?" Isobel repeated the word. "That's hardly the way I contemplated Matthew's birth."

"I suppose it was different for you." Mary said begrudgingly. "For my sort marriage and motherhood were expectations, duties one was simply expected to submit to."

"You make it sound almost barbaric." Isobel did not bother to disguise the judgment in her tone.

Mary contemplated her tea for a time before replying, "I suppose it is….But it was the world I expected. A child was part of that world. I suppose in that respect I ought to be disappointed."

"But you are not."

"I am very happy with Matthew." She answered and it was a cagey response, and one that did not illuminate her actual opinion.

"But of course you and Matthew could have children." Isobel offered curious how Mary would respond to her suggestion.

Mary eyed her seemingly befuddled her face flushing, "This is hardly the place to discuss such a matter."

Confused by her daughter-in-law's response Isobel clarified her intent stating, "I speak of your work with Lady Sarah." Mary's expression reflected an unusual expression of perplexity as if she remained stumped by a challenging riddle. Seeking to relieve her confusion Isobel said, "I assumed that was why you were involved with the orphans' charity."

"I had not given it a thought." Mary's words were so quiet as to be difficult to hear, and therefore impossible to decipher.

.~.~.~.~.

After a pleasant, though meat free luncheon, Matthew had been happy to depart Eaton Square for the short motor to Grantham House. Sybil was working the night hours, so he thought he would spend the afternoon with his wife. His wife, he thought oddly, when had he stopped thinking of Mary simply as Mary and transitioned to thinking of her as his wife? Times were changing he saw such changes every day. Yet lost in the midst of day to day life something was shifting in his own perspective. The first raw signs of spring were emerging. Flowers pushing up against the grasses, the slightest elevation of temperature, the way the world felt slowly refreshed as if they were shaking off the fearful weight of war and beginning a new season.

Part of Matthew despised such easy alterations. He hated that the world was moving on, when boys like Peter Simon would remain forever dribbling into their soup, when lads like William Mason were left prostrate on a field. It felt sinful to let them recede, to forget them for even a breath. Yet, Matthew realized he was slowly doing that in a hundred different ways. The cannons still filled his brain but they were growing softer as the relentless tide of day to day living subsumed them beneath the noise of day to day life. He would never forget or not regret those horrible years, yet ever so slowly he was beginning to move past them. The cannons boomed, but they no longer roared. The sight of the dead remained vivid, but it was no longer ever present. The war would always be a part of him, but he now saw other parts of his life emerging. And he was not at all sure how he felt about that. It was easier to stew in bitterness than try and reach out and clutch again at optimism.

Thomas pushed him into the house, and that rankled… that he could not do so little a thing as open a door and let himself into his home, stopping just past the door. "Where would you like to rest?" Thomas asked carefully, never where will I push you, where must I take you as you cannot take yourself anywhere… Simply "Where would you like to rest?"

"I think I will see if Lady Mary could do with some company." He said placing his hands atop the wheels and propelling himself forward. Seeing a silhouette in the corner of the library he called cheerfully, "Mary?"

"Wrong sister," Edith corrected rising rubbing the spine of her book with her thumb. "Mary went to luncheon with your mother."

"Crickey," Matthew answered with forced jolliness. "Wife and Mother-in-law," He said wheeling himself into the room. "That probably won't end well for me."

Edith smiled at his false humor commenting only, "I expect you need not worry."

"One never knows." He retorted cheekily.

Stopping his movement near his desk Matthew asked, "Why aren't you at the hospital?" Feeling a bit bashful he added. "Are you uncomfortable?" For the child of a doctor and a nurse he retained a certain reserve about discussing symptoms of pregnancy.

"I am quite comfortable," Edith said feeling a happy flush coloring her face. "But my husband would be most uncomfortable were I there."

"I do not think that true." Matthew retorted gallantly.

Edith closed her book, "You are so terribly sweet Matthew." Her tone was soft and very kind as she added a trace sadly, "But you must know that is untrue." Matthew rolled to his desk and reached for a case file, hoping for a way to evade this very awkward conversation. "Have you seen him today?"

Matthew shook his head, "I spent the morning at a…political meeting then I had luncheon with your Aunt Rosamund and Sybil."

Edith nodded accepting his words and watching him for a time before askinf, "Does he speak about the child?"

"I have not asked him."

"And he has not brought it up." Edith surmised smiling oddly as if unsurprised by his words.

Matthew looked up admitting, "No. Men are a bashful bunch. Sitting around talking about infants is hardly our preference." Seeing Edith's beseeching look Matthew added quietly, "He hasn't."

Again she simply nodded her head commenting, "I am not surprised. Not really."

Matthew rolled the ballpoint pen around his hand, clasping it saying, "Marriage is a long business… I am certain that…."

"What?" Edith challenged sharply. "That the baby will heal our wounds?"

"I am told children bind a marriage."

"I was told that," Edith said blankly, and Matthew could not begin to imagine what emotions that were disguised between the syllables of that sentence.

Turning his chair Matthew began to busy himself with the papers on his desk. An unread file drew his attention. He was trying to focus on the documents when he heard a voice behind him saying, "Thank you for that.

Matthew turned his head only slightly inquiring, "For what?" He was trying to feign a deep preoccupation with the documents, as if barely interested in her words.

"For not telling me everything will be well." Edith answered slowly drifting toward the door. Closing his eyes he listened to her footsteps as they moved down the hall and up the steps. Only then did he lean forward resting his head in his hands releasing a deep sigh.

Deciding to at least get a bit of work done before his wife returned Matthew reached for the file. As he did so he cast a look downward and saw the wastebasket. He noted, thinking it odd, that the basket contained only a single piece of paper. He had worked late into the previous night and there had been ten to fifteen sheets of paper. Each morning the basket was dumped. Surely it must have been dumped. Still a single piece of paper… He thought it odd for only an instant before his mind turned to other thoughts.

.~.~.~.~.

"I fold and bow before a far superior player." Guthrie announced laying his cards on the table which separated them.

Patrick smiled leaning back against his chair, "Defeat smells sweet!" Gathering the cards he said, "Shall we play another hand?"

"I suppose I can lose again," Guthrie agreed amiably. "Only I wouldn't want to interrupt your visiting hour."

"Do not give it a thought." Patrick dismissed taking care the cards were all aligned.

Watching Patrick shuffling the cards Guthrie took the opportunity to ask, "Any chance your lady wife will be dropping by?"

Patrick stiffened slightly but obviously, "I suppose there is always the chance. And on some days the probability…."

"My aunt would call that a crooked answer." He commented. Without waiting for the inevitable questioned Patrick began explaining his comment, "An answer you get around to offering when the straight truth isn't easy."

Almost in spite of himself Patrick found his lips turning up and his stiffness dissipating. "No I don't expect my lady wife will visit today."

Guthrie nodded seemingly satisfied with his answer. "She seems kind, sweet."

"She is." Patrick said nodding his head in agreement.

"Then….?"

Patrick looked up curiously. "What?"

"You don't seem very happy."

Patrick chuckled observing, "That's rich coming from you."

"Well I may not be happy, but I'm not unhappy." He observed flatly. "I have passed the point of all feeling. You however have a loving wife and a child."

"Would you be happy with a loving wife and a child?"

"Probably not," Guthrie admitted more easily than Patrick had expected. "But I have never supposed other men had my peculiar disposition."

"Every man has his own burdens." Patrick drawled continuing to shuffle the cards out of habit rather than necessity.

Guthrie found his tongue stilled even as his questions increased. "You are newly married?" He asked thinking it the most diplomatic query he could pose.

"You are asking me how badly so recent a thing could go." Patrick surmised setting the cards aside, giving Guthrie the whole of his attention. He looked over as if challenging Guthrie to dispute his words. When Guthrie remained mute, Patrick sighed before saying, "I ask myself that question every day."

"And the answer?"

"I just do not know." He said reaching for the cards, though his mind was clearly occupied elsewhere. He dealt them abstractly with no seeming awareness of doing so. "I suppose once I thought to be a kindness… But love is not kindness. It is a selfish, needful thing. And the kindness I expected to offer I find myself unable to give. I am cruel and selfish and bad to her in a thousand unintentional ways… And that makes my intended kindness seem a pitiful thing."

"And is that is why she does not visit?"

Patrick turned his eyes to his cards admitting, "She does not visit because she knows I do not desire her company."

"And yet she will bear your child."

"Yes." Guthrie waited for him to speak further and explain his perspective but instead he merely lifted his cards saying, "Shall we."

Patrick won the next round of cards easily; Guthrie was too distracted to play his hand well. Or perhaps, as he had said, Patrick was simply the better player.

.~.~.~.~.

After an hour had passed Edith had begun to feel badly for how she had left matters with Matthew. While she did not consider him the shining Adonis that Mary and Sybil so clearly did, she did feel a certain affection for him. And it seemed unfair to burden a poor cripple with her miseries. So after washing her face and setting her hair she went downstairs.

Matthew was where she had left him, ensconced at his desk clearly focused on his case work. Looking up he smiled, waiting for her to speak. "Are you terribly busy?"

"Not terribly." Matthew responded the smallest smile playing across his lips.

Placing her hands at her abdomen Edith studied the floor saying, "I do feel I should apologize about earlier."

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"I feel I have a great deal to apologize for…." She disagreed taking the chair placed beside his desk.

"Whatever for?"

"We've hardly had a word together since you married my sister."

"Well," Matthew said after considering her words a moment. "We've been here, and you were at Downton."

"Then I married the man who took Downton from you…" She stopped his attempt to interrupt continuing, "I know it must have been a disappointment. It was Patrick's right of course. But I was callous. And then after his accident I just wired excepting you to help clean up the mess. And you have been so kind."

"Not particularly," Matthew said turning his chair slightly so as to face her. "Your sister once asked me if I was a creature of duty and I rejected the notion. But I suppose war makes one see things differently."

Taking his meaning Edith said, "So you came to rescue us out of duty." She smiled saying, "I do not believe that was your only motive in coming to Italy. In helping us make the best of things. In visiting my husband in tolerating my presence…."

He arched a brow stating, "If I am to accept your argument that no one quality explains my conduct, then I must say that I must also assume no one reason has motivated your conduct."

Edith smiled saying, "I think you may make a very fine barrister. You seem very adept at altering my words to fit your purpose."

"One hopes." He said shrugging. "You know Edith," He said softly, "Very soon you will have the highest occupation there is…" He smiled at his words confessing, "I do sound quite like my father. He used to say those sort of things to expectant mothers. Wanting to comfort them, I suppose"

"And did it comfort them?" Edith questioned a curious look on her face.

"Sometimes..." He hedged sounding dubious. "Does it comfort you?"

"I want it to." She replied fixing him with a smile. "Does that count?"

He smiled stating, "I suppose it has to." Smiling at her he shared, "I have no doubt you will be a magnificent mother."

She glanced down as if unwilling to meet his eyes as she spoke, "I do believe you are biased and I quite doubt if your wife would share your opinion."

"A husband and wife need not share the same mind on all things." He noted neither confirming nor rejecting her argument. "I imagine you have learned that already."

Edith's smile drooped and she took a breath, "I have learned that my husband will not allow me to share his mind." Matthew looked away feeling his neck and face growing scarlet. Despite his mother's outspoken nature, he had always been shy and some of Cousin Robert's notions about women had perhaps rubbed off on him. Perhaps too he was learning from his wife the value of emotional reticence. Seeing his expression and reserve Edith questioned, "Have I embarrassed you?"

"A bit," He acknowledged uneasily. He chuckled, a forced, self-conscious sound. "I suppose in that respect I am more Reginald than Isobel's son. My father was a physician for over a quarter of a century and he still blushed whenever he first walked into a labor procedure." He paused only momentarily before adding, "I suppose marriage ought to temper such shyness but more and more I feel a gratitude for Mary's reserve."

"You love her." Edith stated plainly.

"I don't know about that," Matthew said glancing away, the blush returning full force.

"I do." Edith said adding, "All my life I have cataloged the looks of men who love their wifes." Edith confessed meeting his gaze. "I have seen few, I'm more familiar with the looks of men bored with their wives or almost unaware they have a wife. But now and then I see the rare man who does love the woman he spends his life with… I see that look with Papa and now I see it with you."

"I am certain it is a look Patrick…."

Edith smiled reaching over to lightly caress his cheek. "You are a terrible liar."

Matthew placed his hand over hers pressing it more fully against his cheek, before pulling her hand down, keeping it clasped within his. "Your grandmother came to see me once," He revealed quietly, realizing he had never even told Mary about this conversation. "She told me marriage is a long business."

She squeezed his hand before releasing it. "Is that supposed to reassure me."

"Time can resolve a great many things."

"Perhaps," She granted uncertainly. "But can it change things? I am less certain of that." She said continuing, "I believed so before my wedding." She paused closing and opening her eyes as if trying to shut away an uncomfortable image. "I thought given time I could win his affections."

"It is early days."

"Perhaps," She agreed ruefully. "At one of the parties I mentioned," She said her voice sounding distant as if she were traveling back to that time. "There was a guest, a man young and newly married. He was clearly besotted with his beautiful bride, hanging on her every word, beaming at her, taking pleasure in her vaguest attention." She paused her voice becoming critical as she continued, "His wife clearly did not feel the same ardor, her attention indifferent, her affections strained...The next morning I was playing in the hall, and I overheard papa and mama. They felt so dreadfully sorry for that man. So in love with a wife who was already bored with him, a born cuckold…." She studied her hands saying, "I felt so dreadfully sorry for him, and now I suppose my lot is to play the same role."

"Surely you cannot imagine that he would." Matthew could not make himself say the word, finding it to vile.

"No or possibly yes. …I do not truly know." She acknowledged sadly. "What I do know is I do not believe he will love me, perhaps he cannot love me."

Tears pooled at her eyes and Matthew reached for his handkerchief pulling it from his pocket casting it toward her stating, "Please do not cry." He glanced away seeking to spare her the burden of his feelings.

"I'm not crying not truly," She promised sadly. "You see to cry you must be saddened or surprised. I shed all my reservoir of true tears in Italy. That was when I accepted that I was to be only a subplot in any novel of Patrick's life." Seeing Matthew's furrowed brow she carried on saying, "When you love someone, truly love them… your happiness becomes bound with theirs." She paused glancing away, "I feel that for my husband…but he does not share that sentiment."

"I am sure…" Matthew let his words fall away, unwilling to offer her an empty platitude.

"If he could only give me a chance I know I could make him happy." Edith vowed certainly, "But he will not. And so I must endure the unendurable, forever close to the man I love more than life itself…. A man," She said with a firm certainty. "Who is only fond of me." She turned facing him, "Can you imagine what that is like? Living next to what you most want and knowing he will never let you in, let you close." She did not wait for Matthew's response saying only, "Sometimes I feel as if there is a hole inside of me so deep that I shall drown within it."

Matthew leaned forward extending his hand, an awkward limited movement that made him again want to curse his wretched body, still Edith took it and clung to it as if a life raft in a storm and they sat that way for some time.

.~.~.~.~.

Looking out the window Guthrie sighed a protracted and exhausted sound that caused Garrett to look up. "You are quiet today," Garrett said capping his ball point pen. "Typically you have insulted me four or five times by this point in our session."

"This is a session?" Guthrie questioned voicing a sarcasm he did not truly feel. "I was not aware Dr. Rivers had trained you in the mental processes."

Garrett bristled but said only, "Dr. Rivers had precious little success with you utilizing his methods."

"The fault lies not in his methods but in my madness." Guthrie said anxious to defend River's methods.

Scowling Garrett said, "Are you trying to display a previously herefore unrecognized wit? If so do not consider yourself successful."

"Actually I read Carroll this morning and it seems to have affected my mind for the whole of the day."

Garrett turned back to his papers saying, "I am in no mood for your games."

"Well then I will…" But he had no stomach to continue and let the threat fall into the air.

Noting the silence, Garrett looked up noting Guthrie's pallor and atypical silence. "I presume Alice's adventures alone do not account for your state?"

He lifted his cigarette touching it to his lips, inhaling the tobacco into his lungs. "No not that alone."

"Do you care to discuss it?" The question seemed stilted, overly formal. A thing placed due to duty rather than genuine curiosity.

Exhaling the smoke watching it dissipate before him Guthrie said, "No."

"If you are overly distressed I can have a draught prepared."

"Life distresses me and there is no draught strong enough to ease that."

Garrett watched him carefully for several long moments before saying, "Miss Crawley will be on this evening. Perhaps you will feel more comfortable sharing your burden with her."

"Perhaps." Guthrie agreed seeking a release from the conversation. Rising to his feet he suggested, "Perhaps the draught might help after all."

.~.~.~.~.

Handing her packages to Edwards Mary pulled her gloves off inquiring, "Is Mr. Crawley in his library?"

"No milady," He replied arranging her packages. "He has retired to the drawing room to read. I believe," He said evenly, "He is awaiting your arrival."

Smiling ever so slightly she raised a brow stating, "Impatiently I presume."

Edward's lips shifted very slightly upwards as he said, "I would presume so milady."

"Then I should not keep him in suspense." She said pulling her glove off even as she strolled down the hall. "Good evening husband," She said fixing him with a warm smile.

Matthew glanced up as if startled, "Oh good evening."

Studying her husband Mary declared, "You look pensive."

"Pensive," He repeated trying to play off her concern.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," He answered an instant to rapidly, and she thought he was trying to convince himself as much as her. "Nothing." He repeated and there was more certainty in his words as if saying it a second time convinced him.

Deciding to assist him in lightening the mood she asked delightedly, "May I ask about the seating arrangements?"

Patting the cushion Matthew beckoned her stating matter of factly, "I felt like sitting on the sofa." He explained. "While I cannot know physically, I imagine it to be uncomfortable to be always in that blasted chair."

Mary merely arched a brow musing, "I suppose it must." Lowering herself next to him Mary fought against a blush that seemed to be rising in her cheeks. Ridiculous as it seemed she realized that aside from their bedroom she had not sat so closely to Matthew in years. Sitting thigh to thigh felt delightfully intimate and yet very, very fitting.

"Did you have a nice chat with my mother?" He queried reaching for his cognac glass which he'd has Thomas place on the table.

"I did actually," She said smiling, "Very educational."

"That sounds faintly menacing."

"You need not concern yourself." She smiled glancing at his drink. "May I have a sip?"

He paused for only a moment before replying delightedly, "Certainly."

In response she took the glass and only smiled as she sipped the drink. "Very nice." She felt the weight of his gaze upon her, deciding that she liked it she shared, "She is going to locate us a new doctor."

He took the glass she offered taking a sip before observing, "I suppose I ought to drink to that. I don't relish that beast having another go at me." He said taking a sip of the cognac before continuing, "Of course I need not summon a doctor the next time such a thing happens. We know now it's merely a sign of my psyche conjuring symptoms."

"We certainly will call a doctor if that occurs again." She vowed firmly. "I will not allow you to suffer physically for one instant more than is necessary."

Matthew seemed, she thought, about to comment. Instead he leaned over pressing his soft lips against her cheek. He made no comment afterward simply sat back up, as if such a thing was a normal occurrence. Finding her voice Mary asked trying not to sound nearly as pleased as she felt, "What was that for?"

Matthew smiled saying, "Just for being you."

"That does not generally earn me cheek kisses." She noted trying to keep a casual tone even as her heart galloped in her chest.

"I see," He answered with mock seriousness. "If it disturbs you I will certainly not do that again."

Mary studied him before saying, "I did not say it disturbed me."

"Then perhaps I shall do it again."

"Perhaps," Mary agreed smiling affectionately before returning her gaze to the center of the room, deliciously cognizant that his gaze remained fixed only upon her.

.~.~.~.~.

It was some hours later that Sybil pushed the door open entering the room with the softest of footfalls. Through the silhouetted light visible via the slightly ajar door she saw Patrick. He was lying on his back with a pajama clad right arm thrown over his forehead. His light snore further confirmed her assumption that he had become lost in dreams, he looked more peaceful than she had ever seen him. Leaning down she placed her hand inside his good one pleased when he squeezed it, as if even in sleep he recognized her presence.

"Late call?" A voice called surprising her and causing her to almost stumble. Quickly easing her hand outside of Patrick's she turned saying, "John?" Hearing the surprise in her own voice, she intoned more dryly, "I did not expect you to be awake."

"I had a draught earlier and now I seem unable to return to sleep."

"Dr. Garrett said you were upset," She said trying to clothe herself in professionalism as a tonic for the emotions stirring deep within her.

"Life upsets me." He said blandly.

Sybil rolled her eyes declaring, "You really should meet my sister. She is the only person more dramatic than you are."

"I am not dramatic." He insisted flatly. "Just truthful. People find that uncomfortable and feel it necessary to dismiss that by calling it a dozen different things." He watched her waiting for her to object or dismiss his comment. Her silence indicated she could do neither, so he carried on saying, "He's not happy." He had a tendency to segue way from one topic to another with a kind of randomness borne of complete honesty. When he gave up caring about much, he found conversation an easier thing altogether.

"He is adjusting." Sybil insisted in a tone suggesting this was what she wished rather than what she believed.

Guthrie shook his head, "He's not. He is as much a candidate for Rivers as I am." Sybil fought against the idea even as some part of her brain did accept it. "He is not happy and if he does not find a way to be happy you will find him with wrists in the style of mine." Guthrie looked up waiting for Sybil to disagree, to argue against his thesis. Instead she merely looked sympathetically at the sleeping patient as if understanding a riddle he could not even begin to piece together.

.~.~.~.~.

Pushing the door closed behind her Mary stepped down the hall toward their bedroom. Entering the room she saw it was dim, illuminated only via a small silhouette of light cast by her bedside lamp. Matthew lay slumbering flat on his back, his left arm slung across his forehead. Mary smiled at the image how handsome he looked relaxed in sleep, more like the young solicitor who had courted her so earnestly than her often somber husband. The war had taken so very much from him but at moments like this she was granted a glimpse of the Matthew that still existed, the one she hoped her love could in time at least partially revive. Walking over to her dressing table Mary twisted open her hand cream, dipping three fingers into the bottle she lathered the cream atop her hands and arms, before repeating the process with the other hand. Glancing at her braid in the mirror, she heard soft footfalls coming from a bedroom down the hall. Near nightly Edith paced a good half of her nocturnal hours, only falling into a restless sleep. Several nights in the past weeks she had woken hearing the lonely steps. Matthew, thanks be, seemed increasingly immune to the sound. He would waken but once satisfied that she was safe, he would almost immediately fall back asleep. The war, she assumed, limited the kind of sounds he could worry over. For her own part Mary found herself uncertain of her feelings. Usually any action of Edith's quickly roused her most negative recriminations. And of course this state was partly Edith's doing. A blinded lieutenant could tell Patrick was merely tolerant of her… How Edith had walked down the aisle knowing her fiancée merely liked her was beyond her understanding. Still, Edith had made her bed and had best learned to lie in it. Pacing the night away would do little to ease her plight. On the other hand Mary had lately taken to remembering the tiny girl who had crawled into her bed during thunderstorms, the woman who had looked so blissful at the thought of a child. It was so very complicated. And hadn't she flung herself at the same chance Edith had… Hoping Matthew would love her. He did not yet, she knew that, but perhaps in time. And he was a marvelous husband whereas Patrick was an utter git. It was all so muddled in her mind. Her dislike for Edith often overridden by her growing distrust of Patrick… Her luck with Matthew, versus Edith's unlucky connection with Patrick…. The more she considered it the more confused she began. More than anything Mary disliked the fact that Edith was causing her to feel an iota of sympathy for her plight. Edith had Downton, she would be the Countess, and now she had a child coming. Meanwhile, poor Matthew who was so much more suited to the role of Earl, she who was born to be the countess, were to be denied the estate and even the small comfort of a child. It all felt so terribly wrong. Yet, poor Edith was alone in her room. Whereas she had a wonderful husband to love for the rest of her days… How could she not pity Edith? Unsettled and uneasy with her sympathy for Edith, Mary turned toward the bed vanquishing Edith from her thoughts. This room was her refuge a place just for she and her husband. Shucking her dressing gown, she laid it at the foot of the bed smiling as the top of the gown settled atop Matthew's dressing gown. Sliding under the covers she moved instinctively toward the center and Matthew's warmth. His blue pajamas looked so smart yet she missed the softness of his older pairs against her cheek. Perhaps that explained his favoring the green stripped pair she forever envisioned discarding in the fire, an accident she would claim, but a much-planned one. Smiling at the mere notion she twisted to turn off the lamp.

Rolling onto her side she snuggled up against Matthew relishing his warmth and the scent of him. The movement seemed to half-awaken her husband for he mumbled, "Mary?"

Hugging him she soothed, "Go back to sleep."

Matthew seemed to follow her suggestion for his eyes closed and his breathing quickly evened out. Resting her head atop his chest Mary let his heartbeat soothe her into her own sleep even as she could hear the echoes from the soft footsteps just down the hall.

.~.~.~.~.