A/N: Big chapter, guys! Once again, thank you so much for all the lovely reviews and messages, each and every one is precious to me :) I don't want to give anything away, so I'll just say enjoy ;)
XXVI.
The three cars reached No. 4 Eaton Square very late into the night. Mary knew about the hubbub going on downstairs, but it never even occured to her to leave Matthew's side. His stiff fingers were curled around her hand in a silent bid to stay close and Mary would not stir for anything.
From the open door, she could distinctly hear her father's voice booming through the walls of the Georgian town house: "Of all the idiotic, childish, irresponsible things you three ever did...this just takes the cake!" Mary winced, feeling guilty for letting her sisters fend for themselves in the storm of their parents' wrath.
"Golly." A harrassed-looking Sybil returned to the room, shutting the door behind her. "Papa's going berserk downstairs."
Mary glanced briefly over her shoulder. "I'm sorry. He ought to pounce on me instead of you." she smiled regretfully at her youngest sister. "Oh but it was my idea in the first place, don't forget that." Sybil said with a hint of pride.
A moment later, the door burst wide open and Isobel bustled inside. "How is he?" she looked at Mary with an unfathomable expression. Of all the people to tend to her son, she had not cast Mary as the one to play nurse.
"Not good. Thank God you're here." Mary burst out. Isobel would know what to do, she was sure of it. So she quickly made way for Matthew's mother, who immediately measured his temperature and his pulse.
"We can't find a doctor who's available at this hour." Sybil complained, wringing her hands.
Isobel's expression changed from intense worry to fierce determination. "Well, we'll see about that!" she huffed. "I need to make a telephone call." They had no time to lose. "A friend of my late husband's, also a doctor, who resides not too far from here. I dare say, he won't be anywhere but at home tonight."
While Isobel placed her call, Mary sat back down on the edge of the bed and continued to sweep Matthew's face and neck with the wet cloth. It was all she could do to give him a spot of relief.
Sybil watched her for a while, until they could hear Robert's voice through the open door again.
"Oh dear...perhaps I should go and make sure that he doesn't get his fingers around Tom's neck. Do you mind if I leave you for a minute?" Mary only smiled and nodded towards the door. "Go."
Mary was glad for a few minutes alone with Matthew. There was so much on her mind, so much she desperately wanted to tell him now. Most of all, she wanted to make him forget all the awful words she had thrown at him during their fight. Knowing Matthew, he'd probably saved each and every comment of hers in his elephantine brain...
And now he believed all the wrong truths, clueless that he was the one she loved, the one she wanted to marry...
"Matthew?" the door burst open once again. This time, Mary turned around in blank horror when she perceived the rustling of a fine silk dress and the sheepish voice of Lavinia. The girl's pale features were flecked with hectic dots and her plump rosy mouth was pinched.
Without any sign of acknowledgement for Mary, Lavinia went over to the other side of Matthew's bed. Mary shook slightly, realizing that she ought to make way for her. Of course, this was Lavinia's rightful place as his fiancée, Mary thought bitterly and with a pang of regret she pulled her hand out of Matthew's grasp.
"Shouldn't you go to your own fiancée downstairs?" Lavinia snapped and took Matthew's other hand possessively. She pressed it, then quickly withdrew, shocked at the cold and clammy feel of it. Only half conscious and confused, Matthew turned his head slightly aside to where Lavinia stood and startled. As a result, he began to cough again.
"Shhh...it's alright." Mary said soothingly, helping him sit up a little more to ease the convulsions.
"What's wrong with him?" Lavinia cried anxiously, though she could not bring herself to touch Matthew again. His reaction had put her off. To answer her question, Isobel waltzed back into the room. „Pneumonia, dear. Isn't it obvious?" she said to Lavinia, then turned to Mary.
"Dr. Donaldson is on his way." Mary nearly fainted with relief. "Could I speak to you for a moment?" Isobel pulled on her elbow urgingly.
Reluctantly, Mary left the bed and followed Isobel outside into the corridor, so Lavinia was left to stare at Matthew's suffering in helpless confusion. She didn't know what to do and the whole situation unnerved her. Matthew had calmed down a little, but she was afraid of his volatile condition. And what a ghastly sight he was! Unkempt and sweaty, his skin as ghostly white as the bandage around his head.
Why, his skin was almost taking on a bluish hue!
"Your fiancé is here as well." Isobel whispered outside. "I know. Lavinia said." Mary replied calmly. "Oh...well, I just...I'd rather not have him in the room with Matthew. I fear, it may agitate him. His condition would only worsen if he gets upset..." Isobel said, but not unkindly. She was already beyond astonishment to have found Mary Crawley by her son's side, caring for him as competently as any nurse.
"He won't." Mary assured her quickly. "I'll go talk to Evelyn...I think, I need to anyways." she fumbled nervously along her neckline. "Yes, you do." Isobel agreed and pressed Mary's hand. A sign of understanding and gratitude."Thank you for tending to Matthew...I could not have done it better." she said. Mary shrugged. "It's nothing." But to Isobel it was the very opposite of nothing...
Out of nowhere, a blood-curdling shriek made them jump and they quickly hurried back into the bedroom.
Lavinia had only tried to talk some sense into Matthew, to remind him that she would be there for him, once Mary was gone. "I don't care what you did. It's fine. We'll never talk of it again." she had whispered, sitting in the place where Mary had sat before. Matthew made no response, he kept spying past Lavinia, through the open door...
"I hold no grudge, not against you. And if you tell me that it won't happen again, I'll believe you." she smiled tensely.
Lavinia braced herself and took Matthew's clammy hand, despite her discomfort. Sighing, she looked aside and found the photograph laying on the bedside table. "Matthew, this is mad..." she hissed angrily, frustrated tears were running down her nose.
Matthew began to cough again, still staring at the door. "You know Mary's fiancée is waiting for her downstairs to bring her back to Downton. But I can stay here and take care of you. I won't desert you." Lavinia said firmly.
Her words finally got Matthew's full attention, though not in a positive manner. Tears slowly clouded his glassy eyes, as he tried to speak. Lavinia helped him sit up as she had seen Mary do when the coughing grew more violent. And suddenly there was blood...
Lavinia screamed.
When Isobel and Mary rushed in, Lavinia had jumped up from the bed. "He's coughing blood." she wailed, covering her mouth in terror. "Is that normal? Perhaps it's not pneumonia...perhaps it's this epidemic!" Lavinia took another step backwards, then frowned when she was shoved out of the way by Lady Mary.
"Don't be stupid." Mary muttered in plain annoyance, stroking over Matthew's hair to calm his gasping and coughing.
"Shhh...breathe in slowly." she held him up a little. To Mary's surprise and consternation Matthew pulled away from her touch, at least as much as he could manage in his weakened state. She whispered his name, but he stubbornly tried to ignore her. Mary glared at Lavinia, wondering what the girl might have said to upset Matthew...
When he calmed a little, Isobel picked up a rag and cleaned Matthew's face. There was indeed a drop of blood or two hanging onto his lips, but nothing that would warrant such a hysterical reaction.
"The doctor's here." Someoe announced from the doorway. It was Evelyn. Matthew stared at the other man, then at Mary, who threw her fiancé a reluctant smile.
Instinctively, Matthew's hand shot out to recapture Mary's and he held it to his chest.
But only a moment later, he seemed to grapple with himself, pulled back and shifted away from the very sight of Mary. Isobel watched the scene with fascination and unease. As she had predicted, Matthew became agitated and his ragged breathing swiftly went over into stronger convulsions. His lungs were worn out.
This was definitely not right the time for any of this nonesense...
At last, Matthew's stomach reacted. "Lavinia, hand me the basin on the wash-stand over there! Quickly!" Isobel called to the young girl, but to no avail. She had to fetch it herself, while Lavinia stood rooted to the spot and watched in abject horror as Mary held Matthew's head and stroked soothing circles over his back while he was being sick.
"It's alright. It's perfectly alright." she said gently. To Matthew, his humiliation was complete when he layed back down and saw Mary above him, her beautiful face so calm and collected, even as she dabbed at his soiled lips with a rag.
Out of the corner of his eye, Matthew observed her fiancé looming in the background, watching them with distate.
"Mrs. Crawley. I came over as soon as I received your call." At long last, Dr. Donaldson appeared on the scene, pushing Evelyn and Lavinia out of the way to reach his patient. Reginald Crawley's son.
Due to the late hour, the physician made a rather unkempt and groggy impression. Clearly, they had rung him out of bed. There was also a faint whiff of brandy about him, which was of course excusable considering that it Christmas night.
"Please clear the bed, Miss." he addressed Mary. Isobel threw her a pleading look, silently asking to make way without a fuss. "Come, Mary. I need to talk to you." Evelyn stepped towards her, gently taking her arm. Mary wanted to protest, but when she tried to squeeze Matthew's hand again and he ignored her, she pressed her lips together in frustration.
"You may go." Isobel said kindly. "Lavinia's here to help us, won't you, dear?" Matthew's mother smiled tightly at the girl who had wanted to become her daughter-in-law. "I..." Lavinia pressed out, her fingers still covering her mouth. "I'd rather go...this is too much." She shook her head vehemently and dashed from the room.
Mary glared after her, scandalised. And this woman would become Matthew's wife?
Evelyn pulled on her hand and with one last look at Matthew, who stubbornly kept his back turned to her, Mary followed him downstairs. In the drawing room, despite the ungodly hour, the family was still up and arguing. Thomas and William would have to report back to headquaters, but not before they knew the doctor's verdict.
"Can we talk in private somewhere?" Evelyn steered Mary away from the crowded room. "Of course." she whispered, feeling another knot of dread growing in her stomach. Her worry for Matthew had overshadowed the guilt that she felt over Evelyn, up until know.
In the Painswick's small library, Evelyn made Mary sit down in one of the large stuffed chairs and settled on the footstool in front of her. He took both her hands into his.
"Mary, is there anything you would like to tell me?" Evelyn asked. His request sounded neither angry nor resentful, his hands weren't trembling and his face was smooth, almost impassable. Mary didn't know what do make of his nonchalance. She had expected him to be more affected...
...or perhaps she had merely compared this scenario with the ones she had shared with Matthew, who got considerably more fired up, just as much as she did, in such situations.
Mary cleared her throat and nodded earnestly. "Yes."
"Quite so." Evelyn nodded and let go of her hands. Finally, Mary dared to meet his gaze. "Be honest with me. That's all I ask of you, Mary. Please just be honest with...all of us." He took a deep breath, forcing his mouth to form the next words...
"Do you love him?"
Again, Mary thought of the night when Matthew had asked the exact same question. Only that Evelyn seemed to be utterly resigned to her reply already. He spoke as if he knew the answer, as if he had accepted it, long before Mary herself had accepted it...
"I...do."
Evelyn nodded and smiled. "That's good." He meant it. "You deserve to marry the man you love. We're not all that fortunate, but you know how my general position on these matters..."
Mary opened her mouth to speak and he shushed her. "In 1913, I hadn't taken him serious at all...as a competitor." Evelyn chuckled bitterly at his own idiocy. "And you were much more interested in Kemal that night..."
Mary visibly flinched when the name fell, then quickly pressed Evelyn's hand, encouraging him to continue. Her dark secret that she ought to tell him...and Matthew. It would have to wait for another day...
"I mean, just looking at Crawley, I thought that plump...puppyish middle-class lawyer couldn't stand a chance in hell to get so much as a smile out of you." They shared a wry smile over the irony. Back in those days, Mary had thought exactly the same.
"But there was...there is something between you and him that...just escapes me...all of us. Can't explain it...it's like you're two halves of...I don't even know..." Evelyn broke off, staring at the carpet for a while.
Mary watched him in silent misery. Her fingernails dug into her palms until it hurt. She felt rotten for causing her friend, her best friend so much pain...and at the same time she could barely keep still in her seat, wishing instead to be with Matthew, even now.
"I'd tried to ignore it for a long time...and I'm not blaming you." Evelyn said earnestly when he caught sight of her anguish. "The truth is, I should have known better, because it was already so plain to see in '14..." He rubbed both hands over his face. Mary's brows pulled together. "What?" she whispered.
Evelyn ruminated for an instant. At Lady Sybil's debut, when it had been blatantly obvious that Crawley had proposed to Mary and she was of a mind to accept him, Evelyn had watched them at the ball. He'd watched them dance closely together...he'd seen them locked together in one corner of the hall, talking and laughing together...
...one might have assumed they were flirting, but really, in retrospective, Evelyn realized that it had been much, much more. There had been two searching souls who found each other at last and nothing else had existed in that ballroom besides them...
Evelyn had watched them briefly and he'd begun to yearn for what they had. To be so close to someone that everyone and everything else plainly falls away. A month later, he and Luisa Semphill had decided to call off their engagement. It had been a great relief, giving him another chance to find that kind of love after all...
How could he have believed that he would find it in Mary? What had possessed him to claim that love, which he had witnessed between Mary and her cousin, for himself? Had he hoped that it would magically pass over onto him?
"What was plain in '14?" Mary prodded shakily. The nervous note in her speech escaped Evelyn entirely...
"At your sister's ball in London, you and him..." he paused. "...you don't even know how absurdly you behave together, do you?" Evelyn laughed quietly.
Mary cocked her head aside, even more confused.
"It's like...nothing else exists when you're together." Evelyn surpressed the urge to roll his eyes, a habit he'd picked up from Mary. "A bomb could detonate in the room, you two wouldn't notice." he quipped with a tense smile, then sighed.
It wasn't laughing matter, but he needed to make light of it, if only to alleviate some of the hurt and envy that his own words caused him.
"You're...his whole world...and I know he means the same to you." Evelyn declared at last and hung his head in defeat. "Matthew Crawley is your other half, Mary. It's him...not me."
Mary gave up stemming her tears. She wished that Evelyn wouldn't be so gracious about this, so good and kind. She'd much prefer it if he stormed and raged, or at least gave a small sign of proper resentment. Surely, he must feel it.
"So." Evelyn caught himself and looked back up to find Mary crying silently. "You're free to marry him." he smiled, then frowned when shook her head. The image of Lavinia holding Matthew's hand upstairs reminded her that matters were marginally more complicated.
"Matthew will marry Miss Swire." she scoffed, not sure whether she ought to discuss her own heartache with the man who had just released her so kindly and selflessly from her promise.
"No, he won't. Not according to her father..." Evelyn said matter-of-factly.
"I've no inkling what exactly happened that night between you..." he faltered once more and blinked aside. "But it was sufficient to annul their engagement. Swire came to Downton because Crawley telephoned him, said he can't marry his daughter." he motioned towards the other room where the Swires and the Crawleys were still being offered drinks by Rosamund's overfatigued staff.
Mary's mouth fell open at this news.
Matthew had actually broken off the engagement! Against Lavinia's will, against all rules of propriety and convention, he had called it off. Why, this was scandalous! In a way, Evelyn must be right, Matthew and her were truly two halves of one improper mind...
"Thank you." Mary finally said, carefully touching the hand of the man who had nearly become her husband.
And he was without a doubt the best man she could have wished for...besides Matthew. Mary desperately wanted Evelyn to find the happiness he craved. For all his selflessness he deserved it, more than anyone else in this house...
"When you go back to..." Mary couldn't bear to speak of the place, considering the state of Matthew when he came back from there. "You have to be very careful. Promise me that, please. I know, I have no right to...but I'll still worry about you until this horrid war is over." Before Evelyn could respond, they were interrupted.
"There you are, Mary! The Swire's are taking their leave." Cora said, her American accent slurred from sheer exhaustion. "There you go." Evelyn chuckled good-naturedly, then helped Mary rise and gallantly offered her his arm as they walked back into the entrance hall.
Rosamund and Robert stood by the door to shake Swire's hand. When Lavinia saw Mary approach, she hastily turned away, feeling ashamed of her spineless conduct upstairs...though not merely enough to remain under this roof.
Mary was surprised to see Dr. Donaldson was also being helped into his coat. She let go of Evelyn's arm to needle the medical man. "What is it? Is he going to be alright?" The despair in Mary's voice arrested the old doctor. He pursed his wilted lips.
"Hard to say. He's not very strong, I'd say the trenches have taken their toll on his constitution." When he saw the rising panic in his interrogator, the doctor tried to retract. "I've given him something against the fever and the coughing, there's nothing else we can do for him now. We'll know more tomorrow..."
"Means he'll either survive the night, or he won't." Thomas whispered surlily, though everyone could hear his words loud and clear. Mary made to climb the stairs, but was held up by Cora. "You should get some sleep, dear. You've had quite an ordeal." she said worriedly.
"And you're absolutely sure it's pneumonia...not that ghastly epidemic that's going around these days?" Mr. Swire asked Dr. Donaldson. "The Spanish flu? No, it's definitely his lungs...otherwise all of us who'd been up in that room would belong into quarantine." the doctor said.
In a very unsubtle move, Lavinia shoved her father towards the door. Perhaps it was time they left.
Once the Swires, Evelyn and the doctor had gone, the Crawley's returned to the drawing room. "This is the second night that we all spend without a wink of sleep whatsoever...except for Mama." Rosamund commented when they found Violet nodding in one of the plush chairs.
Corporal Barrow meant to bid them goodnight as well, but when he looked for William, he could not find him. The young private had followed Lady Mary to the stairs.
"Milady, there is something here...I found it in Captain Crawley's belongings." he whispered and pressed the pack of unsent letters onto her. "What is it?" Mary hissed, impatient to go back up to Matthew. "I think...no, I'm sure they are addressed to you." William stuttered. His ears turned scarlet. "He'd want you to have them."
"To...Andromeda." Mary gasped as she read out the heading of the first letter.
"I remembered when you told that story at dinner...I was there, you see, standing behind Captain Crawley when you talked of...err...a princess and a seamonster." William recalled, unable to hide a smile. She had probably hoped no one would remember her naughty comments, when they all did.
And of course, he knew a lot more about Lady Mary now...unless Thomas had told him lies. But then Daisy knew, too...
"Thank you, William." Mary said, pressing his arm. "And good luck. Try to be safe." she added, before she rushed back upstairs. When he left, William thought he had done his duty at least, all he could possibly do for Captain Crawley...
"Oh good, you're back! He's asked for you..." Isobel greeted Mary as soon as she entered the room.
Mary thought that Isobel looked like a woman twice her age. Then again, she herself hadn't graced a mirror in what felt like days.
"How is he now?" she whispered, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. Mary put the bundle of letters on the other side of the small table. Matthew seemed calm, but she could see his chest was still moving too fast, his breath still came in short quick bursts.
When he heard her voice, Matthew dragged his eyes open.
"The doctor's given him some medicine. I'm not sure what else we can do at this point...except wait." Isobel sat in a chair next to the bed. Mary bent down and pressed her lips to Matthew's ashen cheek, nevermind his mother was watching. It didn't matter anymore...nothing did, except Matthew's health.
After the odd display before, where he'd all but pushed her off his bedside, Mary feared that he was still mad at her. How to take care of him if he couldn't stand the sight of her? Even now, Matthew didn't smile, he merely gazed up at Mary, like he had done for the past few hours. His azure eyes were very glassy and darkened.
They were full of sadness, Mary only noticed it now. For a quater of an hour, they sat in silence and watched as Matthew's lids grew heavy and he finally drifted off into a fitful slumber. Isobel and Mary harkened to the ghastly wheezing that tore from his chest at every rapid draw of breath.
"Does he even want me here?" Mary whispered despondently to Isobel, who had also nearly fallen asleep in her chair.
"What?" the older woman regarded Mary with incredulity. "He seems upset with me. I don't know." Mary pointed out, causing Isobel to chuckle. "Well my dear, he's usually miffed at you about something or other..."
Mary did not find it very funny. Isobel sighed, then stood. "Don't take it to heart. I think he felt embarrassed that you saw him like this...and then your fiancé came in to take you away. It wasn't a very pleasant scenario, wouldn't you agree?" she eyed Mary closely, her tone a tad sharp now.
"He's not my fiancé anymore." Mary replied, challenging Isobel to make a flippant remark about that. "Oh my dear..." Isobel failed to conceal the relief that washed over her and Mary smiled understandingly. They both knew what it meant. Mary was free now.
Free for Matthew...if only he made it through this night.
They took turns changing the dressings and compresses on their patient. At last, shortly before five, Isobel felt her strength waning. She simply had to give in and find a place to rest.
"I trust you to stay with him. So I shall go and sleep for an hour, afterwards I'll take your place." she said, her speech muddled by lack of rest. Mary gave a sign of assent.
Now the only sounds in the room were the rattle of Matthew's laboured breathing and the rustle of Mary's skirts as she pulled herself fully up onto the fourposter bed. One after the other, she pulled her leather shoes off, letting them clutter to the floor.
Very carefully so as not to wake him, Mary crawled under the thick covers with Matthew, not caring if anyone came in and found her thus. Honi soit qui mal y pense.
Matthew didn't stir when she pressed herself against his side. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, but that would surely put unnecessary pressure on his chest. So she was content to nestle into the crook of his shoulder and hand her hand on his arm instead.
Mary sighed softly as she buried her face against his neck. Matthew's hair and skin were still slightly moist from perspiration, but she didn't care and kissed the salty spot where she could feel his frightfully quick pulse. It was difficult to tell whether he was asleep or not.
Regardless, Mary began to speak...
"I just had to think of your face when I first saw you at Crawley House. Such a comical expression...like a fish out of water." she smiled against his skin. "And you were so silly. 'What a reception committee!' Poor Carson..." Mary snorted gently, feeling tears sting at these fond memories. "I saw you staring at me then...you were always staring at me."
She shifted a little and pulled her right leg up to rest over his knee. More contact. She needed as much of him as she could possibly get tonight. "Evelyn was right. Back then, I thought you'd be the last man I'd ever fall in love with." She shook her head against his shoulder. "I didn't want us to have the same interests...I didn't want you to ride horses or to look at architecture."
Another memory resonated in her mind then. Matthew had already felt it five years ago:
...I'd have to know more about the princess and the sea monster in question. Perhaps they were well suited...
Perhaps...they had both known in this precise moment, that they had found their mate. Mary closed her eyes and swallowed. "It scared me...how well suited we were. That you should be the one I'd been waiting for..."
Matthew's hand moved slightly and Mary took it in hers, interlacing their fingers. She gazed up to see if he was awake, but his eyes were still shut. Of course they had medicated, probably even sedated him, Mary determined.
They had given him up. The doctor, everyone downstairs...
She had seen it in their faces. It was the reason why she had received no reproach from her parents for running off, why Evelyn was being so incredibly kind to her, why Lavinia had left Matthew's side like the coward she was...
They all believed he would die.
Mary watched the clock on the mantlepiece of the fire place. It was a handsome room they occupied, tastefully and luxuriously furnished, with blue and golden wall papers and a sturdy bed made of cherry wood.
If she had accepted Matthew in 1914, they might have spent their wedding night in a room such as this...
"I wish I'd told you everything at Sybil's ball." she whispered roughly. "We were so close..." Evelyn's words came back to her and she realized how true they were. Matthew had told her the same on that horrid night last week. They were were like one being, like two halves who could never be whole without the other...
And what if she lost him tonight? What if she loses that other piece of herself...irretrievably?
"Don't leave me, Matthew." Mary moaned in despair, rubbing her nose against the stubble under his chin.
"I promise, I'll tell you everything. I'll stop running away from you...I'll accept you...us...but please, my darling, please stay with me!" she kissed the reddened spot on his neck and whispered softly,
"We'll be married, my darling..."
Their entwined hands rested on his belly and for a moment Mary thought she felt his fingers flex to hold onto hers. She sniffed and cleared her throat, feeling abominably weak and helpless. Matthew's crest-fallen face on the night of their fight came back to her. His own helpless pleas for her to change her mind, to be with him, to love and marry him...on any terms, rung in Mary's ears.
"I won't turn away again, my darling. It's been enough. Enough hurt and confusion and...scandal."
Mary nuzzled deeper into his neck, inhaling his masculine scent that she loved so much. It gave her strength. If only she could give this strength to Matthew now. This harrowing war had wrecked him, mentally...and now physically as well. How badly she had wanted to keep him safe...
...and she'd failed, through her own pride and lack of faith.
She had underestimated how much Matthew needed her, and how much she needed him. "It was that night, wasn't it?" Mary murmured. "When you sat outside...you got sick that night." On that accursed bench!
Tears sprang to her eyes once more as she recalled what else had occured that night...
Matthew's heated kisses, the delicious pressure of his body on top of hers, his words of love and desire lilted into her ear...and then his passionate release. How sweet and bashful Matthew had been, how intense his loving touch...
A shiver ran through Mary's frame and she felt ashamed of herself for harbouring such thoughts at a moment like this. Perhaps she was what Edith had called her...
Would Matthew think so if...no...when she told him about Kemal?
"I'll tell you the truth, Matthew. The whole truth. And if you despise me then..." she broke off, not even wanting to contemplate it. She didn't have a clue what she would do then? If Matthew turned away in disgust and despised her for the rest of their lives...
"Mary...you're wanted downstairs." It was Isobel who slowly made her way back into the room. What Mary didn't know was that Isobel had watched her from the doorframe for a few seconds. She didn't know what 'truth' Mary was talking about, but she did know that Matthew would never despise her for anything...
Mary could do no wrong in Matthew's eyes...and for the very first time Isobel began to comprehend why her son was so unconditionally besotted with this young woman.
The contrast between Mary's doting care and Lavinia's hasty escape had been disturbingly stark. Lavinia Swire had disappointed Isobel in every conceivable way. She had thought her a sweet girl, who would make a sweet and loving wife, even if she was not exactly Matthew's ideal mate. To Isobel, the events of tonight had adequately pointed out who that person was...
"What's going on?" Mary sat up, refusing to pull away from Matthew entirely. "It's Sybil...and Mr. Branson. I fear your father is about to have a stroke if he doesn't calm down...and I'm not sure I can get Dr. Donaldson on the telephone again tonight."
"Oh for God's sake." Mary rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. "I've had some rest. You can go if you want to." Isobel said kindly, pulling up a chair on the other side of the bed. "But please don't stay away long...he knows when you're not there." she added worriedly, pointing at Matthew, who still fought for every gasp of air.
Mary hesitated, she could hear raised voices from downstairs again. By any reckoning the entire neighbourhood of Eaton Square would know their business by now. Luckily, most of their neighbours were in the country for Christmas.
She hated to leave Matthew's side again, but Sybil was in trouble and she could not desert her sister, much less when Sybil had supported her so bravely in the past three days. "Alright. I'll be back in a moment...come quickly if something is wrong." Isobel promised she would.
Downstairs, Mary found her parents, Rosamund, Edith and the couple in question. Violet had retreated to Grantham House down the street. Carson had ordered Mrs. Blunt, the housekeeper of the Grantham London residence, to open up the house via telephone.
"Out of the question!" Robert roared. His face had indeed taken on a rather unhealthy shade of red. "Papa, please." Mary sighed heavily as she entered. This distracted Robert momentarily form his outrage. "How is he?" he inquired, his voice dropping to a surprisingly gentle tenor. "Bad. Obviously. And you're not making it better by shouting your heads off down here." Mary accused them.
"I agree." Cora said, nearly swaying on her two feet as she held onto Robert's arm. She had not slept properly in days, due to constant worry, first for her children's wellfare and now for the future of her family. "Let's call it a night, please."
"Well, I'll go find a hotel then." Tom decided, glowering at Robert. "Nonesense. You'll stay in a guest room." Sybil cried indignantly. "Won't he, Aunt Rosamund?" she turned towards her aunt, who seemed easy prey at this late hour. Like Cora, she had about reached her limit of endurance.
"He won't stay under my roof!" Robert exclaimed immediately. "It's not your roof!" Sybil bristled.
Robert's mouth fell open. He didn't know what to do anymore. Sybil had always been wild, but this was beyond his worst nightmares of what could possibly befall his daughters...
"Sybil, I won't argue with you on this, because there is nothing to argue about! You cannot and you will not throw yourself away on a...on a..."
"...journalist." Tom finished drily, toasting Robert with the glass of brandy Barnes had offered him before. Lord Grantham ignored his cheek.
"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into." he warned Sybil. "Can you see yourself living in a dingy flat, god-knows-where in Ireland? Dawdling your life away as the wife of a Sinn Féin socialist paper boy?"
They all expected Tom and Sybil to blow up at this insult. But Robert's words had triggered off something inside Mary and only Rosamund could guess what it might be...
"Do you have any idea...any idea at all how wrong you are?" Mary snapped at her father. "What do you expect her to do? Break it off with Tom and marry one of the few heirs who have not been blown to smithereens yet?"
Her voice shook with rage. "Larry Grey, perhaps? So she can 'dawdle her life away' at his side, hating and regretting each and every decision she had ever made? Because she had been too weak or too scared to make up her own mind or stand up to others..."
"Mary, darling...calm down." Cora stepped towards her. "No!" Mary turned on her mother now. "You know what I did! You know what it had cost me!" Cora blanched and halted before she could touch Mary.
"If Matthew dies...it's been too late for me. But Sybil mustn't make my mistakes. He's a good man, I can vouch for that." Mary threw her arm out towards Tom, who merely gaped at her outburst. "And he'll love and take care of Sybil as she deserves. That's all you should ask for."
And that was all Mary would say on this matter. Six pairs of eyes followed her as she turned on her heel and left. Climbing back up the stairs, Mary felt oddly unburdened. Matthew would have been proud of her speech, she thought.
Isobel smiled with relief when she saw Mary enter. "You were missed." Which was an understatement. About a minute after Mary had left the bed, Matthew had whispered her name. And he hadn't stopped until they heard the soft padding of her feet, announcing Mary's return.
"Oh my darling." Mary quickly leaned over and kissed his forehead, then straightened the fresh bandage. A single tear slipped from Matthew's eye as he felt the balm of Mary's cool lips on his feverish brow. He smiled faintly.
Mary came back...she had not left him. With all his strength Matthew pulled on Mary's arm, signalling without words that she should lay beside him again. "The coughing has stopped." Mary noted with satisfaction. She wondered why Isobel's brows were still knit together. Wasn't it a good sign?
"Yes." Isobel said distractedly and Mary saw her pack away a stetoscope that she had borrowed from Dr. Donaldson after a lengthy debate. Isobel had seen too many cases of pneumonia in her lifetime. Only one had ended well.
Matthew was terribly weak and...obviously delirious from the fever.
As soon as Mary had gone downstairs, Matthew had turned towards Isobel with a beatific smile and announced in his ghostly voice "Mother...Mary and I are getting married soon." In his excitement, he'd nearly stopped breathing altogether and Isobel had to administer more medicine, fighting with her tears.
She had refrained from mentioning the delusional episode to Mary...
"I'll get more water." Isobel said quietly. As strong and professional as she could be when it came to nursing others, Isobel could not endure the sight of her only son withering away in a bed for long. If he already fantasized about phantom marriages, it must be a sign of decline...
The house was silent as everyone had finally left or gone to bed. Outside, snowflakes gently cascaded down from the sky, clearly visible in the eerie light of the lamp posts of the square. Isobel dragged her tired feet back upstairs, nearly stumbling on her way. Some of the water in the basin slopped over.
Matthew's room was quiet, too. Isobel saw Mary's shoes back on the floor and the woman herself laying tightly entwined with Matthew under the covers. His arm was wrapped around her body, holding it tightly against him. Even Mary's face was pressed into the side of his. They were fast asleep, Isobel thought.
She put the basin on the table. The sound of Matthew's lungs tore at her heart, though when she bent over and inspected him, it almost seemed as if a small smile was playing around his dry lips. Isobel wiped at her eyes and bit her lip against an oncoming sob. She didn't want to wake them.
If God wanted to take her boy tonight, at least he won't be miserable and alone when he goes...
Isobel closed the door behind herself and leaned heavily against it. She dreaded the moment when she would open it again in the morning, and what she would find behind it...
Five hours later, Mary awoke from the feeling of someone's fingers tenderly stroking her cheek. She couldn't rub her eyes, because both her arms were trapped in a tight embrace. And then something rough rubbed lovingly over her skin, before she was showered with gentle, if somewhat scratchy kisses.
"Good morning, my sweet darling." His voice still sounded cracked and winded, but it was strong. And lucid.
When she lifted her chin, Mary gazed straight into a pair of very pale, but also very clear blue eyes. They were shining at the sight of her. He blinked and licked his dry lips. All about him was still worse for the wear. But he lived...
"Oh Matthew." she breathed his name, barely audible. It was pure music to Matthew's ears.
"I thought you didn't want to see me again." he whispered accusingly, though Mary could see the crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Have you missed me a little?" His breathing grew a tad faster, half-swallowing his words. Mary wondered if he was still teasing...
"A very little." she teased him in turn. When his blissful expression faltered, Mary pulled both arms free of their confinements to wrap around his neck. She didn't want to block his mouth when he already had trouble catching air, but nobody could prevent her from covering every inch of Matthew's precious face with her lips.
"Don't...you...ever...do...this...to...me...again." Every word was accentuated with a hearty kiss.
Matthew laughed madly, until it made him cough and Mary only stopped her caresses when she tasted salt on his cheeks. "Shhh..." she cooed and wiped away the traces. When he sobbed against her mouth, Mary happily allowed him to claim it at his own risk.
They kissed with a desperate urgency, a frantic need for more closeness. Both had to heave shuddering breaths when they caught air. Mary could feel Matthew tremble around her body, and when he required more of her lips, she halted his passion to make sure he was truly alright. Her cool fingers grazed over his forehead and she gasped with delight.
The fever was gone.
A moment later, Mary shrieked when she felt the touch of his fingers around her waist, slowly tickling her into senseless giggles. "Kiss me." Matthew demanded in a ragged voice and Mary complied only too happily.
This time, their loving caresses became deeper, heavier even as they claimed what should have been rightfully theirs four years ago. A kiss to seal this solemn vow - they belonged to each other at last and never again would they allow anyone or anything to take their darling, their precious other half away from them.
Mary had lived her life and Matthew his, and now it was time they lived them together. As one.
Isobel and Sybil stood in the middle of the room, the latter clutching a tray which shook slightly with the force of her supressed bursts of joy. They had been watching the couple for a few minutes now, undetected.
The lovers were too engrossed in their fierce kissing to notice anything going on around them at all...
A/N: Sorry, ran away on the fluff-train towards the end, but well, I just love M/M happiness, so yeah :) Was asked how many chp. were still to come. This chapter could easily have been their happy ending, but I've got a couple of more chapters planned out for TeD and hope you're still interested to see what happens next. I want to bring them to the end of the war and of course the rating will go up again now that we got the two idiots properly together ;) Thanks for reading, dears, hope to update soon!