I'm going on holiday (without my laptop) for a couple of weeks, so it may be a while before the next chapter is ready, so I've worked hard to finish this one early.
As always, thank you for reviews/follows/favourites, they mean a lot.
I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I'll get the next one finished as soon as I can.
The atmosphere in the house was subdued and depressing in the weeks following the trial. Anna went about her duties with red eyes, and Mary could think of nothing she could say to comfort her. There was still the possibility of a reprieve, but it was not likely, and it was almost worse to have the glimmer of hope than it would have been to know. It was the hope that hurt the most.
One morning, Anna came in with Mary's letters soon after she'd brought her breakfast, and Mary noticed that she had been crying again.
"Anna?" she said gently, and the kindness with which she said it made Anna burst into tears, sobbing violently. She had been holding in her grief, but couldn't do it any longer. Mary held Anna in her arms like a crying child.
"Don't lose hope yet, Anna. The letter has been written to the Home Secretary. He may still be reprieved," she said.
Anna swallowed her sobs and breathed deeply in an attempt to calm down enough to speak.
"But if it does… go badly for us, I must leave."
"What?" Mary asked, alarmed.
"I can't stay here. I can't let this be the house that harbours the wife of a convicted murderer. I must go somewhere where nobody knows me. And I have been so happy here with John, I couldn't bear to live here with him… gone," Anna said through her crying.
"But where would you go?" Mary asked, unable to imagine Anna leaving.
"I'm not sure. Maybe to a friend of my mother's, in Derbyshire. She takes in laundry. I could help her. She always said, after my mother died, that I could go to her if ever I needed somewhere to live and honest work. It would be hard, and different from what I'm used to. And I would miss you. But it would be for the best."
"No, Anna. Nobody here would object to your staying. And I would hate to lose you. You are my only friend here."
"I would be sorry to leave you. But whatever you say, this house would become notorious for harbouring me. No, it would not be right for me to stay. And I wouldn't mind working as a washerwoman, if that is going to be your next objection. Nothing that will ever happen to me could be worse than losing John. If… if the worst happens, I won't care whether I live or die, never mind what work I do," Anna said sadly.
"But you do not know that it will happen yet. And I won't let you go so easily," Mary said certainly.
Anna nodded, but looked unconvinced. She handed Mary her letters and left to give Mary peace and privacy to read them. There was one from Sybil, which she opened first. Sybil wrote that she wished she could have been there for the trial, asked Mary to give Anna her love and Tom's. She also described the sensation of having her bay move inside her, writing that it felt like bubbles popping inside her, 'like champagne, which makes up for the fact I can't drink champagne at the moment'. Mary smiled to herself.
Then there was another letter, addressed in a familiar hand, although Mary did not immediately recognise it. She frowned a little and looked at the sender's address. She gasped with shock. Lavinia.
What on earth was Lavinia writing to her for? After all that had occurred between them? Lavinia had been kind and forgiving, but Mary had in effect stolen her fiancée. She remembered that night when Lavinia had walked in on them in the library, and shuddered with shame. After that, why on earth would Lavinia want to write to her?
She started to read.
Dear Mary,
I expect you are rather surprised to be hearing from me after such a long time. I meant to write to congratulate you on your wedding, but somehow I couldn't make myself do it, it was too soon.
I wish you to know that I am not angry with either of you, and am happy that you are married. It is what I wanted when I left. I could see long ago that you two were meant for each other, and complicated everything by refusing to admit to myself what I knew.
I am certain that my leaving was the most sensible thing I had done for months, years even. I could never have been queen of the county, I would never have felt at home in that lovely house. I am a small person and I don't know how I ever thought I would be suited to that life. But I suppose I was blinded by adoration for Matthew. I hope you don't mind my writing frankly and honestly, for after all that happened, it only seems right to tell the truth. I loved Matthew, more than any man I'd met before. But I don't think we could ever have been happy together. I admire him for staying with me until I heard you talking in the library that night, and I finally had irrefutable proof.
But I shall not dwell on that time, when not one of the three of us was happy.
I hope you are both well, and that Matthew is happier than when I last saw him. I hope he continues to get stronger and has adjusted to living with his disability. I am certain that you are happily married, after the love I saw between you.
I write to tell you of something which has made me very happy, and has ended the unhappy chapter in all our lives. I am engaged to be married to a Mr James Ardleigh, the son of one of my father's friends. We are to marry in March, in London. This makes me more certain than ever that I did the right thing in leaving, for although I had a deep admiration and adoration for Matthew, now I know what real love is, I realise that I did not feel this for him. If I had not left, I would not have met James, and the thought of never having met him is a terrible one.
The reason I write, although I realise it has taken me rather a long time to get there, is to invite you both to our wedding. I know you may think it very strange, but you were both such important people in my life for a long time. And although I resented yours and Matthew's love for a time, you were very kind to me, although I know you must have hated me for being engaged to the man you loved. I would like it very much if you could be there.
Of course, I understand if you do not wish to come. Also, it may seem like a stupid invitation if Matthew can't travel all that way. But if you can, I would like you both to be there, and I would like you to meet James.
I enclose a proper invitation as well. Please write with your answer, and I will, truly, understand if you can't come.
Yours Sincerely,
Lavinia Swire
Mary let the letter drop to her lap. She had almost forgotten about Lavinia's existence, and now they were invited to her wedding. She smiled at the strangeness of the invitation, but was glad Lavinia was happy. She had hated the thought of Lavinia, but had never disliked her personally, and was glad she had found happiness elsewhere.
Would they go? She would have to discuss it with Matthew, she supposed. He would be glad too, she supposed, for he had always felt guilty for making her unhappy when she was such a sweet girl.
Could they manage the journey to London? Matthew hadn't been on a train since he was injured, but she could see no reason it would be impossible. It was a long journey, but surely they could manage it?
Where would they stay, though? Certainly not with Rosamund, as the family usually did when they went to London; there were no downstairs bedrooms. Grantham House could be opened up for them, she supposed, but there was no downstairs bedroom there either. Perhaps a hotel was a possibility, but that would need to be properly thought through.
She supposed there was little to be gained worrying about it until she had spoken with Matthew. He would be here soon, to see if she was up. She would ask him, and they would find a way to get there if he wanted to.
She re-read both her letters while she waited for him, then decided to get up. She rang for Anna. When Anna came she found herself telling her about the letter.
"Will you go then?" Anna asked.
"I don't know. I haven't spoken to Matthew yet."
"But do you want to?"
Mary thought for a minute.
"Yes, I suppose I do. It's been so long since I went to London. I would quite like to go shopping on Oxford Street like we used to before the war, and walk in the parks. And I did like Lavinia, you know. We could have been good friends if only she hadn't been engaged to Matthew, although I suppose that's silly, since if she hadn't been, I would never have met her. Anyway, I'm glad she's happy. And I would like to see her again."
Anna nodded absently. It seemed ridiculous to her that Mary was talking about the future when it was quite possible John would be dead by then. She couldn't even imagine there being a future beyond John's death.
Mary noticed her silence and guessed her thoughts.
"Don't lose hope yet, Anna. Papa is expecting a telegram any day, and until he receives it, we do not know what it will say."
Anna turned away. She knew Mary was trying to help, but there was nothing that would help except John's freedom.
Matthew came in just as Anna was leaving after finishing.
"Do you have any plans today, darling?" he asked. "I've got work to do, I'm afraid. I've got rather behind because of the trial and everything, so I'll be here most of the day, I think.
"No, I've got no plans. But Matthew, I've got something to tell you."
"What? What is it Mary?" Matthew asked, concerned.
She almost laughed at how he immediately thought there was something wrong.
"It's nothing bad. But… I got a letter." Mary went to sit down on the bed, and Matthew went over and stopped next to her. She reached to her bedside table and picked up the letter.
"Who's it from?" Matthew asked, resisting with difficulty the urge to take the letter from her to find out what it said and who had written it.
Mary took a deep breath before answering.
"Lavinia."
"What?" Matthew said incredulously.
"Lavinia Swire. She's getting married, and wants us to come to her wedding."
"Lavinia has invited you and me to her wedding?" Matthew said, still not quite believing it.
"Yes."
"After all this time and after what happened when we last saw her?"
"Yes."
They both stared at the letter in silence, still not quite believing what it said.
"When is it?" Matthew asked finally. Mary mutely handed him the invitation.
"March… London. James Ardleigh. Wait, I'm sure I know that name," Matthew murmured.
"Lavinia says he's the son of one of her father's friends."
"Yes, I remember now. William Ardleigh is one of the most highly respected barristers in London. He was at a dinner at Reggie Swire's house years ago, when I was just getting to know Lavinia. I don't think I've met his son though."
"Do you want to go then?" Mary asked, not particularly wanting to hear about all Matthew's lawyer friends in London, and about the time when he was with Lavinia.
"Lavinia really wants us to go?"
"She sent the invitation."
Matthew thought for a minute.
"It's in London. How would we get there? And where would we stay?" Matthew asked, imagining how long the journey would be in the car. It had felt like enough of an expedition going to York for the trial, never mind London.
"We'd go on the train of course. And I haven't quite thought through where we'd stay, but we could have Grantham House opened up, I suppose."
"But could we… could I, go on the train? And are there bedrooms downstairs in Grantham House?" Matthew asked sceptically.
"I don't see why we couldn't go on the train. And no, there are no bedrooms downstairs in Grantham House, but since it will be ours one day, it's about time there was one. There's time to sort everything out."
"I'm not having them change the house for me," Matthew said grumpily.
"So you never want to be able to go to London again, do you not?" Mary asked, exasperated. She had had enough of his making things harder than they had to be. "Papa won't mind, in fact, I expect he'll be annoyed he didn't think of it himself. I can arrange everything if you want to go. Do you?"
Matthew considered. He realised that once again, Mary was in a mood that meant there was no point arguing with her. He knew she would do anything and everything to make it as easy as possible for him, and he loved her for it.
"I suppose if she's invited us… and I'd like to see Reggie Swire again," he said uncertainly.
"Then that settles it. I shall write back to Lavinia now, accepting the invitation, then go to speak to Papa about bedrooms. I'm rather looking forward to it. It's been so long since I was last in London."
Matthew smiled and knew he had made the right decision in saying they would go. Mary had been stuck here with him for almost a year, apart from the few days in Ireland for Sybil's wedding, and before that, had hardly left home because of the war. She would enjoy being in London again.
Breaking his usual rules, Carson almost ran to the library where he knew Lord and Lady Grantham were sitting. He didn't knock, and Lord and Lady Grantham both started and turned in surprise when he entered the room.
"My Lord!" he said breathlessly, "My Lord." The two occupants of the room stood up, terrified that something awful must have happened to make Carson behave so.
"What in heaven's name…?" Lord Grantham asked as he rushed over from his desk.
"A telegram, My Lord," Carson said.
Bates, thought Robert. Good news or bad?
Carson handed him the telegram, and he ripped it open hurriedly. He looked at the writing, and for a second, it meant nothing to him. Then the letters seemed to come into focus and form words.
"Thank God," he breathed. "He's been reprieved. It's life imprisonment, but he's been reprieved."
"Go and fetch Anna," Cora instructed Carson.
"So the servants' ball will go ahead?" Mary asked.
"Yes. We can celebrate tonight, and worry about proving Bates' innocence tomorrow. Yes, we shall make tonight as merry as possible. Mrs Hughes says they can manage to get everything ready in time, and Carson's already telephoned the string quartet to tell them to come after all. It will be good to have something to celebrate," Robert said happily.
"Has anyone telephoned Edith? And Granny and Isobel?" Mary asked.
"Not yet," Cora replied.
"I'll do it now then," Mary said, and left the room.
Robert sat down and sighed. After so much worry, everything would be alright. It was only a matter of time before they found a way to prove Bates' innocence. Perhaps he wouldn't have to suffer Thomas as a valet for long. The man might have spent hours out looking for Isis, but Robert found he couldn't like Thomas, however hard he tried to forgive him for the stealing and tried to ignore Thomas' preference for men. Robert had never been able to understand men like Thomas, and didn't particularly like trying. The thought made him uncomfortable. Thomas seemed to work hard enough though, and he deserved a chance to prove himself. But he wasn't Bates.
The house was a bustle of activity that day with the preparations for the ball. Anna went to York to see John and felt so relieved, she spent the whole day almost in tears.
She dressed Mary for the ball early so as to have time to change herself, and she went about her work in a sort of daze. She had felt nothing but relief all day, but now, when everyone was preparing to celebrate, she didn't feel like there was much to celebrate. John would live, but life imprisonment sounded daunting and permanent. Lord Grantham had seemed confident that John would be released soon, but she was not so sure that it would be that easy. She would do what she could, of course, but it seemed so hard to prove that somebody didn't do something. Surely in a sensible world, it would be the other way around, and it would have to be proven that he did to lock him up.
But there was hope, and she was determined that she would have him released and back in her arms one day.
"Mary?" she said.
"Yes?"
"After today, I don't think I need to… well, if you don't mind I would rather stay here, now John is not going to be... now he'll be alright."
Mary smiled at her kindly.
"Of course I want you to stay. Even if it had gone badly for Bates, you would have had a hard job leaving. I don't know what I'd do without you. Of course you must stay. Now, are you going to dance tonight? Just once? I know you might not feel like it, but it's great fun, and Bates would want you to. He wouldn't want you to be sitting at the edge of the room on your own."
"I don't know. I just can't even think about dancing when John is alone in a dark cell, and is going to be there a long time. I don't want to ruin the ball for everyone else, but it just doesn't seem right," Anna said sadly.
Mary shook her head.
"I understand. But Bates would want you to enjoy yourself. Think about it."
Anna finished Mary's hair and stood back to check it.
"Go and get ready yourself now, Anna. I'll see you later."
Anna nodded and left.
Mary looked at herself in the mirror. Anna had done a good job with her hair. She stood up and looked at herself in the full length mirror on the wall. She was wearing her new dress, a deep red one with several layers of skirts. She hadn't worn it before, and was looking forward to Matthew seeing her in it. She knew it suited her dark hair and ivory skin, and she loved the way it rustled when she walked. Around her neck, she was wearing the necklace Matthew had given her for Christmas. It felt heavy and cool around her neck, the sensation reminding her always that it was there. And despite her thinking that the engraving on the back was pointless when she had first seen it, now she delighted in knowing that the evidence of Matthew's love for her was with her, touching her warm skin. She admired the effect of the dancing reflected light in the jet and waited for Matthew.
Finally, she heard the doorknob turn, and Matthew came in. She turned to look at him, and he gasped and looked at her with his mouth hanging slightly open. She smiled.
"You look beautiful, my darling," he said, looking in wonder at Mary's dress and the necklace. He was pleased she had worn it. He had spent a long time in the jewellery shop in York deciding what to buy, while mother had waited patiently, making suggestions. He had looked at almost everything in the shop, before seeing the necklace and knowing that it would be perfect for Mary. It was beautiful and glittering and elegant, like her. Mother had thought he was mad for buying it when she saw the price, but he had known that nothing else would do now he had seen that necklace, so he had bought it.
He had waited for Christmas and imagined her wearing it. And now here she was, wearing it and looking so beautiful, he couldn't believe she was his wife. He couldn't believe that a woman as magnificent as Lady Mary Crawley would choose him when she could have had any man she chose. He loved her so much, it almost hurt.
"And you look very handsome. Or, at least, you usually do. At this precise moment, you quite closely resemble a fish," Mary said, cutting across Matthew's thoughts. He snapped his mouth shut, realising how foolish he must look. He laughed.
"Truly, Mary, I don't think I've ever seen you looking more beautiful," he said, trying to be serious.
"Not even in this?" she asked, holding up the sheer nightdress she had worn on their wedding night; she had already laid it out for later. Matthew laughed again and shook his head.
"Well, perhaps. But even so, you look wonderful."
"As do you. In fact, I don't think I can resist you for a moment longer," Mary said, walking towards him. She draped herself across his lap and kissed him passionately. He put his arms around her and held her lovingly and kissed her back. He reached up and without thinking and began to stroke her hair, but she drew away suddenly.
"Don't you dare mess me up, Matthew Crawley. Anna spent a long time doing that," she said sternly. Matthew grinned at her, unabashed. "Come on, we'll be late for dinner if we don't go now. And I fear if we are alone any longer, I'll not be presentable enough for a ball," she said, her cheeks turning slightly pink.
"No, but you'll be presentable enough to come to bed with me," Matthew said, and he kissed her quickly. "Come on then."
Mary stood up and straightened her dress and they went to dinner.
Carson and Cora opened the ball together, as they always did, then Robert joined in with Mrs Hughes. Mary sat with Matthew at the edge of the room and tried not to laugh out loud at the sight. Matthew forced a smile, but inside he had lost his good humour of earlier in the day, and felt miserable. Robert might have complained about the ball when they were drinking their whisky after dinner, but Matthew knew he enjoyed it really. Matthew would have done anything to be able to complain about who he had to dance with, because then he would be able to dance with Mary afterwards, when they had done their duty with the servants. But he could no more dance than he could fly to the moon. He silently cursed his damned useless legs.
William came over and asked Mary to dance, and Matthew watched her go off and dance with him, both of them clearly enjoying themselves. He thought about excusing himself, claiming tiredness or a headache or something, but knew that would worry Mary and ruin her night. He considered just slipping out without being noticed, but it would be impossible to leave without attracting someone's attention.
Then Mary came to sit down again and smiled at him.
"William's a surprisingly good dancer," she said.
"Anyone would look good dancing with you," Matthew replied truthfully. He remembered all the times he had danced with her before the war and how everyone had looked at them, admired them, despite the fact he had never been a brilliant dancer. It made him so miserable to think that he would never feel the thrill of whirling her around the dancefloor again.
They sat in silence, watching the dancers wistfully. William was dancing with Daisy now, and they were looking into each other's eyes lovingly, clearly having a wonderful time. Isobel was now dancing with Carson and Robert with O'Brien.
Mary nudged Matthew and gestured towards them.
"Look at papa's face," she said. Robert was looking at O'Brien with a fixed smile that made him look as if he was in pain. He was holding her as far away as possible and looking thoroughly uncomfortable. Matthew found himself laughing a little despite himself. It was well known how little Robert liked O'Brien.
Mary looked across the room to where Anna had been sitting with one of the housemaids. She frowned when she saw she was gone.
"Matthew, have you seen Anna?" she asked.
Matthew looked around the room and shook his head. "Perhaps all the joy and excitement was too much, considering her husband is locked up in a prison cell."
Mary sighed sadly. "Yes. Of course it's wonderful he'll not be hanged, but I wish he could simply be released now. I wish there was something we could do."
"Actually," Matthew said slowly, "I've been thinking. I know Murray will be working to try to get Bates released, but he will have other clients, and who knows how long it will take? I thought that perhaps we could… help. I mean, there must be some evidence somewhere to prove he's innocent."
Mary looked startled. "But… what can we do?"
"Well, there must be neighbours, they may have seen something. Maybe Vera Bates kept a diary. Perhaps she wrote something in a letter, or said something to someone… Who knows? But there will be something. We can help find it."
"Truly? You really think there's something we could do to help?" Mary asked hopefully.
"We can try, can't we? Bates deserves it."
"Of course he does. If you really think… Oh Matthew, it's a splendid idea," Mary said, taking his hand. "You're right, there must be something. And Anna has already said she will do anything."
They smiled at each other, suddenly full of hope and excitement.
At that moment, Anna came up to Mary and whispered something in her ear. Mary frowned and stood up.
"I'll be back in a minute, darling," she said, and left without explanation.
Matthew felt suddenly depressed and miserable again without Mary at his side. He watched the dancers, frowning and wondering where on earth Mary had gone with Anna and Rosamund.
Isobel saw him sitting alone and went over to him, having finished dancing with Carson.
"Where's Mary?" she asked, looking around for her.
"I don't know. She disappeared off with Anna and Rosamund without saying where they were going or why."
Isobel felt anger at Mary rising inside her. Surely Mary must have been able to see that Matthew would find the ball difficult, and if she had, how on earth could she have left him alone?
"Don't be angry with her, mother; I'm sure there is a perfectly good reason, and really, I can cope with being left alone for a while, you know," Matthew said irritably, guessing his mother's thoughts.
Isobel tried to interest her son in conversations on various subjects, but without much success. Only when Mary reappeared did he smile properly again. She sat down next to Isobel and sighed.
"Don't ask where I was. I'll tell you later. Not here," she said to Matthew.
Then they were interrupted by Thomas, coming to ask Mary to dance. She considered it, but declined, saying she was tired and it was too hot.
"Let's go outside," she muttered to Matthew and he nodded. She manoeuvred his wheelchair past the dancers and the people standing around drinking and talking and pushed him out of the front door.
The air was cool and fresh, a wonderful contrast from the oppressive heat and noise of the hall. They could hear the music from here, but the babble of conversations had disappeared.
"We found Lord Hepworth and Rosamund's maid in a rather… compromising position. He's leaving in the morning. That's where I went," Mary said.
"Good God! How did you know?"
"Anna saw them disappearing off upstairs together. And she said they'd been behaving oddly for a while."
"How awful for Rosamund."
"It wouldn't have happened if she didn't think it a good idea to court a fortune hunter," Mary said scornfully.
"Come on Mary, she's lonely, and he flattered her. It's his fault, not hers," Matthew said reproachfully.
"I know," Mary said slowly. She was silent for a minute, then said, "Your mother didn't look over pleased with me. I'm sorry I left you. I know it's hard…"
"Don't apologise, Mary, I was fine. It's just… I would give anything to be able to dance with you for just one minute," Matthew said sadly.
"Me too," Mary replied, and she went to sit on his lap. She stroked his thick blonde hair gently and began to hum the tune the quartet could be heard playing in the hall. "But a year ago, I would have given anything to be able to sit with you like this, and stroke your hair and kiss you. And now I can." She kissed him gently on the lips and drew away smiling.
"A year won't make any difference to my inability to dance. I might not even be here in a year," Matthew said gloomily.
"Oh, for goodness sake Matthew!" Mary exclaimed. "Why must you always bring that up? You've survived over a year, I see no reason you shouldn't make it through another thirty, forty, even fifty of them. Why can't you simply enjoy this moment?"
She began to hum along with the music again.
"Hold me. Like at our wedding," she said.
Matthew looked as if he was going to protest, but Mary kissed him again and he did as she asked. They danced like they had at their wedding, swaying gently with the music as Mary hummed. Mary felt Matthew's tense shoulders relax and when she pulled back a little to look at his face, she smiled to see he was no longer frowning.
Matthew closed his eyes and inhaled the familiar and comforting scent of Mary's perfume. When she was in his arms, nothing ever seemed so bad, and he could never stay unhappy for long. He could forget they were dancing sitting down and simply enjoy the gentle swaying to the music.
Mary suddenly shivered and stopped swaying. She looked up.
"I think I felt a raindrop," she said, holding out her hand.
"Not rain, snow!" Matthew said as a delicate flake dropped into Mary's open hand and melted instantly. He looked up too and then gasped when a snowflake fell in his eye. Mary laughed at him as he blinked and rubbed his eye.
"It's freezing!" he cried.
"It's snow, darling," Mary said, smirking and raising her eyebrows.
The snow began to fall quicker and heavier and Mary shivered again.
"Do you want to go inside?" Matthew asked.
"Let's stay out a little longer. Snow is so beautiful when it's falling. And I'm so happy here."
"Have my jacket then," Matthew said and began to struggle to get it off, quite a challenge with Mary still sitting on his lap. She stood up and helped him sit forwards and shrug it off. He wrapped it around her when she sat down again.
"The gallantry of the gesture is lost a bit when you have to help me take my jacket off," Matthew said, but Mary stopped him talking with a kiss, and he didn't resist. They remained like that, oblivious to the freezing weather and the thickly falling snow, for what seemed like an age. Then they went to bed and made up for the misery of the earlier evening by enjoying themselves more than they could ever have done dancing in front of all the family and servants.
She twirled around in front of him and he watched admiringly as she danced closer and closer to him, her smile enticing and stunningly beautiful. He opened his arms and she danced into them. He swept her up off her feet, and her red dress flew out in a circle around them. Her chocolate brown hair came loose from the combs and pins that were holding it up and flared out behind her head, releasing the warm, seductive scent of her perfume. Her dark eyes glittered captivatingly and he found he was incapable of looking away as they spun around and around.
The music changed to a waltz, and he set her down and whirled her around the empty dancefloor, their feet moving together effortlessly in time to the music. They waltzed past Robert and Cora who clapped and cheered, then past William and Daisy, who were kissing. They twirled past Mother and Father who were holding each other tightly and lovingly, but who smiled and waved when they saw him and Mary. They passed Lavinia and Reggie Swire, who raised their champagne glasses to them.
Then all the people disappeared, and they were alone on the dancefloor. The music sped up, got faster and faster. He twirled her around faster and faster to keep time and soon the world was just a colourful blur and all that mattered was her, her eyes, her rosy lips, her wild hair. The music slowed down, and they slowed down with it, although the world didn't come back into focus. They looked into each other's eyes and leaned in together and kissed, still swaying and turning in time to the music. Her tongue found his and he tasted champagne as he explored her mouth with his tongue.
They carried on turning and kissing, and he began to feel sleepy. He felt warm and safe and loved, and his eyelids began to feel heavy and to droop. He tried to keep them open so he would never have to stop looking at her, but he saw that her eyes were closing too, and he relaxed. The music faded away, as did the rest of the world, and he drifted slowly into a deep sleep.
Matthew breathed in deeply and opened his eyes, to see the deep brown eyes from his dream staring back at him. The rosy lips came towards his and kissed him gently. He could smell the faint scent of that familiar perfume.
"You were smiling," she said softly, smiling that enticing smile.
"I was dreaming of you," he said sleepily.
"What did you dream?" she breathed.
He thought back to the wild twirling and the waltzing and the kissing.
"We were dancing," he said slowly, "You were in a red dress, twirling around and around. Then I picked you up and whirled you around and around. And you smiled at me. Like you're smiling at me now. And Father was there, with Mother. They were together, happy. And we were happy, so very happy…"
Mary continued to look into his eyes, smiling.
"Aren't we so very happy now?" she asked.
"Of course we are my darling," he replied. "How could you think otherwise after last night?"
Mary blushed a little as she thought of last night. When they had come in from the snow, they had gone straight to bed, undressing each other with such haste and desperation, they had somehow managed to tear her delicate undergarments. Not that she cared. They had kissed and touched and tasted each other all over. And then… After almost a year of marriage, she finally knew what it felt like to have him 'come' inside her. And it had been beyond anything she had ever dreamed of.
Matthew watched Mary's face as these thoughts crossed her mind, and he too thought of last night. It still felt as if it had been a dream, it had been so perfect. Never had he thought he would feel what he felt last night. He hadn't been able to feel there, of course he hadn't, but he had known that he had finally managed to be a proper husband to his wife in every way, had given her what she deserved to have. And he knew because he had felt it. He had felt it in every inch of his body that he could feel. And it had been wonderful. He had felt an overwhelming joy and excitement, he had felt alive, and yes, he had felt a sort of release. He knew it didn't really make sense, but he had felt it.
And now, now they could really begin to hope for children.
Mary suddenly sat up and opened the curtains of the bed.
"Darling?" Matthew asked, closing his eyes to the daylight, still sleepy.
Mary went to the window, looked out and turned back to look at him with bright eyes.
"I just remembered: the snow! Oh, it's beautiful! Come and see."
Matthew sat up and pulled himself to the edge of the bed.
"Mary, I can't…"
"Oh, sorry," she said and she helped him into his wheelchair before pushing him to the window.
The world was covered in a thick blanket of snow, glittering in the weak early morning sunlight. It was still early, and nobody had yet disturbed it. It transformed the garden into a magical scene that seemed as if it was out of a book. Even the trees were heavy with snow.
They stared out at it in wonder.
"Come on, let's go out," Matthew said enthusiastically, properly awake now.
"Now?"
"Yes."
"We're not even dressed."
"What time is it?" Matthew asked, then remembered he hadn't removed his wristwatch last night, and checked. "It's too early to ring, I suppose, especially after the late night last night. But we can dress ourselves, can't we?"
"Well, I'm sure you can, but I'm ashamed to admit I have no idea whatsoever how to do my hair, and putting a corset on without help is practically impossible."
"You've got help: me."
"You may be very adept at taking my corset off, darling, but it's more complicated putting it on."
"Can't you… go without it? Just while we go out? You can dress properly later. Nobody will be able to tell under your coat anyway, and besides, nobody's up yet."
Mary raised her eyebrows, then shrugged and nodded. "Alright, you win."
It took a while for them both to be dressed to go out, but even by the time they were ready, it was still early enough that there would be nobody else up; the servants were allowed to sleep in a little later than usual after the ball.
They were the first to go out the front door, and it felt wrong to spoil the snow. But it couldn't be helped, and Mary pushed Matthew out into the white garden.
It was hard work pushing the chair through the snow, even with Matthew helping as much as he could, but it was worth it for the beauty of the unspoilt snow. They reached their favourite bench and Mary cleared the snow off a small part of it and sat down, not caring about getting her coat wet; she was going to have to change later anyway.
"I dreamed of us dancing last night as well," she said after a while. Matthew looked at her.
"Tell me."
"We were in the ballroom in Grantham House. It was full of people, but all their faces seemed to be a blur. There was music, and I looked around for you. Then you came up behind me and picked me up and twirled me around. Then we seemed to dance for hours, looking into each other's eyes all the time. And we…" she trailed off, embarrassed.
"We what?" Matthew asked.
"We weren't wearing any clothes," she said, blushing a delicate shade of pink.
Matthew laughed.
"That sounds like an excellent dream."
"It was."
"We both danced with each other last night then," Matthew said.
"Yes, in a way. And in reality, we could never have danced without clothes on, so it was almost better."
"I wish we could dance, really dance, in real life," Matthew said wistfully.
"So do I. But we both got as close to it as we ever will last night."
"I wish you could save your happiest dreams, and dream them again and again," Matthew said.
"Are you not happy with real life?" Mary asked.
"I am when you're around."
"I'm always around. I'm not going anywhere."
"Come and kiss me," Matthew commanded, opening his arms to her. Mary went to sit on his lap, and allowed herself to be kissed gently. And as they kissed, the snow began to fall again, although they noticed nothing, so absorbed were they in their love for each other.
