By the time she finished hearing about the joys and horrors of pregnancy and childbirth, Mary found herself wishing she'd never gone to Isobel with questions. Because her mama had been so cold and distant since learning the news, Isobel seemed the logical choice to provide answers, but the older woman's clinical descriptions did little to answer the kinds of questions Mary had. She couldn't bring herself to tell Edith about the pregnancy until after the wedding, and somehow not being able to talk with Sybil face-to-face made her uncomfortable. As thrilled as she was about the pregnancy, Mary felt woefully unprepared, for she knew little about the changes her body would undergo. She recalled Isobel's final words: Childbirth is the most natural process in the world, my dear. You won't remember the pain once that precious child is placed in your arms. She hoped Isobel was right, but her trepidation wasn't alleviated completely. Although talking with Isobel did provide some solace, Mary longed to speak with a female confidante who had a bit more recent childbearing experience and who could answer the questions that made her blush, and it suddenly occurred to her she knew just the person to approach.
In the meantime, wedding preparations were complete for the most part—the banns had been posted, and the engagement announcement had been published—and Mary looked forward to returning to London with Matthew for her dress fitting and for the engagement party Stuart and Sarah were hosting. They were leaving in a week's time and would be in London for five days—five glorious days of time alone with Matthew. After his pronouncement about their being lovers, which she had found both thrilling and mortifying, he had come to her bed each night but made it a point to leave before sunrise each morning out of respect for the elder Crawley women's sensibilities. Mary relished sleeping in Matthew's arms but waking to his cold side of the bed in the morning left her feeling rather bereft. Getting back to Painswick House meant they would fall asleep and wake together, something she looked forward to with great eagerness, and judging from Matthew's whispered grumblings as he departed her bed before dawn each morning, he did, as well.
Anna Bates's hands fluttered among the tea cakes and porcelain as she prepared to serve her former mistress. Lady Mary's visit to Grantham Arms came as a pleasant surprise, for Anna had not seen her since she left for London all those years ago. From what she could tell, Lady Mary had not changed a bit. Of course, her hair was different—her stylish bob was quite becoming—and Anna noticed immediately that she seemed to have a glow about her and attributed it to her finally finding happiness with the love of her life. As long as she lived, Anna never would forget Lady Mary's heartbreaking sobs after she returned from the church the day Matthew married Miss Swire. She watched as Lady Mary moved through the Abbey like a spectre in the days that followed, only sharing her grief in the privacy of her bedroom. More than anyone else, Anna knew how much Lady Mary loved Matthew, and Anna felt her pain when Lady Mary turned her back on Downton and moved on with her life.
After she and Mr. Bates purchased the property, Matthew had visited Grantham Arms often through the years, and Anna suspected he was there to do more than check on their new enterprise. Although he seldom mentioned Lady Mary specifically, it appeared to Anna that he needed some kind of connection to her, which Anna seemed able to provide. When Matthew visited, he sat contentedly in the parlour, sometimes holding little Johnny on his lap, who regaled him with stories of his youthful misadventures, and Matthew would reminisce about the "old days" when he first arrived at Downton. The Bateses' and Matthew's acquaintance deepened after each visit, and even after he assumed the title, he demanded she and Bates refrain from calling him anything other than Matthew, insisting that their friendship superseded formality. Judging by his forlorn demeanor, Anna inferred that Matthew's marriage was not a happy one, so it came as no surprise when it ended. She was delighted when Daisy and Mrs. Hughes told her of his and Lady Mary's engagement, and she had meant to visit the Abbey in order to pay her respects; however, Grantham Arms had been particularly busy over the last months, and caring for Mr. Bates and little Johnny occupied the rest of her time.
Mary looked around at the well-appointed parlour and smiled. The fresh flowers, soft blue walls, and bright yellow accents gave the room a cheerful ambience. The furniture was plain but stylish. Mary was pleased to see her former maid had come into her own because her confidence and composure reflected a happy woman. "Anna, you and Mr. Bates have done a wonderful job with the inn. It's simply lovely. I understand you've been quite successful."
Anna blushed with pride, for she and John had worked hard to make it welcoming and comfortable. "Thank you, Lady Mary. We're very proud of it. And I must tell you how very happy Mr. Bates and I are for you and Matthew…er…his lordship." She looked down at her hands and shook her head. "I beg your pardon, milady." Anna was horrified by her near breach of propriety.
Mary reached out and took Anna's hand. "Thank you, Anna. And I know you call him 'Matthew,' just as you should call me 'Mary' now. After all we've been through together, it seems only right. No one outside my family has known me better or longer than you. Please. I insist."
"Very well, Mil…Mary, but I'll need some time to get used to it."
After managing to overcome her initial discomfort, Anna found herself chatting comfortably with Mary about the goings on in Downton since Mary's return. She expressed her sympathy about Robert's death and laughed with Mary about Cora's over-the-top wedding ideas. Matthew had told her about the improvements to the Abbey, and she and Mary both giggled like schoolgirls when Mary described Violet's insistence on adding a shower to her en suite bath in the Dower House after using the one in the Abbey. In the time it took them to finish two pots of tea and innumerable tea cakes and biscuits, the two women had renewed their acquaintance and forged a true friendship, and Mary worked up the courage to tell Anna about her pregnancy. Putting aside her initial shock, Anna was more than willing to share her own experiences, flattered that Mary had sought her counsel. She suggested that ginger tea and salted biscuits might help with morning sickness and recommended Mary keep some biscuits by her bedside to eat in the morning before rising. Although she believed an occasional glass of wine might not hurt, Anna suggested Mary avoid strong spirits and take plenty of exercise. Anna related stories of her own mood swings, as well, warning Mary not to be surprised if she were laughing one minute and sobbing the next. Mary admitted she already was familiar with that particular side effect. Anna also assured Mary that having intercourse while pregnant was perfectly safe and told her to look forward to an increased libido during her second trimester, which made both of the women laugh and blush mightily.
Before leaving, Mary spoke briefly with John Bates, who introduced her to his son. She knelt before the child and spoke softly to him. He was the image of his father but seemed to have inherited his mother's sweet demeanor. When she began to rise, Little Johnny threw himself into her arms, exclaiming, "You smell like a garden!" causing the three adults to laugh. Mary hugged Anna and thanked her for her help, promising to visit again soon. As Mary walked back to the Abbey, she was lost in thought. Seeing Anna again was just what she needed to feel confident about her pregnancy, and she resolved to foster the friendship with the gentle young woman who kept her secrets and kept her grounded.
As much as Mary and Matthew loved Downton, they looked forward to the trip to London, not only because they could be on their own but also for the entertainment the city afforded. Now that Matthew was seated in the House of Lords, they planned to take advantage of the opportunity to travel there often and enjoy a full social life. They knew eventually they would have to do something about the two houses they owned in London, but for now they would stay at Painswick House since it was fully staffed.
When the train pulled into Kings Cross Station, the first thing they noticed was the repair work still underway. The derailment nearly had destroyed the platform and some of the surrounding facades, so workmen still were on site. As Matthew extended his arm to help Mary from their compartment, he noticed her brief hesitation, and he remembered with a shiver the last time she was there. She grasped his arm as they walked toward the baggage area, and while they waited for the chauffeur to find their bags, Matthew said quietly, "If you don't mind, there's someone I'd like to speak with before we leave. Would you come with me?"
Mary looked at him curiously and replied, "Very well." She couldn't imagine to whom he might be referring.
They walked toward one of the ticket booths, and Matthew asked, "Is Jimmy Moore working today?"
"Yes, sir. He's in booth number four, I believe," replied the agent.
"Thank you." Matthew took Mary's arm and escorted her down the platform toward the booth, careful to direct her around some freshly-painted columns.
They stood before the booth, and a copper-haired young man looked up from some paperwork, smiled, and asked, "May I help you?"
"Are you Jimmy Moore?" Matthew asked.
"Yes, sir, I am," replied the youth, looking at him quizzically. Then he looked at the woman standing next to the inquisitive gentleman and gasped, "Oh, it's you!"
"I beg your pardon?" Mary didn't recognize the young man and was puzzled that he seemed to know her.
Matthew directed her closer to the window and said, "My darling, I'd like to introduce you to your rescuer. He was the one who carried you from the train that awful day. Lady Mary Crawley, this is Jimmy Moore. Jimmy, I'm Matthew Crawley. I've looked forward to meeting you for quite a while."
Jimmy's face turned several shades of red, and his eyes grew wide. "Golly, Mr. Crawley, this is a surprise. Lady Mary, it's my pleasure. I'm glad to see you're none the worse for wear."
"Thank you, Mr. Moore. I always wondered who it was that got me out of the compartment. It's lovely to meet you."
"Same here, ma'am. Could you wait a moment, please?" He pulled down the shade on the booth's window, hurried onto the platform, and stood before them. "If you don't mind my saying, Lady Mary, I swore I'd never forget your face, and I haven't in all this time."
Matthew reached out and shook Jimmy's hand warmly. "I'll never be able to thank you enough for what you did for Lady Mary. I'll always be grateful."
"You're welcome, Mr. Crawley. I'm glad I could help. I knew when I saw her that she had to be special to someone."
"You're right about that, Jimmy." He looked at Mary and smiled. "We'll let you get back to it. I just wanted to stop by and meet you and say 'thanks.'"
Matthew took Mary's arm and turned to walk away, but Mary stopped and went back to Jimmy. He blushed when she kissed his cheek and said, "Now I have two heroes in my life, Jimmy. Thank you."
Jimmy watched the couple walk away and went back to his ticket window, still feeling the warmth of her lips on his cheek.
Their first morning in London, Mary awoke to Matthew moving inside her slowly from behind. Neither of them spoke, nor did they need to. They moved together—his lips at her throat, his hands at her breasts, her arms around his head, her fingers in his hair. Her muscles clenched around him as he nipped at her jawline, and he used his fingers to push her over the edge, causing her to call out his name with a throaty cry. A few more thrusts and he was groaning his own release. He held her against him as they got their breathing under control. Then Mary turned in his arms and pressed her body into his, softly giggling into his neck.
"What's so funny, my love?"
She looked up at him and smoothed a lock of hair away from his forehead. "Your tie is still attached to one of your wrists, darling."
He raised his arm to look at the black silk tie, one of the sources of so much pleasure from the night before. "Hmmm. So it is." The expression in her eyes took all the breath from his lungs. Last night was incredible. He remembered her looming over him, exploring his helpless body—caressing, kissing, teasing, tormenting—until she finally took him inside her and rode him to a staggering release.
Matthew ran his hands gently up and down Mary's spine, relishing the softness and sending chills throughout her body. "God, Mary, I could live inside of you for the rest of my life. I love falling asleep with you and waking up with you. I want to hold you and shelter you and love you always. I love feeling your heartbeat as I hold you in my arms."
Just as he leaned into her, Mary paled, rose quickly from the bed, and stumbled toward the en suite bathroom. Momentarily stunned, Matthew jumped up to follow her and found her retching violently into the toilet. He grabbed a towel, wet it, and went to her immediately.
As she continued vomiting, he held the towel to her forehead and rubbed her back gently. Once she sat back on her heels and took the towel from him, he asked anxiously, "My God, Mary, are you all right?"
Shaking and chilled, Mary replied, "I'll be fine, Matthew. It's morning sickness, that's all."
"That's all?" he asked incredulously. "I can't believe that's all it is. Are you sure?"
"Yes, darling, I'm sure." Suddenly aware of her nakedness, she asked, "Would you bring me my dressing gown, please? I'm freezing."
Matthew walked quickly back into the bedroom and gathered both of their garments. When he reentered the bathroom, Mary still was sitting on the floor, her back against the wall and her knees brought to her chest. He helped her into her dressing gown and then put his on. He sat beside her and placed his arm across her shoulders. They were quiet for a while until finally she leaned into him and said sadly, "This is not exactly how I wanted us to spend our first morning together in London"
Matthew chuckled, "Me, either. I'm just sorry you have to go through this, my love. I wish there were something I could do."
Mary looked up at him and smiled wryly, "Ah, I believe you've already done plenty, Matthew."
The Gershwin musical Oh, Kay! was in its final weeks at His Majesty's Theatre in West End, and Matthew and Mary looked forward to attending a performance, capped by a late supper at the Carlton Hotel afterward. Mary slipped into one of her favorite dresses—a deep burgundy sleeveless column dress with crystal embellishments on the neckline and dropped waist—while Matthew finished shaving in the en suite bath. Shirt in hand, he walked into the bedroom and stopped abruptly, gazing at her with darkened eyes.
"You look stunning in that color, Mary. Is that a new frock?"
"This old thing? As a matter of fact, it's from last year, but I've yet to wear it for you. So, you like it?" She smiled demurely and twirled as he approached her.
He cupped her face in one hand while the other moved to her waist. "It's splendid, but I think the wearer makes it so." He leaned in and began placing soft kisses to her neck as she moaned in response.
"Matthew, you'll make me untidy, and we'll be late." Before she realized it, his arms were moving to her bare back.
"Good," he mumbled as he continued his ministrations to the other side of her neck. "As good as the show is supposed to be, I'd much rather watch you perform than watch Gertrude Lawrence."
She pulled away laughing and faced the mirror to smooth her hair. "Speaking of which, don't be surprised if we see the Prince of Wales there tonight. Rumor has it he's quite enamoured of her and has attended several performances."
He donned his shirt and inserted his cufflinks. "Humph. He's enamoured of anyone in a skirt."
"Matthew!"
"Well, it's true. And don't think I'm not aware that he seems to enjoy your company."
"Don't be silly. He's attended a few of my parties over the years, but he's never been anything other than 'princely' to me." She paused and turned to look at him. "Wait. How do you know that?"
"Hah! I have my sources." He grinned slyly as he straightened his tie.
"Spies, more like. And here I thought you were pining away in seclusion at Downton all that time." She fastened a jeweled hairclip above her ear and slipped a long, channel-set diamond necklace over her head.
"My darling, I was in absolute misery thinking of you traipsing around London, a new beau on your arm each season."
"Matthew, I never have 'traipsed,' and if truth be told, I was in absolute misery, too."
He took her in his arms, stared deeply into her eyes, and said in a low voice rasping with emotion, "Then it's a good thing we found each other again."
She took his face in her hands, saying before she kissed him, "Yes, my darling, it is."
Matthew and Mary thought Act One of Oh, Kay! was delightful, the farcical story and modern songs putting smiles on their faces as they left their box and headed for refreshments at intermission. As Matthew made his way to the champagne bar, Mary excused herself and went to the ladies' lounge. As she sat at the vanity mirror and repaired her lipstick, she smiled and hummed softly "Maybe," one of her favorite songs from the first act. Suddenly, she became aware that someone was staring at her reflection.
"Mary?"
She turned and greeted the woman, "Mabel, how nice to see you again."
"I thought it was you. It's been a while."
"It has. How have you been?"
"Fine, I suppose. I'm sure you heard Tony and I divorced."
"Yes. I'm so sorry. I was surprised to hear it."
"I don't understand why you would say that." She looked at Mary contemptuously. "You know, of course, I wasn't his first love. Speaking of which, I understand you and Matthew are to be married soon. That's rather sudden, isn't it?"
Mary straightened in her seat. "I beg your pardon?"
Mabel smirked, "Oh, it's just that he didn't waste any time after his divorce to propose to you. You know how people talk."
"Yes, evidently some people talk more than others."
"Well, good luck, Mary. With his track record—you know, one failed marriage and all—I'm fairly certain you'll need it." Before Mary could respond to her barb, Mabel exclaimed, "Oh, I really must be going. Charles is waiting. Lovely to see you again, Mary. Do stay in touch."
Mabel turned on her heel and swished out of the lounge, leaving a stunned Mary in her wake. Matthew's track record? Is that what everyone is saying? It's not as if she had a single doubt about Matthew's love; on the contrary, it was the one constant in her life she knew she could count on. Still, for Mabel to speak so hatefully…and she mentioned the suddenness of their engagement. Long ago Mary had decided not to give a fig about what people thought of her—goodness knows she'd been forced to deal with society casting aspersions on her character—but Mabel's words were not directed just at her. Her Matthew was good and true and honest. The idea that others might assume he was less than honorable was more than she could bear. Angry tears sprang to her eyes in spite of her best efforts to quell them, and she sat silently at the vanity until she could get herself under control, finally rising to go to Matthew who, she felt sure, was wondering where she was.
Mary managed to enjoy the musical's second act until the character Kay sang "Someone to Watch over Me" to a ragdoll she clutched against her chest. Something about the lyrics and the mournful tune—
There's a somebody I'm longin' to see
I hope that he, turns out to be
Someone who'll watch over me
—caused Mary to sit and weep silently in the darkened theatre, the melody washing over her and filling her with sadness for the character and for her own spoiled evening.
Matthew was concerned. Mary was unusually quiet at dinner, and during the musical's second act she seemed different from how she was during Act One. Although she assured him she felt fine, he was convinced she wasn't herself and was determined to get to the bottom of what was bothering her. When they arrived at Painswick House, he led her into the sitting room under the guise of wanting a nightcap. He sat on the loveseat and pulled her into his lap.
"Now, Mary, tell me what's bothering you. I know it's something."
"Really, Matthew, I…"
"Mary, I know you. Something's wrong. Please talk to me."
Mary sighed and played with the ring on her finger. "It's really nothing. I'm just being silly and emotional." Matthew cocked his head, leaned forward, and raised his eyebrows. "Very well. I saw Mabel Foyle in the ladies' lounge; you know, she used to be married to Tony…er…Viscount Gillingham?" Matthew nodded. "Anyway, she was in the ladies' lounge and said some things that weren't particularly friendly, that's all."
"What kinds of things did she say to upset you?"
"Oh, things such as…how quickly we were marrying…and…and that you had a track record of failure. I was so stunned that I didn't know what to say."
"Mary, my darling, you know how people talk. Consider the source, please. Everyone knows Mabel has a chip on her shoulder about the failure of her own marriage, so naturally she'd try to make you feel bad about ours. As for my 'track record,' it's true." Mary looked at him, and he took her hand in his. "My marriage failed. Everyone knows that, but everyone also knows the reason for that failure. I married the wrong woman the first time, Mary." He put a knuckle under her chin. "Look at me, Mary. This time, I'm marrying the right one."
Mary was exhausted from the emotions of the evening, so she told Matthew she was going to soak in a bath before they retired. When they entered the bedroom, Matthew told her to undress and to rest for a minute while he prepared the tub for her. She wanted to argue with him that she was perfectly capable of drawing a bath, but he insisted, so she did as he asked. She slipped out of her dress and underclothes, donned her silk dressing gown, and sat patiently on the edge of the chaise. She ran her hand over her belly absent-mindedly as she waited for Matthew to reappear. She was tired, so very tired, and wondered how much it had to do with her pregnancy and how much it had to do with that evening's events. She heard the running water stop and stood, waiting for Matthew to call her into the en suite.
"Mary, it's ready."
She turned when he spoke and was surprised to see him standing in the doorway dressed only in his undershorts.
"Are you joining me?"
"No."
"Then why…"
"No more questions, love. Come on, you don't want the water to get cold."
She walked toward Matthew, a slight smile on her lips, and he took her hand and escorted her to the tub. Steam rose and the scent of Arpège bath oil filled the air. She noticed he had lit some tapers—where he had procured them, she had no idea—so that when he shut the overhead light, the room was bathed in a soft, amber glow. He helped her off with her dressing gown and said, "Step in," as he took her hand to ensure she entered the tub safely. She sank into the water, rested her arms on the tub's sides, and relaxed her limbs while Matthew folded a towel and placed it behind her head. She reached for the soap and a large bathing sponge, but Matthew took them from her hands and said, "No, let me."
The scented bathwater was heavenly, soothing, wonderful, and Mary felt the tension she'd been feeling all evening gradually disappear. Matthew knelt beside the tub, soaped the sponge, and slowly began washing her body, starting with her feet. His hand followed the sponge as he ran it up her legs moving between them, massaging her feet, her calves, her knees, her thighs—the silk of her skin matched by the silkiness of the water. Mary closed her eyes at the sensuousness of the experience, and Matthew watched her lips part as an almost imperceptible breath left her lips that he knew hinted at her arousal. He smiled. The water dripped from the sponge as he skipped her torso for the moment and laved each of her arms. He then moved behind her. "Lean forward, my love." He began washing her back, dropping the sponge momentarily to massage her shoulders and neck. Gently he laid her back against the tub, picked up the sponge, and proceeded to wash her torso, rubbing and caressing her breasts and paying particular attention to her belly as she again exhaled softly. Leaning in toward her, he ran his tongue around the shell of her ear and then kissed her, his lips soft against hers.
He helped her to stand, lathered a washcloth, and began to wash her most intimate parts delicately, meticulously, caringly. He never looked into her eyes, instead paying close attention to what he was doing as she watched him languidly, noting how the water on his skin reflected the candlelight and accentuated the movement of his muscles. He is such a beautiful man. He took his time—bathing her, rinsing her—finally looking into her eyes. His were full of gentle concern; hers were full of loving appreciation. They stood just looking at each other, both saying nothing yet everything with their eyes.
He reached his hand out to her and helped her out of the tub. He began drying her skin with a bath towel, paying close attention to his task while she stood unmoving, her hand occasionally brushing his skin, allowing him to manipulate her as he wished as he dried…
her arms, hands, and fingers
her breasts, stomach, and back
her legs and feet
her intimate places
He leaned over and kissed her belly gently, then wrapped her in her dressing gown and led her back into the bedroom. Pulling back the covers, he directed her to stretch out on the bed and wait for him. He brought two lit tapers from the bath into the room, and said in a low voice, "Relax, my darling." He darkened the room, leaving only the two tapers as the source of light, and he opened her dressing gown and removed it by sliding it out from under her. He poured lotion into his hands and began rubbing it into her neck and chest, his gentle hands floating over her body as she closed her eyes and relinquished herself to his touch. Even when he reached her breasts his touch was careful and gentle, rather than carnal. He continued his ministrations to the rest of her body, rubbing in the lotion, massaging her muscles, stroking her silken skin. When he had finished with the front of her body, he whispered tenderly, "Turn over, Mary." She lay on her stomach, and he directed his attention to her back, spreading the lotion gently from the base of her neck to her feet, stopping occasionally to massage away the tension he found in her back.
When he was finished, he had her turn over onto her back once again and pulled the covers over her. He sat beside her, pushing the hair from her face. Finally finding her voice, she said softly, "Thank you. Now come to bed."
He extinguished the tapers, slid in beside her, and their bodies shifted toward each other. As he held his beloved Mary sleeping peacefully in his arms, he knew he would never get enough of loving her.
