Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, October 1917

"Welcome home, sir," Bates said, taking Matthew's coat and briefcase.

"Thank you, Bates," Matthew nodded. "Lady Mary and Master George are upstairs in the nursery, are they?"

"No, sir," Bates said. "Lady Mary is actually in the parlour, with Lady Edith, sir."

"Edith?" Matthew raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I wasn't aware that she was paying us a visit."

"It seems it was rather…last minute, sir," Bates nodded.

Matthew thanked the valet and went down the hall. He frowned as he heard sobbing the closer he got to the parlour.

"Matthew! Oh, you're home, finally," Mary sighed in relief. She rose from the sofa and came over and embraced him tightly. Matthew blinked in surprise as he held her. Mary generally frowned on being demonstrative in front of her family, even though Edith and Sybil were entirely supportive of their marriage.

"Hello, darling," Matthew said softly. He then looked past her shoulder and smiled at his cousin. "Edith…what brings you here?"

It was obvious that it had been Edith who was crying when Matthew came home. Her eyes were slightly red and puffy, and she dabbed at them with a frilly handkerchief. She rose nervously and composed herself.

"Cousin Matthew…hello," she said shakily.

"Edith has some horrible news, I'm afraid," Mary said, stepping out of his hold and taking his arm as she guided him back to the sofa. She motioned for Edith to sit back down. Matthew sat down next to Mary and looked at Edith expectantly.

"Anthony's missing," Edith said, her lip quivering. "He was out on patrol with some other soldiers and they all just…vanished. No one's heard back from them for two days. I know that messages from the Front can be delayed, but I can't help but think the worst."

"Edith received a telegram at Loxley this morning," Mary explained. "She tried to reach Papa at Sandhurst but he was indisposed. Then she caught the next train here."

"I know it was a stupid thing to do," Edith shook her head. "I should have just stayed at home, but I felt so useless there, and going to Downton was no better. Just the thought of having to face the patients without knowing what's become of Anthony, I…"

"It's all right," Matthew interjected, trying to stop her from bursting out into tears again. "We can make some inquiries and see if we can't find out some more information. There are many reasons why Sir Anthony may not have been in touch as of yet. He may have simply gotten lost and is taking a while longer to return to base, or perhaps one of his comrades picked up a knock and they had to go to a field dressing station. Let's not jump to any conclusions."

Edith nodded, pursing her lips.

"I was able to reach Papa after Edith arrived," Mary said. "He's sent messages to the War Office and he's going to call and bring us up to date on his efforts later this evening. Is there anything else we can do?"

"I'll telephone Reverend Montgomery," Matthew said. "Robert's contacts are probably best, but there's no harm in making more inquiries. Edith, you'll join us for dinner, of course, and Mrs. Bute can have your room made up for you. There's no use going home tonight, but I think you should take tomorrow morning's train back to Downton. If anything does come up about Sir Anthony, they'll contact you at Loxley House and you should be there. We'll call if we discover anything."

"Thank you, Cousin Matthew; Mary," Edith nodded.

"Come upstairs with me. We can look in on George, then get ready for dinner," Mary said, rising from the sofa.

Matthew stood up and watched as Mary guided Edith out the door and down the hall towards the stairs. It was peculiar to see the sisters together this way, but he was glad that Mary was here to support Edith when she arrived. He expected she was a wreck when she showed up on their doorstep. He shook his head sadly as he headed to the library to make his telephone call.

Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, November 1917

"What is he doing now?" Matthew asked, his voice sounding anxious over the telephone line.

"The same thing he was doing five minutes ago, darling," Mary said, rolling her eyes. "Your son is napping upstairs, and with any luck he'll still be napping five minutes from now, so you needn't bother asking again."

"I just miss him, and his Mama," Matthew sighed.

"Darling, please don't make me feel worse than I already do," Mary said. "But with Edith now having Anthony as her sole charge, they're short staffed here. You know that I put off Mama for as long as I could."

"I know that," Matthew relented. "But it's rather annoying coming home and only having Bates and Mrs. Bute to keep me company."

"I told Papa that he didn't need to come along, but he was insistent," Mary replied.

"He wanted to check in on Sir Anthony, and he probably feels an obligation to support Edith as well," Matthew said.

"Yes, of course, and I suppose I should be glad for his effort, at least for Edith's sake. Anyway, you'll be here in a few short weeks as we get ready for Christmas, so we'll be reunited before you know it," she said, trying to sound cheerful.

"I am counting on some early presents for having to go without my wife for so long," he grumbled.

"Matthew," she warned, blushing at his words.

"I mean it, Mary," he said firmly.

"Given that it's my birthday and our anniversary first, I would expect some presents of my own," Mary said smugly.

"Don't worry about that," Matthew drawled. "I already know exactly what I'm going to give you."

Mary blushed even more.

"I have to go. Sybil will be wondering where I wandered off to," she said. "I'll speak to you tomorrow."

"Promise?" he asked.

"Yes, I promise," Mary rolled her eyes. "Since when did you become so needy?"

"Since I haven't had a proper kiss since you've been gone," he retorted petulantly. "To say nothing for anything else."

"Goodbye, darling," Mary smiled, hanging up the phone.

She came out of the library and headed back towards the hospital wing. She and Sybil had another hour left on their shift and Mary was looking forward to going up to her room to rest a bit. The hospital had taken on a number of injured soldiers returning from Passchendaele and Mary seemed to be on her feet from morning until the dinner hour. The types of injuries and afflictions they were seeing in the men had grown harsher as well, such that many under their care were no longer actually convalescing, but rather adjusting to what would now be their life going forward, sometimes without the use of a finger, hand or limb.

"There you are," Sybil said as Mary came into the small room to retrieve linens. "Anna and I thought you'd escaped for the day."

"If only that were true," Mary sighed. "I was dealing with a whinging husband."

"I don't see why he's so put out by you being here," Sybil smiled. "He should be going out with his mates now that the Mrs. isn't around."

"He doesn't call me 'the Mrs.' thank you," Mary said pointedly, frowning at her sister. "And Matthew hates going to parties without me, which means he goes home and reads and mopes and becomes rather insufferable."

"Well he'll be here soon enough for Christmas," Sybil said, picking up a stack of towels.
"That's what I told him," Mary said lightly, following her sister back out into the hospital area. "Did you hear from Edith?"

"Cousin Isobel just came back from Loxley House," Sybil replied. "There hasn't been much improvement. Dr. Clarkson fears that he may have permanent damage."

"So his arm will be in a sling forever?" Mary asked in shock.

"Possibly," Sybil shook her head. "I can't imagine what this must be doing to Edith."

"Oh, don't worry about her," Mary said. "If anything, this will make her love him all the more. You know how much she enjoys a charity case. She'll make taking care of him her life's work."

"You shouldn't be so unkind," Sybil frowned.

"I'm not," Mary shrugged. "I have every confidence that Edith will stand by her husband no matter his condition. I'm giving her a compliment, Sybil."

"But what about…" Sybil stopped, glancing around, then lowering her voice. "What about children?"

"Oh God," Mary rolled her eyes. She glanced around as well, then whispered back to Sybil. "He was shot in his arm…not in…not anywhere else. He's still perfectly capable of having a child with her."

"I suppose I never imagined that Edith would be a nursemaid for the rest of her life," Sybil said sadly.

"You knew that it was always a possibility, given their difference in age," Mary said as they went about placing towels and blankets on the beds. "It may be happening sooner than even I thought, but Sir Anthony is, if nothing else, resilient. And with any luck, this will keep him out of the War, which is something to be grateful for."

The sisters shared a knowing glance before they each went down a separate aisle and checked on their patients.

"Captain Evans, can I interest you in a book? We have anything you like," Mary said, coming over to one of the patients.

"I have a letter from my girl here," the patient said, holding up an envelope. "I'm…I'm having some trouble reading it," he sighed.

Mary sat down in the chair next to the bed. She took the envelope from his outstretched hand and smiled kindly. The bandages around his forehead obscured his eyes slightly, and his vision in one eye was still blurry.

"Would you like me to read it to you?" Mary asked.

"If you could, thank you, Nurse Crawley," he nodded. "There might be some…erm…well, there might be some private words meant just for me, I'm afraid."

Mary frowned slightly, then blinked in realization.

"You can stop anytime," Captain Evans said quietly.

"Don't worry about me, Captain," Mary smiled, unfolding the letter. "I'm not as delicate as you may think."

Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, December 1917

"I find that this year, more than any other year in recent memory, gives us so much to be thankful for," Robert said, looking across the dinner table. "Not only is it dear George's first Christmas, and soon to be his first birthday, but this year marks so many changes for all of us. Things may not have played out entirely as we expected or even hoped, but we are all still together and our family remains intact, and that is itself a blessing that many can only dream of in these times."

Robert looked over at Sir Anthony, who nodded in understanding. Anthony turned and Edith squeezed his hand.

"Let us toast then, to seeing another year draw to an end, and the hope that this next year will see the end of the War," Robert said raising his glass.

"Hear, hear," Matthew said, raising his glass to Mary.

They all ate and talked and even laughed a little. Aunt Rosamund had just come down and was surprising even herself at how much she enjoyed chatting with her mother and Isobel Crawley. Cora spoke to Sybil about the holiday schedule for the hospital and what they might do to give the men a proper Christmas meal. Edith suggested bringing her staff from Loxley House to Downton Abbey for the Servants' Ball in a few weeks time and Robert and Anthony both thought it was a fine idea.

"Did you ever envision it would be like this?" Matthew asked, smirking at Mary.

"Something akin to a normal dinner with a normal family?" Mary smiled at him.

"Something like that, yes," Matthew said softly.

"They wouldn't even notice if we were here or not," Mary nodded, surveying the table. "I think I like that."

"That's good," Matthew smiled. "For I intend to go up early and look in on George, and you will be coming with me."

"So direct, Matthew," Mary said lightly, arching her eyebrow. "And what do you intend to do once we retire early?"

"Continue what we've been doing for the past week – make up for lost time, darling," Matthew said, looking at her intently before going back to his meal.

Mary blushed and focused on her chicken rather than glance at his smug look.

"You only have yourself to blame, you know," he said quietly, murmuring out of the corner of his mouth. "It was unfair in the extreme to send me such a…vivid…letter when I still had over a week left before arriving here."

"I was inspired to write," Mary replied, reaching for her wine as her cheeks flushed pink.

George's first birthday was a grand affair, though Mary deliberately kept the number of guests to a minimum. She wanted only family to attend. There would be time to invite all the Village children in later years. The boy could now walk, albeit only for a few steps and rather clumsily. Mary had him dressed in what Matthew called the smallest buttoned shirt he'd ever seen, and a smart pair of pants to match. The moment they brought him down to the sitting room, he was surrounded by his aunts and grandparents while Carson and Bates brought his presents forward. Mary and Matthew stood back, shaking their heads ruefully at the sight.

"You're sure that nothing unforeseen will come up to delay us?" Matthew asked quietly.

"Well I can hardly be expected to predict the unforeseen, can I?" Mary looked at him incredulously. "However, that unlikely possibility aside, yes, I promise that we will leave the day after the Servants' Ball and be back in London in time for dinner."

"Dinner? I thought we would be back for luncheon if we left in the morning," Matthew said.

"Darling, you can't possibly expect Anna and Bates and Nanny to be ready to go first thing in the morning," Mary rolled her eyes. "It's their party. They'll need most of the next morning to recover, I expect."

"Fine," Matthew grumbled.

"I do hope that the New Year brings an improvement in your moods," Mary teased.

Matthew smiled sheepishly.

Mary patted his arm affectionately, then walked over to wrest control of the party back from her parents. She sat down with George in her lap and helped him open his birthday presents. Matthew stood close by, smiling as his son clapped and babbled happily as each new toy was unveiled.

"Mary? There you are. What are you doing out here, and without a coat no less? Aren't you cold?" Matthew frowned, coming up to his wife and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Not anymore," Mary smiled, leaning back against him. She allowed him to pull her closer and she looked up at the starlit night sky.

"I will say that the stars are quite a bit brighter out here in the country," Matthew smiled, looking up with her. "It makes me think I only ever saw half of them whenever I looked at the sky over Manchester."

"Mmm," Mary smiled. "That is still the happiest Christmas I can remember, you know? Standing outside with you, just married, listening to your Papa tell us about Orion and Pegasus and Andromeda. It was so peaceful, Matthew."

"It was," Matthew nodded, kissing her cheek. "I think about that night every time I look at his old binoculars. I'm still angry that he let you use them instead of me."

Mary laughed. She turned around and snuggled closer to him.

"I can't wait to tell George all about him," Mary smiled, closing her eyes and leaning into Matthew's chest. "I think Isobel has already been showing him photo albums."

"She has," Matthew nodded. "She'll be sending for the scrapbooks next."

"We should take him back to Manchester," Mary mumbled, revelling in the warmth of his body. "When this dreadful War is finally over. We should take him there and show him around. I'm sure he'll love it."

"When the lads come back and United plays competitive matches again, I'm going to take him to Old Trafford," Matthew said proudly. "Papa took me to my first match when I was two, so I've got almost a year to beat him."

"So competitive," Mary laughed.

"Come on, let's go inside," Matthew said gently. "I think everyone's had their fill of Mrs. Patmore's eggnog by now and it'll be time to say goodnight to Mama and Cousin Violet soon enough."

He put his arm around Mary's shoulders and guided her back towards the house. Mary took one last look up at the sky before they went in.

"It truly is beautiful here, isn't it, darling?" she asked lightly.

"Yes, Mary," Matthew smiled, leaning over and kissing her softly. "It truly is."

Furneaux House, Belgravia, London, England, January 1918

"I'm so sorry, John," Matthew shook his head, patting his friend on the back.

"Oh, don't be, Matthew," Viscount Simon shrugged. "All politicians are meant to be voted out of office one day, you know. Besides, it's probably best that I take a step back and re-evaluate things."

"Before getting ready to run again, you mean?" Matthew smiled.

"Of course. The people need me, Matthew. We can't let those bloody Tories run the country," John smirked.

They raised their glasses to each other and drank, both of them looking out across the busy ballroom thoughtfully.

"I've read the reports," John continued. "You're doing brilliant work, Matthew. Well done."

"Not brilliant enough, I'm afraid. The War is still going on," Matthew sighed.

"With the Americans now on our side, we're seeing some progress, though not as quickly as we'd like, of course," John said. "Still, there's cause for optimism, at least compared to last year."

Matthew nodded in acknowledgment. He glanced over across the room and found Mary speaking with Lady Ellen. He smiled as his wife laughed and sipped her drink. When they first arrived at Downton years ago, Matthew was dreading these types of stuffy parties full of pompous people almost more than facing her family. He was always uncomfortable around snobs and aristocrats who droned on about how much money they had and what latest toy they'd purchased. But the War had changed even the coldest of blue bloods, and Matthew enjoyed these parties more and more now. There was an air of frivolity to them, albeit still with a proper decorum of course, but they were now rather fun. It was as though Society understood that they had limited time these days to enjoy good music, good food and drink and good company, and so these affairs were not nearly as staid and boring as they once were.

Matthew frowned as he noticed a lithe figure moving towards Mary.

"Excuse me, John," Matthew said. "I need to go speak to Mary about something. I'll be back in a moment."

Matthew did not wait for John's acknowledgment before he began making his way through the crowd toward his wife.

"My, Ellen, you didn't tell me this party was so…inclusive," Lady Sarah Kensington said haughtily, glaring at Mary with a superior air. "I thought charity season didn't begin until April."

"Sarah, please," Ellen rolled her eyes, whispering so as not to be overheard. "There's no need to be confrontational. Surely there's enough room here for the two of you to keep away from each other."

"Oh, I agree," Lady Sarah smiled. "And since I would like to stand here, closer to the musicians, this one can go off somewhere else," she sneered, nodding her head in Mary's direction.

Mary sighed in exasperation.

"I need to go speak to Mama," Ellen said. "I trust the two of you will behave yourselves."

"Of course we will, darling. Mary was just leaving," Sarah smiled.

Ellen looked at Mary imploringly and turned and left.

Mary frowned at Sarah, then composed herself and turned away.

"Please tell your dear husband that I send him my regards. Actually, on second thought, I'll tell him myself. I'm sure that he and I can spend time getting better acquainted the next time you go back to Downton," Sarah called after her.

Mary stopped and slowly turned back around. She stepped back to Lady Sarah and held her gaze.

"Matthew wants nothing to do with you. Did he not make that clear when he rejected your pathetic and desperate marriage proposal? I would have thought you would want to steer clear of my husband, Sarah. Seeing him can only remind you of how you threw yourself at him like some cheap tart and he still refused you."

Sarah's eyes narrowed as she leaned towards Mary, her voice cold and low.

"You're one to talk," she growled. "I can only imagine what tricks you pulled to catch him in your snare. Did you give him the full Turkish delight before or after your wedding?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Mary retorted immediately. "I can assure you that I satisfy him far more than you ever could, and it must pain you inside to know that I'll be Countess of Grantham one day. All of the times you spread your legs for Patrick and nothing at all to show for it. A pity."

Sarah's mouth dropped open in shock. She recovered and glared fiercely at Mary.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sarah said evenly. "It was you who broke poor Patrick's heart, let's not forget. The dear was inconsolable when he found out what a slut he was engaged to, and to carry on your sordid escapades under the same roof while your fiancé slept, Mary. Well, I suppose some people have no scruples."

"The night of the Hunt years ago, Patrick was hardly asleep," Mary shot back. "Though it's not surprising that going to your bed didn't sate him at all."

Sarah gasped.

"Don't play innocent with me. Patrick had you at Downton the night of the Hunt. Deny it all you like but we both know it's true," Mary said, arching her eyebrow in challenge.

"Where on Earth did you get such nonsense?" Sarah asked. "Your time in Manchester apparently drove you mad."

"Patrick told me," Mary said firmly. "Oh, I'm sorry, was I not supposed to know?"

Sarah swallowed nervously, finding no sign of uncertainty in Mary's eyes.

"Let me see, how did he put it?" Mary wondered aloud. "Ah yes, you called him a bastard when he first made his advances, but soon after you were dropping your drawers whenever he snapped his fingers. You thought that he'd throw me over and you would be Countess, didn't you? How terribly naïve."

Sarah raged silently at Mary's cold smile.

"Allow me to tell you something that's painfully obvious, Sarah, dear," Mary whispered. "A dozen times with you is nothing compared to the mere thought of one night with me. Patrick knew it then and Matthew knows it now. Go on and keep making all the snide jokes about me to your stupid friends that you like, but deep down, we both know the only reason you hate me so is because you…aren't…me."

Sarah let out a harsh breath through her teeth, her lips curling into a snarl.

"Lady Sarah," Matthew called, coming to Mary's side. "Good evening."

"Good evening, Matthew," Sarah said, throwing a smile on quickly.

"Darling," Matthew said to Mary. "I want you to come speak to Viscount Simon."

"Of course, darling," Mary grinned widely at Sarah as she placed her hand on Matthew's offered arm. "That sounds lovely."

"Lady Sarah," Matthew nodded, turning and guiding Mary back across the floor.

"You didn't need to come to my rescue, you know," Mary whispered as they left Sarah behind. "I was rather enjoying myself with her."

"I know you were," Matthew smiled back. "I came over to save her from you. It was hardly a fair fight."

Mary laughed and squeezed his arm. She smiled as they rejoined Viscount Simon and he kissed her hand in greeting.

"Lady Mary, a pleasure, as always," John said. "How are you finding this evening?"

"Wonderful, Viscount Simon," Mary nodded. She turned to Matthew and grinned. "Absolutely wonderful."

Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, February 1918

"You can kiss me, but that's it," Mary said, pushing back against Matthew's chest as his lips pulled away from hers.

"What?" Matthew exclaimed in surprise. "But why? It's Valentines!"

"Yes, I know, darling," Mary nodded. "And the flowers were beautiful and the dinner was lovely. But you'll have to control yourself for now."

"But…are you tired? Is it because you're…having your courses? I don't care about any of that, darling," Matthew stammered, moving towards her again.

"No, it's none of that," Mary smiled, shaking her head. "You're quite cute when you're desperate, you know."

"Mary, please," Matthew rolled his eyes, running his hand through his hair nervously. "Is it something I've done? If it was because of the other night, I told you how sorry I was. I didn't think that the scarves would leave a mark!"

"No, no, it's not because of that at all," Mary blushed fiercely at the memory. Anna had given her a confused look when she said she needed to wear her long gloves throughout the day. "I just need you to stop and listen to me for a moment."

"Oh," Matthew said, blinking several times. "All right. What did you want to talk about? Something to do with George?"

"No," Mary smiled.

"Is it about Robert? I thought the two of you were getting along?" Matthew asked.

"We're managing a bit better," Mary nodded. "There still comes a point in our conversations where one of us needs to leave the room before we say something we'll regret, but it hasn't been as horrid as before, that's true."

"Then what? Darling, I can't guess all night long," Matthew shook his head. "Well, I suppose I could, but that would be rather a waste of time, particularly given that I would like to move on to..."

"I'm pregnant, Matthew," Mary said, touching his arm to stop his babbling.

"You're what?" Matthew blurted out, his eyes widening in shock. "Honestly?"

"Well, I wouldn't make something like this up!" Mary frowned in disbelief. "Yes, honestly, Matthew! I'm with child. Your child. Your second child."

"Our second child," Matthew said reverently. "Oh, Mary!"

She laughed as he pushed her back on to the bed and covered her with kisses. He pecked at her lips, her nose, her forehead, her cheeks, her neck and anywhere else he could reach.

"You are absolutely incredible," he said between kisses. Mary hugged him closer, laughing all the while.

"Never did I imagine in my youth that a boring middle class lawyer could be so virile," Mary chuckled.

Matthew laughed along with her, touching her cheek and kissing her firmly.

"Now that you've shared your most wonderful news," Matthew said huskily, his hands running down her sides. "Do I still need to control myself?"

"No," Mary breathed, her hands unbuttoning shirt. "You may ravish me to your heart's content."

"Good," he said thickly, kissing her hard as he grabbed the hem of her nightgown. "This will take a rather long while."