"Moving?" Robert had wondered when this topic would come up. He hadn't expected it to be so soon. It had been tradition for the heir and his family to live outside the home, at Downton Place, until he received the Earldom. But they had had to sell it. A small part of him had hoped that they would stay here, living at the estate.
"Matthew and I discussed it before the wedding. " Mary didn't give him a chance to reply, or most likely protest. "We'll be moving to London." London had always been the plan. Matthew had wanted it to be London. He'd feel more at home.
"Wouldn't that be hard on Matthew?" He was genuinely concerned but was also looking for an excuse for them to stay. He had lost his wife, barley even two years ago. He couldn't lose his daughter.
"We'll have a live in nurse and Matthew can work from home. We can have you and the family come visit and we'll write and call, and we can come down to the estate on Christmas Holiday. The flat we looked at has a lift." She took a sip of tea to hide her nervousness. She felt a bit guilty for not having had told him.
"What if it were to break down?" He was more worried about Matthew's mind breaking down. Although, that surely should have happened long before now, shouldn't it have? The boy had a strong willed mind. And he was making progress. He could start to move on from the war. But could he truly put it behind him? And the ramifications from his injury would make it difficult on him and Mary and their marriage. He still needed care. Here they had all the help they could possibly need.
"The floor we'll be on doesn't have many stairs." The landlord had been willing to accomodate, and relocate them to a different flat if the stairs became too much. He had been sympathetic, as he was a veteran himself. He had served in the South African war. Mary had half expected Matthew to tire of it but he was surprisingly grateful, speaking to the man as if they were old friends.
His wife had died very young, and both his sons were killed in the war. He had a daughter that lived far away but never contacted him. He had spoken to Mary about this, whilst Matthew went to check the flat out for himself. She got to talking with the Landlord, Mr Lake, well he did.
She reminded him of his daughter, back in simpler times. She wondered if Matthew would become like him. No. He would always have family to care for him, even at times when he wanted to close himself off. Maybe she was projecting. And she couldn't help notice the parallels between the Landlord and her father. That was when Matthew had called her away.
"I want you to be happy for us, Papa."
"I am, my darling girl, I am."
Mary and Matthew discussed it, later that day. She asked him what he had thought of the flat and if he'd come to a decision.
"I don't think it's the right place for us." He said.
No place is right for us. Mary angrily thought but she didn't want to start an argument. "I talked to Papa about it."
"What does he think about it?"
"He's alright with it, I suppose. Though we don't really need his permission."
Matthew just sat in silent reply, his arms folded to a point his elbows were resting on the arms of his wheelchair, (he often did so as he had nowhere else to put them) hands resting on his stomach, his fingers intertwined. "I think we should keep looking." He stated after a moment.
"I'm sure if we go back and check out the other units..."
"We'll look somewhere else. I can't be around someone like that Mary." Mr Lake had been genuine, he had no doubt. He'd just be another reminder, and he didn't want the old man projecting one of his dead sons on to him. She gazed at him, with a look that said, how did you know? "Thin walls." He replied with a faint smile, picking up his glass and taking a drink. "I'd like to stay here a little longer, if that's alright with you. No need to be in a hurry."
"Right. I quite agree." She responded with a smile. She watched him, frowning. Here he is, putting up his walls again. She had thought she had been the master of that. What did he not want her to see? What was he keeping from her?
Saying nothing more, he took out a cigar and lit it. His silence would signal that he wanted to be alone.
She came up and soothed his shoulder before she left the room. Once she was gone he unlocked the roll down top of his desk, where he had put Patrick's letter. It wasn't there. He checked the other slots but drew up nothing. Where could he have misplaced it?
The subject came up again, as he was getting ready for bed. Changing clothes was still a chore. Pajamas were easier. He rarely needed any assistance with those. He needed to be sitting or lying down to put his clothes on. He'd lose his balance if he tried it standing up. He had to move his body and his gait differently, using his upper mostly, as his lower didn't function like it used to, to make up for the function certain muscles no longer had. Which meant he often got tired easily, and he would sometimes have to use the chair the rest of the day or lay in bed. But he wasn't complaining. He had come this far, which had been thought to be impossible. And he had only begun using the stick a few weeks ago.
"I also was planning on looking into a smaller estate, with less stairs. Not as grand as here. I was thinking of Carson coming to work for us. But I don't think he would."
"Since Carson would open his veins for you." He finished buttoning his nightshirt and then put on his robe, before he went off to use the bathroom. As he returned, drawing the belt tightly, he saw that she was sitting up in bed, her hair down, a letter in one hand, a glass of wine in the other. He was tempted to give her a kiss, maybe even do more. Then he saw the envelope. Patrick's writing.
"You've read it." He tried to grab the letter from her but she moved it away from his reach. He wasn't angry that she had somehow had gotten into his desk and taken it. He had wanted to read it alone. But as she started to read it out loud to him, the sinking feeling in his stomach eased. Perhaps it was for the best, that she was here with him.
"Dear Matthew, if this finds its way to you, do not feel guilt or regret for whatever fate has befallen me, and know that it is with my blessing and my intent that you be happy. I could not think of such an honorable man to take my place. I will say nothing more for you know how I hate goodbye's, other than to be happy.
Godspeed, my dearest friend
She choked up on the last words but he hadn't noticed. She looked up as he collapsed back into the chair, in the corner of the room, near his side of the bed. She saw his wall begin to crumble. Her own eyes begin to tear up, sharing his pain and anguish.
It hit him in shock waves as she finished. It was out there, it was done. Patrick's final words, his final say, it was suddenly all...final.
His hand shot up to cover his face. He didn't want her to see him this way. He tried to stop it but he couldn't. He couldn't stop the flood of tears, as he thought of his fallen friends, their clear smiling faces.
She saw that his body was shaking. She shot up from the bed, and knelt down in front of him, trying to move his hands away. "Please, don't..." Don't hide from me. Let me see you.
He took his hands away as if he had read her thoughts.
"I didn't cry..." He hadn't cried for him when he'd received the news. He never cried for any of his fallen comrades. He had never been able to properly grieve. "For any of them."
She sat on his lap, holding him, soothing the back of his head, hiding her own face from him.
"That's it. You can let it go now. Let it all out."
The crying stopped.
"Now we can start to heal." She said.
He nodded.
"My darling, Mary, what would I do without you?"
"What would I do without you?"
He raised his head. He had never thought that she could love him in that same capacity. Of course she did. How could he ever think that? One could not live without the other.
He looked at her with wide eyes, always so impossibly blue. They weren't filled with fear and torment, she usually saw in his eyes. They were filled with love, and needing. "Can you kiss me?"
She did.
AN: I couldn't quite leave this story alone. So I'm trying to get this to where it's the best it can be. It just keeps nagging at me. These are missing moments, in between scenes of For Ever and Ever, if you will. I was going for a one shot theme chapters. This probably won't be the last one (Chapter. Hopefully it won't be for this universe) I know the last part I covered is the scene from my For Ever and Ever series but expanded on with Mary and Matthew's point of view. I dislike writing in first person, so I changed that one chapter in For Ever and Ever that has it. A lot has been fixed and changed in that story as well, with more depth and detail, as I want it to be the best it can be too. I want to thank all of your reviews. They help me come up with ideas, resparking my love for this series that is Downton Abbey, and inspire me to be a better writer.