Well, it's a Sunday, and I've managed to get this chapter done a week early. I've been working to a 2 week deadline for each chapter because work has been so hectic. I had to jiggle some things around, as this was going to come later, but I felt that it fitted so much better at this point. So here we are :) Thanks again for all your support.
The room was completely silent aside from the sound of the wind picking up outside of Mary's window as if it was suddenly roused by the anxiety she was feeling. In front of her sat her Mama, who was staring directly into her eyes with a worried and unfaltering gaze. It left her feeling a little unnerved, like her mother was boring into her core with unvocalised questions, and weighing up her current state of mind with nothing but a look. It was difficult to maintain eye contact with that level of exuded intensity, so Mary looked down at her hands as she fiddled with her fingers. It was obvious that her Mama was trying to understand her, to try and make sense of what she had read in the letter. It felt like she had taken the plunge and written those letters a long time ago, and although Mary knew the idea behind them, she didn't recall the exact terms and words used. They were uninhibited, pure, and something she knew she would never be able to delicately verbalise accurately.
Cora took in a breath, and Mary looked up expectedly like her Mama was going to speak. Instead, Cora grimaced and reached into her pocket to take the letter out. The grip that she had on it was tight, and the paper crinkled under the duress of her hands as she held onto it. When she looked up, their eyes connecting, Mary could see the sadness sitting there like a lighthouse in a fog. Mary felt very guilty. She had known that her actions would have impacted several people in her life, and coming to terms with the aftermath and ramification of this had been a bitter pill to swallow. Not only had it impacted the obvious people in her life, but many others and the ripples seemed to continue moving through her world. They had lost Sybil, and Mary had put her Mama in the situation of almost losing another child. She couldn't comprehend the anguish and sadness associated with that as it was a Mother's love, and although she had George, she hadn't maternally connected with him as she should have. It wasn't his fault she had been so lost in herself she had not been able to love him as she had meant to. George was her purpose now, and she was sure that over time she would be able to understand the love for her son, and then understand more how her Mama was truly feeling. Mary was broken, but she was also aware, able to function and drive forward in a linear fashion much better than she had for a very long time. Carson had helped her see what she had to do, what she was there for, and how she needed to focus herself to keep herself going in the right direction. It was hard, of course it was hard, and she had had many moments when she had faltered, but she had to do this for Matthew, for George and her family. The support for her was there, and now she had to realise it truly and accept it when she needed it. These people hadn't offered support for the sake of it, to save face and do their part because they were expected to. No, they did it because they cared.
Cora had flattened the letter out and placed it ahead of her so she could read it again. On the drive over, she had squinted and painstakingly tried to read it over and over, trying to understand and see positives within it. It was hard, and there wasn't much she could take out of it that left her feeling optimistic. It had been nice to read how Mary thought she was strong and had been successful in navigating into this new world, but Cora didn't feel it most of the time, often doubting herself before anyone had the chance to do it for her. The words were intended to be comforting, to give Cora a boost to dampen the painful message that it was trying to give. This in itself was not like Mary, who rarely said anything to reduce the feelings of another, to try and make someone feel better. Normally she got her point across regardless of how it made someone feel, she was coarse like that sometimes, and it was something as a mother that Cora had struggled with. Robert was reasonably direct, but he had a very warm and kind heart with the best intentions within all of his actions, even if they were wrong. Cora liked to think that she was also kind, and liked to take into account people's feelings before she made a decision. Mary, and often Edith, had always shown a bitter side that seemed to skip over these traits like a train. Not always, they were both good girls really, but they had a nasty side to them that often made Cora's heart hurt. There had been a few times when she had tried to rationalise this behaviour, putting it down to various scenarios and situations that were at hand. It reminded her of her mother-in-law, the bitter streak that had no filter, that ran through the world like a raging bull who took no prisoners. What got her more than most of the thoughts was that Mary, the pragmatic and fearless woman, had found herself at the bottom of a very dark hole with no way out. The strong girl she had always known had given up, and that hurt her so deeply. Sybil was taken from their world with such force and without an option that it felt like Mary making such a decision was injustice on poor Sybil. Why choose that option when Sybil had been stripped of her life without even a second thought?
The words in the letter burrowed into her eyes, and she felt herself begin to get upset again. "Why, Mary?" she said as quiet as a whisper as she tried her hardest not to cry.
Mary felt sick, watching as her Mama's eyes pleaded with her to give her some clarity and justification for her actions. It was like the words in the letter, although likely as explanatory as she could ever muster, were not enough for her Mama to understand. Did her Mama not believe her words? Were they not direct enough? Or was it that her Mama was hopeful that it was all just a mistake? There seemed to be no words at the back of her throat, and all she could do was hang her head and fiddle with her fingers again.
"Mary," Cora pleaded. "Please. I'm your mother, and I just want to understand. This letter isn't you. The words are poignant, reassuring almost, complimentary and beautiful. It's not you though. This isn't you." The last sentence had come out louder than she had anticipated, and she dropped her hands with the letter into her lap.
"I'm sorry, Mama," Mary whispered sadly.
"Oh, Darling," Cora replied, moving her chair so she was as close as she could get to the bed without hitting her knees. "I don't doubt that you are." Cora placed the letter onto the bedside table and reached out to take her daughter's hand. "Was it that bad? Could you not have come to us? We all love you. We would have done whatever it had taken."
Mary could feel the strength of the grip on her hand like her Mama was scared that she was going to let go and vanish again. How could she tell her Mama that it didn't matter what anyone would have done or said? Because she was so lost that she wouldn't have been able to compute it enough to approach the subject? That even the love of her mother was not enough to prevent her from wanting to finish it all. Nobody's opinions mattered. Nothing anyone could have said would have made it go away. Even if they had bolted the door shut she would have found a way to get out. The letter would have said exactly that, she was sure of it, but her Mama wanted to hear it for herself. It was like the words, even though they were as true as she could write, were not enough, couldn't be associated with Mary's real inner voice. Of course, a mother has intuition and knows their daughter's probably better than they know themselves for the most part. When your mind isn't your own, and you try and convey feelings and emotions into word form, there's potential for them to come across as alien. The uninhibited emotion in the words was a form of a person that nobody ever got to witness, so of course, they seemed like they weren't her own.
"I can't fully express to you the level of hopelessness and sadness I felt at that moment I wrote that. There are no words that could fully depict and make you understand how little control I had over my mind. I know you understand to a point though, Mama, because you lost Sybil. Our darling Sybil was pulled from this world when she should have been enjoying the first moments of her daughter's life. Relishing in the smiles, the cries, the little hands and feet, and the love that a mother has when they first spend time with their child. In a way, we both never got to do that, because no sooner had we seen our child, we were denied any semblance of normality. For Sybil, she was taken far too soon. I was not the same, but the essence was. I couldn't connect with my son because he reminded me so painfully of his Father. Of Matthew. Everything in the house, in the air, on the walls and sky reminded me of him. My heart ached. Aches. I couldn't see over the hill, I couldn't see through the fog and I was not myself, Mama. I am not myself. It's still there within me, and I will not lie to you and tell you that I am fine. I am not ok. I will get through this though, you can believe that. I don't think it matters how much I try, it'll never be enough to make you understand. Remember the pain you felt those weeks after Sybil died? You were so angry and lost. I'm sure if you thought about it now, you couldn't express fully the unadulterated torrent of emotion that you felt at that given moment. It's like me, I can't make you see and feel it, so I need you to understand that it wasn't the people around me that had any influence on my decision. It was all me. It was all I could do to make it stop, Mama. I wanted it to end. I didn't want to be without him." Mary paused and rested her other hand atop of her mothers. "You say that the letter isn't me, that it's not who I am. I think that it is. I think that I have lived behind a mask for so many years I had forgotten what it was to think about other people. I am inherently selfish, and I know that you are all aware of that, which is why the letter seems so foreign. It's not, Mama. That was written when I had nothing at all to lose. I could have lied, I could have said anything, but it was the time to speak truths. No matter how hard. I knew that there would be no repercussions because I was going to go away. So why did it matter? It didn't, Mama. I don't blame you for thinking that the letter was too nice, because I understand that I have lived up to my reputation far more than I should have. I am Lady Mary Crawley, after all."
Cora nodded sympathetically, acknowledging what she was saying. It made sense, it did. "You're my, Mary, darling. And no matter what, I will always love you." It had been hard to read the words in the letter without feeling some semblance of guilt that she hadn't been able to do more to stop her feeling that way. As a mother, she should never have to hear those words or ideas about her daughter. Although it hurt to hear the words, Cora was thankful that after everything, her daughter was still with her. This meant that she had to do whatever it took to keep it that way. The reason why she had shot over to see her was that she wanted to understand, but not only that, she had been worried that it was an idea that her daughter had yet to abandon. Rationalising that in her head now that she was there sitting in front of Mary, if her daughter had wanted to go anywhere she would have by now when nobody was looking. "I can't bear to think about losing you, and I won't rest until I know that you are beyond all that now."
"Mama-"
"No, please. I can't tell you how hard it was to read your words. I feel like I have failed you as a mother. In your hour of need, I didn't realise that you were in so much pain. I knew you were grieving, and I know that we go through that in different ways. I should have been there to help and guide you. British aristocracy to one side, if you needed me to be there then I would have. I want us to be honest with each other, because really if we don't have each other than we have lost the war. The family fights to keep Downton alive and well, don't we? We need to be united and together. I want us to be open, no matter how hard it might be. You have so many people who love and care about you, Mary, and I think it's more than you had initially realised. You, my darling, and your sisters and Papa have always been my world. Don't forget that you have an inner core that is made from the strongest steel. You fight for what you believe in and march to the beat of your drum. I need you to promise me that you're done with this."
Mary knew that that was the ultimate question, the reason as to why her Mama had made the trek down in the middle of the night. She was worried that it wasn't the end, that Mary was going to vanish into the night and do it all again. She was sure that her Mama couldn't take it again, and she wanted to know, by looking into her eyes that she was ready to try and leave the fog behind. "Mama, I can't promise that this is all over. The feeling appears sometimes, the agony isn't going away but I know what my purpose is now. I owe Carson a great deal. Without him, I wouldn't be in this position. I am going to strive forward for George. Don't think I'm not doing it for you all, because in a way I am, but it was the thought of my son and of Matthew that got me here. If Matthew had been in the same position as me he would never give up. Matthew would have put everything into bringing up George as I wanted, as well as his wishes. I need to do that for him. I have to. I can't let him down. I am going to take each hour and day as it comes. I will battle, and I will force myself as best I can. I will promise you like I have promised Anna, and like I have told Tom, that I will come to you if I need help."
Cora had paid more attention to the look in Mary's eyes than the words she had spoken. They were good to hear, of course they were, but it was the spark of confirmation and strength that appeased her. When she had turned up she had noticed that Mary had moved further towards herself than she had in a while, and in the beginning when she had first awoken in the hospital Cora had seen just how absent she had still been. The change was minuscule, but it was enough to see that she was moving in the right direction. "We love you, Mary. The English don't say these things enough. I know we are all missing you up at the house, and I think it would be nice to have you home."
"You say everyone, but I guarantee that it's not the case for Edith," Mary replied coolly, raising her eyebrow just slightly to convey her reaction accurately.
"I'm not sure you're right about that," Cora retorted with a hint of annoyance in her voice. The way her daughters fought made her sad sometimes. "In fact, she has been acting a little off since this all happened."
"I have to admit that I do miss being home a little. At the same time, I feel safer here, from myself that is. When I'm wandering the corridors, climbing the stairs, sitting at the table to eat I am nearly always reminded of Matthew. The house is tainted, and I don't want you to think I'm badmouthing our home. I love it. I just feel that it's hard for me to be there. I like the simplicity here. I'm left alone. Now that Carson is awake I can go and see him as often as I want, and it's good for me, Mama. Carson is good for me."
Cora nodded. It was obvious that both Mary and Carson had an unusual relationship. It wasn't wrong and it wasn't counter-productive to the home. Cora had always found it quite sweet. Mary had been brought up to be and act in a certain way, to do things properly. The relationship between her and the Butler, in some people's eyes, wasn't proper. To have respect and love for a member of staff isn't conforming to the usual household standings. However, Carson cared deeply for her daughter. Cora had watched it over the years with a great fascination and always kept a few paces away to observe their interaction. There was more to Carson than most people gave him credit for. Of course, he was strict, proper and dedicated, but he was loyal, kind and soft underneath his hard exterior. They were a good match as friends. Carson often gave Mary the advice that she needed to hear. Robert and Carson were different, and yet the same, as they both adored her but the interest at heart was on a different level. Carson cared for Mary and only wanted what was best for her and there was never a hidden agenda in his words. Robert loved her fiercely as a father did, but he had the weight of his role and the world sometimes that would often underlie his decisions and advice. "How is he doing? I know your Father really wants to spend some time with him. I know he wants to thank him somehow."
"Oh, I think he's doing much better. I think we all need to thank him, and I have a few ideas on how we can do that." Mary smirked a little as she thought about Carson and Mrs Hughes. "I think I want to stay until Carson can come home."
Cora nodded as if she understood. It was a nice gesture. "I can't say that I mind you staying here a little longer. I suppose I just miss having you close." Cora folded the letter up.
"I'm not a child any more, Mama," Mary chided playfully, straightening herself up in the bed like a child would if they said such words.
"You'll always be my baby, Mary, whether you like it or not. You'll understand that soon enough."
Mary had realised that they hadn't spoken about her Papa. In a logical sense, if one had read the letter then the other would likely have too. Why had he not come down? Was he so angry that he couldn't bear to see her? "How is Papa?"
Cora smiled tiredly at her daughter, feeling the worry and tension leaving her body momentarily as she realised that they might just be over the hill that this battle had been. "Oh, he's not bad I suppose. It has taken it out of him though. I have to drag him to bed quite early every evening because I know he needs the rest. Whether your father likes it or not, he is not as young as he used to be. The weather was horrendous that night, Mary, and I'm glad that you weren't deeply affected by it. It'll probably take a little while for him to get his energy back. The exhaustion was emotional as well as physical. He is stubborn like you though, so I know he'll be ok."
"And with the letter?" Mary was worried that he had reacted badly to it, and that was the reason as to why he hadn't been down.
Cora turned her gaze away when she realised that this was what Mary had meant initially. They were being honest, so she had to be as such if she wanted her daughter to follow in suit. "I still have the letter."
"He didn't want to read it, did he?" Mary sad dejectedly. "It was too much, wasn't it?"
"Oh, no, not at all. In all honesty, Tom gave them to me earlier in the day and I placed them by the side of the bed so I could read them before we went to sleep. Your father was so tired, and I completely forgot about them. That's why I came so late. I awoke so suddenly when I remembered about them. Then I read it and I had to come down. I just don't think that I can let him read it just yet. I want to let all this settle. I want you home. As much as your father thinks that he isn't, he's fragile at the moment. I don't want you to feel any blame, Mary, so please disregard that if you are. I just think with the stress of everything that has been going on, I want to give him time to get himself there. I know my husband, and I know given his current state of mind and tiredness that he will fly off the bat and be angry. You know as well as I that he feels things deeply, and he will feel angry and hurt. I know that the words will upset him. Don't think ill of me for doing so."
"Mama, I of all people am in no position to think ill of anyone for their actions or decisions. I see your point. I do worry he will be so very disappointed in me for what I did once he knows the truth." Mary sighed and leant into her pillows in a dejected manner.
"Oh, Mary, your Papa adores you. You're his firstborn child for goodness sake. He can have the letter, I promise he will read it. I just think now is not the right time." Cora smiled encouragingly and squeezed Mary's hand as a gesture to reiterate that encouragement. "Do you want to give it to him?"
Mary shook her head quickly. "I don't think I could witness his reaction. No, I trust you to find the right time to give it to him." Imagining the look on her Papa's face made her feel sick, the way his face would drop when he realised what it meant.
Cora nodded. "I'm very glad I came down I have to say. I feel much more confident now."
Mary brought herself back to the room, shaking away the picture of the sad look on her Papa's face from her mind. There was no point worrying about it now because she couldn't do anything about it. The best she could do was destroy the letter, but she wanted her Papa to be on the same page as everyone else. There would be no point hiding it because when he did find out he would react even more than if he read the letter for himself. "Good. I think you should go back and try and get some rest."
"You'll be ok?" Cora queried. "I can stay. It won't be the first time I have sacrificed sleep in my life. I don't mind. It doesn't feel like I have seen you nearly enough as I should have."
"Don't be silly," Mary objected. "No, please, go and get some rest."
Cora smiled. "I'll get going then."
Mary swung her legs over the side of the bed and got to her feet. "Let me walk with you. I'm not tired just yet so I can give my legs a stretch as we go."
Cora got to her feet and put the letter away. "I hope it's not been too lonely here on your own?"
Mary let her Mama match her pace as they began their walk towards the stairs. "Not at all. There is always someone about. I have my book and I am in and out of Carson's room keeping him company. I have had visitors. It's all been quite fine."
"Good."
They walked relatively slowly, chatting idly as they made their way towards the stairs. It was nice that they could talk so freely, and Cora felt a burden release from her shoulders when she knew that Mary was going to be ok. It was going to be hard, she knew that for herself, but she felt so much more confident than she had in a while. Things would hopefully get back to some semblance of normality soon, although Cora had enjoyed the quietness. They hadn't kept up with their routine as closely as they should, and she had liked the fact that she had been able to spend more time with her husband. The little things had been more pronounced, the little touches, the embraces and the talking.
As they got towards the stairs, a draft channelling up from the floor below, they noticed someone just about to take the stairs and leave. "Mrs Hughes?" Cora said, her tone rising to mirror the confusion at seeing the head housekeeper out so late. "I wasn't expecting to see you here at this time of night!"
Mrs Hughes, being startled by the voice, let her grip slack on the bannister as she righted herself and stopped herself from descending them. Moving her focus from the stairs, she raised her eyes to see them walking in her direction. "I came to see how Mr Carson was doing. The house was settled for the evening."
"Oh, don't think I'm questioning you, Mrs Hughes," Cora laughed light-heartedly. "It's just late. I was saying the other day that I thought we were working you too hard."
Mrs Hughes nervously glanced at the two women, not quite sure how to take the current situation. What she had wanted to do was slip out of the hospital and get back. Inside she was singing from her head to her toes, and she wanted to let it all settle in her mind. It was a lot to take in, the conversation with her darling man, and she was humming like a bird. "It's fine. There's a lot to do, but I can manage."
"Mama wasn't saying she didn't think you could manage, Mrs Hughes. Forgive her for making it seem like she was insinuating as such. Is there not a way that you can give Mrs Hughes some time off, Mama? I think she is owed for working two jobs?" Mary tried to give Mrs Hughes a friendly smile, the image of Carson cradling her face printed into her mind. There seemed to be a bridge that needed to be built between them, for the sake of Carson. If this was how she would start repaying Carson for his kindness, then she would do what she could.
Cora turned to look at Mary with a puzzled expression. There was something unusual there in her daughter's eyes that she couldn't quite place. It was true though when she thought about it. Mrs Hughes had been looking very tired, and it was noble that she would spend so much time making sure that Carson was ok. Many people cared for him, it seemed. "I suppose we can do something. We can get Barrow to run the house for the morning, give you a chance to rest. I think that's fair?"
Mary turned to look at Mrs Hughes and stared pointedly at her as if she was the maker of this kind gesture. "It must be a while since you have had the chance to have a decent lie-in, Mrs Hughes? I would snap the offer up with both hands."
Mrs Hughes was perplexed. Why was Lady Mary being so kind? And almost forcefully so? She knew that Carson had always said that Mary was kind, but it still didn't sit right. It would be almost rude to decline, and she knew that Thomas would be beside himself once he learnt he had the power to rule, even for a few hours. "Thank you, My Lady, that's very generous."
"How were you getting back?" Mary queried, keeping her gaze on Mrs Hughes. "Mama could find space for you in the car no doubt, isn't that right?"
"Oh, certainly. Of course. You're leaving now, and so am I, so it makes perfect sense." Cora looked between the pair of them and then shrugged. "Shall we?"
"Thank you, My Lady," Mrs Hughes replied, stepping back to allow her to go down the stairs before her.
"Now, go and get some rest, darling," Cora appealed to her daughter. "I'll come back and see you soon. You know where we are if you need anything." She squeezed her daughter's hand before moving her grip to the bannister of the stairs.
"Goodbye, Mama. Goodbye, Mrs Hughes." Mary watched as the walked down the stairs. As she stood there she hesitated, wanting to go and check on Carson but she knew it was late. No, she was going to rest and think about what she was going to do with her new information.
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Cora turned to look at Mrs Hughes. "Thank you, Mrs Hughes. I know this must all be quite exhausting for you."
Mrs Hughes was feeling a little bewildered by the whole thing, her mind still reeling from what she had been through that evening. This small talk was not what she wanted or needed. What she did need was her bed, the darkness, and the time to process her thoughts and feelings. "I can manage, My Lady. It's only temporary."
"Yes, you're right," Cora sighed. "Please, take the morning off. I have a feeling it'll be a late breakfast for us in the morning anyway, and Barrow can ensure that everything is managed I'm sure."
"I'll make sure everything is in order, My Lady."
"Oh," Cora sighed. "I do hope we get back to normal soon."
Mrs Hughes wasn't sure if Cora was just verbalising her thoughts, or she was speaking to her, but she felt she had to reply. "Will it ever get back to normal, My Lady?" Of course, she thought that it will in terms of the house. For her though, for her and how her days were going to unfold, she knew that things would never be the same again. In a good way. Who knew what the future held for her and Charlie? They had to broach the topic of acceptance from the very family they served at some point. They would tackle it though, somehow, and that was a question for another day.
"Quite," Cora laughed. "Let's hurry. I can't wait to get back into bed!"
I know some might think that giving Mrs Hughes the morning off might be a bit of a stretch, but I felt she needed a break. It was nice to get Mary thinking about doing something positive for her, and it's a start! :)