Happy Easter Vigil!

(And Happy Passover to you, Rebecca.)

Epilogue: Mary – 1920

"… I pronounce that they be man and wife together," said the archbishop in a clear voice. "I present to you Lady Mary Crawley and Mr. Mathew Crawley."

Cora clapped along with all the other guests, full of joy for her eldest daughter, as the bride and groom turned to face everyone. And it struck her that Mary appeared the way Cora probably did on her wedding day. Of course, Mary had the same dark, almost black hair that Cora had and wore the same headdress that all young ladies who married the heir to their earldom.

But what really showed was the joy on Mary's face. Her oldest daughter wasn't one for showing emotion; she was reserved, like Robert and Mama. But today, love was written all over Mary's face. Just like Cora's must have been.

Smiling at Robert as the recessional music began, Cora said, "I think this is how things were always meant to be."

Robert gave her hand a squeeze, warming her heart. "It was unfortunate that Patrick died on the Titanic, but I do believe that Mary and Mathew are better suited than she and Patrick ever would be. And Mathew is such a fine young man." He gazed just as fondly at the blond man as he did at their daughter.

At one time, the fact that Robert saw Mathew as a son bothered Cora. But now, she accepted him as their son – in – law as well as the man Mary loved. And a fine heir for Robert. For even when they lost their estate, the title of "Lord Grantham" would be passed to Mathew.

But what was amazing was how much their Mary had matured over the last ten years. Perhaps it was because of the horrible war that changed everyone. Her daughter had once made a ghastly mistake, taking a lover before she was even engaged and seemed to think it could all be brushed under the rug. But in the last year, Mary had been willing to marry Sir Richard Carlisle in exchange for not causing their family scandal.

Cora smiled at her daughter as everyone prepared to through rose petals at the happy couple. She was glad that Robert had finally talked both her and Mary out of marrying Sir Richard.

Mary and Mathew were right.

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Joy filled Mary's heart as the rose petals fell all over her and Mathew. She felt lighter than ever and her smile was uncharacteristically wide. She also loved that his smile was just as wide. "Demeter approves of us as well," Mary said, returning to their never – ending joke about Greek mythology, as she brushed the petals from Mathew's blond hair.

"Why wouldn't the goddess of agriculture and nature approve of Andromeda and Perseus?" Mathew said, his smile turning to a smirk.

Smirking back Mary said, "What makes you believe you are Perseus now?" She shook her head as he compared himself to the hero of one of her favorite Greek myths. "You could still be a sea monster."

Mathew's eyes danced as he teased her in return. "You tell me. You're the one who married me."

Mary adored the way he challenged her with his ideas about life and literature. As a young woman, she'd been cautioned that men didn't appreciate intelligent ladies, and they wouldn't be interested in her ideas about Greek mythology, philosophy, or anything beyond teas and charities.

It was no wonder she'd always found Cousin Patrick a bit boring. And even though Mary had always found flirting with other young men enjoyable and flattering, speaking to them eventually became dull as well. But her Mathew was a lawyer and loved a good, intelligent debate, even with Mary. Especially with Mary.

"Yes, darling. I married you because you 'twisted my arm' enough last night," she said, challenging him back.

"I only said what you already knew, Mary," Mathew shook his head, the last of the rose petals falling from his shoulders.

"And yet when you had met me at the altar an hour ago, you had said, 'I wasn't completely certain you would come,'" Mary said, her eyes staring in to his with playful force.

Mathew chuckled as his handsome blue eyes stared into hers with the same playful force. "Well, I knew you would always love me, I just was not certain you would actually marry me."

Had she truly been ready to call off their wedding only last night? After everything they'd been through together before the war and since? Because he refused to give any money he may inherit to Papa?

Mary's heart still clenched at the thought that their family would lose Downton, and she desperately wanted to save her home. Her family's legacy. But she shouldn't worry about that, or the money Mathew probably won't inherit anyway, now.

Perhaps all Granny's cautions of "the dangers of love" hadn't disappeared when Mathew finally proposed on New Year's, after all.

After all, Mathew was not only a perfect sparring partner, but he was also as honorable and loyal as Papa. Would she ever find another man who didn't mind that she wasn't a virgin? Even Sir Richard Carlisle, who had accepted Mary's secret and still agreed to marry her, had held that information over Mary's head like a deadly weapon.

Mathew would never do such a thing. She remembered his reaction when she'd finally told him her secret. "There is nothing to forgive," he'd said. And hearing that just after Papa had said Mary didn't need to punish herself by marrying Sir Richard was even more wonderful. After years of wondering whether Papa didn't love her, considering he wouldn't allow her to inherit their estate, Mary finally felt valued again. Papa, with his high sense of honor, had forgiven her for her youthful indiscretion.

Mary, who had spent a lifetime guarding her heart, could trust Mathew's love and Papa's.

Being wed to a man she loved as much as Mathew, and becoming the next Countess of Grantham, might just be enough. Besides, Mary intended to explain why Mathew needed to accept the inheritance if the money did in fact, come to him. She kind of looked forward to those debates.

"Lady Mary, Mr. Mathew, may I take your picture?" said the photographer, interrupting Mary's thoughts.

"Absolutely," Mathew said cheerfully.

"Where would you like us to stand?" said Mary at almost the same time. She refused to have her husband answer for her, even a man as wonderful as Mathew.

"Perhaps there," the photographer pointed to the left, where a grove of trees stood in the distance. "The trees would make a nice background."

Mary nodded and led Mathew to the correct spot, leaning into him for the perfect photograph. If she couldn't live at Downton Abbey forever, she could at least look every inch the future Countess of Grantham.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOO

"Are you all set, milady?" Stark, the new chauffeur asked Violet after all the photographs were taken.

"Yes," she said, as she climbed into the motor, maneuvering her cane to be as dignified as she could. The new chauffeur was much older than Branson, and Violet appreciated the white hair peeking from behind his cap. There was no chance he would seduce a young lady and take her away from her family, claiming to be in love with her or some such dangerous nonsense.

Since Branson had married Sybil last year, Violet had thought the best way to handle it was to show everyone he could behave properly. She'd always been able to bend everyone to her will, certainly this Irish boy would be the same. Dinner the other night had shown that Branson wasn't as easily to conform. But Violet admitted that Branson looked acceptable today, in Mathew's old morning coat, standing up with the groom. Obviously, all it took was a bit more effort, and he conformed nicely.

And sending Sybil and her… husband the money to return to Downton had been worth it for them all to see darling Sybil again.

Meanwhile, Stark began the journey from the church to the Big House, where Mary's wedding party would continue. Violet sat primly in the back of the motor it passed the sea of wedding guests preparing to go to the reception themselves.

It was wonderful that after all these years of Violet's planning and convincing everyone, that Mary had finally married Robert's heir. Mary would get what she deserved and become the next Countess of Grantham. Violet had thought this was the perfect solution since Cousin Patrick had died and Mathew had arrived at Downton.

But Mathew, with his middle – class values and stubborn mind, had been determined to marry for love. Still, Violet had eventually convinced him that he did love Mary and that she loved him. At one time, such an idea would have horrified Violet, as she knew how dangerous romantic love could be. But Mathew refused to wed anyone without love, so she had to speak his language if Mary were to become the next countess.

Besides, Violet had also learned in the last two years that there were other things more dangerous than marrying for love. There was nothing more dangerous than Mary's decision to wed that horrible Sir Richard Carlisle.

Although she still sat perfectly and quietly in the motor, Violet felt almost sick even now when she thought of Carlisle.

Violet had been disgusted by the man's presence from the very beginning, as he was from new money; made his fortune from newspapers, of all things. But she was even more disturbed when Mary told Violet of Carlisle's plan to profit from another Great Family's misfortune and buy one of the estates that had to be sold, he and Mary to live.

But the worst part of Carlisle, and why Violet had honestly believed him to be dangerous, was how uncomfortable he began to make Mary. Her eldest granddaughter was no longer the strong, confident woman Violet had taught her to be, who sometimes pretended to be submissive because that was what men wanted to see. But a truly weak woman who did everything Carlisle asked although she obviously did not want to do so.

Mary had tried to hide it, of course, and be the proper, reserved lady she'd always been trained to be. But no one could conceal anything from Violet, least of all, her own granddaughter. Every time Violet had seen Mary with… that man, her eyes illustrated more anxiety.

Violet had never been happier in her life than when Carlisle had announced he would never return to Downton, just before this past New Year's.

Suddenly, the motor stopped in front of the Big House. It was time for food, champagne, and hundreds of well-wishers who would congratulate Violet on her granddaughter's wonderful match.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOO

"That dress looks marvelous on you, Lady Edith," Sir Anthony Strallen told her as they enjoyed champagne at Mary's reception.

Edith glanced at her light teal – colored gown and smiled. She had been a bit uncertain about the dress, especially with the large silver flower on the front, but now she knew it was perfect. "That's nice of you to say, but I believe you look even more handsome," she said, her smile growing as she admired his grey suit, silvery hair, and kind face. Her family seemed to think Sir Anthony was too old and too much of a bother for her, especially considering he'd lost his arm in the war.

But Edith thought he was wonderful. Sweet, kind, quiet, and perfectly capable of functioning with only one hand. She'd watched him sip his wine and eat several pieces of shrimp with no trouble at all.

"I'm not so certain about that," Sir Anthony said, referring to Edith's previous comment. He looked down at his suit and unusable arm and shook his head. Then sipped his champagne again.

But although Edith would prefer to pretend that they were in their own little bubble, they were still at Mary's wedding reception, and she and Mathew were coming closer as they greeted their many guests. Edith's heart began to pound at the veiled insults her sister would inevitably make when they spoke. Her relationship with Mary had only become worse since Sybil had moved to Ireland last year.

Sipping her wine, Edith tried to focus on handsome Sir Anthony, rather than cold, selfish Mary. She still didn't understand why Mary should be able to wed Mathew after everything Mary had done in the past. She'd planned to wed wonderful Cousin Patrick just so she could become the next Countess of Grantham, she'd treated Cousin Mathew as a piece of dirt stuck to her shoe when he'd first arrived, she'd bedded the Turkish diplomat, and worst of all was when Mary had made a play for Sir Anthony just because Mary knew Edith had been interested in him.

And now, for some reason, Mary now had Mathew's love and would become the next Countess of Grantham all at once. Edith stared at her sister, dressed in a perfect bridal gown with Mathew at her side. It wasn't fair.

"Hello, Edith. Sir Anthony," Mary said, far too happily.

"Congradulations," Sir Anthony said, setting his drink down so he could shake Mathew with his good hand.

"Thank you," Mathew said.

"Once again, I'm sorry about… you know," Mary said, her eyes glancing at the hand that was secured at Sir Anthony's side.

Edith bristled, knowing that Mary's inference was that Edith couldn't find a man with two hands. Did it occur to Mary that Sir Anthony might be all that Edith wanted? "I think he does remarkably well, and it is something to admire," she said firmly to Mary, then turning to smile fondly at Sir Anthony.

"Absolutely," Mathew agreed with a nod.

"I suppose," Sir Anthony said with another sigh. He picked up his champagne easily and took another drink.

As Mary and Mathew walked away to converse with other guests, Edith felt herself relax. Sir Anthony was far more important. "I will be available to have tea for the next few days," she said to him, admiring his silvery hair again. "Do would you like to have company at Locksley?"

Sipping her own champagne, she waited for him to answer. In the years since Cousin Patrick died, Edith had learned to be a bit more assertive with men. Now too, much as an 'Englishman doesn't want an aggressive woman' as Granny would say, but enough so the men would understand that Edith was interested.

"If you truly wish to keep an old goat like me company, I will welcome yours," Sir Anthony said, his blue eyes sparkling when they looked at her.

"You aren't an old goat," Edith said softly, staring into his eyes. Naturally, it was easier to be more confident around Anthony because she was certain he was interested in her. "And there is no company I enjoy more than yours."

Smiling, Edith let herself daydream what it would be like to be the Mistress of Locksley with Sir Anthony by her side and no Mary lurking in the background. She hoped it was a fantasy coming closer and closer to reality.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOOO

"Thank you for coming to my wedding, Grandmama," Mary said to Martha, politely and primly, with her head held high.

Martha rolled her eyes as she finished swallowing a large gulp of champagne, which caused Mary to look at Martha almost as if Martha were two feet shorter than her granddaughter, rather than about the same height. Her oldest granddaughter obviously listened to Violet far too much, considering her obsession with primness and her inherent snobbishness. Martha had always done her best to explain the correct way of thinking and show the modern attitudes about women to her granddaughters, but Mary had never listened.

At least Mary's wedding dress seemed acceptable, with a long train for a veil, and a dress covered with lace and pearls. Martha would have preferred the lace to be larger, to show how much money it was worth, but overall, it was a nice look on Mary, especially as she stood next to her new husband.

Studying this… Mathew Crawley closely, Martha saw a tall, blond man with a nice morning coat staring back at her confidently. She still wished Mary did not have to wed this man to receive the family money and estate, but she supposed he would do. "Well, I had to see the man you were marrying," she said firmly, still studying Mathew. "And I guess he is acceptable."

"Thank you, ma'am," Mathew said in the polite, English way. She supposed he was trained by Violet as well.

But to Martha's surprise, Mary's eyes seemed to widen a bit, although her head was still held high. "Mathew is far more than 'acceptable', Grandmama," she said just as firmly. With that, her eyes shrank back into normal shape, as Mary and her new husband walked away to greet another guest.

But Martha stared off at the couple for several moments, still thinking of that protective outburst. It was the most emotion she'd ever seen in her oldest granddaughter. Perhaps, unlike Mary's plan to marry her cousin Patrick, this match had more affection in it? She took another gulp of champagne as she considered this.

Deciding to sample the food, Martha picked up a cream puff and noticed Sybil with her new husband, who was dressed surprisingly well for an ex – chauffeur. He looked rather handsome in that morning coat, although Sybil could have been dressed a bit nicer, considering she only wore a simple teal dress and hat today.

When Cora had written to Martha that Sybil had married their former chauffeur, Martha had screamed at the letter. Even in America, they didn't consort with servants. Hadn't Cora learned anything from Martha? How could she ever condone such a union?

But since Martha had arrived here, she saw this… Branson didn't act like a chauffeur. And Sybil had proudly said that he was now a journalist. So, Martha began seeing the young man with new eyes. He wasn't really a former servant. He was a self – made man and probably wouldn't even remain a mere journalist for long. Martha's late husband, who had made his fortune by himself, would approve of Tom Branson's initiative, and would probably think of him as a nice choice for Sybil.

Martha popped another cream puff into her mouth, letting the sweet creamy taste fill her, as she saw Mary whisper something into Mathew's ear. Mary obviously didn't realize anyone might be watching, or perhaps had a bit too much champagne. But Martha had to admit, it was an endearing image.

Especially as she realized whom Mary was watching. In a far corner, Cora gave Robert a gooey smile while he kissed her fingers and stroked her cheek. Martha still wished Cora would dress the part of a wealthy man's wife, as her simple purple outfit and hat was kind of boring. Especially as she didn't even add any jewelry. Still, if Martha's daughter and husband could still act loving and affectionate, after thirty years, and had gone through both their fathers' deaths, two wars, and their daughter marrying a former servant, it seemed nothing would break Cora and Robert's bond.

Even Edith, who had struggled to find a man interested in her in the past, seemed perfectly happy speaking to this Sir Anthony. He may be a little older than her, but they hadn't been able to take their eyes off each other since the reception began.

Somehow, her daughter and all of her granddaughters seemed to have found happiness, amid a culture of boring, narrow – minded, unfeeling, pompous beings. If a cynic like Martha could see all of their delight, it must be rather strong.

But that didn't mean the English way was right about everything, of course. In fact, Martha spotted Violet in the distance. Eagerly pushing toward Violet, Martha ignored any other guests she may have bumped in her effort to reach the other woman. All the Crawley's clothing were a bit disappointing, but nothing compared to Violet's. Her colors were too dull, to start with, as Violet was dressed in soft gold, almost beige. And once again without any jewelry? Furthermore, Violet's hat was too short, practically a piece of cloth stuck to her head. Martha always wore her hats with exotic feathers. At least Cora, Edith, and Sybil's hats had flowers sewn on them.

Stepping directly in front of Violet, Martha shook her head. "Violet, you must update your wardrobe. I remind you we now live in the twentieth century."

Violet eyes narrowed into that look that was supposed to scare people, but never seemed to affect Martha. "Actually, I am dressed appropriately for my granddaughter's wedding. You, on the other hand, should have thought a little before wearing something so exotic to a proper English wedding."

Edith's chapter will hopefully be up by the end of the month, but please remember it will be canon.