Mary doesn't get up for about an hour. She feels terrible for leaving Anna to watch Matthew, especially without explanation, but she can't will herself to get up for an hour. Her mind runs through all the possibilities of what could have happened, and why Matthew could have possibly wanted this.

She knows he has been haunted by the war, but she didn't realize quite how badly he wanted it to end.

Does he still want it to end?

His cryptic and indistinguishable sobs told her very little.

Can she trust him to be alone again?

How did she not manage to realize the extent of the damage? How did she not see this coming? She was stupid, so stupid, to leave him alone. Especially after knowing that something wasn't right that morning.

Can this damage ever be mended?

…Could she have done anything else?

Her mind runs through so many thoughts, so many fears, so many scenarios, so many regrets, and it is overwhelming, so overwhelming that eventually she just numbs herself and sobs further into the pillow until she has no more tears to cry.

She wonders if Matthew tried to numb himself in the same way before pulling out the gun.

Shaking off the numbness, she forces herself to roll over and then to stand up. She will face this, and so will Matthew, and they all will face it together.

Nothing happened, she tells herself. Matthew is still alive and he didn't manage to harm himself at all.

But then again, everything happened. And everything changes.

Now, healing Matthew isn't just a matter of improving his future. It's a matter of life or death.

Isobel comes home to an eerie quiet.

When she doesn't find Matthew or Mary downstairs, she quickly ascends the steps upstairs. Panic grips her heart, for no discernible reason.

She knocks on Matthew's door.

Mary hears the knock, and finally leaves her room. "Isobel," she says softly, standing half in the doorway. "Isobel, we need to talk." She tries to stay composed, but it is difficult, so difficult, because what she has to tell Isobel is so difficult to say.

"What is it?" Isobel asks.

Mary leads the older woman into her room and motions to a chair. "Sit down," she says. It is a command, but a gentle one.

Isobel normally would protest, but the grave look on Mary's face tells her that protesting isn't wise. "Mary... what's happened?" Her heart seems to beat out of her chest.

"I turned back about half an hour into my ride, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. So I came back... and I found Matthew... with a gun to his head."

"Oh God," Isobel says.

"I found him in time..." Mary continues, placing a hand on Isobel's shoulder, trying to hide her own shaking. "I put him to bed, and Anna's watching him right now just in case."

Isobel blinks back tears. "He tried to take his life?"

Mary presses her lips together and looks away. "Yes."

Suddenly so grateful she is sitting down, Isobel leans back in the chair, suddenly exhausted. There is nothing she can do but cry.

Mary doesn't know how to deal with the strong, seemingly imperturbable Isobel crying, but then again, Mary knows that she would be sobbing too if she had any tears left to cry.

"Did he... did he say why?" Isobel looks up, finally, her eyes red-rimmed and her mouth in a shaky tight line.

"No," Mary whispers. "I didn't want to talk to him about it right when it happened, I was so scared, and it probably would have made things worse. So I put him to bed, gave him a dose of the pain medicine that makes him sleep, and asked Anna to watch over him. And I took this," she reaches behind Isobel to grab the gun sitting on top of the bureau, "away from him."

Isobel barely holds back another cry of grief.

"There was one bullet in there, I think that was all he had. I took it out and put it somewhere completely different. That way he can't ever use it to harm himself. But I don't think we should leave him alone at all, at least until we can be certain he won't try anything. There are so many things he could..."

"Mary," Isobel sniffles. She holds a hand up. "I appreciate all you've done for Matthew, and... I think you saved his life today. But please… let me process this without worrying about the future for a second."

Mary kneels on the floor next to Isobel and takes her hand. "The future is all we have. The present is so, so hard, and it's unbearable to think about the past because I only wonder if there was something more we could have done."

Isobel presses her lips together in an attempt to keep from crying anymore. She strokes Mary's hair gently. "Don't blame this on yourself. I won't blame it on myself. We can't do that."

"But really, what do you think?"

"You couldn't have done anything more," Isobel says. "You've done so much."
"But if it wasn't enough, then it wouldn't really matter."

"It was enough, though. He's alive. That's what matters."

When Matthew wakes up, his mother is sitting by the side of his bed. He lifts his eyes up and Mary is leaning on the wall across from his bed, looking at him with sad eyes. He takes another look at his mother, and sees her eyes are red and teary.

He's taken pain medication, he can tell. The strong stuff. There's no other explanation for how fuzzy his head feels.

Why is his mother so distressed? Why is Mary so sad?

He glances across the room and sees the contents of his army trunk spilled out on the floor.

Then he remembers.

"Oh, Mother..." he whispers weakly. "I'm so, so sorry."

Isobel finally forces herself to look him in the eye. "Can you explain it to me, Matthew?"

He tries. He really does. There are so many answers he can give, and they all try to come out of his brain in a big jumble. And none of them come out. His mouth works, but silently. After a minute, he shakes his head. "Not... not now," he manages to say.

"Are you inclined to try again?" Isobel says.

"No..." Matthew says, although he sounds a little bit hesitant. "It would be devastating for you."

Isobel narrows her eyes. "Matthew..."

"He won't," Mary says confidently. She stands up straight and walks toward his bed, taking his hand in hers. "He won't," she repeats.

He believes her.

His mother is angry, he can tell. She is angry out of love, but she still is angry. She is furious with him. He can see it in the furrow of her brow and the set of her mouth. "How could you ever..." she begins, her voice raising, but she does not go on. She breaks down and sobs, perhaps even harder than she did when Matthew's father died. It is disconcerting to see her like this, and before he knows what he is doing, he is sobbing too.

He reaches up and puts a hand on her forearm. "Mother, I'm so... I... I don't know, I can't begin to explain..." There are just no words. They seem to have escaped him entirely.

But one thought looms large.

And he can find the words to ask.

"Are you going to send me to an asylum?" he asks. His voice comes close to betraying the terror of the thought.

Isobel looks at him, uncomprehending. "Oh, Matthew, no, of course not."

"They said I needed to go there because I'm a danger to myself and others. And I guess I am a danger to myself," he says, almost reciting what he has been told.

Mary shakes her head. "You won't be. And we'll stay with you until you're free of any sort of compulsion to..."

"To kill myself?" Matthew says bluntly. "It's alright, no need to pretend like that wasn't what I was trying to do."

"Matthew, please..." Isobel says, her voice shaking. "Please don't be so blasé about it. You'd think after all the years of war you'd understand the value of life..."

His eyes flash coldly, and Mary immediately grips his hand tighter, as if to try and prevent the inevitable anger emanating from Matthew

"Don't you dare tell me what I should understand now," he growls. "There was no value of human life out there. Maybe that rubbed off on me. I don't know. I'm trying to understand the value..." he begins to melt, to break down, and tears begin to wet his cheeks. "I'm just so scared of this life ahead, Mother. For a bleak moment there... it didn't seem worth it."

"Do you realize why it's worth it now?" Isobel asks.

Matthew looks up at her, his bright eyes wide. But he can't lie to her and say yes. So he simply lets his head hang again.

Isobel sighs heavily. "Oh my darling boy, you must..."

"Isobel," Mary whispers. "Please don't lecture him now." She crouches down next to the bed so that she can be on his eye level. "I'm going to show you why it's worth it, alright? Do you trust me?"

"It's so hard to..."

"Do you trust me?" Mary interrupts, more forcefully.

He swallows, and looks up at her with something that vaguely looks like love in his eyes. "Yes."

"It's going to be worth it," she says. "And someday there will come a time when you'll go to bed one evening and you'll realize the war hasn't crossed your mind all day. Some night, some week of nights where no nightmares haunt you. It's hard now, and I can hardly imagine what you're feeling, but please, trust me, and know that there will come a day like that, and you just have to live to see it through."

He stares at the covers. "How can you have so much hope?"

"Because otherwise I'd be entirely empty."

Anna comes upstairs with a meal for Matthew on a tray, and she stays in the room while Mary and Isobel step outside.

"Someone needs to be with him at all times for now," Mary says. "Not to invade his privacy, just to make sure that... he doesn't try again."

"Yes. Well, I suppose I can move my bed into..."

Mary holds up a hand. "That isn't necessary. There's a connecting door between mine and Matthew's rooms. I'll leave it open. I'm a light sleeper, and Matthew can't get out of bed quietly right now."

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that," Isobel says.

"And why not?" Mary demands.

"It wouldn't be proper. Matthew needs stability and normalcy, which means readjusting to the way things are done. And if any sort of thing got out… " The reply is quiet, but Mary understands the meaning right away.

"And why would you believe I would do anything?"

Isobel's eyes flare at Mary. "Think about why you've come here. That scandal you're escaping. Is it not reasonable for me to have doubts?"

Isobel's words hit Mary like a punch in the gut.

"But..." Mary stumbles backward. "You said you believed it wasn't my fault."

"Perhaps, but I still have my doubts. Mary, you must understand..."

Mary shakes her head. "I thought... I thought I could escape from that here. That there could at least be one place in the world where my reputation wouldn't be soiled, where I wouldn't be subject to comments like this!" She is shaking, but she steadies herself. I deserve this, she reminds herself. I deserve this. But Matthew does not.

Isobel glances at Mary with sad eyes. "Mary, please listen..."

"Oh, I understand exactly what you're saying. Now you might want to get back to Matthew," Mary says, walking toward the stairs. She hesitates, and turns. "For the record, I've slept in Matthew's room most nights we've been here. The walls are thin, and I hear him scream otherwise, when he has nightmares. I spend a good part of many nights in his room. But I have never once touched him, and I would never dream of taking advantage of him in this state. I know how fragile he is, and I remember that night where Pamuk..." tears begin to escape from her eyes, but she chokes them back. "I understand your hesitation. And I deserve it. But Matthew does not. And I firmly believe he sleeps better with me at his side."

She turns and walks down the stairs.

That evening, everyone in the house is an emotional mess.

Mary fumes at what Isobel has said to her, after the shock has dissipated. Perhaps this is how Isobel deals with her own grief, she reasons, and maybe this is just her attempt to exert her need for control. But Mary cannot forgive, not yet. Isobel can deal with her grief, but it isn't fair for her to hurt others in the process, Mary reasons. So her anger is justified, but that is not what she wants to feel. Her emotions, however, do not cooperate.

Isobel tries to ask Matthew about what happened one more time, before quickly realizing that any attempts to get a full understand of the situation are futile, at least at the moment. She spends the evening by his bed, pulling him into her arms, and whispering how much she loves him and needs him into his ear.

This in turn makes Matthew even more emotional than he was previously. He apologizes once every few minutes for causing her the distress, and tries to believe Isobel when she tells him how important he is to her. He cries tears that he didn't think were left in him.

For a while, there is silence.

Silence, for Matthew, for the past few months, has been unnerving. Silence is so different from what he has known for the past four years. He doesn't know how to handle it anymore.

But for the first time since he arrived back home, silence is comforting for him.

It is a small improvement. He barely notices. Yet it is there.

Finally, he breaks the silence.

"I heard you and Mary arguing earlier. What was it about?" he asks.

Isobel sighs. "We decided you need someone with you during the night... not that we don't trust you..."

"But you don't trust me," Matthew fills in quietly. "I understand."

"Mary offered to leave the door between your rooms open, but I told her I felt that was improper. She challenged me on why, and I confessed the whole situation with Pamuk gave me pause."

"Oh Mother," Matthew says, shaking his head.

"I know, it's something that I should have been sensitive to. And I certainly used the wrong words, making her feel as if my fear was more about her doing something than it was about your reputation and return to normalcy. Bringing that up made her angry, and so she shouted at me and left." Isobel looks her son in the eyes. "She told me that she has come in here many times at night, and even slept in here occasionally?"

Matthew looks away from his mother's gaze. "I don't know if she's slept in here, she's always gone when I wake up, but... yes, she has come into here several times. But nothing untoward went on, Mother. I'm sure she's told you that and I can tell you that in full honesty. I don't think she's even touched me, nor I her."

"And you're comfortable with this?"

Matthew nods. "It has helped me. So very much. And I know that the Pamuk incident says nothing of her character, but rather indicates a vulnerability she pretends not to possess."

"You may be right," Isobel replies softly. "I'll let Mary keep the door open, if both of you are comfortable with that."

"We are," he says. "Mother…"

Isobel pats his hand. "Yes?"

"Please… if you can, let her know that you've realized what you said was wrong. If I know her, it probably made her feel hurt and inadequate, and she could never be inadequate. Not to me."

Isobel tiptoes downstairs to find Mary, curled up in a ball on the sofa, staring at the window.

"Mary…" she starts softly.

"Is someone with Matthew?" Mary asks first, instinctively.

Isobel nods and takes a seat across from her. "Yes, Molesley is getting him ready for bed."

"Good," she says, returning to staring out the window.

Isobel frowns, words not quite coming to her. "Mary, I'm… I'm sorry about what I said. I had so much grief towards what had just happened and I guess I lashed out, which you did not deserve."

"Oh, I deserve all that and more, after what I did to bring shame on my family. But I won't deny that it hurt."

"Especially on a day like today," Isobel adds. She sighs, willing Mary to look at her. To her surprise, Mary's eyes meet hers. "A mother wants to protect her child, especially when he is… the way he is. And I am an old woman who has grown up in a world that has a certain code of conduct. But I can see you have nothing but good intentions for him, and in that case, your presence, if it helps him, is far more important than following the letter of a moral law."

Mary blinked, silent for a few moments. "You said you didn't condemn me for the Pamuk scandal."

"And I don't. In a moment of grief, and anger, it was all I had to use and all the reason I… Oh, Mary, does it matter? I was wrong, and no reason will fully explain it. Will you forgive that?"

Her eyes were cold, but slowly she uncurled herself from her position and nodded. "I think we've had enough grief today."

Isobel gave a tearful smile in return. "I agree. What do you say we go to bed? And of course, you can keep the door open. Or sleep by his side. It's improper, but it's so kind of you. To help him like that."

"It's the least I can do. I only hope it can be enough."

Thanks for reading! I was a little bit nervous about the characterization in this chapter... but I think it works okay. Anyway, the upcoming chapter is definitely my favorite that I've written so get excited for that! Although I'm not sure if I'll be able to post it at a usual time since I'll be out of town. But anyway, it will be posted. Please, if you can, leave a review, as they make a writer like me very happy, and it was such a relief to hear what you thought about the last chapter which I was also nervous about... Anyway, thanks again!