Edith wasn't sure who else she could talk to about this. She had been there through his recovery as much as Mary, but her younger sister didn't get enough of the credit. Is Sybil hadn't played a crucial part, she'd heard the way she had helped him through it, explained things to him about his injury and encouraged him, and hadn't treated him just as a patient but as a human being. Sybil was still involved with the war effort, finding ways to support the soldiers that were still finding their way back to the world they had left behind and find a place in it again. She would want to invite her sister to help with the workshop but it seemed she had too much time on her hands. She told her about the idea that she and Isobel had set up. She then asked Sybil if it was a good idea for Matthew, to interact with the soldiers.
"It should be encouraged but don't force him. It could be just the thing he needs. But there could also be a set back." She had seen his unraveling before her eyes, or near unraveling. The look he had had when they had brought the soldiers in to the hospital, in 1916, she had noticed the far away, glassy look, she had once seen in her training. But her voice had been able to call Matthew back, that couldn't be said for the patient. Sybil caught her sister's half grimace. "I hope you're not going behind Mary's back about this."
"Does she really have to know?"
"Yes. She is his wife." And his sole caregiver. He would need one the rest of his life but he could do most things for himself now, more than what was thought or expected. She had thought like many others, it wouldn't affect him in this way. But it had. Like so many others that were struggling, to get back the life they had before. It won't be the same for Matthew, for any of them. This was a different world they now lived in. It would be a miracle, if ever, they could find a way to fit in to it and move on.
"Maybe if you talked to him?" Edith implied that maybe he would listen to Sybil.
"Are the two of you talking about me? I thought I heard my ears burning." Matthew approached them.
Edith nudged Sybil gently, in a manner that he couldn't have seen.
"Edith and I have been wondering, if you've you put much thought into the workshop."
"I have."
"It might do some good." Sybil said. "You don't have to volunteer to do anything or talk, just being there will be inspiration enough, not only it would help."
"Edith can give me the information when it's up and running."
Edith smiled brightly. "I'd be glad to. Just take your time. Whenever you're ready. There's really no rush."
He gave a polite nod and went on his way. Edith turned to Sybil once he was out of sight, "That went rather well, don't you think?"
"I'm not really sure." Sybil gaze didn't leave the direction he had gone, a hesitation behind her voice.
They're not trying to meddle, they're trying to help. Mother didn't put them up to this. They genuinely care.
He told Mary about it as they got into bed that evening. "I was thinking of visiting the soldiers, once they got everything settled."
"That's great darling!"
"Really? Do you really think..." He paused for a moment, "I was able to go through my old army things." His brow creased as it often did when he was deep in thought.
"Isn't your mother still going to France?"
"No. She decided she couldn't go back on her word to Edith. All those soldiers. I don't want you hating her over that. She only thought it could help and she was only thinking of her family. She thinks this will be better, that this will be best for me."
"Only I know what's best for you." She said in a cheeky manner. She leaned over and kissed the side of his face.
"Not just her, you know. You're sisters seem to think so. More so Sybil."
"Does she now?"
"She did care for me, you did too, but there was something about her bedside manner and caring nature."
"And I didn't?" She was trying to tease him relentlessly now.
"You know you were, in your own way. She was always hovering over me like a mother hen. She'll be a natural mother."
"Do you think I will be?" This was still hard for them to talk about at times. "I believe it will happen for us Matthew. I can't imagine it not happening."
"Mary, he said that..." It was rare for someone like him to have kids. If they had to adopt, he'd love that child all the same but deep down he'd feel like there was a part of him missing.
"If nothing happens in a few months, at least till the years out, we'll look into adoption." She kissed his again and lied back on her side on the bed, drifting off to sleep.
He stayed awake, staring at the ceiling, left alone with his thoughts. For once in a long time, since opening the suitcase, they weren't terrifying or berating thoughts. Maybe life could go back to normal. He found himself watching her sleep. He falls in love with her all over again. He had missed her, which was strange because she had been here all this time. He wants to stroke her hair but doesn't want to wake her.
It reminds him how it feels to sleep next to her and wake up and see her. She trusts him, fully, completely. And for once in a long time, he trusts himself with her. Her sound of her breathing eases him.
The workshop had been set up for a few weeks now before Matthew finally decided to go. It was still rather dark inside even though the building had been fitted with modern lighting.
He couldn't imagine Miss Stevens being in one of these places. Many people had spilled their blood and died in the workhouses, whole families. They weren't just horror stories that you hear.
Turning it into a place of hope seemed like a joke. But if it got these men gain the necessary skills to rejoin the world. It was good thing that his mother was going. She couldn't do anything for him, he didn't need her offers, he was doing more than fine. He and Mary were at a better place than they had ever been. He'd jolt awake from a nightmare here and there, several weeks apart, but he never remembered them anymore. He wouldn't be surprised if they faded away entirely. Someday soon, he hoped.
One soldier, who had been training to be a doctor before the war had broken out, lost not only an arm, but also his wife. She had left him because of the drinking.
"You were a Captain, I take it."
"Yes. The Somme." Right after he had made Captain. Captain. He had been in charge of blowing the whistle. He had sent so many men to their deaths, more than he had killed by his own hand. He was responsible. He was to blame...no. He'd only been doing his job. That was in the past.
"Then I don't need to tell you about the demons. We were stepping over the dead pilling them up behind the trenches, watching men bleed to death because there was no time to help. And the smell... it was July. How can I tell my wife that? How can I tell her than watch her suffer from nightmares she ought not to know?"
"You can't but you might let her understand that there are some things better left unsaid."
"It don't work."
Matthew could only nod. He hadn't been in the same boat. Mary never pressured him after he had asked her not to. Though he could agree on the part about the nightmares. "I was injured at Aras."
"Just as bad."
Just as great amount of loss. Everyone in his squadron was long dead, shot or taken prisoner by the Germans. He had been the only one left alive, apart from one Lieutenant, they were usually the last one's to go over, sacrificing others before themselves. That was the past. You can't change the past. This is my way of paying it back.
Mary asked him how it went later that night.
"I don't think I'm going to go back."
"Really? It wasn't that bad was it?" She thought she could sense the tension radiating off him.
"No. I just don't think there's much I can do. Besides, I've got you." He kissed the top of her head as he climbed into bed. I've got all I need right here. He only needed her to move on with the times.
Times were changing. It was more evident when Ethel announced that she had turned in her notice. He couldn't believe that she was leaving. Out of all the people who had been with him through this journey, she was one of the few people that had played a bigger part in it. Those lonely first year, wanting no one to talk to no one. During those dark days, she was there, even when she didn't want her. She was a person to lend an ear to, willing to listen, even though he didn't want her to.
Ethel was leaving after being here since the start of the war. She hadn't made any friends here, she hadn't counted on it , there was no one you could trust but yourself. But in a way, she supposed, Mr. Matthew had become one to her. And Tally. That girl. She seemed to think that they were friends, not only because they had taken care of Mr. Matthew when he'd been paralyzed, it was even before then, when the bright-eyed sixteen came to Downton in 1916, filled with silly hopes. The more Ethel tried to be mean to her, the more she seemed to cling to Ethel.
Now, she and Tally were in the tea room, sitting down eating biscuits. It was late in the evening, Ethel's last night here and she couldn't sleep. She noticed that they hadn't cleared everything away. The biscuits would be stale and the tea cold but it would still be such a waste to throw this all out, with people still starving. She checked to see if anyone was looking, picked one up, about to take a bite when,
"What are you doing?"
She jumped, nearly choking. It was that girl again. She said the Lord's name in vain.
"You're going to hell for that." Tally said, crossing herself.
"Shan't. I don't believe in God." Ethel said through a mouth full.
"I really do hope you change your mind someday. I wouldn't want to see you there, Ethel."
"Man makes his own hell."
"I'll ask again, what do you think you're doing? You could get caught!"
"It's not stealing, if it's all going to go to waste. They won't mind. For Lords and Ladies. It's my last night. I should celebrate like one. Here, try one."
Before they both knew it, they were munching on biscuits, laughing and drinking tea, like real ladies, like they were old chums.
They stopped when they heard a man clear his throat, their eyes wide. They relaxed a bit when they saw it was only Mr. Matthew but they couldn't help but feel ashamed, being caught in such a manner. He must be disappointed. He addressed Tally, as Miss Stevens, could you kindly dismiss yourself for the moment, I need a word with Miss Parks."
"Please don't get her into trouble Mr. Crawley. It was both our idea, promise!"
"Who said anything about getting into trouble." He said slyly. The two exchanged smiles. Tally hanging her head in silent thanks, the smile still on her face, ducked out of the room. Taking an empty tray with her if she was asked what she was doing.
"Miss Parks..."
Ethel stood up. "It's my last night and everyone's in bed, I thought...surely it wouldn't hurt..."
He put up his hand to interrupt her, gesturing for her to sit down. When Ethel sat down, albeit, slowly, he said, "I heard you turned in your notice."
"I heard back from a position, a nursing assistant. Your mother and Lady Grantham put in a good word."
"I'm sure they did." More like Cousin Violet had persuaded his mother. Though it would be the best thing for Ethel. She could start her life over. In an odd way he was going to miss her presence. It seemed almost like yesterday. "Must you be leaving us?" It was still hard to believe.
"You don't need me anymore. Haven't for a long time. I just needed to get my affairs in order. And you have the missus now."
He nodded. It had been wishful thinking.
"What's going on in here? Having a party without me?" They both turned their heads to see Lady Mary standing in the doorway.
"Of course not, my dearest. You're just in time to join us for Ethel's going away party."
"I've heard about that. I hope Granny wasn't too harsh."
"Oh no!" Ethel exclaimed. "She's been ever so helpful, her and Mrs. Isobel. I'm a bit sad to be going, honest, but I do need to start over. Lady Grantham and Mrs. Isobel assured me that it's the best thing I could do. I'll feel lonely at first but no one will know me."
"I'm so sorry, Ethel. If..." Matthew stopped, lost for words. If only things had been different.
"If it doesn't work out, or you need some place to go, you're always welcome back here." Mary said, squeezing his hand under the table. She always knew what to say. He gave her a smile of thanks. "It's the least we can do. For all that you've done."
"Thank you, my lady. Sir."
After Ethel cleared away the trays, Mary and Matthew stayed for a while, till they decided it was time to turn in. They snuck through the halls, as if they were children trying not to get caught staying up past bedtime, laughing as they headed up the stairs, not caring who saw them.