Chapter Twelve: Matthew Christie

"You have to make the decision to let go of the past if you want to move forward. Reliving your painful past will poison your heart and your tomorrow." ~Bryant H. McGill.

*PSA, there's a lot of time skips in this chapter!*

January 10th, 1868

London, England, United Kingdom, Europe

Sixteen-year-old Marie Dubois stepped out of the carriage and into the snow, her boots crunching the delicate flakes as she stepped down, accepting the hand of the footman as she did so. She tucked a lock of brunette hair behind her ear and looked up.

The mansion in front of her was massive and gaudy, exceptionally so. It was the most magnificent place she had ever seen with high arches and gleaming windows. She felt so out of place.

Approaching the door, Marie knocked hesitantly. Should she really do this? She really needed the money…

No. She would do it. She had to.

A butler opened the doors and looked down on her.

"May I help you?" He sneered, and Marie fiddled with the end of her scarf. Her fingers—long and slender—were red at the ends. She needed to warm up soon.

"Um, I'm here about the advertisement I saw in the paper. Lord and Lady Christie are looking for a gardener to join their staff?" She said hesitantly, and the butler snorted,

"I'm well aware of the advertisement the Lord and Lady posted. Follow me, and I'll summon them." He said, and she hurriedly followed him inside.

The interior was just as grand and elaborate as the outside, with varying shades of red and mahogany decorating every inch of the halls and rooms they passed. The butler showed her inside the parlor and took her coat and scarf, leaving her in the nicest dress she owned.

It was a tatty old thing, with patches on the elbows, and the hem had been mended dozens of times after Marie had tripped and fallen and torn the hem. It was dark green in color, and Marie's mother had always said it brought out her eyes. That was before she had died of fever a few years ago, leaving her in the care of her grandmother as she was the only family she had left. Her father died at sea.

Marie looked up as the doors to the parlor opened, and her potential employers stepped in. She stood hastily and curtsied, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress.

"Hello Lord and Lady Christie. I'm here about your advertisement in the paper." She said quickly but politely, remembering at the last moment her manners. She looked up and took in the appearance of the couple.

Lady Bonnie Christie was tall, slender, and elegant with the prettiest brown hair and eyes Marie had ever seen. She had smile lines around her eyes and was dressed in a magnificent gown of dark purple with white accents and ribbons. The dress itself was high collared and long-sleeved for the colder weather. She wore white gloves, and her handmaids had styled her blonde hair in sweeping waves down her back.

Lord Victor Christie was short and portly. His suit was immaculate and a dark charcoal black. He grunted and adjusted his purple neckerchief, his blue eyes looking Marie up and down with an intense stare. He was balding; his black hair slicked back in an attempt to hide the bald spot at the back of his head. In contrast to his wife, he had no smile lines, and his lips were turned downward in a scowl.

The two of them took a seat, and Lady Christie smiled warmly at Marie, a fuzzy feeling flooding her chest as she smiled back at the older woman.

"It's lovely to meet you, I'm-"

"Buckley! Bring me some tea!" Lord Christie barked, and the butler from earlier hurried in the room with a tea tray. He served the tea hastily but with precision.

As soon as Lord Christie had his tea, he sat back in his seat and looked at Marie.

"So, why do you want to work for me?" He asked, and Marie jumped, not expecting questions so soon. She hadn't even been offered any tea or biscuits.

"U-um… Because I love to garden, and I would love to opportunity to serve this family!" She said, reciting the words she had carefully memorized, drawing on her grandmother's knowledge to help her.

Lady Christie seemed welcoming, but Lord Christie was unimpressed.

"There are many other applicants. So why should I pick you?"

"I'm willing to learn anything and am a very hard worker!" She replied quickly, and Lord Christie nodded approvingly. He liked her answer. That was good.

Nearly an hour later, Marie was being shown to the servant's quarters with the instruction that she would receive her uniform and was to start work immediately. Naturally, she had to refrain from jumping and whooping in delight. Buckley, the butler, seemed less than impressed as he showed her to her quarters. She was to be sharing her lodgings with six other women with a single chest that fit under her bed to contain all her belongings.

The servant's quarters were a massive building with two floors and held many rooms, a kitchen, and a dining area. There was no sitting room or lounge, only bedrooms, the kitchen, and the dining room. Her room held six beds and a set of bunk beds. Her bed was the only one without blankets or pillows and was the bed nearest to the window and, therefore, the coldest. She set her single bag down and flinched as Buckley arrived again with her uniform and unceremoniously tossed it her way.

Her uniform was a nondescript pair of trousers and a buttondown top with a vest to go over it. She was allowed to keep her boots and was supplied a pair of gardening gloves before being told to change. In a hurry, she did so behind the room divider meant for that exact purpose and hurried out to join Buckley before he decided just to leave her alone, braiding and pinning her brunette hair in a crown about her head.

The massive and sprawling gardens were just as magnificent as the rest of the estate. Marie was quickly introduced to the head gardener—a tall and lanky man nicknamed One-Eyed Jim because he had only one real eye and one wooden one—and put to work.

January 14th, 1868

London, England, United Kingdom, Europe

Marie finally met the estate's heir and son of her employers four days after starting work. She was in charge of trimming the bushes around the estate grounds when she met him.

Just as Marie went to cut a large bush, a boy popped out with a shout. She dropped her trimming sheers with a cry of her own and stumbled back, tripping over a root and falling onto her rear.

The boy laughed exuberantly, hands holding his stomach and wiping his eyes of tears as Marie stood and brushed the snow from the seat of her trousers. He was still laughing by the time she was done.

"That wasn't very kind." She stated sternly, and the boy snorted.

"It was hilarious. You should have seen your face!" He exclaimed, and Marie frowned, picking up her trimming sheers as she did so and actually looked at the boy.

He was her age at the very least, with pale skin and large brown eyes. His hair was an unruly mess and a pitch black. Despite the weather, he was dressed in a shirt and trousers without any coat of sorts.

"It might've been funny, but now I'm all wet thanks to you." Marie snapped, already shivering and freezing cold. Now the boy at least had the decency to look ashamed. He frowned, eyes wide as he took in her no doubt pathetic form.

"Right, I should've thought of that. But typically, people don't react that badly, especially not One-Eyed Jim. He just whacks me over the head. I'm sorry." He apologized and held out a hand for her to shake.

"Matthew Christie, heir to the Christie fortune and estate. It's a pleasure to meet you." He said, and she warily grasped his hand with her own after pulling her glove off.

"Edith Cavell. The pleasure is mine." She stated, remembering to use the name her grandmother had told her to use at the last second. Her grandmother had explained that she best use a fake name if anything terrible happened, then no one could trace it back to her if she was involved. Marie thought she was being paranoid but relented nonetheless.

Just then, there was the sound of a door slamming, and a reedy woman's voice pierced the air.

"Matthew Archibald Christie! Get back here now!" It cried, and Matthew's face dropped before he grasped Marie's hand and ran, pulling her along with him and causing her to drop her sheers in the snow.

The two of them ran for several minutes before hiding behind a large pine tree. Marie bent over, panting as Matthew rested his hands on top of his head, interlacing his fingers. Then, after they caught their breath, he spoke.

"Well, that was eventful!" He chirped, and she had to refrain from whacking him.

"Eventful?! I could get fired for this!" She wheezed incredulously, and he laughed, shaking his head,

"I won't let my dad fire you. You're too much fun to have around! Much better than that good for nothing governess my dad hired last month." He said, and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"You have a governess?" She asked, and he shrugged,

"Dad still thinks I need one. Even though I'm already sixteen, how stupid is that?" Marie shrugged; she never had a governess and didn't really understand them anyway.

"I wouldn't know. I can't afford a governess." She said, sass evident in her tone. Matthew looked surprised, as if no one had ever sassed him before. Likely no one had.

"You're a funny one, aren't you? I like you!" He suddenly declared, and she fought the heat rising in her cheeks.

"You—you can't just say things like that!" She retorted, and he pouted, lips pulling down into a frown.

"Why not? I'm just being honest! You're funny, so I like being around you!" He said matter of factly, hands on his hips.

Marie sputtered and choked on her saliva,

"It's improper! The scandal that would get out if someone heard would be astronomical!" She hissed, and he shrugged,

"I don't care about scandal anyway. But what do you say? Will you be my friend?" He said and held out a hand. She stared at it for a moment before relenting, putting her hand in his to give it a firm shake.

"Sure, I guess. It's not like I have many choices." She said, and he grinned,

"Great!"

July 20th, 1868

London, England, United Kingdom, Europe

"You know, you are the only woman I've ever seen to wear trousers?" Matthew said out of the blue one day. They were lying on a hill on the Christie estate; Matthew had stolen her from her work to be with him. She lay with her hands behind her head, watching the clouds pass by.

Marie coughed and sat up, looking over at her friend,

"Where did this come from?" She asked, and he shrugged, turning his head to look at her.

"I was just thinking about it. All the women on the estate and even outside the estate wear dresses."

"Well, it's hard to work the gardens in a dress. Hence the reason I wear trousers." She said, and he hummed, sitting up and plucking some grass and wildflowers and beginning to weave them together.

Marie closed her eyes and simply relaxed. It had felt like forever since she actually got to relax. She yawned and settled in, starting to doze in the summer sun as Matthew was busy doing something next to her. She didn't know what, nor did she care.

She was relishing it when something plopped on her face. Choking on flower petals, she opened her eyes to see a flower crown of white petals resting on her face. Scrunching her nose, she sat up and held the flower crown delicately in her hand. Then, glancing over, she saw Matthew looking proud as he watched her, a matching crown of yellow petals on his head.

"What's this for?" She asked, setting the crown on her head of brunette hair. Matthew rolled his eyes and flicked her nose. She flinched as he spoke.

"I just wanted to, alright? Mom made me learn how to make them." He explained, and she hummed, adjusting her crown on her head. It was nice, this feeling of being near Matthew.

She laid back down, making sure not to crush the flowers, and Matthew flopped next to her in the grass. Her eyelids fluttered closed, eyelashes kissing her cheeks. Surely one nap wouldn't hurt, right?

She was fast asleep by the time Matthew gathered the courage to gently hold her hand.

February 1st, 1869

London, England, United Kingdom, Europe

"Edith, Lord Christie is summoning you," Buckley called, and she stood from her spot in the vegetable garden where she was weeding the spinach. Then, with a frown, she stepped carefully around her fellow servants and followed the butler to the back verandah of the house where Lord and Lady Christie sat waiting.

Lord Christie was positively fuming as she approached the verandah. His cheeks were flushed pink, and she guessed it wasn't from the cold. As she came to a stop in front of her employers, she bowed low; her hands kept tightly to her sides.

"You called for me, M'Lord?" She asked, and Lord Christie set down his wine glass on Buckley's tray and sat forward, steepling his hands together.

"Yes. I want you to stay away from my son." He stated, and Marie froze, stay away from Matthew? Why? He was her friend. She very nearly voiced these concerns out loud but held her tongue as Lord Christie continued.

"I don't want him interacting with the staff any more than he has to. It's not good for him. And I especially want him to stay away from you. I do not need him being friends with a peasant such as yourself." Marie was shaken; should she obey his orders? Could she? Matthew was the only friend she had here; none of the other servants wanted anything to do with her.

Lord Christie was still talking as Marie panicked.

"And if you don't stop talking to him? You'll be thrown out into the streets with not a coin to your name." He finished and sat back in his seat, taking his newly filled wine glass from Buckley. Lady Christie spoke up, hands clasped together and held close to her body,

"Surely not Victor! She's a wonderful employee-"

"SHUT UP!" He bellowed, and Marie and Lady Christie both flinched. Lady Christie's hand came up to unconsciously shield her face. Lord Christie waved a hand and dismissed her,

"Now leave, back to work. And don't forget what I said."

Marie left her employers behind, feeling numb and helpless. Not associate with Matthew? That was going to be more challenging than she knew because oftentimes, he sought her out instead of the other way around.

"Edith!" Came a familiar voice—case in point.

Marie turned very briefly to see Matthew standing by his governess and waving, a happy smile on his face. She ducked her head and hurried back towards where she had been weeding the spinach fields. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Matthew lower his hand, a hurt look on his face.

Several days later, he finally tracked her down. Just as Marie reached the gardens, someone grabbed her hand and stopped her. Turning, she saw Matthew, that same hurt look on his face from a few days prior.

.

"Why are you ignoring me?" He asked, and she pulled her hand out of his grip and kept walking, keenly aware of Lord Christie's gaze locked on her and Matthew.

"I can't be seen with you! Go away!" She hissed, and he withdrew his hand, a deep frown on his face.

"What? Why?" He demanded; she kept hurrying towards the gardens. But, of course, he followed her, feet kissing her heels.

"Because your father said I'll lose my job if I'm seen with you! I can't have that!" She retorted, and he grabbed her hand again,

"Matthew, stop! He's watching! I can't lose this job!" She exclaimed, and he gritted his teeth,

"I don't give a damn if he's watching! You're my friend! My only friend! I won't let him fire you. I'll renounce my inheritance if he does!" He near shouted, and some of the servants turned to look at the two sixteen-year-olds arguing.

Marie frantically shoved her gloved hands over his mouth to stop his shouting and shushed him.

"Fine! Fine! We can still be friends! But you can't keep bugging me while I'm supposed to be working! Not anymore, and especially when your father is watching!" She hushed harshly, and he was quiet with her hands over his mouth before eventually nodding.

After making sure, he wouldn't start shouting again, she took her hands away from his mouth.

"I don't like sneaking around, but I'll allow it just this once." He finally relented, and she sighed gratefully.

"Right, now I have to go back to work. You won't follow me, right?" She asked, and he nodded, crossing his finger over his heart.

"Promise!"

October 4th, 1869

London, England, United Kingdom, Europe

It was cold outside as Marie wrapped her coat tighter around herself and hurried towards the wrought iron gates of the Christie manor.

Her grandmother was dead.

Just like that.

It had been fever, just like her mother.

Marie wiped furiously at the tears welling in her eyes as she made her way towards the servant's quarters through the Christie estate. Everyone else was likely in bed, save for the ever-vigilant Buckley, who made sure everyone else was in bed before he went to bed himself.

At least she didn't have to worry about anyone seeing her cry.

"Edith!" Came a familiar whisper directly up and to her right.

Well, that ruined that thought.

Turning, she looked up to see Matthew leaning out his window and waving. She gave a hesitant wave back, and he gestured for her to come up. Marie shook her head. No way was she climbing the trellis to his bedroom. Nevertheless, he was insistent until she relented and began the difficult climb up the framework of the trellis and into his room.

He grasped her arm as she neared the top and pulled, sending them both tumbling inside the window and to the floor with a loud thud.

"That probably woke your parents." She commented with a wheeze as she rested on his chest, head right over his heart where she could hear it thundering. So he was nervous. Why was he nervous?

"Oh, ignore them. My parents won't care." He said and helped her up from the floor, adjusting a strand of hair behind her ear.

"They will if they see you with me! Your father already threatened to fire me AGAIN the other day if I keep being seen with you!" She hissed at him, and he waved a hand casually,

"I won't let him. Plus, you're the best gardener we have other than One-Eyed Jim anyway."

The two of them stood there for a moment, facing each other. Then Matthew lit up; he held up a hand and pointed at her.

"Wait right here!" He exclaimed and hurried over to his trunk that he had at the end of his bed. Then, rummaging through the chest, he pulled out an object wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. He hurried back to her side and handed it to her,

"Happy birthday! You're seventeen now!" He said excitedly as she took the gift hesitantly. At that, she looked up sharply,

"Y-you remembered?" She asked, and he nodded happily,

"Of course I remembered! There's no way I'd forget! Now open your gift!" She slowly untied the string at his insistence and sat cross-legged on the floor as she tore open the packaging.

A large leather-bound book sat in her hands. The embossed crown on the front felt smooth under her fingertips as she ran her hand over the book. She held it up to her face and took a deep inhale of the leather and new pages just waiting to be filled with ink.

"M-Matthew, this is gorgeous! Where did you find it?" She asked, and he shrugged, fidgeting with his fingers.

"In a little shop on Victorian Street. Do you like it?" He asked, and she nodded quickly,

"I love it! It's beautiful!" She hugged the book to her chest and grinned, feeling giddy at the idea of having something new and hers. Matthew had banished all sadness from her thoughts; he had pushed the thought of having to pay for her grandmother's funeral to the back of her mind.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asked suddenly, and Marie jumped, not expecting the question. Instead, she looked down at her feet, fiddling with the edge of the leatherbound book in her arms.

"My grandmother passed away this morning. It was fever. That's why I was gone all day. Lady Christie gave me the morning off so I could tend to things." She said softly, and it was silent for a moment before she was engulfed in a tight hug. Matthew pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, and she felt her cheeks flush pink at the affection.

"My condolences. I'm really sorry, Edith." He whispered against her hair, and she slowly wrapped her arms around his waist, the book still in hand.

"Thank you, Matthew," Marie whispered back and felt his arms tighten around her shoulders. His heart was still pounding in his chest. She could feel it against her cheek. He had grown in the last year, now standing over her slender frame.

But it was lovely. Marie felt comfort in his embrace, more comfort than she had felt in a long time.

October 10th, 1869

London, England, United Kingdom, Europe

"Um… Edith?" Came Matthew's unsure voice, and she looked over to him from her spot on their hill in the moonlight. Matthew had declared this hill theirs, and they frequented it whenever he could get away from his parents and her from her work.

"Yes?" She replied and sat up, turning to look at him. It was cold outside, but he had snuck a blanket from the house to wrap around their shoulders. So they sat close, shoulders brushing. If his parents knew what they were doing—simply sitting shoulder to shoulder—they'd have a fit. After all, Matthew wasn't technically permitted to touch another woman until they were engaged or married.

Marie watched as Matthew fidgeted with the blanket hem and refused to look at her.

"I- I've been thinking. I've known you for a year now, more than a year, in fact," Matthew began, and she tilted her head, curious as to where this conversation was going.

"Yes, you have. Where is this going?" She asked, and he hesitated, pursing his lips as he thought his words over.

"Willyouletmecourtyou?" His words rushed out all in one go, and she paused, trying to unscramble what he just said.

"What?" She asked, and he rubbed at his face, trying desperately to hide the blush illuminated by the moon and stars.

"Will you give me the honor of courting you? I know you're in mourning, but I had to ask." He said again, this time slower so she could actually understand him. Her brain malfunctioned, and she stopped moving altogether. She blinked once, then twice, then a third time before her face exploded in a blush that crept down her neck.

"M-Me?! Why would you want to court me when you have the entire world at your fingertips?" She sputtered, and Matthew glared at the flowers around them.

"I don't want the world. I want you; you are the one I care about." He stated firmly, and she squeaked as he grasped her hands in his, turning to face her fully so she could see him fighting the blush on his cheeks, but his eyes glittered with determination.

It was silent as Marie mulled over his words. Did she want to court him? He made butterflies flutter in her belly and her heart race. He made her laugh and comforted her when she cried.

The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea. Finally, she smiled and squeezed Matthew's hands back.

"I think that would be lovely. I'd love to." She said with a smile, and his grin lit up his entire face.

December 25th, 1869

London, England, United Kingdom, Europe

The dancehall was alive with the sounds of music. Marie stood petrified as she stepped out of the carriage and watched men and women alike file into the dancehall.

She felt a hand intertwine with hers and looked to see Matthew smiling at her from behind his mask.

"You'll be fine; it's just like we practiced, remember?" He said and led her into the dance hall. The butler announced them as he handed them their invitation.

"Lord Matthew Christie and Edith Cavell."

Immediately Marie regretted her decision to come with Matthew as they mingled with the dancefloor occupants. She was handed a dance card and stared at it blankly.

"Wh-what do I do with this?" She whispered to Matthew, and he glanced down,

"It's a dance card; you fill it out with people you dance with tonight." He explained, and she squeaked,

"I have to dance with other people?! Matthew, you didn't explain this!" She hissed, and he laughed,

"Don't worry; I don't care about the rules, so you can dance with me all night tonight if you want!"

Marie followed Matthew's lead and adjusted her skirts and gloves. She wore green silken gloves and a blue gown with peacock feathers. Her mask matched her dress. It was by far the most expensive thing she had ever worn, the gown and mask being lent to her by Lady Christie.

The string quartet started up with a fast polka, and Matthew grasped her hands, leading her onto the dancefloor with an enthusiastic "let's go!". She set her slender left hand on his right shoulder, and he held her right in his left, placing his right hand snuggly at her waist. Marie had to recall the steps of the polka and tried not to trip or step on Matthew's feet.

The two of them danced the polka, the galop, the mazurka, the waltz, every manner of dances they had practiced the day before after Marie's work had been done. She found herself laughing to the polka and focusing in silence to the mazurka. The waltz was probably her favorite as it gave her time to catch her breath. She liked dancing with Matthew; he was patient and kind, not caring when she stepped on his toes or if she tripped. She knew others wouldn't be as accommodating.

Matthew led her out into the gardens, where they could talk in peace without fear of someone eavesdropping in on them. Marie held his hand as they wandered the carefully cultivated maze of hedges, not caring about the scandal that would erupt if anyone saw. They weren't even engaged yet, and yet here they were, holding hands like some married couple.

Marie was looking up at the stars when she felt lips on her cheek and turned to see Matthew drawing away, a small smile on his face as he looked at her with a special kind of fondness. Her brain went fuzzy, and she had to fight the feeling of butterflies in her stomach. Her cheeks flared with a blush and hid her face in her gloved hands. She heard Matthew chuckle beside her, and he gently pried her hands away from her face.

"I love you; you know that?" He said, and she froze, mind taking a moment to process those words. Then she grinned and threw her arms around his neck,

"I love you too!"

April 3rd, 1871

London, England, United Kingdom, Europe

"So?" Matthew asked, looking nervous and hopeful all at once as he held out his hand; a small box lay open in his palm. A gold ring with roses made of rubies sat in the center of the box. Marie stood shocked at the sight of such a gorgeous piece of jewelry.

"A-are you sure you want to marry me? I mean—I'm just a gardener…." She said quietly, and Matthew stood from his spot on one knee. He gently held her forearms and leaned his forehead against hers. She couldn't help but smile and gently intertwined the unbroken fingers of her left hand with his right, his left hand holding the ring box.

"There's no one I would rather marry than you, Edith. I want to spend the rest of my life with you! So, what do you say?" He asked again, and she nodded, her smile growing.

"Then yes! Yes, I'll marry you!" Matthew beamed and leaned down, kissing her enthusiastically and holding her close. She returned his kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck with a shriek as he lifted her up and spun her around.

For once, none of it mattered. Not his father. Not his father's threats. Not her status versus Matthew's. All that mattered was that moment in time right then.