"Lady Mary, I mentioned last week that we can't quite fully measure the extent of your husband's damage unless he wakes. But there's something I haven't quite explained yet..."

Mary's eyes, shiny with tears, widened as did Isobel's. "What?"

"M'lady, if Mr Crawley does wake... there's no saying whether he may or may not be... himself."

"But - what does that mean?"

"Mr Crawley may not remember everything. There may be memory damage, and there is a more significant chance that..." Dr Clarkson trailed off as he witnessed the grieved reaction he was expecting, he lowered his head.

Mary covered her face with a gloved hand and shook. She had mourned the past week and a half without speaking to anyone, a grave face of stone. And now that had cracked once again, in front of the doctor. The thought of Matthew not remembering her was impaling. Isobel gasped and blinked quickly, while tears ran down her aged cheeks.

"M'lady, I am very sorry. Truly. If there were any other conclusions to make instead, I would make them, but you see, I can only prepare you for what is likely." The doctor spoke with condolence, which hurt the most. The lack of hope all of a sudden.

The two ladies collapsed into each other as Dr Clarkson left the room, looking at the floor regretfully.

"Oh, Isobel, don't you see? This is my fault! And I was being childish, we were so cross with each other and I might never be able to tell him that I'm sorry! That I was stupid! Oh... God I was so stupid, Isobel. What am I going to do...?"

Mary's husband lied there, pale, still and scratched and bruised, like Edith had been. What was going on under those eyelids?

...

"There's news from the hospital," Robert came into the dining room.

Everybody sat up straighter. There followed a silence.

"Robert please, do humour us and take your time. I don't think any of us is keen to hear about Matthew," the Dowager pleaded sarcastically, looking up from her breakfast, anticipating in pain, next to Sybil and Cora who were parallel in sentiment.

Robert told them the news. There were tears in his eyes and croak in his voice towards the end of his sentence. He sniffed deeply and sat down.

Everybody, including Carson who stood silently and forlorn had fresh tears on display. "I'll go and tell Edith." Sybil got up, pink in the face, she hadn't touched her breakfast.

When Sybil arrived in her sister's bedroom, she found Edith perched on the edge of the bed looking sickly.

"Edith, what are you doing? You cannot be out of-"

Edith waved the reprimands away with her hand that wasn't resting in a thick cast. "Sybil, please. I've been in that bed for a week and a half! If anything is to do me good it will to be able to bloody stand up."

"But look at you! You're flushed!" Sybil hurried over to make a fuss.

"So would you be, if all the blood in your body was rushing to your head. I just need a few minutes, the nausea will go, and I'm sure I can walk."

"No! Dr Clarkson said two weeks."

"I've had enough rest! I can hardly feel my back pain, it's probably numb from all the laying down. And at least I'm not that horrible grey colour anymore. Please Sybil, don't be annoying. I want to see something other than the inside of my bedroom or the bathroom walls." She wanted to see Bernes, and Matthew.

Sybil sighed and sat down on the armchair.

"What is it?" Edith studied her sister.

"Edith, there's news from the hospital."

"Go on then, tell me!"

"There's a chance that Matthew might have memory damage." Sybil blurted this out before she could think about it.

The words were disgusting. Edith's nausea came back ten-fold.

"But I won't believe it, Matthew's resilient. There's hope. Don't cry, Edith," Sybil added softly.

"Oh that's enough." Edith sobbed, she stood up properly, shaking, she was going to the hospital. "Can you ring for Anna please?"

...

"Oh Mamma just try and stop me!"

Edith, dressed properly, had fumbled down the stairs and made it to the first landing, which was now obstructed by her mother. "Darling you don't understand, I really wish you wouldn't! Dr Clarkson-"

"Oh enough, please. I'm really going," Edith rushed past on her weak legs.

"Then take Anna with you!"

"I can't, she's busy, I'm going right now! And besides, Mary and Isobel will be there!"

The breeze that met her face was saintly. The divine rush of air just lifted her, and was going to make everything that little bit more bearable. Carson had grudgingly sent for an agency chauffeur, who spoke little, which Edith was thankful for.

...

She skittered through corridors which echoed with a repellent familiarity, until she was directed to the ward that she was told by a curious nurse, accommodated a Mr Jason Bernes.

Edith walked numbly passed the curtain that she was gestured to, she wanted to close her eyes, or perhaps run back out of the stifling room. It was a strange reaction that she hadn't expected, when the idea of seeing him again was previously all-consuming, maybe it was for this reason, maybe Edith-

There he was. Lying still as a picture. Casted and bruised and handsome.