The Belle of the Ball
A/N: I'm currently undergoing a mild case of writer's block with ALtwL, so this drabble is inspired by this Tumblr prompt I received ages ago by francuskiakcent – jealous Mary at Sybil's ball. It's slightly altered, seen through Matthew's eyes instead of Mary's, but I do hope you like it. Here goes!
July 1914
The night was shimmering with summer stars; the warm, intoxicating scent of frivolity and merriment and all the grandeur of English high society perfuming the air. Champagne sparkled in goblets; candles twinkled in their chandeliers; giddy debutantes flashed their dazzling gowns in every direction like countless gauzy butterflies. None of it managed to capture Matthew, or fascinate him, or amuse him, as it once might have done. Not like he knew it should. Not … like her.
Mary. Her beauty had always left him speechless – indeed, from the very moment he laid eyes on her … but she had surpassed herself tonight, the delicately embroidered silk swathed around her lithe body, her dark chestnut hair becomingly coiffed, flawless as always … He couldn't keep his eyes off her – but to look at her, even to think of her at all, was to torture himself, to feel deeper the prick of the thorn –the agonising question that gnawed at him – why, why did she not answer his proposal?
Several weeks had passed since that heady evening in May – that night when they had found themselves seated alone together at a corner of the dining table laden with sandwiches and fruit and wine … the swirling tension between them ever present … and suddenly they'd been kissing, his every nerve set alight, every pore tingling deliciously, every last vestige of coherent thought evaporating as his entire consciousness became nothing but Mary, her hands in his hair, and the feel of her lips on his ...
Oh, yes, he loved her.
She was … alluring. Maddeningly exquisite passion, elegance, wit, mystery, fragility, intelligence, more well-read than most … everything he'd fallen deeply in love with.
He had asked her to marry him … and upon seeing (or rather sensing) her hesitation, her visible struggle within – I can wait for as long as you need, he'd said to her, tenderly raising her hand to his lips. He had anticipated only a slight delay, perhaps a day or two to give Mary a chance to make up her mind … Little did he know that days would stretch into weeks, until every encounter, every meeting between them in dining and drawing rooms became a searing agony, Mary unable to meet his eyes, avoiding him every time their paths crossed …
His heart had broken further and further, his mind in unceasing turmoil, the question that nagged and nagged at him but could not be answered – if she did not wish to accept him, why did she not refuse? Why did she keep his hopeful heart dangling, trapped in limbo, every hour, every day imagining the dream (for that was all it was, even now) coming to life, of her accepting him … spending every day loving her, treasuring her company, kissing her cheek as he left for work, her smile lighting up his heart at the end of a long day at the office, holding her in his arms as she fell asleep, waking her with adoring kisses …
As each day passed his hopes had waned, his faint hope that he had allowed to blossom, that she might return the intensity of his affection crumbling miserably, and now the thought of her pierced him like shards of ice, his bitterness frustratingly entwined with his love for her that deepened in intensity every passing day. He wished he could hate her, could wish her to experience the same torment she was putting him through – but he could not. He would love her always, even if she broke his heart over and over – he knew that now. Even if she rejected him, he would bear it, somehow – although the thought of it alone caused his gut to twist in a fresh spear of pain – what he could not bear was this indefinite, endless delay …
Sybil – dear, sweet Sybil – she looked utterly magnificent, flushed with excitement, charming every admiring eye … undoubtedly, the belle of the ball, he thought wryly. She was dancing with the Marquess of So-and-So at the moment, her cheeks pink, her dark eyes shining … She looked lovely, she really did. Everyone had complimented the simple, graceful air of Lord and Lady Grantham's youngest daughter ... Matthew was dearly fond of her, loved her as he would a sister … but then, inadvertently, his eyes turned to another young woman in the far corner of the brightly lit ballroom, and his heart lurched with hurt and crushing love, once again helplessly drawn to her like a magnet …
To him, there was only one who could ever be the belle of the ball.
Throughout that evening he had been approached more than once by flighty young debutantes clearly and unabashedly flirting with him – and he had simply made forced, polite conversation before stalking away by himself. He was in no mood to dance with the daughters of baronets or viscounts or even the Queen herself … there was only one woman in all the world who he wished to dance with – but she evidently did not share his sentiment, and what would be the point in letting her crush him further? His heart ached as he watched her covertly, letting himself dwell on every beautiful feature of her face far across the room. The pink of her lips, the chestnut of her eyes, the long arch of her elegant neck, while intermingling anger, pain, sorrow raged for dominance in his breast, coupled with overwhelming love that surged in the depths of his being for her. For Lady Mary Crawley – who was shattering his heart further every passing day, who held his heart almost against his will – whom he loved so much as he knew he'd never, never love another. They all paled in comparison to her, every one of them. What were these syrupy young ladies – yes, even dear Sybil – next to Mary? To him, nothing and no one could ever match her. There was only one woman, in his eyes, who would bear that becoming title in his heart …
The belle of the ball.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Here's the reveal – it's my birthday, woo-hoo! Can I ask for reviews as birthday presents? ;) Seriously, though, I hope very much that you enjoyed this!