A Love that will Last
Chapter One
"You'd better go and telephone them", Lady Mary Crawley whispered to her husband, who was kneeling by her side, her delicate hand covered by his. Her musical voice, low and beautified with the first tenderness of new motherhood, painted the still air. "But first", she added, tearing her eyes at last from the sleeping baby in her arms, and looking into the impossible depths of blue eyes she knew so well, "I think I've earned a decent kiss."
"You certainly, certainly have", agreed Matthew Crawley, a smile of utter adoration lighting up his face, as he leaned forwards to caress her lips with his.
The kiss was slow, and sweet, and gentle; Matthew's hand rose up of its own accord, to softly touch her chin; neither could have told how long it lasted, nor did they care. They were sealing their love, their complete and utter devotion to each other; – their flesh was entwined, now, by the miracle cradled protectively in Mary's arms; and neither could ever have adequately expressed what the other meant to them, and how they were the other half of each other's hearts – and how neither of them could live without each other.
They separated, slowly, tenderly, lips still lingering as though loath to break their connection. Impossibly deep.
Their eyes met, sapphire and dark chocolate – their souls locking with love once more by their invisible bond.
"I'll be back in a minute, my darling", Matthew whispered in her ear, kissing her hair. He made his way down the hallways, to the telephone, quickly pressing the numbers as he called the Abbey. He wondered briefly if he should drive over in his AC Six – it was waiting just outside, after all – but he'd seen the veiled supplication in his darling wife's eyes, felt it in the touch of her weakened hand beneath his. She did not want him to leave her. And he did not want to be separated from her – from them. Not just yet.
The sextet was seated in the library, upon the familiar, plush red cushions, waiting for the anticipated news of the heir. Cora, Robert, Tom, Edith, Violet, and Isobel – trying, more and more unsuccessfully, to mask their impatience – made inane small talk; about how well things had worked out for the Crawleys, and how they had so much to be grateful for, with two healthy heirs, and an estate in good order – "and I wonder what I've done to deserve it", Robert added reflectively, with the air of a man who has long been accustomed to viewing life through a philosophical lens.
"I agree", Violet said. She could not have been more ecstatic at the birth of a grandson – although, of course, she took care to restrain her emotions, and not make a vulgar display of them, even if her heart was singing. Finally, her tenacious, spirited granddaughter had managed to achieve what her daughter-in-law never could – secure the future of her beloved Downton (although she had long forgiven Cora her one, most rankling failure).
Just then, there was a faint clearing of the throat. Carson had entered the library, uncharacteristically fidgeting, unable to help the helpless grin adorning his face. Deep in his heart, he had just become grandfather.
"Mr Crawley on the telephone for you, my Lord," he announced, clearing his throat. Whether it was to announce his presence or to control his emotions, none could say.
"Thank you, Carson."
Robert Crawley fairly skipped his way outside to the telephone, and picked up the receiver, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he had any control over them. That was the way everyone felt today, it seemed – giddy with excitement, relief – oh, his estate was safe and secure, what more could he have asked? And it was all thanks to his darling daughter, and the man he had long since come to love as a son, whatever their previous rows and disagreements.
"Matthew! Congratulations, my dear chap! We simply couldn't be happier. It's the most marvellous, marvellous news."
"Thank you, Robert", Matthew beamed, his smile like a little boy's, and Robert could almost hear it in his palpable, breathless wonder. "I wonder if you could – all of you – come here to the hospital? In the two cars? I'd drive over myself, but – Mary and I don't want to separate."
Robert gave a chuckle.
"Quite understandable. Well, we'll all come over – two cars will more than suffice – and we'll be there in a jiffy. Congratulations again, my dear boy", he added softly.
"Thank you", Matthew said again. He placed down the receiver, and hurried back to Mary's room.
The afternoon, white autumn light streamed in through the windows, the late September day glowing with a placid chill. And there she was, clothed in white. She looked ethereal, celestial, angelic. Unfailingly regal. Her brown orbs rose, instinctively, to meet his – and they seemed to brighten in a second welcome as her adoration was mirrored in his face. God, how he loved her! His Mary. The one and only love of his life. The mother of his child. He was falling more in love with her, even as the winds blew and the days changed. No words could suffice to articulate the love and gratitude flooding him.
She had shifted a little to the right of the narrow hospital bed while he had been gone, and now she gestured to him to sit by her on the bed. He sank down, careful not to jostle her, and tenderly wrapped his arm around her waist.
Mary turned to gaze at him. Her love, her darling. The man who had been with her, through thick and thin of this pregnancy. The other half of her heart. God, she loved him so much. She was hopelessly in love with Matthew. She wasn't very good at showing it, she knew – but Matthew's faith in her, that she would be a wonderful mother because she was a wonderful woman – had touched her more than she could ever say.
She felt his warm breath, and received a reassuring kiss to the forehead. She felt so safe, now, with his arm around her. A stark contrast to how terrified she'd felt when the labour had begun, several hours ago, and she was here, alone, without her Matthew just outside the door.
"I wish Matthew were here", she'd breathed to Isobel, as wave after wave of clenching pain grabbed her in a vice-grip, though she was doing her best to be as stoic as possible. She was not going to be frightened. She would brave the storm. She was Matthew's storm-braver. "I feel as if I'm only half myself without him."
The truest words she'd ever spoken. Without him by her side, she was not Mary. Not the true Mary. But he was here now, and kissing her, whispering I love you. I love you so much.
On impulse, she lifted her arms and offered him Baby. "You won't be holding him for the next several minutes, darling", she smiled.
Matthew took the baby again, even more reverently than he had the very first time he'd seen his little chap; and cradled him in the crook of his arm, with every ounce of tenderness he possessed. How was it possible to feel such a fierce love for someone, only minutes after you'd met them? Oh, he was a father. The darling child he'd waited so long for, who he'd read to and spoke to and sang to until his throat was hoarse, was here. In his arms.
The baby's eyes fluttered open, delicate as a butterfly's wing, revealing a pair of dark blue eyes.
"Oh…", Matthew breathed, and felt his breath catch. "He's … he's completely perfect", he whispered, so quietly that no one but Mary could have heard it. "Just like you".
Mary leaned her head on his comforting, familiar shoulder. He kissed her lips, and she kissed his; in that interval when their baby was theirs, and theirs alone, before their (over)eager well-wishers joined them. Their family.
A/N: I firmly believe that Matthew was written very OOC in the S3CS. The hospital at Downton had a telephone, and he would never have left Mary and George so quickly. The family also had two cars, as seen in a previous episode. Matthew Crawley is alive and well, and seasons 4, 5 and 6 of Downton Abbey (at least, Mary's character and storylines) are entirely AU.
The title comes from the song "A Love That Will Last" by Renee Olstead.
I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. This is my very first fanfiction. Reviews and constructive criticism are enormously appreciated :)