Presents of Love
"This one, sir?" the jeweller asked, in as polite a voice as he could manage – though it was evident that his patience was quickly wearing thin – indicating a dazzling confection draped around the neck of a white mannequin.
"No – not quite," Matthew muttered, shaking his head. "It wasn't that one." Behind him, the jeweller's assistant gave an audibly exasperated sigh.
Christmas was just around the corner, and … he still hadn't managed to find it. That necklace which Mary had had her eye on for so very long, glimpsed it in one shop window or the other, remarking on its delicate, understated elegance, sapphires and diamonds strung together in stunning simplicity. He had promised her he'd get it for her some time – she had a particular fondness for necklaces, he'd discovered long ago – but he could not for the life of him find it now. He knew his wife's tastes (or at least, he thought … he hoped he did) and he chuckled quietly when he imagined her reaction to the lurid, heavy, thick necklace the man had pointed to. It was garish, gaudy, ostentatiously sparkling … nothing like that elusive necklace that was proving damn near impossible to find. He'd scoured the recesses of the tiny building, hunting for it … but to no avail. He knew it was somewhere in here, he just knew it; he vividly remembered walking down with her one evening hand in hand, when it had captured her eye. His eyes roved around the fairly large shop, just to check if there was anything the assistant might have overlooked –
There. There it was.
Just … right there, by the shop window – he was certain it had been displayed at that very spot – but his face fell, for the spot was empty.
"Where is it?" he asked, gesturing to the vacant spot, "the necklace that used to be there – "
The jeweller's eyebrows were raised.
"That particular piece of jewellery was one of our most exclusive items and was sold a week ago," he informed Matthew stiffly. "I assure you we have plenty of others in our collection that your wife would no doubt appreciate very much –"
No, Matthew thought unhappily; his darling deserved the best of things, not … a replacement, not something second-rate. It was their first Christmas as husband and wife, and – she'd been worrying so much about not being with child yet (so was he, only he was doing his best to disguise it from her) that he had wanted to take her mind off it, just for a little while. Oh, he wanted to give it to her, so terribly much, only … he couldn't.
"Well, I … thank you – very, very much for your assistance," he huffed out distractedly. There was simply nothing to be done, it seemed.
"Always happy to help, sir," the jeweller said, with a curt bow.
He walked out into the fresh, sharp cold, completely, utterly disappointed. She'd still have the bottle of lavender scent from Asprey's, he thought, but … that wasn't quite the same as … that necklace. How often he'd seen her long fingers idly playing with the delicate pearls and beads, fiddling with them, fingering them when she was tense, or nervous, or anxious – just one of her little mannerisms, so many of which he'd observed up close on their honeymoon, that made his darling wife impossibly more endearing in his eyes.
Christmas Day broke, cold and bright, over the Abbey, awash with glittering lights and exclamations over unwrapped presents.
"My darling," he said, dipping his head shyly, as he gently slipped the two wrapped parcels into Mary's hands, watching for her reaction. How he wished he could have given her what she really wanted …
"Oh, Matthew – how perfectly marvellous!" His heart lit up at her glowing smile, and the way her dark eyes sparkled prettily when the wrappings were ripped off, to reveal a tall, slender bottle of Asprey's lavender scent and … and a simple rose-gold chain with a tiny heart-shaped pendant.
"I don't know what to say. Thank you, darling," she murmured, leaning over to kiss his cheek.
"I'm so glad you like it …" he chuckled, his eyes bright with adoration, with affection, as he lifted her hand to his lips.
"I do, very, very much," Mary said, adding with a smile, "but I don't particularly want to put it on myself, so if you'll be so kind, my darling – "
His fingers hastened to gently clasp the catch at the back of her neck, only just stopping himself from pressing a kiss to the little curve there. The pendant hung upon her chest, contrasting magnificently with the soft pearl-grey of her dress – simple, elegant, graceful … her neck warm and deliciously tingling where his fingertips had touched her.
Matthew had been absolutely delighted with his Christmas present – a full collection of Dickens' works that he'd loved so much as a boy, and … a handsome journal, bound in rich, sweet-smelling leather. Additionally, she had massaged his back earlier that morning with scented oil (it still tended to get a little stiff and sore on particularly cold and wet days) and a deep blush rose to his cheeks at the memory of her intense, passionate kisses he had not hesitated to return …
The family had cleared out of the library for lunch – it was, after all, one of the only two days in the year they would be serving themselves – but Mary still lingered, and so did he.
"What is it?" she asked, her hand resting upon the small of his back, as he settled himself beside her on the deep red sofa.
Matthew gave a slight, shy laugh, that she had quickly come to recognise as self-deprecating. Something was bothering him, she could tell.
"It's only … I'd wanted to get you that necklace you wanted, you see," he muttered, "that day down in the village – and it appears it's been bought by someone else. I only wish I'd got it sooner."
Mary stared at her husband, and inevitably, inexorably … leaned forwards to kiss him.
His eyebrows shot up at the unexpectedness of it, even as his hand rose instinctively to tenderly cradle her face. Mary felt half indignant. How silly he was, how ridiculous, to think that it mattered at all to her – anything from him was and would always be utterly perfect in her eyes, she knew that. But oh, he was such a darling to her – she could not fail to be deeply touched by how wonderful he was – her own sweet, kind, gentle Matthew …
"I love you," she whispered. "And the necklace, too – so don't you dare go feeling sorry about the necklace, darling, because … it's perfect. It's from you. I wouldn't have it any other way."
Matthew nodded mutely, the delighted grin splashed across his face better and brighter than sunbeams. They kissed again, savouring each tender sip of familiar lips, unwilling to tear themselves away from this haven of bliss, never wanting it to end …
A slight stumble and a hurriedly stifled cough awakened them, and Mary swivelled around to see Carson at the door.
"Beg your pardon, my Lady," he said, his eyes fixed upon the carpet as though trying to learn it by heart. "His Lordship was asking after you – and Mr Crawley."
"Yes, of course, Carson," Mary said brightly. "Thank you. We'll be there in a minute."
The butler left in rather a hurry, very keen to avoid their eyes.
"Never mind, darling …" she whispered in Matthew's ear, "we can always carry on later …"
Yes, he did fully intend to carry on later, and the prospect of that, Matthew supposed, as he pressed a last kiss to his wife's forehead as they both left the library, was quite a reasonable compensation for the interruption of their Christmas kiss.
A/N: Thank you so very much for reading! As always, reviews are much appreciated :) :)