Sitting room, Dower House, October 1913
"How long is Matthew to be gone?" asked Violet, watching Mary putting sugar in her tea. That girl was truly and effortlessly graceful, she noted with proud satisfaction.
"Just two more days. He is catching up in the office after being away in Scotland, so everything is done before our honeymoon. And he has his bachelor party."
"A bachelor party?" asked Violet with raised eyebrows.
"Don't act so surprised, Granny, they have been around for a long time. He is entitled to some fun with his friends."
"Just as long as it's not too much fun, my dear," muttered the Dowager darkly. Mary rolled her eyes in exasperation.
"Granny, this is Matthew. I'm sure he will be perfectly well behaved, whatever his friends may try to talk him into."
Violet responded with a rather patronising look at her granddaughter.
"I never took you for a naïve girl, Mary, but you skirt dangerously close to it now. He is a man, and you have barely known him for a year. I am not calling him a lothario, but you must realise that you do not know him enough to be sure."
"I do know him enough," said Mary through gritted teeth. She bitterly regretted in the moment that she couldn't point out to her grandmother that if her fiancé managed to stay celibate through four years of trench warfare he was not very likely to succumb to any temptation at his bachelor party. Matthew's morals tended to cause trouble due to their strength, not lack of it.
Violet shook her head, but thankfully dropped the subject.
"And who does he have this party with?" she asked instead.
"I don't know everyone invited, but out of our acquaintance I know that Jack Weatherby, Cousin Freddie, Vivian MacDonald and Billy Russell will be there. The others are his friends from Manchester, Radley and Oxford whom I did not meet yet."
"He seems to make friends fast, doesn't he?" noted Violet with interest.
"He seems to be generally well-liked," smiled Mary fondly. She was much better at navigating social minefield at a party, but he was the one who genuinely got along with most people, even if he appeared a bit awkward at first.
She hoped he was having fun. In her previous life he had declined to have a bachelor party. He had said most of the participants he would like to have there with him were dead. She was so glad he got to experience it now, before that nightmarish war could steal it from him along with so many other things and experiences.
"When is Cora's mother coming?" Violet asked, pursuing her lips in distaste.
"She gets into Liverpool on the 6th, so she will be here the day before the wedding."
"And how long is she staying?"
"I'm afraid until Edith's wedding. It wouldn't make sense for her to go back in the meantime, although she wrote she is considering doing some travelling to the Continent if she gets bored at Downton and in London."
"Oh, wonderful. Two months with the Queen of Sheba," Violet looked skywards. "Or more, if she is staying for Christmas as well. Is she?"
"She didn't say. Just that she will be attending both weddings since they are so close together."
"Edith should have waited until next year. Or even better, have a joint wedding with you," Violet cackled at Mary's aghast expression at the thought. "Is Cora's brother gifting us with his presence as well?"
"Apparently business prevents him from making the journey, especially considering how long Grandmama is planning to stay," answered Mary calmly, hiding her amusement at Granny's dislike of her American in-laws. She herself was rather looking forward to spending time with her rarely seen Grandmama, especially since this time around not only she was free from any necessity of wooing her for her money, but also would have her own house to retreat to if the company got a bit too much.
"Can you believe that Rosamund wrote asking if she can bring that nouveau riche pal of hers to the wedding?" asked Violet scornfully, making Mary nearly choke on her tea. She looked at her grandmother with wide eyes.
"But you and Mama said no, didn't you?"
Thankfully, Granny scoffed in immediate affirmation.
"Of course we did. Thank the Lord she is not married or even engaged to that abominable man, so there was no reason we should issue him an invitation. She fumed a bit but accepted it."
Mary released a sigh of relief and regretted it immediately when she noticed Granny observing her with her usual sharpness.
"Why do you dislike him so much?"
Mary winced. She had no wish to enlighten Granny about the whole tawdry saga of Mr Pamuk's death and Richard's subsequent blackmail attempt. Never mind her real history with the man!
"He expressed some interest in me before my engagement," she said curtly. "And afterwards too, in a manner I did not find gentlemanlike."
Violet frowned concernedly.
"Does Rosamund know about it?"
Mary winced again.
"No," she admitted reluctantly. "I did not expect her to grow so close to Sir Richard, so I never mentioned it to her. I guess I really should now."
"Yes," nodded Violet, looking displeased and vaguely worried. "This friendship of theirs is growing much too close for comfort. Make sure you talk with her during the wedding."
The Library, Downton Abbey, October 7th, 1913
"Do explain again how exactly you are related to all of us, Mr Crawley," asked Martha Levinson imperiously.
"Rather distantly, I'm afraid. My great-great-grandfather was a younger son of the third Earl." answered Matthew with a good-natured smile, despite bracing himself internally for what was coming.
"My, I'm going to have to write that down so I can study it."
"Look at our page at Burke's. You'll find Matthew there," said Robert proudly. Whatever his initial misgivings of learning that Downton and his wife's fortune would be going to a fourth cousin from Manchester, of all places, he couldn't be prouder of his soon to be son-in-law now.
"Good. Because I would so like to understand why he gets to inherit my late husband's money," said Martha pointedly.
Cora caught Robert's eye, while Matthew struggled on.
"I know. It's funny, isn't it?"
"Not everyone shares your sense of humour."
Isobel jumped to her son's defence. She could not stand him attacked for something which was not in the least way his fault.
"But surely it doesn't matter now they're getting married."
"I guess not. I still think it's rather outrageous."
"It is," agreed Matthew, to her evident surprise. "It is unfair and outrageous that your daughter's fortune should go to a complete stranger rather than either to her eldest child or to be divided among all her children. Our marriage does solve this injustice for the practical purposes but does not deny the core of it."
Mary sent him a loving look and then stared into Martha's eyes. This is the man I'm marrying, Grandmama. Do you see how right it is?
Martha Levinson raised her glass to her in silent acknowledgment.
Library, Downton Abbey, October 7th, 1913
To Mary's extreme frustration, the closer they got to the wedding, the more closely chaperoned they seemed to be. Which made no sense, really – even if they got carried away, what harm it would have done? She didn't think anybody doubted her and Matthew's commitment to each other and even if they decided to abandon all kinds of principles and conceived a child, it would have been born perfectly respectable nine months after their wedding.
Not that they would ever go so far, but seriously, it was still perfectly unnecessary for their family to hover so.
Which was probably why she pulled Matthew into a darkened library as soon as everybody else was suitably distracted with welcoming Granny arriving for dinner.
Matthew barely had time to make a questioning noise before her lips were on his. Judging by his enthusiastic response, he didn't mind in the slightest.
"Are you looking forward to the wedding?" he asked breathlessly a moment later.
"What do you think?" Mary answered with a question of her own, fully aware that her voice could only be described as sultry.
"I'm looking forward to all sorts of things," he said, the promise in his low voice and his darkened, hooded eyes making Mary shiver with anticipation.
"Don't make me blush," she gasped as his lips descended on her neck.
"My life's ambition is to make you blush," he muttered against her skin and she found herself unable to form any witty reply to that.
It was probably for the best that they were suddenly and rudely interrupted by Jack. Probably.
"I am so terribly sorry to disturb you," said he, sounding much more amused by causing their quick jump apart from each other than sorry, the insufferable man. "But I've been sent to fetch the groom here and stash him somewhere until tomorrow to keep any bad luck away."
Matthew glared resentfully at his friend and sent Mary a mournful look, but they did make their goodbyes in a much more proper manner.
Unfortunately.
Study, Crawley House, October 7th, 1913
Jack and Matthew settled comfortably in Matthew's study at Crawley House. The room looked strangely bare; most of Matthew's possessions and some of the furniture were already moved to Eryholme. He was hit suddenly by realisation that this is the last time he would be able to call this house his home – by that time tomorrow he would be at Eryholme. With Mary. As his wife. Probably in the bedroom...
He took a big gulp of his drink to steady his nerves after that particular image.
"Steady on, Crawley. You don't want to be still drunk at the altar," teased Jack with a smirk. Matthew glared at him without malice.
"Since I don't foresee you in my position any time soon, I would stop from criticising a groom for his nerves if I were you."
"All the same, find some better way to settle yours or your bride is going to skin you alive. What are you so nervous about anyway? You're madly in love with your future wife and by all signs and against all odds she seems to be exactly as much in love with you, what's there to be afraid of?"
"I don't want to disappoint or hurt her," mumbled Matthew, staring resentfully into his drink, but deciding it was going to be his last. Jack was right, damn him, he did not want to get married with a hangover.
"You won't hurt her, however clumsy you're going to be," said Jack assuredly. "You're not a brute who would disregard how she feels, so you will be gentle and that's all which is necessary until you both get more confident about the whole thing. And after I walked in on you two today, I hardly think either of you is going to be disappointed. Not with the way you looked when you were kissing."
Matthew felt the heat of embarrassed blush creep up his cheeks, recalling the scene Jack had inadvertently witnessed.
"I just wish there was a manual," he said helplessly. "I would feel much better about it all if I were sure I knew what to do."
Jack snickered.
"Didn't you tell me once that you used to practice your German as a schoolboy by perusing your father's textbooks on sexology?"
Forget the blushed cheeks. Matthew was sure even his ears were red.
"That's hardly a manual!" he spluttered. "Although I admit, it was most informative."
"Did it have pictures?" asked Jack, waggling his eyebrows.
"I am not answering that!" said Matthew, fighting to preserve what was left of his dignity. Then he gave up and laughed, remembering the boy he had been, finding such unexpected treasures in his father's study. "But I will say my German got very much better that summer."
Mary's bedroom, Downton Abbey, October 7th, 1913
Mary was sitting in front of her vanity, looking at herself in the mirror. It was the eve of her wedding to Matthew.
For the second time.
She could not help thinking about the last one. They had quarrelled so bitterly that day, her disappointment in Matthew's unwillingness to save Downton, to put the home which meant so much to her and her family ahead of his completely irrational guilt over Lavinia's death, so visceral, so torturous. At that moment she really had doubted if they should get married, however much they loved each other – wouldn't they only end up hating each other if they could disagree on such fundamental level?
But then he had come to her, despite the late hour – she had already been in her nightclothes! - and he had managed to talk her down from her fears and resentment, remind her of all that they shared, give her hope again that they could and would be happy – and oh God, he had been so right – they had been happy, so very happy, until that horrible, horrible day when they had had their little prince finally only for Matthew to die and leave her so desperately alone.
She shied away from the memory of his death and focused on the other one – how he had asked for a kiss, and she let him, but only if he agreed to keep his eyes closed. Of course he had acquiesced, he had always put her above himself and fulfilled both her little whims and serious wishes, as long as it had not gone against his conscience and principles. He had never peeked, but she had and the picture of his sweet face, so much older and careworn than the smooth one of the man she was going to marry tomorrow, filled her mind now.
After getting engaged to this younger version of Matthew, after they grew closer together through his help with Pamuk and confronting Richard's threat, after spending time together and expressing their love freely, she did not think about the husband she had lost nearly half as much as in the beginning. The two Matthews started to blur into one another in her heart and head; the younger one no longer a relative stranger, but a man as dear to her as the other. He was just Matthew to her in all essentials, even though different in some small ways from the man she had known previously. But she was different now as well. She was definitely not the girl she had first been in 1913, but she was not the woman who had married the love of her life in March 1920 either. The grief she had survived, her miraculous second chance, it all made her different in unexpected ways. She could only hope that it was for the better.
But as much as she could not wait for tomorrow and finally having Matthew officially hers again, for their new life together to start, she took this evening to say goodbye to the one who had fulfilled his promise to love her until the last breath left his body.
Mary's bedroom, Downton Abbey, October 8th, 1913
Looking at herself in full length mirror the next morning, dressed in all her wedding finery, Mary could not stop herself from another mental comparison. She looked so different as a bride than she had the last time!
Her dress, a Worth original, was a gift from Granny, the design very different from the soft lines of 1920s fashion, but no less beautiful. Her lingerie was from Lucille, the embroidered corset accentuating her figure spectacularly, at the unfortunate cost of comfort. Her face was younger, softer, her hair styled differently, with upswept locks instead of small waves softly surrounding her face. Mary took unexpected comfort in the Grantham wedding tiara, the only thing besides her engagement ring which was the same.
She was accompanied only by Cora, Anna sent to help Sybil and Edith to get ready for the last time.
"My dear, I put it off long enough – too long probably – but I think we should talk about tonight," said Cora nervously and Mary felt her eyes widen.
"It's really not necessary," she said firmly. Cora looked at her in surprise.
"Somebody already explained everything to you?"
"Yes," said Mary hastily. "I really think I know enough about what I should expect. There's no reason to talk about it further."
Cora stared at her doubtfully but decided not to look the gift horse in the mouth. She wasn't comfortable with the topic either.
"I just wanted to assure you that when two people love each other – as you and Matthew clearly do – everything is the most terrific fun. So whatever you heard, just know that there is no need to feel nervous or afraid. I'm sure everything will work out splendidly."
"Thank you, Mama," said Mary, really touched by the reassurance, but determined not to hear any details which would necessarily be based on her mother's experience with her father.
Thankfully this was the moment when her sisters entered the room. Mary didn't think she was ever so glad to see Edith.
"Oh, Mary, you look so beautiful!" exclaimed Sybil, herself enchanting in pale blue silk matching her eyes perfectly. "Matthew won't be able to take his eyes off you!"
"That's the goal," Mary smirked. "Thank you, darling. You look marvellous yourself."
"Sybil is right," said Edith unexpectedly. "You do look radiant."
A compliment from such an unexpected source did startle Mary, but she decided to take it on face value.
"Thank you, Edith," she said, adding magnanimously. "And I have to repeat my compliment to Sybil. This colour really suits you."
Edith was dressed in powdery rose gown, which indeed made her complexion look fresh and rosy. She fidgeted nervously at Mary's words and looked pointedly at the clock.
"I think we should go."
"What about Anna? How are you getting to the church?" asked Sybil.
"They're waiting for me in the wagonette. I'll see you there," answered Anna pleasantly. She looked quite excited herself, Mary noticed. From today, she was moving to a different house, getting promoted to a lady's maid with some housekeeper's responsibilities and in two days she would be leaving England for the very first time to accompany Mary on her honeymoon.
Sybil embraced Mary, careful not to wrinkle her dress.
"Oh darling, I know your marriage is the one everyone wanted, but what's so thrilling is that it is every bit as romantic as a fairy tale. I hope I will meet someone I love so much as you do Matthew one day!"
"I'm sure you will, darling," answered Mary, looking at her lovely little sister and desperately hoping for a better ending for her. "Thank you for always being so sweet."
Next she was approached by Edith, giving her a cursory kiss on the cheek.
"Love and position, in one handsome package. Who could ask for more?"
Well, Mary could ask for more polite tone from her sister, but she again decided to listen to her better angels on this day of all days.
"I'm sure I couldn't wish or ask for anyone better than Matthew," she answered sincerely, barely caring for Edith's surprised expression. She didn't even roll her eyes when her sisters and Anna left the room.
"Never mind Edith," said Cora blithely. "Well. Very, very good luck, my beautiful daughter."
She grasped Mary's hands with obvious pride and honest affection, and Mary felt her throat tighten.
St. Michael and All Angels Church, Downton Village, October 8th, 1913
Matthew walked into the church with Jack, both handing their top hats to the usher. His earlier nervousness gave way to eager excitement, and he barely kept himself from skipping to the front row. He noticed the archbishop waiting at the altar and the church still filling, although most guests were already seated; Mary's on the left and his on the right. He greeted his friends and Uncle Edward with Aunt Margaret and his cousins as he passed them, sending a fond smile to Mother. He scowled briefly at the sight of Tony Gillingham seated in the middle of Mary's side – who the hell invited him? - and bowed politely to Marchioness of Flintshire, who coldly returned the gesture.
"This one doesn't seem to be a fan of yours," noted Jack drily, making Matthew chuckle.
"It's the Marchioness of Flintshire, the Dowager Countess' niece. She thinks Mary could have done better than a solicitor," he explained, putting as much scorn and horror into his profession as possible. Jack laughed quietly.
"Do you think she would find it more or less outrageous if you decided to pursue medicine, as the rest of your family?" he asked curiously. Matthew shuddered theatrically.
"I am afraid to know and definitely do not intend to ask."
But then he heard the sudden cheering from the churchyard and lost all interest in banter with his best man.
xxx
Mrs Margaret Turnbull, Isobel's sister-in-law, leaned in to her.
"And the girl is nice?"
Isobel thought. She would not quite concede 'nice', but...
"I think she is right for Matthew," she said with a smile, feeling only utter content at seeing her boy so very happy.
Carriage ride to the Church, Downton Village, October 8th, 1913
The ride to the church was a dizzying mix of déjà vu and startling variances.
It was the feeling she expected to experience many more times today. She definitely did when she saw Papa and Carson watching her come down the stairs, their faces equally awed, just like before.
The same old carriage and the same proud smile on Papa's face; the same cheering crowds gathered to see the spectacle of the Earl of Grantham's eldest daughter marrying his heir; the same white bunting festooned over the village streets – but on the other hand, a glorious autumn day instead of bright, bracing March morning; the trees blazing with colours instead of barely covered with green buds and new leaves; her more unforgiving corset forcing her to seat straighter than her 1920 clothes ever required – and above all the very strangeness of the fact that she was getting married to the love of her life for the second time. It all made the day feel quite unreal and vaguely uncanny and for a moment she fervently wished that her life had taken a more normal course.
She banished that thought as soon as it arose. In the normal course of events, Matthew would be in his grave and she left to pick up the shattered pieces of her life without him. What happened to her, however insane, was a miracle and she was going to appreciate every minute of it. She just wished to have anybody she could talk about it, at least once.
Her whimsical thoughts were quite forgotten when the carriage stopped in front of the church. Before she realised, Papa was assisting her down the steps and, among loud cheers, led her inside.
And there he was, her fiancé, in just minutes now her husband, looking radiant and resplendent and gazing at her with such wonder and love that her own chest threatened to burst from all the emotions swirling in her heart. She was barely aware of the gathered guests she was passing on Papa's arm, her eyes focussed on him – on Matthew.
St. Michael and All Angels Church, Downton Village, October 8th, 1913
Matthew could honestly say that he had never seen such a wonderful, marvellous sight as Lady Mary Crawley walking up the aisle to meet him at the altar.
To become his wife.
He could hardly believe it was really happening. How in the world did he get so lucky as to earn the love of such a magnificent woman?
He barely noticed the ushers closing the church door, the hymn ending and Robert taking his seat after kissing Mary on the cheek, his whole attention occupied by his bride standing now next to him, looking at him with such deep feeling in her expressive brown eyes that he had to swallow hard to contain his own emotions.
He could only hope that he would turn out to be a husband worthy of such a wife.
xxx
Mary's voice trembled a bit at the words 'till death do us part'.
It did and it didn't after all, however completely impossible it was.
She grasped Matthew's hand stronger and wished with all her heart that this time they would get the fifty years together they deserved.
Their proper happy ending.
Churchyard, Downton Village, October 8th, 1913
They left the church in a flurry of flower petals, cheers and flashing lights of the cameras. The wedding of the Earl of Grantham's eldest daughter to his heir was going to feature heavily in the next issues of Tatler and Sketch and be mentioned in multiple other publications, including some of Richard's, as Mary remembered with a bit of vicious satisfaction.
Before she even realised, Matthew helped her get into the carriage and soon they were on their way to the reception at Downton, looking at each other with exhilarated disbelief that they were truly husband and wife now. The cheers followed them alongside the streets.
They were passing Crawley House and she was struck by the terrible memory of seeing Matthew again for the first time since he had left her and George in the hospital just to never come back again and him looking at her without a trace of love or recognition, as at a complete stranger she in fact had been for him at that point. She looked at him now – her husband again, her husband! - and saw the very same dear, loving, adoring look in his blue eyes as she had got used to – and oh, she wanted to scream from overwhelming joy.
Things were finally right again.
Great Hall, Downton Abbey, October 8th, 1913
"Tell me, what do you think of young Lochinvar who has so ably carried off our granddaughter and our money? Do you approve of him?" asked Martha Levinson, sipping her champagne (excellent, she had to admit. Whatever she thought of her son-in-law, at least he kept a spectacular cellar) and eyeing the bridal couple dealing with the long line of well-wishers.
"Not as much as you will, when you get to know him," answered Violet honestly. She quite liked Matthew, sometimes despite herself – he was truly a good and honourable man, if often determinably middle class – but he was too much of his mother's son for her taste with all those progressive ideas of his. Then again, Mary was clearly making a good choice for herself here and she was satisfied with it. Since Robert was too stubborn to do anything with the issue of the entail, it was the best thing that could happen.
xxx
Matthew gave up on trying to commit the guests' names and faces to his memory about a quarter into the receiving line. There were just so many of them!
He sent an admiring look at his wife – his wife! - who stood there, smiling brightly and accepting all the wishes gracefully, without the slightest sign of tiring of it.
His smile turned more genuine when they were finally approached by a very welcome pair of familiar faces after at least a dozen of toffs he was seeing for the very first time in his life.
"Lavinia, Reggie! I am so happy you could make it!" he exclaimed happily.
"We wouldn't miss your wedding for a world, my boy," said Reggie Swire, shaking Matthew's hand cordially. "Lady Mary, I've always thought that you are one of the most beautiful women I have known, but today, you look simply radiant."
As Mary was thanking Reggie for his compliment and subsequent well wishes, Lavinia shyly approached Matthew.
"It's awfully grand here," she said, looking around with round eyes. "I knew you said it was so, but I still couldn't imagine something quite like that."
"It certainly does take some time to get used to it," admitted Matthew with perfect understanding. "I haven't quite gotten used to it myself. And yet, to Mary and her sisters, this is simply home, as hard as it is for us to believe it."
They were soon led away by Jack, promising to introduce them to Mary's parents and sisters. Matthew hoped that Sybil, being Lavinia's age and the most easygoing aristocrat he ever encountered, would soon set Lavinia at ease and help her enjoy the festivities.
The next people in line were more trying to his nerves, even though not exactly unfamiliar.
"My most sincere congratulations to you both!" said Lord Merton, looking at Matthew with evident liking and at Mary with even more evident fondness. If only he wasn't accompanied by his sour wife and two strapping, sulky sons.
"Yes, felicitations," said Lady Merton in a tone clearly implying that she thought the occasion deserved anything but. Matthew sighed inwardly and broadened his smile determinedly.
"Thank you both," he said, trying not to count how many people were still left in the line.
xxx
Matthew's humour was much improved when the infernal line eventually ended and he led Mary – his wife! – to start their first dance together as the married couple.
"I thought I would never get you to myself," he murmured as they moved deftly around the room, the guests slowly joining them. "Are you sure we didn't invite the entirety of English upper class?"
Mary laughed.
"Hardly. And whatever you think, this is neither the grandest nor the biggest wedding I've seen. Just wait until we are invited to a wedding of a duke. Or a royal one."
Matthew startled slightly, suddenly realising that he could, in fact, realistically expect to be invited to a royal wedding now.
"At least we wouldn't be expected to greet everyone in line then though," he pointed out.
"Just to stand in one for hours," laughed Mary again and Matthew's heart soared at the sound.
"Oh, but the excellent company would make the time fly," he said, looking at her and thrilling at the fact that they would be spending time together at every event such as this from now on because they were married. "I could never feel bored with you around."
xxx
Cora teared up in happiness when she and Robert joined Mary and Matthew on the dancefloor.
"Can you believe it?" she asked Robert, looking at her oldest daughter and her husband, looking so well and so in love together. "Our first chick leaving the nest, and Edith is soon to follow!"
"I am sure happy it all worked out like that," said Robert feelingly. "Matthew is not only my heir, but a genuinely good and kind man and it is obvious he adores Mary. I have every hope they will be very happy together. Maybe even as happy as I am with you, my darling."
Cora smiled at him, her eyes and heart full.
xxx
Mary finally managed to get Aunt Rosamund alone in the corner of the room and she gave her the perfect opening by bemoaning the fact that Sir Richard could not attend.
"He was quite keen, you know."
Mary gulped. She was unpleasantly reminded of exposing Lord Hepworth with her aunt's maid. Why did she have to have such inclination for complete rotters?
"I can well believe that," she said quietly, looking at her aunt seriously. "Aunt Rosamund, I was intending to talk with you about him, actually."
"What about?" asked Rosamund and Mary could see that she put her on her guard.
"He has been... very ungentlemanlike towards me," she said hesitantly, searching for words.
"Curiouser and curiouser," muttered Rosamund, looking at her intently. "What has he done?"
"He tried to blackmail me," said Mary bluntly. "He learnt some wild rumours regarding me – very inaccurate ones – and he threatened to publish it unless I agreed to be his friend."
"I see," said Rosamund, her face unreadable. "And then what happened? Since obviously nothing scandalous has been published about you, I take it you managed to dissuade him somehow?"
"Matthew did, by threatening to sue him for everything he got."
"How very appropriate threat for a solicitor," chuckled Rosamund, but sobered quickly and gave Mary a shrewd look. "When did it all take place?"
"In July and August," said Mary, trying to decipher how Aunt Rosamund was taking her revelations and frustratingly unable to come to any conclusion.
Rosamund nodded, as if the timing was fitting with some timetable of her own.
"Thank you for telling me," she said lightly, taking another sip of her champagne.
"Does it mean you will break your friendship with him?" asked Mary.
Rosamund's eyebrows rose.
"Heavens, no! This is not how we are together. But you gave me a very useful peace of information when it comes to handling him."
Mary stared at her with incredulity.
"You will keep associating with a man who threatened me with ruin?"
Rosamund rolled her eyes.
"It was not your ruin he wanted, just your attention. But considering that you just got married, the matter is rather moot, isn't it?"
Mary just continued to stare at her. She hoped Rosamund was right – and Richard certainly hadn't bother her again after she had broken things off with him and married Matthew in the previous timeline, so hopefully this was the course he was going to pursue this time as well – but how could Aunt Rosamund be so dismissive of such behaviour?
"You don't have to worry about him, my dear," said Rosamund brightly. "I have him quite under control."
Mary thought with a heavy heart that she would have felt more at ease if she hadn't made such a confident and obviously false statement herself once upon a time.
xxx
"How are you doing, my darling boy?" asked Isobel, looking tenderly at her son as they were twirling over the dancefloor. Matthew was such a good dancer! "I don't have to ask whether you're happy – it is written all over your face."
Matthew's face was indeed glowing with contentment and happiness, which in turn was making Isobel the happiest of mothers.
"A bit tired and dazed, but also as if I were walking on air," Matthew smiled self-deprecatingly.
Isobel raised her eyebrows impishly.
"And dying to finally get out of here with your bride, aren't you?"
Oh, she loved seeing her boy blush like that!
"I won't deny there is a bit of that as well," he answered, laughing softly. "It seems completely surreal that after all this waiting we suddenly are married and going to our own house to spend the rest of our lives together. I can't believe it's real."
"You can well believe it, my boy," said Isobel with a fond smile. "Everything is exactly as it's supposed to be."
xxx
Finally, finally, the festivities – or at least their part of it – were at their end. Mary disappeared briefly upstairs to get changed from her wedding gown into her lovely going away outfit, less cumbersome to travel in, and they were led outside, surrounded by family and guests saying their goodbyes and final wishes for their marriage and honeymoon.
Peters, their new chauffer, was already waiting for them in their new Renault, and before Mary knew, she and Matthew were sitting inside and on the way to Eryholme.
To their new home.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: And here they are, finally married again! That took both long enough (18 chapters and over 100k words!) and extremely little time (compare October 1913 to March 1920 in canon). That was quite the journey, both for Mary and for me, who put her through it.
I wanted to thank here all my reviewers, especially guest ones since I do not have opportunity to thank you in person by responding to your reviews. You are all such a motivation to keep writing! I cannot even express how much each review means to me. I hope you all will continue to enjoy this wild story.
Chapter 19 might take a moment, mostly because I cannot decide how to handle their wedding night. I have a very clear picture in my head, but I have written several versions of it and am still pondering which works the best with character of the story and the rating.