AUTHOR'S NOTE: I was going to wait until Friday with posting this chapter, but I get terribly impatient when I have one ready to post, so here it is.
After much deliberation and invaluable help from Mmfan1, I decided to keep the T-rating of this story consistent, but I will be posting a more detailed and most definitely M-rated description of some of the scenes from this chapter as a one-shot, for those of you who prefer or at least are interested in it. I will probably do it on the weekend.
Let me know what you think about this chapter - it was one of the few which gave me the biggest headache to write and went through multiple versions. I hope you will enjoy it!
Eryholme, October 1913
Anna looked around her new room and sighed.
On one hand, for the first time in her life she had a room for just herself. That in itself was a luxury she had never experienced before. First she had been living in a cottage with her parents and siblings, then when she had entered service, she had been always sharing a room with at least one other maid. But she was a lady's maid now and she got her own bedroom – a nicest one she had ever had too, pretty spacious for servant's quarters, with a fireplace, floral wallpaper, cheerful curtains and a nice view of the grounds. And electricity! Mr Crawley had electricity installed in the whole house, even the attics, so there was no need for candles. Lady Mary was generous enough to let Anna decorate the room however she wanted and to pick her own curtains and furniture, and Anna was basking in the luxury of it, even though her choices were all pretty simple – but they were her own.
But on the other hand, she missed Downton. She missed the company of Mrs Hughes, who had been taking care of her ever since Anna came as underhousemaid at fifteen. She missed camaraderie with Gwen, who really was like a sister to her. And she admitted to herself that she missed the kindness and good humour of John Bates and regretted dearly they would only see each other rarely now. He had given her no encouragement and actually expressed great happiness at her move to Eryholme – which, after all, meant a promotion for her – but she still felt a pang of regret at the thought of him.
The housemaids hired for Eryholme house, Edna and Ethel, did not make the best first impression on her. Oh, they seemed like good workers and she was sure they would make a good team in keeping the house running, but at the moment she did not foresee herself developing a deep friendship with either of them. Edna, for all her apparent intelligence, seemed rather cold and conniving – although at least with a more pleasant disposition than Miss O'Brien - and Ethel was a silly, dreamy goose, with her head full of romance novels and movie stars. Anna thought doubtfully that maybe they would improve on further acquaintance, but she wasn't holding her breath about it.
At least the cook, Mrs Gruntler, seemed like an ally. She was a cheerful, maternal sort of woman in her forties, with blond hair, ruddy cheeks, and strong arms. She was delighted with the modern, well-lit kitchen of Eryholme and the fact that with no housekeeper she would be in control of the kitchen stores by herself. Anna was entrusted with some of a housekeeper's duties herself, including responsibility for linens, serving dishes and supervision over the housemaids. She thought about it with some trepidation, but Mrs Hughes kindly assured her that she could always write or phone her for any advice she needed.
The kitchen maid was a plucky girl called Martha, with a thick long blond braid and a cheerful smile. She and Mrs Guntler liked each other from the first meeting, which hopefully would make the kitchen more harmonious than Mrs Patmore's kingdom.
The groom Ryder, gardener Whinslow and chauffeur Peters all had lodgings in the small row of cottages next to the stables and the garages. Anna knew Ryder and Whinslow from Downton, although not very well since they weren't eating in the servants' hall. Both of them, as well as Peters, were young men in their twenties and struck quick friendship with each other now over cards and cigarettes. Poor Mr Molesley tried to join in, but it was painfully obvious he did not exactly fit in their company. Anna was wondering if he felt lonely too. At least he seemed very proud of his new position as the butler of a proper manor house. She knew that Mr Crawley was keeping his valeting duties to absolute minimum.
They were expecting Lady Mary and Mr Crawley's arrival at any minute now, the wedding reception at the Abbey must be winding down. Anna was sent ahead to make sure everything was ready for the bridal couple. They were planning to spend the wedding night and the first day of their married life in their new home and start for the Continent a day after.
Main bedroom, Eryholme, October 1913
Mary was terrified.
She could not wait to experience marital relations with Matthew again – she had been missing him in that way for over two years now! - and she knew Matthew was going to be a gentle, understanding, wonderful and passionate lover – she had no doubts about that. What terrified her were her own potential reactions to it.
Could she hide the fact that she had so much more experience than her husband, despite having a body of a virgin? Could she lie with her body while experiencing her beloved husband's caresses? Would he notice that something was amiss with her?
Her hand trembled slightly when she was brushing her hair again. It was completely unnecessary; Anna had already brushed it to glossy perfection, but she needed to do something to calm her nerves.
It was not working.
A gentle knock on the doors connecting the bedroom to Matthew's dressing room startled her so badly she nearly jumped. Matthew was ready to come in.
She put the brush down on her vanity, took a deep breath and called for him to enter.
He was so handsome she shivered with excitement, suddenly overcome by feelings of a very different kind. He was her husband. Everything was permitted now.
To hell with her worries, she thought impatiently. She could finally, finally touch him however she wanted. Looking at his hungry eyes roving over her silk clad figure and loose hair, she felt suddenly confident that he was not going to mind terribly if she showed some boldness.
After all, he had never minded before.
xxx
Matthew was not sure if he was more nervous or excited.
He had been dreaming about this night for months. If he was perfectly honest with himself, practically from the first moment he had set his eyes on his previously unknown fourth cousin, well before he had fallen in love with her. But fallen in love with her he had and this was the reason for his nerves right now. It was too important, she was too important, for him to mess it up somehow.
He asked Molesley to prepare his shaving kit and warm water, but then sent him away, not wanting him to hover while he tried to settle his nerves. He both wanted to have smooth cheeks for Mary and hoped that the familiar ritual of shaving would help him to calm down.
He heard Anna leave Mary some time ago and he ran out of things to do himself – he was washed, shaved, dressed in his pyjamas and dressing gown – and, taking a very much needed gulp of air, knocked on the door to their bedroom. He took another gulp of air when he heard Mary's quiet voice bid him to enter.
He opened the door and froze.
He knew Mary was beautiful. It had been the very first thing he had been struck by, before he got to know and love her. He had even seen her in her nightclothes, on the night that despicable bastard Pamuk died while attempting to force himself on her. But he had never seen her like that.
She was perfection personified.
His eyes were greedily cataloguing every detail – the way her delicate nightgown hugged and accentuated her exquisite body, its shape tantalisingly visible through the nearly sheer material of the lacy garment. The tumbling waves of her glossy brown hair nearly reaching her waist and softening her features. He had never seen it down like that, she had it braided when they had been moving that bastard's body. And it was this very sight, intended only for husband's eyes, that got him out of his stupor by reminding him that as incredible as it was, she was his wife now. He was allowed to touch her. He was allowed to kiss her.
He approached her slowly, encouraged by her welcoming smile, his eyes never leaving hers – which, he noted with a shiver, were giving him a hungry look of her own.
"You look absolutely exquisite, darling," he said breathlessly, thinking that he had never said a truer compliment.
"You look very handsome yourself," Mary answered with a smile, reaching with her hand for his face.
He kissed her, his hands moving towards her body seemingly of their own volition. His heart lost a beat when they touched her without the usual armour of her stiff corset, with just thinnest of silk to act as a barrier.
"Have you ever done it before?" Mary asked spontaneously. She was convinced that he hadn't, like previously, but so many things had changed...
Matthew blushed but shook his head firmly.
"Never. I was raised to consider it an activity only to be enjoyed in marriage. I was teased for my principles at university... and I will admit freely that I have been tempted to disregard them at times, but I never did," he blushed deeper. "I only hope my lack of experience won't make me embarrass myself with you tonight. Or worse, hurt you."
She caressed his cheek.
"Oh Mattew... you could never hurt me. And as for embarrassing ourselves, I think we are on equal ground here," she gave him a saucy smile, which seemed to succeed at lightening the mood.
When they next kissed, their hands growing bolder in their exploration, their nerves started quickly giving way to growing anticipation.
xxx
They laid together for a long while, embracing tightly, kissing leisurely, waiting for their breathing to calm. Neither of them said anything, their heads too full of thoughts and sensations to speak.
Mary hardly knew what she was feeling or thinking. The jumbled memories of what just passed between them – Matthew trying, so very hard, to be slow and gentle with her, stopping completely when she asked him for a moment to adjust – her own body overcoming the initial pain and reacting to him in increasing enthusiasm, so familiar to her mind and memory, if not her flesh – the wonder of experiencing the exhilarating rush of pleasure she had been missing so much for more than two years – the joy of seeing the mirror of it in his raptured face – it was all just too much in some ways.
She could not stop herself from a sad, puzzled reflection – so this is how it could be? If Pamuk never came to her, this was how her first time would look like? She knew Matthew was going to be a gentle and considerate lover – he had been in her first timeline – but even though her body needed to adjust to his as well after years since her first unfortunate encounter with a man it was not virginal and the whole thing was much easier. But this, the care, the attention, the willingness to sacrifice his pleasure and to follow her lead in everything – this was how it should be. How it always should have been. She felt both blessed and cheated at the same time, her past and present colliding.
"How do you feel, darling?" asked Matthew quietly, caressing her arm.
"Wonderful," she said, touching his beautiful, beloved face in wonder, shaking off her reflections and answering as honestly as she could. "I have never thought it could be like this."
And she kissed him, trying to show him the depth of feelings she was unable to put into words.
Finally, Mary stirred to get into more comfortable position and hissed at the stinging between her legs. Matthew's head shot up.
"Are you alright, Mary?" he asked urgently. Both looked down at her and Matthew flinched at the sight of blood on her thighs and sheets.
"I am absolutely alright," Mary assured him, pulling herself up and looking around for a handkerchief to clean herself. He understood instantly, fetched one from his nightstand and started wiping off the blood delicately.
"Are you sure?" he swallowed. "This seems to be more blood than I was given to expect."
"I am sure," Mary smiled at him gently. "It just stings a bit now. I should be perfectly alright tomorrow. And I was definitely more than alright just before."
She winked at him, which brought a smile to his concerned face.
"I love you so terribly much, my darling," he said huskily. "I cannot believe I was lucky enough to marry you."
"No, darling," whispered Mary, lowering herself back on the bed to kiss him deeply. "It is I who cannot believe how impossibly lucky I am."
Master bedroom, Eryholme, October 1913
The first morning after their wedding, Mary woke up first, to her surprise. Usually, it had been Matthew, who had both often suffered from interrupted sleep after the war and seemed to be a naturally morning person. Looking at the darkness outside and the dying fire in the fireplace, she realised she must have woken up way too early, still before dawn.
For a moment, she just let herself to refamiliarize herself again with the exquisite pleasure of feeling Matthew's body against hers, with his arm around her back and her head resting on his chest. With the sounds of his calm breathing and his steady heartbeat under her ear. A melody of 'alive, alive, alive' which she couldn't imagine ever getting tired of.
Not after the horrible six months when she had thought she would never hear it again.
She didn't even notice when she fell back asleep, lulled into it by the most perfect peace she had felt since September 1921.
Bathroom, Eryholme, October 1913
Taking a quick bath before preparing for bed, Matthew thought that he had never felt happier.
Their first day as a married couple was simply perfect, from waking up with Mary in his arms – and how right, how very right that felt! – till the intimate dinner for just the two of them. They spent it wholly together, parting just to dress up for dinner (and Matthew, to his immense satisfaction, dressed just in black tie and dinner jacket instead of getting half strangled by his white tie and tails ensemble. He was in his own home, with his wife, and he could dress however he pleased. The looks Mary was giving him over dinner or the way she was kissing him in the drawing room afterwards, were far from disapproving either).
After leisurely and playful breakfast, they decided to take advantage of the magnificent weather, quite unseasonable for early October, and took their horses for a ride. Surveying the landscape and realising it was theirs and only theirs (well, for all practical purposes at least) was a headier feeling that Matthew expected. And coming back to their house to spend the afternoon together, with no interruptions, was so incredibly pleasant.
But the best, the very best thing about this perfect day was the realisation that it was only the first day of their whole life together. That from now on, every day would be spent with Mary. With his amazing, wonderful wife.
Matthew got out from the bathtub energetically. As pleasant as it was to lay there and contemplate how awesome marriage turned out to be, he expected joining his wife in the bedroom was going to be even better.
Paris-Gare-du-Nord, Paris, France, October 1913
Mary always loved the moment of getting off the train in Paris and suddenly being hit with the realisation that she was in a different country, with the sound of French conversations surrounding her from every side. She looked eagerly around, taking in all the details, as Matthew got busy with making sure Anna and their luggage were taken care of. Her eyes automatically read the destinations of the coming and departing trains.
She froze, unprepared for the sudden feeling of panic overwhelming her when her mind registered the names displayed on the black departures and arrivals board.
Arras, Amiens, Compiègne, Loos, Ypres...
The last time she had arrived here with Matthew, it was him who had gone quite pale at the sight, walking her out of there quickly, with an embarrassed apology on his lips both for his reaction and for his inability to talk about it. The unexpected reminder of the war had been unpleasant to her as well, but nowhere near as strong as it had been for him then or was for her now.
She felt she was going to be sick when she realised what was behind her sudden panic now.
Back then, she had had no reason to fear that Matthew would be caught in anything like that ever again.
And now she knew he could very well be in less than a year.
She was really going to be sick.
Matthew's concerned voice brought her back from that horrible reverie.
"Darling? Are you quite alright?"
He grasped her elbow and Mary realised with surprise that she did in fact need it to steady her.
"I think I am," she answered, searching for control. "Just a little dizzy."
Matthew frowned and led her solicitously to a nearby bench where he left her under Anna's watchful eye to fetch some water.
"Milady, is there anything I can do?" asked Anna, and Mary felt a rising irritation with herself for causing such a stir over such an innocent little thing as names of cities on a board. And she couldn't explain any of her distress to her companions even if she wanted to!
"I'm perfectly alright," she said in a voice she made sure was steady and calm, just as Matthew returned carrying a glass of water from a nearby café. "Maybe it was just getting off the train or the crowd here. Whatever it was, it passed, there is no need to fuss."
She took the glass from Matthew and drunk the water, more to calm him and Anna than herself. She found it did help though.
She resolutely kept her eyes well away from the boards, just in case.
Hotel Ritz, Paris, France, October 1913
Hotel Ritz was one of the first hotels in Europe to provide en suite bathroom, electricity, and a telephone for each room. They were to spend three days there before going to the Riviera.
Matthew looked up in awe at the 6 meters high ceilings. He thought Downton and the London Season inured him to unfathomable luxury, but apparently not completely yet.
"This is where we always stay when we visit Paris," said Mary dismissively, walking through their suite confidently. "Where else would we?"
Matthew just raised his eyes heavenward and shook his head ruefully. Where else indeed?
xxx
Matthew woke up first, which he started to suspect was probably going to be usual occurrence. They were only married for three days, but he already was learning that his wife was not a morning person.
His wife. Mary.
He wasn't sure he would ever get used to the fact that this wondrous woman was truly his wife. It seemed too mindboggling to comprehend. What had he ever done in his life to deserve such incredible luck?
She was still asleep, her head laying on his chest like on a pillow, her chocolate locks tickling his chin slightly. It smelled pleasantly and he tried to identify it for a moment – was it wildflowers? Something summery and fresh and incredibly enticing, like the rest of her.
He hoped that the brief turn she had at the train station yesterday was indeed nothing serious. He didn't want to fret – his Mary was the last person to appreciate being fussed over – but he couldn't help his pulse quickening in concern at even a theoretical possibility of anything happening to her. He could not believe that just over a year before he had had no idea that she even existed; she had become so essential to him in the time since he met her.
He dismissed his worries for the time being and focussed on kissing her head delicately, as to not wake her up quite yet. He wanted to enjoy the moment.
Paris-Gare-de-Lyon, Paris, France, October 1913
To Mary's intense relief, Gare-de-Lyon offered no unpleasant associations whatsoever, serving trains going to the south of France.
And she had lovely memories of the south of France. She was quite looking forward to forming more of them.
Since the journey would take over twelve hours, they bought the tickets for overnight train with a sleeper car.
"Do you want me to read to you?" asked Matthew when they settled in their compartment, seeing Paris quickly disappear behind them.
"Oh yes!" agreed Mary with alacrity. Matthew had the most marvellous reading voice, just perfect for reading aloud. She looked at him mischievously. "How about Dracula?"
Matthew's eyebrows shot up.
"Won't you be afraid to sleep?" he asked teasingly. Mary only stared at him incredulously, making him laugh and raise hands in mock defeat. "Alright then, let's read the gothic adventures of vampire hunting solicitor."
He opened the book Mary handed to him and she leaned against him, with her head on his shoulder and his mellow voice washing over her.
Carlton Hotel, 58 Promenade de la Croissette, Cannes, France, October 1913
Mary came out to a sunny, marble balcony overlooking the Mediterranean and sighed happily.
The hotel they were staying in was completely new, opened just in January 1911, and unbelievably luxurious, with the direct view of the Promenade and the sea. Grandmama booked them the top suite as their wedding present.
She smiled when she saw slightly tanned arms embracing her and relaxed against her husband's chest.
"Have you ever been abroad before?" she asked curiously. It had been a sensitive topic before – none of them had wanted to discuss the years Matthew had spent in France and Belgium during the war – and so many things changed she was not sure she knew the right answer anyway anymore.
"Yes," answered Matthew, hugging her more tightly as they were watching the sun shining over the surface of the Mediterranean. "During university, I made several trips to the continent. Mostly with Jack, sometimes with bigger groups of friends. We wanted to see as much as possible, so we travelled by train from city to city, often choosing a destination on impulse."
He laughed softly.
"Mind you, we never stayed in a place like this," he said, indicating their luxurious surroundings. "But as students we really didn't require much and were satisfied with sharing a room at an inn, as long as it was reasonably clean. It was terrific fun though."
"Sounds like it was," commented Mary, a tad wistfully. "Where have you gone?"
"France, Austria and Germany mostly, because I speak both languages. Switzerland as well, for the same reason. We went to Russia one summer, visited Warsaw, Moscow and Sankt Petersburg – you could find some people there who could speak French quite well and we made some local friends who showed us around. The other summer Italy, but this trip was much too short to be sufficient for anything other than knowledge that I would like to come again and visit it properly one day. What about you?"
"Definitely less than you. We went to Paris several times, and the Riviera, but Papa is not so fond of travel, or the foreign countries. I have no idea how he survived over two years in South Africa, he must have been miserable."
"My parents were fascinated by it. According to them, it is a truly breathtaking country, although of course they didn't see it to the best advantage, considering the time and the purpose of their visit there. But you surprise me rather, have you never been to America?"
Mary brightened up.
"I have! Once only, as a child, but it was such an adventure. It was in 1900, when Papa was away and I guess living under one roof with Granny without Papa to protect her really got on Mama's nerves, because she took us to America for the whole summer. We spent most of it in Newport, with some weeks in New York. I could not believe how different everything there was from either Downton or London!"
"Would you like to repeat it?" asked Matthew eagerly. "I've never been anywhere but Europe and I would love to see some of the sights in the New World."
"Why not?" said Mary lightly, firmly keeping away any thoughts why it was not going to be feasible in the next few years. "I'm sure Grandmama would gladly have us there. If she didn't manage to scare you off for good yet."
Matthew laughed.
"Definitely not. I like both your grandmothers, you know. Probably due to being brought up surrounded by high-minded women."
Mary turned in his arms and sent him a saucy look.
"I just hope you will not get tired of the one you married."
"Never," swore Matthew and kissed her.
Carlton Hotel, 58 Promenade de la Croissette, Cannes, France, October 1913
The Carlton Hotel organised balls for their guests every week and they gladly took the opportunity to spend a whole evening dancing exclusively with each other.
When they took the lift to their suite afterwards, Matthew was not sure if he was drunk on champagne or on his desire for Mary. She looked... He hardly had words to describe how she looked, other than it was maddeningly alluring, and after hours of holding her so close, but surrounded by crowds of people, it took all he had to keep a respectable distance until they reached the privacy of their rooms. He dug his fingernails into his palms to keep his hands from reaching for her.
The best thing about making love to Mary, Matthew discovered very quickly, was that it was only getting better. The more time passed, the more they kept learning about all sweet details of each other's bodies and all the things they could do for each other. There was no place or need for the nerves of their wedding night now - just for passion and joy and love. So much love.
Matthew felt as if he was learning a whole new language of touch, with the sole purpose of communicating to Mary how terribly he loved her. He was learning that if he kissed her just so or touched her just there, her response would be beyond anything he had ever imagined possible, and this new knowledge exhilarated him.
And it was not just him learning and giving. One of his new wonderful discoveries was that his Mary was just as passionate and generous as he was. She was not satisfied with just receiving his attentions and experiencing pleasure; she wanted to give it to him as well. Seeing his own hunger and desire mirrored in her eyes made him half mad with want and need.
Like right now.
The lift was not big and they were standing quite close, their eyes never leaving each other. Matthew noted that Mary's were darkened in a way which promised all kinds of things as soon as they finally reached their suite and found himself licking his lips in anticipation. If not for fear of being discovered by some other guests needing a lift and coming upon them, he would have had her in his arms already, he wanted her so.
How long could this infernal contraption need to take them to their floor?!
When they finally, finally arrived and Matthew closed the door behind them, he didn't waste a bloody second more before his lips were on hers. To his delight, Mary's thoughts must have been going the same direction, because her hands were impatiently reaching to free his neck from his white tie, while his were fighting the buttons of her dress. He had an amused thought about great minds thinking alike, but to be perfectly honest, he was not concentrating on thinking at the moment. Not when there was such exquisite silky skin to touch and taste, and he was just uncovering more of it.
Matthew was not sure how they reached the bed – he had a vague recollection that he carried Mary there for the last few steps in his impatience – nor how they divested themselves of the rest of their clothing – there might have been some tearing of some stubborn piece of it, very much in the way – but here they were, gloriously naked and wonderfully together.
And they had all the time in the world to take advantage of it.
Carlton Hotel, 58 Promenade de la Croissette, Cannes, France, October 1913
Anna looked doubtfully at the torn lace and silk in her hands.
"I don't know, milady," she said apologetically. "I will do my best, but I cannot promise it can be repaired without a trace."
Mary shrugged.
"Oh well," she said nonchalantly. "If it cannot be done than better dispose of it, Mr Crawley will just owe me a new one. I wouldn't want the laundry women to have as much to gossip about us as you do!"
Then they looked at each other and burst into giggles.
The beach, Cannes, October 1913
They were enjoying the sunlight on the beach and Matthew realised he had never before seen Mary so relaxed and carefree. She was always so collected, so poised, it was actually startling to see her sitting carelessly on the sand, her legs curled under her long skirt. She still looked elegant – he was convinced that she was simply incapable of being anything else – but it was as if she allowed herself to forget for a moment that she was the Lady Mary Crawley and remained just Mary, at least for couple of minutes.
He found himself wishing that he could get her like that much more often.
He wondered how else she was going to surprise him, what other facets of her character were left for him to still discover and marvel at. Whenever he felt he had her figured out, that he knew her not only intimately, but completely, she somehow managed to unveil a new feature, making his mental portrait of her seem like a barely started sketch. Sometimes he thought that he could spend fifty years with that woman and she would still astonish and amaze him.
Like she did with her sudden question right now.
"Were you ever tempted to just run away from everything? To live your life unencumbered by any custom or expectation?"
"No," Matthew answered, a bit wrongfooted. "I cannot say I was. I have always felt satisfied with my role and place in the world. The only moment I came close to anything like that was when I learnt I was the heir to the earldom of Grantham. If I could give up that particular burden, I would."
Mary nodded, as if his answer confirmed some thoughts she was harbouring.
"You are indeed a creature of duty," she said, looking not at him, but towards the vastness of the sea.
Matthew's curiosity was aroused.
"Were you?" he asked.
"Many times," answered Mary matter-of-factly. "But as astonishing as it might be for my parents to hear, I am a creature of duty as well, as much as I might kick against the traces. I would never do that, however much I might have wished to at times."
"And what would you like to do if you didn't feel duty bound to remain who you are?" asked Matthew, still reeling from that unexpected revelation.
Mary shrugged.
"I've never thought so far, there was hardly any use, since I was not going to leave anyway. But I guess somewhere I was in control of my life," she smiled crookedly. "A pipe dream if there ever was."
"You are in control of your life now," said Matthew seriously, looking at her with a frown. He wasn't sure he liked the implications of this conversation. "I mean it, Mary. You can do or be whatever you want with me."
She smiled at him in gratitude, but he couldn't get rid of the feeling there was still some sadness about her, her earlier relaxation disappearing, to his tremendous regret.
"We are none of us in control of our fate," she said quietly, then brightened up, more mercurial than he usually saw her. "But we can enjoy the good moments while they last. Do you want to walk along the Promenade? I think I had my fill of watching the sea and letting my mind wander."
He acquiesced but filed her words to ponder them later.
Café Angelique, Cannes, October 1913
Mary sat back, letting Matthew place their orders in fluent French. She loved listening to him speak this language.
"How did you get so fluent?" she asked with interest after the waiter went away. She had previously assumed it was the years he had spent in France during the war and never confirmed it, not wanting to raise potentially painful memories.
Matthew smiled bashfully.
"Mother hired language tutors every summer vacation I spent back home from Radley," he explained. "Both for French and German. I had lessons at Radley as well, but individual tutoring really helped with my fluency. Both she and father still hoped then that I would follow the family tradition of practising medicine and wanted me to be able to study at university clinics on the Continent, to broaden my horizons and learn the newest medical advances."
"Were they very disappointed with your rebellion when you chose law instead?"
"A bit," answered Matthew thoughtfully, then smiled again. "But they could hardly complain it isn't a comparably respectable profession, if less worthy in their eyes, and they could see I was fully determined, so they accepted it in time. They could see my heart was not into medicine."
"Why?" asked Mary with interest. "You were brought up surrounded by it."
"Oh, I indeed was!" laughed Matthew. "And I loved the idea of helping people. But the truth was the reality of medicine was not appealing at all. Not even the blood and the grime of it... but the heavy responsibility for the lives of others... dealing with death and failure regularly, because even the best doctors lose patients, they cannot help it... No, I didn't want that. That's also why I wasn't interested in becoming a barrister and representing my clients in court. I didn't want to deal with life or death matters. I am perfectly satisfied with being responsible for my clients' money. It does not make the world a better place maybe, but I am also free to enjoy my life after leaving the office without the burden of responsibility. I admire my parents greatly, but I do not possess this kind of dedication or strength."
And this was the man who would soon be forced to take responsibility for sending soldiers to their deaths. No wonder the war had haunted him so. Mary's heart was in her throat.
"Are you looking forward to going back to Paris?" asked Matthew, oblivious to her distress. Mary swallowed and reminded herself firmly to stop dwelling on the oncoming war and focus on enjoying life with her husband while she still could.
"I am looking forward to picking up all those clothes I have ordered on our first stop there. I must have something decent to wear during Sybil's season."
Matthew snorted in amusement.
"As if you didn't have a dressing room full of amazing clothes at home. Not to mention whole trunks you have brought with you here."
Mary glared at him.
"Fashions change, you know, and as the future Countess I cannot look shabby."
"My darling," said Matthew huskily, taking her hand for a kiss. "You are incapable of looking anything other than completely magnificent, whatever you wear."
Carlton Hotel, 58 Promenade de la Croissette, Cannes, France, October 1913
Anna finished packing the last of their bags and the porters were coming to fetch them to the waiting cab at any minute. Standing on the balcony to catch one last look of the sea, Mary realised she did not want to leave.
On one hand, she couldn't wait to start her proper married life with Matthew in Eryholme, but on the other... On the other she was so very afraid to face how little time they were assured to have together. Here it was easier to forget and just enjoy the moment in their happy bubble of silk sheets, champagne, sunlight and each other.
When they reached home, the proper countdown would start.