Hello dear reader, this story starts in medias res, meaning that the M rated part starts straight away. Mature readers only. If you feel uncomfortable reading about mentions of sex with dubious consent, I advise you to turn back. But don't worry, Matthew ain't into that shit.
Some of the characters might be slightly OOC. I have taken a few liberties with Sir Richard Carlisle, Lavinia Swire and Cora Crawley.
We are dealing with some dark themes in this story, however there is always a sunset awaiting even after the darkest of nights.
Summary: Mary's and Matthew's decision to marry Sir Richard and Lavinia led them all down a bitter path. Twists of fates sends them back into each other's arms and their sinful reunion induces another inferno.
Title: Inferno
Yorkshire, Downton Abbey, 1921
Matthew nuzzled her neck. He had her pinned between the wall of her old bedroom and his solid, robust chest. Mary sighed from the sensation of his hot breath on her delicate skin. It was so unfamiliar, with Pamuk it had been intrusive kisses and a few thrusts before his heart had given up and he collapsed on top of her. With Richard it had been mechanic and demanding. It wasn't enjoyable. She had never quite gotten warmed up enough and he was insistent on getting the deed done when he finally was ready in the marital bed. A deed. A chore. That was what she would categorize it. When she finally had fallen pregnant, she was relieved, as it meant he could retreat to his own bed and leave her alone.
Matthew, instead, seemed to enjoy cuddling her. Or whatever his insistence on holding her in his arms while kissing her neck meant. Mary was used to her lovers behaving in a hard and demanding way. Even though Matthew's softer approach was unfamiliar, she wouldn't say that she didn't enjoy it. It was quite pleasant to be embraced like this and he sure smelled fantastic. Mary allowed herself to sniff and properly index his scent. Aftershave, whiskey, and something that must be Matthew. She drew another deep breath to inhale his masculine scent.
Mary helped him to get out of his jacket. He was boiling hot! Mary fumbled and found the buttons on his waist coat and started working on them but was stopped when his lips found hers again. Her legs were wobbly and if he wouldn't have held her as tight as he did, she might have pooled to the floor in a boneless mess. She felt warm in his embrace and had even started to perspire a bit. Matthew seemed none the wiser and continued his onslaught on her mouth. She was chocked by his feverish behaviour. Matthew Crawley was usually a restrained man, a kind man behaving in the most proper way a gentleman should do. This was not the proper Matthew she had known for years. This was something else.
It was indecent.
It was scandalous.
It was forbidden.
She didn't mind it at all.
Mary moaned into his mouth. He groaned back and kept his hands steadily on her shoulders.
Oh God, he was so warm. Mary decided to remove his waistcoat completely. Matthew broke away for a second and pulled off his cravat. With shaking fingers, she started to unbutton his shirt and let her fingertips shyly track his chest. It was a new experience. A quite wonderful experience. The blond soft hair tickled her fingers in a quite pleasant way. She found his heartbeat and pressed her hand firmly against his racing pulse centre.
For the first time since the start of their heated embrace, she looked into his eyes. His blue eyes, always so inviting, kind and sweet had an unfamiliar aggressive hunger to them. Mary's hands found his hair and she slowly drew his face back closer to hers again. He understood her cue and started sucking on her lower lip.
She explored his soft, silky hair. He stopped for a moment and moaned from her administrations. The fact that Matthew seemed to enjoy fingers running through his hair and nails scraping his scalp was such a domestic streak in the midst of their disgraceful union.
Their lips found one and another again.
His hands moved lower and stroked her breasts through her thin nightgown. She sighed with content. When Richard had touched her nipples, she had usually flinched. They were too sensitive, and his hands were too rough. Matthew's gentle palms, as opposed to Richard's boisterous ones, were welcome. Mary found herself enjoying it as he caressed her. It was a new sensation, being caressed by her lover. Mary's head swam with delight from his administrations. Suddenly his hands found her belly. Her small bump. Her heart stopped.
She was back to reality again.
Reality was harsh and cold.
They were not lovers.
She was the widow, currently in mourning as her husband's heart had given up unexpectedly on a business trip up to Edinburgh.
He was the newly minted Earl of Grantham, stained by the most shocking divorce society had witnessed. The new Countess of Grantham had eloped just after a few months of marriage, forcing the new Earl to initiate a divorce citing adultery.
Less than twelve hours ago, they had attended the funeral of Sir Richard Carlisle. As their eyes met in church, she had detected a longing she hadn't seen in a while. He stood there, undeterred by the whispers about his failed marriage, and held her gaze. She had been covered by a thin veil and dressed appropriately as the mourning widow. Mary had looked away when his gaze had turned out to be too burning. With her father gone not too long ago, she had no close male relatives to hold on to. It had felt terribly lonely, and she cradled her slight bump absentmindedly for comfort. Then Tom turned up by her side and offered his arm to escort her to her place inside the church and Matthew had disappeared out of her sight.
Matthew had watched her walking into the church with Tom. She looked beautiful as ever. By now he was aware of her condition and with a sharp pain in his chest he concluded that pregnancy fit her perfectly.
His short and failed marriage had been childless. A series of unfortunate happenings had led to a wrongly timed wedding ceremony. Robert had passed away suddenly, leaving Matthew to take up the mantle earlier than he had expected. So, when Miss Lavinia Swire had walked down the aisle to marry her Matthew Crawley, she wasn't marrying Matthew Crawley the heir but Matthew Crawley the Earl of Grantham. While Matthew had 8 months to adjust to his new role, Lavinia had hidden away in London and finally when the day came for her to return to Downton as the new mistress, she had been shaking of fear.
That wedding night, Lavinia had been crying in his arms.
The crying became a normal nightly routine during their short-lived marriage. Lavinia never settled into the role of Countess. Manoeuvring the Violet's comments, along with a catatonic Cora and a whole battery of charities, tenants and the tasks related to running of the estate, had proven to be difficult for her.
When Matthew looked back and reflected on his own behaviour, he wasn't too proud. No wonder she was driven into the arms of another man already after three months when he had found comfort in the bottle. Watching Mary with Sir Richard was painful. With Lavinia in London, it had been easy to hide his drinking. He always made sure to open the bottle after he had retired to his new room at the Abbey. He was constantly hungover in the mornings and therefore planned all his meetings after lunch, claiming that he preferred to do his paperwork early. The aristocratic habit of getting up late had also helped him. For the first time, he was able to sleep in on weekdays, lounging in bed and nursing his hangover with plenty of water before he walked down to breakfast.
He had thought he could control it.
But as the months rolled on, it became clear that he was dependent on it. During the days, Matthew usually longed for the late evenings, when he would sit down with his whiskey, listening to the gramophone securely hidden away in his own wing of the estate. He had refused to leave the Bachelor wing for that very reason, he didn't want to risk waking up Edith or Cora.
It wasn't until after the wedding, he moved into the family wing. By then, Cora was in the process of moving into Grantham House in London and Edith spending more and more time working in the newspaper business, he found the family wing private and silent. He was secretly relieved. Lavinia, instead, was horrified by the long, dark corridor in the deserted part of the house.
With his pressing matters as the new Earl and Lavinia's father's poor health, they had chosen to go on a honeymoon later. Lavinia had made her way back to London to see her father and Matthew had waved her off at the train station as the darling husband he was supposed to be. He was supposed to be dotting on his new young wife, and not pinning after the dark haired, married beauty at Haxby. It was shameful.
Lady Mary Carlisle.
He didn't like the ring of it at all.
While he was preoccupied with thoughts of Mary and worrying about her increasingly thinning figure every time he would meet her, Lavinia took care of her father in London and, as he had found out later, Lavinia also met another man and fell head over heels in love.
She sent him a letter, wishing him the best of luck in the future, telling him that she was eloping and gave him the permission to divorce her. A couple of days later, her father sent him another letter, begging him to release his daughter waving a small fortune in front of Matthew's eyes.
He was tempted to accept the offer. The death duties for Robert were hefty, and the estate was leaking money due to severe mismanagement. He lacked cash now and quite soon in the future, he would have to acquire the cash somehow. None of his proposed solutions would be able to scale back the misfortune. He would soon have to sell off land or perhaps one of the houses the family owned to save the estate. It was his pride that prevented him from taking Reggie Swire's money. Matthew filed for the divorce anyway and the scandal shook Downton, sending ripples all the way to London.
All while he was doing his best to manoeuvre the whispers and insinuations, he tried to hold his head high. During this precarious time of his life, she turned up again. Mary. His Mary, announcing that she was pregnant.
He wept that evening.
Not too long after, news of the untimely death of her husband broke. That brought her back to Downton for the funeral service and general family matters. Cora refused to let her sit alone in Haxby.
All these events had somehow ended with him, standing outside her maiden room, knocking on the door asking to be let in. Being allowed in. Asking to take her in his arms. Being allowed to do so.
"Oh Mary," Matthew breathed against Mary's shoulder.
Mary rubbed circles soothingly on his shoulder blade as he sobbed dry tears on her shoulder.
"Mary, it could have been us two. This," he rubbed her slightly protruding belly for emphasis.
She was suddenly cold sweating from his intimate confession.
"If I wouldn't have been such an impossible, stubborn idiot!" He berated himself.
She hushed him softly.
He kept on talking against her neck. "I can take care of you, Mary, you and the…"
Do be quiet, Matthew!
"What will it look like to society? What will people say? You are not even properly divorced yet; it will take months! By then I will be heavily pregnant and still in mourning." Mary's pragmatic approach took over. At least aristocrats were able to keep their heads cool and think clearly even during the most distressful times unlike the emotional middle class.
"To hell with society!"
She jumped, Mary had rarely heard him swear. A few times as he was recovering from his spinal damage during the war was all. She supposed he used more colourful language in the trenches and refrained from swearing among the ladies.
"Mary, you never seemed happy with that man. I could see that."
An ice lump had formed in her belly. It was true. However, she was surprised that he had been able to see through her so easily. She had married Sir Richard Carlisle, newspaper magnate, to keep the Kemal Pamuk secret hidden away from public eye, protecting her family honour and the estate reputation. It was a business deal. Quite easy to uphold towards society during the day. However, it had proven more difficult to uphold during the night. Mary had found that her body responded well to caresses and kisses. She realised she enjoyed the act and if it would have been with another man, she would probably be insatiable, but it was difficult to be wanton with Richard. She was never ready enough. He had his own marital problems and wasn't able consummate their marriage until nearly a month after the church ceremony. By then they had experimented with different positions and for a successful coupling, Mary been relegated to a quite an undignified position with her cheek and upper body pressed against the mattress and bottom in the air with her husband thrusting from behind. Even though it allowed her tight muscles to relax and allow him in, it had still been an unpleasant affair.
Matthew continued, without noticing her inner turmoil, to whisper sweet nothings into her ear and freed her from her thin dressing gown with his shaky hands. One strong arm circled around her waist and pushed their hips together. He was getting ready, she felt him against her. As Matthew guided her back to her bed and gingerly placed her on her back, her erratic thoughts had already started to scream in her head. How should she explain to him that she had to position herself in such an unladylike manner that would allow her to relax? She hadn't tried it in her current condition. Richard hadn't touched her since Dr Clarkson confirmed her pregnancy. Her new belly might be in the way, or it would just simply be tiresome for her back? She stared up into the ceiling and heard the clinking of his belt buckle somewhere from far away. A ruffling of fabric and he was suddenly on top of her.
"Matthew," she started to say.
His face was in her line of vision.
His blue eyes sparkled, and a sly grin, fuelled by the whiskey, had fallen upon his lips. "Mary, I want to love you."
Before she could respond, he had descended and pushed her nightgown up to her waist, still covering her belly. A bit disoriented, Mary waited for him to enter her and for her to feel the uncomfortable tight feeling of accommodating a man again.
It didn't happen.
She looked down with surprise. He was too far down now. Matthew sent her a sultry smile before he-.
Mary gasped out loud from the unfamiliar sensation.
Matthew was kissing her there. Not only was he kissing her, but he was also lapping and moaned as he did so. She saw his golden locks buried between her thighs in the most indecent way she could imagine. Matthew purred and found her bundle of nerves. A wave of electricity shot through her body in the most pleasant way. Something was slowly building up somewhere deep inside her. His hand found one of her breasts and caressed her perky nipple through her nightgown. Her body seemed to know what to do, and she found her hips rolling, back arched and toes curling.
His scent.
His muffled sounds of pleasure.
His kisses and caresses.
It was lovely. She came.
He crawled back on top of her and buried his face in her hair, while she still was shaking.
"Darling Mary, do you feel that I am ready for you?"
Mary let her hand travel over his chest, across his warm abdomen and found his erect manhood. He was right, he was ready. This was new. Both Kemal and Richard had expected her to help them to get properly aroused. Richard so more than the much younger Turkish ambassador. Matthew on the other hand, must have sorted that out on his own, she thought in her dizzy state. His arousal along with the relaxed feeling she felt in her body, she was quite content to open herself for him.
Something was suddenly burning inside of her. She wanted the whole experience. It was the next logical step to enjoy him properly.
"Yes."
Matthew shifted on top of her. "Do you prefer to be on top now in your err-, situation?"
She blinked. He looked concerned. His sweet side had taken over the ravenous persona he had sported earlier.
"I would like to-," she blushed. With Richard she had been ordered around and she wasn't used to her lover asking for her opinion. Her blush deepened as she whispered her preference. Matthew grinned and hastily placed her legs on his shoulders and angled her legs as she had asked. Mary held her breath as he entered her slowly. She felt her muscles clench around him, and he slowed down.
"Will you please err-, Matthew darling, lean forward a bit more."
He did so and she reminded herself to breath. She was wet and with her thighs resting on her belly and him on top, he easily glided further into her. Mary let out a relieved sigh, closing her eyes as he rocked slowly.
"Is it okay?"
She hummed in delight.
He took that as a yes and started speeding up, following her cues and demands. He smirked as she breathlessly asked him to thrust both harder and deeper. He enjoyed himself and enjoyed her. Her warm, soft and slick walls around him was incredible. And what a sight she was! Her dark hair contrasting against the white linen. Her rosy cheeks and mouth formed as an 'o' while her breathing matched his movements. She had gotten a bit rounder, and he noted with delight that her breasts bounced along with his thrusts under her nightgown.
"Oh, Matthew," she moaned and squirmed underneath him.
That sent him over the edge.
As he rolled off her, Mary focused on her own breathing and pushed down the nightgown over her knees again. The only light source in the room was the fireplace. She was happy that the light was so subdued, it meant her burning cheeks were hidden from his vision.
That was it.
Quite pleasant.
Now what? She supposed she would turn over and fall asleep while he would collect his clothes and retreat to his room. They would never speak of this episode ever again.
Matthew fussed beside her and crawled closer. He drew her blanket over them and settled by her side. Close. She sniggered; he had chosen the decorative red blanket she always had by her feet as she slept. Well, all proper notions were gone anyway, so why not continuing breeching protocol? They had sinned much worse earlier this night.
He snuggled closer and let out a content sigh.
She stared into the ceiling.
What on earth was she going to do about this affair? She pondered on different outcomes, each of them resulting in disgrace in society and broken hearts. However, in the bigger picture, societal disgrace was the least of her problems right now. Mary wasn't a particularly religious person, but the fact that she had invited a lover into her bed the night after her husband's funeral was a new low. She turned her head slowly to study the blonde mess that was Matthew's hair. Mary craned her neck and placed a kiss on his hair and breathed in the faint smell of soap. He was currently snoring softly against her shoulder, completely unaware of her dark thoughts.
She was going to hell, and so it seemed, he was going there as well. They had both constructed an inferno to live in.
A/N: The angst train is going full steam ahead!