It was a few months before their wedding. Doctor Jacobson had her summoned to his room. Anna had said that it was urgent.
"Today is the day, mi'lady. Mr. Crawley is going to attempt his first steps!"
Mixed emotions filled her. Would he be able to walk? Would he only be able to stand like he suspected? He would be so disappointed. But no matter what, she would stand beside him.
Matthew was already situated at the end of the bed. Dr. Jacobson took one arm, my lady? If you would."
"Oh, of course." Mary went over to Matthew's other side and grasped his elbow.
"All right, Mr. Crawley, whenever you're ready. We're here to help. Just don't plan to attempt any mad dashes. But keep in in mind the most important thing is that you can stand, if that's all you feel that you're able. There's no rush."
"I've been practicing standing for months. I think I can manage one step. That's all that matters. One step."
"Whenever you're ready." Was it her or did Mary detect a hesitance in his voice? Was Jacobson doubting his own diagnosis? "On the count of three. One...two...three..."
She helped the physician help him to rise. Mary felt a tremor pass through his body, to her arm that was supporting him? Was it just nervousness?
How could his body still be weak, with the past few years and months of exercises? Did doctor Jacobson lie? Was Matthew's first impression of him correct, that he was a charlatan, scamming them for their money, mostly her money, her mother's money. The way things were going, she didn't want to believe, that she would be the one to bankrupt them before her father could.
If that was true, could she face him? They had gotten through the Pamuk fiasco. A part of her felt that Matthew felt obligated to marry her, to protect her from the scandal, even though Matthew truly loved her. It was hardly fair to dump all this on him too.
She remembered those letters he'd written in the cold and lonely trenches, felt cold and lonely themselves, but the love also seeped through them.
You could break my heart into a million pieces over and over, Mary Crawley, but I would never stop loving you.
She hadn't denied it. She had felt she'd been taking advantage of it. She had exposed her soul to him, confessing her sin and accepted her flaws and loved her for who she really was. Wasn't that enough reason that she was worthy of his love? A small part of her didn't believe so, but perhaps in time.
"Alright." Matthew exhaled. "I'm ready."
With them still holding on to him, he took one attentive step.
"You've done it, Mr. Crawley!" Doctor Jacobson enthused. "Well done!" He exchanged a secret smile, while Matthew's attention was down at his feet. "How are your legs feeling, any pain or discomfort, tightness?"
"Not bad." He gritted his teeth. Then his legs began to tremble violently.
"There now. Easy does it." Jacobson said as they lowered him into a chair. Just in time too. "We'll have you sit for at least an hour. You've been in that bed all day."
"I want to walk."
"Tomorrow's another day, Mr. Crawley. Mustn't rush things."
Again, with that phrase? What was he playing at? Mary wondered. Was Matthew right at first? Was he a charlatan?
"Why does she have to be here?" Matthew nodded his head toward Mary.
"Your fiancé? I would think you'd want her here for support."
"I don't like her seeing me like this. So bloody weak." With his head lying back against the headrest of the chair, he thumped the side of the chair with his arm.
"Mr. Crawley, you have suffered grievous injuries, that many young men half your age don't survive from. The body heals at it's own pace. I don't see anything weak in you, do you, my lady?"
"No. Nothing. Mr. Crawley's always been strong, physically and in mind." His eyes glowered at her. "And will be so again." She brushed his arm before taking his hand, squeezing it. "I'm so proud of you." Mary gave Doctor Jacobson a look that said, we need to talk.
"What are you playing at?"
"I'm sorry. I'm not sure what you mean, my lady."
"Why do you keep saying not to rush thing?"
"I'm merely doing my job. Your fiancé is very stubborn."
"So I've been told."
"He's determined to push past his limits, beyond what he can currently handle. I don't want him to rush because it could be detrimental to his health." Jakobson paused for a moment, a realization coming across his expression. "If you're insinuating that I was trying to give your husband false hope...I would never do that to my patients."
"You're overcharging us. For his care."
"I can see your concern. This is a relatively new field, and very expensive. And I have a family to feed."
"I see. But if you do intend to rob us blind, I'm afraid I must inform you, we have no money to steal." Her marriage to Matthew would help with that problem, with Matthew's knowledge and legal advice and under his management. Papa had agreed to sell him half, as a wedding present, they'd arrange it once they return from their honeymoon. She didn't want Jakobson to know all that, in case he was trying to scam them.
"If I knew you had a problem with money, we could've worked something out. We still can for a reasonable price to fit your budget or I can refer you to someone else."
"But he wouldn't get the best care that he's getting now."
Jakobson nodded. "It's just a few more weeks, I'll be discharging him from my care before the wedding. Then I'll be out of your hair. You won't see me again."
She saw that she had genuinely hurt his feelings, that he had been sincere as he took off down the hall. Oh dear, what had she done?
"Forgive me, my lady, if I'm overstepping. I have to take care of my brothers' kids, including my own. One died in the war, the other and their wives died of the flu. This is the only way to provide for them. It's not the only reason I took up this profession, this specific field to be exact. You can imagine what happened to my brother is what happened to young Mr. Mason. I wanted to help whomever I can and to whomever I can't, at least I can provide them some comfort. Not many have been as fortunate as you and Mr. Crawley."
"I'm so sorry. Once I get an idea set on something, I shoot off at the mouth without any evidence. It's usually Matthew who talks me back to my senses."
"Let's hope...no, pray that he gets back on his feet sooner then."
Mary nodded, but it was too late. She hoped one day that he'd be able to forgive her.
"Isn't prayer the same thing?" She asked.
"Is it Mrs. Crawley? Your husband doesn't seem to think so. Faith is more powerful than hope."
"If you keep at it, we'll have you down the aisle yet!" Jacobson exclaimed on his visit, six weeks later. "But remember not to rush. It won't likely be without the crutches. Or this." He produced a wooden crafted cane.
Matthew gave a groan. "And look like an old man?"
"Think of it as one of those fancy walking sticks all young men use."
"Well, if Bates can make it look fashionable. I'll look like a dandy though."
"Better a dandy than an old man." Mary teased, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips. They went out for a walk, Matthew tired from all that walking sat in his chair, Mary wheeling him across the grounds. He wondered if he would be able to walk without eventually feeling tired or eventually stop using the wheelchair outside. Jacobson said most likely, no.
He asked Mary to stop for a moment so that he could take over wheeling himself.
"If I were not recovered, if I was still confined to a chair, would you still love me?"
"I was ready to be your wife then. Before you could walk. I admire you, Matthew Crawley, weather sitting or standing."
He smirked. "You admire me. Is that all?"
"Best friend, desired lover..."
"Cherished wife."
"Yes please, all of the above."
"My sentiments exactly."
