On the morning of my wedding, after my hair was done up and my dress was still on the hanger my fiancé phoned.

This wasn't to be formal wedding by any means. Just a small, family only wedding, at the estate. The great hall was already decorated with chairs and flowers, a home-made altar with flowers wrapped around it like ivy. At midnight, new year's day, we'd ride off into the sunset. The servants had outdone themselves. I'd be sure to tell Papa to give them a raise. Everything was perfect.

Then why did I feel nervous.

I felt better when Bertie telephoned me. He must have been feeling what I was or sensed what I was feeling.

My fiancé asks, "What are you doing?"

"I'm getting ready"

"You want to go get a drink?"

"You're nervous too?" I ask. Immediately relieved.

"Oh yeah. You probably could imagine."

"Why don't you come round and bring a bottle of something."

"Isn't seeing the bride before the wedding bad luck?"

"I'm not much one for superstition." One doesn't when you've already been left at the altar.

"Neither am I. I'll pop around in a bit."

So as I am in my bedroom, continuing to get ready. I am sipping champagne. My face is flushed. I am definitely more relaxed than before. My soon to be husband is laughing with me through the door.

I walk out of the bedroom in my wedding dress. He smiles and tells me I look beautiful.

Baxter calls me that it's time.

Bertie goes before me after Baxter is gone. I wait five minutes to give him a head start. As I reach the altar, it is hot and we are sweating. I do my best to keep my makeup up but I'm melting.

"Rings?" The reverend asks.

"Right here"

"Ok, let's get started".

I look at my fiancé and he is smiling at me.

As we take our vows, I am concentrating on what the reverend has said. I'm thinking to myself: Concentrate. You can do this. Just repeat what he says. Listen carefully.

I'm still tipsy.

… To have and to hold

to have and to hold

… From this day forward

For a moment I forget the words, and I stare at Bertie. Being cheeky, he places his hand on one of my ticklish spots. I know it was deliberate.

"From this day forward!" I say with a raised voice.

The reverend laughs. Everyone thinking I was just enamored by him, which is true. My husband has a huge mischievous grin. The shock wears off and I laugh a huge hearty laugh. My face is warm.

I love this goof ball man I married. He still surprises me and still makes me laugh. That's how I know I got a good one.

Everything went off without a hitch. Bertie's mother had tried to control every detail of the wedding. She wasn't any trouble at the actual wedding. Bertie must have told her to behave herself. It was a wonderful, magical night.

The reception was held in Downton's ball room. Bertie was watching his mother carefully. She was watching Matthew and a pregnant Mary dance. His movements were stiff, as he was wearing his braces. Bertie had helped him put them on, having heard him calling for help.

They had had an informing conversation, sharing their past. Matthew was still a little guarded towards him. Bertie began to assume that he was that way to everyone. Most military men that had seen action were.

"You don't flinch, like most people would have."

"I'm not like most people." A beat. "I wanted to be a doctor."

That had opened the flood gates a bit, telling Bertie that his father was a doctor and he had used to accompany him to his surgery. Bertie of course, found that fascinating. What he also found fascinating was that Matthew seemed not to remember having an episode in front of him, on the night he had proposed to Edith, believing him to be one of his friends who died in the war. Also named Bertie. And believed he had come back to haunt him. After what had seemed like ages, and with much convincing, Bertie had managed to calm him and get him back into bed.

That instance had been the final piece to push him forward and gather the courage to ask her. Life was too short.

"You should have had him as a father." Matthew said.

They seemed to have a connection. Did a part of him remember?

Matthew must have felt it too. "I know I've known you a short while, but I already think of you as a brother. That we could be..."

"What about Tom?"

He stopped struggling to tie his shoe, attached to the braces. "He's a good man."

Bertie bent over to tie it for him. Once the laces slid home, he spoke.

"You're not afraid of losing him. Like you lost the others. Because you don't want to lose another friend. I'm not buying it. For one minute. You don't want him to see your guilt, over Sybil."

"You don't know anything about that, and not something I am willing to discuss with you. I don't know you. And you don't know what you're talking about." He started to stand. "I don't want to be wrong about you Bertie. I hope that I can find a friend again, in you. But don't misinterpret my forth coming. We should get going."

"I wonder what she gets out of it." Bertie's mother, Miranda said, nodding toward Mary. The children were now coming over to their parents. "That obviously. How does she manage? Leaves it all to the nanny, I suppose."

"Mother, behave yourself." Bertie whispered through gritted teeth.

She gave an expression that read, You're no fun. That quickly changed, as she inserted herself among the important people. She wouldn't be a problem for the rest of the evening.

The wedding cake fell onto the floor.

After it was cut and each had a bite for the pictures, everything was fine. After a while one of the servants thought it might be safer if they removed the top tier.

She lifted the top tier, turned, the second tier started to go with it, she got flustered, tried to put it back but missed entirely and knocked the entire cake onto the floor.

The whole room could have heard a pin drop and Carson's heart beating out of his chest.

The young girl who had dropped the cake looked as if she had just died. Her face lost all color. Edith , feeling sorry for her, went over and hugged her. She was stammering an apology.

"I will have none of that. Anyone could do something like that. It's been a wonderful day already. It's only a cake."

Bertie was filled with adoration and warmth toward his new wife. How initiative she was. How kind. She would make a great mother one day.

Bertie stepped in, also reassuring her and soon many people were there telling her it was okay and cleaning the remains. The bride and groom figures were embedded in the frosting and cake mess like landslide survivors.

Edith actually felt badly about it only because it was so beautiful, and she had only gotten to see a glimpse of it. Miss Patmore had worked hard on the cake.

The youngest Crawley child, one and a half year old, Katie, was scooping the frosting off the floor and shoveling it into her mouth. Her father shoed her away, as the nanny swooped in to take her back to the nursery.

The guests laughed and awed.

No one paid the mishap much mind after that. The reception and dancing continuing in full swing. Then several hours later, as if the night wasn't already exciting, Anna gave birth to a baby boy after a harrowing but successful labor.

The servants, including the household came to meet the new addition.

Everyone was truly treated like family here. And Bertie was truly glad that he was now part of it.

After it all, they still got their ride off into the sunset.