Manchester Royal Infirmary, Manchester, England, May 1912
Mary stood at attention, waiting patiently in the hallway outside one of the shared patients' rooms. Five other nurses stood next to her, scanning the hallway for the arrival of the supervising doctor. Mary's face betrayed nothing. Keeping her cool and her expression neutral were skills she had mastered in childhood. Her colleagues, however, were not nearly as tactful.
"He mentioned the other day that I might be able to assist in a surgery!" one girl said breathlessly.
"You?" came the perplexed reply. "But how? You aren't trained for surgery. None of us are."
"He said I could observe," was the smug answer.
"You do realize that observing means you stand behind a window, don't you? You aren't actually in the operating room with him," the even more smug retort was instantaneous.
In another time, and another place, Mary would have easily shut all of them up in six words or less. In her present reality though, she felt strangely unaffected and disinterested in their banter. She was actually grateful that none of them engaged her in conversation. Lady Mary Crawley not wanting any attention. It was a new world, indeed.
"Ladies," a deep, warm voice called. "My apologies for being late. I'm afraid my only excuse is that I was indulging in some of my wife's homemade cookies and lost track of time. Please forgive me. Now, shall we go in?"
A tall, thin man with graying brown hair walked briskly past them. His beard and mustache were immaculately trimmed, giving him a paternal and distinguished air. He opened the door and held it open for the nurses to enter before him. They each walked quickly into the room, some of them trying to stifle giggles as they passed. Mary was last in line. She stole a quick glance at the doctor as she passed and he gave her a conspiratorial wink. Mary's face remained calm and serene, but she was laughing inside. This particular secret she carried was no burden.
Dr. Reginald Crawley moved past the nurses and went to the bedside of a young girl with her forearm in a temporary cast. He sat down at her bedside and smiled at her in reassurance. Mary stood off to the side and observed with a sense of pride and amusement. All of the hospital staff – nurses, administrators, doctors and even the janitors – looked at Dr. Crawley with the same awe and reverence, but for different reasons. The nurses and doctors admired his bountiful medical knowledge and his warm empathy for his patients; which was rather rare in a surgeon. The administrators appreciated his patience and wit, as well as his ability to handle any conversation with courtesy and skill. The other staff and personnel liked his friendly and approachable nature, and how he never seemed to hold himself above anyone else, despite being so well known and held in such high regard.
Mary was not too proud to admit she also was in awe of Dr. Crawley, but not only because he was a fine medical practitioner. When she had met him over a year ago, he was the first man to treat her differently than those she was used to – her Papa, her Cousin James, her Cousin Patrick, her various suitors, even her Godfather, Lord Merton. Dr. Crawley did not see her as a commodity, a pretty young thing to be bartered or commanded. He saw her as a young woman with a bright mind and a bright future, and this both scared and exhilarated her.
Matthew often teased her about who she fancied more – him or his father. She always replied that since his father was taken, she had to settle for Matthew out of respect to Isobel, who she liked very much. Matthew's petulant frown and exasperated sigh at her response were usually appeased with a quick kiss and the promise of other reparations between them. It wasn't in Mary's nature to tell Matthew her true feelings – that she loved him even more precisely because he embodied the best of both his parents, or that she enjoyed working with Dr. Crawley because he reminded her so much of Matthew.
Dr. Crawley went about applying the more stable plaster cast to the young girl's arm. His calm, reassuring words to his patient were a pleasant melody accompanying his careful work. As they all watched on, the clock chimed six-o'clock, signaling the end of the nurses' shift. With a brief nod, Dr. Crawley dismissed the nurses, who all filed back out of the room. Mary, however, remained. As she was not a fully trained nurse, but an assistant assigned to the department, she could do whatever she wished with her time, and she was now choosing to stay with Dr. Crawley. Mary smirked to herself. Not only did Lady Mary Crawley have a job, but she was even staying past working hours to carry out her duties. What a strange place this was!
Dr. Crawley examined the final plaster and nodded with a pleased expression. For the first time since Mary's arrival, the young girl smiled. It had been a very quick and easy process. Dr. Crawley did not discriminate amongst patients, even though the task could have easily been handled by a more junior doctor, Dr. Crawley was adamant that he be involved as much as possible with his patients. He was notorious for invoking his clout as a board member of the hospital to ensure that he was allowed the perk of seeing anyone who needed a doctor, no matter how trivial the case.
"There now, Molly," he said calmly. "See? I promised it was a simple fracture, and it would be easy to fix. You've been very brave."
The young girl smiled again but remained silent.
"Do you have any questions, Molly? Anything at all you want to talk about?" Dr. Crawley pressed on with a smile.
Molly shook her head, but then she bit her lip nervously and looked away.
"Mary," Dr. Crawley said as he stood from his perch on the patient's bed. "Would you hand me my coat?"
Mary picked up the white lab coat and offered it to him with a smile. Dr. Crawley rolled down the sleeves of his shirt and washed his hands with carbonic acid before redressing in the coat.
"I'll check on you later, Molly," he said. "But, I'll send in your delightfully impatient big brother Jack to see you without any further delay."
"Thank you!" The little girl squealed. With their parents out of town, Dr. Crawley knew that the young man had taken his sister's horseback riding accident rather hard. He was always pleased to see such pleasant bonds between siblings.
Dr. Crawley pulled the curtain around Molly's bed and went over to the next patient. The man had a concussion and was sleeping under a sedative. Dr. Crawley picked up the chart and scribbled some notes after observing the man's breathing for several moments. As he wrote, he spoke in a soft tone to Mary, who stood alongside him.
"Will we have the pleasure of your presence at dinner tonight, Mary?" he asked. He replaced the clipboard with notes and proceeded onward.
"Of course," she said quietly, pleased with the invitation. Dining with Matthew's family was far preferable to what she normally was stuck with in the evenings.
Dr. Crawley gave her his full attention as he looked up from the next chart. "Excellent. It's been a good day so far, and now it's gotten even better."
Mary smiled politely, still surprised by the kindness that Matthew's parents showed to her. Considering where she was less than two years ago, it was a small miracle that Mary's confidence and sense of fulfillment had been rebuilt to the point she could accept compliments without apprehension.
"Although, Matthew has not invited me, specifically. I wouldn't want to impose," she said.
"You always have a standing invitation to our home," Dr. Crawley said quietly. "Please forgive my son for not inviting you yet tonight, but I think he's afraid you'll get bored of him if he were to be around you as much as he wants to be."
Dr. Crawley smiled at her. He then nodded towards the curtain surrounding Molly's bed and winked at Mary. Mary nodded in understanding and waited until Dr. Crawley left the room before she blushed slightly. If Dr. Crawley knew of her private meetings with Matthew at the hospital, he may rethink his opinion of how bored she was of his son.
"So, Molly," she said, pulling back the curtain and giving her attention to her young charge. Obviously Dr. Crawley believed something was still on the girl's mind that was troubling her, and presumably she would feel more comfortable with a lady's insight to relieve her mind.
"Falling from a horse happens to all of us who ride," Mary said cheerfully. "I hope you won't let it discourage you in the future."
"Oh no," Molly said. "I love my horse, Buttons. I'm…" she stopped and took a deep breath. "I'm really more worried about the cast coming off in time for the Season. My Papa said I was old enough to go to London this year and Mama has put so much time into preparing me, I just don't want something like my injury to ruin everything for the family."
Mary was taken aback by these sentiments. The images of the London Social Season pulled Mary back to what now seemed like another life, when London was a far more welcoming place for her. Mary smiled at Molly in understanding. "Don't worry, dear. You'll be good as new in time for the Season. I know how important it can be, both for you and for your family. You just follow what Dr. Crawley tells you and you'll be ready to dance in no time. A girl's first Season should be enjoyed to the absolute highest degree."
Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, July 1910
"May I have this dance, Lady Mary?" the young gentleman asked with a nervous bow and smile.
"I'm terribly sorry," Mary chuckled, her eyes twinkling and showing no actual remorse at all. "My card is full for the next while. Please ask me again though later."
She sashayed away from the crestfallen would-be suitor without a second thought and took the arm of the Honourable Evelyn Napier, son of the Viscount Branksome. Evelyn's father was a friend of her Papa's, and she had reserved this dance for Evelyn weeks ago when he had written to her.
"You look stunning this evening, Mary," Evelyn smiled. "Though there was never any doubt that you would be the belle of your own debutante ball."
"I am rather pleased with how it all turned out," Mary laughed, the champagne and the attention she was receiving forming a heady mixture. She was particularly pleased with her evening dress. It was devoré velvet trimmed with gold satin and metallic lace. The fashion was scintillating and the cost exorbitant, half the national debt, she had teased to her Papa when the dress arrived at Downton Abbey. And why not? This was her Season and further, this was her own party, designed to put all of the attention where it belonged – on her. Everything for this evening had to be perfect, and so far, Mary was enjoying herself immensely.
"My father is going to ask Lord Grantham if I can take you for a walk through Hyde Park this week," Evelyn smiled, leading her on to the dance floor and taking her hand in his. "And I would very much enjoy it if you would attend the races in our family box. Do you think your Papa will agree?"
"I think it could be arranged," Mary smiled, beginning the dance steps with him. "Papa will agree to whatever I ask. It is my Season, after all."
"So have I interested you enough, then? I know you have numerous invitations this week already," Evelyn said with a nervous smile. He was adorable, although not as confident as Mary would have liked. He did not seem particularly exciting either, but that did not prevent Mary from indulging in his attentions.
"Well, I…" Mary began.
"Excuse me, may I cut in?" a deep voice called from behind her.
Evelyn frowned, looking up at the interruption. "Well, we just started to…"
"Thanks," Patrick said curtly, spinning Mary out of Evelyn's arms and leading her further away on the dance floor.
"Patrick!" Mary hissed. "What do you think you're doing?" Her eyes darted around the room as she maintained her composure with so many eyes upon them.
"What's wrong, Mary?" Patrick sneered. "Haven't got a dance for your fiancé?"
"Don't say it out loud!" Mary snapped. "We agreed that I would be permitted to attend my Season without restriction!"
"My father agreed," Patrick corrected her. "If it were up to me, I would never have allowed you to gallivant around the City accepting invitations from all sides, to say nothing for this unnecessarily extravagant party. Your father is recklessly spending my inheritance. You don't need suitors, Mary. You're already taken."
"And how necessary are all the events you've been going to, Cousin Patrick?" Mary shot back. "I suppose you're just keeping up appearances by attending all of the other parties across London?" Mary retorted. "It would seem difficult for you to dance with me when I'm not at any of these other balls you've been going to."
"I don't need to answer to you, Mary," Patrick snarled, "Nor do I need to bring you along to any of the other events I have planned." He pushed his body closer against her, and whispered in her ear as they spun around the dance floor.
"You must remember that our positions are very different," Patrick warned. "And if you cannot be trusted to know, then I may have to remind you exactly what position you belong in."
"Be careful of my dress," Mary said bitterly. Her veiled threat was rather pitiful since she knew it would fall on deaf ears.
The song mercifully came to an end and Patrick released her gracefully. Completing his ruse, he gallantly stepped back and bowed reverently, the image of a perfect gentleman for the assembled guests to witness. His polite façade infuriated Mary all the more.
"Thank you for the dance, Cousin," Patrick said in a louder voice. "Enjoy yourself this evening. It's not surprising that you have a large number of suitors fighting for your regard. You are a shining star this evening, Mary."
Mary swallowed and forced herself to nod in acknowledgment. She barely kept her anger in check as Patrick strutted off the dance floor. She shook herself and smiled demurely as another suitor offered her his hand and she resumed dancing, the sting of Patrick's words still fresh in her mind.
Home of Lady Philomena Grey, Manchester, England, May 1912
"Thank you for dinner, Matthew," Mary smiled as he escorted her to the door of the large house.
"I'm glad that you could make it," Matthew smiled. "I'm sorry that I didn't invite you sooner. I was hoping to catch you at the end of your shift and…"
"It's all right," Mary smiled. "Your father said I have a standing invitation to come to dinner with your family. That is, if you found that acceptable?" she finished a bit nervously.
"Of course I do," Matthew said a bit too quickly. Mary bit her bottom lip and looked down. "I'm quite happy to spend as much time with you as you wish, Mary," Matthew recovered.
They both stood in silence for several moments, neither one knowing quite what to say next. Finally, Mary shook herself. She did not want this evening with Matthew to end, and she realized happily that it did not have to.
"Lady Grey is actually away staying in the country this week," Mary said slowly, daring to look up at his blue eyes. "Would you like to come in, Matthew?"
Matthew grinned. "Won't that be considered improper, Lady Mary?"
Mary rolled her eyes. "The servants all went with her. Considering I'm a ruined woman, no one cares what I get up to."
"Don't call yourself that," Matthew frowned.
"That's what all of London Society calls me, among other things," Mary huffed. "Besides, I rather like having an empty house to myself. I once envied my Aunt Rosamund for accomplishing such a feat. All alone with a house in Eaton Square. I think that this kind of life suits me."
Matthew rolled his eyes and Mary unlocked the door and they went in. They walked quickly through to the kitchen, using as few lights as necessary. They made tea and found a container of shortbread biscuits. Matthew brought the tray to the dining room and they sat down with their snack.
"How was your day?" Matthew asked, pouring her tea. "Father mentioned you were very good with a particular patient? A young girl?"
Mary smiled. She still could not believe how proud she felt whenever Matthew did the simple task of asking her about her day. With one question, he demonstrated more genuine interest in something about her beyond her looks than any previous suitor ever had.
"Yes, Molly is her name. She was put in a cast for a broken arm suffered in a riding accident."
"Riding?" Matthew repeated. "That must have been rather scary for her. How young is she?"
"Not very, actually," Mary sighed. "She's having her debut this summer in London."
"Oh," Matthew replied, recognizing the change in Mary's tone of voice immediately. She never seemed to be able to say 'London' without her voice becoming slightly bitter.
"Will she be healed in time to meet the Royal Family?" Matthew asked.
"Yes," Mary smiled. "She'll be fine, thanks to your father. And she'll dazzle some young man I'm sure. Maybe she'll even get to decide for herself who she wants to marry."
"Darling," Matthew said patiently. "I didn't mean to make you angry. We don't have to talk about this if you…"
"It's all right," Mary sighed. "My life makes me angry. Not you."
"Mary, you don't need to suffer like this, you know," Matthew said cautiously. "You don't need to live in this house as an exile. Things would be so much different if you would…"
"Don't, Matthew, please," Mary shook her head, her eyes begging for his mercy. "You know why I can't live with you."
"But you can, Mary!" Matthew pleaded. "I don't care about any of that business," Matthew frowned. "Neither do my parents. It doesn't matter that…"
"Of course, it matters, Matthew!" Mary retorted. "What about your partners at the law firm? What about your clients? Will they be as progressive and understanding as you? Will they be so welcoming when you arrive at firm parties and events with the slut from Yorkshire on your arm?"
"Don't call yourself that!" Matthew snarled. "You're not…"
"Not what? A slut?" Mary laughed bitterly. "Oh darling, how naïve you are. That's what my own family says I am! That's what all of London Society knows me as! And what about you? I'm sleeping with you, aren't I? You've had me numerous times since Christmas! How eager I've been to come to your bed! What does that make me then?"
Matthew's arms were suddenly around her, pulling her against his chest. Mary blinked, pushing the tears back, but unable to stop a sob from escaping her lips. She felt ashamed of herself for taking out her rage on the only man who truly loved her. As usual, Matthew understood without her having to say anything. He did not chastise her, berate her, judge her or condemn her. He simply loved her, and eventually she sagged into his embrace.
"Mary, please," Matthew said softly, running his hand along her back.
Mary shook her head against his chest and sighed. She pulled back, staying within the warmth of his arms and looking up at him imploringly.
"I'm sorry, darling. I know you're so sweet, but this…this is all I can give you, Matthew. You deserve so much more, but you know that I just can't. Patrick and James did their work well. I am and always will be damaged goods. If you truly want to be with me, then it has to be this way."
"Of course I want to be with you!" Matthew said firmly. "But I'm going to find a way to put things right, Mary. I promise you, I will."
"Let's stop talking about this, please," Mary pleaded.
"All right," Matthew smiled bravely. "What would you like to talk about?"
"I don't want to talk," Mary smirked, leaning forward and kissing him. Matthew's eyes widened in surprise, then closed as his hands went to her waist and he returned her kisses.
"Mary," he breathed. "We don't have to…"
"Shh…" Mary smiled against his lips. "No talking," she smirked, kissing his cheek, and then moving her lips to his neck.
"For the rest of the evening, Matthew," she whispered seductively. "The only thing I want to do," she kissed his jaw. "Is make love to the most wonderful man in the world," she kissed his neck.
"Unless of course, you need to move along and get back home," she teased him, raising her eyebrow in challenge.
Matthew swallowed as she resumed kissing his neck. "I think that," he gulped. "My parents will be fast asleep already," he groaned. "And they won't care when I return."
"How convenient, darling," Mary smiled, kissing his lips before rising from her chair on slightly shaking legs and taking his hand.
Mary led him through the kitchen, laughing at him as he hastily deposited their used tray on the counter. She brought him into the hall and headed towards the stairs. As they passed a large mirror, Matthew stopped her, pulling her in front of it, holding her by her waist and standing behind her.
"Wait, Mary," Matthew smiled. "I have something for you."
He brought out a small box from his jacket pocket and handed it to her.
"I want to dress you before I undress you. It's becoming a little bit of a fetish for me actually. I may need to consult a nurse's assistant…." he smiled devilishly.
"Matthew, stop," Mary laughed. "You don't have to keep buying me things. I already love the dress and the pearls and the shoes and the purse."
"Just open it," Matthew said.
Mary smiled. She opened the box and gasped.
"Oh, Matthew! They're gorgeous. Darling, I don't deserve this," she shook her head.
"Yes, you do," Matthew said firmly, taking the earrings out of the box and placing them in her hand. "You deserve this and more, Mary. And, if you truly wish to be with me, then it has to be this way. I'm afraid that you cannot stop me from buying small presents for the woman I love."
"I would hardly call them small," Mary smirked, putting on the new earrings for him to see.
Mary turned and stood before the mirror, tilting her head to examine them more closely.
"They're beautiful, Matthew. Thank you," she said, admiring her reflection. With her new jewellery, Mary's appearance resembled her old self, her Downton self. How strange it was that appearances could be so deceiving, she thought briefly.
"They're small enough that you can wear them at work," Matthew smiled, kissing her neck. "Did you notice the stone?"
"Of course," Mary smiled, closing her eyes and enjoying the feel of his lips on her skin. "My birthstone. So thoughtful of you, darling."
"Any prat with money can buy a pair of earrings," he smiled, drawing a low moan from her as he kissed her shoulder. "A real gentleman knows how to make a gift meaningful."
Mary smiled as he continued his light touches to her skin, making her shiver with delight. Any prat with money, Matthew had said. It was remarkable how quickly Mary had learned the difference between having money, and properly using money.
"Matthew," Mary breathed, caressing his cheek as he continued to kiss her neck. "Would you like to help me prepare for bed?"
"I can manage that," Matthew growled, his eyes raking across her body in the mirror.
Mary and Matthew held hands as they climbed the steps to her bedroom. At the first floor landing, he pressed her against the banister for a sudden kiss.
"I need sustenance for the remaining journey," he said, his voice deep and his desire flaring.
Mary's back pressed against the thick oak rail and she pushed back against him playfully. As the kiss continued and deepened, her arms went around his neck and shoulders. Matthew's hands went around her body, always caressing and sometimes massaging any exposed flesh he could reach. His forehead touched hers as they finally ended the kiss. Mary shimmied onto the banister of the stairs; her body now perched in a very un-ladylike position. However, she didn't care as she pulled Matthew closer. His arms went protectively around her, as if she were to lean back there would be nothing but air.
"Oh Mary," he said breathlessly between kisses. "Be careful. You'll fall."
She tucked her head into the curve of his neck, relishing this embrace. Her earlier venomous words about being a notorious social outcast coming back to haunt her, she shuddered.
"I've already fallen, Matthew," she said sadly. Mary looked into his sensitive gaze, his beautiful blue eyes glowing with warmth and need. His response surprised her as he swooped her into his arms, carrying her up the second flight of stairs with purpose and determination. She clung to him, feeling light and secure in his grip.
Matthew lay her down on the modest bed in her attic bedroom. Although it was meant to be a demeaning placement for her in the house, she was quite fond of the space. It had beautiful wood beams and plenty of windows. Being sent to Manchester did not not mean she was now Jane Eyre, she was not the beast in the attic; particularly not when Matthew was with her.
"Clothes," Matthew gasped as he pulled his jacket off, his arms becoming caught in the sleeves, "are so tedious," he continued with annoyance.
"Well," Mary said with a small giggle as she helped him out of his jacket and vest and deftly unbuttoned his shirt. "That is because a man's clothing can not be ripped off quite as easily as a woman's..."
"You know this from experience, do you?" Matthew smirked, as he revealed his toned chest to her, causing her breath to hitch.
"I know that you're far quicker about removing my clothes than you are your own," she teased.
Mary then leaned back on the bed and raised the hem of her dress slowly, a little bit at a time. Matthew's eyes and hands followed her path, dancing across her thighs, to her hips and up her sides, his lips and tongue following the same path as his fingers and placing soothing kisses on Mary's warm skin.
When they were both naked, Matthew pulled the blanket over top of them. He gently moved her body against his, fitting himself with her, desperately resisting the urges that were blazing in his mind. Mary's frustration from their dining room conversation was not forgotten, and Matthew knew she needed comfort from him now, in addition to passion.
"I think I'm going to get you a tie to match my bedspread," Mary said sweetly, moving her hips and smiling at his strangled groan.
"Mary," Matthew said, smiling warmly at her. Both of them were gazing lustfully at each other now, their eyes dark with desire.
"You've changed my life, Mary," he said softly.
Mary had no words to truly capture what she felt for him in that moment. Instead she kissed him firmly and moved one hand down to his buttocks, grasping him wantonly and telling him what she wanted. Matthew obliged, both of them moaning as he entered her, his pace quickening almost immediately as the feel of her caused him to abandon all restraint.
Mary closed her eyes and kissed him all over his face, holding on to his shoulders as he moved faster. Yes, this was enough, she thought fleetingly as she responded to him and wonderful spasms began to fly through her body. Only Matthew filled her thoughts. She did not waste any part of her heart or mind thinking about what could have been, what had happened to her before, what had brought her to Manchester in the first place. This was her life now. She was with Matthew, which was all that she needed to be happy.
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