(Several months of wooing have passed and Mary is in need of making a decision.)
Originally, this had been a request of a continuation of the passionate kiss, and specifically, the removal of clothes. But there is something about Seasons Mary & Charles that want to remain very true to canon, and try as I might (honestly, 3 different scenarios I tried) it wasn't ringing true. Until a few months ago as I was turning S5 possibilities over in my head, and oh, I just knew what path we were going to be led done (or so I think!). And then Mary started talking, taking me through her thoughts and it all made such perfect sense. Painful and emotional, but still, what she thinks is her path to happiness.
As usual, massive hugs to the usual suspects of Lala-Kate and Cls2011 for the flailing and love and "Shit!" responses as I worried over this turn of events that worried me for so long. Standard disclaimers apply: Downton Abbey and its characters are not mine, I'm only playing with them to pass the time during hiatus because I am so addicted to their wonderfulness.
Season's End
Part 2
"You've made it at last!"
Her face and smile brightening the dim foyer is not what he expects. He shrugs out of his coat, damp from the night's chill and rain, and she reaches out to take it. He hesitates, brow furrowing. "Is Carson ill? Or are you making economies you haven't told me about?"
She chuckles and tugs the coat from his grasp before offering her hand for his gloves and hat.
"You just missed him. I told him I was staying up and not to worry."
Brows arch at this, watching her deftly hang his belongings.
"I remember what happened last time you sent him off to bed at a late hour."
She tosses him a glance over her shoulder, the sparkle of her amusement shining through the shadows. "Behave now." The slight flush of color to her cheeks makes him smile in return.
"And I assume you did not have time to stop for any kind of meal with tyre changes and all the rest?"
"No, but no need to worry about that."
She steps past him toward the great hall. "Well, I already did. I have some sandwiches for you in the dining room."
He follows her, letting it sink in deeper how much he has missed her, the easy grace of her walk, the tart charm of her that ripples off of her in waves. "No eggs?"
She just laughs in reply, leading him into the dining room where a place is set for him at the end of the table.
"Did you at least make the sandwiches? Expanding your culinary skills?"
"Hardly. My skills remain with the basics of eggs and tea. Oh and, I have managed to add toast to that thanks to the electric toaster. Though, you might not want to mention that to anyone lest they bring up the fact I nearly started a fire with it my first time."
"I am definitely going to be requesting toast now so I can hear the story." He grins at her mock look of exasperation. "Carson has become quite fond of me, I'm sure I can tease it out of him."
She sips at the glass of wine he's poured for her. "If you do, I'm going to have to have a serious talk with him."
The smile she gives him seems slightly off. He's adept enough now to spot the shadows that will flash across her eyes, and from the distracted fingering of the ring still on her left hand, he knows she is fighting something that weighs heavy on this moment.
He dares enough now to reach out a hand, to offer her a chance to step out of the darkness that springs up around her.
"Memories?" he asks softly.
It is a grateful look she gives him in return, nodding slightly. "I didn't even think of it when I said to have some sandwiches made up for you." Her eyes search the dark corners of the room for a moment, an odd smile curving her mouth. "Now that was a long time ago," she murmurs.
He can feel her words pull him with her into that time long past that teases her now. It would be easy to apologize, to try and side-step the reminders that a life moving on throws up through no fault of his own. But he knows that isn't what she needs; nor had she ever asked for those words which can only be hollow, or to be treaded with kid gloves. Ghosts of his own haunt the edges whenever he is with her, but he knows that often it is best to let the past drift out of focus on their own accord, to stay weighted to the here and now by her.
She shares with him when she needs to, takes a moment and shakes it off and smiles and changes the subject at other times. Tonight seems to be something in between. She acknowledges the past's hold to her at the moment, but there is a different look, one of regret almost that lingers too long. She doesn't try and replace it as she returns to the gracious hostess, asking if he requires more, does he wish to have another drink in the library or is it late enough that they can both simply retire.
She cannot help but twist her necklace around her fingers as she walks through the great hall to the stairway. She hesitates to keep from stumbling from the whispers and thoughts that crowd around her right now. Too much presses in on her here, pushing at fragile wounds that never fully heal, reminding her of the pain just waiting to happen again. There are places in her that will never be strong enough to keep pain at bay.
Maybe it is better never to risk it.
A hand trembles over the railing, never quite touching it for support. Instead she is trying to brace against his gaze she can feel on her back as they mount the stairs. A comfort too easy, a security too sure. She doesn't need to imagine a life with that suddenly gone. She has lived it, she still finds herself with one foot always there. Especially at night, especially those times she is alone. She knows that needs to change, that it can change and she needs not be facing the early hours before dawn hearing only her own breathing fill the hollow of her bedroom.
Yet still.
A pause. Niceties over the usual room, apologies for no available valet at the moment, a chuckle about being able to remove the dirt of the journey on his own.
Part of her shivers, replaying the sensations of his mouth on hers again and again, the intimate imaginings his touch has been able to stir in her. A last stubborn part of her that would walk into fire again, remain burned and feeling more than she should for the rest of her days.
So this is how I decide.
"Charles, I should let you know that Tony Gillingham is coming up tomorrow."
She watches his brows lift in surprise, but his face remains neutral. "Not something you mentioned earlier."
There, that press right against the part of her that still ached, that still was a raw point no matter how much time had passed. It needed to be sheltered, kept from those that could find their way through her walls. She was doing the right thing to keep it hidden away.
"It was not going to be a possible issue earlier."
"Earlier this evening?"
She shook her head, glancing away. Her eye was drawn immediately to the corner of the hall just over the balustrade, below her. The air seemed to ripple with a memory of a tune, the whisper of a movement nearly catching her ear.
"It wasn't something I was going to bring up over the phone." Her voice remains measured as she lays a new path before her feet.
He nods slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. "You've decided to accept his proposal?"
It stings. Breath is lost and she is drowning in the pain that wells up.
Make the decision, you know you have to.
"Yes, I have."
His smile is not bittersweet nor forced. It is simply him, and it strokes against that part of her that refuses to heal, reminds her why she needs to do this.
He can find it. He can touch that part of me.
"I can't say this is a total surprise." How do his eyes remain so warm to her? "As long as you are accepting him for the right reasons and are happy."
There is a slight quirk to his mouth, an uninflected question that lingers over them both. She breathes through the truth, searching for words that will not giver her away.
He can't hurt me like you would. It is easier for me to live with ghosts of love if they are never touched, if something possibly stronger were never able to try and take root. If there was never something so valuable that could be taken away from me again.
"As happy as can be expected," the exhales words she didn't mean to say, but pushes a smile forward to cover her stumbling off this new trail. "But you deserved to hear in person."
It there when he nods slightly she catches the hints of the wound in his eyes. She thinks his gaze flickers for a moment, dropping, and she is suddenly conscious of her thumb worrying the bands of platinum on her left hand. An icy rush washes over her, nearly cracking her facade, but she refuses to weaken.
"I thank you for sharing so recent a decision with me."
He had noticed. He noticed too much. "You don't seem particularly disappointed," her words once again not what she wanted, edged with a bit more sharpness than she meant.
He takes a step forward, closing that distance. She can smell that hint of bergamot on him, a deeper spice somewhere, the faintest hint of the claret they shared. More, it is the way she begins to tingle just by him being closer.
You would ruin me. You could shatter me with one skipped heartbeat, and I can't ever go back to that.
"It would be foolish of me to be disappointed in you finding happiness and love. There may be some tinge of disappointment for myself, but this has never been about me. It is about what is truly best for you. If you feel this is the way to a future that brings you joy, then by all means, I am going to give you my support."
She can't help but hear something else underlying his words, some warning, something that hints she is not choosing for the right reasons.
I'm choosing for the right reasons for me. This is the safer of two paths.
"Well, then as long as there will be now fisticuffs between the two of you." Her face feels odd as she tilts a smile at him, a muscle twitching in her cheek. He remains the gentleman and does not acknowledge what they both know is there.
Instead, he brushes a kiss across her cheek, his hand barely caressing her upper arm as he does.
"Good night, Mary. And my congratulations."
She watches him turn the corner of the passage, wishing she could send her longing off with him. She would close it away, put it behind those walls others cannot breach with the host of other ghosts and painful memories she was determined to ignore.