Matthew let his eyes close for a moment as the car approached Downton. He and Mary had been here for nearly a month, and he still hadn't been honest with her about why he had brought her back home.

John Bates, he feared, was running out of time. If they were to move forward with this case, then they needed to move soon, before the courts lost interest.

He had to talk to her tonight; there was no more putting it off. He and Mr. Murray, Lord Grantham's lawyer, had gone as far as they could without her. To move forward would mean to involve his fiancé now.

"There you are, Mr. Crawley," the chauffeur said as he opened the door for Matthew. Matthew thanked him, thinking it weird that Branson wasn't the one to drive him. Tom, he corrected himself.

After the newspapers reported Mary's dealings with Kemal Pamuk, Matthew suggested she spend some time in Ireland with her sister. Mary took his advice and Matthew joined her. In the two weeks they were in Ireland, Matthew and Tom became rather good friends. In fact, it was Tom who suggested Matthew travel back to London and help fight for Mr. Bate's freedom.

Matthew stepped out of the car and into the evening air wishing Tom was here now. Tom Branson was a fighter, and although there were times when his impulses got the better of him, he could usually evaluate situations with a level head. Tom would know how to tell Mary, and Sybil, he thought, would help to calm her down afterward.

Matthew stood for a few moments kicking in the dust like a child, trying to catch just a moment or two of clarity before entering the home. He took a deep breath. He would tell Mary tonight. He had to.

. . . . .

Mary let the warm March breeze gently rock her back and forth as she stood in the courtyard staring out into the darkness. She had come out for the stars, which seemed to call to her nightly. They, unlike most of the developed world, didn't recount her past mistakes.

In the past months, Mary had made a habit of spending her evenings outside instead of lying in her bed with headlines of articles and rumors running through her head. She often wondered if there were a set of ears her secretes hadn't reached. Matthew, she thought again. Her past had reached his ears; however, it didn't seem to penetrate his heart. She used to worry that perhaps he had misunderstood her confession until one night in York when he was visiting his mother. She snuck outside after dinner, breathing the sweet night air, wondering again how she had become so lucky to have Matthew.

"Trying to run away?" Matthew had asked her as he stepped toward her.

"Not quite," Mary replied, smiling at the way the breeze tossed Matthew's hair.

"You look as though you have the weight of the world on your shoulders," he told her.

"Well," Mary answered, "I suppose that's what happens when the whole world knows one's secrets."

"Your secrets don't scare me, Mary," he told her. "Your past doesn't change the way I feel about you; it doesn't change the way I see you."

"Oh, Matthew," she said, "It has to. Even I look at myself differently because of my past."

"When I look at you, I only see you as you have always been - strong, brave, confident, and courageous. And I see you as you will be as my wife."

"I don't deserve you," Mary replied when she remembered how to speak.

"Quite the opposite," Matthew said. "But I have you anyway, and you have me. So perhaps you'll consider letting me carry some of the weight of that burden."

Mary sighed. She missed Matthew. He had traveled to York for a week to work on Mr. Bate's case and was scheduled to arrive by train tomorrow. It was in times of his absence that she longed to be married to him sooner. She wasn't sure why, as marriage didn't guarantee the continuous presence of another.

She thought of Anna, who had watched four months pass without her husband by her side. Mary couldn't imagine.

She remembered what Sybil had said to her once. "Being alone is much more difficult after you have someone to give it meaning."

She had found someone to give the word lonely meaning, but little did she know he stood opposite of her in the courtyard now. Matthew stood at the far end, watching as she swayed with the breeze. He loved her like this, free from the hushed whispers and too-long glances that haunted her. Mary looked so lovely, standing among the rose bushes, the moonlight softly illuminating her face.

"I thought I might find you here," Matthew said as he cleared his throat.

Mary turned around, struggling to make out the features of Matthew's face. Matthew was thankful for the darkness as it hid the anxiety that danced in his eyes.

"Matthew," she said when she thought she could recognize him. "Is it really you? I didn't think you were scheduled to return tonight."

"I didn't know I was to return tonight either," he told her as he stepped closer. "Mr. Murray sent me home early."

Mary was truly overjoyed to see him and she let a smile spread wide and foolishly across her face. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. Matthew breathed her in, smelling of the roses she spent her nights among.

"I'm so glad you've returned," she told him earnestly. "I was only just wishing you were here."

Matthew smiled down at her, "I've missed you too, my darling." Matthew smiled down and thought for a moment that perhaps tonight wasn't the night to talk to Mary as he had intended. He wasn't sure how she would take his news, and the thoughts of disrupting her current happiness were enough to make him consider postponing the inevitable.

"What did Mr. Murray say?" she asked as she pulled away from him. "Have we good news for Anna?"

The mention of Anna brought Matthew out of his debacle. Anna and John. He owed it to them to hasten this case, and again, he thought, the only way to do that was to involve his future wife.

"He said that we need to move forward," Matthew told her as he sat down on the bench overlooking the roses.

"What does that mean?" she asked as she sat next to him.

"It means that it's time to inform you of our breakthrough," Matthew said after clearing his throat. Goodness, he was nervous. He pushed his hair from his forehead.

Mary turned to look at him. "Well, what is it?" she asked excitedly, finding pleasure in her fiancés final willingness to tell her.

Matthew cleared his throat again. "Mary," he told her. "It's very important you not repeat any of this, even to Anna until I say it's to be done."

"Yes, yes," Mary dismissed him impatiently. She had been waiting for a long time to hear his news.

"I'm serious," Matthew repeated. "I'm afraid I'm already jeopardizing your safety by involving you. You must remain absolutely quiet."

Quiet was something Mary knew. Hadn't she kept quiet about Mr. Pamuk for years before telling anyone?

"My lips are sealed," Mary vowed becoming somewhat annoyed at Matthew's childlike treatment of her.

"Very well," Matthew took a deep breath and looked around the courtyard making sure they were alone. "We've had someone come forward with what seemed like possible information on Vera Bates' death."

"You mean her suicide?" Mary corrected him.

"I'm afraid I mean her death," Matthew restated.

"I'm not understanding," Mary said as she furrowed her brow in concentration.

"We've had someone come forward," Matthew told her. "Someone with some information indicating that Vera was murdered."

"But John Bates is innocent," Mary claimed, still not comprehending exactly what it was that Matthew was trying to tell her.

"That," Matthew said, "is without a doubt. The source said that Vera came to him a day before her death. She knew she was in trouble, but it wasn't John she was afraid of."

"Well, is the information reliable? It's not just someone creating a story?"

"We've hired a private investigator, and he seems to think the information is reliable. Mr. Murray and I think so as well. The story makes more sense than Vera's suicide."

"So why haven't you brought this to the court?" Mary asked. "Mr. Bates could be home by the end of the week!"

Matthew smiled at his wife's enthusiasm. He rather loved the way she had cheered him on in this, the ways she encouraged and kept pushing him.

"It's not that simple, I'm afraid," Matthew told her. "Whereas, we believe that someone else is responsible for Vera's death, we need more evidence before we can bring it before a judge. To bring this to court before it is sufficient would be to hinder Mr. Bates' case. We would appear desperate and juvenile."

"We are desperate, Matthew," Mary pleaded. "How will you ever get more evidence?"

Matthew nervously wiped his hands on his pants. "Well," Matthew said trying to keep his voice from cracking, "that's something I'll need your help with."

"My help?" Mary asked. "What will I be able to do?"

"I'm afraid that you might know our possible suspect. No," Matthew corrected himself, "I'm positive you know our suspect."

If Mary was confused before, she was completely lost now. Her being acquaintances with a murderer? The thought was too big to grasp.

"Who?" she asked, trying to mentally sort names of friends into the categories of innocent and murderer.

"Mary," Matthew said, taking her hands in his. "Before I tell you, you have to trust me. We've been investigating this for two months now, and I wouldn't be telling you unless I was sure."

"Who is it?" Mary asked, growing impatient and frustrated.

Matthew took a deep breath. He was too far gone now; he had no choice but to tell her. She would be as much a part of this case now as he was.

"Sir Richard Carlisle."


There you have it, my take on Vera Bates death. Really, did anyone honestly like Richard? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope to have another one up soon. All reviews, comments, suggestions are welcomed and appreciated. Thanks!