Rating: PG-13 (for Edwardian teenagers whispering about kissing and what happens between husband and wife)
Spoilers: none since the story takes place in 1906

Summary: The days leading up to the shoot are starting to blur for Matthew. He is getting worried about the event and confides in Mary. The two are becoming very close and secrets are traded in confidence between the two. As the New Year's Day shoot approaches, so does their inevitable separation.

Note: If the thought of a fourteen year old girl receiving a kiss from a fifteen year old boy bothers you, I suggest that you either close your eyes when you see that coming, or that you find something else to read. Oh and heavens, if you think it shocking that Edwardian teenagers were interested in sex and were filled with hormones just like modern day teenagers, perhaps you should skip that part too :)

Movie Reference: the expression "cowardy custard", used in chapter 7, was borrowed from the movie The Others.

Special thank you to the lovely Tambear for catching missing commas, odd grammar and offering excellent suggestions & advice!

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Thank you for reviews and comments. The posting/revising happens faster with feedback (it's a fact!). Love it, love it! Please feel free to drop me a line.

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Chapter 8/9 – The New Year's Day Shoot

The days leading up to the shoot started to blur for Matthew. The events of the day were more or less the same, they ate, they changed, they ate and then changed again, sometimes broken up with some form of activity. One he particularly enjoyed was practicing ballroom dancing with the Crawley sisters. Since both he and Patrick were present, Lady Grantham had asked them if they would be so kind to participate. Mary was ecstatic. Normally she had to dance with Edith.

Matthew held out his arms to Mary and she stepped closer, gently placing her hand in his and the other one on his shoulder. Aunt Rosamund started playing a waltz and Matthew moved them around the floor to the music. Mary smiled at him. This was so much more thrilling than with just her sisters for dance partners.

"Oh, look at Mary and Matthew. Don't they just look grand?" Sybil exclaimed.

Mary giggled and Matthew swept her around the room a little more assertive. When the music ended Sybil skipped over to them. She looked up at Matthew.

"Me now," she said and grinned. "I simply must learn because I so want to dance with you at my ball."

Mary laughed and caressed her sister's hair. "Sybil, darling, that is far, far away in the future."

"I don't care. Matthew will be there and I want to dance with him then," the girl said stubbornly.

"The lady has spoken," Matthew said amused and winked at Mary. "Milady," he said and held out his hand to Sybil.

Mary stepped over to the side and took a seat. Patrick was still dancing with Edith and she was more than happy letting them be. Watching Matthew trying to lead Sybil was so much more amusing. Sybil was much too small to be able to properly dance with Matthew. His hand was against her shoulder blades and she grabbed his arm, unable to reach his shoulder. Her tiny feet and shorter legs tried to keep up with Matthew. Mary could tell that he was trying to take smaller steps for Sybil's sake. It was very endearing to watch.

When the music came to an end, Matthew said something to Rosamund who laughed. She started to play another tune. Mary smiled when she recognized it as a polka that Rosamund had played the other night. Matthew leaned down and whispered something to Sybil who nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. With her hand on his shoulder, she took his other hand. From the waist up they looked like a regular couple. Once settled, Matthew started to dance, Sybil giggling as he hopped around the floor with her. Mary laughed at their silliness.

.

.

"I'm afraid," Matthew said in an almost whisper.

He was again on Mary's bed. It was after midnight, and a new year had started. The excitement of the celebrations had both of them wide awake at this late hour. Some of the guests were still celebrating downstairs; now and then a cheer or laughter could be heard echoing through the house.

Matthew was leaning against Mary, his head on her stomach. She was running her fingers through his hair as she listened to him talk about the upcoming shoot.

"What if I can't hit anything? What if I do?" he sighed heavily and sank deeper down on the bed.

"No one expects anything from you. I will be just as happy if you don't hit anything. I always feel so bad for the birds."

"You really don't mind?" he asked and turned his head so he could look at her. "Even if Patrick hits every target."

"No."

"And you're really coming?" he asked for the fifth time.

"Yes I am!" she said and rolled her eyes. "Papa wanted me to stand by Patrick, but I told him that Patrick thinks that I'm bad luck after the riding incident."

Matthew snorted. "That's not true."

"Of course it isn't. I don't think Papa would be very happy if I told him the truth."

Matthew looked at her again. "What is the real reason?"

"That I want to stand by you," she said and smiled at him. "You want me there, Patrick doesn't."

"I do. I really do," he said quickly. "You know, Mary, the best part of this stay has been to get to know you."

"Really?" she whispered.

"Of course," he said quickly. "That and your sweet kisses."

She made a face at him when he laughed. She pulled his ear a little and he yelped.

"Hush! You must be quiet," she hissed.

"Then be nice to me," he shot back. "No pinching or pulling anything."

"You're no fun," she muttered but then grinned.

He sat up and tugged at her arm until she fell against him. He held her in a loose embrace, her back against his chest. He leaned his cheek against her hair and sighed.

"Do you think it's like this when you're married to someone?"

"What do you mean?"

"That you can talk about everything and that you get to hold each other."

"I guess," she said and shrugged. "I think most men don't expect their wives to know much of anything." Her thoughts went to Patrick and she made a face. "Papa wants me to marry Patrick but I can't stand the thought. I don't love him. I can't see us ever like this."

Matthew sighed again. "It is a bit scary to think about. Luckily I don't have to get married for a long time."

"Girls can get married fairly young, if they get their father's permission," Mary said in a faint whisper.

"Do you want to?"

She shook her head. "I know nothing about what will be expected of me as a wife. The thought of possibly marrying someone in a year or two is frightening."

"I'm sure that you will be told what to expect before your wedding night," he said and kissed the top of her head.

"Do you know?" she asked as his words somehow made her suspicious that he had some knowledge on the matter.

"A little," he said nervously.

"Tell me!" she demanded.

"Absolutely not!" he said and swallowed.

Mary turned around and gave him a sad look. "Why not? It frightens me. Knowing something about it would help."

"I'm not sure," he whispered. "It is hardly proper to talk about."

"Please Matthew," she whispered and touched his hand.

"All right, but you need to sit over there. I can't look at you while talking about this."

Mary rolled her eyes but she sat down next to him, leaning against the headboard. He fiddled with the seam on his pants for a moment. She wanted to tell him to just get on with it, but knew that if she did, he might not tell her.

"On your wedding night," he whispered. "You will be in bed with your husband in a way very similar to this, only…"

"Only what?" she asked and frowned.

"You will not be wearing any clothes, or he will take off your nightdress."

"Oh," she said and blushed a little at the thought.

"He will touch your breasts."

"I don't really have any, you know," she muttered.

Matthew chuckled and shot her a quick glance. "Don't worry. I'm fairly sure you will, once you get older."

She nodded and smiled at him. "Thank you." She raised an eyebrow as if asking 'Then what?'

"He will touch you in your private place," Matthew whispered.

Mary gasped and covered her mouth. "Really?"

Matthew nodded. "Girls private parts are different somehow from boys. I don't know much about it. I've never actually seen a girl's private parts."

She nodded. "Of course not." She sighed. "I only have sisters so I've never seen a boy's private parts either."

"Well, they do fit together somehow I think."

She frowned. "How?"

"You have a…" he blushed furiously and looked away. She tugged at his sleeve. He groaned and looked up at the bed canopy suddenly wishing that he had never said anything. "Mary, I can't."

"Of course you can," she hissed. "I have what?"

He looked at her. "You have an entrance of sorts in your private parts. Your husband will put his manhood there. It will hurt a little and you will bleed a little too."

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand again. "Every time?"

"I don't think so," he said and shook his head. "I think it's only that first time. Later on when you have a baby, the baby will come from that same place, at least that's what father said."

Mary swallowed hard, staring at him. "You're right. I'm even more frightened now. It sounds horrid."

He sighed and made a face. "The way I've heard boys talking about it it sounds very nice. It sounds like it's something that married people enjoy doing together.

"I hope you're right," she said softly and lost herself in thought for a moment.

"I should go back to my room," he said and turned his back at her, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Mary scooted closer and knelt on the bed behind him. She touched his shoulder.

"Thank you for telling me."

He nodded and smiled at her over his shoulder. She watched him leave and smiled at him when he turned to look at her before opening the door.

.

.

Mary covered her ears as Matthew raised the gun. She watched the bird high in the sky, praying that he would miss. The bird took off and she let out a sigh of relief. He turned and made a face at her.

"I told you I'm not very good at it," he muttered.

"I am sure the bird thinks that you are absolutely fantastic," she said and smiled.

He chuckled and nodded. A horn sounded and he opened his gun, hanging it over his arm the way he had been taught. Mary fell into step with him as they walked towards the next round.

"I want to apologize for last night," Matthew said and sighed. "It was very inappropriate of me to discuss these things with you. You are a lady," he said and smiled sadly at her. "I should've shown you more respect. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Oh Matthew," she said and rolled her eyes. "I asked you to, badgered you almost. Do I appear to I have been scarred by the knowledge?"

He shot her a quick look and then shook his head. "No you don't."

"Then please do not worry about it. I found it most useful knowledge. Not quite as useful as what Rosie told me this morning," she said chipper and picked up the pace.

"What?" he sputtered. "You spoke to Rosie about that?"

"Of course," she said and smiled sweetly at him. "Oh don't worry Matthew; I kept you out of it. How would I ever be able to explain your involvement anyway?"

"Thank you," he muttered, his face a shade darker pink.

"Now do hurry up so we can get to the next stop."

Matthew laughed and offered her his arm. She grinned and looped her arm through his.

.

.

As it turned out, Matthew had not made any kill. Patrick boosted his four pheasant success all through lunch. Mary rolled her eyes to Matthew who was sitting across from her. The luncheon which had sounded so grand was actually quite boring, and cold. Mary rubbed her legs together and took a tiny sip of her wine. She had been given a small glass of red wine to keep her warm and as a mark of this memorable occasion. She felt very grownup and sipped it the way she had watched her mother do every night at dinner.

After luncheon they had walked back to the house. Mary was tired and longed for a hot bath. Had she known that a woman's role at the shoot was to walk a pretty far distance, then stand absolutely still in the cold, and cheer her man on, she might have thought twice about pushing her father to let her come.

.

.

In the end, Matthew had left without any notice. After an especially rough tiff with the Dowager Countess, Isobel Crawley decided that it was time for her and her son to return to Manchester. Bags were packed in a hurry, without Mary's knowledge. Had it not been for Sybil, Mary would have missed their departure entirely.

"He's leaving!" Sybil cried and ran to Mary, throwing her arms around Mary's waist.

"Who is leaving?" Mary asked confused.

"Ma…atthew," Sybil hiccupped.

Mary pushed her sister away and looked at her. "What are you talking about? They are not leaving for several days."

Sybil shook her head. "They are getting in the carriage right now!"

Mary gasped and covered her mouth. She ran to her nightstand and pulled something out of the drawer before leaving the room.

Mary had never been more anxious to get downstairs in her life. She did not care if she would get yelled at for running through the grand hall. She saw Carson standing by the door and ran towards him. She took a couple of deep breaths and then she saw it. The carriage was already moving, the horses picking up speed as it disappeared down the driveway. Mary choked back a sob. She looked down at the tiny stuffed dog in her hand. She had wanted to give it to Matthew, to keep him safe and bring him good luck. She kissed its little head and put it back in her pocket, clutching it tightly. Perhaps for now, she needed it more?

Carson gently put his hand on Mary's shoulder and she looked up at him with sad eyes.

"Master Matthew was very sad to leave," he said in a gentle voice to her. "He asked me to say good bye to you and tell you that you're the bravest girl he knows."

Mary wiped a tear away and nodded. "Thank you Carson. Matthew is a very nice boy."

"That he is, Lady Mary," Carson agreed.

The two turned to watch the horses take Matthew away from Downton, both wondering when, if ever, he would be back.

*** L MJC ***

Matthew is gone and a friendship that had only just begun is now threatened by distance. With the events of the first few days of 1907 culminating in Matthew's departure, we leave the past behind as the story concludes in Chapter 9 which is set during the same days in 1919.