Mary had to admit that Mrs Bird and herself had done a wonderful job in rescuing the cake. It looked quite splendid as Molesley brought it in; the strawberries glistening in the candlelight a perfect contrast to the rich white of the cream and icing decorating the surface. Not a spot of the burnt crust could be seen and Mary quite forgot what state it had been in earlier, her apprehension fading away to one of delight as she was sure Matthew would enjoy it immensely. She risked a look across at her husband and saw him watching her, realisation dawning in his eyes as a smile spread across his face. "I take it this is my surprise? Did you make it yourself?"

"Yes of course I baked it, Matthew, and you needn't sound quite so surprised!" Mary replied in feigned annoyance, "I'm not completely incapable of such things." Her curt look wouldn't hold though, as the smile brightening Matthew's face as he looked between her and the cake was exactly as she had pictured it earlier. He was positively beaming now, his eyes shining and his grin wide.

"She's been workin' hard on it all day, Mr Crawley," Mrs Bird added from the doorway where she had been hovering, almost as anxious as her mistress for how the cake would fair.

"Yes and it looks most splendid," Molesley praised as he carefully pushed the flowers aside to lay the cake proudly in the middle of the dining table.

"Thank you very much, my dear," Matthew said enthusiastically, standing up and reaching across towards her, kissing her gently on the cheek just how Mary had imagined. As he pulled away, he made a point of looking in her eyes and gently squeezing her hand, his gaze momentarily intense and full of promises of just how he would thank her later and Mary felt her heart suddenly jump in her chest.

In fact, Mary found it quite difficult to stop beaming as she watched her husband sit down again, eagerly looking at the beautiful cake and picking up the knife ready. The servants quickly left them alone again and Mary watched expectantly as Matthew began to cut the cake.

"What sort of cake is it, my dear?" Matthew asked, his voice innocent enough and his smile still wide.

Mary's own smile slipped slightly at the question and she felt the first prickling of nerves run through her. "Why, fruit cake of course, Matthew, your favourite."

"Ahh, of course," Matthew answered. He must have noticed the slight apprehension in her voice, for he looked up suddenly, his expression worried. "It's just that I'm not used to fruit cake being so adorned with strawberries and cream."

He smiled brighter and Mary felt her fears lift, though it was short lived, for at that very moment the knife caught in the cake and would cut no further. Another tremor of apprehension ran through her and she said, her voice a bit too terse, "I think the blade must be blunt."

"Yes, of course dear." Matthew answered hurriedly, his smile brightening too much now and repeatedly slipping slightly with worry. He swiftly looked away from her and pushed with more force upon the knife, this time succeeding in cutting through the cake. He quickly finished cutting himself a slice and Mary watched him anxiously as he dished it onto a plate.

They both looked down at the slice before them and Mary felt her spirits fall into despair. Now, the beautiful looking cake was revealed in all its wretchedness; the crater, so carefully filled with cream, was exposed, the blackened crust began to crumble and a faint smell of burning began to infiltrate the air around them. Her despondent gaze slowly rose to her husband's face and the joy and delight she had felt only a moment ago were now turned ashen and as desolate as the cake before them.

Matthew's only expression was one of barely masked alarm. He looked up and smiled at her, but it was weak and his eyes kept on shifting anxiously down at the cake before him. He sensed her worry and reached across to take her hand, giving it a consoling squeeze. "It looks delicious, Mary, thank you."

A weak smile graced Mary's features at his kindness, but it did little to alleviate her guilt and disappointment. She couldn't deny how pleased she'd been when she and Mrs Bird had finished decorating it, nor how much she'd been looking forward to pleasing her husband on their anniversary.

Matthew squeezed her hand again, smiling as he bravely picked up his fork and quickly cut a large piece. He only faltered momentarily as the fork approached his lips, his eyes suddenly shifting and his hand stilling. As he caught sight of Mary's anxious look, he quickly took a bite of the cake.

Mary's worried eyes never left Matthew's as he ate and the brief, quickly concealed look of distaste that flickered across his face as he hastily swallowed told Mary everything she needed to know. With all her hopes for a wonderful surprise and a delicious anniversary cake for her husband dashed, Mary pulled her hands away from his and crossed them despondently on the table.

Her crestfallen face made Matthew's smile widen to the point of panic as he quickly declared, "It really is delicious, Mary." As if to prove it, he quickly took another piece, although this time were was little actual cake and a large proportion of cream. He ate it quickly, barely chewing before swallowing, though the look of distaste was better hidden this time. Without saying another word, Matthew then proceeded to eat the rest of the slice, taking very small bites but eating quickly, and washing it down with rather large gulps of wine.

Mary couldn't remember a time she'd ever seen him eat so fast and with such steadfast determination. She could tell full well that the cake did indeed taste as awful as it looked, but her husband's eagerness to placate her anxieties and gratify her endeavours raised her spirits slightly. It was endearing really, her husband going to such lengths to please her, and her heart swelled with love for him. It also, however, played on her mischievous side and Mary began to wonder just how far Matthew would go in his desire to not upset her this special day.