Whilst Mary had been expecting the question, she still felt as if all the air had suddenly been sucked out of the world and left her breathless. His gaze upon her had become more focused now, watching, searching and Mary found her smile slipping. It had seemed so simple before, waiting for him to ask and knowing what her answer would be, but now… A thousand and one thoughts ran through her mind, each one chasing and contradicting the last. To tell him this, to admit her feelings, that would be everything, her heart laid bare before him and she would have nowhere to hide. Things would change irrevocably between them, he would never be able to look at her the same way and perhaps even this easy friendship they'd fallen into, which she treasured so dearly, would fall away too. And could she face the pity, the guilt that was sure to fill his eyes when he saw her? And was she right, to trouble him further, after all he had learnt about her so recently? Yet the answer slipped out before her thoughts had caught up with themselves, her lips parting and an almost breathless, "Yes," spilling forth before she had even realised. The sound of the word hanging between them, stunning them both.
He continued to watch her carefully, his face still cautious, his eyes still perplexed, as if he could not quite believe nor realise what her answer actually meant. She swallowed, took a deep breath, forced her smile wider, "Yes, Sir Richard did indeed accuse me of that."
Her voice faltered, her courage momentary fading. It was too easy then, too easy to spill forth lies or semi-truths, too easy to simply remain silent and not confirm his suspicions. She swallowed again, forcing her strength to return. She could not let this opportunity slip away, not now, "And he is correct." She looked down, almost losing her nerve again, before she forced her gaze to meet his, his eyes still searching, probing. Though she couldn't quite keep her smile in tact as she said, "I have never stopped loving you, Matthew."
He blinked, his eyes widened slightly and his mouth opened on a wordless expression. He continued to watch her for several moments, moments that seemed to last a lifetime and Mary was unable to look away. Then, his face suddenly hardened, his mouth twisted into a fierce line and he looked away. His hands once more reached for the arms of his wheelchair and Mary saw him gripping them tightly.
A breath she did not know she was holding suddenly forced its way from her mouth. Her heartbeat began to race and she wondered if it had actually stopped in those few moments. For then she could not feel it, but now it throbbed with a deep, brutal pain. Yet she did not regret telling him, the truth released was like a leaden weight lifted from her being. But now… now she would have to face the consequences of that truth.
And so she watched him, unable to look away as his expression changed, one moment an unreadable emotion would flicker across and the next it was firm again, as if he were fighting hard to control it. When he finally did speak, his voice was hard too, riddled with a tension akin to holding back emotion. "And now? When I'm stuck in this chair, crippled, impotent, a mere shell of a man?" He stopped, swallowed, seemed to be trying to bite back the anger and bitterness that was leaking into his words.
"On any terms, Matthew," she replied sadly, taking care to make her smile all the brighter, her eyes wide in her honesty.
"On any terms?" He asked, unsure for a moment and Mary knew he was remembering the conversation they had shared in the hospital, not long after he had arrived. Knew he realised now the deeper meaning she had held within them. His face tightened a moment later though, the bitterness returning. "Even now that I may no longer even become an earl, may never even have that to offer?"
Mary couldn't stop herself from flinching at the anger in his words. He had been dealt too many cruel blows recently and last night had been yet another life changing one. The knowledge that her cousin Patrick may still be alive had sent shockwaves through the whole house and all they could do was wait as the lawyers looked into the matter. And all Matthew could do was wait yet again to see what fate would decree for his future. For whilst he had never wanted to be earl, never wanted to own the great house and the estate, she knew he had grown to favour the idea. She knew that since he was injured, his future in Downton had been a source of comfort, a reassurance to him. It was the one constant, the one thing to plan for, to live for. Yet that too had now been snatched away from him.
"It doesn't matter, Matthew." She leant over and stroked his hand gently as she said this, as much for her own comfort as his. He looked at her suddenly, surprised, the anger draining from his face and his grip relaxing slightly on the wheelchair's arm beneath her fingers, though the simmering tension remained etched into his face.
"Doesn't it, Mary?" He looked away again, took his hand out from under hers and a sad expression filled his gaze. "It always used to matter."
"Not anymore," she replied, her voice soft, gentle, though her smile slipped as a wave of guilt and regret stabbed through her. Oh, how many times she had regretted that, listening to her Aunt's words, being swayed by her own prejudices, but it was too late now, she could never go back no matter how vehemently she wished it.
"It doesn't matter now," he eventually replied, echoing her earlier words, his voice almost sad, wistful, yet edged with bitterness, regret.
Mary knew well enough he was referring to more than the entail and she looked up, surprised. She couldn't allow herself to hope, it was not a privilege she had indulged in for many years, but right at that moment, the emotions spilling into Matthew's voice gave her pause. Perhaps now, maybe, even after all that had happened… It was a chance she had to take. "I don't have to marry him, you know."
He looked at her, surprised, his expression growing soft, thoughtful as he considered her words for a brief moment. When he did reply, his voice was gentle, yet firm, decisive, "Yes, you do."
Mary nodded, forcing her smile on her face once more, brighter than ever as her heart finally shattered into pieces. So that was it, it really was that simple. He knew, she had told him all, opened her heart and he had made his decision. It was too late, had always been too late between them.
He must have sensed the sadness that filled her smile, for he continued a few moments after, almost as if apologising, "If you do not, you know what he will only print your story."
Once again Mary's smile slipped, for she knew the truth in his words and was unsure what to make of him uttering them. "I'm not sure that I care any more, Matthew."
He looked at her again, his face once more searching, and Mary wondered what more she could say, how much more she could prove. Did he still not realise how much she was willing to sacrifice for him now?
Maybe he did realise it, because he looked away a moment later, his face hard once more, his voice empty, controlled. "I can't let you do that, Mary, not for me, not like this..." His eyes once more were distant and it was a long pause before he continued, straightening in his chair and looking decisive again, yet weary too. "And I suppose I am still engaged, though I doubt Lavinia will want me any more, not once she hears about the entail."
On his last words, his voice was light, almost teasing, but Mary could hear the sadness within, the disappointment, misgivings... For a moment she wasn't sure what they could mean. Perhaps… but no. She could not afford to let her thoughts stray there. Only more heartbreak awaited and she could not do that to Lavinia. Instead she smiled brightly once more and said, almost playful. "Now, I won't allow you to wallow in your self pity again, Matthew. I'm sure Lavinia can live without being a countess." And the rest, but she didn't add that, she didn't need to.
Her words brought a small smile to Matthew's face, albeit weak, though it did not remain for long. His face grew darker again, confused, "You've been a good friend to Lavinia, Mary. Thank you."
Her smile brightened, her voice warm as she replied, "It is the least I can do." Her words were heavy with meaning, which she did not mean to impart, but she knew Matthew was not unaware of them, not now. His face was thoughtful for a few moments longer, his eyes focusing on some unseen object out across the green manicured lawn. Slowly it grew harder and Mary found herself having to avoid the urge to fidget, to speak.
The silence was growing awkward again, the tension mounting around them. Eventually he spoke, his voice heavy, "Please could you… for a while… leave me be…"
Somehow Mary managed to hold her smile, though her heart took another painful blow at his dismissal. It was only fair, of course, she'd inflicted so much painful information on him, she should be surprised he had not pushed her away sooner. The knowledge did not make the pain any easier to bear though, but she stood up quickly and her voice was feigned lightness. "Of course, I'll take you back inside."
"No!" Matthew suddenly reached up his hand to stop her. "I mean… I would like to stay out here for a while. The sun is most pleasant and no doubt we will see rain again tomorrow."
Nodding, Mary began to walk back, her back straight and her head held as high as she could manage. She had only gone a few steps past him when he called over his shoulders to her, a heavy coldness in his words. "If you could tell mother, or a nurse, to bring me inside, in about an hour?"
Pausing, Mary looked over her shoulder, but his gaze remained fixed ahead, into the distance and away from her. She tried to speak, but this final blow was too much. She turned quickly and walked back towards the house, biting her lip and holding back the tears threatening to fall. She only stopped briefly when she reached the saloon, catching Cousin Isobel and passing along Matthew's message. Her cousin's hand rested briefly on her arm for a moment, looking into Mary's face with more concern than Mary quite knew how to handle right now. She smiled, for it was always the safest thing to do, when the tears threatened and your heart was breaking inside. No one would push you when they saw you smile and so Isobel simply nodded and dropped her hand.
It was only when Mary had reached her bedroom and stepped inside, the tears starting to fall, that she remembered Sir Richard was still waiting in the library.
Matthew wasn't surprised when, after what felt like about an hour, his mother's voice called his name behind him. He was glad he had a warning, for it meant he was quickly able to school his face and reply cordially enough. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved that it was not Mary who had come. Despite being left with nothing but his thoughts for company for so long, he was still not sure if he was ready to face her again.
"Are you ready to go inside now, Matthew? I think a proper rest before dinner may be advisable."
"Yes, thank you, mother." He wasn't sure if he would find much rest at all at the moment, but he could hardly stay out here any longer. Now that he had been roused from his thoughts, he couldn't help but notice the chill creeping into the air as the sun was dipping into the horizon and the shadows had fallen where he was seated. He also did not want his mother to fuss, which she had taken to doing far too much lately. He was relieved when his mother said no more after that and she wheeled him into the house.
That was perhaps the worst thing at the moment, not having the freedom of movement. The doctors said in time, when he was stronger, he should be able to move the chair on his own, but they were unwilling to give him any indication of how long that would be, like so many things he was promised would happen one day. For now, he had to just rely on other people, his mother, Mary, a nurse… He hated that, hated not having the independence to come and go as a he pleased, and he hated having to ask them for help… His mother seemed to sense his darkening mood, for she did not say anything more to him, not even as she was helped to carry him upstairs by some passing nurses.
It seemed her silence was to be short lived though, for as soon as she closed the door to the room he'd been given, and which all his protests had failed to change, she began. "I saw Mary earlier, she looked upset."
Matthew knew he should not be surprised that his mother should bring up this particular topic of conversation. He did not, however, want to discuss it with her and his own thoughts were still in such a tempest of confusion that he wasn't even sure he could. He sighed a moment later, loudly in the hope his mother would sense his irritation and move on. When his deep sigh had little effect, his mother still looking at him expectantly, he answered somewhat petulantly, "I'm sure it's none of our business, mother."
"But wasn't she talking to you just before she came in?"
Matthew sighed again, but he knew it would do no good now. His mother was watching him carefully and he knew that look of determination in her eyes only too well. She would not let the matter drop until she was satisfied and besides, he regrettably needed her help and he wasn't sure how much he could take of her glaring at him. He sighed again, fidgeted nervously, not sure where to even begin, his thoughts were still so confused... "She told me some things… I… I don't think I took them very well."
"Did she tell you she's still in love with you?" His mother's voice was calm, matter of fact, as if they may as well be talking about the weather. She twisted his chair around once they reached the bed and between them he was lifted onto it and helped to lie down. The doctors promised that one day he would even be able to move himself around somewhat, would not require so much help, but whenever he asked when, the answer was the same as ever; soon, when you're healthy enough, you need to build your strength.
It was the shock of his surprise, not the movement from the chair, that caused him to delay answering. The directness of his mother's question didn't phase him, but he wondered how she should know, for he was sure Mary would not confide in her. He didn't dare ask for fear of what he may find.
"Yes, she did." He answered eventually, as his mother helped remove his shoes and pulled the blanket over him. He found himself surprisingly weary then, in need of the rest his mother was insisting on, though he doubted it was merely due to his recovery and injuries.
"Good," his mother answered, stepping back and stowing his wheelchair safely in the corner. "And what is it you are going to do about it, Matthew?"
"Do? What can I do!" He said with more indignation than he intended. "Mary is already engaged! And so am I, I suppose, though Lavinia is better off without me."
Isobel shook her head at his obvious self pity and stubbornness. She tried to speak, to argue, but stopped herself. It would do no good now; Matthew seemed to have made up his mind on that score. There was something else in his voice too, something that gave her pause, as if he wanted to think the worst, to believe, perhaps hope, his engagement was over. Still, she did owe him the truth, at least. Her expression turned pensive, anxious, her voice dropping, softening. "I had a letter from her the other day." She held her hand up to stop Matthew from speaking, "She begged me not to say anything, but, I think it is in your best interest to know."
She sighed, finding all her words before she continued. "She asked me if I could speak to you, try to convince you to let her return... She misses you, Matthew, she wants to be here, with you, no matter the circumstances, but she doesn't want to hurt you. She's worried that her presence pains you..." She watched Matthew's face carefully, saw the confusion and anxiety fill his face, saw the struggles and bitterness as he took in her words. "She loves you, Matthew, and she still wants to marry you, no matter what."
Matthew looked away at his mother's final words. He was sick of being told that, of people saying it did not matter, his injuries, the limited, dependent and abstinent life he would have to live. He couldn't push that on any one, not Mary, not Lavinia. Not now that his whole entire future was so precarious. "I doubt that will be enough, when Lavinia hears I'm no longer the heir!"
It was a cruel shot, born out of pity and resentment, not any ill feelings towards his fiancée, and he deserved his mother's reprimanding look and curt reply, "You don't know that for certain, Matthew! That is something you must allow Lavinia to decide!"
She began to walk towards the door, leaving her son to wallow in his pity, for time had always taught her that Matthew was often best left alone when he suffered from these dark, sulky moods. She paused at the door though, turning around for one last try. She tried to keep her face soft, gentle, but her own patience was wearing too thin, the strain of Matthew's injuries affecting herself far more than she cared to admit. Her voice, then, was far harsher than she intended, but perhaps the message may sink in deeper. "Matthew! No matter how you push us away, we will not let you sit around and feel sorry for yourself!" She shook her head, pausing, trying to reign in her annoyance. He had at least turned towards her now, though his face was growing fiercer at her words and his hand were tightening on the blanket.
She knew this was difficult for him, could not even begin to imagine what he must be thinking right now, but she had to try. "You have two very beautiful, intelligent and frankly very special women who are in love with you enough to marry you, on any terms!" She sighed inwardly in frustration as Matthew looked away, his face growing hard as he tried to ignore her words. "Matthew! It's not a case of whether you will marry! It's a case of which of the two women you want to marry!"
She turned back towards the door, opening it before she said anything else in her barely contained temper. Before she closed it again, she did look turn round once more and said, forcing her voice calmer, "Now, get some rest and I will come and wake you in time for dinner." With that she shut the door, not sure if the lack of answer on her son's part was a good sign, or not.
Okay, hope this chapter wasn't too awful! My muse doesn't seem to be taking very well to writing fast! But I'm determined to write as much as I can before the next episode of Downton Abbey! So apologies for this rushed attempt – I hoped you enjoyed it nonetheless. There's about one or two chapters still to go – dependent on how much I'm able to stop my muse from waffling!
Thanks for reading!
Oh and for disclaimer reasons, all the words are my own (though the characters obviously are not), except for two lines from the episode 6 preview - "I don't have to marry him, you know" and "Yes, you do." - The words that sparked off this whole entire fic!