Chapter 8 – Damaged Goods
"Good day, Carson, how are you?" Matthew looked about the foyer as he entered. He had hoped Mary would greet him at the door. Lately, it seemed his principal aim in his life was to see her as soon and as often as possible. He needed to be with her.
"I'm well, thank you, sir." The butler helped him remove his overcoat. "His Lordship has been waiting for you. I've been instructed to take you to him at once." Carson's manner was hurried, anxious.
"What is it, Carson? Is something the matter?" asked Matthew. "Nothing serious, I hope?"
"I will let his Lordship explain, Mr. Crawley, sir."
Matthew kept pace with Carson as they hastened to the drawing room. "Mr. Crawley, m'Lord. Will there be anything else?" Matthew observed Lord and Lady Grantham to share the same grim expression. "Not for now, thank you, Carson," Lord Robert answered. "Matthew, good to see you."
"Yes, good afternoon. Good day, Cora," Matthew nodded to her. "Whatever's the matter?" Matthew raised his eyebrows. "Where's Mary?"
Lord Grantham exchanged glances with his wife. "We don't know where she is. Matthew, I assumed – wrongly, it appears – that you had told her of your plans to meet with Carlisle. I'm sorry about it but there it is. It upset her very much to learn of it."
"No one has seen her since then," Lady Cora added. "It's been seven hours." She walked to the nearest window and stared out onto the expanse of the gardens.
Matthew looked away, his eyes to the ground. He was shaken to his core. He took a deep breath. He looked back at Lord Robert. "She's not in the house. You're sure?"
"She's taken Diamond. She could be anywhere," Lady Cora answered him, her voice fraught with worry. "This is so unlike her, to leave the house without any word of her plans to anyone."
"I either hoped that she would have returned by now," Robert said, "or that, perhaps, she might have been with you."
Matthew brought his hand up to his forehead. His mind was racing. "I wish she had been. I haven't seen her since last night." He looked at the two of them. "She can't be far. I'll leave at once, while there's still light."
"I should go with you. We've a better chance between the two of us," said Lord Grantham.
"It's not necessary, I assure you. Your place is with Cousin Cora." Matthew spoke confidently. "Mary and I followed a well-worn path yesterday. She won't have strayed far from it. I will find her and bring her home. Trust me."
"I'll ring for Thomas. He can get Lynch to ready a horse for you. You can take mine." Lord Robert approached the bell pull.
"I haven't time for that, Robert. I can saddle a horse. Please excuse me." Matthew gave them each a final glance and quickly took his leave.
Once in the hallway, Matthew was immediately greeted by Carson. "You will need these, sir." He handed Matthew his coat and hat. "Follow me. I can show you the shortest path to the stables."
"You read my mind, Carson." Matthew accompanied the butler through an unfamiliar doorway and down a confined stairwell. It was the first time that Matthew had been allowed entry into the servants' passages. The bottom of the stairwell opened up to a different world. The corridors were narrow and gray. The eyes of the maids and menservants followed him as he passed. He smelled the kitchen first before he observed its ruckus. Finally, Carson opened the doorway leading to the back courtyard.
"You can find it easily from here, sir. See there," Carson motioned with his right hand.
"Thank you, Carson."
"Godspeed, sir."
"I will find her, Carson. Keep an eye out for us."
"You know I will, Mr. Crawley."
Matthew walked quickly to the stables. The air was fresh and cold. He tried to flesh out the reasons for Mary's extreme reaction. What could she be thinking? His failure to keep her fully informed could not explain this. Matthew could have charmed his way out of that slight, he was sure of it. His worst fear was that she was punishing herself yet again for an absence of discretion that was the damned Pamuk affair. How ironic that would be. It was the very reason he delayed telling her of his plans, to spare her further torment on that score. He saddled a spirited horse and within minutes, he was able to set out.
The sun was low in the sky by the time he reached the landing near the gamekeeper's cottage. He was relieved to see Diamond there, peacefully feeding on nearby grasses. He dismounted, tethered his horse. He made his way through the brush with solid strides. Matthew's heart rose to his throat as he neared the cabin. If she was not here, what were his other options? He had none. He squeezed the latch and pushed on the door forcefully.
The small room was cold and dark. She was lying on the cot – was she sleeping? He walked quickly to the small bed and sat down on the edge beside her. She was asleep and breathing quietly. Her eyes were closed, her lashes glistened. Her tear-stained cheeks were flushed. Her hair, having worked itself loose, framed her face in soft brown wisps and strands. Matthew was overcome with an infinite tenderness. What sadness was she hiding? Did he do this to her? He removed his glove and caressed her hair, her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered open. She looked up at him. "Matthew…how long have I been sleeping?" She started to shiver.
"I don't know, my darling. I've only just arrived." He stood up and took off his coat. "You are ice-cold." He covered her gently with the woolen garment. He sat down again. She stared into his steel blue eyes. She loved him so. She could feel her eyes well up and a single tear found its way to the edge of her cheek. She wiped it away hastily. "I must get back," she whispered. She sat up slowly. She was cold, so very cold.
"Mary, I'm so sorry. I meant to tell you..."
"Please, Matthew, I must get back. My mother and father must be beside themselves with worry." Mary pushed his coat to one side. She maneuvered herself around Matthew and stood up. "Thank you for coming to fetch me. I suppose I'm quite lucky that you found me before I froze near to death." She smiled nervously. She straightened her clothing and tried to fix her hair. "I must look a fright."
Matthew stood up beside her and grabbed her hand. "Can you forgive me, Mary? I know now that I should have told you."
She was weak and spent from heartache. She pulled her hand away. "It doesn't matter, Matthew." She shook her head. "None of it matters. You needn't worry. And I shan't hold you to your promise." She turned away from him and walked to the door. Matthew reached out and grabbed her arm. "Why do you say these things to me?" he entreated, "I don't understand it."
Mary refused to look at him. Tears rolled down her face. She prayed he would not see them. She wiped her face dry with her free hand. Matthew strengthened his hold on her arm and pulled her to him. He spoke to her slowly and with deliberation. "You're mad if you think I'm going to let you leave me." His voice was shaking.
Mary closed her eyes and swallowed. She pulled away from him. She grabbed onto the door latch in a feeble attempt to leave. He wrapped his arms around her. He buried his face in her hair. "Not again, Mary," he pleaded.
She held her ground. "Let me go, Matthew," she said in a whisper. "I am…damaged goods. Nothing you can do, nothing you can say to anyone, will ever change what I am." She turned to face him, her eyes shining with tears. "I am heading towards a firestorm. I will not take you with me. You don't deserve it."
"And you do?" Matthew looked down at her. Her face was still flushed but her lips were colorless. "Mary, you're not well." She was shivering uncontrollably now. He grabbed his coat and wrapped it around her and held her close. Mary felt the room was spinning. She collapsed in his arms.