Mary looked up through her tears, desperately trying to make out the face of her savior. She blinked furiously as he closed in on her and gasped as his soft hands touched her throbbing face, crying even harder as his vibrant blue eyes became clear to her.

"Matthew, oh Matthew," she sobbed as he pulled her in close, cradling her in his arms.

"Shhh, Mary you are alright now, shhh, Mary you are safe now," he murmured into her hair as he heard footsteps drawing near. She winced and held herself tighter in his embrace as she heard the approach.

"Over here!" Matthew yelled, trying to alert the party as to where they were.

"My God!" Lord Grantham exclaimed when he caught sight of them, in the dirt, Mary sobbing into Matthew's chest, Sir Richard lying unconscious just off to the side.

"Mary? Mary? What on earth has happened here?"

"We will have time for explanations later; right now we must get Mary into the house." Matthew responded, holding Mary tighter still. "I fear she may be badly injured."

"Mary, look at me, please!" Lord Grantham begged, reeling back when she lifted her head from Matthew's protective hold and bared her battered face to everyone gathered around them. The moment he reached out to touch her, she hastily buried her face again, concentrating solely on the comforting feel of Matthew's arms around her. Knowing that she needed him, him and only him, gave Matthew the strength he needed to lift her up in his arms, noting she was alarmingly light, and determinedly carry her back to her room, leaving his cane in the dust. With tremendous effort, he was finally able to lay her down on her bed, only to find that she cried out in panic as he tried to pull back.

"No! Matthew don't go!" she yelled, establishing a death grip on his shirt and jacket. With the warmth of his body gone she felt vulnerable and exposed, still not being able to gain control over the tears that had not ceased to fall from her eyes.

"Shhh, I'm not going anywhere, I'm right here, I'm right here." He pried her fingers from his shirt but quickly took her hands in his own, holding her dainty fingers tightly.

"Did Carlisle do this to her?" Lord Grantham demanded. Matthew nodded his head in a silent conformation. Sybil ran into the room ready to nurse just as Lord Grantham ran out to call the police and the doctor. Sybil fluttered about, trying to clean her up and inspect the damage but Mary wasn't having it. She thrashed about, screaming at the pain in her sides and working herself into a near hysterical state.

"Mary, Mary, Mary. Shhh, calm down, calm down, you're alright, it's just Sybil," Matthew chanted softly to her, squeezing her fingers, stroking her face, smoothing her hair, doing anything he could to soothe her and calm her down so she could be seen to.

"Sybil, pass me that cloth," he commanded. Hesitantly she handed the cloth over; watching in amazement as Matthew carefully cleaned Mary's beaten and tear stained face, calming her down in mere minutes.

Over the next few hours, people streamed in and out of the room and the doctor came, discovering three broken ribs as well as huge black and blue bruises covering almost every inch of her body.

"I am sorry to inform you," Dr. Clarkson said, "but most of these bruises are not fresh. I would guess there is over a week's worth of damage here."

Matthew remained by her side through it all, nearly retching when he found out the extent and length of her pain, holding her hands and keeping her calm, whispering comforting words in her ear as people came and went, her ribs were reset and bandaged, and finally the news arrived that Sir Richard had been arrested and taken into custody. As the night began to creep over, they ate a quiet dinner in Mary's room; Ms. Patmore had cooked up some of Mary's favorite soup as a child. They said very little and just enjoyed each other's company. Her tears had dried and her voice was hoarse, eyes drooping as she struggled to remain conscious.

"Darling, go to sleep. You've had a long day, you need your rest."

"But Matthew, I'm…-"she whispered, trailing off.

"Yes?"

"I'm frightened to close my eyes." Her voice was quiet and timid, so low that only Matthew could hear.

"I'll protect you."

"But what if I wake and you aren't here?"

"I will be."

"How can I be sure?"

"Trust me," he murmured, eyes alight with a new fire. The maid left the room, leaving them alone for the first time that day. Matthew dropped her hand slowly, keeping eye contact so she wouldn't be alarmed. He stood and removed his jacket and tie, resting them on the chair he had just spent the majority of the day sitting on. Next came his belt and socks; he had kicked his shoes off hours ago. Un-tucking his shirt from his pants, he walked around to the other side of the bed and lie down next to Mary, holding her hands next to his heart.

"Oh Matthew darling, don't be silly. Do come under the covers, you'll catch your death."

"But Mary – "

"Shhh, you and I both know I have no virtue left to protect. Please."

Matthew smiled and climbed under the covers, resuming the exact same position. Mary immediately snuggled in close, gently laying her battered visage against his warm chest, listening to the soothing sound of his beating heart. She fell asleep almost straight away. Matthew lay awake for a while longer, reflecting on the day's events and soothing Mary's restless sleep. Her fingers would tighten and loosen around his shirt, and she would tense up and curl in closer, whimpering at the terrors that plagued her mind. At these moments he would holder closer, murmuring soft nothings, until his own exhaustion won over and he fell into a light slumber.