A/N: Thanks once again for the reviews I have been receiving - it's really great to hear that you guys like this story so please keep them coming in! I'm afraid it doesn't get much better for the angsty side of this story in this chapter, but please do enjoy!
Mary had almost collapsed in shock when she heard the news, her father and mother ashen-faced as they spoke gently to her and her other sisters. Matthew. Injured. She couldn't quite process the words, as she hastily sat down, the news like a punch to the stomach. She felt sick, everything spun around her as she tried to take in the news. Her father's voice slowly brought her around from her shock, and she inwardly cursed herself for acting like this in front of her family – she wasn't the one engaged to Matthew, but yet she couldn't help but be petrified – what if he doesn't make it? She shuddered at the thought, and unwelcome tears began to prick at the corner of her eyes.
"We do not know how severe his injuries are but he is being transferred to Downton straight away for treatment," Lord Grantham continued, looking sympathetically at his eldest daughter, "He'll be back home safe my child." Mary nodded weakly, standing shakily to her feet and muttering her excuses, hastily made for her bed chamber, her head in a daze. Once she reached the comfort and privacy of her bed chamber, she let the tears fall openly as she cried, gulping to try calm herself down. Horrid thoughts were tarnishing her mind as she saw images of Matthew, lying there broken, blood splattering him. She began to call herself a fool; a fool for never telling him the truth, the truth about her feelings, the truth about Pamuk. If this was the end, she regretted she never told him sooner, that she let him go to be with that Lavinia woman. At the very thought of Lavinia, her tears fell rapidly – she would be the one to take care of her fiancée not Mary. Oh how she would love to take care of him, sooth him and heal him but no, that was no longer possible. Mary cursed herself once more, as she wiped the tears from her sodden face and had to once again remind herself that Matthew was no longer hers' to love; she had to let him be healed by the person who was his intended.
Matthew arrived a few days later at the Abbey – now a convalescent home with a hospital ward – and was taken immediately to a room in the house separated to the other soldiers. He had been treated mainly at a field hospital in France but now need plenty of time to recover. Cousin Isobel had been sent for, and was now tending to her son; the rest of the family had given their cousins space but now Mary found herself meandering down to where he was. She had kept out of sight when he arrived, telling herself she had to stay away for her and his sake but now, she found that she couldn't. With a weak smile from her father, she entered the room and almost immediately gasped in shock. Nothing could have prepared her for the sight in front of her – doctors and nurses hurriedly ran around the bed, brandishing bandages and other medical equipment, cousin Isobel among them. She then suddenly caught a glimpse of Matthew, and she felt her legs almost give away below her. She saw him, his left leg twisted and bandaged up, the bandages soaked with blood. Gulping her gaze followed up to his head, where he sported a large gash on his right temple, dried blood covering most of his face. His eyes were shut but she could hear him cry out in pain as the nurses attended to his leg and his mother attempting to up the gash on his face, uttering soothing words to her son. Mary couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for her cousin, showing such strength. She felt sick, scared for his well-being as he lay still, occasionally mumbling but not forming words. It was torture to see Matthew like this, the person she loved in such pain and distress and yet she was useless, she could do nothing to help sooth him.
"Mary…" A name formed out of the mumblings Matthew was making, and it was clear to Mary who was summoning, despite his incredible weak voice. She instantly froze, as Isobel looked up and caught her eye, bewildered.
"Mary…Where's Mary.." Matthew mumbled again weakly, his eyes fluttering open for a moment as Mary gazed at him. She could see his deep blue eyes, scanning briefly before blinking shut once more. Mary looking pleadingly at Isobel, silently asking permission to move nearer. Isobel nodded once, giving her a weak smile as Mary hastily moved to his side, grabbing his hand and instantly stroking it subconsciously, trying to sooth him.
"Shh Matthew, I'm here. Your home now, your safe," She smiled weakly, as Matthew once again fluttered his eyes open to get a glimpse of him. Her heart shone as a ghost of a smile appeared on his face, as his grip on her hand tightened a little.
"Mary…Thank god you're here," He muttered sleepily, as his eyelids began to droop again.
"Shh now Matthew, get some sleep. I'm here," She said gently, as Matthew fell into a deep slumber within minutes, clearly exhausted. Mary took in the sight of his gash near his eye, and had to prevent herself from gasping, simply just continuing to stroke his hand. She looked at Isobel, who placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"He'll be ok Mary. He's badly broken his leg which will heal but it'll take time, and the gash on his head will also heal. He's just very very weak," She said, squeezing Mary's shoulder in reassurance as she then moved forward to bandage up Matthew's injury. She began to feel useless as Isobel tended to her son, and stood up weakly.
"I'll help you." She smiled at Isobel, who returned a weak but grateful smile. Together, the two women bandaged the gash, wiped his face clean of the dried blood and made sure his leg was comfortable before taking up positions by his bedside. Isobel did not question why Mary had stayed but she did not need to – she need perfectly why Mary was here, tending to her injured son. She knew Mary still harboured deep feelings for Matthew, and she knew that deep down, Matthew felt the same. They stayed there all night, watching over Matthew sleep and occasionally sleeping themselves until the early morning sunlight woke them from their restless slumber. Mary only left his bedside when Lavinia arrived, coming straight from London and immediately bursting into Matthew's room. Mary (who had been sitting by his side holding his hand) stood up abruptly, dropping Matthew's hand instantly as she stood in shock at the sudden arrival of Lavinia. Their gazes met for a moment, bearing down on one another as Lavinia rushed to Matthew's bedside, picking up the hand that Mary had been holding all night, completely ignoring Mary and Isobel. Taking it as her cue to leave and with a sympathetic smile from Isobel, Mary slipped out of the room. She was exhausted and now her heart felt pain again. She had completely forgotten that she was not meant to have spent all night comforting Matthew – that was not her job any longer, yet he had wanted her. He called out to her, not Lavinia. But she was not the one engaged to Matthew, not the one who he would look at adoringly anymore. Sighing heavily, she made her slowly to her bed chamber, promising herself to stay out of Matthew's new life with Lavinia and although it pained her, she would have to live with that regret no matter how much it hurt.
Thanks for reading! Reviews are once more welcomed :) I also want to say that I hope everyone who has received their A-Level and GCSE results recently have all done well, I'm sure you have done :) x