The Lady and The Lawyer

Two

'Tomorrow Came Too Soon'

The station was bustling with people: parents eagerly expecting their children to return from summer vacation or trips with family members, wives impatiently waiting for their husbands to return from a business trip perhaps, but Mary assumed that most of them could not feel her pain.

Matthew was leaving—gone for God knows how long. Just when she'd begun to fully accept that he was finally hers, he was being torn from her grasp, and she could do nothing to persuade him otherwise. Of course she was proud to watch Matthew volunteer so bravely, and wear his uniform with such valiance, but she'd prefer him in civilian clothing any day.

As the couple walked to Matthew's designated platform, she glanced up at him, finding it difficult to pinpoint the man she had fallen in love with under all the reserved seriousness. His face showed no signs of the distress or nostalgia that were splashed across Mary's features like a blood splatter; not even his eyes showed a single ounce of dismay. She knew why he chose to act this way: if he was emotional, then he'd never leave. Matthew was adventurous only to the extent of taking a weekend trip to London—how would he ever fare in the foreign places the army sent him?

Mary felt the stress she was sure Matthew felt, and wished there was some way she could ease his nerves. But alas, she'd never felt true despair and a sense of nothingness to the extremes he must be experiencing. Mary sighed, and took hold of Matthew's brown leather gloved hand, and had to smirk sadly to herself. Usually, it was glove against skin, but now both of them were cut off from each other's full touch. It was quite a depressing fact, that they'd be leaving each other in such a symbolic distance. Using her free hand, Mary traced her index finer over her bottom lip, feeling the silk black glove drag oddly prickly against the skin.

"Matthew, must you really go?" The words flowed from her mouth before she'd had a chance to hush herself. She watched as Matthew closed his eyes in a sort of pained tiredness, and knew this was not a conversation he wanted to have moments before getting on his train. But Mary would not let him go without one last fight.

"Are you seriously asking me this question Mary, minutes before I am to depart?" His voice was tight, and maybe even slightly irked, but at least she'd sparked some emotion into his sweet blue eyes. They silently whispered to Mary a 'no, I will be here with you always' but she knew the words would never pass Matthew's lips. Could the timing of this war be any more inconvenient? The matter was between Austria-Hungary and Serbia technically, and England had simply been dragged in due to allies and duty.

Duty. Never in Mary's life had she loathed a word quite like she did in this moment. It was because of duty that England had declared war on Germany, and duty that had tempted Matthew to enlist, and damn duty that had made her accept both of the latter facts.

"I do not mean to pry," Mary returned mildly, tightening her grip subtly on Matthew's hand, "I just simply want to make sure you are making the right decision. It shouldn't be because of what society expects, or what you think you owe to this country. In the end, it should be what you believe to be best for you; and if that is going off to war, then you have my undying support." She knew she may sound painfully desperate, or tiresomely repetitive, but Mary had never raised her white flag without stating her position as forcefully and as often as she could. She knew her chances of winning this argument were slim to none, but it was still worth a go.

"There should not be terms and conditions for your support, Mary," Matthew replied, dryness overcoming his tone. "I do believe this is the right choice; and partly for the reasons of society and the government. There is no use beating a dead horse, love. This war is inevitable now, and it wouldn't matter if I signed up now, or waited for the pressure; it would happen anyway." Matthew sighed, maneuvering his hand out of Mary's grasp, and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I do not mean to sound cold or heartless, but you know where I stand, Mary. Please do not let me depart on such a strained note." His eyes pleaded with hers, and she knew there was no way she could (or would want to) argue with that.

"Never Matthew," Mary whispered in response, and slowed her walk. Taking hold of Matthew's forearm tenderly, she directed him closer to her, and she placed a gentle hand on his cheek. "I know this is not easy for you. And I think you are very brave to do this; but please come home to me." She'd never been one to beg, but the normal rules of her personality didn't seem to apply when it came to Matthew. He made her feel all the emotions she'd been too scared to ever show and it somehow felt liberating to be so dependent and loyal.

"I will return, Mary," Matthew gave a sad smile, "or at least I will try my best to."

"Don't talk like that," she whispered, "you will return; I know you will. Now kiss me and get on your train… duty calls." Mary reached her other hand up and placed it on Matthew's other cheek. She could feel his dimples as he smiled, and she tried desperately to memorize the feeling. Closing her eyes and lifting up towards Matthew as he bent down, their lips touched. It wasn't an epic goodbye kiss that they always showed in a Nickelodeon, with tear streaked faces, and desperate ravishing hands, but rather a peck of the utmost simplicity, yet if felt it held much more meaning than the staged passion.

Breaking apart finally, Mary leaned her forehead on Matthew's. "Be safe, and remember that I love you."

"I will, Mary, and I will write as often as I can. I love you too, and remember that when I return, we will be greeted with a wedding and a future." Matthew blinked heavily, trying to disperse the tears that were forming in his eyes, but Mary noticed the newfound sparkle. She gave him a supportive smile, and a light kiss on the cheek before the whistle blew, indicating that the train would be leaving soon. Matthew said nothing, but rather gazed at her lovingly, but the melancholy was already darkening the tone of his features.

He finally left Mary's sight, now hidden by the smoke flowing with profound suffocation from the train. He was gone… for good. There were no more pleas Mary could say, no more touches she could remember while he was away. She heard the train begin to rumble and then start to move, and that sealed the deal.

"I love you," she whispered once more, knowing Matthew had no way of hearing her. But somehow it felt like an important and needed remark; if not for him, but for her. Most people didn't realize that the women at home were fighting a battle of their own: with loss and pain. Now Mary wasn't about to drown herself in her misery, and moan for months over the absence of her fiancé, but she did think she was justified to grieve just a little…

Two Weeks Later

"How are you faring Mary?" Cora asked, as she, Mary, and Violet sat down for a late afternoon tea. The young woman hadn't been herself at all since Matthew left, and it was a fact neither her mother nor grandmother could ignore. The two looked to her expectantly, and she breathed in tightly. What was she to tell them? That she missed him horridly, and wanted nothing else but to scream or cry? Of course not; that was too weak.

"Quite fine, Mama," Mary returned, sitting up a bit straighter, and sliding towards the edge of her chair. To break eye contact with the suspicious Cora, she looked down to her dress, and began to smooth the wrinkles in the crimson material.

"Mary darling, you do not have to be so guarded. You are allowed to miss him; in fact I'd be more worried if you weren't." Cora's sharp blue eyes compelled Mary to meet her gaze once more, and she sighed. Her mother and her American accent had a way of making everything seem less prim and proper, and more like a regular conversation that a pair of servants would have. Mary hadn't decided yet if she liked the feeling or not.

"Of course I miss him, Mama," Mary stated matter-of-factly, folding her hands in her lap. "I wait every day to receive a letter from him; if only just to memorize the curves in his letters. It is so odd to miss someone so much…"

"You certainly are becoming quite the romantic," Violet replied knowingly, sitting in the seat adjacent to Mary. The younger woman switched her gaze to her grandmother, and looked questioningly at the woman. Mary had never known Granny to be such a benevolent soul, but it somehow made sense. She'd always thought of herself as quite like Violet, so as she felt herself morph into a softer being, it only made sense that Violet did as well.

"Not a romantic, Granny, simply an open-minded woman with a love for a man." Mary's logic didn't work out smoothly as she'd expected it to, but then again, when it came to Matthew, nothing went as planned. "Have you heard any news from Papa?" She returned her attention to Cora. She watched her mother's face go numb, and it finally hit her how pale Cora had become since Robert and Matthew had left.

"No my dear, still no word—but you know how long it takes mail to get here. We may receive a letter any day now." Cora smiled, but it was still only a reminisce of the past dignified glory that had always pranced across her face.

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Mary agreed, still not perfectly sold on the thought. Running her palm over the diamond in her ring, it reminded her that there was a future with Matthew not yet bound. She hated coming back to this idea time and again, but somehow it always did. For too long, she'd been in the 'almost' stage with Matthew; a point of utter chaos and heartache, but when he'd proposed, Mary thought she could finally rest. But yet, cruel fate had other plans, and had torn her from Matthew for the umpteenth time. She tried her best not to be bitter, but it was an ultimate failure. She was too invested in Matthew and her love for him to watch it all disintegrate right before her eyes.

"Do not be so melancholy Mary," Violet told her with a firm tone and a touch of gentleness. "Matthew is a strong young man, and very well practiced, I'm sure. He and your father will return home safe."

Mary wished it was that easy for her to be so positive about the whole matter, but her habitual pessimistic ways still reigned supreme.

"I do believe you Granny," she retuned mostly out of courtesy for Violet's 'valued' opinion, "but if you'll excuse me, I am going to get some fresh air."

And just like that, Mary Crawley avoided the elephant in the room to the best of her ability.

So I know I just posted, but I couldn't help myself. My apologies for it not being much longer than chapter one, but again I remind you I am just getting the feel for Downton Abbey and its characters. Also, thank you so much to everyone who has shown support for this story, even in its earliest days; you really are all magnificent. An even bigger thank you to those who reviewed as well, your input is very much appreciated.

Reviews are love