A/N: Sorry about the wait, guys! Here's an extra long chapter for you! Huge, huge, huge thanks, as always, to all those who reviewed the last chapter and to Willa Dedalus for being an amazing support.

You may want to keep in mind as you read this that this is LOATverse, not canon. I know that sounds cryptic, but I don't want to give anything away. Just remember that some things as far as backstory goes are a little different than in canon.

Just to recap, at the end of chapter 4, they were getting ready to leave for dinner at Aunt R's. In case you forgot. :)

Chapter 5

"Lady Mary Crawley, Mr. Matthew Crawley, and Mrs. Isobel Crawley, my lady."

Matthew tried his best to smile warmly at Lady Rosamund as she made her way across the opulently decorated drawing room to greet them after they were announced, but worried that it might actually look more like a grimace. He tried not to lean too heavily on Mary's arm as she greeted and kissed her aunt. Bowing was absolutely out of the question, so he simply dipped his head in Rosumund's direction, hoping she would understand.

"Cousin Matthew," Rosamund greeted him with considerably less warmth than she'd offered Mary. "I'm so pleased you finally decided to grace us with your presence. I was beginning to worry that you were a figment of Mary's imagination."

"Lady Rosamund, I..."

"And Mrs. Crawley, welcome," Rosamund interrupted him, turning her attention abruptly to Isobel.

"Lady Rosamund, thank you so much for having me," Isobel answered with a polite smile, casting a sideways glance up at Matthew's sudden frown.

"Mary, I'm just dying to introduce you to my friends." Rosumund turned and gestured to the three fashionably dressed people already in the drawing room: two women in beaded gowns seated on the settee and an older gentleman standing behind them. "May I introduce Lord and Lady Bromley and Lady Bromley's sister, Miss Amelia Rochester."

"So this is the famous Mary you're always telling me about, Ros," the middle-aged woman spoke up, her beady eyes appraising Mary from head to toe, but studiously avoiding her crippled husband. After all, she wouldn't want to appear rude. "I look forward to knowing you better, my dear."

Mary nodded her acknowledgement of Lady Bromley's sentiments before turning again to Rosamund. "Are we waiting on anyone else, or is it time to go through? Matthew needs to sit."

"Mary, I'm fi..."

"We're waiting on one more," Rosamund answered, cutting Matthew off again. "A bachelor to round out the party," she announced with obvious relish.

Though his entire being burned with mortification at the awkward situation he'd been placed in, Matthew met Mary's coyly raised eyebrow with a slight grin. "Just as you predicted," he whispered to her as they seated themselves on the sofa.

Conversation was awkward and stilted as Rosamund's guests questioned Mary about her family and about her stay in London, which, of course, necessitated a mention of Matthew's therapy appointments, leading to further awkwardness. Isobel complimented Lady Bromley and Miss Rochester on their gowns, which sparked a lively recitation on the latest fashions and the merits of the various dress shops in town. Matthew thought the ladies seemed inordinately delighted to find a neutral topic of conversation to fill the time until dinner. He got the distinct impression that there was an elephant in the room that everyone was painfully aware of but nobody wanted to acknowledge, and he was almost certain that it was him.

The entire party breathed a collective sigh of relief as the door swung open again as the butler announced the final member of their party.

"Sir Richard Carlisle, my lady."

Mary discreetly swallowed a long sip of her wine as she observed at Matthew seated across from her at the table before hazarding a glance at her dinner companion. His icy blue eyes were trained on her face, their corners crinkling as he grinned at her carefully hidden discomfort.

Nothing escaped Sir Richard's notice. She'd known him long enough before turning down his proposal to have deciphered as much. He was attractive enough and obviously intelligent, but there had always been something unnameable about him that made her uneasy. As things now stood, she had two very tangible reasons to be uncomfortable in his presence. Being seated at the dinner table next to a man who's proposal she had once refused was one thing; being seated next to a man who had published her scandalous tale in the gossip section of his newspaper was another.

"Allow me to offer my belated congratulations on your marriage," Sir Richard spoke as he brought his own glass to his lips. "I saw the article in the Times last autumn. You must be very happy to have secured yourself a permanent place in Downton Abbey's hallowed halls."

Mary, detecting the veiled barb behind his smooth words, arched one eloquent brow and kept her eyes firmly on her place-setting. "Thank you, Sir Richard. I can assure you, I am very happy in my marriage to Matthew."

"Indeed, marriage seems to agree with you," her companion responded, his voice lowering slightly. "You're looking very well."

Thinking that they had done with the topic, Mary nodded in acknowledgement of his compliment and returned her attention to her soup.

She wasn't to be so lucky.

"How fortuitous for you that Mr. Crawley just happened to be suddenly available. Such unexpected good fortune for you both."

Mary cringed at the sarcasm behind his overly honeyed tone. She glanced up at Matthew, who, thankfully, seemed to be enjoying an easy conversation with Miss Rochester. Despite some initial awkwardness, one of Matthew's disarming smiles had put the younger woman at ease, allowing them to converse semi-comfortably throughout the first course. Mary was glad of this small victory, at least.

Turning to look Sir Richard boldly in the eye, she responded simply, "Yes, we've both been very fortunate."

Matthew squirmed impatiently in his seat, tumbler of brandy untouched on the table in front of him, as he waited for Sir Richard and Lord Bromley to finish theirs so he could locate his wife. He was terribly worried. When the footmen had entered to serve the fish course, she had grown alarmingly pale and excused herself shortly after. She never returned to the dining room, but his mother and her aunt, who had volunteered to check on her, had assured him that there was nothing about which to fret. After making the announcement, Isobel had again excused herself to rejoin Mary, leaving him feeling dreadfully alone and at the mercy of the table's unfamiliar occupants.

"Relax, young man," Lord Bromley admonished him teasingly. "My wife had these kinds of spells. It's perfectly normal."

Matthew's brow wrinkled at the idea that sudden bouts of illness were somehow normal for anyone, and Sir Richard didn't fail to take notice. He eyed the younger man appraisingly as he took a long drag from his cigar. There was a story here. He could smell it.

"I understand congratulations are in order," he spoke slyly, leaning back casually in his chair.

"Uh...thank you, Sir Richard," Matthew responded haltingly. "I am very fortunate in my marriage."

Lord Bromley raised his glass in a silent toast, and Richard's eyes narrowed. It was just as he'd suspected. Lady Mary hadn't told her ailing husband anything. She was still hiding, still covering up her shameful secrets.

"Let's rejoin the ladies, shall we?" Lord Bromley at last announced as he rose and put out his smoldering cigar. Sir Richard did the same, his eyes fixed amusedly on Matthew as he struggled to rise without groaning.

"Allow me, Mr. Crawyley," he whispered close to Matthew's ear as he offered his hand in assistance.

"Thank you," Matthew responded uncertainly, hesitating for a moment as he absorbed the blow to his ego and forced himself to accept sir Richard's cold hand, despite his misgivings about the spirit in which it was offered.

The walk to the drawing room seemed interminable. Matthew's eyes immediately zeroed in on Mary as he entered. She was seated calmly between his mother and Lady Bramley on the sofa, sipping delicately on a cup of tea. He walked over to her as quickly as he could, which wasn't very quickly at all, addressing her in a concerned tone as he leaned heavily on his stick.

"Darling, are you alright?"

"Perfectly," Mary answered, the picture of calm and health. He stood and looked down at her for a moment, studying her features for any trace of the sudden illness that had befallen her at dinner, but finding none. On the contrary, her face was lit by a subtle smile, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. He glanced at his mother to find her similarly serene, chatting amiably with Lady Bromley who, to his surprise, glanced up at him with a knowing grin that made him a little uneasy, as he couldn't possibly begin to decipher its meaning. It was especially odd considering the same lady had studiously avoided meeting his eye across the dinner table not half an hour ago.

"Why don't you go and sit down, dear," Isobel suggested solicitously, but Matthew read it as the dismissal it was. He was, apparently, intruding on a private conversation.

"Yes, darling, you mustn't strain yourself," Mary reinforced gently.

"Well...if you're sure you're alright..."

"When am I ever unsure, darling?" Mary answered cryptically before turning her attention back to the conversation going on around her.

With a deep sigh, Matthew turned and surveyed the room for a comfortable place in which to ensconce himself. The settee near the window looked promising enough and would at least afford him a view of the gas-lit street to help pass the time. He picked his way over to it before carefully lowering himself, biting his lip lest any uncouth vocalization should escape and longing for home where he could moan and groan to his heart's content.

Glancing back at the party assembled around the sofa, he noticed Sir Richard and Rosamund standing close together, clearly having abandoned the group conversation in favor of a private tête-à-tête. Lord Bromley, who had seated himself on the other side of his wife, appeared ready to nod off at any moment. Matthew was sure he wouldn't be far behind. Ordinarily, he would already have been in bed by this hour, and he was beginning to feel the affects of his late night. He turned to look out the window at the darkened street, watching as the shadows on the sidewalk danced in the flickering lamplight.

"Mind if I join you?"

Matthew started a little at the unexpected address and turned to see Sir Richard standing over him, that same patronizing grin creasing his face.

"Not at all," he responded, shifting as best he could to make room for Sir Richard beside him on the settee. For a long moment, there was silence as each man seemed to take stock of the other.

"So," Matthew began awkwardly, grasping about for a neutral topic to fill the time, "how long have you known my wife's aunt?"

"Ros? Ours is a long-standing friendship of...mutual advantage," Sir Richard answered, his voice lowering suggestively as his eyes moved to glance back at the lady in question before alighting on another subject. "It was she who introduced me to your lovely wife several summers ago."

"Oh?" Matthew replied flippantly.

"Why, yes. Lady Mary and I became...rather close for a time. She's a delightful woman. That house party would have been a dreadful bore without her company." Sir Richard paused, his eyes lingering on Mary's form in a way that made Matthew's hackles rise. "You are to be congratulated on having won her."

"She's never mentioned it," he responded, perhaps a little too forcefully.

"I'm not surprised," Richard responded smoothly. "Lady Mary always did have her little secrets. As a man who's livelihood is finding and selling information, I certainly couldn't turn down the opportunity to discover one of them when it presented itself."

Sir Richard paused, watching Matthew's face intently as he absorbed this sudden turn in the conversation.

"But, of course," Richard continued, "everything worked out for the best, did it not? You were there, her knight in shining armor, to cushion the fall."

"You own The Daily Mail." Matthew spat the words out like an accusation as the memory of lying in a hospital bed holding the very same paper's gossip page in his trembling hands came rushing back with surprising clarity. He'd known Sir Richard was in the newspaper business, but had never heard anyone mention which paper he was affiliated with.

"Guilty as charged," Richard answered cooly, leaning back in the settee and crossing his legs, completely unconcerned by Matthew's rising temper.

"I must say, I'm astonished Lady Rosamund continues to associate with you after you so publicly shamed her niece. If you were any kind of gentleman, you..."

"But I'm not a gentleman," Richard interrupted. "Never claimed to be. It was nothing personal, Mr. Crawley. Just business. Lady Rosamund understands that. She also understands that my slipping Lady Mary's juicy little story into the gossip columns, where few details were provided and it would easily by dismissed by some and soon forgotten by most, was a great kindness. My informant presented me with enough scandalous detail for a full exposé"

Matthew seethed in silence, his jaw clenched tight as he focused his gaze unwaveringly in front of him.

"In some ways, Mr. Crawley," Sir Richard continued, leaning slightly closer to Matthew, his voice lowering to a breathy whisper, "I know your wife better than you do."

"How dare you," Matthew sneered, turning to glare angrily at his unwelcome companion.

"I see Lady Mary's still keeping secrets from you," Richard drawled. "She's an intelligent woman. With a husband to hide behind, even the truth of her indiscretions would no longer be worth even three lines in the gossip pages. And what luck that you should make a miraculous recovery just in time to cover her latest mishap."

"What are you insinuating?" Matthew sneered.

There was a pregnant pause as the two men sized each other up, one with an angry scowl, the other with a deceptively placid smile.

"Nothing, Mr. Crawley," Sir Richard answered at last. "Except, perhaps, that you don't know your wife as well as you may think."

"You know nothing about us," Matthew shot back, his gaze moving past Sir Richard's infuriating smirk to rest on Mary's seated form. Her eyes briefly met his as she glanced worriedly at the two gentleman, but her attention was soon demanded by the conversation she'd been having with Lady Bromley and Miss Rochester.

"You'll see that I'm right, in time. Perhaps sooner than you think. She won't be able to hide for long. Forgive me if I seem forward, but everyone knows what your limitations are."

"Take it back," Matthew demanded, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.

"And what if I don't?" Sir Richard responded, his high forehead creasing as he arched one silver-flecked brow.

"Then I will defend my wife's honor. And my own."

Sir Richard responded with a deep chuckle. The sound sent white-hot anger coursing through Matthew's veins, and, for a moment, the ache in his back was forgotten. He felt heat rise in his face as he glanced down at the carpet, willing himself to remain in control.

"What honor, Mr. Crawley?" Sir Richard laughed. "You and I both know..."

Sir Richard's gibe was cut short by a resounding smack as Matthew's fist connected with his jaw.

A collective gasp filled the room as the rest of the party watched, shocked and scandalized, as Matthew and Sir Richard tumbled to the floor in a tangle of flying fists and flailing limbs.

Mary sighed deeply as she closed their bedroom door behind the doctor, taking a moment to steady her nerves before turning to face her bed-ridden husband.

"Matthew Crawley, I should wring your neck!"

"Really, Mary, Sir Richard had it coming..."

"Knowing Sir Richard, I'm sure he did," she responded angrily, "but you didn't have to make a scene in my aunt's drawing room, not to mention, you've injured your back. And after you were doing so much better!"

"The doctor said no permanent damage was done. Two days in bed will put me to rights."

Mary exhaled heavily, touching her gloved hand to her forehead in defeat.

"I still think it was worth it," Matthew muttered petulantly, crossing his arms over his pajama-clad chest.

Mary breathed a little exasperated half-laugh before shaking her head and moving across the room to her vanity where she started removing her accessories. There were several moments of silence, punctuated only by little metallic clanks as each one of Mary's hair pins was dropped into her jewelry box.

"I can only imagine what he must have said to get you so worked up," she mused, breaking the silence.

Matthew groaned, realizing with the clarity of hindsight just how foolishly he'd behaved. "He baited me with some nonsense about you keeping secrets. Now I can see that he was purposely trying to upset me. But I can't, for the life of me, understand why. I suppose it's possible he once carried a torch for you, but..." His voice trailed off into a weary sigh, and he shook his head slightly on the pillow, trying to puzzle out Sir Richard's strange insinuations.

Mary glanced up at his reflection in the mirror, watching him silently for a moment before rising to change into her nightgown. As she mechanically carried out her task, she thought back over the exhausting evening. The shock when she'd seen Sir Richard for the first time since refusing him; the strain of having to make conversation with him at dinner; her embarrassing bout of illness. And, perhaps most trying of all, having to smile and sit calmly listening to Lady Bromley's endless list of qualifications for a desirable nanny while Matthew sat locked in private conversation with her former suitor.

"He once proposed to me," she announced nonchalantly as she smoothed the silk of her nightgown over her flat abdomen, her hands lingering there only a moment longer than usual.

"He...what? When?"

"The same weekend you first met him at Downton."

Matthew was quiet for a long moment as this new piece of information sank in.

"You refused him?" he asked as Mary slid into bed beside him.

"Obviously," came her curt reply.

For a long moment, only the rustle of the sheets was heard as Mary made herself comfortable, propped up against the pillows. It was Matthew who broke the silence.

"Why?"

Mary's eyebrows pulled together. "Why what?"

"Why did you refuse him?" Matthew repeated, suddenly wishing he'd hit Sir Richard even harder.

Mary rolled her eyes and smiled, the deep-seated joy welling up inside her heart finally winning out over the stress of the eventful evening. Determined to move the conversation on to happier topics, she leaned over Matthew, smiling impishly down at him.

"Why do you think?" she purred, cocking one perfect brow before lowering herself carefully next to him for a soft kiss.

Matthew hummed against her lips, surprised by the sudden shift in the atmosphere between them. It seemed that Mary was finished with the topic of her former suitor, but unanswered questions still prodded Matthew's inquisitive mind. Breaking away from the soft kiss, he mused, "So that must be the secret Sir Richard said you were keeping from me - his proposal."

Mary pulled away slightly, her ears growing hot as she realized the moment had arrived. She mentally damned Sir Richard for forcing her hand and tainting what should have been a perfect moment between them after all they had been through to get here. For a moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the pensive set of Matthew's brow as she brushed his hair gently aside.

"But a marriage proposal is hardly scandalous," he eventually spoke. "He seemed to imply...Well, he inferred...I won't even say aloud what he inferred."

Mary's smile grew wider. It was all terribly funny, really. Or perhaps she was simply exhausted and overwrought. She was terribly upset with her aunt for inviting Sir Richard without telling her and with Sir Richard for...well, for being Sir Richard. But she was too tired to think about it any more tonight. This should be a joyful moment. Sir Richard had no place in it.

"I do have a secret," she began slyly, gazing at him from under slightly lowered lashes.

"Oh?" Matthew responded, though his mind remained otherwise engaged.

"Well, not much of a secret anymore. Everyone at dinner figured it out but you, darling."

Matthew rolled his eyes but smiled slightly at her playfully scolding tone.

"Well, are you going to enlighten me?" he drawled, his fingers dancing lightly over the bare skin of her arm where it rested across his chest.

Mary's expression grew suddenly serious. "Well, darling, you see I'm...I'm pregnant."

A breathy, joyous laugh bubbled up inside her as Matthew's eyes grew wider than she'd ever seen them.

So we finally have the big reveal! I'd love to know what you think. :)

This chapter was tough for me to write, mainly because there was so much Sir Dick involved. He's a tough one for me to write, so I hope I did ok with him. *fingers crossed* I wasn't intending for this to be an AU version of the fight scene, per se, but the canon fight scene clued me in that Matthew would be bold enough to punch Sir Dick if he touched the wrong nerve.

Thank you so much for reading! I plan to work on the next chapter of CTI next. :D