Chapter 6

Mary sighed and stirred slightly, feeling warm and content nestled against Matthew's side. A tender smile appeared on her sleep-flushed face as she realized what had wakened her - her husband's large, warm hand gently caressing her abdomen. Without even opening her eyes, she slipped her own hand down to cover his, squeezing it gently as a delicious flood of joy washed over her, bathing her in a happy glow that warmed her from the inside out.

"Good morning, my darlings," Matthew whispered softly against her ear before pressing a kiss onto her hair. "I love you both so very dearly."

"Mmm," Mary hummed in sleepy contentment, her eyes fluttering drowsily open as she tilted her face up to reach his lips.

"It's such a miracle," Matthew whispered against her mouth before brushing a kiss on the side of her nose. His fingers moved under hers, stroking lightly over her flat belly again. "I mean...it would be a miracle even if it weren't for my injury," he continued falteringly, his brows drawing pensively together. "Just think, Mary, there's a brand new life growing inside you that our love created. Soon, there'll be another little person in this world, half me and half you. Isn't it incredible?"

Mary only hummed and nodded in response, her smile widening until her cheeks ached as she shifted to be as close to him as she possible could be, her arms tightening around his waist.

Matthew had been overjoyed at learning of his impending fatherhood, as she'd expected he would be. It was, after all, one of the first things he'd thought about after they'd realized he would recover. He'd been surprised at first, but had soon literally wept with joy. They'd lain awake for quite some time after that, holding each other and talking quietly about their future, which would now include a highly anticipated third party. Neither could fully grasp that it was all real, that their dreams were now becoming a reality. It was almost too wonderful to be true that they could be so abundantly blessed.

"Stay with me today," he whispered into her fragrant hair as he hugged her to his side, both hands now slipping around to encircle her waist.

"Darling, I really should go have a word with Aunt Rosamund about last night," Mary protested with a groan.

Matthew sighed in disappointment, but he knew it was useless to argue with her, as she was probably right. He would have gone himself had the doctor not advised him to remain in bed for the next few days.

"Alright," he conceded. "Do tell your aunt that I'm sorry about the vase. I didn't get a chance to apologize in all the hubbub last night."

"I will do no such thing. It's her own fault for inviting Sir Richard," Mary protested, her volume rising as her indignation from the previous evening began to reawaken.

"Why does she associate with the likes of him, anyway?" Matthew wondered aloud. "Knowing what he did to you...I just don't understand it."

Mary was quiet for a moment as she pondered the answer. "I think she's lonely," she finally answered, her voice softening as her anger momentarily receded. "And I think she's been in love with him for quite some time, years maybe. I half suspected as much when she first introduced him to me."

"Really?" Matthew's brow creased in surprise.

"Sometimes, love blinds us," Mary continued, "makes us forgive things we otherwise wouldn't. Helps us see only the best parts of a person."

For a moment, silence descended as Matthew lazily trailed his fingers up and down Mary's bare arm.

"Do you suppose Sir Richard has any good parts?" Matthew asked light-heartedly, effectively breaking the heavy mood.

Mary laughed softly and propped herself up on her elbow, gazing down at his playful grin.

"Obviously Aunt Rosamund thinks he has," she responded lightly, reaching up to smooth his sleep-mussed hair.

After a leisurely breakfast in bed with her husband, Mary dressed and mentally prepared herself for the necessary conversation with her aunt. Speaking with Matthew about the situation had softened Mary's anger somewhat. As long as she received a faithful promise that the incident would never be repeated, she was quite willing to forget about the whole thing.

Only half an hour after leaving the house, Mary returned, her lips pursed tightly together to conceal her roiling temper as she handed her hat and gloves to the butler. Once alone in the parlor with Isobel, however, she gave in and heaved a heavy groan of frustration as she paced the length of the small room, fists balled up tightly at her sides.

"I cannot believe it! The nerve of the both of them!"

"Good heavens." Isobel gazed concernedly up at Mary as she calmly poured their tea. "I take it your visit didn't go well."

Mary sighed and rolled her eyes, seating herself on the sofa across from her mother-in-law.

"How well could it possibly have gone when it began with me running into Sir Richard one his way out of my aunt's home...in his white-tie dinner attire!"

"You don't mean..."

"I'm afraid so." Mary took a steadying sip of her tea. "He had the nerve to inform me that my aunt was dressing and would be down in a few minutes."

Isobel's eyes were wide as saucers. "Oh, my," she breathed, sipping heavily on her own tea.

"At least Aunt Rosamund promised not to have Sir Richard to dinner when we're invited, but she won't stop seeing him."

"I wonder why they don't simply get married," Isobel mused aloud.

"That was my thought exactly," Mary explained. "Aunt Rosamund, it seems, enjoys her freedom too much to relinquish it."

Isobel shook her head in silent disapproval and thought of her dearly departed husband. Her own independence had come at far too high a price to ever be completely enjoyed, as she'd never desired it in the first place.

"And there's something else," Mary continued, breaking Isobel's dismal train of thought. "A while back, only a few months before the scandal broke...Sir Richard proposed marriage to me."

"Oh, my dear! I had no idea."

"I refused him, thank God. But if I hadn't...Can you imagine, my husband and my aunt carrying on an affair behind my back! One that started months before she even introduced us!"

"Sounds like you made a wise choice, my dear," Isobel spoke, her surprise evident on her face.

"Quite," Mary replied sarcastically, eyebrows rising and lowering dramatically. At least, she thought, she could take some consolation in the fact that Sir Richard's jaw had been visibly bruised.

Both ladies sat pensively for a brief moment until Isobel changed the subject.

"Lavinia telephoned while you were out," she announced with a smile.

"Oh?"

"We're invited to afternoon tea at her home tomorrow."

"Only one more week until the wedding," Mary observed fondly, her own features softening into a small grin.

"And to think, dear Lavinia has no mother and no aunts or older cousins to help her prepare. Perhaps we can be of some use to her."

Mary nodded her enthusiastic agreement. Even though reluctantly given, her own mother's help had proven invaluable in arranging her own wedding. She couldn't imagine taking on such a project alone.

"They're having the ceremony in the garden at the Savoy and the breakfast in one of the formal rooms afterwards. I understand the guest list is small, so things have been kept relatively simple. Then, of course, there's the ball the night before at the Swire's home. It is rather a lot for one person to handle."

"And, of course," Isobel interjected, "a young bride likes to have an older, more experienced woman to offer advice and answer any questions before the wedding. There's so much that can come as quite a shock if one doesn't know what to expect."

Mary's eyebrows raised slightly as she caught what Isobel was insinuating. For the first time, it occurred to her that she'd never had...those things explained to her. She'd had to learn by experience, unfortunately, and, yes, it had been somewhat of a shock. But Lavinia would be learning with a man who loved her as she did him. Surely that would make it all so much easier.

Both ladies soon exited the parlor to check on Matthew, who was frightfully board and more than happy of the company. Mary and Isobel seemed to have formed an unspoken agreement not to mention Sir Richard's presence at Rosamund's home that morning to Matthew. There were some things that just didn't bear repeating more than once, and he was quite happy to accept Mary's assurances that they would be able to dine with her aunt again without fear of another run-in. After that, the topic changed to their tea at Lavinia's the next day.

"I'd like to do some shopping for the baby afterwards," Mary announced proudly. "I know it's early, but I think it would be best to do what I can now before I grow as large as a house."

Matthew's smile faded into a concerned frown. "Darling, are you sure? With the influenza spreading like it is, perhaps you'd better stick close to home."

"Don't worry, Matthew. We'll only visit two or three places," Mary reassured him flippantly before turning to Isobel as another thought suddenly occurred to her. "Oh, and perhaps I ought to order a few loose-fitting dresses now while I'm already in London. That way, I won't have to make a special trip when I need them."

"Not a bad idea," Isobel answered with a smile, pleased to be included in her daughter-in-law's shopping plans.

Matthew only sighed and fretted silently about his wife's health. He briefly considered exercising his rarely used husbandly prerogative and ordering her to return straight home and remain there until the danger of contagion had passed, but he doubted she would listen, especially with his mother supporting her.

"Mother, I'm trusting you to judge whether or not such activities are safe for Mary in her condition," he grumbled.

"Of course, dear," Isobel consented just to placate him. Mary rolled her eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning.

Mary was pleasantly surprised to find that Lavinia and her father resided in a very lovely home in a fashionable neighborhood. Reggie Swire was apparently far more successful that she'd ever realized.

"Mary! Isobel! I'm so glad you've come." Lavinia's smiling face greeted them as soon as they stepped into the sunny parlor.

A fond smile lit Mary's face as she looked around at the pretty, delicate furnishings and pale yellow wallpaper. This room had obviously been Lavinia's creation. It suited her perfectly. Though the house and its contents were obviously fine, there was a pervading sense of comfort and a lack of ostentation or pretension that mirrored perfectly the disposition of its mistress.

"Thank you for having us, dear," Isobel greeted the younger woman, squeezing her small hand affectionately.

"Your home is lovely," Mary commented as she accepted a seat on the plush settee. Lavinia busied herself with pouring their tea out into dainty china cups with an elegant floral design painted on them.

"Thank you," Lavinia answered, her face flushing prettily. "Father has allowed me to redecorate one room for my birthday each year since I turned seventeen. This parlor is my favorite besides my bedroom."

Mary was undeniably impressed, having never done anything more than rearrange furniture on her own. Her mind was suddenly filled with ideas for changes she'd like to make to her bedroom back at Downton once she and Matthew returned home. Lavinia's vibrant pastels were lovely, but she much preferred darker, richer tones herself. And then there was also the nursery...

Her hands moved instinctively to cradle her still-flat abdomen at the thought of her precious little secret. The action didn't go unnoticed by their attentive hostess.

"Mary...are you well?"

"Oh, perfectly," Mary answered, recovering quickly from her momentary lapse of attention.

"Mary, dear, perhaps now would be a good time to share your news," Isobel prompted with a proud smile.

Lavinia turned her wide-eyed gaze expectantly on Mary, literally sitting on the edge of her seat in anticipation.

"Well," Mary began, her cheeks heating slightly, "it seems that Matthew and I will be starting a family of our own come winter."

A delicate squeal of delight pierced the quiet of the parlor, and Mary soon found herself wrapped in her friend's affectionate embrace.

"Oh, Mary! Oh, how simply wonderful!"

Mary was surprised, when Lavinia released her, to see that her cheeks were damp with tears.

"Just think, Matthew will be a father so soon...and after all he's been through."

Mary's own vision began to cloud alarmingly, which she immediately attributed to her condition. She wasn't usually so sentimental - or at least she didn't usually show it.

"I'm truly overjoyed for the both of you. Really, I am." Lavinia dabbed at her eyes with a napkin from the tea tray as she composed herself.

"Thank you," Mary responded, touched more deeply than she trusted in her ability to express. "We couldn't be happier."

"I'm so glad." A pretty blush colored Lavinia's cheeks, and she dipped her head to look down at her hands where they twisted around the dampened napkin in her lap. "I hope to be so blessed myself before long." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but Isobel saw this statement as the perfect opening to broach the topic she'd hoped to discuss with her young friend.

"Lavinia, my dear," she began, "I do hope I'm not presuming too much, but...have you had the opportunity to speak with another woman about what happens after you're married?"

"Heavens, Isobel." Mary felt her skin growing hot under her morning suit. "You'll have us calling for smelling salts."

If Mary had been able to bring herself to look at the girl beside her, she would have seen that she had begun to blush rather violently.

"Oh, you mean..." She shot Isobel a suggestive glance, at which the older woman nodded in response. "Well, no, I haven't spoken with another woman, but...Ben did explain most of it to me. And there were some...diagrams in one of his medical books."

If Mary wasn't blushing before, she certainly was now, and Mary Crawley didn't blush easily.

"It all sounded very scientific the way he explained it," Lavinia continued, avoiding her companions' eyes. "He spoke of it all as though it were a surgery he was preparing to perform. I must admit, if I didn't trust him so implicitly, I'd be terrified."

"Leave it to a man to find the worst possible way to go about it," Isobel, tutted disapprovingly as she moved to sit closer to the two young women. She leaned forward to take Lavinia's hand in both of hers, making sure she had the girl's attention. "My own wedding wasn't so very long ago that I don't remember what it was like to be a new bride," she continued. "The most important thing to remember is that, even though it all seems very new and foreign at first, it's the most natural thing in the world. You mustn't be afraid to let him know that you desire his attentions or to allow him to touch you and to touch him in return. Let your instincts guide you, and all will be well."

"Does it...hurt a great deal?" Lavinia asked timidly.

"I believe it's different for every woman, but you'll probably feel a sharp pinch at first. The best thing to do is simply relax and enjoy the delightful sensations that will shortly follow. Your body will heal over the next few days, and then it will be perfectly lovely for you."

A small, relieved smile softened the worried lines on Lavinia's forehead, and she relaxed slightly as she sipped her tea. After a moment, she turned towards Mary, who had been fixedly studying the design on her tea cup.

"Mary, have you any great married lady wisdom to share?" Lavinia asked with a slightly precocious grin.

Mary's tea cup rattled a little in its saucer as she placed it back on the table before clearing her throat anxiously. In her entire life, she couldn't remember participating in such an inappropriate conversation in the parlor in broad daylight. But, as her mind pieced together a quick summary of all she had learned in her sexual experience thus far, one thought stood out among the rest, and she found herself giving voice to it, in spite of the chastening voice of propriety in her head.

"I believe that love and trust in one's parter can make all the difference." She took a deep breath and touched her palm to her stomach, drawing strength from the knowledge of her child growing inside her as she fought to suppress unpleasant memories. "Having been on both sides of that coin, I can certainly attest to the fact."

A heavy silence descended, broken at last by Isobel who reached over to place one of her hands over Mary's. Lavinia did the same, and they formed something of a little circle, their hands linked between them.

"You're absolutely right, my dear," Isobel assured Mary, squeezing her fingers gently. "As women, knowing we're loved and cherished by our partners is the key to enjoying the experience. I'd say all three of us are very lucky to have found such fine men to entrust our most unguarded selves to."

Despite her embarrassment, Mary nodded slightly in agreement; Lavinia followed suit with a bit more enthusiasm.

"Thank you both so very much," she spoke sincerely. "You've truly put my mind at ease."

"I'm glad we could help," Isobel responded, and the discussion moved on to the more expected topics of arrangements for the wedding and subsequent honeymoon.

Later that night, Mary curled up next to Matthew, deliciously exhausted and sated, saying a silent prayer of gratitude that she hadn't found herself in a marriage devoid of love or respect. She hadn't really thought about it before the conversation that afternoon, but she was really very lucky that she was able to be her true self when intimate with Matthew, something she hadn't been comfortable exposing to Pamuk and, she was sure, she would never have been able to do with Sir Richard or any other man she'd briefly considered. And now she had a brand new life growing inside her as testament to their love. She didn't feel that she deserved her good fortune, but, in that moment, she couldn't possibly have felt more grateful.

On the upper floor, Isobel lay awake late into the night, memories of her own dear Reginald and of the love they'd shared filling her mind. Even after nearly a decade, she still missed him with an ache that was almost physical, but she took comfort in the thought of her dear son, the precious proof of the life she'd once had with her husband, sleeping somewhere beneath her in the arms of his loving wife. Reginald would have been so proud of him. Her Matthew had come so far, from country solicitor to brave soldier and leader, now a devoted husband and soon-to-be father to his own child.

Mary had been absolutely right, Isobel mused: Love certainly did make all the difference.

Thanks for reading! Penny for your thoughts? :)