A/N:Sorry about the long wait for this chapter! Hopefully the length somewhat makes up for the wait. :)

As always, many thanks to all those who reviewed the last chapter, and to Willa Dedalus for all her help and dedication.

Chapter 7

"I can't believe you're both going off and leaving me to fend for myself after those three wretchedly boring days I spent in bed. Now I shall simply be bored out of bed."

Mary and Isobel exchanged a look at Matthew's exaggerated whining, knowing very well from his good-natured smile that he didn't fully mean it. He was happy to be out of bed again, whatever the circumstances, and more than pleased that his wife and mother were leaving him to be of assistance to his dear friend. Lavinia had invited both of them to accompany her to her final gown fitting before the wedding, and both ladies had readily accepted.

Unbeknownst to Matthew, Mary had already made plans for how his time would be spent while she and Isobel were out with Lavinia. He'd hardly had any male companionship since leaving Downton, and she thought it time she rectified that situation.

So, Matthew was the only one surprised to see Ben enter the parlor behind a happily glowing Lavinia.

Warm greetings were exchanged all around, beginning with Lavinia's insistence that Matthew needn't rise to greet her. Instead, she quickly seated herself beside him on the settee, leaning to brush a quick kiss on his cheek before rising the greet Mary and Isobel.

"Thank you both so much for agreeing to come," she twittered excitedly, glancing back at Matthew, who smiled indulgently at her obvious bridal jitters.

"Thank you for inviting us," Mary answered kindly, gently touching Lavinia's elbow in a gesture of support and friendship. Matthew's gaze drifted from his friend's face to his wife's, his smile widening as he admired the lovely picture she presented in her pale blue dress, one small curl escaping her ebony chignon to caress the soft skin at the nape of her elegant neck. He sighed, feeling besotted as always when it came to Mary, and thought of the precious gift of his child growing inside her.

Mary's attention was drawn next to their other guest, whom she greeted with a welcoming smile. Remembering himself, Matthew held out his hand in Ben's direction. The other man accepted it, shaking it with a respectably firm grip.

"I hope you'll excuse my rudeness." Matthew gestured to the settee on which he was seated. "Bad back, and all."

"You mustn't apologize, Captain Crawley," Ben was quick to reassure him. "Your health must come before convention. I would advise my own patients to do the same."

Grateful for Ben's understanding, Matthew nodded and asked solicitously about his plans for the morning.

"Actually," Mary spoke up before Ben could answer, "I invited him here to keep you company while we were out, darling. I'm sure the two of you can find something with which to occupy yourselves."

Matthew's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Well...that's...very thoughtful of you, darling. Dr. Whitman, you're most welcome."

"Oh, I'm so eager for the two of you to become better aquatinted," Lavinia enthused, wrapping her gloved hands around her fiancé's arm. "It would mean the world to me if the two of you became friends."

"I'm sure we will, dearest," Ben assured her gently, covering her tiny hands with one of his. Boldly, he leaned down to press a kiss to her blushing cheek before turning to smile down at Matthew again, his expression open but smug. Matthew only grinned delightedly, happy to see the obvious affection between his friend and her intended. Mary quirked an eyebrow at the gesture, which, to her, had looked a little possessive.

"Well, we'll run along now and leave you two boys to entertain yourselves." Mary stooped to allow Matthew to kiss her cheek goodbye before straightening. Her hands went without conscious thought to cradle her flat belly, a gesture that made Matthew positively glow with pride and happiness. He gently touched his fingers to hers as he wished the ladies a pleasant outing. Lavinia and Ben watched the tender scene keenly, their expressions an odd mix of embarrassment and envy.

The first several minutes after the ladies departed were slightly awkward for the two gentlemen. Matthew was grateful that Mary had thought to ask Phillips to send them some tea before she left, otherwise he would have been placed in the awkward position of asking Ben to ring for him.

"So," Matthew began, breaking the silence, "I'm sure you must be anxious for your wedding day to arrive."

Ben nodded, a smile that could almost be called wistful tugging at his mouth. "Of course. Lavinia, she's...well, she's the light of my life."

Ben's tone had grown so heavy that Matthew couldn't help but feel a twinge of concern. He wondered if, perhaps, something was troubling his pensive companion, but didn't feel it his place to inquire. In an attempt to lighten the mood, he said, "And Mary is the light of mine. We're both extremely lucky."

Ben hummed his agreement around a sip of tea, and, for a long moment, there was only silence.

"So, I um..." Ben spoke haltingly, pausing to clear his throat. "I understand you were injured at Amiens. Spinal contusion."

"Uh...yes," Matthew answered, nodding self-consciously.

"Lavinia told me," Ben explained simply. "Sorry, I can't seem to stop being a doctor even to pay a social call."

"That's quite alright," Matthew responded with a smile.

"I know it may not seem like it now, but you're one of the lucky ones. Damn, you don't know how lucky."

"Of course I know how lucky I am - how undeservedly so." Matthew looked down at the carpet at his feet, a dark cloud settling over his mind. "It still keeps me awake at night."

"Do you ever blink and...find yourself back there?"

"More often than anyone knows," Matthew answered somberly.

"It's funny," Ben continued, his tone bitter, "I was never shot at, nor did I ever shoot anyone. Hell, I don't think I ever even saw a German uniform." There was a pause as he knocked back the rest of his tea. Matthew sat quietly, brows knitted tightly together, as he watched Lavinia's fiance struggle with his memories. "But the things I saw...You ever see a field hospital? I can't even begin to tell you how much fucked up shit I saw in that God-forsaken place."

"No, I...I never saw one."

"Forgive my language," Ben apologized lamely. "I've never spoken to anyone about this before."

Matthew shook his head sadly. "Don't apologize. You've not offended me. I spent my fair share of time in the trenches, remember? It'll take a lot more than that to shock me."

"After four years up to my elbows in blood and excrement, I doubt I'll ever be shocked again."

Matthew winced as he considered the difference in their experiences. In many ways, his contribution to the war effort had been easier than Ben's had. On the front lines, he'd been largely sheltered from the carnage left behind after a battle, always on the move, looking forward to the next maneuver rather than backward. But Ben had seen only the gruesome price paid for every inch of ground he'd helped to capture - things Matthew himself had only heard about. If their roles had been reversed, he wasn't at all sure he could have managed.

"I believe this conversation calls for something a bit more fortifying than tea," he announced suddenly, leaning forward with a pained groan to place his cup on the table. "And perhaps a game of chess might prove a sufficient distraction."

Ben's face lit up at the implied challenge in Matthew's expression.

"You're on, Captain."

Matthew smiled as the mood shifted into more comfortable territory, but the smile morphed into a pained grimace as he tried to rise. He glanced self-consciously at his companion, who had already risen to his feet without the slightest effort, and tried to rearrange his expression into some semblance of normality.

"There's no need to pretend around me, Captain." A warm hand stilled Matthew's strained movements, and his forced smile turned nostalgic at the repeated use of his once-familiar title. "Let me help you up. Doctor's orders." Without waiting for permission, Ben hooked his arms under Matthew's and, bending his knees, lifted him easily onto his feet with minimal effort on his part. Ben steadied him with one hand on his forearm while he reached for his stick with the other.

Matthew thanked him with genuine warmth before slowly leading the way to the library. It soon became apparent to him that Mary had very cleverly secured a nurse maid for him in her absence. When they arrived at their destination, Ben helped carefully lower him into his chair at the small table on which the chess set was set out before selecting a small cushion from the sofa to support his lower back.

"I hope you don't mind if I make myself at home," Ben said as he made his way over to the sideboard.

"Not at all, but I feel I must apologize for being such a poor host," Matthew answered. Ben only waved the apology off and proceeded to pour them two snifters of brandy.

"Mmm," he hummed enthusiastically as he sipped the warm, amber liquid. "This is good stuff. Your cousin has very fine taste." Matthew only smiled as his new friend rummaged briefly through the cabinet before asking, "Is it too early in the day for a cigar?"

"I won't tell if you won't," Matthew answered with a conspiratorial grin.

Once seated across from each other with drinks and cigars in hand, the two gentlemen began their game. After several minutes spent in mostly silent competition, Matthew looked up from making his move to find Ben eyeing him contemplatively, his cigar poised above his mouth.

"Captain, there's something I want to know," he began, seeing Matthew's puzzled expression.

"Yes," Matthew responded, his brow creasing as he took another pull from his cigar.

"Do you still have feelings for Lavinia?"

Matthew was sure he couldn't have heard correctly. "Pardon?"

"Are there any unresolved feelings between yourself and my future wife?" Ben reiterated, his tone hardening.

Once recovered from the shock of so unexpected a question, Matthew answered, "None whatsoever. I can assure you, my heart belongs exclusively to my wife. Always has, really. Even when I was with Lavinia, I was in love with Mary."

"So Lavinia says," Ben conceded, looking down at the board. There was silence for several moments as he made his next move. "She speaks very highly of you, you know. A man could get jealous."

"She's been a good friend, both to myself and to Mary, but she and I were never in love. I assure you, there's no need to feel that way."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Ben shot back. "Perhaps you weren't in love with Lavinia, but it wasn't the same for her. The way she talks about you...She thinks you hung the moon."

Matthew shifted uncomfortably in his chair, lifting his brandy to his lips for a long, head-clearing drink.

"Like I said," he spoke after a moment, "she's been a good friend."

Feeling the other man's sharp eyes on him, Matthew looked down at the board, realizing he had Ben's queen in check.

The windows of the Swire's fashionable town home twinkled merrily in the fading light of dusk. Matthew's eyes were drawn to his wife's still form as she gazed out the car window while they waited their turn in the line of cars to exit, thinking with a swell of pride that she would surely outshine every other woman there, even the bride. The brief glimpse he'd gotten of her in that stunning bronze gown, its simple silhouette flowing so beautifully over her trim form, had left him momentarily speechless. He thought of the exposed skin of her shoulders and upper arms now concealed by her coat, the darling glimpse of ankle revealed by the modern cut of her dress, and couldn't resist reaching to take one of her hands in his. They were overlapped protectively over her flat tummy, subconsciously cradling their precious secret.

Mary smiled as he reached for her hand, warmth flooding her entire body from head to toe at the reminder of their great happiness. Her free hand continued to rest low on her belly as they approached the open front doors to the Swire residence, but she removed it before the driver opened the car door for her, not wishing to draw too much attention or invite speculation about her condition. So far, the only people who knew, besides herself and Matthew, were Isobel and Lavinia (and quite possibly Ben) as well as Aunt Rosimund (and others not worth mentioning), and she wanted to keep it that way until they could get home to tell the rest of the family themselves. Unlikely as it was that anyone in attendance at Lavinia's wedding ball would even know her parents to tell them anything, it wasn't impossible that someone might report any juicy suspicions to the gossip pages. Their run-in with Sir Richard had been risk enough. She wasn't about to take any more chances.

Patiently, she stood, tall and stately, on the curb as she waited for Matthew to be helped out by the driver - on the opposite side of the car where it would be less obvious to curious eyes. She smiled as he walked around the car, his posture straight and his stride confident despite his limp, the small setback from his tumble several days prior now only an unpleasant memory. He looked wonderfully handsome in his evening attire. Even his stick seemed to complete the look, polished to a brilliant shine that rivaled even the platinum cufflinks she'd bought him for his last birthday.

More than one curious onlooker stopped to admire the handsome couple, and, for once, their stares had nothing to do with the gentleman's handicap. They were striking together, so obvious happy and in love.

Matthew placed his free hand possessively on the small of Mary's back as soon as she'd removed her coat, noticing the interested glances several male guests threw her way. Mary had always been a stunning woman, but impending motherhood seemed to have given her an added glow that enhanced her already considerable beauty. He cursed the inconvenient disability that would keep him standing on the periphery of the room for most of the night, watching as other gentlemen led her out onto the floor to dance, the idea of sharing her, even briefly, with any other making his blood boil with jealousy.

His sour thoughts couldn't last long, however, as he was soon greeted by Lavinia's joyous smile. Stooping carefully to kiss her cheek, he glanced briefly over her petite form draped in voluminous layers of frothy white ruffles, strawberry curls artfully arranged high on her head. She looked like a fairy princess.

"You look splendid, Lavinia. Just lovely," Mary complimented her genially.

"I couldn't agree more," Matthew concurred. As soon as the words left his mouth, his smile faded as his eyes darted over to meet Ben's gaze. In light of their conversation the last time they'd seen one another, he thought perhaps he might ought to have kept his mouth shut on the topic. Not that he blamed Ben in the slightest for being possessive. After all, he felt the same way about Mary.

"Dr. Whitman, congratulations," he spoke politely, extending his hand for the other man to shake.

Mary and Lavinia briefly exchanged a look at the gentlemen's chilly greeting, but quickly moved on as other guests were coming in behind them. Mary had suspected things hadn't gone as well between Matthew and Ben as she and Lavinia had hoped for, but Matthew assured her everything was fine and would say no more on the subject. She made a mental note to question him further at a later date. For tonight, she was resolved to enjoy herself.

"Matthew Crawley! My stars!" a warm male voice spoke, breaking Mary's reverie. "It is good to see you, dear boy."

"Reggie, it's been far too long." Matthew pumped the older gentleman's hand enthusiastically, a wide smile breaking over his face as he turned to her. "Mary, allow me to introduce an old friend, Reggie Swire. Reggie, this is my Mary."

The older man's eyes widened appreciatively as they turned in her direction, but, somehow, Matthew didn't seem to mind this time. His chest puffed up with pride as he watched his friend lift Mary's hand to his lips for an exaggerated kiss.

"You mean to tell me that this enchanting creature belongs to you?" Reggie drawled.

"I'm afraid it's actually the other way around," Mary teased prettily as Mr. Swire continued to hold her hand in both of his. She felt Matthew's fingers brush over the bare skin of her shoulder, raising gooseflesh all the way down her arm under her black silk gloves.

"Charming, simply charming," Mr. Swire chuckled, kissing her captive hand again. "Matthew, I do hope you won't mind if I steal her away from you for a dance at some point this evening. I don't partake of the exercise often, but for you, my dear," he turned to Mary, "I'll gladly make an exception."

"Only if you promise to behave yourself, Reggie," Matthew answered playfully.

"Oh, ho! My boy, you and I both know that such promises are seldom kept when a beautiful woman is involved."

Matthew only chuckled and reclaimed Mary's hand before taking their temporary leave of Mr. Swire and steering them towards the ball room.

"I like him," Mary stated simply as she looped her arm through Matthew's, patiently keeping step with his careful pace. She usually hated it when gentlemen flattered her overmuch, but Mr. Swire seemed truly harmless and genuine in his compliments, as if he wished only to make her smile or, perhaps, blush, without any overt leering hinting at an ulterior motive.

"I'm glad he didn't make you uncomfortable," Matthew responded gently. "Though we couldn't have seen each other more than a handful of times scattered over the years during the war, it always seems like the friendships I formed during that time are deeper somehow."

Mary nodded and squeezed his arm understandingly as they entered the ballroom. It was spacious and very prettily appointed, though not nearly as grand as the fine ballrooms Mary was used to being received in, or even the one she and Matthew currently slept in. Still, it was just as lovely in a simple, unfussy sort of way as the rest of the house was, and spoke to the prosperity and good taste of its owner.

As the evening progressed, Mary was soon, as Matthew had predicted, whisked away onto the dance floor by several gentlemen, though he could hardly begrudge her the amusement, as he knew she enjoyed dancing. He found suitable entertainment in conversing with the few other gentlemen either too old or similarly scarred by the war to dance, though most of them eventually made their way to the card room. He found himself lingering around the refreshment table, sipping several cups of punch as he admired his wife's graceful movements around the dance floor.

A bittersweet smile tugged at his mouth as Reggie Swire led her back to him after claiming his promised dance.

"She's a treasure, my friend." Reggie clapped Matthew on the back as he placed Mary's hand back in her husband's.

"That she is," Matthew agreed, beaming proudly down at Mary as he tugged her as close to his side as was proper in a crowded ballroom.

Once they were left alone, Matthew offered her his punch, watching in fascination as she lifted the small cup to her lips, touching them to the same place his had touched just moments before.

"I wish I could kiss you right now," he whispered, leaning close enough for his warm breath to caress the skin of her ear.

"I'm not sure how proper that would be in a ballroom, darling," she purred, looking up at him through lowered lashes. The first strains of the waltz filled the air around them, and something in her gaze shifted, her eyebrow lifting in that challenging, flirtatious manner he knew so well. "Dance with me instead?"

"Oh, Mary," he sighed. "You know I wish I could."

"Well, why can't you? You may not be exactly graceful, but, then again, neither were several other gentlemen I've danced with who hadn't your excuse."

"I'm just..." he stammered, hating to disappoint her, but feeling a bashful heat creep up his neck at the thought of dancing in front of so many people. "I'm not sure I could manage without my stick."

"I'll be your stick," Mary reassured him, tugging lightly on his arm. The excitement of the evening, the joy of her impending motherhood, and, quite possibly, the punch, had made her almost giddy, and the sparkle in her beautiful eyes as they entreated him was nearly impossible to resist. He glanced around quickly, grinning as his eyes lighted on the perfect spot.

"Very well. Come on."

"Where are we going? The dance floor's back that way," Mary asked breathlessly as he tugged her out into a secluded, shadowy alcove in the deserted hallway.

"Dancing with you," he answered coyly, leaning his stick against the wall so he could take Mary in his arms.

She went quite happily, purposefully sliding her gloved hand up the length of his arm, tantalizing him with the sensual touch. It was awkward at first, but Matthew soon found something of a rhythm with his small, shuffling steps. Mary didn't mind in the least that it wasn't perfect. She only reveled in the knowledge that this was their first real dance as a married couple. Oh, they'd tried before, but there hadn't been any music then, and they'd only been able to sway slowly in place. No, it wasn't perfect, but they were at a ball and moving enough to be truly called dancing. She felt his fingers flex low on her back, pulling her even closer, far more than was proper.

"Now that we're no longer in a crowded ballroom," Mary whispered softly, her dark gaze holding his, "I wouldn't object to a kiss. Unless, of course, the urge has passed."

"Believe me, my darling," Matthew nearly growled in response, "the urge to kiss you shall never pass, not as long as I have breath in my body."

So absorbed were they in each other at that moment, both started when a soft voice behind them spoke, "May I cut in?"

Blushing slightly at having been caught in such an unguarded moment, Mary stepped away from Matthew, turning to see Lavinia standing just behind them, her smile wistful and adoring as her gaze flitted back and forth between the two of them.

"Oh, of course," Mary answered quickly, thinking it terribly sweet that Matthew should get to dance with his dear friend and almost love at her wedding ball. It seemed perfectly fitting that it should be so.

"Lavinia, may I have this dance?" Matthew asked gallantly, offering his hand to draw her into his arms, carefully maintaining a much more proper distance than he had with Mary. "You'll have to forgive me," he spoke as they started to move. "I'm not the most graceful of partners at the moment."

"No, you're doing fine," Lavinia encouraged sweetly, smiling up at him as they fell into a comfortable rhythm.

Feeling that it would be perfectly alright, necessary even, to give them a moment to themselves, Mary quietly excused herself to fetch another cup of punch, slipping almost unnoticed back into the ballroom.

"Were you nervous the night before your wedding?" Lavinia asked as she looked up at Matthew, the shadowy hallway slowly spinning around them.

"Well, it was a bit different for me then, but...absolutely awfully."

Lavinia's tinkling laugh brought a fond smile to Matthew's face as he was briefly transported back to the first time he'd heard that laugh, so girlish and carefree. She'd made him smile when he'd needed to so very desperately, and, for that, he would always be grateful to her.

"You seem to be holding up pretty well," he observed, looking down into her wide-eyed gaze.

"Do I, really?" she responded breathily. "Your powers of observation haven't improved, I see."

Matthew smirked self-depreciatingly for a moment before his expression sobered. "Ben loves you very much, Lavinia."

She flushed prettily. "I know."

"I hope you know that, even though things didn't work out between us, I've always cared for you... always wanted you to be happy. It gives me great joy to know that you've found the right person to be happy with."

"I..." Lavinia faltered a bit before forging bravely on, "I could have been happy with you, even when you were...hurt. I'm sure of it..."

"Lavinia, my darling, I would only have broken your heart, because mine wasn't whole to give. I would always have loved Mary, and you would have come to hate me for it."

"Perhaps," she acquiesced with a small, sad smile. "Though it might have been the coward's way out, I now know that leaving when you sent me away was the right thing. I didn't know it at the time. I was just...scared and foolish. But, every time I see you and Mary together and see just...how fine, how right, you look together...I know things have turned out exactly how they ought to have done."

"If anyone was a coward back then, it was me," Matthew insisted. "But, you're right. Things have turned out for the best."

Lavinia's smile widened, but her eyes quickly filled with tears, which she hastily blinked away.

"Lavinia?" Matthew asked, concerned.

"Oh, don't mind me," she insisted with an overly bright smile. "Just wedding jitters, I suppose."

Matthew only nodded in response, and, for a moment, their dance continued in silence. As the final strains of the waltz reached their hiding spot, Lavinia pushed up on her toes and, before he could react, pressed her lips firmly to his, the hand that had rested on his shoulder slipping up to cup his cheek. Matthew's entire body tensed with shock, but before he could even form a coherent thought, Lavinia had pushed herself away from him with a little cry. He watched in open-mouthed astonishment as the voluminous white folds of her gown disappeared around the corner.

"But, every time I see you and Mary together and see just...how fine, how right, you look together...I know things have turned out exactly how they ought to have done."

"If anyone was a coward back then, it was me..."

Mary watched Ben as he watched Lavinia and Matthew, their hushed words just barely audible above the sounds of the ball. Softly, she touched her gloved hand to his arm, startling him a little as he turned to face her.

"Lady Mary," he greeted her in astonishment before glancing over his shoulder at the quietly conversing couple.

The look on the young man's face made Mary's heart melt a little; he seemed so lost. It was a look she understood, for, even then, even with a ring on her finger and a beautiful little secret growing inside her, Mary could still recall what it felt like to see Matthew walk into a room with another woman beside him.

"She loves you, Ben," Mary spoke gently. "A woman in love can easily recognize another." She smiled softly as Matthew's words from earlier that evening came back to her. "I think, sometimes, friendships forged during times of war can run a little deeper than ordinary friendships."

Ben nodded and forced a pleasant smile to appear, though Lavinia's words to Matthew continued to haunt him. He took a deep breath, determinately stopping himself from glancing over his shoulder again, and extended his hand to Mary.

"I don't believe you've granted me a dance yet tonight, Lady Mary."

"I would be honored," she answered politely.

She accepted his hand, and the two of them made their way back into the ballroom, leaving Matthew and Lavinia in privacy.

Thanks for reading!

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