Hi guys! This chapter is a bit longer than usual, so I hope you'll enjoy! Mary and Matthew are 12 and 13 respectively in this chapter. As ever, please R&R, I really appreciate your lovely feedback!
"What do you mean you're 'going away'?"
Matthew faltered in his response under Mary's hard, unrelenting stare.
"Uhh...Father left some money in his will to send me to school when I was thirteen. And, well, I'm thirteen now and Mother wrote to the headmaster at Marlborough a little while ago to see if they could take me."
"Oh, and you just forgot to relay this information, I suppose?"
"We didn't hear back for so long that I thought perhaps I wouldn't have to go. Only last week they wrote and said they can have me," he sighed.
Mary valiantly swallowed down a lump in her throat.
"But you'll be back for the holidays? For Christmas and Easter and summer?"
Matthew bit his lip and looked her straight in the eyes. Seeing the hurt there and the hope, he couldn't bear to hold her gaze any longer and he ashamedly lowered his head.
"Mother is...that is...I won't be..." Matthew stammered, trying to find the words, the words that would make this easier. But there were none.
"Matthew?" she questioned, her eyes widening more every second as she felt him slipping away.
"Mother is moving to Manchester soon after I leave for school. Father's gone and I'll be away, so she's decided to move there to be nearer her sister. So I won't be coming back here in the holidays, I'll be there. In Manchester."
"Manchester? But that's miles away!"
"Please don't be upset, Mary."
"I'm not upset!" she said, confused by the slightly squeaky sound that seemed to have taken over as her voice. She coughed to clear her throat. "I'm just surprised you didn't think to tell me that you just happened to be going away forever!"
"Well it's not as if I'm overjoyed at the idea of leaving! How would you like to be sent away from your mother and your friends to go and live with a lot of strange boys?"
Mary's lip trembled slightly. She hadn't thought...only that she was losing him, that she wouldn't have her friend there, but of course it was just as bad for him and he looked so nervous that she felt quite protective of him all of a sudden. She slowly placed her hand on his shoulder to try and soothe him.
"It's going to be alright, you know."
"Is it?"
"Of course!" Mary said brightly, with a tone of easy confidence that she could not feel. "When do you leave?"
"Tomorrow."
Mary quickly recovered herself from the cold shock that jolted through her, as she became ever more expert at hiding her feelings with each fresh disappointment.
"But I haven't even got you a leaving present! How rude of me," mused Mary, looking around as if she could conjure a perfect gift from mid air. "Ah!" she exclaimed, rooting around in her bag for something.
"You don't have to give me anything, Mary!"
"Here."
Mary held out her precious dog toy to him. She supposed she was too old for such things now, but it seemed to bring her luck, it made her feel safe, so she carried it (hidden away in secret) with her always. Perhaps it would do the same for Matthew? Her simple, kind gesture was almost more than Matthew could bear. He knew (of course) that she had carried this with her every day since they'd first met, since they played and read together on that first day. He couldn't clearly remember what life had been like before he had met Mary. Who had he played with, confided in, talked to, joked with and teased?
"Oh..." he breathed. "I couldn't take that. It's too special."
"Nonsense! It'll bring you good luck and remind you of home."
Matthew reached out his hand, curling his fingers almost reverently around the proffered toy. "Thank you, so so much. What can I ever do to repay you?"
"You must promise to write and tell me about all the adventures you're having. I quite envy you, really. Getting to go to a real school...and think of how much you'll learn! When we meet again, you'll know so much more." Than me, she silently added. "And- and you'll make so many new friends! You'll forget all about me," she teased, tamping down the gut churning feeling that this might be so.
He wanted to say I'm scared, but it didn't seem like the right thing to say when Mary was trying so hard to be cheerful for him, trying so hard to still her quivering chin.
"Of course I'll write! And how could I forget about you?"
XxX
Matthew gulped as he looked up at the imposing red brick building, towering over him as he stood stock still next to his new school in his too big navy blue blazer. A lanky second year stumbled out of a side door and noticing him, ambled over.
"Ah, there you are. You must be Crawley. New boy."
"Yes," he stammered. "Matthew."
"Better keep that to yourself, young chap. Only surnames here."
Matthew nodded vigorously as the tall boy walked off. The second year turned in exasperation, beckoning Matthew to follow him.
"You glued to the floor, Crawley?" Matthew shook his head energetically. "Come on then!"
Matthew followed him in, through long, intimidating corridors, the portraits of headmasters from the past glaring down at him through their painted spectacles. The tapping of their identical brown leather shoes echoed through the daunting hallways and stopped at a study door where the lanky boy knocked, entering when he heard a brisk, loud "Yes?"
"Hallo, Perkins. This is Crawley, new boy."
The sixth form boy was sat at his desk, writing down some last minute Latin prep and barely glanced up at Matthew before finishing his sentence with a flourish.
"Right. Very good, Faulkner, now pop off, there's a good chap."
Faulkner gave Matthew a reassuring smile and a hearty clap on the shoulder before scooting off out of the sixth formers study. Perkins stood up, Matthew gaping up at him. He must be six feet tall at least!
"Well, Crawley. I'm Perkins, the prefect in charge of your dorm. When I ask you to do something, I expect you to hop to it. You've got a bed down at the far end of the dorm with the other shrimps. Off you go."
Matthew hesitated after this somewhat brief and abrupt welcome as Perkins sat back down at his desk, resuming his Latin prep. He was too frightened to ask where on earth his dorm might be! The words were there in his head, but when he tried to vocalise them, they simply wouldn't come. Perkins looked up again in irritation.
"Why on Earth are you still standing there gawping like a fish out of water?"
"I...I..."
"Dorm's upstairs, third floor. If you can find Faulkner again he can show you. Now go, for goodness sake!"
Matthew didn't need to be told twice and bolted from the room. As the door closed behind him, he breathed a sigh of relief. Faulkner was still standing there, legs crossed nonchalantly as he leaned against the corridor wall.
"Don't mind Perkins. He's a good sort, really. Much better than the tyrant we had in charge of the dorm last term. His beatings were ten times worse than any we got from the masters! I've still got the scars!"
Matthew's eyes widened in fear. They had used the cane at the village school, but only for the worst behaviour and Matthew, being such a quiet, friendly sort of fellow, had managed to avoid the canings that so many of the other boys of his age had been subjected to. The idea of the older boys being able to cane him! It was quite simply terrifying.
"Come on. I'll show you the dorm. It's nearly time for bed anyway. Now, new boys tend to come in for a bit of a ragging in the dorm, especially on their first night. Don't be a sap. The last new boy cried and our prefect ordered everyone in the house to send him to Coventry for the whole of his first term."
With these cheerfully pronounced words of doom, they reached the dormitory door and walked in to a large room with about twenty beds. The first thing that hit Matthew was the noise. Used to the peace and quiet of village life and of being an only child, it seemed to him to be some sort of warzone. It was an absolute chaos of pillows and noise and fighting as he stared, open mouthed, at the disorder. Faulkner, apparently seeing nothing unusual in this, fought his way through the melee, hauling Matthew down the aisle while pushing aside the joyfully scrapping boys.
"This is your bed. Unpack your things as quick as you ca..." Faulkner was cut off by a pillow sailing through the air landing straight on his head. "I'll get you for that, you rotten beast!" And he was gone, leaving Matthew alone to unpack his bag. He unbuckled his leather holdall and on the top of all his clothes, he had Mary's gift, the little toy dog. He picked it up and smiled, for one moment reminded blissfully of home...Suddenly, a boy of about sixteen snatched it from his grasp, holding it between thumb and forefinger, waggling it in front of his face.
"What's this then? Look, boys!" he jeered, holding the dog just out of reach.
"Give it back," Matthew muttered through gritted teeth.
"No, I don't think I will. It's a dog, isn't it? So it ought to be outside." The boy strode to the window, opening it and waving it tauntingly outside.
"Don't you dare." Matthew was shaking now with barely suppressed rage. How dare he touch it! It was his, it was Mary's...
The boy shrugged his shoulders and jolted his hand, meaning to toss Mary's toy out into the garden below, but before he could, Matthew had charged at him, knocking the much bigger boy to the ground.
"Give it back!"
The other boys in the dorm had gathered around chanting "FIGHT!" All Matthew could see was the sneering face of the boy beneath him as he clutched his grubby hands around Matthew's precious mascot. No one else should touch it, it was theirs. Matthew punched him full in the face; blood came streaming out of his nose and the sticky feel of it on his clenched fist made Matthew come to his senses. What was he doing? He snatched the toy dog from the other boy's hand, tucking it in his inside jacket pocket. Offering his hand to the boy, he pulled him up and offered him a handkerchief to staunch the flow of blood. To his surprise, the boy was smiling.
"You've got quite a right hook on you, little chap! Gardiner," he introduced himself, shaking Matthew's hand. The other boys looked at Matthew with a little more respect; after all, he had just taken down the biggest boy in the dorm!
Perkins popped his head round the door.
"What are you all doing up?" he yelled. "Come on, into bed, jump to it!"
There was a mad scramble as the boys raced to put on their pyjamas and each boy dashed to his own bed, tucking the blankets tightly around them against the night time chill of the cavernous room. Perkins blew out the lamp and closed the door. Almost as soon as he had done so, excited whispers and chuckles broke out. Matthew huddled down into the sheets, holding Mary's toy against his chest as he tried to get warm. As the dorm finally fell silent (save for the sounds regular breathing and the occasional snore) he brought it up to his face in the dark, breathing in the comforting scent of home, familiarity and her.
XxX
Isobel watched from the window as a slim, dark haired girl paced up and down the street, her face the perfect illustration of boredom. Every time she passed the house, she would surreptitiously peer over the wall as if hoping to find some kind of relief.
It was such a lovely spring morning that it seemed a shame to spend it indoors, thought Isobel. She would miss her little place here in the village, with its wistful quietness and slow pace of life...perhaps she could do a little gardening before she left? She did not fully admit to herself that she was itching with curiosity; wanting to see this girl, the one who Lady Grantham had told her to keep her son away from. Four years or so had gone by since that letter had arrived and made her so indignant, so enraged that her darling boy was not deemed good enough to play with the carefully nurtured Lady Mary. Being an observant woman, she had noticed Mary and Matthew together from time to time. Her son was terrible at keeping things to himself anyway, she thought to herself, tying the light blue ribbon of her straw gardening hat in a neat bow under her chin. He would always make such transparent excuses to be out of the house; Isobel soon discovered that I'm going for a walk actually meant I'm going to see Mary. Isobel never revealed her discovery, knowing that her sons boyish pride would have been cut to the quick had he known that she had seen through his deception for years. She would just kiss him on the cheek and say "have a lovely walk, Matthew dear" and let him go on his way. It seemed to make him happy and she saw no impropriety in it, as Lady Grantham had. They were just children, for Heaven's sake!
Isobel walked out of the door into the mild April sunshine, gardening gloves and wicker basket in hand, the soft scent of earth wafting up from the damp ground as she walked over to her beloved herb garden. She loosened some of the earth with her trowel, relishing the dull ache in her arm as she dug out a particularly persistent patch of weeds.
Mary walked past the house again, her eyes drawn to it, over the wall and oh! She jumped as she saw Isobel there in the garden. How embarrassing! She hadn't expected to be caught; wasn't Mrs Crawley supposed to be in Manchester?
"Lady Mary?" The older woman's kind smile put her at ease almost immediately; it was just like Matthew's smile! So kind and warm, the edges of the eyes crinkling up...
"How do you do, Mrs Crawley," Mary said politely.
"You've been walking up and down the street for over forty minutes now..." (Mary flushed with embarrassment. She hadn't realised that she'd been being observed!) "...you must be terribly bored. Would you like to come in for some tea?"
"Oh!" Mary exclaimed. "Yes, please."
Mary opened the creaky front gate, setting foot for the first time in Matthew's garden. How strange that they'd been such friends for all these years and yet she had never even been inside his house! Isobel led her inside and Mary almost gave a sigh of contentment as she entered. The house was so warm and cosy, decorated simply but in good taste. It felt like a real home. Mary saw a painting hanging on the wall and walked slowly over to observe it. "Oh..." she breathed. There was something about it, she couldn't quite explain it, couldn't quite put it into words.
"Do you like it? My late husband never did...he felt it was too colourful, that it didn't fit in anywhere in the house. But, now...well, anyway, it's Matthew's favourite. It's almost like looking into a dream, isn't it?"
"Yes! That's exactly it!"
"I suppose you must be interested in art, Lady Mary? Your mother and father must have an extensive collection."
"Well, yes. But nothing like this. They're all rather dreary, I'm afraid."
Isobel chuckled softly at Mary's expressive eye rolling as she explained the portraits and landscapes that her father was so fond of.
"Matthew's quite the artist, you know," said Isobel, intently watching Mary's face.
"Really?"
"Of course, he keeps it quiet, but he's very good. Look."
Isobel went to the shelf and pulled down a little black sketchbook. It was filled to the brim with sketches of everything, from trees and horses to a little robin perching delicately on a branch. There was one of the woods that they were both so fond of, the bench where Cora had discovered them... there were just hundreds of beautiful, detailed drawings of things that Matthew saw and simply had to get down on paper. Mary was absolutely entranced by them. She had no artistic talent herself, but if she had, she would have certainly told someone about it, especially if she was this good! Mary handed the book back to Isobel, who tucked it safely away again before sitting down at the table ready to pour the tea. They sat together in a comfortable silence for a few moments, sipping at their tea.
"You must miss him very much," Mary ventured.
"Yes, very much. The house is so quiet without him! But soon I'll have my sister to keep me company. What about you?"
"I'm sorry?"
"You must miss Matthew."
"Really, I..."
Seeing Mary's cheeks flush a light, delicate pink, Isobel took pity on her, changing her line of questioning.
"Do you have any sisters, Lady Mary?"
"Yes," she groaned. "Two younger sisters."
"Am I to understand from your reaction that you aren't very close?" Isobel inquired, her warm smile making an appearance once more.
"Mmm... Sybil is lovely but she's too young to do anything I like and Edith... well, we don't quite see eye to eye on everything!"
"Or anything?" Isobel's eyes twinkled at her over the teacup as Mary grinned in agreement. "My sister and I were just the same at your age. She was terrible, always taking my dolls and blaming things she did on me! You'll grow out of it."
"Hmmm..." Mary didn't want to be impolite but she wasn't so sure!
"So, do you have any other friends, Lady Mary?"
Mary blinked as she considered seriously. Had she any other friends? When she wasn't indoors with Mama or Granny or her sisters, she was with Matthew. Could that be right? She supposed it must be.
"No, not really," answered Mary. "Mama doesn't really like me to play with any of the children in the village..."
Isobel pursed her lips in irritation. Why force a young girl to be lonely simply to preserve the class boundaries?
"Just Matthew then?" Isobel asked her softly.
"Yes. Just Matthew. He's the only one."
TBC
So, little Matthew's gone away. Sad, sad times. But is this the end for our duo? Of course not! R&R :D