Chapter 6

Mary sat by Matthew's side as he slept and suddenly felt fatigued. She had only managed to sleep for a few hours the previous night. She fought to stay awake, but her eyes eventually drifted shut, and she slumped in her chair.

Mary slept a black, dreamless, deep sleep. She had no idea that after some time, Matthew awakened. She wouldn't have dreamt that he watched her sleep.

Matthew was worried, tense, about his upcoming operation. He understood what he would have to endure. However, his mind drifted away from his concerns as he took in Mary's slouched form. She was always beautiful, but especially so in sleep. A few tendrils of hair fell from her bun to the front of her face, which was relaxed. Gone were the creases on her forehead. Her perpetually raised brow was relaxed and her eyes gently shut. Her lips were slightly parted, and she looked innocent, her expression childlike. She breathed deeply, her chest rising and falling as she muttered something to herself as she slept. He was wondering what she was said when the door opened, and Robert Crawley stood under the arch, accompanied by the family. "Mary," Matthew said softly. Her eyelids fluttered.

Mary had been in a lighter sleep when she heard her name uttered. "Mary," a voice said. It was her favorite voice, weak, but still deep and melodious. "Mary, Robert and the family are here." Her eyes fully snapped open to see the face of the voice. She blushed and quickly sat up straight, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She quickly tucked a few stray tendrils of dark hair back into her bun. She stood hastily and turned, evening her voice to her normal cool tone. It felt like the voice of a stranger after what had transgressed the night before.

"Father," she greeted Robert as she walked to the door. She took his hand. "Matthew is awake." "Excellent," Robert responded, "We have all been so anxious to see him."

Mary led them over to Matthew, briefly pausing to straighten the covers over Matthew's broken arm. He gave her a look of gratitude as the family quickly filed in.

"My dear chap, how are you feeling?" Robert asked, smiling warmly at his heir. "Well, while I can't say I'm at my best, I am feeling much better, thank you," Matthew smiled. "Well, that's excellent news. I should allow the rest of the family to visit with you, they have been chomping at the bit to see you."

Matthew smiled as Edith politely greeted him, "Hello, Matthew." She wished him well and shot a disdainful glare at Mary before moving aside. Matthew was surprised to see the Dowager Countess behind her. "Matthew, my dear boy, how are you?"

"I'm managing quite well, thank you."

"You know, there is quite a difference between managing well and being well. Make sure you see to the latter." She shot him an affectionate look that surprised him; he was accustomed to the sharp, pointed glance he had come to know as "The Dowager." She then moved aside to let Cora greet him. Sybil followed, and the rest of the family said their farewells before moving out of the room just as quickly as they came in.

Sybil lingered, however. "How are you feeling, really, Matthew?" she began in her sweet, husky tone. "You can tell me, honestly, I am a nurse now," she remarked with pride. Matthew couldn't help but smile at his young cousin, remembering the satisfaction and pride he took in his work when he first became a solicitor. He obliged her, and began to tell her how he was faring while Dr. Clarkson spoke with Mary and Isobel.

"I am pleased. Thus far, contrary to my initial observations, he does not seem to be showing the signs of shell shock," Clarkson remarked.

Mary and Isobel both beamed, ecstatic that their Matthew might be safe from the terrible condition that haunted the minds of too many soldiers. "However," Clarkson said, "We will have to continue to watch him. These things can still come up. He has been here less than 12 hours." Mary and Isobel's faces both fell slightly. "We needn't worry about that until after the surgery, though"

"When will it be?" Asked Mary.

"As soon as possible," Clarkson said. "I have already had the operating room prepared for him."

Mary froze. Isobel paled slightly, then nodded. As if on cue, three young nurses moved into the room. They surrounded Matthew's bed, and Matthew's eyes darkened. "I do suppose it is time," he sighed. Sybil nodded at him encouragingly, then left to return to the other soldiers. Mary, Isobel, and Clarkson helped the nurses move him onto the stretcher. He gasped only once, almost used to the regular jolts of pain running through his body. They then carried him into the small library, which had been converted into an operating room. They set his stretcher on the operating table, and quickly dispersed around the room, making final preparations for surgery. Mary helped Isobel remove his shirt. Mary stood next to Matthew, and grabbed his hand, for her sake just as much as his.

He squeezed her hand, and she saw the terror in his eyes. "Darling, you'll be alright," she whispered to him. Her tone of voice betrayed that she wasn't totally sure he would be. He nodded and swallowed. Clarkson moved to the head of the bed. "Captain Crawley, we'll start with the laceration on your head, if that's alright." Matthew met Clarkson's eyes and almost imperceptibly nodded.

The nurses spread around the table, ready to hold him down if need be. Isobel used a sponge to remove the blood and dirt around the cut. After she finished, Clarkson began to dab the cut on his head with what felt like fire, though he knew it was antiseptic. He squeezed Mary's hand slightly as tears sprang to his eyes. "You're doing well, Mr. Crawley," Clarkson remarked after he stopped dabbing at the wound. He began to stitch it, and Matthew's eyes squeezed shut, his brows twitching at the pain. Mary leaned over him, softly speaking to him. "Matthew, darling, it's alright." She put her hand on his cheek as a tear ran down. He gasped as Clarkson quickly worked, pulling the stitches shut. He and Isobel moved to Matthew's unbroken arm and continued in much the same manner. He gasped when Clarkson poked at his infected wound, and a moan escaped his lips when the doctor pulled shrapnel from his flesh.

Clarkson was worried. If this was how Matthew reacted to the least painful part of his operation, he was concerned how his reaction to the setting of his arms and ribs would affect Mary - the only person in the room untrained and inexperienced in medicine. He gently pulled Mary aside. "Lady Mary, I am concerned that Captain Crawley's injuries and how we deal with them may be disturbing to you. You may want to hang back for this portion." Mary turned to him and responded reproachfully, "I was never much good at hanging back. I should like to stay here." Clarkson resigned, knowing that once Mary had made up her mind, there was no convincing her otherwise.

Clarkson moved to Matthew's ribs, rattling off instructions to a nurse. She handed him a bandage. Isobel spoke calmly to Matthew, who was pale and sweating. Mary held his hand, and squeezed it as the nurses gently lifted his torso to so Clarkson could slide the bandage underneath his ribs. Clarkson then ran his fingers along Matthew's ribcage, feeling for the spot where his ribs were broken. Finding it, he nodded to the nurses. They placed their hands on him, preparing to hold him down. He pressed firmly into Matthew's side.

Matthew grunted, and then yelled in pain. He frantically tried to move away from Clarkson's fingers, sweat pouring down his face. The nurses held him fast, and Mary ran her hands over his face, trying to calm him. "Matthew, you're alright, you're okay," she soothed. His breathing was extremely shallow as Clarkson finished pushing the broken ribs into place and quickly secured the bandage. Clarkson nodded to Isobel, that she should begin her part of the surgery. He then quickly moved to the back of the room, relieved. Her portion was the least tricky, but by far the most painful to the patient, especially with the bone protruding from Matthew's arm.

Isobel moved to the right side of the bed, opposite where Mary was sitting. Mary was now wiping Matthew's face and neck with a rag. Isobel positioned her hands right above where the bone was sticking out. Before she lost her nerve, she threw her weight down on it, forcing it back into place.

An inhuman scream of agony filled the air, and heart-wrenching sobs followed. Downton Abbey itself seemed to vibrate and the walls shake with the sound of Matthew's screams. Matthew's face and neck strained upward, muscles and tendons bulging outwards. His normally ghostly pale face was bright red. His eyes squeezed shut, and sweat covered every inch of his body, which writhed in protest to the pain. His head jerked back as he screamed again, a scream that would have broken even the coldest of hearts. Mary, who was still holding Matthew's hand, cried out as his gentle squeeze became a crushing death lock.

Matthew wished for death, to pass out, anything that would stop this torment.

Isobel gritted her teeth at the sound of her child's torture. She continued to move his arm into place, straightening it, and securing the wound where the bone had stuck out with a tightly wrapped bandage. She placed his arm in a sling, ignoring Matthew's continued cries. After she finished, she collapsed into a chair, exhausted. No mother should ever have to hear her child scream like that, Isobel thought, and especially shouldn't be inflicting the pain.

Mary leaned over Matthew. He stomach was tying itself in knots at the sound of his pain. She wiped his face with a rag, and spoke to him quickly and softly. "Matthew, shhhhh… You're alright, you're fine…. It'll be okay." She wiped his tears, and his screams quickly subsided into cries and then shuddering. As he calmed, Dr. Clarkson moved back into the room. Everyone positioned around Matthew's stretcher, lifted it, and carefully carried Matthew back to his room. They gently moved him back onto his bed, and Matthew, still too stunned by what had transpired, did not stir.

Clarkson quickly checked Matthew then turned to Isobel. "Everything seems to be in order." With that, he swiftly moved out of the room, tailed by the nurses.

Mary and Isobel sat on either side of Matthew, who was still clinging to consciousness. "Matthew, my brave, brave boy," Isobel said to Matthew as she pulled the covers over his still bare chest. She then performed an action that seemed strange to Mary. She placed her hands on either side of Matthew's face, thumbs resting above his eyes. She then lightly ran her thumbs in circles around his eyes and temples. As his eyes drifted shut, she rubbed her thumbs on his eyelids. His breathing quickly steadied and then deepened, indicating to Mary and Isobel he was asleep. Mary looked curiously at Isobel.

"An old trick of mine," Isobel whispered. "A mother's secret. It always used to put him right to sleep when he was a boy. I haven't done that in years…" She smiled at Mary, who despite her best efforts, yawned. Isobel looked outside, noticing it was already night-time. "My dear, you must be exhausted. You should head up to bed."

"That's kind of you, but I think I should like to stay here with him," Mary responded, not unkindly.

Isobel smiled even more widely. "Here, take the cot next to his." Mary smiled gratefully, and sat down, kicking off her shoes. She let out her hair, the vast majority of which had already fallen out of its bun during the earlier ordeal. She slid into her cot, only a few feet away from Matthew. Though the cot was terribly uncomfortable and she was still in her day clothes, she felt as though things were almost as they should be. She smiled as she began to fade from consciousness, and took Matthew's hand (which had been dangling off his bed) in hers, resting them on the chair between then. She gasped at a a sharp pang in her hand when she did, but disregarded it, telling herself she would have a nurse look at it if it still hurt in the morning. She was almost asleep when she felt a touch ghost across her face. Even in her semiconscious state, she knew it was Isobel.

Isobel, upon seeing Mary next to her son, his hand in hers, had felt an overwhelming love for this stubborn, strong woman who cared so deeply for her son. She quietly moved over to the side of Mary, who she regarded as a daughter of sorts. She knew she could not act as a stand in mother to Mary how Robert filled the long-empty place of Matthew's own father. Mary had a mother. However, she had a sense that Mary's mother had been a sort of absentee parent for much of Mary's childhood. In all likeliness, Mary had seen more of her nannies and governesses than her own mother. She wanted to replace some of that love and affection that had been lost.

She had sat down next to Mary, whom she thought was asleep, or almost asleep. Although initially unsure what to do, she had seen Mary's confusion at her display of affection in helping her son sleep, and decided to do the same. She began to gently rub Mary's face, ghosting over her temples and eyelids. After a short time, she heard Mary's breathing deepen to the point of a deep slumber. She stood. Pleased it had the same effect on Mary, and returned to her cot. She fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

Though Isobel had not realized it, Matthew had awoken while Isobel caressed Mary's face. He smiled when she returned to her cot, and soft snores arose.

His hand was in Mary's. He was between the two women he loved.

All was as it should be.