Isobel got what she had wished for, her sleep was deep and unfettered by dreams. Richard too slept soundly. When he awoke he found his wife still snuggled against him and he sighed in contentment. Isobel had spoken to him, they had shared a bed once more. Subconsciously his hand rose and began stroking up and and down her back. The cloth of her nightgown whispered with each touch and Richard found the sound soothing. Isobel hummed in her sleep before waking. He watched as consciousness returned to her. Since Matthew had died the pattern had been her eyes would open, she would asses the room and then cry. The tears would fade and then she would either flee to the Abbey or Crawley House. Since her marriage she had moved her residence to Richard's cottage. Nonetheless, Lord Robert had insisted that Isobel keep Crawley House. She used it as a base for her charity work, the countless pieces of paper and letters being stored there. Also the address held more clout than the cottage address. Richard was waiting for the pattern to start. However, when her brown eyes met he saw that they weren't filling with tears. Instead she reached out a hand to his face and touched it. He was stunned, she barely touched him yet it felt as powerful as a punch. He knew that he couldn't bring Matthew back but he could help her feel alive. His fist closed over a measure of her nightgown and pulled it up and off while her own hands began pushing his pajamas off. Both of their bodies were still warm with sleep and seemed to burn as they came together. Quickly he rolled her beneath him and with a shift of a hip she was full.
Richard groaned at the feeling, and began kissing her neck knowing she liked it. It was about time she felt something good. Keeping his movements slow he rocked against her gently. The brown of her eyes had become thin rings another testament that she was enjoying herself. Her moans was melodious especially after her long silence.
Empty, she had felt hollowed out at the news of Matthew. Yet with Richard's body pleasuring hers she felt as though she could be almost be whole. Her fingers sought his and she twined their fingers together. As she looked at their clasped hands she saw that her skin was old. It lacked the elasticity of youth, it needed some cream and she had brown age spots. Richard's hand as well showed these things yet it was those things that she loved. Life! They had both lived a life. A brief pang of sorrow coursed through her at the fact that Matthew was dead. This feeling was transmuted as her husband kissed her neck again. She would go on, she would live for her son as well as herself and those she loved. Raising her legs she secured them over Richard's lower back and he moaned in response.
Her heart softened at his moan, he too hadn't been immune from all of this. She had been too wrapped up in her own grief to notice. Tightening her legs brought forth another moan wanting more she she ran her fingertips over the expanse of his back eliciting another verbal response. She tried to infuse each touch with an apology, each caress became a promise-I will always be by your side. She watched him as he began to lose control and held him close whispering her promise to him.
Afterwards he still held her to him in a protective embrace against foes corporeal and noncorporeal. Isobel would take another powder tonight, she wasn't ready to see Matthew...not yet.
Matthew himself was frustrated for he couldn't reach his mother. Reginald and Sybil had tried to soothe him. He ignored the good natured lectures of his father and sister-in-law and went in search of another.
Sleep was only had at the hospital, Mary slept. In fact she began to spend more time sleeping than she did awake. Many around her suspected depression. For Mary the only time she was happy was when she was asleep. Matthew was with her again, they walked hand in hand. Dreams were where Mary could smile and laugh. When she was awake she went through the motions, waiting for a time when she could snuggle down into her pillow and be reunited.
Doctor Clarkson had finally discharged her and the baby and they went home to Downton. Mrs. Patmore was already familiar with the percentage method and everything was at the ready. Days gave way to weeks and then to months. Mary continued her pattern of sleeping as much as she could, keeping everyone at bay with icy glares. Black dresses became her battle dress uniform and she shunned all color. She resented Isobel for she could see that the woman was picking up the pieces of her life. True Isobel wasn't her usual upbeat-optimistic-jovial self but it she was engaged in living. She worked alongside Doctor Clarkson in the hospital and she came to play with George.
George, she had finally named the baby. Matthew and she had laid in bed going over names. While he hadn't actually voiced his preference she knew he had especially liked that one. George was the constant reminder that Matthew was gone. Born on the same day Matthew had died. Everyone tried to coax Mary out from Anna to Lord Grantham. It was useless as long as Matthew was in her dreams she had no reason to change.
It became worse when he started to leave them. It was a rare occurrence that the dead would constantly plague the living. Matthew was furious at this fact.
"Why can't I stay?" He shouted like a petulant child.
"She won't be able to live if you stay." Reginald told his son.
"You don't understand." Matthew said bitterly.
Reginald's eyebrows rose, "You think I don't? I've watched your mother for years. Part of me thrilled that she never found anyone and a part of me sad. Let me tell you this when Richard Clarkson dies I will welcome him and shake his hand."
With Matthew leaving her dreams Mary plunged further into depression. Remembering the threat from Dr. Clarkson she ate but all around her saw that she picked at her food. Her attitude towards George had changed, she didn't hate him, in fact she pitied him and called him an orphan. It was this action that led others to finally realize that the time for Mary to wallow in grief was over. She could wear black for the end of her days if she wished but she had to engage with her son and with the outside world.