The snow started on December 22. Light and fluffy, it finally felt like Christmas.

Matthew was returning from a half week trip to London clearing his time for the next fortnight, bringing his laptop in order to do some work from York. CB Properties usually closed over the Christmas holidays and he avoided the office party by saying Mary expected him back at Downton.

It wasn't completely a lie. She was expecting him. Mostly because he never told her there was an office party. He and Lavinia had gone in past years just long enough to make an appearance and then left early. As the owner he knew the employees would rather he leave them to the booze up alone. Tom did much the same, though he always followed it by going with some mates to a local pub after and playing darts into the wee hours.

Matthew pulled the Porsche into the gravel drive at Downton. He had not really protested Mary's desire to spend the holidays at her home. She was still in the latter days of the bedrest on the doctor's orders. He had not yet brought up the notion of purchasing Crawley House as their new home.

Mary seemed to assume he'd move in permanently to Downton.

They had lingered in bed the day he had to leave for London. Her father had returned home the previous afternoon, but was slow to recover. Keeping to himself in the rooms along the other corridor he shared with Cora.

It was still too close for Matthew.

He could never feel completely free to do as he pleased as long he was under another man's roof. Teasing to Mary that he'd been away from parental oversight since the age of 14 when he went to Rugby.

"It's a very big house Matthew." She'd remind him deprecatingly. "I think you'll find it more than enough for four adults. And two children remember. Mama will be such a help."

"But…" He'd try to get a word in.

"Besides I need to be close to the stables. What if something happened? I'm sure you will settle in." And she'd nestle beside him so much in comfort that he had not the heart to say he would never agree to living permanently at Downton.

So here he was pulling in to the Abbey with more clothes and personal items to be used while on this lengthy holiday stay.

But he still felt more than ever that he wanted to get away. Certainly that very night he had arranged finally for their stay at The Deanery hotel in Ripon. He had reset the date after missing the one on account of the emergency visit to the hospital. He hoped to broach the subject of living somewhere close to her family, but creating a space all their own.

For their family.

For themselves.

But not yet. Tonight they had arranged the dinner with his mother in London.

One crisis at a time, he had learned over the past few weeks.

XX

The drive down to London was accomplished in air of nervous tension.

Matthew thrummed the wheel of Mary's Jaguar with his thumb and forefinger. Back and forth.

He fiddled with his tie. Mary had noted the new suit, Armani by the cut of it, pressed to perfection and his brogues polished. He had arrived mid-week from his stay in London to catch up on business to take her to Café Bruno for the dinner with Isobel.

His thumb returned to its rhythmic beat against the steering wheel.

It was driving Mary crazy.

"Matthew." She snapped. "Stop it. It's just your mother. You'd think it was the Queen herself we're having dinner with."

Matthew gave her a lingering side eye.

Mary puckered her lips insouciantly. "As a matter of fact Mama, Granny, and I greeted the Queen and Catherine at the Chelsea Flower Show last year in the Royal Enclosure."

"You would…" Matthew muttered irascibly.

"She's really such a dear." And Mary tittered in a delightful manner at a memory. "Especially as Granny's rose took prize over her own."

Matthew's taut mouth relented. "Quite reassuring." And then curved into a sardonic smile. "If we were meeting the Queen."

"Are you saying your mother is more daunting?" Her doubtful drawl obvious.

"You'll see." He responded shortly. "You'll need to score a real bullseye with her. She's watching both of us quite closely."

"For what?" Mary was now quite attentive. "Matthew, you really are quite nervous. But why? You've told her about us. About the baby."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Not the twin's news." And even on edge as he was that made him grin madly.

"Then we have even more good news to tell her." Mary tried to keep her voice placid. "I know you think she'll believe we're being even more irresponsible, but as you yourself said, she will see reason. We're married. We're having children. It's not ideal…"

He threw her a worried look.

"You know it's not Matthew." Mary said realistically.

"That may be," Matthew said. "But we don't have to emphasize it."

"Is she really that suspicious?" Mary doubted. "You're exaggerating. And letting your dealings with Papa cloud your judgment."

Matthew relented a bit. "Perhaps." He tilted his head towards his wife. "I've gotten so used to defending our marriage that I've hardly had time to enjoy it."

"And are you?" Mary asked softly, believing she already knew the answer. "Enjoying it?"

"Of course." His voice genuine. Hoarse with emotion. "I've never been happier in my life."

He peeked over to see Mary. "And yourself?"

"I am when I'm with you." She said quite enigmatically to Matthew.

But he had no time to question her response as they were pulling into the restaurant lot.

His mother hovered at the entrance, still looking around as she did not recognize Mary's car.

Matthew fidgeted with his tie one more time.

"You look perfect." Mary entwined her fingers around his to control his nervous action.

Her touch, as always, immediately calmed him. "I just want her to have a good first impression."

Matthew unlatched the driver's side door. Walked around the car and opened the passenger door. Mary slid her low-slung heel onto the pavement. She clasped Matthew's hand and he helped her out the rest of the way. He caught a whiff of Mary's addictive lily and jasmine scented perfume. It transported him into a delicious moment of erotic fervor. Later, his mind rebelling against his heart. Later it told him. When you were at The Old Deanery. The long-awaited tryst, just the two of them.

After the business at hand was complete, the long night was theirs alone.

She was dressed in a black knee length long sleeved sheathe dress with a cranberry red cashmere wrap. Pleased it still fit when she tried it on earlier that evening, she decided to wear it before it was too snug around the waist. Her hair was loose, around her shoulders. Just like Matthew liked.

Strands of her tresses grazed Matthew's skin as he closed the car door. He shivered in delight. Turned and kissed her, "Let battle commence," he tried to joke.

Mary raised a poised eyebrow, "We've got this." And with that self-possessed statement of fact, she strode confidently towards her awaiting mother in law.

The side of Matthew's mouth curved into a crooked smile and made a move to follow his wife. Keep to her side, he said to himself. And you won't go wrong.

"Mother." He approached and kissed her cheek. Stood back and clasped Mary's hand. "Mary and I have been looking forward to this immensely."

See, he said to himself, you can lie with the best of them.

"I doubt that." His mother retorted merrily. "But it's very nice of you to say so anyway." She returned her son's kiss with a hug.

Matthew's false bravado crushed, he stepped aside for Isobel to greet Mary.

"So this is Mary." Isobel turned her gaze. "Such a pleasure my dear. You look very smart in that wrap. It suits your complexion."

"Thank you." Mary spoke easily. She shook Isobel's hand.

"Your father on the mend I trust? Matthew told me he had rather a bad time of it."

"He's back in his own bed which he likes." Mary said. "Giving the home health aides rather a hellish time I'm afraid though. All their fussing."

"Men are always the worst patients." Isobel agreed.

The two women gave each a knowing look, first towards themselves then a side eye to Matthew. As if he, for the moment represented all men.

Mary gave him a wicked wink, then elegantly turned to Isobel.

"Shall we go inside and get you out of this chill? I think snow is forecast." Mary walked beside Isobel into the restaurant, leaving Matthew a step behind and mouth agape in wonder.

They obviously didn't need him at all.

XX

Matthew made the drinks order. His mother's favorite wine. Sparkling water for the two of them. He was in the first flush of support over Mary's pregnancy with going on the wagon of no alcohol consumption.

He figured he might just make it through the evening without the need to down several Laphroaig neats before it was all over. Observing his mother during the first moments of the dinner he became more and more appreciative of how she was affecting an air of calm and diplomacy around Mary even as he suspected she felt nothing of the kind.

"You know after all that heat in Las Vegas, I actually am looking forward to a white Christmas." Matthew said as a hopeful conversation opener.

"I'm glad to hear America didn't spoil you." His mother replied, "After three weeks I was afraid you'd not want to come back."

"Never fear." Matthew rejoined soberly. "After all that's going on there, I'll take English problems and English weather any day."

"Good." Mary taunted. "That Elvis chapel…" And she gave a mock shiver. "It will be quite a while before I get any inkling to return there!"

They shared a private laugh.

Isobel glanced in confusion from one to the other. "Elvis? I may not be up on the latest, but isn't he dead?"

"Matthew had me going for a bit that we were to be married at this kind of shrine to Elvis. And be driven off in a rather horrid limousine coloured pink." Mary explained.

"Cadillac." Matthew pedantically corrected in a teasing manner.

"Whatever." Mary countered. "Horrid nonetheless." Then she gave a spot on imitation of Matthew's deadpan delivery, "A bargain at only 99 dollars."

They fell into a fit of the giggles.

Then Matthew realized much to his chagrin his mother looked on at the two of them aghast.

"It was a joke, Mother. Something I did to give Mary a bit of a hard time."

""I should think getting married at the last minute enough was quite enough of a joke." Isobel commented rather too pointedly.

Matthew pursed his lips tightly. "I suppose it was." Was his curt reply.

The conversation lagged awkwardly thereafter until they ordered their dinners. Mary was at a loss as to how to recover Isobel's good graces.

Isobel tried again. "You were in the Olympics?" Isobel enquired. "Or so I believe Matthew informed me. That must have been exciting."

"The trials, yes." Mary clarified, avoiding the pain that usually associated her memories of that time. The failure to make the team. The injury to Diamond. "It was quite exhilarating but unfortunately my horse took lame. My teammates, though, went on to win the gold in dressage. I practiced with Charlotte Dujardin in the weeks before they won. We used to be flat mates when I worked a summer on a horse farm in Gloucestershire."

Even Matthew did not know that. He leaned forward, incredulous. "In Gloucestershire?"

"Don't look so shocked. I mucked out the stables, provided buckets of water, replaced bedding, and cleaned the tack. 'Learn from the ground up' the head groom said to me on my first day. It's the only way to success." Mary always remembered those words in the broad tones of her Lancashire native boss.

The atmosphere lightened a bit.

Matthew proudly informed his mother, "Mary won first prize just last month at the Berkshire Horse Trials. It was thrilling to watch her." His eyes shone bright as he remembered watching the ease with which she glided over each of the fences.

"But no more of that I expect." Isobel knowingly observed. "At least not for the foreseeable future." She turned sympathetically to Mary. "I know you had a bit of a turn a few days ago. I do hope you are feeling better now?"

"I am." Mary's eyes darted stealthily over to Matthew. He radiated support with his warm eyes. "As a matter of fact the doctor has had to put me on a special diet. I felt faint because I wasn't getting enough nutrients."

"Why is that?" Isobel inquired, furrowing her eyebrows. "Nothing serious? It's been my experience very few young mothers-to-be know just much care goes into the nurturing of an unborn child."

Matthew felt Mary bite back the retort that formed on her lips. Instead she gave an unassuming nod and fell silent but cast a deep, penetrative glance at Matthew saying with her eyes, 'and now it's your turn Mr. Crawley.'

Matthew got her unsaid message. He picked up the conversation with the revelation of "Mary's having identical twins, Mother. The doctor recommended she reduce her activities for the foreseeable future. We're going to be going back within the fortnight for a more intensive examination and sonogram. We might even find out the sex." He ended on the most optimistic note possible under the circumstances.

He knew this information was once again not going to be met with any kind of unbridled enthusiasm from his mother.

For the first thing she was eminently practical. Like their wedding, it was all too soon for her endorsement.

She had wanted grandchildren.

In another life.

With another wife.

And now It was a great deal to swallow.

Isobel replied with only a hint of acerbity, "Twins. Well that is something isn't it."

His mother gave very little away, but Matthew saw the tense spasm of her cheek. The barely discernible flash of disquiet in her eyes. The need to say more, to chastise these wayward children.

But instead she refrained from doing so. Matthew knew that it was her way of trying to be fair. To start to accept her son was married, expecting a child… children with someone she barely knew.

It had to be enough, he thought. Too much to ask for any more.

And then he was flabbergasted when she revealed, "Twins do run in the family, you know. Like my cousins, David and Donald."

Matthew's face fell in utter shock. He spluttered, "Who are they? You've never mentioned twins in our family!"

He and Mary shared an astonished expression. Mary's eyes narrowed as if to say,ha it is your fault.

His mother shrugged, "Emigrated to Canada when I was a child. I suppose I've never had cause to talk of them. Haven't seen them since." Isobel explained to her son.

"Well…well. You'll have your hands full for sure." Isobel patted Mary's hand. "Matthew better pull up his socks and pitch in."

Mary leapt at the opportunity to say, "Matthew's been nothing but wonderful. He's been such a support. He must have traveled four or five times between home and the hospital the night it all happened. Got hardly any rest. Mama confided she quite wouldn't have known what to do without him." She gave her husband a quick look of such love that it fairly made his heart burst with joy.

Isobel sat against the hard back of her chair. Took in her son. His wife. Their intimate exchange of eyes and smiles.

And she too began to smile. Not a forced one, or a fixed one. But a genuine one.

A relieved one.

A happy one.

XX

"Thank God that's over." Matthew threw himself on the bed. Reached his hand out towards Mary. "Come here."

"You'll make me untidy." Mary said making her voice sultry and seductive. "I might just have to take this off first." And she indicated to Mathew to unbutton her dress.

He sat back up with a grunt. "With pleasure." And his hands roamed slowly first around her waist, feeling the growing baby bump, then kissed the small arch of her back as he unzipped the dress and pulled it off her shoulders.

His low murmurs of endearments accompanying each activity. "My darling…"

His eyes stared at her. His pupils dilated with sexual desire. He kissed and ran his tongue against her skin.

Unable to keep her balance as she swayed deliciously in his arms, Mary fell against him. Felt her skin against the silk of his suit jacket. His lips found her nipples first.

Tugged.

Pulled.

She moaned and pulled herself closer to his mouth, his teeth.

Demanded he continue as gasps of pleasure escaped her mouth. "More…More…" She became hoarse as each sensation took her breath away.

His tongue encircled each nipple, the areola growing larger and pinker with each flick and taste. He bit each nipple delicately at first, until she demanded he take them full on. Matthew pushed against her arse, taking off the rest of her dress. He then began to massage each cheek of her derriere with his long fingers. Grunting and needing her all the more.

They fell against the bed covers.

"See." Matthew took precious time away from his ministrations to say, "I told you this was a good idea."

Mary was already unbuttoning his shirt greedily, pushing up the undershirt to feel his skin, prickle the hairs of his chest. Make him gasp as her hand slip under his belt and felt his large arousal.

The fireplace was roaring and emanating heat out into spacious room. The penthouse of The Old Deanery was the perfect choice Mary had to admit for a week end tryst. To unwind after the long drive back to York. Now that the dinner was over with Isobel. Now that it had gone as well as could be expected. Her father was home, recovering. Still irascible but mending.

She felt she could finally relax. They had told everyone all their news.

It was all out in the open.

Mary placed delicate kisses along his line of his ribs. She felt his sweaty heat. The rise and fall of his chest. Rhythmic beats of his heart. She heard it pounding as her touch increased his sexual desire. His breaths coming in short heaves, followed by long sighs of craving more.

She moved atop his body, lithe and stalking after her own pleasure. She pulled off his trousers and underpants. His body was revealed to her. Sleek, tight at the vee shape of his groin. His muscles rippled with each exerted breath. Straddling him she felt the length of his shaft against her wet inner thighs. Rubbing it up and down within the folds of her, she shuddered as the sensations came. Waves of pleasure engulfed her mind. Her actions grew faster and faster. She could feel every inch of his growing arousal. Hardening and pulsating. Stroking him so hard now she felt a heat rise all over her body.

And then she took all of him inside her. Sliding down on his shaft, feeling every inch descend into the depths of her heat and her warmth. His hands balancing her as he gripped and dug his nails into her backside. He thrust upwards, making Mary throw her head back, her hair loose and tangled.

She sat back on her haunches and gave him an angle of such erotic pleasure he could stand no more. Her breasts were full. She touched them until he was on the edge of oblivion, tugged each in turn to torture and provoke him to higher moans of ecstasy.

She almost fell apart as a loud animalistic groan escaped his lips. Her body was quivering, alive with heat and need.

"Want this?" Her voice ragged, sensuous and taunting. Her mouth shaped in a wicked smile. She pushed her breasts up against his face, leaning down so each nipple danced in front of his eyes. Her thighs still locked tight. His hard shaft plunged deep within her body. He bucked and thrust madly, chasing each wave of addictive pleasure.

He answered by pushing one and then the other breast into his mouth. Tighter and tighter he bound herself to him by nipping and biting harder and harder.

Her face came down to meet his.

She wanted even more. Stabbing his mouth with her tongue, she plunged it down his throat until his own wrapped around hers and pushed past her teeth to cling to her palette, sliding the length of his tongue across the top of her mouth, just as his shaft thrust deeper and deeper into her body.

Mary's peak was like lightening. It moved up her spine, her stomach tightened. Low moans came in rapid bursts and her body twitched in crests of delight.

She claimed him as her own as his body chased the climax he needed to feel. The intensity, painful but he held out as long as he could. Each thrust bringing greater and greater buildup of pressure. The threshold was crossed, however, and the release that followed made him buck even harder against her. The contractions rapid fire, each creating waves of insane pleasure.

Mary crashed against his body. He caught her and gently turned so that he released himself from her body even as his arms came around and pulled her tight to his naked form.

"That was wonderful," she whispered in his ear. Her tongue still playing with his earlobe. "Exactly what I needed."

His arms encircled her. "Me too, my darling." She cuddled against his still sweat soaked skin.

Matthew was glad he had remembered to bring his sketchbook along. Another in the series of drawings of Mary would commence that night.

XX

Another needed quiet interlude after a great deal of anxiety. I think they deserved it! Don't you?