Hey pals. I'm sick in bed today so I thought I'd post another chapter. If there are more errors than normal, blame the fact that I'm sick. At this point, the chapters start to get a little shorter than previous as the pace picks up. I apologize for that, I know there is nothing better than sitting down to a long juicy chapter- but well you'll have to survive with slightly shorter ones :)
Matthew, miraculously, never caught mono.
In fact, after that they gave up on the no kissing rule almost immediately. When they returned to Paris, Matthew spent the night in her apartment. They wasted no time in their coupling: clothes shed as they entered the door, kisses as he pushed her against the counter, and the sound of his name echoing from the walls. They laid together in the middle of her floor, panting, cooling.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
They greeted each other with the same words when Mary arrived in New York the next weekend. They went to another Broadway show, with dancing and Gershwin music and a backdrop of Paris. After they went to drinks at a exquisite bar inside an exclusive artists' club in the Meatpacking District. Mary led him up to the roof to look out over the cityscape, repeating the words as kissed him with New York City rooftops as their backdrop.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
This time his whispered it in her hair, as she lay asleep beside in the Parc Floral. The afternoon had started with ice cream beside the Chateau Vincennes, followed by a picnic in the park. But Mary, constantly exhausted, had opted for a nap on the blanket. Matthew didn't mind- she was beautiful in sleep. Her fierce features calm, dark hair and lashes contrasting against her pale skin. When she whispered the words back drowsily, still have claimed by sleep, Matthew grinned.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
They repeated the words to each other as they laid naked, bodies cooling in Matthew's bed in New York. The air conditioner was buzzing and Parks and Rec was still playing on the TV in other room. But they were so content. Blissfully and beautifully content to be together.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
She said the words into her phone, as she fell asleep at night. Tucked into her bed in Paris, all she could think about was a man on the other side of the ocean who she loved so immensely.
It was moments like these when Mary wished they weren't so far from each other. She knew they were far, far luckily than most couples in this situation. Even though they lived thousands of miles away from each other, they were able to see each other each weekend. They'd spent weeks together- for Wimbledon and for Burundi- which allowed them to grow. But there were moments, many moments, like tonight where Mary wished that they weren't so far from each other. Some nights she wished from arms to be wrapped around her, for his breath on the back of her neck. She knew that there was so much they could take of jet lag, and calculating time zones, and Matthew taking off work to come visit- before something would have to give.
"One week until Sybil's wedding," she told him, trying to keep her eyes open a little bit longer, so she could talk to him just a little bit longer. "Have you finalized all your plans?"
"Yes," Matthew said, "I've taken off of work. I can't say they are too pleased with all I've missed recently-"
"Don't risk your job, Matthew."
"Mary, don't worry about it," Matthew said, "I've been working on some other things recently anyway."
Mary knew that well. She glanced at the pile of paperwork on her desk that she hadn't told Matthew about yet. She knew that it meant life-changing things for her if she submitted it. She knew that it would make Matthew very happy, so maybe that was what scared her about it.
"Like job things?" She asked, lightly.
"Maybe, we'll see," He said.
She didn't press him on it. She didn't want him to press her secret project, not that he knew about it. But she understood wanting to keep an endeavor secret until one was truly ready to share.
"Have you got everything settled for the wedding?" Matthew asked, 'Your maid of honor dress and flowers and the details."
"Yes," Mary said, thinking about how excited she was for Matthew to see her, "I'm all ready."
"And is Sybil?" Matthew asked.
"I wish she wasn't," Mary retorted, thinking of her sister was about to wed a horrible man and no one could do anything to stop it. She wondered how they had all let it get this far.
"It's funny," Matthew said, "Because Tom said he had a plan."
"What?" Mary asked.
"He said he was going to try to find a way to break them up," Matthew explained.
"Well I suppose more power to him," Mary said, "But I don't think anything is going to work."
"I don't think so either," Matthew said, "He's never mentioned it again, so I suppose it never worked."
"Whether we like it or not, Sybil Crawley is going to marry Larry Grey," Mary said, "I suppose the best we can do is act like we support it. Besides, if they call off the wedding now, it'll just be another scandal."
"But when is it worth it, Mary? When is someone's happiness and future more important than a headline in a cheap tabloid?" Matthew pressed.
"As a Crawely, it's never been."
It was nearly a week later when Mary walked down the Strand. She still had a few hours before she need to catch the train to Berkshires. Her meeting she'd been in London for had finished early, so she ducked in to the Courtald Gallery at Somerset House was right next to where her meeting had been. Besides, it was one of her favorite museums in the world, so she was eager for an hour or so of revisiting her favorite paintings.
After purchasing a ticket, she began to wind her way through the museum. The building itself was lovely in it's own right, but the collection of art was just as breathtaking. She found herself sitting before her favorite painting, lulled to just take in the details.
"Mary?"
She turned her head, surprised completely to hear his voice. What on earth was he doing here?
"Matthew," she said, "Why are you here?"
"I didn't expect to see you here," He admitted.
"Well, obviously me neither," Mary said, "I thought you were getting in tomorrow."
"I actually arrived a day early," Matthew said.
"Shall we go a cappuccino to discuss it?" She suggested.
"Hmm, well, that's the thing," He said, slipping onto the bench beside her, looking up at the painting, "I'm not quite sure I'm ready to tell you."
"You know you can tell me anything," Mary said.
"I do," Matthew said, "It's rather good though, so I'd rather not tell you till I know it is for sure. I don't want to get your hopes up, or my own for that matter. It's nearly there. You know I'll tell you as soon as I can."
"I would say that I completely don't understand," Mary remarked, "Only that I do. I'm not inclined to tell you about the meeting I was just at. Same reason- good thing, but there is still a lot hanging in the air."
He put his arm around her, his palm settling on her low back.
"Do you think we are being silly?" Matthew said, "Should we just up and say what we are planning to each other?
"Maybe we should," Mary admitted, "After all, what if we are planning things that don't work together."
"No," Matthew said, "That won't happen. There isn't any sort of arrangement that we couldn't find a way to work for us. Even if I took a job in Hong Kong and you took a job in Rio- we'd find a way to make it work."
"You've found me out," Mary said, her voice clearly joking, "I'm moving to Rio. Figured that I'd make a go of it at the Olympics."
"Oh, yes, my darling, I hear that everyone does best at competitive sport when they've just had mono," Matthew teased her back, "But do regale me, love, exactly what sport are you entering in?"
"It's a new one, rhythmic gymnastics and horseback riding together," Mary laughed loudly.
"I think you are better off with competitive sleeping," Matthew chuckled back.
An old lady also studying the painting glared at her, then apparently realizing that Mary was famous, slipped out her camera phone and started unabashingly taking pictures. Matthew wordlessly stood and pulled her to her feet, and they set off to another part of the museum.
"Pity we had to leave," Matthew whispered, when the wound the stairwell, "It was a remarkable painting."
"My favorite," Mary explained. She paused, then decided, "Let's keep our secrets, just a bit longer. If you don't mind."
"I don't," Matthew said, "Though I admit I'm excited to learn what yours is."
She grinned coyly, changing the subject, "So how about those cappuccinos? Then maybe heading back to the Eaton Square house? It's empty and we don't have to take the train till tomorrow."
"Oh, yes," Matthew said, "That will do nicely."
"Just to clarify, your secret isn't another woman?' Mary asked, her voice was teasing, but there was a little truth behind it.
"Mary, would I risk mono from kissing you if there was another woman?" He laughed, then a bit more seriously, "If the secret worries you, Mary, I'll tell you right away."
"No, it's fine," Mary said, "I trust you. I love you and I trust you."
"You too, Mary, you too," He said.
They took the train the next morning to West Berkshires. Mary slept on Matthew's shoulder the whole ride, but Matthew didn't mind a bit. They arrived to find a car waiting for them at the station, ready to whisk them to the venue. It was a large, castle-like building with sweeping grounds that seemed to extend endlessly.
"It's as if we are in some period drama," Matthew remarked, as the made their way up the long winding drive.
Mary and Matthew were assigned a brilliant green bedroom with one of the best views. Matthew was sure that the Crawley's had the best of the guestrooms reserved for them. Matthew would normally begrudge these excesses, but he couldn't deny how lovely this room was.
The bellhop left their luggage on a rack, before leaving, sending Mary immediately into organization mode.
"So the wedding party and their families are getting here this morning," Mary explained, pulling out a few pairs of heels and lining them up neatly. Matthew smiled that Mary had just seemed to count him among her family, the words settling warmly in his chest. "We've never actually had everyone together, because half of the bridesmaids have spent the summer sick with stupid mono. So first thing is to make sure the dresses look okay with flowers and aesthetics."
"Isn't it a bit too late for that?" Asked Matthew.
"No, Mother has brought in a tailor who will fix anything we need and we have three different sets of bridal flowers depending on what looks best," Mary explained, "Honestly, this whole thing is very- wait what is it that Ivy told me the other day- it's all very extra. Apparently that's what the kids say these days."
"Extra indeed," Matthew concurred.
She started to unzip a garment bag, revealing a white gown. Matthew watched as she pulled it out.
"Is that Sybil's gown?" Matthew asked, his forehead frowning as to why Mary had it.
"No, it's mine," Mary said distractedly, pealing off the romper she'd been traveling in that morning. Matthew tried to not completely lose his train of thought as he saw Mary standing there in nothing but her lacy bra and underwear.
"Mary, is there something I missed?" He questioned, his voice baffled, "I didn't know that you were tying a knot this weekend."
Mary stuck her tongue out as she stepped into the dress, "Can you help zip me, darling?" He walked over to her back, sighing a little at the sight of her back peaking out, her hair pulled up to avoid being caught in the zipper. "Sybil is having the bridesmaids in white. Something about Kate Middleton having done it, which means it was probably actually Mother's idea."
When he finished the zipping, she revolved towards him.
"What do you think?" Her voice was timid, light, delicate.
In front of him, Matthew saw a bride. The dress was sheer lace over shoulders and chest, with solid white fabric covering her chest and extending to the floor. Matthew was sure if he asked Mary she would be able to describe all the details of gown to him. But he didn't need that, he could see so many beautiful details before him: her dark hair's contrast against the white of her dress, the way her porcelain skin seems to blend into the fabric, the unusually demure smile on her face.
For the first time, he saw their future spelled out for him. Mary had mentioned that she could see the relationship lasting a long time. This was it: she in a white dress, smiling at him. He wanted this. He wasn't sure when or if Mary would wish to wed, but he would wait it out. Sometime, in his lifetime, he wanted her like this- he wanted her to be his.
"Beautiful," He whispered, leaning forward to put the lightest of kisses on lips.
She gave him a coy smile, "I'll be busy all afternoon. Doing this dress thing, then changing for the rehearsal, then rehearsing. The rehearsal dinner is at 6 in the outdoor pavillion. I think Tom will be there by then, Anna and Giovanni too.
"What shall I do while you're gone?" Matthew asked.
"Enjoy yourself," Mary said, "The grounds here are lovely. I'm actually quite jealous. I'd love to explore them. I think there is a pool, if you fancy a swim. There might be a stable actually, if you like to ride. Do you? Isn't that funny? We've been dating for months already and I don't even know if you've ever rode a horse."
Matthew chucked, running a finger along her jaw line, "I've never, actually."
"We'll change that sometime," Mary decided, "I used to be mad about horses when I was younger. I had a pony named Diamond."
"Was she white?" Matthew asked, imagining a tiny Mary asaddle a small little white horse.
"Black, actually," Mary explained, "with a diamond on her head."
His image changed and he pictured a pony with hair that matched Mary's. He grinned, "You'll have to show me pictures."
"I will, but now I've got to dash," She promised, grabbing her phone and wristlet, "Have fun enjoying this place. I think one of the owners might have been an ancient Egyptian archeologist. Maybe you'll find a sarcophagus."
"I'll be sure to report all King Tut sightings to you, darling," He laughed.
He pulled her back for one, two, three more kisses, before releasing her to head to the wedding preparations.
He passed the morning walking around the grounds. Tom and Isobel arrived in the afternoon. They'd flown over together, which Matthew was grateful for. He liked to know that Tom was there to help take care of his mother, as well as his unwanted car. Matthew hadn't seen the SUV since he'd tossed the keys at Tom and to be honest, things were probably better for it. The three of them had had tea together in the Rose Garden, but he'd lost track of them after that.
In exchange, he'd found Mary again at the rehearsal dinner. She was elegant, dressed in a long-sleeved, knee length navy dress and pearls. There was a tiredness to her- dark bags under her eyes not completely covered by make up, a sallowness to her skin, and the way she seemed so thin in some places and bloated in others. It was evident that she was still recovering, still exhausted. He was proud of her for the energy and façade she was keeping up for Sybil, but he worried that she was pushing herself too much.
They found a table tucked under a shady tree where they sipped white wine, with Atticus and Rose and Anna and Giovanni.
"It's lucky you were able to make it, Atticus," Anna remarked, "The US Open starts so soon."
"I'm afraid I'll have to duck out quite early tomorrow to fly to that States," Atticus admitted, "But I couldn't miss Sybil's wedding. Even if, well-"
It seemed every guest at the wedding seemed to think the bride and groom an unsuitable match.
"Lots of people seem to be miraculously appearing for the wedding," Rose commented, "I've heard that Robert Crawley, CEO will grace us with his presence tomorrow."
Mary nodded, "Astounding isn't it? I'm still waiting for him to come up with a reason to bail."
Matthew's stomach churned. He would actually be meeting Robert Crawley CEO, this elusive, God-like persona that seemed to steer their lives by e-mails and make SUVs appear at his doorstep. He had never known what to make of the situation. But now, whether he liked it or not, he would be coming face to face with the man who had fated, or forced, him to meet Mary.
Seeing his momentary anxiety, Mary reached out and rubbed her hand over his.
He then realized that Robert Crawley CEO wasn't the only family member he had yet to meet.
"What about Edith? When does she get here?" Matthew blurted.
"Oh right," Mary said, "I haven't told you about that yet. Edith called, during the rehearsal to say she couldn't make it. Something like, 'I thought I'd be able to swing it, but I can't.' God, I'm so furious about it. I get wanting to be aloof to Crawley drama, but that's no reason to miss your sister's own wedding."
"I'm sure she tried her best," Anna said kindly.
"I don't know," Mary said, her voice heavy, "I truly don't. How could I know anything about Edith when I only communicate with her three times a year via text? The functioning of her brain or heart are a mystery to me."
"Is that your friend Tom?" Rose interrupted, looking up from their table.
Matthew looked up to see Tom Branson stalking across the lawn towards Sybil.
"It is," Matthew said, "He got here earlier. We had tea, ."
"Do you think he's still going on about that 'plan' or whatever?" Mary asked, her eyes following his to Tom's irate form.
"He can't be now, surely?" Matthew said.
"It would be a disaster," Mary said, "He must know what will be at stake if this wedding goes wrong."
"Do you think he's going to stand up during the ceremony and call if off?" Giovanni asked.
Anna, Rose, and Atticus shared a hearty laugh, but Mary and Matthew exchanged concerned glances instead.
"I think that Tom cares too much about Sybil to ruin her wedding now," Matthew said.
Mary raised an eyebrow, "That's exactly what I worry about it. Tom cares too much about Sybil."
"A word with the bride, if you please," Tom said, as he approached the table where she was sitting with Cora, Larry, Gwen, and Larry's father.
"Tom, not right now," Sybil complained.
He saw Larry's eyes narrow on him. Gwen raised her eyes to his, hesitation and excitement evident in them. She knew what was going to happen now, what was at stake.
"Syb, it's really important," Tom said.
Sybil bit her lip, put a peck on Larry's cheek and whispered, "I'll be right back."
She stood and walked towards Tom. Gwen gave him a final nod. This was happening.
He led Sybil away towards a copse of trees. It was quieter here, out of earshot from the wedding guests. It was quiet enough that he could hear his heart hammering. He was doing this. He was really doing this.
"What is this about, Tom?" Sybil asked, her voice severe.
"Here is what is going to happen," Tom told her, his voice was hushed, but his tone urgent, "I am going to tell you about the despicable person that Larry Grey is. When I am done, you have a choice. If you believe me, you will cancel this wedding right now. If you don't, I'll publish what I've found- then you'll be forced to cancel."
"What the hell?" Sybil asked, "You're going to force me to cancel my wedding? You can't do that."
"I can, and I will," Tom said, his voice angry.
"So what is that you have on Larry?" Sybil said, dismissively, "That he faced disciplinary action while at university for cheating on an exam? He's told me about that. He's old family friends with Richard Carlisle who has a vendetta against Mary? We've talked about that and we didn't invite him to the wedding. Tom, we've talked through all these things. Because we are a couple. Because we are in love. You can't stop us."
"God, Syb, I wish that was it," Tom said, "If that was all it was, I wouldn't be doing this."
"Then what? What is it? What is so hideous that makes me unable to marry a man that I love? What is it that makes you doubt that I know my mind?" Sybil said, the edge evident in her tone.
"He's nearly out of funds for next campaign run," Tom told her, "In fact, he has been for the last two years. He's not getting enough donations. He needs a surefire way to guarantee that he gets lots and lots of money. Funny, how you just seemed to enter the equation at the right time."
"You're saying that he is marrying me for my money?" Sybil questioned, still heated, "Based on a coincidence? Tom people get low on money all the time. That doesn't mean that we need to scrutinize all of their life decisions for it. And that certainly doesn't mean that he is marrying me for my money."
"Does it?" Tom asked. "Because Gwen hacked into his private e-mail account and found proof of it."
"Like what?" Sybil shot.
"Like e-mails detailing how to ruin your trip to DC so that you'd be so scared you wouldn't take the job," Tom explained, "Because he sees you as a threat to his career and his hand in the money. You are much more useful to him if you are tucked in New York with your charity work and brunches, than in DC where you might pose a risk to his new campaign funds."
"That's bullshit," Sybil said, "You're making it up."
"I wish I was," Tom said, "Read the e-mails yourself."
"You're just doing this because you've got stupid feelings for me and I haven't reciprocated," Sybil shot, "This is all about you. Typical man- this is all about you."
"I'm doing this because I care too much about you, Sybil, to let you ruin your life," Tom said, "Larry is the selfish one. He is the one making your life, your career, your money all about him."
"You're delusional," Sybil said, "You're a conspiracy theorist. You can't actually believe this."
"Believe me, Sybil. If you don't believe me, listen to Gwen," Tom argued.
"You probably brainwashed her while she was high on post surgery medication," Sybil said, rolling her eyes.
"Listen, Syb, you get now. You get the next two minutes before Cora or Larry or someone else comes looking for you to make up your mind," Tom said, his voice tight and urgent, "You decide right now if you are ready to spend the rest of your life with this man. A man who is using you for gain."
"I don't need time to decide. I've decided. Of course, I'm getting married. Of course, I'm marrying Larry," Sybil said.
"Fine, then I'm publishing," Tom snapped.
"You've got no ground to stand on. No one will believe your article," Sybil shot.
"Just watch," Tom said.
It didn't take long for Mary to nod off on Matthew's shoulder. Now the sun had sunk low in the sky. There were candles lit on each table and fairy lights around the outdoor pavilion. It gave the area a warm and charming look.
"She looks exhausted," Rose commented.
"She is," Matthew nodded, "The doctors said that she'll be exhausted for a few months even after she's no longer ill."
"Poor thing," Anna said, "She's far too driven for an illness like that."
"I agree," He said, putting a kiss on her forehead. He stroked her hair gently.
She looked up at him, her eyes blinking open, "Hmm, did I drift off?"
"You did," He said, "Sometimes I think you become narcoleptic when you caught mono."
They all laughed.
"Shall we retire for the evening, darling?' He asked her.
She nodded, her eyes still laced with sleep, as they rose.
"Good night," She said to her friends, "See you all tomorrow, yes?'
After they all exchanged good byes, Matthew led her towards the house. She leaned deeply into him, his arm wrapped around her back. They navigated their way through the ornate entrance hall, up the stairs, to their bedroom.
"I wonder what this place looked like during it's hay day?" Mary murmured as she scanned the room, "With servants walking up and down the corridors, vintage gowns."
"Probably not minimalist enough for your sensibilities," Matthew acknowledged.
"True," Mary laughed, as she began digging through her suitcase to find her pajamas. He watched as she pulled out black sleep shorts with white polka-dots on them, with tiny soft pom-poms dangling off of the hem, and a white tank top. He watched as she began to change. He wanted to reach for her, cup her breasts, kiss her neck- till he found his way inside of her. But he could see the exhaustion haunting her eyes, so instead reach out to gather her into his arms and tug her down into the bed.
It wasn't long after that Mary and Matthew lay dozing, not yet having reached deep sleep but beginning to swim in it's murky waters. Somewhere far away, there was a wrapping on their door.
"Mary, Matthew," a voice called, "Open up."
"Mary," Matthew grunted, rousing from sleep, "I think someone is at the door."
"Screw them, I'm sleeping," Mary murmured, tucking herself deeper into his side.
"It's urgent," the voice at the door said.
Sybil, Mary placed, it was definitely Sybil's.
"Mary, Matthew, open up now."
And Mother, she added to herself.
"I think we should get up," Matthew said, running a finger over her bare shoulder.
"But it's the middle of the night," Mary moaned.
"It's actually just past 9PM," He said, "I can't expect that they thought we'd retire so early."
They reluctantly extracted themselves, pulling dressing gowns from inside the closet, trying to come with some assemblency of competence.
"I feel like we are safe in here for a moment, while the storm rages outside," Mary said.
"We're about to open to the door to the tempest, aren't we?" Matthew said.
He pulled her close, wrapping his arms firmly around her. He kissed her hair, before she reached up for kiss his lips.
"Let's brave it then, shall we?" Matthew said, smiling fondly down at her.
Mary grasped the doorknob and turned it, not knowing what she was going to witness.
It was Sybil, tear stained face, still dressed in her frock from the rehearsal dinner. Cora's face was livid.
"Mary, the wedding is cancelled," Sybil exclaimed, "Larry's packing his bags."
"And it's all Tom Branson's fault," Cora added.
And the drama is just beginning! See you at the next chapter and in the reviews!