Chapter 19

This is it folks. The final chapter. Hope you've enjoyed it because I certainly have enjoyed writing it! Congrats if you've made it this far. Enjoy xx

Mary, Servants Ball, 1920

It was snowing but Mary wasn't cold. She'd been standing for a while on the front steps getting some air when Matthew had joined her. A shiver, nothing to do with the snow, ran up her back.

Matthew initially made small talk about the ball, and then asked her again, as he had done when they were dancing, whether she was really leaving. The air felt thick with anticipation as the conversation reached a natural pause. Mary hugged her arms to her side, not because she was cold but because she needed something to do. The silence seemed oppressive and she looked up at the night sky as she waited for Matthew to say something.

"Would you stay, if I asked you to?"

Fireworks exploded in Mary's chest; he couldn't mean it, could he? Things had been different between them the last few days, but there was still so much which felt unanswered; so much still unsaid.

"Oh Matthew! You don't mean that. You know yourself we carry more luggage than the porters at Kings Cross."

Matthew laughed, and simply smiled adoringly at her, which made her heart leap, but it wasn't enough. She would clearly have to push him if she wanted some more specific reassurance from him.

"And what about the late Mr Pamuk? Won't he resurrect himself every time we argued?"

"No."

Mary was caught off guard at the simplicity of his answer. She looked up at him to try and gauge what he meant. He was still smiling at her.

"You mean you've forgiven me?"

She looked at him, hopefully, expectantly. If he had forgiven her for her mistake then they might be able to move on from it; she need no longer be defined by that man's actions.

"No, I haven't forgiven you."

Mary felt deflated. This wasn't going to work after all.

"Well then.." she said dropping her eyes from his to try and hide the disappointment in them.

She was surprised when Matthew started speaking again.

"I haven't forgiven you because, I don't believe you need my forgiveness."

Matthew paused and she tried to take in the enormity of his words. He didn't blame her. It didn't change things between them. He wouldn't hold it against her forevermore. Matthew was still smiling at her, and she smiled back trying, without words, to convey how much what he had just said meant to her.

Matthew took a small step towards her, closing ever so slightly the space between them.

"You've lived your life and I've lived mine, and now it's time we lived them together."

Mary could barely believe what she was hearing. She felt both elated and terrified in equal measure. Matthew really was asking her to be his Mary Crawley for all eternity. She wanted to be his, more than anything in the world, but she was also terrified that it would all crumble into ashes again. That, just as she'd put her heart back together again, that it would be broken all over again. That's what they did to each each other. She needed to know that he was sure; that his wasn't just the wine talking, or even just because he would miss her if she went to America. She needed to know for sure that he wanted to marry her, to be hers forever, come what may.

"We've been on the edge of this so many times Matthew. Please don't take me there again unless you're sure."

He looked straight at her, his blue eyes bored into her very soul; she felt like she could fall right into them.

When Matthew spoke it was calm and assured.

"I am sure"

Mary felt almost lightheaded. What she had yearned for for all her adult life seemed so tantalisingly close, but there was one final things that she needed to know that Matthew was sure about.

"And your... vows to the memory of Lavinia?"

He looked down, almost sheepishly.

"I was wrong."

Matthew looked out into the night as he continued, still calm and certain.

"I don't think she wants us to be unhappy. She was someone who never caused a moments sorrow in her whole life."

Mary nodded in encouragement.

"I agree."

She did agree. She had never thought that Lavinia's death should mean that they could never be together, but she had always tried hard to respect Matthew's decision on the matter.

Mary was suddenly aware that there was now finally, after eight long years, nothing separating them; not her shame nor Matthew's guilt. Time seemed to slow as she waited for Matthew to speak; as she waited for him to change the course of their lives forever.

"Then will you?"

Matthew, Servants' Ball, 1920

Matthew's question hung in the air. Will you? Will you marry me? Will you be with me forever? Will you make me the happiest man alive? Will you, Mary? Ever the pragmatist, Mary had cycled through all the reasons why she shouldn't and now it was time for her to decide if she would.

As he watched, Mary dropped her defences and a smile began to play on the edges of her mouth. This was the real Mary, his Mary, the one underneath the mask that only a few people got to see, the one who he had always been in love with. Her eyes sparkled with fun as she spoke:

"You must say it properly. I won't answer unless you... kneel down and everything!"

A laugh escaped his lips and he held Mary's gaze. Admittedly his proposal hadn't exactly been romantic, but if it meant she would say yes he would've prostrated himself at her feet.

He knelt down, the snow cold through his trouser leg, and looked up at her. It was still snowing gently. The snowflakes which had landed in her hair shimmered in the moonlight. He wanted always to remember this moment; to remember how beautiful and happy Mary looked and how his heart felt like it might burst out of his chest. He took her hands in his, still holding her gaze.

"Lady Mary Crawley, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

Mary, Servants' Ball, 1920

As Matthew said those life-changing words, as he asked her to become his wife, Mary felt like the world had stopped and there was only the two of them in existence. She had felt like this only once before: when they were dancing to the gramophone. How different this was from then! Then it was wrong and dangerous, now there could be nothing more right. Then it had been the end of something, but now was only the very start. The start of the life they had always been meant to lead: a life together. She felt so happy she thought that she might burst!

She looked at Matthew, finally her Matthew, and smiled.

"Yes!"

Matthew stood up and kissed her. It was not like either of the other times she'd kissed him; this time there was nothing holding either of them back, there was no edge of sadness or guilt, just pure unadulterated joy at being together, and all that the future would hold for them.

Matthew put his arms around her waist, lifted her up and spun her round. She laughed and buried her face into his neck as he laughed with her. This was, without doubt, where she wanted to be, where she belonged, for all of time.

"The spaces between your fingers were created so that another's could fill them in."

The End