Matthew whistled as he peddled his bicycle to the Abbey. He felt a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He almost believed he could fly. Last night had been… absolutely wonderful. He laughed aloud, startling one of the estate workers he passed.

Mary had kissed him. Mary had kissed him and he had asked her to marry him. Then she had kissed him again, told him to come back tomorrow and speak to Lord Grantham, and then she would give him an answer.

He was met at the door by Carson who oddly gave him an approving nod before leading him to the library where Lord Grantham was waiting for him.

"Mr. Crawley," Carson announced as he opened the door. Matthew shot him a grateful smile before fixing his gaze on Mary's father.

Lord Grantham was sat at his writing desk. He didn't look up when Matthew entered the room focusing instead on the paper in front of him. Matthew stood awkwardly a few feet from him and waited. He tried not to fidget, but Lord Grantham seemed to be taking his time. When he finally did look up from his papers, Matthew almost wished he hadn't.

"You were busy last night," Lord Grantham said eyeing him speculatively. "Or so I've gathered." Matthew felt his face heat. "You saved one of my daughters from a political brawl and then asked another for her hand in marriage. Is there anything else I should be aware?"

"Lord Grantham-"

"Robert." Matthew blinked in confusion. Lord Grantham stood and closed the distance between them. "You should call me Robert if we are to be family."

Matthew stared in disbelief at the proffered hand before taking it with a relieved laugh. "Robert. I know I should have come to you first and I'm sorry-"

Robert waved him off jovially. "Don't worry about all that, my dear fellow. I will be glad to call you my son-in-law."

"Thank you, Robert."

Robert led them to the drinks tray where he poured them both a glass of whiskey. "I suppose now is when I tell you that if you hurt her I'll have to hurt you, but I think perhaps in this instance I should be more worried about you."

Matthew accepted his glass with a smile. "If she will have me I will be happy."

"Well," Lord Grantham said smiling down into his tumbler and then raising it in a toast. "Congratulations."

They were interrupted by Mary. "Carson said you were in here."

Robert stiffened and Matthew noticed his grip on his glass tighten. "Did he?" he asked coolly, miles from the convivial man of moments before. Mary seemed to notice and beamed brightly at them instead.

"I hope I'm not interrupting. You weren't being too hard on Matthew, were you Papa?"

Robert relaxed and smiled at his eldest daughter. "No. I was just telling Matthew how happy I am for the both of you."

Mary blushed and looked away. And Matthew couldn't help but think how becoming she looked. He took a small step toward her grinning as her eyes met his.

"Well," Robert said again, clearing his throat. "You two have some things to discuss. I'll leave you to it."

Matthew barely glanced at Robert leaving. He was fixed on Mary who was frowning slightly. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry." She shook her head.

"About what?"

"About earlier," she said waving her hand towards the door her father had left. "About Papa. I shouldn't have mentioned Carson. It was stupid of me. I knew he was still upset with him."

Matthew set his drink down and frowned himself. "Is this to do with why Carson left so suddenly a few months ago?"

"Partly," she sighed looking uncertainly up at Matthew. "It's a long story."

Matthew reached out to touch her but stopped himself. "I'd love to hear it if you want to tell me," he said gently instead.

Mary turned her head to stare out of the window into the gardens. Matthew thought he saw a flicker of fear cross her face and longed to reassure her somehow. He didn't know what she could be afraid of, but he would put it right if he could. This time when he reached for her he let himself clasp her hand in his and squeezed it gently. She turned back to him with a small smile.

"Would you like to go for a walk?'

"I'd love to," he grinned.

"Is it true then? Are we going to have a wedding here? Daisy asked as she helped pass around plates for the servant's lunch.

"Of course, they won't have the wedding here," Miss O'Brien scoffed. "It'll be in the church."

"She hasn't even accepted him yet, has she?" Thomas added.

"Will she, do you think?" Daisy asked.

Everyone turned to look at Anna who shrugged. "It's not my place to say, but she hasn't said either way."

"That's enough," Mr. Carson boomed as he entered the servants' hall with Mrs. Hughes at his side. He looked around the table before taking his seat and signaling for everyone else to do the same. "Thank you, Daisy. You may return to Mrs. Patmore in the kitchens."

The girl bobbed her head and scurried from the room. Soon the hall was filled with the clatter of people eating and relaxing. Mrs. Hughes glanced along the table to see that no one was paying them any mind and then leaned conspiratorially towards Mr. Carson.

"Will there be a wedding though?" she asked softly. "I was worried about the garden party at the end of the summer, but if there's to be a wedding, too, I'm afraid I'll have to talk to her Ladyship about Mrs. Patmore."

Mr. Carson sighed and looked to the kitchens where Mrs. Patmore sat eating her own luncheon with the kitchen maids. "I know. Dr. Clarkson's said she has cataracts. There are specialists in London but…" He shook his head.

"I don't know how much longer we can go on like this," Mrs. Hughes said thoughtfully, then smiled mischievously at Mr. Carson. "I suppose there's always the chance Lady Mary will say no."

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly at her. "I very much doubt that, Mrs. Hughes."

"Is that so?" she asked playfully. "Do you know something that we mere mortals don't, Mr. Carson?"

"Perhaps," he grinned waggling his eyebrows at her. They shared a quiet laugh and went back to their meals.

Neither noticed the rest of the table stop to look at them for a moment.

Mary blushed as her shoulder bumped into Matthew's as they walked. He grinned at her but didn't move away. Mary couldn't find it in herself to mind. She liked being close to him. She found she wanted to stay close to him. She had yet to accept his proposal, but she wanted, oh how she wanted, to say yes. There was just the pesky problem of her conscience. She couldn't marry him without telling him the truth about her. And when he knew the truth she was afraid he would regret asking her to marry him.

"Sybil told me she was looking forward to the season this year," Matthew said interrupting her thoughts. He grinned playfully at her and very deliberately knocked his shoulder into hers again. "Are you?"

"Are you trying to get rid of me already? You've only just asked me to marry you. I shouldn't think this bodes well for our future marriage."

The look of horror on Matthew's face sent her bursting into laughter. He stopped on the path to look at her ruefully, his expression one of resigned amusement. "You're teasing me."

"Well, you do make it rather easy," Mary said fondly. Boldly she wrapped her arm around his and pulled him along beside her. Matthew was taken aback by their new closeness for a moment before he smiled genuinely at her and tucked her hand more firmly through his arm. They walked again in silence while Mary gathered her courage to tell Matthew about Carson and Pamuk. They had reached a large willow tree and she stopped them beneath its shade.

"Matthew," she began looking at him earnestly, "I do wish to marry you."

Matthew beamed at her saying, "I wish to marry you, too."

Mary cut him off. "But I can't without telling you the truth."

"The truth about what?" he asked his brow furrowed in confusion.

"About me."

Matthew looked at her uncomprehendingly. Mary let go of his arm to step away from him. She needed a few moments to think of how to tell him. She had spent most of the last night after she had come down from the high of his marriage proposal trying to think of the best way to tell Matthew about her indiscretion. She had thought of a few ways to say it but now that she was here all of her carefully planned words had fled. She turned back to him to see his confused but concerned face. Taking a deep breath she began.

"Do you remember a Mr. Kamal Pamuk? He was a Turkish gentleman who stayed for the hunt last year?"

Matthew nodded. "Wasn't he also the gentleman who died in his sleep?"

"Yes," Mary swallowed her nerves and continued, "Only he didn't die in his sleep. He didn't die in his own bed either." Mary waited for Matthew to understand her. She hoped he would see it before she would have to say it. "He died in mine."

"Oh," Matthew said shocked. He looked away across the grounds before glancing back at Mary. "I see."

"And that's not all of it," Mary stated wanting to be done with this conversation so she could go cry in her room alone. Matthew's rejection was more difficult to bear than she had imagined.

"It's not?" He asked incredulously turning back to her fully.

"No. It's not. My name is Mary Josephine Crawley but I'm not...I'm not a Crawley. Lord Grantham isn't my father. Carson is."

"Wait!" Matthew said throwing his hand out as he began to pace back a forth. "Lord Grantham isn't your father because Carson is? Carson? How is that possible?"

"He had an affair with my mother," Mary said matter of factly.

"Carson? And Lady Cora? Carson, the most uptight man I have ever met, had an affair with Lady Grantham?" Matthew laughed. "You're having me on!"

"I'm afraid I'm not," Mary said with a wry twist of her mouth.

Matthew stopped his pacing to look at her, really look at her. Mary held his gaze as he studied her. "You're serious," he breathed in realization. "Carson is your father and you had," he grimaced, "a night of passion with that Turkish fellow." He shook his head. "This is a lot to take in."

Mary nodded resigned. She had known this was coming. Matthew wouldn't want her now that he knew who she really was. "I'll understand if you want to forget last night ever happened. I know what I've done is unforgivable. I won't blame you if-"

"Stop," Matthew commanded. He began to pace again. Mary watched him warily. "It was just the once?"

"Yes."

"And did you love him?" he asked.

Mary blinked at him in surprise. "What? No!"

"And what about me?" he asked. "Do you love me?"

"Yes," Mary said earnestly.

And then Matthew was kissing her. He had taken her into his arms and kissed her. "I don't care about your past," he said leaning back to look into her eyes. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. One mistake isn't going to change that. And Carson doesn't even matter. So," he said kneeling down on one knee, "Mary Josephine Crawley, will you marry me?"

"Oh, Matthew!" She laughed relieved. She reached down to pull him back to his feet. "Yes."