XX
Matthew had not shaved in days. It was a good thing it was only he and Tom in the house. Cousin Violet might have called him the 'wild man of Borneo' otherwise.
Mary might like it though, he mused. A slow, relaxed smile crossed his face at the thought of Mary. In her arms once again. Preferably in their small bedsit in Paris, decadently naked in the middle of day with nothing else on the agenda but more love making.
She always managed to calm him. Even when apart, she had the same effect.
A week ago he had left London to return to Manchester. After the phone call from the inquiring agent had told him about an assault on his mother. Or at least the investigation of such on behalf of his father. That it had happened at Downton during a visit in 1900, just as Matthew had thought. His mother leaving so abruptly early the following year. Visiting him in what he remembered as being an agitated state when she said a tearful goodbye at his school.
Matthew seethed with righteous anger at the thought all the way back to him boyhood home on the train. Tom had arrived late in the day and they had gone out for a meal. Both had retired soon after, Matthew giving him some bedding material for the guest room and leaving Tom to set it up himself.
Early the next morning he telephoned Mary to finally confirm his whereabouts. He had assumed, correctly it turned out, that she would figure out where he was on her own. So he never really gave it a thought.
He went into his father's study to make the call. Mary had asked her father a line of the telephone be strung to her bedroom on the day of their honeymoon return from Paris. Robert had scowled at the notion she needed it, but reluctantly agreed that as his adult daughter, newly re-married to a man whose business sometimes took him across the continent, deserved some privacy.
The installation had taken place while they were in London, so that when Matthew called Carson put the call direct to their bedroom.
She answered after several rings, sounding rather tired and cross. "Hello." He could tell just by the quality of her voice she was put out. And not just by his early call.
"My darling," he put on his very best intimate tone, "I know I'm trying your patience. I did mean to call earlier but things… " He hesitated and sighed. "…Things have taken up my mind. It was very good of you send Tom though. I'm sorry I didn't leave a note about my coming back to Manchester, but I made the decision rather rashly and I was on the train before … well before I thought about it."
Mary knew all that. "I know Matthew. You were ever like that in Paris. Only ever thinking of yourself." She hadn't meant for it to come out so accusing, but he should now be more considerate. He was a married man and more mindful of such things.
He felt her reproach. Knew he deserved it. "I hope you're not too angry with me, darling. It's just that I'm still not used to having any one to tell, is all." He completed his thought, "but it is rather nice."
"Just as long as you don't do it again." Mary pushed the pillows back against the headboard. Anna had come in to open the room and see if breakfast should be brought up. Mary nodded assent and waited to say any more to Matthew until after she left the room.
"I promise to do better." Matthew said, relieved she was being so understanding. "Tom told me that you called Mr. Lovell, so you know what I've been up to."
"Well he wouldn't tell me much. Just that it had to do with events in the past." Mary knew there was so much more to this story. "Does it connect to your father? As you suspected?" She asked this cautiously, not wanting to bring up the suicide that was still so painful to Matthew.
But it was. Matthew bit his lip before he answered. He had been through the rather brusque inquest where they had simply confirmed suicide without further investigation. Matthew's conversations with Lovell were equally vague. It seemed to go round and round without solution. Matthew had been determined to find more evidence. But so far he had turned up nothing.
"Yes." He answered Mary. "I still believe their is a connection. I believe my father suspected your papa's first cousin, James Crawley, of making untoward sexual intent upon his wife while she visited Downton in 1900." His blunt accusation left Mary stunned.
"What?" She could hardly believe it. "I've never heard any family story like that."
"It was all hushed under the carpet of course." He knew he was getting angry again, but he couldn't help it. "The family closed ranks didn't they? Left us out in the cold."
"Oh really Matthew. Do you have to always believe the worst of the aristocracy?"
"Do I have to remind you what happened to Father?" His words bitter and short.
Mary exhaled in frustration. "You don't know that Matthew. You're only connecting things together."
"Are you against me in this?" He spat out, only a second later wanting to take that back. He knew he was just venting his anger upon Mary. Anger he felt not against her, but the whole situation.
"No." She replied coolly, "But I am also not going to accept accusations against family members where there is no real proof."
"That's what I'm looking for here." He told her. "But…." He trailed off, "but I haven't found anything."
"Perhaps because there's nothing to find." She retorted.
They left the line silent as each gathered their thoughts. And not complete the dueling recriminations.
"Mary…" Matthew's more contrite voice returned to the conversation. "I am sorry. So very, very sorry. I do miss you so very much. I think it's the strain getting to me."
"Are you sleeping?" Mary knew he wasn't. He was ever the one to toss and turn all night, even when they were relaxing in Paris. His back hurt him more than he let on. He grumbled names occasionally. Ones that only he knew. "I hope you and Tom are eating?"
Matthew said, "Tom's anxious to get back to Sybil. I'm putting him on a train in the next day or two. I'll be fine on my own. We go down to the pub for meals."
"When will you be back? You're coming for the birth of course?" Mary was not so subtlety reminding again of him of own marital responsibilities. "To be with the family."
"Yes." He replied firmly. "Telephone me and I'll be there. But I just want to look through a few more things…."
"I understand." Mary knew he needed to get this out of his system. Before they could properly begin any married life. "But not too long."
He heard the ache in her voice.
"Not too long, my love." Matthew said. "I am no longer completely myself without you."
She rang off and put the receiver back in its cradle. Sipped her coffee. Now that she was remarried she did relish once again being able to take her breakfast in the quiet of her room.
She looked to his empty side of the bed.
But she so hankered to be in Matthew's arms. He just had to get back.
Crunching on her toast and jam Mary gave deep consideration to Matthew's accusations. Would such an attack have been possible without her ever hearing of it? She had been just a child, of course. In the schoolroom with the governess or out riding most of the time. She remembered the grand balls and parties her grandparents held at Downton. The country week end shootings as well.
But no gossip had ever reached her ears about any such thing.
Perhaps Matthew had gotten it all wrong?
XX
Matthew relaxed his shoulders. Pulled his neck one way than the other. The headache still throbbed, but it was now just a consistent dull pain.
Now several days later, he was no closer to an answer.
He grunted and pulled himself up and back at the stack of papers. Why did his father leave every single piece of medical ephemera he ever wrote?
Maybe there was nothing. Tom was beginning to think so, Matthew knew. He just didn't want to say. Tom had gone through the office drawers as well as Matthew. Matthew had taken his parents' bedroom and the closets.
Nothing.
There were letters of course. His father kept all the letters Isobel had inscribed over the years. He thought he had struck the mother lode when he found the ones indicating she was to meet Reggie in South Africa. They were tersely written for sure, Matthew thought. Compared to the others written while she was still in Manchester. Those were breezy missives, full of local gossip about Dr. Crawley's patients and glowing reports of his own achievements at Rugby in academics or cricket.
The ones after the incident at Downton, only obliquely referenced as a most eventful night, were more rushed and concise. She seemed to be keeping something close to her heart. Something she could only tell Reggie in person.
Thus no evidence. Thus no legal case to answer. That's exactly what the solicitor had told him. When Matthew continued to pester the man with question after question. And why the detective had no further action to take.
A dead end.
So he'd never really know what happened to his mother at Downton. Matthew's hand unconsciously rubbed his forehead.
He had his speculation of course. That James Crawley had taken advantage of a young woman away from her husband at a strange house for a country week end. He assumed she was innocent of the ways people like them entertained themselves. The hijinks they got up to when bored after the shooting or hunting or whatever had ended. After drinks, after cigars. What else was there to do?
Matthew tortured himself with such thoughts. Why was she ever there, he wondered. It had been answered in a letter. Isobel had told Reggie she had taken his counsel and agreed to get a way for a bit while he was in the war in South Africa. He had worried, with Matthew away at school, and herself alone in Manchester, that she needed some friends. Some family.
So she went.
How scared she must have been? How angry his father must have been upon finding out. Unable to do anything until he returned from South Africa. How it must have ate at him all these years, until when he could take no legal avenue of justice, he found himself the surprising heir to that very estate. James Crawley had gone down on the Titanic. His son died in the war.
Reggie couldn't face it. After Isobel's death in Paris he had been more depressed than ever. Not well at all. Matthew had known it. But he himself was so down in his own haze of depression following the war that he ignored his father's funk. Had let him stay in Manchester with his books and his memories. While Matthew stayed in Paris, working out his enlistment at the Paris Peace Conference
and ….
He made himself think it…. Making sweet, impassioned, blind love to a strange woman for weeks on end. Absorbed in the sensuality of her skin, her bodily scent. Letting himself be consumed in the moment.
All the while his father ….
Matthew threw some papers in a tumble on the floor. His father contemplated suicide rather than face the family that had so disgraced his wife. And here he was, married into that same family.
He should have been there with his father. At the end.
He got up and moved into the sitting room. Poured himself a drink and looked at the clock. After midnight. Too late to call Mary. To find comfort in her voice.
He had put Tom on the morning train. He intended to follow the next day. He heard Mary's intonation that he was expected back at Downton. But he had just wanted to look at the papers once again.
But now that he was alone, the demons began to scratch the corners of his mind. So he wallowed in his grief. In his guilt some more…
XX
Mary was shocked to read her own name in the Daily Sketch. Anna had discretely brought the paper up with the breakfast tray.
The breezily written bit took note that she and her "latest" husband, the conveniently placed new heir to Downton, were already living separate lives. Perhaps marry in haste repent in leisure is at work here, the article implied. There had been rumors of family dissention to the marriage, as it was so fast and rather reckless. Suspicions abounded that the lady was in the family way upon their hastily arranged nuptials in Paris so as to hide the exact date of conception.
Rolling her eyes, Mary groaned internally. Having already gone through some of this same scandal sheet mongering with her divorce from Tony, she knew this was a possibility. One reason for her hesitation to accept Matthew's impromptu proposal to flee back to Paris and marry was just this sort of black mark against her. But she had been swept off her feet by him. By his intensity. By his passion. Every fibre of her being ached for him to hold her right now.
They had been parted over a week now. He was still in Manchester scouring his parent's house for letters or diaries that would explain the mystery surrounding his father's suicide. He was convinced it was connected to an event that happened to his mother while she visited Downton.
Mary was not so sure. She was better informed about aristocratic house parties than Matthew. And the attack of a young woman in the bedrooms was dubious.
So what really did happen with Matthew's mother Isobel?
Her reflection was interrupted by Sybil's nurse. Her sister's contractions has started too early and Dr. Clarkson insisted that they hire a day/night nurse to keep an eye on her and make the move to the hospital in case an emergency birth was needed.
Upon the nurse telling her the birth process had begun, Mary sprang out of bed and put on her dressing gown.
"Is Tom with her?" She asked.
"Mr. Branson attended Lady Sybil through the night, but has gone downstairs upon the beginning of her confinement."
Mary knew this to be traditional. Men were not allowed in the private chambers of women in the throes of labour.
They were probably best left out anyway, Mary thought. They'd just be in the way.
"Very well." She told nurse Treadwell. "I'll be in directly." When the nurse shut the door, Mary turned to the telephone.
Matthew had promised to return to York, and he did so upon hearing Mary's news. He said he wrap things up and close up the house and be there by the afternoon.
Mary rang off and went to see her sister.
"How are you my dear?" She said, sitting on the bed and taking Sybil's hand. It was slippery from sweat. The heat of the mid-summer was not helping her sister's noticeable discomfort.
"Edith is returning on the morning train. She should be here any minute." Mary had been told as much by Anna who had taken the telephone call down in the hall. Edith had been to see her publisher in London.
"Do you have a cool cloth?" Sybil asked. Mary retreated to a bowl in the corner and dipped the cloth in the basin. Returned to her sister and soothingly wiped down her face and cheeks.
"Where is Tom?" Sybil turned to Mary. "I don't see why he has to go. I mean really, it is his child as well."
"It's the custom of things, darling. Papa is already so flustered I don't think it's time to start yet another rebellion with him."
"No," Sybil conceded, "perhaps you're right." She smiled. "Is Dr. Clarkson coming?"
"He's on his way. Although I'm sure he'll say it's just more false alarms. The womb preparing for birth." Mary smoothed down the light bedding around her sister.
"He says I'm the model of health and beauty." Sybil laughed. "I feel quite the opposite. Bad tempered and ready for this baby to make its appearance."
She turned to Mary. "I know you said you'd investigate a specialist. Did you? While in London?"
Mary replied cautiously, "I made perhaps one or two discrete inquiries. There is a Dr. Ryder who specializes in fertility."
"Well now. That's better. I do want our children to be raised together."
"Are you staying in England? Does Tom have some prospects?"
Sybil conceded, "No. He wants to return to Dublin. He's started this job as a journalist and wants to be there for the activity on Home Rule. I do want to be with him."
"Is it dangerous?" Mary knew of the acts of revolutionary violence by the IRA and the crackdown of the British government.
"It can be." Sybil replied. "I don't want Tom mixed up in it all. I tell him he can go to work for a London paper, but he wants to be a part of it all."
The two women exchanged concerned glances. "Better the longer he stays here then." Mary concluded. "Neither of you are going back any time soon. The baby won't be able to travel for months."
Sybil leaned back against the pillows. "Yes. I take comfort in that." She took Mary's hand. "What are Matthew's hopes? Now that he's out of the army."
"He's very vague about it. I have to pin him down when he gets here this afternoon. We can't possibly go forward with any family ideas until I know his circumstances in life." Mary knew that might sound too practical for her romantically inclined sister, but it was how she felt. Knowing Matthew was deeply involved in the peace process in Paris and adept at diplomacy and languages was a strong reason why she agreed to marry him. He had a future ahead of him. He could be anything from Lord Chancellor to an ambassador, possibly even Prime Minister. If he only would stop being so footloose and careless about his own prospects.
His eyes twitched every time she mentioned a more sedate future for them. A look of disquiet crossing his face, as if he could not contemplate being so tied down. Not that he said so. He said he wanted to be with her. Wanted to work out their current difficulties. Understood his responsibilities to the Crawley name and Grantham title.
But understanding it, and actually embracing such a future, were two different things. He was acknowledging the first and avoiding the latter.
And her own concerns about being barren also played into her worry. She knew her duty. Especially now that she was married to the heir. If there was any way to confirm her fears she should take the opportunity. See the specialist in London. Matthew had confided to her while in London, after the Victory March, he had never actually substantiated his own sterility with a specialist. It was just something one of the doctors at the London General Hospital had told him upon his long recovery from the spinal shock.
But he pointedly told her, his brief marriage to Lavinia had produced no children. Though he admitted that they had, in real fact, very little time together.
"And she had been a rather nervous bride."
"What does that mean exactly?" Mary asked. She seldom pried into the pain of his married life, but these details were important.
He sighed and gave a guarded look. Was it a betrayal to say? But the truth was the truth. "The act itself was rather painful for her. The…the penetration." He stumbled a bit. "I never really managed to fully complete…"
Mary stayed his hand. She understood.
And there they had left things. He had disappeared back to Manchester early the next day. She had returned to York and had been caring for Sybil, along with the nurse and now Tom for the past several days.
The birth was progressing normally, Dr. Clarkson said. She was young and healthy. It was taking its course.
So after staying with her until Tom had his breakfast and it was confirmed that yet again, they were false contractions, he returned to be with his wife.
Sybil said to Mary at the door of her bedroom, "Come back and we can finish that conversation. I think you should see this Dr. Ryder as soon as possible." And she arched her back as another stab of pain hit her. "After all birth is a joy, right?" And they both laughed.
Mary closed the door quietly. Retreated downstairs to find her mother. She had to occupy her mind with things other than Sybil. And settling her future with Matthew in part depended upon the resolution of his obsessive need to find out what happened in 1900 and thus complete the mystery surrounding the tragedy of his father's death.
Her mother was in the library, fiddling around with some committee minutes, though Mary could tell her mother's mind was far away from the idleness of a Garden Club and upstairs to her youngest daughter.
"Mama." Mary entered the room. "When is Granny expected?"
"I telephoned and told her that if she felt up to it, she could expect the chauffeur to be at her house within the hour."
"I see." Mary said . "Could we sit and talk, then? Before things begin to happen?"
"Of course my dear." Cora swiveled in the desk chair. "Is everything as it should be upstairs?"
"Dr. Clarkson said everything progressing. Nothing to worry about. He's to return later this afternoon. Tom is with her again."
The two women took seats on the red velvet divan.
Mary started to speak. "You might have wondered why Matthew left London so abruptly last week."
And indeed Cora had. But so much of that young man's personality was closed off to her, she left him to Mary. Mary seemed to be the only one he gravitated towards whenever the family gathered together. They closed out everyone else. They needed only each other.
"It did seem rather rude." She said. "Going off like that without a word to anyone. Especially after your father and he seemed to be making amends."
"He had some news. On the telephone that set him off. It has to do with an incident he's discovered. Something in Downton's past that he's connected in his head to events surrounding the death of Reginald Crawley."
"His father who took his own life?" Cora was confused. "How could we have anything to do with that?"
"Well that's the thing. Matthew believes his father was so distraught over becoming heir to this estate that he could no longer live."
"Isn't that a being a bit dramatic?"
"Not to Matthew."
"Well what is this event supposed to have been?"
"He believes he's uncovered allegations that his mother was assaulted while here at Downton for a shooting party in 1900."
"Assaulted?"
"By a man. In her bedroom, while alone and unattended. She had no maid with her most probably."
"A man? Who?" Cora was dumbfounded.
"James Crawley." Mary finally let the name slip.
"James? Absurd." Cora scoffed. "I mean he was a rake, but it is out of the question he'd ever take advantage of a young lady on her own. When was this again?"
Mary tried to remember all the details Matthew had inferred. "Just that there was either a hunting or shooting party. I guess shooting, as she doesn't hunt. But come to mind, she wouldn't be shooting either. I don't know. He believed his mother had been invited presumably by Granny or Grandfather. And during the night she was assaulted in some way."
Cora was silent for a good while. "No no. She came with another couple. As a companion for the wife while the husband was out shooting. I remember now. Yes, that was quite the palaver."
"You remember Isobel being attacked?" Mary was astonished.
"No. Not attacked. Of course not. He's got it all mixed up." Cora put her hand to her brow in thought. "Isobel if I remember gave back as good a shock as she got." And she laughed suddenly. "Threw him right out on his ear and brought the house down with her shouts of 'Get out you filthy beast.'"
Mary's mouth twitched in humour. "But Matthew's seems under the impression…"
"Yes well boys will think their mother's slight and soft won't they. No. Sadly your father's cousin tried to, what shall we say?...woo Isobel all the evening with sweet talk. And she must have seemed to at least go along, so when we all retired, he got his man to find her room, and hid inside while she bathed. When she returned, that's when the shouting began."
Cora got up to refresh her cup of tea. "I did try to reach out to her. But she was dressed and out of the house walking to the train station before I could even put on my dressing gown. We had a house boy trailing behind her carrying her luggage."
Mary said, "It must have had some effect upon her however. Matthew said she made a sudden visit to his school in a most agitated state and made for South Africa to be a nurse soon after."
"Your Granny was most put out by the whole thing. Never completely forgave James for making such a fool of himself and ruining the numbers for her week end. She had invited another distant elderly cousin to be there as well. With Isobel gone, there were odd numbers for dinner."
"Mama, you don't condone such activities." Mary felt the need to stick up for Matthew's mother. "She was the one almost attacked."
"Bed games they call it." Cora shrugged. "What the English get up to of an evening I was told when your papa and I attended our first country house party. Not that it ever happened to me."
"Oh Mama." Mary spoke. "But Granny must have tried to contact Isobel. To apologize or something?"
"I think she wanted to forget the whole thing." Cora dismissed it. "And who wouldn't?"
"Swept under the carpet after all." Mary sighed. "Matthew was partially right there. His father tried to conduct some kind of investigation. See if some kind of reparation made towards his wife. But nothing came of it."
"Nothing to do about it. Men will be men." Cora said. "I'm sure he was taken aside by Papa and scolded in private."
"Surely that can't have been the reason, then for Reginald Crawley's suicide. I mean Isobel would have told him nothing happened. And that she gave back her own." Mary was more confused than ever.
"Then what?" Cora replied. "Why does Matthew think that in the first place? It could be a horrible coincidence that as soon as found out he was heir, he could no longer find the sanity within himself to continue living. Was he ill?"
Mary turned. "I don't know. No one has said as much."
"Matthew was away though? Right. In Paris." Cora looked Mary in the eye. "With you?"
Mary returned her mother's direct gaze. She refused to be ashamed about their time alone. "Partially yes. I left before he found out about his father. About being heir. I was already back in England."
"He's feeling guilty I think." Cora concluded. "For being away. For not knowing his father was most probably severely ill."
"Guilty?" Mary said, almost to herself. He did sound so distraught on the telephone. Saying he should have been there. "I need to get to the bottom of this Mama. I don't think we can move on together until he eases him mind about it."
Groans from upstairs could be then heard by the two women.
"I must go to Sybil, my dearest. You'll figure something out." Cora patted Mary's hand and retreated back up to the confinement room.
Mary paced the carpeting, glancing at the clock. Matthew was due in a couple of hours. Suddenly she remembered someone she could call. To check up on some facts.
"Carson," She asked when the butler responded to her call. "Could you get the number of the Manchester Police station? I would like to speak to their Chief Inspector."
"Yes my lady." Carson was taken aback. "Anything wrong with Mr. Crawley?" He believed the young heir presumptuous and immodest in his actions towards his favorite, but he would never openly show disfavor upon the man Mary chose to be her husband.
"No. Just please transfer the call to my room when you get it." And she left to check on Sybil.
XX
"Sybil try not to push. The baby is not crowning yet. Dr. Clarkson is on his way. The nurse has gone down to greet him and get him up to speed on your progress." Edith said.
Cora was patting down her daughter's sweat soaked brow.
"I'm trying Mama. But this baby wants out. I can feel it." She was exhausted from the two days of pain and stress. "I want this baby out.. Ah AAH.."
"Where is Tom?" Sybil demanded. "I want him…"
Edith and Mary threw glances at each other. Should they get him?
Cora stepped in. "Nonsense. Tom is downstairs with your papa and Matthew. Granny Violet will keep everyone informed. He'll be up after the baby's born."
Mary moved to the other side of the bed and climbed next to Sybil. "Men are always helpless when a baby's in the picture. Leave them all to their drinks and pacing."
Sybil's face grimaced and nodded. The shooting pain in her back was unrelenting.
Then Dr. Clarkson entered the room with the nurse. "Is everything to hand, nurse?" He asked assessing the situation to be the actual birth this time.
"There there Lady Sybil. It's very soon now."
Sybil's grunting and moans echoed down the hall
XX
Mary opened the library door. "You can come up now Tom. It's a healthy beautiful girl."
Tom turned swiftly towards the exit. "And…. They're both …both safe? Fine?"
"Absolutely yes." Mary assured him. "She's fine. Sybil's resting. It wasn't easy, but she's a trooper."
"Well that is a relief." Violet said, taking a step towards the door. "Hallelujah" she said under her breath and sat down again. The emotions were too overwhelming at the moment.
"Hallelujah." Robert echoed.
"The nurse will stay with her. And Mama. I'll take a turn as well." Mary said, realizing Matthew was making a move towards Mary. She hardly had any time to greet him when he arrived late in the afternoon. He had knocked on the upstairs door, she came out just to tell him that she needed to be with Sybil just then, and sent him back downstairs to be with Robert and Tom.
"Is everything truly fine?" He asked quietly.
"Yes. Dr. Clarkson was concerned for a bit about the baby's weight. But she's bawling and giving good healthy cries."
Matthew smiled. "You look very pale yourself, my darling. Have you had any rest?"
"Nothing to speak of. But that's the way of it." Mary said. "How is Tom holding up?"
"Oh you know, nervous and happy all at the same time. He'll make an excellent father though. He loves Sybil so much." Matthew took his wife's hand. Gripped it tight.
Their glances indicated both had the same thought. Could the same ever be said of them? Would they ever have the opportunity to become parents?
"Matthew we need to talk." Mary said. "I have some news which, while I think will disturb you in the short run, will go a long way to explaining all the mysteries you've been looking for answers to."
Matthew cut a look towards her. "Let's retired upstairs then, shall we?" He looked around. "Everyone else is getting ready to do so."
Mary nodded. "Let me first check on Sybil again. I'll meet you in our room after you're ready."
Edith was still in Sybil's room. Cleaning up. "Habit from the war. When we all pitched in with the convalescees." She said to Mary.
"Yes. You were quite a help this evening."
"We all did our bit." Edith turned to Sybil in the bed. "Please try to get some sleep."
Sybil held her daughter tight in her arms. "She wants to feed. Nurse is going to show me how. Tom will be back soon, I want to try now."
"Of course." Mary said. She knew her sister was insistent that she be a part of every aspect of her child's rearing. "Let the nurse get the baby ready." And she handed the swaddled infant over to nurse Treadwell.
Sybil reached out her hands to her sisters. "Thank you for being here. We should remember this time together. As sisters should."
Mary took Edith's hand as well. "She ever is the one that thinks the best of us. That we are nice people."
"You are." Sybil retorted. "When you try to be. Let's try to be so now."
Edith and Mary leaned down to embrace their youngest sibling. "Let's love each other for this moment. We can always row again in the morning."
They all shared a laugh and a hug. Then the nurse shooed them out the door as Sybil returned to the ministrations of her baby.
Mary returned to find Matthew waiting up for her.
XX
Matthew sat propped with the pillows behind his head listening intently to Mary's recounting her conversations of earlier in the afternoon.
"Mother did what?" Matthew was incredulous. "Of course Father was right to try to pursue charges of attempted assault. Even if it turned to naught."
"I'm afraid affairs here and there for many in the aristocracy is something to do after dinner. And many are willing participants." Mary explained.
Matthew sneered. "Not in my mother's case!" But then he quietly guffawed. "Well she showed them anyway." He pulled on his hair absent mindedly.
"Why were her letters so terse? So not like her." He was still taking in what Mary had told him.
"She must have just wanted to get out there. To explain in person. I understand missing someone so much you just want to drop everything and go. Especially if you needed to get something off your chest." Mary said.
Matthew kissed the top of her head. Taking in her scent. Feeling the strands of her hair tickle his lips.
"You found all this out? Just today?" He was astonished at her activity. "I've wracked my brains trying to figure out what happened."
"You were looking in the wrong place." Mary replied evenly. "Once I knew nothing happened at Downton, the answer had to lie in Manchester."
Matthew scratched his jawline. He had shaved once in the morning to prepare for his arrival at Downton, only to have to do so again as to be presentable to the family and Mary later that evening. It now stung from his after balm.
"So you're telling me you spoke with my father's doctor? I didn't even know he had a new doctor. There were no records or letters at home."
"The police inspector put me on to him. It was just one or two visits. Dr. Hudson was a specialist. A cancer specialist."
Matthew swallowed hard. "I see." He tightened his jaw muscles. "Father had cancer then."
"Of the pancreas and liver. He was in a great deal of pain, Dr. Hudson said. But he did not want you bothered while you worked in Paris." Mary tried to ease her husband's guilt.
But it did no good.
"And he killed himself because of it?" Matthew went pale. "Rather than endure the pain? But what about the letter in his hand? The one about the inheritance? How does that play into things?"
Mary knew Matthew wasn't thinking straight. He was letting his emotions cloud his reason. She moved closer to him on the bed. Took both his hands into hers.
"I think…" She started gently, "I think although we can never be sure, that he wanted to give it to you. A legacy. A new start in life." His hand squeezed hers hard as she spoke. "He knew his time was ending. And you would make a much better heir to the Earl of Grantham. You'd do the family proud."
Matthew's jaw went slack as some tears edged down his cheek bones. He wiped them away. "He was ever the best of men," his words soft and lovingly spoken.
He touched her cheek with his wet finger. "You are so wonderful. Thank you for finding all that out for me."
"It's nothing." She demurred.
"It's the very opposite, my darling. It means we can move forward. With a clean slate. A fresh future."
"Good." She pulled him down for a kiss.
"You can do that again." He said, when she moved away from his lips.
"I most certainly will." Mary's mouth reached for his. "But you must promise to never leave so abruptly without word ever again. We're in this all together."
"On the same team, eh?" His lips tickled her skin as he placed gentle kisses all along her neck line.
"The very same." Her words spoken in heated tones as Matthew's lips fell towards her breasts and she succumbed to his touch.
XX
Much later in the early dawn, Mary checked in on Sybil. Matthew was in a deep slumber after their love making. He grumbled, but did not wake up for once.
Sybil was ensconced in Tom's loving arms. They too slept soundly and perfectly.
The baby in the bassinet right near at Sybil's hand. She cooed softly, gnawing on her tiny fists.
All's right with the world for once, Mary thought as she gently closed the door behind her. Let's not disturb anyone.
XX
Thus ends this part of the story. I hope you like so far. Please review!. It will still take some twists and turns – a raucous party for MM to attend, some hijinks of their own, and the introduction of Rose MacClare, who has her own eye on Matthew…. Who is getting a bit restless in his boring diplomacy job…. What could come of all that?