I know it's been awhile since I updated Hearts and Bones, but I do love this story so much… here's some more Mary and Matthew and Rose and Tom and the family!
XX
The telegram fell from Matthew's hand and into his lap. He wasn't sure he could take any more death.
He tried to get a grip, but the memory took hold.
….
He was beyond help. He had no idea of the time, or exactly where he was.
But once a task begun…
He stumbled along the Seine towards his next stop. He was making his way through all the cafes and bars along the Lower Montmartre
He had started out at the Le Sunset.
The sultry voiced woman on stage was an American jazz songstress. Her sophisticated styling was imperious and velvety. The tune was sad. The notes long and melancholy.
He liked it.
The smoke made everything a blur. A haze. It hurt his eyes.
But he lit up anyway. He wanted to be a part of the haze.
He put the cigarette to his mouth. A cheap one, so it burned.
The smoke hid him away from the rest of the crowd. They all were shadows. Shadows of reality. Like one of those kinetoscope projectors with strips of perforated film moving intermittently so that each image was jerky and in slow motion.
There and not there.
He wanted to lose himself in that anonymity.
He wanted to fall apart.
"Garçon, une bouteille de votre meilleur . . . "..." His hand gesticulated outward in a vaguely grand wave. He tried to sound the bon vivant.
The server tried to answer helpfully, "…vin?"
Matthew considered it. "Cognac…. Erm… non. Uh… Champagne!" He slapped his hand down on the table, but he missed as his hand slipped because he lost his balance.
The man walked away. Matthew slumped against the hard back of the chair. He lifted a foot and tilted the chair back against the wall.
He wanted to stop his mind. From thinking. From caring.
From living.
"Ah, non, non, deux bouteilles…" Matthew shouted in a loud, slurred voice.
"Que …Que nous?" A voice asked from within the haze. "… c ..,cest que nous célébrons?
Matthew crooked and saw another English soldier whose French was atrocious. He understood anyway.
Matthew caught the other soldier's attention, "Here dead we lie,
Because we did not choose To live and shame the land From which we sprung."
At the other man's confused mien, Matthew smirked coldly. "A.E. Houseman. We're celebrating death."
The soldier eyed the waiter bringing the bottles of champagne and said. "I'm in" in English.
So he and his companion, who's name Matthew never bothered to learn, drank the entire two bottles. They then stumbled outside. Matthew threw some water on his face from an open fountain and they proceeded to the next café.
On into the night it went. At some point the other soldier left to enjoy some fleeting moments of passion with a red head who had propositioned him on the corner. Matthew went on alone.
Until he slumped against a wall, unable to feel anything.
A blissful moment of silence in his head followed. No more guns. No more blasts of artillery fire.
And he fell into a stupor. Waking to the sounds of humanity moving on without him. Moving around him. Stumbling over him and cursing in French about his uselessness. His mouth felt foul.
He wasn't sure he ever wanted to care enough to take another step….
…..
Arms glided around his shoulders. Sinuous, slim, and embracing. They slowly slipped down his chest, fingernails tickling and tingling as they made claw streaks down his white shirt. Matthew sat in the hardback chair in the room he shared with Mary. He was waiting for her finish packing so they could board the train to London. She was seeing Dr. Ryder again for a check-up. She had horrible nausea in the first few months of pregnancy so Dr. Clarkson agreed that Mary keep up her appointments with the Harley Street doctor to ensure no complications.
By now, four and half-months along, Mary was feeling much better. This was to be their last London appointment.
"What is that?" Her sultry voice. The one she kept for the bedroom. Just for him. Her breath was hot on his neck.
The sun was shining through the window. He heard the birds chirping.
Birds were chirping, Matthew thought. What a miracle. He was alive and birds made music in the trees outside the home he was to inherit. Being embraced by the woman who was with child. His child. Their child.
Birds were chirping, and life was good.
Matthew's lips slipped against his wife's cheek. A long, deep kiss. Then an answer, "A telegram." He cleared his throat. He guided her from around the back of the chair and into his lap. His hands wrapped around her growing middle. She had put his hand on her belly last night to feel the baby kick.
Another miracle.
"Private Sloane died. Colonel Russell sent it. He always does when one dies…." His words faded.
Mary's embrace deepened. Her head on his shoulder. "One … ?" She reached out to take his hands. They were cold. "Who?"
He crumpled the paper into a ball with his fist. "Arthur Sloane…" His words a whisper of pain. "The last of the men I saved in the pit."
His arms tightened around her. Around their child. Around life.
He breathed in her scent. Lilacs and sweet orange. "Mary…. Mary" his voice so tender. So fragile. "Do you know how happy I am? How happy you've made me?"
Mary was concerned. "What is happening darling?"
He shifted so that they could see each other's faces. "The week before I met you…in Paris," he smiled and she smiled at that memory. They would always smile when they remembered how he had touched her hand across the table at the café below his rooms. She had followed him up the stairs. They made mad, intense love. Physical and carnal in nature, neither knew the other and yet they knew each other intimately.
"…the week before I received the second of these telegrams. The first had come while I was in hospital. That was bad as I had just been awarded the VC for saving them all and it seemed such a waste. The second Colonel Russell sent when Okes and Webber copped it. It made it all worse, being after the war." He scoffed gently, "as if that makes sense. You're supposed to be safe when the guns stop. But death will have its way."
He clasped Mary's hand harder. "I took it all rather badly. On top of barely eking out a living and the work for the Peace Conference being so useless as no one listened to reason. They gave into hate. I gave into oblivion. I spent the night in a drunken stupor, I don't even know where I went. I woke up, drunk as you like near a train station. I thought ever so briefly of Anna Karenina."
Mary gasped in deep fear.
Matthew reassured her, "it was only a fleeting moment, my darling. Turns out I was too much the coward to kill myself."
"Or you had reason to believe you wanted to live." Mary declaimed emphatically. "So many reasons to live." She gripped his hand hard.
"Yes." Matthew said after a long pause, idly rubbing Mary's stomach as a slow smile crossed his beautiful face. "…so many reasons."
XX
The house at Eaton Square was still unfinished. Mary was very particular as to the details before they took up residence. The second floor ball room had been blasted by a bomb during the war and needed extensive renovation. The bedroom along the corridor needed to be redecorated and repurposed as a day nursery. Their bedroom needed new wallpaper and new furniture. It was the other reason for the visit to London. To inspect the new house.
Matthew tutted about her wearing herself out, Mary said she never felt better.
Until they could move in, and when Mary resided in York, Matthew kept his small flat. She refused after one uncomfortable overnight visit, to stay again so the two of them were to live at Grantham House for Mary's visit to Dr. Ryder and their current fortnight stay in London.
Matthew kept his own counsel as to the worthiness of keeping such a large London property the family seldom used anymore. He suspected it would be sold off in the very near future.
Since it was early December and the rest of staff remained at Downton, Grantham House operated during the day with some temporary held hired by a reliable agency and supervised by Anna who also functioned as Lady Mary's maid.
Matthew reluctantly agreed to bring Molesley as well. The two of them were still getting used to the other. Matthew had never had a manservant before. He still didn't see the point. He could dress himself, shave himself, and tie his own shoes. Mary reminded him of all the other chores that needed to be done. Especially now that Matthew was expected to maintain a certain appearance as a diplomat and part of Sir Eyre Crowe's elite circle of advisers. They all had a place, Mary said.
Matthew nodded. He had heard much the same from Robert. "I know…I know." And Molesley was turning out to be rather indispensable in advising Matthew on the best attire to wear to what function.
Arriving on the afternoon train Mary retired to their bedroom upstairs to rest. Matthew went to Whitehall to check his appointments. The December day was chilly, but no snow yet.
On the way back to Grantham House, he spotted a familiar face in a tea shop window.
She was tapping on the glass, trying to get his attention as he strolled by.
"Matthew…" the muffled sound reached his ear. She rapped several times.
He turned and doffed his hat. "Hello" he mouthed to Rose as he stopped on the pavement.
She motioned for him to come inside. He pursed his lips in consternation. After what Mary had said about Rosamund's gossiping, he worried to be seen in public again with Rose.
But she looked so happy, so he risked it. He liked her being happy.
"Matthew do sit down and have some of these yummy buns with me." Rose said, without a trace of shame. "I am in desperate need of company. Mummy has allowed me only an hour of freedom before she returns from the dressmakers. We've been out all day…and I'm exhausted!"
Matthew took off his hat and placed it on the empty chair. Before he could take a seat, she reached out her cheek for him to kiss. He obliged.
"Rose you really are outrageous." He said, sitting down. "You'll get me into trouble." He glanced from side to side to see if anyone was watching them.
"Nonsense." Rose said, with a sly smirk. "You're my shining knight. You can do no wrong."
He rolled his eyes and said, "What have you been doing with yourself? No more late night parties I trust?"
She scoffed. "As if…" And she handed him a plate of tea biscuits and cake. "Mummy won't let me out of my sight after my last trip to London."
"Good." Matthew scooped up one of the cakes and popped it in his mouth.
"I had to claim sheer starvation in order to get this hour away." Rose put the plate away. "Mind you, I have my eye on someone." She took a sip of her tea, and eyed him brazenly. "Of course he's married."
Matthew looked horror-struck. Mary was right after all….
"You've gone quite white as a sheet. Don't look so peaked Matthew, it's not you." Rose grinned. "Terence used to work for Daddy so he's more of a family friend. His wife is absolutely horrid."
Matthew looked enormously relieved, but felt obliged to say "married men who wish to seduce young women always have horrid wives. I don't have a horrid wife. I have an absolutely wonderful one. Whom I adore quite madly."
"I know you're hopeless." Rose responded cheekily. Then, "seriously Matthew. You're one of the lucky ones. I think you know that." Her tone was without sarcasm.
Matthew nodded in utter contentment with his life. "I know I am."
"The rest of us have to make do with those left. All the good ones are taken." And she patted his hand.
"Rose you told me you'd be careful. Please don't act on this impulse." Matthew furrowed his brow in concern.
"There are so many dead, Matthew. There are three or four girls to every decent minded man. I want to marry." She flicked a hair away, "I'll be an old maid soon enough."
Matthew snorted. "Now who's talking nonsense. Look here why don't you and your mother come to tea tomorrow afternoon with us? We're staying at Grantham House and I know Mary would like to see you."
"Simply deevy!" Rose exclaimed. "I can ask her all about current fashions. Mummy is hopeless…"
And she went to chatter on about the new trend of narrow skirts and hats without feathers…
Matthew stopped listening and just let her happiness wash over him. And an idea was growing in the back of his head. He had a young colleague at the Foreign Office, one who was single and quite intelligent. And someone who would be perfect for Rose.
Should the two happen to meet…
XX
Kendall let the young man inside Grantham House.
"I'm here to see Mr. Matthew Crawley." The tall brown haired man said.
"This way." Kendall led him into a side door. Matthew had taken up the library as his temporary office. He was poring over a recent German newspaper when Kendall opened the door and announced, "A Mr. Atticus Aldridge to see you."
"Thank you Kendall." Matthew got up and gestured a welcome. "Come in Atticus. You're almost in time for tea. You must stay."
The younger man walked through the door. Kendall closed it behind him.
"If I'm not intruding on yourself or Lady Mary, I'd be delighted."
"We have just enough time to go over your schedule for Paris. Do you think you're up to this alone?" Matthew sat back down at his desk.
"It was your idea." Atticus reminded his boss. "Are you having second thoughts?" He didn't want to disappoint on his first experience abroad.
"None at all." Matthew reassured him. "At least not about you. I know you're up for the challenge. I just wanted to make sure."
"I'm to meet my equal at the Quai d'Orsay where I'll be introduced to Monsieur Pichon. I will take up the issue of the latest round of reparations talks and brief them on our position on the schedule of payments." Aldridge smoothly went through his itinerary.
Matthew nodded. "A delicate task that I'm sure you will handle marvelously."
A knock on the door made Matthew turn his head. Mary stepped in briefly. "We're having tea in the drawing room if you two care to join us."
Mary and Matthew exchanged a private glance. Matthew gave her a quick wink. All was going according to plan.
Lady Flintshire was exchanging pleasantries with Rosamund when the three of them walked into the room. "Shrimpie will insist on the pipes for every meal. I find the droning quite distasteful." Shrimpie made a grunt of disapproval, but said nothing. He was exchanging pleasantries with Cora who was to accompany Mary to her doctor's appointment. Matthew had said he'd go, but Cora insisted that she wanted to be kept fully informed of Mary's progress. He'd only be in the way. Matthew rolled his eyes, but consented to being kept out for the time being. He'd go to his office and meet up with them later.
That appointment was set for tomorrow. Cora and Mary had just returned from the new house in time for tea with Rosamund and the visitors from Scotland.
They all turned to see the new young man. "This is one of Matthew's protégé's at the Foreign Office," Mary introduced, "Mr. Atticus Aldridge."
Matthew nudged him to take the seat next to Rose. "Why don't you sit here? This is the Dowager Countess's niece Rose MacClare."
After Atticus took the seat, Matthew edged away to stand next to his wife. Rose almost immediately began to try to make Atticus at home by engaging him in a conversation about his travels abroad.
"See, my love." Matthew whispered. "I told you he'd be perfect."
"We'll see." Mary responded lightly. "Rose may think so. Her parents might think very differently." And they exchanged a knowing look. "Old habits and prejudices are hard to break."
"Such things are of our parent's generation. I'll have none of it. Neither will you nor Rose I suspect. We'll prevail, just you wait." Matthew spoke with determination.
And on cue, Rose shrieked delighted to know that Atticus was on his way to the continent. And Atticus looked enchanted by her enthusiasm.
XX
"You are in perfect health, Lady Mary. The baby's heartbeat is strong. You might want to take it easier in these last months of the pregnancy. Just to be sure." Dr. Ryder's suggestion seemed to fall on deaf ears with Mary.
But Cora affirmed she understood. "I keep telling her not to walk around that house with all the dust and debris about."
"I need to make sure my instructions are being carried out." Mary insisted. "With Matthew always so busy at the Foreign Office, the task falls to me. Papa always says better to do the job right the first time."
"Matthew hired a builder supervisor," Cora reminded her headstrong daughter. "Let the man do his job."
Mary sniffed in annoyance. "I rest every afternoon upon Matthew's insistence. I think that is more than enough. Am I right Dr. Ryder? A certain amount of activity is also good for baby's health. And his mother's disposition." And she gave a wry grin.
Dr. Ryder replied, "Within reason Lady Mary. A walk around the Serpentine would suffice, however. I'm not too sure about walking up and down the stairs in a house still under construction. There are a lot of dangers present."
"See." Cora handed her daughter a set of gloves as they made ready to depart the doctor's office. "Thank you for your time."
"I look forward to a birth announcement in the coming months." Dr. Ryder opened the door for the ladies' exit. "All will be well I assure you."
Mary smiled in gratitude. Some good news to tell Matthew. And she had another task that day as well. One she would have to confide to her mother as she was sure Cora would not let Mary go anywhere unattended.
When they arrived on the pavement outside the doctor's office Mary turned to her mother. "I need to go to the War Office. It's on the Horse Guards Avenue near Whitehall."
"What do you need there? Are we meeting Matthew?" Cora put a gloved hand to her eyes to block the sun.
"No. He's to meet us back at Grantham House. There's something I want to do for him, though. Without his being informed." Mary warned, "so please don't say anything. Will you?"
"Nothing untoward is it?" Cora asked.
"None of the sort. Quite the opposite actually. It's just that if it's bad news, I don't want to contribute to any more feelings of melancholy on Matthew's part." Mary waited until a clerk from the doctor's office hailed a taxi for them.
They got inside and gave the directions. Cora took her seat. "I had many reservations about Matthew when he first made his appearance looking so angry and disheveled at Downton that day. And then after your confession…" Cora paused.
Mary understood. She and Matthew had torn down the traces of decent behaviour according to society's rules when they engaged in a passion d'amour within an hour of knowing each other. "And now?"
Cora settled back in the taxi. "Now I cannot imagine our life without him. He's so good with Tom for one thing. Neither were quite the sons-in-law your father expected, but each has turned out to have qualities of honour and goodness that were quite unforeseen."
That confession made Mary inordinately glad. So had so wanted her parents to come to love Matthew as she did. The baby kicked just then, making her even more joyful. Indeed, Mary never believed she could ever have been this happy.
But she was. And she wanted Matthew to be so as well. This task she gave herself today. This tasks she hoped would make him just that. To call away the demons of war that haunted him, and to bring him full and forever into this life of their making.
XX
Christmas was a quiet affair. Edith had stayed in London, for reasons that went unexplained. The rest of the family gathered, exchanged gifts, and gave the morning off to the servants. The shoot would be over New Years and the house would be full of guests, but for right now it was quiet. Just family.
The christening had taken place the month before. Kiernan standing in for Tom's family. He then left to return to Ireland after disrupting dinner conversation more than once with his Irish Home Rule monologue and insistence that Tom had put on too many airs for his comfort.
Tom confided to Matthew over billiards when Kiernan had been put on the train that while he loved his family dearly in theory, having them present and lording it over him was more than he could deal with.
Matthew lined up his next shot and replied, "I hear you. It's times like this I like being an only child."
Tom smiled. "We're both rich in family. Now that Mary's having a child, Sybil cannot wait for the little cousin to be born. It makes her want to stay here more than ever."
"Instead of what?" Matthew asked.
"Emigrating to America. Or Australia…somewhere fresh. But instead I think we'll be following you to London after all. It's what Sybil wants. And I can find a job at a London paper. Now that Kiernan's gone and Sybil's more settled with the baby, it's time to get us settled." Tom shot his ball across the table.
"You think you'll have much luck?" Matthew knew the anti-Irish sentiment would work against Tom.
"The Daily Chronicle is interested in a couple of articles I wrote." Tom responded. "I'll give it a fair shot. It might take me a couple of career moves to settle on something permanently. But London is a large metropolis. I'm sure I'll find something. And Sybil will want to be close to Mary."
"I'll look forward to that immensely." Matthew said. "Mary's intent on moving into our Eaton Square house in the new year, so that we'll be settled by the time of the baby's birth."
"Are you content with the Foreign Office?" Tom leaned on his cuestick. "As a career?"
Matthew paused a long time before answering. "For the time being I am. But not as a career diplomat. It's too frustrating, not being involved in policy making."
"What are you thinking then?" Tom was intrigued. "A run for office? Parliament?"
Matthew pursed his lips in thought. "Perhaps. I'm still pondering my options. It was not that long ago I believed I had no future at all. So this must be taken one step at a time. I'm still young. There's plenty of time."
"What does Mary think?" Tom asked the question Matthew did not know the answer to quite yet. "Would she want to be the wife of a politician?"
Matthew shrugged. "I've not broached the subject. Not until I'm clear in my mind about it."
"Would you run as a Conservative? Or Labour? Robert's in the Lords of course, but the family is Conservative." Tom observed.
Matthew nodded. "That is the problem. I'm not sure I could do that. Robert won't like it if I don't run for a Conservative seat. Preferably a safe one with local connections."
Tom pocketed his ball. "Better you than me this time."
And they both laughed.
On Christmas afternoon Mary rested upstairs. Sybil and Tom had taken advantage of the clear weather to take little Sybbie for a walk in the pram outside. Mathew was restless and made his excuses to Robert and Cora. He left the library to visit his wife.
They had been so used to full sex life. So open in their passion, Matthew had gotten used to it. Taking her cue whenever their eyes exchanged the look they both knew meant only one thing. But lately, with the baby, Matthew had become more cautious. Even knowing Mary's opinion that his fears were unwarranted, Matthew had learned to love just being with Mary alone in their shared bed, touching and embracing without any other expectation or desire. He often found himself drawn up stairs when she napped, just to be in her calming presence.
He did so now.
Mary expected him. She often stayed awake until he found his way to her. They nestled together in the bed, warm and content. She smiled when she heard his footfalls in the hallway and his closing of the door, she turned to see him.
"Hello." He said, his voice soft.
"I'm glad you're here." Mary reached for his arm to help her sit up in the bed. "I've got something for you."
"In addition to the watch and the new ties." Matthew referenced Mary's Christmas presents.
"Yes." She said quietly. She reached over to her side table and found the letter. She handed it to him.
"I hope you don't mind, but when we were last in London I found the address of Private Sloane's family. I wrote to them. Here's their response." Mary said as she noticed his hand started to shake.
"But I already sent a condolence letter." Matthew was confused.
"This was different. I asked his wife to send something specific for you." She reached out to take his hand. "Read it."
Matthew pulled out the letter, a picture fell to his lap. He looked at it. It was a picture of Sloane, his wife, and a young child of about three.
Matthew bit his lip as he read the brief letter from Valerie Sloane saying that her husband died peacefully at home in his sleep. His family close. His little boy, Timothy was the joy of her and husband's life. That without Matthew and his heroic actions that day at Fromelles, she would never have had her husband come home. Would never have given birth to their child. Would never have had three wonderful years of love with their family. And now that Arthur had succumbed to the flu, his son would grow up fine and strong and with the knowledge his father loved him.
The tears flowed down Matthew's cheek. He grimaced as he tried to control it.
He turned to Mary in the bed. "You… you wrote to her?" His face pale.
"I did." Mary wiped the tears away from her husband's face. "You said you thought it was all hopeless. That as they were all dead, what you did was useless, without purpose. Well it wasn't. It meant that they had more time together. Time to love. Time to have a family. It's not nothing, my darling, as you once told me. That's the very opposite of nothing."
Matthew embraced his wife, his body wracked with a trembling he didn't seem able to control. She gathered him in her arms.
"Thank you," he said, "I think every day I cannot love you anymore. And then the next day I do."
"Me too, darling," Mary said, placing his hand on her stomach to once again feel the life of their unborn child, "Me too."
XX
Note: Carom billiards have no pockets. English billiards have pockets. I have now started a sequel/epilogue I Carry Your Heart on ff. net. I hope you give it a try