April 1929
Matthew listened to the crunching of the gravel under his foot as he walked down the long driveway in direction of the village. The sky was clear, the first time it had been in weeks and the first signs of spring were returning to Downton for another year. Blossoms were blooming on the trees; the climate was getting a tad warmer that he had started teaching Charlie how to ride a bicycle just last week after a very frosty winter. The birds were singing above his head as he walked past the trees which brought a little smile to his face. He reached the gates and turned right, carrying on in direction of the village and nodded and greeted several villagers who greeted him too.
Once he reached Crawley House, he knocked on the door and said hello to the housekeeper who took his coat and hat. He walked into the drawing room and greeted his mother warmly before taking a seat opposite her.
"Where's Dickie?" Matthew asked.
"He's gone to see Larry and Amelia. He has some personal matters to discuss with them." Isobel replied thinly.
It had been years since his mother had married Dickie and the two of them had made Crawley House the home they shared, ignoring Larry and Amelia's existence where they could and allowing Dickie's sons to run his estate within reason. The lack of socialising with such horrible characters made his mother happy, and in turn made Dickie happy to be free of his family who only sought to control him.
"I hope he comes home in one piece." Matthew commented.
"He'll be fine, he's taken his lawyer with him." Isobel stated.
Matthew nodded, giving them a moment before he changed the subject. He cleared his throat and sat a little straighter in his chair, something which didn't go unnoticed by his mother.
"Would you like some tea?" Isobel offered.
"No, I'm fine thank you."
Isobel frowned.
"Matthew? What is bothering you?"
"I'm worried about Mary."
His mother's expression changed to concern quite quickly and she nodded worriedly. Her eyes closing for a brief moment and took a deep breath before she opened them again.
"I'll assume that this conversation is to remain between us?" Isobel asked.
"If you wouldn't mind. I don't really know how to talk to Cora or Robert about this." Matthew replied.
"Of course. Now, what is it you're worried about?" Isobel queried quietly.
Matthew took a deep breath before he began.
"The twins are eight weeks old now and I'm worried that Mary isn't adjusting as she did with the other three children. Of course, she's tired and birthing the twins was…difficult…for her…but with George, Charlie, and Catherine, she would spend hours interacting with them, cradling them in her arms, feeding them and watching them sleep. The love was there in her eyes instantly…" he began.
"Matthew, it's been eight weeks and it wasn't a straightforward birth. Both Anabel and William are still smaller than average babies because they were born five weeks early. They are tinier than George was, and the birth was very difficult for her to endure. It was difficult for me to witness." Isobel sighed.
"What happened during the birth? Mary doesn't like to talk about it and Cora is very…delicate…when I try to discuss it." Matthew asked.
Isobel looked at him sympathetically and shifted her position in her chair to get more comfortable.
"Mary passed out after she birthed Anabel. She didn't rouse for a few minutes and when she came to, she said Sybil's name. From there, she pushed harder and harder to bring William into the world. You know that she had a lot of doubts and fears during her pregnancy, she didn't get to enjoy it as she did with her previous ones. And the birth was hard, and I'm not surprised if she is struggling to adjust to having twins eight weeks after her birth. She is still healing, and it may take longer for her to heal this time around." Isobel explained.
"Of course, I'm willing to give her time to heal physically. Dr. Clarkson did mention…" Matthew coughed uncomfortably, even though he was in his forties it was still uncomfortable to discuss such matters with his mother, "That's not what I'm asking about…it's more about her mood…her emotional state…she's crying in private, she looks blank when I catch her staring out of the windows…she is distanced from the babies. I've never seen her like this before and when I ask if she's okay, it's like she's coming out of a trance and gives me a quick smile and says she's fine."
Isobel sighed sadly.
"Matthew, it's not uncommon for women to feel this way after a difficult pregnancy and birth. We seldom discuss it." She stated.
"What can I do for her?" Matthew questioned desperately.
"She needs space and time to heal. She needs understanding and compassion for what she's endured. But please remember that it's only been eight weeks. That's still a significant small time period for a woman to adjust to having birthed twins, let alone one baby." Isobel answered with an encouraging smile.
Matthew sighed, nodding as he processed what his mother had advised.
"I want to do something nice for her. It's our wedding anniversary next week and I know that Mary won't want a big fuss." He mused.
"I'm sure that you will think of something."
"Nine years."
Isobel smiled.
"The two of you have built a wonderful life together thus far, Matthew. I hope that I'll get to see fifteen years of it." His mother said softly.
"I hope you get to see twenty." Matthew replied.
Mother and son continued to talk about various things in their time together.
oOo
Mary walked slowly across the grass, the light spring breeze wisping quickly through her hair. She could hear Catherine laughing gleefully as she watched her daughter run in circles around her nanny, who was looking a little flustered trying to keep up with an energetic three-and-a-half-year-old. She smiled as her daughter caught her gaze and waved at her with a big grin on her face before the girl was ushered off back to the house with Nanny. She tucked a stray brown lock behind her ear and carried on her walk across the grounds.
The breeze was light and welcomed on a warm day in April, a rarity of its kind. For weeks the weather had been miserable, with Mary silently thinking that it reflected how she had felt since she had birthed the twins.
Every time she went into the nursery, she would look down in the crib that the twins shared and watch them sleep. She would stare at them for what felt like an eternity, trying to make sense of what had happened to bring them into the world, as if they held some clue that she couldn't interpret. For the past eight weeks she had been thinking about what she had seen when she had passed out after Annabel had been born, that white void that she had been in. The floating, graceful figure that had glided towards her, that looked exactly like her youngest sister and spoke with the voice of her youngest sister.
The figure who told her that she watched over them. That she loved them and requested that she give Sybbie a kiss from her.
Had it been a dream?
Had it been real?
She didn't know.
But she felt like she was stuck in that void, even though she knew that she was alive, recovering from a traumatic birth and trying to connect with these two tiny babies and was struggling to do so. Mary knew that she loved them, looking down at them everyday made her heart burst just as it had done when she watched George, Charlie and Catherine sleep in their cribs. She smiled lovingly whenever they made little noises in their sleep, the little noises they made when they were full after feeding at her breast. But she struggled to understand what had happened during her birth that made her feel like she wasn't existing in reality. She struggled to feed them as much as she had fed her other three children at her breast.
Then there was her physical recovery. Due to the birth, she was still healing, and Dr. Clarkson had ordered that she and Matthew shouldn't resume marital relations for another six weeks. Not that she minded the lack of intimacy presently. Her body repulsed her, and she was happy that her husband hadn't seen her naked in months.
She found herself walking from the grounds and down to the village, smiling as villagers greeted her or nodded their heads in acknowledgement. She carried on walking until she found herself in the church graveyard, walking past the graves of those she had known in her life and wondered if they did find peace after death.
Lavinia's grave was one she walked past, a sweet woman who told Matthew with her dying breath to be happy. Matthew had later told her in his grief that Lavinia thought death was better than making him choose between his love for Mary and his word as an honourable man to marry Lavinia after so many sacrifices.
William Mason was another one. A young man shipped off to war, having married on his deathbed to Daisy to make sure that the assistant cook would be looked after when his time came. A young man who had saved her husband's life at the cost of his own. Something which she was grateful for. If it had not been for his sacrifice, she would not have five beautiful children and a loving husband today.
She walked past the grave of her grandmother, the headstone not yet arrived. Then on as she walked, she stopped in front of her sister's grave. The engravings that marked out Sybil's name were covered in moss, but Mary could still make out the dates of her sister's birth and death. She inched a little closer, as if hesitant to do so, and eventually her bare hand touched the cold stone.
"I know I don't come as often as I should, darling," Mary muttered, "But I felt that I should. As if visiting where you're laid to rest might hold some answers to what I saw."
The breeze fluttered through the trees ahead, but Mary continued.
"I don't understand it, Sybil. Where did I go? Am I going mad? Was it really you? I'm not sure of anything. Doctor Clarkson can't give me any answers and I can't talk to Mama or Papa about it, let alone Edith."
Before she could continue her train of thought, she heard footsteps behind her. She turned around, taking her hand off the grave and came face-to-face with her husband.
"I thought it was you, I've just left Mother's." Matthew smiled.
Mary nodded.
"Mary are you alright?" her husband asked.
"Of course." Mary replied quickly, a tiny smile etching on her face.
She noted his frown, it was the same look he gave her whenever he asked her if she was feeling okay. She knew that her distancing herself from him was what was causing his concern, but she wasn't sure how to tell her husband about what had been on her mind for the past eight weeks.
Matthew didn't press her further, he simply nodded his head and offered her his arm, which she took, looping hers through it and together, the two of them began a slow walk back to the house.
oOo
By the time that she had fed Annabel and William and tucked them into their crib and watched them sleep, Mary felt exhausted. She returned to her bedroom, opening the door, and stepping inside when she noticed that the only light coming from inside the room was a flickering one. As she closed the door behind her, her eyes widened in surprise as she took in the candles that were lit all around the room and smiled as she felt familiar arms wrap around her waist.
"Happy Anniversary." Matthew whispered in her ear.
"W-What…Matthew this is…" Mary gushed quietly.
"I know how tired you've been since having the twins and I didn't think you would want a big fuss this year…so I thought that we could spend some time together at home, just the two of us…" Matthew stated warmly.
In her exhaustion, she had completely forgotten that it was their anniversary. Their ninth anniversary.
Nine years.
Where had the time gone?
Nine years of turning things around for Downton. Five children. Many arguments and happy memories. And more importantly, nine years of love that she had never thought possible ten years ago.
"Matthew…"
"I'm not expecting to make love to you tonight, I know you won't be healed for a while yet. But I would like to hold you in my arms and perhaps kiss you?" Matthew asked.
She turned in his arms, looking up at his face that seemed to shine brightly in the candlelight. Her hands cupped his face, and she looked deep into his eyes. All she could see was his love there, shining at her as it always had, as she hoped that it always would. Mary wrapped her arms around Matthew's neck, stepping closer to him. She felt him wrap his arms around her back, his forehead resting against hers as they swayed on the spot together slowly.
"Sometimes it feels like I'm living in a dream," Matthew whispered, "Life was so bleak after my injury that the thought of being a husband and a father was something I thought I had to let go of. Eleven years ago, having reignited my feelings or rather, resurrected my love for you during our time together when I couldn't walk…the thought of you marrying Carlisle and having his children…it was a bitter taste to swallow…I never believed that we would be standing here celebrating nine years of marriage. Let alone celebrating the birth of five children together..."
Mary hummed softly as she closed her eyes. There was a time when she had resigned herself to being Carlisle's wife, living unhappily at Haxby and living a life feeling empty. But nine years later, here she was, happily married to the love of her life. She felt Matthew's head drop to her cheek, his lips pressing a light kiss to her cheek before continuing a sensual path to her ear.
"Can I help you ready for bed?" Matthew whispered.
Mary froze.
Her heart rate increased in panic.
It was something he had done countless times before. Whether it was just to spend time together alone without Anna helping her ready for bed or if it was to make love together, but his request tonight made her filled her with dread. It wasn't because she feared that her husband would seduce her, she knew that Matthew respected her need to heal. That he respected her exhaustion and need for time. If anything, she had been surprised just how patient her husband was in that regard. It was that she dreaded her husband seeing her naked.
In eight weeks, she had been determined that Matthew wouldn't see her in anything but her nightgown at night. He hadn't seen her in her underwear, he hadn't seen her naked. She could barely look at her reflection when she was changing her clothes or having a bath.
She retained a somewhat slim figure that she had had throughout her life. But that wasn't to say that she didn't know her body had changed. Her breasts were fuller, ignoring that she was currently producing milk at a faster rate than she had in prior pregnancies and births. Her hips were wider and her waist a little thicker than it ever had been. Her backside, her stomach, her thighs, and her pubic region were covered in stretch marks and cellulite.
"Matthew…I c-can't…" Mary stuttered.
She saw his frown and it made her heart sink.
"W-why?" Matthew asked confused.
Mary felt her heart rate spike.
"I…I'd just prefer…that y-you didn't…"
The look on his face awoke that awful feeling in her gut as his expression turned from confusion to hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to prevent herself from crying at what appeared to him as a cruel rejection. She breathed out shakily, her eyes still closed until she felt his arms wrap around her once again.
"I'm not going to force anything on you. I swear it, Mary." Matthew said reassuringly.
Mary opened her eyes, now filled with watery tears that wanted to fall.
"I-I k-know…b-but my body…it's repulsive…" Mary replied, her voice breaking.
Matthew wiped away her tears and cupped her face in his hands, his fingers stroking her skin gently. Mary hummed at the soft contact, feeling at ease as she usually did when she felt unhappy.
"Darling, your body can never be repulsive. Not to me. I love you for far more than the way your body looks, or how you think it needs to look for me to find you appealing." Matthew began.
She stayed silent, knowing that he was going to give her one of his speeches that cheered her up. His hands moved to her blouse, his eyes seeking permission for him to remove it from her body. His fingers stilled on the top button, until Mary nodded her head. Matthew slowly loosened the buttons on her blouse and lifted it over her head, her arms extending shakily to the ceiling and the garment was thrown on the floor. Her arms were bare, and she shivered at his soft touch as his hands ran down her arms.
"Your arms have held me numerous times throughout our lives together, from the time you allowed me to take your hand the night I told you that it bothered me that you couldn't inherit the estate in your own right to the time we shared our first kiss, to the time we danced together the night Spanish flu came to Downton. To the time we were wed, and I placed a ring on your finger to become my wife. Your arms have cradled our five beautiful children from the time they were babes to the ages they now are. Your arms have held the hands of your loved ones when they needed comfort and they have lifted heavy loads that nobody thought Lady Mary Crawley would be capable of lifting."
His hands moved to the waistband of her long skirt, and he again sought permission to remove it from her body. She hesitated but the look in his eyes spoke of his patience, of his willingness not to push her if she really didn't want this. But she nodded stiffly, tears falling from her eyes as he slowly removed all items of her clothing until she stood naked before him. She closed her eyes as tears flowed freely down her cheeks, sniffling as she felt Matthew whisper assurances into her skin about how he loved every inch of her, even with her changes. She sighed when she felt him stroke over the faded stretch marks from her three previous pregnancies and almost let out a sob when she felt him stroke the obvious red ones from her most recent pregnancy.
"You see these as reasons why I shouldn't love you or find you attractive, Mary. But to me, it tells me a story. Theses ones," he whispered, stroking the most faded ones that were barely visible in the candlelight, "tell me how we went through our struggle to conceive a child, how we eventually were blessed with George."
She kept her eyes closed.
"These ones," Matthew said softly, his fingers stroking the ones that were almost as faded as the ones he had previously stroked, "are from Charlie's pregnancy, I remember how strong you were giving birth to him, how lucky I felt to witness you bring our second boy into the world."
His fingers moved to the ones that were a silvery, whiteish kind of colour.
"These marks are from Catherine's pregnancy, you showed earlier than you had done with the boys, but you glowed so bright, almost like a star. I remember your smiles every time she kicked against you. I remember each time she kicked whenever she heard your voice. You were already bonded to her before she even came into this world."
Finally, he gently touched the most visible of marks of her stomach, the ones which made her shudder because she couldn't just ignore them.
"These are a testimonial to your strength despite your fears and doubts about carrying a twin pregnancy. I know how scared you were, how you couldn't enjoy the experience as you had the three times before. I know how ill you felt, how exhausted you were. I can only imagine how lonely it must have felt, Mary. And I know that the birth was traumatic…but you got through it…you came through it…you were…a stormbraver…."
She let out a whimpered cry as she felt him stand up and face her, his arms wrapping around her waist to hold her close to him.
"However repulsive you may feel about yourself…I love you, my darling…just as you are…and I promise that will never change…"
Mary felt him wipe away her tears before he pressed his lips gently to her own and kissed her sweetly.
However confused and melancholic she felt presently, she hoped that these feelings would soon pass. She didn't know when she would feel like her usual self but she knew that as long as she had her husband's support and love, she could come through anything.