AUTHOR'S NOTE: Not very serious warning - the author got a lot of joy from shameless use of romance novels' tropes in this fic. In the last chapter we had sheltering together from the elements and the near kiss in the rain. In this one… you will see ;) The author is fully aware of the cheesiness and utterly unapologetic (and might have been inspired by rewatching 'Bridgerton').

Drawing room, Dower House, October 15th, 1913

Violet handed Cora a letter as soon as she managed to take her seat.

"Read it," she ordered without preamble. "It's from Susan Flintshire."

"What does she say?" asked Cora warily. Urgent summons from her mother-in-law to attend to her immediately at Dower House had never meant anything good.

"Prepare for the worst. Not the first page. My poor niece never uses one word where twenty will do. Start there. I'm sorry to have to tell you…"

"I'm sorry to have to tell you that Hugh has heard a vile story about your granddaughter Mary…" Cora's voice trailed off as she finished reading the letter in silence.

"Sorry? She's thrilled… now, first I must ask – and I want you to think carefully before you answer — is any of it true?"

Cora hesitated, which apparently told Violet enough.

"I see. Some of it is true. How much?"

Cora just looked at her in defeat. She wasn't even able to rejoice in seeing her formidable mother-in-law speechless.

"Oh, dear."

"She didn't drag him."

"I wondered about that. Obviously Susan has forgotten the distance between the girls' rooms and the bachelors' corridor."

"She couldn't manage it alone," agreed Cora grimly.

"So how did she do it?"

"I helped her. She woke me up and I helped her."

For a moment, Violet just gaped at her.

"Well. I've often thought this family might be approaching dissolution. I didn't know dissolution was already upon us. Does Robert know?"

"No. And he is not going to," stated Cora firmly.

Violet nodded, seeing the wisdom in that. This debacle called for a delicate approach and her son was anything but subtle.

"Of course, it was terribly wrong. It was all terribly wrong. But I didn't see how else…" ploughed on Cora determinedly, but Violet was in no mood to hear it.

"Please! I cannot listen to your attempts to justify yourself!"

Cora stood up. It was time to bring the meeting to an end.

"I know this has been very hard for you to hear. And God knows it was hard for me to live through. But if you expect me to disown my daughter, I'm afraid you will be disappointed. Good day."

She left the room without another look at Violet, who was as motionless as a statue.

Library, Loxley Park, October 15th, 1913

Sir Anthony was also reading a letter delivered in the morning post and also with little pleasure at the news it contained. In fact, he found himself truly vexed by the request and its timing.

He sighed heavily, his sense of duty fighting with private yearnings and recently made plans.

He looked at the letter again. No, the situation was growing too concerning to refuse this request. If the Foreign Office thought his contacts could help and be of use, then of course he must agree. But it didn't mean he had to give up his plans entirely. He could not leave Lady Edith for weeks, if not months, without declaring his intentions first. She was too important to him.

With his decision made, he finished his tea and ordered the car brought up.

He was going to Downton.

Drawing room, Downton Abbey, October 15th, 1913

Edith poured tea for Sir Anthony, wondering why he looked so serious. His visit was an unexpected, but very nice surprise, especially since she got to entertain him alone. Mama went to the Dower House, Mary was out riding and Papa cloistered with Jarvis. Edith was not sure where Sybil was, but she certainly wasn't going to search for her right now.

"I'm very happy to be able to talk with you alone, Lady Edith," said he, accepting the teacup. "I have two topics I really would like to discuss with you."

Edith looked at him curiously, as he took a deep breath.

"Lady Edith, I'm afraid I have to go abroad for the rest of the year – diplomatic business – but when I come back... I would like to ask you an important question. And I would very much hope that you answer yes."

Edith froze, not believing what she was hearing. For all her confidence in her ongoing bet with Mary she did not really believe a man was going to propose to her. Because it was a proposal, wasn't it?

"Why not ask it now?" she blurted out and instantly became red in embarrassment.

Sir Anthony looked at her fondly, if a little taken aback.

"Because I wouldn't think it right to abandon you for months straight afterwards instead of celebrating it with you and our families properly," he said gently, his eyes soft.

"Then why hint at it now at all?" asked Edith in bemusement.

"Because I wanted you to know that my intentions towards you are very serious, Lady Edith," he answered solemnly and then suddenly smiled in a boyish way, despite his lined face. "And I hoped that it might help you to keep me in your mind when I'm gone, even when you're being chased by some young handsome chaps half my age."

"Oh, have no fear of that, Sir Anthony! I could never forget you," said Edith earnestly. "I have never met anybody kinder or gentler or more interesting than you. I understand why you want to wait, but I assure you, I will be looking forward to your return very much."

"I don't think that I have ever been looking forward to Christmas as much as now in my life," said Sir Anthony, kissing her hand gently.

"When are you going?"

"I'm afraid tomorrow. And I have to go home soon, since I have plenty of things to arrange for my absence. But I wanted to ask – will you allow me to write to you?"

Edith's eyes shone.

"I would love you to! Please do write, as often as you can spare a moment. It will be nearly as if I was travelling with you."

Sir Anthony's eyes shone as well when he answered.

"Maybe we will do it together one day."

Edith noted the way he was looking at her and thought that she had never been as happy in her life as at that moment.

Library, Downton Abbey, October 15th, 1913

"I won!" said Edith triumphantly as soon as she found her sister alone. Mary frowned dismissively.

"You didn't," she said primly. "He did not propose, did he?"

"He clearly stated his intention to do so as soon as he returns from the Continent!" quarrelled Edith, incensed that Mary dared to deny her clear victory.

"But you're not engaged, are you?" Mary parried pointedly and Edith saw red.

"Getting engaged was not part of the terms. Or are you going to marry Cousin Matthew after all?"

Mary hesitated and that was enough to make Edith gape at her.

"You are, aren't you? My, this is interesting."

"Don't be ridiculous!" snapped Mary. "Whether I will or not, it's none of your business. But if he proposes before Sir Anthony's return, I will consider it my win."

"Oh, you sure are something!" snapped Edith right back. "Does he know, I wonder?"

"Does he know what?" asked Mary suspiciously. "About our bet? Clearly not, and he won't if you know what is good for you. If you tell him, I will just tell Sir Anthony and I am not sure at all which of them would react worse."

"Of course not about the bet," scoffed Edith. "I'm not an idiot and I know we are both equally complicit in that. I meant your sordid affair with the dead Turk."

For once in her life, Edith had a complete satisfaction of seeing her elder sister go white.

"What do you mean by it?" asked Mary icily. Edith grinned in triumph.

"You know very well what I mean. That you took that Turk to your bed and he died in it and then you carried him off to his room somehow so nobody learnt what a slut you are."

Mary's eyes went wide.

"How dare you," she said quietly, coldly. "This is low, even for you. How did you even learn this kind of gossip?"

"Oh, it's not just gossip, sister dear. And it's for me to know how I came upon it."

Mary looked at Edith with pure hatred. She was always annoyed to no end by her younger sister, always spying on her and snooping in her things, but she never really felt she hated her until this moment.

"I would keep it to yourself, if I were you," she hissed.

"Why would I?" asked Edith in a sing-song voice. Mary looked at her incredulously.

"Any scandal of that proportions involving me would ruin the whole family. Or do you honestly think that your precious Sir Anthony, so proper and involved in diplomatic circles, wouldn't mind taking as a wife a sister of a ruined woman? Raised in the same house, with the same morals? Made himself an object of gossip and ridicule with the rest of us?"

Edith gaped at Mary in horrified shock.

"But it would be you who would be ruined!"

Mary laughed derisively.

"Of course I would be," she admitted darkly, "But so would you and Sybil. So keep your mouth shut, sister dear. For all our sake."

She raised gracefully from the sofa and left the room with her head held high.

Mary's bedroom, Downton Abbey, October 15th, 1913

Mary's composure lasted until she reached her bedroom where, after locking the door, she collapsed on her bed and allowed herself to cry.

Would she marry Matthew if he asked? The answer, to her intense surprise, was yes. In a heartbeat.

If it wasn't for the awful fact that she was not a virtuous woman and Matthew deserved to be told about it before committing himself to her for the rest of their lives. The only problem was that as soon as he was told, he most likely wouldn't want to have anything to do with her ever again. He was so good. So principled. How could he want anybody like her when he could have some nice, pure girl who would never have thrown herself on a stranger like that?

It was never her intention to fall in love with him, but oh, she did. She truly did. How could she not? He was perfect. Well, not perfect maybe, but she came to feel fiercely that he was perfect for her.

If only she hadn't ruined everything before they even had a chance.

Cora's boudoir, Downton Abbey, October 15th, 1913

Edith reached her mother's boudoir determined that Mary's barbs were not going to spoil her happy day. Surely that was just lashing out in shame at being discovered for what she really was. Edith did nothing wrong and neither did Sybil. They would not be affected by any of the rumours sure to be circulating widely by now.

And anyway, who cared about Mary, when she was practically engaged now? And to Anthony! She blushed calling him by his first name in her thoughts, but immediately followed it with a smile at the realisation that it was soon going to be her right. Maybe she would dare ask him for it in one of the letters they were going to exchange while he was gone.

It was with that smile she walked triumphantly into her mother's room. She barely noticed that Cora looked somehow drawn and tired – it was not uncommon after her meetings with her mother-in-law – and she scarcely managed to last through greetings before she excitedly shared her news.

"Mama, Sir Anthony has called when you were gone."

"I'm sure you took very good care of him, darling," said Cora tiredly.

Edith had to suppress a giggle.

"He said that he has to travel to the Continent for some weeks, but that he is going to return for Christmas and… oh, Mama, he said that he wants to ask me an important question then and that he hopes I will say yes!"

Cora's eyes widened.

"Then you must think very carefully what your answer will be."

Edith shook her head, beaming.

"I already have! Mama, I want to marry him. I love him, truly!"

Cora smiled fondly, caressing Edith's cheek.

"If you are sure and happy, that's the only thing which matters, my darling. And it is delightful to know I will have you so very near and so nicely settled. I would have missed you if you moved to a faraway part of the country."

Cora and Robert's bedroom, Downton, October 15th, 1913

"Huh. I'd never have thought that Edith would be our first daughter to marry," said Robert, getting into bed.

"That's an unkind thing to say," chided Cora, thinking guiltily that she was often guilty of the same crime. "And anyway, she is not engaged yet. Not officially."

"I've known Anthony Strallan my whole life and if he said that he's going to propose, he will not go back on his word," said Robert firmly.

"I don't think he would," agreed Cora. "I just think we should be careful with our language until we are able to announce it properly."

"Whether it's official or not, it looks like we will have to hire a nurse after all," said Robert, still surprised but very pleased with the development. He was not sure how to feel about getting a son-in-law who was older than him, if only by a year, but if Edith wanted him, he was not going to argue with her. "Since Edith won't be there to take care of us in our old age."

"Edith was never the problem," muttered Cora darkly, thinking back to that awful letter from Susan Flintshire. Oh, what was to be done to contain that disaster?!

Edith's bedroom, Downton Abbey, October 15th, 1913

Edith could not sleep out of sheer joy.

Anthony loved her! Well, he didn't say it, not outright, but he must if he proposed to her – or very nearly did! He promised he was going to propose which was as good as if he did, and it must mean he loved her! Her, Lady Edith Crawley, commonly considered the plain and overlooked Crawley sister! This was simply unbelievable!

She moved a hand to her lips to stifle happy giggles. Goodness, she was positively giddy with it all! He loved her, he loved her, he loved her! The man she loved so dearly loved her back and wanted to marry her!

There was also not insignificant satisfaction of winning the bet with Mary – whatever Mary said, stated intention of getting engaged had to count as a proposal, Mama certainly thought so! – and even deeper of going to get engaged and probably married before Mary. After spending years in Mary' shadow – practically Edith's whole life, as far as she could remember – this triumph tasted so sweet. Mary, the revered, admired and envied Mary, managed to thoroughly ruin her own life, while Edith, so easily dismissed by everyone, was loved and with a bright future ahead of her. She was going to marry a baronet and such an amazing, kind, fascinating man to boot – oh, it was wonderful, so hard to believe!

She fell asleep with a smile on her face, hoping to dream about Anthony.

Anthony's bedroom, Loxley Park, October 15th, 1913

Anthony valiantly tried to sleep, conscious of the necessity to get up very early in the morning to start his journey to Germany, but sleep turned stubbornly elusive. To his intense surprise, he was too excited to sleep – a feeling which he hadn't experienced in a long time.

He smiled wryly, amused by his own boyish exuberance today. Why, he practically skipped as he got out of his car and walked quickly to Loxley, only to inspect it top to bottom, trying to see it with Lady Edith's eyes. The rooms downstairs looked good enough, but the bedrooms… Well, they might need some work. Of course, as his wife, Lady Edith would be entitled to redecorate the public rooms as well, if she wished to. In his present state of mind, Anthony didn't think he would be able to refuse her anything she wished.

As his wife…

This title had belonged to Maud through nearly half of his life, and when she died, Anthony had not thought that replacing her would ever be possible or desired. Yet now, two and half years later, lying in his bed so very happy to have gained a regard of another, he did not feel guilt for having been wrong. He had loved Maud faithfully, with all his heart, and he never really stopped. He discovered that his heart seemed to have expanded to include Edith as well and just as strongly. He was certain that Maud would have understood and wished him well, just as he would have if the tables were turned. As he would probably have to wish for Edith at some point in the hopefully distant future, considering their age difference.

But he had no space in his mind to dwell on their age difference or distant future today of all days, not when he was so very happy. Edith loved him! She must, eager as she was to let him know how very welcome his proposal would be to her, and how she wished to correspond with him as he was away. Edith was an honest girl and her earnest delight was no mere politeness or wish to avoid hurting his feelings, of that he was certain. When he would come back and ask her his important question, he was assured now that she would answer yes.

By Christmas, they were going to be engaged to be married.

He could hardly believe his luck.

Downton grounds, Downton Abbey, October 16th, 1913

Mary truly started to wonder if some kind of fatum or curse was hanging over her riding excursions with Matthew and putting her in turmoil whenever they scheduled one. For once though, it wasn't quarrelling with her meddlesome family which was the cause.

It was facing the man she only just acknowledged she had been in love with for weeks. Maybe even months. She hardly knew when it actually began; she was only painfully aware how much she cared for him now – and that was a great deal.

She had spent a restless night, tossing and turning while torturing herself with hope of him loving her back – he liked spending time with her, he flirted with her, he listened to her and let her rant when she needed to; surely it must mean he loved her back? – only to fall into despair, thinking that either he only saw her as a friend or that even if he didn't; if he loved her back, he would stop as soon as he learnt the truth. And she had to tell him the truth, anything else would be utterly dishonourable.

She could not marry him on a lie. That wasn't how they were with each other.

Seeing him after a night like that – and with the necessity of hiding it all from him – was even more difficult than Mary expected. He looked so handsome in his riding gear, his eyes so blue, his smile at the sight of her so brilliant, so joyful – oh, it was like seeing him for the first time, as if admitting to herself that she loved him fundamentally changed the way she perceived him. She hardly knew what to say or do, so as soon as they were atop of their horses she proposed a brisk ride towards the downs surrounding the estate from the north. It was a long ride, and a challenging one, the ground there uneven and demanding skill and attention. Mary had plenty of skill, there were not many equal to her on a horse among her acquaintances, but her attention today was most definitely not on the terrain.

So it shouldn't come as such a surprise to her as it did when her beloved Diamond stumbled and reared to correct his step, throwing her off in the process.

xxx

In that one horrible moment, Matthew was absolutely convinced that his heart stopped entirely as he watched in horror Mary being thrown from the saddle and hitting the ground with a resounding thump.

The sight of her body crumpled on the ground – the terrible realisation that she was not moving – got him out of his stupor and off his horse in a record time. He half kneeled, half collapsed by her side and gingerly reached to turn her face towards him, terrified of hurting her further in any way and sickened by the sight of blood in her hair.

"Oh God, oh God," he found himself babbling as he wiped the blood off her brow with trembling fingers. "Please be alright... Please..."

He thought he got his own ability to breathe back only after he was able to confirm that she was still breathing as well. He had never felt such overwhelming relief in his life as when her eyelashes fluttered and she looked at him, visibly dazed by her fall but undeniably conscious.

"Matthew?" she said uncertainly. "What... Owww!"

He watched helplessly as she tried to use her arms to hoist herself off the ground only to collapse with a scream of pain.

"Don't move!" he pleaded instantly. "Let's check what the damage is first. What hurts?"

"Everything!" hissed Mary, getting alarmingly pale. "But my left shoulder and ankle the most. I never realised you could literally see the stars from pain until I tried to put my weight on this arm."

Matthew started to inspect it carefully and had to swallow bile at the unnatural shape of her shoulder joint.

"I think it's dislocated," he said thickly. "We will have to immobilise it for the way home until Doctor Clarkson can set it properly."

"What, you don't know how? With all your family doctors and nurses?" joked Mary, belying the line of sweat forming over her lips from the pain of his examination. He had never admired her more.

He shook his head ruefully.

"I don't know enough about it to risk practising it with you as my first patient. But I should be able to bind it, at least. If I find something to bind it with, that's it," he said, looking around for anything of use.

Mary rolled her eyes at him, although she clearly immediately regretted it, judging by her painful wince.

"Untie my scarf," she said. "I'm too afraid to move this arm to attempt it myself. It should hopefully be long enough."

Matthew swallowed hard but obeyed, his hands trembling again. This was definitely not how he imagined himself undressing Mary. Not that there was much undressing at all – it was just a scarf and he was hardly unfamiliar with the sight of her neck, for God's sake – but the action of removing even such an innocent piece of clothing, on top of the mind boggling terror of witnessing her fall and the still vivid concern regarding any yet unknown injuries, was making him a nervous wreck. At least the bloody scarf did turn out to be long enough and to his relief, Matthew was able to secure Mary's arm to her body quite nicely.

"Can I inspect your ankle or would you prefer to wait for the doctor?" he asked nervously. Mary considered it for a moment.

"Better check," she answered reluctantly. "If it's broken, we should immobilise it as well."

With another hard swallow, Matthew removed one of Mary's riding boots, wincing at her hiss of pain as he did it. The ankle was clearly swollen but careful palpitations made him optimistic enough to express the hope it was just badly twisted. There was no chance of putting the boot back on though, the swelling increasing as soon as he took it off.

"Maybe we shouldn't have removed it," he admitted sheepishly. "But that's what you get for having a solicitor as the only nurse available."

Mary's lips twitched.

"Could have been worse. You seem to have at least half of an idea what to do."

Matthew took off his own scarf and bound her ankle enough to hopefully keep it from further injury on the way, then frowned anxiously at her.

"Anything else that hurts? Really hurts, I mean?"

Mary started shaking her head and winced again, her right hand flying towards her forehead.

"My head", she admitted. "Especially the left temple."

"You're bleeding there," said Matthew, his concern rapidly growing. "Although it mostly seems to have stopped by now."

"There's nothing we can do about it here," said Mary, obviously striving to sound reasonable and stoic. "How are we going to get me home though?"

That was a problem. Matthew was not even going to pretend that he would be able to carry Mary all the way back to the house, so it left them with one of the horses as the only option. But how to get her on one and how to convey her safely without aggravating her injuries or making her fall off again?

"If we can hoist you up somehow, I could either walk your horse or ride with you," said Matthew, his brow furrowed in thought. "Which option sounds more reasonable to you?"

Mary frowned as well.

"Help me to sit up first and we'll see."

Matthew reached under her shoulders and pulled her uninjured arm until she was sitting up, wincing in pain and swaying a little.

"My vision is swimming," she admitted reluctantly. "I think we will have to ride together; I am not sure I won't lose my balance otherwise."

Matthew swallowed again, his concern for her increasing.

"On which horse?" he asked, straining for composure. He was supposed to take care of Mary; he would not burden her with his fear and uncertainty.

Mary eyed their horses thoughtfully. Matthew's horse was bigger and more docile than Diamond, but Diamond was her horse. She's been riding him since she was fifteen; in fact he had been her birthday gift then. She trusted Diamond more than any other horse. It wasn't his fault that she fell today.

"Diamond," she said decisively. "If you hoist me up, I should be able to get in front of the saddle. Give me the reins of your horse and get on behind me, we should hopefully manage to get home this way."

Downton Abbey, October 16th, 1913

It took some trial and error, but they did indeed manage to get home. Their arrival caused absolute chaos to erupt, of course. Suddenly there was a mass of people exclaiming and fluttering around them, calling for somebody to fetch the doctor, asking all kinds of questions, but also thankfully leading Matthew up to Mary's bedroom. He was not sure why nobody ordered him to hand her over – he guessed the situation would not get all that much more proper if Mary was carried by a servant – but he took full advantage of it. The thought of inevitably being banished from her side terrified him for some reason. He had to make sure she was alright first.

The stairs did present a challenge but he gritted his teeth and managed them, doing his best to jostle Mary's dislocated shoulder as little as possible and wincing himself at every quiet hiss of pain from her. He had always been an empathetic person who hated seeing people suffer but somehow the person suffering being Mary was making him feel like he was in pain himself.

xxx

He should go home, change out of his sweaty and dirty riding clothes – oh God, some of the stains on them were probably made by Mary's blood – but he just couldn't force himself to do so before Doctor Clarkson had a chance to examine her and hopefully pronounce her without any truly serious injuries.

Thankfully, Robert gave him an out.

"Matthew," he said kindly. "You look done it. Go to one of the guest bedrooms and have a bath, we will send for Molesley with a change of clothes for you. I'm sure you want to hear first hand how Mary is faring anyway."

Matthew thanked him feelingly and followed William up to the Bachelors' Wing.

The bath did little to sooth him. His mind kept repeating the awful sight of Mary falling and hitting the ground and the sight of blood in her shiny hair. Whenever he tried to shy away from that thought, he was assaulted by the memory of feeling her lean against his chest as they rode together to Downton and it was not helpful at all. Whether it was one memory or the other, he was only reminded how very much he loved her and that he could have lost her today, before he even got the chance to speak up and confess his feelings. Mary might have died and he wouldn't have ever told her how much she meant to him. Of course, there were reasons for his silence, important reasons. He was not at all sure that she saw him as anybody more than a friend and a cousin – that she would ever see him as something more – and even if she did… Would she be happy to be a solicitor's wife, possibly for decades? With no title until her father died and living greatly below the level she was accustomed to and took for granted? He didn't know the answer to any of those questions, and so he was silent, preferring to wait and see, to try to woo her patiently until he felt just a little bit braver, a little more ready to risk it all and speak. But now she nearly died in front of his eyes and he could be silent no longer, whatever the outcome.

He got out of the bathtub as soon as he heard Molesley's voice through the door, impatient to get dressed and hear any kind of news.

To his great relief, he came down just as Doctor Clarkson came out of Mary's room and walked downstairs as well to update equally anxious Robert.

"Lady Mary should make full recovery," started the doctor reassuringly. "Her shoulder was indeed dislocated and had to be set, but I managed to do it cleanly enough. It should stay fully immobilised for a week, and afterwards she should keep it in a sling for several more, with gradual resumption of use and movement, but there shouldn't be any long term ill effects. Her ankle is badly twisted, but not broken, so she should have it wrapped, with cold compresses to lessen the swelling, and keep the weight off it for about a week as well, but it should also heal nicely. Finally, there is a cut on her head, which needed two stitches, but is shallow and doesn't look serious, and possibly a light concussion from the fall, but I don't see any danger from it either. All in all, if Lady Mary stays in bed for a week and follows my instructions in the next few, she should be fully recovered just in time for Christmas."

It really was a huge relief to hear it. Matthew barely paid attention to Robert's thanks for the doctor, until Clarkson addressed him directly.

"According to Lady Mary you were the one who immobilised her shoulder and ankle, and correctly named the injuries she suffered. Your mother may be rightly proud of you. It is a pity you haven't decided to follow in your father's footsteps; you would have made a great doctor."

Matthew thought of Mary's blood on his fingers and shuddered. He was very certain that becoming a solicitor was the good choice.

Apparently, Robert agreed with him.

"Experience in legal matters is going to be of much more use to him now and in the future," he said firmly, then thanked the doctor again and led him out. He soon returned to Matthew.

"I really must thank you as well, my dear boy, for taking such good care of Mary," he said feelingly. "I'm glad you were the one with her when it happened."

"It was terrifying to witness," confessed Matthew. "I'm very glad to hear that her injuries are not serious."

Robert laughed.

"They are serious enough to vex Mary to no end in the coming weeks, if I know her at all. She will stay in bed as long as she is in proper pain, but believe me, she is going to be a terrible patient as soon as she feels just a little bit better."

Matthew smiled fondly, perfectly able to imagine Mary struggling against any restrictions imposed on her activities.

"I can easily believe that. We will probably have to find ways to keep her entertained."

Robert eyed him speculatively.

"Are you offering your services for that task? Because I warn you, she will not make it an easy one!"

"I'm not afraid of her," said Matthew with another smile.

"Then you are a braver man than most," said Robert. "Actually, why don't you go up and keep her company until Cora comes back from her charity meeting? I would like to meet her and give her the news gently."

Matthew looked at him in shock.

"To her bedroom? Would that be alright?"

There was nothing he wanted more than to see Mary and assure himself that she really was alright and didn't suffer too much from her injuries, but it seemed unfathomable to him that he would be allowed to.

Robert waved his hand dismissively.

"Anna is with her, so you won't be alone, and she informed me before that Mary is dressed and ready to receive visitors."

Well, if Robert didn't mind… Matthew didn't have to be told twice.

Mary's bedroom, October 16th, 1913

Matthew barely registered any details of Mary's red bedroom or the maid rearranging things on the vanity by the far wall, his attention fully focused on the pale figure sitting up in the middle of the bed.

Mary's head, arm and ankle were bandaged, her arm tied tightly to her chest to keep it immobilised and her foot put on a pillow to keep it elevated. She was dressed in a skirt and a loose blouse, and her hair was down in a braid instead of one of her usual updos. If the bandages and her pallor didn't make his concern rear right back, he would probably be flustered by seeing her in such an intimate state.

"Your father said I could visit you," he said in response to her startled gaze. "If that's alright with you?"

Her smile was genuine enough to put those concerns at least to rest. He thought he knew her fake ones by now and it was not one of them.

"Oh, please sit!" she said brightly. "I have been already getting bored and I am told I'm not to leave this room for a week!"

"Then I will gladly give you company to make your imprisonment less loathsome," said Matthew with a smile of his own, taking a seat on a chair by her bed. "How are you? Are you in a lot of pain?"

Mary shook her head, although Matthew noted that she did it carefully.

"Not since Doctor Clarkson set my shoulder, although that did hurt like nothing I've ever experienced before."

Matthew winced in sympathy.

"Anna," said Mary with a carefully impassive face. "Could you bring me a cup of tea? I'm quite parched."

Anna gave her mistress a knowing look, but just curtsied and left the room.

"Won't she get in trouble for leaving us alone like that?" asked Matthew, hardly daring to believe his luck. "Won't we?"

"Only if she gets caught," answered Mary with a smirk. "And Anna is too smart to get caught."

"Oh."

He swallowed, not sure what to think about it. The way Mary was looking at him… Could it mean… Did it mean…

"I wanted to thank you," said Mary quietly, her eyes locked with his. "For being my gallant rescuer."

Matthew laughed, despite the growing tension in the room.

"I hardly deserve such a description. Besides, wouldn't it cast you as a damsel in distress?"

Mary looked at him playfully.

"Just this once. But don't get too used to it."

"Oh, I wouldn't dare," said Matthew huskily. He looked at her, sitting so proudly and in control, despite the pain and the bandages, and thought that he had never met a woman less fitting to be called a damsel in distress in his life.

Except his mother, but here, looking at Mary, he didn't think about his mother at all.

"Good," said Mary, her own voice getting lower, her gaze on him electrifying. "But if I had to be rescued, just this once... I didn't mind being rescued by you."

Her gaze dropped to his lips and Matthew could only respond by looking at hers, suddenly so close, so alluring...

He didn't even realise he was going to kiss her until he did. Oh dear God, he was kissing her, kissing Mary, and she was kissing him back, her right hand cradling his face, her fingers threading his hair, and before he knew it his hands were caressing her face and pulling her against him, carefully, oh so carefully as to not aggravate her injuries, and their lips were still busy kissing, and God, it felt glorious.

They only stopped to get some much needed air, reluctantly parting and staring at each other in awe.

"Mary," he blurted out, barely able to think. "Will you marry me?"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, who do you think won the bet? ;)

Btw, we are just at the half point of this story. It will have a happy ending for both couples, but there will be necessarily some angst and stormy waters for all involved.