"What in hell?!" bellows Papa, staring aghast at his newspaper, then throwing it into Mary's hands. "Can you explain it?!"
Mary reads the article and feels the blood draining from her face. The letters of the headline swim before her eyes.
LADY MARY CRAWLEY MM AND CAPTAIN MATTHEW CRAWLEY MC MARRIED SECRETLY IN FRANCE!
It came to the attention of this reporter that the recently decorated war hero, Lady Mary Crawley MM, got secretly married while serving in France as an ambulance driver in First Aid Nursing Yeomanry. While the person she has chosen, Captain Matthew Crawley MC, is hardly a surprise, considering their engagement of some months, the circumstances of the marriage itself do invite further scrutiny.
The wedding took place in Amiens City Hall on July 25th, 1918 as the marriage certificate shows, with Lady Mary's sister Lady Sybil Crawley and Private Tom Branson serving as witnesses. The happy couple told no one of what transpired, including keeping it secret from their own families, which begs the question what reason they could have for such haste and secrecy?
What makes one wonder, especially, is the fact that until very recently Captain Crawley was engaged to another woman and yet sources close to the couple had many occasions to observe that he was often doing his utmost to get attention from Lady Mary, always susceptible to his charms, even in his former fiancée's presence. How did she stand it or what are the exact circumstances leading to the breaking of this engagement, is not for this reporter to speculate, but the timing of his subsequent engagement to Lady Mary suggests certain possibilities not of the kind complimentary to Captain Crawley's honour.
Neither are the circumstances of the wedding. Considering their proximity in France, and obvious lack of oversight, one may dare to ask how exactly Captain Crawley convinced Lady Mary to elope with him instead of waiting for a proper ceremony worthy of the eldest daughter of the 7th Earl of Grantham and his heir presumptive. It pains this reporter's heart to cast aspersions on the honour of an officer in His Majesty's Army, but the story does beg a question whether Lady Mary had been given ultimately much choice in the matter at all. After all, war does sadly lower inhibitions in some men lacking moral integrity in the first place, as our esteemed readers had at times occasion to learn.
What the marriage does explain though is Lady Mary's decision, puzzling to many, to stand by Captain Crawley after his recent injury resulted in permanent paralysis, with complete loss of all function and feeling below the waist. While such devotion, surprising as it is, may be touching, it is now sadly certain that Lady Mary had very little choice in this matter as well. As much as this reporter would like to wish her and Captain Crawley joy in their marriage, it seems unlikely they will experience much of it, circumstances being what they are. An old phrase marry in haste, repent at leisure does come to mind and should remain a lesson for us all.
Mary's hands shake so much she nearly drops the newspaper on the table as she tries to process the mix of the details of their wedding and a pack of nasty insinuations for its causes and consequences. The article cleverly implies that Matthew seduced her, forced into an elopement and now she is shackled to him, which explains to any puzzled reader why she remains so faithful to a pathetic cripple. All the hints and allusions are completely wrong, but not one fact reported in the article is untrue. What's more, all the aspersions are against Matthew's character, not hers, so they wouldn't be able to use the Slander of Women Act anyway and would be forced to use general libel laws instead, with much less certain outcome. There are no grounds for suing, really, not that it matters much with the message already spread.
She has to talk to Matthew, as soon as possible. She has to warn him about the news, but not let him read the damn thing. She does not want to think how the accusations in the article, that horrible, dirty attack on his morals and good name, are going to affect his mental state.
"Is it true, Mary? Have you and Matthew got married in France?" barks Papa, brutally reminding Mary that she has a more immediate crisis on her hands. She takes a deep breath and bravely looks up at Papa's red face.
"Yes," she says, striving for composure.
"Why?! Is the article right?" bellows Robert. "Has he seduced you and made it necessary?!"
"No!" cries Mary indignantly. Whatever happened between them that day was definitely not a seduction. Not to mention nobody's business but their own. "How could you believe it? Matthew would never do anything like that!"
"I don't know what Matthew would or wouldn't do anymore! I never would have suspected he could elope with my daughter and keep it a secret from me!"
Mary swallows.
"We just wanted to be together, in case something happened," she says, fighting back tears. "We never wanted our secrecy to hurt anybody. We only kept it secret because we still wanted all of you to be present at our wedding here. But it was bad there, Papa, so very bad, and we just felt that it was possibly our only chance to be together."
She feels the tears falling down her cheeks anyway, despite her struggle against them.
"And we were right, weren't we? Something did happen and we will never have the marriage we imagined," she looks up at Papa defiantly. "And I don't regret it. I cannot regret it. At least we had a few blissful days together. If it's everything we can hope for, if Matthew never recovers, at least then we will always have this."
Papa's face looks stricken and defeated.
"My dear girl," he says. "My very dear girl. I'm so sorry. It was a very foolish thing you did, I won't say otherwise, but I do see why you thought it necessary."
He opens his arms and Mary gratefully falls into his embrace, sobbing her heart out. Her papa is not always the most observant or liberal of fathers, but in that moment she feels all his love, compassion and understanding and she so dearly needs it.
He sighs when Mary finally runs out of tears and steps out of his embrace.
"I better tell your Mama and Granny before they learn somewhere else. Or do you want to do it?"
Mary blanches at the prospect.
"If you could?" she says pleadingly. "I rather must talk with Matthew. I don't want him to learn about it getting public from someone else either. And I definitely don't want him to read it, it's so nasty!"
"That it is," agrees Papa grimly. "We will have to consider how to control the damage. And we will of course have to discuss plans for you two, now that we know the truth of your relationship."
xxx
Carson stops her just behind the door of the dining room, where he tactfully withdrew when the scene between Lady Mary and Lord Grantham got too emotional for witnesses.
"Allow me to offer my congratulations upon your marriage, milady, on my own behalf as well as on the whole staff," he says gruffly and Mary can easily perceive the lively concern in his eyes. He's obviously read the article and he's witnessed just part of her explanations to Papa, he must have his doubts whether her marriage is in fact something to celebrate.
"Thank you, Carson," she says, eager to dispel them. She knows he is able to make life very unpleasant for her husband if he suspects him of any wrongdoing against her, heir to Lord Grantham or not. "I understand why you brought the article to Lord Grantham's attention and I don't blame you, but I want you to know that it is full of lies when it comes to the circumstances of my wedding to Captain Crawley. It did happen in secret, yes, but I couldn't be happier about being married to him, then and now. The only thing I regret about it all is that I could not have you there to witness my happiness."
She sees deep relief on the butler's face.
"I'm glad to hear it, milady. I wouldn't have been able to sleep easily if you weren't happy."
xxx
Mary has never approached Matthew's bedroom with such trepidation. When she reaches it, she takes a moment to steel her nerves and take a deep breath, then knocks decidedly and walks in at his invitation to enter.
Matthew is sitting propped up in bed, the tray with his barely touched breakfast resting on his unnaturally straight legs. Mary tells herself sternly that at least he can sit by himself now, even if supported by pillows. There is progress, just maddeningly slow.
She reminds herself that as maddening it is for her, it must be a hundred times worse for him.
"You don't have to worry about any damage to my reputation from me visiting your bedroom anymore," she starts bluntly in response to his questioning gaze. "Sir Richard published the news of our marriage in France in today's paper. We made the front page."
"May I see it?" he asks, then sighs with irritation at Mary's clear reluctance. "You do realise I can just ask someone else if you don't give it to me?"
For a moment, Mary considers the feasibility of ordering all copies of Carlisle's rag on the premises burnt and threatening anyone who would get a new one with immediate dismissal, but gives it up when she realises she has no real power over the convalescing officers. She gives in with rather bad grace, only increased by Matthew's triumphant look.
"Very well, if you insist. But it's absolutely ghastly. I regret reading it."
"I don't expect anything else from him," answers Matthew calmly, "but I still would prefer to know what people are going to discuss about us behind our backs."
Mary goes to fetch the paper and throws it resentfully into Matthew's lap. Seriously, he could listen to her for once!
Her annoyance with him does not stop her from observing the minutiae of his facial expression as he reads it. She takes note of every quirk of an eyebrow in amusement, downturn of the mouth in anger and blush from embarrassment, and can easily match most of them to the corresponding paragraphs.
"Well," says Matthew with more composure than she honestly expected of him in the circumstances, "he certainly does not hide his low opinion of me. And as sorry as I am to say it, he did take pains to avoid any grounds for libel suit. There is no fact in this article which we could reasonably challenge."
Mary huffs angrily and crosses her arms.
"Except that you were most definitely not pursuing me while engaged to Lavinia."
Matthew looks at her with raised eyebrows.
"Wasn't I?" he asks speculatively. "I wouldn't be so sure I can defend myself on that particular score."
Mary snorts.
"If you did, you did it very poorly indeed, because I did not for a moment realise what your intentions were," she shoots back.
"What about the time I kissed you very publicly at a hospital concert? I was still engaged to her then."
"Yes, and you ran to her straight afterwards without a word to me! For all I knew, you were going to plan your wedding to her and come back to me with the apologies and promises it was never going to happen again."
Matthew gives her frankly incredulous look, but then his mouth twitches in amusement.
"Even if I was much more subtle than I thought – which I seriously doubt – I can't in good conscience defend my feelings or intentions. He did get something else wrong though."
"What?" asks Mary suspiciously. Matthew smirks in response.
"He implies you found yourself helpless against my seductive ways from the very beginning. He really shows how recent his acquaintance with you is there, don't you think?"
Despite herself, Mary laughs.
"He's not very wrong," she says playfully. "I'm quite certain I found you irresistible as early as late 1913. Maybe even mid 1913. And once I did, I've never stopped since."
Matthew's face shuts off.
"You don't have to pretend, Mary," he says heavily.
For all her patience and understanding Mary feels a surge of irritation.
"I'm not," she snaps. "It's you who pushes me away. I know you don't believe me but nothing has changed for me. Nothing."
"How can you say it?!" he erupts, but then grasps the bridge of his nose and makes a visible effort to calm himself. "So, the whole world knows now that you are irrevocably tied to a pathetic, impotent cripple."
"Including our family," says Mary ominously and takes perverse joy in the visible alarm on Matthew's face. Apparently there are still some things able to break through his apathy and misery.
"And... What have they said about it?" he asks gingerly. Mary shrugs, in fact not looking forward herself to the inevitable confrontations.
"So far I only spoke with Papa. He was quite perturbed, at first, but very understanding when I explained. I don't think he is going to be our biggest problem. I told you from the beginning, he loves you too well to be angry with you for long."
Matthew gapes at her.
"How in heavens have you explained the matters to him to get him to forgive us so quickly?"
Mary's eyes catch his.
"The truth," she says quietly but firmly. "That after everything we went through, we just wanted to grasp what happiness we could before something more happens. And that we were right, because it did, so I don't regret a thing."
Matthew drops his eyes to his lap, his mouth downturned in clear misery.
"Here is where we differ," he says finally, sounding defeated. "I do regret it all very much. It would all have been easier to bear if you weren't dragged into it too."
"In sickness and in health," says Mary stubbornly, not giving him an inch. "And anyway, if I were you, I would focus on what to tell your mother rather than wallowing."
Matthew glares at her, but the prospect of facing Isobel is scary enough to make him temporarily drop the subject.
"She's going to realise we visited her on our honeymoon and kept it all secret," he says with a wince.
Mary winces as well. She nearly prefers her lot of having to face Granny. Nearly.
"I assume you're not going to disclose all the circumstances to her?" she checks. She doesn't think he would, but she prefers to be sure.
Matthew's aghast expression is answer enough.
"Good God, no! I think I go with your explanation to Robert," he goes silent for a while, then admits quietly. "It is mostly true anyway. I did want to grasp what happiness with you I could. I just expected to die, not to consign us both to this insufferable fate because I was thoughtless and so terribly selfish."
The surge of fury which courses through Mary at these words is potent enough that she barely restrains herself from slapping him. She digs her nails into her palms to fight the temptation.
"How dare you," she hisses, making Matthew's head jerk up in shock. "How dare you say that you only married me because you expected to be dead. I'm very sorry you have to deal with me for the rest of your life instead. I guess it was an easier prospect to bear when you thought it would be a short one."
Matthew flinches as if she did slap him.
"You know very well that this is not at all what I meant!" he protests angrily, but Mary is over this conversation. She's afraid that if she stays here, in his room, for one minute longer she's going to cry, and it's the last thing she wants to do in front of him now.
"Do I?" she asks, her eyes narrow and her fists still tightly clenched. "Do I? What have you ever done since we came back to give me a different impression? You have done everything in your power to push me away and make me regret what we have done and you know what? You might yet succeed if you continue like this!"
She storms out of his room before he has a chance to answer and takes great satisfaction in slamming the door after her.
She does not care who might have heard.
xxx
As soon as the door slams shut behind Mary, Matthew drops his head against the pillows and covers his eyes with his hands.
Well, that could have gone better, he thinks drily to himself, then snorts at the understatement. Turns out he can't boast anymore of being better than Carlisle by virtue of not provoking Mary into unladylike slamming of doors.
He feels sorry for hurting Mary, even if she did take his words wildly out of context. Of course he didn't marry her only because he expected to die – although he did have the fatalistic conviction that it was very likely that he would – this was not at all what he meant! He only meant that while he considered both the likelihood of his own death and the slim hope for a happier outcome, he never even thought about something like this, with him broken beyond repair and Mary stuck behind his chair. If he did, he might have thought twice before he took her to bed in Amiens.
xxx
He waits in apprehension for Mother's arrival, but when she comes for her usual morning visit, he can immediately tell that she hasn't heard anything yet. Which only makes it harder, of course.
"Mother," he says bravely, "I have to tell you something."
He sees the instant alarm on her face and he curses his chosen wording. He's certain that she suspects he is about to reveal some catastrophic development regarding his health.
"It's nothing bad by itself," he hurries to say. "Just… rather shocking, I'm afraid."
"Go on," says Isobel, sitting straighter in her chair and visibly bracing herself.
"You see… Mary and I are already married," Matthew blurts out quickly. "We got married in Amiens on July 25th."
Isobel blinks several times before she narrows her eyes and asks sternly:
"And why haven't you told anybody? Because I know very well that Mary's parents or grandmother are not aware of it either."
Matthew winces.
"Nobody knows, except Sybil and Branson, who served as our witnesses," he decides to keep William's participation quiet since he is the only one not named in the bloody article. "That is, nobody else has known. I'm afraid the whole thing has just been published in one of Sir Richard Carlisle's newspapers, so now half of the country knows."
"Mary's former suitor?" asks Isobel, looking at him intently. "May I read it? Since apparently everyone else already has?"
"Probably not everyone," sighs Matthew, reaching for the offending paper. "I just want to warn you, he doesn't like me very much."
"Since you married th woman he intended to marry himself, I am hardly surprised," says Isobel and starts to read. Her face is impassive when she's done, but Matthew knows his mother – she is beyond furious.
"So," she says in a clipped tone, "Do you care to explain to me what was your real reason for keeping it all secret and not inviting me to your wedding even though I was a short train ride away?"
Matthew looks at her apologetically, hating the obvious hurt behind that question.
"It was a very impulsive decision," he starts carefully.
"Clearly!"
"Mother, do you want to hear the story or not?" he asks in exasperation. "Because it is not the easiest one to tell."
Isobel nods curtly, still glaring at him, but remaining silent.
"As I said, it was a very impulsive decision. We haven't seen each other since late March. We barely had any news of each other at all and weeks out of date when we did. We both nearly died, so many times, and we feared so much that we would never see each other again…" he stops for a moment, overwhelmed by his memories. The race to the CCS no 37 to help Mary get out, the shell falling on the ambulance next to hers, the news of the repeated bombings of the base hospital at Etaples with dead silence from her for weeks… His own exhaustion and grief, his friends and men under him dying all around him while he somehow kept marching on, his deep conviction that there was no way he was going to beat the odds and survive it all. And then all of this culminating in this magical moment when he saw Mary again, alive and kissing him, and there was no way, no power on Earth which could have kept them apart in that moment, not after everything they went through. "That when we saw each other again, safe, we could not stand the thought of not grasping the likely only chance we were going to have to be together. But we did know that our decision would disappoint our family very much and we did not want that either, so we concocted this plan, not a very good one, in hindsight, of just keeping our marriage secret and having a proper wedding back in England if we were somehow lucky enough to survive. I am very sorry that it didn't work out as we wished and that I caused you pain as a result."
"Well," says Isobel briskly. "As much as I am hurt by having missed seeing my only child getting married, I must admit I am relieved by this news too."
She gives Matthew a significant look in response to his enquiring one.
"When I saw you two at Boulogne, after your visit to a seaside resort, it was rather obvious that you shared intimacy a mere engagement should not justify. I did not like the inevitable conclusions I was forced to draw from it. So it is a relief to hear that you were in fact married by that point."
Matthew covers his burning face with his hand.
"You've always been much too observant, Mother," he says in exasperation and embarrassment.
She scoffs lightly, but with a huge relief he can see that he's going to be forgiven.
"I can understand your desperation to be together while you still could," she says, confirming his conclusion. "But this silly plan to keep your marriage secret made things unnecessarily difficult for everybody. There would be much less wringing of hands and pressure on poor Mary if her family knew you were already married."
He looks up at her in unpleasant surprise.
"They told you they wanted her to break things off with me?"
Isobel scoffs again.
"Not to my face, of course," she says derisively. "But it has been rather obvious in all the things they did not say about your and Mary's future."
She looks penetratingly at him.
"They didn't hint anything to you, did they?" she asks, her expression thunderous at the very thought.
"No, of course not," Matthew assures her. "They were counting on me to behave honourably and release her myself, without prompting. I know I puzzled them exceedingly by not doing so."
"As if Mary would let you!" says Isobel staunchly and he is touched, so deeply touched by the obvious regard and faith she has in Mary now. But it's obvious that she hasn't considered Mary's actions yet in the light of today's revelations.
"It doesn't matter whether she would or she wouldn't have, Mother," he says bitterly. "Mary doesn't stay with me because she loves me – although she does love me, of course. She stays because she has to. She has no other choice. Carlisle was right about this part, at least."
Isobel looks at him sternly.
"I find myself forced to use your own words against you. Don't be unjust, Matthew. I see this girl with you every day and the last thing I can say is that she stays by your side out of obligation. Tell me, do you truly believe that if you weren't already married, she would have abandoned you?"
"No, she probably wouldn't have. But you don't realise how principled and loyal she is," counters Matthew quietly. "She probably would have seen it as her duty anyway."
"And if the tables were turned and she suffered a horrible, life changing injury instead of you, would it be just your loyalty and principles which would have kept you by her side?"
Matthew doesn't even have to consider this scenario to be certain of his answer.
"No," he says firmly. "You know how I love her. I would never have abandoned her, whatever happened to her."
He knows of course where Mother is going with it but her next question still strikes him squarely in the chest.
"Then do you truly believe that her love for you is less? Why can't you really accept that Mary stays with you out of love, married or not?"
He takes a deep breath and answers honestly.
"Because look at me, Mother," he says with raw pain, gesturing at his body. "How can anybody want to stay tied to this? How can I not feel guilty for trapping her in this kind of marriage, however unintentionally? I should have shown more restraint and waited until the end of the war to marry her. Doing it there and then was simply selfish of me and, as the subsequent events have shown, ultimately wrong."
"It might have been foolish and impulsive," says Isobel decidedly. "But it wasn't wrong. And as for how anybody can want to stay tied to you as you are now…"
She takes a shaky breath.
"Matthew, the answer to that question is very easily. You said it yourself; you would not have even thought of leaving Mary in such a position. She loves you, just like I do, and Robert. You're so much more to us than what your body is capable of. I know this is all so very hard for you – and in different ways for Mary, for me, for Robert – but neither of us could ever wish to abandon you because of this. Do you know why? Because to do so would make any of us more miserable than being with you with all your current physical limitations. I hope you will realise it, my boy, before you manage to alienate the amazing woman you married not by any disability of yours, but by pushing her constantly away."
She squeezes his hand and leaves the room, letting him ponder her words on his own.
xxx
Mary is honestly relieved to be summoned to the Dower House with her mother after lunch and to face them both at the same time. At least she won't have to repeat herself.
Cora would have probably gotten to her first, but after her quarrel with Matthew Mary took precaution of hiding in the Temple of Diana and allowing herself time to both sulk in peace and steel herself for inevitable confrontations. She is as ready now as she can possibly be.
"So that is why you wouldn't break things off with him, come hell or high water!" exclaims Cora as soon they all sit down and Violet dismisses Pratt. "What I don't understand is, why haven't you just told us and let us all hope that this outcome could be still avoided?"
"I gave you no such hope," answers Mary primly. "I was always adamant that I will be married to Matthew. You just chose not to listen."
Violet speaks before Cora can get enough breath to tell her obstinate, defiant daughter quite what she thinks of that statement.
"Your mother asks a very reasonable question," she says, earning herself an astonished look from her daughter-in-law. "Why keep it secret and let us work ourselves up on your behalf without any need?"
"We wanted to get married here, at Downton," explains Mary wearily. "This wedding in Amiens was only supposed to be a private arrangement, in case we didn't live to get a chance to have a proper one. We haven't told anybody after our return because we still hoped that we could have this church wedding in a few weeks, when Matthew is better. Nobody would have to know about the first one."
"Well, as much as I don't appreciate being made a fool of, I can see that your intentions were good," says Violet, her lips pursed in obvious displeasure. "Even if the whole plan was the exact kind of madness I thought you better than to engage in."
"You weren't there, Granny," counters Mary, her eyes flaring. "The whole world was mad there. Loving Matthew and getting married to him was the only bright, sane point in all of this."
"And so now you are going to push his chair through the rest of your life!" erupts Cora unhappily. "At least now I understand why you insisted on such fate."
Mary bristles.
"I would have done the same even if we weren't already married," she says firmly to her two frankly disbelieving relatives. "I know you can't understand that, or believe it is true, but I would have. It's not my marriage vows which keep me by his side."
She feels her hands start to shake and gets up promptly, unwilling to show weakness which would necessarily be misunderstood by them.
"Matthew and I are married and you know now. There is nothing we have to discuss right this moment. I will allow you to get used to the idea first."
She walks out of the room before either Violet or Cora has a chance to protest and stop her.
xxx
She runs into Sybil when she's passing the hospital on the way back.
"I'm done with my shift, so we can walk together," says Sybil, making it clear that she will accept no opposition. Not that Mary minds her sister's company. At least she won't be scolding her now.
"How are you holding up?" asks Sybil with concern when they leave the village behind. "I thought I was going to explode when I read that nasty piece of vitriol! Has Matthew taken it very hard?"
"Less than he should, I think," answers Mary tiredly. "He is not pleased, of course, to see all the accusations against him and his private medical information printed in a major newspaper for everyone to see, but it's not his biggest problem right now."
She looks at Sybil questioningly.
"Are you in a lot of hot water yourself for keeping our secrets?"
"I've been hiding in the hospital the whole day, so not yet," answers Sybil dryly. "But considering what kind of secrets you are keeping for me, I am going to withstand it all bravely."
"And hope that in return I won't throw you to the wolves when it matters?" quips Mary.
"If you were going to betray me to the family, you would have done it months ago," says Sybil confidently. "Before you started calling Tom by his Christian name."
"It was the cocoa," grumbles Mary. "It's impossible to maintain proper distance when you're drinking hot cocoa around the fire, covered in blankets."
Sybil sniggers and hugs Mary's arm affectionately.
"Of course it was the cocoa," she teases. "And not you being more romantic than snobbish after all."
"I don't have a romantic bone in my body," deadpans Mary. "After all, my own choices have always been coldly calculated and painfully rational. Just ask Mama and Granny."
xxx
Aunt Rosamund shows up just before dinner.
"I couldn't stay in London with that making circles," she announces, brandishing the newspaper with the headline they all got well fed up with since morning. "At least not until I know what I am supposed to tell all the people calling me to get the facts straight."
Since they haven't agreed on the version for the public yet, they first sit down to dinner. Mary is still not talking to Matthew after their earlier quarrel, but seeing Cora's eyes on her she changes her mind about keeping away from him and defiantly sits on the chair on his right instead. Whatever problems they may have, they are private and nobody's business but their own. This dinner, on the other hand, calls for a united front. Matthew looks at her curiously, clearly too wise to believe himself forgiven, but even more wisely decides not to comment, even though he does raise an eyebrow when Mary starts the dinner with a healthy gulp of wine.
Her heart squeezes painfully at seeing him so handsome in his mess kit, even though he is still so pale and thin. Her own injuries, though much less serious than his, produced their own share of vexation when it came to dressing for dinner. Anna did perform her usual miracle with Mary's hairstyle, so the shorn patch of hair and the scar on her head are made invisible, but there is not much to do about the rather unsightly scar on her arm. It is just too high to be covered by her glove and too low to be hidden by most of the fashionable sleeves. Mary did consider having more long-sleeved evening gowns made but, in the end, decided she preferred to be a fashionable woman with a scar than a frumpy one. Tonight is likely to be fraught with tension and confrontations; she needs her armour of good looks and meticulously chosen clothes and accessories to get through it.
She nearly regrets her choice when she notices Matthew staring at it as the dinner starts. The last thing she wants is to give him more gloomy subjects to ponder.
"Does it still hurt?" he asks quietly, unwilling to draw the attention of others to his question.
She shrugs; happy she can do it now without pain.
"Occasionally," she admits with studied indifference. "When the weather changes or when I pull the skin by some careless movement. I have less strength in this arm than in the other, but Sybil says it should pass if I apply myself more in physiotherapy."
He remains silent for a moment and then continues.
"And the head wound?"
"Shorn hair is still the most annoying consequence of it," says Mary flippantly. "Although I do get occasional headaches."
She bites her tongue before she lets it slip that she used to attribute bouts of nausea and dizziness to it as well – the doctors warned her she should expect some after all – but now thinks that Anna's right and the pregnancy is a more likely culprit. So not the time and place to drop this particular bomb, considering she is not yet absolutely sure.
"Why are we even discussing it now? Dinner with the family is hardly an ideal setting for such subjects. Especially today."
"I'm sorry," Matthew shakes his head ruefully, "It's just that seeing your scar like that reminded me of what you suffered and how little attention I paid to it. I'm afraid I was so busy with pitying myself that I rather neglected you."
"You did," says Mary with a pointed look. "But it's still not the time or place to discuss any of it."
Her plan to fortify herself with wine turns out to be justified as soon as the soup is served.
"I gather the article is true then?" asks Lady Rosamund, apparently deciding there is no reason to keep this conversation away from servants' ears considering they all must have read the article themselves by now.
"In essentials only," answers Mary after taking another sip of wine. "We did get married in France. Everything else is wild speculation and egregiously inaccurate."
"Why have you kept it a secret then?"asks relentless Rosamund and Mary doesn't like the glint in her eyes or the implication in her tone in the slightest.
"Because it was private," she answers through gritted teeth. "And to be honest, we planned to have a proper wedding here. Which obviously won't happen now."
"Which is something you should have expected!" bursts out Cora angrily. Mary is not sure if she is more put out about the fact that Mary is in fact irrevocably tied to Matthew or because their elopement cheated her out of organising their wedding. "Honestly, what have you been thinking! It should have been obvious to you that somebody would learn of it and it would get public!"
"You're making assumptions that they were thinking at all," says Violet disapprovingly. "Which is bold in light of today's revelations."
"Honestly, Mary, I am surprised at you," says Aunt Rosamund with condescending amusement which is somehow worse than Mama's anger or Granny's disapproval. "We all knew that Matthew can be impulsive in those matters. But you? You should have known better."
Mary feels herself start to tremble in fury. They all keep talking, keep criticising her and Matthew, calling their actions foolish – and they don't know anything! They don't understand, will never understand, and yet they dare to push into matters which are so wildly beyond their comprehension it should be obvious to anyone with a brain that they should stay out of it! She sees Sybil, seated opposite her, opening her mouth to speak, but before she can it is Matthew's voice jumping to her defence and Matthew's hand on hers, stilling its tremble.
"We got married out of love," he states calmly and clearly. "And because we lived through hell and we were only facing more of it. Our love was the only thing keeping me sane at times and I know Mary felt the same. It probably was foolish to attempt to keep it secret, but we did it because we wanted to celebrate that day with all of you, as we should – only we were very afraid that we were not going to have the chance to do it."
"And are you satisfied with the outcome of your actions?" asks Cora bitterly and Mary opens her mouth, intending to be the one to speak, because the last thing she wants is for Matthew to answer that particular question, but he squeezes her hand reassuringly and speaks first.
"I am obviously not satisfied with my injury and the resulting condition," he answers with the same calmness. Mary has no idea where he is getting it, but she is envious. She also has no idea where her usual composure has gone, her hand is still trembling under Matthew's fingers. "But I could never regret loving Mary or marrying her. The three days we had together were the happiest of my life."
It takes all remnants of self-control Mary has left not to gape at him in astonishment.
"Well said!" says Isobel, finally getting the opportunity to join the conversation. "And I think this news deserves a toast. We have all been stunned to learn of it, but isn't it ultimately what we've all wished to see? Mary and Matthew resolving their differences and getting married?"
"Yes!" exclaims Sybil, lifting her glass. "A toast! To Mary and Matthew! Let your love and happiness triumph against all odds and be an inspiration to us all!"
They do all raise their glasses, muttering "Mary and Matthew" more or less resentfully, but the tension in the room is far from dissolving. Violet gives Sybil a side-eye.
"I hope you mean inspiration in a general, not literal sense. One elopement in the family is more than enough."
"Don't worry, Granny," answers Sybil sweetly. "Whenever I marry, I don't intend to do it in secret."
Violet, shrewd woman that she is, eyes her even more closely.
"Why don't I find it reassuring?"
Thankfully for Sybil's secret, Rosamund picks this moment to return the discussion to its main topic.
"What I still need to know is how we are going to handle it. Obviously, denying seems out of the question. So what do we say?"
"What's wrong with what Matthew said earlier?" asks Isobel, putting herself firmly on their side and earning herself Mary's heartfelt gratitude. "They were two young people very much in love and facing unimaginable horrors. They're hardly the only couple in such circumstances."
"There is the matter of the article's implications for the haste and secrecy," answers Rosamund who clearly has a death wish. Mary feels Matthew's fingers tightening on her own in a warning but if he thinks she is going to sit there and let a member of their own family insult him like that he's delusional.
"You mean Carlisle's lies?" she says, staring at her aunt with all the derision she's capable of and she's capable of plenty. "The revenge he took for me throwing him over? Whenever somebody comes to you for gossip this is exactly what you may say: that he's a scorned, vengeful, pathetic little upstart who couldn't get an earl's daughter to marry him, so he put the name of her chosen husband, a war hero, through the mud instead."
Everybody is silent for a while after her outburst. Matthew's hand holding hers is the only thing stopping them all from noticing how much it still shakes; she has her second hand hidden in her lap.
"Of course this is what we're going to say," says Robert authoritatively. "We all know this is a pack of lies. We all know Matthew and he wouldn't have done any of it."
"It is unfortunate that the end of his betrothal to Lavinia and the beginning of the one to Mary are so close together though," points out Rosamund, but that seems to finally wake Cora and Violet up to the realisation that they have a scandal to avert here and quarrelling over what has already happened shouldn't take priority.
"The announcement was published months later," states Cora firmly. After all, she was the one to organise it and she knows it's been done properly. "Whatever private agreement existed between them or not, is irrelevant."
"Are you sure you haven't been charmed by that upstart, Rosamund?" asks Violet with deceptive mildness. "Because it seems to me that you're putting more credence into his poisonous hints than into your own family. And if one takes your penchant for rough diamonds into account..."
Rosamund's eyes flash.
"Don't you dare bring Marmaduke into it!"
The distraction works well enough that Matthew can bend his head towards Mary and ask her quietly whether she's alright.
"I'm not," she admits, too shaken to dissemble. She doesn't think he would believe her if she tried to lie anyway; not with her hand still trembling in his. "But I can't say why."
"Because your nerves have been so strained by it all that you can't contain it anymore," answers Matthew matter-or-factly. "It will pass, with rest and some peace and quiet."
"It never happened to me at the front," says Mary, eyeing her trembling hands disdainfully. "Not even during a bombing."
"You were probably too focused on survival to break down," says Matthew, his eyes getting that faraway look they usually do when he mentions the war. "But it happened to me a couple of times."
Mary decides not to ask what brought him to such a point. At least not here, at the dinner table.
"I'm sorry," he says, shaking off his memories. "I'm so sorry for what I've said before. I didn't really mean it."
"In your room or here?" asks Mary scathingly. "Because those two statements were rather contradictory."
Matthew opens his mouth to answer and this is of course the moment Carson starts serving the meat dish. Mary thinks it's par for the course that they don't get another moment of privacy till the dinner is over.
xxx
As much as Matthew wants to whisk Mary away straight after dinner is over and talk it all over with her, he realises he owes Robert an explanation. Now that the proverbial cat is out of the bag, he does feel guilty for making Robert undoubtedly feel betrayed by Matthew's actions, and thinking about everything Robert has done for him since his injury only makes it worse.
"I know I owe you a huge apology, Robert," Matthew starts as soon as Carson leaves them with their brandy and cigars. "One which I do not expect you to accept, but I want to make it anyway."
"It's not necessary," says Robert dismissively. "Mary already explained to me what you were thinking and planning, and you added your own explanations at dinner. I was at war; I know how it adds urgency to one's actions and emotions."
But though Robert's words are gracious and forgiving, Matthew can see that he doesn't mean them, not truly. There is tension in him, his face closed off in totally uncharacteristic fashion. Whatever emotions Robert normally feels, they are plainly displayed on his face, but it is painfully obvious that he is making his best effort to hide it now, probably because he wants to forgive Matthew – he just can't, not yet.
"Nevertheless, I must," says Matthew firmly, holding Robert's gaze. "Eloping with Mary was one thing – as I said at dinner, I can't regret this part and I never will – but continuing to keep our marriage secret from you was wrong, for all the best intentions which stood behind it. You had a right to know that your daughter got married, that she is married to someone in my condition, with everything which it entails, and I denied you this knowledge. In fact, Mary wanted to come clean with it, at least among the family, and it was I who insisted on waiting."
"Why?" asks Robert, looking at him intently.
Matthew takes a bracing sip of his brandy before he answers. When he does, this time he avoids Robert's eyes.
"Because I was not ready to face it," he says quietly. "To have it acknowledged that Mary is irrevocably tied to me as I am now. You are aware of what it all means for her and for Downton. Keeping it secret did not change anything, of course… But as long as nobody knew, I could avoid thinking about it all for a time."
Robert inhales sharply.
"My dear boy," he says and his voice is barely steady. "You must know that however crossed and disappointed I am that you two got married without my presence or knowledge, I also can't regret that this marriage took place. It's very hard for me to accept what has happened to you, but I know that you are a good man who loves my daughter dearly and is equally dearly loved by her in return. I know that you will treat her well, as I've known it for years. The entail is far from the only reason I've always wanted to see you two married. It may take me some time to get over my anger and my disappointment, but I know I will do that, because ultimately this marriage makes me so very happy."
"Even now?" asks Matthew, truly stunned by his words.
"Even now," Robert nods solemnly. "I know of no reason to change my mind about it."
xxx
Mary and Matthew retire from the small library as soon as he and Robert join the ladies. Matthew is genuinely tired after sitting in his chair for so long and all the tension at dinner and during his talk with Robert, but he's also impatient to make things right with Mary. Since she is equally impatient to clear the air, she practically jumps to push his chair to his room, where they can have some privacy. It's only when they're there that it strikes them that now, with their marriage being known to everybody who matters and plenty of people who don't, there is nothing at all improper about them sequestring themselves in a bedroom together.
Matthew starts his explanation as soon as Maty sits down on the only chair in the room, taking her hand in his. He takes some courage from the fact that she doesn't pull it away.
"I spoke the truth in the dining room. There is not a moment when I don't regret my injury. It is true that I can't see how I am ever going to be happy again, or how I am going to make you happy. I am very bitter about it all. But I am selfish, Mary. I could never regret marrying you because that would mean that I would never have those three days with you and I could never give them up. They truly were the happiest days of my life."
"Mine too, my darling. Mine too," she answers, squeezing his hand. "But you said…"
"I know that I said that I do regret it," Matthew interrupts her hastily. "But it's not so straightforward. I do regret, bitterly, that we are in this miserable situation. I feel terribly guilty that my actions back in France made it necessary and irrevocable. But at the same time, I am terribly glad that you are my wife, because this remains the best thing which has ever happened to me. The problem is all those feelings are mixed together in my head and spill over in words even when I really don't want them to."
"The difference is," starts Mary carefully. "That I don't see our future as bleakly as you do. Obviously it can never be what it was then... But it doesn't mean we cannot find a different kind of happiness."
Matthew scoffs, pulling his hand away and gripping the armrests of his chair with both fists.
"How?" he asks despairingly. "When I'm perfectly useless?"
"You're still the man I love," she says fiercely.
"And I love you, with all my heart," he answers, letting go of the armrest to caress her cheek."But I can't make love to you. I will never again be able to love you like I did then. Don't you miss it?"
"I do," answers Mary earnestly, holding his gaze with hers and wishing desperately that he will believe her. "Desperately. But darling... I could never be happy with anyone else, no matter if they are whole or not. I want you. And I've got you, despite all odds. So yes, I believe that I can be happy – that we can be happy – if you let us."
He stares at her for a long while before he comes to a decision.
"Then I will do my very best to try," he swears finally and Mary thinks her heart will leap out of her chest, it is beating so fast. "I still don't see how we can manage to achieve that, but I will keep trying to find a way for our marriage to work."
She can't find the words to express what she feels in response to this promise, so she kisses him deeply instead, thrilled beyond measure when he kisses her back with the same passion their kisses have always seemed to ignite in them.
"Can I stay with you tonight?" she asks breathlessly and immediately realises that she's made a mistake when he stiffens. She hastens to backtrack before she ruins everything. "Not if you don't want to. It's just... I so miss sleeping with you holding me. It kept some of the nightmares away."
He looks up at her then, his face more startled than it should be, really. She did mention her dreams to him before.
"Do you have so many of them?" he asks and the real concern in his voice pacifies her a bit.
"Every night," she says bitterly. "If I sleep at all. Sometimes I'm just lying there, exhausted but alert, hating my bedroom and every second in it."
She doesn't tell him how sometimes she wakes up from a dream of Andy's dead body on top of her, the dugout collapsing all over them among the echo of her screams, only to see the red walls of her room and get awfully realistic flashbacks to Pamuk's body in nearly the same position, his dark eyes staring at her accusingly, his member still inside her. On those nights she doesn't go back to sleep at all, leaving the light on until sunrise, and attempting to read to distract herself from the memories.
As much as she viscerally hates those nights, she hates the ones when she desperately searches for Matthew only to find him dead even worse. And there are of course the truly horrible ones in which she shoots him dead herself.
Matthew obviously sees something on her face or in her eyes which tells him enough.
"Oh my darling," he says, visibly stricken. "I'm so sorry."
"What about yours?" she asks, uncomfortable. There is nothing to be done about hers, since obviously sharing a bed is off the table for now, so what's the point of dwelling on it? It is what it is.
She still wants to know whether it is so bad for him as well. He needs his rest more than her if he is going to ever get some of his strength back.
Matthew looks at her reproachingly, clearly disagreeing with her dismissal of her own struggles, but answers honestly.
"Nearly every night as well," he says, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Sometimes I flail about so much I nearly fall out of bed. Another reason you should stay away from me at night."
"Then you need a bigger bed," she points out, eyeing his narrow one critically and ignoring for now his statement about her staying away. She intends to choose her battles one at a time. Right now he promised to search for ways for them to be happy, to have a proper marriage and a future, and it's such a huge change from what their situation has been just this morning that she scarcely dares to believe it's true. They will get back to their sleeping arrangements later.
He snorts.
"No place for one in this room," he says and he's right. He barely can manoeuvre his chair around as it is.
Mary frowns. She hates her bedroom with a passion and his is barely bigger than a cupboard...
"Who says we have to stay in our rooms at all?" she asks, her mind busy analysing different possibilities. "We're married and everybody knows that now. We should get our own place."
Matthew startles again in surprise.
"Where? How?" he asks bitterly, but Mary waves a hand at him.
"Leave that to me," she says confidently and kisses him again, partially to silence the long list of reasons why he considers her idea hopeless, partially because she is simply thrilled that she can do it again.
Her heart flutters when he kisses her back.
xxx
The nights are the worst when it comes to missing Mary.
He lies in his bed, unable to even turn properly without help, and craves her presence by his side. His very body, never mind his mind, remembers vividly how it felt to hold her in his arms, to feel her head resting on his chest, her steady breath lulling him to sleep with the simple assurance that she was there, she was safe, she loved him. He needs her. He needs her so much. For a moment, he considers asking her to stay with him tomorrow – after all the cat is out of the bag, everyone knows they are married, there would be nothing improper in spending the nights together, keeping the nightmares at bay. But then he imagines her actually lying next to those alien things which used to be his legs, which he intellectually knows are still his legs, even though they don't feel like his legs – he doesn't feel them at all, really, and is continuously surprised to see them there, even after all those weeks – and he shudders in revulsion. And there are of course all the other aspects of being together which he refuses to dwell on right now. No, he won't do that to her or to himself, he can't.
He did promise to do anything to make their marriage work, to make Mary as happy as he can and he will – but he has no idea yet how to get over this particular hurdle.
xxx
Mary accepts her morning post from Carson with apprehension, wholly justified when she sees that one of the letters is from Lavinia Swire. She promptly decides to read her letters in the privacy of her bedroom.
Ever brave, she opens Lavinia's first.
"Dear Mary,
I'm sorry not to have sent you congratulations when your engagement was announced, but I think you will understand that I was not yet ready for such a gesture. Let me atone for it now by offering you and Matthew my most sincere congratulations on your marriage. I am so very sorry to hear how severe Matthew's injury is, but unlike that scoundrel I am absolutely certain that you two will share more happiness even in such circumstances than he will ever be able to experience in his whole life.
Mary, I've never been so furious as I was when I was reading that vile article. Sir Richard is lucky he did not name me in it or I would have sued him for using my relationship with Matthew like that. I don't know how much Matthew has told you about what went between us – judging from how little he told me about things between the two of you before the war I suspect not much – but he's always been honest with me. I loved him very dearly, as you well know, and I mourned the end of our engagement for months, but he has never given me a reason to think myself betrayed. I was not blind to his feelings for you, but I know that as soon as he realised he was going to act on them he came to break things off with me first. I know that until then he sincerely believed he was going to marry me, even though, considering what we know now, it would have been a horrible idea. I think I will always love him a little, even though I am reconciled to the way things went between us. But to see this brave, utterly honourable man so besmirched by that despicable villain and when he is recovering from such terrible injuries too! Oh, Mary, if I can only help you two in any way to defend Matthew's name or to punish Sir Richard for his actions, please just let me know. I can not think about it without shaking in sheer rage.
I sincerely hope that Matthew will recover fast and as much as possible. Please convey my greetings to him and Isobel, as well as my best wishes for them both. Please believe that I wish you only the best as well and still consider you my friend. I can never forget how kind you were to me when I know now how much it must have cost you.
With all my love for you all,
Lavinia Swire"
Mary puts the letter down on her vanity, truly humbled by its contents. Matthew really has always had good taste in women.
Pity the same can't be said for her taste in men, she thinks with a scowl, faces of Duke of Crowborough, Kemal Pamuk and Sir Richard floating in front of her eyes. Her scowl deepens when she thinks about the revenge the last of them brought upon her. Sir Richard clearly knew how to hurt her most deeply when he decided to aim his attack against Matthew instead of her.
She picks Lavinia's letter, filled with the rage matching her own, and makes a decision.
She won't let that bastard get away with it.
xxx
Her determination only grows as she is waiting for her call to get through. Sir Richard is not going to know what hit him when she will be done with him.
"Mr Gregson," she says calmly when she is finally connected. "This is Lady Mary Crawley. Would you be interested in another interview?"