AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have been travelling without proper access to internet and unfortunately fell behind with responding to reviews. If yours was one of them, I sincerely apologise and promise to catch up soon. Hearing from you is the greatest pleasure of publishing my fanfics and I truly appreciate each and every review I get.
I was going to finish the Gordon arc in this chapter, but it got way too long, so I had to cut it in two. I should be able to post the second part by the end of the week, since most of it is already written. In the meantime, I hope you will enjoy this one!
There is no way the news of Mary's turn would not spread all over Downton, so unsurprisingly there is a whole parade of concerned visitors.
Sybil is first, informed by the efficient network of other nurses.
"What on Earth has possessed you to confront Gordon by yourself?" she chides, sitting on the edge of Mary's bed and staring at her with a disapproving frown.
Mary rolls her eyes.
"The flashback had nothing to do with me confronting that fraud," she says impatiently. "It was an unfortunate accident that he alluded to the whole sorry episode; he claims he had no idea about it and this might be the only thing he said I actually find believable."
Sybil's frown does not lose any of its ferocity.
"But why have you done it at all? You're not supposed to expose yourself to stressful situations."
Mary huffs with annoyance, utterly uncowed by her sister's tone or expression.
"It truly wasn't so stressful in itself; I'm hardly as fragile as you all suddenly take me for," she complains with exasperation. "It's ironic that it's Edith who treats me with the biggest respect."
Sybil's eyes narrow in suspicion.
"What does Edith have to do with it?"
Mary sighs.
"She goaded me into talking with him," she admits, raising her hand to stop Sybil from crying out in indignation. "Yes, I know I should have known better than to fall for it. Still, has Matthew told you what I learnt?"
"I didn't give him a chance," says Sybil, her expression still thunderous, although she makes her voice deliberately light. "I was anxious to see how you are."
"I'm perfectly alright," insists Mary stubbornly. "I'm only in bed because Matthew looked like he was going to keel over if I wasn't."
"At least one of you has some good sense," mutters Sybil. "So, what have you learnt?"
Mary's eyes shine triumphantly as she tells Sybil about Gordon's faulty knowledge of her childhood game with Patrick and its significance. Sybil nods in full agreement and quite a lot of relief.
"I knew he couldn't be Patrick, but it's nice to have it confirmed," she pauses, thinking it through. "But whoever he is, Gordon must have been close to Patrick to know so many anecdotes about us and remember them so well. I'm sure I couldn't tell you half so many details about some acquaintance's cousins."
"Exactly!" agrees Mary eagerly. "I'm not sure if you know, but Papa had personal items from Patrick's flat brought to Downton after it was closed. They must be in the attics. WIll you come with me to search for them? Maybe there will be some trace of our elusive major."
She sits up, throwing the blankets off her, only to have Sybil pull them back over her.
"You are going nowhere right now," she says sternly, unmoved by Mary's indignant protest. "Mary, you had a very bad episode not even an hour ago. You are supposed to rest and relax now, for yourself and for the baby. I will go to the attics with you tomorrow after breakfast and not a moment sooner and don't even think of going there without me. I will sic Isobel on you if you do. Or Granny. Or both of them."
Mary glares at her heatedly, but the threat is scary enough to make her settle back in bed, even if in extremely bad grace.
xxx
Matthew looks up at Sybil when she enters the sitting room. He is sitting on the sofa, letting his aching shoulders and back rest against soft cushions after the effort of keeping himself upright in the chair and the intensive physio session he had before Mary's panic attack. It would be better if he lied on his stomach for a bit, but he is too antsy to try that now, too anxious; so he asked William to help him transfer to the sofa instead. He finds it calming somehow to sit like he used to before his injury – on a sofa like a normal person, not in his blasted chair – although the illusion is immediately shattered when his sister-in-law comes in and he is unable to get up like any man should when finding himself in the presence of a lady.
He is too worried though to spare more than a silent curse for his useless legs.
"How is she?" he asks anxiously and relaxes slightly when Sybil's mouth turns into a wry smirk.
"Stubborn," she says dryly. "Reckless. Unwilling to acknowledge or accept her own limits."
Despite it all, Matthew finds himself smiling as well.
"So, perfectly herself," he comments and exchanges understanding looks with Sybil who sits down on the sofa next to him.
Before they get the opportunity to talk further, Anna comes in to announce a nervous looking Edith.
"How is Mary?" she asks, taking a seat in the armchair by Sybil and wringing her hands. "I wanted to come at once, but I thought it might be better to give you a moment to settle first."
"She's resting now, but she seems to be much better," answers Matthew, only to be interrupted by Sybil, who glares at Edith something fierce.
"No thanks to you! What the hell have you been thinking, goading Mary into confronting Gordon? How could you make her risk her health like that?!"
Matthew stares at Sybil in shock, only to turn back to Edith. Her guilty expression is confirmation enough and his blood boils with all the strength of his earlier fear for Mary.
"I only wanted her to talk with Patrick!" exclaims Edith defensively. "It was all an accident; Patrick didn't know about Mary being in that dugout and he never intended to harm her in any way. She just made him so angry that he lashed out, but he could not predict that she would react so strongly!"
"But you still endangered her," says Matthew quietly, fighting with all the strength of will he possesses to keep calm. "Neither you or Major Gordon could predict that she would react quite like that, that's true, but you knew she is not supposed to be exposed to stress; that it could be potentially dangerous for her. Telling her about Major Gordon's claims was a huge gambit on my part, but I was as careful as I could be and she was dealing with it fairly well; only for that incident to set her back."
"Well, she didn't have to listen to me! I didn't drag her there, it was her decision!"
"She is shell-shocked, Edith, she won't always be making the best decisions!" snaps Matthew, although he sees Edith's point. God knows that Mary always does what she wants, come hell or high water. Still, none of it would have happened if not for Edith's interference; Mary had no desire to ever talk with Gordon before, happy enough to dismiss him without hearing him out. "You were there, Edith, you saw her. How can you claim she is alright? That we don't need to take into account how truly fragile she is?"
"Probably because she doesn't care," jumps in Sybil with wholly uncharacteristic hostility. Both Edith and Matthew gape at her in surprise. "Just as she didn't when she wrote that letter."
Edith recoils as if slapped and goes instantly pale. Her eyes dart between Sybil and Matthew. For a moment, she looks like she wants to deny it, to claim ignorance of what Sybil is accusing her of, but what she sees in their expression apparently convinces her it would be pointless.
"How long have you known?" she says, defeat mixed with resentment. "Since France? I assume Mary told you there, you two grew so close, but did she tell you what she did to me in revenge?"
"She didn't tell me anything!" exclaims Sybil furiously. Matthew doesn't think he has ever seen her like that. "I didn't even know about what happened to her that night, never mind anything which came after, until we came back and I demanded to know why she was so mad at you! She was being blackmailed with having an untrue, scandalous story about her published, all because you spread it in the first place, and I was defending you! She never told me who got the story out, I learnt from Matthew a few days ago."
Edith's eyes flash.
"The story is true," she claims stubbornly. "It was wrong of me to write that letter, I won't deny that, but I didn't lie. She did it."
"You have no idea what happened!" cries Sybil before Matthew can. To be honest, he is so furious he is not even sure if he could get the words out. His hands are balled into tight fists. "Have you ever talked with Mary about it? Have you even asked before writing that letter?"
"I heard her saying to Mama that she took him as a lover," answers Edith defiantly. "So no, she didn't tell me that, but I heard it from her own lips."
"That bastard forced her, Edith," says Matthew quietly, finally finding his voice. "She neither invited nor wanted him."
Edith starts, but in an instant her eyes narrow and her face sets stubbornly.
"I don't know what she told you, but it's not what she told Mama," she insists, her implication clear, and Matthew is glad, so very glad that Sybil is there to take the battle over again, because he knows that whatever he was going to say in response would necessarily be something he would end up regretting later.
"Because he manipulated her to think it was her own choice and Mama never asked for details!" Sybil explains, her face still furious. "I did! And when you get the whole story out of her, it is obvious that she was forced – that she was raped – and then he died on top of her while doing so – and she is so utterly convinced that it was all her fault she doesn't even see it for what it was – and you, Edith, you… You spread that story around London, despite not even knowing the full details, but even if your version was true, even if she took him as a lover out of lust, how could you – to do something so awful to your own sister – oh, Edith, I am so mad I could strangle you now, I swear I could!"
Edith's eyes grow wide at that and her chin trembles. Her fingers clutch nervously at the skirt of her dress.
"I regret it, alright?" she says in a wobbly voice. "I have regretted it for a long time, but it was five years ago! And yes, I shouldn't have done it, but Sybil, don't you remember how horrid Mary was to me then? What a bully all the time? And what she did when she learnt I sent this letter… She ruined my life! Has she told you that as well or has she only cast herself as a victim?"
"She told me," says Matthew firmly, his eyes set on Edith. "And I remember very well how you both used to be with each other before the war and I'm sure Sybil understands and remembers it so much better than me, but tell me, Edith, did she ever do anything to you on a comparable scale? You exposed her to public shame, ostracism and blackmail. This story will always be there, hanging over her head. Whether you believe our understanding of what really happened that night or not, do you honestly believe that what you did to her was justified?"
Edith closes her eyes and averts her face from them.
"No," she admits painfully. "But you don't know how horrid she was to me. How she constantly belittled me and put me down and all the time she was everybody's darling, whatever she did. I couldn't take it anymore. I just snapped."
"Matthew may not know enough, but I do," says Sybil and Matthew sees that she's calmed down, but is speaking with no less conviction, even if in a more moderate tone of voice. "And I remember you giving as good as you got. I remember you snooping through her things and sabotaging that dinner with the Duke of Crowborough when we all thought he wanted to propose to Mary. Yes, she was perfectly horrid to you, but don't pretend you weren't horrid to her. You were always fighting, ever since I was old enough to remember, but it wasn't one-sided."
"I was only defending myself from her!" insists Edith, but then slumps in defeat. "Oh, why do I even bother. You both hate me now and will take her side. I'm sorry I sent this letter and I am sorry that my attempt to get her to actually talk with Patrick and see that he can't be dismissed backfired like that, but whatever you say, I'm not the only vicious one here. She is better than she used to be – or maybe just too busy to torment me as much – and she is my sister, so I want to have a better relationship with her, because I like to think I grew up too, but you can't say that she didn't earn my anger then because she did. She truly, truly did."
She gets up, barely looking at them.
"I'm glad she is feeling better," she says on his way out. "I will tell Patrick, he's been terribly worried about her too."
Sybil falls against the cushions of the sofa with a groan as soon as Edith is gone.
"That," she says with conviction, "was simply horrible. Maybe Mary had a point about letting sleeping dogs lie, but I simply couldn't keep my mouth shut, it's been torturing me for days. How could she have done it?"
Matthew rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly.
"You heard her. She saw herself as Mary's victim and she just snapped, using what incomplete information she had to do maximum damage she could. To be fair, Mary really was often horrid to her."
Sybil shakes her head.
"Whatever she says, it was never one-sided. I had to live with them both and Edith could be just as malicious and as likely to start things as Mary was. God, I hate how they are with each other! Each of them can be so nice to other people."
"They both have been trying though, recently, at least until this whole business with Gordon," says Matthew thoughtfully. "Maybe there is still some hope for things to get better."
"If we manage to disprove his claims in a way which will be enough to convince Edith," answers Sybil gloomily. "Which might be harder to do than you think. She adored Patrick and is completely blinded by gratitude that he survived."
Matthew feels his resolve harder.
"It just adds another reason why we must succeed in it. We can't let him manipulate Edith's feelings like that."
Sybil looks at him curiously.
"You still care for her, despite what she's done?"
Matthew takes a moment to consider his answer properly.
"I will never look at her quite the same way as before," he said finally. "But of course I still care for her. She is my cousin and now my sister and I will always try to protect her if she needs it."
Sybil hugs him so tight he can hardly breathe, but somehow it's perfectly alright.
xxx
This must be the day for emotionally exhausting confrontations, thinks Matthew tiredly, because Robert and Cora come next, soon after Sybil has left, and it's obvious from the first glance at Robert's red face and the anger mixed with fear on it, that Matthew is in for it. He's glad he has asked William to help him transfer back to his wheelchair, at least he feels somehow less vulnerable when he has the ability to move freely around the house.
"How is she?" Robert demands before Matthew and Cora have the chance to exchange greetings.
"She's sleeping now," he answers. He has checked on her just before, aching to touch her and stroke her hair, but too afraid of disturbing her rest. "But she's much better."
"No thanks to you!" yells Robert furiously and Matthew instinctively recoils, even though he does not expect Robert to actually strike him, even if he has a right to do so. Matthew is not a father, not yet, but he imagines he would want to strike a man who endangered his child so stupidly.
For all he has been angry with Edith for instigating it all, he is three times as angry with himself and it's clear that Robert agrees.
"Now, Robert…" Cora starts saying, for all she is also visibly unhappy with the situation, but Robert pays her no heed.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he bellows at Matthew and Matthew would pay a fortune right now to be able to face it while standing straight, instead of pathetically looking up from the wheelchair. He agrees with Robert too, he really does, but he would still prefer to face his justified wrath like a man. "I told you, Dr Clarkson told you – even your own mother told you! – repeatedly! – that Mary shouldn't be told about this whole debacle, that we need to keep it away from her for her own good – that she is too fragile right now to deal with that – and what have you done?! You put her in danger, you put your baby in danger, and what for?!"
Matthew is not sure what to answer – that he thought it was wrong to keep such an important information, concerning her future so hugely and so directly, a secret from her? He did, he still does, but how can he defend his actions with the memory of Mary's unseeing eyes and her gasping breath piercing his brain?
As it turns out, he doesn't have to, because Mary comes in, dressed in her blue silk robe and does it for him.
"He thought I deserve to be treated with respect and he was right," she says firmly, glaring at her father. "I had the right to know about it, especially since you for some unfathomable reason decided to treat those absurd claims seriously."
"Mary!" exclaims Robert, looking at her in surprise. "Matthew said you're asleep."
"Oh, who could sleep in that unholy racket?" asks Mary peevishly and Robert has the good grace to look apologetic for losing the control of his voice like this. "I wasn't sleepy anyway. I know nobody believes me, but I truly am perfectly alright."
That statement doesn't fail to undo any progress there was in calming Robert's temper.
"It's because you're not alright!" he erupts immediately, his face growing alarmingly red. "The way they tell it, you went completely unresponsive and could not breathe at hearing a simple allusion to what you went through!"
Mary pales visibly, but her voice is steady when she responds.
"I know what happened, Papa, I was there. But I went to talk to him by my own decision and, truly, as much as it pains me to say it, it was not really his fault that I reacted like that. It could have happened in a conversation with anyone. So I don't see any reason for you to come to our house and yell at Matthew."
"It would not have happened if he didn't tell you about Gordon's claims in the first place!"
That alights Mary's temper instantly.
"I had the right to know!" she answers firmly. "Do you think I wouldn't have learnt anyway? It's Downton, Papa, does anything ever stay a secret here for long?"
For all the tension of this moment Matthew can't escape the thought that at least one secret, for all its travels through the world outside Downton, has been successfully kept from Robert for more than five years.
Any amusement coming from this thought can't last long though when he realises that this is precisely the secret which makes Mary say what she does. For all the extreme effort she took to keep it, it still came out and threatened to ruin her. Her point to her father very much stands.
But so does Robert's, he thinks with renewed doubts about the wisdom of his own actions.
Before they can continue their quarrel, Cora intervenes.
"Robert," she says quietly but sternly. "Mary needs peace and quiet. You are not helping right now."
Robert closes his mouth, his face a mix of shame and lingering anger, as Cora turns to Mary and coaxes her gently to go back to the bedroom. Mary acquiesces, but before she goes, she throws a distrustful look at her father.
"Don't you dare yell at Matthew again," she warns. "This is not his fault and I won't let you claim it is."
Matthew shakes his head ruefully. Her protectiveness of him would be funnier if he didn't feel he fully deserves Robert's wrath and more. Mary has it backwards, as usual; it is his job to protect her and today he has failed at it abysmally. Not to mention the fact that if he managed to keep her from going back to the front back in February, she would probably not be suffering so much now.
"Let's go to the library," he tells Robert. "It's further from the bedrooms, we will be less likely to disturb her from there."
Robert nods curtly and follows him as Matthew slowly wheels himself through the dining room until they reach their small library on the other side of the house.
"May I offer you some brandy?" asks Matthew. It's early for it, really, still before dinner, but he figures they both could use some. Robert nods, obviously feeling the weight of this day on his shoulders as well, so Matthew wheels himself to the low sideboard and pours them liquor from the crystal decanter placed there. Robert accepts his glass and sits down heavily in one of the green leather armchairs.
"You don't know," he says slowly, his gaze fixed upon the crystal glass in his hand, "and I dearly hope you'll never find out how it feels to have your child risk her life – to learn that she was nearly buried alive, that she was shot – or to see her suffering from lingering effects of a war you've spent sitting safely at home. How damn helpless it makes you feel to be completely unable to help her in any way or to protect her from any of it."
Matthew swallows the sip of his drink, the alcohol burning his throat.
"No, I don't know that," he agrees softly. "But I know how it feels for all of it to happen to the woman I love."
Robert waves a hand dismissively.
"You at least were there with her," he says bitterly. "You saved her, when she needed help. You can look at your actions with pride and your honour intact and I envy you that. I envy you your self-respect."
Matthew barely restrains laughter.
"What self-respect?" he asks with bitterness of his own. "Robert, look at me, really look at me, and tell me how much of that you would have left in my position."
Robert looks up at him, stricken.
"My dear boy!" he exclaims. "You can't truly think like that! You're getting better with every day!"
Matthew shrugs. He feels tired, so very tired.
"How can I not?" he asks rhetorically. "Robert, I am getting better and I hope that it will continue, but there is no escaping the fact that I will always remain dependent on the help of others. That Mary will never have a normal marriage with me or that the child she carries won't be our only one. That it is still questionable in what capacity, if ever, I will be able to go back to work and that if we don't disprove Gordon's claims I may have no way to provide for my family. I'm getting better, but instead of taking care of my family – Mary, our baby, Mother – I am the one in need of care. A burden."
"You're never that!" says Robert fiercely. "You fought honourably and were terribly injured and there is not a day I don't regret that it happened to you, but you aren't and will never be a burden. My boy, we are all glad that you survived and so incredibly proud of you."
It takes all Matthew has to keep his composure. He knows of course that Robert cares deeply for him – how could he not, with everything he's done for him since Matthew's return? – but still, hearing it all spoken plainly like that… To hear Robert speak of pride in him, even now… He knows Robert is sincere, his feelings are plain on his face and in his voice, he has never been the one to hide them, anyway, and Matthew is so incredibly touched that he can hardly speak.
"Thank you for that," he finally manages. "But you must see why it is hard for me to think otherwise."
"I know it's all terribly hard," says Robert painfully. "For all of us, but especially you. But I can't be sorry that you came back, despite all odds, and I know that the others think the same."
He laughs ruefully.
"Mary certainly made her opinion very clear on that, and on the fact that she's happy to be married to you."
"Yes," admits Matthew softly. "She certainly has."
He absentmindedly swirls the remaining liquid in his glass.
"Robert," he says. "I am sorry for going against your wishes and the general advice on keeping Gordon's claim from Mary's knowledge. I am terribly worried too how it's going to affect her health and possibly the baby's as well. It might have been a huge mistake to tell her. But I promised her honesty, I promised her I wouldn't keep secrets from her and I've seen how badly affected she was when I did keep them. I couldn't do it again, not with something so huge."
Robert exhales heavily.
"I am still angry," he says. "But I think she's right, she would have learnt anyway even if you didn't tell her and then there would be hell to pay."
"Oh yes, there would be," agrees Matthew feelingly and they share the companionable smiles of men who love Mary with all her fierceness very deeply indeed.
xxx
Mary reluctantly settles back in bed, her ears straining to hear any hint of what is happening between Papa and Matthew.
"Do you think they will be alright?" she asks Cora with a frown. "Matthew is in no shape for a quarrel right now; he is awfully cut up about it all."
"So is your father," points out Cora as she sits on the edge of Mary's bed. "You scared all of us terribly."
Mary scowls.
"It wasn't on purpose."
She doesn't say how terribly she managed to scare herself with what happened. The whole scene felt so real, so vivid – she really was convinced that she was there, that she could not breathe, that she was going to die – she can't imagine going through that again and yet now she is deadly afraid she might. That something is so irreparably broken in her head that she can be transported back to the worst moments of her life at any time and there is nothing she can do to stop it.
She does what she normally does when things get simply too hard to face – she deflects.
"You don't believe he is truly Patrick, do you? Because he isn't."
Cora sighs.
"I don't want him to be Patrick," she says candidly. "Which is not the same as being sure."
"Well, I am sure now," says Mary stubbornly. "He got some details very wrong in his conversation with me."
Cora shifts her weight on the mattress and reaches for Mary's hand.
"I hope you're right and it will be proven soon," she says. "I hate to think of you losing your future security too, after everything you've already lost and been through."
Mary looks at her mother in exasperation.
"You're not going to talk again about how unlucky it is that I am married to Matthew, are you?"
Cora shakes her head and strokes Mary's hand soothingly.
"I'm trying to calm you down, darling, not agitate you further," she points out with gentle humour. "But your life turned out much harder than I've ever expected for you and it has been consolation to me that at least you had a title, your beloved home and my fortune waiting for you in the future."
"I still do," insists Mary. "We will prove it."
"I believe we will, if he really isn't Patrick," agreed Cora. "But darling, you can't worry too much about it. Let your father investigate it with Murray. You are only three months pregnant, it is still such a vulnerable stage… You must take care or you may end up regretting it forever."
The pain in Cora's eyes is too acute to be caused just by her concern for Mary's baby who is still presumably completely fine, after all. Mary's heart clenches with compassion.
"Do you still blame yourself for this accident?" she asks hesitantly. They've never really talked about it, not once.
"Every day," answers Cora plainly. "I don't think of it all the time of course – not anymore – but there isn't a day I don't think of him at least once. So please, darling, be more careful. There isn't a greater pain than that."
Mary bites her lip. She is not sure if she agrees. She wants this child – she wants it desperately – but at this stage it's still a bit abstract for her. She thinks that she would be devastated if she lost this pregnancy, oh yes, she would, but she would be more sorry for what it meant for her and Matthew. Maybe it was different for her mother because she lost her pregnancy at the later stage than she is now, maybe because it was her fourth child, or maybe because they are fundamentally different people, but Mary knows what horrors inhabit her nightmares and as painful as it would have been to experience, losing that pregnancy is not her biggest fear.
She hates the thought of it happening, but she would survive it, if she had to.
She's been through worse.
But it still doesn't mean that she isn't going to do everything in her power to protect this baby, abstract as it is yet.
"I will be careful, Mama," she says softly. "Of course I will be. But I am stronger than you all think, truly."
"I know you are, my darling girl," says Cora with a tearful smile. "You've always been."
xxx
Mary does actually fall asleep before her mother leaves, but she wakes in the darkness, frightened and disoriented and alone, the echo of her hoarse scream still lingering in the air.
"Mary?" she hears Matthew's concerned voice calling her from his room and she doesn't even think, she just jumps out of her bed and runs to his. His bedside lamp is on and he leans awkwardly on one elbow, as if he was intending to get up and go to her himself – maybe he did, he managed it before after all in the same circumstances. She doesn't give him a chance this time, just gets into the bed and doesn't waste time before she is safely in his arms, clutching him tightly for dear life. He settles back against the pillows and starts stroking her back soothingly.
"Bad dream?" he asks quietly and she nods in response. She has no desire to speak about it and he doesn't ask, just sighs and continues the steady, comforting movements of his strong, slender hand on her back.
"I shouldn't sleep away from you," she says hoarsely. "I haven't intended to, I just fell asleep. Why haven't you come to my bed?"
"How could I?" Matthew asks incredulously. "I could hardly have William put me into your bed while you're already there!"
Mary blushes. For all her terrible awareness of Matthew's disability and everything it means, sometimes she still forgets, as she has right now. She simply hasn't thought that there was no way for him to join her without assistance.
"I'm glad you came here now though," he says, his tone conveying his forgiveness of her blunder. "I could hardly sleep without you. It was awful when I didn't have a chance for all those months, but now that I know I do… I am lost without you in my arms. Especially tonight."
"I'm sorry for scaring you," apologises Mary with more true guilt than she has felt the whole day. She can only imagine what Matthew felt at finding her so and dealing with all the memories it must have brought to the surface for him.
His arms tighten around her in response.
"You truly did, darling," he acknowledges heavily. "For a moment, I was terrified that I was going to lose you. That I won't be able to bring you out of it."
Mary shudders. She did see severe shellshock cases too, men so lost inside their heads that there was no way to reach them anymore. It was like there was no one left inside their bodies. Could she end up like that, so long after she left the front? She was convinced she was getting better, but this day shook her too.
"But you did," she says, suppressing her own fears. "You always save me when I need it."
"Except for the times when you save me," answers Matthew softly. "And I didn't manage to protect you when it truly counted. If I stopped you from going back there…"
Mary raises her head to glare at him.
"It was my choice," she reminds him firmly. "You did everything in your power to stop me."
Matthew smiles wryly.
"Which wasn't enough."
"No," agrees Mary, "it wasn't. Because there wasn't anything you could have done which would have stopped me then."
"Doesn't make me feel any less like I failed you then. Or that I am failing you now, in so many ways."
Mary closes her eyes, leaning against his chest.
"Oh Matthew," she says tiredly. "I really wish you stopped thinking like that."
"I know," Matthew bites his lip. "But it's not something I can help most of the time."
"We both came back damaged," points out Mary, even though she hates admitting it about herself, even in the privacy of her own head, never mind aloud. "Each of us in our own way. If you blame yourself for it, you should blame me just the same."
"I don't blame you," comes the immediate and predictable answer. "You did what you thought was the right thing to do and what happened to you as a result was terrible. I just feel scared and helpless that I can't help you more."
"Then why can't you give yourself the same grace?" asks Mary, not really expecting to get through to him, but determined to try. "It was a war. We both volunteered for it. What happened to you is no more your fault than what happened to me is mine."
Matthew remains silent for a long time, his hand still stroking Mary's back and she is half asleep by the time he finally answers.
"Because I'm afraid I made the wrong choice," he whispers, "and as a result ruined my own life and yours."
"You would've been called up anyway by Amiens," protests Mary sleepily. "This line of thinking is rather pointless."
Matthew laughs ruefully.
"I suppose it is," he rubs his forehead with his free hand. "I can't keep pondering it though. Maybe it would be different if I signed up for the right reasons, but you know it wasn't the case."
"I know," answers Mary bitterly. "It was because of me."
"No," disagrees Matthew. "It was because I was too proud, hurt and stupid – too much of a coward – to do anything else than running away. Things would have been much different if I trusted you more and was more willing to listen."
"Or if I wasn't too afraid to be honest with you or allowed others to increase my doubts," mumbles Mary, her eyelids growing heavy. "Haven't we agreed that it's pointless to dwell upon the past?"
"We did," admits Matthew with a sigh. "We did, darling. I'm sorry for keeping you awake with all this. You need sleep."
"You need it too. Would do you much more good than all this thinking," she points out somehow irritably and he laughs softly again.
"You're probably right," he admits, reaching to turn off the light. "Goodnight, my darling."
Mary is asleep before she can answer him.
xxx
Matthew wakes up first the next morning, poorly rested and with a raging headache.
They both had nightmares that night, although by some miracle he managed to avoid waking Mary with his.
Cradling sleeping Mary in his arms, his mind still haunted by the memory of her screams and his own terror, he suddenly feels such deep hatred for Gordon that he manages to shock himself. He knows that, objectively, Gordon didn't attempt to harm Mary or bring back Matthew's own trauma to the surface on purpose, but he is trying to harm Matthew's family in a broader sense and what happened yesterday was just one of the consequences of it. Gordon asked to be assigned to the convalescent home at Downton specifically and did so in a deliberate attempt to facilitate his fraud by supplementing whatever pre-existing knowledge of Patrick and the Crawley family he possessed with getting to know Downton and them personally. He wouldn't even be here, disturbing their peace and endangering everything Matthew holds most dear if he didn't plan it and Matthew hates him for it, hates him for Mary's terrifying turn, for his own nightmares, for all the worry and dilemmas Robert is facing with this whole debacle, for duping Edith and playing with her feelings; for all of it, really.
He hugs Mary tighter, gently, ever so gently, as to not wake her up, but still feel that she is here, in his arms, alive and safe and his, and vows to do everything in his power to protect his family from that threat.
They will fight back.