“You must be careful not to break Sybil’s heart. I think she has a crush on you,” Mary said fixing Matthew with a piercing stare as they sat in the dining room eating the sandwiches Mrs. Patmore had prepared.
“Well, that’s something no one would accuse you of,” he said putting down his glass.
“Oh, I don’t know….” He noticed her hand go directly to the necklace she was wearing. She always did that when she was anxious or uncomfortable. He wondered what she could be anxious about now.
“I assume you speak in the spirit of mockery.”
“You should have more faith!” She said, sounding a little surprised. Matthew wasn’t sure what type of game she could be playing, but he wasn’t going to let her get away with it.
He leaned in closer to her. “Shall I remind you of some of the choicest remarks you made about me when I first came here?” She glanced down, looking almost ashamed. He repositioned so that he could regain eye contact with her, “because they live in my memory as fresh as the day they were spoken.”
“Oh, Matthew,” she smiled and shook her head, ever so slightly, still fiddling with her necklace, “what am I always telling you? You must pay no attention to the things I say.”
They stared at each other for the briefest moment, before coming together in a passionate kiss. Matthew felt Mary’s hand go almost immediately to his neck; soon her fingers were inching their way into his hair, her thumb gently caressing his cheek. His hands automatically went to her, one on her waist and the other to her cheek, his fingers brushing against her hair. She shifted in her chair, moving closer to him. He tightened his grip on her waist and felt her lean into him, encouraging him. Her other hand gripped the lapel of his jacket. His mind raced with need for her, all other thoughts completely abandoning him. He could feel his fingers tingling with excitement where they touched her bare skin. It was so soft and smooth; he’d never felt anything like it before. The only other time they had touched, she’d been wearing her evening gloves. He had felt exhilarated then, but it was nothing compared to this.
He had lost all sense of time. Had they been kissing for seconds or for an eternity? All he knew was that this was right. He needed to know that he could kiss her like this any time he wanted. He wasn’t aware of deciding to say anything when he heard the words “marry me” escape him. It wasn’t a question; he’d said it as a fact. He wanted her, no, needed her, to marry him. She felt him laugh slightly against him. He pulled away and fixed her with the most poignant look he could muster. “I’m serious, Mary. Marry me.”
“Are you sure, Matthew?” she asked. She looked at him significantly. What was behind that look, he wondered. It wasn’t shock, exactly. It almost looked sad.
“Yes, I’m very sure,” he said. He leaned in again to kiss her, willing her to be convinced.
“I…” she trailed off as he kissed her neck. “I’ll have to think about it.” Her words brought reality crashing down around him. He pulled away again and looked at her, a hurt expression on his face. “It’s not that I don’t care for you!” she said, trying to reassure him. “It’s just…you know how much marriage will affect me. I just need to make sure that I make the right choice, for the right reasons.”
“I don’t think I can begrudge you wanting to be sure you choose me for the right reasons,” he said smiling. “Do you suppose I could kiss you again?”
“Yes, but then I think we should let the maids in here to tidy.” He kissed her again and then reluctantly let her guide him back to the front door.
“Did Sybil get settled alright?” Isobel asked him, coming out of the drawing room at the sound of the door opening.
“Sybil?” He frowned, placing his hat and gloves on the hall table. “What about Sybil?”
“Matthew!” Isobel chided him. “She was injured, and you took her home. Did she get settled alright?”
“Oh, yes,” he said, suddenly remembering. “Yes, Robert was furious, of course.”
“I’m not surprised,” she looked at him frowning. “Are you alright? You look off. Have you had anything to eat tonight?”
The question took him by surprise and made him smile involuntarily as he remembered his quiet meal. “Yes, Mary had them make some sandwiches.”
“That was very good of her.” Isobel seemed contented with his answer. “Now, it’s late and we’ve had a long night. We should both turn in.” She turned and began to climb the stairs.
“I’ll be up in a minute,” Matthew said. “I’m actually rather keyed up after…well, after everything. I might read a bit.”
He wandered to the drawing room and picked up his book. He opened it, but couldn’t focus on the pages, his mind wandering back to the Abbey. He wondered if Mary was still awake as well. He had taken his time walking home. He couldn’t remember a thing about the walk. Normally he’d have enjoyed the sounds of the night: crickets, owls, even the swooping of a bat. Tonight however, he could focus on nothing but the memory of holding Mary in his arms. He’d dreamt about it long enough; he’d loved her almost from the moment they’d met. He wet his lips, remembering the feeling of hers against them. He had never felt this way before. He’d kissed girls before, of course, but it was never like this. He could not imagine ever spending a day without Mary Crawley from now on.
Mary opened the door to her bedroom and saw her maid, Anna, laying out her night gown. “Did Mr. Crawley go home, then?” She asked. Mary tilted her head and smiled affectionately.
“Yes.” She came to stand in the middle of the room as Anna began undoing the buttons of her dress. “You know he did. I’m sorry we kept you all up so late. But I couldn’t let him starve. He completely missed his dinner, thanks to Lady Sybil.”
“That’s alright, milady,” Anna said. “Mr. Carson wasn’t too happy about the lateness of the hour, but he’d do anything for you, so he didn’t grumble too much.”
“I’m glad he wasn’t around when Mr. Crawley left,” Mary said with a slight blush.
“Oh? Why’s that, milady?” Anna asked. Mary sat at her vanity and started pulling off her jewelry as Anna began helping her remove her shoes.
“Mr. Crawley was quite flustered.” Mary smiled, recalling Matthew’s reluctance to leave. “If Mr. Carson didn’t like the time, he definitely would not have approved of that at all.” She gave Anna a significant look. There were not many people that Mary felt she could be completely open with, but Anna was high on the list.
“Are sandwiches so improper?” Anna asked as she began removing pins from Mary’s hair. “I can’t imagine how they could fluster Mr. Crawley so.”
“I don’t think it was the sandwiches that caused it.” Mary blushed again. Anna met Mary’s eyes in the mirror. It might be impertinent to ask, but she could tell that Mary was bursting to tell her more.
“He proposed to me.” A wide smile broke across Mary’s face. “We were talking and then he kissed me and proposed!”
“Will you accept him?” Anna smiled back. “Do you love him, then?”
“I think I do,” Mary said, turning to look at Anna directly. “I really think I do. I don’t even know when it happened. Probably much longer ago than I realized.”
“That’s wonderful, milady!” Anna was genuinely happy. “You deserve real love. I always hated the way they pushed you at Mr. Patrick. I’m sorry if it’s impertinent to say so.”
“Oh Anna,” Mary laughed, “I don’t care a fig about all that. You’re a better friend to me than anyone. I think you can say something like that without worrying.” She frowned suddenly. “The only problem is….” She trailed off, biting her lip.
“There’s a problem?” Anna asked, suddenly concerned.
“I have to tell him.” Mary looked into to Anna’s eyes. “I can’t keep it from him. Mama says I should, but I can’t. Matthew is so good. He would be crushed if I hid it from him. It wouldn’t be honest.”
“Can I say something, openly?” Anna looked thoughtful. Mary didn’t say anything but nodded. “Mr. Crawley is a good man, and he wouldn’t propose if he didn’t truly love you. If you’re honest with him, I don’t think it will change anything. But secrets never keep. I wouldn’t try to hide it from him.”
“I’m sure he’ll despise me….” Mary looked down, her lip trembling. “How can I expect to be worthy of him when I’m damaged goods?”
“I don’t think you are, milady,” Anna said kindly. “Everyone makes mistakes, and I think Mr. Crawley will be very reasonable if you tell him.”
“There are rumors already, Mama told me a while ago.”
“All the more reason to tell him,” Anna said as a matter of fact. “It won’t help for him to hear it from someone else.”
“You’re right, I suppose.” Mary sighed as Anna finished tying her hair back. “I’ll have to tell him. The hard part will be getting the courage to do it. I wish I had Sybil’s strength.”
She bid Anna good night and climbed into bed. There was a book on her bedside table. She opened it and turned to a page with a small note scribbled on the margin in pencil. She smiled at the words and ran her finger over them, wondering if their author could feel it. She wondered if he was still up as well. If he felt anything like her, he was thinking far too much to go to sleep. She imagined how lovely it would be to have him here, just to talk to. Yes, she was sure she loved him. The big question was, did he love her. Not some image of her he had in his mind, but the real her. And would that love be enough to withstand the truth of her wretchedness? She didn’t know how she would gather the strength to tell him, but she would have to. The only other question now was when?
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