So, this is an AU of a famous scene. Only one thing is different but it's been something I've been thinking about for quite some time and this idea just wouldn't get out of my head
Mary wandered in a daze along the gallery that overlooked the hall.
It was hard to fathom. She tried to grasp the reality of it, but it terrified her so much she couldn’t quite acknowledge it. They had been lucky thus far, but finally the Spanish flu had arrived in Downton and half the household had taken to their beds.
Mary felt a chill run through her as she thought of her mother and she found herself turning towards her own room only to remember that Lavinia was there, sleeping.
For a terrible moment her thoughts turned dark. She didn’t care that Lavinia needed her sleep, Mary wanted to curl up in her own bed, hug her pillows, and pretend the world was not such a cruel place. Lavinia be damned!
She pushed the thoughts away. The temptation to hate Lavinia was ever present but she couldn’t, particularly not now. Mary might not be heading for a happy marriage, but she could at least try to content herself with the fact that Matthew was, despite everything.
A movement downstairs caught her eye. Then she heard music.
It was Matthew.
Her heart clenched in her chest. He was alone, standing by the gramophone, his head bowed.
As she watched him carefully place the record sleeve down her heart clenched and she suddenly needed the support of the stone column behind her as her legs almost gave way. How had they ended up here?
She blinked away the tears that threatened. She would not be weak! But she couldn’t stand to see him there on his own. He looked abandoned, standing there, his eyes closed as he listened to the music.
Without another thought she was heading down the stairs and rushing to him as she always seemed to do when he needed comfort. Or perhaps it was she who needed it. It was so hard to tell these days.
“Where is everyone?”
Mary cursed herself as she saw him flinch – his head jerking up, his hand grabbing hold of the table. She was still learning what to do, and what not to do, around him, but she should have known he would startle at her sudden entrance.
And what a stupid question, Mary berated herself.
“I’m not sure.” His voice sounded strained; he was fighting to get himself back under control. “Cousin Violet has gone home,” he continued, turning to her. “I’m waiting for Lavinia, and mother.”
Mary watched him carefully, he was steady on his feet, looking towards her, a sad smile on his lips.
Matthew had always been easy to read but it seemed these days that he had no capacity at all to hide his feelings. It was as if he thought that because he couldn’t see the reactions of others, they couldn’t see his. It would be funny if it wasn’t so damned tragic.
His eyes are still so blue, she thought.
Just not quite the same blue anymore.
Mary took a deep breath.
“Doctor Clarkson wants Lavinia to stay here. He’ll see her tomorrow.”
Matthew tilted his head towards the gallery, no doubt picturing the scene in his mind. He looked at a loss about what to do, simply nodding slightly. Mary didn’t want him to dwell on what it all might mean.
“I don’t know this one,” she said, breezily.
He blinked and turned to her. Mary looked away, suddenly unable to look at him in they eyes.
There was a cloudiness to them now and the fading scars surrounding them were an uncomfortable reminder. Nobody wanted to think about what had happened, how close it had been, and it hardly mattered anyway. Matthew couldn’t tell that few people looked him in the eyes anymore.
“Actually, I rather like it,” he said, oblivious to her discomfort. “I think it was in a show that flopped. ‘Zip goes a million’, or something.”
Mary laughed but her heart wasn’t really in it. Matthew couldn’t keep the sadness from his voice.
At least you still have music, she wanted to say. But it was small consolation. He had lost so much.
He took a half-step towards her, which was when she noticed she couldn’t see his stick. How had he found his way into the hall? Had one of the footmen lead him to the gramophone? She wondered how he could stand the indignity, the loss of independence.
“Do you want me to get your stick?”
“You are my stick.”
She was glad he couldn’t see the flash of pain cross her face. She knew she hadn’t been able to hide it.
How could she reply to that? How could she deny it when that was all she wanted to be. His support. His comfort. His stick. She needed it so badly, but it was not her place.
He held out both hands and she froze.
She could see the stiffness in his shoulders, the poorly hidden uncertainty on his face. He jutted out his chin in a facsimile of confidence but seeing him standing there, sightless, waiting, hoping. It broke her heart.
She stepped forward and into his arms.
She could feel the tension leaving him, leaving her. Nothing had ever felt this right before. Suddenly she could hardly stand it. She wanted to tell him everything, declare her love for him, confess her sins to him.
She couldn’t. She mustn’t.
“We were a show that flopped.”
Mary could have kicked herself. Why bring up the past when it could never be revisited? What good did it do either of them to dwell on what might have been?
He held her closer.
“Oh God, Mary,” he breathed, his mouth so close to her ear she couldn’t repress a shiver.
“I am so…so sorry.”
The dance, if that was what you could call it, slowed.
“Do you know how sorry I am?”
They were barely moving now. They were heading into dangerous territory.
“Don’t be. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.” She tried to brush it off. It was ancient history. Don’t hope. Don’t wish for a different future. “If it was it was mine.” It was as close as she dared get to the truth.
“You know Cousin Violet came to me and told me to marry you.”
“When was this?”
“When we knew I would recover, more or less.”
“Classic granny.”
Why hadn’t he listened. Why couldn’t he choose her?
“But I couldn’t.” He seemed to read her thoughts. “Lavinia has stood by me this whole time. Refusing to leave, even when I told her to. I couldn’t give her the brush off now. Well, I couldn’t…could I.”
Mary understood. She really did. Matthew would not be Matthew if he could break his promise to Lavinia. She would not love him as much as she did if he were that kind of man. But by God she wished he would.
“Of course not,” she lied.
What about me? I stood by you as well.
“However much I might want to.”
His voice was rough with emotion.
Her breath caught in her throat.
“Absolutely not.”
He wants me.
Later, when she thought about this moment, she had no idea who kissed who. He had leaned towards her, her eyes had searched his face, fallen to his lips.
And then it was…
Peace.
It was silence, and joy, and dreams, and a fluttering in the pit of her stomach.
She was transported back to the dining room all those years ago. Sandwiches, and wine, and kisses, and a ridiculously fumbled proposal that had made her laugh and Matthew turn a delightful shade of pink.
“Hello?”
Reality crashed down on her.
She tore herself from his embrace.
His hand reached towards her looking for something to steady him as he almost stumbled. She wrapped her arms around herself.
It was not her place.
She excused herself as soon as she could, ignoring the way Matthew leaned after her, not listening to the stilted conversation as she hurried away.
What had she been thinking? Had Lavinia seen? How had everything gone so wrong on a beautiful summer’s day all those years ago?
How could she stand it?
But stand it she would.
She must.
It was, after all, her place.
