Fic: First love never dies (Mary/Matthew); 1/1
Title: First love never dies (1/1)
Pairing: Mary, Mary/Matthew (Downton Abbey)
Rating: PG
Summary: Didn't he understand? If they couldn't be together then what did it matter who she ended up with? They would all be loveless marriages. At least this one would protect her family. 2,431 words.
Note: Just some more Christmas special speculation up in here.
In the half light Mary turned her face in the mirror. She studied the shape of her eyebrows, the height of her forehead, the jut of her chin. There were new lines around her eyes and mouth. She was getting older, and it was starting to show.
Ten years ago she would have been considered an old maid. It was only the war that spared her that humiliation, but if the scandal got out she would be discarded by society like a piece of outdated furniture, of that she had no doubt. Richard knew it. She had no other prospects.
Of course Matthew seemed hell bent on ending her engagement for her, with or without her permission... which was very noble of him in a self-righteous sort of way. But since he didn't seem to want her for himself, she could only imagine what he thought her other options were.
And now he had it; the whole sordid story from Richard's mouth. Matthew hadn't reacted as she had expected him to - she had envisaged his shame and disappointment, not a fistfight in her honour. But his well-meaning punch had not helped matters. The family was up in arms, Papa was not speaking to her, and Richard had nursed his injury with a smug sort of satisfaction, because he had merely demonstrated to the rest of them how easily he could ruin them. She was still trapped, and she was frustrated and tired with Matthew for interfering.
When there was a low, measured knock at her door she sighed and dropped her head. Mama normally knew when she wanted to be left alone, but apparently the night's events were too dramatic to ignore.
However, it was not Mama, it was Matthew, and when she realised this she jumped, before wrapping her silk gown more tightly around herself. He was still dressed for dinner. He must have come directly from the bachelor's corridor. He wore a grim expression and he seemed to become aware of the unusualness of his visit only when he took in her lamplit room and letdown hair. Then to his credit he blushed, but he still floundered on.
"I... realise that this isn't the best time, nor is it the most... prudent moment," he started. "But I wanted to apologise for tonight. To say I overstepped my bounds might be... a bit of an understatement."
"I think it's fair to say this entire night has been full of unexpected surprises," she said tiredly. "Though perhaps you should have just believed me when I said I had my reasons for staying with him."
Matthew closed his fist before resting it against her doorframe. "Mary..." He struggled to find the words for something. "This isn't who you are."
He looked so utterly desperate to convey this to her. But did he know who she was? She used to think herself destined for great things. Not love, she wasn't idealistic enough for that, but wealth, power, a name. Even if she was just mistress of Downton and Patrick Crawley's wife, at least she would inherit her parents' fortune and their legacy. But since the day she learnt Matthew existed she knew her life was bound for tragedy instead. She wasn't made to love, she didn't know how to do it properly, and it haunted her, it disturbed her way of life until she was almost breathless from the strain of it. She made poor and reckless decisions and hurt him in the process, she cowed to men when she had never done so before, and she smiled and laughed and pretended when the facade very nearly killed her. She didn't know who she was anymore, and it was all because of him.
"... I will be just a moment, if you would be so kind."
"As you like, sir."
She heard Sir Richard's arch tone and Thomas's monotone response mere moments before she realised they were about to round the corner. Her eyes widened, and she grasped Matthew by the front of the shirt and tugged him into the room. He frowned at her when she closed the door behind them, nonplussed by her manhandling, but she held a finger to her lips and listened with fraught anticipation as Richard approached from the other side of the door.
His knock was brisk. "Mary. I'd like to speak with you."
What on earth did the men in this house think passed for propriety these days? She could only imagine what the servants would say when Thomas told them she'd had not one but two nighttime visitors - and the day her indiscretion became known, at that.
She glanced once at Matthew, who shifted rather irritably so he would be concealed by the door. When she opened it, she meet Richard's impassive gaze with one equally as cold. She was determined not to look at Matthew again.
"This can wait until tomorrow, can't it? This is hardly the time for a conversation. I don't think my father would be thrilled to find out you were up here."
"I very much doubt that would be a concern at present," Richard said.
She stiffened at his indifference. The gall.
"Tonight was unfortunate, but I hope it made clear to you the seriousness of this situation. I intend to see this marriage through."
"Oh? And it was necessary to reveal my secret to the entire family?"
"You have Matthew to thank for that."
The bruise around his eye became more prominent when he shifted into the light. Suddenly she was glad.
"Matthew didn't force you to say anything."
"Didn't he? He was so determined to point out how mismatched we are, I thought it was time he understood the truth. If he is so keen to pursue an engaged woman, he should at least know who she is; who she really is. Now that he does, perhaps this nonsense will come to its end."
She could see Matthew in the corner of her eye, staring at her. She did not shift her attention away from Richard but she could feel her stomach twist. "If I'm so ruined in your opinion then why not find a worthier wife?"
"We are bound, Mary." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I will protect you from this scandal and you will provide me with a home and children. We could be happy together, if you would forget this ridiculous infatuation." She held firm, but only because retreating a step would encourage him closer, and then he would see Matthew. "We will set a date for the wedding. No more delays."
"After tonight I'm not so sure that's what I want," she said bluntly.
He smiled. "You're a practical woman, Mary. I believe you will make the right decision. Besides... do you really think he wants you now?"
The remark was so flippant it took a moment for her to absorb it, and when she did, it was like a physical blow. Richard didn't seem to expect a response and he shifted back out into the hall. His departing look was pointed and shrewd, and a part of her couldn't help believing him. Matthew had scruples Richard did not; her behaviour had to bother him. And just because he wanted her out of her engagement did not mean he wanted them to be together. Their stolen kiss and Lavinia's death had quashed any final hopes she had regarding that.
She shook when she closed the door behind Richard, but when she turned to face Matthew she willed herself to appear calm. "We should wait a moment, until we can be sure he is gone."
Matthew said nothing, but he considered her in that weighty way he had; as if he couldn't quite trust a word she said. Then his eyes swept away over her bedroom, which she realised he was seeing for the first time. She forced herself not to follow his stare, to see what he was seeing and to wonder how it reflected on her.
"He's blackmailing you," he said slowly.
"I can't afford to look at it that way."
"Why? Why does it matter now, when everybody close to you already knows the truth?"
She cradled her arms over her midsection. She felt exposed in front of him in her nightclothes, in her bedroom. The moment felt uncomfortably similar to her night with Pamuk, which was the worst thing she could possibly think about in Matthew's presence.
"My reputation isn't the only thing at stake, don't you see? The family will be ruined by such a scandal. As it is Papa can barely look at me; it would kill him to have his name publicly connected to such a thing."
"You view him too harshly," Matthew said softly. "If anything I think he was more shocked to discover that your mother and grandmother knew and kept it from him; not to mention Edith. Sir Richard blindsighted him."
"I think I have just confirmed his worst fears about me," Mary said. "I will always be a disappointment. I can't do anything the proper way. I can't even marry the right person."
"It's not too late," he said. "I think you underestimate your family's ability to recover from a scandal. People don't care about those things the way they did before the war."
"In your world, maybe," Mary scoffed.
"Even so... do you really think your family wants to see you unhappy? Tied down to a husband none of them can stand, in a loveless marriage? I dare say they would bear anything to avoid that."
She met his pleading gaze and wished she shared his ability to oversimplify things. Didn't he understand? If they couldn't be together then what did it matter who she ended up with? They would all be loveless marriages. At least this one would protect her family.
"What other option do I have?" she asked, forcing herself to maintain eye-contact, to stand tall, to sound cold. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest.
The longer he spent in her suite the more it occurred to her that this was the exact scenario that had landed her in trouble to begin with. The family would be more lenient because it was Matthew, but that didn't mean it was allowed. The soft light and her gauzy gown and her large canopy bed, dominating the room, all created an aura of intimacy she did not intend to encourage. She didn't want him to think of her like that. And she did. She wanted him to want her but she also wanted him to think her virtuous and untouched. Lavinia was those things.
Matthew's piercing blue eyes swam over her face as he absorbed the question behind her question, but she was past the point of talking.
"You should leave," she said firmly. "What I said to Richard still holds true to you, even if you are Papa's golden boy."
"Mary..."
"I mean it," she interrupted. "Please go."
She stepped back over to the door, the anger hot and thick in her throat. She was confident no servants would be lurking in the corridor at this time of night, that Matthew could make his getaway without incident-
But then his hand was on her arm, and she was being wheeled around to face him.
"You have options," he said, in a fierce whisper. "Of course you do."
His chest was almost flush against her front and she froze, utterly paralysed by his vehemence. It was as if he was chiding her for doubting in him. But she couldn't be drawn in by an impulse he felt during the moment. She had stopped believing anything could be so simple between them.
"Don't say things you don't mean, Matthew," she whispered.
He sounded exasperated.
"For God's sake, Mary."
His head dipped to hers, and he was kissing her then. An open mouthed, passionate kiss; one desperate in its attempt to convey its sincerity. Her eyes fluttered closed but she was hesitant to respond at first. When she did, his hand tightened around her waist, and she felt her back gently nudging the door.
Was it because they were alone, properly alone, in a setting familiar to a husband and wife, that he allowed himself to demonstrate his feelings so ardently? She was stunned by his attentions. Her hands curled against his shoulders, and he grazed her cheek with his thumb, brushing aside her long mane of hair. He was warm and firm and she ached for him. If only she had married him when she had the chance, if only she had been older, wiser when they met. They could have avoided so much of this.
When they broke apart, gasping, he rested his forehead against hers. "You must promise me," he said, impatient.
She stared at his nose, his mouth, his eyes, and back again. Richard was a fool - if she was bound to anyone, it was Matthew; it had always been so. How could she deny him now?
"I will not marry him," she said slowly.
The very words were cathartic, though in reality they would only prompt further complications.
But when she felt Matthew exhale happily, it didn't seem to matter. "You have no idea how good it is to hear that," he sighed.
"Only half as good as it feels to actually say it."
"God..." His nose grazed her forehead and he inhaled like he was savouring the feel of her. "I should go," he breathed. "As much as I don't want to."
She was both relieved and disappointed by his restraint. "Yes, you should."
"In the morning, then."
Yes, in the morning. She considered what it would bring. She would need to speak with Papa, and then Richard. Mama and Edith would have to be prepared for the worst. None of them would be particularly surprised since witnessing the climbing tension between herself, Matthew and Richard, but then they had grown so accostomed to the thought of her marriage, perhaps they would be shocked after all.
Matthew smiled at her when they parted, a small, tender smile she had never seen him offer anyone else. It was a hopeful smile, and one that reminded her of the Matthew he had been before the war. The Matthew who had been startled and enraptured by her, the Matthew who had yet to suffer agonies both at her hand and at others.
In that one small gesture she felt she could face all of it, because despite everything he wasn't lost, and they weren't lost either.