fic | man is a giddy thing | mary/matthew
MAN IS A GIDDY THING
Downton Abbey. Mary/Matthew.
PG13. ~1512
Written for dollsome for the prompt “kiss me and tell me it's not broken” at: The ' I'm Bored! Let's Have A Comment Ficathon!' Comment Ficathon.
He finds her when everyone else has left. Alone in the garden where he had left her earlier. Except he knows she has left this bench and these trees to comfort her mother. To check with the housekeeper that the tents were being brought down properly. To do her duty. And that puts a pause in his step. Was that all he was to her, a duty. But he looks at the way her shoulders slope downwards and he cannot help but continue to move to her.
"Mary."
"Mr. Crawley." She doesn't turn to look at him. He thinks that hurts that most.
"Mary-"
"I thought you were leaving." She says cutting him off.
"Things have- Mary," he wishes he didn't feel like he was pleading with her. But though her head tilts slightly in his direction he is still denied her gaze so he keeps talking, keeps getting closer to her. The way people talk about this war, Mary, maybe-"
"You do not trust me Matthew." She says.
"Would you let me finish a thought."
"No." And then she rises, petulant and beautiful in the setting sun and finally, finally looking at him. "You have made your position clear. I obviously had an end date on when I could make my decision, perhaps your time has run out."
She holds her self so stiffly that he fears if even one of her muscles were to loosen she would crumble. He wonders vaguely if he did that.
"Mary, I would've-"
"But you don't trust me. Perhaps you are right not to." She looks away from him again. "I did not hesitate to accept your offer because of the child, or the money, or the house, or whatever you thought it was. You were not the only one who was unsure."
Her hands are still but they clasp each other tightly over her stomach.
"Did you not want me at all then?"
And she laughs, it guts him the hollow sound that breaks out of her lips. "It is me I was not sure of Matthew." And she looks at him then, unshed tears stuck in her eyelashes. "Look at what I have done to us, you are well rid of me."
He can see the anger at herself filling her, the indignation bringing her chin up even as her hands hold each other tighter and tighter, her knuckles going white. It cannot be comfortable. So he does the only thing he can think of and stands in front of her taking her hands in his.
"You shouldn't." She says quietly, but her hands have gone limp in his and do not seem to intend to move.
"I could never not want to be with you."
She smiles bitterly. "And yet."
"Mary you-"
"I know, I know, you need to be sure of me. And I also know I should let you finish your thoughts." He grasps her hands tighter. "Matthew, you have broken my heart once today, please do not it again. Just leave."
"You do love me then." And his hands are empty because she has ripped hers from him, has retreated to stand too far away. And how is he supposed to leave when this alone feels like too much space between them.
"Of course I love you. Wether I love you has never been in question." She is violent in her claim, and that, he thinks, is funny because isn't that the only question? And why couldn't she have just said so?
"Then it was just the inheritance, if I did not get it..." He lets his own thought trail off for once.
"I do not know." She looks him dead in the eye. "I had other concerns. That had nothing to do with you."
"What?"
"It no longer matters, does it."
But the way Mary's voice breaks makes him think it very much does. "Mary, please tell me the truth. Please."
She looks at him, and he can tell she is weighing her options, and he tries to lay everything open to her, that if there was one reason other than the possibility of losing the inheritance, one slight slim thing that would have made her hesitate he would spend the rest of his days apologizing and begging for her to say yes to his proposal. As long as it is not that. As long as she wants him, he will beg for her. And perhaps she sees something that tips the balance because she looks down.
"There were rumors about my... virtue." She says finally.
And Matthew feels like he has been told he is heir to Downton all again. Because Lady Mary Crawley with something less than a perfect reputation is as ridiculous as him being the next Earl of Grantham. It is absolutely bloody ludicrous. "I am sorry."
She sighs in a long suffering manner. "There were rumors, started by Edith," she adds bitterly. "About my virtue being less than intact. Which it is. But- there are foundations for the rumors."
"I-" And he is truly lost for words.
"God this is so humiliating. You wanted the truth, and I so wanted to tell you but now I have and, and-" Her voice chokes like it did earlier in the day, her voice battling with tears. Except now it is worse.
He just stands there and watches as she buries her face in her hands and starts sobbing and how is he supposed to leave her. He cannot. So he proceeds with his only other option and embraces her. She goes still in his grasp. He holds her and can no more help whispering "it's alright" into her hair than he could stop breathing. And she collapses against him.
"I am so sorry Matthew. I am so sorry. I have ruined everything." He holds her. Whispers that it is all alright in a thousand variations in her ears until finally the sobs become more evenly spread out and her hands twisted in his coat have stopped their rather manic pulling instead just grasping it, keeping him there. He wishes he had not stopped fighting Mary at some point.
"Will you tell me then, what happened?" He asks quietly, the sun completely set now and the silence of the night settling in around them.
"I- Oh Matthew it was-" She buries her head against his chest. "It was lust, and vanity, and the thrill. Oh the thrill." And his hands tighten around her, as if he is suddenly realizing this means that another man- and god how could he leave her when a thousand men should come and take his place. "It is only you I have loved, Matthew," she promises her voice soothing.
"Go on."
"It- he- it was stopped before anything truly damaging took place but- but someone saw him leaving my room." This time he can control the urge to hold her ever tighter to him. "Edith saw him leaving my room." She corrects. "Matthew, how could I have looked at you, said yes without telling you. Especially while I was so afraid everyone here instead of just everyone in London finding out." She pulled back from his grasp, looks him in the eye. "I may be ruined, and you deserve more than that."
And that is what breaks him, that is what erases any questions from his mind. "I do not care."
"Perhaps in ten months, or ten years," she pushes herself away from him. "You were right, you must be sure."
"I am." And he is, because he loves her and even if she does not have faith in herself he will.
"Matthew you-"
And he does not know how else to show her so he moves in quickly. Her lips soft under his. She responds quickly her hands finding a resting place at his hips, and for a minute it is perfect and he thinks this may be his future, finally. But then she pulls away. "I am not good for you Matthew."
"Yes," he cradles her face in his hands. "Mary, yes you are. You are more then. And you are who I want."
"You were going to leave a few hours ago." She is still leaning against him and he will take that as a sign to not give in.
"Because I had forgotten to have faith in you. But I will I promise." He places a kiss on her cheek, feels her breath expel against his skin and never wishes to lose this. "From now on I will always have faith in you."
"I will let you down." But her hands are fisting in his vest.
"No you won't. And I will spend the rest of our days proving it to you just let me."
She looks at him, her eyes trying to discern something in his countenance. So he just looks right back all of the hope of yesterday returning to him. And at last she nods. Just once, but with that sure and determined look in her eye. He leans back down to kiss her.
Downton Abbey. Mary/Matthew.
PG13. ~1512
Written for dollsome for the prompt “kiss me and tell me it's not broken” at: The ' I'm Bored! Let's Have A Comment Ficathon!' Comment Ficathon.
He finds her when everyone else has left. Alone in the garden where he had left her earlier. Except he knows she has left this bench and these trees to comfort her mother. To check with the housekeeper that the tents were being brought down properly. To do her duty. And that puts a pause in his step. Was that all he was to her, a duty. But he looks at the way her shoulders slope downwards and he cannot help but continue to move to her.
"Mary."
"Mr. Crawley." She doesn't turn to look at him. He thinks that hurts that most.
"Mary-"
"I thought you were leaving." She says cutting him off.
"Things have- Mary," he wishes he didn't feel like he was pleading with her. But though her head tilts slightly in his direction he is still denied her gaze so he keeps talking, keeps getting closer to her. The way people talk about this war, Mary, maybe-"
"You do not trust me Matthew." She says.
"Would you let me finish a thought."
"No." And then she rises, petulant and beautiful in the setting sun and finally, finally looking at him. "You have made your position clear. I obviously had an end date on when I could make my decision, perhaps your time has run out."
She holds her self so stiffly that he fears if even one of her muscles were to loosen she would crumble. He wonders vaguely if he did that.
"Mary, I would've-"
"But you don't trust me. Perhaps you are right not to." She looks away from him again. "I did not hesitate to accept your offer because of the child, or the money, or the house, or whatever you thought it was. You were not the only one who was unsure."
Her hands are still but they clasp each other tightly over her stomach.
"Did you not want me at all then?"
And she laughs, it guts him the hollow sound that breaks out of her lips. "It is me I was not sure of Matthew." And she looks at him then, unshed tears stuck in her eyelashes. "Look at what I have done to us, you are well rid of me."
He can see the anger at herself filling her, the indignation bringing her chin up even as her hands hold each other tighter and tighter, her knuckles going white. It cannot be comfortable. So he does the only thing he can think of and stands in front of her taking her hands in his.
"You shouldn't." She says quietly, but her hands have gone limp in his and do not seem to intend to move.
"I could never not want to be with you."
She smiles bitterly. "And yet."
"Mary you-"
"I know, I know, you need to be sure of me. And I also know I should let you finish your thoughts." He grasps her hands tighter. "Matthew, you have broken my heart once today, please do not it again. Just leave."
"You do love me then." And his hands are empty because she has ripped hers from him, has retreated to stand too far away. And how is he supposed to leave when this alone feels like too much space between them.
"Of course I love you. Wether I love you has never been in question." She is violent in her claim, and that, he thinks, is funny because isn't that the only question? And why couldn't she have just said so?
"Then it was just the inheritance, if I did not get it..." He lets his own thought trail off for once.
"I do not know." She looks him dead in the eye. "I had other concerns. That had nothing to do with you."
"What?"
"It no longer matters, does it."
But the way Mary's voice breaks makes him think it very much does. "Mary, please tell me the truth. Please."
She looks at him, and he can tell she is weighing her options, and he tries to lay everything open to her, that if there was one reason other than the possibility of losing the inheritance, one slight slim thing that would have made her hesitate he would spend the rest of his days apologizing and begging for her to say yes to his proposal. As long as it is not that. As long as she wants him, he will beg for her. And perhaps she sees something that tips the balance because she looks down.
"There were rumors about my... virtue." She says finally.
And Matthew feels like he has been told he is heir to Downton all again. Because Lady Mary Crawley with something less than a perfect reputation is as ridiculous as him being the next Earl of Grantham. It is absolutely bloody ludicrous. "I am sorry."
She sighs in a long suffering manner. "There were rumors, started by Edith," she adds bitterly. "About my virtue being less than intact. Which it is. But- there are foundations for the rumors."
"I-" And he is truly lost for words.
"God this is so humiliating. You wanted the truth, and I so wanted to tell you but now I have and, and-" Her voice chokes like it did earlier in the day, her voice battling with tears. Except now it is worse.
He just stands there and watches as she buries her face in her hands and starts sobbing and how is he supposed to leave her. He cannot. So he proceeds with his only other option and embraces her. She goes still in his grasp. He holds her and can no more help whispering "it's alright" into her hair than he could stop breathing. And she collapses against him.
"I am so sorry Matthew. I am so sorry. I have ruined everything." He holds her. Whispers that it is all alright in a thousand variations in her ears until finally the sobs become more evenly spread out and her hands twisted in his coat have stopped their rather manic pulling instead just grasping it, keeping him there. He wishes he had not stopped fighting Mary at some point.
"Will you tell me then, what happened?" He asks quietly, the sun completely set now and the silence of the night settling in around them.
"I- Oh Matthew it was-" She buries her head against his chest. "It was lust, and vanity, and the thrill. Oh the thrill." And his hands tighten around her, as if he is suddenly realizing this means that another man- and god how could he leave her when a thousand men should come and take his place. "It is only you I have loved, Matthew," she promises her voice soothing.
"Go on."
"It- he- it was stopped before anything truly damaging took place but- but someone saw him leaving my room." This time he can control the urge to hold her ever tighter to him. "Edith saw him leaving my room." She corrects. "Matthew, how could I have looked at you, said yes without telling you. Especially while I was so afraid everyone here instead of just everyone in London finding out." She pulled back from his grasp, looks him in the eye. "I may be ruined, and you deserve more than that."
And that is what breaks him, that is what erases any questions from his mind. "I do not care."
"Perhaps in ten months, or ten years," she pushes herself away from him. "You were right, you must be sure."
"I am." And he is, because he loves her and even if she does not have faith in herself he will.
"Matthew you-"
And he does not know how else to show her so he moves in quickly. Her lips soft under his. She responds quickly her hands finding a resting place at his hips, and for a minute it is perfect and he thinks this may be his future, finally. But then she pulls away. "I am not good for you Matthew."
"Yes," he cradles her face in his hands. "Mary, yes you are. You are more then. And you are who I want."
"You were going to leave a few hours ago." She is still leaning against him and he will take that as a sign to not give in.
"Because I had forgotten to have faith in you. But I will I promise." He places a kiss on her cheek, feels her breath expel against his skin and never wishes to lose this. "From now on I will always have faith in you."
"I will let you down." But her hands are fisting in his vest.
"No you won't. And I will spend the rest of our days proving it to you just let me."
She looks at him, her eyes trying to discern something in his countenance. So he just looks right back all of the hope of yesterday returning to him. And at last she nods. Just once, but with that sure and determined look in her eye. He leans back down to kiss her.