Fic - The War Comes to Downton Abbey, Chapter 9
Rating - Teenage
Fandom - Downton Abbey, Mary and Matthew and all the main series 1 characters.
Summary - As the First World War rages on, the lives of those at Downton Abbey will be forever changed. What happens to those left behind at the great estate?
Genre - Romance/Angst
Status - Work in Progress, Chapter 9 of 30?
Word Count - 3,451 words
Previous Chapters - Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7 and Chapter 8.
NB - I started writing and planning this a while before the series 2 spoilers came out. Therefore, this is already set AU, though it was originally intended as a possible series 2 story arc. I hope you take this into account whilst reading and that, even though it's now proved to be AU, it still feels like a realistic and plausible possibility for the second series of the show.
Chapter 9
Despite their differences in status and class, Daisy had quite a lot in common with Lady Mary that day. She too was feeling agitated and worried, though at least Mary’s anxiety was of her own making. Mary knew she’d been told many times now that Matthew would recover, but she wasn’t quite sure she could believe it, that she dared hope. He still looked so pale, his face so battered and bruised and the bandages that covered his injuries were a constant reminder of what he’d been through. He was so quiet and motionless, so peaceful and distance and far too rarely did his eyes flicker open, revealing their brilliant blueness and the sign of life in him. Mary simultaneously dreaded and pleaded for his eyes to remain open, for his lips to speak and for him to see her and finally reveal what he now felt for her.
Mary had sat and watched his beautiful face all day nearly, her eyes unable to look away for fear she may miss the moment he awoke. For a reason Mary did not want to try to comprehend, she wanted her face to be the first thing that Matthew saw when he finally regained consciousness. Cousin Isobel had sat with her and they had both remained relatively silent, each lost in their own thoughts and feelings. Mary had been incredibly grateful for the silence, for the lack of small talk and the lack of conversation about her own, somewhat strange behaviour. It wasn’t like her, all this, sitting so long, not speaking, not doing anything but watching Matthew’s face, watching his eyes quiver and his lips tremble. She’d held his hand too; the comfort of feeling the warmth of his fingertips bringing reassurance that he was still here, with her. It was the only intimacy she would allow herself, especially with Cousin Isobel watching. It gave her comfort, peace and she treasured it greatly, savouring the feel of his hand in hers, already preparing herself for a time when it would no longer be allowed.
Mary was far from still though, the restless energy and agitation grating on her nerves and increasing her anxiety and frustration. Whenever his eyes strayed open for longer than a few seconds, Mary would find herself suddenly leaning forwards, sometimes standing up, bringing her face close to his in case he was finally shaking off the slumber that possessed him. When his eyes closed again, Mary would sink once more into melancholy, her doubts and anxieties pushing at her and warring with the sense of peace and comfort she also derived from holding his hand and simply being in his presence.
She’d been through so much emotionally recently that Mary was finding it hard to think what she should behave like, what she should feel. She knew at the back of her mind she was behaving inappropriately, that propriety dictated she wait with her family for news or keep herself busy elsewhere, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave his side. This overwhelming desire to stay with him, to hold his hand and watch his face, was not familiar to her and it confused her greatly. The events of last night had proved how deeply she loved him, how important he was to her life, but she didn’t know if this helped explain away her strange, almost trance like behaviour. All she knew was that she couldn’t bring herself to leave him, that she couldn’t bare to be apart from her beloved Matthew. So she had sat, watching his face, holding his hand, both fearing and hoping for him to wake, unsure of what his reaction would be when he finally regained consciousness and saw her.
At some point in the day, around noon she would guess, the nurses and Dr Morris had come in to check on their patient. It was only at Isobel’s strong urging did they manage to convince Mary to reluctantly leave the room so they could tend to him. Cousin Isobel had pressed on Mary that it was in Matthew’s best interest that the wounds be seen to and she pointed out, incredibly delicately, that Mary herself was in need of a change. Mary had to admit that she was right about that. A tentative hand to her hair told her how wild and disarrayed it was and she realised she was still wearing her evening gown. It was her favourite dress, the black netted one with the ivory under slip and the exquisite beading at the front. It also happened to be the one she was wearing when Matthew had proposed to her so long ago and it struck her as strange now that she came to be wearing it last night. It was hardly appropriate attire for the day though and she reluctantly let Cousin Isobel usher her out of the room, with promises that she could return soon. As she walked away, she took one last longing look at Matthew before the nurses gathered around the bed, obscuring her view and then rudely closing the door in her face. Even then, Mary still found herself dawdling outside, unable to completely walk away. It was only when a passing housemaid caught her eye did Mary’s propriety and dignity kicked in. Regaining all the regal demeanour she could manage, she asked the maid to send for Anna and then began walking slowly to her room
She was surprised at how much each step seemed to pain her, weigh on her heart as she became further and further away from Matthew. She paused when she passed the main balcony and looked down on the hall and saloon that stretched in front of her. The rooms were calm and empty now, all the soldiers that had arrived with Matthew seen to in the earlier hours of the morning by Dr Morris and Dr Clarkson, who had refused to leave whilst there was work to be done. The rooms were so eerily silent and orderly, a far cry from the image it conjured up in her mind of last night. Then the scene had been awash with beds and bloody soldiers, scurrying nurses and anxious servants and, most painful of all, her beloved Matthew, so brutally injured and close to death. As the agonising pain she’d felt last night surged into her memory, she tried to push it away with the vision of Matthew this morning. A vision of his face bathed in golden sunlight, his blue eyes dazzlingly bright in the stark contrast of his pale, scarred skin. The vision cheered her slightly and with more light hearted footsteps she continued to her room, shutting the door firmly behind her whilst she waited for Anna. Those few minutes she was alone, with nothing but her quarrelling thoughts for company, had been a strange mixture of luxury and turmoil. Away from the distraction of Matthew, her feelings had taken control completely and caused her to repeatedly pace across the floor with angry, irritated footsteps before collapsing with melancholy exhaustion on her bed. After only a few moments, her restless anxiety would resurface and she would begin pacing yet again.
It was in this almost frantic state that Anna had found her Ladyship and her obvious surprise and uncertainty of what to say and do was not lost on Lady Mary. She tried to compose herself quickly and issued to Anna a few instructions on what she would wear before sinking yet again into her nervous tension. Mary was incredibly relieved at that moment to have such an intelligent, understanding and trustworthy ladies maid. Anna sensed immediately Mary’s distress and quickly set to in helping her change, intuitively realising that silence was best and speed uppermost. It struck Mary then, as it often did, how preposterous it was that she, a grown woman, needed another woman to dress her, but both her mother and granny had insisted on maintaining decorum even now. That meant corsets and fiddly dresses; something Mary wouldn’t manage herself even in the best of times. Anna soon helped Mary change into something much more suitable, an elegant yet simple day dress. Even in her state, Mary knew it suited her very well, though she was loathe to admit her reasons for caring about her appearance at this moment. Her hair was the next priority, but as Anna began to straighten it, Mary’s patience began to snap. If she hadn’t been so consumed with her own warring thoughts, she would have felt quite sorry for Anna then, trying to fix her hair while she sat fidgeting so. She was fiddling with everything on her dressing table and could not be more relieved when Anna finally finished sorting out her hair. She had jumped up almost immediately and, with a silent look of thanks towards Anna, rushed out of her room and back towards Matthew’s.
When she opened the door to Matthew’s room, Mary was incredibly pleased to see that all the nurses and the doctor had gone. It was just Cousin Isobel again and she gave Mary a warm smile when she entered; politely not saying a word as Mary quickly sat down and took hold of Matthew’s hand again. She looked anxiously at Matthew’s face, selfishly relieved to see there had been no change and she had not missed him awakening. Whilst Mary felt somewhat better for being cleaned up, it wasn’t long before her earlier jumbled thoughts crept back into her mind and began fighting within her again. Time again had started to slip away and the day was spent with Mary plagued by her alternate hopes and dreams and doubts and fears, one minute restless and anxiously searching Matthew’s face when his eyes began flickering, the next descending into despondency and despair as Matthew sank again into slumber. The constant switching of her thoughts and emotions were spinning her insides around like a leaf caught in the fiercest gale. It was threatening to drive her into a breakdown and only the tranquillity of Matthew’s face and the comfort of his hand in hers grounded her to reality.
When her family suddenly entered the room, at some point in the afternoon, Mary had been so surprised that she’d jumped up, looking and feeling incredibly guilty. If her thoughts had been more coherent, she might have actually realised that her sudden movement and culpable expression raised far more eyebrows than had she simply been seen holding the hand of her wounded cousin. Mary was mortified at the knowing glances that passed between her parents, especially when she noticed granny behind them. She quickly tried to compose herself, but found she was not yet capable of small talk and was grateful when Cousin Isobel responded to their enquires on Matthew’s state. They stayed for a few minutes, exchanging pleasantries and Mary was only able to find her voice when her mother pressed her to come to dinner that evening. Mary shook her head adamantly, trying to think of a suitable argument for her to stay with Matthew, without revealing how important it was to her.
“I’m not that hungry mama,” Mary began, “besides, I couldn’t leave Cousin Isobel all alone.” She gave the woman an apologetic smile, hoping she would not mind Mary using her to formulate her excuses.
“Cousin Isobel can eat with us too, of course,” Cora answered, first looking at Mary and then nodding at Isobel. Mary hoped her family wouldn’t notice her slightly panic stricken look then, unable to come up with any other defence for why she should stay with Matthew.
Luckily Cousin Isobel had her wits about her and stepped in, though whether it was for her own sake or Mary’s, she wasn’t sure. “If it’s not too much trouble, I would prefer to stay with my son. If she doesn’t mind, it would be most kind if Mary could keep me company.”
“It would not be any trouble at all, Isobel,” Robert answered kindly. “I’ll have Carson bring you some food if you and Mary would like to stay here.” Robert took that moment to give his eldest daughter a quick once over. He was secretly pleased to see that she had changed and was looking somewhat better than she had last night. He knew she was far from content though and that she was still worrying about Matthew. Like all of them, until Matthew was properly awake and they knew his injuries were healing, the worries and anxieties were still there bubbling underneath the surface. Sensing that Mary was anxious to be left alone again, and knowing full well that Matthew needed as little to disturb his sleep as possible, he decided it was time they all made their excuses.
“Well, as it is nearly time for dinner, we’d best get ready and leave Matthew in peace!” He began ushering them out of the room then, not particularly surprised that they were all reluctant to leave. His mother proved the most reluctant and Robert knew just how shocked she’d been when she had first seen Matthew’s state.
As soon as her family had left, Mary felt incredibly relieved to be, almost, on her own again with Matthew and immediately sank down into her chair again. Whilst she still couldn’t bring herself to meet Cousin Isobel’s eye, she no longer felt quite as self conscious about holding Matthew’s hand. She quickly picked it up, again savouring the feel of his warm touch in her palm. Without any more distractions, Mary found herself falling back into the troubled abyss of her warring thoughts. They began turning over yet again, fighting with themselves and chasing each other around, unable to leave her settled and unable to leave her employed. She had a distant feeling that time was passing, that the sun pouring through the window was shifting position and then slowly fading. The day was coming to an end and Mary was not sure if this pleased her or not. Every passing minute was a minute closer to Matthew awakening and her own final judgement and reckoning. The moment when she would discover just what Matthew now felt towards her and what course her entire future would take. When her thoughts were turning towards hope, towards the possible reconciliation for her and Matthew, the hours, the minutes, seem to stretch into infinity. When her worries and anxieties began to chase her hopes away, time suddenly sped up, the moment when all her fears and doubts would be confirmed rushing towards her with a terrorising rapidity.
When the sunlight had all but faded in the sky and the dazzling orange and pink of the sunset thrown across the room had faded, Mary was momentarily stirred from her musings as Carson came in with some food and light for her and Cousin Isobel.
“You really must try to eat something, Mary,” Isobel urged as Mary pushed away the tray of food Carson had gently laid beside her before closing the thick curtains. She hadn’t touched a morsel all day and Isobel was becoming quite worried. “You really need to keep your strength up.”
“What on earth for!” Mary exclaimed with more petulance than she felt. She immediately felt guilty, both at her cutting words and the look of hurt on Cousin Isobel’s face. She didn’t quite know how to apologise then though, so she quickly averted her gaze down and looked at the tray of food. The thought of eating turned her stomach, her warring thoughts and restless tension too strong for her to contemplate eating. She saw Cousin Isobel still watching her though and, as a way of admitting her apology, she did her best to eat a few scraps. The food tasted like sawdust in her mouth, but she forced down a good portion, each bite encouraged by the growing smile and delight she felt emanating from Cousin Isobel.
She had to admit she did indeed feel better for eating and she knew that Cousin Isobel did too, both for herself and for Mary. It wasn’t long after Carson had returned to clear the mess away and bring them more light that tiredness got the better of her cousin. She smiled across at Mary, reflecting again her new found respect and admiration for the aristocratic lady, before she let her eyes close and her head droop. Her slumber this time was more peaceful, deep and fulfilling now that she knew her son was safe.
Mary again felt herself losing track of time and, after a while, she glanced over at Cousin Isobel, saw her head still down and her eyes still closed. Her steady breathing could be heard clearly in the quiet of the room and Mary knew she was in a deep sleep. Mary herself felt too agitated for sleep, too over exerted to know that she would not find her rest. But with Cousin Isobel asleep it gave Mary confidence, the luxury of feeling that it was, at that moment, just her and Matthew. His eyes were still flickering and Mary gave in to the urge she’d been fighting all day, the urge she’d denied herself for fear of her cousin’s reaction. She slowly reached out and gently caressed his face, letting her fingers brush the bruises and cuts that jagged across his porcelain skin. She savoured every touch, every caress, as if trying to commit them to memory, for a time when the intimacies would no longer be allowed between them.
Her fingertips followed his cheek bone, met his jaw line and then paused for a moment, suddenly unsure. Then, with the lightest of touches and trembling hands, she traced the line of his lips with her fingertips. As a jolt of electricity ran through her, she quickly pulled her hand away, suddenly feeling guilty and shameful for her actions. Her gaze quickly shifted from his lips to his eyes and she saw that they were open, the bright blueness so intense and full of emotion her heart suddenly stopped beating. Their gazes held for what felt like an eternity, full of unspoken but unmistakable emotions; longing, passion, desire, pain, bitterness, sorrow, but above all, a deep and soulful love. In that moment Mary felt her heart simultaneously shatter into pieces and swell to fill her chest, crushing her lungs so she could hardly breathe. He tried to speak then, his voice barely a whisper, barely a movement of the air, but the word was distinct, clear as ice on a frozen lake and it struck her to her very being. “Mary.” Then, sleep overtook him again and he slipped away into slumber, his eyes drifting closed.
Mary found herself unable to tear her gaze away from his closed eyes, her heart pounding so loudly in her chest she feared it would wake Cousin Isobel, the sound echoing round the room with all the loudness of a thunderstorm overhead. When she finally remembered how to breathe, it was shallow and strained and Mary found herself quite incapable of movement. The emotions that had struck her down as she’d looked into his eyes were battling around inside her, spinning her thoughts into a tempest of conflict and confusion. She didn’t know what to think, what to feel, what to make of the deep and powerful emotions she thought she’d seen in his eyes.
Don’t be silly, she eventually told herself, forcing herself to calm down and breathe deeply until her heartbeat started to return to normal. It was nothing, nothing but the pain from his injuries and the confusion from his deep sleep. There was nothing else there. She forced herself to repeat the words in her mind, making herself accept them and refusing to allow herself any deeper thought on the matter. It helped calm her mind, but her heart was far from convinced, though it seemed to know better than to speak at present. As she forced her mind into composure, the exhaustion that had been refusing to come all day finally took hold. She felt her eyes start to struggle to stay open and her mind begin to shut down. Stifling a sudden yawn, Mary took one last look at her beloved Matthew, his face still peaceful and his eyes still closed. Then, she let herself give in to the sudden impulse she felt and gently rested her head on his chest, the slight movement of his breathing still noticeable even through the blanket which he lay under. She felt an overwhelming sense of peace then and, still unable to let go of his hand, she let the quiet, rhythmic sound of his heartbeat lull her into a deep and restful, reassuring sleep.
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Thanks for still reading - I hope you're enjoying the story. More chapters will be on their way soon, hopefully.