Work Text:
June 25, 1914
Matthew’s feet were aching. He’d danced with so many young ladies that they had all begun to blur together. Sybil’s friends were all young and silly, giggling and batting their eyes at him through the entire waltz. Mary’s friends were mostly married, but still very curious to meet the young solicitor who would one day be the Earl of Grantham. He wasn’t sure if Mary had told them about their engagement—well, almost engagement—and he couldn’t tell if they were interrogating him as an interloper to their world or trying to gauge if he was good enough to marry their friend. He knew that social rules dictated that they could not dance with each other too often, but that didn’t make it any easier to watch her swirl around the room in the arms of other men.
He tried not to feel too smug when she barely greeted Evelyn Napier, her arm gently resting on his own. Now who needs to brush up on his powers of fascination? he thought to himself while Mary made polite chit chat with Evelyn as he reached up with his free hand and rubbed gentle circles on her hand with his thumb. He knew it wasn’t strictly appropriate to do so, but manners be damned. As Evelyn moved away, Mary shifted slightly closer to Matthew and sighed.
“I don’t think I can stand another minute in this stuffy room,” she whispered. “if only someone would accompany me out to the garden.”
“I can get Mr. Napier back and ask him if you’d like?” Matthew teased. She knocked her elbow into his side in response.
“Evelyn is a dear friend,” she began, tilting her head up to him, “but he lacks a certain je ne sais quoi.”
“Poor Evelyn,” Matthew glanced quickly around and bent his head closer to her. “I suppose if you really need some air, I could take you outside. Though, I don’t know the garden here at Grantham House nearly as well as the gardens at Downton. I don’t suppose there are any good benches to read on?”
“Oh, there’s one under the arbor where the roses are growing in the back corner,” she replied seriously. “It’s very quiet. Quite perfect for…reading.”
Matthew swallowed as Mary removed her arm from his and set off around the edge of the room and out into the hall. He picked up a glass of champagne from a passing footman, downed it in one gulp and took off after Mary as quickly as he could. He was almost to the door when—
“Matthew, dear chap,” he heard Robert call. “Come over here for a minute, I must introduce you to my cousin Susan and her husband, Shrimpy.”
“I’m sorry,” Matthew stuttered, his eyes scanning the hallway just out of his reach for Mary. “Did you say Shrimpy?”
“It was a nursery game,” a kind faced man explained. “Somehow my sisters outgrew their nicknames and yet everyone still calls me Shrimpy.” He extended his hand to Matthew who gave one last fleeting look over his shoulder before reaching out and shaking the gentleman’s hand.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” Matthew said, trying desperately to think of a way to politely extricate himself from the conversation.
“Shrimpy works in the Foreign Office,” Robert was explaining. “Every September we go up to his estate in Scotland for the stalking.”
“You’ll have to come this year,” the dour looking woman at Shrimpy’s side put in.
“I don’t know that I’m very good at stalking,” Matthew said. Of course, there would be another sport that the family does that is designed to embarrass him.
“Nonsense, my boy!” Shrimpy exclaimed, “We’ll get you trained up in no time!”
“I’m sure,” Matthew said flatly. “I’m very sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me, I’m starting to feel a little overheated in here. I was just on my way out for some air when you stopped me.”
He extended his head in a slight bow and turned away before any of them could begin to protest. The hall was mercifully empty, and he rushed off to the garden in search of Mary. She’d said the bench was in the back corner of the garden under the arbor, but he’d never actually been in the Grantham House garden before. He blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
“Psst…Matthew,” he heard her whisper, “this way.” He felt a tug on his arm and saw her emerge from the darkness. “I was beginning to give up on you.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said as he clasped her hand in both of his and gently kissed her knuckles. “I was almost out of the ballroom when your father caught me and dragged me off to meet some relations.”
“Lucky you,” she smiled. “Who was it?”
“Squishy, or something like that,” he mumbled taking a step closer to her and nuzzling into her neck.
“I’m fairly certain no one in my family is called ‘Squishy,’” she said, trying to suppress a giggle. “Come on, we’re much too close to the house for this.” She took his hand and began pulling him through the shadows to a rose covered stone bench.
Once they were fully hidden from view, Matthew pulled Mary down onto his lap and resumed his attentions to her neck.
“You’re incorrigible,” she sighed as his lips began to wander slightly lower down her chest.
“If you think this is bad,” he breathed between kisses, “just wait until we’re actually married.”
“Married?” she asked, pulling away. “We’re engaged? Since when?”
“Are we not?” he grinned at her before turning his attention to her bare shoulder.
“Not technically,” she said, her hands beginning to rove across his chest and under his coat. “I don’t believe I’ve answered you yet.”
“But the answer is yes, isn’t it?” He pulled back and fixed his gaze at her. “It’s been almost two months of this,” he pressed a quick kiss to her lips to illustrate his point. “I can’t believe you’d let me do this without it meaning that you want to marry me as much as I want to marry you.”
“How about we just enjoy tonight?” she asked as he pouted out his bottom lip. She leaned forward slightly and ran her tongue along his lip before capturing the rest of his mouth in hers. “You’re going back to Yorkshire tomorrow.”
“Mary,” he pleaded, “you can’t just dangle this in front of me indefinitely.”
She pulled back and looked at him. His hair had become slightly undone and she gently ran her fingers through it. “I have made the decision. I promise you I will tell you when I get back to Yorkshire in a couple of weeks. I think you’ll be very happy. But if you don’t kiss me again in the next minute, I may change my mind.”
She pierced him with a challenging look and he returned a devilish grin before pulling her closer and kissed her like his life depended on it. Her arms snaked tighter around his neck and shoulders as his hands ghosted along the back edge of her down, lightly caressing her bare skin.
“Can you at least promise me a short engagement once it’s official?” he asked breathlessly once they came up for air. “I don’t know if you fully appreciate how hard it is for me that I can’t do everything I’d like to do to you.”
“Well, I think I have a bit of an idea,” she smirked. He felt his cheeks grow warm and he shifted slightly beneath her.
“I’m serious, Mary,” he said into her neck.
“Yes, Matthew,” she agreed, as her eyes rolled back and lost herself in the sensation of him kissing a path across her jaw, “a very short engagement. I plan to be Mrs. Matthew Crawley as soon as possible.”
“Mrs. Matthew Crawley,” he grinned a dopy grin, “I like the sound of that.”
“So do I,” she kissed him gently again.
“Mary? Matthew?” The sound of Sybil’s timid voice pulled them out of their blissful stupor. “Mary, Mama’s looking for you.”
Matthew pressed a final kiss to her lips before Mary stifled a giggle and pulled away. She rose and smoothed the wrinkles from her gown before stepping out of the shadows to find her sister.
“I’m here, Sybil,” Mary said, her voice calm and confident. “I just needed to step out for some fresh air; it was so stuffy in the ballroom.”
“Mmm, yes,” Sybil agreed with a knowing smile.
She and Mary turned and began to head back to the house before Sybil paused and said over her shoulder: “I assume you’ll be along in a minute, Matthew?”