Author's Note: This is my contribution for MM Tribute Day. Many thanks, as always, to patsan. La vostra energia è contagiosa, mia cara.

Continued thanks to Willa Dedalus and Lala Kate for inspiration and motivation. Thanks for being on my side.

Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed Breaking Bread. The response was quite overwhelming, and it made coming back to this AU very easy. Thank you for fooling me into thinking I can write modern Mary and Matthew.

This story continues from the second last scene of Breaking Bread where Mary and Matthew reveal their feelings to each other.

Westminster Suite, Shangri-la Hotel, At the Shard, London, England, August 2014

Matthew fell back on to the bed, grunting as he felt shock, panic and fierce desire all at once. His eyes opened wide and he swallowed, trying to force air into his lungs as his breathing became as fast as his pulse. Just moments ago, he could barely think straight when she unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it down to the floor. What she was doing now had his mind decidedly scrambled. He felt her everywhere. Her silken hair against his face. Her soft lips against his neck. Her teeth nipping at the skin below his throat. Her warm tongue sliding across his chest. Her seductive hum making him shake. His hands moved up and down the smooth fabric covering her back, the feel of her warmth and the weight of her body on top of him the only cues telling him that this was actually happening.

"Mary," he sighed, his eyes closing, then snapping open to make sure she was still there.

She rose up and smiled at him, the evening skyline of London behind her making her seem ethereal and majestic, as though he was watching a movie of her. He felt lightheaded, and his hands moved to her hips, needing to hold on to her in some way, or else she would disappear and he would be alone again, left with the familiar cruel illusion that she was in his bed.

Her dark stare felt remarkably real, looking upon him in a way he had never seen before. She pulled up her fitted top and threw it off. His eyes widened as he took in her breasts, the pale flesh barely covered by black lace. She descended on him, her lips demanding and possessive, kissing him all over. His fingers dared to touch the now bare skin of her back as her mouth marked him again and again.

He gasped loudly as her hand moved below his waist, his belt and zipper yielding to her fingers. She did not just touch him, but grasped him, squeezed him, stroked him over and over. This was impossible. She couldn't be here. She couldn't be doing this to him. She never chose him. She never wanted him.

"Mary!" he almost shouted, his hips lifting slightly, craving her touch. "Mary, are you sure?"

She laughed, the beautiful sound a rumble in her throat that quickened his pulse. She kissed his neck, his face, his mouth. She lifted her head and looked at him, her eyes revealing mischief, and lust, and promises he dared not believe.

"Matthew, I know you haven't dated in a while, but I just told you that I want you and now I'm lying half naked on top of you with my hand down your pants. I think it rather obvious that I am sure about this, but I'm quite prepared to keep showing you," she smiled wickedly.

He grinned and chuckled in disbelief. He reached up and kissed her, his hand moving to caress the nape of her neck, keeping her in place as he pressed against her. His tongue parted her lips and he groaned as hers reached out for him eagerly.

"I just can't believe you're here," Matthew smiled as he drew back. His fingers ran along her cheek, and she caught his wrist and kissed his palm, her eyes smiling at him and never wavering.

"I am here," she grinned. "This is real, Matthew. You and me. This is happening."

"I…Mary," Matthew could only smile adorably as words failed him.

Mary leaned down and kissed his lips, then his neck and chest. Her hand released him long enough to push his pants down his legs. Her hips rocked against him and the movement roused him to action. If this was all a dream, then let it be the best of dreams.

He turned them over, and he was kissing her shoulder, removing her bra, licking her breast, undoing her skirt, refusing to pause even for a moment. He needed to see her, to feel her, bare skin against bare skin, to know that it was her he was loving; her voice, her eyes, her body. She was just as frantic as he was, and it only drove them both to move faster. They undressed each other fully and came back together in a tangle of limbs, hands and lips. He moved up and down her body, drawing sensations from her with his mouth and fingers. She cried out and writhed under his attentions, before seizing back the initiative. She clutched his back, then moved lower to grasp his buttocks, pulling him into her and moaning as he thrust deep and kissed her hard.

On another night, they would be down at the hotel bar, with Sybil and Edith and others, sharing drinks and laughter before he saw her and her sisters home safely. On another night, they'd be leaving the theatre, a concert, or a movie; debating where to head for dessert or a late night snack. On another night, they would be doing what best friends do – spending time together, talking and joking over a bottle of wine and flinging clever barbs at each other until they were sleepy and it was time for one of them to go home.

Tonight, they were high above London, entwined together between 600 thread count bed sheets, their drinks long abandoned in the living room, their clothes discarded across the carpeted floor.

And best friends became lovers.

Mary blinked several times, sleep slowly vanishing away. She turned her head. The expansive city view was still cloaked in shades of black, sunrise not yet arrived.

She felt boneless and sated, the nerves in her body throbbing lightly, reminding her of the night's events.

Matthew. Her best friend. Now her lover.

She and Matthew had made love. She didn't know if it was all of the emotions of their earlier fight and her declaration that she wanted him or the high she felt when she saw his true feelings finally unveiled in his blue eyes, but she was unable to recall if she'd ever had better with anyone else. While she had never before contemplated what it would be like to sleep with Matthew, if pressed, she would have assumed it would be slow and sweet.

She was entirely wrong. It was neither.

She was aggressive. He was ravenous. The surprise of revealing these sides to each other only made their desire more intense. The first time was shockingly good, and it made her want more, immediately. Matthew obliged her. Several times.

Matthew. A sex god. Who knew?

She was about to laugh in amazement when a shiver shook her spine. She suddenly became very aware of exactly where Matthew was.

She also realized why she had woken up before dawn, or more accurately, what had woken her up.

His hand was on her right thigh, keeping her leg parted to one side. The fingers of his other hand were tracing delightful shapes across her breast.

"Matthew," she breathed. She shot her hand down her body and her fingers found his hair, curling into the back of his head as her hips bucked towards him. Heat pooled at her centre so forcefully that she almost did not understand what his mouth and tongue were doing to her. Almost.

"Matthew!" she moaned.

"Stamina, Mary," he whispered, his fingers taking over, his mouth pausing just long enough to speak. "The night's not over yet."

"Come on, Matthew," Mary smiled, running her hand through her hair. "Please?"

"No," he smiled back at her, a slight blush coming to his cheeks. He looked back out the window and reached his arms out wide, arching his back and moving his head in circles. He could not remember when a night of often interrupted sleep had ever felt so great. "I'm not answering that."

She shook her head in amusement, her eyes taking in his bare back and legs as he stretched. His underwear seemed offensive to her now that she'd seen his entire body.

"It isn't as if anything will change if you tell me, you know," she grinned. "Or do you think me capable of sleeping with a man and throwing him over the very next morning?"

"Of course I don't think that," Matthew turned around and rolled his eyes at her. "It makes me feel foolish to talk about it, is all. It's almost as if I'm a sort of coward, that you finally took pity on me, like a puppy that you rescued from a puddle."

"I'm only curious, not malicious," Mary raised her eyebrows playfully. "I don't need the exact date or moment," she pleaded. "Just the year. It was obviously before last."

"How would you know?" he smiled, coming back to bed. "Maybe it was last week."

"Was it?" she arched her eyebrow at him.

"No," he smiled sheepishly.

She turned on to her side to face him. The neck of her robe parted slightly, revealing a hint of cleavage.

Matthew swallowed.

"That's very distracting," he frowned.

"What is?" she asked innocently. Her hand moved along the edge of her robe, past the inviting curve of her breast.

"You're well aware," Matthew said tightly, his eyes following her movements.

"Just the year, Matthew. Or, even how long, generally. That's all that I want to know," she smiled. The touch of her fingers against her skin combined with his stare made her shiver.

"If I tell you," he whispered, moving towards her. "What shall be my reward?"

"Whatever you wish, Matthew," she challenged, her eyes holding his stare.

His arms wrapped around her and she allowed him to push her on to her back. She smiled up at him, his lips close enough she could feel his breath on her face.

"How long, Mary? For as long as I can remember," he said softly.

Mary swallowed. Her stomach fluttered. It was such a line. It had to be a line. Just a sappy declaration deliberately uttered to pull on her heart strings and get her to spread her legs for him one more time. She would have rolled her eyes and scoffed if anyone else had tried that same line on her.

But Matthew didn't use lines. Not with her.

"Show me," she whispered.

She reached up and kissed him while their hands worked together to remove her robe.

Office of Mary Crawley Interior Design Inc., Mayfair, London, England, September 2014

"It's Lady Grantham on 101," Anna said, dropping off two folders on Mary's desk and picking up four more. She gave Mary a knowing smile and closed the door to the office when she left.

Mary exhaled. She didn't have time to talk to her mother right now, or to anyone, in fact, but she knew very well that Cora would merely keep calling until she picked up, so she resignedly put her headset in her ear and touched the phone to take the call.

"Hello, Mama," Mary said, laying out fabric swatches on her desk and looking them over.

"Hello, dear," Cora answered. "Were you able to clear your schedule for the Bazaar?"

"Yes, I think I've managed it," Mary said, frowning as she rearranged the swatches and tilted her head to look at them again. "It'll be tight, but Anna says that the unveiling should still be on the Wednesday, which gives me Thursday to finish off and I can leave on the Friday to come up."

"Wonderful," Cora said. "And did you manage to arrange for the auction items?"

"Damn," Mary swore, throwing a plastic pen that suddenly refused to write into the bin. "No, not yet, I'm afraid."

"Mary," Cora sighed. Mary could almost picture her mother's disapproving frown.

"It's all right," Mary said, thinking quickly. "Matthew can get tickets for Wimbledon and I can have one of my suppliers donate a large floral arrangement. With the other lots you already have, that should do."

"You shouldn't bother Matthew so much," Cora scoffed. "He already donated tickets for the Tottenham match against Arsenal, as well as a spa package. He'll have given most of the expensive lots in the auction the way that you're going."

"I thought that Papa was taking those tickets," Mary said, pulling two swatches out that she thought suited the project she was dealing with and piling the others on the corner of her desk for Anna to take back.

"No, he gave your Papa field level seats. He donated another set for the Bazaar. I sometimes think he's generous to a fault, Mary. All he does is give and gets nothing in return."

Mary spun in her chair and looked out the window. She did not want to have this conversation over the phone, but thought it better to get it over with.

"Don't worry, Mama. Matthew isn't put out by it. He's quite happy to help me," she said carefully.

"Of course he is, dear. He adores you. But that doesn't mean you should constantly impose on him."

"It's not an imposition. Besides, he's part of the family. We can rely on him," she said.

"He's not truly family, Mary. Your Papa just likes to embellish how dear he and Isobel are to us," Cora replied. "You know that we aren't actually related at all."

'Thank God for that,' Mary smirked wryly.

"He's not just my friend, Mama," Mary said quietly, forging ahead.

"I know, Mary. You're very close. Still, you shouldn't take him for granted," Cora said plainly.

"No, what I mean to say is we aren't merely friends anymore," Mary said, hoping her mother would take the hint.

"Yes, I know. You're best friends. The two of you barely let anyone get a word in when you're together," Cora laughed lightly.

"No, Mama, you're not listening. Matthew isn't just my friend now. We're more than friends," Mary struggled. "More than best friends."

Cora took a sharp breath. Mary thought she could even hear the pop of her Mama's eyes opening wide.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Cora asked eagerly.

"With extreme difficulty," Mary rolled her eyes.

"Did something happen between you and Matthew?" The hopeful tone in Cora's voice was unmistakeable.

"Yes. We spent time together after dinner a few weeks ago at the Shard." Even though her mother was not in the room with her, Mary felt suddenly nervous and looked down at her lap.

"Of course, the monthly dinner at that Chinese restaurant, yes. Edith told me that he left early because he had a headache. Such a shame. He goes to so much trouble to set up these evenings for us. I hope you thanked Matthew properly."

"I went to see him afterward, to check on his migraine," Mary nodded. "And we had drinks together."

"That's not quite what I meant," Cora huffed.

"And we decided to start seeing each other," Mary said, unable to stop a smile.

"Heavens! How many drinks did you have?" Cora laughed.

"I'm serious! Matthew and I are dating now, Mama."

Another pause and Mary could picture her mother grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh, my dear! So you're going steady with Matthew?" Cora asked breathlessly.

"Yes, Mama. We're going steady and he's taking me to a sock hop this weekend," Mary rolled her eyes. "We don't call it 'going steady' Mama. This isn't 1950's America, you know."

"What brought this on?"

"I just…we…we came to realize that we care about each other as more than friends," Mary explained.

"Well, you two have always been well matched. I always thought you'd be so good together."

"I know. You and Papa are shameless, constantly dropping hints about how sweet he is," Mary said pointedly. "Matthew this, Matthew that, Matthew, Matthew, Matthew…I'm sure you want us to give you grandchildren as soon as possible."

"What we want doesn't matter."

"Mama…" Mary sighed.

"At least, it's not all that matters. Do you love him?" Cora asked seriously.

"Mama, we've only been dating for two weeks," Mary said dismissively.

"You've known each other since you were 8 years old, Mary. You've been close friends almost as long. You're beyond the feeling out stage, don't you think? Do you love him? More than just as your dear friend, I mean? Do you love Matthew?"

"Yes," Mary said quietly.

Cora's squeal of delight was so loud in Mary's ear that it made her wince.

"I think perhaps I do. I think I may have loved him for much longer than I knew," Mary said, blushing and grinning. She loved him. God, it felt so good to say it.

"Oh, my darling," Cora squealed. "Have you told your sisters?"

"Yes. They apparently saw the signs before even we did," Mary laughed ruefully.

"Well, let's not pretend this isn't wonderful news! Your Papa will be so happy for both of you," Cora said.

"Right. I've got to go, Mama. I'll talk to you later this week once I've got your auction items gathered together. Bye." Mary said, clicking off.

She removed her headset and placed it on the desk cradle. She considered texting Matthew and warning him that he should expect a call from her parents. She knew her father would be overjoyed at the news. Though she hated it when the family made such a fuss about her love life, she had to admit that this time, she wasn't as bothered by the idea.

Downton Village, Yorkshire, England, September 2014

"Don't they know that there are perfectly good markets in London?" Tom grumbled. "Our weekend's shot now."

"But do London markets have the same history and tradition of the Downton Church Bazaar?" Matthew smiled.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, they do," Tom replied. "Contrary to what Lord Grantham may say, the world does not begin and end in Yorkshire."

Matthew laughed.

"Where's Sybil?" Tom frowned, looking around. "I told her not to buy anything. The longer she stays out of sight, the less likely she's behaving herself."

"She's probably with Mary and Edith. You know how they get when they're together," Matthew said.

"Yeah," Tom shook his head. "I never know what they spend hours talking about at night."

"Lately, it's probably something to do with me," Matthew sighed.

"I doubt it. They can finish talking about you in about five minutes," Tom said.

"That's harsh, mate," Matthew cringed. "Even if it's true."

Tom laughed. "Isn't today your one-month anniversary?"

"The very word anniversary means it's an occasion that is only to be celebrated once a year. You can't have an anniversary every month," Matthew smiled.

"Mate, fuck off and take advantage of the golden opportunity," Tom said pointedly. "Every woman swoons over celebrating the one-month dating anniversary."

"I know that," Matthew replied. "Mary isn't every woman."

"So you're not going to do anything? Matthew Crawley, Mr. Master-of-the-Gallant-Gestures himself doesn't even have some home baked cupcakes ready for your new girlfriend?"

"Of course I want to do something," Matthew complained. "But Mary isn't one for public displays of affection, especially here with her family all around. She'd find it juvenile or embarrassing, at best. So, with great difficulty, I'm not going to do anything."

"This doesn't sound like you at all," Tom said. "I thought that, after long last, finally getting the woman of your dreams, you'd be flowers and jewellery at every turn."

"It isn't all about what I want," Matthew frowned. "We're not teenagers. Being in a relationship is about understanding what the other person wants and giving it to them."

"And you think that Mary doesn't want any mention of this being the official day that you've been dating for a month?" Tom asked in amusement.

"I'm sure that she doesn't want me to make a big deal out of it," Matthew said.

"Right," Tom smiled.

"You know that he'll have something planned," Sybil laughed.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Sybil."

"She's right," Edith agreed. "Matthew doesn't do anything unless it's over the top and beyond anyone's imagination. Celebrating one month with you – he'll probably have Mrs. Patmore bake a cake and Carson and Mason hold up a banner at dinner, and that's just for starters."

"He isn't always over the top," Mary said defensively. "Besides, dating for one month is hardly something to shout about. Most couples probably don't even mark the occasion."

"Tom and I did," Sybil said, smiling to herself.

"I don't want to hear about it," Mary said quickly.

"Michael and I did, as well," Edith nodded. "He took me to the West End, and after the show we went back to…"

"Too much information!" Mary yelped. "You both forget that you barely knew your boyfriends when the first month came along. Matthew and I have known each other most of our lives. It isn't the same."

Sybil stopped and grabbed Mary's arm.

"You didn't get him anything, did you?" Sybil demanded, her eyes widening.

Mary swallowed and looked away.

"Shit," Edith gasped. "He's probably going to have a group of schoolchildren spell out 'Happy One Month, Mary' on matching t-shirts and you didn't even get him a present?"

"Mary, we told you that you had to get him something!" Sybil practically shrieked.

"Well it isn't as if there was time!" Mary shot back. "I had the unveiling on Wednesday, Thursday was fielding calls and doing press and what not, and we had to leave early yesterday to come up here!"

"And it isn't as if Matthew has let you out of his sight long enough for you to even shop for him, anyway," Sybil teased.

Mary blushed and looked down as they resumed walking. "Actually, it's me who hasn't let him out of my sight," she said quietly.

"You do realize that you have to get him something, don't you? Sex won't be enough," Edith said plainly.

"Well, hang on, this is Matthew we're talking about," Sybil smiled.

"Sybil!" Mary frowned.

"Actually, she has a point," Edith agreed. "Wear your thong to bed tonight and he'll forget all about you not getting him a proper present."

"Stop it, both of you!" Mary snarled. "We're sleeping down the hall from Mama and Papa!"

"So? You're still sleeping in the same bed," Sybil shrugged.

"That's not the point! I'm not discussing this with you. Today is no different than yesterday and will be no different than tomorrow. Matthew will still be my boyfriend regardless of whether we exchange gifts tonight or not," Mary said firmly.

Edith glanced over at Sybil with a knowing smirk.

"I suppose if she wears the diamond necklace that he probably bought for her to bed tonight, then that should do," Edith said.

"Yes. That and the thong," Sybil nodded.

"Argh!" Mary rolled her eyes and stomped off ahead of them.

Sybil laughed as they watched her busy herself with examining a booth selling footstools shaped like animals.

"What do you really think?" Sybil asked.

"It's Matthew," Edith smiled. "She could give him a napkin with 'Happy One-Month' scribbled on it in lipstick and he'd probably have it framed."

"I'm not so sure," Sybil said. "He's still a man. The whole wide-eyed lovesick schoolboy routine only lasts so long. Mary needs to think about what he wants for once."

"That's why I told her to wear her thong," Edith smirked.

Sybil laughed and took her sister's arm as they went to catch up to Mary.

Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, September 2014

"I hope Papa didn't interrogate you too much before you came through," Mary said, rubbing lotion into her hands as she sat at her vanity.

"He was fine," Matthew smiled, settling in bed under the duvet. "I think he may have said 'good show' or something like that and that was it."

"That's a relief," Mary said lightly. "Mama was thrilled to hear we'd made it to one month."

"Why?" Matthew chuckled. "Did she think that we wouldn't?"

Mary closed the bottle and put it back on the vanity. "No, I suppose she thinks that one month is some sort of milestone."

She glanced over at Matthew briefly, watching for his reaction.

Matthew was preoccupied with his phone. "One month is nothing," he scoffed. "People make such a big show of these 'dating anniversaries'."

"That's what I told Sybil," Mary said tightly, rising from her chair and giving him a thin smile. "It's just an excuse to exchange tacky gifts and talk about the Moon and June or some other nonsense."

"Precisely," Matthew nodded slowly, placing his phone down on the nightstand. "It's just another day, isn't it?"

"Of course," Mary said, coming to bed. She sat down on her side of the bed, facing away from him, her silk robe still tied tight around her. "Although it is something, one month. It's more important than one week anyway."

"Yes," Matthew said. "And it won't be as important as two months, or three months, or six months. It's all relative."

Mary rolled her eyes. She got under the duvet and leaned over to him. "Well, happy one-month, then," she said, kissing him softly, then drawing back and turning off the bedside light.

"Happy one-month, darling," Matthew replied. His hand flexed into a tight fist to stop his fingers from shaking.

They both lay still, a sizeable distance between them on the King-sized bed.

Mary fumed, unable to close her eyes and sleep. She did feel strange about sleeping with Matthew in her old bedroom, but she was more annoyed about his casual attitude to their one-month anniversary. He'd pined for her for years. Even if he knew she didn't put a lot of stock in these types of false milestones, didn't he want to mark the occasion? Wasn't it important to him? Or, now that he had her, did he no longer care about these moments?

Matthew turned his head away from her, his eyes open, gritting his teeth to stop himself from speaking. His eyes wandered through the darkened room and fell on the mantle above the fireplace. Mary collected Paddington Bear figurines when she was a child and they were still standing there, relics of the past. They all looked the same, of course, the only difference being the colour of the hat or coat and perhaps accessories or a prop such as the one where Paddington was standing next to Big Ben. Matthew had bought her a figure with a red raincoat when she was twelve years old, and had added half a dozen more or so over the years until she moved on to something else. He stared at them now, realizing just how long ago that was. A time years past when they were children and would play together whenever he visited. He'd watched her grow into a beautiful young woman, the first stirrings of his attraction to her beginning when they were teenagers. As they grew older, how many times had he wished he could have just one real date with her, let alone an entire month of them?

"Fuck," Matthew said under his breath. He sat up suddenly and reached for the light. He turned towards her. "Mary," he called.

"Yes?" she turned and looked at him curiously.

"I know that it isn't a big deal to you that we've been dating for one month, and I know that you'll find this to be utter nonsense and ridiculous, but I can't help it," he babbled.

Mary's lips curled into a delighted smile. She sat up and waited for him to continue.

"It matters, Mary," Matthew declared, his hand flying through his hair nervously. "It matters to me. I know I sound selfish, but…one day, one week, one month, it all matters. I…I've wanted this…I've wanted you for so long, and now that we're together, I just want to celebrate every single second with you, I…"

She leaned forward and kissed him firmly, her arms going around his neck. He jumped slightly in surprise, then kissed her back, his hands moving to hold her hips.

"You're a darling," Mary smiled, drawing back. "I was beginning to think that you didn't actually care about today."

"Of course I do!" he said indignantly. "I was only putting on an act because I thought you'd be annoyed if I made a whole production out of it."

"Matthew, you can rest assured that I shall never be annoyed by your displays of affection," she grinned, kissing him again.

"Really?" he asked in shock.

"Yes, really," she laughed.

"And all those times you complained about how your other boyfriends would make an unnecessary big deal out of such things?" he asked.

"I suppose that I've warmed to the idea about celebrating little moments like this, now that it's you who is making the big deal out of it," she said, raising her eyebrow.

Matthew grinned and kissed her again. "One second," he smiled.

He got out of bed and went over to his travel case, digging into one of the pockets and taking out a small gift bag.

Mary laughed in surprise as he came back to bed and handed it to her.

"I probably shouldn't push my luck, but I did get you something," he smiled.

Mary opened the bag eagerly. Regardless of what she thought about the concept of celebrating one month of dating, she still loved getting presents. She took a small black box out of the bag and opened it.

"Matthew," she whispered, her eyes wide.

"I know you go through dozens of pens with all your sketches and layouts and notes and such," Matthew smiled. "I just thought you might want to have something more permanent."

Mary carefully removed the pen from the box, feeling its weight. It slid smoothly through her fingers. The elegant black body was topped with a smooth crystal on the cap.

"So, what this is called is…" Matthew began.

"Caran d'Ache Lalique Crystal, limited edition," Mary said quietly, staring at the pen. "Oh, Matthew, thank you so much."

"I take it that you like it, then?" he smiled.

Mary would have laughed at the question if she wasn't so stunned. He hadn't bought her jewellery, or even lingerie. He'd bought her something elegant and beautiful that she'd use every day at her job, her passion, something she'd carry with her all the time, something that wouldn't proclaim her as his or decorate her for his enjoyment. The pen had nothing to do with him at all, beyond the satisfaction of seeing her happy to receive it.

"It's perfect," she whispered, putting the pen back in the box and closing it. "Damn…" she hissed, closing her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Matthew frowned.

"Nothing…everything…" Mary sighed, looking at him. "Nothing except for the fact that I'm the world's worst girlfriend."

"What are you talking about?" Matthew asked with concern.

"I didn't get you anything!" she whinged. "I was so busy this week with the unveiling, and at first I didn't think today was very important, but then when we arrived here and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I actually did care about our having reached one month together, and that I wanted tonight to be…to be special…but it was too late to get you anything by then, and it wasn't as though I was going to buy you some stupid knickknack from the Church Bazaar."

"Mary, it's quite all right," Matthew grinned, rubbing her arm. "You don't have to get me a present."

"Yes, I do!" she shook her head.

"Well, you can get me something when we get back to London," Matthew offered.

"I know that! But it won't change the fact that I didn't have anything for you tonight! God, I should have just listened to Edith and Sybil," she rolled her eyes.

"Excuse me?"

"They told me that I had to get you something earlier this week, and they said it again today, and I ignored them," Mary explained. "Then they said that all I had to do was come to bed wearing a thong and that would be enough, which was stupid. Especially when you went and bought me probably the most thoughtful gift anyone's ever given me!"

Matthew almost choked. He cleared his throat and paused, trying to compose himself.

"I'm so sorry, Matthew," Mary said quietly, looking at him earnestly.

"Erm…does..." Matthew stopped and collected himself again. "Does that mean that you…uh…that you're wearing a thong at the moment?"

Mary smiled in realization, her face turning from despondent apology to knowing confidence. "Would you like it if I was?" she asked him teasingly.

"Yes!" he said quickly and rather loudly. She grinned as he blushed.

"Yes…yes I would…like that…very much," he recovered.

Mary kept her eyes on his as she lowered her hands to the sash of her robe. She untied it slowly and eased the garment off of her shoulders.

Matthew groaned as he took in her alabaster skin. His eyes moved down across her breasts, her flat stomach and finally her black panties.

Allowing the robe to slip off her arms, Mary crawled over to him and came into his lap, pushing him back into the pillows and pressing her chest against his.

"Why don't you see for yourself, Matthew?" she said, licking his ear.

Matthew's hands slid along the smooth planes of her back and down to her bottom. He groaned as he caressed her bare flesh.

"Let's just call this your first present," she smiled against his ear. "I still want to get you something when we get back home."

"That's very…generous of you, darling," he stammered, his hands pressing her against him.

"Happy one-month, Matthew," she purred, kissing him hard.

Law Offices of Harvell, Carter & Lewis LLP, Fleet Street, London, England, October 2014

"Hang on," Tom said, glancing around at their surroundings. "Where are we going?"

"To lunch with Mary and Matthew," Sybil frowned at him.

"Yes, I know that, thank you," Tom smirked in annoyance. "I thought we were meeting them at the restaurant."

"No, Mary and I thought it more convenient to meet at Matthew's office, then we can all walk over to Lutyens," Sybil explained.

"We're going into Matthew's office?" Tom asked, his eyes widening. "Actually going into the building?"

"Yes," Sybil said, looking at him in confusion. "Is there something wrong?"

"Not for me, there isn't," Tom muttered.

"What's that?"

"Nothing! No, nothing wrong at all. Let's go," Tom said with a false smile.

"Mary Crawley for Matthew Crawley," Mary said to the young receptionist.

"Yes, Miss Crawley. Mr. Crawley told us to expect you. He's on his line at the moment. I'll send him a message that you're here. If you would just like to wait over there. Would you like water, coffee or tea?" the receptionist asked.

"No, I'm fine, thank you," Mary nodded.

She went over and sat down on the leather couch. She smiled at the large vases filled with fresh flowers on either side of the seating area. She picked up a tablet off the coffee table and flipped to the latest issue of Vanity Fair.

Mary glanced over at the receptionist briefly. The woman could not have been older than her early twenties, and was rather perky, still wearing a smile as she went about her tasks. Her tight blazer jacket framed a rather low cut blouse. Though Mary couldn't see the rest of what the receptionist was wearing, she suspected the outfit was completed by a short skirt, sheer tights and heels.

Mary quirked her eyebrows in annoyance and looked back at her electronic magazine. 'Pretty young thing answering phones at a law firm. Typical.'

Mary heard laughter from the large staircase and the clicking of heels. She looked up as three women came down into the lobby.

"Meg, we're all at lunch," the taller one said, smiling at the receptionist. "Is Matthew still on that conference call?"

"Yes," the receptionist replied.

"Thank God," the woman laughed, turning to the others. "Better him than me. He's speaking with Mirella Hendricks about that big merger. He's the only one who can get through to her."

"Obviously. She adores Matthew," a thin blonde woman replied.

"Who doesn't?" the third woman giggled as they reached the exit.

Mary watched them leave. They were barely older than the receptionist, and dressed similarly, in professional attire that was decidedly form fitting, although these three wore slightly more expensive clothes. 'So much for the law being an old boys' club.'

"Mary! There you are," Sybil smiled as she and Tom came into the reception area.

Mary rose from her seat and kissed Sybil on both cheeks.

"Have you been waiting long?" Tom asked, glancing around the room.

"Not really, no," Mary replied. "Matthew should be down in a moment. He's on a call."

"That's fine, we're early anyway," Sybil smiled.

A glass door opened and another group came out of the offices. Mary and Sybil looked over as four women and two men walked past. They stopped their animated conversation long enough to advise the receptionist that they were all off to lunch, and continued on outside.

"Are they all lawyers?" Sybil asked, watching them leave.

"I wouldn't know," Mary replied, frowning slightly in their direction.

Tom stared at his phone, suddenly becoming extremely engrossed with checking football scores.

"They're all rather…giddy," Sybil remarked, noticing the designer suits, expensive handbags and manicured nails of the women in the group.

"Yes, this office seems to have an overabundance of people who are quite…giddy," Mary agreed, her eyes narrowing. If she didn't know better, she'd have thought she'd stumbled into a venue for London Fashion Week rather than a supposedly dull and stodgy law office.

"Tom?" a voice called.

Tom's eyes widened and he looked up.

"Lavinia," Tom smiled nervously. "Hello."

"I thought that was you! Hello!" a cute red-headed woman smiled as she came over. "This is Angela, another paralegal here," she said, introducing a statuesque brunette who came over and nodded to them.

"Hello," Tom said. "This is Sybil and Mary."

They all smiled politely at each other in acknowledgment.

"You're here to see Matthew?" Lavinia asked Tom.

"Yes, I'm his girlfriend," Mary interjected, surprising herself at how firm her voice sounded.

Sybil looked at her older sister in amusement.

"Oh, you're the Mary?" Lavinia smiled, moving her gaze from Tom to Mary. "I'm sorry, of course you are. I've been longing to meet you, because I've heard so much about you from Matthew."

"We all have," Angela smiled.

"Nice things, I hope," Mary smiled carefully.

"I don't think he can say anything else when it comes to you," Lavinia laughed. "Although, to be fair, we did drag it out of him once we saw the flowers."

Mary blushed slightly and smiled back at her.

"Flowers?" Sybil repeated.

"Matthew's florist is the same one that we use for the firm," Angela smiled. "He ordered a gorgeous arrangement a while ago and made the mistake of having it sent here with our regular order. Obviously when we all saw it, we hounded him until he spilled the details."

"Though to be honest, even without the flowers, we knew something was up with him," Lavinia smiled. "He's been dancing a jig around here for weeks, as if he's swallowed a box of fireworks or something."

They all laughed, Mary's cheeks flushing a further shade of pink.

"So lovely to meet you both, and good to see you again, Tom. Have a nice day," Lavinia nodded and she and Angela left.

"Flowers?" Sybil smirked at her sister.

"He brought me some the Monday after we had dinner at the Shard," Mary said, trying to keep her voice level.

"Ah…yes, that night would have been cause for celebration," Sybil smiled to herself.

"And a few more times since then," Mary said quietly, looking away.

Sybil grinned.

"Jesus, the man's got his own florist?" Tom shook his head.

"Quiet you," Sybil retorted. "And how exactly do you know this Lavinia?"

"I just met her one night when I was out with Matthew and the lads," Tom said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Matthew went out with her?" Sybil asked in alarm.

"No! No!" Tom shook his head vigorously. "We just happened to run into her, that's it! Come on, you know Matthew hasn't dated anyone for years!"

"Hard to believe with all the fit young women all over his office," Sybil noted, glancing around.

"Sybil!" Mary frowned. "You know, looks aren't everything!"

"Well, I'm sure they must be smart as well. They do work in a law firm, don't they?"

"Sybil!" Mary hissed, the cackle of the other women talking about how everyone adored Matthew still fresh in her mind.

"Sorry," Sybil smiled apologetically.

Sybil and Tom sat down on the couch and returned to chatting about something that Mary paid no attention to. She glanced over at the receptionist again, then thought of the parade of women she had just witnessed walk out. She pictured all of them passing by Matthew's office and smiling cheerfully, laughing with him and flirting with him, asking him if he had plans for lunch, or even dinner. Lawyers all went out for drinks after work together, didn't they? They gathered around at those trendy hot restaurants and lounges and flashed their credit cards as beautiful women flocked over to get a piece of them.

Mary had never thought of other women lusting after Matthew. Truthfully, she barely could remember any of Matthew's past girlfriends. There were a few, but they never seemed to last for very long. Was it so strange an idea that Matthew was…desirable to other women? Mary blinked as she realized that when Matthew was just her best friend, she didn't consciously think of him in those terms. But now, after she had seen him – all of him – outside the bounds of their friendship, it seemed entirely strange that he wouldn't attract loads of women. If she could come around and realize just how gorgeous he was, was it so hard to believe that other women would also, and much sooner than she had?

"Sybil says you've been swamped lately, Mary," Tom said, drawing her attention. "It'll be nice to have a proper lunch then, won't it? I suppose you haven't seen much of Matthew lately, either."

"It's been a lot of hours at the office recently, yes," Mary nodded absentmindedly. "I'm managing, though. I've been lucky because Matthew's had dinner ready every…"

Mary paused for a second as her mind recalled events of the past weeks.

"…every night," she finished slowly.

She'd worked late most nights for the past month, her last successful project leading to her being commissioned for a larger one straight away. Sometimes, she left her office just an hour past her usual day's end, other times much later. She'd texted him each night and he'd always been waiting on her, with dinner plans ready for them – either room service at his suite, or he'd already bought groceries to bring back to her place, or a restaurant if she wasn't too tired to go out.

"He's had dinner ready for when you get done work?" Sybil asked. "I wonder what that feels like," she finished, glancing pointedly at Tom.

"Not fair comparing me to Matthew," Tom frowned. "I'm still an Irish mick at heart. I don't give back rubs while you're watching some drivel on the telly."

"No need to remind me," Sybil rolled her eyes. "Probably best to stop digging your own grave, darling," she smiled, patting Tom's cheek.

Mary blushed and looked away. She had not realized how particularly…skilled…Matthew was with his hands until a few nights into their relationship. Since then, she'd insisted on numerous back rubs, and responded in kind.

"God, he does that too, doesn't he?" Tom groaned, seeing Mary's reaction. "He's going to make me look like a right tosser."

Matthew came down the stairs and smiled as he approached them.

"Darling," he grinned, leaning over and kissing Mary's cheek. "Sorry to keep you waiting. I was stuck on a call. Sybil. Tom. Are we all set, then?"

"Yes we are!" Tom said enthusiastically. He grabbed Sybil's arm and briskly escorted her towards the door.

Matthew lifted his eyebrows in surprise at Tom's behaviour.

"Everything okay?" he asked Mary.

"It is now," she smiled, taking his hand. "Come on. I'm famished and I've been meaning to try Lutyens for a while."

Home of Matthew Crawley, Highgate, London, England, November 2014

Mary glanced at her phone. She sighed resignedly as she realized how late it was. She placed the mobile back on the nightstand and turned towards Matthew.

"Matthew," she smiled, sliding over to his side of the bed and kissing his shoulder.

"Mmm," he hummed happily. "Love."

Mary laughed as Matthew, with his eyes still closed, clumsily pulled her into his embrace. His one hand moved down and cupped her bottom, while his other cradled her head as he pressed kisses to her neck.

"Matthew, it's late. I have to go," she complained, doing nothing to leave his embrace.

"Mmm," Matthew groaned. He took a deep breath as he opened his eyes. "What time is it? Can't you just stay here?" he asked lazily, his voice heavy with sleep.

"I can't wear the same dress tomorrow morning, Matthew," Mary frowned.

"Just go home and change on your way to work," Matthew mumbled, blinking his eyes to try and wake up fully.

"You'd make love to me then send me away in the morning on a walk of shame? Honestly, Matthew," Mary teased.

"I seem to recall that I've been taking that very walk each morning for about three months, now," he said lightly. "Anyway, is it really a walk of shame if you're no longer in university?"

"I wouldn't know," Mary smiled. "I'm hardly an expert on them. Are you, the past three months aside?"

"What do you think?" His eyes were fully open now.

"Oh, I don't know," she said lightly. "I imagine back at Cambridge, you'd have thought far enough ahead to bring the poor girl back to your flat so you could kick her out once you were sated."

"Is that so?" Matthew smiled. "I'll have you know I was enough of a gentleman to always pay for their cab fare."

Mary laughed and slapped his chest. She moved away from him and sat up, picking up her bra from where it had landed on the headboard and searching the floor for her panties.

"You could just bring some clothes over, you know," Matthew said sleepily, closing his eyes and laying back on the pillow. "All of the closets in the other bedrooms are empty."

Mary zipped up her skirt and eyed him curiously. "I hardly think that's practical," she said. "You know how I am. I'd have to bring half my wardrobe here to make sure I had everything I needed."

"So? Why don't you, then?" Matthew answered, his eyes still closed.

"Because I don't live here. I have my own home," Mary laughed incredulously.

"Yes, but you'll move in here eventually, so you may as well start bringing some things over," Matthew said.

"What?" Mary frowned.

Matthew opened his eyes and looked over at her. "What? I just think it would be easier for you if you had some clothes here. Then we don't have to worry about getting you home at 3 in the morning."

"No, not that," Mary shook her head, standing at the side of the bed with her top unbuttoned. "What did you say about me moving in here?"

Matthew looked at her in confusion. "You'll be living here soon enough, so why not start filling some of the closets?"

"What makes you think that I'll be living here?" Mary asked.

"Why wouldn't you?" Matthew asked, frowning now.

"Because it's not my home; it's yours," Mary said pointedly.

"Yes, it's the home that I just bought, which is minutes from yours, and that you are in the process of decorating," Matthew answered, growing more perplexed. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

"Why do you sound so sure it's a foregone conclusion that I'll move in with you?" Mary retorted.

"Well, we could always live at your place, but mine's bigger," Matthew pointed out.

Mary huffed in exasperation. She turned and walked out of the bedroom, buttoning her top as she went.

"Mary!" Matthew called. He frowned and got out of bed, grabbing his underwear and jeans quickly and throwing them on as he stumbled after her.

"Mary!" he caught up to her downstairs in the kitchen where she was getting her purse. "What's going on?"

"Why don't you tell me?" she asked him angrily. Her fury allowed her to ignore his bare chest and arms. "You've already got us moving in together, so you may as well let me know how the rest of my life will play out as well."

"What are you talking about? I merely said that you should keep some clothes here to avoid having to go home so late in the evening, that's all," Matthew said, raising his hands in front of him in question.

"That isn't all that you said, and you know it," Mary said coldly. "Matthew, we've been together for only three months. I hardly think that's enough time to determine if we should be living together or not."

"Only three months?" Matthew repeated, his eyes widening in bewilderment. "Mary, we've been together every day and night of those three months; to say nothing for the small fact that we've known each other most of our lives. What exactly do you think you're going to find out about me in the future that you don't already know? No one knows me the way you do!"

"So, what are you saying? Is this a proposal?" Mary demanded.

"What?" Matthew exclaimed. "No, of course not."

"Good! Because if it were, you've cocked it up quite thoroughly!" Mary shouted.

"I…" Matthew frowned, then stopped to calm himself. He scratched the back of his head and looking down at himself he realized he was only wearing jeans.

"I don't understand what the problem is. I only said…" he began.

"Yes, I know what you said," Mary interjected. "That is exactly the problem."

Matthew sighed, glaring at her. "Let me go put on some clothes and I'll drive you home, then."

"I can walk, or call a cab," Mary said petulantly.

"Yes, you could, but you shouldn't," Matthew mumbled, walking back to his bedroom.

Mary stalked off to the foyer. The nerve! How dare he tell her that she would be moving in with him as though he'd decided everything for them already! Matthew, of all people, knew how much she hated to be told what to do. She'd complained enough to him about the attempts of her father and her past boyfriends to control her. Had he not listened? He was apparently no better than they were!

Still furious, Mary opened the hall closet to get her shoes. She looked down at the floor, then stopped suddenly.

Matthew had just moved in a week ago. Most of the furniture they'd picked out together was still to be delivered while she arranged for painting and small renovations to the rooms. She'd had custom made angled shelves built along the full width of the deep hall closet to organize Matthew's shoes.

She looked down at the shelves now. He'd placed her shoes on one side by themselves. Next to her Louboutins was a shelf full of his shoes – shoes for work, boots, trainers, cycling shoes, sandals, even slippers. Rather than spread his shoes out across the closet, he'd set aside most of the space, the space now occupied by one pair of her shoes.

"All right, I'm ready," he called softly, coming up behind her. She grabbed her shoes and stood back up, closing the closet door.

The ride to her place was short, being only a few streets away. Mary didn't say a word to him. She was too busy remembering. He'd bought his house in her neighbourhood, despite their having looked at others closer to his office. He'd hired her firm to do the interior design and decorating. He'd assumed that they would live there together someday soon. He'd even set aside space for her shoes in the hall closet, as though she were already living there.

He stopped the car at the kerb in front of her house.

"Good night," he said quietly. "Please text me after work, if you want to see me."

She closed her eyes briefly and sighed. She turned to him and touched his arm.

"Matthew, of course I'll see you. I'm not angry anymore. Truly, I'm not. I just don't like feeling as if someone else is in charge of my life. You know that," she said calmly.

"I do," Matthew nodded. "But that's not what I was trying to do at all. I just wanted to make your life easier, and I'm not as horrified by the prospect of us living together as you apparently are."

"I'm not horrified by it!" she said defensively. "I just haven't put my mind to it."

"Right," Matthew said. He looked away and stared at the glowing dashboard.

"Matthew," Mary rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to apologize for being careful. Whether you choose to believe it or not, it's because I love you that I don't want to just rush headlong into such an important step for us."

"Fine," Matthew said, turning back to her. "But I'm not apologizing either. I love you and I enjoy thinking about our future together. I was doing that long before we started dating, and I'm not going to stop and cower to you just because you're now actually my girlfriend."

They shared a mischievous smile.

"You rather like standing up to me, don't you?" Mary teased, moving towards him.

"Daring to challenge the Lady Mary Crawley? I must be mad," Matthew murmured as he closed the remaining distance.

They kissed, first to get over their spat, then to reassure each other, and lastly, they prolonged it to remind each other of what they each still felt.

"I'd invite you in, but you don't have a change of clothes for tomorrow," Mary smiled, stroking her fingers through his hair.

"I'll go home in the morning and change on my way to work," Matthew said quickly, kissing her and deftly turning off the car at the same time.

"Won't that be a walk of shame?" Mary smiled, kissing him again.

"On the contrary," Matthew said, his voice low. "Leaving your place after a night of passion is nothing to be ashamed about."

Mary laughed as they both got out of the car. Matthew put his arm around her waist as they went into her house.

Home of Mary Crawley, Highgate, London, England, April 2015

"Where's the wine?" Edith asked as she came into the kitchen, throwing her purse on to a chair.

"No wine tonight," Sybil smiled. "Mary wants vodka."

"Oh God," Edith sighed. "What happened now?"

"Nothing happened!" Mary frowned, waving a bottle of Grey Goose around as she shrugged her shoulders. "I just wanted to do something different tonight."

Edith looked suspiciously at the bottles on the marble counter top of the large kitchen island.

"They're mostly Russian," she said, picking up one of the shot glasses placed on the bar. "Besides, vodka is vodka. Do you really think that you'll be able to tell the difference?"

"We're going to find out!" Mary said determinedly as she took a tray of oysters out of the fridge.

"On the first night?" Sybil asked, her eyes wide with shock.

"The first night," Mary nodded, a pleased smile crossing her lips.

"Without you having to ask for it?" Edith inquired.

"Completely on his own," Mary replied. She blushed and cleared her throat. "Three times."

"Three times!" Sybil shouted.

"How?" Edith demanded. "Once before, maybe, just to be…kind. But, three times?"

"Twice before, and again in the early morning," Mary said, filling their shot glasses with Absolut. "He…woke me up…with it."

"And?" Edith asked.

"And what?" Mary frowned.

Sybil and Edith stared at her pointedly.

"And…he's…quite skilful…at it," Mary said.

The three sisters burst out laughing.

"Well, cheers to that," Sybil raised her glass, still shaking her head in disbelief.

"Cheers to that?! I'm about to text Michael right now and tell him he's sleeping on the couch for a week. Three times!" Edith grumbled, throwing back her shot glass with her sisters.

"He loves me, you know," Mary said, staring at her empty shot glass.

The three sisters were sprawled out on the sectional in Mary's living room. The playlist of songs they had compiled had long run out, as had their enthusiasm for vodka, oysters, and sushi.

"He's loved you since he was a teenager, Mary," Sybil smiled, her eyes closed. She cuddled closer to her.

"No, I mean he loves me. He really, truly, loves me. He puts me before everything, before work, before going out with the lads, before Isobel."

"Even before United?" Edith asked, adjusting the cushion she was using as a pillow.

"Even before United," Mary laughed. "It's not that he doesn't have his own fun, or his own time without me, because he does. But I always feel as though he'd choose me first if it came down to it, or if I asked him to."

"Well, that would make him a keeper then, wouldn't it?" Edith smiled.

"He's far beyond anyone you've dated before, darling," Sybil mumbled into Mary's shoulder.

"It's just…easier, with Matthew," Mary explained. "I don't feel as though I need to put on an act for him, or be careful with what I say, or go out of my way to pay him compliments. I can argue with him and say anything that I want, and he'll do the same to me, and we'll still be good afterwards. When I'm with him, it's like it's always been, except…better."

"Now you're just bragging," Edith smirked.

"But what if…what if I don't love him as much as he loves me? What if I never can?" Mary asked.

"I don't know if anyone could ever love someone the way that Matthew loves you," Sybil said.

"But you do love him, obviously," Edith said.

"Of course I do!" Mary almost shouted. "I've never loved anyone the way that I love Matthew. I just don't know if it's enough compared to how much he loves me."

"Are we honestly calling this a problem that Matthew loves you too much?" Edith cringed in annoyance. "I don't understand why this is troubling you. You're the one who usually gets on with things and doesn't dwell on hypotheticals."

"It's because Mary's broken her record, and she's terrified," Sybil smiled, snuggling closer to Mary, her eyes still closed.

"I am not!" Mary retorted, nudging her sister lightly.

"That's right!" Edith cackled merrily. "Matthew made it to eight months! We should ask Mama to bring a cake to this month's dinner!"

"Keep talking and you won't be invited," Mary glared.

"Oh, come on, Mary!" Edith grinned, sitting up and glancing at the bottles in front of them. "You've stayed in a mature, adult relationship for eight months. What do we have left that's cold and expensive? Ah! Stoli Elit! Perfect!"

Edith grabbed the bottle and filled their shot glasses.

"Get up, Sybil," Mary rolled her eyes. "Edith's getting stuck in again."

"Fucking hell," Sybil groaned, getting up and reaching over to take the full shot glass from her sister.

"You know, the first time I ever said I loved him, I was sixteen. We'd gone to the movies with a bunch of people and we took the Tube home, and when we all said goodbye, he just said it. He said he loved me and kissed me on the cheek. And I kissed him back and said I loved him as if it was the most natural thing in the world to say. I rather liked it, saying it, because we were such good friends. Best friends. Closer than anyone else I knew. And ever since then, that's how we are with each other. When we say goodbye, whether face to face, on the phone, or a text goodnight or emails, whatever. We always end it the same way. 'Love you'. Easy as that," Mary recalled.

"Well that's very nice, isn't it?" Sybil mumbled against Mary's shoulder.

"But you know, he meant it, Sybil. He really meant it. I just said it because I thought it was the thing to say, because it was fun to do, to have this friend, this close friend that you could kiss on the cheek like we were bloody Royals or something, and always have that to rely on. And when I look at him now, when he says it, I can see it. I didn't before, but now I do. He loves me and he'll love me until the last breath leaves his body," Mary said softly.

"So we've established that Matthew loves you. And the problem is?" Edith asked from the other side of the sectional.

"How could I ever measure up to that?" Mary pleaded. "How do you compare to a dream someone's had for 10-some-odd years? Won't he tire of me? Become bored?"

"You seem to be doing perfectly well so far," Sybil noted.

"But it's easy now, isn't it?" Mary sighed. "What happens when it gets hard? Who knows what's coming?"

"Do you hear what you're saying? You've said the last eight months have been easy with Matthew, and that's longer than you've ever stayed with any other man. Doesn't that tell you something?" Sybil smiled.

"Well Matthew already knows me, and he's smart enough not to do too many stupid things to make me go off him so soon," Mary huffed.

"So why should that change?" Sybil said lightly, closing her eyes. "You know Matthew, and he knows you. Do you honestly believe he'd suddenly become someone you're no longer attracted to?"

"No, that isn't it," Mary frowned.

"You're scared that Matthew will find some reason not to love you as much as he does now the longer you're his girlfriend, rather than his best friend," Edith smiled. "And that's bollocks."

Mary rolled her eyes.

"She's right," Sybil grinned. "He knows you aren't perfect. He's already seen you at your worst. Don't think we don't know that you've confided in him on some things that you haven't even told us about. Yes, he can be rather…intense. But, you don't have to be exactly equal in all things to make it work. He doesn't love you because you're the same as him, darling. To think that you need to love each other the same way is utter rubbish."

"He loves you because you're you," Edith smirked. "And frankly, he probably knows you better than anyone else does. So, it's too late for you to back away now. He loves you, and you love him, and there's nothing else for it but to let yourself be happy with him."

Mary stayed quiet, looking up at the ceiling, Sybil's head tucked into her shoulder and Edith laying somewhere close to them. Long after the buzz from their vodka tasting had left her, and before the hangover kicked in, Mary's conversation with her sisters still lingered.

Home of Matthew Crawley, Highgate, London, England, April 2015

"Now, where are they exactly?" Tom frowned.

"Shh…they're in Paris," Sybil hissed, staring at the large television mounted on the wall.

"But I thought she was supposed to go back to Scotland by going through them stones?" Tom asked, his arm across the back of the sectional, rubbing Sybil's shoulder lightly.

"She thought about it, then decided she'd rather stay in the 18th century with Mr. busting-through-his-kilt over there," Matthew smirked.

"Matthew!" Mary scolded him, elbowing him in the ribs. "Be quiet!"

Matthew laughed, pulling her closer against his chest as Mary settled into his lap.

"Oh God, he's gorgeous!" Edith smiled, biting her lower lip and looking at the screen.

"And why's she sleeping with him, again?" Tom asked, bewildered.

"He's her husband. Now please shut up," Sybil said, not even bothering to look at Tom.

"But I thought her husband was back in the 1940's or whatever," Tom complained, gesturing at the screen in confusion.

"He is. That's her 18th century Scottish husband," Matthew said in amusement.

"This made no sense to me last series. How can she have two husbands? What do they call that?" Tom asked, turning to Matthew.

"I'd call it being damn lucky," Edith said reverently.

"It's bigamy. She's a bigamist. And an adulteress as well, obviously, and no one seems to care because her Scottish husband's much better looking than her English one, and is probably better in bed too," Matthew said.

"Both of you shut the hell up or I swear I'm sending you to the kitchen for the rest of the hour," Mary growled, leaning forward, her hand on Matthew's knee.

"You can't kick us out! This is Matthew's house!" Tom whinged.

"Watch me," Mary glared at him, before quickly looking back at the screen.

"Why are you two here, anyway?" Edith asked, still not looking at them. "I told Michael about tonight and he was gone to the pub before I even finished talking."

"Tom likes Claire's boobs," Sybil muttered.

"Oh, and I suppose you were looking away when that bloke's bare arse was all over the screen?" Tom retorted.

"Both of you calm down," Matthew laughed, swinging his legs behind Mary and getting up off the couch. "I'll go get another bottle of wine. I have a feeling the ladies are going to need it."

"Grab me a beer, mate, yeah?" Tom called. "I may need two."

"Now that everyone's gone, I have a craving for waffles and ice cream. We can use the leftover batter that you made yesterday and…" Matthew said, coming into the bedroom.

"I just need a minute," Mary answered quietly, wiping her eyes.

"Mary?" Matthew asked, coming over to the bed and sitting down beside her. "You're crying! What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's nothing," Mary shook her head, dabbing at her eyes.

"It clearly isn't nothing," Matthew said kindly. He pulled her into his embrace, leaning back against the headboard. "Talk to me, please."

"Oh, it's stupid, really. It's just that tonight reminded me of a conversation I had with Edith and Sybil last week," Mary sniffed.

"During your vodka tasting?" Matthew smiled. "Well, what did you talk about that has you so upset?"

"I doubt you'll want to know," Mary said.

"I want to know what's making you cry, that's for certain."

"Aren't you concerned that I may not love you as much as you love me?" she sniffed.

"What? Why would I be concerned about that? I already knew that," Matthew said offhandedly.

"But it's just that…wait, what?" she exclaimed, turning in his arms and looking at him.

"What?"

"What are you saying, exactly?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well, of course I love you more than you love me, darling. It's common knowledge, I would expect," Matthew said plainly.

"Oh, because I'm a cold bitch, is that it?" Mary shot back, pulling away from him.

"No! Not at all!" Matthew said quickly, wrapping his arms around her. "It's not a competition, Mary. It's not that you don't love me. I know quite well that you love me, very much, and I am immensely happy about that. It's only that I'm more…open about expressing my love for you than you are for me, that's all. That's just who we are. There's nothing wrong with it."

"How can you say that? If we're not on the same level when it comes to this, then that's a glaring problem, isn't it?" she asked.

"I don't think so, no," Matthew said easily. "We don't need to be exact duplicates of each other in everything, Mary. We only need to be in balance."

"In balance," Mary repeated.

"Yes," Matthew said, as though he were explaining something glaringly obvious. "It doesn't matter who loves who more, or who's funnier, or who's more clever. What's important is that the two of us together are enough in all of those areas."

"Go on," Mary said carefully.

"Well, it's very much like…" Matthew struggled, thinking quickly. "Like one of your design projects. Take this house, for example. You have all the ideas, the understanding of colour and fabrics, the connections with suppliers, the knowledge of vintage furniture that I wouldn't even begin to understand. If it were left to me, this place would probably be filled with castoffs from mother and some random things I picked up at IKEA or something."

Mary laughed, sniffling as she smiled at him.

"So, alone, on my own, I would be able to survive, get something practical to fill the space. But with you, Mary, the both of us, this place feels like home," Matthew grinned. "We did this together, and even if you've contributed far more than I have, it's still something we share, something for the two of us. That's what matters."

"But aren't you…aren't you tired though, of always being the one who puts in more effort? Always being the one who cares more? Don't you wish that I would be more like that?" Mary whispered.

"Are you saying that you don't put in an effort?" Matthew teased. "Because if what you did to me last night is an example of you not making an effort, I am very much looking forward to what happens when you start trying."

"Be serious!" Mary scolded him. "I don't appreciate vulgar jokes, Matthew."

"So designing and decorating my home is not making an effort? Buying me my new bike, which I'd been wanting for months, is not making an effort? Inviting my mother over for dinner is not making an effort? Spending hours listening to me complain about work and clients and other lawyers is just how you enjoy passing your time?" he smiled.

"But you do all of that for me, and more!" Mary complained. "I never dote on you, or spoil you, or do any of those disgustingly swooning girlfriend type things that men love."

"That's not true, actually. Mary," Matthew kissed her lightly. "I don't need you to stroke my ego, or cater to my demands, or pretend to be someone you're not. If you acted differently, it wouldn't feel genuine, and how could I enjoy that if it didn't seem real? You only need to be you, Mary. Just be as nice as you are."

"You think me nice, but nobody else does," Mary sighed.

"But then they haven't seen you as I've seen you, have they? Besides, it doesn't matter who loves who more. I don't think that love should be the only factor in a relationship anyway," Matthew said candidly.

"You don't?" Mary frowned, adjusting herself in his lap.

"No, I don't. Love is the first requirement, of course. Love matters, but it's just one thing to think about when talking about a truly fulfilling relationship," Matthew explained.

"Only one? And what else is there, pray?" Mary asked.

"Something deeper than just abstractly loving someone. You should imagine your life. Imagine your wildest dreams, places you wish to go, food you wish to eat, adventures you wish to have. Imagine sharing all of that with one person in particular, a person that you love. If this person makes your best moments seem even better, then that's a good indication that you not only love them, but you need them, you need them in your life," Matthew smiled.

"But life is not just the good moments, Matthew," Mary said quietly. "Everything can be golden one minute and ashes the next."

"Exactly. So, you should also imagine your worst nightmares. Imagine losing everything you've built, suffering pain that you can't fathom, falling into despair that seems to have no end. Imagine your darkest moments and imagine whether having that one person, that one person that you love, is enough to get you through them. Imagine if they were that low, if you would want to carry them through it. If you're willing to be with someone through not only the happy times, but the worst as well, to share both their joy and their hurt, then that's not just love, it's selflessness, and sacrifice, and putting someone ahead of yourself," Matthew said. "That's what relationships are built on – loving someone, needing them, wanting to be with them, caring about their happiness more than your own."

"That all sounds rather serious," Mary replied.

"It is. Very serious."

"And have you found someone that you are willing to share all of that with? To be happy with? To be sad with? Have you found that person that you feel more than just love for, Matthew?" Mary asked.

"I found her years ago. I've been spending the last eight months trying to show her that I could be that person for her," Matthew said, looking at her intently.

She leaned forward and kissed him softly. "I think she's still scared, Matthew. She's not as certain as you are. But, you're doing a very good job of convincing her."

"Good," Matthew smiled, kissing her back. "Because I've only just begun, darling."

Law Offices of Harvell, Carter & Lewis LLP, Fleet Street, London, England, July 2015

"If everyone can just shut up and pay attention, we can get this next part done and leave just in time to go home, shower, turn around and come back here," Matthew said seriously, drawing everyone's attention. "Now, once again so everyone is clear – the assets can't be sold until the Court approves the debt restructuring. Once that happens, there will be a bidding war. The only way we can ensure that our client gets what she wants is to find out the appraisal value, then come in on top of that."

The three junior associates and two students pecked away at their laptops, taking his instructions as he explained step-by-step what each of them were to do. They each retreated to their assigned spots of the boardroom. Matthew walked over to the window and gazed out on to the empty street below.

"Another night in the trenches?" Alex asked, coming up beside him.

"Looks like it," Matthew rolled his eyes. "I hate working late, but we need three separate bid packages depending on where we think the appraisal value may be. To say nothing for the fact that Litigation still hasn't sent me the responding materials. If the motion goes to shit, we'll need to file an appeal right away."

"You're not a barrister, Matthew. You don't need to be responsible for all facets of the file. Your job is to handle the offer, that's it," Alex said firmly.

"I know, but it's my client, so you know I'll be the one getting yelled at if someone else fucks up," Matthew sighed. "I have to make sure everything is perfect."

His phone vibrated and he reached for it, seeing Mary's picture light up on the screen.

Matthew excused himself and walked out into the deserted hallway. Even the janitors had gone home by now.

"Hello, love," Matthew smiled, taking her call.

"Hi," she said warmly. "Still at the office?"

"Sadly, yes," he sighed. "Are you at home?"

"I'm at your place," Mary said lightly. "I was just about to get ready for bed."

"I'm so sorry, darling," Matthew said, closing his eyes and running his hand through his hair. "We've still got a ways to go here."

"That's all right. I just wanted to call and ask for your opinion on something."

"Oh? On what?" Matthew asked as he glanced back into the boardroom.

"On what I should wear to bed."

"What?" Matthew blurted out, turning back around and walking several steps down the darkened hall. "What did you say?"

"Well I'm getting ready for bed, and I'm undecided on what I should wear, so I thought I'd call and ask for your thoughts."

"Erm…well, you should wear whatever is comfortable for you, Mary," Matthew stammered.

"I agree, but I need a bit more assistance than that, darling. There's three particular outfits I was thinking about, but I can't seem to make up my mind," Mary said casually.

"And what…what would those be?" Matthew asked, loosening his tie slightly and tugging at his collar.

"First off, I was thinking about the outfit that you bought me for Valentine's. Do you remember it?"

Matthew gulped and glanced back down the hall to be sure he was still alone. "Yes…yes, I do," he hissed, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Red does look good on me, doesn't it, Matthew?" Mary asked easily, as though she was asking him for a weather report, rather than about the lace halter baby doll lingerie that he'd somehow gotten the nerve to buy for her.

"Very…erm…very good, yes," he choked out, the mental image flying through his mind.

"Thank you. But, then I thought perhaps of something lighter, given that it's been so hot outside lately. Something like my blue boy shorts. You know those, don't you?"

"I…I think I can picture it, yes," Matthew stammered, his mind flipping to the memory of Mary wearing the small garment and nothing else.

"Do you have a preference between those two?"

"I…the first one would probably…do," Matthew swallowed.

"Hmm…I'll have to think about it some more."

"What…erm…what was the third outfit?" he asked.

"Oh, well I thought I'd just keep wearing what I am now," Mary said, her tone changing slightly.

"And what are you wearing?" Matthew asked.

"Nothing at all, Matthew," Mary said huskily.

"Argh, Mary," he groaned, the visions in his mind almost making him faint.

"I'll let you get back to it. Don't work too hard, darling," Mary said triumphantly.

"I…I'm leaving now. I'll be home shortly. Please…erm…please don't try anything else on," Matthew said quickly.

He practically sprinted to the boardroom, mumbled something about working from home and that he would review the rest of the draft documents in the morning, then walked as fast as possible for the elevator.

Alex smirked as he watched Matthew disappear. He took out his phone and sent a quick text.

'He's gone. Whatever you did, thank you. He was driving us all up the wall and he really needed to get out of here.'

The reply from Mary was almost instantaneous.

'Thanks for letting me know. I'll keep him away from the office until noon tomorrow.'

Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, December 2015

"Isis! Where is that dog?" Robert frowned, glancing around the room.

"Probably asleep somewhere, as she usually is," Mary muttered, reading the latest edition of Vogue.

"I think that I saw Mason let her out before we went in for dinner," Edith said.

"Blast. Well, I suppose I'll have to go find her then. She may have gotten into the forest again," Robert grumbled, rising from his chair.

"Papa, it's cold out," Mary frowned, putting down her tablet. "Can't you just ask Mason or Barrow to go?"

"They went into the Village with the others," Robert shook his head. "Don't worry, I won't be long."

"Mary's right, Papa," Sybil said. "We'll go get her for you."

"We will?" Mary looked at her sister in confusion.

"Mary…" Sybil frowned.

"Fine. We will…go out into the freezing cold to find that old mangy…er…to fetch Isis," Mary rolled her eyes, getting up from the sofa.

As the three sisters left the sitting room, Robert glanced over at Cora. She smirked back at him.

"She could be anywhere, you know," Mary sighed.

"Isis! Isis! Here, girl!" Sybil shouted.

"She wouldn't wander far in the cold," Edith said, rubbing her gloved hands together. "Perhaps we should split up? We'll cover more ground that way."

"God, it's a damn search party for Isis," Mary huffed.

"Why don't you head that way, and we'll go this way, and we'll meet back at the front door? I can't see her having gone too far from the house," Edith pointed.

"All right. Text if you find her. I don't want to be outdoors any longer than necessary. I should have gotten Matthew before we came out."

Mary trudged off as Sybil and Edith turned in the opposite direction.

"That was risky. There was no guarantee she would have agreed, you know. Mary would be content to let Isis freeze overnight," Sybil said.

"We're just following Matthew's instructions," Edith shrugged. "I just hope he's set everything up properly. Otherwise she might walk the wrong way and miss him completely."

Mary walked across the thin layer of snow, growing more perturbed by the moment. She called out for Isis every few minutes with no response. She took out her phone and was about to turn on the flashlight app to better see across the grounds when she noticed a glow up ahead of her.

She frowned as she drew closer. Two rows of lights, formed by numerous white candles lined a path in the snow leading away from the house. She'd never seen them before.

She took several steps then saw an arrow drawn on the snow with rose petals, pointing beyond the hill up ahead. She smiled in confusion, unable to see too far away into the darkness. Taking a breath, she followed the trail further.

Coming over the rise, the candlelit path in the snow led to their bench under their tree. Of course it led there. Two heat lamps were placed on either side of the bench, casting a circle of orange light in all directions. Sitting on the bench, surrounded by blankets and cushions, and smiling at her with a pleased expression, was Matthew.

"Hello," she smiled, reaching him. "Was I to expect you'd be here?"

"I don't know," Matthew smiled back. "I suppose it depends on who else would leave you a path of rose petals and candles to follow."

"So, is Isis truly lost, then?" Mary arched her eyebrow at him.

"Strange thing," Matthew grinned, holding up his phone and showing her a text message from Sybil. "Seems that Isis was downstairs the entire time."

"Thank God for that," Mary laughed.

Matthew smiled and reached out to her, beckoning her to sit down.

"I thought you went up early," she said pointedly as she sat down and allowed him to wrap a blanket about her shoulders. 'I thought you were worn out from dinner."

"Actually, I thought it was fun, though Michael and Tom and some of the other guests seemed to enjoy Mrs. Patmore's egg nog a bit too much. There'll be some thick heads in the morning," he chuckled.

"No doubt they think it's worth it," Mary nodded.

He looked at her fondly. "I know that I do."

"Mmm," she smiled at him. "What else do you know?"

"I know that it's Christmas, and Christmas is a time to look back on the year, to figure out what you've done right and what you can improve upon," he said.

"It can be a time for introspection," Mary nodded. "And what have you decided about yourself?"

"With regard to things that I can improve upon, I know that I can be stubborn," Matthew said, keeping his eyes on hers.

"We're both stubborn," Mary looked at him knowingly.

"I know that I can be unkind and selfish sometimes," Matthew added.

"I think I've got you beat there," Mary smiled ruefully.

"I know that I can be somewhat…clingy…when it comes to you, and that puts you off a bit," he said quietly.

Mary swallowed, her eyes widening in shock.

"Oh, Matthew. You don't mean that," she shook her head.

"I know that you're scared, because we've been together for a year and a half now and everyone is asking you where this…where we…are going, and you're afraid of what happens next."

She gasped slightly, her eyebrows rising in concern.

"I just…" she whispered. "I just want to be sure, that's all."

Matthew surprised her with a warm smile.

"I'm scared too, Mary," he nodded. "Part of me just wants to continue as we have been; to not want anything more out of fear that to change anything would risk losing everything. I'm scared of pushing you too much, that to do so would only drive you away. And I'm scared of not pushing enough, that you'll mistake my respecting your independence for indifference or that my feelings for you are casual, something fun but not a real foundation to build upon."

Mary blinked, then looked at him curiously. How could he ever think she would doubt his love for her? That was beyond question.

"I'm scared, Mary," he nodded. "But, this is real. You and me. Everything won't always be golden for us, but I think you should have more faith."

"I don't know how it can all be so black and white for you," she said softly. "I wish it was for me too, but I just can't help but think that I'll do something wrong or I'll disappoint you somehow or we'll argue so much that eventually you'd despise me and that I truly couldn't bear."

"I never would…I never could despise you," Matthew smiled.

He took her hand in his, placing it on his lap, his thumb stroking her knuckles.

She looked at their joined hands and felt warm inside. Matthew's touch always felt so soothing. She looked back up at his eyes and the love she saw there made her breath catch.

"I know that we'll fight, Mary. About money, about Downton, about how to raise our children, about any number of other things. We'll argue, say stupid insults to each other without knowing how hurtful it sounds until it's already been spoken. We'll have angry sex and make up. Or you'll kick me on to the couch and we'll argue some more the next day until we're frustrated and worn out and can't remember what we were arguing about in the first place."

Mary's pulse quickened. She swallowed nervously.

"I know that we'll laugh, together, at each other, at other people, because that's what we do. We'll fall asleep curled up watching the latest episode of whatever home renovation or decorating show that you're obsessed with. We'll spend hours cooking together and think that we should be professionals on MasterChef, and other times we'll ruin the whole meal, have to order out and vow to only eat in restaurants. We'll travel; go to Spain and Italy and Asia and all over the world together. We'll keep running and working out together, cycling. You'll tell me eventually that I'm too old to play football and I'll disagree until I hurt myself and you'll say that you told me so."

Mary chuckled, a delightful flutter bubbling inside of her.

"I know that no matter how many times we promise not to, we'll be obsessed with work, stay at the office long into the night, miss dinner without calling, and forget to apologize when we get home because we're so tired. We'll disagree about things that seem so basic and fundamental that we'll wonder if we should be together at all. We'll have moments where we'll wish that we could have just backed away years ago, gone back to being friends before things got too complicated."

She took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving his.

"I know all of that. And I know that I love you, Mary. And I know, more than anything I've every known, that if I don't spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy, then I'll never be happy. I'll never be happy with anyone else as long as you walk the Earth. And I think that you feel the same way about me."

Mary nodded almost imperceptibly. Of course she could never be happier with anyone else. She had no doubt about that. Her only fear was that he could be happier with someone other than her.

"I used to wish the best for you, regardless of whether I was the one to give it to you or not," Matthew smiled. "I knew we would always be best friends, and I didn't hope for anything more. I thought that when it came to romance, it was better if you lived your life, and I lived mine. But now, I know, and I'm absolutely sure that it's time we lived our lives together."

Mary grinned, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks.

He took her hands and got off the bench, kneeling down in the snow and looking up at her.

She rose to her feet, squeezing his hands, her heart beating madly. All the fear and trepidation that she expected to feel in this moment never came. The blanket slipped from her shoulders and fell at her feet, but she wasn't cold. A single thought flashed in her mind as she smiled widely.

He's going to propose!

Keeping both her hands in one of his, Matthew reached into his coat pocket and took out a small red box. He opened it and held it up for her to see. A gorgeous cushion cut diamond on a sparkling eternity band made her eyes widen. She looked away from the ring and stared into his smiling face, his blue eyes seeming to glow warmly in the candlelight. She loved those eyes. She loved that face. She loved this man.

"Mary Josephine Crawley. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?" Matthew asked, beaming up at her.

"Yes!" she shouted, nodding vigorously and crying at the same time.

Matthew stood up and they kissed, holding each other tight until he picked her up off the ground, spinning them around as they both laughed freely.

From that moment on, friends and family and anyone who spent any time with them always thought the same thing about Mary and Matthew – they were deliriously happy together, even when they argued.

fin