As they battle to rebuild their own and others' lives & livelihoods in a country irrevocably changed by war, VAD Nurse Mary Crawley & convalescing Captain Matthew Crawley are swept into a web of scandal & corruption that threatens to rip the Crawley...
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On the morning shift the next day, Matthew couldn't help noticing Mary was unusually quiet. She went about her tasks diligently and carefully as always, washing his hair and giving him a sponge bath, which, he had to admit he rather enjoyed, such was the lightness and care in her touch. Twice he tried to joke with her, and she merely gave a wan smile in response.
After breakfast, she brought him a cup of tea, which he sipped, as he was now accustomed to, through the specially bent straw that enabled him to drink whilst lying down.
"Mary," he whispered, "What is it? You're not yourself."
The gentle concern in his voice made a lump come into her throat.
She took a deep breath. "Richard and I don't see things the same way. And I saw that yesterday, and..." she didn't know what else to say.
What could she possibly say? To tell him that Richard had threatened her would mean telling him about Kamal Pamuk. She could not, would not do that. Not now, when he was still so unwell. Or, more truthfully, because you want to be able to keep nursing him the voice in her head was saying because you need him. And you don't know how he'll react if you tell him. And you certainly don't want him to send you away like he did to Lavinia!
She turned away, clutching her hand to her mouth, guilt, sadness and despair mixed up together.
She felt a light touch on her arm. Matthew had brushed his hand against it, a movement, which she knew had taken considerable effort on his part. He had become so weak after the last infection he could barely move his arms.
She turned to him and he whispered. "Mary," he took a painful breath. "If... he makes you unhappy.. now.. You know you don't have to marry him. You.. You don't have to marry anyone. If.. if I do live to become the Earl, you will have a home at Downton. Always."
Mary couldn't speak. And she didn't dare answer him, knowing that if she told him she had to marry Sir Richard, she'd have to tell him the whole, sordid story. Instead, she took his hand in hers and stroked it. After a few moments she said, "Matthew, you are so very good to me. I hope that one day I can actually deserve it." And then, gently releasing his hand she stood up and said, "It's time for your medication. I'll go and get it organised," and she walked quickly away.
Mary was hiding something. Something painful. Matthew knew it. He'd seen that look of pain in her eyes in the past. Some years before. But back then he'd thought it was something to do with him. Now he wasn't so sure. Please God, if you are there, give her the courage to share this secret, this burden, so that she can be free of it.
Mary was grateful for the focus nursing required of her over the next few days, as in the time between her shifts the dilemma she was in came to the fore and she spent hours pacing and worrying, struggling to sleep. Try as she might, she could not identify any realistic plan that would help free her of Sir Richard Carlisle.
