The Last Year of Innocence

The Summer Before the World Changed Forever

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Summary: It is the summer of 1911. The London Season is in full swing as the aristocracy is celebrating in grand style, blissfully unaware of the terrible events looming in the near future. Lady Mary Crawley is sipping champagne and dancing her way through party after party until one evening when she comes face-to-face with her past. This is a sequel to Summer at Downton and part 3 in the Downton Saga.

Rating:Mature (in parts)
Spoilers: Season 1 & 2 trough the Christmas Special

Disclaimer: Any names off characters you recognize from Downton Abbey are not mine. All original characters do however belong to me. Fanfiction is in my opinion the ultimate form of flattery to a screenwriter :)

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As I keep working on the next chapter of The Rightful Heir, I decided to post the first two chapters of the continuation to my Downton Saga. RL has been crazy busy lately with shopping, wrapping, entertaining… and everything else that goes with the holiday season. Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas and entertaining. The fact is, it is a lot of work! I hope to get some time to write between Christmas and New Year's.

My lovely Irish beta,Tambear, is still recuperating. She has had a rough couple of months, so please send her your best wishes for a speedy recovery, and keep her in your prayers (if that's your thing).

While Tambear is recovering, the talented and wonderful R. Grace has so graciously agreed to help me out. Between the two of them, they have steered me in the right direction with this story. So, a huge thank you to Tambear and R. Grace for their help with catching missing commas, odd grammar and offering excellent suggestions & advice! I hope that you will enjoy it!

With that said, allow me to bring you back to London in 1911. I hope this story will distract you in a good way while you anticipate the Christmas Special & the start of the third series in the US.

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Chapter I – London, June 1911

Mary smiled as she sipped her champagne. The evening had been wonderful, and the best part was that it was only half over. She glanced at her parents on the dance floor. Her father was sweeping her mother around so smoothly. He said something Mary could not hear, but it clearly made her mother happy. Mary sighed at the sight of them, laughing together. She knew that they had not married for love, but apparently it had happened.

"Mary?"

Mary gasped and covered her mouth. She turned around and stared at him in shock.

"Matthew!"

He took a step closer and smiled at her. "It is you."

She nodded and held out her hand to him. He took it and rubbed his thumb over the back of it.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, confused.

Matthew shrugged. "Mother felt that I needed to meet some young women and perhaps secure a future with some unsuspecting heiress," he joked.

"Quite similar to how I am paraded around here," she sighed.

Matthew was still holding her hand, and she was acutely aware of the fact. She looked up at him when he squeezed it.

"You look stunning, Mary. You always were beautiful, but you are even more stunningly so now," he said softly.

"Oh Matthew."

"Would you care to dance?"

She nodded and he took the glass from her, putting it down on a nearby table before escorting her onto the floor. They eased together like two missing pieces of the same puzzle; her hand settled on his shoulder, his on the small of her back. Her fingers curled naturally around his as he steered her through the dance.

"Last time we danced was at Downton, the night before the Games," she said softly close to his ear.

"It seems as if it was a lifetime ago," he responded with a sigh. "I've thought about those days so many times over the years, wondering how you were."

"Still, you never came to visit."

"I didn't know if I would be welcome," he said sadly. "Mother and Cousin Violet really did not get along at all. And after what happened… Cousin Cora…" He sighed and closed his eyes. "It was just too difficult, Mary."

"Don't I know it," Mary said, pulling back to look him in the eye. "But we did get along so well."

He smiled fondly and nodded. "We did. You are still the bravest and most beautiful girl I've ever known, Mary."

"Oh Matthew, you should not say things like that," she smiled sadly. "There are so many more fish in the sea, most of them far more prosperous and agreeable than I am."

"Never," he whispered and pulled her closer. "If anything, what I felt for you as a boy has only intensified over the years."

"Matthew, please do not say things like that unless you mean them," she pled with him, eyes drifting closed. "And even so, you really should not. I am not a good match. I have no fortune, no large dowry, and… I am not virtuous."

"Mary!" he exclaimed and stared at her. "We are both responsible for what happened between us. I have the highest respect for you. I always have and I always will."

"Please Matthew, let's not quarrel. Not tonight. Let's just be happy that we are together again."

He smiled at her and nodded. "Of course. And believe me, Mary, I truly am very happy to see you again."

~ O ~

He had steered her outside into the garden. Walking slowly next to each other, they talked softly. Mary thought that it felt almost like during those wondrous days that summer when he had stayed at Downton. She looked up at his handsome face, and he smiled at her. She returned it and he stopped, taking her hands.

"God Mary, I cannot believe that you're actually here," he said with a chuckle.

"Well, I am," she teased.

"How long will you be staying in London?"

"Another week I guess. Why?"

"I wonder if I might call on you tomorrow to go for a walk." His face flushed a little pink as he looked at her, clearly uncertain of how she would respond.

"I think I would enjoy that very much." She glanced away, but a smile was playing on her lips.

"I noticed Edith dancing with Patrick," he said, looking back at the open doors where soft music filtered through.

"Yes. She is as besotted as ever with him. Not that it will get her very far, I'm afraid."

"And why is that?"

Mary sighed and closed her eyes. "Papa does not want Edith to marry Patrick."

"Why on earth not? He seems like a perfectly good match." Matthew frowned at her.

"Oh he is," she agreed. "Just not for Edith."

"Then for whom?" he asked, waiting for her to explain. "Surely he is not still…"

"Me," she interrupted, nodding in confirmation.

Matthew just stared at her. When she avoided looking at him, he gently cupped her chin and turned her face his way. He gasped when their eyes met. She was fighting tears, her lip trembling. Matthew did the only thing he could think of; he pulled her into his arms and just held her. She clung to him, trembling and pressing her forehead against his shoulder.

"It's all right," he hushed and stroked her back. "Everything will be all right."

"But don't you see?" she exclaimed. "It is not all right, and it never will be."

Matthew rested his cheek against her temple and sighed. "Then I must make it right."

"Matthew, I am only nineteen. Papa must give his approval."

"Have you accepted Patrick yet?"

She shook her head. "No, but they are pressuring me to."

"Can you not say that you're not ready? You are still very young."

"Not really. Most of my friends my age are already married or engaged."

"You're not them, Mary," he said gently. "You never have to do what other people do. You're strong, smart, and beautiful. Make your own rules. I know you can. The girl I once knew could."

"She was foolishly naïve," Mary muttered.

Matthew chuckled and his eyes twinkled. "Even so, I found her impossible to forget."

"Oh Matthew," she whispered and reached up to touch his cheek.

He leaned closer and brushed his lips against hers in a soft kiss. As much as he wanted to deepen it, he knew he could not. If he did, he would want more, so much more. She sighed against his lips, and he trembled at the feel of it. He pulled her closer still.

A cheer from inside made them break apart, and they stared at each other for a moment. Mary's hands rested on his chest; his still held her waist. He stroked slowly over her slim frame, drawing a smile from her lips.

"I will still call on you tomorrow," he whispered.

"I look forward to it."

He tucked her arm under his and escorted her back inside.

~ O ~

Cora spotted them, and her brow furrowed when she saw the look on Mary's face as she gazed at Matthew. Quickly drawing Robert's attention, Cora made him face away from Mary, preventing him from seeing their daughter's obvious happiness at seeing Matthew again.

~ O ~

Mary had felt her mother's eyes on her all the way back to Grantham House. Claiming fatigue, she hurried upstairs and rang for Anna. She could hear her father laughing in the hallway outside as he and Cora passed by on the way to their room. Apparently, Lord Grantham was in a very good mood tonight. For once, Mary was incredibly thankful for her parents' affection for each other since it would most definitely prevent her mother from visiting her this evening.

Anna, always sensitive to Mary's mood, had made quick work of her dress, and once Mary was ready for bed, she had bid her mistress goodnight with a polite smile and bob of her head.

Mary glanced up at the bed canopy above her for a long moment before closing her eyes, trying to bring forth his image in her mind. The never-ending sounds of the city filtered through the closed window, disturbing her thoughts. At Downton it was quiet at night, but here in London, it seemed as if someone was always awake. At first, it had made it hard for her to sleep, but, as the days and weeks passed by, she started to get used to it.

Mary sighed and touched her lips. She had kissed Matthew again, and it was just as wonderful as she remembered. Her hand moved down over her chest, stroking lightly over her breast. She smiled, wondering what he would think of her breasts now. He had been right; they had indeed grown. Not by much, but now she could at least say that she had breasts. Her index finger stroked over the nipple, and her breath hitched as a flash of heat went straight down to her center. Mary swallowed and did it again.

Closing her eyes, she thought of Matthew, imagining that it was his hand that yet again touched her breast, caressed her body, and pulled her nightgown up over her hips. She gasped, and her eyes opened in shock for a moment as if her sound had brought someone into her room. The room was just as dark and silent as before. Mary moved her hand down over her stomach and touched the hair covering her sex. She stroked over it and raised her knees, biting her lip as she moved her finger lower, finally touching her soft folds.

Mary blushed at the daring thought of touching herself. She knew it was not something a lady should do or even know about. Her brow furrowed as she pressed her finger a little firmer against that spot that made her tingle so pleasantly. She smiled as she remembered Matthew's tongue stroking over it so gently the first time. She clapped her hand over her mouth when she heard herself whimper softly. Dipping her finger lower, she felt wetness - her essence he had called it. She moved her finger back up and circled the spot, going faster and faster, gasping softly in the quiet room. Her eyes shut tightly when her body tensed in release, and she heard herself whisper his name. Matthew.

~ O ~

Matthew sighed in frustration and opened his eyes. Every time he closed them, all he could see was Mary's face in the heat of passion. Her faint little sounds rang in his ears, and he could feel her tremble under him. Tossing back the covers in frustration, Matthew sat up in bed. He was hot and aroused to the point of pain. Matthew pushed his pajamas down, and his manhood bounced free. He gasped and closed his fingers around it.

It all came back to him so easily. Mary. Her soft lips, her scent, the feel of her slender fingers on him, her mouth… closing around him. Matthew gritted his teeth and his hand moved faster, squeezing tighter around his aching member. It was over in mere minutes. He gasped her name as he erupted into an orgasm so powerful he saw white spots behind his eyelids. Wiping himself clean on the sheet, he pulled up his pajama trousers and turned over, feeling guilty and ashamed. Mary should be so much more than a memory he used to relieve himself to. His friends at school had kept pictures of movie stars hidden under the mattress for this purpose. He had always had Mary. He only needed Mary.

Matthew fell asleep, tossing and turning as she flitted in and out of his dreams. He mumbled her name softly and reached for her, but every time he got close, she slipped away like a mirage.

~ O ~