Epilogue

Saturday, October 13, 1945

Mary walked into the church on George's arm. Although he was nominally escorting her she sensed she was supporting him, he still did not seem comfortable with his artificial leg. She would have liked to take her time making her way up the aisle, getting a chance to speak to some of the people, say Mrs. Carson who was sitting near the back with the Harpers, but once George got up momentum he did not want to give it up and so she was deposited in the family pew with all good speed.

"Are you going to be OK Mama?" asked George.

"I am fine."

"I don't know about that, you look like you might get a little weepy."

"The Countess of Grantham does not show emotion" she said with perhaps more force than warranted.

George smirked at her. "If you say so, Mama" he handed her his handkerchief "here take this just in case. I'm going to get Maggie." And he clumped off.

Mary did not watch him go. It would not be proper to turn and crane her neck at him. She sat down and slid over, she was not going to sit in Matthews' spot on the aisle. She put the handkerchief on the pew beside her. She was not going to need it. She sighed to herself. Why had she come to the church so early? She'd had had no choice really, she'd been banished for making an already tense situation tenser. She had been just trying to help. Trying to get her mind off that situation (if they would only listen to her, things would be moving a lot more smoothly) she thought of George and Maggie.

George was her second child and first born. Viscount Downton, heir to the Earldom, RAF Group Captain, decorated fighter ace and married to Maggie Muggins, daughter of one of their tenants. Not the wife Mary had envisaged for him but his wife all the same. Maggie and Sybil had been best friends growing up; Mary had been lukewarm to the idea of her aristocratic children mixing with the locals but she had dared not voice such an objection to Matthew for fear of being mocked and so she had given into his levelling tendencies; and George, who was almost two years younger than the two girls, had never seemed to be more than a pesky younger brother to them. The girls had gone off to nursing training together and George to pilot training and the war had started and all of a sudden in August 1943 George had brought Maggie home and introduced her as his wife. Married in a Registry Office with only Sybil and his 'cousin' Sean as witnesses. Without telling anyone, without telling her. She had raged at George; he had just stood at parade rest staring at the wall behind her; when that didn't work she tried to guilt him, to similar little effect. Matthew had been no help, basically shrugging it off 'what do you expect from a fighter pilot in wartime?', which made her wonder how exactly he had come to marry Lavinia, and 'anyway I like Maggie, she'll be a good Countess for George' and as soon as she conceded the latter point, after all she liked Maggie as well, Mary lost the argument and she discarded the list she had assembled in her mind of suitable brides. In any event...Mary heard George coming back and stood up to let him and Maggie get into the pew.

Maggie kissed Mary on the cheek. "You don't mind if we sit at the other end so I can slip out of here if I have to?" Maggie was already two days past due.

"You really should be at the hospital."

"Dr. Marx is here, he said he could always deliver George Junior in the vestry office if he has to. There's enough nurses here to help him. I'll be all right Mama." She pressed a handkerchief into Mary's hand "I'm more worried about you".

"I'm fine, I'm fine" When she sat down Mary laid the handkerchief down on the one George had given her.

Worry about Maggie and what she hoped would be a healthy grandchild, her first, distracted her from the matter at hand and she was just thinking of what she could get him (she was certain it was a him) for...when her baby Charles (Charlie to the whole world save for her and Anna Harper) startled her.

"Sorry Mum" she was slightly disappointed that he did not give her at least a peck on the cheek but knew his fifteen year old self would be too embarrassed to do so in front of so many people. She had been thankful that the war had ended before he was old enough to join in and doubly thankful that he was more interested in science than flying. She hoped he would become a doctor.

"It is fine, I was just woolgathering." She patted the pew beside her "Sit down". He hesitated and she could tell that he would much rather sit at the other end of the pew with his brother.

"Where is Violet?" she asked.

"She's talking with Cora, she says she'll be along in a minute."

Violet and her cousin, Cora Hastings, were best friends, getting along much better than their namesakes ever did.

Mary patted his hand "Oh go sit with your brother."

Charles got up "Thanks Mum". He turned to leave then turned back. He pulled out a hankie out of his pocket, from the look it if it had been used repeatedly and never washed. "Here, in case you need it."

"Thank you dear. I will be fine." she carefully took it by two fingers, thankful she had on gloves, and dropped it on the pew with the other two.

Mary heard giggling behind her. Violet and Cora by the sounds of it and then she heard Edith shushing them. She turned her head and glared at them. They looked abashed for just about two seconds and then Cora kissed her on her cheek.

"We'll be good Auntie" Cora promised.

"Mom do you mind if I sit with Corrie? We'll behave." Violet asked.

"Is that chewing gum I see? Get rid of it." Mary shook her head, Violet was getting to be more American each day.

"Yes, Mom. Here you might need this" and Violet handed Mary a handkerchief and then she and Cora slid into the pew behind Mary.

Mary could hear them giggle afresh. She harrumphed. To herself.

Where was Sybil? She'd be late to her own funeral. Mary fought the temptation to look at her watch. Come on, let's get this done.

The music started and the congregation stood and faced the doors, Mary with them.

Isabel lead the procession, taking the place that should have been Maggie's if she had not been so far along. She diverted from her path to the altar and held out a handkerchief to her mother. Mary shook her head no. Isabel nodded her head yes and shook the hankie. To stop the scene from getting any more embarrassing Mary took it. She waved her hand at Isabel: get on with it. Isabel smiled at her and continued on.

When Sybil, in her parachute silk dress, silk which had saved Sean's life when he had bailed out over Kent not four years ago, got to Mary she also stopped. She dropped Matthew's arm and held her arms out to hug Mary.

"If things get too hectic today I want you to know how thankful for everything you've done for me. I haven't always told you as much as I should have but I do love you so much" Sybil whispered in Mary's ear.

"I know, I love you too". Mary sniffed. "You'd better get going, Sean is getting anxious." Mary sniffed again, she must be getting a cold.

"Here" Sybil pressed a handkerchief into Mary's hand. "You need this more than I do".

Matthew completed his duty by giving the bride away and then returned to his seat resplendent in his Air Vice-Marshall uniform, a big grin on his face. As he walked down the aisle he reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a large RAF issue handkerchief. As he slid into his seat beside Mary he held it out to her.

"I don't need that" Mary told him.

"My dear, these tears streaming down your cheeks say otherwise." Matthew whispered as he daubed at her cheeks.

-0-

Mary was about fagged. The day had been brilliant, everything had gone perfectly: the wedding, the wedding breakfast, even the Hastings family gong show. But now the dancing was proving to be a bit much. She was getting too old for this loud racket they called swing music. Why she was almost a grandmother. Any day now and she would officially assume the office of 'Grannie'; she had been glad when George had taken Maggie home early.

She had seen Sean and Sybil off on their honeymoon. Sent Violet home with Cora, Bert and Edith, no point tempting fate by letting her stay at a dance with a flock of drunken fly boys. It was bad enough that Isabel was in there jitterbugging or some such.

"Harper, have you seen Lord Grantham?"

"I believe he has retired for the night your Ladyship. Before he went up he asked me to give you this when I next saw you" and Harper handed her a large envelop.

"Thank you" Mary looked at the envelop, it was one of those large War Office ones. She stepped into the library and opened it. All there was in it was a page torn from the day's Times. A page of classified advertisements. What on earth? Then she noticed one of the ads had been circled.

She read:

'Andromeda. Where are you? There's cake. Chocolate cake. Perseus.'

Mary almost ran into Harper as she hurried from the library on her way to the staircase.

"Pardon me Harper..." Mary looked towards the ballroom, then up the stairs and then at her butler "..you will..."

Harper smiled at her "I will ensure that they do not burn the Abbey down. Good night Lady Grantham".

-0-

Matthew met Mary at the door of their bedroom. He held his arms out to her but she dodged around him. Through the door to their private sitting room she could see a table set up for two with a chocolate cake on a stand.

She looked back to Matthew. "How?".

"The Yank Air Force's supply of chocolate is exceeded only by its thirst for fine Scotch. I was hoping we could have the cake for dessert" Matthew said as he watched his wife sit down.

"First things first. Should we bother with plates?" She handed him a fork and gestured at him to sit down.

"I was hoping that we ..."

"I know exactly what you are hoping and we both know that tomorrow morning will be a better time." Mary sliced a piece of cake off with her fork and ate it. "Hmmmm" She sliced off another piece and held it out to him "Here, don't pout."

Matthew pushed the fork out of the way and kissed Mary.

She tasted of chocolate and ... love.

The End