Happy MM AU Fest 2015! Thank you, Patsan, for once again organizing this day!

Can you write an AU to your own AU? Well, apparently you can, because that's what this is. In Chapter 10 of my canon AU, The Center of My Heart, Mary asks Matthew what he would have done if she had told him her secret at the garden party. (In Center, she tells him in Chapter 3.) So, here are the Mary and Matthew of Center, and what might have happened that day.

It was a perfect English summer's day, that August day in 1914. A perfect day for a garden party. The sun beamed down from an azure sky that was painted with just the whisps of clouds; not too warm, thanks to a gentle breeze. There were many garden parties in England that day, but undoubtedly none could have surpassed the perfection of the party at Downton Abbey.

Green and white. That was the lawn at Downton: the green grass, which seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see, and the everything else that was white, or almost white. White tents, white tables covered with white linen, surrounded by white folding chairs; elaborate flower arrangements of white roses and greenery, a few pale pink blossoms for contrast, in white urns; men in white linen suits and straw hats, and women in gauzy white dresses, their faces shaded by elaborate hats and parasols. A touch of color, here and there, of course, but really, green and white.

Except that wasn't completely true. Green and white, but yes, too, there was the black of the servants who moved amongst the guests, serving champagne, and punch, and canapés, and cakes, tarts, and ices. It seemed an effortless dance, hurrying back and forth to the kitchen, exchanging empty trays for full, arriving with more champagne at just the right moment, weaving in and around the guests without a misstep. It was beautifully executed; the key was in the planning.

So green, and white, and black.

A string trio was playing, the breeze carrying the soothing, satisfying music even beyond the lawn. The clink of glasses and silverware mixed with the conversations of the guests who ate, and drank, and talked, and wandered the grounds.

.

But, in the shade of the giant Lebanon cedar, Mary could see none of it; hear none of it. All she could see was the pain and hurt and, yes, anger, in Matthew's eyes; all she could hear was her heart pounding in her ears.

"Would you have stayed, if I'd accepted you?"

For a moment, his eyes changed, grew soft. His hand reached into his left coat pocket. Then he withdrew his hand, and when he spoke, there was an ache in his voice that betrayed the depth of his hurt. "Of course."

And she knew it to be true, even before he answered. "So I've ruined everything," she choked.

Matthew's eyes filled, and when he spoke, she saw his mouth grow tight as he fought to maintain control. "You've shown me I've been living in a dream, and it's time to return to real life. Wish me luck with it, Mary. God knows I wish the best for you." And he turned and left her. Left her standing by what she had come to think of as their bench. No longer. She watched as he strode across the lawn, through the meandering guests. Was he leaving? No, not yet. He started toward her father, then seemed to change his mind. Too many guests around, no doubt. He walked to the edge of the lawn and stood looking out at the Downton park. She brought her hands to her face and began to sob.

.

Violet watched Matthew as he crossed the lawn, looking straight ahead, oblivious to the guests, his deep frown and turned-down mouth confirming her worst fears when she had seen Mary and a grim Matthew walk off together. She looked at her daughter, barely keeping her anger in check. "Well, Rosamund. I'm afraid your meddling has cost Mary the only decent offer she'll ever get. Are you satisfied?"

Rosamund could never admit she was wrong. "I'm sorry, Mama, but you know me. I have to speak my mind."

Violet gave her a withering look. "Why? Nobody else does."

.

"Are you quite well, m'lady?"

Mary looked up, trying to smile as the tears still ran down her face. "Of course! You know me, Carson! I'm never down for long." She hastily wiped her cheeks, but her mouth pulled and her face crumpled as she saw the love and concern in the face of her second father. Her hands went to her face again as he embraced her carefully, patting her back and saying gently, "I know you have spirit, m'lady. And that's what counts. It's all that counts, in the end."

She pulled back and looked up at him, shaking her head. "Is it, Carson? Is it, when I've lost everything, and it's all my fault?"

"I can't believe that, m'lady." He stared hard across the lawn at Mr. Crawley's back. How dare he bring Lady Mary to tears!

"Well, believe it." She gave a bitter laugh, even through the tears, adding, "Dear, Carson. You always take my side." Carson watched as Matthew took off his hat and swatted it against his thigh a couple of times, then put it on again and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, staring off into the distance. He looked down at Mary, who tried to smile.

"May I offer a bit of advice, m'lady?" She nodded silently, and he took a deep breath. "If . . ." he paused. "If you have not told him . . . all that is in your heart, tell him now. If you don't, you could regret it your whole life long."

She looked at him wide-eyed. All that was in her heart. How did he understand her so well? She brushed her cheeks again and dabbed at her eyes with her gloved hands and, then after a moment, began nodding. "Yes, you're right." She pressed her lips together, managing a smile, "If I've already lost everything, I don't have anything more to lose, do I?" She squeezed his wrist, whispering, "Thank you," then turned and walked resolutely across the lawn toward Matthew before she could change her mind.

.

Isobel regarded her son standing alone, so still, staring into the distance, but seeing nothing, she was quite sure. "So Mary is to be denied her countess's coronet after all." She couldn't help saying it, couldn't help the touch of Schadenfreude in her tone.

"Don't crow at me," returned Violet. "I think she was very foolish not to take him when she could. And I told her so."

"Well, if I'm perfectly honest, I wonder if Matthew isn't making the same mistake, right now." She couldn't help saying that, either. And she surprised herself, because until she had said it, she hadn't known how very much she was right. "I—." She stopped as they both saw Mary weaving through the guests, moving purposefully toward Matthew. "Oh."

.

Mary stopped a few feet away, watching as he took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, then returned it to his head and thrust his hands back into his trouser pockets. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, telling herself again, I've nothing to lose. Then she quickly moved forward, reaching out to touch his shoulder, saying quietly, "Matthew, may I—."

She had startled him, and he spun around, his face registering his shock that she would come to him after he had made it clear that it was finished. Before he could protest, she held up her hand. "Please, I'm not here to try to change your mind. But there are some things I need to tell you." She took another deep breath. "Things I need to tell you about why I didn't accept you. If you still have any regard for me, and I think—I know—you do, you will hear me out."

He just stared at her, his eyes filled with tears and pain, his breathing coming quickly. Finally, he gave a nod of his head. "All right." Then he looked away, his jaw working.

She swallowed, not sure how to begin. Tell him all that is in your heart. "My not accepting you had nothing to do with not loving you, Matthew. I knew the night that you proposed that I loved you, that I had loved you much longer than I had realized; I knew that night that I wanted to marry you." She looked down, then up again. "That's still true," she whispered.

Matthew turned to her slowly, then began to shake his head. "But then, why—?"

"Why didn't I accept you right away? Before the question of a new heir came up? I'll tell you, but first, I want to say about your change in prospects—yes, I will admit, I didn't know if I could be happy with a life so different." His eyes darkened, and she reached out and touched his arm. "Is that truly so hard to comprehend? That I could love you and still wonder? That I could love you, but worry that my unhappiness could destroy our marriage?"

When he made no reply, she sighed. "Can you not remember how you felt coming to Downton, how your life was turned topsy-turvy? I didn't understand then how you could feel so lost, but I do now."

"But really," she continued, "I hid behind that. I let Aunt Rosamund feed those worries, let that be the excuse that allowed me to avoid telling you something that you needed to know about me. It's why I didn't accept you right away, and why I stalled, even after Mama lost the baby. I couldn't marry you without telling you."

He shook his head, completely baffled. "I don't understand."

She shook her head, too. "You will. You will." She swallowed and added quietly. "You see, it's very hard for me to tell you, because when I do, you will most certainly despise me."

His eyes held hers. "I could never despise you, Mary."

She smiled briefly. "Thank you for that, but don't be so quick. You don't know what I'm going to say." She paused and looked around, then inclined her head toward the bench. "Can we please go sit down? I don't feel much like talking about this out here. If you don't mind." He nodded, and they walked together across the lawn.

.

Violet and Isobel watched as Mary and Matthew crossed the lawn, neither looking at the other, Matthew still miserable, Mary resigned, and went back to the bench under the ancient tree.

"It seems the last chapter hasn't yet been written," Violet observed, trying not to hope too much. She could guess what Mary was telling him.

Isobel, of course, could not. But she knew her son could be so stubborn. Let him follow his heart, she prayed.

.

"Say something. If it's only good-bye."

Matthew sat leaning forward, his arms on his knees, looking down at the ground between his feet. Finally, he turned his head. His mouth worked before he could form the words. "Did you love him?"

Mary shook her head. "No. No, no, no. How could I love him? I didn't know him—I had just met him." She pressed her lips together, then sighed. "It was lust Matthew. You saw how I flirted with him. It was exciting. I thought I was so sophisticated! A woman of the world instead of a girl cloistered at Downton. I had no idea how I was playing with fire," and her voice caught. After a minute, she went on, "I took a lover, and now I'm fallen. I'm impure. I'm Tess of the d'Urbervilles to your Angel Clare, I—."

"Don't, please, don't," he begged hoarsely. "I'm trying to understand." He looked away and then back again. "What did you mean when you said you were playing with fire?"

She plucked at her skirt, looking off across the lawn. She hadn't meant to tell him so much. She turned to him with a tight smile. "Do you remember that he left the drawing room, and that I followed him out? We went to the morning room. One moment we were talking about the della Francesca, the next, he grabbed me and kissed me. I was stunned and pushed him away. Can you believe it? I had never once thought he would do something like that, I was that naïve. He thought I was teasing him and asked to come to my room that night. I made it clear he shouldn't come and told him we would consider his words unsaid. Oh, I thought it was a brilliant response. It never occurred to me that he would come anyway."

Matthew's voice was harsh, his eyes dark. "He came . . . after you told him not to?"

She looked at him briefly and then away. "Yes."

Mary felt him move next to her, and she turned to find his face a mixture of anger and pain.

"I can only think a servant must have told him where my room was. Thomas was his valet. I don't know. Anyway, he came. When I told him I'd scream, ring the bell, he made it clear what a story that would be, that even that would ruin me. He didn't force me physically, but he wouldn't let up, and so finally, yes, I gave in . . . and then he died." Oh God, she certainly hadn't meant to tell him that!

Matthew stared at her. "He died in your bed? Then how—?" He shook his head in disbelief.

"Mama, Anna, and I carried him to his room."

Matthew's jaw dropped open. "You three carried him across the house? And no one saw you?"

"No, that's just it someone, a servant, had to have seen us." That had to be how Edith found out, but she wasn't going to go into that sordid saga with him now.

Matthew stood up and started walking away. Her heart sank and her throat got tight. Well, then, this was it. At least, he knew she loved him—.

But he wasn't walking away, he was just pacing. Finally, he turned and sat down again. He looked at her, and she could see no censure in his eyes, only anguish. When he spoke, his voice was breaking. "You weren't the first woman he preyed upon, and you wouldn't have been the last. I don't think you understand what he did to you."

She hesitated. "Perhaps, hearing you say that, I do," she said quietly. "Perhaps, it was easier to think I took a lover than it was to . . ." She shook her head. "Anyway, that will always be the story, that I took a lover."

Matthew looked out across the lawn, watching the guests mingle, listening to the lilting music. Finally, he turned to her and said softly, "Thank you for telling me. If you hadn't, I would have made the biggest mistake of my life."

Well, what did she expect? That he would change his mind? She nodded, swallowing. "I understand," she whispered, and started to rise. But Matthew reached up and took her wrist, pulling her back down.

"No," he smiled, his voice gentle, shaking his head. "Clearly, you don't understand what I'm talking about at all." He leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to her mouth, his hand cradling the nape of her neck. Her heart began to pound, and she felt a bit dizzy. He kissed her forehead, then reached into his left coat pocket and withdrew a black velvet ring box. He opened it, revealing a round-cut diamond solitaire in a platinum setting, with three smaller diamonds on either side. "I have carried this with me every day since the moment I bought it, the morning after Sybil's ball." He took her hand and rubbed his thumb back and forth. "Marry me."

She looked into his eyes, those blue eyes, and saw nothing but love. "Then you've forgiven me?"

"No. There's nothing, nothing to forgive," he returned, his voice thick, and her breath hitched. "I am only sorry you have carried such a burden for so long." He kissed her hand. "Marry me. Do me the honor of becoming my wife."

"Yes," she whispered, and it was all she could manage before her shoulders started to shake. She brought a hand to her mouth and then, the sobs she had been suppressing overwhelming her, she fell into his embrace.

.

Violet and Isobel had not moved during Mary and Matthew's absence. The couple had been far enough away under the shadows of the tree that it had been impossible to make out exactly what was happening, but at least one or the other hadn't stormed back—a good sign, surely. And now, their patience was rewarded as the pair strolled into the sun and across the lawn, Mary holding onto Matthew's arm with both hands, leaning against him. His free hand took up one of hers, and he brought it to his lips, then held it to his chest. He whispered something in her ear, and she nodded, looking up with a smile, and said something to him. They stopped, and he turned her to face him, then wrapped his arms around her and, lifting her, spun her around once, as they both laughed. Then they gazed at each with such expressions devotion that mother and grandmother could have no doubt that the last chapter of this tumultuous courtship had indeed now been written, and that there was a happy ending.

Isobel turned to Violet smiling broadly. "Well, apparently, I was wrong, I'm very happy to say!" Before Violet could retort, she added, "And so were you! So this time, you can put that in your pipe and smoke it!"

.

But it was not the only last chapter written that day. For soon, the music was stopped, the guests hushed to silence, and everyone learned that their world had ended. Of course, they didn't know it had, and soon, the music began again.

Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!