Thank you so much to everyone who left a review of the last chapter and let me know that there are still people reading who love my version of Mary and Matthew (and baby George) as much as I do!

If you like clear endings, you can think of the last chapter as an end to this story, as I cannot promise I will manage to finish according to my original plan - although I will certainly try. I have had very little time for writing, but I had these fragments already written, and I thought everyone might appreciate something to take their minds off the current situation, even if this wasn't quite my original plan for the chapter.

So, just a few important moments from Matthew and Mary's first three weeks of parenthood.

Enjoy!

Matthew jerked awake, his heart hammering against his chest for a few seconds before he heard crying and realised what had woken him. He had never managed to quite get over the moment of terror and racing adrenaline he still felt every time he was woken up suddenly, but in this past week of nights interrupted by crying or talking from the next room, he was beginning to panic less, and to realise where he was and what had woken him more quickly. He took a deep breath and tried to relax as he listened to George's cries and heard Mary moving about the bedroom. It made sense for him to sleep in his dressing room while Mary recovered from the birth, but that didn't mean he had to like it, and at times like this, it felt so very wrong to stay in bed while Mary cared for their son. For the first few days, he had been up almost every time Mary and George were, but with the nanny, and often his mother or Cora too, Mary never lacked help, and he had just been in the way.

Despite the help, he knew Mary was having a hard time of it, having to wake up to nurse the baby every couple of hours when she was still healing. She was already much better than she had been in the first days, and was resisting strongly everyone's attempts to keep her in bed, insisting she was not an invalid, and felt much better when she was up. Now Clarkson had allowed it, she was spending most of the day in their sitting room, and she had been less weepy and more like herself. But her interrupted nights were unavoidably exhausting, and of course they would be for months yet. Nanny Lawrence checked on her and George a few times in the night, but although that made things easier, it didn't help her get any more sleep.

Matthew was awake almost every time she was, even with the door between their rooms closed, but he was of very little use helping her. He certainly couldn't feed George, and if he needed changing, a task Mary predictably disliked, Matthew was no use at that either. He had had a table made that was the right height for his chair, but it hadn't occurred to him that the time it took to calm down after being woken up, roll over, sit up and get into his chair, then go next door and get George out of his bassinet and onto the changing table, was longer than anyone was willing to wait when George was wailing and everyone was so tired.

This was only one of the numerous issues they had encountered that it hadn't even occurred to them to worry about. It was almost funny to think how worried he had been about not being able to fly kites or run around, when all he wanted to be able to do now was move about while holding his son without having to be pushed. He had known vaguely that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to push his chair while holding a baby, but it hadn't occurred to him that this made even such a small task as lifting George from his bassinet onto the changing table time-consuming and complicated. It was only a few feet away, but that was quite far enough to cause difficulty. Even leaning over to pick George up from his bassinet was not as simple as it first appeared, as his balance was difficult when he leaned too far forwards, especially with the weight of the baby in his arms, and sitting up straight again without a free hand to push up with was a challenge. The painful truth was that while he could help care for George, he could hardly manage anything on his own, and couldn't really be left alone with his son.

Yet despite this, it had been the most wonderful week of his life. Watching Mary become the magnificent mother he had known she would be, watching her love the baby he had feared for so long he could never give her, it was almost too wonderful to feel real. Everyone in the house, from Robert to the shy new maid who did the fires, seemed delighted for them and besotted with little George. And who could fail to be? He and Mary both spent hours every day simply watching George as he looked up at them with his wide blue eyes, or waved his tiny limbs around in his sweet and completely uncoordinated way. They were still in awe at this miracle, and everything George did fascinated them, even if what he did most of the time was sleep.

He certainly wasn't sleeping now though. It had been quite some time, and he was still crying. Usually, by this time, Mary managed to nurse him, or to change him and hold him until he fell asleep again, or do whatever else Nanny Lawrence suggested, but tonight, it seemed not to be working,. He knew he wasn't much help with anything really useful, but surely by now, Mary would have tried all the obvious things. Maybe he would at least be able to hold George, rock him in his arms or something, and give Mary a break? It had to be worth a try.

He rolled over, sat up and got into his chair as quickly as he could, and cautiously went over to the door to the bedroom. He pushed it open and went through slowly.

Mary was sitting in the armchair, rocking George in her arms while he continued to cry. Her hair had come loose from its usual tidy plait and was sticking up in odd places, and she seemed to be on the verge of tears herself. Matthew cursed himself for not having come sooner.

He went over to her and stroked back a strand of dark hair that had fallen over one eye.

"Darling…" he began.

"I don't know what's wrong!" Mary said, her voice strained. "He's not hungry, he doesn't need changing and I've been holding him for I don't know how long. I can't do it, Matthew, I don't know how to make him sleep."

"Let me take him for a while," he said softly. "You're exhausted."

Mary passed the baby over without hesitating, and Matthew felt a sense calm go through him as he felt the now-familiar weight of his son in his arms. George was still crying, his eyes scrunched up and his face closer to red than the usual pink, but to his father, he was adorable. He looked so cross, and it reminded Matthew somehow of Robert when he was angry.

"Hush now, little chap," he said softly as he rocked the baby. "Whatever it is can't be as bad as all that. Your Mama needs some sleep."

George opened his blue eyes and stared up at his father, looking suspicious, but whimpering now instead of full-on wailing.

"Yes, Georgie, you've been so noisy, Papa has had to come and rescue your Mama."

Mary made a sound partway between a giggle and sob. Matthew looked up to see her curled up in the armchair, still red eyed and dishevelled, but smiling faintly. He smiled back.

George, apparently dissatisfied with the loss of his father's attention, began to cry again.

Matthew looked down at him again. "Yes, alright my boy, you have my attention. Now what's made you so cross in the middle of the night? You can't be hungry, you're all clean and dry, Mama's here, and now you've got Papa out of bed as well."

"Maybe I should go and get Nanny," Mary suggested. "I told her I wanted to try to make it through the night without help, but Granny's coming for tea tomorrow, and I can't look tired, or she'll be all smug because we ignored her advice and are having George sleep in the bedroom with us."

She had intended to have him sleep in the nursery, with Nanny Lawrence bringing him through to her only when he needed feeding. But when the moment had come for him to be taken down the corridor, she had been unable to let him go, and he had slept in her room every night of his life. She was feeling much better now, a week after the birth, and she wanted so much to be able to prove that she could do it, that she could make it through the night without calling for help. But she was tired, and George was tired, and they were both upset, and she had been ready to give in when Matthew came in.

Matthew shifted the baby on his shoulder and held him close, always careful with his little head. It had terrified him at first, how alarmingly floppy George's head was, but he was getting used to it now. He looked back at Mary. She was clearly in need of sleep, and perhaps getting the nanny would be the best thing. But this was the first night his mother was not just down the corridor, and Mary wanted to prove to herself she could manage, and now she had said it, he felt the same.

But Mary was so very tired, and George was still crying.

"If he's not settled in a few minutes, that's probably for the best," he said. He awkwardly rubbed George's back and began to sway his shoulders a little, hoping the motion might lull the baby to sleep.

"Hush, little chap," he said quietly. "You're alright. Papa and Mama are here, and we love you very much, but you need to sleep now." He kissed the top of George's fluffy head. Without consciously deciding to, he started to hum, his voice low and quiet. George responded almost immediately and went back to whimpering rather than screaming. Encouraged, Matthew continued, swaying slightly in time.

Mary watched with wet eyes. It was such a beautiful sight. She didn't know the tune Matthew was humming, but it was calming, and if it wasn't a lullaby, it did at least appear to be having the same effect. She felt rather silly for not thinking of that herself, but she could hardly regret it now. She had always known Matthew would be a wonderful father, but seeing it was different. She knew he was feeling a little uncertain about everything, as he realised how difficult some simple tasks could be for him, but even his desire to try set him above most fathers.

He was so focused on feeling as if he was in the way, and worrying about how difficult everything was due to the fact he couldn't hold George and push his chair, he underestimated the significance of his help with everything else. He had taken such good care of her this past week, comforting her through her ridiculous weepiness and moments of overwhelmed panic and keeping the family away when he could see she needed to rest. He had asked Isobel to show him how to swaddle George in a blanket, and was now quite an expert. He was perfectly happy to change George's nappy, a task she thoroughly disliked and performed only reluctantly as it was occasionally necessary if she was to keep George in her room at night. Matthew could hardly have been more willing to help. And here he was in the middle of the night, surely as tired as she was, lulling their son to sleep when she had been unable to do so.

It had not been an easy week, but Matthew had been wonderful, and they were both so happy, and she could not imagine doing any of this without him.

She continued to watch him for a few more minutes before his humming began to relax her too, and her eyelids started to droop. She wouldn't let herself sleep until George was back in his bassinet, but resting like this was quite lovely. She didn't even notice when George stopped fussing and settled.

"I think he's asleep," Matthew whispered after George had been silent for a while.

Mary opened her eyes. George was still resting on Matthew's shoulder, his quiet, even breaths showing Matthew to be right. She stood up slowly and went to take George, but Matthew gave a tiny shake of his head.

"Best to move him as little as possible, I think. Push me over, and I'll put him down," he whispered.

He had a good point. Mary nodded and did as he said. He carefully lay the baby down, Mary holding his shoulder to keep him steady as he leaned forward, and they both held their breath as George wriggled a little before settling and continuing to sleep. They sighed with relief.

Matthew held out his arm in invitation, and Mary sat on his lap, leaning against his warm body. "Thank you, darling," she murmured into his neck. "You're so good at this. I never thought to sing to him."

"You can't possibly think of everything when it's the middle of the night and you're exhausted," he said gently.

"It's a fortunate I have you then," she said. "You're a wonderful father."

Matthew didn't reply immediately. The past week had been rather overwhelming for both of them, despite the fact they had been preparing for it for months. He had spent a lot of time with George of course, but it had felt as if he were a rather incompetent visitor into a world dominated by women who knew what they were doing. He had put much of his effort into helping Mary, feeling far more able to do that than care for his son. He knew she appreciated it, but it wasn't enough.

But tonight, together, he and Mary had managed to calm George down and get him back to sleep without calling for help, and for the first time he felt as if he could see how this was going to work. There were things he couldn't do, and there were things Mary would struggle with, but neither of them had to do any of it alone. It would get easier.

He held Mary tighter. "I'm trying," he whispered.

"So am I," she replied. "That's all we can do, I think."

He smiled. "And tonight, we managed it."

"Together," she whispered, returning his smile.

"Together," he agreed.

In the days since George's birth, Mary had become adept at identifying her visitor long before they reached the door. They had been coming in seemingly endless streams, halted only when Matthew would see that she needed rest and peace, and would keep them away.

Isobel was there almost constantly, helping when she was needed, but, unusually for her, not interfering. She had stayed over for the first few nights and her assistance had been greatly appreciated, but when she had seen that Mary was comfortable enough with everything, and that Nanny Lawrence was working out well, she hadn't needed to be told that it was time for her to go home.

Mama spent hours cooing over George, and had been as helpful and supportive as Isobel, always being there when she was needed. Papa would wander in several times a day and would simply hold his grandson, looking down at him with love and, even now, astonishment. He had proudly showed George off to all the servants the day after his birth, and was now itching to hold a celebratory dinner for a few friends and neighbours as soon as Mary was well enough. He was so happy, so proud, it made her smile every time she saw him with George.

Then there was Carson. He came less often, always when Mary was up in the sitting room, and always with an excuse, but it was clear that he was as besotted with the baby as everyone else. Eventually, she had tired of watching him stare at George with the soft eyes usually reserved for her, and had placed George carefully in her loyal butler's arms. He had been surprised, but his arms had adjusted easily to hold the tiny baby and Mary had seen the same pride and joy in his eyes as she saw in Papa's. She knew, of course, that George was the closest thing to a grandchild he would ever have, and watching them together had brought tears to her eyes. Which was nothing new, as everything seemed to make her tearful at the moment.

Matthew joked that if he wasn't careful, he would have a rival for his son's affection, but Mary assured him that her own affection for the butler had never diminished or affected her love for her own father, so he was probably safe on that front.

Granny's visits were different. Mary would dress properly and have Anna use powder to cover the dark circles under her eyes. George would be washed and neatly dressed in immaculate white, and they would sit in the sitting room and drink tea, as if Mary and Matthew hadn't spent most of the night awake. It was a rather surreal experience.

Granny had visited that morning, but Mary had been alone for at least half an hour now, so she had been expecting someone.

The footsteps were unhurried, so didn't belong to any of the servants or to Isobel, and were too light to be Papa. There was no tapping to indicate the presence of Granny's stick. Mama then.

She had been resting very comfortably, somewhere between waking and sleeping, but Mama had been so helpful in the past few days, and she decided to force herself awake rather than surrender to sleep. She opened her eyes just as the soft knock came on the door.

"Come in, Mama," she called.

Cora pushed the door open gently. "Hello, my darling," she said, making her way over to the armchair next to the bed and sitting down. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"You didn't. I was only resting. Nanny's just taken George," Mary replied. At least, she thought that had been only a few minutes ago. She might have dozed off for a while.

"Matthew told me," Cora said. She smiled. "He's quite a fierce protector, you know, trying to make sure you get enough rest. He even stood up to your grandmother this morning, telling her not to stay too long."

"I know," Mary said with a smile. He had been wonderful, and she was so grateful to him for it. He always knew without having to be told when she needed a break, and even took her hints when she occasionally wanted to be completely alone.

"How are you feeling?" Cora asked. "I'm glad you're mostly back on your feet, but it took me weeks to feel quite comfortable after you were born."

"Better than I was expecting, after what you and Isobel told me, but not entirely comfortable." She paused, then added, "and very tired!"

Cora smiled. "Of course. I know it's exhausting, but I'm glad you're nursing George yourself. I've always wished I had with you girls. But times were very different then." She sighed.

"I think I'm glad too, most of the time. But not always in the middle of the night," Mary said.

They both smiled and sat in silence for a minute.

Then Cora sighed, and looked earnestly at her daughter.

"I owe you an apology," she said earnestly. "An apology and an explanation. I know I have hurt you deeply, and you have never deserved it. We have to be able to put this behind us."

"Mama…" Mary began, without truly knowing what she was going to say. There had been an uneasy closeness between them in the days since George's birth, as she had remembered how much she loved her mother and how comforting her presence could be. She had missed that, she realised, in the long months since their argument in September. The months of her pregnancy been wonderful and difficult in equal measure, and she had felt lost and uncertain so often. It was only now that she realised she had desperately needed her mother's advice and support, that the reason she had felt she had nobody to talk to about her worries about being a mother was because she had been pushing away the one person who would have listened, who would have understood and helped her.

And she had been pushing her away for good reason.

This conversation should have happened long ago, but it had taken the pain and fear of childbirth for her to look past her anger and hurt and allow this new closeness to develop. She did not particularly want to talk about it, but they both needed to.

"No, my darling girl, you must let me say this," Cora said firmly. "I made a terrible mistake, and I know you can't forget that. I assumed things of you that I had no right or reason to assume. I was wrong, and I am so, so sorry.

"You were wrong, and you're right that I can't forget it," Mary said slowly. "But I do understand that my pregnancy was a shock. I know we made everything difficult by not telling anyone that it was possible. I'm not sorry. We had our reasons. But I can see that the truth seemed impossible. I didn't expect you to understand immediately. But I had hoped you would listen to my explanation before deciding I was a slut."

Cora breathed in sharply at that.

"All I ask of you now is that you let me explain," she said, her voice carefully measured. "It isn't a good enough excuse, but it is an explanation, and I need to say it."

Mary looked at her mother and nodded. "Alright."

Cora gave her a tight smile. "I hope you know how happy it makes me to see you so settled and contented," she said.

"I do, Mama. Of course, I do."

"This is all I ever wanted for you," Cora continued. "For you to be settled, happy, with a secure future and children of your own. But I have always felt so ill-equipped to provide it for you. When you were born, I loved you more than anything, all the more because everyone was disappointed you weren't a boy. But I was so young, and so alone, far from home in a foreign country in which I knew I would never truly fit in, and whose traditions I didn't understand. It seemed an impossible task to be responsible for your future when I was barely in control of my own. I surrendered you to the care of nannies and servants without a fight because I believed they could take better care of you than I could. And perhaps they did, but I will never know if it was the right decision."

"It's how things were, Mama," Mary said. "Granny did the same, and had I married anyone other than Matthew, I might have done so too."

"Just because something is commonly done, it doesn't make it right," Cora said. "But I thought it was at the time. I felt so unprepared to take care of you. I think I always have. I pushed so hard for a good marriage for you because for all the fortune I brought to save this family, for all the great title I bought with it and for all the power it gave me, I could not hope to provide for or protect you in a world that favours men. I knew perfectly well that you didn't want to marry Patrick except as a means of keeping Downton, but I could see no real alternative. My father signed away my right to my fortune, and marrying Patrick was the only way I could give you what should always have been yours."

"Papa pushed harder than you," Mary reminded her. "The law is at fault, there was so little you could have done. I do understand that now." And she did, truly. She hated the law, but she saw now the impossible situation her parents had been in and she could not blame them as she once had.

"Perhaps. But you didn't understand then, and how could you have? The law was at fault for making Patrick the heir, but I was at fault for thinking I knew how to ensure your happiness better than you knew yourself. You could have had anyone you wanted if we had allowed you the choice and the time to decide, without the pressure of the understanding with Patrick hanging over you. You were the most popular debutante in London, and the invitations poured in for your first three seasons."

"And then I ruined everything," Mary said harshly.

Cora felt her words like a physical blow. "No. No, you didn't ruin anything. I will never forgive myself for the way I judged you that night." It haunted her still, the memory of the anger she had felt, the disappointment. Mary had needed someone to be kind and understanding, not to judge and reprimand her when she had been through such a traumatic experience.

She sighed. "You always seemed so self-possessed, and I thought you knew what you were doing that evening. I saw how he looked at you, and did nothing. You thought yourself so grown up, but you had seen so little of the world. How could you have understood the terrible things men can do? I did nothing to help you, and when the worst happened because I failed to protect you, I took your word on what took place that night because I assumed that a frightened young girl with so little experience of the real world would understand what had happened to her. I never asked the right questions, and the truth of what happened to you that night was too painful to contemplate, and all I wanted was to save your reputation and put it all behind us."

Mary wanted to tell her that it was alright, that it was all in the past. But as her mother spoke, the memory of those long-ago conversations returned to her, and she was surprised at the anger she had not realised she still held. She had believed for so long that everything that followed that awful night had been her fault, had been prepared to marry a man she had come to despise because she had seen it as her penance for her catastrophic mistake. She realised she was still angry at her mother for never asking what had happened or why, for taking her terrified shake of her head as definitive confirmation of her guilt.

"I was so afraid for you," Cora continued, "and it was all such a shock… The world is a cruel place, and the woman is always blamed, no matter what the truth might be, and your whole future could have been destroyed… But my darling, you were never damaged goods. You were never goods at all, and I am so, so sorry I spoke to you as I did."

Mary felt her eyes glazing over with tears. That phrase had stayed with her for so many years. It had been how she had understood her value to society, to her family, even to herself. It had been what had made her feel unworthy to marry Matthew when he had first proposed, what had stolen those years they could have had together from them. It had been the constant refrain in her mind when she had believed herself to be of so little value that she deserved a loveless marriage to a cruel, manipulative man who was threatening her with ruin.

If Matthew had not been the kind, understanding man he was, those words might have ruined her life. And it had taken this many years for her mother to truly apologise and realise how unfair she had been.

"I was raped, Mama, and you let me blame myself for years," she said, her voice low and oddly calm, despite the tears that were beginning to spill down her cheeks. She had never said it before, never used those words to describe what had happened that night, even after Matthew had told her it wasn't her fault over and over. She had told herself as it was happening that this had been her choice, that she had taken a lover because she wanted to, because she was brave and daring and sophisticated, because she liked him and wanted him, and he liked and wanted her. It had been a form of self-protection, she supposed, a way to pretend it hadn't happened, that she hadn't lost control of her life so dramatically. But she had, and saying it now, it felt true for the first time since Matthew had first shown her what had happened in a different light.

Cora moved to take her daughter's hand, but thought better of it at the last moment. There were tears in her own eyes now, and Mary's blunt words had hit her hard. "For that, I will never forgive myself," she said. "I am truly sorry, my darling girl. I was so focused on securing your future, I didn't try hard enough to understand what had happened to you."

"Matthew understood the moment I told him," Mary said. "He understood more about what happened than I did, even as I was trying to explain."

"Matthew is a good man, and I'm very glad you found happiness with him in spite of my efforts to keep you apart. I was wrong to encourage you to marry Sir Richard. I believed buying his protection with a wedding was the right thing to do because my parents bought my lovely life and happy marriage in a wholly emotionless financial transaction. I was wrong, Mary, so very wrong."

"But even after I had made my decision about Sir Richard, you wanted to send me away to America, to keep me from Matthew because you didn't want your daughter married to a cripple," Mary said. It still angered her to think of her mother had treated Matthew in those first months after his injury. He had had enough to deal with without Mama being unable to quite treat him like a person who was as deserving of happiness as anyone else, if not more so.

"I wanted to protect you from a sexless, childless future. I wanted you to be happy, and you and your sisters have brought me such happiness, how could I want you to give up all hope of having that for yourself? I should not have tried to keep you from the man you loved, I see that now, but I only wanted the best for you. I thought you could find a husband in America and be happy. I know you felt as if you were being sent into exile, but America is not a bad place. I wasn't sending you away to the ends of the earth, I was sending you to your rich grandmother and a loving family who would have done all they could to ensure your happiness. But I was wrong, Mary, and there is nothing I can say to undo it all. You found your own happiness and I am so glad you made your own decisions and didn't do as I wished you to."

Cora sighed deeply. She had known this conversation would be difficult, but it was even worse than she had expected. And the worst was still to come.

She glanced at Mary, who was looking away from her to the window. She wanted to take her hand, to take her in her arms and show how very much she was loved. But Mary had never been openly affectionate, even as a small child, and until a few days ago she had been so closed off, surely any attempt at comfort would be unwelcome.

She needed to finish.

"When you told me you were pregnant, I leapt to a horribly wrong conclusion because despite the daily evidence of your happiness that should have been obvious to me, a part of me had feared for you all along, and I was so afraid and desperate to act quickly to save you from your poor decisions, I never took a moment to think, to listen. I have only ever wanted the best for you, but I was wrong. I wanted to save you, but you never needed saving. I am truly sorry, my darling girl.

"I have wanted to protect you since the moment they placed you in my arms, everyone quietly but clearly disappointed that you were a girl. When you grew up so clever and headstrong and beautiful, I felt even more out of my depth, and somehow, I have never managed to match my intentions to protect you with doing the right thing for you.

"But now, seeing you with your own baby, so much more grown up and self-assured than I was, something inside me that I didn't know was hurting is soothed. All my fear and all my failures melt away because you have everything I have always wanted for you, and you have it all because you are a wonderful, brave woman that any mother would be proud of. You made your own happiness, and I am so very proud of you, my darling, darling girl."

Mary looked down at her hands. She didn't want to understand, to sympathise, to forgive her mother for what she had believed. But she knew what it was to feel so unprepared to be a mother, and the thought of having to manage it all when she was a decade younger and trying to adapt to life in a country that was not her own, with so little control over her life, was terrifying. She knew it was true that all Mama had ever done was try to protect her and give her the best possible future, and she knew that she had made enough poor decisions to justify some concern about what she might do next.

But she couldn't let Mama think it was George's existence that proved her decision to have been right.

"I'm glad it makes you happy to see me with George, Mama, and he makes me so very happy, of course he does. But we didn't need him for my marriage to be right and happy. I love my son, so very much, but if he is the reason you think you were wrong to stand against my marriage, you're wrong."

Cora finally found the courage to reach for her daughter's hand, and she squeezed gently. Mary did not acknowledge it, but nor did she pull her hand back.

"I know," Cora said. "I know you were happy. I know you made the right choice. I struggled to see it, because it wasn't the future I had been imagining for you for so long." She paused and sighed, her eyes softening. "But I see it now."

Their eyes met, both pairs glazed with tears, but full of love and new understanding.

"It's all in the past now, Mama," Mary said. As she said it, she realised that she believed it for the first time. Her relationship with her mother made more sense to her than it ever had. The resentment she had held for so long over what had been said between them on that terrible night and in the years that followed no longer seemed important. They had said and done what they had said and done, but it didn't matter anymore.

They looked at each other for a minute. Then Cora, in one swift motion, stood from her chair, sat on the bed and pulled Mary into her arms, holding her tightly as she had so rarely done since Mary had been a small child. And Mary, her proudest, most independent, least affectionate daughter, allowed it passively for a moment, then put her arms around her mother and returned her tight embrace.

In the first weeks after George's birth, Mary and Matthew spent almost all their time with their son, but they were both aware it could not last. Matthew's promotion meant that he did not have the luxury of working from home whenever he liked as he had before, and after three weeks (which was in itself very generous, and entirely due to the fact Jonathon was Matthew's friend as well as his boss), he had to go into the office.

He hated to leave Mary and George even for the few hours he would be out, but he knew he really had no choice. It wasn't fair for Jonathon to be taking on his work as well as his own, and poor Mr Harvell had been working almost full time again when he was supposed to be on the brink of retirement. And so Matthew reluctantly dragged himself away from his family for the first time on a dreary Monday morning.

He arrived an hour before his first appointment and spent the time staring at papers and files, trying and failing to concentrate. He had read them through several times at home, but he was quite sure he remembered nothing. It was ridiculous. He was just so tired. According to Mother, George was a particularly quiet, easy baby, but last night, he had simply refused to settle down and go to sleep.

Matthew had already drunk several cups of coffee that morning in the desperate hope that it might wake him up a little and allow him to concentrate, but all it had done was make him jumpy.

Quite besides the exhaustion, there was the worry. He hadn't left George and Mary since his son had been born, and now, all he could think of was them, and whether they were alright. Mary was no longer as weepy as she had been in the first week or so after the birth, but she had been upset when he had left that morning, and he hated the thought of leaving her when she needed him. Of course, she had the rest of her family with her, and the nanny to take care of George when she needed a break, but when she was upset or worried, he knew she would want him.

For the first time, he was beginning to wonder if it had been a good idea to accept his promotion. He was pleased to have been offered it, and he had looked forward to having more responsibility within the firm, looked forward to it really being his firm, not just the place he happened to work. But that had been before George. Now, after only an hour or so away, he already wanted to go home. He knew that fathers all over the country, all over the world were in the same predicament, but there really was no reason for him to be working at all. He had quite a large sum of his own money from his father, and the rent from the house in Manchester, and from working for years while having a relatively inexpensive lifestyle. Then there was Mary's settlement. Of course, he considered it to be hers to spend as she liked, but it did mean that she could always have what she wanted without worrying about the price. And the truth was, if he hadn't insisted that he pay William, Anna and now Nanny Lawrence, and on paying for everything he or Mary needed, he knew Robert would have paid without even thinking of it. While he had always valued his independence, he began to wonder if it was really worth sacrificing valuable time with his family for no reason other than pride.

He had no more time to wonder like this, however, as there was a knock on his door, and Helen entered with his client.

Somehow, Matthew got through the meeting. Years of practise made it possible for him to behave normally, despite the fact that his thoughts were elsewhere. When the meeting was over, however, and the door shut, he sat back with a deep sigh, and closed his eyes. He had never, so far as he could remember, been this tired. God, he was useless. He had been at work for just over two hours, and he couldn't keep his eyes open. He had a meeting that afternoon, and he had no idea how he was going to last until then.

He heard the door open, and knew he really ought to sit up straight and open his eyes. But he recognised the footsteps as Jonathon's and decided it wasn't worth the effort. Jonathon had a young daughter; he would understand.

"You look like you haven't slept for a week," Jonathon said sympathetically.

Matthew smiled, but didn't open his eyes. "Three weeks, actually. Or at least, that's what it feels like."

"You've got a good few months like this to go yet. The first few weeks are nothing," Jonathon said cheerfully. He put a hand on Matthew's shoulder, and Matthew finally groaned, opened his eyes, and straightened up. "Do you think you can stay awake for lunch at the pub?" Jonathon asked. "I haven't seen you in three weeks, and neither of us have anything until two, so we've got time."

"I suppose we have. Alright, I haven't been to the pub in ages. And I'm actually ravenous."

"Are you alright to go now?"

"I suppose so. I probably ought to read over the file again, but I don't think I'll have any more success than I've had the last hundred or so times I've tried."

"Well, as your boss, perhaps I should tell you to stay, drink some coffee and get on with it, but as your friend, I reckon you need a good lunch, a good pint, and break from the office. We can talk over anything you didn't take in from the file, but knowing you and your memory, you'll be fine anyway."

"I doubt that somehow. You have no idea quite how tired I am," Matthew insisted.

"Oh, trust me, I have quite a good idea. Emily and I don't have your army of servants, remember. But come on, you'll be late for your meeting later if we don't leave now."

Matthew nodded in agreement, and after telling Helen where they were going, they left for the pub which was just down the road.

When they reached the pub, Jonathon guided Matthew's chair past the obstacle course of tables and chairs to their usual table in the quietest corner, then went to order two cottage pies and two pints of ale. When he carried the drinks back to the table, he found Matthew leaning his elbows on the table and burying his face in his hands.

"Perhaps strong coffee would have been a better choice of beverage," Jonathon said cheerfully. "But I'm not sure you can get it here. I'll have to wake you up with stimulating conversation instead."

Matthew would usually have had a witty retort to this, but today, he simply couldn't be bothered to think of one. He did, however, look up and smile. "A good pint is equally welcome. Thank you, this was a good idea."

"I expect you haven't been out much lately," Jonathon said.

"No, I've hardly left the house since George was born. We did take him for a visit to my Mother, but everyone's fussy about taking him out of the house. And Mary can't really leave him."

"And you won't go anywhere without her. I know how you are together. I'm just surprised you and Mary are so involved in it all. I thought your lot handed them over to nannies as soon as they were born, and only set eyes on them for a strict hour before dinner."

"They're not 'my lot'. I'm still the middle-class interloper," Matthew joked. "Upper middle class, if you ask Mother. She's very insistent on that point."

Jonathon laughed. "Perhaps you're right. Not many heirs to Earldoms work as lawyers and go to the pub for lunch with their decidedly middle-class friends."

"No, that's certainly true. You should have seen their faces when I arrived in 1912 and said I'd found a job. It was as if they'd never heard of such thing as a 'job'. You know, Cousin Violet actually asked, genuinely I think, what a weekend was!"

Jonathon snorted. "I take it back. Anyone who can refer to the formidable Dowager Countess of Grantham as 'Cousin Violet' is beyond doubt a toff. Sorry Matthew, you are decidedly a member of the Upper Classes," he said with mock sympathy. "But I'm still surprised that your Lady Mary is looking after her own baby."

"I think everyone's surprised, except me. Of course, she often follows all the mad aristocratic traditions, but I knew she would never be able to bear surrendering Georgie to someone else." Matthew took a long drink and sighed. "I do think we both wish that someone else was looking after George sometimes though. I mean it when I say neither of us have had a real night's sleep since he was born."

"I know the feeling. Emily and I didn't sleep properly for months after Lilly was born. And she had colic, which was a nightmare. Although, to be fair to Em, I didn't actually wake up in the night after the first week or so, and it didn't bother me half as much as it did her. I can sleep through anything. Two years of shellfire and screams does that to you. And… I'm used to not sleeping well anyway. Nightmares, you know." Jonathon looked down darkly at his already almost-empty glass.

Matthew looked up quickly. They almost never discussed the war, or anything related to it. "I know. But… you mean you still… quite often?" Of course he didn't want to hear his friend say that he was still finding it difficult to forget the war, but at the same time, it would be a relief to know that it wasn't only him who hadn't got over it. It was years ago now, yet he still woke Mary too often with his thrashing about and crying out, lost in the horrors of his nightmares. He had wondered if there was just something wrong with him, whatever Mary said to reassure him on the subject. He talked to William about it occasionally, but although he was understanding and sympathetic, William had always been resilient, and apparently, he was generally alright.

"Not as often as I used to. But often enough," Jonathon said quietly. "And I wasn't out there for half as long as you were. And I got through it physically unscathed. I barely have a mark to show I was there, and I still can't get over it."

"You didn't have to be there for long" Matthew said. "I was having nightmares on my first leave, and they've never stopped, except when I was there and actually living the nightmares. And you were there for almost two years. But… God, I thought it was just me. After all this time. I thought I was…"

"Weak? Defective in some way? I know. That's what I thought. But my father... he was in the Boer War, and he said it had taken him years to be alright, and even then, the nightmares never really stopped. He would think they had, for months or even years, and then they'd start again." He stopped and looked down, frowning at his pint. "I never knew. He was living with this when I was a child, for decades now, and I never had a clue. He only mentioned it when I confessed about mine."

Matthew thought for a minute. Somehow, it had never really occurred to him that it would be the same for the generations that had fought in previous wars. He thought of Robert. Robert had never been good at talking about that kind of thing, so really, it wasn't so surprising for him never to have said anything. But even so… the thought that Robert might have suffered nightmares like he did… He wondered if he would ever be able to ask him. Bates had always understood, and despite his friendship with William, he sometimes missed the bond he had had with Bates when he had been caring for him. But he had somehow never considered the fact that everything Bates had seen, Robert had, even if he had come home physically unscathed. As far as Matthew knew, anyway. It occurred to him suddenly that he wouldn't know if Robert had scars.

So many wars. So much suffering. And he doubted 'the war to end all wars' would do any such thing.

He realised he was gripping his glass too tightly, and decided to change the subject back to something more cheerful.

"How old is Lilly now?"

"Almost two," Jonathon said, smiling proudly, seizing gratefully the sudden change of topic. "She talks non-stop, and she never walks anywhere when she can run, even if that does mean she's always falling flat on her face. The sleepless nights at the beginning are definitely worth it."

"I know they will be. They already are. I've never been as happy as I am now."

"Not even on your wedding day? Or your wedding night? Or when Mary told you she was pregnant? Or the day George was born?"

Matthew laughed. "Well, perhaps. Alright, if you want to be irritatingly precise and ruin my speech, I have never been happier than I am now."

"We are lawyers, Matthew; being irritatingly precise is our job, and as I recall, you're pretty good at it when it suits you."

"I'll take that as a compliment, whether you meant it as one or not," Matthew said with a smile. Then he looked up. "Oh good, here's our food. I'm starving."

Mary opened her eyes and stretched. She smiled when she realised that she wasn't too tired, and that she had woken up naturally, not because George was crying. It was wonderful. She was so comfortable, and everything was so quiet.

She yawned, then pulled back the curtain of the bed to see the clock. She was surprised to see that it was much later than she had thought. George rarely slept this long without screaming for her. And better than that, Matthew would be home soon, if he wasn't here already. It was ridiculous really, but she had missed him, even though he'd only been gone a few hours and she had been asleep for much of that time anyway. But she had become accustomed to spending every day with him and George, and she feared she had failed to hide how much she had wanted him to stay that morning.

She sighed. George would need her soon, and if she could get to him before he actually started to cry, she could preserve this lovely peace and quiet. She opened the curtains around the bed and stood up, then went to check her appearance in the mirror. Her hair wasn't tidy enough to go out, but for a trip to the nursery, that didn't matter, so she smoothed her dress and walked out of her bedroom and onto the corridor.

As she drew nearer, she heard a voice, a soft, familiar, beloved voice coming from the nursery. She smiled. Matthew was home. Was he talking to nanny? She couldn't think who else it would be, but she could hear no other voice but his.

She reached the door, and finding it part way open, she looked in before entering.

Nanny was nowhere to be seen. Matthew had his back to her, but she could tell from the way he was looking down and from the way he was holding his arms that he was holding George. It was immediately obvious that it was George he was talking to, as if the baby could understand everything he said.

"I've missed you today, little chap. Did you miss me? I suppose you didn't; you had your Mama all to yourself, didn't you, which makes you a very lucky young man. But I do hope you missed me a little bit, because I love you very much. I don't like leaving you and your Mama, but I couldn't let Jonathon neglect his own family for me.

"You won't need to go to work when you're older, not if you don't want to. I'm sure you'll be kept busy enough with the estate. All of this is going to be yours one day: this beautiful house, the gardens, and all the land for miles and miles. It's a great privilege, but also a great responsibility. It's all a bit overwhelming really, knowing so many people are going to be depending on you. I found it all quite terrifying to begin with, actually. But now I've got your Mama to help me, and I'm sure you must have noticed by now that she is the most magnificent woman ever to walk this earth."

Mary's heart clenched as he talked about his fear and nervousness about being the heir, feeling suddenly guilty. She remembered how awful she had been to him when he had first arrived, and realised that she had never, even recently, fully appreciated how hard it had been for him to have had to leave his old life and come here and take on a responsibility he had never wanted. It had just seemed incomprehensible that anyone would not want and love Downton as she did. She had thought he was stealing what was hers, but really, it was being forced upon him against his will. And she had done nothing but make it harder for him, for months and months. It was the very least she could do to make it easier for him now, even if he was reconciled to his future here.

It was strange to hear him talk about her in such glowing terms to their son. Matthew was always truthful and open, but there was a different and profound kind of honesty to this, as he spoke without knowing there was anyone listening who understood. She frequently doubted she deserved his often-immoderate praise, but she couldn't deny it was nice to hear all the same.

"If you do want to work though, that's fine," Matthew continued. "Everyone else will think you're mad, but you must do whatever you want to do. You could be a lawyer like me. I wouldn't be surprised, if you take after both me and your Mama. I'm afraid we're both rather fond of arguing."

Mary smothered a laugh.

"Or you could be a doctor like your grandfather. Your Granny Isobel would be pleased. You can do whatever you want."

It would take some getting used to, the idea of the future Earl being a doctor, but Mary found to her surprise that she wouldn't stand in the way if that was what made her son happy, even if Papa and Granny would be horrified. Although she would of course attempt to bring him up to appreciate that Downton was enough of a job and responsibility to give his life purpose and fill his time, and he would of course have to give up work when he inherited.

She wanted to go in and join them, to kiss her husband and hold her son and tell them that she agreed, that she would do whatever she could to ensure George's happiness. But she remained frozen in the doorway, unwilling to break the calm perfection of the moment. How many times had she imagined scenes like this, imagined giving Matthew a son and heir, imagined him as the wonderful father she had always known he would be? It hadn't been an easy few weeks, what with the broken, sleepless nights and her weepiness and Matthew's returning worries about fatherhood, but they were settling into it now, the three of them, their little family.

She would wait a little longer before interrupting, she decided.

"When you're older," Matthew continued after a pause, "I'll teach you to read, and through books, you will learn all about the world and all the amazing things you could do and places you could go. Maybe you'll want to be an explorer, or a photographer or a writer… You can go travelling, see the world, and maybe take your Mama with you. You could cross the oceans on great ships, fly in an aeroplane and see the world from above, and you can tell me all about it. There's so much to see and do…

"Before that though, I'm going to teach you to ride a bicycle. I haven't worked out exactly how, but I've got time to figure it out. Some people, including your Mama and your Grandfather, will tell you it's terribly middle class, but I'll tell you a secret: there really is nothing wrong with being middle class. In fact, it definitely has its advantages, and even your Mama can't mind so very much, given that she married me. When you've ridden a bike down a hill so fast you feel like you might take off and fly, you'll understand, and you'll never be able to get enough of it. It's the best feeling in the world.

"Your Mama can teach you to ride a horse, which is considered to be far more dignified. She is the best horsewoman I know, and she'll be the best teacher. You'll learn to gallop across the fields and jump hedges and streams and come home as muddy as your Mama does. But it's not the same as cycling."

Mary smiled to hear him thinking of teaching George to ride a bicycle. It was certainly true that a horse was far more appropriate for a future Earl, but Matthew sounded so pleased with the idea, she couldn't find it in herself to object. She couldn't see how he would manage to teach George himself, but she was sure he would figure something out; he usually did succeed in finding a way to do what he wanted to do when he set his mind to it, even if it seemed impossible at first. She remembered him teaching Tom cricket, much to everyone's surprise, including her own, and her smile broadened as she imagined him teaching George too.

But it saddened her to remember him on his bike, to hear him talking about how much he had enjoyed it, and to know that this was one thing he could never do again. It had been part of him, that bicycle, when had first arrived at Downton, his statement of freedom and independence in a situation beyond his control. It had been his connection to his old life in Manchester, to the father she now knew had taught him to ride. She would have done anything to give that back to him, but she feared no amount of ingenuity and determination would make that possible.

Whatever he said though, Mary was determined that if they ever did travel, it would be all three of them, along with any other children they might have. They had made it up to the Highlands, and there was no reason they wouldn't be able to go further one day, although after the difficult journey home, they had decided they wouldn't attempt so long a journey in a single day again. She had been thinking about it more and more recently since Matthew's gift of a car had prompted her to think more about where they could go together. Perhaps a holiday to the seaside, or the Lake District, or even Manchester, that would all be easy enough. And one day, perhaps a trip abroad. Not too far, and not to parts of France that held awful memories for him, but perhaps to Paris? Or somewhere a little further South? She had said once that they would travel all over the world together, and while that was perhaps a little ambitious, France was surely possible.

She loved hearing him talking about the future. She knew he allowed himself to think about it very rarely because he did not believe he would live long enough for the future to be important. She refused to believe he would not grow old with her, but she had learned not to talk about it too often because he couldn't agree with her. It was the one argument they couldn't bear to have. He thought he was being realistic. She thought he was being unnecessarily pessimistic. She was not naïve; she did understand that, statistically, he was unlikely to live long. But statistics meant nothing. Matthew was strong, and she would make sure that he would always have the very best of care. He had her, William, Isobel, Dr Clarkson, and if he ever needed a specialist, or a nurse, or anything else, there would always be money for it. He had fully regained his health, had never had a pressure sore, and had only been seriously ill once since his injury. He had survived four years of war, a life changing injury and pneumonia; she could see no reason why he couldn't live a long life with her.

And now, with their son, he really was thinking about the future and making plans, and Mary was very pleased.

She blinked back the tears that had somehow appeared in her eyes and shook herself out of her trance. Her smile returned as she walked quickly towards her two favourite men.

"Hello, my darlings," she said, reaching out and stroking Matthew's thick hair with one hand and George's fluff with the other.

"Mary! You startled me," Matthew said, laughing as he tilted his head back to look at her. "You were asleep when I came home. Did I wake you?"

She leaned down to kiss his cheek. "No. I suppose my body woke me; he almost never goes this long without screaming for me. I'm amazed. He seems awake and happy."

"He was awake when I came in, so I thought I would distract him for a while, to give you a little more time to sleep. Nanny was here, of course, but I wanted some time with him, so she's gone next door. She was reluctant, but I can be very persuasive."

Being able to be left alone with George was still a novelty for Matthew. It had taken some trial and error, but they had worked out over the past weeks that if he angled his chair carefully and leaned on the edge of the bassinet or the arm of his chair, he could lean over and pick George up without losing his balance and then push up on his elbow to straighten up. He could then lie George on a pillow on his lap and move his chair without difficulty. There was rarely any need for him to be alone with George, but it was still reassuring to know he could do it safely, and he could be far more helpful at night now he could manage to pick up or change George without help.

"Don't I know it!" Mary replied, kissing the top of Matthew's head. She was so desperate to touch him, to shower him with affection, to show how much she adored him and their son, how grateful she was for them, how happy she was with all of his plans and hopes and dreams. "Thank you darling, for distracting him. This is about the first time I've woken up naturally since he was born, and it was heavenly."

"I'm glad," Matthew said softly.

"He's waited long enough though, I think," she said. She went over to the rocking chair and sat down, and watched as Matthew carefully lay George down on the pillow and slowly came over to where she was sitting. It still made her happy to watch, after those first few days when he had been so frustrated and worried.

Mary carefully took her son and held him close to her. "You've been so good George, letting your Mama sleep. I'm sure you will grow up to be as kind and considerate as your Papa," she said. Then, suddenly, she realised what she was doing. She was talking to a three-week-old baby as if he would understand her. She laughed at herself. It was ridiculous, but it seemed so natural. She supposed it was because she had heard Matthew doing it, but still, it was strange that it had come so easily to her.

It struck her suddenly that she had worried so much about having a baby because she had thought of it as 'a baby', as almost a different species. But George wasn't just 'a baby', he was her son, and he was going to grow up to become a child, then an adult with his own life and personality, his own plans and dreams. He was a real person, and she loved him, and it made sense to talk to him, because one day, he would understand her.

Matthew watched her and smiled. He loved seeing Mary with George, seeing this new side to her that he had never doubted was there, despite her worries. He knew she had been terrified that she would struggle as a mother, and he was almost glad George had come a little early, giving her less time to really worry about it. It was true that she did not naturally play with and coo at babies, and he was sure she never would. But she was as tender and loving as any mother he had seen, and cared for George so willingly and competently, despite the very different expectations of parenthood she had grown up with. He understood why she had worried, but she had never needed to. She was a wonderful mother, just as he had always known she would be.

He watched, still slightly in awe after three weeks, as she unbuttoned her blouse as George began to nuzzle close to her and root around. She tried adjusting her position a little, then sighed

"Darling, could you pass the pillow please?"

Matthew blinked a few times and stopped staring. He passed the pillow over to her and helped her arrange it so she could hold George in a better position. Satisfied, she helped George latch on, and sat back with a contented sigh.

The sat in silence for several minutes, watching their son. Then Mary looked up.

"We'll give him a good life, Matthew, a good future. Together," she said, her voice little more than a whisper. Her eyes met his, and Matthew knew from the tenderness and intensity of her gaze that she had heard at least some of what he had been saying to George. Her words were simple, but he knew their deeper significance.

His throat feeling rather tight with emotion, he nodded. "Together."

Thank you for reading! I always love to hear what you think, if you have a minute to leave a review.

I hope everyone is staying safe and well.