1. Would you stay, if I asked you to?

    (Source: patsan)

     
  2. You must say it properly. I won’t answer unless you… kneel down and everything.

    (Source: patsan)

     
  3. addictedtobrits:

    "Everyone knows that." | Lady Mary Crawley

    amazing how all these scene are somehow related to Matthew <3 

    It is scary, that when we love someone, we give them the power of making us miserable, and yet, at the same time, we open ourselves to happiness as we’ve never known it.

    (Source: itssoinevitable)

     

  4. Sunday Delight ~ Twenty

    Title: Tuck The Darkness In

    Author: Restless Brook

    Specifics: one shot ~ 2,930 words. Rated T.

    Notes: Post 2011 CS.

    Summary: Mere weeks before Mary’s wedding, Sir Richard finally publishes. Mary attempts to brave the storm alone, only to find the storm quelled in the bluest eyes she’s ever known.

    I think you should read it because… there’s energy in this story, there is Mary’s stubborness, her strength, her deepest fears pushed down and away in a mad ride as they battle with the present happiness. And then, of course, there is Matthew, too, for her, with her, and in the end, that is all that matters, isn’t?

    *

    Always give the writers some love ♥

     
  5. (Source: darkblueyank, via groveyswife)

     
  6. “I don’t think we can keep it a secret for much longer,” he said settling her hand down, keeping it safely enclosed into his own. “This is the fourth day in a row that you’ve been unwell. Your father asked me if it wouldn’t be wise to call for Doctor Clarkson.”

    “Except the doctor already knows,” she completed Matthew’s thought easily.

    He nodded, and Mary smiled.

    “I imagine the family will pick it up sooner rather than later,” she said. “Or maybe not Papa, but I’ve seen my mother looking at me when she thinks I’m not watching. I imagine she is wondering, but doesn’t want to say anything in case she’s wrong.”

    “Mother yesterday asked me if you are not coming down with something, since you spent the morning in bed these past couple of days.”

    Mary rolled her eyes at this, although she was indeed touched by her mother-in-law sometimes overbearing care.

    “Granny must have told her,” she decided, shaking her head, as an amused smile tugged at her lips.

    “I wonder when those two became such good friends,” Matthew chuckled.

    “Don’t let them hear that, they like to think they’re not,” she said. She looked down for a moment, and then she met his gaze again, a serious expression on her face. “There’s someone else we need to tell, I think.”

    He smiled.

    “I look forward to it, actually. Do you think he will be pleased?”

    Read More

    (Source: patsan)

     
  7. allicynsart:

    "Haven’t you heard? I don’t have a heart. Everyone knows that."

    Recently started rewatching Downton Abbey again. Thought I’d draw up some Lady Mary.

     
  8. (Source: odiinsons, via alliluna24)

     
  9. Lady M a r y Josephine Crawley, eldest daughter of the Earl and Countess of Grantham

    (Source: emynarnen)

    Tagged #Mary Crawley
     
  10. (Source: scarabzam)

     

  11. As thefoodofloveismusic often says when she posts one of her clever manips, it had to be done, especially after this post of hers.

    Enjoy (or not :P)

    *

    “Matthew,” she called. “Matthew, please, stop!”

    But he didn’t.

    In fact, he was even more determined not to stop, now, his steps hurried down the stairs that led to the gravel path in front of the imposing bulk of the old city house.

    He walked to his car, opened the door and threw his bag on the back seat.

    When he moved to get into the car, though, she was there, effectively blocking him, her body between him and the driver seat.

    “Move out of the way, Mary,” he hissed, fighting to keep control of his already fuming nerves.

    She raised her chin.

    “No,” she said.

    He sighed exasperatedly, but his furious look did not seem to faze her.

    In fact she held his gaze unbeaten and she didn’t even flinch when he moved closer, thinking for a moment about taking her by the arm and just shoving her away.

    Of course, there was no way he could do it.

    “I need to get inside the car,” he said, breathing deeply.

    “We have not done talking yet.”

    “But we have. You made everything quite clear.”

    His voice waved at the end of the sentence, and he hated it, but he didn’t look away.

    Instead, she did.

    Her eyes fell down over his chest, and her hands closed in fists at her sides.

    “You didn’t give me time to explain,” she said quietly.

    He snorted.

    “Weren’t three weeks long enough for that?”

    “If you had actually listened to me instead of drawing your conclusions as you usually do…” she said, her head lifting suddenly, eyes narrowing like they always did when she was angry.

    “So now it’s my fault!” he scoffed.

    “Of course it is, you only see things as black and white, but they aren’t, Matthew, not where I’m concerned, and I thought you’d learned that by now!”

    A slight blush had crept upon her cheeks as she spoke, a result of her irritation and passion, both of which he knew so well now.

    God, he thought as he stared at her, she was so beautiful, even in this moment, the moment when it all ended.

    He swallowed and an insistent desperation pressed suddenly upon his heart, for this was it, wasn’t it?

    They were done, and he was leaving, and in a few weeks she would be leaving too.

    There was no coming back from this.

    The fight left his body at once, and he looked over at her sadly.

    “I thought I knew a whole lot of things about you, Mary, but I was wrong,” he said softly.

    She came closer, then, reaching for his hand, keeping it in between hers.

    Mary looked up at him with wide, frantic eyes.

    “You weren’t wrong,” she said, shaking her head. “You weren’t.”

    He smiled weakly at her, as an endless sadness encompassed his heart.

    “Maybe not, but we want different things from this relationship, that much is obvious, and I don’t think I can go on like that, you know I can’t.”

    Her lips trembled as her eyes filled with tears.

    “I know,” she whispered sorrowfully.

    He stepped closer, his hand holding the side of her neck.

    He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering there for a little while, as if to impress the memory and warmth of her on them.

    “In many ways these past few months have been like dream,” he said, still holding her close, “but I am awake now, and it’s time for me to go back to the real world.”

    He stepped back, releasing her, and she didn’t reach for him.

    She watched him silently for a moment or two.

    Finally, she nodded.

    She moved away slowly, and he got into the car.

    “Can I call you?” Mary asked, and when he looked questioningly up at her she smiled, although her eyes were still wide and now seemed a little lost.

    “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he managed to say around the knot in his throat.

    “Not because- I mean… I just want to know how you are getting on.”

    “Mary…”

    She took a step toward him.

    “Please,” she said, “if nothing else, at least give me this. I know I’ve ruined everything, but I-”

    “You didn’t,” he interrupted her. He pressed his lips together, trying to offer her a smile and failing. “It just wasn’t meant to be.”

    He saw how her brow furrowed with sorrow, how tears were pooling again in her eyes, and he could feel tears pricking in his own eyes too.

    He had to go away.

    “I’ll call you,” he said just before starting the car, before her anguished, beautiful face made his purpose crumble and fall into pieces.

    He didn’t know why he said it. It was an empty promise even to his own ears.

    “Alright,” she said, and her words too sounded hollow.

    He nodded, pushed the accelerator down, and drove away without looking back.

     
  12. I was looking for some HQ pics and look what I found here! Look at the background of the cap.

    I’ve never noticed before, but Matthew is giving Mary his hand as he helps her out of the car. After this she stands beside him as Violet gets out of the car, and then Mary takes his arm with both her hands as they walk towards their house guests.

    It’s a series of small gestures, normal and almost inconsequential, but it made me go ‘aaaaaw, my perfect OTP’ or something like that, lol.

    Cap from the S3 CS, when the Crawleys arrive at Duneagle Castle (click for larger version).

    (Source: patsan)

     

  13. Sunday Delight ~ Nineteen

    Title: Doubt and Resolution

    Author: bookwormgrl

    Specifics: 6 chapters. Rated T.

    Notes: Written before S2 aired, speculation fic of sorts.

    Summary: Matthew returns to a world altered by the war, but is it too late to change their fate?

    I think you should read it because… it’s a different take on WWI, on how it could affect both Matthew and Mary, who has her ghosts to fight, and her battles (sometimes against herself) to win.

    *

    Always give the writers some love ♥

     

  14. Baby 101, a modern AU story by Lilyrowan

    Lilyrowan's note:

    Dear Patsan!  Here’s a small contribution to the day. It is also posted on ffnet. Thank you for doing this—so many wonderful stories to read.  xoxolilyrowan

    *

    "Mm…Matthew. Matthew." He didn’t move and Mary reached over and gave him a little shake. Why couldn’t he hear George? She always, well, almost always, woke up with the first whimper. "Matthew, come on, wake up. Matthew!" And this time, she gave him a shove.

    That did the trick. “Wha…?” He lifted his head and looked over at her? “Whaswrong?” She sighed in exasperation. “George is waking up, it’s 2:15, you’re supposed to take this feeding. Remember?”

    "Oh, right, right." Matthew pulled himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Right." He sat there a moment, head down. George was getting louder.

    "You’re falling asleep!" Mary gave his back a poke.

    He hauled himself off the bed. “Ok, right. You get some sleep.”

    Sleep. This was all about her getting more sleep. What had Tom called it the other night? It’s Baby 101, mate! The dad always does the two o’clock feeding so the mum can get some real sleep.

    The problem was, she was awake and Matthew was sleep walking. She watched him stumble out the door and down the hall to the nursery. Then his gentle voice: “Hey, buddy…it’s all right, shhh, shhh…” He was so good with him. Always talking silly talk and singing nursery rhymes. Although, she noticed, she didn’t hear too much of that at the moment as he changed the nappy. She heard him out in the hall again, padding down the stairs in his bare feet. George was fussing now.

    "The milk’s in the freezer. Run it under hot water," she called out. "Don’t use the micro!" Had he heard her? Microwave ovens don’t heat liquids evenly—you could scald the baby or damage the milk. He knew that, but would he remember?

    She sighed and lay back, pulling the duvet up. She could hear George winding up now. They had tried this last night and George had been howling by the time Matthew got the bottle warmed. She had had to hold onto the mattress to keep from jumping up. She just didn’t see how this was going to help her sleep more.

    The thing was, she really didn’t mind getting up for the “two o’clock,” which could actually come anytime between two and three. For some reason, she always felt quite awake then. Matthew, on the other hand, was dead to the world at this time of night. But the other evening, when Sybil and Tom had been over—George was really crying now. Hurry, hurry, hurry, what is taking you so long?

    Sybil and Tom had come over with Mairead and Henry the previous Sunday. Nearly three, “Sybbie,” as Mairead was almost always called because she looked just like Sybil, gently patted George’s head, then sat on the floor and colored contentedly, getting up now and then to check on her new cousin. Henry, nearly two, needed a bit more supervision and Sybil and Tom took turns keeping him entertained. He was happily playing with blocks at Tom’s feet. Mary had to admit that Sybil might be a bit of a earth mother at times but she had two of the best behaved children that Mary and Matthew had ever seen and they were always taking notes for future reference for George.

    And Sybil had been right: once Mary stopped trying to nurse George on a schedule and just fed him when he was hungry, he had established his own schedule and everything had gotten easier. But at six weeks, she was still nursing round the clock, of course, and it showed in the dark circles under her eyes and her constant yawns at four in the afternoon.

    "But Matthew’s doing the feeding around two o’clock to give you a break, right?"

    Mary and Matthew had looked at each other uneasily. “Well, no, he’s not,” Mary had answered. “The truth is, the last thing I want to do, after nursing all day and night, is pump milk. And don’t worry,” she added, “I’m not going to use formula.” She and Sybil did agree about that.

    "What!" Sybil had exclaimed, leaning forward. "Haven’t you used the electric pump I gave you?"

    Mary made a face. “I used it once and I felt like a cow.” Matthew snorted. She elbowed him, finishing, “I’d rather just do the feedings.”

    "Mary! It’s really quite easy and very quick. You’ll be amazed at how much better you feel if you can just get some sleep. And it’s such a good way for the father," she looked pointedly at Matthew, "to bond with the baby." She sat back and looked at Tom who continued on cue.

    "Sybil’s right. It’s Baby 101, mate! The dad always does the two o’clock feeding so the mum can get some real sleep. I loved that time with our two."

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  15. All My Heart Can Take In, a WWI AU by Haslemere

    haslemere's note: 

    Hello. I know lots of folks participating in this MM AU Day (thanks Patsan!) will be doing all kinds of modern fics as per all the great suggestions put into the offering.

    But I had decided on this story upon seeing an image on tumblr of Great War soldiers cleaning out a French village.  It struck an AU chord with me of what I would have liked to see if Mary and Matthew had married during the war and had a little girl.  So here it is…

    *

    Mary and Matthew entered through the front door to be greeted by Carson who took Matthew’s great coat, and by Isobel and Cora holding her first grandchild in her arms.  Baby Isobel pushed away her chubby arms from Cora as soon as she saw her mother.  Mary smiled and gave the eighteen month old a hug.  Matthew unbuttoned his jacket and pulled down his tie.  He did not much care about dress protocol. For the moment, among family, he simply wanted to relax. They walked into the library. 

    Mary felt the squirming Isobel against her and set her down on the carpeted floor.  She immediately set out on wobbly legs towards her father.  Grinning madly he squatted down to catch her.

    “Uh oh.” Matthew’s voice was sunlit yet anxious. “Is little Izzie dizzy?”  He stretched out his arms for his little girl to toddle over and collapse into. A merry gurgle and a giggle were his reward as he pulled her close. “Just for that you’re going to get a hug and a tickle.”

    Mary wanted to roll her eyes at his continual attempt to find silly rhyming words and nicknames for their little girl. But just having him home made her heart too full of love to be acerbic this morning.

    She did not want him to know, indeed, that she was on the verge of tears. Something so un-Lady Mary like that it shocked her. Her emotions, usually so in check, had gone to pieces on this leave.  The war, so real before, had become her living nightmare

    “I think Daddy is the one being silly.” She said with only Matthew noticing the unsteadiness in her voice, as she kissed her little girl on the top of her curly brown head.  She used the parental endearment Matthew had chosen, rather than Papa as Mary had used to her own father. Similar to his insistence on nicknames, Matthew believed such formality nonsense for a baby girl.

    Matthew reached out his hand and entwined Mary’s fingers within his own.  Eyes locked and fingers clasped together ever so briefly, then let go— just enough to allow Mary recovered her self-possession. Matthew knew she hated losing her composure like that. In front of him. For most certainly his teetering grip on sanity would fray, and he’d be lost.

    Mary knew very little about his work at the front. About what those haunted, hollow eyes took in as he gazed across at her at the dining table.  But she knew those eyes never lied.  And whatever he saw, something so very different from the propaganda being foisted on the public in the papers, that she must be strong or risk losing him to the demons within.

    She was proud of course. When attending an officer’s mess in London, she would stand next to him and talk and chat with other officer’s wives. She knew well how to play that game. Her upbringing virtually gave her nothing else.

    They both wore masks now.

    He had accused her in their long past of putting on a mask of propriety as a safeguard against her true feelings.  Keeping him out. At a distance. Keeping their love from flourishing.

    But now, well into his third year in the army, his own mask of the good soldier was well rehearsed. And only at night did it release its grip. He would shout out in alarm “Curse it man, don’t just stand there. You’ll be shot to hell” or another time in a hoarse whisper, “Watch it Watkins.” And he jerked to the side as if falling to safety from an incoming shell.  Sometimes he woke himself up, dazed and unaware. Sometimes it was even more frightening. His eyes open but sightless. And he would collapse back onto the bed and not remember anything the next day.

    Mary would hold him tight until he fell asleep. Or he’d throw her off as if afraid he was buried alive. She tried not take offence or let him notice her tears. 

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