A Garden Party, by lilyrowan
Hi, Patsan!  Here’s my contribution to MM AU Fest 2015!  The link to the story at ffnet is:
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11343118/1/A-Garden-PartyÂ
I’ve pasted the story below. Thanks so much for organizing this!  xoxo lily
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 undoubtedly many garden parties in England that day, but 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, with a few pale pink blossoms for contrast, and, of course, more green, in white urns; men in white linen suits and straw hats, and women in gauzy white dresses and 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 shadows 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 for a moment. 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.
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