✔️ shadows of desire | downton abbey

chapter 30

MATTHEW POV

November 11th, 1918.

The air outside felt heavy with anticipation. It was thick with the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves, but there was something else too—an undercurrent of waiting, of hearts beating faster as the clock inched toward the end of the war. It was as though the very atmosphere held its breath, waiting for the sound that would signal not just the end of fighting, but the beginning of something new.

I sat in my wheelchair, my hands resting in my lap, fingers tracing the worn leather of the armrests. Miss Swire was gone—off to marry someone else, someone who could walk beside her, hold her close without the burden of a chair between them. She had chosen a life far from mine, with a man whole in body, if not in soul. And yet, it wasn't her I found myself thinking of, but Eden—my Eden. The memory of her face was a lifeline I clung to in the darkest moments. Even now, as the world was on the brink of peace, I couldn't shake the thought of her. Did she still think of me? Could she?

Robert's voice broke through my reverie. "I think while the clock strikes, we should all make a silent prayer to mark the finish of this terrible war and what it means for each and every one of us."

His words, though solemn, held a weight of finality, as if the world had shifted beneath our feet and none of us were yet steady. The clock began to chime. Each toll seemed to vibrate through my bones, a slow, echoing sound that carried the weight of the years behind it. The soldiers stood tall, or as tall as they could, given their injuries and the scars that would never fully fade. Some, like me, sat in chairs, gazing ahead with eyes that had seen too much. But we all listened. And as the eleventh chime rang out and slowly faded, something inside me loosened.

This was truly the end. The war was over.

Robert spoke again, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, everyone. Remember that this is not just the end of a long war, but it is the dawn of a new age. God bless you all."

People began to disperse, the sound of feet on gravel and hushed murmurs filling the space around me. And yet, I couldn't move. My hands gripped the arms of the wheelchair, my mind stuck somewhere between relief and longing. I wasn't sure what held me in place—perhaps it was the weight of everything that had been lost. Or maybe it was the thought of Eden, far from here, and the life we had once imagined but never had the chance to begin.

"Are you alright, Mr. Crawley?" came Mr. Bates' voice, his tone gentle yet firm, as if he could sense the turmoil within me.

I nodded, though my heart was elsewhere. "Yes, thank you, Bates," I said quietly, though I wasn't sure I believed it myself. There was something more—a spark of feeling deep within me, not quite joy, but something close. Hope, perhaps? For what, I wasn't sure.

For her. For Eden. Wherever she was, I prayed she would come back to me, one way or another.

Sybil appeared beside me then, her presence like a balm against the tension I felt. Her face, as always, was full of kindness, but there was a knowing in her eyes, a depth that had grown over the years. She crouched beside my chair, her voice low and concerned. "You seem preoccupied, what's the matter? Are you feeling unwell?"

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of thoughts that clung to me. "No, it's just... it's been a long couple of years," I admitted, my voice catching slightly on the words. Years of war, of loss, of uncertainty. And through it all, Eden had been there in my heart, a constant, even when I didn't know if I'd ever see her again.

Sybil smiled softly, a warmth in her gaze. "Yes, but you're alive. And that's what matters the most," she said gently. Her words were true, but they didn't erase the ache. Being alive was a blessing, yes, but at what cost? I was alive, but I wasn't whole. I wasn't the man I used to be.