Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except the mistakes as this is un-beta'd.

See end for author's note.

A Love Match

Mary shut the bureau draw rather forcefully in frustration. There were so many other, better things she could be doing on a sunny afternoon than rummaging through her father's dressing room searching for some long lost paperwork.

George loved being in the gardens when the sun was out, she could be out there now playing with him or in Rippon perusing the shops with Rose. But no, she was in the stuffy, dusty dressing room instead. You can really tell Papa hardly sleeps in here she thought with a roll of her eyes. He must be one of the only gentlemen in England that still insists on sleeping with his wife after over thirty years of marriage.

Her musings were interrupted by a sigh that sounded as fed up as she felt. She turned to see Tom standing in the middle of the room looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"What's the matter with you?"

"I don't like being in here without Robert. It doesn't feel right. It's as if we're snooping or something."

"I know! The snooping is the only decent part, not that I've found anything interesting yet." Tom looked entirely unamused so Mary continued this time sounding even more exasperated: "Oh come on! When did you become such a stick in the mud? And anyway it's not snooping we've got permission to be in here."

"No, you've got permission."

"Well I won't tell on you, promise. Now stop standing there and help me. Sooner we find it sooner we can get out of here and enjoy our afternoon."

Reluctantly Tom walked to the other side of the bureau and opened the top drawer. Inside was filled with documents and stationary seemingly in no order or system. In the back right hand corner was a tin box; it was about the size of a small book and had a faded pattern on the top, it looked as forgotten about as the rest of the room. At first Tom assumed it had more stationary in it but a quick shake of the box made no noise, proving there were no pens inside. Now intrigued Tom flipped open the lid and instantly sucked in a sharp breath at what he saw.

Laying on top of the rest of the items inside was a picture of Sybil looking so vibrant and young, not much older than she was when he had first come to Downton. Tom picked up the picture to get a closer look but as he held it toward the light he frowned in confusion. There was something in her face, her expression or the way she held herself perhaps, he couldn't explain it but it was 'off' in some way. He then realised with a start that he wasn't looking at a picture of Sybil at all but a picture of a young Cora.

Mary, who had turned at the sound of his intake of breath and had been studying him ever since, now gave him a questioning look. Tom offered her the photograph whilst clearing his throat:

"For a moment I thought it was Sybil, but…"

"It's Mama." Mary finished, taking the photograph from him. She looked at it for a moment before turning it over. She recognised the thick, spidery writing of her father on the back:

Cora. Our honeymoon in Paris, May 1890.

"It was taken on their honeymoon." Mary read aloud to Tom.

"She looks so young. She must have been a young bride."

"Yes, I suppose she was. They were engaged by the end of her first season in London."

"Well looking like that and with a dowry the size of hers it's hardly surprising is it." Tom replied without thinking. Mary gave a little laugh at his complete lack of tact and Tom, suddenly realising what he had said, began to stutter an explanation. "Err… I mean… that is all I meant to say was…"

"That you can see where Sybil got her beauty from?"

Tom audibly sighed with relief.

"Yes, something like that."

They shared a smile that lasted maybe a little too long before Mary looked away.

"So what else is in this box of treasures you've found?" She asked with a false brightness to hide any discomfort she felt at the butterflies that were refusing to settle in her stomach.

"Erm…" Tom looked down at the box, his unease at snooping now completely given way to his natural curiosity. "There's some letters," he tried moving them aside without taking them out completely, "and some more pictures I think." He then pulled out a small object, "and a pressed flower."

Absentmindedly he held the pink flower to his nose, the fragrance had long faded of course but the movement allowed to him look at Mary out of the corner of his eye. He was happy when he saw she was watching him, though he couldn't quite work out why it made him feel that way.

As if she realised she had been discovered Mary suddenly jumped into action; striding toward him and taking a letter from the box.

"November 22nd 1900." She read the date in the top right hand corner aloud. "That would have been when Papa was in Africa." As Mary unfolded the letter her eyes were drawn to one word at the bottom of the page, slightly bigger than the rest: Cora followed by a single kiss. "It's from Mama."

"Mary we mustn't read it."

"Why on earth not?!" She exclaimed, genuinely perplexed.

"Because it's private of course!" His reply equally as exclamatory.

"You can't seriously tell me you don't want to know what it says? He's kept it all this time, hidden away in a box that appears to be some sort of shrine to…"

"It doesn't matter if we want to read it."

"It must be some sort of love letter." To her dismay this caused absolutely no reaction from Tom so she continued: "If Papa really didn't want us to discover it he shouldn't have let us in here without him should he? Or he should have hidden it beforehand."

"Mary…" Tom paused and looked at his shoes, finally he muttered: "Go on then."

Smiling at her victory, Mary cleared her throat in a theatrical way and began to read:

"November 22nd 1900

Dearest Robert,

I am beyond relieved to hear from you. At least now I know you are safe, though I doubt you can be well with news I had to impart in my last letter.

I have insisted that Rosamund comes and stays at the Abbey. I thought being around the girls would be of some comfort but nothing seems to bring her comfort at the moment. To tell the truth I have no idea what to say, though my heart griefs for her my overriding thought is thank God it was him and not you. Does that make me an entirely awful person? I don't know.

I cannot begin to imagine what it is like for you out there, what you have to endure must be unbearable. But I beg of you my darling do your best to bear and endure it so you can come home to me.

I have enclosed the photograph you asked for (I do hope I have the right one). I must confess I have no memory of it at all and it seems to have been taken before we met. Did you find it amongst my possessions and have been hording it ever since? Regardless, I hope it brings you some small comfort.

Sending all my love,

Yours,

Cora x".

Tom remained silent as Mary read the letter and when she had finished she looked up to see him standing in the exact same position with a small smile gracing his lips. Mary started talking again, her voice much quieter this time:

"This must be just after Marmaduke died. I was young but I remember Rosamund coming to stay whilst Papa was away. She was so terribly sad and I couldn't understand why she wouldn't just snap out of it."

"He died fighting in Africa?"

"Yes."

"I think this might be the photograph Cora's referring to in the letter."

Tom passed Mary another picture of a young Cora. This time her long hair is mostly loose and it tumbles passed her shoulders and down her back. She's holding a rose, her head at a slight angle, and she looks very serious. Like a sullen adolescent.

"She looks even younger in this one." Mary comments and Tom nods in agreement. Robert's familiar writing is once again on the back:

Cora. Sometime in 1888?

"So it was before they met." Tom reads over her shoulder.

"He must have stolen it from her." Mary laughs before gesturing to the box still in Tom's hand. "Go on, your turn."

"I think we've snooped enough."

"Oh spare me you're half effort at objecting when we both know you'll give in in a moment or two."

"You think so?" Tom smirked.

"Yes I do. And you know why because you want to read the next letter as much as I do. You're nosey Tom you wouldn't have opened the box in the first place if you weren't."

Tom opened his mouth to respond but closed it quickly. He could hardly expect her to believe he opened the box because he thought the documents they were searching for could be in there. There was simply no way they would have fitted. No, she was right, though it irritated him no end to admit it, he had opened the box because he was curious. Though what he found was pretty much the last thing he had expected.

Mary watched him struggle to come up with a retaliation feeling entirely smug, which when he finally met her eye again was exactly how she looked too.

He tried to appear reluctant as he reached for the next neatly folded letter, opening it out before beginning:

"April 15th 1901 …"

"April 15th?" Mary interrupted. "That's their wedding anniversary isn't it?"

Tom replied by continuing to read:

"My dear husband,

Happy Anniversary darling! We have been married eleven years today. Oh how happy we were before this blasted war.

The Abbey is having the most beautiful bloom this year so I had the gardeners press some flowers. The pink ones are the same as I had in my bridal bouquet, do you remember? I enclose one with this letter in the hope it evokes some happy memories for you.

I also enclose a photograph from our honeymoon (I found it amongst your private things, I hope you don't mind). I don't think it is the best shot so I apologise but then you have kept it most safe all this time so I suppose you must like it. Needless to say I have not enclosed the item I found with it though its discovery left me turning pink. Honestly my love you really can be the most sentimental old fool. Imagine what people would say if some poor, unsuspecting valet were to find it. Still, it made me realise how achingly I miss you.

Please come home soon so we can be properly reunited.

On this day and every other spent as your wife, both past and yet to come – I love you.

Yours,

Cora x".

After her initial interrupted Mary, like Tom previously, had remained silent throughout. When he finished Mary continued to stare into space, more than a little shocked at what she had just heard. After a few moments Tom spoke, breaking the silence that was starting to become uncomfortable.

"She had quite a way with words."

Mary let out a genuine laugh.

"She must have driven him half mad poor fellow; thousands of miles away, stuck in the middle of the African desert with nothing but Privates and a Batman for company and she writes about achingly missing him." Mary looked over at Tom and realised the deep red that now seemed to be burning his cheeks, running its way down his neck and disappearing under his collar. "Are you blushing?"

"No!" He said far too quickly to be convincing. "No… it's just… I think I've found the item Cora was referring to."

"The photograph? Surely it's this one?" Mary indicated to the photo in her hand, the one in which Tom had mistaken Cora for Sybil.

"No, not the photograph."

Tom pulled out a small, circular piece of white lace complete with blue trim and blue ribbon. Mary squinted at little trying to work out what the garment might be. Suddenly it came to her and she gasped loudly, clutching her hands in front of her face to hide her mouth flung open in shock. Tom cleared his throat but it didn't work, his voice was still entirely squeaky and unnatural when he finally spoke:

"It's… a garter."

"Not just a garter; a bridal garter! She must have been wearing it on their wedding day."

"Oh god!" Tom exclaimed as he anxiously searched the room for somewhere to put the offending item down as if it were burning his hands. Mary instantly took pity on him and grabbed it from him. Once she had it in her hands Mary studied the garter a little closer noticing there were three hand sewn white flowers at the top of the bow. It looked very ornate and Victorian to her but at the same time was delicate and simple.

"It's beautiful." She uttered absentmindedly.

"It doesn't matter, it… this is what we get for snooping!"

Mary, now aware of flustered Tom still was at the entire situation, giggled to herself.

"I don't know why you're so mortified they're my parents."

"And they're my in-laws – that's worse!"

Mary ignored him and continued her own train of thought:

"It's a little surprising, I wouldn't have had him down as such a romantic. To keep all these mementos, locked away, for all this time."

Tom took a moment to try and calm himself down, and to try and banish the most inappropriate images that were currently dominating his thoughts. He spoke quietly:

"I suppose he is different as a husband in private. Most men are."

Mary silently agreed as she let her mind wonder to think of Matthew. He, of course, was always romantic, affectionate and attentive in public as well as private. But when it was just the two of them he was different somehow; it was as if all of those qualities were intensified, as if he were more Matthew than the Matthew he was in public. She used to revel in idea that she was the only person on the planet that got to see him exactly like that, exactly himself. It was like a great secret shared between the two of them; she was the only one that got to see the real him, he the real her.

"There's only one letter left in here." Tom interrupted Mary's thoughts. When she looked up there was a slight sheen to her eyes as if she was holding back tears. He assumed she had been thinking of Matthew, as he had been Sybil, and understood the mixture of emotions laid bare on her face: happiness, gratefulness, grief, regret. "It's your turn to read it."

"No." She said, her voice shaky from the effort of holding in her tears. "You read it."

"Okay."

He silently took the last item out of the box and unfolded it:

"June 10th 1902

My darling Robert,

I am so excited that you are coming home. I had to read your last letter two or three times before I could believe it. It is truly the news I have been hoping and praying for.

I know you are nervous about coming back and adjusting to life at home after such a long time away. Darling, you were born to be the Earl of Grantham and I know you will settle back in easily. But if you do not, I, not boasting of course – imagine what your mother would say –, have managed rather successfully whilst you have been away and can continue to do so while you become acclimatised again.

Just come home

The girls and I will be waiting for you, eagerly, it is all any of them have talked of since I told them their Papa was headed home. I promise you as soon as you are in my arms you will feel safe, secure and settled.

And now my darling please do excuse me for being so overtly American but I believe you need to hear it – I love you my wonderful husband.

Yours,

Cora x".

As Tom said the last word he heard Mary let out a cry as she finally succumbed to her tears.

"Mary…" He sighed as way of comforting her, closing the gap between them and placing a hand gently on her upper arm.

"It's so stupid!" She exclaimed. "It happened so long ago, and it's nothing to do with me, it's just…" She reached out and traced her fingers over the words of the letter still in Tom's hand. It looked like she was caressing the very words on the page. "It's just you can feel how desperate she is to have him home, how much she longs for him and his safety."

"She's underlined it in this one too. Every time she writes 'come home' she underlines it as if that alone can make it happen." Tom added quietly.

"When I heard Matthew was injured in France I thought 'if we can just get him to the Abbey, if I can just get him to me then everything will be alright.'" Mary gave a little laugh at what she perceived to be her own stupidity. "I thought I could heal him just by having him close to me."

"What's to say you didn't? He did heal, miraculously so."

"Yes, thanks to Clarkson's misdiagnosis." Mary stated dryly, Tom offered a small smile in reply.

"It was one of the first things I noticed when I started working here." Tom said and Mary was relieved he had changed the subject. "I knew their marriage had been arranged; that Cora was one of the American heiresses that had exchanged her dowry for an English title. But you could have never guessed that. They were clearly in love with each other and I have to admit…" He paused for a moment. "I was surprised."

"They were lucky. They fell in love after they married and they stayed in love."

"So it turned out to be a love match after all."

Mary felt herself smile involuntarily before answering:

"Don't let Granny hear you say that." Mary sighed and looked around the small room. They were hardly making progress in their search and now after the discovery of the box and the emotions it had brought to the surface she felt like being inside even less. "Come on, let's get out of here. If Papa wants the documents he can find them himself."

Tom collected all the items they had taken from the box and placed them inside. He closed the lid and made towards the desk to return it to the draw.

"Wait…" Mary stopped him and took the box, keeping it closed she placed it on the bed. "With everything that has happened recently I think Papa could do with a little reminder of how lucky he is."

Tom smiled as she took his arm, leaving the dusty unused room to find their children and play in the gardens.

Note: This is a completely random Cora/Robert story that has been sitting on my computer finished since about midway through series 5 of Downton – not sure why I never published at the time. It is most likely the only Downton story I will ever publish as as much as I loved the show the muse has definitely left me since the show ended. Also there is the tiniest hint of Tom/Mary in here that I had just started to ship before Talbot turned up and ruined everything.