Chapter 1

In which Thomas Barrow and Mary Grantham begin their final year at Oxford University.

"Downton College." Robert Grantham sighed happily as he gazed up at the grand, carved stone entrance to the college, clearly reminiscing. "It hasn't changed one bit since we were here, has it, Cora?"

Cora Grantham only laughed, rolling her eyes. "You say that every single time we come here, Robert!"

"No, I don't!" He insisted, affronted, but clearly knowing better than to argue with his wife.

"Yes, you do, Papa."

He turned to his eldest daughter who was still dragging two large suitcases up the steps that lead to the college.

"Now, come on!" She pushed past them, rolling her eyes at her parents' sentimentality, and stepped through the heavy oak doors that lead to Downton College, Oxford.

The college was as grand inside as it was outside; a large, spacious quad with an immaculately kept lawn, old stone buildings and, at its centre, a beautiful chapel. It was timeless and unchanged, still looking as it had in Mary's parents' day, their parents' day, and probably their parents' day.

"Hello, Mrs Hughes," Mary greeted the porter, sat in her lodge surrounded by room lists and boxes of keys. "Did you have a nice summer?"

Mrs Hughes smiled, putting down her clipboard momentarily as she turned to face Mary. "Why yes, I did, thank you very much! And what about you?"

Mary only shrugged. "Well, it was nice. Nothing special."

"Excuse me, Mrs Hughes? I don't suppose you remember us?" Robert said, nudging his daughter aside slightly as she rolled her eyes.

"Robert and Cora, of course I remember you! Quite the rascals in your day!" Mrs Hughes turned to Mary, smiling to herself at the memories. "Your parents were here when boys and girls weren't allowed in each other's rooms, and the amount of times - "

"Please," Mary held up a hand, impatience written across her face, "I cannot tell you how much I do not want you to finish that sentence. Mrs Hughes, as lovely as it would be to chat, would I please be able to have my room key?"

"Of course." Rifling through the box of keys, Mrs Hughes found the correct one and ticked 'Mary Grantham' off her list. "Here you go! I doubt you need me to tell you where to go by now."

It didn't take long to find Mary's room, and before long they were all in, suitcases piled onto the bed. It was bigger than her previous rooms – perks of being a third year – with a large window that overlooked the quad, high enough up that above the college walls she could see the Oxford skyline.

"Well," she turned to her parents, forcing a smile. "Here I am. I'll see you at Christmas then?"

"Nonsense!" Cora said. "We're going for lunch; we're not just going to leave you here!"

Mary sighed, any pretence at cheerfulness quickly fading. "Very well, if we must. But - "

"You should invite Thomas, too!" Robert interrupted, voicing the very thing Mary had been trying to avoid. "If he's already moved in?"

"I'm not sure if he's moved in yet, and if he has he probably just wants to unpack, settle in," Mary protested. "And besides, wouldn't it be nice to have just the three of us? Spend some…" she tried her best not to look physically pained, "…quality time together."

Her father chortled. "Mary, dear, we've spent quality time with you all summer. It's been a while since we saw Thomas for more than a few minutes, it would be nice! Why don't you give him a call, see if he's around?"

Mary had no choice but to admit defeat. "Fine. But I'll go and find his room – the phone signal is terrible here."

The phone signal was terrible – side effects of old buildings – but that was far from Mary's primary reason for finding Thomas in person. Any meeting with her parents involved strategy and planning, especially at such short notice.

Checking the message where Thomas had told her his room number, she darted through the labyrinth of corridors, eventually finding Thomas' room at the corner of the quad. His door was propped open by a suitcase; he was clearly in the midst of unpacking.

"Thomas?" she called as she knocked, leaning around the door to see Thomas hanging up his shirts in the wardrobe. He turned as he heard her, giving the closest he ever got to a smile.

"Hello there, Mary," he said, turning back to his wardrobe. "Moved in alright, then?"

"I've only just got here; cases still packed in my room!"

There was a pause as Thomas froze, realisation starting to dawn on him. "So, what do you want from me, then?"

"Am I not allowed to come and visit my best friend?" Mary said indignantly.

Thomas sighed. "You forget, Mary, that as your best friend, I know you very, very well. So, what is it you want?"

"Mama and Papa are here, and they want you to come out for lunch with us."

Raising an eyebrow, Thomas said, "Not a chance. You think I want to spend my first day of third year with your parents, listening to them constantly dropping not-so-subtle hints about weddings and grandchildren?" He laughed humourlessly. "You've got to be kidding me."

"We have an agreement," Mary said. "I agreed to be your girlfriend for your convenience, so you have to be my boyfriend for my convenience. If you don't want that anymore, then fine. But otherwise, it's your turn to come and play the son-in-law-to-be with my parents."


"So, Thomas, what are your plans after graduation?"

Thomas attempted to look happy with the situation as he met Cora's smile over their meal. "I would like to go into clock-making," he said.

"That sounds very exciting," she said, and worse, seemed to believe. "What kind of clocks?"

He found it hard to believe that she and Robert would be this overjoyed to have a clock-maker for a son-in-law, but if there was anything he'd learned from ten years of friendship with Mary, it was that the Granthams were, above all, enthusiastic people-pleasers. He could have said that his life's ambition was to be a lollipop man and he would have been greeted with "Oh, how wonderful!" and strained expressions of happiness.

"Old clocks, mostly," he shrugged. "You know, grandfather clocks and the like. They've always fascinated me, and it's a dying art."

At this, Robert perked up. "Grandfather clocks, you say? Why, the grandfather clock in the hallway hasn't been keeping time very well at all in the last few years; do you think you'd be able to have a look at it, next time you're visiting?"

Thomas paused, his response triggered by a sharp kick to the shin from Mary.

"Of course, I'd love to."

There wasn't anything wrong with Mary's parents, not really; after all, they were nice enough, and only wanted the best for their daughters; sometimes, he even felt bad for lying to them about him and Mary. It was just that they lived in a completely different world from him. They were aware that he didn't have as much money as them, that the only way he was able to go to the school that he did was on a scholarship, but he wondered on a regular basis if it had just never occurred to them, what it must be like to not be rich. Questions like 'Where do you ski?' and 'How do you like your pheasant cooked?' reminded him just quite how out of touch they were. He knew that the only reason they welcomed him into Mary's life at all was because he'd had a good education and, with a place at Oxford, the chance to 'better himself'.

Robert cleared his throat. "Have you thought about taking up rowing this year, Thomas? It would seem a shame to come to Oxford and not at least try it!"

"It's never really appealed to me, Sir," he said smoothly, throwing in the 'Sir' for good measure.

"Really, Thomas, I think that by now you can call me Robert!" But Robert's smile told Thomas that he'd earned some more brownie points.

Mary had turned slightly to him, giving him a sickening smile.

"I always come and support Mary in her races, though," he quickly added, trying not to jump when Mary took his hand where it was on the table.

She laughed, no genuine humour behind it at all, but in a convincing manner that only people like the Granthams could really pull off. "Who knows, maybe this will be the year that we finally get you into a boat!"

Cringing and trying his best to make it look like a smile, he patted her arm, doing his best to be half of the happy couple.

He was perfectly content to sit and eat quietly for the rest of the meal, smiling and nodding whenever required, letting Mary and her parents talk around him. There wasn't really much he could have added to the conversation even if he'd wanted to; it was gossip about family and friends, or discussions about whether or not to refurbish the second conservatory. As meals with Mary's parents go, it hadn't been too bad; yes, he had been completely unable to pronounce the food on the menu, and he hadn't known how to eat it when it arrived, but on the whole it was a relative success.

The walk back to the college, however, was a different matter. It didn't escape his notice that Cora wasted no time in dragging a clearly unimpressed Mary into the various shops on the way, leaving Thomas slowly wandering along with Robert.

"How are things with you and Mary, Thomas?" Robert asked, not thirty seconds after Cora and Mary had left.

Caught out by the question, Thomas desperately searched his brain for an appropriate response. "They're, er, never better, Mr Grantham."

He waited for Robert's correction of his name, but it never came; this must be serious.

"Have you thought about your life after graduation? Your, er, your life together?"

Oh no.

Thomas cleared his throat. "Not really; it's still, er, still a long way off. I think we were going to, er, going to see where we were next spring, go from there."

"Oh." This didn't seem to be the answer Robert was looking for. "Thomas, I… I hope I'm not speaking out of turn here, but if the two of you are worried about making any… commitments… for financial reasons, there is no need to worry. I understand that you both want to make your own way in your world, but as Mary's father I would be more than willing to settle any bills, and we have a flat in London that I'm sure you and Mary would be quite comfortable in."

"Mr Grantham - "

"And my mother has always been quite vocal about her wish for Mary to have her ring, so - "

"Mr Grantham!"

Robert paused, turning to look at Thomas who was trying his very best to remain composed. He took a few deep breaths, reminding himself to play the part, mentally kicking his eighteen-year-old self for agreeing to this ridiculous charade.

"Mr Grantham, I… I appreciate your generous offers, I really do, but Mary and I haven't discussed anything like that yet. I wouldn't feel, er, I wouldn't feel comfortable accepting any of that until we've, um, made an agreement."

He could feel his face heating up, whether from embarrassment or anger he didn't know, but thankfully Robert seemed to assume the former.

"Of course, I didn't mean to pry. I just don't want you two to have to worry about anything."

Thomas forced a smile. "Of course. And, er, thank you."

They continued to walk in an awkward silence, neither of them knowing what to say, before they were re-joined by Cora and Mary. Mary immediately took Thomas' arm, dragging him to walk with her in front of her parents, and for once he was thankful for the apparent display of affection.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered as soon as they were far enough ahead. "I hope it wasn't too awful?"

"Let's just say that your parents have realised that their marriage hints weren't working, and are trying a more direct approach," he hissed in return.

Never had Thomas been so grateful to see the front doors of the college as they approached it. Greeting Mrs Hughes once again, he pulled away from Mary as soon as he could, planning on how to best walk to his room while avoiding Mary's.

"I should finish unpacking," he said, forcing a smile. "Thank you for the lovely lunch, Mr and Mrs Grantham."

He accepted a kiss on the cheek from Mary at her parents' expectant looks before dashing off to the nearest set of rooms, realising too late that he wouldn't be able to get round and would have to wait for them to leave before he could go back to his own room.

"You know, we wouldn't mind if you two were more affectionate in front of us. I know you're embarrassed, but there's no need," he heard Cora gently chiding Mary. "Now, remember that Sybil is coming down to visit you next weekend…"

Their voices trailed off as they made their way to Mary's room.

Once he was certain they were gone, Thomas went back out into the quad and made his way to his own room. He ducked through the low doorway that lead to his corridor, when he heard someone calling his name.

"Thomas?"

He turned to see a fellow third-year, Tom Branson, smiling at him.

"Hello, Tom!" he said. "Did you have a good summer?"

"Yes, it was wonderful! What about you?"

They had a strange sort of friendship that had started in first year. Regional accents were still something of a novelty in Oxford, and Tom's Irish and Thomas' Yorkshire had instantly labelled them as, if not outcasts, apart from everyone else. Tom's tendency to turn any conversation towards politics, however, had put Thomas off anything more than a simple comradery.

"It was alright," Thomas shrugged. "Whereabouts are you living this year, then?"

"Right here!" Tom smiled again, indicating the door next to Thomas'. "Looks like we're neighbours!"

"Oh, er – brilliant."

"Yes, it is! Listen, Thomas, have you registered to vote yet?"

There it was.

Thomas sighed. "No, not yet, but I only moved in this morning and the next election's not for another six months - "

"But young people are the most underrepresented demographic in elections, and it is vitally important that we exercise our democratic rights!"

"I'll do it now!" Thomas said quickly before Tom could carry on. "I'll go and register right now. Thank you for reminding me."

Satisfied, Tom headed back to his own room. "Brilliant! I'll see you later, Thomas."

When he got into his room, Thomas threw himself down onto his unmade bed.

He wasn't sure that he had the energy to keep this up much longer. Mary was his best friend, and for the most part their arrangement had proven to be mutually beneficial, but it was becoming tiring, pretending every time her parents came round to be madly in love with her. But then, the consequences of not being in this fake relationship were much, much worse than having to hold Mary's hand over a dinner every other month.

There was a gently knock at the door.

"Come in."

The door slowly opened and Mary padded into the room.

"My parents are finally gone," she said, perching on the end of his bed. "Thank you. For putting up with them. I know they don't make this easy."

Sighing, he sat up, leaning against the headboard.

"How much longer can we keep this up, Mary?" He asked. "I think I managed to put your parents off for a little while, but it's only a matter of time before they get on at us again to get married. And I thought the whole point was to get them off your back about getting a boyfriend?"

The corners of Mary's mouth twitched into a small smile. "Well, we did achieve that. And until recently, it has been easier; we just had the occasional dinner with my parents and they were satisfied. If only they weren't so desperate for grandchildren." She paused. "You know, we don't have to keep this up. We could have a mutual breakup, or something. They'd be upset for a while but they'd get over it, and it's not worth it if it's causing this much bother.

"No." Thomas surprised himself with how quickly he shook his head. "No, I… I can't do that."

"Thomas…" Mary sighed, leaning forward to put her hand on his where it was gripping the duvet. Unlike earlier, this wasn't a strange parody of a romantic display; it was genuine comfort from a friend. "Thomas, you don't have to come out if we break this up. It's not like every straight man is always in a relationship; besides, everyone here has always known us as being together, it wouldn't occur to anyone that anything might be different."

"End of the year," Thomas said after a long silence. "At the end of the year, just before graduation, we break up. We'll mutually decide to go our separate ways, and to carry on being friends, after an obligatory period of crying, eating ice cream and ignoring each other."

Mary nodded her agreement. "Until the end of the year then."

"Unless - " Thomas started, "Unless you meet someone. I don't want to hold you back from an actual, real relationship."

"Fine. But only if the same applies to you; you're allowed to meet people too, you know."

Thomas snorted in disbelief, but held out a hand anyway. "Agreed. Until the end of the year."

Mary shook it, smiling. "Until the end of the year."

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