"Anna, come on, decide. Which one? The black one or the red one?" Mary demanded angrily, her perfect eyes thinning in a freezing stare.

The poor lady's maid threw up her hands in desperation. "I don't know, m'lady. They both look the same!"

"Well, that simply isn't true; one of them has to look better than the other. Shall I try them both on again?" Mary asked, attempting to keep her cool, but it was cracking dangerously.

"But you've tried them on five times already! And it's nearly time to go down!" Anna implored.

"I can't go down until we've found the perfect dress! Perhaps something else would look better?" Mary suggested with an unmoveable edge to her voice as hard as sharpened flint.

"You look beautiful in both, why does it matter so much?" Anna very nearly exclaimed.

Mary looked at her with such cold contempt that Anna felt herself shiver. "Need I remind you that at dinner tonight will be Evelyn Napier, Charles Blake, Lord Gillingham and Henry Talbot?" And Tom, she mentally added. Then, inwardly shook herself vigorously. There was no place for Tom here. "I must look my best." She added as an afterthought in case Anna needed more prompting.

"Ok, ok!" Anna sighed, resigning herself for a long evening. "Would you like to try the black one again, m'lady?"

Finally, and about half an hour later than she should have done, Mary descended the stairs of the London house. The gentlemen gathered below, notably, as suspected, Evelyn Napier, Charles Blake, Tony Gillingham and Henry Talbot, all looked up, and she was pleased at how their appraising eyes flickered over her elegant figure, accentuated by a shimmering black dress. However, and much to her own disapproval, her treacherous eyes could not help but flit over immediately to the one person who she should be singularly ignoring, namely, a Mr Tom Branson. But it seemed she could not help herself looking over, and she could not stop her traitor lips from lifting into a smile at the blatant awe upon his face.

And what was worse was that once he realised she had noticed, his disgustingly perfect features flushed a little, and his nauseatingly adorable smile burst through. Mary very nearly completely appalled herself by giggling. Very nearly. He raised one eyebrow at her as if to say "Wow." She couldn't stop herself raising one back saying "Likewise."

Distressingly, or thankfully, depending on how you look at it, and how honest Mary was being about her feelings right now, she reached the bottom of the stairs and her gaze was ripped ruthlessly away from Tom and brought hurtling back to the other men in the room.

Who she really should be focusing on anyway,Mary mentally reprimanded herself.

She promised herself she would not even glance at Tom for the rest of the night.

"Mary," Came Henry Talbot's sly voice. "You look beautiful."

Mary turned to him and found she had to force herself to smile. It struck her that he looked a little like a weasel. Funny, she'd never really noticed before. His face needed more… substance, more structure. Something more… Irish.

Oh for goodness' sakes, Mary, pull yourself together.

"Thank you, Mr Talbot, so do you." Even to her, the words tasted fake in her mouth.

"Lady Mary," another voice called. Turning to look, for they all sounded remarkably similar, practically indistinguishable without intense examination, Mary discovered it belonged to Charles Blake.

"Mr Blake, what a pleasure." The plastered smile didn't reach her eyes, but she was sure he wouldn't notice anyway.

"The pleasure is all mine, my lady." He kissed her hand. It felt like a dead fish against his lips.

"Lady Mary! It's been a while." Lord Gillingham eagerly presented himself to her right.

"Goodness Mary, you do look well." And Evelyn Napier on her left.

"Gentlemen, it's been too long." Mary's cheeks were starting to tire from all the smiling.

"It has indeed." Gillingham agreed.

"Indeed." Evelyn echoed.

"Too long." Was that Charles or Henry? Goodness, Mary didn't even know. What an evening this was going to be.

An awkward pause settled upon the room.

"Shall we go?" came a wonderfully distinctive Irish voice from somewhere a little further out.

"Yes, indeed." One, or maybe two, of the men affirmed, and retrieving their coats and hats, they began to head out of the door, in a rather strange procession, all of them attempting to linger for Mary while hurrying the others out at the same time. It came across as a rather pathetic and baffling dance.

Mary, busying herself with the positioning of her hat, waited until they had all left before she released a heavy sigh. Then she firmly closed her eyes, and set her mind, and when she looked back up, her eyes were steeled and determined. She would find the one tonight.

She lifted her chin and headed towards the door, but just as she reached for the handle, she felt someone gently grip her arm.

Turning, she found Tom's anxious gaze looking back at her.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" His understanding tone nearly made her want to cry.

But of course she didn't. She was Lady Mary Crawley for goodness' sakes and she did not blubber over some man. Or some man's stupid words. Or anything.

"Yes. Why wouldn't I?" Mary was proud of her perfected 'indifferent' tone that she utilised often in situations like these. No one ever saw through it.

Tom raised an eyebrow.

Apart from him apparently.

Of course, it would have to be him.

Wait… Stop… Focus…

"Oh be quiet, Tom." Mary snapped.

He raised his hands. "I didn't say anything." He protested.

She glared.

"Ok, ok." He sighed. "Just so long as you're sure."

"I am sure." Mary stated indignantly.

"Ok then." It didn't sound ok.

There was an electrifying pause.

"We should go." Mary practically breathed.

Tom nodded and grabbed his jacket.

Just as Mary turned the handle on the door, Tom added "You look incredible, by the way."

A jolt of warmth shot through her, tingling her fingertips and dizzying her heart.

"Thank you." She replied coolly, trying her best to control the unruly smile threatening to blaze across her face.

Composing herself, she stepped out of the door.

..

Thanks for reading, I really hope you enjoyed it. And thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews and feedback on The Telephone Call (my other Brary fic; yes my titles are great and so inventive) and I would like to specifically dedicate this fic to LadyMaryBranson for their absolutely amazingly kind and lovely review that absolutely made my day and encouraged me to write this one so here's to you, you wonderful person. There will be more of this to come - I'm thinking maybe 3 chapters? I would apologise for the cheeky, passive aggressive quips at Henry Talbot (and all her suitors tbh) but I'm not sorry in the slightest. Thanks for reading!