A/N: So I think that it goes without saying that things are scary and uncertain right now. I know that my life has some big changes recently due to the Coronavirus— including my univeristy being shut down and switching to online learning for a period of time. It can be stressful and draining to constantly hear about something that's out of our control, so I hope this chapter provides a welcome distraction to you.
Thank you so much for the kind reviews left last chapter. Enjoy!
Come Alive
Chapter Sixteen
Things were tense in the days following Jimmy's return to Downton Abbey. Papa had apologized to Tom before dinner that evening but the rift still hadn't been closed.
"I was showing Jimmy where I keep my things for he wouldn't have to be guessing tomorrow morning when there was a knock at my door. I thought it was you, to be honest," Tom explained after the family had gone to the library after dinner, speaking low enough so that only Mary could hear him. Mama, Papa, and Granny were on the other side of the room. "So I opened the door only to find Robert..."
Mary winced. "I'm assuming he didn't take it well?"
"He apologized," said Tom, eyes fixed on his knees. "But he had a hard time sounding sincere when he kept glaring daggers at my valet."
Mary let out a sigh. It seemed that it would take longer than she had anticipated for this whole mess to be resolved... and she couldn't help but think it was all her fault. "I'm so sorry, my darling," she said, the endearment slipping past her lips without her volition as she reached for his hand to give it a squeeze.
Tom's eyes widened. "You've never called me that before," he murmured, meeting her eyes.
"Called you what?"
"Your darling." He ran his thumb against the backs of her fingers.
Mary felt as if someone had pulled a rug out from underneath her. "Oh," she said, suddenly self conscious. She pulled her hand away, oblivious to look of sorrow that came over his features as she did so. What had she been thinking? What if Mama or Papa had heard...?
"Mary," Tom said, trying to reach for her hand once more. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about."
"I'm not embarrassed," she lied. How could she have let her guard down so easily? Papa was already furious with Tom as it was... he didn't need to earn anymore scorn. Besides, it really wasn't proper for her to call him that, anyway. She didn't need him getting the wrong idea.
"But you are," Tom sighed. To that, Mary had no response. She could deny it again but he had the uncanny ability to see right through her, as if she were made of glass. They didn't say anything else to one another that night, save for Tom muttering that he was going to bed. She wished him a good night before joining the rest, feeling empty inside. It wasn't long before she went to bed herself, kicking herself for saying such a stupid thing. If she had only paid attention to the things she said, she wouldn't have made a mess of things in the first place.
As she stood in the hallway, she turned her head in the direction of the bachelor's corridor. She had been there only a few hours ago with him... with hesitance, Mary walked down the dimly lit hallway until she found his bedroom. He was still awake... light was streaming from beneath the door.
An elaborate fantasy filled her mind. Maybe she could knock on the door before throwing it open and kissing him passionately. Or maybe she could simply apologize for what she had done, say she hadn't meant to hurt him...
But Mary found herself stepping back and all but running to her bedroom. Surely, saying something would only make things worse. After all, everything she touched seemed to get ruined, why would this be any different? She slammed the door behind her, wincing at the loudness of the sound before ringing the bell to signal Anna.
The next day Mary entered the dining room and found Papa sitting alone, Thomas and Andy attending to their usual tasks. "Where's Tom?" She asked without even thinking.
Papa scowled. "Off to help that blasted footman move in." Mary saw Thomas flinch behind him. Andy looked as if he wanted a hole to appear beneath him and swallow him up just just to escape this terse atmosphere. To be honest, she was wishing for the same.
"He's a valet now, Papa," she reminded him, trying to keep a level tone. She'd hoped his temper would cool after a good night's sleep, but he was just as cantankerous as he had been before.
He grumbled in response, ignoring her as he reached for a sausage link on his plate and snuck it for Tiaa. Mary rolled her eyes before exchanging an exasperated look with Thomas. As much as she loved Papa, he was being utterly ridiculous.
"I don't know why you're being so cross with Tom, but I hope you know he doesn't deserve it in the slightest," she began, turning her back to Papa and helping herself to some tea. She couldn't see Papa's face, but she was willing to bet he was frowning. "It was my idea for him to come to Downton in the first place and for him to move into the agent's house. If you want to be angry with somebody, be angry with me." She splashed just enough cream into the cup to turn it the perfect shade of beige.
When she reached the table, Papa was glowering at his newspaper, hands clenched. His eyes weren't moving, merely glaring at one singular spot. She hoped, almost childishly, that he had happened across an upsetting article and wasn't angry with her— even though she had just specifically asked him to be.
"Perhaps it is your fault," Papa acknowledged after a moment of terse silence, "But Tom is the one who decided to keep him on, even after all the unseemly details came to light." Thomas flinched yet again behind Papa.
"I don't know why you are getting so worked up over this," Mary said, feeling more irritable than normal. Not caring about the servants' presence, she continued, "Lady Anstruther was clearly the one at fault. It isn't as if anyone else knows what happened, so it won't reflect poorly on us—"
"I am upset because last I checked, this was my house!" Papa slammed the newspaper down on the table. "But I was obviously mistaken, as you and Tom feel the need to gallivant about and making the decisions without even thinking of consulting me!" Before Mary could say anything else, he continued with, "My health might not be the best, but I'm far from dead and I would like it if everyone else could remember that!"
Mary lowered her eyes, embarrassed. Perhaps there was a smidgen of truth in his words... but she couldn't help but think bringing Jimmy back was the right choice. "We know that you aren't—" she couldn't bring herself to speak of death so early in the morning so she started over with, "We aren't trying to step on your toes."
"Well," Papa said lowly, "you're both doing a very good impression of it." Before Mary could say anything else, he stalked out of the room, leaving behind his newspaper.
Mary sighed. That went well.
It was only with slight surprise that Mama and Papa announced their plans to go away. "We've decided to take a leaf out of your book, Mama," Papa addressed Granny several nights later at dinner. "Cora and I have decided to go on holiday for a couple of weeks. We'll be leaving next week on Friday."
"Next week?" Mary's fork almost fell out of her hands.
"With things the way they are, I thought it might be best to leave as soon as possible," said Papa, averting eye contact with her. "The two of you obviously don't need me—"
Mary and Tom exchanged a glance. For days on end, Papa had been making comments like this— truthfully, Mary was growing weary of it. Papa was a grown man, not a child. If he couldn't stop behaving like one, perhaps it was best he go on holiday.
"What's going on?" Granny demanded, suddenly aware of the tension.
Before either of them could respond, Papa said (rather petulantly, in Mary's opinion), "Tom and Mary have gone behind my back."
"Robert!" Mama scolded.
"My, what an accusation!" Granny remarked, glancing back and forth between Mary, Tom, and Papa.
Sensing a fight was about to brew, Mary hurriedly said, "We needn't worry Granny with our civil war. Where are you going?"
"Italy," Mama jumped in, obviously eager to not incite a riot. "Venice, to be more precise. I've never been, and when Robert suggested the trip, it seemed too good a chance to miss."
"Well, I hope you have a good time," said Mary, only half sincerely. Mama deserved to have a fun holiday and perhaps the Mediterranean would do wonders for Papa's health... even if he was being rather boorish of late. Hopefully some time on the continent would help this situation blow over.
"So do I," Tom chimed in. Mama thanked them graciously, while Papa remained silent, stabbing at the fish on his plate as if it had personally insulted him.
Later, after Granny had gone home and Mama and Papa had retired to bed, Mary and Tom were left alone in the library. "He's behaving like a child!" Mary exclaimed with frustration.
"We've upset him," Tom stated plainly, though Mary could see the dismay he obviously felt. "He'll be sore for quite a while."
It was logical argument but Mary was past logic. "Still! I can't believe him— all these little digs here and there— and now he's running off to Italy!"
Tom was silent for a moment or two before saying, "At least there's a silver lining to all this."
"And what is that?"
"We'll have the house to ourselves for a month." He arched an eyebrow.
Mary hid her face, almost positive she was blushing. "Oh," she said. "I thought you were put out with me." The past few days had been hectic, leaving little opportunity for them to meet up. Mary has rather thought he had decided to forget it never happened and move on with his life.
"Don't worry. I'm not." As if to prove his point, he stretched out a hand in her direction. Mary accepted it, trying to ignore the flutters in her stomach and the realization that she had missed this between them.
"Well, that's a relief." She could her voice tremble as she stared into his eyes. Tom pressed a soft, gentle kiss on her lips.
"I think I'll retire. Good night, m'dear." Mary must have made a face because Tom's features screwed up. "It doesn't sound quite right, does it?"
"It's fine," said Mary, not sure if it was fine or not. She was stunned more than anything.
Tom shook his head. "I don't think it really works," he protested, rising to his feet. But with a grin, he said, "Oh well. I'll have to find something else, then." He walked out of the room, leaving Mary behind in a daze.
"Are you pleased?" Mary asked Thomas. She had stopped by to visit him in his office. Tom had gone off to York to do "car things", as he put it. Mary hadn't gone along, but she was starting wish she had. Papa was still on a warpath— Mary was starting to see the resemblance between him and Granny— and they had six more days to go before he left.
"Pleased about what?" Thomas didn't look up from his ledger. He was writing very quickly, in a messy scrawl that Mary didn't associate with him.
"There's no need to be coy," she said, double checking to make sure the door was closed. "No one can hear us."
Thomas glanced up, checking the door as well. Then, with more hesitance than Mary associated with him, he turned back to his work and said quietly, "Of course I'm happy." A blush was creeping into his cheeks and on the tips of his ears.
"I'm glad to hear it." And she was. After all, that had been her primary motivation for bringing Jimmy back to Downton. "And how are things with Jimmy?"
"The same as they were when he was last here," said Thomas, giving her a significant look. He let out a sigh before saying, "Lady Mary, I am glad that you're so... supportive, and I appreciate what you're trying to do. But the simple fact is that Jimmy's not like me."
Mary had mulled that over. After what had happened between them, she supposed that was the most likely possibility. But she couldn't help but shake that nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, the Jimmy here now wasn't the same Jimmy who had left Downton Abbey. The way everything seemed to change the moment she mentioned Thomas... still. Perhaps she was reading too deeply into a close friendship. But she doubted a mere friendship would be enough to pry Jimmy Kent away from a life of champagne, jazz, and beautiful women... especially Miss Gardiner. There had to be something more. "Perhaps you're right," she acquiesced, "But I ought to let you know that he started changing his tune when I mentioned you."
A soft, small smile appeared on Thomas's face. But he shook his head and said, "Jimmy's just a friend. That's all it'll ever be."
Mary disagreed, but said nothing and changed the topic.
Now that a new dimension had been introduced to their relationship, Mary found herself missing the lack of physical intimacy between her and Tom. They traded kisses with one another whenever they could, but it wasn't nearly enough for her anymore. That night in London had reawakened something within her. She felt like a newlywed again, ready to spend days and days in the bedroom... but unfortunately that wasn't happening.
Mary understood why— in fact, she was one of the reasons why. Anytime Tom's hands wandered a little too low, she would force herself to say, "We can't." It was simply too risky to even contemplate such a thing when Mama and Papa were under the same roof. Mary kept trying to tell herself that it was only for a few more days and then they would have the house to themselves and could do what they pleased, but it was becoming more and more difficult to keep that resolve as the days progressed.
Finally, after an especially long day, Mary asked, "Anna, do you still have that— device that I asked you to buy for me? The one I needed for my holiday with Tony?" It had occurred to her, just the other day, how foolish and irresponsible they had been in London. It was unlikely their tryst was going to result in a child, and Mary was going to properly ensure that wouldn't happen.
"I do, milady," Anna said warily. Mary imagined she was probably reliving the awkward interaction she'd had while purchasing said device. "Why do you ask?"
What was she going to say? "I just— I feel rather guilty asking you to keep it in your cottage," Mary lied. "After all, it got you into some trouble with Mr. Bates at one point—"
"Oh, I don't mind," Anna interrupted, smiling and laughing. "We've worked past that now."
This wasn't going the way she'd hoped it would. "Even so, I feel so dreadfully guilty for making you keep it in your home when I shouldn't have even asked in the first place. I'll find somewhere to hide it and then neither of us will have to worry about it."
It was too drawn out, too clumsy an explanation, but it seemed to work. Anna nodded before saying, "Very well, milady. I'll be sure to bring it tomorrow morning."
"Thank you, Anna," said Mary, turning to the mirror to adjust her necklace. A day seemed like an eternity from now, but she couldn't very well demand Anna fetch it before dinner. Besides, she told herself, she wouldn't need it until tomorrow, anyway.
It wasn't what Mary would call a warm day, but the sun was shining. Tom wasn't in the office yet— he had more car things in York— but he was due to arrive any minute now. Mary kept anxiously checking the clock every few minutes. Impatient, her leg bounced underneath the table as she stared at records but unable to concentrate on them.
The door opened at long last, revealing Tom in all his glory. "Hello, sweetheart," Tom greeted her before kissing her cheek and walking over to his desk.
Mary lost her nerve for a moment, stunned. "Goodness, that's new," she commented, blinking.
"I think I like it a bit better," Tom explained, taking his seat at his desk, beaming all the while. "But I think I'll try out some more, to see what works better."
Mary said nothing but had to admit that it was quite sweet. He was putting thought into it. Logically, Mary knew this ought to frighten her— after all, it wasn't as if she could allow things to progress further... only he looked so happy, sitting there with his smile. I may be cold, but I'm not completely heartless, she thought to herself, permitting herself the tiniest of smiles.
Tom began working, asking her a handful of business related questions. Other than that there was silence.
"Do you think it's getting warm in here?" Mary asked.
"Not particularly," Tom said, not looking up from his work. Mary suppressed a grumble. He was supposed to be looking at her. "Why? Are you?"
"I'm positively sweltering," she professed, feeling absolutely ridiculous. It was so contrived... she only hoped it would be worth it.
Tom looked up now, frowning. "I can open up a window, if you'd like," he told her, sounding concerned.
She shook her head. "That's alright." Then, with some hesitation, she slipped off her cardigan, tossing it inelegantly to the floor. Her hands shook slightly as she began unbuttoning her shirt. She felt Tom's eyes on her.
"What are you doing?"
"I think you know exactly what I'm doing," she responded. When she saw his eyes darting to the windows (Mary had already taken care to draw the curtains) and the door, she added, "Don't worry— if anyone from the house needs us, they'll call. And if they don't— all we have to do is lock the door first." Tom nodded but didn't move. She paused, hands poised over a button. Insecurity was creeping in. "That is... only if you want to, of course. If you don't—"
"Don't be ridiculous," Tom cut her off. His tone wasn't harsh, and he was staring at her exposed skin with unabashed want. Mary allowed herself an amused, smug smile. "Of course I do. But..." he hesitated, trying to gather his words. "I... I don't want to get you into trouble." Before Mary could ask what he meant, he elaborated, "I mean... I don't want you to have a baby when we aren't ready."
"Don't worry," said Mary breezily. "I've thought of that already."
"Goodness," Tom said, swallowing. "You've thought of everything."
Did he think she was being too bold? Or too desperate? Nevertheless, Mary rose to her feet before walking to the door. "Someone has to." She locked the door before turning around.
A shaky laugh left Tom. "Well, thank God for you."
It was the way he said it, so sincerely and seriously, that took her breath away. Mary stopped walking, staring at him in amazement. Tom pushed back his chair before sauntering slowly to her. "Are you sure you want to?" Mary found herself asking. "Because if you don't—"
"Are you feeling insecure, Mary?" Tom's hand reached out to cup her cheek. His tone wasn't mocking, merely inquisitive and a touch concerned.
"Maybe a little." Mary felt foolish for admitting it, but it was true. She'd rarely felt this way before. Around everyone else, she made a show of being cool and collected but Tom was different. She could trust him and when it came to this sort of thing, he would keep it to himself.
"You shouldn't," Tom told her, voice low. Shivers of the most pleasant variety went up Mary's spine. "Don't you know how beautiful you are? How brilliant?" His lips met her neck, pressing gentle kisses against her skin. Mary felt her back connect against the door... which was funny, as she didn't even recall backing up. "Do you know how often I think about doing this?"
"No," Mary gasped.
"Then," Tom said, pulling his head away so he could meet her eyes, "Perhaps I should show you."
The day Mama and Papa were set to depart, Mary bumped into Jimmy in the hallway— quite literally, in fact. Mary's mind was God knows where when Jimmy appeared from around the corner. The pair ran into one another, both of them stammering and stumbling back. "Pardon me, milady!" Jimmy exclaimed. "I apologize— I had no idea you were there—"
"That's quite alright," Mary said, smiling. "I wasn't paying attention." Jimmy let out a nervous laugh. "But I am pleased I've ran into you. I wanted to ask how you are settling in."
"Quite well, milady," Jimmy said with a grin. "It almost feels like nothing's changed, really. Everyone's been welcoming, and you and Tom have been very gracious to allow me to come back."
"I'm pleased to hear that," Mary said genially. "You have been missed from this house, Jimmy— or, I suppose I should call you Kent, now."
Jimmy let out a chuckle. "I don't mind, milady. Not when it comes to a lovely lady like yourself." There was twinkle in his eye.
Goodness, he is a charmer, thought Mary, amused more than anything. She supposed she could understand how Thomas had come to be enamored by him. "While I appreciate your compliment, I must warn you have some discretion," Mary told him, lightly as she could. "My father hasn't forgotten your unfortunate entanglement with Lady Anstruther—"
She stopped speaking once she saw the dismayed look on Jimmy's face. "Damn," he muttered to himself, before his eyes widened. "Sorry, milady!"
"That's quite alright," Mary assured him, mystified by his response. "I've heard worse before."
"I shouldn't have said that. Not that you aren't lovely, because you are!" Jimmy said hurriedly. "Only I was so used to complimenting women constantly in London, if for nothing else than to have someone buy me a drink." He let out a nervous laugh at that. "Thank you for reminding me, milady. I know I've caused you and Tom trouble for what I've done, and I don't want to upset his Lordship or jeopardize my job in this house."
Mary surveyed him carefully. Granted, it was hard to get a grasp of a man whose job was solely to be silent whilst serving your food or carrying drinks over to you, but Jimmy had always struck her as a confident, self assured person. The man before her— to put it bluntly— wasn't that way at all. Had he undergone a tremendous change in London? Or was there more to him than what met the eye? Either way, she was intrigued.
"It's quite alright," she assured him. "Just try and be more prudent in the future. You'll get plenty of practice with his Lordship on vacation, so keep that in mind."
Jimmy let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, milady. I need to see to Tom now—"
"Then I won't keep you. It was nice speaking with you, Jimmy— that is, Kent," she corrected herself. Perhaps she could use practice herself.
"It was nice talking to you as well, milady," Jimmy said, with a quick bow of the head. He brushed past her, hurrying down the hallway towards Tom's room.
"We'll miss you terribly," Mary told her mother, pressing a kiss to her cheek. The car had already been pulled around and Pratt was waiting for them to climb inside. "But try not to miss us. I want you to enjoy yourself."
"I'll try my best," Mama said, beaming, "But I'm sure I'll miss you as well." Mama studied Mary for a moment before smiling widely and walking over to Tom.
Papa was standing beside the car, watching poor Bates hoist his luggage onto the car. As thrilling as it was to go on holiday, Mary certain the trip would be hard for the Bates family. She would have to make sure Anna was taking care of herself and the baby whilst he was away. "Are you pleased to be leaving?" Mary asked her father, trying to be civil.
Papa let out a sigh. "I'll be pleased once I can forget about all this mess... and forget about that damnable footman."
"There's no need for that," Mary said sharply. Her frustration with him was only mounting."I don't understand why you're behaving this way."
Papa shook his head, corners of his mouth tight. "If you must know... I'm reminded of a time in my life that makes me rather ashamed of myself." Before Mary could ask any questions, Papa kissed her on the cheek and said, "Goodbye, my dear. I know I'm leaving Downton in safe hands while I'm away."
Mama joined him and they climbed into the automobile together. Mary had more questions yet to ask but did not protest as they left. She waved as the car pulled out the driveway, and she knew Tom was bidding his his adieus as well.
"So," Tom said as the car turned into a dot in the distance, "we're finally alone. What do you think we should do?"
What a marvelous thought. Mary was about to make an indecent suggestion when out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Thomas, still standing at the door. Any excitement faded away, replaced by icy fear. What should she say? "Well, I don't know about you, but I think I'm going to have a lie down. I'm quite tired."
"That's a shame," Tom said, and at once Mary belatedly realized her comment was open for innuendo. "Though I suppose you ought to rest up. We'll have a busy few days—"
"We ought to visit the children first!" Mary cried out, trying to stop him from saying anything more. Mary loathed to know what Thomas thinking— while it wasn't damning, Thomas was clever and could piece together the puzzle if they weren't discreet. "They'll want to know that Mama and Papa have gone."
With that, Mary all but ran into the house, Tom following after her. "Mary, wait up!" He called out, chasing her up the stairs.
It wasn't until they reached the hallway that Mary whispered, "You ought to be careful, Tom. Thomas was outside with us and could have easily overheard."
"Oh. Right." Tom seemed to contemplate that as they walked down the hallway toward the nursery. "But if I'm honest, I don't think we need to worry about him," he added, all too nonchalantly. "Thomas is your friend, after all, and I get along with him now."
"It doesn't matter if he's my friend or not," Mary hissed. Did he not realize the gravity of this situation? "We need to be careful, Tom, and we can't allow anyone else to know."
Tom opened his mouth, presumably to object, but they were at the nursery now and Mary pushed the door open. He wouldn't risk quarreling, not in front of the children.
"Mummy!" George had ran across the room in seconds, wrapping his arms around her legs. Mary smiled indulgently at her son.
"Aunt Mary!" Sybbie cried before noticing Tom, which caused her to then exclaim, "Daddy!"
"Good morning, darling," Tom said, scooping up his daughter up into his arms.
"Milady, Mr. Branson!" Nanny Anderson seemed startled, rising to her feet, "I wasn't expecting you!"
"We just wanted to tell the children that Donk and Grandmama have left for their trip," Mary explained, crouching down to George's height.
She should have expected the whine from her son, but she was unprepared nonetheless. "Why couldn't we say goodbye?"
"Because it was too early for the two of you to be waking up," Mary explained, bracing herself for the wail that seemed to be welling up inside George. She recognized the signs of an oncoming tantrum; red face, sniffling nose, and a petulant tone. The first time such a thing had occurred, Mary was in shambles; George had wanted to spend more time with her and was displeased when Nanny told him he had to return to the nursery. Nothing she did seemed to stop him from crying and she had never felt so useless as a mother. "But," she said hastily, wanting to stop something before it started, "Uncle Tom and I want to make it up to you and Sybbie. Neither of us have had breakfast yet and we'd like the two of you to join us."
Sybbie squealed with joy and George's bad mood dissipated. "Now," Mary said, kissing his cheek, "you'll let Nanny dress you and we'll be back to come get you and bring you down."
"Daddy, can we eat in the dining room?" Sybbie asked, with more excitement than the dining room really deserved. Mary supposed she had been the same way as a little girl, eager to feel grown up and important.
Tom exchanged a look with her and Mary nodded once. "I don't see why not," he told her, and Sybbie and George cheered.
"I'm sorry," Mary said after they stepped out of the nursery. "I can't bear seeing George upset, so I wanted to do something—"
Tom cut her off with a kiss on the cheek. Mary might have scolded him for it if she weren't so taken aback... or, frankly, if she weren't so touched. "Don't apologize. It's brilliant. I'm looking forward to it, to be honest. And the children are, too." He reached out, cupping her cheek with his hand. "You're a wonderful mother."
Those words meant more to Mary than almost anything else. Worried that she would choke up if he lavished her with any more compliments, Mary pulled away from his grasp. "Come along," she said, taking his hand. "Let's tell Thomas we're expecting two very special guests this morning."
