A/N: Hello everyone! I hope you are all staying healthy and safe! This is the last official chapter of Come Alive, and I plan on posting the epilogue tomorrow. Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews and for sticking with this story for so long!
Come Alive
Chapter Twenty Two
"Mary? Mary, darling? Are you awake?"
Mary's eyelids fluttered before she opened them. Her vision blurred— she could make out a ceiling, a figure sitting next to her, and a lamp burning by her bedside. A hand rested on top of her own. The other was laying at her side, entrapped within something rigid. Slowly, Mama came into focus. "Mama," she croaked, throat dry.
"Oh, Mary!" In an uncharacteristic display of affection (that is, for the English— for an American like Mama, it was likely second nature), she pulled Mary into a hug as best as she could, tears streaming down her face. Mary tried to reciprocate the gesture, only to realize her right arm was in a plaster cast. The movement caused a twinge of pain and she let it flop to the side. "Oh, my baby, we were so worried! So very worried!"
"Where am I?" It becoming increasingly obvious that she wasn't in her own bed. It was far narrower, the mattress stiffer, the blankets were scratchy, and the pillows flat...
"At the hospital." Mama brushed away another tear. "You were in a horrible accident, Mary. Do you remember?"
"I do." It was all coming back to her now— the puppy, the little girl, the tree, the sickening crunch... "I've ruined the car, haven't I?"
"Mary, we don't care about the car." She took Mary's hand again.
"But... how are you here? You were on holiday..."
"Tom got ahold of us," Mama informed her. "We came home as soon as we knew what happened. We only got back this afternoon." She reached for a handkerchief on Mary's nightstand to wipe away her tears before setting it back where she found it.
She nodded, accepting this. "Where's Papa?" Her eyes darted around the room, as if he would appear in some corner of the room, but she found them darkened and empty.
"Home," Mama answered. "With Tom, Bertie, and Edith."
Tom. She needed to see him, needed to speak to him. She began to sit up, ready to hop out of bed (and to do what, she had no idea), but she was stopped by Mama's gentle hand pushing her back down. "What do you need, darling?" She asked, concerned. "I'll have a nurse come fetch it for you."
Tom, she thought, I need to see Tom. But instead she asked, "Could I have a glass of water? My throat is dry."
"Of course." Mama smiled before rising to her feet and leaving the room. When she returned, she had a red faced nurse, a glass of water, and Doctor Clarkson.
"Well, Lady Mary, I am glad to see that you are awake," he said, letting out what Mary perceived to be relieved laughter. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm alright," said Mary, though her voice was faint. She took a sip of the water.
"Any pain in your arm?"
"A little. Not too much."
"Any problems with memory?"
"No," she replied automatically, though she thought it a silly question to ask— if she was having problems remembering things, how was she supposed to know if she couldn't remember something?
The doctor asked her more and more questions before sending the nurse for some pain medication with assurances that she was expected to recover fully in time. By the time it was all over, Mary was starting to feel exhausted.
"I ought to give them a call," Mama told Mary, taking her seat at her bedside again, "I know they're probably eating dinner by now, but everyone's been so worried— especially Tom."
"Tom?"
"He's stayed with you ever since you were brought to the hospital," Mama informed her, oblivious to the pain filling her daughter's heart. "He didn't want to leave you, even after we came home, but I convinced him to go back so he could try and get some rest."
"Oh, Mama," whispered Mary, trying not to burst into tears. She wished he were here now, by her side... or, better yet, that she hadn't put him through this hell in the first place.
Mama fixed her with a solemn, yet knowing look. "Tom told us everything. About the fight."
"What?" Everything? As in everything everything?
"Well, he didn't tell us what you were fighting about," Mama amended, and Mary breathed a sigh of relief. The family would have to know eventually, of course, but she wanted to be able to help tell them herself. Tom would not bear the full brunt of it; if there were any objections or obstacles, they would face them together. "But he has felt so guilty, Mary. I don't think he slept a single night he was here." Mama reached out, clasping her hand again. "I've tried to tell him that whatever it was won't matter to you now, but he won't listen to me. When he comes to visit, will you please tell him yourself?"
Mama was wrong; of course it mattered. The man she was in love with loved her back. The mere words sent butterflies soaring in her stomach, but she was careful to not let her excitement show. "Of course I will. And let him know that I want to see him. As soon as possible." She waited a moment before asking, "How are Bertie and Edith?" The fact that Mama remained oblivious to the reason for Tom's guilt was enough to assume that they hadn't spoiled the secret, but she wanted to be sure.
"They've been holding up," Mama said carefully, reaching to push back a strand of Mary's hair. "They've been looking after Tom and have been helping keep an eye on things. Edith's been so worried..."
Mary wondered if she would be in for another reprimand or if Edith would just be glad Mary was awake... or perhaps it would be a mixture of both. Either way, Mary figured that maybe it would be best to get it out the way as soon as possible. "You should call them. To let them know I'm alright. I don't want them worrying."
Mary didn't miss the way Mama's eyes flickered to her broken arm before she smiled.
"You are sure you'll be fine?" When Mary nodded, Mama rose her feet. "I'll be back soon. Now don't move!"
"I don't think there's any danger of that," Mary said dryly as Mama pressed a kiss to her forehead. As she walked away in search of the telephone, Mary felt certain her mother was enjoying the chance to dote upon her without being shoved away. Edith and Sybil were more susceptible to Mama's attempts at comfort, whereas Mary had been forceful and full of will.
The nurse arrived once again after Mama's departure, this time with some pills for the pain. Mary swallowed them in one gulp. She sat the glass on the nightstand, jolting when she spied a white handkerchief with pink stitches. So it wasn't a dream, she mused, eyelids growing heavy. Though she had intended to stay awake long enough for Mama's return, slumber claimed her once again.
When she awoke the second time, it was to Papa. "My dear girl," He said, beaming as her eyes began fluttering open. He was seated in the chair next to her bed, having replaced Mama. Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting a shadow across the wall. "How are you feeling?"
"Better, I think." She tried to rub her eyes with both hands, only realizing the task would be made virtually impossible with her clunky cast. She let out a sigh, pushing herself up so she was propped onto her pillows.
As she yawned, Papa said, "I'm glad to hear it. I'm sure your Mama already told you but... we were quite worried."
"I know." She gazed down at her lap. "When did you get here?"
"Oh, not long ago." Papa leaned back in his chair. "An hour ago, at the most. Bertie and Edith are coming soon with some sandwiches—" At the mention of their names, her stomach twisted... she only hoped they wouldn't talk about what had happened, not when she hadn't had the chance to speak with Tom yet... "—I hope you don't mind, we haven't had luncheon yet—"
"What about Tom?" She interrupted. He had to come... she needed to see him. Didn't he understand that? "Did he not get my message?"
The smile on his face seemed to harden. Mary bit the inside of her lip, hoping he wasn't about the start up that ridiculous business about Jimmy again. "Your Mama passed the information along," he started stiffly, "but he thought it best that he stay behind. And I quite agree." He shifted uncomfortably. "You're still recovering and we don't need the two of you getting into some beastly row when you're still not well."
"I didn't summon him here to have a row," Mary said, agitated. "And I'm perfectly fine."
Papa let out a scoff. "Mary, you've just been in a car accident. Your arm is broken and you were unconscious for three days. You cannot tell me that even comes close to the definition of well."
Before she could protest, the door opened. Edith entered the room, George in her arms. Bertie and Mama were close behind, carrying baskets. "He was so insistent to see you and make sure you were okay," She croaked. Judging by her pink nose and watery eyes, she had been crying. Mary wondered if she were the cause behind it... she hoped not. But it was hard to question any of that when George was staring up at her, mouth agape.
"Mummy," he said, pointing up to her face, "Are you alright? What's happened to your face?"
"They're just scratches," Mama assured— though whether her words were meant for Mary or George, it was unclear. "They'll heal soon."
"I'm alright, Georgie," Mary said softly as Edith deposited him on the bed next to Mary. "I promise."
George nestled up by her side, inspecting her broken arm with fascination. He pointed to it and asked, "Does it hurt?"
"Not much," Mary told him. She reached out with her good hand, pushing back his blond hair. She wished the room wasn't so full— she longed to pull him in her arms and tell him about what Matthew had said... but everyone would think her mad if she told them she'd been visited by the specters of her sister and husband.
They didn't stay long— Edith tearfully offered to stay but Mary politely declined, insisting she was alright, as she was certain her sister would want to discuss things. She regretted saying goodbye to George, though, wishing illogically he could stay behind.
The next couple of days wore on slowly, in spite of the influx of visitors that came by. Granny managed to keep her spirits high by making her usual witticisms whereas Isobel took a great interest in the medical equipment being used to treat her. Thankfully, Edith had yet to bring up what she'd seen and bring up the fight again, which Mary was grateful for. However, there was still no word from Tom— she begged Mama each day to ask him to come, but so far her pleas had amounted to nothing.
On her third day in the hospital (at least her third day while conscious), she was only somewhat surprised to see Anna appear. "Milady," she said, voice quiet. "How are you feeling?"
"Better than I was, or so I gather," Mary said, shifting in bed. She was growing tired of this damnable bed— Dr. Clarkson has said that she could be released as early as tomorrow but it was still torturous to be confined in the hospital. "I'm pleased to see you, though. I've missed you."
Anna seemed surprised by her candor, but smiled, taking a seat. "I would have come here sooner, only I didn't want to tire you out or take time away from the family."
"Oh, don't worry about all that," Mary assured her. "I've missed being able to see everyone."
Anna gave her a warm smile before reaching into her bag. "I've brought some messages to you, milady." Her heart skipped— had Tom—? "This is from everyone downstairs," Anna said, handing her a card. She opened it up, eyes scanning the page. All the servants had signed it, even Mr. Molesley and Mr. Carson. Jimmy had written, I hope you have a speedy recovery, milady, and Thomas had scratched in a Get well soon.
"Thank you," said Mary, genuinely touched. She closed the card, setting it on her blanket-covered lap. "Please let everyone know how grateful I am."
"I will, milady." Anna reached into her bag a second time, procuring a piece of yellow colored paper. "And this one is from the nursery."
The nursery? Mary gaped at it before accepting. "Miss Sybbie gave it to me," she explained as Mary opened up the letter.
Auntie Mary, the card read in childish scrawl, alternating between capital and lowercase letters. We love you and want you to feel better soon.
Love,
Sybbie (written in blue crayon), George (written in Sybbie's handwriting and an orange crayon), Marigold (written in cursive and Edith's neat, cramped scrawl), and Tom (written in pen).
Mary's eyes focused in on his name. A lump rose in her throat. She missed him so dreadfully— why hadn't he come to see her yet? Tears blurred her vision and before she could stop herself, she let out a sob before dropping the letter.
"Milady!" Anna cried out in alarm as Mary wept. "Milady, what's the matter?"
Mary reached up, wiping her eyes with her good hand. "Oh, Anna," she choked out, sniffling. "I'm afraid I've done something rather foolish."
There was a moment of hesitance before Anna said, "I'm sure that's not true, milady."
Mary shook her head. "No... no, I'm afraid it is."
All at once it came pouring out, starting with the horrible car crash that killed Charlie Rogers, following her gradually changing feelings for Tom before being bookended by her own crash. At some point, Anna stood up, procuring a handkerchief and letting Mary wipe her eyes with it. "You see?" Mary asked, mostly recovered from her tears. "I think I must have ruined everything now. He won't even come to see me..."
"I'm sure he will," Anna assured her. "Like you said, he loves you. I don't think he can stay away for too long."
"Even if I've broken his heart?"
"Even then." Anna reached out to touch her hand. "If he loves you, he'll forgive you."
Mary wished she could believe it. But it had been several arduous days, and he had yet to come and see her. But Anna's words managed to fill her up with hope again. "Thank you, Anna. I don't know what I would do without you, truly."
On the fourth day, Dr. Clarkson informed Mary that she was cleared to be discharged. "I've already rung up to the house, so someone will be here to collect you soon," he told her. Mary thanked him, both anticipating and dreading her return to the house. What she wanted to tell Tom was something delicate... and, most importantly, something for his ears only. She only hoped she would get a chance, and soon... but she had sneaking suspicion that Edith would be the one to collect her and would likely keep her and Tom a safe distance from one another.
After changing into a pale blue dress that Mama had brought days ago, Mary sat on the edge of her bed, waiting. It had been difficult to manage dressing herself and one of the nurses had to help her. It made her all the more grateful that she already had a lady's maid.
Mary heard footsteps slowly approaching the door. No heels... so not Edith or Mama. Perhaps Papa...
There was a knock at the door. "Come in," she called out, smoothing out the skirt on her frock.
Seeing Tom knocked all the air out of her lungs. Had she been standing, Mary was certain she would have collapsed. He stood stiffly in the doorway, his brown hat in his hands, pale and drawn. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days. Mary wanted to kiss him and cry at the same time. She hadn't expected him to be here...
"Mary."
The sound of his voice brought her out of herself. "Oh, Tom." Her voice broke and she leapt to her feet, crossing the distance to meet him. There was a haunted look in his eyes, those eyes that had drawn her in all those months ago and made her question everything. "I've missed you so much."
"I've missed you as well," he said, gaze lingering on her arm. It was then that Mary knew something was wrong. "Are you ready?"
"Yes," Mary replied with certainty. "I've never been more ready to leave a place."
Tom nodded before leading the way out of the hospital, oblivious to Mary's confusion. She hadn't expected things to be perfect, but she had thought he might give her a warmer welcome than this. I've hurt him, Mary realized as he opened up the door to the automobile for her to step into. That thought alone stopped her where she stood.
Tom slammed the door shut frantically, startling Mary from her melancholy thoughts. "Of course," said Tom, glancing at the car, guilt in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I should have realized—"
"Should have realized what?"
"For God's sakes, you were just in a car crash," he said, more to himself than to her.
"I'm not afraid, Tom," said Mary, but he didn't seem to hear her. He kicked at one of the tires, muttering under his breath. She'd seen him in many states of mind: when he was grieving, when he was elated, even in the throes of passion, but she had never seen him like this. Though she priced herself on knowing him so well, Mary found herself at a loss.
"Would you rather walk?" Tom asked, turning to face her. It was then that Mary noticed how tired he looked.
Hesitantly, she nodded. "What about the car?"
"Edith can drive me down later. Or Pratt." With that decided, the two of them walked through the village, silent.
Mary was unsure of what to say. Nothing had gone the way she wanted it to; she'd fantasized about confessing her love and being welcomed into his open arms, but that didn't seem like a likely scenario when he couldn't even bring himself to look at her. His gaze was fixed straight ahead of him. Still, Mary didn't want to say anything while they were still in the village, where they would easily be overheard, so she waited until the road was clear and they were surrounded by nature.
"I owe you an apology," she began, but found herself promptly cut off by Tom.
"Mary, there's no need for that." She came to a halt as he stared at her, solemn and somber. "I— I understand. Completely."
"I don't think you—"
"Believe me, I do." He swallowed before saying, "I was at your bedside for three days and two nights, so I've had plenty of time to think things over. And I understand that what I feel for you is my own problem." Before Mary could interject, he said, "So I've decided I'm leaving."
All air was robbed from her lungs. Icy fear overtook her. "No! No, you can't!"
"Mary," said Tom, looking as if he were in physical pain... and if his heart was aching the same way Mary's was, he was. "Because of me, you left Downton in a panicked state of mind. I should have just kept my feelings to myself. You were right; you told me that you didn't want to be married again and I should have respected it. If I hadn't told you about all this, you would have had your accident and none of this would have happened."
"But you can't leave!" Mary knew she absolutely couldn't bear it. Everything he was saying was so so wrong and she wanted to contradict him, but her mind kept fixating on the idea of him going away.
"Don't you think it's better this way?" He forced a smile onto his face. "You don't need me to help you run the estate, not really. There's no point in me staying here; your father is even more cross with me than before for fighting with you. I'll go to York and stay above the shop. Sybbie will be close and you can all visit her as much as you'd like, but I think it's for the best. I know that you don't love me, not the way I love you—"
She couldn't listen to it anymore. She couldn't listen to him put himself down, to keep believing the lie she had so foolishly perpetuated. Mary threw herself at Tom, kissing him with a ferocity she normally wouldn't have dared to, especially not where anyone could have seen them. She wrapped her arms around her neck as best as she could with the cast, threading her fingers through his hair. Mary did her best to pour all her love into it, desperately hoping he could feel how deep her devotion ran.
Tom didn't respond at first. Then, hesitantly, he reciprocated— not with Mary's passion, but his hands fell to her waist. She wasn't sure if he understood her meaning, but she knew his: Goodbye.
Oh, Tom, she thought, pulling apart and ready to rectify this error. Tom, however, was the first one to speak, looking her in the eyes. "Mary—" he started, but she cut him off.
"I love you." Those three words, which had so much weight behind them, left her lips easily. "I wasn't ready to admit it before, but I am now."
Tom blinked, staring at her in astonishment. "Is this a dream?"
Mary shook her head. "I know that I've hurt you— I've dragged you along when I didn't even know my own feelings and I've treated you so unfairly. I'll do whatever you need me to do to convince you that this is real."
Tom's eyes fell to her lips. Mary wondered if he might kiss her again, but instead he said, "Say it again."
She didn't even need to ask him what he meant. "I love you," she told him. "I love you so very much, my darling. I'll tell you that everyday if you need me—"
She was cut off by another kiss. Mary let her eyes close, savoring it before Tom pulled away. Gone was the sadness in his eyes, replaced by excitement. "I never knew I could ever be this happy again," he confessed, smiling.
"Nor I." Mary reached for his hand. She felt tears brimming in her eyes, though they were happy ones. "But I am happy. So very, very happy."
They decided, during their walk back to Downton, that they wouldn't tell the entire family immediately. Not yet. Everyone would be too caught up in Mary's return home and they didn't want it to add to the general excitement of the evening. While she was disheartened by the continued secrecy, Mary realized it was for the best. They would have plenty of time to break the news.
However, after Mary told Tom about Bertie's pledge to support them, they decided Bertie and Edith ought to be told first. "I should tell Thomas, too," Mary mused, gnawing on her bottom lip. "After all, he deserves some sort of explanation... and Anna and Jimmy might as well know, too, but you can tell him that. After all, you're his employer."
"Jimmy already knows almost everything," Tom said, chuckling. They were walking up the drive to Downton, hands intertwined and shoes hitting gravel. "He managed to puzzle it together and he even said something about it to me when I was at the hospital with you."
Mary nodded, suddenly wondering if that was the reason behind his row with Thomas. She hoped they had made up in her absence. "I must confess that Anna already knows a great deal as well. Still," said Mary, squeezing his hand, "Jimmy should hear the happy news. I'm fairly certain you were awfully morose."
"I was," Tom agreed. "But I'm very happy now." Impulsively, he leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. She laughed yet again, relishing the last few moments that they would spend before pretending to just be friends again.
Everyone was overjoyed by Mary's return, to say the least. Mama announced the meal that evening would consists solely of Mary's favorites and that Isobel, Dickie, and Granny would be joining them. It took Mary ages before she asked if she could lie down and rest— after the long walk after days of practically being confined in bed, she was exhausted.
It took a little bit of planning on Mary and Tom's parts to corner Edith and Bertie before dinner, but it was absolutely necessary that they break the news apart from everyone else. They reacted exactly the way Mary had envisioned:
"I'm pleased," Bertie said, shaking Tom's hand heartily before grinning at Mary, "for both of you."
Edith's reception was a bit frostier. "I can't say as I'm thrilled," she admitted, glancing between them both, "It's still quite a shock for me... but I know Matthew and Sybil would want you to be happy. So I'll certainly try." She offered Mary a smile which Mary gladly accepted. Maybe things weren't perfect but they were getting closer to where they were before all of this, which was an improvement from a year ago.
"We don't want to tell everyone else just yet," Tom told them both. "We want to wait a couple days until everything's calmed down a bit."
"So you can stir things back up?" Edith asked. When Tom, Mary, and Bertie gave her uneasy looks, she quickly said, "I'm only teasing! But I think you're right," she continued, "everyone's excited that Mary is well and home, it might not be the best time. But when the time comes, I'll support you. We both will."
Mary suspected her enthusiasm was forced based on the strained smile on her sister's face but she appreciated the gesture all the more because of it. "Thank you. That means a lot," she said honestly, stealing another look at Tom. She reached for his hand before saying, "I fear we will need it."
"How did it go then? With you and Mr. Branson?" Anna asked, helping Mary out of her dress.
Mary glanced down at the floor, smiling. "Wonderfully," she said, glancing over her shoulder to find her maid grinning. "Oh, Anna, I haven't been this happy in ages."
"I'm glad to hear it, milady," Anna said as Mary stepped out of the dress. "I know Mr. Crawley and Lady Sybil would be pleased for you both."
Mary was certain they were as well. She had debated with herself as to whether or not she would tell anyone about what she had seen before deciding against it. She might tell Tom, someday, and Sybbie and George if the chance ever arose, but for now it would be her secret. "I'm sure they would," Mary agreed as Anna came back with a nightgown.
Anna smiled at her after draping the dressing robe over Mary's shoulders. "You deserve happiness, milady. I know Mr. Branson will treat you well."
Mary met her gaze, a smile on her face as well. "I know he will."
Thomas's office was empty, save for the two of them, and Mary took a seat on the opposite side of his desk. "There's something I need to tell you," she began, before being cut off by Thomas.
"If it's about you and Mr. Branson, Jimmy's already told me."
Mary blinked. "I see."
"Mr. Branson told him last night," explained Thomas, studying his desk. "So naturally Jimmy told me first thing in the morning."
Truthfully, Mary was relieved. She had been dreading this confession; after all, she looked like an absolute fool. One moment she was claiming she didn't love Tom and was intending to break things off, the next she was saying she didn't want to live without him. She wondered if she ought to buy Jimmy a bottle of wine as a thank-you for doing all the hard work for her.
"He won't tell anyone else," Thomas promised hastily, obviously not wanting Jimmy to get into any trouble.
"He can tell the world, for all I care," said Mary, "just as long as I have the chance to tell the rest of my family first." Thomas gave her a questioning look, and she elaborated with, "Tom and I thought Bertie and Edith should know first, along with you, Jimmy, and Anna. But we wanted to wait before telling everyone else."
Thomas nodded, silent. After a beat or so, Mary said, "I know what I said before but... the truth is, I was lying to myself. I won't do it any longer, though." She paused, trying to find the best way to impress the importance of this upon him. "I love him, Thomas. I don't want to give him up."
Thomas's jaw tightened but he let out a sigh. "I'll try my best," he said, wearily. "I can't promise to be your biggest supporter but I won't root against you, either."
Mary beamed. "Thank you, Thomas. And don't worry, I don't expect you to be. Just be my friend and I'll be yours."
Thomas nodded. "Sounds alright to me."
"What?"
The fork clattered onto the plate, louder now that everyone had grown silent. Everyone, save for her, Tom, Edith, and Bertie, were wearing expressions of shock... well, at least, of those at the dinner table. Andy was gaping. Thomas, who wasn't smiling, seemed quite amused nonetheless. The exclamation had came from none other than Papa.
"I don't understand," said Mama, pale and glancing back and forth between her and Tom. "You mean... you and Tom? Together?"
"That's exactly right," Mary said, sounding cool and confident but inwardly full of nerves. She squeezed Tom's hand, looking for reassurance. "We've had feelings for each other for quite a while now and we wanted you to know about us."
"Please tell me you are joking," Papa said— not angrily, Mary was pleased to note, but baffled more than anything. She was only glad he wasn't in a rage like he was over Jimmy.
"We wouldn't joke about this sort of thing, Papa," Mary said, half scoldingly, but squeezed Tom's hand even tighter. She wasn't about to let him think she would change her mind.
"What does this mean then?" Mama asked. "Are you two... are you going to be married?" The final word came out as a whisper.
Mary hesitated. Were they? She wasn't averse to the idea but it seemed awfully soon... she gazed at Tom questioningly, who said, "We haven't discussed that quite yet. We wanted to give you all time to adjust before we start making steps in that direction." His thumb rubbed over the backs of her knuckles. A perfect response, really... and one that made her heart race with excitement.
"But it is serious?" Mama pressed yet again.
"We wouldn't have told you if it weren't," said Mary. "We'll take it day by day."
"Will you please excuse me?" Papa stood abruptly, everyone hurriedly rising as well before he fled the room. He didn't seem angry— merely scattered. Still, Mary couldn't ignore the hurt she felt.
Dinner, from that point on, was almost essentially over. Everyone picked at their food whilst Bertie, eager to ease the tension, prattled on about his Mother's vision for Brancaster. Nobody spoke again about Mary and Tom's news until after everyone convened in the library. Papa was nowhere to be found, seeming to have vanished into thin air.
Mary and Tom, feeling rather ostracized, found themselves a spot in the corner, each with a drink in their hands. "That didn't go as planned," Tom murmured.
"Really?" Mary asked after gulping down an indecent amount of whiskey. "It was better than I thought it would go. I was sure there would be a screaming match." Tom chuckled darkly as Mary poured herself more whiskey. "God, what a nightmare."
"You don't regret it though... do you?"
Mary stopped pouring. God, she really had gone and made a mess of things... "Of course I don't," she promised him, relieved when he smiled. If she had to, she would gladly spend each day reassuring him of her devotion. It was the least he deserved.
Their chat, however, was interrupted by Isobel and Dickie, who were approaching them. "I'm sorry we didn't say something at the time, but we didn't want to interrupt Robert and Cora," began Dickie, smiling at them both. "Congratulations to the both of you. I'm sure it wasn't easy but I'm pleased you've found each other."
"Thank you," Tom said sincerely, shaking his hand heartily. "That means a lot."
Mary, however, found herself waiting for Isobel's response. She wasn't naïve enough to believe her former mother-in-law would embrace this with open arms, no matter how fond she was of Tom. But instead she found a brilliant smile. "I wondered if something was going on between the two of you with all your car rides," she confided, taking Mary's hands in her own. "I can't tell you how please I am for you both. You both deserve it."
Mary was embarrassed as her eyes began watering. She hadn't realized how much it would mean to have Isobel's blessing, but she was glad she had it. She somehow managed to retain her composure as she thanked her and answered all the questions everyone was dying to ask.
Granny, however, decided to pull her aside for a private chat whilst Isobel and Dickie began inquiring after their plans for the future. Fearing the worst, Mary asked, "Are you terribly disappointed in me, Granny?" She remembered how supportive she had been all those months ago when she said she didn't wish to marry again, but she hardly expected that Granny was anticipating Tom to be the one to sweep her off her feet.
Granny shook her head. "Mary, the only person you have been fooling all these months is yourself. I knew from the moment I received Tom's letter that something was brewing between the two of you. Why else would he be so invested in your love life?"
Mary couldn't help herself from letting out a chuckle. In hindsight, it was all rather silly. Between the two of them, Mary was certain Granny had felt like banging her head against a wall. "I'm afraid you're right. For quite a while, I wasn't willing to be honest with myself... though I wouldn't say I was the only one taken by surprise," she said, thinking of the less than enthusiastic reactions from her parents.
"Never mind your father, Mary. He'll come around eventually. And if he doesn't," she said, growing quite stern, gripping her cane, "Direct him to me and I will ensure he does."
Another laugh escaped her. "Oh, Granny," she said, feeling her love and admiration grow with each passing second, "What would I ever do without you?"
"There's no point in dwelling on the hypothetical, my dear," she quipped, but gave Mary an indulgent smile.
"So you really aren't upset with us?"
"Not in the slightest. After all, Tom is quite a respectable man now. I doubt anyone remembers he was the one who you used to drive us around hither and thither."
"He always was respectable, even as a chauffeur," Mary reminded her, only with a slight edge to her voice.
"You're only saying that because you're in love, my dear."
"Maybe so, but it also happens to be true."
There was a twinkle in Granny's eye as she squeezed Mary's hands. "I'm going to give Tom my congratulations now." In a rare moment of affection, she said, "I really am pleased for you, my dear." She grabbed her cane and proceeded towards Tom. In spite of everything, Mary felt herself smiling wider than she had in ages.
Mary was only half surprised to find Tom waiting in the hallway outside her bedroom to walk her to breakfast the next morning. Still, it was a marvelous sight to see after waking up, and she relished in the fact that she no longer needed to hide herself. "Good morning," said Tom, beaming.
"Goodness," she said, "What a pleasant surprise." She kissed him chastely, glad that she had the opportunity to.
However, their mood dissipated when they entered the dining room to find Papa already waiting for them. "Good morning," he said, slowly lowering his newspaper and giving them each a cold look.
Mary and Tom uneasily exchanged a glance before Mary replied, "Good morning, Papa. Did you sleep well?" They moved to their seats, choosing to sit by one another.
"To be completely honest, I did not. I had a lot on my mind."
"We've all had nights like those," Tom said lightly, placing his napkin on his lap. "Should we be expecting either Edith or Bertie?"
"No," replied Papa. "Edith's breakfasting in bed and when Bertie came down this morning, I told him to join her. I wanted a chance to speak to the two of you alone." Mary immediately felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Her hand sought out Tom's as Papa said, "Barrow, Andrew, do you mind leaving to fetch us some coffee?"
"Of course, my Lord," said Thomas, raising his eyebrows and meeting Mary's eye. When he was out of Papa's line of vision, she watched him mouth Good luck to her. Andy, however, just seemed grateful to have a chance to leave the room.
Once they were alone, Mary cleared her throat and said, "There's no use trying to scold us, Papa. We're all adults here."
"I'm not planning on scolding you," Papa replied, still looking rather stern. "I just want to get to the bottom of this." When he had ensured they were rendered silent, he inquired, "How long has this been going on?"
Mary turned to Tom. What should they say? It was so hard to think of place where it began when everything had been in motion for so many years... "Since about the start of the year," Tom answered for them and Mary nodded.
"I see. Around the time Mary started learning to drive?"
"I suppose so, yes."
"And you didn't think to inform any of us before then?" Papa asked, arching an eyebrow.
"If you must know, I was seven layers deep in denial," Mary responded, starting to grow irate. "Are you finished interrogating us now?"
"Not quite," Papa responded, and with no pause whatsoever, already had his next question. "Do George and Sybbie know?"
"Not formally," Tom jumped in. "But I wouldn't say we've hid anything from them."
Papa nodded. "So your fight... the one before Mary crashed the car—" She winced. "Was it about your relationship?"
"Is it any of your business?" Mary challenged at the same time Tom responded, "Yes."
"Does anyone else know?"
"Anna, Jimmy, and Thomas know and likely Bates by now, but those are the only people we told," Mary informed him, agitated. "Though I suspect everyone downstairs is aware by now after dinner last night."
The answer didn't seem to satisfy Papa. "I understand Anna and James, but why Thomas?"
"Is it so hard for you to believe I consider him a friend?" asked Mary, feeling the strain of all these questions. "Besides, he was with Bertie and Edith when they caught us anyway—"
"Caught you?" Papa's eyebrows knitted with consternation. Mary froze up, desperately wanting to crawl under the table in embarrassment. Why hadn't she phrased it better? "Caught you doing what, exactly?"
"Nothing indecent!" Tom jumped in, with enough franticness to incriminate them further.
Papa opened his mouth before closing it and shaking his head. "Never mind. I don't want to know." Mary closed her eyes, too embarrassed to look at him further. "We'll let that be the end of it."
"Oh, thank God," she heard Tom mutter under his breath.
"Unfortunately, however, we need to look at these things practically," said Papa. Mary stared to open up her eyes and glance at Papa. Though he seemed somewhat ruffled, she detected no anger. "You are not considering marriage as of yet, correct?"
"In the future, perhaps," Tom said, now a little more sure of himself. "But I think it would be wise if we were to wait for a while before moving further."
Papa nodded. "As much as I hate to say it, I'm afraid it means you must move out of the house, Tom."
The room went silent for a moment. "What?" Mary demanded.
"It won't be forever," Papa said, perfectly casually. "But I'm sure you realize how poorly it would look to have you living in the same house, unmarried."
"It's 1926, Papa!" Mary insisted. "Tom has lived in this house on and off since 1913!"
"Perhaps, but the two of you weren't in a romantic relationship, either," Papa pointed out diplomatically. As irritated as she was, he did have a point. He turned to Tom now, who had thus far remained silent. "I was thinking about the agent's house. It is yours, after all."
"But Jimmy is living there," Mary said, hoping she had won.
"There's three rooms that can be used as bedrooms," Papa told her. "James can stay in one of those rooms, or he may move back to the house. Whichever option works best."
Ordinarily, Mary would have been pleased to learn that Papa had chosen to forgive Jimmy, but at present she found herself vexed by the whole situation. "You do realize I will be taking Sybbie with me, don't you?" Tom informed Papa seriously. "I won't leave her here if I'm to go."
She saw Papa internally battling himself. For a moment, she really thought it would work before he choked out, "As I said, it won't be forever. Only until the two of you are married... and hopefully that will come sooner than later."
"Goodness, Papa," said Mary acerbically, still more than a little put out by the whole predicament. "One might actually think you approve of us."
Papa frowned. "Why on Earth would you say that?"
"Perhaps it was the way you stormed out of dinner last night!" Mary started, the metaphorical volcano inside her erupting. She couldn't forget her hurt from the night before.
Papa grew silent. "If you think I disapprove of you, I'm afraid I've done a poor job of conveying how I feel about all this." He sighed deeply before saying, "Last night took me by surprise. I must confess that I did not handle it as smoothly as I wish I had. Nevertheless, I care about you both very much and I want you both to be happy. I won't pretend this is easy for me but I won't pretend my opinion matters."
Mary felt as though any words she might have said were robbed from her. "It does matter," Tom spoke up, "Your opinion. Because we care about you as well."
Papa let out a sigh, looking back and forth between the two of them. "I'm afraid I've been acting rather boorish of late, especially to you," he said, directing the last part to Tom. "Do you think you can find it in you to forgive me?"
Tom nodded. "I think so, yes."
Mary couldn't help but smile. He was so kind and forgiving... far more than she would be, in his shoes. Tom noticed her glance, his smile growing under her gaze. As Papa gave what was truly a heartfelt congratulations, Mary was miles away, too consumed by love to decipher what he was saying.
Mary was sitting on the bench with a book when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching her. "I hope you don't mind if I join you," Mama said, wearing a smile.
Mary didn't know how to respond, but scooted over to give her room. She closed the book as Mama took her seat. "I'm afraid I was taken by surprise last night and I never had the chance to congratulate you... it's no excuse, but I want to say it now."
Mary blinked. She hadn't expected a turn around so quickly from Mama. She knew that especially when she was younger, Mama had heartily disapproved of some of her suitors... she was even against Matthew, once he had been injured. Needless to say, she was grateful there wasn't going to be a fight. "Thank you."
Mama's smile grew wider. "I already spoke to Tom earlier. I feel silly now, not piecing together there was something going on."
"Don't feel too badly," said Mary, crossing her legs. "It took me quite a while before even I realized something."
Mama looked as though she was trying to hide a laugh. "You love him, don't you?"
"I do. Very much." Mary couldn't ignore how wonderful it felt to admit that.
"You don't know how pleased I am to hear that," Mama said, beaming. "That's all a mother wants, really, is for her children to be happy."
Mary thought of George— how would he feel about all this? There was no doubt in her mind that he loved Tom but would that be enough?
An idea entered Mary's mind just then. She turned to her mother to say, "I understand completely."
The trunk full of toys was just where Sybil had said they were. Mary pulled Beeny out, pleased to see he wasn't moth eaten and dusty... though he was still missing an eye. Her toy dog, the same one she had given Matthew and the talisman she had kept in all those year of loneliness, joined Beeny and Mary set out in search of the children.
When Mary entered the nursery, she was pleased to find Tom in the rocking chair, George and Sybbie on his lap, reading Alice in Wonderland. "Sorry I'm late," she said to Tom as the children hopped off his lap to greet her. Her hands were behind her back, concealing the toys. "I had to grab a couple things."
"What's behind your back, Mummy?" George asked, trying to peek.
"Gifts for you and Sybbie," she said, kneeling down. She exchanged a small smile with Tom before saying, "But I will only give them to you if you promise to take good care of them."
"We promise!" Sybbie and George vowed, not quite in unison but with equal excitement.
Mary pulled Beeny out first. "This is for Sybbie," she said, presenting him to her. "Meet Beeny. He was a good friend of your mother's." Mary could have sworn her heart was melting at the awe on Sybbie's face as she held him. "And this is for you, George. He was my friend when I was about your age but I gave him to your father when he was going to war. This little dog kept him safe in the trenches and I know he would want you to have it."
George stared down at the dog in awe. "My father?"
"Yes, darling," said Mary gently, trying to hold back her tears as George held the dog with both hands. She wouldn't lie; it was hard giving it up so soon. At her lowest moments, that dog had been her constant companion, even before it had come into Matthew's. Still, she knew now she wouldn't need it anymore. When she felt sad, she could always talk to Tom... and it was time George had something of Matthew's. "I know I don't talk about him much, because it makes me sad," she confessed, "but he loved you very much."
Mary wasn't expecting Sybbie to throw her arms around her just then. "I love him, Auntie Mary," she said, voice muffled in Mary's hair. "Please don't be sad."
Mary wrapped an arm around her niece. "Don't worry, I'm not," she promised, only half lying. Truth be told, her sadness was starting to ebb away.
Sybbie pulled away, holding Beeny close to her chest. "I like him, even though he only has one eye. He's like one of those things in the book you gave me."
"A cyclops?"
"Yes!" Sybbie held him out, inspecting him. "Beeny the Cyclops Rabbit!"
"Sybbie," Tom said, joining them on the floor, trying to steer her back to the conversation. "Aunt Mary and I wanted to talk to the two of you about something important." The children stopped looking at their new (or, rather, new to them) stuffed animals to look up with wide eyes. Tom resumed with a, "We have been thinking for quite a while and we wanted to know what the two of you would think if perhaps the four of us were to be a family someday."
"But we're family now," said George, frowning.
"Of course we are," said Mary, not certain how exactly to proceed. "But— well, what we mean is... how would you feel if, perhaps in the future, the two of us were to get married?" She didn't miss the twitching of Tom's lips as he tried not to beam outright.
"You're getting married?" Sybbie's eyes seemed as if they were ready to pop out of her skull.
"Not quite yet," Tom said hastily. "But in the future—"
"Can I be in the wedding?" Sybbie asked excitedly, jumping up and down. The skirt of her dress flared out with each hop in the air. "Can I be the flower girl?"
Mary could help but laugh. "Of course you can. But it won't be for quite a while yet," she warned Sybbie.
Sybbie paid no attention, clearly enthusiastic. As Tom tried to calm her down, Mary turned to George. "What do you think, darling?"
George blinked at her. "Will he be my new father?"
Mary wasn't sure how to respond. She was glad that Tom had overheard and said, "George, I knew your father. He was a great man and I wish you could have known him just as I did. And— I don't want to replace him for you, but if will always be there for you. You don't have to call me Papa or anything like that, but I want you to know I'll always be on your side."
Before George could respond, Sybbie asked, "Does it mean I can't call you Auntie Mary anymore?"
Goodness, this was harder than she thought it would be. Truthfully, she hadn't even thought about how all this would change. "Maybe not Aunt Mary, but you could always start calling me Mary. That would be appropriate, don't you think?" She turned to Tom, who smiled encouragingly. "And you could start calling him Tom," she told George.
George nodded, seeming to accept it. Mary let out a sigh of relief. It seemed as though things were going well...
"Can we play now, Tom?"
They both stared at Sybbie with surprise. "What did you just say?" Tom asked, sounding incredulous.
"Can we play, Tom?" Sybbie repeated innocently.
"You can't call me Tom," he insisted.
"Why not, Tom?"
"Because then I'll have to tickle you!" Sybbie burst into hysterical giggles as Tom began tickling her, and the laughter was contagious.
The next day, Mary, Edith, Bertie, and Papa helped Tom move into the agent's house— well, Mary wasn't doing much of the moving, aside from a few light suitcases with his clothes. Everyone had tried insisting that she rest, but she had been determined to do her part, broken arm or not. Much to her relief, it wasn't so bad. Jimmy hadn't left it in bad shape and any dust and cobwebs had been cleared out by his stay in the place.
"It's quite nice," Edith remarked as they carried Tom's suitcases up to his new room on the second floor. Ordinarily, this sort of thing would have been Jimmy's territory, but Andy and Thomas were simultaneously moving him back to the house. "I thought it might be cramped here."
Mary had thought so as well. She had only ever been downstairs when Mr. Jarvis had lived here, but it was far more spacious than she had given it credit. "It won't be for long," she said, more to herself than Edith. She knew already that she would miss his presence at the house.
Still... there was a sort of peace that one didn't find at Downton. Mary sat the suitcase down on Tom's bed, walking over to the window. It had quite a nice view of the estate— Mary could see the woods from here. It wasn't far from the tenant cottages, but removed enough to give him a sense of privacy. Mary found herself wondering if perhaps she might spend some time here, once everything was settled.
"I suspect you'll come around here often enough that you won't miss him much."
Mary whirled around, taken out of her reverie. Edith was smirking as she took Tom's folded shirts out of his trunk, laying them on his wardrobe. "Of course I'll miss him," said Mary, opening up her trunk. The first item on top was a pair of navy trousers. "But hopefully I'll find the time to come here... if Mama and Papa allow me, that is."
Edith smirked. "You won't make any midnight escapades?"
Mary felt her face grow warm. "You shouldn't say things like that," she murmured, eying the open door. She would be mortified if Papa were to overhear... she was still embarrassed from their slip at breakfast the other morning, even though what they were referring to had hardly been their most scandalous.
"Probably not," agreed Edith, still smiling. She didn't look at Mary when she said, "You know— it's not as strange as I thought it might be. You and Tom." She walked back over to the suitcase. "I thought it would be odd, the two of you together, but nothing has really changed." Edith glanced up, giving Mary an encouraging smile. "The only real change is that you both seem happier."
Mary couldn't hide her smile. "I am. Much happier. I think he is, too." She took out a gray pair of trousers, folding them as neatly as she possibly could.
"He lights up whenever you enter the room," Edith told her. "It's quite sweet, really." She stopped removing shirts, looking at Mary. "I really am happy for you. Truly."
"Thank you," she said, not realizing how nice it would be to finally gain her sister's acceptance. She would have never imagined their relationship would be anything other than tumultuous and antagonistic, but she was so relieved that things were different now. Edith, for once, wasn't just her sister— she was her friend. She hoped it would stay that way.
Once Mary returned to the office, she was surprised to learn some of the newer tenants, a Mr. and Mrs. Hall, were leaving. "But they only just moved in a year ago!" She exclaimed once Tom delivered the news.
"They want to move back to Surrey. That's where Mr. Hall is from, and his mother is unwell. They'll likely inherit her home," Tom explained.
Mary frowned. "So we'll have an empty cottage, then?"
"We will, until someone can rent it." A silence fell over the room. Tom glanced up from his stack of papers. "Why do I have a feeling that you've already got a plan for the place?"
"Because I already do," Mary replied with a smile. Tom didn't even need to ask what it was before she segued, "I don't think Thomas would be averse to having a place of his own."
Tom thought about it. "You don't think we ought to offer it to Jimmy first? I think he quite liked the freedom."
Mary hesitated. "It's a ten minute walk from the Hall's to the agent's house," she pointed out, "whereas Downton is only about five minutes away. We wouldn't want to add to his load, now would we?"
Tom smiled before saying, "Very well. It's Thomas's if he wants it."
Mary beamed.
When Mary awoke on Sunday morning, she wasn't expecting the bouquet of flowers along with her breakfast in bed. "Goodness, Anna," Mary remarked as her lady's maid presented them to her. "I'm flattered. I hope Mr. Bates isn't jealous."
Anna couldn't help but giggle. "Very funny, milady, but these are from Mr. Branson. He tracked me down this morning to ensure these were delivered to you first thing."
"I thought as much," said Mary, unable to keep the softness from her voice. Hydrangeas, roses, baby's breath... Mary reached for the letter nestled in the flowers.
To my Mary,
I might have been a journalist once, but I still find it hard to find the words to describe how much you mean to me. We've been in one another's lives for so long and yet I feel as though we are just properly getting to know one another— and the more I come to know you, to understand you, the further in love I fall. I hope this birthday with mark the beginning of a lifetimes worth of celebrations together.
With all my love,
Tom
Mary was grateful he had chosen Anna to be the one to present this to her; tears were welling up in her eyes as she read and reread his letter. While it was relatively short and straight to the point, the words were more moving than any poem she had ever read. When she had composed herself, she turned to Anna. "It's beautiful. Thank you for making sure it was delivered to me."
"Of course, milady. Do you want it to sit on your boudoir?" Anna asked, nodding.
"I think so," said Mary, handing the bouquet back to her maid, already feeling thoroughly spoiled. She kept the letter, however, tucking it into the drawer beside her bed. She would keep it there always: a reminder of his love whenever she needed it.
However, Tom wasn't done yet. After she was dressed, he greeted her at the bottom of the stairs, inviting her on a walk. She gladly accepted, quite content to wander aimlessly on the grounds of the place they called home.
"Kieran's coming to York tomorrow," he informed her as they weaved through the trees, hand in hand. "I'll help him move his things into his apartment during the day, but hopefully I'll be back before afternoon."
"Will he be coming for dinner?" asked Mary.
Tom was a silent for a moment. "I hadn't thought to ask him. But I'm not so sure it would be the best idea after last time."
"You must," Mary insisted. "It's been a long time since we last met and I'm sure he would love to see you and Sybbie. Besides," she added, "things are different now."
She expected him to smile and agree or make a joke but was instead met by silence. Mary stopped walking, frowning. Tom gave her a curious look as she let go of his hand. "You haven't told him yet," she realized suddenly, taken aback by how dejected she felt. She knew it was horribly hypocritical, given all her months of jerking him around and insisting on secrecy, but she was unprepared for the pain that accompanied the realization.
Tom let out a sigh. "I've been waiting for the chance to tell him in person. You know what Kieran's like," he said, though, truthfully, she didn't. She only remembered him from the ill fated dinner the night before Sybbie's christening. "It's better this way."
"I see," said Mary, still not placated. She felt as if there was broken glass lining her stomach, all jagged edges poking out and piercing uncomfortably.
"Mary," Tom said, stepping towards her, causing her to take a step back. "Mary, love, you mean the world to me. Please don't think I'm not proud to call you mine." He reached out, thumb resting on her cheek, vanishing away all her doubts.
Mary only felt silly for questioning him for a singular moment before feeling relief. He loves me, she reminded herself as they leaned forward at the same time.
The kiss started out gentle but soon increased in intensity. Mary didn't realize she had staggered back until she found herself pressed between Tom and a tall, steady tree. Their passionate embrace only broke when Mary accidentally knocked Tom's hat off his head, causing them both to erupt into laughter.
"Before we head back, do you mind if we stop at my house?" Tom asked once they came back to themselves. "I have another birthday present for you."
Mary raised her eyebrows. "I like the sound of that already," she said lowly, her meaning perfectly clear.
Tom laughed. "Not like that— well, that's not how I meant it, anyway," he clarified. "But I do have another gift for you."
Mary ducked her head, smiling. "Well, I like the sound of that as well." Tom laughed again.
When they reached the house, Mary couldn't help but smile. There were so many traces of Tom and Sybbie sprinkled throughout the house already— several of Sybbie's toys were sitting on the floor in front of the couch, whereas Tom had left a pair of his slippers in front of a chair. "Wait here," he told her as he ushered her to his table. "I need to fetch it first."
As he hurried up the stairs, Mary stared out the window. It occurred to Mary suddenly that she might not hate living here. There was a stillness here that she was unused to, but it didn't displease her.
Tom's footsteps down the stairs signaled his arrival. There was a small black box in his hands— unmistakably from a jewelry store. Mary wondered at first if it was a ring before realizing it was far too large and wide. Tom sat the box on the table. "Happy birthday, love."
Mary smiled, slowly opening the box. A beautiful ruby necklace sat inside with matching earrings. "The children helped me pick it out. That's what we were doing that day."
Mary meant to say something to effect of needing to thank George and Sybbie for their contribution but instead she said, "I love you so much. I hope you know that." Once the words were out, she figured there was no point holding back. Mary reached out to hold his hand. "You don't need to buy me things like this. My feelings for you won't change."
"I know that," he assured her, lifting her hand up to his mouth to press a kiss to it. "But I promise it was George and Sybbie's idea. Honest," he assured her when she began giggling. "I was thinking about buying you a nice book."
Mary couldn't contain her laughter, but kissed him regardless. However, her amusement quickly subsided as Tom's hand made its way into her hair. She thanked God that her short hair required little styling or else she would have had a mess to contend with later.
"What about your arm?" Tom asked hesitantly as her one good hand reached for his necktie.
"I promise that a broken arm doesn't affect that sort of thing," she assured him, daringly lowering herself onto his lap. Tom swallowed. Quietly, she said, "As long as we are careful, I think we will be fine." She leaned in and kissed him yet again.
Tom broke apart, staring up at her. His pulpits were dilated. "I want to. So badly," he promised her in a whisper, "But I don't want to hurt you."
"If anyone should be worried about getting hurt, it's you," said Mary, arching an eyebrow. She held up her broken arm for him to examine. "This cast is quite heavy. I could clunk you in the head."
Tom let out a soft laugh, diffusing the tension. His eyes lingered on her arm before hurriedly saying, "I'll take my chances," and scooping her up into his arms. Mary let out a small yelp that turned into laughter before being cut off by another kiss.
A while later, as she found herself tangled up in the sheets of Tom's bed, she breathed a sigh of satisfaction. "It's not as a spacious as the beds at the house," Tom commented quietly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Half of his body was draped over her to make sure they fit in the small bed.
Mary nodded, not feeling strongly about it either way. She was content as she was— completely relaxed, no worries on her mind.
"We probably ought to head back soon," Tom mused a minute or so later, his fingers playing with her hair in a most distracting way. "Your parents will wonder where we are."
"Let them wonder," said Mary, rolling onto her side so they were face to face. "It's my birthday. We can tell them we had an invigorating walk." After a brief pause, she pointed out. "It's not a lie. We did."
"We've been gone almost an hour," Tom pointed out, though his argument sounded weak as she let her fingertips trace over his biceps.
"Just hold me," she said softly.
And when he did, she felt at peace.