The scale goes: great – good – okay – not okay – I hate you – fine.

"Mary, was that Henry's car I saw this morning?"

Mary hardly looked up from the newspaper. "It was."

"Well, will he be joining us?" Papa asked with exaggerated patience as he buttered his toast. Mary sighed inwardly and folded the paper. "As a matter of fact, he had a quick turnaround and is off again. An opportunity presented itself which he couldn't pass up," she explained, even mustering some cheerful enthusiasm. Around the table, the family exchanged surprised looks.

"He couldn't even stay for breakfast?" Mama asked, pursing her lips in disapproval.

"He sends his apologies," Mary lied. "He's invested in a racing team and they start their tour any day now. You know how he likes to be in on the ground floor for these sorts of things."

"How long will he be gone?"

"His timetable is rather fluid," she remarked, striving for nonchalance. "Apparently there are a lot of factors to consider when racing," she shrugged. "Anyway, Tom and I will be exceedingly busy these next few weeks, so it couldn't have come at a better time."

"That's true," Tom agreed, mercifully jumping in and allowing her a moment to swallow the nervous, inappropriate laughter bubbling up in her throat. "We have taxes to deal with, and a full survey of the estate," he continued, completely unaware of the lengths Mary was silently going to to keep herself together. After Henry had walked out she'd sat shellshocked in her room for ages, unable to formulate a thought or a plan. Then Anna had appeared, briskly going about her business and asking Mary all sorts of questions about Henry, just as she would on any other day, and Mary had snapped back into reality, giving Anna some excuse about his abrupt departure. She decided then that the best course of action was to pretend everything was perfectly normal – for the time being at least.

"Mary?"

Mary jolted; everyone was looking at her expectantly. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Beside her, Tom smiled quizzically. "Are you alright? You were a million miles away."

She waved him off. "I'm fine." She tossed her napkin onto her empty plate. "Shall we?" What she needed was a distraction, and for once thinking of their precarious financial situation gave her something to look forward to.

As the week progressed the charade got easier. There were blissful moments where she forgot that her story was just a story, and she could convince herself that Henry really was just on a business trip. Of course, when faced with reality again she felt like a fool. Still, she persevered. When they met with the accountants, who minced no words when telling them the situation was grim, she was determined. When they began to survey the estate and the list of things that needed repair or replacement grew steadily longer, she was pragmatic. When Tom fought tooth and nail against having a photographer take his campaign photo, Mary was intractable.

All things considered, Mary thought, she was doing well.

That Saturday night her parents were hosting a dinner party; old family friends had come to stay for the weekend. While Mary usually only tolerated banal social gatherings, she found she was looking forward to an evening of mindless chatter and a full house. She took extra care in choosing her dress, and surveyed her hair critically in the mirror. "I think I'll go short again," she told Anna, who agreed that the short hair had quite suited her. Anna busied herself collecting clothes to be laundered, and quite unintentionally knocked Mary out of her resolute denial. "Mister Barrow wanted to know if we should pack some of Mister Talbot's things." Mary's hand slipped off the dressing table, though she caught herself on the back of the chair and hoped Anna hadn't noticed. "What?"

Anna looked mildly suspicious. "In case his trip is extended. He didn't take much with him when he left." Mary smoothed her face into a bland mask. "Tell Barrow to hold off for now. If Henry needs anything, he'll call."

"Of course." She turned to go, but paused and gave Mary a quizzical once-over. "Is everything alright, Milady?"

Mary smiled brightly. "Everything's fine."

Mary slipped into the drawing room quietly, hoping to go unnoticed. The room was buzzing with conversation over pre-dinner cocktails, so Mary headed to the bar, feeling very empty-handed. Barrow was busy mixing some concoction; no doubt he'd seen her coming. "What are we drinking tonight, Barrow?" He slid the glass across to her with his usual sardonic smile. "White Ladies. Always a crowd pleaser." She resisted the urge to down the frothy drink in one mouthful and surveyed the room to determine which conversation would be the least likely to bring up Henry's absence. She felt a twinge of dismay when she spotted Tom and saw he'd invited Miss Delaney, but knew that would easily be the safest spot in the room.

"There you are," Tom smiled as she approached. "We were beginning to wonder."

"What have I missed?"

Tom quirked his brow into his suffering-in-silence face. "Absolutely nothing." And for a moment Mary felt normal, commiserating over their shared opinion of staid dinner parties. She even felt sympathy for Miss Delaney, who watched their exchange with the polite smile of someone who knew they weren't in on the joke. "If you've been to one of these things, you've been to them all," she explained, taking pity.

"I know exactly what you mean," Faye nodded seriously, without a hint of irony. Mary blinked, uncertain if she was being mocked, and instinctively set her shoulders for a battle. But before she could retort, Faye smiled and grasped Tom's arm, leaning in conspiratorially. "Tom tells me you've strongarmed him into taking campaign photos. I'm glad to hear it. Now that the nominations are in we must hit the ground running." Mary sipped her drink and stared Faye down over the rim of her glass, and wondered if she hadn't underestimated her.

Then Tom laughed and the moment passed. "Faye's taking her role as campaign manager very seriously," he teased, and Faye smiled prettily, ever so humble. Mary could scarcely resist rolling her eyes and gratefully caught sight of her aunt coming over to join them. "Tom, Mary," Rosamund greeted, with a pointed look for Faye. Tom made the introductions, and Rosamund wasted no time whatsoever in shamelessly grilling the pair of them. Mary tried not to look smug, but judging from Tom's narrow side-eye, she was failing. They were rescued by Barrow announcing dinner, and Mary couldn't help but smirk when Tom gave her his 'be nice' look. She shrugged innocently.

"So that's the competition," Rosamund remarked under her breath as Tom offered Faye his arm to lead her into the dining room. Mary shot her a ferocious glare. "Do not even start," she hissed.

"She is rather lovely," Rosamund continued blithely. "And she held up under interrogation. I can see why Tom-"

"Rosamund."

"Oh Mary, do lighten up." Rosamund tucked her arm into Mary's elbow and led her out of earshot of their guests. "Now tell me, how are things with Henry? Have you spoken to him since we last talked?"

Mary stared at her aunt, shocked. For the span of that entire exchange with Tom and Faye, Mary hadn't thought of Henry or her predicament. For the briefest moment, she'd forgotten. "I - yes. We spoke last weekend."

"And?"

"And things are... to be determined." It was the closest she'd come to saying it out loud, but she couldn't bring herself to utter the words. "He's just taking some time to clear his head, that's all."

"Well don't let him take too much time," Rosamund cautioned, and Mary felt the shame start to well up in her chest. She forced herself to brush off her aunt's words and prayed no one would see through her mask of indifference. "It's fine, Rosamund. Everyone's waiting." She didn't let Rosamund utter another word and hurried into the dining room and the safety of the crowd.

Mary's luck didn't hold out over dinner and she was forced to discuss Henry's absence and his racing tour at length. By the end of the evening she had reached the end of her rope and was desperate to see the backs of every one of their guests. Still, she did her duty and pleasantly saw each of them out. It took forever and it was agonizing to keep the smile plastered on her face. Her eye nearly started twitching when Faye took her hands to thank her for such a lovely evening.

"No matter what you and Tom say," she said as he helped her into her jacket, "I really enjoyed this evening. It's fascinating to see how the other half lives, isn't it?"

Mary tried to catch Tom's eye, but he avoided her. "Indeed," she said tightly. Then, unexpectedly, Faye suggested to Tom that they stop into the local pub for a nightcap, and Mary was instantly annoyed. "Do you two frequent the pub often?" Faye either completely missed the silent conversation Mary and Tom were having or was ignoring it. "Once in a while. Half the village will be there on a Saturday night, which is always good fun. Oh, you should join us!"

Mary was caught off guard once again. The fact that Miss Delaney was making a habit of keeping Mary on her toes was disconcerting. Instinctively she started to demur, but then Tom laughed in a dismissive sort of way. "Mary, in a pub? That's definitely not her scene."

"Excuse me," she retorted indignantly.

"Mary, I have seen you in a pub once in the entire time I've known you."

"Oh, then you must come," Faye insisted. "In the spirit of seeing how the other half lives."

Mary shot Tom a pointed look. "Let me get my jacket."

"Alright, Mary, what is going on?"

Mary ignored Tom's attempts to see through her and sipped her surprisingly decent whiskey. "I don't know what you mean." Faye had excused herself to powder her nose, leaving Mary and Tom alone together for the first time all evening. Well, as alone as they could be in pub jammed wall-to-wall with people.

"Really," he drawled. "You look like you're sitting on bed of nails. Don't pretend you're here for any other reason than to prove a point." Of course, he was right. Mary had no idea what she was doing there; she was wildly out of place and distinctly uncomfortable. "Maybe I wanted to see how the other half lives."

"Please. This is me you're talking to."

"Perhaps I'm taking the opportunity to get to know Miss Delaney better." Pigs would fly before she expected Tom to believe that either, but it did make her realize she'd gatecrashed their date. She frowned slightly into her glass, annoyed at both her self-centred behaviour and the guilt she felt over it. "I do hope I haven't intruded on your evening," she admitted reluctantly. Tom's scepticism softened and he grinned. "Not at all. It's nice to see you stepping out of your comfort zone," he teased. She felt herself begin to relax and noted that Tom seemed less stiff in the shoulders than usual. "Speaking of which, you seem to be in your element here."

"Fewer landmines to dodge, I suppose." He sat back in his chair and studied her for so long she had to resist the urge to fidget in her seat. "What?" she demanded eventually. "Do I have something on my face?" He expelled a breath, clearly steeling himself. "I have to wonder... has something happened? With Henry?"

And there it was again. Mary wondered if it wasn't her mind working against her, allowing her moments of normalcy before cruel reminders brought her back to reality. She took a large mouthful of whiskey to give herself a moment of composure. "Why would you think that?"

"Well, you're drinking in the village pub, for a start. You've been acting oddly all week, since Henry came home. And then left again immediately."

Mary weighed her options carefully. If there was anyone she could talk to, it was Tom, but a large part of her wasn't ready to throw in the towel. "We...had words," she admitted. "He decided he needed some more time to calm down and clear his head."

"Are you sure that's all it is?"

"I-"

"Sorry about that!" Faye said cheerfully, startling them both. "I ran into some friends and stopped for a chat."

Mary shook her head slightly at Tom as Faye chattered on. "It's fine," she said quietly. It was clear he didn't believe her.

"Mary? Can we talk?"

Mary looked up from her paperwork to find Tom looking exceedingly troubled. Her stomach clenched anxiously. He was holding a large envelope, and instantly she worried that something had happened with the estate. "Of course."

"I've just received word from Henry's lawyer that he wants to dissolve our partnership in the garage."

"I-" Mary stuttered, completely stunned. "What? That can't be-" She cut herself off abruptly and tried to gather her wits. "What exactly are you talking about?" Wordlessly Tom handed her the envelope and started pacing. "Did you know about this?" Mary flipped through the documents and fought indignation at Tom's accusation. "Of course not! I would have told you immediately." She could feel the panic start bubbling in her gut and she hurried to make some sense of the situation. "There has to be some reasonable explanation," she said, forcing herself to stay calm.

"Yes," he said angrily. "And I think you know what it is. Tell me what happened," he demanded. He was so forceful and clearly upset that after a moment her shoulders crumpled like someone had cut the strings holding her up. The jig was up. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault." She leaned heavily against the desk and sighed. "Henry left. Me," she clarified. It was the first time she'd said it aloud. "He left me. I had no idea he would do this to you." The shame was so great she could hardly bring herself to meet his gaze. When she did, she saw all the anger had drained out of him in place of shock.

"My god, Mary, why didn't you say something? What happened?"

She crossed her arms tightly, unable to keep the bitterness at bay, "He came home that morning, told me all the ways I've wronged him over the course of our marriage, then proceeded to walk out again after assuring me he wouldn't be coming back." She forced herself to look, to see if she would find pity or blame looking back. Instead, she found Tom flush with anger. "That selfish bastard," he said quietly, after the longest moment of her life. Relief coursed through her.

"Are you alright?" He asked carefully. "What can I do?"

She waved him off. "Really, I'm fine." But the dam inside her was splintering. Her voice cracked, just a little, and she could feel the tears threatening and ruthlessly blinked them back. Tom regarded her with such sadness she could hardly bear it. "No, you're not."

She finally allowed herself to admit the truth. "No, I'm not."

"Brace yourself," Tom warned. "I'm going to hug you."

A laugh escaped her before she could stop it. They weren't the hugging type of people. A comforting hand on the shoulder or arm was about as intimate as it got. But Tom drew her in close, and he was solid and warm, and Mary found herself clinging back desperately. She allowed herself a brief moment to bury her face in his shoulder and feel everything she was trying to keep hidden deep down inside. "I really didn't see it coming," she confessed as they parted. "For all the trouble and distance, I thought we would just...soldier on."

"I'm here for you. Whatever you need."

She had no idea what she needed, other than time. "Don't say anything, please. I'm not ready to tell everyone yet, not until I figure things out."

"You have my word," he assured her, squeezing her hands tightly. He was so steady, so resolute. She squeezed back. "I'm so grateful to have you in my life, Tom. I hope you know that."

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise."