A/N: Thank you so much for your kind reviews last chapter! I truly appreciate them!
New Normal
Chapter Thirteen
January 22, 2020
TOM: I have a date tonight. You can manage kids by yourself, right?
MARY: I can... But may I ask how long you've known you had a date?
TOM: ... a week.
TOM: Please don't be mad.
MARY: I'm not mad. Just warn me in advance next time.
She was mad. More at herself than him, but she was annoyed nevertheless. The text had come like a sucker punch to the gut, causing her to freeze up as she read and reread the initial text over and over again.
Why she felt this way, Mary could not say. Tom was her friend, after all. He had been alone for so long... he deserved some happiness. All the same, the fact he had a date was troubling her in a way it shouldn't.
Mary blamed that stupid kiss. She wished she had never done it; it had only created hairline fractures in their relationship where none had existed before. She could forget about it once and a while, only to suddenly have her attention drawn to his lips, and then she was able to remember it again as fresh as the day it had happened.
She shoved her phone aside, examining figures. There had been a gradual uptick in tours of the estate, which meant it would make sense for more tour guides to be hired...
Mary picked the children up from school later, driving them home. "What's Daddy making for dinner?" Sybbie asked as she buckled her seatbelt.
"I'm not sure yet. I'm fact, he's going out tonight, so we might be on our own." It seemed too optimistic to believe he would have time for such a thing... especially since Mary knew none of the specifics.
Sybbie frowned. "Where's he going?"
What an excellent question. Where was Tom going? "You'll have to ask him yourself," she said, injecting as much cheer into her voice as she possibly could, determined not to be passive aggressive about it... that is, at least not in front of George and Sybbie.
As Mary parked the car in the driveway, she thought about her next steps. Should she walk in, cool and unbothered, with another careful reminder to tell her next time? Or should she wait until the children were upstairs before demanding to know why he hadn't told her?
But when she entered the house, purse in hand and sunglasses still on, she found all her anger had dissipated. Sybbie and George were already at the table, eating cheese toasties. Tom was dressed in a white shirt and dark blue trousers, looking very suave. A matching blazer was hanging on the back of one of the chairs. Her mouth went dry at the sight, slowly taking in his appearance. He flipped the sandwich in the pan. "Hi," he said, smiling once she entered.
"Hi." She was baffled— why wasn't she angry? She should, shouldn't she? It was as if the mere sight of him like this had caused her brain to short circuit, forgetting there had been a reason to be upset in the first place. "What's all this?"
"Dinner. For you three." He met her eye. Mary realized he was wearing a new tie... and was that a new cologne? It smelled good, whatever it was. "The one in the pan is yours now. I didn't realize how late I was starting."
"Oh, no, that's fine." Mary felt as if she couldn't form words together properly. She couldn't remember every seeing Tom this dressed up— at least, not without her prompting. The only other times he had done such a thing were for weddings or work events... but he always complained about it and normally wore the same suit. This... this was different, though. "What time is your date?"
"Our reservation is for 6 o'clock," Tom said, leaning against the counter. "But I'm picking her up before then." There was nervous sort of energy she couldn't ever remember observing in him.
"Judging by your attire, you aren't popping in for a drink at the Grantham Arms."
He chuckled. "No. We're going to this place she likes in York." Mary's eyes widened slightly. "Have you ever heard of La Mer?"
"I have," Mary nodded. She'd been there once, many years ago, on a date with Matthew. Without thinking, she said, "I'm surprised. It doesn't seem like your sort of place."
Suddenly the atmosphere in the room changed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," said Mary, furrowing her eyebrows. If she didn't know any better, she would say he was mad at her. "Only that— well, I just have hard time imagining you there, that's all." It was an upscale restaurant and she didn't associate him with that sort of environment. That was what her childhood and adolescent years had been full of— if anything, Tom had taught her to enjoy some of the simpler pleasures of life. She recalled more than one family dinner in which he had gone on rants about the frivolity of such places, about the Abbey, the aristocracy, dressing up for formal events... All in all, it was completely discordant with her image of Tom.
"Why? Because I'm not posh like you?"
Her jaw dropped. "You know better than that," she said sharply, oblivious to the attention they were attracting from the children. "I've just never knew you were interested in all that. That's all."
"Well, I am. I don't know what's so surprising about it."
Why he was so upset, Mary had no idea. She wasn't even angry— she was just taken aback. Steering the conversation another way, she said, "Who is the lucky lady you are wining and dining?"
Tom's shoulders dropped, releasing their tension. "Lucy. Lucy Smith."
"Lucy? I love Lucy!" Sybbie said from the table. Before Mary could ask, she excitedly said, "Can you ask her about her puppy?"
"Of course," Tom said, smiling. "Just for you."
"Who is she?" Mary asked, suddenly confused. She felt as if a rug had been ripped out from underneath her.
"We met her at the park!" Sybbie told her. "She's so pretty, and she has a dog!" Her mouth opens. "Can we get a dog, Mummy?"
"No," Mary replied automatically. "Owning a dog is a lot of responsibility and you two aren't old enough for that yet." She turned to Tom. "How long have you know this woman?"
"About two weeks now. Why?"
Mary thought back to their drunken Christmas kiss, relieved there wasn't any overlap... still, it didn't stop her from feeling both vexed and completely. "This isn't your first date with her, is it?" Her eyes narrowed.
She thought she detected the barest traces of guilt as he glanced down to the pan, eyes steadfastly avoiding her. "It's not," he admitted.
Mary wanted to scream.
Why wouldn't you tell me? She thinks. Why was it such a secret? If he was hiding it, it meant he was embarrassed about one of them— and if Sybbie knew, she wondered if he was embarrassed about her.
"I see." She brushed past him, shoulders connecting, to walk over to the cabinet where the cups were kept. She needed a glass of water, something distract her from losing her head.
"Mummy, can we go play?" Sybbie asked as Mary filled up her glass.
"Yes, darling," Mary replied, not even bothering to turn around. Tom made a noise of protest, but before he knew it the children had run off. Mary drank her water, gulping it down and hoping it magically had a cure for all her problems.
"You know they haven't finished eating yet, right?"
The glass hit the counter top. "I'll make them finish it up later." Her hands gripped the edges of the granite countertop. She didn't dare turn around.
"Is something the matter?" Tom demanded, sounding just as agitated as she felt.
"As a matter for fact, there is." Mary turned around. "I thought we were supposed to be best friends."
"Mary, what are you talking about? Of course we're best friends!"
"Then why didn't you tell me about your new girlfriend?"
"Why should I? We don't have to tell each other everything!"
"I tell you everything!"
"Do you?"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"One word: Tony."
Mary turned around slowly. How did he know about Tony? Tom's arms were crossed over his chest, one eyebrow arched. Before she could ask, he said, "I don't watch Foxy Mabel but I saw a rerun a few weeks ago. They might have blurred out your face but I recognized your dress."
That's right... That red dress, which she hadn't worn since, still hanging in her closet. She felt her cheeks burn. "Well," said Mary, crossing her arms as well, "I hope you can understand why I didn't tell you about it." That night was one of the most embarrassing ones of her life, a period of time where she had abandoned logic and gave in to her emotions... and it was preserved forever in an episode of Foxy Mabel. Just wonderful. "It was very embarrassing and something I obviously regret."
"I'm sure it is," said Tom, but for some reason hearing him say it hurt. "But it happened— what... five years ago? And you never once thought?"
"When was I supposed to bring it up?" demanded Mary. "Over dinner in front our children?"
"It doesn't matter," said Tom, but it clearly did matter to him if he was bringing it up. "The point is that you don't tell me everything."
"Well, I'm sorry," Mary said sarcastically, "I'll be sure to report every detail of my sex life to you from now on." Never mind that Mary didn't have one currently... "But for the record, I don't care what you do with yours, Tom. I understand that sometimes even friends need to keep some things private. What I object to is you seeing someone, introducing our children to her, all without even thinking of mentioning it to me!"
Tom said nothing in response, simply sulking, so Mary stalked out of the room. She was fairly confident she had won, but it was a hollow victory. She disliked arguing with Tom— little problems had cropped up over the years, sometimes resulting in disagreements, but it was rare that they actually truly argued with one another.
Mary sat on the couch, pulling out her phone. Every once in a while, she caught a glimpse of either George or Sybbie running past the sliding door as they played outside. Mary couldn't even bring herself to smile, simply stewing. She scrolled through Twitter mindlessly, trying to put it out of her mind.
The sound of footsteps broke Mary's concentration from avoiding thinking about Tom and their argument. A few seconds later, a plate with a blue edge was thrust in front of her nose. "Here's your dinner," Tom said from behind her, tense.
Mary took it from his hands, not bothering to thank him. Maybe later, if it tasted as good as it looked, and once she had cooled down...
She heard him walk away as she picked up her sandwich. The top was golden brown, crispy... absolutely perfect, in other words. However, she saw a black layer on the downward facing side. Frowning, she flipped it over, finding it charred.
"Very mature," she snarked as she stalked back into the kitchen. She held the toastie over a bin, scraping the burnt part off as best as possible... though in reality, it might have been simpler to remove the second piece of bread entirely.
"What?" He asked, still surly. He was by the door, putting his hat on— a grey hat, one she'd never seen before. If she hadn't been as angry as she was, Mary would have admired this new Tom who dressed up to go to French restaurants... it was too bad the new Tom was acting like an absolute arse.
"I know you did it on purpose," she said, well aware of petulant she sounded as she held up the toastie before returning to the task at hand.
"I got distracted. Someone wanted to argue with me because I'm going on a date with some girl."
"Some girl... how very complimentary. Original, even. Most people just call their girlfriends darling or something like that."
"Look, you distracted me while I making it for you," Tom said, frustrated. "I don't have enough time to make you one that isn't burnt, so if you want another one, you can make it yourself."
"Have a wonderful time," she called out sarcastically as he slammed the door behind him. She finally peeled the second layer of bread into the bin, muttering curse words under her breath. As she washed the black flakes off her hands, she realized he hadn't even said goodbye to George and Sybbie.
Mary rewatched Frozen with the children for the umpteenth time, only she didn't join in singing as she normally did. Her duet partner for Love is an Open Door was gone, and it didn't feel quite right.
She may have been acting somewhat irrationally. Maybe Tom didn't need to tell her everything about his life... but surely a one night stand with Tony was in no way comparable to dating some woman... and Mary seriously doubted that any woman that Tom was going through all those lengths for was just someone he was hoping to shag.
Mary froze. God, why had she thought of that? Her face seemed burn, even though there was no one there to know what she had been thinking. She rearranged herself on the couch, trying to focus more on the plight of Anna and Elsa rather than her own thoughts, which were now straying to Tom and what he might be doing.
She tucked the children into bed, reading reading the fourth chapter of The Hobbit aloud to them. Tom normally did this, but allowances had to be made. Her throat grew sore and when Mary peered over the edge of the book, she found both children fast asleep. Mary slipped the bookmark in between the pages, kissing them each on the forehead before leaving.
Mary laid awake in her own bed not long after, nothing seeming to calm her. She would apologize, she decided, as soon as he came home. Anything to mend this. When things weren't right with Tom, she felt ill at ease.
Another hour passed. Mary scrolled through her phone, intermittently liking photos on Instagram, like pictures of Rose and her baby and Laura Dunsany's new house, finding herself curiously disinterested. He'd be home any minute now... She was sure of it.
But then it was one in the morning, and Tom still wasn't home. Mary felt ill as she tried to do mental gymnastics to figure out just why he wasn't home. Maybe his car broke down, she told herself, but knew that he would have the means to repair most issues himself or would at least call her to pick him up for something more serious. He's mad at you, she reminded herself. Still... either Mama or Papa would pick him up this late at night. That might be it... after all, he wouldn't want her to rouse the children just to pick him up or to leave them alone...
Then it was two in the morning and Mary was almost certain it wasn't car trouble. She rolled over on her side, mind unable to avoid the obvious reason any longer. You of all people have no reason to be upset, she thought, reminded of Tony once more. She let out a sigh. God, why hadn't she just told him about it? It was embarrassing, certainly, and far from her finest moment, but it was hardly something he would judge her for.
But, Mary reminded herself, they didn't discuss that sort of thing with each other. Bringing it up would have only been awkward, not only abnormal. The anger in her flare yet again as she rolled into her back, staring up at the ceiling. Besides— no matter how much he was pretending it was similar, it was two completely different scenarios. It was hardly as if Mary had introduced George and Sybbie to Tony before she seduced him...
Mary began wondering who this Lucy Smith woman was and why Tom had kept her secret for so long. How had he even met her? Sybbie said something about meeting her at a park but when had Tom found the time to actually go on dates with her without Mary's knowledge?
It was closer to three in the morning when Mary began looking Lucy Smith up on Facebook... only to belatedly realize there were a lot of Lucy Smiths in the world and she would sooner find a needle in a haystack than the woman Tom was with.
Sighing, Mary decided to not pursue her curiosity any further. She simply sent a single text to Tom.
MARY: Please let me know that you are alright.
With that, she tried to get some sleep.
January 23, 2020
Mary heard the front door close sometime around five thirty. She sat up in bed, her tired brain mentally piecing things together as she heard Tom's footsteps go up the stairs then down again. He was likely getting ready to shower before work...
Mary dressed for the morning, hearing the shower running in the bathroom once she came downstairs. Tom was singing to himself, the sound muffled by the door. Clearly he'd enjoyed himself. It sounded like some Arctic Monkeys song... and it bothered her. He had never texted her back, never bothered to let her know he wasn't overturned in a ditch somewhere...
So when Mary realized he had prepared a full pot of coffee, she felt no remorse when she drank a full cup. Then a second. She kept incrementally refilling it to give herself a full cup after each swig, knowing she would likely regret it but still seething and desperately in need of caffeine, even though she knew her bladder would pay dearly for it. There was barely enough for half a cup by the time Tom emerged from the bathroom.
"Good morning," she greeted him cheerfully.
"Good morning," replied Tom, with some caution, looking at her warily as if she were a lion ready to strike.
You don't have to say anything, Mary told herself. You can just be pleasant and polite... But being nice wasn't what she was known for. "Oh, good. I thought maybe I was going to receive the silent treatment again."
Tom gave her a strange look before seeming to realize what she was referring to. At once the irritated Tom from last night was back. "I thought you didn't want any reports on my sex life," he sneered.
Mary flinched, feeling very much as if she had run into a brick wall. It was one thing to suspect, but it was another to have it confirmed. She ignored that twisting feeling of nausea before saying, "Well, I suppose I won't bother asking after you next time, will I? I'll just let myself worry about you being dead in a ditch somewhere."
Tom immediately looked guilty, but unlike most times, Mary didn't feel pleased about scoring a hit. "I was sleeping," he muttered. "I didn't see your message until after I woke up."
"So you had no time to let me know you were alright anytime between the time you woke up, got in your car, drove back here—" Tom winced, now clearly realizing she had a full timeline of the events, "— and got in the shower to get ready for work?"
He was silent before saying, "No, not really." He shuffled out in the kitchen as Mary took another healthy swig of coffee. Her body felt awake, but her mind was still frazzled and disoriented. She was only mildly satisfied when she heard Tom call out, "Thanks for drinking my coffee, by the way."
"You're welcome!" She practically singsonged, injecting as much cheer into her voice as possible, but it came out more sarcastic. She couldn't even fake being a morning person... especially not on three hours of sleep.
She heard Tom muttering curse words under his breath in the kitchen, pleased to pretend nothing was wrong. She stared out the window, gazing out at the dusting of snow across the grass. The scene was so idyllic, something calm and peaceful... and yet Mary felt as if she were at war. She drank more of her coffee, dismayed to realize she was already close to the bottom.
When the children came downstairs, they avoided speaking to another as much as possible, simply focusing on the children and averting eye contact with one another. Mary wondered if either of them knew anything was wrong, but she couldn't help but marvel that, even now, her and Tom were of the same mind that the children weren't to know anything was amiss.
Thomas certainly did, telling Mary that she looked as if she had been up all night. When she affirmed that was the case, he asked why. She hesitated before saying, "I don't know. I think maybe I had too much caffeine yesterday." She drank another sip of the coffee Thomas had brought her, knowing she had already consumed far too much today.
During her lunch break, Tom had the audacity to send her a text asking her to pick up some milk. Mary replied,
MARY: I'm already the one picking up George and Sybbie up from school and I'm operating on three hours of sleep. If you want milk, pick it up yourself
Two minutes later, her phone buzzed.
TOM: Its not my fault you were up all night
It was his fault, Mary maintained, but she wasn't about to let him know that.
MARY: Being a jerk isn't exactly encouraging me to do any favors for you
TOM: Calling me names isn't going to stop us from being out of milk. If you don't want to buy it for me, buy it for George and Sybbie. They need the calcium
MARY: I know for a fact we have cheese at home. They'll survive a day or two without milk. Once again if you want milk, buy it yourself
Lunch break was over but Mary's phone buzzed again. She reached for her phone.
TOM: I already apologized for not texting you back
MARY: You absolutely did not. You never once said you were sorry. At all
TOM: Im sorry. I should have texted you. I didn't mean to make you worry.
Mary might have accepted the apology if he hadn't then added,
TOM: Now will you please buy the milk
MARY: No
"D'you have a boyfriend now or something?" Thomas's voice made her jump.
"No," Mary said coldly. "I most certainly do not."
"You sound a touch defensive," he teased, swiveling around with a smirk. Mary glared at him. "Looking like you've been up all night, answering your phone when you're supposed to be working... Who's the mystery man?"
"Tom," shot back Mary, delighting in his horrified expression. Good... that would teach him about prying and making baseless presumptions. "We're arguing over who should buy the milk."
Thomas blinked. Then he smirked again. "Ah... so I take it the honeymoon stage of your friendship has run its course?" Mary resisted rolling her eyes. He'd only been married a year and he seemed to think he was the expert on marriage and relationships. "I don't know how you stand your living arrangement, to be honest. It's like you have all the tedious parts about marriage without all the good bits."
That remark seemed to open up a floodgate. It was obviously the lack of sleep, but now that he said it, she couldn't help but suddenly envision Tom, hair a mess and shirtless... which was not what she should be imagining ever, let alone when she was in midst of an argument with him... and especially not when he had a girlfriend. Her irritation was so great it caused her to snap, "Don't you have work to do?"
Thomas arched a eyebrow. "I do... and so do you, but you're wasting all your time replying to Branson." Speak of the devil, Mary's phone vibrated yet again. Thomas swiveled back, returning to his laptop as Mary scowled.
TOM: Why are you being like this?
MARY: Why are you?
MARY: Now please stop texting me. I'm working.
January 25, 2020
It was hell. Pure, utter hell. Mary woke up, feeling lower than low. Her and Tom had yet to come to a standstill— the passive aggressive texts had stopped yesterday, but they continued ignoring one another to the best of their abilities without arousing suspicion from the children.
Mary trudged down the stairs, finding Tom already at the table. He was looking at his laptop, but glanced up when he heard her. For a moment, she dared to hope that this was the moment— the moment they would make up... Only for her to be disappointed when he hurriedly dropped his gaze back down a moment later.
She sighed, taking a seat in across from him. The children were watching something on TV so she began scrolling through her various social media apps, only looking away when the children came over to talk to her and Tom during commercial breaks. It wasn't until their show concluded and George and Sybbie decided to go upstairs to play that Mary felt it was safe to speak.
"I didn't tell you about Tony because I was embarrassed," she began, staring down at the table. She knew Tom's attention was piqued because his fingers had stopped typing. "Charles has just dumped me and I— I don't know what came over me."
Tom still wasn't saying anything but Mary knew he was listening. It's why she continued on, "It's just... I knew he was in London. That's why I stayed the extra night. To be with Tony. And then... Well, I'll put it this way, my time spent with him was an underwhelming experience."
At this, Tom actually laughed. He tried to disguise it as a cough but Mary saw him smirking. Relieved, she carried on, "So I left. I probably would have been home sooner, but then I bumped into Mabel and her camera crew... and I felt sorry for her. So I agreed to be in her show, on the stipulation that no one would ever know it was me. Obviously it didn't work out as I intended it to." Mary pushed her shoulders back. "I didn't tell you about it because I was worried you would judge me... and because Charles said we relied on each other too much. I didn't want to prove him right by turning around and telling you everything. It wasn't because I didn't trust you."
"I wouldn't have judged you," Tom said without any hesitation. For the first time that morning, their eyes met. "And I don't. For any of it. I'm not a saint myself... the only difference between you and I is that I've never appeared on a reality television show because of it." He offered her a smile.
"I know," said Mary, now truly convinced of it. "But I judge myself for it."
"You shouldn't," Tom told her. "We all have our moments when we don't think things through. It doesn't make us bad... and if you've learned from it at all, then it served it purpose."
Mary couldn't help but smile— not because he had helped ease her conscience but because it was such a Tom thing to say. Though she had already known for days just how much she had missed him, it was only now she felt she could truly appreciate him and his words of wisdom.
"You're the only person who knows about it," said Mary, glancing down at the table. "That I know of, that is. I mean, Mabel and Tony and the people who work for her know but I haven't told anyone... not even Anna."
Tom nodded. "I wasn't ever going to tell anyone. It's just— Well, when I told you about Edna and everything... It only seemed like I was the one trusting you but you didn't trust me at all." He glanced down at the table. "But I shouldn't have acted as I did. That was very wrong of me."
"I can't say I was much better," said Mary with a sigh, thinking of her own petulance. "And I didn't mean to make you feel that way."
"I know that now."
For the sake of full transparency, Mary inhaled deeply before saying, "I might as well tell you that I've another big secret that I've scarcely told anyone... but I'm not going to tell it to you now. Maybe not ever. And it isn't because you can't be trusted... it's because I don't like talking about it."
Tom nodded. "That's alright." He paused before saying, "It's fine, Mary. Really. I don't want you to feel... Well, you don't need to tell me everything. Not if you don't want to. But I certainly won't ever judge you for anything." He paused before adding, "Unless you've murdered someone. Then I might."
Mary smirked. "So you won't help me hide the body?"
"I think you'd have better luck going to Thomas for something like that," Tom said, now grinning as well.
Mary shook her head. "No... if I had to pick anyone in my life for that, it would be Anna."
Tom chuckled and Mary was relieved to know things were alright again between them.
Lucy, she learned, was a librarian. He had met her when he took George and Sybbie to the park one afternoon as she took her new puppy for a walk. They had started talking and decided to go out. On their first date, he learned that, remarkably, she had sat behind Sybil in an English course in university. She had even known about Sybil's passing because she had seen it from a friend of a friend online.
Tom was clearly mad about her. He spoke of her with a fondness she had scarcely observed since Sybil's death. Judging by his shy smiles and embarrassed admissions about how much he enjoyed Lucy's company, it was clear he was enamored by her.
Mary didn't know how to feel about it. She wanted Tom to be happy, of course, but she couldn't help but think of Sarah and the bitter taste that whole affair had left in her mouth. Was Lucy really as wonderful as Tom claimed she was or would Mary find herself with another adversary?
The second concern was the ones Granny had raised. It was hopelessly naïve, she realized now, to assumed that Tom really would remain single forever. How would Lucy feel about Sybbie calling her Mummy? She asked Tom about it, who replied, "She understands. She heard George at the park and... well, I explained things. I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all," she replied, relieved there was a sense of transparency, yet she still remained on edge... though why, she couldn't possibly begin to put into words. Deciding to ignore that, she quickly changed the topic. "So," she said, folding her hands and plastering a smile on her face, "When do I get to meet her?"
Tom smiled, looking relieved. "Well... we've planned a date on Wednesday. I could ask her to swing by here first and I could introduce you."
"That sounds marvelous," said Mary... though truth be told, she knew she wasn't as enthused about this as she ought to be.
January 29 , 2020
Mary met Lucy and her dog Milo at the same time when she arrived home from the grocery store. Tom had asked if it was alright if Lucy brought him into the house and Mary had agreed without much thought... but she was still taken by surprised when a liver springer spaniel puppy jumped on her the moment she stepped through the door.
"Milo, get down!" Lucy exclaimed, running into the kitchen. Mary saw immediately very pretty, with brown hair that reached her shoulders and bright smile. She met Mary's eye and smiled apologetically. "I'm so sorry— I'm still training him." She stepped forward, one hand pulling the excited puppy away from Mary and another reached out. "I'm Lucy, by the way."
"Mary," she introduced herself, disarmed by the woman in front of her. It wasn't as if her appearance wasn't expected... It was just that a part of Mary had never actually believed she would meet this her.
"Sorry about Milo."
"That's quite alright," said Mary, having regained some of her composure by now. She straightened her shoulders. "It's nice to finally put a face to the name." She might have said that it was nice to finally meet her but Mary truly couldn't determined if this was a pleasant interaction or not.
Lucy smiled, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear. "Same here! I feel like I know you already— Tom thinks the world of you."
It was strange but Mary felt her heart speed up. "Well, the feeling's mutual," she found herself saying. "Speaking of him, where's he?"
"Bathroom," said Lucy, smiling. Her dog had scampered off, presumably to play with George and Sybbie in the other room. She could hear their delighted squeals and giggles from the kitchen. "We won't be in your hair too much longer— I just knew the kids would want to see him again. Thank you for letting him in, by the way," Lucy added.
"It's no problem," Mary said, walking to the dining room table. Lucy followed her. "I'm used to dealing with puppies and these two keep begging me for one... at some point, I suspect we'll give in."
Lucy smiled. "They're cute but they are a handful. Puppies, I mean," she said hastily when she realized it could be interpreted as referencing the children.
"Kids can be, too," Mary said, giving her a wry smile.
Tom stepped out of the bathroom just then. "I see you've already met. Sorry I wasn't here to introduce you."
"That's alright," Mary said, crossing her legs, wondering why it seemed Tom always happened to be out of the room when she met his girlfriend. Thankfully, this time around, the girlfriend in question was rather pleasant... as well as quite nice.
The conversation continued for a while longer until Tom checked the time and realized they ought to head out. "See you later," she called out, mainly to Tom... but something told her Lucy would be back as well.
"Bye, Mary!" Lucy beamed. "It was so nice to meet you!"
Mary waved back, smiling, ill at ease. She couldn't quite bring herself to repay the compliment... but it was impossible to dislike her. Unlike Sarah, who had almost gone out of her way to drive Mary insane, Lucy had been... well, nice. She didn't seem to have a mean bone in her body, she wasn't jealous of Mary's bond with Tom, and she clearly adored the children. In fact, if anything was driving Mary insane, it was the fact that she seemed to possess no glaring faults.
Subconsciously, she couldn't help but compare herself to this woman, as silly as it was. There was no logical reason for it... but then again, logic hadn't been playing a part in her thinking for over a month now.
As Mary gathered the children in the car to go to Downton for dinner, she abruptly realized who Lucy reminded her of: Lavinia Swire. As much as she had loved Matthew, as much as it had killed him to watch him be happy with someone who wasn't her, Mary could never ever bring herself to resent his new girlfriend. For a time, they had even been friends...
Don't be stupid, Mary chastised herself, helping George buckle his seatbelt after he managed to tangle it up in his car seat. You don't love Tom— not like that, at least. You've just learned Tom is a good kisser and have started to appreciate that he's a handsome man. It's nothing more than that. Then, more forcefully, It can't be.