A/N: Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews! I really appreciate them and I am so happy to know this story is being enjoyed! I may need to take a break from posting starting next week due to a move and university starting up again, but I will definitely still be writing! Until then, I hope this update tides you over!

Also a quick trigger warning for those who need it: after Mary says that the wreck at the race will be fodder to her nightmares, Anna briefly thinks about Mr. Green and her stepfather in the next paragraph. It doesn't delve into detail at all, but I'd rather be safe than sorry and mention it so you can skip to the following paragraph.

The Lady in Black

Chapter Twenty Three

Anna met Mr. Bates in the servant's stairwell on her way upstairs. "Lady Mary's gone to bed, then?"

"Yes," Anna said with a sigh. "And I'll bet she's exhausted." Anna couldn't forget the sight of her bursting into tears, right where anyone could see her. It wasn't in her nature at all; what Lady Mary had seen today had undoubtedly brought back bad memories for her.

"His Lordship said she was on the telephone with Mr. Talbot when he went up."

"Oh, dear," Anna said nervously, now even more anxious about the state of mind her lady would be in. First there was this mess with Mr. Branson, then the crash which no doubt stirred up memories of Mr. Matthew, and now this? "Well, I'd best go see to her now."

He nodded. "I'm going up to our room. I'll be waiting for you."

Anna exchanged a heartfelt smile with him. As horrid as the day had been, she was glad he was there with her. She couldn't bear to think of what it would be like if one of them had been forced to endure the awful accident alone and the other was stuck at Downton. She heard the sound of his cane hitting the stairs as she stepped into the hallway.

When Anna found Lady Mary, she was standing by a window, looking out at the street, one hand pressed against the glass. She seemed oddly focused, as if there was something she was looking for. Anna cleared her throat when it was finally apparent that Lady Mary hadn't noticed her entrance.

"Oh. Anna. I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright, milady. You needn't apologize," she said as Lady Mary drifted over to the chair by the boudoir. She seemed somewhat detached and as if she were in a daze, but otherwise much better than Anna had anticipated. Still, she felt it best to check. "And how are you?"

Lady Mary let out a lofty sigh. "As well as can be expected, I suppose." Her eyes fell shut. "Though I am... terribly sad, of course. About poor Mr. Rogers."

"Of course you are."

"I wish we had never accepted Mr. Talbot's invitation," she said, with more passion now, though she seemed to trail off. "I know it will only be fodder to my nightmares now."

Anna, who had her own share of bad dreams, could empathize. After the business with Mr. Green very nearly attacking her, she was plagued by nightmares of her stepfather. Just going through something similar was enough to bring it all back. "I am sorry."

"It isn't your fault. It's no one's, really. But I do wish we could have declined."

Anna decided to try and distract her... even though she knew what she was about to ask was rather nosy. "How is Mr. Talbot, milady?" When Lady Mary raised her eyebrows, she elaborated, "Mr. Bates told me."

"Oh. That." Lady Mary blinked. "He's dreadfully sad, of course. As anyone would be... and I've an awful feeling I made his suffering even worse." Seeming uncomfortable, Lady Mary averted her eyes downward and reached for her lotion.

Anna couldn't deny she was surprised... not necessarily by the revelation that she had ended things with him, which seemed inevitable in the wake of the crash, but that she had chosen tonight to do it. "You've broken with him, then?"

"I had to," answered Lady Mary. She was prepared to hear some explanation about how she couldn't bear to lose a second husband the same way she had lost her first or even something about how she wasn't ready for love again, but Lady Mary surprised her yet again by saying, "He wasn't the one for me. I wish I could have realized it sooner, but I just wasn't in love with him. And I was never going to be."

Anna didn't voice her thoughts, which was that she had suspected some time ago that Lady Mary was not as invested in her romance with Mr. Talbot as he was. She had seemed to like him and enjoyed spending time with him, but she suspected it was a more friendly feeling. Considering how long it had even taken her to realize how serious Lady Mary apparently was about Mr. Talbot, she wasn't terribly surprised that this unfortunate accident spelled out the demise of their relationship.

"Well, it's very sad it had to end like this, but it's good you recognized in time, milady," Anna said, wanting her mistress to feel encouraged by her decision. "The last thing you would want is for things to go too far before realizing your feelings."

"Yes. Quite right." Lady Mary seemed to have gone off into her daze again, eyes far away. Anna was puzzled, not sure if what to make of it before she began helping her for bed.

"How is she?" Mr. Bates asked when Anna turned into their room. He was already tucked into his bed. It wasn't often they were able to share a room in the same house they were staying at, but thankfully Lady Rosamund was obliging and considerate.

Anna hesitated as she began removing her shoes. "I don't know," she admitted, still disconcerted by Lady Mary's behavior. Of course, she was rarely emotional and detested crying in front of others... but Anna was among the few people she allowed herself to be vulnerable in front of, and she didn't seem terribly blue. Just... distracted. "But she's broken things off with Mr. Talbot."

"She's never!" Her husband sounded shocked.

"Well," began Anna, "it makes sense, really. I don't know if she could have managed it, having a husband who was at risk of dying the same way her first husband had."

"Even so... it's a shame she's given him up, especially if she loved him."

"That's the thing. She says she doesn't."

Mr. Bates met her eye with a penetrating gaze. "And do you believe her?"

"I do." Anna removed her stockings now, sitting on the edge of her bed and facing Mr. Bates. "He was a nice man... but I don't think they were well suited."

"So," Mr. Bates smiled, "Lady Mary is a free woman once more. I doubt it will be long before more suitors start flocking to the house."

Anna wanted to chastise him, but she figured he was probably right. After all, Lady Mary seemed to have a knack for attracting suitors, even though she hadn't set out to find any.

"We'll have to wait and see," was all Anna said. She didn't want to think about it anymore.

I love him.

She had yet to say it aloud but it was the ever present thought in her brain.

I'm in love with Tom.

She was astonished at how readily the switch had been made in her mind. He wasn't Branson now; he was Tom. Now that she had acknowledged how she truly felt, it only made sense to refer to him by his Christian name, even if it was only in her head.

I love him.

Mary stared up at the ceiling. What would Matthew think? He would probably be rather surprised by it all. She remembered her barbs and sharpness over his being a solicitor... and now she had fallen in love with the chauffeur. How was that for irony?

But Tom wasn't just a chauffeur. He was capable of being and doing so much more with his life than tinkering around with an engine or driving her about. He was brilliant and well-read, someone who could easily have a career... but Mary knew that even if he never managed to do more than be someone's chauffeur that she would still love him the same. He had taken his time to fully understand her, to know her, to love her for who she was, and had in turn showed her exactly who he was...

I love him.

There was a fluttering in her stomach. She would tell him. She couldn't stand the thought of being apart for any longer than necessary. She may very well have caused a mess when she left, but she resolved to herself that no matter what, she would fix it. Even if she came back and found him gone, Mary would find him. Even if she had to sail to Ireland or America. She would tell him, no matter what it took.

Mary awoke in one of Aunt Rosamund's spare rooms a mere few hours after had finally fallen asleep, simultaneously exhausted and revitalized. She checked the time on the nearest clock and let out an exasperated sigh when she realized it would be hours before they returned to Downton.

Anna helped her dress, not seeming to notice the shift in Mary's mood at all, but simply asking if she felt any better. "I think I have recovered, for the most part," said Mary, shoulders back as she adjusted her necklace. She wouldn't lie and claim she wasn't still haunted by the sight of the car swathed in a conflagration but she was doing her best to keep that out of her mind... and thankfully, focusing on thoughts of Tom and how she would right things with him worked wonderfully as a distraction.

"And... what about Mr. Talbot?"

Mary shook her head. "I've made up my mind, Anna." He was a nice man... but her heart belonged to someone else. It had for a long time now, longer than she had been willing to admit. She wondered if she ought to tell her now about her feelings for Tom, before deciding to wait. Maybe she ought to keep it to herself... just a little longer.

Yesterday had stirred up more romantic revelations than just Mary's. Edith coyly announced to them all on the train ride home that Mr. Pelham had proposed just last night, much to the delight of her parents... who promptly became solemn when they looked over to Mary.

Mary resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Though she hardly felt the train ride back to Yorkshire was the best time to deliver such news, she was hardly going to go into hysterics because Edith was going to be married. "Have you accepted him, then?" she asked, doing all she could to sound as bored and unaffected as possible. It was hard to stop herself from smiling when Mama and Papa gave her matching looks of astonishment.

Edith seemed perplexed. "I— I haven't given him my answer yet," she stammered.

"Well, don't wait too long," Mary told her before reaching for her the magazine on her lap, shielding herself from the shocked expressions from her family.

Of course, the whole mess with Mr. Talbot reared its ugly head when they were roughly twenty minutes away from Downton. "Will you be inviting him to stay anytime soon?" asked Mama.

"No," replied Mary. "I don't want to send any mixed messages." When Papa gave her a questioning look, she sighed and said, "I've broken with him."

Mama gasped. "Why did you do that, for heaven's sake?"

Mary narrowed her eyes before sarcastically saying, "I don't know. Perhaps it had something to do with the beastly car crash."

"It's hardly it's Mr. Talbot's fault!" Edith exclaimed.

"I didn't say it was... but it's only just proven to me that we are incompatible." She turned back to the magazine, despite having read it through already. She couldn't stand the to see her parents pitying looks, nor the glare she was likely receiving from Edith, though she regretted nothing. She didn't trouble herself with worrying about any potential reactions to her love life she may be subjected to in the near future; she would take things one step at a time.

Tom met them at the station and Mary felt her heart swell in equal parts relief and love in her chest. He was still here.Here at Downton, here where she was. Surely that was a good sign.

She was taken aback how violent her physical reaction was to him. It was as if last night had opened up the floodgates in her mind and all these small reactions, which had been muted by her denial, were now vivid and all-consuming. How could I not have not known? She marveled. It seemed so obvious now when she could look upon him. She longed to run towards him and embrace him, lamenting the way she had acted and begging him to allow her a chance to redeem herself.

But she couldn't. For one thing, they were at a crowded train station. Her parents and Edith were standing there with them and Mary didn't need an audience for something so personal...

And because he hasn't so much as glanced at her. He kept his eyes trained in front of him, and even when he helped her into the car, it seemed as if she was staring right through her.

It jarred Mary— she had taken for granted those lingering looks, that softness he always bestowed her with each time he set his eyes in her. But now they were cold and hard, devoid of all that warmth and affection.

God, she had made a mess of things, hadn't she? She thought of what she had said just before he left, about how he was at liberty to leave if he so chose... Surely she must have smashed his heart into smithereens. She only hoped he would allow her to put it back together.

The family was distracted by the news of Granny's departure to the continent— something to do with her disagreement with Mama over hospital matters, something Mary truthfully hadn't paid much attention to in the midst of her own drama. Granny had left instructions with Isobel on how to contact her (which the other woman passed along to them) but emphasized it was only to be used in case of an emergency. However, she had left a conciliatory gift behind for her only son. Papa was dreadfully pleased to have a dog once again and George was thrilled to meet the puppy. Mary, however, found herself preoccupied by obsessing over her epiphany, waiting for the right time to slip away from everyone and seek out Tom.

It was all too easy to second guess herself now that she was home and the time to a t was nearing. After all, Tom hadn't seemed pleased to see her at the station... and perhaps he wanted nothing more to do with her. She supposed she couldn't blame him...

But then she reminded herself that, despite the fact they had been a very long ones, only two days had passed since she tried setting him free. If he loved her as he said (and as she knew he did), those feelings wouldn't magically fade away overnight. He might be upset with her, yes, for giving him contradictory messages, but Mary knew she wasn't going to give him up and she wouldn't change her mind again anytime soon... or ever.

Of course, the problem was finding time alone. She wasn't Sybil, who had learned to be sneaky long ago and had a convalescent home and work to serve as an excuse for her prolonged absences— at least, not when Downton was so consumed by all this hubbub. Furthermore, the last thing Mary wanted was to be interrupted as she professed her undying love to Tom, which seemed a likely scenario if she tried to before dinner. She would have wait until the evening, she feared, before telling him those words he longed to hear.

The waiting was the hardest and easier part— she was simultaneously anxious to get it over with and terrified to even begin yet completely determined to make sure she was able to do things the right way: the way he deserved. It needed to be spectacular, something poignant that he would remember when they were both old and grey... not a hasty confession blurted out with no preamble or explanation.

So Mary sat there, picking at her meal, pretending to pay attention to the conversation while her mind was miles away. Would her speech be as eloquent as it sounded in her head? And— most importantly— would he even want her after she had yanked his chain and spurned him? Mary wasn't naïve enough to think he was completely under her thrall; he was a bright man, and though he may love her, he wasn't blind to her flaws. Even Matthew had been able to cut his losses with her at one point. Perhaps it would be more of an uphill battle to win him over and prove her sincerity.

"Are you quite well, Mary?" asked Isobel. "Why, you've hardly touched your meal!"

Mary was taken out of her trance, looking at her nearly full plate of food. Before she could respond, Papa jumped in with, "Mary had a very trying day yesterday."

It was infuriating, having an answer being given for her, but at least she didn't have to say, "Oh, don't worry about me, I'm just planning on professing my love to the chauffeur and I'm quite nervous about it. Do you mind passing the salt?" "Yes," she said with little enthusiasm, and it didn't even sound convincing to Mary's own ears. "It was quite... bad."

Isobel nodded sympathetically. "I'm sure it must have been."

Mary lowered her head down, stabbing at a piece of asparagus with little gusto. She was terribly grateful to Isobel— not only for being a wonderful, caring person, but because immediately after dinner, Mary was able to feign a headache with little questioning from anyone.

Much to her own surprise, Mary retreated to bedroom first, even going so far as to ring Anna. Mary stood in front of the mirror, examining herself with the utmost scrutiny. She told herself it was because she wanted to look perfect, but even she was aware that she was just stalling for time. Her nerves were threatening to consume her, doubts plaguing her mind and torturing her. Suppose he didn't believe her? What if he had already made arrangements to leave and they would be separated soon? She wouldn't hesitate to fight for him but at present her nerves were so shot that the mere thought of any obstacles in their path to happiness were too overwhelming at present.

"Anna," said Mary as soon as her maid entered the room, "I've rather a favor to ask you."

"Of course," said Anna.

"I need you to go downstairs and fetch me a pill for a headache and a cup of water. Just leave it on my end table... I won't be here to receive it." Anna blinked, but Mary then quickly said, "I also need you to offer to inform Mr. Branson to bring the car around for Mrs. Crawley tonight. Do you think you can manage that?"

"Of course," said Anna, frowning. "But... may I ask why?"

Mary bit her lower lip. "I am— I'm going to see Mr. Branson."

"Mr. Branson? Whatever for?"

Mary bit her lip. She was no good at this. "The car crash yesterday... Well, it made me realize something. Something I didn't want to admit to myself before... but I can't pretend any longer."

Anna's eyes were wide. "Do you mean... You love him?"

Mary nodded, biting nervously on her lip as her maid gasped. "I have for a long time now. I haven't allowed myself to admit to it, but I have." Her voice caught in her throat and she bit back tears. She wasn't used to this intensity— it had been some time since she had last allowed herself to be completely unrestrained in her emotions.

"Is that why you broke with Mr. Talbot so suddenly?" Anna looked rather lightheaded but not displeased.

Mary nodded again. "He wasn't the one for me. But I think Mr. Branson is." Then, quickly, she corrected herself with, "No, I know he is. I haven't felt this way about anyone since Mr. Crawley passed."

"Oh, milady..."

"I know I sound foolish and this isn't like me at all, but I just... I can't bear the thought of him not knowing how I feel," explained Mary, well aware her cheeks were flushed.

Anna nodded along, considering her words. "But is that all, milady?"

"What do you mean?"

Anna hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "I mean... Do you intend to do anything more? Or are you just planning to tell him how you feel for your own peace of mind and leave it at that?" Before Mary could say anything, Anna replied, "Because if it's the former, it might just be kinder to him to keep it to yourself."

Mary wasn't insulted by Anna's assumption; this wasn't like her at all. There was no predicting what her intentions were. In fact, she was pleased Tom had someone in corner, looking out for his best interests. She certainly hadn't been of late. "I want him, Anna. I want to be with him. And I'll do anything to make that happen." Then, much to her own shock, "Even if I have to leave Downton for a time."

At first, Anna simply gaped at her in shock. Then, for the first time since beginning their conversation, Anna burst out into a wide grin. "Oh, I'm so glad to hear that." Before Mary could say anything more, she said, "I've hated seeing the pair of you so blue for the past few weeks. I didn't see any sort of happy ending... but I'm glad to have been wrong."

Mary hesitated. "I've hurt him, haven't I?" The reminder of how she had been pushing him away, how cruel she had been the last time they had spoken haunted her now. Perhaps she had ruined everything.

Anna paused. "He's been very down, yes. But only because he thought he had no hope."

Mary groaned at her foolishness, her face in her hands. "Do you think I stand a chance?"

"Of what, milady?" asked Anna. When Mary failed to respond and she was able to connect the dots, she bit back a laugh, reaching for Mary's hands, prying them away from her face, and holding them in her own. "If you are worried about Mr. Branson, I don't think you have anything to worry about... not from him. Your family might respond differently, but... I'd say he'll be very pleased indeed."

"Even after all I've put him through?"

Anna smiled reassuringly. "When you love someone, it's very easy to forgive them."

Mary wasn't so sure that was true; after all, she remembered being upset for ages when Matthew had been unwilling to use Mr. Swire's money to revitalize the estate... but she supposed it hadn't stopped her from loving him. And Anna's devotion to Bates has never wavered, not even when he was imprisoned... Mary only hoped he could look past her stubbornness.

"Thank you, Anna," Mary said before drawing in a deep breath. "I suppose—"

She broke off, noticing headlights shining against the wall. A yellow glare hit the glass before disappearing. Mary walked over to the window, watching as Tom hopped out of the car and Isobel walked out, letting him help her into the vehicle. "Change of plans," breathed Mary, only somewhat disappointed. Perhaps this would be easier... after all, with Isobel gone, nobody else would need the car. No one would disturb them.

Mary waited until the car pulled out of the driveway. Her palms were sweating and her heart felt as if it would burst out of her chest but she couldn't turn back. Maybe she was being reckless, maybe it would be a mistake, maybe her heart would be broken... but she would never know until she decided to find out for herself.

Her and Anna snuck down the hallway. "Are you sure you can manage undressing yourself tonight?" whispered Anna.

"I'm sure I will. I don't know how long this might take." They walked onto the landing of the servant's staircase. "If it seems you're still here, I'll ring for you. If not..."

Anna nodded. There was noise coming from the servant's hall— they were eating their dinner. Mary moved swiftly, running into the hallway as Anna walked in. "Mrs. Hughes, might I get some medicine from your office? Lady Mary isn't well—"

Mary hustled down the hallway, pleased when she made it to the yard undetected. The dark, cloudy sky concealed her as she walked across the yard, walking the path to the garage.

Tom had left the lights on, illuminating the space for when he returned. Mary stared at the empty place where the car ought to have been parked before having a seat on his workbench. It wasn't terribly comfortable; the leather padding was thin and worn and it was a utilitarian surface obviously intended for resting tools and occasionally having a brief sit before returning to duties. Still, it was better than nothing, and Mary felt it would be strange to climb into one the cars for the sake of comfort when he would be returning soon enough.

Soon, Mary heard the sound of the motor in the distance, the low rumble of the engines and the sound of wheels crunching gravel under the weight of the tires. Mary leapt to her feet almost immediately. Her eyes began darting around for a mirror or something before she realized how silly she was being. The headlights shined into the garage before Tom turned around into the driveway backing in. He didn't even notice Mary, eyes focused intently on the mirror.

Her heart was in her throat the moment he spotted her. A myriad of emotions crossed his face: astonishment, disbelief, love... resignation. "What're you doing here?" asked Tom as he climbed out of the car.

"I need to speak to you." Her heels clicked against the floor as she walked towards him.

Tom let out a sigh as he pulled off his gloves, wadding them up before tucking them in his pocket. "Very well. What is it?"

Mary tried to ready herself for what she was about to say... but would she ever be ready? This sort of thing didn't come naturally to her at all. She was used to being the one who was pursued, not the one who confessed their feelings... but she supposed he had already told her some time ago. It was now her turn, and she hoped to God he would be more receptive than she had.

Mary took in a deep breath and met his blue eyes. "Well, it's— I trust you've heard all about our trip to London by now," she said, nervously folding and unfolding her hands in front of her. She half cursed herself— this wasn't like her, getting so worked up and anxious. Still, even she could not pretend that her fate didn't depended on how well she was able to impart this valuable piece of information to him. Suppose he didn't want her? Suppose she was embarrassing herself by being here now?

Tom nodded, leaning up against the car. He wasn't looking at her. "That have been very hard to you to watch, milady."

Mary was taken aback by how disarmed she was by her title. She had taken notice of his slips, of course, but she hadn't realized how accustomed she was to his familiarity. "It was," she confessed, but tried to meet his eye as she said, "And please don't call me that."

Now Tom was looking at her. "I'm afraid I don't know what else I am supposed to call you."

Mary tilted her head. "You could always call me by my name. It's never stopped you in the past."

Tom sighed again. "Milady, I—"

But he was silenced as Mary reached out, placing a finger on his lips. They felt soft against the pad of her finger... but her eyes were fixed on his, wide and blue and asking her to explain the meaning of this, too stunned to even think of moving a muscle.

"You're right. It was hard for me. For a number of reasons." Mary let her hand fall. She mourned the loss of touch, of the feel of his skin against hers, but she was nervous, hands trembling. Even though she trusted him, she didn't want him knowing how anxious she was. "For starters, I now have a mental picture of what Matthew's final moments must have been like. I know there wasn't a fire, but..." she trailed off; this wasn't the point she had meant to focus on. "But it made me realize something." She paused, giving the statement the weight it deserved, before continuing, "When I saw the smoke and heard there was a crash, I didn't think of Mr. Talbot at all... it sounds horrible when I say it aloud, but it's true. I didn't think of him for a moment."

"You were thinking of Mr. Crawley," concluded Tom. He didn't seem to know what to make of this... not that she blamed him. She was a scattered mess, explaining herself poorly, yet she had no idea how else to do it.

"I did." She drew in a deep breath before confessing, "But I thought of you, too."

He blinked, obviously not expecting that response. "Me?" He said into the quiet of the garage with incredulity. "What for?"

"To be honest, I'm not quite certain. Perhaps it's because you work with cars as well... but it made me think how— how devastated I would be if I were to lose you." Mary's voice trembled, but she was determined to get her words out. "I already lost Matthew and I barely recovered from it. I don't know if I could if I lost you as well."

Tom was staring at her, eyes wide. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you are saying."

Mary hesitated, looking into his eyes for the love he felt for her. When she found it, obscured behind the confusion, she reached up, her bare palm against his cheek. Tom's lips parted before she said, "I've been a fool. I know I have hurt you and for that I cannot possibly express just how sorry I am. Will you give me another chance?"

"A chance for what?" His own hand had reached up resting against hers, as if not really believing she was touching him, fingertips skimming over her knuckles. He hadn't blinked, staring at her with astonishment.

"A chance to prove just how much I care for you. How much I want you." Her voice shook but she managed to muster up enough courage to say, "Tom," she said, well aware it was the first time she had addressed him by his first name alone, and it was clear he did, too. His eyes had widened, gazing at her in awe and adoration. It was that look alone that gave her the courage and confidence to say, "I love you."

She wasn't sure who initiated it but less than a second later, their lips had met. His hands were on her waist, drawing her close him as her hands laced behind his neck, fingers brushing against his hair. A rush of pure euphoria ran through Mary, the sort of rush she hadn't felt in the longest time, and she never wanted to stop feeling it.

"Do you really mean it?" asked Tom when he pulled away, shaky and disarmed yet beaming radiantly. "Do you really—"

"I do." She moved forward again, leaning her forehead against his as her eyes fell shut. All her fear from before was obliterated by that one, powerful kiss, leaving her with a racing heart and immense joy. Nothing could compare to this dizzying elation she felt right now. She felt his breath against her lips. "I really do."

"Oh my love," he whispered, voice choked with emotion before leaning in to kiss her yet again. "My love..." Mary welcomed it eagerly, uncertain if any of her words could hope to be adequate enough to make this moment more perfect than it already was... and because just once wasn't nearly enough for her.

Upon waking in the morning, Tom had almost convinced himself it was all a dream. There was no possible way she had changed her mind, no way that she loved him... It was further reinforced by her nonchalance when he went to pick her up at the front of the house. It wasn't until she said, "Stop the car," halfway to the village that Tom was reassured once more that it wasn't a figment of his imagination.

The moment he parked the car along the side of the road, he felt her gloved hands sliding across his clean shaven face, angling his head (and subsequently his body) towards the backseat, where she was leaning over, bringing their mouths together. It was an awkward angle but it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered when Mary was kissing him."Sorry," Mary breathed against his mouth, their foreheads still pressed together. "It's just—"

"Don't apologize," Tom whispered back, too shaken and moved to say anything else. His own hand reached to touch her, the smooth skin on her cheek feeling like heaven against his fingertips. He kissed her again, slowly with less urgency, savoring her. Though plenty of kisses had been exchanged last night, it wasn't nearly enough to quench his thirst for her... but he doubted anything ever would. If anything, he rather expected it to grow, just as his love for her did every single day.

"Would you think me terribly silly if I said I haven't been able to stop thinking about doing this since I woke up this morning?"

"Not at all," Tom told her, thumb still stroking her cheek. "I think about this sort of thing all the time."

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting for so long. It must have been torture... I could hardly stand one night."

Tom smiled, marveling at this. Lady Mary, his Mary, had spent all last night thinking of kissing him... it hardly seemed possible. For the last few weeks, it had seemed like something destined to only happen in his wildest dreams. "That it was," he agreed, thinking of those lonely, aching nights that had been a reality for years now, "but the wait was well worth it."

Mary surged forward again, her hand at the nape of his neck, kissing him again and again. Tom's eyelids fluttered shut. At some point, they would need to separate and he would have to drive her down to the village... but they could worry about that later. This was all that mattered right now.

"If you're able to hear me at all now, then you know already," Mary addressed Matthew. It felt strange, standing here before him now. It wasn't as though her heart was split into two halves or anything like that, nor did she feel disloyal to the memory of him. Her heart was completely whole with enough room for extraordinary two men who had altered her life in the best possible way.

"I'm sure you never would have thought me capable of doing such a thing... in fact, I'm finding myself surprised. I'm a far cry now from the woman you met all those years ago. I acted as though you were a cave-man. I'm sure if I could go back into time and tell her where she would be now, she'd think me mad... and maybe I am." It was hard to convince herself that she was behaving sensibly or rationally for she knew wasn't. But it didn't matter; when Matthew had gone where she could not follow, she had been convinced she could never be happy again. Tom had proven her wrong and she was infinitely grateful for that. While her love for Matthew had been a great one, it also satisfied her duty to Downton. This was something that was simply hers: a wild, passionate, carefree sort of love, meant to please only the two of them. "But I don't care. I'm in love again."

She wondered what he thought of it all, wherever he was. Was he jealous? Or would he be pleased for her? "I think you'd be happy for me," she said aloud, answering her own question. "If our positions were reversed, I know I would be for you... as long as you picked the right woman, that is." Matthew has always had good taste, though; he had loved her, hadn't he? And it had been impossible to find fault with Lavinia. Had she been the one to die first and leave him alone, she was certain Matthew would easily find love with one of the most wonderful women in the world. "And you always liked him, didn't you?" She seemed to only recall good things whenever Matthew spoke of Tom, usually about his driving or how Papa was a little too harsh when it came to denouncing his politics.

She bit on the inside of her lip. "I still do love you, you know. That hasn't changed. It never will." Mary knew for a fact that no matter how many years had passed, she would never stop loving Matthew. She had known that from the moment he entered Downton Abbey in 1916 with Lavinia on his arm. She had stared at him, stunned to see him and very much feeling as it a cannonball had been launched at her heart, but the overwhelmingly emotion was love. It was though a floodgate had opened up, all the emotion she suppressed for the last two years hitting her all at once. I still love you, she thought, amazed when he looked right at her. She had cried up in her room upon learning he had a fiancée but a vain part of her wished that maybe she was overblowing her feelings and that it would go away.

But it hadn't. It never would. But she knew the same was true of her love for Tom. Something so powerful and strong could never go away fully. Even though it was only the first proper day of their relationship, their love for one another had started some time ago, and she would be determined to keep ahold of it for the rest of her life.

"But I love him, too. I don't want you to ever think that it's a competition or something, because it isn't. You'll always be the first man I ever loved... and I'll love you as long as there is breath in my body. Maybe even after... but I'll love him, too."

When Mary had concluded her daily visit, she walked back towards the car. Tom noticed her return from over the top of his book, folding it shut once he saw her approaching. He didn't bother to mark his page, leading Mary to wonder if he had been reading it at all or simply giving her the illusion of privacy. Mary knew full well he couldn't overhear her one-sided conversations with Matthew but she was aware that these brief meetings with her late husband were comported in plain sight to any passing villager. She didn't mind in the slightest if he kept an eye out.

"Thank you," she said to him as he helped her into the car, in perfect accordance to the job he had done for the past decade or so. Even so, it was different now. She squeezed his hand, wishing she hadn't worn her gloves, meeting his eye with a soft smile. He reciprocated the gesture in kind, emotions spelled out clearly. "Be sure to pull off to the side of the road on the way back. I'm not done with you yet this morning."

"I'm glad to hear it," Tom replied, eyes lighting up. It was such a welcome sight, preferable to the stoniness and stilted silences that had lingered over them.

A few minutes later, after Mary had urged him to join her in the backseat, they were intertwined in a tight embrace, Mary perched halfway on his lap, hands cupping either side of his face. It was a scandalous position, especially with Tom balancing her with one hand on her waist and the other on her lower back, but Mary didn't care, not when she felt so alive for the first time in years. The thought of not touching him was excruciating. She had knocked his hat off his head already, capturing his lower lip between hers and biting it gently. It tore a groan from his throat, a low noise that only made her hungrier for him. Why on Earth didn't we do this sooner? She couldn't help but wonder, especially when his hand gripped her hip.

The answer was simple: she hadn't been ready yet.

But now she was more than ready. She had jumped in head first and wasn't planning on coming up for air anytime soon.