Mary surged upright, gasping for breath, her heart threatening to beat right out of her body, the dream vivid in her mind. She put her hand to her chest, trying to focus on taking deep, slow breaths to calm herself down.

She closed her eyes only to see the terrible image from her dream branded behind her eyelids, tormenting her. Tom with blood all over him, his hands scrabbling ineffectually at the hole in his chest from which the blood was pouring. He looked up at her and tried to speak, blood gurgling out of his mouth, corrupting her name as he called to her. He reached his hand out towards her but, try as she might, she couldn't get close enough to touch him let alone help him. No matter how fast she ran, she couldn't close the gap between them, and she was forced to watch as he keeled over, lying still on the ground, blood pumping ever slower from his chest wound until it stopped altogether and he lay there, eyes open, all the life drained out of him. And all the time, she could hear herself screaming his name, over and over and over.

Mary shuddered, trying to shake the nightmare from her mind. She lay back down, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, still trying to get her breathing under control. She wanted nothing more than to slip out of her room, cross to the Bachelor's Corridor and check that Tom was there, alive and breathing and very definitely not bleeding to death. It was foolish, she knew, but she desperately needed that reassurance.

She lay there for a while, resolutely trying to think of anything else, anything from estate business to George's newly wobbly tooth to Henry's itinerary in America, but nothing shifted the image of Tom's sightless staring eyes and his bloody body lying on the ground from her mind. Finally, she gave up and switched on the lamp next to her bed. The clock beside her read 4.17 am. It was early, too early even for any of the servants to be up and about, but there was no way she was getting any more sleep tonight until she put her mind at rest.

Thanking her lucky stars Henry was away and not there to witness her foolishness, Mary slipped out of bed and donned her robe and slippers, heading out into the corridor as silently as she could. She paused to listen, but the old house was quiet, everyone else apparently sleeping peacefully, their slumber mercifully undisturbed by visions of violent death. Treading as lightly as she could, avoiding as many creaky floorboards as possible, she made her way across the dark house to Tom's room.

She stopped outside his door, feeling ridiculous once more. It was just a dream, an awful nightmare, her logical mind told her, but the image lingered, horrifyingly, terrifyingly real. She didn't need to wake him, she reasoned. All she needed was a quick peek at him to reassure herself he was alive and well.

Mary took hold of the handle of Tom's bedroom door and twisted it, holding her breath and hoping the hinges didn't creak. The door glided silently open, and she stepped into his room. It wasn't completely dark, early dawn light beginning to seep around the edge of the curtains. She could see the bed and the shape of Tom lying in it.

Cautiously, she edged closer to stand beside his bed. She gazed down at him in the darkness, watching and listening intently. She could hear him breathing steadily, could just about make out the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and she let out a sigh of relief.

Suddenly Tom's eyes blinked open and he was staring right at her.

'Jesus Christ!' he exclaimed, scrambling up in bed, his hand clutching his chest.

Mary jumped back, embarrassment flooding through her. 'Sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean to wake you or startle you.'

'Mary?' Tom asked in confusion.

'Yes, it's only me' she said, wondering quite how she was going to explain this away without sounding like a complete lunatic.

'What… what are you doing here?' Tom asked, completely disconcerted.

'I… I… it's stupid, really. I had a dream and I… well, I just needed to check you were alive.'

'What?' he said, even more bewildered by her answer.

'I'm sorry. I'll go,' Mary said, turning to leave, her embarrassment ratcheting up to acute.

Tom pitched forward and grabbed hold of her wrist. 'No, wait. Wait.'

Mary stopped, mortified at the scene she was causing, even though there was nobody there to witness it but him.

'Sit. Talk to me,' Tom said, tugging on her wrist, pulling her down onto the edge of his bed then reaching over to turn on his lamp, making them both blink. 'Tell me about your dream. It must have been quite unsettling for you to come and make sure I'm alive in the middle of the night.'

'It was ghastly,' Mary said, quietly but with feeling, focusing her attention on a pulled thread on his bedspread instead of looking at him. 'You… you had a gunshot wound in your chest and there was blood everywhere. You were calling for me and I couldn't… I didn't get to you in time, and you... you died right in front of me.'

Tom was silent for a moment, then leaned forward to put his hand over hers where she was plucking at the thread. 'That sounds horrible.'

'It was,' Mary nodded. To her absolute horror, she felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes. She blinked furiously, desperate not to compound her humiliation by blubbing in front of him over a mere dream.

'This is about today. About the scare I gave you. I'm so sorry, Mary,' Tom said, regretfully.

'Don't be silly. You didn't do it on purpose. It's obviously just lodged in my subconscious. It just… I woke up and it gave me such a fright. I had such a sense of terror and desolation and foreboding. And I had this overpowering urge to make sure you were all right. Which is ridiculous beyond belief, I know, because it wasn't real, it was a dream, but I couldn't sleep again. Not without checking.'

'Oh, Mary,' he said, softly.

'I know I'm being foolish, Tom.'

'It's just because you care, and I love you for that.'

'I just… I just needed to see you breathing,' she said softly, risking a glance at him. 'To make sure you weren't dead.'

He smiled at her and picked up the hand he was holding. He placed it flat on his chest over his heart, laying his own hand on top of hers.

'There. Can you feel that?'

Mary concentrated and she fancied she could feel the steady beat of his heart thumping a little under her palm, probably from the shock she'd given him appearing next to his bed while he slept. She nodded, feeling comforted even though she could already see that he was perfectly well and in the land of the living.

'I'm grand. I'm absolutely grand,' he said, gently. 'Hale and hearty.'

Mary nodded again.

'Although I don't mind telling you, you scared me witless when I woke up and saw you standing there,' he added with a small, teasing smile.

'I'm sorry,' she muttered, her embarrassment creeping back in.

'No, don't apologise. I understand why you're here. It's just… for a split second, I thought you were Sybil.'

Mary shot him a surprised look. 'Sybil?'

'Yes. I woke up and saw a dark-haired woman in a white nightdress standing beside my bed and I thought it was Sybil.'

'Oh, Tom, I am so sorry,' Mary whispered, feeling dreadful for stirring up memories of her sister for him.

'No, no, it's all right. It's all right, Mary. It just gave me a bit of a turn, that's all.'

'A fright followed by bitter disappointment,' Mary said ruefully, feeling like a fool. 'I hope I haven't made it impossible for you to go back to sleep too.'

Tom looked at her carefully. 'I wouldn't say I was disappointed that it was you and not Sybil. After all, Sybil's not here anymore, so if I had seen her standing by my bed, I think I would have had serious concerns about my mental state. Better to see a living, breathing woman than the ghost of my late wife, I think.'

Mary stared at him, unsure how to respond to that. She dropped her gaze to where her hand still lay on his chest and pulled it back, folding it on her lap. 'Well, I'd better go back to my room before any of the servants begin their day and we run the risk of becoming the subject of unfounded idle gossip.'

Tom nodded. 'Yes, that's probably wise. Are you all right now?'

'Yes. Thank you for being so understanding of my foolishness.'

'That's quite all right. You're not foolish at all. I hate to think of you being so distressed.'

Mary hesitated, still sitting on his bed despite announcing she was leaving. She looked over at him again, the dream still playing on her mind. 'Promise me you won't die on me, Tom. Not for many, many years.'

His face softened as he gazed back at her. 'I will do my very best not to, I promise.'

Mary nodded then leaned forward on impulse to kiss him on the cheek. 'Make sure you try your hardest.'

He smiled. 'I will.'

'Goodnight, Tom.'

'Goodnight, Mary. I hope you have pleasant dreams from now on.'

Mary nodded again and rose to her feet, leaving his room and closing the door behind her. She stood there for a minute, seeing the light wink out under the door, then turned to head back to her own room feeling comforted and yet strangely unsettled at the same time.