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The ball was in full flow, people everywhere, dancing, conversing, the biggest knots always centred on the King, the Queen or Princess Mary as the great and the good of Yorkshire made the most of the royal visit.

Mary stood at the edge of the ballroom, catching her breath and resting her aching feet as Henry went to procure a couple of glasses of champagne. Across the way, she saw Tom standing alone, watching the dancers. Just as she was about to move around the dance floor to talk to him, she saw him turn his head and move to speak to someone. Idly, she wondered if it was Edith, aware that Tom wasn't well acquainted with many people at the ball. But then the strangest thing happened. It appeared Tom was talking to a servant, a maid from her black dress. Mary narrowed her eyes, wondering why a maid was here in the ballroom where the only servants required were footmen. Carson would never have allowed a maid anywhere near a formal event unless the fate of the world depended on it, Mary was quite sure of that.

From where she was standing, she couldn't get a good look at the woman other than noting her uniform and her dark, bobbed hair. Dancing couples flashed in and out of her line of sight, blocking her view every few seconds, almost making her feel like she was watching Tom and the maid through a magic lantern. In one of the brief windows, she saw Tom take something from the maid. They spoke for a minute or so more and it almost looked to Mary, glimpsing snapshots between the dancing couples, as if Tom bowed to his companion, then the maid withdrew. Tom watched her go then turned, scanning the room. Mary wondered who he was looking for then she saw him walk up to the woman she now knew was Lady Bagshaw, the distant cousin her grandmother was feuding with, and pass her the item he'd taken from the maid, a handkerchief by the look of it.

How curious, she thought. She must remember to tell Edith about this peculiar occurrence after her words earlier about getting Tom an estate of his own by encouraging a connection with the infamous maid. It appeared that perhaps Tom was better acquainted with Lady Bagshaw and her unusual maid than Mary had supposed. And that was a revelation she found she didn't particularly welcome.

Walking through the grand reception rooms of Harewood House on her way back to the ballroom from a comfort break, something caught Mary's eye. A movement outside. She glanced towards the window then stopped. It looked like… it looked like someone was out there on the terrace, dancing.

Curious, she glanced up and down the rooms stretching in a long line along the back of the stately home then seeing nobody else around, she slipped quickly across to the large windows overlooking the gardens, the lake and the spectacular Yorkshire countryside beyond.

There! Peeking out of the window, Mary saw a couple waltzing on the terrace to the distant strains of the orchestra. A man in full evening attire and a woman in a plain black dress. She gasped as she recognised her brother-in-law. Her mind raced. Why was Tom dancing on the terrace? And who was he dancing with?

The cogs in her brain slowly clicked into place as she saw the black dress was actually a maid's uniform and she realised the woman must be Cousin Maud's infamous lady's maid, the one upon whom Maud was controversially settling her estate and fortune. This was the woman Tom had been talking to earlier in the evening and whom Edith had decided was a perfect match for their brother-in-law.

Mary squinted out of the window, trying to get a better look at this woman who had enticed Tom to dance with her outside at dusk during a royal ball, but the evening was drawing in and she couldn't see her features in any detail. Although she had met her briefly at Downton, she had found her instantly forgettable and could recall nothing about her. Now, in the fading light of the day, all she could tell was that she was dark-haired, about her own height and – in Mary's expert opinion – a shoddy dancer.

Quite honestly, she couldn't help but think what an odd couple they made; her brother-in-law, handsome and dashing in his formalwear, the maid dowdy and frumpy in his arms. Really, Tom was too kind for his own good sometimes.

'Ah, there you are!' Mary whirled around, startled by the sound of Henry's voice. Her husband looked at her curiously. 'What are you doing?'

'Nothing. I just thought I'd take a peek at the view fit for a princess,' Mary said hurriedly, for some reason not wanting Henry to know about Tom's twilight dance on the terrace.

'Ah, worth a look, is it?' Henry asked, taking a few steps into the room.

'No, well, yes, but the light has gone now, and you can't see it properly anymore,' Mary said, moving quickly towards her husband. 'Let's go and get a drink, shall we? I'm parched.'

With that, she guided Henry back to the ballroom, leaving Tom's secret on the terrace.

Mary glanced at Tom as he waited patiently beside her while Henry went to retrieve her stole for the journey back to Downton.

'Did you enjoy your dance?' she asked him, quietly.

His eyes widened slightly, a reaction she only caught because she was looking for it, otherwise his face remained neutral. 'My dance?'

'On the terrace.'

He didn't answer immediately, first glancing around them as if checking for eavesdroppers. 'You saw that?'

'Yes. Briefly. Who was the young lady you were with? She wasn't one of the guests,' Mary asked, trying to keep her tone casual.

'It was Miss Smith,' Tom said, reluctantly.

'Miss Smith?' Mary enquired, knowing full well who she was but curious to see how he would describe his dancing companion.

'Lady Bagshaw's maid,' he said, without further elaboration.

'Ah, the one that's been causing all the furore and making Granny apoplectic,' Mary observed, watching him closely.

'Yes,' Tom said, giving nothing away.

'Well, it seems you have a penchant for troublemakers, Tom. First Miss Bunting, now this Miss Smith.'

He narrowed his eyes at that. 'Miss Smith is not a troublemaker. She believes she's entitled to her good fortune and that Lady Bagshaw's decision is fair.'

'Well, of course, she does. Doesn't everyone who enjoys unexpected good fortune – especially to the extent Miss Smith will – believe they are entitled to it? It doesn't necessarily mean that is the case,' Mary scoffed, feeling somewhat annoyed at the presumptuous Miss Smith.

Tom frowned at her. 'You talk like she's some kind of charlatan who has conned Lady Bagshaw into favouring her.'

'And how do you know she's not?' Mary challenged, keeping her voice low.

'Because she's not like that. She's a lovely person.'

Mary raised her eyebrows. 'Is she? And how do you know that?'

'I've had several conversations with her while she's been at Downton.'

'Several conversations? My, my, how well you must know her,' Mary replied, sarcastically. 'It couldn't possibly be that you are leaping to her defence simply because you find her attractive, could it?'

'She doesn't need me to defend her because she has done nothing wrong,' Tom said, his tone hardening. 'Perhaps you don't believe that because you find it hard to imagine anyone of our type is entitled to good fortune when it finds them.'

'Our type?' Mary asked, raising a questioning eyebrow once again.

'Servants,' Tom said, succinctly.

'You're not a servant.'

'But I was. Or do you forget that now?'

Mary gazed at him, feeling this conversation was getting away from her. 'I don't think of you like that. You're just Tom now, my dear brother-in-law.'

'Well, perhaps if you were to give Miss Smith a chance instead of judging her with little to no information to hand, she may simply become Miss Smith to you and not Lady Bagshaw's grasping maid,' Tom said, his words striking at Mary.

She stared at him, feeling not a little put out by his chastisement. 'I doubt very much we shall see Miss Smith again after Lady Bagshaw leaves, so I don't think I'll get the opportunity.'

'You don't know what might happen in the future, Mary.'

Mary frowned, not liking the sound of that. 'What is that supposed to mean?'

'It means I hope you will be kind to Miss Smith if you see her again,' Tom said, stony-faced.

'Right, here you are, darling,' Henry said, returning at that moment with Mary's stole and wrapping it around his wife's shoulders before noticing the tension between her and Tom. He glanced uncertainly between them. 'Is something amiss? I feel like I've interrupted a quarrel.'

'No, no, nothing's amiss. Just a difference of opinion,' Tom said, breaking eye contact with Mary. 'I will see you in the car.'

Henry watched his friend walk off then turned to his wife. 'What was that all about?'

'Oh, something and nothing,' Mary said, aiming for nonchalance even as she kept her eyes on Tom until he disappeared out of the door. 'I expect I'm just overtired and said something a little too cutting. You know how Tom always thinks the best of everyone and everything.'

Henry chuckled. 'I do. I also know that you, my darling girl, are not afflicted with the same sunny disposition and generous nature as Tom.'

'Well, there you go then. Something and nothing as I said,' Mary replied, attempting to dismiss it all despite her lingering feeling of unease. 'Shall we take our leave then? I'm longing to get out of these dancing slippers.'