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'There's another letter for you, Tom,' Robert said, sifting through the morning post at the breakfast table two weeks after the ball. 'And if I'm not very much mistaken, it's the same handwriting as it's been almost every morning for the last few weeks.'

'Thank you,' Tom said, taking the letter and slipping it into his pocket, not rising to the bait.

Mary eyed him circumspectly over the table. She'd noticed the regular stream of letters soon after they started arriving and she found it quite irritating that someone was rather rudely bombarding Tom with correspondence.

'Who's writing to you so regularly these days?' she queried, setting her coffee cup down.

'A friend,' Tom replied noncommittally, buttering his toast.

'I believe our Tom might have an admirer,' Robert said jovially, sliding an amused glance at his son-in-law.

'Do you?' Mary asked Tom directly, almost certain she knew who it was and not liking her suspicions in the slightest.

'I'd rather not discuss it,' Tom said, his face a closed book.

'Why not?' Mary challenged immediately. Because that was another thing that was getting under her skin. Why was Tom so secretive about these letters? He never even mentioned them, let alone let slip what kind of letters they were. It was all highly annoying and rather unsettling.

'Because it's my personal correspondence. Do you like to discuss your private affairs at the breakfast table, Mary?'

'Oh, it's a private affair, is it?' Mary needled, trying to provoke an admission from him. 'That sounds rather like it is from an admirer.'

Tom regarded her calmly across the table, but Mary could swear she saw a spark of annoyance flare in his eyes. 'Why does it matter to you who is writing to me?'

'I'm sure it doesn't,' Mary said, airily, feigning indifference. 'I just thought we didn't have secrets in this family anymore after the Marigold incident.'

'Oh, come, Mary, we all have secrets,' Henry joked from his seat next to her. 'Including you. You can't blame Tom for wanting to keep the identity of his correspondent secret if he wishes.'

'I do not have secrets,' Mary said, casting an affronted glance at her husband.

'Yes, you do. Not least how you manage to get more and more beautiful with every passing day.'

Mary rolled her eyes as her papa laughed.

'My word, Henry. Have you been reading Cora's romance novels?' Robert asked through his chuckles. 'That was worthy of one of those, indeed.'

'I just speak the truth as I see it, Robert,' Henry said, with a grin.

Mary ignored him, keeping her eyes thoughtfully on Tom as he focused on his breakfast and the morning paper, taking no further part in the conversation around the table.

'Oh, look, a letter for Tom. What a surprise!' Robert joked the next morning, passing the envelope over. Once again, Tom pocketed it, with just a word of thanks to his father-in-law.

'Is that from your admirer again?' Mary enquired as sweetly as she could manage.

Tom waited a beat, regarding her steadily before answering her. 'It's from a friend.'

'Really, Tom, you should tell your 'friend' it simply doesn't do to be so obviously keen,' Mary said, viciously slicing the top off her boiled egg. 'It's beginning to positively reek of desperation.'

Tom put his knife and fork down and gave her a look she hadn't seen from him in years, possibly not since he returned to Downton in the early months of his marriage to Sybil. 'Why are you so interested in my correspondence, Mary?'

'I'm not,' she bluffed, trying to convey indifference.

'No? That's not the impression you give.'

Mary felt her irritation spike. 'Well, are you going to tell us who's writing to you?'

'No, I'm not.'

'Why not?'

'Because it's my business and my business alone.'

Robert looked back and forth between them, slightly perplexed at the atmosphere that had suddenly descended on the breakfast table. 'Mary, I thi-'

'Is it Miss Smith?' Mary interrupted her father, holding Tom's gaze.

'Miss Smith?' her papa asked. 'Who is Miss Smith?'

'Cousin Maud's social-climbing maid,' Mary informed him disdainfully, not taking her eyes off Tom.

'Mary!' Henry exclaimed, shocked by her behaviour. 'That's uncalled for.'

Tom narrowed his eyes at her, his jaw tightening with anger. 'She's not a social climber.'

'Yes, she is.'

'And is that what you think of me too?'

Mary blinked, taken aback by that. 'No, of course, I don't.'

'But I was a servant too. Elevated by marriage to be part of this family. Unless, of course, that's not how you think of me. Perhaps you think I should know my place too.'

'No, I don't think that at all, Tom! You know I don't,' Mary said, flustered by the unexpected direction the conversation had taken.

'I thought I did, but perhaps I was wrong.' He put his napkin down and pushed his chair back. 'If you'll excuse me, Robert, Henry, I have some business to attend to this morning.'

There was silence at the table as Tom left the room. Mary looked down at her egg, her appetite gone.

'What on earth was that all about?' her father asked, sternly.

'I was just curious about these never-ending letters and why Tom is so secretive about them,' Mary attempted to explain.

'Well, as he so rightly pointed out, they are his business and his business alone. That was badly done, Mary, badly done indeed. I suggest you apologise to Tom the next time you see him,' Robert said, shaking his head at his daughter's poor behaviour. He rose to his feet, giving her one last parting shot before he too left the room. 'I hope you will have remembered your manners by dinner this evening. I do not want to see a repeat of this.'

Mary clenched her jaw, feeling humiliated to be ticked off so by her father at her age. She turned her head to look at her husband sitting silently next to her.

'I suppose you think I behaved badly too,' she said, peevishly.

Henry met her gaze. 'I do, actually. Tom has made it perfectly clear that he doesn't want to discuss his correspondence, but you waded on in there anyway. Why does it matter so much to you if he has an admirer? Don't you want him to be happy?'

'Of course, I do! It doesn't matter to me per se if he has an admirer. I only worry that it might be Miss Smith because I do not trust her motives.'

'Why? Do you even know Miss Smith?'

'No, I only know that Cousin Maud is settling her estate on her instead of Papa.'

'A fact that your papa has quite come to terms with. And you had barely heard of Cousin Maud before she came here with the King and Queen, so I hardly think you can claim to have her best interests at heart.'

'I couldn't care less about Cousin Maud and her blasted affairs,' Mary said, hotly. 'It's Tom's best interests I have at heart, and I don't believe Miss Smith is in his best interests.'

'Why not?'

'What if she's using him?'

Henry frowned at her. 'Using him for what? From what I can gather, she will inherit a large estate and a substantial fortune. Her wealth and social status will far outstrip Tom's when that happens. So, how is she using him?'

'For his… for his connections and his… his… I don't know! I just think she's taking advantage of his good nature,' Mary said, frustrated that no-one else could see Miss Smith for the crafty, conniving troublemaker she so obviously was.

'If she is, I don't think he minds, otherwise he wouldn't be writing back to her,' Henry said, reasonably.

'You think he's writing back to her?' Mary asked, a hollow feeling in her chest.

'Well, I assume he is. Tom's been getting those letters for several weeks now and I doubt very much she would continue with her endless stream of correspondence if she's not receiving any reply from him.' Henry studied his wife carefully, wondering why she hadn't come to the same conclusion about Tom and Miss Smith as he had. 'Has it occurred to you that perhaps they are simply attracted to each other and that's as complicated as her motives get?'

'Hmmph,' Mary said, both unwilling to give ground and feeling decidedly nauseated by that thought.

'Mary, you must allow Tom his privacy. He doesn't owe any of us any explanation. If he and Miss Smith are enjoying a love affair by letter, that is their business. To be honest, good for him. He's been alone for long enough. And I agree with your father, you should apologise to Tom when you see him. I think you hurt him this morning and he didn't deserve that.'

'So, you're cross with me too,' Mary said, sulkily. 'I need only upset George now to have the full set of the men in this family being angry with me.'

'I'm not angry with you. I just think you were unnecessarily unkind to poor Tom this morning. But I know you, my darling, and I know you will apologise for causing him offence. Not least because you can't bear it when Tom is upset with you. Anyone else and you may be stubborn about it, but not Tom.'

'That's not true!' Mary protested.

'Oh, I think we both know that's a lie,' Henry said, smiling affectionately at her. He placed his napkin on the table and leaned over to press a kiss to her brow. 'And now I must leave you, although please don't construe this as me storming out on you in displeasure too. I simply have places I need to be this morning. Have a pleasant day, my love. I will see you this evening.'

Mary didn't reply as Henry left, dropping another kiss on the top of her head as he went. Instead, she sat there in silence, staring at her uneaten breakfast, her mind going over everything that had happened that morning, discontent and unease with the whole affair gnawing at her.