Trigger warning for sexual assault in this chapter. It starts when Henry rolls to half lay on Mary and ends when she tells him to get out. There's also a slight element of homophobia.

Mary kept her eyes shut as she heard the bedroom door open and Henry come into the room. He walked over to the bed and stood by his side of it for a moment. She didn't move a muscle, just lay on her side with her back to him, then she heard him pad into the smaller room they'd fashioned into a dressing area for him. She opened her eyes as she heard him click on the light and saw the darkness of the bedroom lift slightly. She had hoped she'd be asleep by the time he rolled upstairs to bed, but apparently, that wasn't to be.

After ten minutes or so of Mary trying her best to nod off before he came to bed, the light in the dressing room went out and Henry returned in his pyjamas, lifting the covers and climbing in beside her.

All was silent for a couple of minutes before he spoke. 'I know you're not asleep.'

Mary gave a small sigh. 'No. Sleep is proving elusive.'

'Lucy was worried about you. She sends her apologies for upsetting you.'

'That's kind of her.'

'What exactly did she say to upset you so much?'

Mary blew out a breath, rolling onto her back. 'She wanted to know about Sybil, about what she was like. And then, after that, we were talking about Matthew.'

Henry was quiet for a minute before speaking again. 'I understand why she'd ask about Sybil, with her being Tom's wife, but why was she asking about Matthew?'

'She didn't exactly ask about Matthew. She was saying how she knew I'd helped Tom cope after losing Sybil and I said he'd done the same for me after Matthew. Then she was talking about how awful it must have been to lose them both so close together and suddenly I was back there, feeling how I felt then.'

'It can't have been quite like you felt then, surely? I mean, they've both been gone long enough for you to be used to it by now, haven't they?' Henry said, scepticism tinging his voice.

Mary felt anger rising inside her at the insensitivity of his comment. 'You've never lost a spouse or a sibling, Henry, so I don't think you're in a position to judge how it feels even years after the event.'

'I'm just saying it seems a bit extreme. Lucy said you practically ran out of there.'

'If you must know, I had a panic attack,' Mary said crossly, annoyed by his criticism.

He turned his head to look at her in the dim light, genuine surprise on his face. 'A panic attack?'

'Yes, a full-on, scared-the-life-out-of-me panic attack. It came out of nowhere as I was sitting with her discussing my late husband and sister. I thought I was having a heart attack, that's why I "practically ran" out of the room,' Mary said, shuddering as she remembered the horrific sensation of feeling like her body was turning on her.

'Right. Was that what had happened when I found you on the stairs with Tom? Had he helped you through it?'

'No, it was before that. Tom knows nothing about it. Barrow helped me. He was rather marvellous, actually.'

'Really? I hope you didn't tell him that. Barrow doesn't need any more reasons to stick his nose in the air and lord it over us all.'

'Don't be unkind, Henry. Barrow is many things, but he did me a genuine service tonight and I will not hear you belittle him for it.'

'It seems yet another butler at Downton is in thrall to you, darling,' Henry said, trying to lighten the mood with a little joke. 'You certainly have a way with them. They can't resist you, whether they are as old as Methuselah or as queer as a nine-bob note.'

'Don't be silly. He would have done the same for anyone in the state I was in, I'm sure,' Mary said, unimpressed with Henry's attempt at levity. 'And that is quite an unnecessary thing to say.'

'Well, you'll be glad to hear Barrow wasn't the only one who had your back this evening. Tom was quite cross with Lucy for upsetting you, you know, even though you told him not to be. To give him his due, he tried not to show it, but he failed quite miserably. She looked absolutely devastated by his reaction to it all, the poor thing.'

Mary carefully weighed up her response to that before speaking. 'I think maybe my distress brought up some raw memories for him too.'

'Oh, Mary, even if it did, that's not the reason he took umbrage. You know you can always rely on Saint Tom to come riding to your defence. One glimpse of your tear-stained face and he's ready to slay any dragon, even if that dragon happens to be his rather attractive, new lady love.'

'You're being awfully unfair to Tom. It was the most terrible couple of years for both of us,' Mary retorted, feeling anger building within her. 'I don't think you appreciate quite how deep and painful those scars are. And, to be frank, how could you when you haven't endured it?'

'I know what loss is, Mary, and how it feels,' Henry said, his voice hardening. 'I've lost friends and family members. And I lost a number of men under me in the war, so don't patronise me.'

'I'm not patronising you. I'm simply saying you don't know what it feels like to lose your soulmate as Tom and I do.'

Henry stiffened at that. 'Ah, here we go, that old chestnut. Your soulmate. So, I'm still competing with Matthew Crawley's ghost, am I? And losing by the sound of it.'

Mary glared at him. 'It's not a competition, Henry.'

'No? It certainly feels like it. If there were a league for men – dead or alive – competing for your affections, Matthew would be top of it, closely followed by your knight in shining armour, Sir Tom. I'm not even sure I would rank above Carson or perhaps even Barrow after tonight.'

'You're being ridiculous, Henry.'

'Am I? I don't think I am. Poor, dead Matthew is your King Arthur, slain too early and slipping into legendary status. Tom is the Lancelot to your Guinevere, both of you tragically widowed so young, left to heroically and nobly bear your losses. Carson and Barrow are Percy and Gawain, lesser knights at the Round Table, but still ready to fall on their swords for their beautiful, damaged queen. And what am I in this story? Probably nothing more than the stable cat, only useful for killing mice and keeping the sheets of your bed warm.'

Mary stared at him, open-mouthed at his analogy. 'Goodness, Henry, that is quite some flight of fancy. You have outdone yourself. I never appreciated how positively literary you are before now.'

'And I don't think you appreciate quite how galling it is to discover your wife clasped tight in the arms of another man,' Henry snapped. 'Anyone could have seen you.'

'Ah, so that's what's got your back up, is it? That you found me and Tom in an embrace.'

'You were folded in his arms, Mary! Pressed up against him! It was not an embrace you would give anyone in polite society.'

'We weren't in society! There was no-one else there!' Mary exclaimed, barely hanging onto her temper even though she knew she couldn't claim the embrace she'd shared with Tom was innocent.

'I saw you. Anyone else could have come out of the drawing room or the dining room at any time and seen you and your blatant display of impropriety.'

'But as you said earlier, almost everyone at dinner tonight was part of the extended family. They all know how close Tom and I are, so they would not have thought anything of it beyond the fact that he was comforting me,' Mary pointed out.

'A soothing pat on the back would have done the trick, I'm sure,' Henry retorted in a clipped, annoyed voice.

'Ah, let's cut to the heart of this matter then, shall we? Your pride is injured because Tom hugged me when I was upset. Is it the hug that is the problem or the fact that someone could have seen him do it?' she enquired icily.

'If you want an honest answer, I don't like him touching you. You are my wife. There is no need for any other man to put his hands on you.'

Mary narrowed her eyes at him, fury lancing through her. 'Goodness, I'd better warn Papa not to greet me with a hand on my arm or a kiss to my cheek anymore.'

'Don't be so ridiculous. That is entirely different, and you know it,' Henry snapped.

'No, you're being ridiculous. I am not your property, Henry. I will do as I please and if I want to hug my brother-in-law, I will,' Mary snapped back.

Henry glared at her then rolled over, pressing himself up against her, lying half on top of her.

Mary pushed at his shoulder. 'Get off me!'

'Maybe you want him to do more than hug you. Maybe you want him to do this to you,' Henry said, pulling her nightdress up and shoving his hand between her legs.

'Stop it!' Mary cried, clamping her thighs shut.

'Or this,' Henry continued, palming her breast and sucking a vicious bruise on the delicate skin of her neck.

Mary tried to wriggle away from him, pushing at him even as he climbed further on top of her, wedging himself between her legs, forcing her thighs apart.

'Or maybe even this,' Henry panted, pulling himself out of his pyjama bottoms and trying to enter her.

Mary cracked him across the face, the harsh sound of the slap echoing around the room, shocking them both.

'Get off me!' she shouted, giving him an almighty shove.

Unbalanced, he fell back onto his side, and she scrambled out of bed, quick as a flash, adrenaline racing through her.

'Get out!' she hissed.

'I will not! This is my bedroom too. I will not be dismissed from it like a servant,' he shot back, furiously.

Mary stared at him, shaking with shock and anger. She snatched up her robe from the chaise longue at the end of the bed, flinging it on and shoving her feet into her slippers. 'Then I will go. I will not stay here with you.'

Henry sighed in annoyance. 'Don't be so melodramatic, Mary. Get back into bed. I will be gentler with you, I promise.'

'If you think I'm going to let you anywhere near me, you are very much mistaken. You are not going to touch me again.'

'Oh, come on, you know you enjoy it when things get a little heated and spicy between us.'

'Go to hell, Henry!' Mary snarled, stalking over to the bedroom door and wrenching it open.

'Get back here, Mary! I forbid you to leave this room!' Henry shouted from the bed, hauling himself upright.

'You forbid me?' she hissed, standing in the doorway, absolutely furious. 'You forbid me? I think you forget who you are speaking to.'

'I am speaking to my wife, and I demand you come back in here and return to bed.'

'You can bluster and demand all you want, Henry. I will not share a bed with you tonight,' Mary said, her fury solidifying into a hard lump inside her chest.

'I'm warning you, Mary, get back here now.'

'And I'm telling you, Henry, go to hell,' Mary spat at him. She turned on her heel and walked out, slamming the door behind her.