'Daaaaaadddddddyyyyyyyyy!'

Mary watched in amusement from the doorway as the small, brown-haired ball of excitement that was her niece hurtled towards Tom's bed, scrambling up to pounce on him.

'Oooooof!' he wheezed as his daughter landed squarely on his midriff. 'Good morning, Sybbie. Happy Christmas!'

'He's been, Daddy! Father Christmas has been!' Sybbie started pulling at her father's blankets. 'Come on! Get up! Aunt Mary said I had to get you before I could see what's in my stocking!'

'Well, we can't have your father missing out on all the excitement, can we, darling?' Mary said as Tom sat up, scooping Sybbie into a hug and kissing her cheek.

Sybbie pulled away impatiently, clambering off the bed. 'There's no time for kissing, Daddy. Come on!'

'All right, all right, give me a chance!' he chuckled, throwing back the covers and swinging his legs out of bed.

George wriggled on Mary's hip. 'Down, Mama.'

'All right, darling,' Mary said, setting him gently on his feet. George ran straight towards his cousin, copying her impatient jig.

Tom grinned as he shrugged on his dressing gown and belted it, realising he was far too slow for his daughter's liking this Christmas morning. 'Why don't you set off, Sybbie, and we'll be right behind you.'

Sybbie didn't need telling twice. 'Come on, Georgie!' she cried, grabbing his hand and tugging him out of the room at top speed.

'Be careful!' Mary called after them. 'Not too fast! And tell Aunt Edith no opening anything before we get there!'

Tom appeared behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist to stop her following the children to the nursery quite yet. He pulled her back a step or two, out of sight of the corridor, leaning over her shoulder to kiss her softly on the lips. 'Happy Christmas, Mary.'

'Didn't you hear your daughter? There's no time for kissing.' Mary smiled affectionately at him, twisting her head around to press another swift kiss to his lips. 'Happy Christmas, Tom.'

He squeezed her tight against him before letting her go, so they could head for the nursery, a respectable distance between them, to watch their children open their Christmas stockings.

Downstairs, with the help of her doting grandmother, Sybbie took charge of dishing out the presents under the tree, trotting between family members with gaily wrapped packages.

'That's for you, Daddy. And that's for you, Aunt Edith. Donk, that's yours. Don't open it yet! Aunt Mary, put your teacup down, this one is for you. Georgie! Marigold! Look! We have piles and piles of presents!'

When she was finished and satisfied that everyone had a small stack of presents, Sybbie plonked herself down in the middle of the floor, eyes shining at the number of parcels in her pile. 'Can we start now?'

'Yes, darling,' Robert smiled indulgently at his eldest granddaughter, then swept his gaze around his family. 'Come on, everyone! Get stuck in!'

Tom looked down at the collection of gifts in his lap, realising not for the first time today that these people, his wife's family, were now his family too. It was quite a humbling feeling.

He picked up a slender package with Mary's neat writing on the label. Opening it up, he found a fine pair of silk-lined, leather gloves, buttery soft on the outside, warm on the inside. He looked up to find her watching him.

'I'm told it gets very cold in Boston in the winter. I don't want you getting frostbite the minute you get there,' she said with a soft smile.

He smiled back at her. 'They're beautiful. Thank you. I'll think of you every time I wear them.'

Tom caught a quick glint of sadness in her eyes before she covered it up with a stern, 'See that you do.'

He watched as she opened his gift, a beautiful silk scarf in emerald green. 'Oh, Tom, it's divine. Thank you.'

'I thought it would go well with your colouring.'

'Really, Tom, that sounds like something they say in the fashion pages of Edith's magazine,' Robert chuckled.

'I didn't realise you were such an avid reader of my magazine, Papa,' Edith said, dryly.

'Don't listen to him, Tom,' Cora chimed in with a gentle look of rebuke at her husband. 'You're completely right, it will look perfect on Mary. And the colour is gorgeous. The emerald green of Ireland to remind you of your Irish brother-in-law, darling.'

Mary looked over at him again, that glimmer of sadness lurking in her eyes. 'Yes, Mama, it will. Thank you, Tom.'

Later that night, Tom waited patiently in his room for her to come to him. Just after midnight, the door opened and Mary slid into the room, one hand tucked behind her back.

'Goodness, I thought Papa was never going to go to bed tonight.'

'I think he's enjoyed being able to drink again rather too much these last two days,' Tom grinned.

'I should say so. Mama will have a battle royal on her hands to get him to go back to a life of sobriety after the festive period.'

Tom twitched back the bedcovers next to him. 'Are you going to stand there all night or are you coming to bed?'

Mary smiled and made her way over to the bed to sit beside him, still hiding her hand behind her.

'What have you got there?'

'I have something else for you. Something I didn't want to give you in front of the rest of them.' She brought her hand around to set a small box down on his lap. 'Open it.'

Tom picked it up, untying the ribbon and flipping open the box to reveal a wristwatch with a fine, brown leather strap and a handsome ivory face.

Tom pulled the watch out of the box, examining it. 'Mary, it's lovely. Thank you.'

'There's an inscription on the back,' Mary said in a shy, most un-Mary like way.

Tom turned the watch over in his hand to read it.

For my anchor. Wherever you are. M.

He was silent for a moment, staring at the words, before turning to her, his eyes full of emotion. He lifted his hand to cup her face and draw her in for a sweet, soft kiss. 'Thank you, darlin'. It's perfect.'

'It's true. Even when you're far away.'

Tom kissed her again, soft and slow, then pulled back, turning to reach for something in his bedside cabinet. 'I have something for you too.'

He handed her a box, smaller than the one she'd given him. Mary looked down at it, surprised and touched. When she opened it, a silver brooch gleamed against blue velvet. She traced her finger over the pattern of the everlasting knot.

'It's beautiful, Tom,' she whispered. 'I've never seen anything like it.'

'It's a Celtic knot. To remind you of your Irish lover,' he said softly.

'Like I'd ever forget you.'

'Turn it over. There's something written on the back of it.'

Mary picked the brooch up, turning it over. She read the unfamiliar words aloud haltingly.

'Ní mar a síltear a bítear.'

'Ní mar a síltear a bítear,' Tom repeated, a sight more fluently. 'It's a Gaelic saying. It means 'things may not be as they seem to be'.'

'Like us,' Mary breathed.

'Like us.'

Mary put the brooch carefully back into the box and closed it before turning to pull his face into her hands and kiss him deeply. 'Thank you. I love it. I shall treasure it.'

'I have something else for you too,' he said, pulling another small box from his bedside cabinet.

'Another present?'

'Yes, but this one is more practical than sentimental.'

'Oh, I'm intrigued!' Mary shook the box next to her ear, hearing something jolting about inside it. 'What is it?'

'Open it and find out.'

Mary opened the box to find herself staring at a silver keyring attached to a longer silver bar.

Tom leaned over, resting his chin on her shoulder. 'There's an inscription on that too.'

Mary picked it up to look at the writing curling gracefully along the bar.

''What would Tom say?'' she read aloud.

'I thought you could put the office key on it. That way you'd always have to stop and think about what I would say in response to some of your schemes before you launch any madcap ideas,' Tom said, laughter tinging his voice.

Mary elbowed him in the side, fighting back a grin. 'Madcap ideas? I'll have you know my ideas have been very successful! Weren't the pigs my idea?'

'Oh, yes, I can't deny that. You are the pig queen of Downton,' Tom agreed, laughing as Mary gathered the various boxes scattering the bed, placing them carefully on the bedside cabinet before turning around to launch herself indignantly at him.