I've taken dialogue from the show and weaved my own story around it.

'Mary, I have a confession,' Tom said, guiltily, crumpling the telegram he'd just received in his hand. 'The Dowager is coming to see you. Today.'

Mary frowned at him, puzzled. 'Granny? I thought she was in the South of France?'

'She was. I may have written to her after your… well, when you told Bertie about Marigold.'

Mary let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping. 'Oh, you didn't. So, she's coming to tick me off then.'

'That's not all. I may have also told her you were heartbroken over Henry.'

'What?!'

'Well, I wrote to her before you told me the truth. I didn't know then that you weren't at all heartbroken.'

'Oh, Tom. You are a prize idiot; do you know that?'

He gave her what he hoped was his most winning smile. 'Yes, but I'm your prize idiot.'

Mary bit back a smile. 'Still. I should be very cross with you, summoning Granny to put me in my place.'

'I'm sorry.'

A thought occurred to Mary and she turned a quizzical look on her prize idiot. 'How did you know where to find her? I didn't know where she was, and I know Papa didn't either.'

Tom looked even more guilty. 'Um, well, she wrote to me when she left, telling me where she'd be. She asked me to keep it to myself.'

'Did she indeed,' Mary said, thoughtfully, pondering what it meant that the only person her irascible grandmother had trusted to know her whereabouts was Tom.

Mary squared her shoulders and opened her bedroom door to see her grandmother sitting regally in the chair by the window.

'Granny. When did you arrive?'

'Yesterday evening. I spent the night before in Southampton and an entire day on trains, so I've come hotfoot.'

'If you're here to reprimand me about Edith, please don't. Tom's already torn me into strips.'

'Why did you do it?'

'I don't know! She was so…' Mary trailed off, pulling a face. 'Anyway, I'm sorry now.'

'You should be' the Dowager replied, her face a stern mask.

Mary felt a familiar frustration well up within her. 'With Edith, I just say things and then they can't be unsaid.'

'Tom believes you're unhappy, that's why you lash out as you do.'

'Look, if this is about Henry Talbot, you should be clear he hasn't much to offer. Bertie Hexham is a loss, but not Henry. He's well-born, but there's no money or position. He's not even a countryman, not really. He grew up in London.'

'He shoots.'

'Yes, he shoots. Like every social-climbing banker shoots.'

'Let's leave his credentials to one side for a moment and concentrate on what is important.'

'Which is?'

'Tom says that he's in love with you. And that you are in love with him.'

'Do you believe him?'

'Do you deny it?'

Mary rolled her eyes. 'Oh, for you of all people to talk as if his qualifications don't matter.'

'Tony Gillingham had all that I could wish. Birth, money, looks,' the Dowager observed, giving Mary a keen look. 'But he didn't suit you.'

'No,' said Mary, avoiding her grandmother's look.

'He wasn't clever enough. He wasn't strong enough. Henry Talbot is both.'

'All right, Granny, but Henry's not right for me either. If you talked to Tom now, he would tell you the same. He knows he was wrong about me being in love with Henry.'

The Dowager eyed her granddaughter thoughtfully. 'You are the only woman I know who likes to think herself cold and selfish and grand. Most of us spend our lives trying to hide it.'

Mary sighed. 'Oh, Granny, please don't lecture me on sentimental virtues.'

'Don't worry, don't worry. I believe in rules and traditions and playing our part. But there is something else.'

'And what is that, pray?'

'I believe in love. I mean, brilliant careers, rich lives are seldom led without just an element of love.'

Mary looked at her grandmother warily, wondering where this was going. The Dowager levered herself to her feet and crossed the floor to put her hands on Mary's shoulders, forcing her granddaughter to look her in the eye.

'You need love in your life. You need a man who will challenge you and stand up to you, but who will also love and respect you for who you are. But I think you already know that, don't you, Mary? And, unless I am very much mistaken, I believe you have already found him.'

Mary stared at the Dowager, her heart in her throat. 'Granny, I…'

'There is only one man with whom you do not pretend to be anyone other than yourself. And he is strong enough and clever enough to be a match for you. If you were to tell me he is your choice, I would not be disappointed.'

Mary blinked. 'You know, don't you?'

'I have had my suspicions for a while now, but I can neither confirm nor deny them until you tell me the truth.'

Mary nodded, making the decision to trust her grandmother with their secret. 'Tom. It's Tom.'

The Dowager nodded. 'And does he know how you feel?'

'He does now.'

'And does he return your feelings?'

'Yes.'

'Then it is as I thought.'

'And you're not upset or angry or ashamed of me?' Mary blurted out.

The Dowager looked at her wide-eyed in surprise. 'And why, pray, would I be any of those things?'

'Because he was Sybil's husband first and people might not forgive that. You don't condemn us for falling in love when we shouldn't have?'

'I have been reminded in recent months that love is not a given. It is a precious thing that should be cherished. Tom is a fine man. He has suffered through travails most of us do not have to contend with and he has done it with a grace and fortitude I would not have believed possible when he first joined this family.'

Mary smiled at her grandmother's description of the man she loved. 'I told him you have a soft spot for him.'

The Dowager favoured her with a small smile. 'I admit I admire his courage and resilience. He is a kind man and a sensible one. But the thing that endears him to me most of all is that he brings out the best version of you, my dear. And I could not wish for more than that.'

'Oh, Granny, you do surprise me,' Mary said through the sudden tears welling in her eyes.

'Oh, I am glad. So, climbing all those stairs wasn't wasted,' the Dowager chuckled, coaxing a small laugh from Mary.

'But what do you think Mama and Papa will say? Could they bear it if I were to step into Sybil's shoes?'

'Is that what you think you're doing?'

Mary shook her head. 'No, I believe Tom and I have made our peace with that. Sybil was the first great love of his life as Matthew was mine. We will be each other's second. But others may not agree with that.'

'It does not matter what others think, only how you think of it.'

'Oh, Granny, of course, it matters! Especially when it's Mama and Papa.'

'Well as you know, I have not been on speaking terms with Robert and Cora of late, but I do believe your mama had similar suspicions to mine, so you may find her more receptive than you might think. Your papa, on the other hand, has a terrible habit of often being completely incapable of seeing the nose on his face, so you may have your work cut out with him. However, he loves you and he is tremendously fond of Tom.'

'But you support us.'

'You have my blessing. But I will only say this: first, make peace with your sister.'

Mary nodded.

'And then allow yourself to be happy with your second great love.'

Mary nodded again, tears shining in her eyes at her grandmother's unexpected reaction to her romance with Tom.

'Oh, Mary,' her grandmother said, folding her into her arms.