A/N: Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! Someone brought up a good point, which is that Mary is consciously avoiding drinking in this story even though during the canon era, women did not avoid alcohol whilst pregnant, as it wasn't discovered until later that it could have harmful effects.

From Yorkshire to New York

Chapter Five

Mary's assurances did nothing to shake Tom off. He continued to exploit Grandmama's hospitality and contributed nothing but being a continual thorn in Mary's side.

"He cannot stay here," she insisted to Grandmama just before dinner on Tom's second evening in New York.

"Why not? He's your friend, isn't he?" Grandmama straightened her necklace. "And any rate, I don't think he should go. You finally seem more yourself with him here."

"So you think my natural state is being miserable?" countered Mary, aghast by what her grandmother was insinuating.

Grandmama shook her head. "You finally seem alive again." She gave Mary a smile. "Since he's been here, you're not busy hiding yourself away."

Mary sighed. "Even if what you are saying is true, he can't stay. It won't be too long now before I start properly showing." When she wore her nightgown at night, her condition was obvious. It was the only time Mary didn't bother covering it up.

Grandmama froze. She turned around slowly. "You mean he doesn't know?"

Mary shook her head. "I can't have any of them knowing. I only told Edith because I knew she would help and she knew what to do."

"Mary, truly you don't believe that young man would judge you? He clearly has missed you and wants to spend as much time with you as he possibly can!"

Mary said nothing, looking down at the duvet. "It's too big a risk," she finally said. He would know what no else ever would be able to know.

Grandmama sighed. "Very well. I'll tell him he can stay with us the rest of the week and unless you change your mind, I'll make sure he's gone."

"Thank you."

On the third day of Tom's intrusion, Mary cursed when her maid, Miss Klein, reminded her she had a appointment with Dr. Rosenthal. "That's right. I completely forgot." With all the excitement surrounding Tom and Sybbie, it had slipped her mind. "Thank you, Klein."

"It's no problem, milady," she said, with only the slightest German accent. Mary didn't know much about the woman, both due to her own lack of inquiries and because Klein was rather shy. Still, she was invaluable to Mary in the sense that she remembered things when Mary forgot and concealed her secret.

"You're awfully dressed up," remarked Tom, meeting her at the bottom of the stairwell, hands folded behind his back and wearing a grin. Then, as if correcting himself, he added, "You look nice."

Mary knew she shouldn't respond, but it didn't stop her from tersely saying, "I'm going out."

"Where to? I'll drive you."

"That's not necessary."

"I know. But I'd like to."

"Really? I didn't know we were all supposed to cater your whims!" She said sarcastically, plastering a fake smile on her face. "Have you even bothered to ask Grandmama to use her car?"

"I have, as a matter of fact," Tom said, smiling. "I need to use it for some personal business. She's given her chauffeur the day off. So unless you want to walk or catch a cab..."

She stared at him, astonished and bewildered at his gall. "Fine," she spat, rolling her eyes and brushing past him.

It was dangerous but Mary nevertheless climbed into the backseat, rattling off the address to him. There were several offices in the building and it was unlikely he would figure out exactly which doctor she was going to see, if he even bothered paying attention to where she was going.

The one bright spot to the whole affair was Sybbie. She sat in the backseat with Mary, asking her all sorts of questions about Downton. Mary answered them as best as she could, doing her best to ignore the indulgent smiles Tom kept gracing her with when the traffic stopped.

"What time should I pick you up?" Tom asked. Before Mary could decline, Tom said, "I was planning on taking Sybbie around the city. I figured you would know more about it than me."

Damn him for invoking the name of her niece. "I don't know. Meet me here in an hour or so," said Mary casually.

"Sounds good to me," Tom told her with a smile before driving off. Mary sighed as the vehicle pulled away. Why had she agreed to it? She was flirting with danger... Each time she let him too close, she was inviting the possibility of everything blowing up in her face most spectacularly and her own feelings would be further injured in the process. Mary stared after the car, cursing her own sentimentality, then turned to go inside.

Dr. Rosenthal wasn't Dr. Ryder but he was a professional all the same. He assured her all was as it should be. "You've a healthy baby, Mrs. Crawley," he informed her, eyes crinkling behind his golden rimmed glasses.

Mary beamed, relieved. In some ways, she had tried desperately not to think of her baby, but right now she couldn't pretend she wasn't incredibly pleased and proud. "That's just what every mother wants to hear," she said with a smile.

It took ten minutes or so before Tom and Sybbie showed up again but when they did, her niece made her excitement known. "Sorry," Tom apologized, opening the door up for her. "I tried to hurry. The traffic in this city is hell."

Mary didn't dignify him with a response. If it was just the two of them, she might have been all biting sarcasm but it wasn't right to argue in front of Sybbie. Instead, she focused on her niece. As much as she was counting down the days until Tom would be gone and she wouldn't need to fret any longer, she wasn't looking forward to saying goodbye to Sybbie. Would she ever see her again?

"Do you mind if we go sightseeing?" asked Tom from the front. "I promised Sybbie we'd go exploring but I'm afraid I don't know the city that well... and I figured you might be a good tour guide, since you've been here awhile."

"I haven't exactly done much exploring myself," she replied, shoulders pushed back. "So I'll be a poor tour guide..." She was ready to decline, but remembered it was for Sybbie. "But I'm not busy this afternoon, so I suppose I can come along."

In the end, they spent most of their day in Central Park. Sybbie chased after ducks and they walked along the paths. As she ran ahead of them, Mary realized it was going to be increasingly difficult to ignore Tom entirely. She tried to keep her gaze trained ahead on her darling niece, but felt his eyes watching her.

"Let's stop here," Tom said as they approached a large fountain. There was an empty bench nearby, which he sat on. She was going to remain standing to maintain some distance until Tom said, "Have a seat, Mary. I promise I won't bite."

Mary gritted her teeth but sat by him nevertheless, not in the mood for an argument... well, at least not with Sybbie present. She didn't want the little girl's last memories of her tinged with unpleasantness... and truth be told, her feet were killing her.

"Can I make a wish in the fountain, Daddy?" asked Sybbie, running up to him.

Tom smiled indulgently, reaching into his pockets. "Alright," he agreed, managing to produce a penny. He ruffled her hair, causing her to laugh. As she scampered off, he stared after her, smiling. Something inside Mary softened. Imagination running away with her, she wondered what it would be like, having him watch after the child inside her with that same look... before remembering such a thing was impossible.

"How has everyone at Downton been?"

Mary shrugged. "The same as usual... but you keep in regular contact with them, so you should be well aware."

Tom sighed. "Mary... You've every right to be upset with me—"

"You're damn right I do," she interrupted without hesitation.

"—and you can be angry with me as long as you like... but I'm here now so that I can say I'm sorry. And... and because if Edith's letters are to be believed, you've missed me as much as I missed you."

"So not at all?"

"She overheard you telling George you missed me, so I know that can't be true," Tom shot back, almost smugly.

Flustered, Mary felt her cheeks growing pink. "Well, I had to tell him that, didn't I?"

"She told me there's a reason you're here... and she didn't want you to be on your own." She felt his eyes trained on her. "She didn't tell me why, but I know it must be something dire." Mary refused to look at him until he said softly, "I want to help you, Mary. I'll do whatever I can."

"You've done more than enough," she said venomously, thinking of how it was his fault she was in the predicament she was in.

But it wasn't quite true, was it? Because she had been just as willing to cast aside all the rules in favor of fulfilling her desires. She had been just as enthusiastic as he, if not more, in their brief affair. She had wanted him to stay, hoped he would change his mind, especially after their night together...

She had been foolish to think that. She should have known he would leave her. They always did. Even Matthew, who was supposed to be hers forever, had left her behind.

Realizing her words pointed to the truth of the matter, Mary added, "And I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I don't need you."

"I know that," said Tom, leaning forward on the bench. "You've always been strong. I just— Well, whatever it is, I don't want you to feel you have to take it on alone." After a pause, he admitted, "I'm worried about you."

Worried about her? "You didn't care about me a couple of months ago," she said, tone acidic, though she could hardly believe it had only been a few months... it had felt like so much longer...

"You're wrong." Those two words caused her to look straight at him for the first time they say down. Tom was serious, eyes locked with hers. "I cared too much. That's why I had to leave."

Cared. Past tense. Mary hadn't realized it was possible for the pain to increase anymore. Unable to sit here and pretend all was well, she rose to her feet. "We ought to be going. It's time I get home."

Mary ate in her room that night, picking at her meal. She hadn't wanted to admit it to herself, but a part of her had been stupidly hanging onto some fantasy where Tom would proclaim that he had been wrong, that he never should have left Downton, that he wanted to be with her... but having that dream shattered in the park opened up a wound that had never had the chance to heal.

Klein collected her tray of mostly uneaten food and helped her dress for bed. Mary stared down at her protruding stomach once her nightgown was on. "Thank you, Klein," she said, examining herself in the mirror.

Once she was alone with her thoughts, Mary immediately felt the regret sink in fully... not necessarily for the consequences she might face, but the ones her baby certainly would. This baby wouldn't grow up with the same opportunities as George, nor would she ever be able to acknowledge it as her own. For his or her whole life, things would be markedly different. No one would understand how much she loved this child. She would have to tread a fine line, playing the game much like Edith. Neither the baby nor George could know the truth, until they were older, if Mary ever chose to do so... though perhaps it would prove simpler if she pretended it was some poor little orphan she had taken pity on one day.

Mary sighed. Knowing her luck, this baby would emerge from her womb a boy who looked like Tom in every way, just like George resembled Matthew. There would be nothing to distinguish her the mother and everyone would know... but at least she could try. She wasn't about to abandon her child.

There was a knock at the door. Klein must have forgotten something... "Come in," she called out.

The door opened and Mary saw his reflection in the mirror. She turned around quickly without a second thought, panicked. "Wait—"

"Mary, I—" The words died in Tom's throat, gaze fixed on her rounded stomach.