A/N: Thank you all for the lovely reviews!

From Yorkshire to New York

Chapter Six

Mary didn't wake up until long after the sun had risen, light streaming in through the parted curtains and bathing them both in a golden light. The feeling of fingers threading through and playing with her hair caused her eyes to open.

Tom stared back at her, a contemplative look on his face. "Good morning. Did I wake you?" His hand began withdrawing.

Mary shook her head. "It feels nice," she said, looking away from his face to study the top button of his pajamas. She relaxed as his hands returned to her hair again, letting out a contented sigh.

The night before had been full of revelations and tears from the both of them. After informing Tom that no, his eyes weren't deceiving him, he had broken down, apologizing profusely. She had been horrified by his reaction, ill-equipped to dealing with people crying even at the best of times, but seeing Tom in such a state had her all out of sorts. She hadn't seen him this upset since Sybil died.

"No wonder you hate me," he lamented after having lowered himself to edge of her bed, mostly composed now. "I've gone and ruined your life."

The walls Mary had built up on the shaky foundation began crumbing. Seeing him like this was too much for her to bear. Besides— why bother with the presence now? Her secret was found out; there was nothing more to protect from. "Don't flatter yourself— you've hardly ruined my life. You've just made things a little inconvenient, that's all." And then, peering at him through her eyelashes, she added, "And you're wrong. I could never despise you."

He glanced up. "You've done a good impression of it."

"I have, haven't I?" She agreed, sitting beside him. She stared down at her lap. "I didn't want to burden you. I was upset, yes, but I wanted to drive you away. Then you wouldn't feel obligated to— obligated to—"

"To what?"

"Marry me."

"Why would it be a burden? To marry you?"

She glanced up. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not always the easiest to get along with." It was said with enough glibness that he managed a soft chuckle, in spite of his obvious distress. "And— and you've made things clear. About where we stand." Nervous and unable to look at him, "And we still don't need to. I can carry on with my plan. I won't keep you away from the baby now that you know, though we may need to be careful, if we don't want to arouse suspicion."

"What plan?"

So she told him. He sat, silent and impassive, only speaking once she was through. "I'm so sorry, Mary. I never should have left." Before she could say anything, he said, "I wish to God I never had."

"What about what you said? About... about caring too much?"

"Since when has loving someone been a bad thing?" She was rendered silent, taken aback. The sincerity in his eyes caused her heart rate to increase.

"What?" Mary was startled when she realized that she had finally spoken.

"I love you," Tom told her. Mary stared at him yet. Was this real? It didn't seem that way... She prepared herself to wake up any moment from whatever dream she was having but that moment never came. "I know I've had a bloody odd way of showing it, but..." He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. "Do you remember how it was? At the start?"

Mary didn't have to strain her memory back, for it was those times she relived most, when she allowed herself to. Despite the secrecy, despite the illicitness of it all, it had been the happiest Mary had felt since Matthew's death. She remembered how conflicted she felt, how he would whisper, "We can't," in between kisses, before pressing her up against a wall, how her mind tried to remind her of all the reasons they shouldn't be doing this even when it felt so right. So she nodded in response.

Tom averted his gaze to his knees. "It's safe to say I wasn't... I wasn't seeing things for what they were. I thought that... Well, I hadn't been able to even think of another woman in that way since Sybil and I knew you were missing Matthew... and I managed to convince myself that we were lonely and trying to fill that void."

Mary's brow furrowed. It hadn't felt that way to her, even when she was sitting there trying to tell herself that what they were doing was wrong. She had been concerned about the propriety of things and how it looked, more concerned by that then examining precisely why they had been drawn to one another. It hadn't been hard for her to acknowledge that in addition to being a decent man with whom she had easily befriended, he was good looking as well.

"But I was wrong. And I was scared when I couldn't stop thinking about you, even when we were apart," confessed Tom, words running together. "There was so much at Downton to remind me of Sybil that I started to feel guilty. It felt like I was trying to replace her with her sister and I felt like I had to get away. But all of the fighting with you did nothing to change how I felt. And when I saw you flirting and dancing with that Talbot fellow and I couldn't hardly stand it," Tom continued on, sounding agonized. "It was wrong of me, for so many reasons, but that night I wanted you so badly, so I ignored that voice in my head that told me not to take things further. When I woke up in the morning I was more terrified than ever, because I realized I still wanted you." He shook his head before saying, "I really thought that by going away, I could get rid of my feelings... but I had only been in Ireland a month or so before I realized they'd only grown stronger and that I missed you more that I ever thought I could. So I sent that letter and I asked you if you wanted me to come back. If there was a point to me even returning."

"And then I ripped it up," Mary said, inwardly chastising herself for being so thoughtless and foolish. No doubt a number of problems could have been averted had she simply overcome her pride long enough to hear him out.

"I thought you might do something like that," Tom told her, sounding utterly defeated. "That's why I told Anna to read it, too. In case you did want to hear me out eventually... but when there was nothing, I figured I had ruined everything, so we left for Boston."

"I told her not to tell me," explained Mary quietly. "I was quite angry."

"As you should have been," said Tom miserably. He shook his head. "I don't blame you at all, Mary. I deserve it all and more. I only decided come here because Edith said you missed me and I thought maybe I stood a chance to fix it. I knew I had made a mess of things, but I didn't realize to what degree. I understand why you would want nothing to do with me."

Mary studied him carefully, noting just how despaired he looked. She would deny that she wasn't still hurt, a modicum of residual anger still lurking inside her, but what hurt more in that moment was seeing him so upset. Had this happened earlier in the day, Mary would have cursed herself for being weak. But now, all Mary could think about was his confession: I love you. She thought of their child growing inside her. She thought of how all she had wanted was this... and how senseless it would be, to deprive all three of them happiness when it was easily within her grasp.

"But I do want you," Mary told him, deciding it was best to be honest. "I always did. I was convinced you didn't want me."

Tom faced her again, wearing a regretful, sad expression. "I do," he whispered, as if he couldn't speak any louder. "You have no idea how much. It took me leaving the country and learning a few hard lessons to realize it but I love you, Mary. I'm sure you wouldn't believe it, given the way I've treated you, but I do."

Mary met his eyes. It still sounded unbelievable to her ears, considering how many months of arguing and absence had seemed to prove otherwise, but the truth was in his eyes. "I do believe you." She maneuvered herself so that she laying down, thoroughly exhausted. She patted the empty space beside her.

Tom gave her a confused look. "What about your maid?"

"She won't come until I ring for her. And... and I should very much like to spend the night in your arms." She felt a blush rising to her cheeks as she said it, unused to such a candor... especially with him, when there had been so many secrets between them.

Thankfully, however, her words seemed to have done the trick. Tom laid down beside her, their eyes meeting as an understanding passed between them. There was still so much to talk about, so much to discuss, things were nowhere near settled... but for right now, they needed sleep and comfort. Mary turned out the lamp, plunging to room into darkness, and curled up next to him.

Now, in the light of day, things seemed brighter— literally and metaphorically. "This is nice," murmured Tom, voice soft.

Mary hummed, shifting closer to him. "Much nicer than the backseat of a car, isn't it?" She teased.

Apparently it was too soon to make jokes. Tom's face darkened, hand reaching out to touch her stomach. "I'm sorry." His voice was hoarse— from sleep or because he was choked up, Mary couldn't tell. "I've been such a cad."

Mary's hand slid over his. "I won't have you speaking ill of yourself," she said seriously. "We'll get nowhere if you just insult yourself."

Tom nodded, Adam's apple bobbing. "I'll do my best. I promise." Even so, he let out a sigh and said, "I just can't help but regret it."

"I don't." Tom drew away to look at her better. "I wish it could have happened under better circumstances... but I'm not sorry it happened." Not now, at least. A few days ago, she might have been more inclined to agree with him. As things were now, she was content and hopeful.

Tom smiled— it didn't quite reach his eyes, but she was pleased to see it nonetheless. "Maybe regret isn't the best word to use," he amended. "But I wish... I wish it had been somewhere a little more respectable. I could have at least taken you to a proper bed."

Mary couldn't help but smile, even though it seemed a little naïve to think they could have found a bed for some rendezvous without being caught. "I'm afraid not many would view us as respectable, no matter where we were," she said. It was sad fact, but unfortunately quite true. In the world they lived in, no one was going to be enthusiastic about a woman engaging in a torrid love affair her widowed brother-in-law, especially not when it resulted in a child.

"Maybe not," agreed Tom, sounding sad.

"So," she began, shifting the topic, "what happens now?"

Tom only thought about it for a second or two. "Well... I think that we should marry. As soon as we possibly can." Mary's eyes widened, though she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised after their conversation last night. "We should send for George as well... but we can do that before the wedding. I'd like him to be there. And then we'll live here until the baby is born. With everyone in England, we can tell them the baby was born premature and we'll go home once he or she is big enough so they won't suspect otherwise."

Mary stared at him in amazement. It was a genius idea... "That's quite brilliant. I think it might be even better than the plan I concocted." He was watching her carefully, eager, and Mary realized she hadn't technically given him a response yet. "But I won't say yes unless you get down on one knee."

Tom let out a bark of laughter, evidently surprised. Mary merely grinned as he scrambled out of the bed. The sheets got tangled up in his legs as he hurried out and Mary crawled so she was facing him. She found his earnest expression waiting for her. "Will you marry me?"

Mary beamed. "Yes," she whispered.

A laugh escaped him as they smiled at one another, giddy with excitement. Their hands sought out one another and Tom, who was still kneeling on the floor, then asked nervously, "May I kiss you?"

"Hmm. I don't know. I'm not sure how proper it would be," Mary said with an arched eyebrow, though it was impossible to stop herself from smirking.

Tom looked at her in confusion before realizing she was teasing him. "I'd say we've already crossed that line," he said before leaning in to capture her lips with his.

Mary let her eyes fall closed, relishing in the sensation. It was hard to believe two months had passed since she had enjoyed this particular pleasure... how had she survived it? It was akin to bliss, being able to touch him and kiss him again, just as she had secretly longed to all those months ago.

When they parted, they were both smiling and a little out of breath. Hands still on either side of his face, she allowed herself for the first time to admire him unashamedly. Her fiancé...

But the thrill was replaced quickly by something else. "This is not going to be easy."

"No," said Tom, quickly coming to same realization. "It's not." He reached up, taking one of her hands away from his face.

"I forgive you," she said quietly, gazing down at their intertwined hands, "but things aren't settled yet."

Tom nodded. "I don't know if I deserve it. Your forgiveness."

"Have I earned yours?" When Tom glanced up with a look of confusion, Mary elaborated, "I was planning on never telling you about your child."

Tom shook his head, bringing her hand to his lips. "I left you and moved away to another country. You had no idea if you would ever see me again. I don't blame you." She was surprised by his words. She had at least expected a modicum of resentment, some residual tension. She wasn't so sure she could forgive so easily in his position. "If anything, I'm in awe that you were willing to go through such lengths."

Mary simply smiled. "I'm glad I don't have to now." She thought about voicing those fears that had plagued her just last night before deciding against it. It would do neither of them any good to dwell on what might have been. Instead, she leaned forward and kissed him yet again, deciding to embrace what was.