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

From Yorkshire to New York

Chapter Ten

Several hours passed by. The sky began darkening and the tray with her dinner on it sat mostly uneaten until Anna came to collect it, looking down at it with a sad look on her face before leaving. Mary was rolled onto her side as she had been for the past hour or so, staring blankly at the wallpaper and feeling empty. One hand rested on her stomach.

Of course, she knew that all that needed to be done was carry on with the plan— the original plan. But now, now that she seen what her life could be like, what could have happened, it made her dreadfully blue. She would have to live a life of pretense, looking past Tom and pretending they hadn't once agreed to marry, act as if the child she claimed was adopted from an orphanage wasn't really theirs...

That was enough to set her off. In a way, it felt good. She had been bottling things up for hours, even as she was consumed by grief. But at the same time, she felt horribly embarrassed, even though no one was there to judge her. This wasn't like her, to burst into tears at the drop of a hat, especially not twice in a day, especially not over a man...

She was so absorbed in her own thoughts and feelings, that she didn't hear the soft knock on the door. After a few moments, there was another quiet knock, but when it went unanswered again, the door opened slowly. That was when Mary sat up in the bed.

"Mary? Mary, are you—" Tom's voice was a whisper, trailing off once he saw her. At once his face fell. "Oh, my love, what is the matter?"

Mary did her best to wipe away her tears with the back of her hand, trying to gather up the words to tell him to go away, but Tom was already crawling onto her bed and cradling her face in his hands. "Nothing."

"It's not nothing," insisted Tom, eyes staring into hers. "Tell me. Please." His thumb wiped away a few more tears that had since fallen, these ones mainly due to her own embarrassment.

Mary shook her head again. She could do this. She could be strong. "Tom, you don't need to worry about this. Any of it. I understand if you've changed your mind... and I can do it by myself, just like I planned. You don't have to worry about me."

"What are you talking about?"

Mary blinked, trying to quell her tears. "Like I said, I understand if things have changed for you." When Tom continued giving her that confused look, she burst out, "We didn't plan on this, Tom! We didn't plan on my whole family showing up or for Edith to scream at us... and you've barely even looked at me today, let alone spoken to me... and then you were telling Mama about how you want to go back to Downton and how glad you are that we're friends again..." She found she couldn't continue on.

"Oh, Mary," Tom murmured before leaving forward and kissing her forehead, then her temple, and then down to her cheekbone. "Oh, darling, I'm so sorry... nothing has changed me. I'm sorry I let you think that."

She wanted to believe him: not only because it was what she desperately wanted to be true, but because he looked so sincere. He must have seen the uncertainty in her eyes because he started to explain things.

"The reason I was keeping you arm's length away is because I didn't want them to assume anything before we had a chance to talk about what we would tell them. I wanted to talk to you first... but I know we've become quite comfortable with one another and I knew it would be hard to make things look platonic when I've become so used to grabbing your hand and sitting so close."

Come to think of it, he was right. They had been a little more... familiar with one another recently. Nothing inappropriate between an engaged couple (at least not when they were sitting with Grandmama in the parlor; she had a feeling quite a few people would object vehemently to her sneaking into his room), but something that would raise eyebrows if witnessed between a brother and sister-in-law.

"And if I looked at you, I knew I wouldn't be able to stop looking," continued Tom. "I wouldn't be able to tear my eyes away from you... and I felt like they would see how I feel about you. That was part of why I left Downton. It was so hard to hide my feelings for you and I thought one day I'd be caught out. Everyone would be able to see just how much I wanted you. I didn't want them to somehow know before we even had a chance to tell them properly. That's why I came up here. So that we could talk about how we want to tell them. I didn't know how upset I was making you." Tom looked guilty before adding, "And all that talk about Downton was for the future. After the baby is born. I didn't know Cora would think I meant right now."

All of this made sense... but there was still one thing left. "And what about us being friends?" Mary asked, wishing she could sound more composed, but her voice was still rather watery.

"Well, aren't we?" Tom's hands had moved down gradually, now holding hers. "Because I still consider you my best friend. And you'll still be my best friend once you're my wife."

Mary couldn't say anything, simply relieved and feeling a little foolish for making such a fuss. Tom must have interpreted that reticence as further uncertainty, for his hand reached up to hold her face again, their eyes locked together. He let out a shaky sigh. "I've made a mess of this. I knew I had. But..." He took in a deep breath. "I want to make this clear to you; I love you, Mary. It took me far too long to figure it out but I do. And nothing will ever make me stop loving you."

A choked sob clawed its way out of her throat but this time it was one of relief. He loved her... he really did love her. Her eyes fell shut as he kissed her forehead and soon her arms were wrapping around him.

Mary wasn't quite sure how it happened, but she managed to find herself in a supine position, practically pulling Tom down so they could exchange long, languid kisses. It was no more daring than some of the moments they had shared in his room earlier in the week, but somehow it felt more significant. He loved her, he truly loved her...

"Stay with me tonight," Mary requested, breaking their lips apart for so could implore him.

"But the family's here... and your maid..." Uncertain as his words were, his eyes were still on her mouth, and he wasn't showing any signs of hesitance.

"Anna's taken over," explained Mary, pecking the corner of his mouth once, "and she knows everything, so there no need to worry." Unable to bear being parted from him for so long, she kissed him yet again.

Tom groaned against her mouth before managing to pry himself away long enough to gasp, "I'll stay, then," before ravaging her lips yet again. "I sleep better when I'm with you, anyway," he added a few kisses later, a warm feeling spreading throughout her chest.

It took some time before they finally could stand to no longer be connected to one another in some way, but it ended when Tom finally decided he ought to at least take off his shoes. "While you're up, lock the door," Mary told him before pressing a kiss to his neck, delighting in how it made him shiver. "The last thing we need is for someone to burst in— I've had enough people barge in here."

Tom looked guilty yet endearing. "Sorry," he said, kissing her check before sitting up on the edge of her bed, toeing off his shoes.

"Not you," said Mary, grinning. "I was talking about Mama. I rather like it when you decide to pop in."

However, the atmosphere wasn't the same when Tom slipped under the covers with her, although no less loving. "I'm sorry I was in such a state earlier," Mary apologized, snuggling up against his chest. "I don't know what came over me. I made such a mountain out of a molehill."

"I don't blame you. If I had thought what you did, I'd have shed plenty of tears myself," Tom reassured her, tugging her even closer to him. He was half sitting up as Mary laid down on him, arm wrapped around her shoulders and fingers playing with her hair. He seemed to have a fascination with it.

"But you don't understand. I hardly ever cry. I don't think I even cried once when you left... though there were plenty of times I wanted to," she admitted, not wanting him to be under the impression that she hadn't missed him something fierce.

"I know. You keep everything bottled it. You're an English lady through and through," Tom said, teasingly but someone admiringly. "Though... I think I might have a idea as to why you're so weepy." Before she could ask, his hand left her hair and slid down to her stomach. "It might be the little one."

Realization hit Mary. "Yes... yes, you may be right." Of course... it made perfect sense. Mary felt slightly better about herself now.

Tom let out a huff of laughter. "I remember when Sy—" He stopped himself abruptly, whole body tensing beneath her.

Mary frowned, sitting up to meet his eye. He was trying to pretend as if nothing was wrong, as if he hadn't said anything, but Mary knew better. A part of her panicked, thinking about those early fears he voiced to her, but she reminded herself that he was here, that he loved and wanted to marry her. If she had enough room in her heart for Matthew and him, then he certainly had enough room for her and Sybil. "You can talk about her to me. I don't mind." Then, she added, "And I hope you don't mind if I mention Matthew from time to time."

"Of course I don't," Tom answered almost immediately. "It's only that... Well, I worried it might be a little..."

Mary waited. When he said nothing, she prompted, "A little what?"

"A little awkward."

Mary shook her head. "I loved her too, Tom. She was an enormous part of our lives. You don't need to worry about me when it comes to her." Tom smiled, easing up. "Now what was it you were going to say? I want to know."

"I was only going to say that Sybil was a little more... ah, emotional when she was pregnant. I remember once she got sidetracked and burnt our toast and she just burst into tears over it."

Mary smiled, recalling Sybil telling her about the incident in one of her letters, bemoaning how much she disliked being pregnant and trying to warn Mary of its dangers. She had even once written: I know everyone will be trying to urge you to start a family straight away but trust me when I tell you that it's utterly miserable. I'll be happy when I'm back to a normal size with a baby.

"Perhaps it's a genetic thing. I once cried because I accidentally took off one of Matthew's buttons."

Tom raised his eyebrows. "Do I want to hear this story?"

Realizing how it had sounded, Mary let out a huff and lightly smacked his chest. He chuckled in response. "I was helpinghim dress, actually," she said, giving him a mock stern look. "Molesley was ill and I was trying to play valet."

"I'll take the opportunity now to say that I've never needed a valet, nor will I ever need one— if only to save my nice shirts."

Mary scowled at him. "I'll have you know it wasn't my fault. It was loose already and I accidentally tugged it off. I felt absolutely dreadful about it."

Tom simply laughed. "Well," he said, eyes narrowing slightly, "I think I would prefer it if you helped me out of my clothes instead of in."

Under normal circumstances, Mary might have continued to tease him... but it was the first time he had mentioned such a thing. This far, they had yet to have a repeat of their night in the garage and Mary had been steadily growing frustrated. She figured he might want to wait until their wedding night and perhaps he did, but it couldn't hurt to ask... "You mean... like this?" She tilted her head to the side, all innocence as her hand went to undo the buttons at his shirt.

Tom's breath hitched. "You mean... right now? With everyone here?"

"The door's locked," she reminded him, hand sliding down his chest. "Unless you don't want to?"

"Oh, I do," promised Tom, "believe me, I do."

"That's what I like to hear," Mary said, a slow smile spreading across her lips before she leaned in to kiss him.