A/N: Thank you for all your lovely reviews! There will be a brief, two-day break, as I will be very busy this weekend, but then the fourteenth chapter will be up Monday!
From York to New York
Chapter Thirteen
Upon returning to Grandmama's following their excursion, Tom and Mary had been met by Mama, who apologized for her not speaking up earlier and said, yes, both her and Papa planned to attend the wedding. She was by no means enthusiastic, speaking in a measured tone with an imploring gaze, as if to silently ask them how this had all come about. Neither of them offered her an explanation, simply politely thanking her and then exchanging dubious glances once she finally walked up the stairs.
Later, after Mary had gone up to her room for rest and take care of a few things, Mama came in to talk with her. "What are you doing?"
"Writing a letter to Granny," answered Mary. Tom had mentioned something about her on the cab ride back to Grandmama's and Mary felt guilty for not having shared the news with her yet. She deserved to know; Granny would never admit to it, but Mary knew she would be hurt if she were to learn about hers and Tom's marriage secondhand.
"That's probably for the best. She'll want to hear it from you... and she'll probably be sad to miss it," Mama said with a sigh, sitting on the edge of Mary's bed.
Mary held her tongue, uncertain of how to respond. Mama hadn't exactly spoken out about any opposition to hers and Tom's marriage but she didn't seem terribly enthusiastic, either. It was hard to gauge her thoughts, but she readied herself for any tactless remarks. She simply turned back to her letter until Mama wearily asked, "Mary, are you sure about all this?"
"Quite sure," she answered with no hesitation, shoulders back and fiercely defensive.
"How did this even start? When he was at Downton, the two of you were fighting like cats and dogs! Now you're going to be married in a few days time, it just doesn't make sense!"
Mary waited until she was certain Mama was finished before delivering her answer. "Don't you see? That was precisely why we fought. Because he was leaving and I didn't want him to. And you know me— I don't like to fight fair."
"But why did he want to leave in the first place, if you were in love with each other?" asked Mama.
Mary chose her words carefully. The early beginnings of hers and Tom's relationship, she felt, were best kept private— for a number of reasons, the most important being that it was their story and it was no one else's business. "Because I saw something between us and he didn't want to," she decided, feeling it was the most eloquent response. "He was scared and frightened but I wasn't."
Mama stared at her, seeming somewhat surprised, before sighing. "Well, I can't pretend I'm not shocked... and hurt," she added reproachfully. "Were you really going to marry without telling us first?"
Mary tensed. "Can you blame us? After the way Papa reacted earlier?" When Mama said nothing, Mary said, "We felt it might be best to ask for forgiveness instead of permission... not that we would have asked permission, since we don't need it."
"No," Mama said, managing a smile this time, "that's not really your strong suit... for either of you." Mary smiled as well.
"I am happy, you know. He makes me happy. And I mean to make him happy."
Mama nodded slowly. "It will take some getting used to... but if you're sure, I won't put up any more fuss or question it. All I want is for you to be happy... for both of you to be happy."
Mary smiled, feeling the prickling of tears from behind her eyes. She had to blink quickly to keep them in, which was made even harder when Mama rose to her feet to cross the room and give her a hug.
Papa, however, had remained terse and closed off the past few days. He found excuses to leave the house, either to catch up with old acquaintances or accompany Mama various places, but apparently still planning to at least attend the wedding. Mary rather preferred his silence to his outright, unadulterated anger, but she couldn't deny that it hurt. Nevertheless, there was enough in the way of wedding preparations to keep her and Tom busy until the big day.
At breakfast the morning before the wedding, Tom announced he was going to be checking into a hotel for the night. "But why?" Mary asked, alarmed by this pronouncement. He hadn't said a word to her about this!
"You know as well as I do that the groom isn't supposed to see the bride before the big day," explained Tom, shooting her a smile. "This is a large house, but I don't think even we could avoid it."
"Oh, who cares about all that? It's a bunch of silly old superstitions," Grandmama waved him off, ignoring Mama's irritated, "Mother!"
"It's tradition," insisted Tom, eyes glancing over to her father, who had remained silent throughout the entire proceeding. In fact, he was carrying on as if nobody were speaking. Still, Mary understood Tom's motives better now. Perhaps Papa would be more amendable if things were done by the book. "And while I don't believe in all of them, I think this one ought to be followed, if for no other reason than that I would rather be safe than sorry."
"Of course you would," Edith said, deciding now to speak up, and the matter was put to bed.
"Why didn't you tell me about all this?" Mary implored just before he was about to leave mid afternoon.
"Because I knew if I gave you long enough, you'd persuade me to stay," Tom said. It was hard to tell if he was being serious or joking by the gleam in his eyes and the smile threatening to form.
Mary wouldn't refute that; she had become quite used to sharing a bed and all the things that came with it again and wasn't ready to give it up just yet. Unable to resist teasing back, she teased, "I do hope you aren't insinuating anything improper, Mr. Branson."
"I'm afraid I am," he replied, though he was grinning from ear to ear.
Mary was well aware that while they were standing in the empty foyer, anyone could burst in unannounced at any moment. Still, it didn't stop her from lowly murmuring, "Are you saying I seduced you?"
"I like to think we were of an equal mind... but yes, I do believe technically you were the one doing the seducing."
Mary smiled, admiring how natural it felt to banter with him like this. "If Granny could hear us now, she'd insist it was the other way around. According to her, high born young ladies are always the seduced, not the seducee."
"I'd rather your grandmother not hear us talking about this, to be honest," said Tom, which almost made Mary burst out into laughter until she saw the strangely solemn look on his face. She worried she had done or said something wrong until he said, "And... well, there's another reason."
"And what is that?"
"You know... I'm not that superstitious. Not about most things." He hesitated. "But I am a bit, when it comes to this." Before Mary could ask why, he said, "I saw Sybil the night before our wedding."
Mary frowned. "But how? She stayed at the hotel with Edith and I!" It had been a last hoorah for the Crawley sisters, the three of them staying at some grand hotel the night before her wedding. Anna was there as well, of course, to help them dress and prepare Sybil in the morning.
"I know. But I knew where you were staying, and I missed her." He was speaking lowly, as if lost in a faraway memory. "And I just wanted a glimpse of her. It was... well, I just stood outside, on the street, and looked up. I didn't even know if I was on the right side of the hotel. I didn't think there was any real chance but then... well, I saw her. And Edith. I don't know what she was doing but there she was up, in the window. It felt like fate..." He trailed off. "But now I wonder if it was really bad luck."
Mary thought of the kiss her and Matthew had exchanged the night before their wedding, how she peeked afterwards... and at once she understood his caution. "Of course you want to be sure," she murmured. "But I do hope you realize that I will miss you."
"I should hope so," Tom teased, mood lightening ever so slightly. They shared warm smiles with one another. "Maybe I'll call later, once I'm settled in. Then maybe it won't be so bad."
Mary rather doubted it but she wasn't about to refute him, not when he had spelled out his reasoning clearly. She didn't want to tempt him to stay. "That's a rather good idea."
"I've been known to have one or two of them." Then, time serious, he asked, "Will you please give Sybbie a kiss from me tonight? I won't be there to give her one when she does to bed—"
"Of course I shall," Mary promised. "But you must give it to me first."
Tom grinned, knowing what she was getting at. He kissed to the crown of her head. "That is for Sybbie," he explained. "And this—" He pressed a kiss to her lips, "— is for you."
Mary welcomed it gladly, then leaned forward for a another after he broke it. Her arms wound around his neck, one hand reaching up to his hair. It wasn't enough; it never would be enough. Tom responded with equal enthusiasm, but soon the need for oxygen became quite pressing to them both.
"Thank heavens we only have to wait one more day," said Mary breathlessly.
"It can't come soon enough," Tom agreed.
Only Edith and Anna were present to help Mary get ready in the morning; Mary had redirected Mama toward helping Sybbie, George, and Marigold prepare, the former two who she pointed out would be gone for some time... and given how serious things between Edith and Bertie were, Mary suspected it wouldn't be long before Downton had an empty nursery.
"I can see why you didn't want Mama here," remarked Edith when she saw Mary's bump. "It is quite noticeable like this."
"Oh, don't you start," Mary said wearily, knowing that her peace with Edith couldn't have lasted forever.
"No! I just mean— Well, that's my niece or nephew," Edith said hurriedly. She gave Mary a small, nervous smile. "It was strange. Last time I saw you, you weren't showing at all. It's rather nice."
Mary managed a smile of her own. Perhaps she had been a tad defensive. "It still takes me by surprise," she admitted. "I'm not used to this... and it's been some years since I was last pregnant."
From then on, things went much smoother between the sisters. They each made an effort to be kinder and more thoughtful with their words. As Mary met Edith's eyes in the mirror as they talked about home, she wondered if maybe this could stick. Perhaps things didn't always have to be so fraught between them.
"I wasn't sure, at first," said Edith as Anna started pinning up her hair. Before Mary inquire just what she was talking about, she elaborated, "About you and Tom."
"Oh," was all Mary was able to say. She didn't know how to feel about that; on the one hand, she appreciated the surprise her sister must have felt when she must have assumed Mary and Tom's relationship was nearly identical to her own with Tom... but it was hardly nice to hear someone expressing doubts about your relationship with the man you were about to marry.
"But... I do see it now. How much you care for one another." Her voice was somewhat hushed. "I suppose it was always there. I feel silly for not noticing it until now, how things were different for you."
"Yes," murmured Mary. "Maybe not always," she amended, thinking about their all-too-short first marriages, "but things have been this way for a long time." She had never been able to pinpoint when that change had taken place; sometime after the fog of grief had begun to clear but exactly when, she could not say.
"Well, I think you'll be happy together," said Edith. "And I know Matthew and Sybil would be pleased, knowing that you'll both be well looked after."
Her eyes began to fill with unexpected tears. Thinking about her sister and husband on today of all days made her uncharacteristically sentimental... and perhaps part of it was because it was Edith saying it. "Do you really?"
"I do," said Edith, giving her a small smile.
Mama entered thankfully after Mary was in her dress, mouth falling open but lighting up with a smile upon seeing her daughter. "Oh, you look beautiful!" She gushed as Mary smiled at her own reflection.
"You really do," agreed Edith quickly, as if she wanted to prolong the peace between them for longer.
"Thank you," Mary said honestly to them both, admiring her appearance. This would be one of the last times she would look at herself in the mirror and see Mary Crawley staring back at her. From this day forward, she would be Mary Branson.
Everything seemed to move so fast after that. Soon Mary was climbing into the back of Grandmama's car with her mother, sister, and maid, all of whom were wearing bright smiles as the chauffeur pulled out and began driving towards the registry office. It was then that it really hit her: I'm getting married today.