That morning Tom had woken from a surprisingly restful sleep. He washed his face and dressed automatically. He wanted to think over the events of the previous night, but for some reason he couldn't allow himself to dwell upon it. He had jumped the gun in proposing to Mary, he knew that, but had he been completely wrong about her feelings? That seemed very unlikely. Her sending away Henry Talbot had been a pretty clear sign.

He walked towards the dining room still undecided over the events of the previous night. What was said last night could never be unsaid. Yet he didn't regret it. Still making up his mind about the entire situation he was stunned to find Mary sitting at the breakfast table, looking much more agitated and uncomfortable than he ever was.

Mary looked as though she hadn't slept in ten years. She was anxious, fidgety, and his guess was that she had only come downstairs for breakfast to simply have something to do. For a brief moment he felt sorry for her. In a way, he had it easier than she did. He had admitted his feelings. She wasn't ready to do that yet. He had told her last night that he could be patient, so patient he would be.

He walked into the room determined to be as cheerful as possible. He greeted everyone at the table and even inquired about Mary's sleep. She had never looked more uncomfortable in her life. Although she didn't know it, Tom actually found her actions encouraging.

He widened his smile and started to talk to everyone about their plans for the day. Bertie looked oblivious, Edith curious, Robert thoughtful…

And Mary… well, Mary looked truly upset. Despite her trying to hide it by snapping at Edith and acting disinterested towards him, she was facing some grave inner-turmoil. Almost as soon as he had sat down she had made some excuse to leave the room. He hadn't been mistaken: she clearly loved him. She was every bit as much in love as he was. She just really, REALLY didn't want to be.

He knew it was wrong of him, but he couldn't help but smile a little at her predicament.

Rather than follow Mary to the office, he decided to give her some space to sort things out, and instead went to the nursery and see his daughter. After all, they had important things to discuss. He was pleased to find Sybbie already up. Nanny was dressing George and Marigold was still asleep.

"Da!" Sybbie exclaimed happily when she saw him. His face lit up. He knew that the Crawleys would prefer a less Irish term, but he never discouraged his daughter from using that form of endearment.

"Hello, my love," he scooped her into his arms and kissed her.

"The children have not yet had their breakfast," Nanny informed him, clearly irritated that he had upset her momentum.

"I'm sorry, Nanny," Tom said, "but I would like to spend the morning with Miss Sybbie, starting right now. Is that alright with you, Miss Sybbie?" he asked his daughter.

She grinned and gave him a kiss in response. Tom squeezed his daughter before acknowledging Nanny. "I'm afraid you'll just have to forgive us," he said, whisking his daughter away.

He carried her down the gallery and she was clearly surprised and excited. "Where are we going, Da?"

"I thought we might take a trip into Rippen today for breakfast, would you like that?"

"Oh yes!" she giggled in excitement and held her hand to her mouth in a way that always reminded Tom of Sybil.

"Good." He carried her down the stairs and ordered the car. He drove himself and Sybbie into the village and stopped at one of the finest restaurants. She looked very excited. He knew he was spoiling her, but he couldn't help himself this morning. "So, Miss Sybbie, what would you like for breakfast more than anything in the world?" he said, carrying his daughter into the restaurant.

"I want…" she thought for a moment, "strawberries and cream!"

"Strawberries and cream it shall be!" he announced.

It didn't take long for her meal to arrive, and he watched in amusement as his beautiful little girl gobbled up the fruit happily. "Sybbie, there is something serious that I do want to discuss with you," he began cautiously.

She paid him very little attention as she drowned her berries in more cream.

"Darling, please listen to me for a moment."

"Yes, Da?" she looked up at him with fleeting interest.

"I want to talk to you about having a mother," he said it very quietly and very seriously so as to hold her attention. It didn't work.

"Mummy's in heaven," she answered automatically, spooning more fruit into her mouth.

Tom took a breath. "Yes, darling, she is. I meant, how would you feel about having a new mother? Not a replacement, never that, but someone else to help look after you?"

"Why?" she kept spooning the cream into her mouth.

Tom smiled a little to himself. "Sybbie, if I found someone who would love you as much as I do, wouldn't you want her to be your Mummy?"

"I s'pose," she said, only slightly interested.

"Darling," he tried again, "If I found a new Mummy for you… perhaps even a little brother…" Tom looked at her seriously, and yet the little girl seemed only slightly interested. He started to feel disheartened, when she suddenly spoke again.

"You mean after you marry Aunt Mary," she said matter-of-factly without even looking up.