Mary

"Do you prefer this chain with this silver pendant or the usual pearl necklace?"

Mary briefly studied the two pieces of jewellery her maid was presenting to her. In this particular evening, she wanted to be irreproachably dressed. Indeed, the house was preparing to receive Lady Shackleton accompanied by her nephew Henry - at least, according to Tom.

"Let's try on the pendant" she finally decided.

Anna nodded through the reflection of the mirror on the varnished wooden chest of drawers and carefully put the chain around her neck as Mary was slipping her gloves on, thoughtful. The first and last contact she had shared with Henry took place months ago at Brancaster Castle. Since that time they had hardly communicated, and had not even exchanged the shadow of a letter.

"You are ready to go down, my Lady," the young woman said when she had finished fastening the clasp in her neck. "This chain suits you beautifully."

"Thank you Anna," said Mary, kindly smiling, returning to the present moment. "I hope my clothing is not excessively – Extravagant."

For the occasion, she had preferred her red dress adorned with lace, she had not worn for ages now.

"Don't worry, my Lady," Anna reassured her as she walked toward the wardrobe to put the other outfits away. "You are very fine as you are."

Mary could not help but smile at the courtesy of her maid again.

She gazed one last time in the mirror, adjusting a few details of her dress, then rose from her seat.

"Well, it is time to go down" she said.

"Enjoy your evening Lady Mary."

When Mary had Carson open the door for her and entered the library, she felt a great number of eyes on her, scrutinising her from top to bottom. She pretended not to have noticed anything, and walked with a proud air towards her parents, who were conversing in the middle of the room. When Cora, who had her back turned, saw her, a wide smile spread across her face.

"Mary!" she exclaimed, beaming, kissing her daughter on the cheek. "You are a beauty !"

"I hope so," she replied, with a falsely modest air. "Anna took hours to get me ready."

At the same time, Mary said good evening to Isobel and Granny, who were sitting on the sofa a few feet away from them, and who - as usual - were talking in a tumultuous tête-à-tête. Then she decided to join Edith, Rose and Atticus who were all in a corner of the room, but first went to a pedestal table to take a flute of champagne.

"Would Lady Mary have pulled out all the stops tonight?" teased a voice just behind her back.

Mary jumped abruptly and almost spilled the cup of wine she had just grabbed, then turned around. She found herself in front of Tom, who could not help but contemplate her clothes.

"I am warning you Tom," she told him with a look as black as satisfied. "Do not start. Unless you want me to throw you this champagne in the face and you will have to go change."

"You would not do that," he retorted, amused.

"Is this a challenge?" she asked while staring intently at him.

At the very moment she finished her sentence, she heard Carson enter the room and instantly turned back to the door, eager to see if the long-awaited guests were arriving.

"Lady Shackleton and Mr. Henry Talbot" majestically informed the butler.

When Mary saw them both appear in the doorway and enter the library, she was like paralyzed. Her feet seemed to be rooted to the floor and her troubled eyes refused to look away from the man she had hoped to see again. It had been so long since she had seen him that she had almost forgotten the fascinating features of his face. While watching him say good evening to each member of the family, she scrutinized every detail of his appearance, from his raven hair to his feet. He was giving off an aura of exquisite elegance around him, and Mary was even more disturbed when Henry's eyes finally fell upon her. While a slight smile was outlined on his charming lips, he walked slowly towards her, while seizing a cup of wine. As soon as he stood in front of her, the words she would have liked to tell him - she had rehearsed the planned speech for the entire afternoon - got stuck in her throat, to her stupefaction. Even though Mary's mind was unstable, she had never lacked eloquence and had not experienced such delicate situations. Except with Matthew, she thought bitterly.

"Well," she finally managed to enunciate, smiling at him politely. "What brings you to Downton?"

She was surprised to have managed to pronounce these few formal words. Her heart was beating so fast that she thought for a moment she was sick. The uncontrollable effect he had on her monopolized her completely - and dangerously.

"An idea from my very dear aunt," the man in question said, staring at her meticulously, his black eyes riveted on hers. "She is a long-time friend with the Dowager Countess, as you certainly know."

"Indeed," Mary confirmed.

Then she marked a pause that seemed endless before starting again :

"Well, you see me delighted that your aunt has mentioned that idea. It is a pleasure to see you again."

"Likewise," he admitted, gently taking her gloved hand unoccupied to hold the cup of wine, before putting a kiss on it.

At this contact, Mary was shivering from head to toe and her tranquilized heart was racing again. She had met dozens and dozens of men since Matthew's death, yet none had ever given her so much irrepressible sensations. She was not understanding.

As she was thinking about all that, she did not immediately realize that an awkward silence had set in between both of them. Both of them ? Suddenly, she came back on the present instant and remembered with embarrassment that Tom was just to her left, slightly behind. She had been so absorbed by Henry's arrival that she had almost forgotten his presence. She then turned to him, and saw him arching an eyebrow as he met her gaze, sipping champagne. She was terribly confused for letting him endure this uncomfortable conversation, but did not let anything appear.

"Let me introduce you to my brother and partner, Tom Branson" Mary said, inviting Tom to come forward.

The latter complied, then held out his right hand, which Henry shook strongly.

"We already have had the chance to get to know eachother at Brancaster," Tom said as he looked at Mary.

"Of course you have, how stupid of me," she answered with an obvious expression.

She blamed herself for seeming so clumsy.

"You like cars if my memory serves me well" Henry said to Tom as if he had not paid attention to Mary's remark.

"Indeed," answered the Irishman, who seemed pleased to have marked his mind.

"So you are a man of taste."

"I like to believe so, although the field of cars is not to the taste of everyone. "

As he spoke, he glanced at Mary, who raised her eyebrows proudly and displayed a falsely amused smile. Henry did not seem to grasp the implicit exchange between his two interlocutors, but again did not try to understand more. Instead - to Mary's displeasure, he started the conversation with Tom again :

"I'm not sure you've already communicated it to me, but how are you affiliated with the Crawley family?"

"My late wife, Lady Sybil, was the daughter of Lord Grantham. I was a driver at Downton when we got married."

When he had finished his sentence, he drank one last sip of wine and lowered his gaze to the ground, his eyes blank. Mary discerned a tiny expression on his face that she knew was a great melancholy. And God knew how much she understood what he was feeling at that moment. However, despite the feeling of empathy that overwhelmed her, she thought it best to continue the conversation in a positive tone.

"In any case, Tom is now managing the estate by my side," she said with a strange sense of pride, while placing her hand on her brother-in-law's forearm. "And he's doing great, much better than I'll ever do."

Tom looked up instantly at her, stunnedly. He seemed touched.

"Well, what a testimony !" exclaimed Henry, cheerful. "I would almost be jealous."

Again, Mary's heart leaped in her chest at she heard these jokes. Because, obviously, it could only be jokes.

"This is far from usual, I assure you" clarified Tom in a sneer.

Henry chuckled politely, and Mary remained shocked by what he had just said. Did he really think that of her ? Did he consider her so – Indifferent ?

Not wishing to cast a shadow over her own mind, she preferred to drive those thoughts out of her brain when Carson announced dinner ready to be served.

Tom

The rest of the evening went smoothly, though Lady Violet decided to go home earlier, annoyed by Isobel and Lady Shackleton's contradictory remarks. For the time he lived in Downton, Tom almost considered this event a ritual, and no longer paid much attention to it, like the Crawleys.

During dinner, he was placed between Robert and Edith, with whom he had exchanged about the estate for most of the time. Obviously, Mary had been sitting next to Henry, laughing loudly at the least of his jokes and gazing at him in a totally captivating way. Tom knew perfectly well the moods of the Lady, it was clear that the man had easily seduced her, and he was very happy for her. To see her laughing again with cheerfulness could only delight him.

After dinner, as usual, they all went - except for Robert and Cora who went to bed - in the library to relax and chat in the sofas and armchairs. Tom sat next to Isobel, who looked livid and seemed lost in thought.

"Are you feeling quite well ?" he asked, worried.

She turned her head towards him incredulously, as if she had just realized his presence. Coming back from her thoughts, she smiled benevolently.

"Oh, yes, I feel very good," she said in a tone to thank him for his concern. "I am just a bit tired."

But Tom noticed that her words sounded wrong and that something else was inevitably bothering her. He did not have to think for a long time about the cause of her morose attitude when he noticed her gaze quickly going multiple times on two people in particular being alone in the back of the room.

"No one will ever replace him" he assured her categorically.

A brief silence ensued.

"I am not sure what you are talking about, Tom," she said with a smile.

"No one will ever replace Matthew," he repeated. "If that's what you fear."

When she heard her son's name, an expression of great sadness spread over her pale face. Tom then put his hand on her shoulder as a sign of compassion, which she covered with her own and squeezed it firmly.

"I know," she finally said. "Moreover, I do not have the slightest desire that Mary be left alone for the rest of her life. I wish her to be happy. It is good if this man can bring her what she needs. He seems to be an honest person."

"He is" Tom confirmed.

Isobel let go of his hand and he rested it on his lap. They remained silent for a few moments, their eyes on Henry and Mary chatting jovially.

"You know," started Tom, breaking the silence, "It will be hard for me to let her go as well."

"But she will always live in Downton, even if she remarries" she said kindly.

"Yes of course. But you see, since the death of Sybil – and Matthew" he added carefully "We have shared many things together. It will make me feel very lonely when she gets married again. "

He had never confessed what he felt about it to anyone, and was happy that Isobel was that first person. She was probably in the best position to talk about it.

"I see," she replied understandingly. "Only will come the day when you too, will remarry, and I wish that to you with all my heart."

He thanked her with a smile. After a short pause, she went on :

"If I were you, I would not be worried at all about it."

"What do you mean ?"

"Even if she remarries, she will not put you aside. You manage the estate together and, above all, she likes you very much, Tom. Certainly much more than you think."

Tom was stunned by what Isobel had just told him, while peeking at Mary.

"That's very kind of you," he thanked her, touched.

"Simply the truth," she assured, rising from her seat. "It is quite late, I think I am going to go home."

"I follow you, I will go up to bed too."

Tom and Isobel made their way to the exit door, waving a hand to those still in the library as a goodbye.

He walked Isobel to the car that was ready to take her home, then climbed the sumptuous steps of the hall to go upstairs. Once there, he walked down the corridor towards his room, when a familiar voice echoed behind his back.

"Tom!"

His hand almost on the handle of his door, he turned around and saw that Mary had followed him from the library. She then walked towards him, in order to be able to talk to him without having to raise her voice.

"Mary ?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "What is it ? Has Henry just left ?"

"No," she said with an annoyed air. "I just slipped away, I think I have the right to talk to my brother-in-law, Henry can certainly do without me for a few minutes."

"I'm not so sure of it," Tom joked.

She gave him her usual black look, but softened immediately.

"You did not think you were going to sleep without even saying good night, did you ?" she teased, narrowing her eyes.

"It turns out I did say goodnight when we came out of the library with Isobel" Tom answered in a colder tone than he expected.

Mary did not seem to have paid attention to the intonation he had used, but seemed reluctant to tell him something.

"What is it ?" he asked, intrigued.

Mary nervously twisted her hands before looking him straight in the eyes.

"I only wanted to ask you a question."

"I am all ears."

"Earlier in the evening, when Henry arrived, you hinted how rare I was to be nice to you.

"Mary, it was just –" he began.

"Let me finish" she cut him so curtly that he did not dare to speak.

She went on :

"Even if it were a simple joke, it would affect me a lot that you do not believe me sincere in my comments about you. You are an integral part of the family Tom, and do not doubt for a moment the affection I have for you. I appreciate you more than my own sister, Edith, and even more than anyone, to be honest."

At the listening of these warm words, Tom did not know how to answer so much he was dismayed. While she had spoken, her hazel eyes had fixed him with an intensity like no other. Mary had never spoken to him that way. Pantois, he opened his mouth but the words could not come out, so he closed it instantly.

"I insist on Tom," she continued. "Trust me, just as I trust you."

"Of course I trust you !" he exclaimed in an evident tone.

Mary stared at him for a moment, then a smile spread slowly across her face.

"So all is well," said the Lady, putting on her gloves, which she had until then held in her hands. "Good night, Tom."

Then she turned around and went back to the library in her usual haughty way, the laces of her red dress floating behind her. Left alone and pensive, Tom could not help but smile. What had just happened only confirmed Isobel's claims, and even though he had never doubted Mary's sincerity, he was glad to hear those words from her.

"Good night Mary" he murmured as she had already disappeared into the corner.

Then he finally opened the handle of his door and went into his room.