The chapters will now be shorter, for lack of time. Î hope you will still enjoy reading them !

Mary

"I'm still not convinced that is a good idea."

Mary looked away from the landscape that went by behind the window of the train and looked quickly at Tom, who was sitting in front of her seat.

"Do not start protesting again, Tom," she scolded, frowning slightly. "Anyway, it's too late to object. We will arrive at King's Cross in less than an hour. "

With a sigh of discouragement, Tom settled comfortably on his seat and distractedly focused his attention on the ceiling, surrendering to Mary's demands. The latter had noticed easily since the beginning of the railway journey that he was somewhat preoccupied. His hands twisting nervously multiple times and his almost mutism showing it. Mary had to admit that she was quite surprised to see this dissipated attitude from Tom, who had accompanied her many times at dinners in the presence of men who intended to seduce her, if only Tony Gillingham. She wondered about the specific reason that led him to behave so unusually. Had she forced his hand too much so he could come with her to London ? Was he really embarrassed to join them ?

No, Mary knew her brother-in-law well enough to know it could not be that. He was far too indomitable and strong-minded to be intimidated by such trivialities. Something else was inevitably obsessing him, and Mary was determined to learn more about his strange mood.

She took hold of a gazette she did not intend to read, unfolded it enough so that her face was partially hidden and questioned with a falsely disinterested air :

"Is something the matter ?"

Tom hurriedly looked away from the chandelier he was staring at in a livid manner to observe Mary's gaze over her newspaper.

"Why do you ask me that ?" he wondered, raising his eyebrows, dismayed.

"I don't know," she said sarcastically as she skimmed an article. "Maybe because you have not said a word since the beginning of the journey."

Caught off guard by this comment, he widened his eyes even more and raised his hands as a sign of incomprehension.

"Perhaps for the simple reason that no talking point is coming to my mind" he retorted with obvious air.

"That's my question," Mary continued. "What comes to your mind?"

"I really do not understand why you persist in asking me this question when there is absolutely no question to ask."

Finally, the Lady lowered her newspaper abruptly on her lap and let her impassive expression fully face Tom, who had slightly jumped at her unexpected movement.

"I perfectly know you Tom," she said firmly. "And I know that something is wrong with you since we left Downton. You behave in an unusual way, you don't say a word, your movements are punctuated by gestures each more nervous than the one before. Clearly, it is as plain as the nose on your face, and you should be aware that after all this time you can not lie to me, you neither. "

Somewhat distraught by these curt accusations, he gaped for a moment, as if he had held his breath throughout Mary's speech. Then he finally exhaled loudly, and the Lady instantly understood in view of his annoyed expression that he was going to resign himself to confess something to her.

"It's really nothing" he finally admitted.

"It does not seem to be nothing, given your weird behavior."

"I'll talk to you about it when we're at Belgrave Square."

"And why not now ?" she asked, curious. "We have plenty of time to discuss it in this train."

"Because –" Tom hesitated, impatiently running his hand through his chestnut hair. "Because it's not certain yet."

Mary arched her eyebrows as she scrutinized him.

"Now I'm rather intrigued," she admitted. "Either you said too much or not enough."

"Way too much for my taste" he deplored.

There was a pause, during which the two partners probed each other. The hazel eyes immersed in the azure eyes, the impertubable expression facing the disconcerted one. Mary almost ended up finding the situation embarrassing. She could not say the reason, but she was strangely struggling to hold his piercing gaze. Of course, she did not let it appear, but was still relieved when he was the one who broke the eye contact.

"It's nothing, really" he repeated with an air he wished detached.

"If you say so" she conceded.

However, Mary remained dubious about Tom's disorientated remarks. He had never lacked eloquence – just like her – it was clear that the event or the thing in question was bothering him seriously. What could be the motive which made him so much worried ?

During the rest of the journey by train, she did not looked away from Tom's eyes, who was he also contemplating the outside landscape. To her stupefaction, her own eyes were irresistibly seeking to lose themselves again in his ocean-colored irises.