Library, Downton Abbey, August 7th, 1922
Matthew finished reading the letter from Edith and handed it to Mary with a groan.
"Here," he said heavily. "Read it for yourself."
Mary scanned it quickly.
"My dear Matthew,
As you can see, I am writing to you from Berlin. I am so sorry to disappoint you so much as I know I have with making that choice. I know you don't approve and of course you're right, it's not at all moral or proper as long as Michael remains formally married. But, you see, I love him and he loves me, and we both love our baby already. It shouldn't have happened like that, but it did, and neither of us can stand the thought of living the next year and a half on separate sides of the ocean. Michael's marriage has been in name only for years; he hasn't even seen his wife since she either doesn't recognise him at all or his presence upsets her into a fit. It doesn't make our actions right, I know, but I don't feel like they hurt her in any way either.
If you decide to write to me, please address the letter to Edith Gregson. I know it is a subterfuge, but we are passing here as man and wife until we can make it true and official. If anybody in the know will ask, we are going to say that the divorce already has taken place. If we are not discovered, however, we will ask Mama in time to keep to her proposed plan and bring the baby to England as her American ward, to avoid any suspicions. If anybody asks about me until then, please tell them that I am travelling. We will see how it will work out, but I promise to do anything to avoid causing a scandal. For the sake of everyone, but most of all for the sake of my baby.
Thank you so much for everything you either have done or have been willing to do to help me and the baby. I will never forget it, Matthew, never. I will never forget that you have been the first one, and for a long time the only one, who wanted to help me keep it and who asked me what I wanted to do instead of just treating it all as a problem to solve for the good of the family. I'm going to be forever in your debt. I just hope you will be able to forgive me one day.
I wrote to Mama, Granny and Aunt Rosamund as well, so you don't have to inform them about anything.
Yours grateful cousin,
Edith"
Mary's eyebrows rose as she scoffed.
"Typical Edith," she said scornfully. "Making life altering decisions on an impulse and damn the consequences. Oh, and nothing she does is ever wrong. You noticed how she justifies everything?"
"Yes," answered Matthew curtly.
"Mrs Gregson," continued Mary derisively. "I assume she is walking around with a wedding ring too."
"Most likely, in the circumstances."
"She really has some nerve; I'll give her that. To use you all like that, get everybody worked up and doing their best to figure out how solve her problems for her, just to do what she apparently has wanted to do from the very beginning."
"Mary," Matthew interrupted her. "I am very upset about it all – as I know you are – but in the end it was her choice to make."
She turned towards him furiously.
"It was a very selfish one! Do you know how bad it can be if it all gets out? How much we will all be affected by it?"
"I know," said Matthew soothingly, "or at least I think I have a reasonable picture in mind. But even in the worst case scenario, nobody is going to be as badly affected as Edith herself."
"Isn't that the truth! But it will affect the rest of us as well and she doesn't care one bit for it. Then again, she never did care about embroiling the family in a scandal as long as she did get what she wanted. At least this time she would suffer for it too!"
"She just got to the point where her suffering was bigger than her fear of the scandal. You've reached such point yourself," he reminded her quietly. "And the family stood by you."
Mary's eyes blazed.
"You told me yourself to risk it at the time!"
"And I stand by everything I've said then, independent of my feelings for you and our subsequent marriage," answered Matthew calmly. "Sometimes the scandal isn't the worst possible outcome of the situation."
"I cannot believe you're bringing it up. The circumstances are not at all comparable!" she said, crossing her arms and pacing angrily.
"But aren't you comparing them yourself? Edith's disregard of both social and moral rules and the family's opinion to your attempts to protect the family?"
"If I do, I am justified. I spent years trying to keep it quiet at all cost! Years! And if she did take us into consideration at all, I have yet to see any proof of that! Never mind that I would not have to do any of that if she didn't spread the news herself in the first place. Just because she thought I was mean to her and deserved to be brought down a peg."
She realised with displeasure that she was shaking. She did not expect to be so affected by it after all those years, but apparently the matters with Edith were unresolved enough to make her erupt like that.
She was not at all surprised to feel Matthew's arms embracing her soothingly as she leaned into him and tried to relax her tensed muscles.
"I didn't do all that just to protect the family," she admitted, her head resting on Matthew's shoulder, her eyes closed. "I was doing it mostly to save my own neck. And I was too ashamed to admit what I've done to any of them or to ask for help."
"I know," whispered Matthew. "Even though it really wasn't your fault in the first place. But I know you, darling. As much as you were thinking of saving yourself, you were determined to protect the family too. And this is what angers you the most about Edith's actions, both then and now. The way she didn't even seem to think of it."
"Or if she did, she clearly didn't care!" hissed Mary, but it came muffled against Matthew's shoulder. She sighed, opening her eyes. "But there's no point in rehashing it further. She thinks herself morally superior to me, somehow, and I obviously think she is the one in the wrong. And a damn fool too."
Garden Party, Downton Abbey, August 9th, 1922
There weren't many things as good at raising one's spirit as hosting a successful garden party, thought Mary sipping her chilled lemonade and surveying her surroundings with satisfaction. The food and drinks were plentiful and elegantly served, the weather wonderfully cooperative, the music delightful, the guests numerous and seemingly enjoying themselves with lively party games and gossip.
"You could nearly believe it's still 1914," said Lady Caroline Blake admiringly, which was rare for her.
"Except the dresses got shorter," answered Mary with a smile. Caroline tittered.
"That they did! Remember how scandalous it was to show an ankle? And yet we are nearly showing our knees now!"
"They might yet get to that point, the way things are going. Are you going to cut your hair?"
"I'm considering it, purely to spite my mother. I'm not sure if I have facial shape which would work with it though. What about you?"
"Matthew likes my hair long," said Mary musingly. "But I am tempted to try. Sometimes I feel a bit too dowdy and matronly recently. That would be something radical enough to fight it."
Caroline looked Mary over, from her dainty shoes to perfectly coiffed hair and a fetching summer hat and rolled her eyes.
"You're the very opposite of dowdy and matronly, as you know perfectly well, so stop fishing for compliments. Now, who is coming here with the delightful Mr Napier?"
Suddenly she nearly spilled her drink.
"What in heavens is Cousin Charles doing here?"
Mary stared at her, her eyes wide with shock.
"Charles Blake is your Cousin Charles? The one who replaced Lucius as the heir?"
"Yes," hissed Caroline. "And he is obviously not my favourite person under the sun. Why have you invited him? I thought he abhorred gatherings such as this."
"He is Evelyn's boss and they both spent several weeks at Downton in the spring and summer while working on a government report. He has never, in all kinds of discussions, admitted he had any ties to aristocracy! He was quite contemptuous towards our class, actually. I've never even suspected he was related to Lucius!"
Caroline scoffed.
"Of course he wouldn't. He holds himself well above us. Ugh, insufferable man! Why should the estate, the title and everything else go to a man who doesn't appreciate it at all, while I have been married to Lucius for months and have nothing to show for it?"
"That's entails for you," said Mary grimly. Things worked out for her in the end, but the injustice still smarted. "Matthew says that they might be abolished soon."
"Not soon enough for me," said Caroline, taking a big sip of her champagne. "Even if they did it tomorrow, I cannot see my father-in-law willing anything to me now. He is all gaga over dear Cousin Charles as the sole remaining hope for the survival of the family."
They were finally reached by Evelyn and Charles, who, after greeting Mary, looked at Caroline with a sardonic expression.
"My dear Cousin Caroline! I did not expect to see you here."
"Your surprise is entirely mutual," answered Caroline coldly.
"Not bigger than mine when I learnt that you are in fact a member of the dreaded upper class," pointed out Mary, glaring slightly at him. "You let me spend weeks imagining you as my class enemy."
"Oh, don't worry, Lady Mary. Whatever my origins or my prospect, I'm sworn to the socialist cause strongly enough that we can keep our class warfare going in perpetuum. Unless you want to make peace and cross to the progressive side?"
"Getting Downton into the 20th century must be progressive enough for me," answered Mary firmly. "You should know by now that you're highly unlikely to recruit me to any other cause."
"Oh, but I do like a challenge and hate bowing down under opposition," said Charles, laying the charm thick enough to earn himself one of Mary's eyeroll.
"Mr Napier," snapped Caroline. "Could you either drag your boss somewhere else or escort me to the ice-cream tent? This conversation is rather trying to my nerves."
Evelyn immediately offered her his arm and politely led her away. Charles looked after them.
"She never liked me even before Lucius's death and positively hated me ever since," he said dryly. "I don't think she could hate me more if I killed my cousins myself."
"It's not easy to lose something you've expected to be yours one day," said Mary defensively. "And it's only worse when it goes to someone who doesn't care for it and openly derides it as well."
Charles gave her a serious look.
"I do care about Menlough and I do care about my family," he said calmly. "But it just makes me more frustrated with the system in which such vast riches are given to people who have neither the will nor the capability to fulfil their responsibilities to the people and the land entrusted to them. As much as I liked my cousins, I did not believe that either Lucius or Markus would have made a good baronet or a landowner. Yet, if it wasn't for the war, the whole thing would go to one of them – Lucius, in all probability, if he didn't drink himself to an early death – who would just end up losing it to bankruptcy and neglect as soon as Sir Severus would die."
Mary, having known Lucius, and having heard plenty more about him and his younger brother from Caroline, could not refute it in this particular case. It did not mean she was ready to concede the point though.
"I am the last person to defend the way the current rules reward the eldest male with everything at the expense of everyone else, independent of any personal abilities or lack of them. However, can you show me how would taking the big estates away from their owners benefit everybody? Surely Russia shows us that nothing good comes from a complete overthrowing of the old system."
Charles smiled, happy that they were able to engage in a spirited debate without their earlier mutual hostility.
"Russia is one extreme, of course, but surely we can find a middle ground? One which gives responsibility for management to people based on their merit, not their blood, and distributing wealth more equally across the society?"
Mary scoffed.
"But who would decide who should be given the responsibility or how to distribute the wealth? It seems to me that the current attempts to do either ends up in making a lot of formerly rich people poorer, but the poor people not at all better off for it."
"Yet you called yourself a critic of the current rules rewarding the eldest male."
"I think that the heir to an estate should be chosen by the current holder of it, based on his opinion of the potential successors. If the entails are abolished and a daughter can inherit, that's revolutionary enough for me."
"But would you trust the judgment of most current peers?" smirked Charles.
"As little as I respect most of them, they couldn't do so much worse than politicians whose actions I've had occasion to observe over the years, for all that they are elected by the people," answered Mary, unperturbed.
"Ah, but who elected them? Aren't you frustrated by the fact that under current rules you yourself are unable to vote, Lady Mary?"
"So is Matthew, as a peer," pointed out Mary. "In fact, the only person able to vote in our family is Tom. You might even say that we are the oppressed class in this aspect – or at least a disenfranchised one."
"Yes," said Charles wryly. "Very oppressed. By the fact that Matthew cannot vote because he can claim a seat in the House of Lords."
"Which your political party is making more and more irrelevant."
"With very good reason. The people sitting there are not elected, keep their seat until they are feeble minded and historically opposed to any kind of meaningful reform."
Before Mary could respond, they were joined by Violet.
"Are you two seriously discussing politics at a garden party?" she asked disapprovingly. "Mary, dear, there is a time and place for such debates, and a garden party you yourself are hosting is not one of them. Come and show me where the lemonade is served, I'm parched."
xxx
Having deposited Granny in a comfortable chair in one of the white pavilions, well-supplied with iced lemonade and her preferred pastries, Mary went in search of Rose. She found her staring morosely at nothing in particular while slouching in a wicker chair under one of canopy tents.
"You don't want to join the fun?" she asked delicately. She was not in the mood to get her head nearly blown off by a petulant teenager.
"I don't really feel like it," answered Rose curtly. "And I don't know anybody here."
As if that was ever a problem for Rose before!
"I could introduce you to some people closer to your age," offered Mary as another goodwill gesture.
"Some suitable marriage candidates Mummy would approve of?" snapped R,"ose and Mary's patience ended.
"Getting you married is thankfully not my job," she said, getting up from her chair. "So if you want to spend the whole party sitting here, suit yourself."
"Just preventing me from choosing my own husband!" Rose's voice stopped her in her tracks. She counted slowly to ten in her head before she turned around and confronted her charge. They were in public, after all.
"Rose," Mary said firmly, standing in front of Rose's chair. "All we did was to ask both you and Mr Ross to think about what you're going to face if you go through with your plans. He obviously did and agreed with our conclusions that this match would be very, very difficult, especially for you. I understand that you disagree, but in your place I would ask myself if making myself and others deliberately miserable over a man I've met a handful of times is really the best course of action. Because, as much as I hate to mention it, if being at Downton with us is so insufferable, we can write to Cousin Susan that you would prefer to visit them in India until the time for your debut comes. I don't want to keep you here against your will, after all."
She turned around and walked briskly away, leaving gaping Rose behind.
Grantham Arms, Downton Village, August 10th, 1922
It took several months of semi regular meetings with Tom for a pint, but finally most of the staff and patrons stopped paying attention to the oddity of the Earl of Grantham sitting and drinking among them.
"Look, nobody is staring today," observed Matthew dryly while he reached for his glass. "Maybe they finally realised I am just a normal chap after all."
Tom snorted into his beer.
"Normal chaps don't live in a veritable palace or are addressed as 'my lord' by their army of servants and basically everyone else in the vicinity."
"Until three months ago you lived in that palace as well," pointed out Matthew, but then sighed. "And you know I would gladly run away from it all if I could."
"But you won't," said Tom confidently. "Because you do feel responsible for all the people who rely on the estate and you. And for all my former disdain for your kind of people, I do respect you for that."
Then he snorted again.
"Besides, if you ran, your wife would have killed you."
Matthew laughed in full agreement with that statement. Something else Tom said piqued his curiosity though.
"Your former disdain for my kind of people? Does that mean you do not possess such views anymore?"
Tom groaned.
"My views got complicated," he admitted. "It's easy to put people as types or kinds, when they all treat you as less than human. Sybil was different, of course, but she was one of a kind; it was easy to treat her as the exception to the rule. But then... Well, it's hard to stick to it when you become a member of the family you considered your enemies and oppressors by both their class and nationality. It doesn't mean that I abandoned hope for a more just world, or that I support upper class privileges or forgot the atrocities which the English committed in Ireland - but I cannot speak against the aristocracy as the whole when the faces I have in mind are not just Larry Greys of this world but also you, Mary, Cora, Rose or Lady Grantham. I cannot hate the English when despite my best intentions my daughter is more English than Irish."
"Do you regret it?" asked Matthew with interest. "Losing the depth of your convictions?"
Tom mused over it for a long moment, nursing his beer.
"Yes and no," he answered finally. "It was simpler when I felt I had all of it figured out and held all the answers. I felt better when I was convinced that I am on the side of the righteous and I was ready to prove my devotion to the cause by any number of noble deeds. It does feel good to see yourself as a hero in the making," he smiled self-deprecatingly. "But losing the surety of my convictions opened my eyes to the intricacies of the world which I have been blind to before. I guess you can say that now I am wiser but unsure."
"I think I went through a similar process," said Matthew thoughtfully. "Before the war, the world was much more black and white to me. Mary accused me of this once and I was greatly offended, of course."
He shook his head, laughing.
"She was right, as much as it pains me to say, and the war showed it to me in very stark terms. Turned out it is not always easy to tell right from wrong, a noble act from an atrocity - or suicidal stupidity," he trailed off, lost in his memories. "When I came back, initially I clung even more rigidly to my principles, determined to bring back the order and assurance at least to my mind, if unfortunately not the world - but in the process I ended up hurting people most dear to me. So, after much soul searching, I think you could call me wiser but unsure as well."
They clinked their glasses in understanding.
"So," asked Matthew with a teasing smile. "Mother seems to think you made a friend in a local schoolteacher?"
Tom sputtered on his beer.
"It's not like that!" he protested immediately. "You've met Miss Bunting yourself. She is a very interesting person to talk to, and possibly the only other socialist in the village, but..."
"But what?" pushed Matthew with interest.
Tom gestured helplessly.
"She reminds me of me," he admitted with a sigh. "As I used to be. I am not sure if she can understand how weird my current life is considering where I started."
"Do you want her to understand?"
"Maybe," answered Tom quietly. "I am not sure if I am ready to move on from Sybil. I am not sure if I will ever be ready. But I know I am tired of being alone."
Downton Village, August 10th, 1922
They ran into Miss Bunting when they were leaving the pub. Tom, conscious of where his conversation with Matthew ended, reddened in embarrassment, leaving it to Matthew to reply to her polite greeting.
"It's nice to see you again, Miss Bunting," he said with a smile. "I've heard you met my mother."
"Yes, I have," answered Miss Bunting curtly. "She was... a surprise."
"Not quite the mother of an earl you imagined?" asked Matthew teasingly.
"To be frank, no."
"According to my wife, you can blame her for any faults I possess. Mother will of course counter that she only could do so much against the Crawley stubbornness, however hard she tried. Having met more of my relatives in the last decade, I started to see that she might be on to something, isn't she, Tom?"
Tom snickered.
"It does seem to be a family trait, yes."
"Were you going to the pub, Miss Bunting?"
"No," she said, staring at Matthew with a challenge. "I'm going to a meeting at the village hall. We're going to discuss whether organisation of the flower show shouldn't be taken over by a committee. There are people who think that taking over responsibility for some of the keystone village events from the local landlord would help with building the community."
Matthew valiantly stopped himself from laughing, even though it was hard when he imagined Mary's face at the news.
"If you come to an agreement, I'm sure Lady Grantham will be delighted to cede her power in that particular aspect," he assured Miss Bunting seriously. "With her involvement in the estate, she rather finds herself pressed for time."
Miss Bunting raised her eyebrows.
"She has apparently enough time to throw a garden party and the oncoming church bazaar."
"Let's not forget the cricket match," agreed Matthew. "So if there are people willing to take over the flower show, I'm sure she will raise no objections."
He made his goodbyes after that, leaving Tom with Miss Bunting.
"Why is he trying so hard to convince me that he's not a typical representative of his class?"
"Because he isn't," answered Tom matter-of-factly. "He's been a lawyer and a doctor's son for twenty-seven years before he learnt he's going to inherit it all and he still feels like one at heart."
"Doesn't mean that he's going to donate all his money to worthy causes and work for a living now that he has it," observed Miss Bunting cynically.
"No," admitted Tom with a smile. "Because, believe it or not, he thinks he is going to do more good by using it to reform the estate which employs or supports the whole community here. Besides, technically speaking, it is his money. The previous earl lost all of his before he died."
"I will believe it when I see it," said she, looking at Tom closely. "But I can see that you believe in him."
"I do," answered Tom seriously. "I wouldn't have worked for him otherwise, although it is a very good arrangement considering my daughter. Maybe you would like to visit me at my office one day, so I could tell you more about what we're attempting to do?"
"I think I might," said Miss Bunting thoughtfully. "You have managed to intrigue me, Mr Branson."
Downton grounds, August 11th, 1922
Mary and Matthew were strolling through Downton's grounds in the balmy August afternoon, with Matthew carrying George piggyback to their mutual delight, and Mary carrying Matthew's hat after George threw it down one time too many.
"You look completely undignified," Mary observed pointedly, despite secretly loving the sight of her boys like that. It sure wasn't the way she or her sisters had spent time with Papa when they were children, for all Papa's love for them.
Matthew shrugged, which bumped George up and made him erupt in giggles as he clung to his father's head.
"And who's going to care if I do? Me? Certainly not. George? I don't think so considering he was the one who was determined to get his Papa to lose his hat in the first place. You?" he looked at Mary mischievously. "Somehow I suspect that you enjoy seeing me undignified. Makes you feel safely superior."
Mary's chin went up.
"I meant any people we may run into, although God knows they should be used to their new Earl making a spectacle of himself and his title," she said with mock disdain, making Matthew laugh.
"If this is a dig about the pub, I will have you know that people are indeed getting used to the sight of their undignified earl having a pint there. I'm making progress!" he announced brightly. "It also gave me the opportunity to meet Tom's teacher friend when we were leaving."
"The Miss Bunting?" asked Mary with avid interest. Matthew noted that she must have been speaking with his mother too. "What is she like?"
His lips twitched in amusement.
"Opinionated," he said drily. "I don't think she cares about aristocracy very much."
Mary looked heavenward.
"Another socialist?" she said plaintively. Matthew laughed mercilessly.
"I'm afraid you're getting positively surrounded by them," he deadpanned. "Tom, Charles, now Miss Bunting. Who knows, at this rate they might yet lure you away from the conservatists."
Mary glared at him.
"Since you didn't even succeed in luring me to your beloved liberals, I find it highly unlikely."
"They are not beloved," stated Matthew firmly. "But therein lies my failure, probably. I'm not sufficiently passionate about them to convince you. Miss Bunting might have more luck. She's definitely not lacking in fire."
"And you think Tom truly likes her?" asked Mary with earnest concern, abandoning their banter.
Matthew bit his lip, searching for an answer.
"I think it's too early to tell. He is intrigued by her, for sure, and he is lonely."
"He has us!" protested Mary indignantly. Matthew gave her a look.
"And you know very well that it's not the same."
"It's only been over two years since Sybil died."
"And what time would you judge to be appropriate?"
The problem was Mary didn't of course have an answer to that question. She knew perfectly well that Tom deserved to be happy.
"I still see him as Sybil's husband," she admitted quietly. "I know that it's not all he is and that it's irrational so long after she died."
Matthew looked at her with compassion. He would have grasped her hand, but he needed them both to hold securely to George's legs.
"Come here," he said instead, gesturing for Mary to embrace him and lean against his side as they walked on.
She gladly did, relaxing against him. They were alone on their path, who was there to criticise?
Then she jumped back with a shriek when she felt her hat nearly snatched away, with only her hatpin keeping it somehow in place. She got within George's reach.
She glared at the little hat thief, giggling happily at his prank, and at his father, who was laughing his head off too. Her glare softened though when she noted that Matthew's and George's blue eyes crinkled in an identical way as they laughed. In the end, she started laughing herself.
But she kept a safe distance from his grabbing little hands until they reached home.
Agent's office, Downton Abbey, August 15th, 1922
"May I come in?"
Tom raised his head from the ledger he was perusing at the sound of a girlish voice from the entrance to his office.
"Rose!" he exclaimed in surprise. "Of course, come. What brings you here?"
Rose hesitated, looking uncharacteristically nervous as she avoided Tom's eyes by taking note of the maps on the walls.
"I wanted to ask about your marriage to Sybil, if that's not too painful for you to talk about," she mumbled. "Mostly why the family accepted it when..."
"When they wouldn't accept yours to Mr Ross?" asked Tom gently, making Rose gaze snap up to his. "I saw you two together in Thirsk. I guessed the rest."
Rose's face darkened.
"You told Mary or Matthew."
"I did," admitted Tom. "And it did make me feel uncomfortable, considering my own actions once upon a time, yes."
"Then why did you?!"
Tom exhaled slowly.
"It's a long story," he said. "Could I offer you some tea while I tell it?"
Rose nodded, and finally sat in a visitor's chair as Tom got busy making each of them a cup.
"What do you know about how I and Sybil got married?" he asked while putting the kettle on a small stove.
Rose shrugged, puzzled by the question.
"Only that you married in Ireland, shocking everyone."
Tom laughed quietly.
"That was not our original plan though," he admitted candidly as he filled the pot with tea leaves and waited for the water to boil. "We decided to elope to Scotland, like in the novels."
Rose's eyes widened.
"Really?"
"Oh yes, really. One night she feigned a headache and sneaked out the back while everyone else was at dinner. We took one of the cars and drove towards Scottish border until we stopped for a night at an inn."
"And then what happened?" asked Rose, utterly transfixed by his story.
Tom laughed again, pouring hot water into the teapot.
"Then, before I knew what was happening, the door opened and Mary barged in, with Edith and Anna on her heels."
"And she dragged Sybil out just like that?" asked Rose incredulously.
"Of course not. She talked to her. She told Sybil that if she really was set on marrying me, she should do it in broad daylight rather than sneaking off like a thief in the night. That she's twenty-one and didn't need permission, but that she needed her parents' forgiveness if she wanted any chance at saving her relationship with them."
"And it worked?"
Tom nodded, putting Rose's cup in front of her on the desk and taking his own seat.
"Sybil did not believe in deception," he explained quietly. "She wanted to fight for what was right, to make a stand. She went home with that and soon after summoned me to the drawing room and introduced to the family as her fiancé."
"And they just accepted it?"
Tom laughed.
"Hell, no! But neither of us gave in and, in the end, Lord Grantham gave his blessing before we went to Ireland."
"So Mary's meddling didn't succeed at breaking you two up," concluded Rose bitterly. Tom looked at her sharply.
"Mary was on Sybil's side the whole time, even when she thought the whole idea was mad," he said firmly. "And she and Edith were the only members of the family who attended our wedding, and she never treated me as anybody different that her brother ever since. I don't know what I would have done without her and Matthew on my side after Sybil died."
Rose's lips trembled.
"If she did it for you and Sybil, why couldn't she do that for me? Why couldn't Matthew? Or you?"
Tom looked at her gently.
"Because Sybil and I showed everybody that we were determined, we thought long and hard about it, and that we had a plan. I loved her for years, Rose, and she took those years to be very sure before she gave me her answer. That's how we convinced everybody in the end."
She looked away from him to hide her tears.
"So you're saying that if Jack and I stood firm, we could have had what you had?"
Tom shrugged uncomfortably.
"Maybe," he said. "There were additional challenges you would have had to save beyond class differences. But the point is, Rose, you two didn't stand firm and you couldn't prove yearslong attachment either. Can you really blame your family for asking hard questions?"
Rose dropped her head and finished her tea in thoughtful silence.
Agent's office, Downton Abbey, August 15th, 1922
Sarah and Tom approached the agent office when the door open and a beautiful woman in a brown suit and muddy long boots came out.
"There you are, Tom! I've just been to the Yew Tree Farm to check on the pigs and Mr Drewe suggested we can enter a competition at the fair to advertise our new venture. I wanted to discuss it with you, but I see you are busy?" she looked questioningly at Sarah.
"Mary, may I introduce my friend, Miss Sarah Bunting? She's a teacher at the school. Sarah, this is my sister-in-law, Lady Mary Crawley."
"It's nice to meet you, Miss Bunting," Lady Mary said politely, but Sarah felt coldly assessed by her intense gaze. "Tom's friends are always welcome at Downton."
"It's nice to meet you as well," she answered politely, but feeling her chin going up in a challenging gesture. She was not going to let herself be intimidated by that tall toff! "I've heard a lot about you in the village."
Mostly that the current Lady Grantham was proud, cold and stuck up ever since she was a little girl. There have been some stories from the tenants' children in her class about Lady Grantham visiting the farms and talking business with their fathers, like a man would. Her current attire and topic of conversation clearly supported those tales.
Lady Grantham's face became even more inscrutable at Sarah's words.
"I will leave you two to your business," she said with perfect diction. "Tom, please come to see me about the fair when you have the time."
"I think forced to say that she really gains on closer acquaintance," said Tom with a fond smile as they watched her go.
"Really?" answered Sarah, scepticism permeating her voice.
"Really," said Tom firmly. "I hope you will have a chance to learn one day. Now, shall we?"
They went into the agent's office.
Library, Downton Abbey, August 15th, 1922
Mary huffed with irritation, impatiently putting aside yet another letter concerning the oncoming church bazaar. No wonder Mama hated organising this thing!
"Is something the matter?" asked Rose tentatively, pulling Mary out of her thoughts.
"Oh, nothing serious. I am just fed up with the church bazaar. What a nightmare. The man selling ices is ill, so I've got to find another. The grocers from Easingwold and Malton can't be side by side, and I've got to decide the house menus with Mrs Patmore."
"Could I help you?" asked Rose in the same tentative voice. Mary's eyes narrowed as she looked at her.
"Why?"
"I got terribly bored with listening to records and looking at fashion plates for days," admitted Rose sheepishly. "I truly would be grateful for something to do."
Mary smiled.
"And I will be truly grateful if you sort some of those things out for me," she said, handing Rose some of the lists and notes from her desk. "Ask me if you have any questions and don't make any promises to anybody without checking it with me first, but I think you will be brilliant with it. You're good at organising events, Rose."
Rose positively shined under the praise.
"I won't disappoint you, Mary!" she exclaimed with her usual enthusiasm and ran to the table to check her appointed tasks.
Mary leaned against the back of her chair with a smile.