Garden, Eryholme, May 1914
Mary was not sure how long it lasted until she finally released Tom and led him to a bench in a shady alcove, well hidden from view. Even when they sat down, she kept her hand on his sleeve, unable to lose contact with him completely.
"How can it be possible?" she asked shakily.
Tom's smile was no less trembling than hers.
"I don't know and don't care. I am just overjoyed to know I am not alone in this madness."
Mary laughed, startled.
"Are you so sure neither of us is mad? How can all this be actually true?"
Tom shrugged with a grin.
"At least it seems we share the same madness. You remember Sybbie and I remember George. So presumably we came from the same version of the future."
Mary frowned, gripped by a sudden fear that it was not so. He seemed to be her Tom, but...
"What is the last thing you remember from then?"
Tom looked at her intently.
"We just had the most horrid house party," he said. "With a lovely concert, but way too many toffs who let me know clearly enough that I do not fit with them. And then I got drunk and..." he stopped himself abruptly, reddening under Mary's curious gaze.
She let him be for the time being. She could always tease him about whatever blunder he had done while drunk later.
"This is the same time for me, roughly. I remember the trip to London to negotiate the death duties. And then Tony..." she stopped herself as well but decided to plough on. "Tony came and proposed to me."
Tom gaped at her.
"Haven't you just met him at the house party?"
Mary laughed.
"Yes. It was completely ridiculous. And then he did it here too!" she shook her head in disbelief, then sobered. "But the last thing I remember is refusing him, not even because I knew him so little as an adult, but because Matthew was still everything to me. The very last thing I remember is crying myself to sleep, missing him to the point of madness."
Tom squeezed her hand comfortingly and looked at her with such perfect understanding that Mary barely restrained herself from crying.
"This is like my last memory too," he said hoarsely. "We came back from London, and I had to deal with some very unpleasant matter, and then I went to bed and looked at Sybil's photograph and cried myself to sleep thinking about her."
Mary frowned.
"Do you think it was a coincidence that we fell asleep to the same thoughts, on the very same night, and woke up a decade into the past?"
Tom shrugged.
"I really don't know. But I can tell you I was quite shocked to wake up in my mother's house in Dublin, with paper boys yelling about the Titanic sinking!"
"I thought I finally went properly mad from grief," admitted Mary. "Although it took me a moment longer to realise what happened, since I woke up in the same house I went to sleep in, just in a wrong bedroom. It was awfully confusing. And the worst, the very worst thing was that I couldn't ever talk about it to anyone."
She suddenly glared at Tom and punched his arm. Hard.
"Ow! What was that for?" he asked, clutching his arm and eyeing her warily.
"Why didn't you say anything when you came here? You've been back at Downton for over a year!"
"Well, how was I supposed to know that you're from the future as well?! You didn't speak to me either!"
"Because you were behaving like Branson the chauffeur, how was I supposed to know? But all the differences in the course of my life didn't suggest anything to you?"
Tom laughed.
"Of course they did," he said with a wry smile. "But you see, I was unable to tell whether it was you or Matthew influencing the changes. In fact, if it wasn't for you being so suspiciously nice to me, I would have said something to him instead, I was so convinced he was the more likely culprit."
Mary stared at him incredulously.
"Why?"
"Well, the biggest change was of course that you two got engaged within weeks of me coming to Downton, but that didn't tell me anything other than shock me with the notion that I was most probably not alone in my crazy experience. Either of you would have had the very same goal; to prevent wasting eight bloody years it took you two to finally get together."
Mary nodded in agreement. She was convinced that if it had been Matthew who went to the past, he would have done everything in his power to get married to her much sooner. Of course, it might be lucky that it was her; she would have done Matthew's job much harder if their situations were reversed.
"So, disregarding that, what did I have left? It was Matthew who went and got himself a fancy job in London, and it was always Matthew's wish to live outside of the Abbey, as you decided to do here. What was I supposed to think? As I said, if you didn't make me doubtful with cracking that icy façade of yours to talk with me about politics of all things, I would have risked it and tried to hint something to Matthew instead long ago."
Mary pondered it for a moment.
"Huh. You're right, he does seem to be more likely if you put it like that. What has made you decide on me instead?"
Tom laughed again.
"The way you fought to keep me from being sacked and in the end offered me a job in your own house instead, of course. Why would you ever have done it without knowing what awesome brother-in-law I make?"
Mary laughed as well.
"Well, don't you have a swollen head!" she teased, then looked at him in puzzlement. "But why have you taken Sybil to that cursed count? Knowing that Matthew won't be there to help you two out?"
Tom sobered up immediately.
"I didn't want to," he said miserably. "I was so bloody afraid for her my hands were shaking the whole drive to Ripon. And when she fell down unconscious, with blood on her head... But you see, I was even more afraid of doing anything different. I got this amazing, mad second chance to do things right, to save her, and I cannot know for sure what made her fall in love with me. But she did say it once that she started to truly consider me her friend after she had to fight Robert to defend me after the count, so I decided to risk it and just do my utmost to protect her from getting injured again. Which I failed spectacularly at and then Robert sacked me. You can imagine what night I had after that, only to wake up and learn that Sybil went missing. It's a wonder my hair didn't turn grey from it all!"
It was Mary's turn to comfort him with a caress of his arm.
"It was my fault," she confessed wretchedly. "I planned to invite myself to dinner at Downton on that day, to be there and intervene for you as I did back then, but I forgot the date."
"Well, it worked out in the end, didn't it?" said Tom gamely. "At least we are together, which is the best thing that happened to me since I woke up in Dublin again. But..."
He swallowed and looked at Mary with anxious eyes.
"How am I supposed to get Sybil to love me now?"
Mary waved her hand dismissively.
"Do you really think she will forget you now after she went to such lengths to defend you? She will be coming here and talking your ear off about one issue after another just to defy Papa. And of course I won't mind in the slightest."
"You really think so?"
Mary nodded emphatically.
"I do. You just wait, she will be here sooner than you think."
Tom exhaled harshly.
"I envy you," he said. "At least you could act to get together with Matthew as soon as he arrived at Downton. When I came, Sybil was not just insanely above my station, but she was still a child. She is barely an adult now as it is. I feel like a lecher sometimes, thinking about her as I do."
Mary scoffed.
"You're hardly a cradle robber. She is eighteen and is going to be presented next month, which for our kind is the announcement of readiness for marriage. Even if she acts like a spoiled brat sometimes, she is hardly a child."
Tom shook his head.
"But I am not just a few years older than her anymore, Mary. I feel thirty six, even if everybody here thinks I'm twenty four. So I feel like I am lusting after a girl half my age."
"Then you are fitting very well with half of the suitors she's going to meet soon in London," said Mary blithely. "Tom, you waited for her for years last time. You obviously are not going to do anything she doesn't want you to do or what is any way distasteful to her, are you?"
"Of course not!"
"Exactly. So stop agonising over irrelevant issues. You love her as I don't think anybody else could love her. She was very happy with you, despite some of your more stupid ideas – she told me so. I don't believe that she could find anybody better for her and I definitely do not intend to give you up as my brother-in-law."
Tom looked at her gratefully, but then anxiety returned to his eyes.
"But Mary... what if getting with somebody else... is the only way we can save her?"
Mary hesitated. She had been wondering about this herself.
"I don't think it has anything to do with who would be the father of her child," she finally said. "Just with pregnancy itself. But I was thinking long and hard about it, and I don't see how we can ensure she won't get pregnant. Even if you decide not to pursue her, she might just marry someone else. And at least we know what to look for and act sooner. We won't be surprised and caught unprepared this time."
Tom nodded, but without conviction. They both remained silent for a long while, lost in the memories of that horrible night when Sybil had died and they had been utterly powerless to stop it.
"And would you be ready to risk not seeing Sybbie again?" asked Mary quietly.
Tom dropped his head into his hands.
"Oh God, Mary," he said in a tortured voice. "I feel sometimes like I am forced to make a choice between my wife and my daughter and it's excruciating. I cannot choose. I simply cannot."
He raised his head to look at her.
"I miss Sybbie so desperately it is hard to breathe sometimes. How are you managing with George?"
Mary drew in a sharp breath.
"By not thinking about him, most of the time," she said curtly. "It's too painful when I do. And by hoping I will see him soon. Matthew and I are married already, so at least I won't have to wait until 1921."
Tom looked at her as if he wanted to say something but changed his mind about it.
Mary decided to switch the topic. As wonderful as it was to talk to someone who knew George even existed, it was much too painful subject for her exuberant mood.
"So, what's your plan, now that we know? Are you going to remain my chauffer until you talk my sister into eloping with you?"
Tom gave a startled laugh.
"My original plan was to do everything as close to the past as possible," he admitted. "I was tempted to try to make something more of myself – to get a more respectable job sooner – but then how would I even meet her? However high I could have climbed by myself, it would not have been high enough to get into the circles where I could encounter the daughter of the Earl of Grantham. But I was so bored with just being the chauffeur again that I did something."
"What?" asked Mary with interest.
"I signed up for correspondence courses regarding farming and estate management," Tom grinned at her. "And I try to write as much as possible. I was planning to start sending articles to some papers soon, hoping that one would take me on eventually. And when I thought it was most likely Matthew who came back as well, I hoped he might help me with getting an agent job when the time comes. So, one way or the other, I would be able to offer Sybil a better life than I could last time."
Mary hummed approvingly.
"I could give you a job as the agent of Eryholme," she said. "Matthew put me in charge of the estate here."
Tom considered it for a moment.
"But wouldn't it raise suspicions if you did it straight away after insisting on giving me a job as the chauffeur?"
Mary bit her lip.
"It probably would lead to uncomfortable questions," she admitted reluctantly. "So you're happy with just driving me around for now?"
Tom took her hand.
"I am beyond happy to have my friend back," he said. "We will figure it out as we go, Mary. But at least for now we know we have each other. Neither of us is alone in this anymore."
Servants' Hall, Eryholme, May 1914
"Everyone, I wanted to introduce the new chauffer, Mr Branson. Branson, you remember Miss Smith of course, my lady's maid and housekeeper now. This is Mr Molesley, our butler, Mrs Gruntler, our cook, and Edna, Ethel and Martha. You will meet Mr Whinslow, the gardener, and Mr Ryder, the groom, at dinner if you don't run into them at the yard or by the cottages before."
She noticed that Tom was barely listening to her, his eyes wide as saucers and staring at Edna for some reason. She discretely kicked his foot under the protection of her long skirt to get him out of it.
Fortunately, it worked.
"I'm very happy to meet you all," he said in only slightly pained voice.
With greatest reluctance, Mary left him to allow him to get acquainted with the servants. She couldn't afford causing any suspicions by lingering in the servants' hall.
She comforted herself with a plan to call for the motor next morning. She suddenly found a very urgent errand in Darlington. Or, better yet, York. Darlington was much too close.
Servants' Hall, Eryholme, May 1914
Dinner at Eryholme's servants' hall was much less formal than at Downton. Tom wrote it down both to the smaller number of people and to lack of Mr Carson's intimidating presence and rigid sense of propriety. Clearly nobody feared Molesley in similar manner or gave him such authority over them. At least the man had enough sense not to attempt enforcing it anyway.
Not surprisingly, they were all eyeing him curiously.
"Is it true that you were sacked because you seduced Lady Sybil?" blurted out Ethel.
Tom's eyes grew wide in panic, as Anna gasped.
"Ethel!" she cried. "Do you even realise that you may be sacked for speaking like that about Lady Mary's sister? Where have you even heard this kind of rubbish?"
Ethel sent her an injured look.
"From Mr Peters, before he left."
"Now, Ethel, this is not at all what he said!" protested Mrs Gruntler sternly. "He said that Mr Branson got in trouble with his lordship due to some scheme of Lady Sybil she has dragged him into. There was nothing about seducing anyone or any fault of Mr Branson in any of it. If there was, do you think Lady Mary and Mr Crawley would have offered him a position here?"
"Mrs Gruntler is right," said Tom, throwing the cook a grateful look. "Lady Sybil was interested in witnessing the count for the by-election in Ripon and got me to take her there without telling either me or his lordship her true destination. She got injured in a fight among the crowd before I managed to get her out of there, which I regret very much. She might have gotten me in trouble over it all, but it was never her intention. And there was definitely nothing improper between us!"
He looked at the chastised Ethel and hoped to God that this was enough to quench this awful rumour before it took off. He could not stand the thought of Sybil's reputation being damaged as the result of his actions. In hindsight, he should have just refused to take her to that bloody count.
"I'm sure Ethel just misunderstood, but she knows better now," said Edna in a peace-making tone, sending a commiserative look at Tom.
Who barely stopped himself from snapping at her that he didn't need her jumping to his defence.
He reminded himself sternly that this Edna hadn't done anything to him, but it was immediately followed by a small voice in his brain reminding him how well giving her a benefit of the doubt had worked for him before. She was the kind of person who, when you gave them a finger, would grab the whole hand. He was awfully tempted to just tell Mary to sack her. She would have, he knew, even without hearing the whole pathetic story – he liked to think she trusted him enough to do it just on his word alone – but she would be curious, and he squirmed in shame at the idea of ever confessing to her what had passed between him and Edna.
But then again, he was hardly a great catch now. Edna was too practical to go to any great lengths to seduce another penniless servant because she fancied a trim body and a pair of blue eyes. No, what she had done back then was all in hopes of marrying a son-in-law to an earl. If he only kept his distance from her, he should be safe from any entanglements. Besides, she was just eighteen here, a girl really. He would have felt bad to cost her a job due to the sins she had not yet committed and maybe never would.
But how in the world had Mary managed to hire both Edna and Ethel?!
"Do you want some of the meat, Mr Branson?" asked the kitchen maid, Martha, offering him the dish.
Tom took a solid portion. At least Mary's cook was good.
Garden, Eryholme, May 1914
After dinner, Anna took Mr Branson to the garden.
"It works different here than at Downton," she explained. "We have our dinner just after the family, not late in the evening. Except when they are entertaining, but they haven't done much of it here, more in London."
"I'm sure I will learn it all in no time. There are bound to be many smaller and bigger differences, considering that there are just two of them and only nine of us, including the outside staff," said Mr Branson pleasantly and Anna felt a rush of happiness at having somebody familiar with Downton ways here with her, even if she didn't know him so well. Mr Whinslow and Mr Ryder came from Downton as well, but since they never ate at the servants' hall there, she knew them even less. And besides that, Mr Branson had always seemed like a decent and intelligent man to her.
"I'm sorry for what Ethel said," she said apologetically. "Honestly, in such moments I just wish Mrs Hughes was here to put that girl in her place. I don't think she listens to me more than half the time."
Mr Branson looked at her seriously.
"I can take whatever silly gossip she spreads about me, but if you ever hear her speak about Lady Sybil like that, you need to notify Lady Mary. It could cause too much damage if left unchecked, and Lady Sybil does not deserve that."
Anna nodded resolutely.
"Of course not! Especially after everything she has done for Gwen."
"How is Gwen? Do you hear from her sometimes?"
"Oh, very often! She is very well, but she doesn't have many friends in Darlington yet – there are no other women at Mr Crawley's office, so she only got to know some other girls from her boarding house – so she writes me often and we meet sometimes on my half-days. Either I go to Darlington or she comes here and we have a picnic or a walk. She is ever so grateful to Lady Sybil and Mr Crawley; they made her dream possible when she hardly dared to believe in it herself."
"They both are very good people," he said, and Anna fancied for a moment that he looked very sad for some reason. He shook it off so soon though, that she doubted if she saw it for real or just imagined it. "And I am so glad for Gwen. Do you ever think of leaving service?"
Anna shrugged.
"Not particularly. I like being a lady's maid and I know I may yet become a housekeeper at a big house one day. I already am doing some of the housekeeper's duties here. Maybe one day, when Lady Mary is the countess, she will give me Mrs Hughes' position when she retires. That seems like good enough life for me."
"But wouldn't it be a lonely one? Housekeepers nearly never marry," asked Mr Branson and Anna looked at him sharply, trying to discern whether he was trying to flirt with her. But no, he just seemed genuinely interested in her thoughts on the matter.
"I plan to worry about it when I find a man good enough to tempt me," she answered with a cheeky smile. "Until then I plan to rely on myself. One never knows if such a man will ever show up, after all."
She firmly did not allow herself to dwell on one very good man, who insisted he wasn't the one for her.
Mr Branson laughed.
"Very sensible of you," he said with a smile. Anna happily smiled back.
"And what about you? Do you consider leaving service one day?"
"Yes," said Mr Branson firmly, not really surprising her. He did seem too outspoken, passionate and well-read to be satisfied with his present lot. "I am not yet sure what I am going to do with my life – the only thing I am certain off that it's completely unpredictable – but I know I am capable of something more than driving and repairing cars. Even if I like cars a lot. But for now I am very happy that Lady Mary gave me the job here, after that whole debacle with Lady Sybil."
"You won't regret accepting it," said Anna with assurance. "Lady Mary and Mr Crawley are both very nice people, and very reasonable employees. She can seem a bit aloof, and sometimes has rather harsh sense of humour, but she is kinder than she looks."
Mr Branson's smile lit up his face.
"I know," he said feelingly. "When it comes down to it, Lady Mary and Lady Sybil are not so different, aren't they? Despite their different dispositions."
Anna frowned thoughtfully.
"At first I wanted to disagree," she said slowly. "They are so different in their manners and views! And yet you are right. When it comes to their core, they are just as kind and loyal, in their own ways. You must be very insightful."
Mr Branson shifted in evident embarrassment.
"I just had a lot of opportunities to observe them or hear them talk," he mumbled, but then raised his head and added with confidence. "And there aren't many ladies who would care enough to fight for a chauffeur to keep his job just because they felt that his dismissal was unjust. I owe them both and I honour my debts."
"Even if it was Lady Sybil who got you in hot water with his lordship in the first place?" teased Anna, truly touched by his declaration though.
Mr Branson laughed.
"Even so," he said, his blue eyes sparkling. "It's impossible to hold a grudge against someone like her."
Dining room, Eryholme, May 1914
"Branson arrived all right?" asked Matthew as Molesley brought the main course.
Mary put a piece of lamb on her plate and looked up at her husband sitting just in front of her. Despite being married to him for seven months this time around, she still shivered pleasantly at the intimacy of sharing dinner just with him alone.
Why had she protested moving out of the Abbey to a house of their own again? She could freely admit now that it had been Matthew who had been completely right.
"Yes, he did. He seemed to like the cottage, despite the lack of a bathroom."
"Did he have one at his cottage at Downton?" asked Matthew with interest. "Indoor plumbing was not part of any cottages which refitting I have been overseeing there."
Mary frowned and then shrugged, realising she had no idea what Tom's cottage at Downton looked like.
"I don't know. I've never visited the chauffer's lodgings there. The point is, he seems to be happy enough with his accommodation here. Although maybe we really should add the bathrooms to the cottages, if it's at all possible."
"It is possible," said Matthew after swallowing a mouthful of his food. "Expensive, but possible. We may look into it properly after we come back from London in July."
Mary resolutely refused to think about what they might end up busy with this summer instead.
"I think it's a good plan. A bathroom seems like a very basic amenity and I'm sure Branson and the other men would appreciate it."
Matthew looked at her curiously.
"You seem very invested in his welfare," he observed.
"I like him," said Mary plainly. "And the whole escapade was Sybil's fault."
"I like him as well, little as I know him," answered Matthew easily. "He has always struck me as a nice and intelligent chap. I suppose he could have achieved great things if he had more opportunities in life."
"He is quite ambitious," said Mary offhandedly, seeing an opportunity to seed things for the future. "He told me he is taking correspondence courses in various subjects. I do not believe he will be content to spend his whole life as a chauffeur."
"More power to him. I've never agreed with the idea that the class we are born into should determine our whole life. It sadly often does, just due to limited education and resources most of the working class has access to, but there should be more ways of social advancement."
"I have a feeling that you and Branson would get along splendidly," commented Mary dryly, wishing with all her heart she could just invite Tom to join them for dinner. "He definitely would agree with you on that specific issue."
"You might be right. I think I will take a page out of your book and engage him in conversation whenever he is driving me somewhere."
Mary raised her eyebrows in a challenge.
"Is talking to me starting to bore you?"
"Hardly, but you have to admit that I am unlikely to hear the same views on many matters from Branson that I can hear from you, darling."
"Oh, certainly. But it does not necessarily mean that his views would be more correct or interesting than mine," pointed out Mary in mock haughtiness, making Matthew laugh and reach for her hand to kiss.
"You may be assured, my darling," he said huskily. "That however interesting I may find debating Branson, it's never going to hold my attention as you do."
Master Bedroom, Eryholme, May 1914
They broke apart from a passionate kiss, both panting a bit as Matthew rolled onto his back.
"This must be the sweetest form of torture," he groaned. "Will you think me insatiable if I complain that there is still a whole week left until your follow up appointment?"
Mary huffed in mix of amusement and frustration.
"I would have if I wasn't just as impatient myself," she admitted ruefully. "It's been different in the beginning when I could feel I was still healing, but I feel fine now. More than fine when you're lying next to me."
Matthew sighed.
"Nothing to be done about it. The last thing I want to do is to endanger your health in any way because my desire for you got the better of me. But I must admit it's awfully hard to remember when we kiss like that."
Mary sent him a saucy look.
"Then maybe we should refrain from kissing for the next week?"
He gave her a sideways look of his own.
"Such drastic measures won't be necessary."
"You're sure? Maybe you should sleep in your dressing room. I wouldn't want to torture you too much, after all," she said innocently.
"Mary," he said with an eyeroll, opening his arms. "Come here and let's go to sleep."
Mary snuggled to him in her usual position on his chest, but she was still eyeing him speculatively.
"You know..." she said hesitantly. "We can't, of course... But maybe I could... take care of you?"
Goodness, why was talking about such matters so terribly difficult? She didn't mind the actions in the slightest but giving voice to them had her stammer like a simpleton.
Matthew's eyes grew wide when he got her meaning.
"You don't have to," he said hastily. "All joking aside, I can wait until we are sure you're well."
"I know I don't have to," scoffed Mary, then dragged her hand down Matthew's chest tantalisingly. "But I want to."
Matthew gulped, his eyes darkening in response to both his wife's touch and her lustful gaze.
"If you're sure," he gasped when her hand kept its journey down his body.
"Oh, I'm sure," drawled Mary and captured his lips in a searing kiss.
Drive to York, May 1914
Mary came out of the house the next morning in a very good mood.
"Good morning, Branson," she said brightly, accepting his hand to help her into the car.
"Good morning, milady," he answered her greeting with perfect politeness, only his slight smirk and a friendly squeeze of her hand reassuring Mary that previous day's revelations were not a dream.
She had a reflection that maybe they would manage to keep their relationship secret. She was always good at controlling herself in public and Tom had years of practise with sneaking around with Sybil.
"To York, please," she directed as he was getting into the driver seat.
"What are you planning to do there?" he asked, his face relaxing as they drove past the Eryholme's gate.
Mary shrugged with an impish grin.
"I mostly wanted a long drive to talk to you without worrying about being overheard. But since we're going to be there anyway, I will check several shops. I and Matthew will be travelling to Italy next week, there are some items I should buy for the journey."
Tom whistled.
"Italy. I do envy you two. You're sure you won't need the car with you?"
Mary shook her head.
"Sadly, no," she said regretfully, annoyed at the need to maintain what seemed wholly unnatural distance from her best friend. "We will be going by trains. But I will take you to London for Sybil's season."
Tom's mouth turned down.
"I am hardly looking forward to that," he muttered. "I don't like to think of her courted by all those toffs."
"She never cared about any of them other than as friends and you know it," pointed out Mary. "So lay down on the jealousy, it does not fit you."
"Easy for you to say," shot Tom back immediately. "Have you ever had a reason to be jealous of Matthew?"
"Only when he was engaged to another woman for years," answered Mary sarcastically. She was not going to admit to Tom that she had all kinds of silly feelings regarding Matthew dancing with other women before their current marriage.
Tom sent her an apologetic glance at the reminder of Lavinia.
"Well, at least one thing you won't have to worry about anymore. Speaking about changes and marriages, how come Edith is married to Strallan now? Has she travelled in time as well?"
"God forbid!" exclaimed Mary in genuine horror at such an idea. As if Edith wasn't dangerous enough without knowledge of the future. "No, it was all me. They would have married before the war in the normal course of matters if I didn't intervene. I stayed well out of her affairs this time and she jumped on him."
Tom looked genuinely shocked at her casual confession.
"Why did you keep them apart back then? And do I even want to know how?"
"No, you don't," answered Mary firmly. "And you don't want to know why I did it either. She did something heinous to me and I retaliated, let's just leave it at that."
Tom apparently decided that discretion was the better part of valour and changed the topic, at least partially.
"But things have not improved any between the two of you, have they?"
Mary sighed.
"If anything, they are worse. You see, when I first came back here, it was on the very day we learnt that my father's heir, Patrick, has died on the Titanic. I don't know if you heard that I was supposed to marry him?"
Tom nodded, eyeing her through the front mirror.
"I didn't mourn him much when it all first happened. I never loved him and I was dreading marrying him, to be honest. His death set me free to live my life and make my own choices," she bit her lip for a moment. "But everyone expected me to mourn him as a fiancé. So when I realised I was in the past, still grieving for Matthew and hopelessly confused what has happened to me and how to behave, I decided to play along. All I had known for months was grief, it was the part I could play very well. I hid behind mourning him and it worked. Any eccentricity or memory lapse I showed has been written off as being due to grief and shock. And later I could be honest with Matthew, in a way. I could tell him that I loved and lost another before I came to love him. I could tell him that he was my miracle, my second chance at love and happiness. It made our relationship so much more open than if I had to pretend I have never gone through it all, even though I still cannot tell him most of it. But he does understand me better."
She looked up at Tom.
"Everyone accepted it except Edith, of course. She fancied herself in love with Patrick and did not see any sign that I ever did as well. So of course she came to a logical conclusion that I was a heartless monster insincerely playing it all up for attention. She even tried to warn Matthew off me, can you imagine?" Mary finished, rolling her eyes.
Tom looked pensive for a long while.
"I understand why you did it," he said finally. "And of course it must have been horrible for Edith, if she loved him. But I wanted to ask something else... Do you consider this Matthew to be someone else than the person you lost?"
Mary turned her face to the window, barely seeing the landscape they were driving through.
"Yes and no," she said. "He is still so quintessentially Matthew... but... I and Matthew have been through so much together. All the heartbreak, all the mistakes, all the good moments too – they all made our love, our very selves who we were. I love Matthew in any incarnation I meet him, there's no question about that. But I also cannot treat my current husband as simple replacement of the one I lost. He is different, we are different together. It is still such incredible miracle and I love him so very much, but it's not so simple to me."
She looked back at Tom.
"And how is it for you?"
"It's Sybil," he answered simply. "I do regret all that we shared and I fear we might be unable to experience it again for one reason or another, but it's not like that for me. She is Sybil and I love her and I do not see her as two different people. Maybe I should, but I don't. I am different than I was, but she is still Sybil, just at a different stage of her life."
Mary nodded, lost in thought. She got Tom's point, but she didn't think she could ever look at it his way.
"Why were you staring at Edna so yesterday?" she asked, willing to switch to a less fraught subject. She chose it as the first thing which came to her mind, but Tom's immediate deer-in-the headlights expression piqued her interest. There was clearly a story.
"I was just surprised to see her among your staff," he said, visibly uncomfortable.
"Why? Haven't you noticed her when we all came for the Servants' Ball?"
Tom chuckled ruefully.
"I actually haven't," he admitted. "I was much too busy watching Sybil and taking opportunity to dance with her. I barely paid any attention to anyone else."
"But why Edna? You must have recognised Ethel as well and you haven't stared at her half as much."
"Oh, Ethel surprised me as well. Why have you picked her, after everything?"
Mary shrugged.
"I thought that she deserved a chance as well. Maybe if I keep her away from officers, she will manage to keep herself out of trouble."
"Well, she always was dreaming about a better life."
Mary looked at him sternly.
"And you're changing the topic."
Tom sighed heavily.
"She might have had a crush on me," he mumbled.
Mary's eyebrows shot up.
"You never said!" she exclaimed, truly shocked. "Is that why she left?"
Tom nodded, clearly unhappy. Mary frowned, thinking uneasily that maybe it was not a matter to joke about.
"Do you want me to dismiss her?" she asked instead, watching his reaction carefully.
Tom shook his head.
"It wouldn't be fair," he said. "I don't want her to lose her job over something she hasn't done. Besides, I think me being Robert's son-in-law was a huge part of my appeal to her; I do not expect her to act that way now."
"Act what way?" asked Mary suspiciously.
Tom shrugged, squirming in his seat.
"She was rather determined. But as I said, I don't think she's going to make trouble now."
Suddenly, he grinned at Mary.
"Tell me, have you done anything silly about Matthew when you realised you were reliving your life? Because I have sent Sybil a valentine every year."
Mary looked at him incredulously, then laughed.
"It was you? We were all wondering for ages! Sybil was just hoping it was not Larry Grey."
Tom scowled at the mention of the man.
"I hope she didn't really think it was that bastard. She must have some more pleasant suitors!"
"Why do you think she ran away with the chauffeur?" teased him Mary.
"So, have you done anything comparable?"
"No anonymous cards, but I did let him teach me how to ride a bicycle," admitted Mary, rolling eyes at herself. She laughed when Tom coughed in surprise.
"I would pay to see it!" he rasped when he got his breath back. "Lady Mary on a bicycle!"
"I looked perfectly dignified, thank you," answered Mary haughtily. "And speaking about teaching, we will have to figure out a way for you to teach me more about managing an estate. You barely started before we were sent back to the past."
"I guess we will need to go on more errands to York," smiled Tom. "Just pack some maps and account books next time."