Unlikely Bonds: Embracing the Future Chapter 7

Note: There is violence described in the section 'War Effort', typical of what you see in war, no more graphic to what was shown on the Show.

WW1

University Days

Mary's first day at the University of Leeds was a mix of excitement and apprehension. She had dressed smartly and professionally for the occasion, a reflection of her commitment to her studies. As she made her way through the bustling campus, her nerves simmered just beneath the surface, intensified by the knowledge that Britain was at war with Germany.

The chair of the Law department had wasted no time in making announcements about the accelerated course load. It was a measure designed to allow male students to complete their studies early so they could join the armed forces and serve their country. Mary, determined as ever, had chosen to take the accelerated course as well. This decision meant longer terms and additional summer sessions, but it brought her closer to her ultimate goal. By the winter of 1916, she hoped to have completed all the necessary coursework, with only her thesis on her chosen subject standing between her and her law degree.

Tom's unwavering encouragement and support had fortified her resolve. She knew this journey would be challenging, especially with the world at war, but she was willing to endure it to achieve her dreams.

Her friend Fleur, who was studying Library Sciences, had also opted for the accelerated path. The two women had each other for company and support during these intense academic months. But Fleur's talk of volunteering for the war effort once her degree was completed weighed heavily on Mary's heart.

One evening, as they were studying together in Mary and Tom's flat, Fleur mentioned her intentions once more, and Mary couldn't help but be affected. The war was a source of deep concern for her, not only because of its impact on the world but also because of Tom's anti-war sentiments.

"Fleur," Mary began, her voice carrying a note of unease, "I understand your desire to contribute to the war effort but talk of it unsettles me. You see, my husband, Tom, he's strongly against the war, on principle. I worry about what he might do if he's ever called up to serve."

Fleur looked thoughtful, her curly brown hair framing her face as she considered Mary's words. "I can understand your concern, Mary. It's a difficult situation, especially with the differing views on the war. But we must all follow our convictions, mustn't we?"

Mary sighed, her gaze fixed on her books but her mind clearly elsewhere. "Yes, we must," she conceded, "even when it means facing difficult choices and the uncertainty of the future."

As they continued to study, the weight of the world outside their books and notes hung heavy in the air, and Mary couldn't help but wonder how the war would continue to shape their lives and the lives of those they loved.

Going Dancing

Mary and Tom had been looking forward to the charity ball for weeks, and the evening had finally arrived. Despite the ongoing war, the University was hosting this event to raise funds for the war effort, and it was one of the few social activities they had to look forward to.

Tom, dressed in his meticulously tailored old tailcoat, fiddled with his cufflinks, a bit nervously. The coat had been expertly refitted to accommodate his frame, a testament to his frugal nature. Mary couldn't help but smile as she looked at him. "I haven't seen you wear this before," she remarked, her voice low and playful. "You look very handsome tonight, positively delicious," she added, her words laced with flirtation. Tom, still blushing after all this time, was delighted that even after six months of marriage, Mary could still make him blush.

Mary, resplendent in a black dress adorned with white detailing, felt a thrill of excitement. The dress was new, a small luxury they could afford. It was almost like old times, and she relished the opportunity to get dressed up.

As they stepped into a cab, Tom offered his arm to Mary, and she took it with a smile. They arrived at the University Ball, joining a stream of elegantly dressed attendees who had also come to support the cause.

Inside, the grand ballroom was adorned with decorations, a big band played lively tunes, and couples swayed on the dance floor. Waiters moved gracefully among the guests, offering trays of drinks and refreshments.

Mary and Tom found a table and were soon joined by Fleur, who looked radiant. She was accompanied by a Captain, whom she introduced as her brother's friend, Captain Samuel Marcus. Tom shook his hand warmly, and Mary smiled pleasantly at him.

The evening was filled with dancing, laughter, and conversations with acquaintances Mary had made during her time at the University. Tom's dancing skills surprised Mary, and she couldn't help but ask about his proficiency.

"I didn't know you were such a good dancer, Tom," she said with a smile as they twirled around the dance floor.

Tom grinned back at her. "Well, I went to an all-boys preparatory school," he explained. "The only chance we got to talk to girls was during dance classes, so you bet we all signed up."

As the night wore on, Mary and Tom enjoyed each other's company, dancing and mingling with fellow attendees. It was a night of light-heartedness and escape from the grim reality of the war.

When it was finally time to head home, Mary leaned against Tom's shoulder in the cab, her fatigue slowly overcoming her. She murmured sleepily with a contented smile, "That was fun." Tom nodded in agreement, grateful for the respite from the worries of the world outside, and gently placed a kiss on her forehead as they journeyed back home.

News from the Front

Tom received letters from his friends on the front, and each letter brought a mix of emotions.

Orwell Power, a long-time friend of Tom, Bertie, and Peter, had joined up almost as soon as the war was declared. Commissioned as an officer, he had undergone rigorous training to prepare for his role. However, his letters told of a harrowing experience on the front lines. The intensity of the conflict, the horrors of trench warfare, and the toll it took on both body and mind were vividly described in Orwell's words.

Bertie's letters, on the other hand, carried a more optimistic tone. Stationed at HQ, he had a broader perspective on the overall war effort. His missives were filled with reports of strategic movements, military plans, and, at times, hints of hope. From his vantage point, it seemed that there was still progress to be made, despite the grim realities faced by those on the front lines.

Tom also received letters from old school friends, and these brought more sombre news. Some of the men he had once shared classrooms and camaraderie with had already perished in the war. Their deaths weighed heavily on Tom's conscience, intensifying his opposition to the conflict.

The moral dilemma Tom faced was a challenging one. He couldn't reconcile the loss of life and the suffering he read about in his friends' letters with the idea of joining the war effort. Yet, knowing that he hadn't been called up for service, he felt a personal responsibility to work toward improving the lives of the soldiers on the front lines.

Since 1913, Tom had been researching different motor engineers who were working on four-wheel-drive vehicles. He believed that developing such vehicles, like lorries and trucks, could greatly benefit the soldiers. These vehicles would enable easier transport of supplies, reducing the logistical challenges faced by the military. They could also serve as ambulances, providing crucial aid to the wounded.

Tom's dedication to this project was unwavering. He saw it as a way to make a meaningful contribution to the war effort without directly participating in the violence he abhorred. As he read his friends' letters and witnessed the toll the war was taking, he became even more determined to bring his vision to life, hoping to provide some relief to those enduring the hardships of the front lines.

Every Saturday, Mary played host to an afternoon tea for her neighbours: Brenda, Mrs. Finlay, and Fleur. Mrs. Finlay was the tenant on the first floor, sharing the flat with her formerly retired doctor husband. The Finlays' two sons-in-law had enlisted early in the war, and Brenda, Mary, and Mrs. Finlay all shared a daily anxiety whenever the postman arrived, fearing for their husbands. Both Brenda and her husband, along with Tom, were of Irish descent and held a markedly different perspective on the war compared to their English counterparts.

At these tea gatherings, there was an unspoken rule: conversation about the politics of the war was strictly prohibited. Mary viewed these teas as a means of supporting her female friends. She also invited her housekeeper, Mrs. Harris, to these impromptu gatherings, as she had three sons and two daughters, all of whom had been affected by the war in some way. Mrs. Harris considered herself fortunate that her youngest son, Jimmy, had been accidentally blinded in one eye as a child while playing with fireworks, rendering him ineligible for military service. He devoted his time to assisting his sisters and sisters-in-law, whose husbands were serving in various capacities.

The women would gather, chat, sip tea, and engage in knitting. They crafted hats, scarves, and socks for the soldiers at the front. Mary quickly picked up the skill and proved to be an exceptionally fast knitter. She liked to add a touch of fancy stitching to the ends of her scarves to make them a bit more special.

On this particular day, the women made an extra effort to support Fleur. She had received a letter from her mother earlier in the week, conveying the devastating news that her young cousin Eddie had been killed at the Somme; he was only 19 years old.

Being out of touch with her old social circle, Mary wasn't aware of how her friends from Downton, like Evelyn Napier, were faring. However, she did know from Anna that the head gardener at Downton had lost both his sons. Mary didn't interact with Burges as much as the indoor servants, but she remembered how proud he always was of his flowers and how he'd advise her and her sisters on which blooms were best for their arrangements.

Mary noticed that Fleur's knitting had become hopelessly tangled. She gently took the supposed hat from Fleur's trembling fingers and set about untangling the yarn and restoring the hat to its proper form. Brenda, understanding the need for solace, poured Fleur another cup of sweet tea.

Mrs. Finlay shared updates about her husband, who had rejoined the workforce at Leeds Hospital to help compensate for the younger doctors who had left for the army. He specialised in obstetrics and mainly worked to relieve the junior doctors so they could assist with treating wounded soldiers. His return to work meant he had more good news stories than bad. Mrs. Finlay recounted tales of healthy babies being born, sometimes crafting little bonnets and booties for them in delicate white and yellow, especially when the war's grim reality seemed overwhelming. She found that thinking about the future helped to alleviate the fear of the present.

Mary contributed her own news, sharing a quirky titbit she had learned that week. "Did you know that witchcraft is still a punishable crime in Scotland?" she said with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Let's be careful not to whip up any potions in our kitchens, ladies."

The women chuckled at Mary's playful warning, the light moment providing a brief respite from the anxieties of their time. Together, they forged bonds of friendship and support that helped carry them through the challenges of wartime England.

War Effort

Mary and Tom, deeply moved by the news of their family members and friends serving on the front lines, as well as news from Downton through Anna, felt compelled to find ways to help and support the war effort.

Mary's days were consumed by her studies at the University of Leeds as she pursued her law degree. Meanwhile, Tom dedicated himself tirelessly to his work at the factory, where he was focused on developing a prototype four-wheel-drive system using stainless-steel components.

In their discussions about how they could contribute, Tom proposed a generous idea. He suggested that they extend an invitation to all his acquaintances serving in the armed forces, offering them the chance to spend their leave at their flat in Leeds. This offer would be especially meaningful for those who didn't have a home to return to or whose homes were too far away, such as his Irish friends in the army. Mary readily agreed to this idea, appreciating Tom's compassion and hospitality.

Mary also felt she could make a meaningful contribution by organising the women at the factory. She proposed the idea of making collections for the Red Cross, assembling care packages, and rolling bandages. In addition, she suggested that, a couple of evenings each week, both she and Tom could dedicate their time to writing letters to the soldiers at the front. These letters would serve as a morale booster, offering support and encouragement to those facing the hardships of war.

United in their desire to make a positive impact, Mary and Tom embraced these efforts to support their loved ones and all those affected by the war.

Orwell Power, the son of the Marquess of Donegal, was the first friend to take Tom and Mary up on their offer to spend leave at their flat in Leeds. Normally, Orwell would have spent his leave with his friend Peter Pelham, but Peter was in America at the time his leave was due.

Tom eagerly collected his weary friend from the station, hiring a cab for the journey back to their flat. During the ride, Orwell was unusually quiet, quieter than his already reserved demeanour would suggest. It was a contemplative journey.

When they arrived at the flat, Orwell managed to produce a semblance of normalcy upon meeting Mary. Surprisingly, Mary and Orwell had some mutual acquaintances. She even recalled dancing with Orwell's brother John at her coming-out ball.

Dinner was a quiet yet delicious affair, with Mrs Harris's culinary skills on full display. Casual conversation flowed throughout the meal. After dinner, they retired to the sitting room, where a cosy fire provided warmth against the evening chill. There, Tom and Mary tried to engage Orwell in discussions about everyday activities.

However, as the night wore on, Orwell excused himself and retired to the study, where Mrs. Harris had arranged a daybed for his stay.

Tom tended to the fire, banking it and placing a guard in front, while Mary began her nightly ablutions. Soon, Tom would join her in their room.

Mary turned off the lamp and snuggled with Tom. In a hushed tone, she inquired, "Is he always so reticent?" Her curiosity was piqued. "He wasn't much of a chatterbox, but he did have an urbane sense of humour," Tom replied, a note of concern in his voice.

As the night settled around them, they engaged in quiet conversation before drifting off to sleep, wondering about the weight that Orwell seemed to carry with him.

Mary suddenly opened her eyes, her heart thudding in her chest. There was a noise—a thumping sound coming from the next room. Tom, however, was in a deep slumber, and it took some vigorous shaking to rouse him.

"Tom! Tom! Wake up," Mary insisted urgently.

Half-awake and disoriented, Tom mumbled, "It's too early, I don't wanna get up."

Mary persisted, giving him another firm shake. "Tom!" she hissed.

Startled, Tom blinked awake and realised that Mary had forcefully pulled him from his slumber. "What is it?" he asked groggily.

"I heard a noise, listen," she said.

They both lay still in the bed, straining their ears to catch any further sounds. It wasn't long before Tom heard it too—a thump and perhaps a faint moan. "I heard it too," he confirmed. "I think it must be Orwell. I'll go and check on him."

Tom climbed out of bed, threw on his dressing gown over his pyjamas, and quietly slipped out of the bedroom. He made his way to the study door and tapped lightly. "Orwell, are you awake?" he asked in a hushed tone.

Listening carefully, it sounded like Orwell was talking to someone. Tom slowly opened the door, there was a slither of moonlight coming through a chink in the curtain, giving Tom just enough light to see Orwell twisting and turning. Tom entered the room, when he was closer to the bed, he could hear Orwell say, "move man, move!" repeatedly. Tom wasn't sure what the best way to wake someone from a nightmare was.

As Tom stood at the end of the bed, he recalled a childhood memory of Mrs. Green shaking him gently by the foot when he had similar bad dreams. Drawing from this, he reached out and grabbed Orwell's foot firmly, giving it a shake while calling out his name. He repeated this process twice more until Orwell abruptly sat up in bed with a startled yell.

"Orwell, you were having a bad dream," Tom gently informed him. He could see that Orwell was bent over, breathing heavily, and his hands were trembling.

Tom gave him a few moments to recover before he spoke again. "Would you like some warm milk with nutmeg to soothe your nerves?" he asked kindly. Orwell, still visibly shaken, nodded in agreement.

Tom offered his hand to help Orwell stand, but the other man declined with a shake of his head. Tom stepped back from the bed, allowing Orwell some space to compose himself.

Leading Orwell down to the kitchen, Tom retrieved a pan and two mugs. He fetched the milk from the pantry and began to gently heat it. With a sense of quiet competence, Tom prepared the warm milk and placed the mugs on the kitchen table. He gestured toward the nutmeg shaker, indicating that Orwell could use it if he wished. Orwell, grateful for the gesture, sprinkled a bit of nutmeg into his milk.

After a few minutes of silence, Orwell slowly started to talk, "There was this private under my command, just a boy really, I don't think he was actually 18." Orwell took a deep shaky breath, "We were under fire one day, it was so strange, as the sky was so blue, like the perfect summers day of your youth, you know?" Tom nodded, "and I had ordered everyone to take cover and he just froze, like a rabbit caught in a beam of light. I kept yelling at him, 'move man, move' and he just stood there with a terrified look on his face until a bullet hit him square in the head. He just gently toppled over, with that same terrified look frozen on his face forever." Tom just looked at Orwell with compassion. "I don't think I will ever forget that moment. War is a terrible business, Tom." Orwell whispered. "Stay out of it as long as you can," he advised, "I'll try" Tom said quietly, feeling deeply for his friend in that quiet moment.

They both sat at the table in silence, the only sound in the room being the ticking of the kitchen clock. Tom eventually reached out and gripped Orwell's shoulder, a silent reassurance that he was not alone. Together, they sat in the tranquil embrace of the night, the rhythmic ticking of the clock serving as their only companion.

Eventually after a week, Orwell had to return to duty and with fond farewells Tom and Mary waved their friend off. Tom wrote to his friend Peter about Orwell's stay, to help put his mind at ease, as Orwell was a particular friend of his.

Dear Peter,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I wanted to share some news with you regarding our dear friend, Orwell Power. He recently spent a full week with Mary and me here in Leeds, and I thought you'd appreciate knowing how he fared during his stay.

Firstly, let me assure you that Orwell is in better spirits than when he arrived. The nightmares that had been haunting him seem to have lessened in intensity, and his overall demeanour is more composed. Mary and I did our best to provide a welcoming and calming atmosphere, and I believe it had a positive impact on him.

While he was with us, we tried to keep things as normal as possible. We talked about a variety of topics, from our shared memories to the everyday activities that occupied our time. I think having a break from the front lines and a change of scenery did him good.

Orwell expressed his profound gratitude to both Mary and me before he left. I know that our home may not be the same as his own, but he assured us that it was a much-needed respite. I hope that our time together has contributed in some small way to his well-being.

Please rest assured that we'll continue to support Orwell as much as we can, and I'll keep you updated on his progress. The bond of friendship remains as strong as ever, even in these challenging times.

I look forward to hearing from you soon and hope that we can all meet again when this dreadful conflict finally comes to an end.

Warm regards,

Tom

Unexpected News

William Power, the Marquess of Donegal, sat in his opulent study, a room adorned with dark wood panelling and shelves lined with leather-bound books. The weight of his responsibilities as the head of one of Britain's most prominent families hung heavily upon him. His once immaculate desk now bore the scattered remnants of an afternoon's correspondence.

The Marquess had experienced tragedies that no parent should endure. His youngest son, a promising lad of just sixteen, had met a tragic end during a rugby game at school. And his eldest, Tristian, had been swept away by the war's unforgiving tide within the first two months of the conflict in 1914.

He never dreamed that he, a man of immense wealth and influence, would find himself in this position. He had watched as his sons, born of their mother, had grown. He had been proud that they had answered their country's call, that they were doing their duty. But deep down, he had never truly believed that the war would touch his precious sons. It was a bitter realisation that life's cruel hand could strike even the loftiest of hearts.

The butler, a man who had served the Donegal family for decades, entered the study with a tray bearing the day's mail. William's eyes, weary from both sorrow and the weight of his responsibilities, glanced at the stack of envelopes. There, among the pile, was a letter with distinctive handwriting, unmistakably his son Orwell's.

His heart skipped a beat as he tore open the letter, revealing Orwell's account of his recent leave. Orwell's words painted a picture of time spent with a certain Tom Branson and his young wife. Tom was William's illegitimate son from a brief liaison with the beautiful Lady Louise Lockheed. William's eyebrows raised as he read about Tom's wife, a "Lady Mary Branson," the daughter of the Earl of Grantham. He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of his illegitimate son marrying into such aristocracy.

Memories flooded back to him, thoughts of Louise, and the bargain they had struck. He had financially supported Tom's education, all the while receiving annual reports from the solicitor they had entrusted with this secret arrangement. He had known of Tom's extraordinary intelligence, and it seemed that his son was now working on something of monumental significance. The Marquess had always felt the need to be there, pushing his sons forward, but here was Tom, proving that he could succeed without his father's direct influence.

With a deep breath, he finished reading the letter, Orwell's words filled with praise for his half-brother. A sense of guilt washed over him as he pondered the secrets he had kept and the fractured relationships between his sons. He longed for them to have the brotherly bond that had been denied them. Yet, the necessity of maintaining the secrecy surrounding his long-ago affair, and the potential harm it could bring to his reputation, continued to weigh heavily on his mind.

With a resigned sigh, he ran his fingers over the letter once more before making a decision. He carefully folded the letter and placed it in a drawer, alongside the other missives that held the story of his family's complicated history.

The Dreaded Day

As May of 1915 drew to a close, the day Mary and Tom had been dreading finally arrived. Tom received a distinctive green envelope among his morning mail, a harbinger of the impending medical examination.

Mary held her breath, her anxiety palpable, as Tom opened the letter. The contents confirmed their expectations. Tom's face grew solemn as he delivered the news to Mary. "It's a letter to report for a medical in two days' time," he said, his voice steady but laden with the weight of uncertainty.

Mary's fear was tangible. "Do you know what you will do?" she inquired, her concern evident.

"My position on the war hasn't changed, Mary," Tom gently reassured her. "I think it's best to get the medical over with, and then I will talk to my solicitor to see what exactly my options are."

Mary grappled with her own fears, torn between the worry of Tom changing his mind and going to war and the potential consequences of him sticking to his principles. They both hoped that Tom might be allowed to serve in a non-combat position, as some of his university friends who were Quakers had done, serving as ambulance drivers and in similar roles.

The day of Tom's medical examination arrived, and Mary had to attend her university classes, making the separation even more agonising. Her anxiety gnawed at her throughout the day, making concentration on her studies a daunting task.

Finally, when her lectures ended for the day, Mary gave her excuses to her friend Fleur and hastened home. She called out for Tom, seeking solace in his presence. When she found him, he was absorbed in his work, examining notes and processes on the blackboard.

Mary couldn't contain her curiosity. "Well?" she eagerly inquired.

Tom turned to her, his expression a mix of relief and uncertainty. "The medical went normally, as far as I could tell," he informed her. "The clerk on duty told me they are processing results quickly at present. It could be as little as two days before I get my orders."

Overwhelmed with emotions, Mary moved to embrace her husband. Tom, understanding her need for comfort, reciprocated the embrace. They stood together, silently acknowledging that their world hung in the balance.

The dining room was softly lit, casting a warm, intimate glow over the polished mahogany table set for two. A bouquet of fresh flowers graced the centre, their fragrance mingling with the aroma of the evening's meal. Candles flickered in delicate crystal holders, casting dancing shadows on the fine china.

Tom and Mary sat across from each other, the soft glow accentuating the warm smiles on their faces. The clinking of silverware against porcelain plates filled the air as they began their meal.

Mary, her expressive eyes bright with curiosity, looked across the table at Tom. "Tom, you were telling me about the progress with the business today," she prompted, her voice laced with eagerness.

Tom, a trace of pride in his voice, leaned slightly forward, engaging in the discussion. "Indeed, Mary. We've been receiving excellent reports on the vehicles we've fitted with stainless steel exhausts. It seems the improvements are working wonders. I even received a letter from Henry today, saying that the prototypes are performing better than expected."

Mary's eyes sparkled with interest as she sipped her wine. "That's wonderful news, Tom. Your dedication to this venture is truly remarkable. I'm proud of what you've accomplished."

A genuine smile graced Tom's lips as he returned Mary's sentiment. "Your support means the world to me, Mary. It's been a challenging journey, but we're making headway."

The conversation flowed as they savoured each course. Tom mentioned the 4WD lorry prototype, now ready for testing, and Mary listened attentively, her enthusiasm evident. She admired how Tom's determination and innovation were driving their business forward.

Between bites of their meal, they shared personal updates. Mary spoke of her recent academic achievements, a glint of excitement in her eyes. "I'm not the best in the class, but I'm in the top ten, Tom," she said, her pride evident.

Tom, ever the supportive husband, beamed with pride. "That's incredible, Mary. I've never doubted your intelligence and dedication. You'll achieve great things at university."

As dessert was served, they basked in the comfort of their shared accomplishments and dreams. The soft strains of music playing in the background added a romantic undertone to their dinner, deepening their connection as husband and wife.

Amid the clinking of cutlery and the soft murmur of their conversation, Tom and Mary found solace in each other's company, cherishing these moments of respite from the uncertainties of the world around them.

After spending a quiet night reading together in the sitting room, they retired for the night. The night passed with Tom and Mary seeking refuge in their shared intimacy. As they clung to each other, they found a fleeting respite from the uncertainties that loomed on the horizon.

Results

The morning of May had brought an unusually heavy rainfall, the sound of it tapping against the windows serving as a gloomy backdrop to Tom and Mary's breakfast. They sat at the dining room table, their attention divided between their porridge and the mounting tension that weighed heavily on their shoulders.

Mary's anxiety bubbled to the surface as she sought answers. "Anything from the War Office?" she inquired, her voice betraying her unease. Tom, always the calming presence, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as he responded, "No, not this morning."

His touch was meant to convey support, but Mary found the waiting unbearable. The uncertainty was tormenting her, and every moment without a resolution felt like an eternity. Tom tried to explain the bureaucratic nature of government processes, hoping to offer some comfort. "The clerk said it could be ready in two days, that might mean it was ready in two and sent on the third. You know how governments work, Mary."

Despite his efforts, the prospect of the impending decision still loomed over her. It meant another day out in the world with this uncertainty hanging like a sword of Damocles. She couldn't fathom how she would manage to focus on her university lectures under these circumstances. At least she had made plans to meet Fleur for lunch, a small distraction amidst the turmoil of waiting for news that could change their lives.

With a heavy heart, they knew there was nothing more to be done for now except to finish their breakfast and prepare to face the day, each step forward shrouded in the uncertainty of what the future held. As they parted ways, Mary made sure to give Tom a tender kiss, a silent expression of the love and support that would carry them through whatever was to come.

Tom had keenly observed the anxiety that gripped Mary as they awaited the results of his medical examination. He knew that his future weighed heavily on her, and he couldn't bear to see her suffer like this. So, he decided to meet her outside the gates of the University of Leeds, a small gesture of comfort and support.

As he stood there, waiting for Mary, he watched the flurry of activity around him. Young men and women in academic gowns moved about, their lives intertwined with the pursuit of knowledge. When he finally spotted Mary, her black gown billowing behind her, he couldn't help but smile. Her excitement at donning the university's official uniform always brought a sparkle to her eyes, marking her as a student of the prestigious institution.

Mary's face lit up when she saw Tom, and she rushed into his arms with unbridled delight. The couple walked arm in arm to the tram stop, reminiscing about their first tram ride together all those months ago. Mary marvelled at how much her life had changed since leaving Downton, with its newfound challenges and freedoms.

Their tram journey was a pleasant one, with two wooden seats side by side, reminiscent of their earlier adventures. They shared a fond smile, cherishing these little moments that strengthened their bond.

However, the train ride back home was less fortunate, and they had to stand in the midst of the bustling crowd. Men in uniforms and sombre-looking women surrounded them, casting disapproving glances at Tom, the civilian among them. Mary clung to her husband's arm, a protective gesture in response to those judgmental looks.

Upon their return home, it was only 5:30 pm by the clock on the mantle. Tom helped Mary out of her coat, but their domestic moment was interrupted by Maggie, the maid, bearing news of an afternoon letter.

Mary's heart sank as she feared the worst, but Tom remained composed as he broke the seal and read the letter. The weight of his words hit her as Tom confessed, "I failed the medical, the army rejected me." Mary was momentarily relieved until she read the letter herself and discovered the true reason: a heart condition. "A heart murmur?" she repeated, her voice filled with worry.

The letter provided little information, leaving them both in the dark about the implications of this diagnosis. Tom suggested they consult with Doctor Finlay when he was available, and Mary agreed.

"Why don't I ring for some tea?" Mary suggested, attempting to bring some semblance of normalcy to the moment. She rang the bell for Maggie and ordered tea.

Leading Tom to the settee, Mary sat down beside him, her hand firmly holding his. In the quietude of their home, they waited for the tea and the inevitable conversation that would follow, finding comfort in each other's presence.

Note: Happy Days, I worked through my block on 1916 chapter, it only took me killing someone to release the inspiration, so I am almost up to the point now where Mary meets Isobel.