Notes: I've used some dialogue from the show in the first scene in the kitchen courtyard.

When Anna came to dress her the next morning, Mary was sitting in her easy chair in her nightclothes looking drawn and tired, her eyes fixed on the bed.

'Good morning, milady. Is everything all right?' Anna asked, surprised to find her mistress already out of bed even though Mary had rung the bell for her much earlier than usual.

'Hmm? Yes, I just… I don't like lying in that bed anymore,' Mary said, a slight involuntary shudder running through her thin frame. 'Not when he... he... well, you know.'

Anna looked down, still shocked and disturbed by the whole affair.

'I didn't invite him to my room, Anna. I swear I didn't,' Mary said earnestly, grabbing Anna's hand, suddenly desperate to explain to her maid what had happened now she understood it wasn't her fault.

Anna looked startled but squeezed Mary's hand reassuringly. 'No, milady, I didn't think you had.'

'I didn't. He asked me to, but I said no. I said no.'

Anna nodded as Mary released her hand, and then she crossed the room to open the curtains.

'You do believe me, don't you?' Mary asked, anxiously.

'Of course, I do," Anna said, turning to face her mistress, taken aback to see how gaunt she looked in the weak morning light.

'Because I didn't. Truly, I didn't.'

Anna nodded again, eyeing Lady Mary with concern. 'Are you sure you're all right, milady?'

'And I never gave him permission to do the things he did to me either,' Mary carried on, showing no sign she'd heard Anna. 'I did not consent. I did not.'

There was silence for a moment before Mary whispered once more, 'I did not consent.'

Anna came over to her and knelt before her, putting a hand gently over Mary's. 'Of course, you didn't, milady.' She paused, uncertain whether to go on. 'Do you want to talk about what happened?'

Mary looked at Anna, her face troubled. 'No, I… no, I don't.'

Anna hesitated before speaking again. 'Do you think maybe you should see Dr Clarkson? Let him examine you.'

'No,' Mary said, forcefully. 'No, I don't want that.'

'But… what if… what if you're with child?'

'No. There won't be a child. I've made sure of that,' Mary said firmly, shaking her head.

Anna stared at her in surprise. 'What do you mean?'

Mary flushed and turned away from her maid's searching look. 'Nothing,' she mumbled. 'I don't mean anything. Ignore me. I'm just tired. I didn't sleep last night.'

Anna gazed at her, feeling dreadfully uneasy. Something did not feel right here.

Mary scrubbed her hands over her face, trying to stop her mind from churning, tormenting her. 'Could you possibly draw me a bath, please, Anna? I feel terribly unclean this morning.'

'Of course, milady,' Anna said, rising to her feet, still looking speculatively at Mary. 'I'll go and do it now.'

Mary stared out of the window, avoiding looking at the bed, trying to replace the disturbing thoughts of that man with the more pleasant ones of waking up with Tom yesterday afternoon. She tried to focus on the feeling of safety and comfort he'd given her. But there, in the room where she was assaulted, she lost the battle, her mind filling instead with images of Kemal Pamuk touching her, lying heavily on top of her, dying on her.

Tom wasn't sure what to do with the bag of clothes and the sheet. He couldn't keep it in his cottage, that much was clear. If anyone found it, he wouldn't be able to explain why he had it.

He could put it in the boot of the car and give it back to Lady Mary one day when he drove her somewhere, but there were several problems with that. First, it would have to be a trip where she was alone. Second, it may seem odd to any observant footman or more likely the hawk-eyed butler if Lady Mary left the Abbey without a bag and returned with one.

In the end, he decided that perhaps his best bet was to give the bag to Anna and ask her to return it to Lady Mary. He could simply tell her that Mary had left the bag in the car. Hopefully, Anna would not even think twice about it or have any reason to believe he knew anything more than that about the bag or what was in it.

He took it with him in the morning, diverting to the garage to stow it there before heading into the servants' hall for breakfast. He didn't want to take it into the house before he knew Anna would take it. As luck would have it, he managed to catch Mary's maid in the hallway before they sat down to eat.

'Might I have a quick word with you, please, Anna?'

The maid looked a little distracted, but she gave him a small smile. 'Of course, Mr Branson. What can I do for you?'

'Lady Mary left a bag in the motor yesterday, and I was wondering if I might give it to you to return it to her?'

'Of course. Do you have it with you now?' she asked, glancing at his empty hands.

'No, it's in the car. I can go and fetch it now or bring it at lunchtime if that suits you better?'

'Oh, don't bother now. I wouldn't want you to miss breakfast. Besides, Lady Mary hasn't mentioned missing her bag, so I'm sure it can wait a little while longer,' Anna replied, biting her lip as she thought of her mistress' strange behaviour that morning. If she was honest, she was more than a little worried about her.

'Thank you, Anna,' Tom said, desperate to ask her how Mary was that morning. He kept his mouth shut, knowing there was no way the chauffeur could reasonably ask after one of the daughters of the house like that. Not without raising more than a few eyebrows.

'It's no bother,' Anna said, with a smile. 'Now, we'd better go in before the breakfast gets cold or all the gannets eat it.'

After breakfast, Tom went outside for a breath of fresh air before he headed to the garage to start work on the smallest of Lord Grantham's fleet of cars. As he leaned against the wall, he heard the back door open again and two pairs of footsteps. Next came the strike and flare of a match further along the courtyard arches from where he was standing, closer to the back door.

'You took him to her room then?' a female voice said, the spiky lady's maid to the Countess of Grantham if he wasn't much mistaken.

A male voice answered her, the flat Mancunian tones identifying him as the black-haired footman, Thomas. 'I didn't have much of a choice, did I? Not if I wanted to keep my job. He'd have got me sacked if I'd refused.'

Tom cocked his head. It wasn't in his nature to eavesdrop, but this sounded like it had something to do with what had happened to Lady Mary and if it did, he wanted to know. Already, he could feel his blood beginning to boil that Thomas had apparently shown the Turk to Mary's room. That was one mystery solved, though.

'So, he definitely went in?' Miss O'Brien asked.

'I saw him walk through the door,' Thomas replied, a plume of smoke sneaking around the edge of the tower of crates hiding Tom from their view.

'But you don't know if he went back to his own room.'

'Yes, I do. Cos I was the one who found him there the next day,' Thomas said, sounding a bit perplexed by that statement.

'What I mean is you don't know if he went back under his own steam,' Miss O'Brien elaborated, making Tom stiffen and turn his head towards them.

'I suppose not. But how else would he have done it?'

'That's what they call the Big Question,' Miss O'Brien said, meaningfully.

'I don't want to get into any trouble over this,' Thomas' voice came again, wary this time as he took in what his smoking companion was saying.

'Don't worry. You won't. Your secret's safe with me.' Miss O'Brien told him.

'It'd better be.'

'Give over. Why would I drop you in it?'

'You'd drop your granny in it if it served your purposes,' Thomas observed, acerbically.

'Thomas!' Mr Carson's voice boomed across the yard as the back door opened once again. 'If you've quite finished lollygagging out here, I have some duties I need you to attend to.'

'Yes, Mr Carson. I'm coming right now,' Thomas replied dutifully. There was a beat of silence while he waited for Carson to disappear back inside then he followed it up with an aside to Miss O'Brien. 'Better go and see what the old sod wants. I've got to keep on his good side more than ever now. If he knew what I'd done, it wouldn't just be my job he'd want, it'd be my head on a silver platter.'

Miss O'Brien snorted. 'Well, you'd best make sure he doesn't get a sniff of it then, hadn't you?'

Tom heard Thomas's footsteps heading towards the back door. He stayed where he was as smoke continued to curl around the corner of the crates, hoping Miss O'Brien would also go back inside, but a minute or so later, she appeared in the courtyard, her back to him, smoke pluming around her. Tom stood stock still, as silent as the grave.

Miss O'Brien finished her cigarette then turned as she dropped the butt onto the floor and ground it out with her heel. She saw Tom leaning against the wall immediately and glared at him, visibly shocked to see him there.

'What are you doing lurking about out here?'

'Taking a breather, same as you.'

She narrowed her eyes at him. 'How long have you been there?'

'Long enough.'

'Were you eavesdropping like a dirty, little sneak?' she snapped.

'If anyone's a sneak around here, it's not me judging by what I just heard,' Tom replied calmly, looking her dead in the eye.

Miss O'Brien stared at him suspiciously, trying not to show how rattled she was by his unexpected presence.

'You heard nothing,' she said, crisply. 'And even if you thought you did hear something, you'd be well-advised to forget it. You don't want to make enemies. Not when you've only been here a few days.'

Tom pushed off the wall, standing tall and straightening his tunic. 'Has it occurred to you, Miss O'Brien, that perhaps it's you that doesn't want to be making an enemy of me?'

She glared at him, trying not to show how uneasy she was. 'Oh, look at you, trying to play the big man. You've been here all of two minutes. You know nothing and nobody, not of any importance. And nobody's going to listen to anything a trouble-making Fenian has to say.'

Tom took a couple of steps towards her. Miss O'Brien didn't give an inch, her pinched face showing nothing but dislike.

'You'd be surprised who and what I know even after a short time here,' he said, keeping his voice steady. 'And if I'm a trouble-making Fenian, you might want to consider that I may have a few tricks up my sleeve that even you haven't tried before.'

Miss O'Brien stared at him, a muscle jumping in her jaw where she was clenching her teeth.

'I'll bid you good day,' Tom said, matching her stare before striding off and leaving her in his wake.

When Tom arrived back in the yard carrying Mary's bag at lunchtime, Anna was there, resting against a small pile of crates, her eyes closed, her thin face tipped up towards the weak March sunlight.

'Hello, Anna. Busy morning?' he said, coming to a halt in front of her.

'Yes, but aren't they all?' she answered, opening her eyes and looking at him ruefully.

Tom smiled, wondering again how this slip of a girl and Lady Mary managed to move a dead man across the Abbey even with the help of Lady Grantham.

She glanced down at the bag in his hand. 'Is that Lady Mary's bag?' she asked in surprise.

'Yes.'

'Oh. I thought it must have been her handbag. I didn't expect it to be a reticule. When did she leave it in the motor?'

'Yesterday,' Tom said, an uneasy feeling creeping across him.

Anna frowned. 'Yesterday? When you took her to York for lunch?'

'Yes.'

'How odd.'

'This is all very cosy. What's going on here then?' Miss O'Brien's voice cut through their conversation as she stepped outside with a packet of cigarettes and a lighter in her hand.

'Nothing's going on here,' Anna snapped, surprising Tom. He'd never seen her annoyed before, but then Miss O'Brien did have a special talent for rubbing people up the wrong way.

'What's in the bag?' the lady's maid asked, nosily.

'It's none of your business what's in the bag,' Anna said, taking it from Tom and glaring at Miss O'Brien.

'I hope he's not getting you to wash his smalls for him,' O'Brien sneered. 'Mrs Hughes wouldn't like that.'

'I am not a laundry maid, Miss O'Brien,' Anna bit out, not even trying to hide that the other woman was getting on her last nerve.

'No, but women do strange things when they're sweet on someone.'

Anna stood up straight, her anger palpable. 'Really, Miss O'Brien, I don't know where you get these fanciful notions. The bag belongs to Lady Mary. She left it in the motor and Mr Branson is simply returning it.'

Tom felt his blood run cold as Miss O'Brien narrowed her eyes at that titbit of information. He could almost see her turning it over in her mind to see what she could rinse out of it.

'Thank you for your help, Anna,' he said, calmly. 'I'm sure it's nothing important, but I wouldn't like Lady Mary to think she'd lost it.'

'Of course. I'm sure she'll be glad to have it back. Shall we go in for lunch? I think Mrs Patmore has boiled a ham,' Anna said, sparing one last look of dislike for Miss O'Brien, before sweeping past her.

Miss O'Brien ignored Anna, keeping her eyes on Tom as he followed the maid to the back door. He kept his face blank, walking past her as if he didn't have a care in the world.

Mary was in her room, sitting at her dressing table just staring blankly into the mirror when Anna went upstairs with the bag. She jumped as Anna came in.

'Milady? Can I get you something?' the maid asked, her worry about her mistress's strange behaviour returning in force.

'No. No, I was just… getting ready for luncheon,' Mary said, listlessly lifting a hand and then dropping it again. Her eyes snagged on the bag Anna was carrying and suddenly her cheeks flushed with colour as she spun around on the stool. 'Where did you get that?'

'Er, Mr Branson found it in the motor and asked me to return it to you,' Anna said, surprised at Mary's response to the bag.

'To- Branson gave it to you?'

'Yes.'

Mary stared at the bag for a moment. 'Could you thank him for me, please, Anna?'

'Of course. Would you like me to empty the bag and put things away?'

'No!'

Anna looked startled at the ferocity of her lady's answer and Mary's eyes skittered away as she realised she'd over-reacted to a simple question.

'Er no, thank you, Anna. Just leave it and I will see to it.'

'As you wish, milady,' Anna said, putting the bag down on the chaise longue at the foot of Mary's bed. 'Will that be all?'

'Yes, thank you,'

As Anna turned to leave, Mary spoke again.

'Um, how was he?'

Anna stopped, looking around at her mistress, completely puzzled by the question. 'How was who, milady?'

Mary bit her lip and then looked away again. 'Nothing. No-one.'

Anna eyed Mary in concern, her worries about her only increasing. 'Are you sure you're feeling all right, milady?'

'Yes.'

'I can get you some powders if you have a headache or a stomach ache.'

'No, that's not necessary. I'm fine, Anna. Absolutely fine,' Lady Mary replied, an unconvincing smile pasted on her face. 'You may go.'

Anna bobbed her head and left the room, closing the door behind her. Her lady was not all right, no matter what she said, and Anna would have to do something about it.

Later that afternoon, Anna knocked on Lady Grantham's bedroom door and waited to be called in. When she went into the room, Miss O'Brien was there, fussing over her ladyship's jewellery collection.

'Anna,' Lady Grantham said in surprise as Miss O'Brien narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the maid.

'Might I have a word with you, please, your ladyship?'

'Of course.'

Anna looked pointedly at Miss O'Brien. 'In private.'

O'Brien pursed her lips angrily. 'And what need has the likes of you got to be asking my lady to speak with her privately?'

Anna said nothing, merely looking from Miss O'Brien to the countess.

'O'Brien, please leave us,' Lady Grantham said, holding Anna's gaze as she dismissed her maid. 'I will ring for you when I need you.'

'But, milady, your jewellery – '

'Will be fine, O'Brien. Please leave us.'

Miss O'Brien glared at Anna, a look that could fell an elephant, but left the room, trailing her outrage in her wake. As soon as her maid shut the door petulantly behind her, Lady Grantham looked expectantly at Anna.

'Is something wrong, Anna?'

'I'm worried about Lady Mary, your ladyship,' Anna said, getting straight to the point.

The countess pursed her lips in displeasure, not yet willing to forgive her eldest daughter for her transgression. 'I'm not sure Lady Mary deserves your concern at this moment.'

'But she does. She's… I think she's very upset.'

'And so she should be after her behaviour and what she inflicted upon both of us.'

Anna shook her head. 'I don't think she was to blame. I think Mr Pamuk… I think he forced himself upon her.'

'That is not what she indicated when I asked her precisely that question that night. It seemed quite clear then that she had invited his attentions,' Lady Grantham said, her voice quiet but trembling with anger.

'She told me that she didn't invite him to her room and that she did not consent to what he did to her,' Anna persisted.

'I believe she is trying to rewrite history, so you won't think badly of her, Anna.'

'No, begging your pardon, your ladyship, but I don't think she is. What would be the point? I already know the worst of it, so why would she tell me anything different if it wasn't true?'

'Maybe because she's finally realised the full extent of just how unacceptable her recent behaviour has been,' Lady Grantham snapped out.

'She said something else too. Something quite odd.'

'Why? What did she say?' the countess asked, curious despite herself.

'I asked her if it might not be a good idea for Dr Clarkson to examine her in case she was with child – ' Anna pretended not to see the mistress of the house blanching at that thought and ploughed on ' – and she said she'd made sure there would be no child. I'm worried about what she meant by that, what she might have done.'

To Anna's surprise, that only seemed to make the countess angrier. 'Did she indeed? Then I think we can categorically say that Lady Mary is definitely the architect of her own misfortune.'

'Your ladyship?' Anna said, furrowing her brow in confusion.

'If she is sure there will be no child, it must be because she and her... that man took precautions to prevent there being one, which suggests to me that it was an agreed assignation.'

'But how could it have been? He only arrived at Downton that day and they didn't know each other before that,' Anna pointed out.

'And he obviously came here with an intention to seduce someone, and it appears Lady Mary was a willing participant in her own seduction,' Lady Grantham said, her voice tight with anger.

'I don't follow, your ladyship. If he brought the… preventative method with him, how is Lady Mary to blame?'

'He was in her room, Anna,' Lady Grantham said with finality. When the maid still looked puzzled, she sighed. 'He was in her room; she was not in his. The only way he would have known where to find her room was if she'd told him.'

Anna thought quickly, looking for the flaw in the logic that must be there. 'Maybe someone else told him.'

'I hardly think any of the staff would have been giving guided tours of the house pointing out the bedrooms of the young ladies, especially to a gentleman guest. No, your sense of loyalty to my daughter does you credit, Anna, but I think we have to accept that Lady Mary has made a dreadful mistake and her poor choices have caught up with her,' the countess said, unwilling to bend in her condemnation of her daughter and her recent behaviour.

'What if she wasn't talking about preventative methods, milady?' Anna wrinkled her nose trying to find a delicate way of putting what she wanted to say. 'I mean, he didn't appear to have anything like that on his… his… person.'

Lady Grantham looked pained as she contemplated that. 'Perhaps Lady Mary removed it before we arrived.'

'But there was nothing of that sort in her room. And he was face down on the bed, your ladyship. Wouldn't we have seen it... the, um... preventative method when we turned him over? It wasn't like anything was hidden from our view, was it?' she persevered, feeling her cheeks warm as her mind flashed back to Mr Pamuk's naked body draped over Lady Mary's bed.

'I'd rather not discuss this matter any further, Anna,' the countess said, primly.

'But that's why I wonder if Lady Mary wasn't talking about preventative methods. Because we didn't see anything of that nature on the body, did we?' Anna persisted, determined not to let her worries go unsaid.

Lady Grantham sighed, realising her daughter's maid wasn't going to let this go. 'Well, what else could she mean?'

'There are old methods, old wives' tales and such like, about plants and things that could be used to loosen a babe from the womb. Maybe that's what she meant,' Anna said, feeling uncomfortable talking about such things with the countess.

'And where would she get hold of such a concoction, Anna? Has she asked you to help her procure anything like that?'

'No, your ladyship.'

'Then I don't believe that is what she was referring to,' Lady Grantham said, shaking her head. 'Who else would she ask for help if not you? You are her most trusted confidante and, as you said yourself, you already know about the whole sorry, sordid affair. Why would she involve anyone else?'

'Maybe you're right. But should we not at least get Dr Clarkson to come and examine her, your ladyship?' Anna asked, determined not to give up yet.

'No, certainly not. We do not need to make anyone else aware of Lady Mary's shame,' Lady Grantham said, adamantly.

'But if he forced her – '

'He did not force her. That is not what she said happened,' Lady Grantham snapped.

'Well, if he was less than gentle then,' Anna persevered, 'she might need medical attention.'

'No. She lost her virginity. There is no medical remedy for that. Once it's lost, it's lost forever,' the countess said bluntly, her patience fraying.

'I'm worried about her, your ladyship,' Anna said again, not yet willing to let the subject lie. 'She's acting strangely, and I think she's far from all right. I think she's quite distressed.'

'She should be distressed. She has acted irresponsibly and jeopardised her future, her personal reputation and the reputation of the entire family. If anyone finds out about her shameful behaviour, she will not have the life she expects to have. And that is why Dr Clarkson will not be examining her unless it turns out that she is with child after all,' her ladyship said, making her position on the matter quite clear. 'And God help us all if that comes to pass. Let's pray it doesn't.'

Anna deflated, recognising that she was not going to get through to Lady Grantham.

'As I've said, Anna, your loyalty does you credit. If Lady Mary continues to act erratically, please come and tell me and I will deal with her.'

'Yes, your ladyship.'

'You may go,' Lady Grantham said, dismissing her.

Anna bobbed a curtsey and left, more determined than ever to keep a close eye on Lady Mary if her own mother wasn't prepared to do so.