April 1913
A few days later, Mary put on her coat, her hat and her gloves and walked out of the Abbey, telling Carson she was going for a walk and may be some time. He inclined his head and wished her a pleasant walk, watching her go with concerned eyes.
Once out of sight of the Abbey, she cut through the woods, heading for Tom's cottage. When she got there, she lifted the corner of the doormat and found the front door key lying there, just where he'd said he would leave it. Glancing over her shoulder, she checked to make sure there was no-one else about and then slipped the key into the lock and let herself in.
Everything was quiet and peaceful, with no sign of Tom. Feeling a little awkward to be there without him, she walked into the kitchen, taking her hat off as she went.
On the table was a mug – the same one she'd used on her other visits – with a note propped against it and a box of matches next to it. Mary dropped her hat on the table, peeled off her gloves and then picked up the note and read it.
Milk is in the pantry. Pan is on the hob. Book is by the bed. Help yourself to anything else. Sweet dreams. TB
She smiled, rubbing her finger over his initials, admiring his unexpectedly beautiful penmanship, and then tucked the note carefully into her handbag.
Next, she went to the pantry, got the milk out and poured it into the mug, taking the jug back to the pantry and stowing it safely. After that, she poured the milk into the pan, using the matches he'd left out for her to light the hob. Not used to making her own hot milk, Mary waited, watching carefully for the milk to come to the boil, lifting the pan from the heat as the frothy milk rose to the top and pouring it back into the mug.
It all felt very domesticated, like nothing she'd ever experienced before, a snippet of a life she would never know.
She took the mug upstairs, setting it carefully down on Tom's bedside cabinet beside the pile of books.
It felt strange being in his personal space – especially his bedroom – without him, almost like she was intruding. But she had his permission, she reminded herself. It was his suggestion that she come here while he was at work.
She rounded the bed to find the bag she'd left there the other day and began to change her clothing again. Once she'd done that, she crossed to his wardrobe and took out the now-familiar soft blanket, before settling herself on his bed, shaking it out over her.
She picked up the book, smiling as she saw two bookmarks, one near the beginning of the book, one closer to the end. She opened it at the first bookmark and began to read, sipping her milk as she did, losing herself in the world of a bygone era. Gradually, she felt her eyelids drooping, so she drained her mug and set the book aside, snuggling down under the blanket.
She missed Tom. His gentle, soothing presence, his soft lilt reading the story to her, but she realised as she turned her head on the pillow that she could smell him. His pillow carried his scent, a fresh, soapy smell combined with the pomade he used in his hair and just the faintest whiff of motor oil. Mary buried her nose contentedly in the pillow and slipped into sleep.
Some four hours later, Mary found herself being gently shaken awake. She opened her eyes to see Tom leaning over her, smiling.
'Wake up, sleepyhead,' he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 'It worked then.'
She smiled back at him, stretching her toes towards the bottom of the bed. 'Yes, it did. It took me longer to fall asleep without you here, but it worked.'
'Good, I told you you didn't need me, didn't I? But there is one thing we forgot in all our planning,' he said, perching on the side of the bed.
'What?'
'You'll have to remember to set an alarm to wake you up. I bumped into Anna in the servants' hall, and she told me Mr Carson is fretting about you being out for so long.'
'What time is it?' Mary asked anxiously, propping herself up on her elbows, suddenly wondering if she'd slept for much longer than she'd intended.
'It's almost five o'clock.'
Mary rolled her eyes, dropping back down onto the pillow with a groan. 'Oh, for goodness' sake. I left the Abbey at one o'clock! It's not like I've been missing for a day!'
'Well, Mr Carson seems to think you might be dead in a ditch somewhere. He can't imagine you've been out walking for all this time. I thought you might be here, so I sneaked away to wake you after I spoke to Anna.'
'There you go again, saving my bacon,' Mary said with a smile. 'I'm quite sure I would have slept for hours more if you hadn't woken me. It looks like you're right. I will have to bring an alarm clock with me.'
'Oh, there's no need for that. I've got one here; you can just set it for the time you want,' Tom said, gesturing at the small clock nestling half-hidden among the books on his nightstand.
'Thank you. I'll remember that next time. That's if you're happy for there to be a next time?' she questioned, her heart suddenly in her mouth as it occurred to her that a wrathful Carson might have put him off extending his hospitality to her again.
'Of course, I am. Why wouldn't I be?' he asked in surprise.
'Well, Carson can be a bit of a bear with a sore head when he's worried. I didn't want to assume that you were prepared to put up with that for my sake.'
Tom grinned. 'I'd put up with a lot worse than a grumpy Mr Carson for you, Mary. And he's far from the worst thing I've ever encountered in my life.'
For a few moments, a charged silence fell as Tom realised quite what he'd said and how it may betray his burgeoning feelings for the young woman in his bed. Mary stared back at him, her heart skipping unexpectedly at his words.
Finally, she broke the silence, giving him a big smile. 'Well, it seems I have indeed found a true friend then.'
'Yes, you have,' Tom replied, silently reminding himself that a friend was all he could ever be to Lady Mary Crawley. He stood up and stepped away from the bed. 'Right. Cup of tea before you go?'
'That would be lovely, Tom, thank you,' Mary said, flipping the blanket back and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
Tom looked at the hair escaping from the now-messy bun at the nape of her neck and swallowed, pushing back the urge to reach out and tuck strands behind her ear. It was time for him to leave and let her get changed.
'I'll just be downstairs then,' he said brightly, beating a sharp retreat, trying and failing not to imagine her unbuttoning her blouse.
That night, Mary sat at her dressing table, staring at herself in the mirror. She studied her image carefully, poking at her face, wondering if the dark circles under her eyes were maybe slightly lighter after her few hours of sleep at Tom's cottage that afternoon.
She really didn't know where she'd be without his kindness in letting her use his home to get some sleep because things were not improving in her own bedroom.
She was beginning to dread every night when Anna left after helping her into her nightclothes and gathering up her evening wear. Hours and hours of darkness stretched ahead of her where she would be trapped in this godforsaken room.
Mary had always loved her bedroom, loved the space and freedom it gave her. It had always been a place where she didn't have to be on display, where she could throw off the rest of the day and whatever part she had been expected to play. It had always been somewhere she could just be herself.
But like many other things, Kemal Pamuk had robbed her of her sanctuary. Now it felt like nothing so much as a prison. And she hated that feeling.
A knock on the door interrupted her increasingly morose train of thought.
'Come in.'
Sybil poked her head around the door, dressed for bed as Mary was. 'Hello, darling. Are you up for a visit? If you're ready to go to bed, I can leave.'
Mary swivelled on her seat, beaming at her sister, and seized the chance for company. 'No, come in, come in.'
Sybil smiled that soft, beautiful smile that seemed to make everyone love her instantly and came in, shutting the door behind her.
She perched on the bed, scrambling back and bringing her legs up, tucking her nightdress under her toes and hugging her knees. Mary tried not to wince as Sybil sat where Kemal Pamuk had died.
'Did you enjoy your walk today?' Sybil asked, lightly.
'Yes, it was most refreshing. The woods are beginning to come back to life quite nicely,' Mary replied, offering a small smile even as she fudged the truth about her afternoon. A little prickle of guilt jabbed at her for lying to the person she loved most in the world.
Sybil returned her smile and then tipped her head, scrutinising Mary carefully. 'Can I ask you something?'
'Of course.'
'Are you quite all right?'
Mary froze, her smile slipping a little. 'Why do you ask?'
'Well, it's just that you've been very quiet lately, not at all like your normal self. And I hope you don't think I'm being rude, but you look tired, darling, like the world has sapped you of all your strength and energy,' Sybil said, concern written all over her face.
Mary glanced away, taken aback that her sister had noticed the change in her demeanour. She'd thought she was managing to hide it better than that.
'I... I am a little tired, yes,' she said, reluctantly. 'I'm... I'm not sleeping all that well.'
Sybil gazed at her sympathetically. 'Oh, why ever not? There's nothing nicer than sinking into a nice soft bed at the end of the day and closing your eyes.'
Mary shrugged, not wanting to reveal anything of what had happened to her in the last few days to her sweet, young, idealistic sister. 'I don't know really. I just can't seem to drop off for ages and when I do I wake up far too quickly.'
Sybil hopped off the bed and walked over to Mary, squeezing her shoulders. 'Maybe I can help you relax enough to be able to nod off,' she said, smiling at her.
'And how are you going to do that?' Mary asked, wondering what Sybil was up to.
'Turn around,' Sybil said, pushing gently on her shoulders. 'Face the mirror.'
Mary dutifully spun around on her seat and watched in the mirror as Sybil undid the ribbon on her plait and gently teased it apart. Next, she reached over and picked up Mary's hairbrush.
'I always loved having my hair brushed,' Sybil said, beginning to pull the brush through Mary's long, dark hair. 'When I was little, I would always be half asleep by the time Nanny finished brushing my hair. Perhaps it will help you feel sleepier too.'
Mary smiled, tipping her head a little to let her sister sweep the brush in long strokes through her hair. She doubted very much that it would help, but if it made Sybil feel like she was doing something useful, who was she to stop her? And she couldn't deny that it felt lovely to have her little sister taking care of her so sweetly.
The next day, Mary once more slipped through the grounds of Downton Abbey to the chauffeur's cottage. Again, it was empty, but she'd expected that as she knew Tom was taking Mama into York for luncheon today.
He'd left her another note on the kitchen table, propped against what she was beginning to think of as her mug.
Don't forget to set the alarm, sleepyhead! You don't want to be the subject of a manhunt. Sleep tight. TB
She smiled, once again putting the note into her handbag. And then she went through the motions of making her hot milk, climbing the stairs, getting changed and settling on his bed.
Mary picked up the alarm clock and set it to four o'clock, thinking perhaps she shouldn't stay out so long today if Carson was worried about her after her long absence yesterday.
Alarm set, she drank her milk and picked up A Tale of Two Cities. This time, she lasted all of three pages before she nodded off, soothed by the drink and the scent of Tom's pillow.
The ringing of Tom's alarm clock jolted Mary out of a deeply satisfying sleep. She groaned, reaching out to silence it and then rolling over onto her back, wishing she could stay there slumbering for longer.
She stretched, feeling the bones in her back shift, and then relaxed, more comfortable and refreshed than she ever felt when she awoke in her own bed these days. There was something about this place that completely relaxed her.
She lay there with no inclination to get up until the church bell struck half past four and then forced herself to stir, going through the motions of getting changed back into the clothing she'd worn leaving the Abbey.
When she was ready, she went downstairs to wash her mug. Placing it on the table where he'd left it, she paused and then reached for her handbag and pulled out her small silver case of calling cards and her silver propelling pencil. She extracted one of her cards and wrote on the back of it.
I feel like I might be taking liberties by drinking all your milk! I hope there is enough left for a few cups of tea. Please let me contribute to buying more. Yours in gratitude, MC
She propped the card against the clean mug and then fished in her bag again for her purse, pulling out a shilling and leaving it next to the card.
Mary hesitated, looking at the coin sitting on the table, hoping that Tom wouldn't be offended. Then she decided it was better to pay her way and not simply take from him when she was in a position to reimburse him for something she was consuming. She picked her hat off the table, fixed it in place and slipped out of the cottage, locking it up behind her and carefully replacing the key.
'Good evening, milady,' Carson said as he opened the door to Lady Mary, having spied her walking across the lawn towards the house.
'Good evening, Carson,' Mary replied, bestowing a bright smile on the butler.
Carson felt his spirits lift, noting the colour in her cheeks and that she didn't look as tired as she had in recent days. 'Did you have a pleasant walk?'
'I did, thank you. I find it most energising to be out in the fresh air. I think I might begin to walk more regularly. The grounds are so beautiful this time of year, don't you think, with spring beginning to arrive?' Mary said, deftly laying the ground for more afternoon jaunts that could see her visiting Tom's cottage without anyone finding it odd for her to be out so much.
'Well, I can't say as I get to walk the grounds all that often, but I agree that seeing the leaves budding on the trees does gladden the heart,' Carson responded, heartened to hear his favourite Crawley sounding so uplifted.
'I couldn't agree more,' she said, beaming at him.
Carson beamed back at her and then watched her go upstairs to change with an almost paternalistic sense of relief.
When Tom arrived back at his cottage after dinner at the big house with the rest of the servants, he pulled off his cap and gloves and set them on the dresser before turning and spotting the card and the coin on the table.
He stared at the coin, a small frown on his face, and then he picked up the card and read it. He dropped down into one of the kitchen chairs, gazing at the silver coin, chewing his lip. He didn't want her to feel indebted to him or that she needed to reimburse him for anything.
He rose and went to the dresser, pulled out his notepad and pen and returned to the table.
It was another three days before Mary went back to Tom's cottage. She wished desperately that she could go every day, but she feared people would begin questioning her newfound urge to take long walks every afternoon.
When she let herself in, she walked to the kitchen, unpinning her hat as she went. She paused at the table, eyeing the usual set-up of mug and note, but seeing a shilling still sitting beside it. She laid her hat down and picked up the note.
Thank you for the offer, but my milk comes from the big house, so you'd be paying me for something your father already pays for. I can't in good conscience take the money. Please don't feel beholden to me. I want you to feel welcome here, to treat my home as a safe place for you to rest. I remain, as ever, your friend. TB
Mary pressed her lips together, re-reading the note, hoping she hadn't inadvertently offended him. Her eyes lingered on how he'd signed off. Your friend.
She tucked the note into her handbag, thinking how she'd never had a friend like Tom before and how glad she was that they were friends.
May 1913
'Oh, Carson, please tell Mrs Patmore I won't be here for luncheon today,' Lord Grantham said to his butler over breakfast one bright May morning.
'Very well, my lord.'
'Do you have something interesting to do today, Papa?' Mary enquired, her heart sinking as she realised if her father wasn't there for luncheon, it was likely that Tom would be absent too and she wouldn't be able to see him. She felt like she hadn't seen him for ages and had been contemplating asking him to take her for a short ride out in the car.
'I have an engagement at the barracks in York with my old regiment,' Robert replied.
'Ah, so is Branson driving you there?' she asked, casually.
'Yes, of course, he is. That is what I pay him for. Why? Did you need the motor today?'
Mary shook her head. 'I was thinking of going into Ripon to run a few errands, but it can wait.'
'So, what will you do instead, Mary?' Robert asked.
'She'll go on another of her endless walks, I expect,' Edith said, giving a slight eye roll.
'And what's wrong with that?' Mary demanded, annoyed with her sister for sticking her nose into her business.
'Nothing. It's just I'm surprised you're not three inches shorter since you've started walking so much lately,' Edith said, then skewered Mary with a suspicious look. 'Why have you taken to walking so much these days? You never used to bother with it that much.'
'Because I find it relaxing,' Mary said, trying not to snap at Edith.
'You must sleep like a log with all that fresh air every day,' Edith responded, her eyes still on Mary as she buttered a crumpet.
Mary stiffened slightly, wondering suddenly if Edith knew where she really went and what she really did on her "walks".
'But you should be careful. You don't want to over-develop the muscles in your calves. No man wants a woman with larger legs than his own. It's simply not an attractive look,' Edith finished, cattily.
Mary glared at her. 'Well, I don't know how you'd know such a thing seeing as no man has ever shown so much as a scintilla of interest in you,' she fired back.
'Oh, and I suppose they are flocking to court you?!' Edith sniped, colouring up at Mary's slight.
'More so than they ever have for you!'
'Girls!' Robert thundered, lowering his paper. 'Really. This is not a breakfast room conversation. I do not wish to hear it.'
'What isn't a breakfast room conversation?' Sybil asked curiously as she entered the room. 'That sounds like a conversation I'd like to be part of.'
'Nothing. Just your sisters sniping at each other as usual,' Robert informed his youngest. 'Perhaps you can start a sensible conversation to restore harmony over the toast.'
Sybil pressed a quick kiss to her father's brow before grinning at her sisters as they swapped venomous looks. 'Oh, Papa, sometimes harmony is overrated. Sometimes, it's nice to stir things up.'
Robert sighed. 'Not in my experience. I am all for a quiet, harmonious life. But that's a distant dream because it's just my luck that I live in a household of women.'
'And that is both your cross to bear and your joy to behold,' Sybil said, patting him on the shoulder. 'Now, have you lot left any sausages for me? I am quite ravenous this morning.'
Mary shot Edith one more glare before picking up her coffee cup. She was almost positive that Edith knew nothing about her visits to Tom's cottage, but she decided she might take a more circuitous route today and be extra vigilant about her surroundings. Just in case.
Tom smiled at the sight of Mary's hat on his kitchen table when he got back from ferrying his lordship to and from Imphal Barracks in York. She'd been coming here regularly for the last six weeks or so; he knew that from the little notes she would leave him, replies to the ones he left for her before he went to work. Although, he didn't get to see her all that often, he liked knowing she was here, in his space.
He put his cap and gloves on the dresser, rolling his shoulders, feeling the ache of hours of driving and standing to attention waiting for his employer. He was, he mused, quite tired himself.
He went upstairs, with half a mind to wake her, but when he reached his bedroom, she was lying there so peacefully, looking so beautiful, he didn't have the heart to pull her from the sleep she still so badly needed.
He sat on the edge of the bed and picked up A Tale Of Two Cities from where it had fallen from her hand onto the bed. He tucked the bookmark back in it. He had long since finished reading it, but Mary only seemed to get through a few pages at a time before she succumbed to sleep.
He rolled his shoulders again as a yawn crept up on him. He would welcome a nap, he thought. It had been a long day.
He bit his lip, looking at the woman fast asleep in his bed. He couldn't, could he? Could he join her? Just for ten minutes or so. Surely, it couldn't be long until the alarm she'd set went off. Just a few minutes of closing his eyes wouldn't hurt. He might even wake before she did and be able to make his escape before she knew he'd been there.
Another yawn escaped him, his eyelids drooping heavily. Well, it wasn't like they hadn't spent time asleep together on his bed before, was it?
He pulled his boots off and lay down beside her, careful not to touch her. He lay there listening to her deep, regular breathing. Very soon, he was asleep himself, lulled by the peace and quiet and her presence beside him.
Mary stirred, slowly swimming to the surface of consciousness. The first thing she noticed when she opened her eyes was the wall of green in front of her nose. She blinked, confused before she realised suddenly that she wasn't alone on the bed.
Tom lay on his side next to her, facing away from her towards the door. It was the green waistcoat of his livery she'd opened her eyes to just now.
The breath caught in Mary's throat, her heart rate tripping upwards as she stared at him, wondering when he'd returned to the cottage and lain down beside her. Cautiously, she moved closer to him, slipping her arm over him, exerting gentle pressure to pull him onto his back, so she could see his face.
He sighed and rolled onto his back, still asleep, his head lolling towards her.
Mary watched him carefully, staying as quiet as a mouse so as not to wake him. Her alarm was yet to shrill, so she knew it wasn't time for her to make tracks back to the house yet. She could go back to sleep for a while.
Slowly, very slowly, she inched towards him, slotting herself in the space beside him. She rested her head on his shoulder, grasped the edge of her blanket in her hand and slid her arm over his chest, covering him with it too. And then she closed her eyes again, a smile playing on her lips, as she relaxed against him, once more seeking the sweet oblivion of sleep.
The jangling of the alarm clock startled them both out of sleep.
Tom jerked awake and then reached out a hand to stop the infernal noise, moving slowly as he realised Mary was curled against him, her head on his shoulder, her arm slung over him, still holding the edge of the blanket in her hand.
She stirred, licking her lips and then looking up at him, half coy, half nervous.
'Hello, you,' she said, her voice a touch husky with sleep.
'Hello,' he murmured, a tentative smile on his face.
'When did you get here?'
'About half an hour ago.' He hesitated, unsure whether to apologise for getting on the bed with her. 'Is this… is it all right that I'm here?'
She gave him a puzzled look. 'Of course, it is. It's your home!'
'No, no, I mean, here. That I lay down with you. On the bed.'
'Oh. That,' Mary said, blushing prettily. 'Well, yes, of course. I mean, it's your bed. And it's not like it's the first time, is it?'
'No, but before, you were awake, and you asked me to join you. This time, I just… lay down. Uninvited.'
She pulled her lip between her teeth, regarding him with some amusement. 'Well, it's very sweet of you to check, but at the end of the day, it's your bed and you're being kind enough to let me use it, so I can hardly complain if you want to lie on your own bed, can I?'
'You can if you think it's inappropriate of me,' he argued, gently. 'I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable.'
Mary smiled at him. 'If it had bothered me, I wouldn't have covered you up with the blanket. I would have shoved you off the bed.'
He huffed out a laugh, and then his brain caught up with what she'd said. 'Wait. Did you know I was here? Before the alarm went off, I mean?'
'Er, well, yes. I woke up with my nose squashed up to your back about ten or twenty minutes ago,' Mary confessed, colour rising in her cheeks at the extent of her boldness.
'And you put the blanket over me,' he observed, a smile creeping over his face.
'Well, I didn't want you to get cold,' she said, an answering smile blooming on her face.
They gazed at each other, smiles fading as something unsaid rose between them.
'I've missed having you here,' Mary whispered, breaking the charged silence.
'I've missed being here with you,' Tom murmured.
Carefully, he pulled his arm free and swung it around her shoulders. She sighed and snuggled closer to him, her fingers smoothing the fabric of his waistcoat over his chest.
They lay there quietly for several minutes, neither of them wanting to break the moment, until the church bell rang the quarter hour and Mary sighed.
'I suppose I'd better think about making tracks for home.'
'Yes, I suppose so,' Tom replied, wishing she could stay here with him.
She lifted her head to look at him. 'Have we time for a cup of tea, though, before I go, do you think?' she asked, a hopeful look on her face. 'Like old times?'
He smiled, his heart skipping happily. 'Yes, I think so. There's always time for a cup of tea.'
She smiled, patting his chest lightly. 'Well, you go and make it while I get changed.'
'Yes, milady,' he said, grinning at her.
Mary put her finger over his lips, unknowingly making Tom's heart stutter. 'No, not milady. Not here. I'm just Mary here,' she said, shaking her head in reprimand.
'Mary,' he murmured against her finger, gazing at her, unable to hide the tenderness he felt.
Her finger still on his lips, Mary felt her stomach swoop, taking her breath away. The urge to lean forward and kiss him rose up in her, taking her by surprise. Shaken, she pulled her hand away and sat up, turning towards the other side of the bed.
'Well, go on then. Chop, chop. I need to get changed,' she said hastily, trying to get herself back under control.
Tom frowned slightly, wondering what had happened. It had seemed like they were having a moment and then she'd pulled back, suddenly awkward. He scrambled off the bed, cursing himself for doing anything that may have made her uncomfortable.
'Right. Tea. Yes. I'll have it waiting for you,' he said brightly, hoping to banish any uneasiness she might be feeling with this situation.
Mary cast a quick glance at him over her shoulder, bestowing a small smile on him, and Tom left the room, hoping everything was all right between them.
Mary dressed quickly, swapping the soft, warm clothes she slept in while she was here for the clothes she'd worn to take her walk.
Her heart still jangled nervously in her chest and her mind raced. Lying there with Tom's arm around her, putting her finger on his lips to silence the title unwelcome in this sanctuary, she'd felt a spark of emotion so strong it had completely unnerved her.
She sank onto the edge of the bed, staring unseeingly out of the window. She'd wanted nothing more than to take her finger away and replace it with her lips.
She imagined what he might have done if she had. Would he have pushed her away? Would he have been shocked at her actions? Would he have felt it highly inappropriate of her to make such overtures to him?
Or might he perhaps have responded in kind? Might he have pulled her closer and kissed her back? Might he have slid both his arms around her and kissed her until she couldn't think straight anymore?
Mary swallowed, imagining how it would have felt to lie there on his bed, kissing him for long minutes, perhaps letting him trail his lips over the sensitive skin of her neck. Her mind flashed back to Pamuk and how his lips on her neck had given her confusingly delicious feelings. She couldn't help but wonder how much more delicious that might be with a man she wanted to kiss her.
Because she did, she suddenly realised. She wanted Tom to kiss her. She wanted to know how it felt.
She dropped her head down, closing her eyes. He was their chauffeur she reminded her traitorous heart. She could not have a dalliance with a servant. She couldn't. No matter how attractive she found him. No matter how attracted she was to him. She simply couldn't.
Tom had the tea waiting in the teapot when Mary finally came downstairs.
He smiled at her and she felt her stupid heart flip in her chest, but she smiled back, unable to stop herself.
He poured the tea into the cup and picked up the milk, dropping a splash into her tea, just the way he knew she liked it.
'So, are you feeling more rested now? Or are you still not sleeping at night?' he asked, adding milk to his own tea.
Mary sat down in the seat across from him, pulling her cup towards her. 'I do feel more rested, yes, but that's because of the sleep I get here. At home, I still don't feel comfortable in my own bed. I've become quite nocturnal. I stay awake until two or three o'clock, sometimes later.'
'I wonder if that's because you're sleeping in the afternoon,' Tom theorised, pensively.
'Maybe,' Mary agreed, sipping her tea.
'What do you do if you're awake until the wee small hours?' he asked, curiously.
Mary shrugged. 'I read a lot. I write in my journal. I've even asked Anna to teach me to knit. I'm currently knitting something very shapeless, but it keeps my mind and my fingers busy.'
Tom smiled at the thought of the elegant, young lady sitting opposite him knitting. 'Perhaps you can make me something when you've mastered the art of knitting.'
'Perhaps I will,' she smiled back, his words triggering an idea in her head.
Once more, a moment seemed to pass between them as they sat there smiling at each other over the teacups.
A thought suddenly occurred to Tom. 'Did you know there's a fair in the village this week? I saw them setting up on the green when I brought your father back from the barracks.'
Mary nodded. 'Yes, they come every spring. They have coconut shies and hook-a-duck and things like that.'
He hesitated and then ploughed on. 'Would you… would you like to go to the fair?'
Mary stilled, her heart thumping. 'With you, you mean?'
'Yes,' he said, a hopeful look on his face.
She paused, her heart screaming yes, but her mind blaring no. He was asking the impossible. 'I can't go to the fair with you, Tom. It wouldn't be right.'
His shoulders drooped slightly as if her refusal had punctured him. 'No, of course, you can't.'
'People would talk.'
'Yes, I suppose they would,' he said, resignedly.
'Nobody knows we know each other as well as we do,' Mary said, feeling wretched, watching hopefulness turn to hopelessness on his face.
'No.'
'And we have to keep it that way. For both our sakes.'
Tom was silent for a moment. 'Yes, I know. Never mind. Forget I said anything,' he said, disappointment sinking like a stone in his chest.
Mary watched him, realising she now perhaps had an answer to her earlier question of whether he would have kissed her back upstairs. She thought now that he would have.
'If things were different, I would have loved to have gone to the fair with you,' she said, quietly.
'If things were different,' he said, unable to squash the sadness he felt that artificial social constructs meant that she was out of his reach. If they were simply a man and a woman, none of that would matter. But in this world, in this life, she was the lady and he was the servant. And that relationship could never happen.
'I'm sorry,' she said, feeling a spark of annoyance with him for asking her and forcing her to turn him down. 'But it's just not possible.'
'No, I know. I shouldn't have asked. I forgot for a minute,' he said, a touch of bitterness in his voice.
'Forgot what?' she asked, even though she knew she should leave that alone.
'That you're not just Mary. You're Lady Mary.'
Mary put her cup down, stiffening with the reminder of the difference in their social status. 'Yes, I am.'
'And I'm just Branson. The chauffeur.'
'Yes,' she said, quietly. 'That's about the size of it.'
Tom bit his lip and slid her a careful look. 'Except for here,' he said, gentling his tone.
'Yes, except for here,' she acknowledged. 'But that's where it has to stay. Me being Mary and you being Tom.'
'Under lock and key. Behind closed doors,' he muttered.
'Yes.'
Silence lingered between them, turning things awkward.
Mary cleared her throat. 'Well, I should go back to being Lady Mary now, I suppose.'
'I suppose so.'
She stood, turning to the window to fix her hat in place. When she'd finished, she looked at the reflection of his face, saw him watching her, saw him pull on his servant's blank.
Reluctantly, she turned around to face him. 'Does this change things? Do you want me to stop coming here?'
He looked up at her from his seat at the table for a long moment. Mary felt her heart begin to race, becoming increasingly sure he was going to ask her not to come back here again.
Eventually, he shook his head. 'No, of course, I don't. Come whenever you like.'
'Even if…' She stopped, almost afraid to voice what she was thinking.
'Even if?'
'Even if I can't acknowledge you as my friend in the real world?'
He shrugged. 'That's the way the world is at the moment. You can't be seen to be friends with the likes of me. But that doesn't mean that we can't be friends. Not if you still want that.'
Mary stared at him, her heart still beating faster than normal. 'I do,' she said, softly.
Tom returned her stare. 'Then that's what we are. Friends. Albeit secret friends,' he said, his voice a little more gravelly than normal.
Mary swallowed, nodding slowly, feeling like her heart was somersaulting, the timbre of his voice doing something to her insides. 'Yes. Friends,' she said, her eyes locked on his.
'You'd better go,' he said, gruffly. 'Go back to being Lady Mary before Mr Carson sends out the bloodhounds.'
'Yes, I suppose I should.'
He nodded and stood up.
'Thank you. For the tea and… the sleep,' Mary said, not quite knowing how to say goodbye.
'You're welcome.'
She turned to go, making it to the kitchen door before she stopped and turned back, taking a few quick steps towards him. 'You should go.'
'Go?' he repeated, confused. 'Go where?'
'To the fair. You should… go. Have fun. Even if…' She paused, looking briefly away, then back at him. 'You should go.'
'Maybe I will,' he said, holding her gaze. 'I could always pretend you're there with me. Just around the corner, maybe. Out of sight for a moment.'
Mary bit her lip, an image of wandering arm in arm with him through the stalls crowding her mind. 'Goodbye, Tom.'
'Goodbye, Mary.'
She nodded at him once, then turned and left, that impossible image keeping her company.