Author's note: A big thank you to Depp and Mona Ogg for the reviews! I can't tell you how happy I am that you are enjoying this story. Thank you so much for reading.


May 1914

'Are you excited about your coming out season, Sybil?' Edith asked, running her hand over the silk dress laid on the bed.

'I suppose so. A little bit,' Sybil replied, turning this way and that, looking at herself and her new dress critically in the mirror.

'Only a little bit? I couldn't wait for mine,' Edith said, thinking fondly back to her own season a few years ago. 'All those lovely new frocks and being able to stay up late and dance for hours almost every night.'

'Yes, well, I shan't mind the dancing, but I do think it's a little frivolous for each deb to have her own ball. I'd be perfectly happy to just go to one or two for all of us,' Sybil said, holding up a necklace in the neckline of her dress.

'Not have your own ball?' Edith squawked, scandalised. 'Why would you not want your own ball? You'll be the centre of attention at your ball. You won't have to share the spotlight with anyone else.'

'Maybe Sybil's not as vain as you,' Mary said, watching her barbed comment hit home as Edith glared at her.

'Says the woman who has to make every occasion all about her,' Edith sniped in return.

'What's that supposed to mean?' Mary responded, her hands going to her hips.

'Only that everything is always about you and what you want or what you need!'

'That's hardly true!'

'Yes, it is! And as if that's not enough, you have to try to spoil things for me and Sybil!' Edith accused, her cheeks red with anger.

'Now what are you talking about?' Mary snapped.

'These rumours floating around London about you! That's what I'm talking about! The rumours that mean Sybil and I have to adjust our hopes of marrying a worthwhile suitor!'

Mary narrowed her eyes at Edith as Sybil looked anxiously between them. 'Oh, I don't think you can lay the blame for you not having a worthwhile suitor at my feet, Edith. You've had the best part of four years to snag yourself a high and mighty husband, and yet where is he, eh?'

Edith glowered, her lips pressed tightly together.

'You've never so much as had a man sniff around you since you came out. That's not down to me. That's all down to you. You're simply not capable of catching a man, especially one with any sense or standing.'

'Mary,' Sybil said, a reproachful tone to her voice. 'That's enough.'

'You don't have a suitor either!' Edith flung back at Mary. 'So, you can't talk!'

'Only because I haven't been trying. Have you forgotten about Patrick already?'

'Of course, I haven't!'

'He was supposed to have been my husband, so I could hardly have gone trawling for another one, could I?'

'You never loved Patrick, so don't try to pretend you did!' Edith screeched, the old pain of Mary being the preferred one for Patrick stabbing at her again.

'That's hardly the point. I wasn't marrying him for love, but I was supposed to marry him.'

'You didn't deserve him!'

Mary gave a dry, dismissive laugh. 'Well, poor Patrick certainly didn't deserve to be saddled with you. And he knew it. We may not have been in love but we knew what our duty was, Patrick and I. He was glad he wasn't supposed to marry you. He couldn't bear all those doe-eyed looks you gave him,' Mary continued, relentless in her attack.

'Shut up! That's not true!' Edith shrieked.

'Mary, please,' Sybil tried again.

'We had quite the laugh about it. "Here comes poor, mousy, lovesick Edith again," he'd say to me, and we'd laugh about it,' Mary said, unable to stop herself from twisting the knife.

'I hate you! I hate you!' Edith yelled, storming away towards the door.

'The feeling's entirely mutual!' Mary called back just as Edith slammed the door behind her.

Sybil sighed, sending a reproachful look Mary's way.

'What?' Mary snapped. 'She started it.'

'No, she didn't, you did. Why do you always have to needle her like that?'

'Oh, because she irritates me so. She's always so quick to blame everyone else – usually me – for everything in her life that hasn't turned out how she wants. She never takes a minute to even consider whether any of it could be down to her and her flaws,' Mary said, sorry to have spoiled Sybil's assessment of her new wardrobe for her upcoming season, but not sorry about anything she'd said to Edith.

'She's sensitive about her looks, you know she is. And about Patrick.'

'Well, that's not my fault.'

'No, but you could be more mindful of it. You know how she resents being compared to you all the time.'

'Well, she'd better get used to it because it's going to get worse when you come out. Then she'll be unfavourably compared to both of her sisters,' Mary said, feeling a modicum of satisfaction about that.

Sybil sighed again, going back to looking at her new frock in the mirror. 'Poor Edith.' '

'Poor Edith, my eye,' Mary muttered.

I wish Mama would let me take my harem pants to London,' Sybil said, deciding to change the subject.

Mary huffed out a laugh. 'Your silk pyjamas? There's no chance of that.'

'But they are so stylish.'

'Not in Mama's eyes. And Granny would have a heart attack if you wore them anywhere near the King and Queen.'

'It's such a shame. I hardly ever get to wear them.' Sybil looked up at Mary, cocking her head. 'Edith mentioned the rumours about you. Are they still circulating?'

This time it was Mary's turn to sigh. 'Apparently so, yes. So, that's something I'll have to face. Again.'

'I'm so sorry, Mary,' Sybil said, sympathetically. 'How do you know they haven't faded away?'

'Carson got a letter from a friend of his asking about them, and Cousin Susan wrote to Granny fishing for details.'

'She wrote to Granny?' Sybil squawked, her eyes wide. 'Oh, my goodness. Does that mean Granny knows?'

'Yes. She asked Mama about it and Mama told her the truth about it all.'

'The whole truth?' Sybil asked, still round-eyed.

'The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth,' Mary confirmed, nodding.

'Goodness. And what did she say?'

'Well, she hasn't mentioned it to me, but Mama said she understands the situation and has written to Susan telling her it's all a pack of lies. Apparently, she even told Mama that she hoped she would have had the strength to do what we did.'

Sybil gave a small laugh, thinking of their formidable grandmother. 'Knowing Granny, she would have commanded him to walk back to his room under his own steam. Even dead, he wouldn't have dared disobey her.'

Mary cast a glance at her sister, a laugh bubbling up inside her as she imagined the Dowager in the situation in which she had found herself. 'She'd have made him dance back. Naked.'

The sisters looked at each other, amused smiles giving way to giggles, which gave way to guffaws. Sometimes, Mary thought, the only thing you could do with a situation was laugh about it.


'Hmm,' Mary sighed contentedly, stretching out on the grass beside Tom. 'How simply wonderful it is to lie on the grass and do nothing.'

He turned his head and grinned at her, waggling his eyebrows. 'Nothing? I wouldn't say we've been doing nothing.'

She giggled, rolling on her side to run her hand down his chest, swirling a finger through the hair revealed by his open shirt. 'Well, no, we haven't, but we're not currently doing anything, are we?'

'Only because we needed to catch our breath for a moment.'

'You did,' Mary said, circling her finger around his belly button, and looking up at him, cheekily. 'I'm quite sure I could have kept going.'

'Oh, is that right?' Tom replied, rolling swiftly over, pushing her onto her back and lying half on top of her.

'Yes, absolutely it is,' she teased, gazing up at him. laughing. 'Maybe I have more stamina than you.'

'Oh, you think so, do you?' he asked, dipping his head to kiss her. She kissed him back, her fingers sliding through the hair at the back of his neck, continuing to play with it when they broke apart.

'I do. You were definitely panting more than me at the end there. Ergo, I have more stamina than you,' she said, raising her eyebrows as if the argument was made and won.

'Ergo? Ergo? Right, well, we'll see about that,' Tom said, sliding his hand down her thigh and inching her skirt up once more.

'Will we?' she hummed happily, parting her legs a little more as his fingers trailed up and over the top of her stocking.

'We will,' he said with a grin, relishing her little gasp as he reached his goal. 'I can't have you going off to London thinking that I don't have enough stamina to keep up with you.'

'Why not?' Mary asked, beginning to squirm a little. 'What difference does London make?'

'I don't want you deciding to look for someone with more stamina than me, do I? Not that any of those soft, posh boys you mix with there will be any match for a working man,' he said, confidently.

'No?' she gasped, flexing her hips up towards him.

'No. Not one of them will be as good with his hands as I am,' Tom said, smiling as he watched her eyes fluttering closed. 'Stands to reason, doesn't it?'

'Do-does it?' Mary panted, a little moan escaping her.

'Yes. I mean, I do a lot of work with my hands, fixing things and whatnot. It makes me very… dextrous,' he purred, his fingers driving her to distraction.

'Hmmm, yes. Dex… dextrous is good. Very good,' Mary managed to say, her back arching, another breathy moan falling from her lips.

'Isn't it? Dextrous is a gift, wouldn't you say? A talent even.'

'Ye-yes,' she groaned, her eyes fluttering shut again. 'It's definitely a talent. God-given, I'd say.'

'Exactly. God-given and put to good use,' he said, watching with satisfaction as she caught her lip between her teeth.

'You don't need to worry. I wouldn't be looking at any other man anyway,' Mary gasped, breaking off into a small moan. 'Not when I have you wa-waiting for me at home.'

'You might not be, but your mother will be looking for a suitor for you, won't she?' Tom pointed out, that knowledge piercing his heart.

'She can lo-look all she wants. Doesn't mean I have to agree to it,' Mary replied, opening her eyes to look at him.

'No, but how long can you say no for?' he asked, continuing to touch her beneath her skirt.

'Oh! Um, I… I… oh… as long as I like. Oh, my God!' Mary moaned, grasping his shirt.

'Can you, though?' he said, slowing the movement of his hand, keeping her on the edge.

'Well, I'll… I'll have to marry someone eventually,' she replied, flexing her hips up, trying to press against his fingers. 'We both know that. Oh, goodness. Don't stop, Tom, please.'

'What if I don't want you to marry someone else?' he asked, his tone losing some of its playfulness.

'Do you want me to throw myself on Matthew's mercy? Live on his charity?' Mary asked, clutching his shoulder as he stroked her maddeningly slowly.

'Would that be so bad?'

'Is it the lesser of – oh, heavens! – two evils, do you mean?' Mary gasped, wishing he would stop talking and concentrate on what he was doing under her skirt.

'I don't want you to marry someone else,' he said again, speeding up his movements.

'N-no, I know,' she managed, relishing the increased friction. 'Neither do I, but I'll prob-probably have to.'

'Nobody could love you like I do.'

'I… I know that. But I've told you before, I don't expect to marry for love. I nev-never have,' she stammered, her fingers tightening on his shoulder. 'Oh, my God, Tom!'

'Nobody else could make love to you like I do. Nobody else could make your body sing like I can,' he said fiercely, watching her close her eyes in pleasure. 'Look at me, Mary.'

She forced her eyes open, gazing up at him, desperate to reach her peak.

'Do you believe that?'

'Yes, yes! I believe that, I believe that. Please. Please, Tom, please! Don't tease me so!'

He bent his head, kissing her neck. 'You love it when I tease you, you know you do. Because you know I will always get you there. You know I will always make you feel good.'

'Oh, God, it does feel good. It does,' Mary panted, writhing beneath him.

'You like the callouses on my fingers, don't you? Like the extra frisson my working man's fingers give you, don't you?' he growled, agitating his hand faster between her legs.

'Yes, yes, I do, I do,' Mary gasped, feeling her arousal beginning to crest.

'Nobody will ever make you feel like I do, Mary. You do know that, don't you?' he whispered in her ear, his hand working to bring her to the point of no return.

Mary arched her back, her body going taut, her mouth opening on a silent scream as he took her over the edge. Tom kept moving his fingers until she flopped back onto the ground, closing her thighs around his hand to stop him.

'Oh, my God,' she panted, exhaling a shaky breath. 'You've… you've undone me.'

Tom gazed silently down at her, mixed emotions flooding through him, the joy of bringing her such satisfaction warring with the anger he felt that she would never truly be his.

She reached up a trembling hand, stroking his face. 'I know, my darling. I know nobody else will ever love me like you do. I don't want them to.'

'Don't you? Not even the aristocratic husband you're going to have one day?' he bit out, unable to let it go.

'No. You're special, Tom. You're so special to me. Nobody will ever replace you in my heart. I love you. I love you so very much.'

'But you won't marry me, will you?' he said, hopelessness creeping into his voice.

Mary bit her lip, knowing what she was going to say would hurt him, but not seeing a way around it. 'If you were a lord or I was a maid, I would marry you in a heartbeat.'

'But not when you're a lady and I'm just a servant,' he said, bitterly.

'We can't marry, my love. Nobody would accept us. Not in your world nor in mine,' she said softly, running her fingers over his lips.

'Maybe we don't need anyone else to accept us,' he said, desperately. 'Maybe we're enough just the two of us, just you and me.'

She shook her head slowly. 'That's a lovely thought, but that's not how the world works, is it? And we can't change the world.'

'We could try,' Tom pleaded, even knowing it was fruitless.

'But we can't live in a bubble, though, can we? Sooner or later, we'd have to interact with the rest of the world. You'd have to find work elsewhere. And what would I do?'

'Whatever you want!'

'But that's the point. I can't do anything. I'm not like you or Anna. I don't know how to do anything useful.'

Tom sighed, pulling his hand from between her legs and rolling onto his back, staring up at the canopy of trees above them. Mary followed him, turning onto her side to look at him.

'I know it's not what you want to hear, my darling, but let's not spoil the time we have together. I'm going to London for several weeks in a few days. I want to take nothing but happy thoughts of us with me to keep me sane while we're apart.'

He pursed his lips, turning his head to look at her.

'Now, I may not be able to do anything useful, but I can make you feel as wonderful as you've just made me feel,' she said, dragging her finger slowly down his chest. 'Will you let me?'

He sucked in a breath as she reached the waistband of his trousers and her fingertips dipped beneath it.

'Tom?' Mary breathed, pressing a kiss to his lips. 'Will you let me make you feel happy again?'

He gazed at her and nodded, closing his eyes as she smiled and began kissing her way down his body. If this was all they could ever have, he might as well enjoy it while he still could.


London, June 1914

It was late when Sybil slipped into Mary's room in Grantham House after a long day travelling to the capital from Yorkshire.

'Are you awake?' she asked in a low voice as she peeped around the door.

'I'm always awake at this time,' Mary replied, putting her book down. 'Come in if you want to.'

'I thought I'd come and see how you are.'

'I'm fine. Shouldn't I be?'

Sybil crossed the room, sitting on the bed next to Mary. 'Did you manage to say goodbye to Tom?'

Mary smiled, giving her sister a knowing look. 'Ah, I see. You want the details, do you?'

'I was just concerned that you might not have been able to have a proper farewell with him. It is going to be several weeks before you see him again,' Sybil said, innocently.

'Oh, don't remind me.'

'Do you miss him?' Sybil asked, curiously.

'Yes, of course, I do.'

'So, did you manage to say goodbye to him?'

Mary sighed. 'We managed a few words at the station when everyone else was distracted, but we said our proper farewell yesterday because we knew we wouldn't get a chance today.'

'And what is a proper farewell these days?' Sybil asked, her eyes twinkling. 'Did he sweep you into his arms and kiss you until you could barely breathe?'

'He did actually,' Mary said with a laugh, smiling at her sister's romantic view of her affair with Tom.

'Did he dip you down backwards like they do in the motion pictures?' Sybil asked, eagerly.

'No, he didn't,' Mary said, rolling her eyes. 'Honestly, that does not sound like a comfortable way to be kissed.'

'But surely comfort isn't the main point of kissing?' Sybil protested. 'Isn't it all about the romance of it? I'm quite sure I'd let Matthew bend me over backwards and kiss me.'

'Yes, well, that's all well and good, but wouldn't you rather he just kissed you instead of trying to break your back?'

'Well, when you put it like that, yes, I suppose I would.' Sybil cocked her head looking expectantly at Mary. 'Is it very lovely? Kissing someone?'

'It is. Especially when you love them and they love you,' Mary replied, her expression going soft as she thought of kissing Tom. 'It's delightful. Definitely one of the loveliest experiences in the world.'

Sybil nudged her delightedly. 'Look at you.'

'What?'

'You've gone all soppy and un-Mary-like just thinking about him,' Sybil teased.

Mary dipped her head, unable to hide her smile. 'Well, I am rather soppy about him.'

Sybil reached out to squeeze Mary's hand affectionately. 'I can tell. It's very sweet.'

'Heavens, I don't think I've ever been called sweet before.'

'So, what's lovelier than kissing?' Sybil asked, curiously.

Mary looked askance at her. 'What?'

'You said kissing is one of the loveliest experiences in the world. What are the others?'

To her horror, Mary felt herself beginning to blush.

'You've gone all red, Mary!' Sybil said in delight.

'No, I haven't!' Mary said in vain, cursing her fair skin.

'Yes, you have! You're blushing! Why are you blushing, Mary?' Sybil's face lit up as a thought occurred to her. 'Oh, my goodness! Have you done more than kissing with Tom?'

Mary blushed harder.

'You have, haven't you!' Sybil squealed, kneeling up on the bed with excitement, curiosity fizzing through her. 'What have you done with him? Have you let him touch you? Have you touched him?'

Mary straightened up, trying to regain her composure. 'I'm sure I won't be discussing any of that with you, Sybil,' she said, primly.

Sybil let out a delighted giggle. 'Oh, so there is something to discuss then? You have definitely done more than kissing with him, haven't you?'

Mary said nothing, trying to will the blush from her cheeks.

'Haven't you?' Sybil persisted, her face alight with curiosity.

'All right, yes, I have, but I'm not going to tell you about it,' Mary said, giving ground slightly to shut her sister up.

'Oh, go on! Please!'

'No. Certainly not.'

'What's it like? At least tell me that. Is it heaven? Being in love like that?' Sybil asked, desperate to know.

'All I'll say is that being in love is wonderful. And that is all I will say,' Mary said firmly.

'Oh, please tell me more, Mary. Please!' Sybil begged.

'No, I won't. You'll find out soon enough when Matthew finally pops the question,' Mary replied, determined to say no more.

Sybil flopped backwards on the bed, grinning like a Cheshire cat. 'Well, I hope he hurries up because kissing and more-than-kissing sounds like marvellous fun.'

Despite herself, Mary let out a laugh. 'Yes, darling, it is. I'm absolutely sure you will like it as much as I do when your turn comes.'

'Oh, I'm sure I will,' Sybil said, dreamily. She lifted her head to look at Mary, giving her a cheeky smile. 'It's perhaps a good job I won't be seeing Branson anytime soon. I think I should be terribly curious about what he's been doing to make you blush so prettily.'

Mary laughed again and swatted her sister on the leg. 'You will not say a word to Tom about this conversation!'

Sybil gave her a mischievous look, waggling her eyebrows. 'Won't I? I think he might be very interested to know that whatever he's doing to you has got you so giddy.'

Mary raised an answering eyebrow, more collected now than when Sybil first raised this topic of conversation. 'You're assuming he doesn't already know that. I can assure you that he does.'

Sybil sat up, her eyes wide. 'What? Does he really?'

'Well, think about it, Sybil. If I'm giddy when I'm not telling you about what Tom and I do together, don't you think I'm even giddier when we are doing it?' Mary said, a wicked twinkle in her eye.

Sybil stared at her and then erupted into giggles. 'Goodness. I'm not sure I will be able to face Branson again without thinking about that.'

Mary smiled.

Sybil dropped back down onto the bedspread. 'And now I'm even more desperate for Matthew to kiss me. Good Lord, I simply can't wait.'

Mary patted her sister on the leg. 'Patience, my darling. Your turn will come.'


At the ball on the evening the debutantes of 1914 were presented to their majesties, Mary stood beside Matthew watching as Sybil chatted and laughed a few yards away with a small group of her fellow debs.

'She looks beautiful, doesn't she?' she said, glancing sideways at him, seeing the look of adoration on his face.

'Stunning,' he agreed. 'She's easily the most beautiful of them all.'

Mary smiled, delighted that he was as taken with Sybil as Sybil was with him. 'She looked like an angel at her presentation. I thought for a moment that Papa was going to cry with pride when she curtsied to the King and Queen.'

'I'm sure he was the same when you were presented. And Edith,' Matthew said, diplomatically.

'Ah, but Sybil's his youngest, and quite the sweetest of his three daughters, so perhaps that explains the slight moistness in his eyes,' Mary said, a smile on her lips. She cast another glance at her cousin. 'Have you told her yet?'

'Told her what?' he asked, his eyes fixed on Sybil.

'That you love her, silly,' Mary said, keeping her voice low and light.

Matthew shot her a look. 'No, not yet.'

'Well, I wouldn't leave it too long if I were you,' she said, nodding towards the group of young men trying to catch the attention of Sybil and her friends.

Matthew followed her gaze. 'You don't think…'

'What?'

'That I'm too old for her?' he asked, looking a little troubled.

Mary looked at him in surprise. 'Do you think you're too old for her?'

'Sometimes. I'm 29, Mary. She's 18. She must think I'm ancient.'

'Oh, yes, I'm sure that's exactly how she thinks of you, as an ancient, decrepit, old man with nothing to offer either her or the world,' Mary said, a laugh escaping her.

Matthew didn't laugh with her, instead looking stricken.

Mary sighed, touching his arm lightly. 'Matthew, I was joking. She's silly for you. I thought you knew that.'

'I know she likes me,' he allowed, glancing across at Mary.

'Well, when you tell her you love her – which I recommend you do as soon as possible – I think you will get a response from her that tells you she is as mad for you as you are for her,' she said, gently.

He looked at her with hope in his eyes. 'Do you really think so?'

'I'm convinced of it. She talks of nothing but you. It's all Matthew this, Matthew that, isn't Matthew clever, isn't Matthew handsome, isn't Matthew kind. Honestly, it's quite nauseating,' Mary replied, her eyes twinkling.

Matthew smiled, looking at her shrewdly. 'You know, you're much kinder than you pretend to be.'

Mary put her hand to her chest, staring at him in mock horror. 'Lord, don't tell anyone that, will you? I have a reputation to uphold.'

Matthew shifted uncomfortably, his smile fading. 'Ah, um, speaking of your reputation, I think there's something you need to be aware of. Something that I'd heard spoken about while I've been in London. About you.'

Mary's shoulders slumped, not surprised that the rumours about her had reached Matthew's ears now he was in the capital and mixing in high society circles, but disappointed that he had heard them. 'I think I'm already aware of what you're going to say.'

'You know? About the rumours about you and Pamuk?' he asked, visibly surprised.

'Yes. They've been the bane of my life for some time now.'

'I want you to know that I don't believe a word of them,' Matthew said, stoutly.

'I should think not because there is not an ounce of truth in them,' Mary said, firmly. She softened, looking at his face. 'But thank you for not believing them. It appears you are in the minority, though.'

'People like to gossip, Mary. It doesn't mean they believe what they are saying.'

'It doesn't stop them repeating it, though, does it? And I think you underestimate the fragility of a young lady's reputation,' Mary said, bitterly.

'Is this why you haven't had any suitors visiting Downton yet?' Matthew asked, looking at her carefully.

'What do you think?'

'I think you're a beautiful, young woman with a lot to recommend her. I can't think of one single reason why you wouldn't have men queuing up to marry you.'

'You don't think I'm a spiky, rude, obstinate, snobby, argumentative creature with ideas of grandeur?' Mary asked, harking back to when they first met, unable to resist teasing him.

Matthew had the grace to smile. 'No, I don't.'

'You used to.'

'You used to think I was an oaf who didn't know his knife from his fork. Do you still think that?'

'Touché,' Mary said with a smile. 'Perhaps we've both learned to appreciate each other more.'

'Perhaps we have,' Matthew said, returning her smile before turning serious. 'But I want you to know that I am painfully aware that I am only your father's heir because of an accident of birth and a misogynistic legal document. Without either of those, you would be Robert's heir, not me.'

Mary listened, inclining her head graciously at his acknowledgement of their situation.

'I also want you to know that you can always think of Downton as your home. There will always be a place for you there while there is breath in my body,' he said earnestly, looking her directly in the eyes.

Mary gazed at him, taken aback by the intensity in his eyes. 'Especially if you marry my sister, eh?'

Matthew shook his head. 'No, that's true regardless of what happens with me and Sybil. Downton should be yours, I know that, but the law is against us. You can't petition for it, and I can't give it to you. What I can do is make sure you will always have a home there. You don't have to marry for security because you will always have it at Downton.'

Mary felt affection for this long-lost cousin wash over her. 'Thank you, Matthew. I appreciate that.'

'I hope you find someone who will love you as you deserve to be loved, Mary, I do. But don't feel that you have to marry just anyone simply for the security they can give you. Because you don't. You can marry the undergardener if you want to for all that it matters in terms of security.'

Mary swallowed, a lump forming in her throat at his kindness. She nodded, her gratitude threatening to overwhelm her. 'You'll be a good earl, Matthew. You'll be good for Downton.'

He smiled. 'Well, perhaps I can come to you for advice on that when the time comes.'

'Oh, I think that will be Sybil's job, don't you?' Mary replied, smiling back at him. 'You know, if you ever tell that you love her and get around to asking her if she'll spend the rest of her life with you.'

Matthew's smile widened. 'All right, all right. I get the message.'

'Good. Now all you have to do is act on it,' Mary said, nodding her head towards her sister.

'Do you think I should ask Robert first?'

'No, I think you should have a moment with Sybil where you both finally acknowledge what has been blindingly obvious to me for months now. Papa can wait. I think he'll be surprised, but he'll be delighted, I'm sure of it.'

'You really think so?' Matthew asked, doubt creeping into his voice.

'Trust me, I know so,' Mary said, firmly.

Her papa may have harboured hopes of her marrying Matthew, but he would be happy for his youngest daughter to be the next countess instead. Of that, Mary was completely sure.


Grantham House

St James's Square

London

14 June 1914

My darling Tom,

I can't tell you how much I miss you. I hate being separated from you. Every day apart is a dagger in my heart. I have to keep reminding myself that every day I spend away from you is one day closer to being in your arms again.

It's been a whirlwind since we've been in London. Sybil's presentation went very well. She's been quite the hit here in London. The world and his wife want to invite her to their lunches and soirées. She is the belle of the ball. Literally.

Her popularity has even spurred Matthew to press his suit with her. Naturally, she said yes, and they are now unofficially engaged. Mama and Papa are thrilled. Granny too. Keep that under your hat, though, about Sybil and Matthew. Nobody is supposed to know until they make it official. But I thought I would tell you as I know you once worried that I might be tempted to enter into matrimony with Matthew myself. You need not fear that, my darling, as he will shortly be my dearest brother-in-law.

Those wretched rumours about me are still circulating, but surprisingly, I have been more welcome in London this time than I was the last time I was here. I wonder if it's partly due to everyone loving Sybil so much. I think there's a school of thought that I can't be all that bad if I have a sister as sweet as Sybil. Of course, that overlooks the fact that Edith is also my sister and not at all sweet.

How are things with you? Are you missing me? You'd better be. If I come home to discover you've run off with a maid or a farmer's daughter, I shall be incandescent with rage and simultaneously utterly devastated. I'm a selfish and self-absorbed enough creature to hope you are moping around missing me to the point of distraction. Is that horrendous of me? I think it shows you how much I love you.

Have I mentioned how much I miss you? I miss your arms around me, your lips on mine, your body against mine. I miss hearing your lovely voice and seeing your handsome face. I certainly miss shivering with you. Oh, how I miss that! My darling, the days cannot pass quickly enough. I long to be back with you. London has nothing to recommend it without you here.

I must sign off now. Mama has insisted I join her on a visit to her friend, Lady Dunsany. I shall slip out and post this before I have to go there.

Tá grá agam duit, mo chuisle.

Forever yours,

Mx

PS Sybil says to send you her best wishes.

PPS Just for the avoidance of any doubt, let me tell you again how much I love and miss and adore you. All my love, my darling boy. xxx


Tom rubbed his finger over the way Mary had signed off her letter.

Forever yours, she'd written. His heart tightened in his chest as he wished that really was the case.

It seemed that Mr Crawley was no longer a prospective suitor for her, but there would be others, he knew there would be. What he didn't know was whether he could bear watching them come to Downton to court her.

She may not love them like she loved him, but perhaps one of them, she would. Certainly, she would marry one of them. And what would become of him then?

She'd floated the idea of him going to work for her and continuing to be her secret lover, but he wasn't sure he could do that. Could he watch her live with another man? Could he stand meekly by knowing that she would be sleeping with that man too? That she would raise her children with this husband of hers and not him? Even if the children were his and not her husband's. That would be even worse if he was unable to be a father to his own children. Tom wasn't sure he had the strength of character to do any of that, even for Mary.

Maybe, he thought, it was time to start thinking about leaving Downton. The only way he could avoid her breaking his heart was to break it himself before she could. The trouble was, he wasn't sure he was strong enough to leave her. Not now. Not when he was so deeply in love with her. Because he knew he was. He knew that he could not possibly love her any more than he already did. And she did love him. He knew that too. If he left, he would break her heart as well as his. But would that be the best thing to do in the long run?

Was heartbreak now better than greater heartbreak later? That was the question he kept returning to as he waited through the long days of her absence. And it was a question he still didn't have an answer to. All he knew for sure was that he was longing to see her again.