Author's note: Thank you for the review, Depp! I'm so happy you're enjoying this story!

May 1914

The sky was beginning to lighten just a touch as Tom's alarm went off, rousing Mary from a deep sleep. The alarm stopped as she opened her eyes in time to see Tom pull his hand back from silencing it.

'It can't be time to get up already,' she murmured, snuggling in closer to him, enjoying the warmth of his body.

He slipped an arm around her, caressing her back. 'I'm afraid so.'

'Can't we just stay here a bit longer?'

'Maybe for five minutes or so, but you have to be back before the servants start moving about the house, you know you have to.'

Mary lay her hand on his chest, rubbing her fingertips through the hair there, wondering if they had time to make love again. 'I'm glad I came here last night.'

'So am I.'

'You're not cross with me for walking down here in the dark alone anymore then?' she asked, her tone playful.

'Are you still cross with me for nearly getting myself sacked?' Tom countered, his voice more serious.

Mary shuddered as she thought back to the suffocating panic she'd felt when she thought her father was going to dismiss him. 'Don't. I don't want to think about it.'

'I think we have to think about it.'

'Why? It's done and dusted. Crisis averted,' Mary said, stretching forward to kiss his jaw.

'This time, maybe. But what about the next time?'

'What next time? There won't be a next time,' she said, confidently.

Tom sighed, impatiently. 'There's bound to be a next time, Mary. We can't go on like this indefinitely, you know we can't. Something's bound to happen or someone's bound to find out about us. Thomas and O'Brien are scratching about trying to find out if something's going on between us. How long do you think we can hide this?'

Mary leaned back, trying to see his face more clearly in the dark room. 'Why are you saying this? Nobody but Anna knows about us and she won't breathe a word to anyone.'

'And what if your father takes exception to something I say or do and decides I'm too much of a liability to keep on? What then?'

'What do you mean, 'what then'? You promised me last night that you'd be a model employee, so why would Papa sack you?' Mary said, becoming irritated that he was spoiling one of the only times they'd been able to wake up in the morning together.

'And I will, but we can't assume that nothing will ever happen to upset the apple cart. What happens if it does?' Tom asked, determined to talk about the question that had been buzzing around his head for the last half an hour while Mary slumbered next to him.

'I don't know what you want me to say, Tom. The danger has passed. Nothing needs to change.'

'All right, then let me put it this way. What would you have done if your father had sacked me last night? What if I was leaving Downton this morning?' Tom challenged, his heart tripping faster.

'I would have been devastated, of course,' Mary replied, not wanting to think about that. 'But he didn't sack you, so everything's fine.'

'But what would you have done?'

'What do you mean? I'd have done what I did last night and fought to save you, to keep you here,' Mary said, not understanding what he was getting at.

'And if you'd failed to save me?'

'But I didn't!'

'But if you had.'

Mary huffed out an irritated sigh, rolling on her back away from him. 'What are you asking me, Tom? Just say it.'

'What if I'd asked you to come with me?' he said, his heart in his mouth.

Mary frowned. 'Come with you?'

'Yes.'

'Where?'

'I don't know. Wherever I got another job.'

She turned her head to stare at him, his features a pale smudge in the darkness. 'I… I… well, I can't see how I can answer that.'

'Why not?'

'Because it's all too vague and theoretical.'

'That could have been our reality this morning, Mary. I could have been leaving Downton.'

'But you're not.'

'But I could have been. And I want to know if you'd have come with me. Or if you'd be willing to come to me when I had another job,' Tom pressed, wanting an answer.

'I don't know. I'd need to know more about it,' Mary hedged, her heart beginning to thump at this unexpected line of questioning.

Tom was silent, contemplating her answer and what it meant.

'You can't expect me to say I'd turn my life upside down without knowing any details,' Mary said, unease pattering through her.

'Do you love me?' Tom asked, his voice slightly tremulous.

Mary rolled onto her side, reaching for him. 'Of course, I do. You know I do.'

'Then why can't you say that you'd come with me?'

'Because it's not as simple as that. You know it's not,' Mary replied, trying not to snap at him.

'Isn't it?'

'No, it's not, and you're being disingenuous if you say it is,' she said, losing her battle and snapping at him as she felt increasingly pushed into a corner.

He was silent for a moment again. 'Right. Well. We'd better get up. Get you home before your dirty, little secret is brought into the cold light of day.'

Mary stared at him, stung. 'That's not fair. It's not like that.'

'Isn't it?'

'No! You're not my dirty, little anything. You know we can't tell anyone about us, and you know perfectly well why.'

Tom sighed and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. 'Get up and get dressed, Mary. If we don't leave soon, our secret might be out whether we want it to be or not.'

Shaken by the turn this conversation had taken, Mary leaned forward, reaching out to put her hand on his shoulder. 'Tom.'

He twisted his head to look back at her.

'I love you. You do believe that, don't you?'

He gazed at her, barely able to see more than her silhouette, sadness and resignation filling him. 'Yes, I do.'

'And… you do… you do love me, don't you?' Mary asked, suddenly doubting the one thing she had never questioned in all these months since their clandestine relationship had begun.

'I do. With all my heart,' Tom said, his voice low, the weight of his love for her threatening to suffocate him.

Mary scrambled forward on the bed, pressing herself to his back, wrapping her arms around him. 'Then let's have no more talk of hypothetical sackings. You're not going anywhere.'

She bent her head forward, kissing him hard on the lips, trying to dispel this cloud that suddenly seemed to be hovering over them.

When the kiss broke, Tom patted her hands where they lay crossed over his chest.

'Get dressed,' he said, gruffly. 'We have to go.'

He pushed off the bed, reached for his underwear, and then turned to the bedside cabinet, feeling for the matches to light the candle.

Mary watched him for a moment, that uneasy feeling rolling within her, and then she turned to get up herself.

They walked in silence through the trees back towards the Abbey. To Mary's consternation, it didn't feel like the comfortable silence of two lovers, content in each other's company. It felt heavy, pregnant with something unsaid.

But try as she might, Mary couldn't think of a single thing to say as the first weak rays of the rising sun poked through the foliage. She held Tom's hand as they made their way through the woods, her uneasiness about their earlier exchange growing.

She couldn't understand why he'd kept asking her what she'd have done if her father had sacked him. Why waste time dwelling on something that hadn't happened? But she couldn't shake the feeling that he had wanted her to say something specific and she'd failed to do so. She just didn't know what it was he'd expected her to say.

The future was not something they talked about. He knew that and she knew that. As far as she was concerned, until she had to marry, they didn't need to think about it or plan for it. They could just continue living in the here and now. And when she did have to marry, the obvious solution was for her to take him with her to her new household and they could simply continue being lovers. She had thought that he would have come to the same conclusion, but now she was wondering whether that possibility hadn't occurred to him, although for the life of her, she couldn't think how he couldn't have thought the same thing.

At the edge of the woods, Tom stopped.

'I shouldn't come any further. Someone might see us,' he said, gazing towards the huge, dark, looming bulk of the Abbey.

She glanced across at him, seeing that same sad look on his face that she'd seen earlier this morning. She leaned in, seeing him turn his head towards her, and kissed him.

'Are you all right? You're very quiet.'

He shrugged. 'I'm fine.'

'It was quite late by the time we fell asleep last night. Perhaps you should go back to bed for a little while. I know I'm going to,' Mary said, reaching up to stroke a hand down his cheek.

'Maybe. I'll have to be up soon anyway, though,' he said, just that simple statement highlighting to him the gulf between their lives. As a member of the family, she could lay abed for hours if she wanted to; as a servant, he did not have that luxury.

'I'll try to come and see you later,' she said, studying his face.

'All right. I daresay I'll be where I usually am.'

Mary nodded, troubled by the flatness of his voice.

'Goodbye, my darling.' She let go of his hand and made to walk out of the woods.

Suddenly, Tom grabbed her hand and tugged her back to him, his arms going around her as he hugged her tight, crushing her against him.

Startled, Mary hugged him back.

'Tá grá agam duit, mo chuisle,' he whispered in her ear, his voice thick with emotion.

'Tá grá agam duit,' Mary murmured in response. She cupped his face, gazing into his eyes. 'So much, my darling. So very much. Don't ever doubt that.'

He nodded, pressing his lips tightly together as if he were holding back some great emotion. Mary stretched forward and kissed him again, leaning her forehead against his when the kiss ended, not wanting to leave him, especially when he seemed to be in such a strange mood.

'You should go. Daisy will be starting her rounds soon,' Tom said, quietly.

Mary nodded and stepped back, running her hand down his arm and taking hold of his hand. 'Until later then.'

'Later.'

She walked slowly backwards, still holding his hand until only their fingertips touched, and then she raised her hand to her lips and blew him a kiss. He lifted his hand, miming snatching it out of the air and Mary smiled. He smiled back at her, but she couldn't help thinking his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

'How is Lady Sybil this morning, Anna?' Mr Carson asked as the maid returned to the servants' hall that morning after attending to the young ladies of the house. 'Is she recovered after her ordeal?'

'She says she's well, Mr Carson. A little tender in places, but otherwise fine,' Anna replied, a little surprised that the butler was asking her about a member of the family in the rather public arena of the servants' hall.

'No thanks to you, Mr Branson,' Mr Carson said, flicking a disapproving look down the table at Tom.

Thomas and Miss O'Brien exchanged a look across the table as Tom looked up from his cup of tea.

'I beg your pardon, Mr Carson?' he said, levelly.

'It was you who took Lady Sybil to the count, was it not?' Mr Carson enquired frostily, knowing full well that Tom had driven the earl's youngest daughter to Ripon yesterday.

'I did. She told me it was for a committee meeting.'

'And you believed her?' the butler scoffed.

Tom waited for a beat, trying to keep a cool head, ignoring the almost gleeful looks Thomas and O'Brien were shooting him. 'I don't know about you, Mr Carson, but I'm not in the habit of questioning any of the family about whether they are telling me the truth when they ask me to do something.'

Mr Carson narrowed his eyes. He was obviously itching to reprimand him, but he could not refute what Tom had said.

'You should have been more mindful of her safety,' he said, querulously.

Tom didn't give any ground. 'I was. I urged her to leave before the count started and repeatedly while it was ongoing. She wouldn't listen to me.'

'And she got hurt,' Mr Carson needlessly pointed out.

'Yes, because Mr Crawley nettled the wrong person. And then I carried her out of there before things got any worse,' Tom said, unwilling to submit to Mr Carson's ill-informed condemnation.

The butler's eyebrows rose as Miss O'Brien and Thomas shared another significant look, barely able to contain their glee at what they saw as the uppity chauffeur digging his own grave even deeper than it already was.

'Are you blaming Mr Crawley for what happened to Lady Sybil, Mr Branson?' Mr Carson asked, almost bristling at the insinuation that his lordship's heir was at fault. As much as he believed the man was robbing Lady Mary of her rightful inheritance, he would not countenance a servant criticising the heir to the earldom.

'No, sir. I'm merely telling you what happened,' Tom said, determined not to be drawn into saying something that could cost him his job.

'Mr Branson's telling the truth, Mr Carson,' Anna put in, keeping her tone mild.

'And how do you know that?' Mr Carson demanded, transferring his attention to the maid.

'Lady Mary told me so this morning,' Anna replied, quite calmly. 'She said Mr Crawley had told his lordship all about it and apologised for his part in the whole thing. He told him that Mr Branson was the one who got Lady Sybil out of the count and back to the safety of the car.'

Tom shot a grateful glance at Anna as Mr Carson considered them both.

'Very well. Then we shall say no more about it,' the butler sniffed, put out with this whole conversation but not about to gainsay any information that had come from Lady Mary herself. With that pronouncement, he turned on his heel to retreat to the privacy of his pantry.

Once he was sure Mr Carson was out of earshot, Thomas sent a knowing look down the table towards Tom. 'Well, you got away with that, didn't you? I thought he was going to give you a scalping.'

'I got away with nothing,' Tom said, fighting to keep his temper under control. 'I didn't do anything wrong.'

'No, course you didn't. Only let Lady Sybil get roughed up on your watch,' Thomas said, dryly.

'That's not what happened,' Tom said, tightly.

'Isn't it?'

'No.'

'Well, if you say so.'

'I do.'

'Well, personally, I think this might be an example of that famous luck of the Irish in action here. If any of the rest of us went out with Lady Sybil and she came back battered, bruised and bleeding, I reckon we'd be out on our ear before you could say 'ballot box', don't you, Miss O'Brien?' Thomas said, turning to his partner-in-crime for back up.

'Aye, I do. Strange that you're not,' she said, eyeing Tom with undisguised dislike.

'It's not strange and it's got nothing to do with luck. I didn't do anything wrong,' Tom repeated, barely clinging on to his temper.

'Hmm, I'm not sure his lordship agrees. I heard him last night, shouting about turfing you out on your ear this morning, and yet here you still are,' Thomas continued. 'Why do you think that is?'

'How many times do I have to say it?' Tom snapped, losing his grip on his temper. 'I didn't do anything wrong!'

'Maybe he has a protector,' Miss O'Brien said, slyly.

'Maybe he does at that,' Thomas agreed. 'Someone with his lordship's ear. Maybe a young lady. Maybe one of the young ladies.'

Tom glared at them as Anna watched it all unfolding with a terrible sense of foreboding tugging at her.

'You two make me sick,' Tom growled.

'Is that so? Why's that then? Is it because we're getting close to the truth, by any chance?' Thomas needled, a smirk on his lips.

'Go to hell, Thomas,' Tom hissed, pushing to his feet.

'Mr Branson, why don't we go outside for a bit of fresh air?' Anna said hastily, standing up quickly. 'Let's leave Thomas and Miss O'Brien to entertain themselves with their fairy tales, shall we?'

Tom looked across at her, caught the meaningful widening of her eyes and forced himself to calm down before he pounced on Thomas and punched him in his smug face.

'Come on, let's step out into the yard,' Anna said, looking beseechingly at her friend.

He nodded and grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, stalking around the table, ignoring Thomas and Miss O'Brien.

'That's right. Off you go with your little friend,' Miss O'Brien sniped.

Anna narrowed her eyes at the lady's maid. 'And you can shut up, too,' she said sharply as Tom walked behind her, heading for the door.

'Ooo, the kitten has teeth,' Miss O'Brien replied, her eyes glittering with malice.

As Tom and Anna left the servants' hall, Miss O'Brien turned back to Thomas. 'Well, I'd say you riled him good and proper there.'

Thomas raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement. 'Yep. Definitely touched a nerve.'

'I'd say that's grist to our mill, wouldn't you?'

'It's not proof of anything, though, is it?'

'No, but I'd say we're getting closer. He'll slip up soon. Or she will. If she keeps protecting him, it'll soon become obvious that there's something going on between them,' Miss O'Brien said, confidently. 'And as soon as that happens, we can take it to the papers and make ourselves some money.'

'Are you all right?' Anna asked Tom as he perched on the crates beside her in the kitchen yard, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of them.

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

'Do you want to talk about it?'

'His lordship was going to sack me last night. He blamed me for Lady Sybil getting injured,' he said, keeping his eye on the back door in case anyone came out.

'I know. Lady Mary told me all about it,' Anna said, sympathetically.

'Did she tell you she fought to save me?'

'Yes, she did. She said it wasn't your fault. She said that Mr Crawley was the one who made the situation worse.'

Tom nodded.

Anna glanced around the yard, double-checking they were alone before she spoke. 'Didn't she spend the night with you?' she asked, dropping her voice down low.

'Yes, she did.'

'I thought you might be happy this morning. You know, because she'd stayed with you,' Anna said, trying not to blush about what she suspected that meant.

Tom sighed, his shoulders slumping. 'When I woke up this morning, all I could think about was what might have happened. So, I asked her what she would have done if his lordship had sacked me. I needed to know.'

Anna bit her lip, beginning to see where his low mood and short temper might be coming from today. 'And what did she say?'

'Nothing. She said it was too vague and theoretical a question to answer. She said I wasn't going anywhere; the danger had passed, and nothing was going to change.'

'Ah, I see,' Anna said, her heart going out to him.

'I asked her outright if she would have come with me if I'd been dismissed, but she wouldn't answer. She said I couldn't expect her to make a decision like that without any firm details,' he said, heavily.

Anna tilted her head, looking at him. 'You didn't really expect her to say she would go with you, did you?'

'I don't know. I suppose part of me hoped she would,' he said, forlornly.

Anna gazed at him, saying nothing. There was nothing she could say.

Tom closed his eyes again and then leaned forward, his face in his hands, his elbows propped on his knees. 'She's never going to go anywhere with me, is she? She's never going to be really mine.'

'No, I don't think she is,' Anna said, reluctant to add to his heartbreak but knowing that was the truth of the matter.

'Oh, God, Anna. I'm such a fool,' Tom muttered into his hands, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

Anna reached out putting her hand on his back, patting it gently, knowing there was nothing she could say to make him feel better.

Mary looked up from her journal, hastily closing it as her bedroom door began opening directly after the soft knock.

'Sybil. Darling. How are you?' she asked, setting her pen down next to her journal as her sister appeared in the doorway, looking pale and tired, the cut on her head standing out, glistening slightly with some kind of ointment.

'Oh, I'm all right. I need to know, though, has Papa kept his word? Is Branson still here?' Sybil asked, anxiously.

'Yes, he is.'

'You've seen him? Branson, I mean. You've seen him this morning?' Sybil pressed, wanting irrefutable proof that her father had not punished their chauffeur for her transgressions.

'Well, um, no,' Mary said, unable to tell her sister the truth about when she'd last seen Tom.

'Then you don't know for sure,' Sybil said, getting agitated. 'I need to be sure. I must go and see if Branson is in the garage. I must see him for myself. I need to apologise to him.'

'Darling, I'm sure he won't expect you to. And I'm equally sure Papa hasn't sacked him. He told me last night he wouldn't. I did come to tell you, but you were already asleep,' Mary said, wanting to soothe her sister's worries.

'Did he? Why did he say that? What changed his mind?' Sybil asked, perking up a little.

Mary hesitated, not willing to highlight her own role in saving Tom's job too much and also not wanting to hurt Sybil by revealing Matthew's part in the events of last night.

Sybil fixed her with a beseeching look. 'Please, Mary. Tell me.'

'All right, all right. I spoke to Matthew last night after Mama took you off to bed, and it appears that he may have inadvertently been involved in what happened to you,' she said, reluctantly.

Sybil gazed at her, her lips parting in shock. 'Matthew was? How?'

'Don't you remember?'

'No, not really. I remember it getting a bit… um… well, there was a lot of pushing and shoving when all those men arrived and started shouting and accosting people. What happened with Matthew? Is he all right?' Sybil asked, worrying now about the man she was in love with.

'He's fine. He said he squared up to a thug and you got hurt in the ensuing hullabaloo,' Mary said, watching her sister's reaction carefully.

Sybil sighed in relief. 'So, he's all right? I didn't remember him being injured last night when he brought me back.'

'Sybil, it was his fault you got hurt,' Mary said, wondering if her sister understood that.

'Well, not really, it wasn't. Those men arrived determined to start a fight,' Sybil pointed out. 'You can hardly blame Matthew for that.'

'But if he hadn't risen to the provocation, you wouldn't have been hurt.'

'I might have. They were jolly rough sorts. Anyway, Matthew carried me out of there, didn't he?' Sybil said, unwilling to hear her beloved being condemned for something she didn't believe was his fault.

'No, Branson did.'

'Branson? Did he? Well, that's even more reason for Papa not to sack him!' Sybil cried, feeling even more guilty about the trouble she'd caused with her single-minded need to attend the count.

'That's what Matthew told Papa last night after I'd made him see the unfairness of Branson shouldering the blame for what happened to you.'

Sybil paused, looking at her sister in surprise. 'You told Matthew to speak to Papa?'

'Yes, I did.'

'Matthew wasn't going to do it himself?'

'No. Well, I don't think it had occurred to him that he might be responsible for the escalation of events until he discussed the matter with me. I told him he couldn't let Papa take it out on Branson when he had done nothing wrong.'

Sybil eyed her sister thoughtfully. 'So, Matthew told Papa everything and he relented on sacking Branson, did he?'

'Yes. Well, I believe Matthew told him it would not be right to sack Branson after all he did to get you to safety yesterday, and I emphasised that when I spoke to Papa afterwards. I reminded him that you hadn't told Branson where he was taking you,' Mary said, feeling awkwardly exposed under Sybil's curious gaze.

'I should never have lied to him. To Branson. I never meant to get him into any trouble,' Sybil said, perching on the edge of Mary's bed. 'I just wanted to go to the count, but Papa had forbidden him to take me, so I lied.'

'As it turns out, Papa never gave that order to Branson,' Mary said, suddenly realising that Sybil's white lie had saved Tom's job in the end. 'Branson would have taken you anyway. So, in a way, it's good that you lied to him because he could genuinely claim not to know where you were really going. If he'd confessed that he knew all along, Papa would have dismissed him for sure.'

'I still need to apologise to him. He must have been worried sick about losing his job all night,' Sybil said, feeling wretched for causing so much trouble. 'Will you come with me to the garage?'

'Of course, I will, darling,' Mary said, anxious herself to see how Tom was after his strange mood this morning.

The click of heels on the concrete of the garage floor alerted Tom to the fact that he had visitors. Peering down the length of his body, he saw two pairs of feet and long skirts standing at the head of the car next to where his legs were sticking out from under the bonnet.

'Branson.'

Tom scrambled out from beneath the car, wiping his hands on a rag, to see Mary and Lady Sybil standing in front of him, arm in arm. Mary gave him a small smile.

'Lady Sybil, Lady Mary,' he said, acknowledging the sister who had spoken to him first and then nodding at Mary. He looked back at Sybil. 'How are you feeling today, milady?'

'Rather foolish and very guilty for all the trouble I've caused,' Sybil replied, frankly. 'I'm so sorry, Branson. For lying to you, for making you worry about losing your livelihood, for everything. It was terribly selfish of me.'

Tom looked down at the rag in his hands, continuing to wipe his fingers, not quite sure what to say. 'That's all right, milady.'

'No, it's not. My father was intent on dismissing you because of my actions, and that is simply unconscionable.'

'Well, he hasn't dismissed me. Not yet anyway,' Tom replied, glancing from Sybil to Mary.

'No, and I'm glad of it. From what I gather, we both have Lady Mary to thank for that. It appears she was instrumental in changing his mind,' Sybil said, patting Mary's hand on her arm.

Tom looked steadily at Mary, and she felt her heart start to beat faster. She wanted to go to him, to take him in her arms and kiss him.

'Thank you, milady. I'm grateful to you,' he said, nodding at her.

'You don't have to be grateful, Branson. It was the right thing to do,' Mary replied, longing to break the invisible wall between them and show him how much she cared about him.

'And I will make doubly sure Lord Grantham knows that the only person to blame for any of this is me,' Sybil said, stoutly.

Tom gave her an awkward smile.

'I believe I have you to thank for carrying me out of the melee, too,' Sybil continued.

'Um, yes.'

'It seems you were my knight in shining armour yesterday, Branson, and I am exceedingly grateful to you for everything you did. I am so very sorry I caused you so much trouble,' she said, earnestly.

'It was no trouble, milady. Although I will say you gave me and Mr Crawley a real fright,' Tom said, feeling the horror of that moment once again. 'How is your head today?'

Sybil reached up, her fingers hovering over the gash on her head. 'Oh, it's all right, thank you. A little tender and it aches a little, but I will live.'

'I'm glad to hear it,' Tom said, sincerely.

'Everyone seems to think I was hovering at death's door, but it wasn't anything like as dramatic as all that.'

Tom smiled, huffing out a small laugh. 'Well, it was fairly dramatic, milady. One minute you were upright, the next you were on the ground, bleeding and unconscious. It wasn't the most pleasant of moments to see you like that.'

'No, I can imagine it wasn't, and I apologise once more for putting you in that position,' Sybil said, anxious to make sure he knew how sorry she was for everything that had happened.

'I accept your apology, milady, and thank you for it. I hope you feel better soon,' Tom replied, inclining his head.

'Well, we'd better get back. Mama is fretting about me being out of bed and I think Mary was worried I might faint on the way here,' Sybil said, tightening her grip on her sister and casting her a smile as Mary rolled her eyes and muttered her name in fond exasperation. 'But I needed to come and make sure you were still here and to apologise to you, Branson.'

'And I appreciate that very much,' Tom said, realising once again how very much he liked Lady Sybil and her down-to-earth, genuinely nice nature.

'Thank you. For everything you did for me yesterday.'

Tom shook his head. 'There's no need to thank me, milady. I'd not have left you there, especially injured.'

'Still, you have my gratitude.' Sybil looked at her sister, standing there quietly throughout the whole exchange. 'Shall we go back then, Mary?'

'Can you manage without me, darling? I just need to talk to Branson about booking the motor. I have some errands to run over the coming week,' Mary said, hoping her sister would accept that without question.

'Of course, I can. I'm not an invalid,' Sybil said, rolling her eyes a little. 'Are you all going to treat me with kid gloves for the foreseeable future?'

'Probably, yes,' Mary replied, blithely. 'Mama especially. You'll just have to put up with it. It can be your penance for worrying us all sick.'

Sybil blew out a sigh. 'Then I suppose I will have to bear it. Right, I will leave you to diary your appointments with Branson.'

With that, she nodded once more to Tom and took her leave.

Mary watched carefully until Sybil was out of sight and then moved towards Tom, reaching out a hand to him. He took it, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

'Are you all right this morning, darling?' she asked, softly.

'Yes, I'm fine,' he said, stepping closer.

'It's just that earlier, you seemed… I don't know… a little down,' Mary said, eyeing him with some nervousness. She didn't want to reopen the conversation they'd had in the wee small hours, but she hated feeling that something was amiss between them.

'I suppose I couldn't stop thinking that I could have been gone this morning. That all of this would have been over,' he said, quietly. 'I couldn't bear the thought of it.'

'Neither could I,' she said, fervently. 'I simply can't bring myself to imagine what life would be like without you here.'

Tom gazed at her, debating whether to ask her if she'd thought any more about coming with him if he had to leave Downton Abbey. It was the one question to which he both longed for the answer and feared it.

'I don't want to think about it, I don't want to talk about it, I don't even want to acknowledge that it could happen,' Mary said, moving even closer, slotting her body against his.

He put his arm around her waist, holding her to him, making a decision. He would enjoy what they had now and not think about the future and whatever that may bring.

'Then we won't talk about it, mo chuisle,' he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her gently.

'Good. Because I do think our time is better spent kissing each other,' Mary whispered against his lips. 'It's so much more pleasurable, don't you think?'

'I do. I definitely do,' Tom replied, holding her close as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him tenderly.

At the door to the garage, unseen by either of the lovers, Sybil stood staring in shock at the sight of her sister and their chauffeur wrapped in each other's arms, oblivious to all else as they kissed. She had returned to book the motor herself, but she had not expected to stumble onto this scene.

With her hand over her mouth, she watched as Mary and Branson kissed each other, long and deep. This was quite obviously not something that had just happened, not a kiss like that, but rather something that had happened before, an established pattern of behaviour.

Sybil stared, unable to look away, her mind racing. That Mary was in some kind of relationship with their chauffeur was undeniable, but exactly how deep did this relationship go? It was a question Sybil was determined to get an answer to.