Author's note: Thank you for the review, Eagedwin! I've used a little bit of canon dialogue in this chapter.

July 1914

At the sight of Tom waiting by the car outside Downton station, Mary felt her heart leap in her chest. She couldn't drag her eyes from him. It was all she could do not to beam at him in a way that would tip off her whole family that she had much deeper feelings for him than an earl's daughter should have for the family's chauffeur.

'Are you all right, Mary? You look awfully flushed,' Edith asked, less out of concern and more out of curiosity at the sudden blush on her sister's cheeks.

Mary started, glancing across at her. 'What?'

'You looked flushed. Bright red, in fact,' Edith repeated, taking a quick look around to see what might have prompted Mary's blush.

'Oh, I expect you're just feeling overheated, aren't you, Mary?' Sybil said, linking arms with her eldest sister, coming to her rescue. 'I certainly am. These travelling clothes are not made for the height of summer, are they?'

'They absolutely are not,' Mary agreed, latching onto Sybil's excuse for her high colour. 'I can't wait to get home and change into something more lightweight.'

'Hmm, I suppose so,' Edith said, looking slightly puzzled. Mary's flushed face had appeared so suddenly, it seemed unlikely to have been brought on by her clothing, but she couldn't see anything or anyone that might have prompted it otherwise. There was only Branson in the vicinity, helping their mother into the car, and the sight of him was hardly likely to make Mary come over all peculiar.

She made her way to the large motor, the biggest in her father's fleet, and let the chauffeur hand her into the car to sit opposite her parents.

'Thank you,' Mary murmured to Sybil, still a safe distance from the car. 'Am I very red?'

Sybil grinned. 'You are, rather. Is it just the sight of him that's done that to you?'

'It must be,' Mary replied, seeing Tom turn towards them. 'You go first.'

'All right. I'll start up a conversation when I get into the motor to distract everyone from you and Tom and your reunion,' Sybil said, casting a cheeky smile at Mary. With that she strode towards the car, beaming at Tom. 'Hello, Branson. How nice to see you!'

'And you, too, Lady Sybil,' he said, returning her smile. 'I understand things went well for you in London.'

'Oh, yes, very well indeed, thank you,' she replied, taking his hand and ducking into the car. 'Shuffle up, Edith. You can't have the whole seat to yourself, you know.'

Mary approached the car, hearing Sybil's voice inside as she chatted up a storm with the rest of their family.

'Hello, Branson,' she said, smiling at Tom.

'Welcome home, milady,' he replied, smiling back at her, his eyes soft with affection. 'Downton has felt very empty without you.'

'It's good to be home. I have missed it very much. I think I might go for a walk this afternoon, remind myself that there is no place like home,' Mary said, locking eyes with him, hoping he understood her message.

Tom nodded. 'That sounds like an excellent idea. There's nothing like good country air to blow away the cobwebs of the city.'

'My thoughts, exactly,' Mary replied, smiling at him as she took hold of his hand, squeezing it subtly, feeling him respond.

'Mary, are you getting in or not? ' Robert asked impatiently from within the car. 'I don't know about you, but I am rather keen to get home.'

'I'm coming, Papa,' Mary said, climbing in and seating herself next to Sybil. She smoothed her skirt and sneaked a look at Tom through the window as he shut the door behind her, completely missing the curious look Edith gave her.

When they reached the house, Mary made sure to be the last one out of the car, once more exchanging a quick look and press of fingers with Tom before he released her to go and unstrap luggage from the car.

With an effort, she turned her back on him and scurried into the house.

'Welcome home, milady,' Carson greeted her warmly.

'Thank you, Carson. It's wonderful to be back. Can you send Anna up when she arrives, please? I'm simply desperate to change out of these clothes,' Mary said, sweeping past him and up the stairs.

'She's in a hurry,' Edith observed, watching Mary practically run up the stairs.

'Can you blame her? These clothes are terribly warm. I can't wait to bathe and change myself,' Sybil said just as her father said much the same thing about wanting to wash the train off him before luncheon.

'Hmm, I suppose,' Edith murmured, still thinking about Mary's suddenly flushed face at the station. Something was also nagging at her about how long Mary had spent talking to Branson outside the car while they were all waiting for her inside it.

'Come on, let's go up,' Sybil said, starting up the stairs with Edith next to her.

'Sybil?' Cora called from the middle of the Great Hall.

Halfway up the stairs, both Sybil and Edith turned towards their mother.

'You were a great success in London, darling. Well done,' Cora said to her youngest daughter, very pleased with how Sybil's coming out season had gone given all that she had feared with the Pamuk rumours still in full flow.

Edith's features took on a mulish look. 'You never say that to me.'

'Don't I, dear? You were very helpful. Thank you,' Cora said soothingly before turning away to talk to Mrs Hughes.

Edith huffed out a bitter sigh. 'Helpful. That's all I ever get.'

'Well, maybe you were helpful,' Sybil said, her tone conciliatory.

'It just feels a little patronising, like being damned by faint praise. I'm never the success or the hit or anything like that,' Edith grumbled. 'All I ever am is helpful.'

Sybil slid a sideways look at Edith, wondering if this was one of the reasons she'd put pen to paper to damn Mary in such an insidious way.

'What?' Edith snapped, catching the look. 'It's all right for you. You're "a success". And you were engaged before your debut season even ended. Everything's all rosy for you.'

Sybil stopped at the top of the stairs, turning to face Edith. 'Are you all right about me marrying Matthew?' she asked, bluntly.

'Why wouldn't I be?' Edith replied, sulkily.

'Because I know you harboured hopes in that direction yourself at one point,' Sybil said, gently.

Edith flushed, displeased to be reminded of her unsuccessful campaign to attract Matthew's attention. 'Well, it was obviously always you he was interested in, wasn't it? That day we spent going from church to church, he spent all his time with you. Now I know why. At least it wasn't Mary. I don't think I could have stood that. She would have been so supercilious about it all.'

Sybil sighed. 'I wish you would try harder with Mary. She's not as bad as you think she is.'

'No, she's worse,' Edith said sharply, and then turned on her heel and strode off towards her bedroom, trailing anger and discontent in her wake.

Sybil sighed again, shaking her head, unable to understand quite why Edith and Mary disliked each other as much as they did, and then she followed her sister, heading for her own bedroom.

'Oh, my darling! I have missed you so much!' Mary cried, throwing herself at Tom as he came into the kitchen of his cottage later that afternoon.

He wrapped his arms around her, slinging his cap onto the kitchen table next to her hat. 'And I've missed you,' he murmured, hugging her tight.

She drew back slightly, cupping his face in her hands, drinking him in. 'Impossible as it seems, I think you might have got even more handsome since the last time I saw you. The sight of you quite made me blush at the station,' she said, grinning at him. 'You've caught the sun.'

'Maybe a little, although I was beet red before I tanned. You wouldn't have found me so handsome had you seen me then,' he admitted, smiling as she began to scatter kisses on his face. 'Oh, God, have I missed you.'

'Not as much as I've missed you. I've missed these beautiful eyes,' she said, kissing his eyelids. 'And this handsome nose' – she kissed the end of his nose – 'and this dashing chin' – another kiss to the dimple on his chin – 'these chiselled cheeks' – more kisses to his face – 'and these intoxicating lips.'

She finished her tour of his face by capturing his lips in a long, deep kiss.

Tom groaned, pulling her closer. 'Oh, mo chuisle, you're like a drug. I can't get enough of you.'

Mary gazed at him fondly, her nose brushing his, happiness billowing inside her at finally being back in his arms. 'Take me to bed, Tom. Take me to bed and show me how much you've missed me.'

He grinned and bent suddenly at the knees, hearing her squeal as he swept her up into his arms.

'Well, you don't need to ask me that twice. Your wish is my command,' he said, striding through the door, making for the staircase.

'Oh, good God in heaven, you really are just about the most beautiful thing on this earth,' Tom said, an hour or so later as he came back into the bedroom carrying a couple of apples and a sharp knife. 'You take my breath away.'

Mary grinned at him, delighted with the compliment. 'Is that just because you know I am naked under this sheet?' she asked playfully, holding the sheet to her chest, and extending one long, bare leg out provocatively from underneath it.

'No, but it definitely doesn't hurt,' he said, climbing onto the bed to sit cross-legged on top of the sheet, clad only in his underwear.

He set one of the apples down next to him and then cut a slice off the other one, holding out the knife and the slice to Mary. She took the slice of apple and bit into it, the tart sweetness of the fruit flooding her mouth.

'Hmm, that's lovely,' she said, savouring the taste of it.

Tom smiled at her and cut a slice for himself.

'Give me another,' she said, holding out her hand. 'So, have you been terribly lonely and miserable without me here?'

He grinned at her, a small laugh erupting from him as he passed her another slice of apple. 'You've quite the ego on you, haven't you?'

'Well, don't tell me it's not true. I should be devastated if you've had a perfectly wonderful time without me,' Mary said, pouting slightly.

'Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say I've been "terribly" lonely and miserable, but I have missed you,' he admitted.

'Dreadfully?'

'Yes, dreadfully,' he agreed, slipping another slice into his mouth.

Mary eyed him, a big smile on her face. 'Good. Because I missed you dreadfully, too.'

'Yes, so you said in your letters.'

'Oh, my God, my letters. That reminds me,' Mary said, suddenly remembering the warning she needed to give him. 'If Edith asks, Sybil sent you a political pamphlet from London.'

Tom raised a surprised eyebrow. 'Did she? I didn't get it if she did.'

'No, you wouldn't have because she didn't actually send you one, but Edith thinks she did.'

He looked at her in confusion, passing another slice of apple across. 'Why would Lady Edith think Lady Sybil is sending me political pamphlets from London?'

'Because somebody bumped into me and I dropped my letter to you and Edith picked it up,' Mary said, shuddering at the recollection of that close call. 'It was only Sybil's quick thinking that saved the day.'

'Oh, right. That could have been… awkward,' he said, lipping another piece of apple from the blade of his knife.

'Awkward? Tom, it would have been catastrophic! If Edith had opened that letter, she would have known all about us! Including that we do this!' she cried, wafting her hand between them, indicating the state of undress they were both in.

'Right, and she wouldn't have been as understanding as Lady Sybil, would she not?' Tom asked, offering her another slice.

Mary gave a rueful laugh as she took the piece of fruit. 'Edith? No, my darling, she would not. I found out while I was away that she was the one who started the rumours about me and Pamuk.'

'Lady Edith did?' Tom asked, astounded, his knife pausing mid-slice.

'Yes. She wrote to the Turkish ambassador and told him his countryman died in the arms of a slut, i.e. me,' Mary said, bitterly.

Tom stared at her in disbelief. 'Lady Edith did?'

'Yes. She's a nasty, conniving, treacherous little cow, isn't she?' Mary stretched out a hand towards him. 'Apple.'

Tom finished cutting the slice and handed it over. 'So, she definitely wouldn't keep this a secret if she found out about us, then.'

'Keep it a secret? Absolutely not. On current evidence, she'd probably put an announcement in The Times, The Lady and The Yorkshire Post! Can you imagine the headlines? Slutty earl's daughter caught romping with chauffeur,' Mary said, raising the hand holding her apple slice and swiping it through the air as if the headline would appear by magic.

'Romping?' Tom repeated, raising an amused eyebrow.

She cast him a look. 'Yes. This qualifies as a romp in newspaper parlance, doesn't it?'

He grinned, setting the apple core, the other apple and the knife on the bedside cabinet before turning back to her.

'Romping?' he said again, a gleam in his eye.

'Yes,' Mary replied, grinning cheekily back at him. 'As it turns out, I'm quite a fan of romping. I think I'm rather good at it.'

'Yes, you are,' he said, tweaking the sheet out of her hand and exposing her naked body, his eyes running greedily over her bare breasts. 'But practice makes perfect.'

Mary shrieked and then started giggling as he pounced on her, her last slice of apple falling to the floor.

That evening, Mary and her sisters stared at their mother over the dining table, open-mouthed at her news.

'Pregnant?' Mary echoed in disbelief.

'Yes. I'd suspected I might be for a little while, but Dr Clarkson confirmed it this afternoon,' Cora said, flushing a little at the thought of her daughters and her mother-in-law knowing she and Robert still enjoyed marital relations.

'How… how far along are you?' Mary asked as Sybil and Edith remained silent, staring at their mother in shock.

'Dr Clarkson thinks your mother is probably four months or so along,' Robert said, unable to keep the pride from his voice. 'So, the baby is due sometime in late December or early January.'

'That's simply wonderful news, isn't it, girls?' the Dowager said, her mind already churning through the implications. 'A last hurrah, as it were.'

'Well, I wouldn't have put it quite like that, Mama, but yes, it is wonderful news,' Robert said, sliding an amused glance at his mother.

'Yes, congratulations!' Sybil said brightly, recovering from the shock. 'Goodness, this means I won't be the baby of the family for very much longer.'

'Sybil, darling, we're very aware of what this might mean for your future. Don't think we're not,' Cora said, reaching out a hand to her youngest daughter, sitting next to her at the table.

'My future?' Sybil said, looking surprised.

'Well, if it's a boy, Matthew will no longer be the heir to the title or the estate,' Robert said carefully, not sure that this had yet occurred to Sybil. 'I intend to speak to him tomorrow and tell him the news.'

'Oh, well, yes, of course,' Sybil said, still looking a little non-plussed. 'Yes, I do realise that.'

'It means you may no longer be the next Countess of Grantham,' Cora said, underlining the point.

Sybil looked at her mother and gave a small, surprised laugh. 'Oh, Mama, you don't think that I care about that, do you?'

'Don't you?'

'No!'

'So, you're still going to marry Matthew?' the Dowager asked, thinking for the first time in a while that perhaps Sybil was capable of making an eminently sensible decision after all. After all, suitors didn't grow on trees, especially not when one member of the family was the subject of disagreeable rumours.

'Of course, I am! I love him!' Sybil said, looking around the table in surprise. 'You didn't think I'd throw him over because he's not going to be an earl, did you?'

'He might still be the earl,' Edith put in, glancing at her parents. 'If the baby is another girl.'

'Yes, of course, he might,' Robert said, torn between his affection for Matthew and his burning desire for this child to be the son he had so longed for but had given up hope of ever having. 'But he might not.'

'Oh, for goodness' sake! I'm not marrying him because of his prospects! I'm marrying him because I love him!' Sybil cried.

'Even if he'll only ever be a solicitor?' the Dowager asked, her eyebrows rising high on her forehead.

'Even if he was a simple chimney sweep,' Sybil vowed, determination all over her face.

There was silence around the table.

'Well. That's settled then,' the Dowager said, picking up her cutlery once again.

Mary followed suit, thinking of her own situation with Tom after Sybil had quite emphatically announced her intention to marry Matthew whatever happened.

In the drawing room after dinner, Edith came to join Mary and Sybil on a sofa as their parents talked to the Dowager across the room.

'I can't believe Mama is expecting a baby,' she said, casting a glance at her mother, searching for any outward sign of her pregnancy.

'It's certainly unexpected,' Mary said, agreeing with her sister for once.

'I didn't think they'd still be… doing that kind of thing,' Edith said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

'Why ever not?' Sybil asked in surprise. 'It's very obvious that they love one another.'

'Because they're… well, they're old. I thought they'd be past all that sort of thing. Especially Mama,' Edith said as if that were obvious.

Mary snorted, inelegantly. 'But aren't you the one angling to marry a man older than Papa?'

Edith stiffened and flushed, glaring at her. 'That's different.'

'Why?'

'Because it is.'

'So, you won't want to do it with him, then?'

'That's none of your business!' Edith hissed, her cheeks pinking up.

Sybil glanced between her sisters and jumped in to head off an argument. 'Why didn't you think Mama, in particular, wouldn't want to, well, you know, Edith?'

'Because from what I've heard, marital relations are something of a chore for women. It's not something they enjoy, it's something they endure,' she said confidently, focusing her attention on Sybil instead of Mary.

Mary bit her lip, stifling another snort, earning herself a glare from Edith. 'Who told you that?'

'I think you'll find it's common knowledge,' Edith said, loftily.

'Is it? That's certainly not what I've heard,' Mary replied before she could stop herself.

'And how would you know?' Edith demanded, suddenly suspicious that Mary had lied about Pamuk raping her and that the encounter had been consensual after all.

'I have married friends,' Mary said airily, belatedly trying to deflect any suspicion Edith may have that she was speaking from experience. 'We talk. And they have certainly not given me the impression that they find marital relations a chore. Quite the opposite in fact.'

Edith glared at her, displeased to be contradicted.

'Well, I shall be able to tell you myself soon enough,' Sybil said lightly, trying to dispel the tension between her sisters. 'I expect I will find out as soon as Matthew and I are married.'

'Yes, I expect you will,' Mary said with a grin.

Edith sniffed, looking away, not wanting to think about Sybil's impending marriage to Matthew any more than she had to, and especially not what might happen between them on their wedding night. She couldn't help but think it was wrong that Sybil would be married before she was. And the fact that she was marrying Matthew was particularly galling.

'I think it's lovely news,' Sybil said, looking fondly at her parents.

'Do you really?' Mary asked, curiously.

'Yes, I do.'

'It really doesn't bother you that Matthew may not be the next earl anymore?'

'Not in the slightest. I really don't care about that,' Sybil said, honestly.

'Not even a little bit?' Mary persisted, thinking that if she were in Sybil's shoes, she would probably care quite a lot about that.

'Not everyone is as mercenary as you,' Edith sniped before Sybil could reply.

Mary shot her an irritated look.

'What? I'm just saying. Sybil is not you and Matthew is not Patrick,' Edith expanded, glaring at Mary. 'Not everyone marries just for a title.'

'Edith, I don – ' Sybil started.

'Oh, so you're not attracted to that fossil Strallan because of his title, then?' Mary retorted, returning Edith's glare. 'Because I can't imagine why else you'd even entertain the thought of marrying him.'

'He's a very nice man!' Edith shot back, indignantly.

'He's boring. And old. And probably can't even do it. But then again maybe an ancient, impotent bore is the best you can hope for. And even he might be beyond your grasp,' Mary snapped, spitefully.

'Mary!' Sybil reprimanded, shocked.

'You just can't help yourself, can you?' Edith hissed, getting to her feet. 'Why anyone even tolerates you never mind chooses to spend time with you is beyond me! You're a nasty, horrible witch!'

'And you're a spiteful, treacherous snake!' Mary riposted.

'Please! Please don't do this!' Sybil begged in vain.

'I'm sorry, Sybil, but I can't bear to be near her for one second longer!' Edith bit out, glaring at Mary.

'Then why don't you just disappear? Nobody will miss your miserable face!' Mary retorted, her temper pushing her on.

Edith made a peculiar growling sound in her throat and spun around, stomping off.

Sybil sighed, shaking her head. 'Will you two never be able to spend more than a couple of minutes in each other's company without it all turning nasty?'

'Probably not. She hates me because she's jealous of me. And I now know her to be an underhanded, lying snitch without a loyal bone in her body, so I think it's safe to say that ship has sailed,' Mary said with conviction. 'I know you don't like that, but that's the way it is. And you can lay the blame for that at Edith's door.'

Sybil cast her a look of disbelief. 'Oh, I think you're being overly simplistic there, Mary. I know what Edith did was terrible but – '

'Oh, no. No, no, no. There's no but about it, Sybil. It was terrible and she's caused so much trouble and done so much damage with her petty vindictiveness that there's no coming back. When I tell Mama about it, she will hit the roof.'

'You're not going to tell Mama what she did, are you?' Sybil said in horror.

'Yes, of course, I am. I just haven't decided when yet. I find I get a certain satisfaction from watching Edith stewing about it. I know now why cats enjoy playing with mice before they eat them.'

Sybil grabbed Mary's arm urgently. 'You can't tell her.'

'Why not? She has a right to know.'

'No, don't, Mary. She's pregnant; she shouldn't be dealing with any shocks now. You heard what Papa said earlier, she needs peace and rest. You can't tell her what Edith's done, not while she's in a delicate condition.'

Mary paused, thinking about that. 'She's having a baby, Sybil. She's not ill.'

'Yes, but she hasn't had a baby for over eighteen years now. She's not as young as she was. I think Papa's right, we should be shielding her from unnecessary worry and excitement,' Sybil said, doing her best to lay out her case for not making their mother aware of Edith's behaviour.

'But she's been worrying and wondering for months now where these rumours have come from. Now I can tell her,' Mary persisted despite beginning to doubt the wisdom of doing that even as she said it.

Sybil shook her head. 'How would it help? It's not like it would set her mind to rest, is it? She'd be devastated to learn Edith was behind it all.'

'But doesn't she have a right to know?' Mary said again.

'Say you tell her, and she gets upset and something happens to the baby because of the strain she's under,' Sybil argued. 'How would you feel then? How would that make Mama and Papa feel? Because if that happened, it wouldn't just be Edith they'd blame.'

Mary stared at her sister, her words sinking in. 'So… so you're saying I should just let her get away with it?'

'No, I'm not saying that. You don't have to tell Edith that you're not going to tell Mama if you don't want to. That might make her think twice before doing anything like that again. And I'm not saying you can never tell Mama, just… not now,' Sybil said, giving Mary a beseeching look.

Mary pressed her lips together, annoyed at the thought of Edith escaping punishment for what she'd done. 'And where's the fairness in that for me?'

Sybil fixed her with a look. 'I suppose you have to ask yourself what you care about the most. Is it getting revenge on Edith or is it making sure that Mama's pregnancy is as easy and carefree as possible?'

'Oh, oh, that's low,' Mary said, shocked by her sister's hardline tactics. 'You're not as sweet as people think you are, are you?'

'I couldn't possibly be, could I? Not with you and Edith as my sisters. But I'm not wrong, am I?' Sybil said, the challenge clear in her voice.

Mary stared at her, seeing the young woman Sybil had become instead of the child she once was, and feeling a grudging sense of pride.

'All right. You win. I won't tell Mama.'

'Thank you,' Sybil breathed, the tense line of her shoulders relaxing a little with relief.

'But I'm not telling Edith that. And neither will you,' Mary said, sharply.

'All right.'

'Promise me.'

'I promise.'

'Good. Because I want her to squirm for a good while longer,' Mary said, a hard edge to her voice.

Sybil sighed and nodded, reluctantly. 'All right. I understand that. I don't necessarily agree with it, but I understand it.'

'Right, then we're agreed. I won't tell Mama and you won't tell Edith.'

'Yes, we're agreed,' Sybil said, relieved to have got through to her sister.

Mary pursed her lips, still feeling that Edith had got away with murder. It didn't appear that she had any choice at the moment, though, not with her mother in the family way and having to take things easy.

The next day, Robert summoned Matthew to the Abbey to tell him about the impending new arrival. They took a turn around the lawn in the front of the house as Robert imparted his news, Sybil watching anxiously from the window.

'Are you worried about how he'll take the news?' Mary asked, standing beside her sister, also watching the two men walking and talking.

'A little,' Sybil confessed. 'I hope he will be fine because he wasn't brought up expecting to be an earl, but he has had two years to get used to the idea.'

'And you're absolutely fine with not being a future countess, are you?' Mary asked, still struggling a little to believe that didn't bother Sybil in the slightest.

'Of course, I am,' Sybil replied, a touch of exasperation in her voice. 'I couldn't care less about that.'

'But aren't you worried about what you will do with your life?'

Sybil cut a look at her sister, frowning. 'What do you mean?'

'Well, as the Countess of Grantham, you would be able to do so much for others, like Mama does. Charity work, being on the board of things like the local hospital and so on. Your voice and your name would carry some weight. People would listen to you.'

Sybil turned towards her, raising an eyebrow. 'And you think I couldn't do the same as the wife of a solicitor, do you?'

'Well, no. Not to the same extent, anyway.'

'Really? Do you think people ignore Cousin Isobel and her opinions?'

'Well, no, but…'

'But what?'

'It's Cousin Isobel, isn't it? She doesn't take any prisoners when she's championing a cause,' Mary said, beginning to see a flaw in her own argument.

'No, she doesn't. She makes a difference even though she doesn't have a title. She's never had a title. She was a nurse and then the wife and widow of a doctor. By your logic, she shouldn't have been able to make a mark at all,' Sybil pointed out.

'No, I suppose not.'

'But she has.'

'Yes, she has,' Mary said, unable to disagree. Even in the two short years Isobel Crawley had lived in Downton, she'd made it her business to do worthwhile and valuable charitable work in the local area and had become a much-admired and respected figure. That was something Mary couldn't deny.

'So, there's no reason I couldn't do the same,' Sybil said, reasonably. She tilted her head, looking consideringly at Mary. 'Is that why you won't consider marrying, well, you know, him?'

Mary looked at her sister in alarm and then glanced around the room, checking for any potential eavesdroppers. 'Sybil!' she hissed.

'I didn't say his name!' Sybil protested, dropping her voice low. 'And I checked to see if anyone was around first.'

'Still, it's not wise for us to talk about… him. Not in here,' Mary whispered, casting another nervous glance at the door.

'But is it?' Sybil persisted.

'Well, yes. I've been raised to live a certain way and expect a certain life. I couldn't have or do anything like that if I married him. You know that.'

'Well, it would be different certainly, and it might be difficult in a lot of ways, but if you love him, isn't it worth at least thinking about it?' Sybil continued. 'I know it wouldn't be easy, but isn't it a possibility?'

'How? How is it a possibility? He's not… he's not Matthew. He hasn't got a reasonably comfortable future as a solicitor earning what I guess will be decent money lined up for him.'

'He could have a profession, though, if you encourage him to follow his ambitions, Mary. He's got so much potential. He's so knowledgeable about so many important things. He could do something… something more than he's doing at the moment. Make something of himself. Something to be proud of,' Sybil said, anxious to impress on her sister that by limiting Tom's capacity to make more of himself, she was also limiting the possibility of a future they could have together.

Mary shook her head. 'I know he could do more. I know he has potential, but he'll still never be accepted. That's never going to change.'

'Does it matter?' Sybil challenged.

'Of course, it matters!'

'Why? Is it more important to you to be invited to fashionable dinners and dances than it is to spend your life with the man you love?'

Mary reared back, stung by that accusation. 'That's not… that's not fair!'

'Isn't it?

'No! You're talking about events and diary engagements. That's not what's important. What's important is that my friends and my family won't accept the match. I'd be ostracised, and I don't think I could bear that. Not on top of having to face a very different life to my expectations.'

'You don't know that's true,' Sybil said, stubbornly. 'I've already told you I'd accept him. And I'm sure Matthew would as well.'

'Well, maybe when you are Lord and Lady Grantham, you might invite me and… him to dine at your table,' Mary snapped, getting cross now. 'But I can't imagine Mama and Papa would, can you? Or Granny. Can you imagine Granny sitting down to dinner with him? Do you really think they would be prepared to dine with him or introduce him as their son-in-law to all their peers? Because I don't.'

'It might be awkward at first, but they'd get used to it over time. And to him. I'm sure they would. They're not bad people. They might even forget his origins after time,' Sybil said, mulishly. 'But it seems you don't even want to try.'

Mary pressed her lips together, trying to tamp down her temper. 'Sybil, I've thought about this every which way, and I simply don't see any way what you're suggesting would work. He… he doesn't fit into this world, and I can't fit into his. That's simply the way it is. As much as I hate that fact, it is a fact.'

'But that's what I'm saying!' Sybil cried, feeling frustrated. 'It isn't necessarily a fact! It's a perception, and you could challenge it if you really wanted to!'

'Keep your voice down!' Mary hissed, casting another look at the door. 'It's not a perception! Either he has to step up into my world or I have to step down into his! That's a simple truth!'

'But if you love him – '

'I do love him!' Mary cried passionately, and then immediately looked over her shoulder worried again that someone might have heard her.

Seeing no-one, she turned back to Sybil, deeply resenting the implication that she didn't care for Tom because she couldn't see a future for them.

'I do love him,' she insisted, lowering her voice again. 'I love him more than I can say, but it doesn't change anything. And it breaks my heart that we can't be open about the way we feel about each other. You don't know how lucky you are, Sybil!'

Sybil bit her lip, staring at her sister, torn between not wanting to upset her and wanting to give her the courage to fight for her love. 'I do. I do know how lucky I am.'

'Then can you not show a little compassion for someone who isn't in quite so fortunate a position as you?' Mary asked, wishing Sybil would stop living in cloud cuckoo land for a moment and realise that a future as husband and wife was quite impossible for her and Tom.

Sybil gazed at her and opened her mouth to reply just as footsteps sounded in the corridor outside and Matthew appeared in the doorway, looking serious.

'Good morning,' he said, looking between the two sisters, sensing a tension that wasn't usually there between them. 'I was wondering, Mary, if I might borrow Sybil for a while.'

Mary threw a look at her sister, wondering what she'd been about to say. Sybil looked back at her, giving her a small smile and a nod, indicating she wanted to part as friends. Mary nodded and turned back to Matthew.

'Of course. I imagine you have much to talk about given the news. I will leave you to it,' she said, walking towards the door.

Matthew nodded gratefully and stepped aside to let her pass.

Outside the door, Mary paused. She knew she shouldn't eavesdrop, but she desperately wanted to hear what Matthew had to say, the usurper who may yet be usurped himself.

'Papa's told you then,' she heard Sybil say.

'Yes. I… I wanted to say that if this changes things between us, I understand completely. I know when you agreed to marry me, my prospects were somewhat more elevated than those of a country solicitor,' Matthew answered, his voice perhaps a little unsteady.

'Don't be silly. I'm marrying you, not the title,' Sybil replied, her voice full of tenderness. 'You're the only thing that's important to me. I couldn't care less about your prospects. Well, obviously, I do, but only because I don't want you to fall on hard times. I want only good things for you, but I don't care about anything other than being Mrs Matthew Crawley.'

'Sybil,' Matthew said, softly.

'What?'

'Stop talking and kiss me.'

After that, there was silence. Mary moved away from the door, feeling unexpected tears prickling at her eyes as she wished she was as brave as her youngest sister and that the only thing she cared about was being Mrs Tom Branson. But she was honest enough to know that it wasn't.

Edith stared at the back of Branson's head as he drove her to the Dower House for afternoon tea with her grandmother.

'Is there something wrong, milady?' he asked her when they were halfway there.

'Oh, no. No,' Edith said, embarrassed to have been caught staring at him.

Branson drove on in silence until Edith broke it.

'Did you enjoy the pamphlet Mary sent you?' she asked, deciding to test a theory that had dribbled half-formed into her mind over the past couple of days.

She saw his eyes flick up to the mirror. 'Milady?'

'Lady Mary sent you a letter and a pamphlet while we were in London, didn't she?' Edith asked, slyly.

'No. Lady Sybil sent me a pamphlet, but there was no letter with it, just a note scribbled on the top of it saying she thought I'd be interested in it.'

'Oh, yes, of course. It was Lady Sybil, not Lady Mary. My mistake,' Edith said, pursing her lips in disappointment. She had begun to wonder over the last few days if there might not be something untoward going on between Mary and the chauffeur. 'What was it about?'

'Voting rights.'

'That sounds interesting. Could I read it?'

'I'm afraid not, milady. I used it for kindling the other day,' Branson replied, not missing a beat.

'Oh. You didn't want to keep it?'

He shrugged his shoulders. 'I'd read it. And if I kept all the pamphlets I read, my cottage would be overflowing.'

Edith lapsed into silence, her suspicions not quite allayed, but if the pamphlet was gone, there was no way of knowing if it was Sybil's writing on it or not. Still, something niggled her about Mary and how she acted when Branson was around. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something bothered her. She would just have to be vigilant.

In the front seat, Tom kept his eyes firmly on the road, silently thanking Mary for warning him about the pamphlet story Sybil had fed to Lady Edith. Although the fact that Edith had specifically asked him if he'd liked the pamphlet Mary had sent him sent a spear of worry through him. He couldn't help but think she'd done that deliberately and was perhaps fishing for information.

It seemed that something had aroused Lady Edith's suspicions. He would have to warn Mary about that. Perhaps pass her a message through Anna. And the sooner the better.

'I have a message for you from Mr Branson,' Anna said after closing Mary's bedroom door when she arrived to help her dress for dinner that evening.

Mary spun on her stool, her face lighting up. 'Do you? What is it?'

'He said to tell you Lady Edith asked him about the pamphlet.'

'Did she, indeed?' Mary said, her jaw tightening in annoyance.

'Yes, and he also said to tell you that she specifically asked him if he liked the pamphlet you sent him from London. He said it was important to tell you that she said your name, not Lady Sybil's.'

Mary narrowed her eyes at her maid, thinking about that and what it implied.

'What does it mean, milady?' Anna asked, unsure about quite what was going on. Tom had only had time to give her the bones of the message, not to explain the significance of it when he caught her in the boot room before the servants' meal.

'It means Lady Edith is sniffing around in my business,' Mary said, her voice like steel. 'It means that for some reason, she's harbouring suspicions about me and Tom.'

'But she can't know anything, surely?' Anna said, nervously.

Mary shrugged stiffly, thoroughly annoyed by this turn of events and - if she was completely honest - not a little unnerved. After all, Edith had already proved herself somewhat adept at sniffing out Mary's secrets. 'Well, she obviously suspects something, otherwise she wouldn't have questioned Tom about the pamphlet. And she would have named Sybil as the sender, not me.'

'What are you going to do?'

'I'm going to make sure she doesn't find out the truth. Will you tell Tom we must be whiter than white, especially when Edith is around, Anna?'

'Of course,' Anna nodded, looking warily at her mistress. She knew all too well that there was no love lost between Lady Mary and Lady Edith and this latest development did not bode well.

Mary turned back to her mirror, her mind whirring, wondering what could possibly have made Edith suspicious about her and Tom. Was it the letter she'd dropped? Had Edith somehow recognised her writing? Had her shock been written across her face when Edith picked it up?

Well, whatever it was, she had no intention of letting Edith find out about her affair with Tom. It would be a cold day in hell before she trusted her sister with that information. She would do all she could to stop her from getting to the truth, not least because it would mean the end of her love affair with Tom. And she most definitely wasn't about to allow that to happen.