Author's note: I have used a little bit of dialogue from the show here and there in this chapter.

August 1914

If asked later, Carson would have been hard pressed to say what the most extraordinary thing about that afternoon was. Hands down the most distressing, however, was seeing a hatless Lady Mary rush through the Great Hall and up the stairs, tears streaming down her face.

'My lady?' he said anxiously, walking quickly towards her as she hurtled through the door when Thomas opened it. 'Are you quite all right?'

Lady Mary did not break stride – did not even acknowledge him – as she ran for the stairs, rushing up them.

As he stared after her, open-mouthed, a flurry of Crawley women arrived in the Great Hall, all apparently in a state of heightened emotion of one kind or another: her ladyship looking distraught, Lady Edith nothing short of completely dazed, and Lady Rosamund in high dudgeon.

'Mary!' the countess called after her eldest daughter as she disappeared up the stairs.

Lady Mary did not so much as turn around.

'Leave her, Cora,' Rosamund instructed. 'Carson, bring tea and brandy to the drawing room. And find his lordship and send him there too.'

'Is… is everything all right, milady?' Carson asked, desperate to know what had happened to get all the ladies in such a state, but also mindful of Thomas standing at the doorway, obviously eager to hear the gossip.

'No, it is not, Carson. Please send Mrs Hughes to the drawing room, too. And quickly,' Rosamund replied, grim-faced.

Yes, milady,' Carson nodded, becoming increasingly anxious at this extraordinary state of affairs. He turned to the footman. 'Thomas, find Mrs Hughes and ask her to go to Lady Rosamund in the drawing room.'

Thomas nodded but didn't move, clearly agog at the apparent high drama happening with the family.

'Now, Thomas,' Carson said pointedly, nodding his head towards the servants' door.

'Yes, Mr Carson,' Thomas said, tearing his eyes from the clearly upset countess, and heading off on his mission.

'His lordship is with Mr Jarvis,' Carson informed Lady Rosamund.

'Then tell him he is needed immediately, and he must cut his meeting short,' Rosamund said crisply before turning her attention to her niece. 'Edith, go to your room.'

'Why?' Edith said, looking startled.

'Because you are not needed for what comes next,' Rosamund said, not trusting the young woman to be able to remain silent and not broadcast this disaster to all and sundry. 'Go to your room, and do not breathe a word of any of this to anyone. Not a single soul. By word or letter. Do you understand?'

'But – ' Edith began, put out that she wasn't going to be there to witness the fireworks when her father finally found out the salacious, unpalatable truth about Mary.

Rosamund held up her hand to silence her. 'Don't argue with me, Edith. Go to your room.'

'Mama?' Edith said, appealing to her mother.

Cora glanced at her as she removed her gloves. 'Do as your aunt says, darling,' she said, hardly able to focus on anything but what she had just seen and heard at Branson's cottage.

Pouting, Edith obeyed, climbing the stairs as slowly as she dared.

'Come along, Cora,' Rosamund said, taking a firm hold of her sister-in-law's arm and steering her towards the drawing room.

After delivering his message to Mrs Hughes, Thomas stopped by the servants' hall, searching out Miss O'Brien. Seeing her at the table unpicking the stitches on the lace collar of a blouse, he bent down to whisper in her ear.

'Yard, now.'

She looked up at him and he jerked his head for good measure before stalking out into the kitchen yard, only stopping to grab his packet of cigarettes from the shelf by the back door.

He was sparking up as Miss O'Brien arrived beside him.

'What?' she said, crossly. 'This had better be good. I don't take kindly to being summoned by the likes of you.'

He raised an eyebrow. 'The likes of me?' he repeated, pointedly.

'I have to scrape and bow to too many people in this house as it is,' she snapped. 'I'm not about to let you lord it over me, too.'

'All right, keep your hair on. But you'll want to hear this. Something's happened.'

'What?' she said, holding her hand towards him. 'Give me a ciggie. I didn't pick mine up.'

Thomas slid a cigarette out of the pack and offered it to her, lighting it as she put it to her lips.

'So, what's happened?' she asked, blowing out a stream of smoke.

'Dunno yet, but it's big. Really big. There's a right hullabaloo going on upstairs. They've all got their knickers in a right twist about something.'

'Well, what do you know?' Miss O'Brien said, narrowing her eyes at him.

'I know that Lady Mary came rushing into the Great Hall crying her eyes out and ran straight upstairs. Totally ignored Mr Carson when he asked after her. And then her ladyship, Lady Rosamund and Lady Edith came piling in behind her, all looking proper shook up. Well, except for Lady Rosamund. She looked fit to kill someone.'

Miss O'Brien stared at him, picking a loose flake of tobacco from her lip. 'What about my lady? Is she all right?'

'Doubt it. She looked as white as a sheet like she'd seen a ghost. Lady Rosamund dispatched old Carson to fetch tea, brandy and his lordship to the drawing room. In that order.'

O'Brien chewed her lip. 'I should go to her.'

'You can't do that, not unless she's called for you. She's not called for you, has she?'

'No, but perhaps she's doing that now while I'm out here smoking with you.'

'Well, if she is, somebody would come out and get you, wouldn't they?' Thomas pointed out. 'Anyway, I'm betting that she won't be calling for you, not if they are all closeted in the drawing room talking about this big mystery.'

O'Brien looked thoughtful. 'So, what do you think has happened?'

'I think it's something to do with Lady Mary. I've never seen her so upset. She's normally cool as a cucumber, that one, but not today. She ran into the Abbey like the hounds of hell were after her and she were sobbing, proper sobbing. And she were a good way in front of the others. She was nearly at the top of the stairs by the time they got in the door,' Thomas said, sharing all the gossip.

'Do you think someone's died?' Miss O'Brien asked, racking her brains to think of someone the ice maiden that was Lady Mary might get that upset about.

'No, didn't seem like it was something like that. Lady Rosamund was too het up for it to be someone dying. It's something else. Maybe Lady Mary's been caught doing something she shouldn't. Like the chauffeur,' Thomas speculated, raising his eyebrow conspiratorially at his companion.

'No. No, surely not,' Miss O'Brien said, looking shocked. 'I mean, I know we've wondered about him and her, but I can't actually believe she'd be up to anything with him. Not the ice queen herself.'

'Why not? Something's up, that's for sure. And you need to find out what it is,' Thomas said, jabbing his finger at her.

'Me?'

'Yes, you. Who else is close enough to her ladyship to get it out of her.'

'Well, I can hardly ask her, can I?'

'No, but you can do what you do best and listen at doors and sniff out what's gone on that needs brandy sent to the drawing room at three o'clock in the afternoon on a Wednesday.'

Miss O'Brien glared at him, annoyed by his unflattering assessment of her but unable to deny it.

'Thomas! Mr Carson wants you back at the front door,' William shouted across the yard.

Taking a last drag of his cigarette, Thomas pushed off the wall, fixing Miss O'Brien with a look.

'Find out, Sarah. Then come and tell me what you know,' he said, grinding the butt under his heel. 'This could be what I've been waiting for to line my coffers.'

'I beg your pardon, milady?' Mrs Hughes said, shocked by the request made to her.

'I asked you to lock Lady Mary in her room, Mrs Hughes. I fail to see what is so difficult to understand about that order,' Rosamund said, calmly.

'Hmm, right. Your ladyship?' Mrs Hughes said, looking at her mistress for confirmation.

Cora closed her eyes briefly before nodding at her housekeeper. 'Please do it, Mrs Hughes.'

'Is Anna to be allowed to tend to Lady Mary?'

'No, not at the moment,' Rosamund said, taking charge again. 'Please see to it at once, Mrs Hughes. Lady Mary is not to leave her room, not for one second.'

'Very well, milady,' Mrs Hughes replied, glancing once more at the mute, dazed countess on the sofa and wondering what on earth was going on.

Carson was hovering outside the drawing room when Mrs Hughes withdrew, waiting to find out what was happening.

'Well?' he demanded in a low voice.

'I don't know, but I've been instructed to lock Lady Mary in her room,' Mrs Hughes said, sending him a troubled look.

'What?' he squawked, shocked beyond measure. 'Why?'

'I don't know, Charlie, but whatever's happened, it's nothing good,' Mrs Hughes whispered as his lordship came walking towards them.

She gave Carson another look and then sketched a quick nod to her master as he made for the drawing room door.

'What?' Robert said, staring at his sister in disbelief, unable to believe his ears.

'You heard what I said, Robert. We've just caught Mary in bed with your chauffeur,' Rosamund repeated.

'Mary?' he echoed, stupidly. 'Are you sure?'

'Yes, I'm sure!' Rosamund snapped. 'Why? Would the news have been more palatable if it had been Edith or Sybil?'

'But… but… Mary… with Branson?' he said, looking to his wife for confirmation.

Cora nodded, tight-lipped, trying not to see that image of Mary and Branson naked together in her mind's eye again.

'And there's no doubt?' Robert tried again, simply unable to process what his womenfolk were telling him.

'Well, I suppose he could simply have been giving her the kiss of life, but I highly doubt they would both have needed to be naked and in his bed for that to happen,' Rosamund said, tartly.

Robert dropped heavily into the nearest seat. 'Mary. And Branson. Having… doing… oh, good lord.'

'Yes, precisely,' Rosamund said, handing her brother a brandy, watching him absently take it.

'Where is she now?'

'In her room. I told Mrs Hughes to lock her in.'

Robert looked up at her, looking even more shocked. 'Lock her in? Is that really necessary?'

'Do you want her to run off with the chauffeur?' Rosamund asked, pointedly.

'No, of course, I don't, but even so that seems a little extreme,' Robert said, struggling to believe that this was all true.

'He proposed to her, Robert. Right there in front of me and Cora and Edith,' Rosamund informed him, tight-lipped with anger at the memory of it, the downright gall of the chauffeur.

'Edith was there? She didn't… she didn't see anything, did she?' Robert asked, worried now about his middle daughter's precious sensibilities.

'She saw exactly what Cora and I saw – Mary naked underneath the chauffeur!' Rosamund replied, not pulling any punches.

Robert gawped at his sister. 'I… I can't believe Mary would do that.'

'Well, she has. And she's apparently been doing it since Christmas!' Rosamund spat out, glaring at her brother and sister-in-law in turn. 'How has neither of you noticed that this has been going on? If this gets out, it could ruin us all!'

'Then we have to make sure it doesn't get out,' Robert replied, grim-faced. 'Who knows about this?'

'You, Edith, Rosamund and me. And Mary and Branson, obviously,' Cora recited.

'Nobody else? None of the servants,' Robert questioned.

'Not yet, no. At least I don't think they do, do you, Rosamund?' Cora said, looking to her sister-in-law for confirmation.

'Not as yet, no.'

'Well, what did you tell Mrs Hughes when you instructed her to lock Mary in her room?' Robert asked, turning towards his sister.

'Nothing. I simply told her what I wanted her to do. I am not in the habit of explaining myself to the servants, Robert. Are you?' Rosamund said, astounded that her brother would even ask such a thing.

'Then perhaps we can contain this after all,' he said, ignoring Rosamund's provocation.

'You may have to consider one thing,' she said, fixing him with a look.

'What?'

'You may have to pay the chauffeur for his silence. He has nothing to lose by taking his story to the papers once you sack him.'

Robert stared at her. 'He wouldn't, would he? Surely not.'

Rosamund gave an elegant shrug. 'Who knows? Perhaps that's why he slept with her in the first place.'

A heavy silence filled the room as they all contemplated that. Robert lifted his glass and took a large, medicinal swig of his brandy, fervently wishing his life was still as uncomplicated as it had been when he woke up this morning.

Anna looked up as the bell rang summoning her to Lady Mary's room. She put down her sewing and rose to her feet just as Mrs Hughes came into the servants' hall, her face grim.

'Anna, can you come to my parlour, please?' she said, eyeing the young maid.

'Can it wait, Mrs Hughes? Only Lady Mary is ringing for me,' Anna said, as the bell tinkled again.

'No, it can't wait,' Mrs Hughes replied, widening her eyes meaningfully and tipping her head towards her parlour.

Anna nodded and followed the housekeeper out of the room, puzzled as to what could possibly take precedence over a summons by Lady Mary.

Once in the parlour, Mrs Hughes shut the door behind them before turning to face Anna. 'You're not to attend Lady Mary.'

'What? Why not?' Anna blurted out, shocked.

'I don't know. All I know is that I was instructed to lock her in her room by Lady Rosamund and her ladyship and that you are not to attend her.'

'But…' Anna started and then stopped, her mind racing, fearing the worst and that Lady Mary's secret had finally been discovered.

Mrs Hughes looked at her shrewdly. 'Do you know something about this, Anna?'

'No,' Anna replied, truthfully. 'I only know what you've told me.'

'But would I be right in thinking you have an inkling about what this might all be about?'

Anna hesitated. 'Maybe,' she admitted, holding her head up high under Mrs Hughes' sharp gaze. 'But I don't know for sure that I'm right. And even if I am, I'm not about to break Lady Mary's confidence.'

'No, of course, you're not,' Mrs Hughes said, wondering what on earth the maid knew and what Lady Mary could have done to get her into such hot water.

'May I go?' Anna asked, demurely.

'Yes.'

Anna bobbed her head and shot out of the room, desperate to get to her mistress.

'You have to sack him. Now,' Rosamund said, forcefully.

'I know I do,' Robert snapped, irritably. 'You don't need to tell me that.'

'Then send for him and get it over with.'

Robert bit his lip, forcing himself to think about this whole unsavoury business. 'What if he's…'

'What?' Rosamund bit out, impatiently.

'What if he's got her with child?' Robert said, reluctantly.

'Oh, God,' Cora moaned from her chair, her hand going to her head, the thought of having to go through all that worry again almost flooring her.

'They've been copulating since Christmas, Robert, so either they've been very lucky until now or they have been using something to prevent a pregnancy,' Rosamund said baldly, laying out her suspicions to her brother.

Robert pinched the bridge of his nose, highly discomfited at hearing such graphic information about his daughter's apparently active sex life.

'And, anyway,' Rosamund continued, 'are you seriously suggesting that she marry him if he has got her pregnant?'

'No, of course not!'

'Then why even mention it? If she is with child, I will spirit her away to the continent and she can have the child in secret. Nobody need ever know,' Rosamund stated, deciding that the only one apparently capable of handling this situation was her.

'During a war?' Robert countered. 'I think that a highly improbable course of action.'

Rosamund shrugged. 'I'm sure we could find a suitable sanatorium in Switzerland without crossing any battle lines. The Swiss don't generally go in for wars, do they?'

'I should go with her. I'm her mother,' Cora said suddenly, sitting straighter.

'And have all the society gossips wonder why the Countess of Grantham and her eldest daughter have suddenly decamped to Europe? No, I think not,' Rosamund said succinctly, shooting down that suggestion. 'Anyway, we don't even know that she is pregnant. If there is a God, she won't be.'

'Do you think we should let her say goodbye to him?' Cora asked, remembering the distraught look on Mary's face as she pulled her away from Branson.

'Are you insane?' Rosamund asked, goggling in disbelief at her sister-in-law. 'We should not let that young man within five hundred feet of Mary ever again!'

'She said she loves him,' Cora said uncertainly, her instinct to immediately banish Branson warring with her concerns that Mary would never forgive her if she was not allowed to say goodbye to him.

'He was silver-tongued enough to get her to go to bed with him. Do you really want to give him another chance to talk her into leaving with him?' Rosamund demanded. 'No, he goes without another word passing between them.'

'Rosamund's right, Cora,' Robert said, rising to his feet to ring the bell for Carson. 'He leaves tonight.'

Anna knocked timidly on the door, calling softly through it. 'Milady?'

'Anna? Anna?' Mary called, rattling the door handle. 'Can you unlock the door?'

'I don't have a key. Mrs Hughes has been instructed to lock you in,' Anna said, looking nervously up and down the corridor.

She heard a small, irritated shriek from the other side of the door and the handle shook again.

'What's happened, milady?'

'They know. About me and Tom. They… they caught us together at his cottage,' Mary said, dropping her voice lower.

'Caught you? Doing what?' Anna asked, hoping against hope that it was nothing incriminating.

There was silence on the other side of the door for a moment.

'We were in bed together,' Mary finally said, the simplicity of her words belying the horror of that moment when her family came bursting into Tom's bedroom as they were making love.

Anna closed her eyes, shaking her head. It was even worse than she'd feared. 'So, there's no denying it.'

Mary gave a hollow laugh. 'They caught us making love, Anna. There's definitely no denying it.'

'What do you need me to do?' Anna whispered through the door.

'Has my father sacked Tom yet?'

'I don't know. I don't think so. Nobody downstairs knows quite what's going on.'

'Can you get to him? To Tom?'

'I'm not sure. Maybe.'

'I need you to tell him that I'm sorry, Anna. Tell him I'm so sorry that I'm not brave enough to go with him. Tell him… tell him I love him, no matter what he thinks,' Mary said, her voice breaking.

'Did he ask you to go with him?'

'Yes.'

There was a gentle thunk on the other side of the door as if Lady Mary had dropped her forehead against it.

'He asked me to marry him.'

'And you said no,' Anna said, thinking sadly how devastated Tom must have been to hear that refusal, no matter how much he knew in his heart that she would never go with him.

'I said no,' Mary confirmed, a sob following hot on the heels of that admission.

'Oh, milady,' Anna murmured, wishing she could comfort her mistress.

'Tell him, Anna. Tell him I love him. I will always love him. Make sure he knows that. Please,' Mary begged, brokenly.

'I'll do my best,' Anna said, determined to pass on the message.

'Where is everyone?' Sybil asked Thomas as she returned from a pleasant afternoon chatting with her soon-to-be mother-in-law.

Thomas shook his head. 'I couldn't say, milady.'

'Carson?' Sybil called as the butler crossed the Great Hall to answer the summons to the drawing room. 'Where is everyone?'

Carson paused before he answered looking decidedly unsettled. 'Your sisters are in their rooms and his lordship and her ladyship are in the drawing room with Lady Rosamund.'

Sybil looked at him as she peeled off her lacy summer gloves. 'Has something happened, Carson? Only you look a bit... well, you look like something's amiss.'

Carson bit his lip. 'Something has happened but I can't tell you quite what, milady.'

Sybil tilted her head, looking at him curiously, and then she nodded and handed Thomas her gloves and her hat. 'Then I shall find someone who can,' she said, striding purposefully towards the drawing room, bypassing the butler.

'Er, no, milady, no, I don't think that's wise,' Carson squawked, scuttling along behind her.

'Nonsense,' Sybil replied, reaching for the door handle and barging inside, Carson hot on her heels.

'Ah, Carson, please send for Branson immediately,' Robert said as he heard the door open, turning belatedly to see his youngest daughter coming in, with the butler looming behind her, an apologetic look on his face. 'Oh, Sybil, I didn't see you there.'

'Are you going somewhere, Papa?'

'Do you require the motor, milord?'

'No, I don't want the motor. Just Branson,' Robert clarified, shooting a concerned look at his wife and sister. 'Sybil, you don't need to be here.'

'Why not? What's going on? Why do you want to see Branson if you don't want the motor?' Sybil asked, getting a bad feeling about all of this.

Carson hovered behind her, rather interested in hearing the answer to her question.

'Carson, send for Branson. Now,' Lord Grantham repeated, sharply.

The butler nodded his head and withdrew, his curiosity unsatisfied.

'Why do you want to see Branson?' Sybil said again, looking from face to face. 'And why do you all look so deathly serious?'

'This is not your concern,' Robert said, irritably.

'Isn't it? Has Branson done something?'

Silence met her question.

'What's he done?' Sybil persevered.

'Nothing you need to know about,'

'But it's enough to get him a severe reprimand?' Sybil questioned.

'It's enough to get him dismissed without a reference!' her father snapped.

'What? No! You can't sack Branson!' Sybil cried, her thoughts flying to Mary and how devastated she would be if her father dismissed Tom.

'I can do what I like,' Robert retorted. 'And you don't know what he's done!'

'So, tell me!'

'Absolutely not!'

Sybil pressed her lips together her mind racing. 'Where are Mary and Edith?'

'In their rooms. You should go to yours, too,' Robert instructed.

'I will not. I will fetch Mary. She might be able to talk some sense into you,' Sybil replied, her heart pounding.

'Your sister is in disgrace. She's locked in her room,' Robert said, crisply.

Sybil stared at her father, her worst fears crystallising. 'Mary's locked in her room? Why?'

Silence swelled in the room again.

Sybil looked from her father to her mother to her aunt. 'What's going on? Why is Mary in disgrace? Is it something to do with why you're going to dismiss Branson?'

Rosamund sighed impatiently. 'You might as well tell her, Robert. She's not a child anymore, she's an engaged woman. And she's going to find out anyway.'

'Find out what?' Sybil persisted.

Robert shook his head, looking away from his youngest daughter.

Rosamund rolled her eyes slightly, seeing that the task of informing her niece of the events of the afternoon was falling to her.

'Your mother and I caught Mary in a compromising position with Branson this afternoon.'

Sybil paused for a moment, wondering how bad this was. 'A compromising position? How compromising?'

'They were in bed together,' Rosamund said, succinctly.

Sybil felt embarrassment mingled with sympathy flush through her, imagining how humiliating that must have been for Mary. She held her head up high, determined to fight for her sister and her lover if Mary was unable to do so herself.

'I see. That is upsetting, I can appreciate that, but you can't sack Branson,' she said, firmly.

Robert whipped his head around to stare at her in disbelief. 'Did you not hear what your aunt just said?'

'Yes, Papa, I did, but you can't sack Branson. It would devastate Mary. She loves him,' Sybil said, trying desperately not to quail under the look he gave her.

'You… you knew about this?' Robert shot back at her, incredulously, his eyes almost popping out of his head as both Cora and Rosamund stared at Sybil in shock.

'I knew that they were in love, that's all,' Sybil said as calmly as she could manage.

'In love? In love?' Robert stuttered, flabbergasted that his youngest daughter seemed to know all about Mary's affair with the chauffeur. 'And you did not think to divulge that information to anyone?'

'No, I did not. And I also know that we owe Branson a tremendous debt. Mary may not have survived after Pamuk attacked her if it hadn't been for him,' Sybil continued, determined not to let her father sack Branson without a fight.

'What? What?' Robert choked out, astounded by what he was hearing. 'What are you talking about? Pamuk attacked Mary?'

He swung around to see his wife dropping her face into her hands.

'Cora? What's Sybil talking about? Do you know about this?' he demanded.

The countess looked up, folding her hands in her lap, her face sheet white, and nodded. 'Yes, I did. The night Mr Pamuk died, he entered Mary's room, and he… he assaulted her.'

'Assaulted her?' Robert thought back desperately, certain that Mary had not had a mark on her that weekend. 'You don't mean… he… he… do you mean…'

'He raped her, Robert,' Rosamund said as gently as she could, putting a stop to her brother's floundering.

The earl stared at her, his face draining of colour, and then he staggered to the nearest chair, dropping down onto it. 'No. No,' he whispered, shaking his head. 'This can't be true.'

'I'm sorry, Papa, but it is,' Sybil said, quietly.

'And you all knew about it?' he asked, looking around at the women surrounding him.

'I knew at the time that he had had… relations with her,' Cora said, reluctantly. 'But I didn't know it was rape until much later.'

'How did you know at the time?' Robert demanded of his wife.

'Because… because he died in her bed. She came to me asking for help moving his body back to his room,' Cora confessed.

Robert gaped at her, his mind whirring with images of his wife and eldest daughter toting a dead body around their home in the middle of the night.

'Robert? Say something,' Cora pleaded as her husband remained silent, staring at her.

'That… that swine!' he bit out, fury filling him that the man should have been a guest in his house and treated his daughter so appallingly. 'That wretched, unspeakable swine!'

He looked up at his wife, narrowing his eyes. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

'Because you didn't need to know.'

'Didn't need to know? I didn't need to know that a guest in my house had… had… done that to my daughter?' he snapped.

'I didn't know it was rape at first. You didn't need to know about what I thought was Mary's indiscretion. And then when I knew the truth, you didn't need to know that either. The man was dead. There was nothing you could do,' Cora said, defensively.

Robert shook his head and then pinned his wife with a look as something else occurred to him. 'And these rumours about Mary and him, where did they come from?'

Cora shot a look at Rosamund, unsure whether to tell him the truth. Robert caught it.

'What?' he demanded. 'What else have you not been telling me?'

Rosamund returned Cora's look and shrugged. 'You might as well tell him.'

Cora bit her lip, transferring her gaze to her husband. 'Edith. Edith started the rumours.'

'Edith?' he echoed in disbelief. 'But why? Why would she do that to her own sister?'

'Because she's jealous of Mary,' Sybil said, quietly.

'Oh, my dear God. What has been going on in this house?' Robert muttered, rubbing his hand over his face.

'Mary only got through all of this because of Branson, Papa,' Sybil put in, still trying to save her sister's relationship.

Her father squinted suspiciously up at her. 'What does that mean?'

'It means that he was the one who got her through it at the very beginning. He helped her come to terms with what had happened to her. He helped her in the aftermath of the attack, and he helped her when she couldn't sleep for months after.'

'What do you mean he helped her?' Robert asked, puzzled. 'Helped her how?'

'Mary says he gave her a tea to help make sure there would be no child,' Cora said, repeating what she had learned from Mary this afternoon at the cottage. 'And he let her use his cottage to sleep in the afternoons because she could not sleep at night in her own room.'

'What?' Robert said, dumbfounded by this tale.

'We owe him our gratitude, not condemnation,' Sybil declared. 'Without him, Mary might have collapsed under the strain of it all.'

'Oh, I think that might be overstating it somewhat, Sybil,' Rosamund protested.

'I don't,' Sybil said, eyeballing her aunt defiantly.

'Well, regardless of how much Branson may or may not have helped Mary, he cannot stay,' Rosamund said, firmly. 'It's out of the question.'

'Why not?' Sybil cried.

'Because we simply cannot tolerate an intimate relationship between a member of the family and a servant!' Rosamund retorted, amazed that she had to spell this out to her niece.

'But they are in love! She loves him just as much as I love Matthew!' Sybil insisted, her voice rising passionately.

'That is by the by. We cannot allow this relationship to continue. He must leave Downton,' Rosamund declared, her tone brooking no argument.

'Would you be saying this if he were a gentleman?' Sybil argued.

'If he were a gentleman, the situation would be entirely different. But he is not a gentleman, he is a servant,' Rosamund said, bluntly.

'But he's still a person. A person Mary loves!'

'Then she must learn to forget him,' Rosamund replied, tartly. 'She'll soon get over him.'

'What if she doesn't? What if he's the love of her life?' Sybil cried, getting increasingly frustrated with her aunt's attitude.

'Oh, I highly doubt that is the case.'

'Why? Because he's a servant? Because you think people only fall in love with someone of their own class? Mary has risked everything to be with him because she loves him! Does that sound like she's just going to forget him because you tell her to?' Sybil said, hotly.

'You're romanticising a squalid, sordid, little affair, Sybil,' Rosamund said, patronisingly. 'It must come to an end.'

'But – '

'No, Sybil,' Robert cut in. 'Your aunt is right. Branson must go. He will leave and Mary will forget he was ever here. Things will go back to normal around here.'

Sybil glared at them. 'I don't believe that will happen for one minute. I'm telling you now that she loves him.'

'Not enough to marry him, she doesn't,' Rosamund observed mildly, her eyes on her niece.

Sybil narrowed her eyes, zoning in on her aunt. 'What does that mean?'

'It means he asked her to marry him this afternoon after we caught them in flagrante delicto, and she said no.'

Sybil stared at her, shaken by this news.

'Branson will leave today,' Robert said, his decision final. 'He and Mary will not see each other again.

Pressing her lips together in a tight line, Sybil shook her head. 'No, you have to at least let them say goodbye to each other.'

'I do not have to allow any such thing. There will be no goodbye. They are not some kind of star-crossed lovers or whatever misguided romantic notion you may have, Sybil. They are a mistake that should never have happened,' Robert said, determined not to give Branson a chance to talk Mary into doing anything foolish like leaving with him.

'I think you're wrong. I think you're being cruel. And I think you're making a huge mistake. She won't forgive you for this,' Sybil warned, seeing her mother jerk her head up, a stricken look on her face.

'I think she should be more concerned about whether we will forgive her for this transgression,' Rosamund put in, standing firm with her brother.

Sybil shook her head. 'This is wrong. It's barbaric. You can't treat Mary like this.'

'She's brought it on herself with her choices and her actions,' Robert replied, not giving an inch. 'And she must learn that actions have consequences.'

Sybil stared at her father, anger and disillusionment congealing within her. 'I thought you were a better, more compassionate man than this, Papa. You've disappointed me greatly today. I'm not sure I will be able to forgive you for this either.'

With that, she turned on her heel and left to go and seek out her eldest sister.

The back door of the servants' area swung open as Anna was about to go in search of Mrs Hughes and ask her if she could be excused to carry out an errand for Lady Mary. She looked down the corridor to see the familiar figure of Tom Branson coming through it. Picking up her skirts, she hurried down the corridor towards him.

'What are you doing here?' she hissed as she reached him.

'It's only a matter of time before the axe falls, so I thought I might as well wait it out here,' he said, bleakly. 'Does everybody know?'

She shook her head, shooing him back out of the door into the yard. 'No. They know something's going on, but nobody knows what.'

Once outside, she looked around and then grabbed his arm, towing him to the most private area of the yard.

'Do you know what happened?' he asked, following her obediently.

'Yes. Lady Mary told me,' she said, a blush colouring her cheeks.

'You've seen her?'

'No. She's been locked in her room, and I'm not allowed to attend her. I was only able to speak to her through her door.'

Tom clenched his jaw, furious at how Mary was being treated by her family. 'And these are the people she thinks can make her happier than I can.'

'I don't think that's what she thinks at all. I've got a message for you. I was just coming to find you,' she said, glancing around the yard again.

'What? What's the message?' Tom asked eagerly, his heart soaring with hope.

'She says to tell you that she loves you, no matter what you might think. She says she loves you and she always will,' Anna dutifully repeated.

Tom stared at her. 'Is that it?'

'She also said to tell you that she's sorry she's not brave enough to come with you,' Anna said gently, knowing she was helping to break his heart.

'So, she hasn't changed her mind, then,' he said heavily, the hope whooshing out of him.

Anna shook her head. 'I don't think she's going to change her mind, Tom. I don't think she knows how to.'

'It's easy! All she has to do is come with me!' he protested. 'I'll take care of her. I'll take care of everything.'

'Would you, though?' Anna questioned. 'If you're working day and night, are you also going to be doing the laundry and cooking and cleaning? And what would she be doing? Sitting around by herself all day every day waiting for you to come home to watch you do all the cooking and cleaning?'

'We could make it work, Anna! I know we could! It might be hard at first, but she just has to be brave enough to try!' he cried, forgetting the need for secrecy.

Anna glanced around them again, still seeing no-one else in sight. 'But that's just it, Tom. She's not brave enough. She's told you that. You need to start believing her.'

'So, I should just leave, should I? Leave and never see her again?' he said, choking up a little.

Anna bit her lip, gazing at him sympathetically. 'Yes, I think perhaps you must.'

Tom shook his head fiercely. 'No. I refuse to give up on us that easily.'

'But, Tom, she's no – ' Anna broke off as a hall boy came running out of the back door and skidded to a stop when he saw them.

'Mr Branson, his lordship wants to see you,' the boy said, breathlessly. 'Mr Carson sent me to fetch you.'

'All right, Pip, thanks. I'll be there in a minute,' Tom said, nodding at the boy, who grinned at him and turned tail back towards the door, disappearing inside.

Tom looked back at Anna, squaring his shoulders. 'This is it then. Time to face the music.'

Anna stepped forward and hugged him, feeling the tension in his body as he hugged her back.

'Tell her I'll be at The Grantham Arms for the next few days. Tell her I'll be waiting for her,' he whispered in her ear.

'Oh, Tom, I don't think she'll be able to come. Not if they've got her locked in her room,' Anna replied as she drew back.

'Tell her,' he said, letting her go. 'If she doesn't come by Saturday morning, I'll have my answer, won't I?'

Anna nodded, her heart going out to him as he straightened his tie and then strode across the kitchen yard, going to meet his fate.

'Ah, Mr Branson, that was quick,' Carson said, rising to his feet as Tom came into the servants' hall. 'I've only just sent Pip to fetch you.'

'I was in the yard outside when he came looking for me. I was expecting the summons, so I thought I might as well pre-empt it,' Tom replied, aware of every eye in the hall on him, including Thomas' henchwoman Miss O'Brien.

Carson looked faintly puzzled, wondering why Mr Branson had been expecting a summons and what he could possibly have to do with everything that was going on upstairs.

'Well, I'll take you to his lordship. Follow me,' he said, heading for the stairs.

Tom took a deep breath and followed him, casting a quick glance at Anna standing in the corridor watching him.

Robert stood, feeling his temper rising at the sight of his chauffeur as the man followed Carson into the room.

'Mr Branson, your lordship,' the butler intoned unnecessarily.

'Yes, I can see that,' Robert replied tersely, before transferring his steely gaze to Branson. 'You know why you're here, Branson.'

'Yes, milord,' Tom said, meeting the earl's gaze, his head held high, refusing to be ashamed of his relationship with Mary.

The countess and Lady Rosamund sat on chairs, the former refusing to look at him, the latter eyeballing him, her jaw set in displeasure.

Carson remained as still as a statue, dying to know what was going on.

'You are dismissed without a reference. You will leave Downton Abbey tonight,' Robert announced, crisply. 'Do you have anything to say for yourself?'

'Yes, I do.'

'Well, say it and go, man.'

'I want you to know that I love her. I love her wholeheartedly. This was not just some silly, little fling, no matter what you might think. Not for either of us. She loves me, too, and I'd marry her in a heartbeat if she would have me,' Tom said, his voice even.

'That will not be happening,' the earl replied sternly, flabbergasted by the cheek of the man.

Standing next to Tom, Carson struggled to keep his servant's blank in place, wondering who on earth Branson was talking about.

'Maybe not, but it's important to me that you know that she means everything to me.'

Robert stared at him stonily, not saying a word.

'Can I see her before I go?' Tom asked, striving to keep his voice calm.

'No, you may not.'

'Because you have her under lock and key,' Tom ground out, trying hard not to lose his temper.

Beside him, Carson's eyes widened, the pieces of the puzzle slotting into place.

'That is none of your concern,' Robert bit out.

'Are you that afraid that she'll come to me as soon as you unlock the door and that I will take her with me this very hour?' Tom challenged, anger flashing in his eyes.

'Be very careful, Branson,' Robert warned, feeling his temper rising at the impertinence of this young man.

'You know I'm telling the truth about her loving me. That's why you're so scared to let her make her own decision,' Tom said, his voice brimming with contempt.

'She made her decision of her own volition when she refused your proposal this afternoon,' Rosamund snapped, seething with anger about the conduct of this upstart chauffeur.

Tom turned his gaze onto her, keeping his cool in the face of her hostility. 'And yet, apparently, you're worried enough that she might change her mind and come with me that you have to lock her in her room to keep her here.'

'How dare you!' Lord Grantham thundered. 'How dare you! You've been bowing and scraping and yet all this time you've been seducing my daughter!'

'I have never bowed and scraped! And I did not seduce her! Give your daughter some credit for knowing her own mind!' Tom shouted back, leaving Carson unable to contain his shock at how the chauffeur was speaking to his betters.

'That's enough! You're dismissed, Branson. And you can count yourself lucky that I am not having you horsewhipped from here to York after what you've done,' Robert barked, more than ready to be done with this conversation. 'Get him out of my sight, Carson.'

'Yes, milord,' Carson nodded, seizing hold of Tom and marching him out of the room.

'What have you done?' Carson hissed at Tom as he shoved him into the Great Hall.

Tom wrenched free of the butler, spinning around to see the man glaring at him.

'That's none of your business, Mr Carson.'

'None of my… none of my business?' the butler spluttered. 'It sounded to me very much like you have dishonoured Lady Mary! Lady Mary!'

'I have not dishonoured her!' Tom retorted, hotly. 'I fell in love with her, and she fell in love with me! Everything that has happened between us has been consensual! I have great pride in the love of that young woman!'

Carson gawped at him, his mouth falling open. 'Love? You think a lady like her fell in love with a… a…'

'A what?' Tom challenged. 'A servant like me? A Mick like me? A common, working-class man like me? Well, for your information, Mr Carson, she did. We fell in love with each other. We are in love with each other.'

'No, no, I don't believe it,' Carson said, shaking his head. 'She wouldn't. She wouldn't lower herself to your level.'

'She didn't think she was lowering herself,' Tom countered, his eyes bright with anger. 'She loves me, and I love her! We've been in a relationship with each other for over a year now. The only reason I'm going now is because they caught us together this afternoon!'

'Caught you doing what?' Carson snarled, wondering what had upset the countess and infuriated Lady Rosamund so much.

Tom flushed, refusing to put a name to it. 'Use your imagination! I'm sure even you have got one of those.'

Carson stared at him in horror, his imagination supplying him with an all too distressingly vivid picture. 'No. You don't mean… you were not… no, I don't believe it. I won't believe it.'

Tom shrugged. 'Suit yourself.'

'Get down those stairs,' Carson hissed, shoving Branson towards them. 'You heard what his lordship said. You'll leave tonight. And good riddance to you!'

Over by the front door, hidden behind a wide stone pillar, Thomas watched, a smile growing on his face, as the butler manhandled Branson towards the green baize door leading to the servant's staircase.

Finally, he had confirmation of what he'd long suspected. And he'd got it straight from the horse's mouth. Branson had indeed been knocking off Lady Mary. And the tale of the earl's daughter slumming it with her daddy's Irish chauffeur was one he reckoned he could sell to the newspapers for a tidy little sum. That would do very nicely. Very nicely, indeed, thank you very much. Especially with his days at Downton Abbey now to be counted in double digits. Today was turning out to be a very good day for him if not for Lady Mary and her shockingly unsuitable lover.