August 1914

'I'm off to Loxley. Is there anything else you want me to say to Sir Anthony after I've made my abject apologies to him? Do you want me to beg him to come back and take Edith off our hands?' Mary said waspishly as she walked into the drawing room where her mother was sitting embroidering yet another handkerchief.

'I heard that!' Edith said indignantly from the chair by the fireplace.

'Well, you do still want him to propose, don't you?' Mary asked, throwing an irritated look at her sister.

'Of course, I do,' Edith replied, annoyed beyond belief that her marital hopes lay in Mary's hands.

'Right, well, I'd better get over there then, hadn't I?'

'Make sure you apologise properly, Mary,' Cora said, sternly. 'I don't want to hear that you were half-hearted and rude about it.'

'Of course, Mama. I will be a picture of remorse, I promise,' Mary said, pulling on her summer gloves.

'Is Branson taking you to Loxley?' Edith asked, suddenly.

'Well, I'm hardly going to walk the twelve miles to Loxley and back, am I? Not unless Mama considers that part of my penance,' Mary returned spikily, nervous about hearing Tom's name on Edith's lips.

'Is that appropriate?' Edith asked, turning to their mother. 'Considering what's been going on.'

Mary rolled her eyes, trying to act nonchalant despite her heart rate picking up at Edith's blatant attempt to stir up trouble. 'I'm sure I can manage to stay awake in Branson's company, Edith. I'm not one of Pavlov's dogs.'

'It's not you falling asleep that I think Mama should be concerned about. It's what else you might be getting up to with Branson while you're out and about with him,' Edith said, slyly.

Cora cast a warning look at Edith. 'Mary has promised me that nothing untoward has happened with Branson, so – ' she stopped as Edith gave an inelegant snort. 'That's quite enough, Edith. And she is quite correct that she cannot walk to Loxley. She must take the motor, or she will not be able to apologise to Sir Anthony. And that is what you want, isn't it?'

'Yes,' Edith muttered, shooting a look of dislike at her sister.

'Well, then I had better go before it gets too late to be calling on Sir Anthony without interrupting his luncheon,' Mary said, answering Edith's look with a cool one of her own, grateful for her mama's intervention and apparent acceptance that she was telling the truth about her and Tom.

Neither Tom nor Mary said a word to each other until they were halfway down the drive and out of sight of the house, neither of them wanting to give any curious onlookers the chance to speculate about what they were saying to each other.

'Are you all right, mo chuisle?' Tom said when they were a safe distance away, flicking his eyes to the mirror to look at her. 'Anna told me her ladyship knows about your visits to my cottage.'

'Oh, my God, it was awful, Tom. I thought the jig was up for sure, thanks to my wretched sister,' Mary replied, sagging back in her seat. 'Honestly, when Mama asked me if I was indulging in an inappropriate relationship with you, I thought that was it and we were done for.'

Tom bit his lip, inwardly shuddering at the thought of that. 'But she thinks it's all innocent, does she?' he asked, anxiously.

'Yes, I think so. I mean, I think she might have a few little suspicions about us because of Edith and her incessant wittering on the subject. We'll have to be extra careful when anyone else is around, that goes without saying. But on the whole, I think Mama believed me when I said I was just using your cottage to sleep. I made it clear that you are hardly ever there when I am.'

Tom flicked another look at the mirror. 'But that's not entirely true, is it?'

'No, of course, it's not, but overall, it's not a lie. Most of the time, you're not there because you're working. And the fact that you were with Papa in York all day on Thursday when Edith followed me was a godsend! If you hadn't been, we'd never have got away with it,' Mary said with feeling.

'Does his lordship know?' Tom asked, troubled by the number of people who now had some knowledge of a connection between him and Mary.

'No. Mama said this morning that she has not told him. She's warned me about going to your cottage, though. She said if she finds out I've been there again, she'll dismiss you.'

Tom met her eyes in the mirror again. 'So, no more afternoon naps or meetings at the cottage then?'

'Well, I'm not sure I'd go that far. No more naps, maybe, but I might still be able to sneak away now and again for an afternoon liaison,' Mary said, giving him a cheeky smile.

'But if someone sees you…' he said, doubting the wisdom of that, no matter how much he enjoyed their snatched afternoons of passion.

'I'll make sure they don't.'

'But Lady Edith caught you at the cottage once, she could do it again.'

'Yes, but I didn't know Edith was sneaking about following me then, did I? Now I know that I'll be vigilant, be on the look out for her. She won't catch me again,' Mary said, confidently.

'I don't know, Mary, it sounds risky to me,' Tom said, wary of this plan.

'Don't you want to be able to take me to your bed and make love to me?' Mary pouted.

'Of course, I do, but if we're caught – '

'We won't be,' Mary interrupted him.

'But what if we are?' he persisted.

'We won't be,' Mary said again.

'You don't know that. Anything could happen. I think we need to talk about what we'll do if it does.'

'Oh, Tom, you're such a worrywart, do you know that?' Mary said, rolling her eyes.

'Because I think we need to have a plan.'

'The plan is not to get caught.'

'That's not a plan. That's a hope,' Tom said baldly, frustration beginning to grow inside of him that she wasn't taking the jeopardy inherent in her strategy seriously.

'So, what are you saying? That we stop seeing each other?' Mary retorted, beginning to panic a little that he was going to put a stop to their relationship.

'No, of course not. That's not what I'm saying at all,' Tom said in surprise.

'That we stop making love with each other?' Mary asked, her heart in her mouth.

'No, definitely not.'

'Then what are you saying?'

'I'm saying that we need to take this seriously and not take risks. If we're caught, that's me slung out of Downton in the blink of an eye, and if that happens, you and I won't see each other again. Is that what you want?'

'Of course, it's not! Just the thought of it makes me feel sick!' Mary cried.

'Then we need to be careful.'

'I know! That's what I said! I said I'd be extra careful. I won't let anyone follow me. If I see anyone, I won't come to your cottage. Not until I've lost them anyway.'

Tom sighed. 'I still think you coming to the cottage is more risk than we should be taking.'

'What's the alternative?' Mary demanded. 'Hardly seeing each other? Making love once a flood?'

'I don't know. I don't know,' Tom said, heavily.

'When's your next half day?'

'A week today.'

'Then I'll come to you then. Things will have died down by then. Everyone will be talking about something else by then, you'll see,' Mary declared.

'Will they? Are you sure about that?'

'We'll make sure of it. We won't give anyone anything to talk about. We won't see each other for a whole week except when I take the motor somewhere. I'll spend that time with Mama or even Edith if I have to. They won't be able to accuse me of sneaking off anywhere, let alone to see you.'

He looked at her in the mirror, still unsure.

'Please let me come to you next Wednesday, Tom. I'll be desperate to see you by then. No kisses or touches until then is going to be hell on earth,' Mary begged, terrified he was going to say no.

'All right,' he said, reluctantly. 'But if you even suspect anyone is following you, don't risk it, Mary.'

'I won't,' she promised.

Tom nodded, focusing back on the road, still not convinced that her coming to his cottage even after leaving it a week was a good idea.

'Lady Mary. This is a surprise,' Sir Anthony said, rising to his feet as his butler showed Mary into the drawing room.

'I'm sorry to call on you unannounced, Sir Anthony, but I'm rather afraid that I owe you an apology,' Mary said, getting straight to the point.

'Do you?'

'Yes, I was in a mischievous mood at the garden party yesterday and I've had the error of my ways pointed out to me in no uncertain terms by my mama, so here I am to apologise to you,' she said, smiling sweetly at him.

'Right,' Sir Anthony said, uncertainly. 'And what exactly are you here to apologise for?'

'Well, when you asked me where my sister was yesterday, I'm afraid seized my chance to upset her and in doing so, I insulted you and I shouldn't have,' Mary said, frankly. 'I was quite rude about you, and I apologise.'

'Ah, I see,' Sir Anthony said, looking down at the floor. 'So, I was the old bore you said Lady Edith was trying to avoid then.'

Mary bit her lip, feeling bad for the first time about involving Sir Anthony in her war with Edith. 'Yes, but that was not a true reflection of Edith's views on you. I am guilty of making mischief and doing so in poor taste.'

He gazed steadily at her. 'But you believe what you said to be true, don't you, Lady Mary? That I am a ghastly, old bore?'

'I… er… I…' Mary faltered, having not expected Sir Anthony to do anything other than graciously accept her apology in his usual genial, unassuming fashion.

'Come now. You made it clear that you found me boring and not worthy of your attention when your mother was pushing you forward as a prospective wife for me,' he said, holding her gaze, not letting her off the hook.

Mary stared at him, for once at a loss for words. If she knew him better, she would have been frank with him as she had been with Evelyn, but it did not seem polite to outright tell Sir Anthony that he was right in his assessment of her view of him.

'It's quite all right, Lady Mary,' he said, apparently taking pity on her. 'I do realise that I am substantially older than you and not someone you would consider a catch in the parlance of you young people.'

Mary regarded him carefully. 'May I speak frankly, Sir Anthony?'

'Of course.'

'When my mother began speaking of you as a potential suitor, I will confess that I was not taken with the idea. Both your age and your rank were off-putting for me. I was raised with an expectation of becoming a countess at the very least, not the wife of a mere baronet. And without wishing to be impolite, I did not grow up dreaming of marrying a man older than my father. So, all in all, you fell rather short of my expectations in a husband.'

'Well, that's… that's certainly very frank,' Sir Anthony said after a pause.

'I know that all sounds very harsh, but I wish to be honest with you. You were my mother's choice, not mine, and I am not very keen on being told what to do. However, my words to you yesterday were not driven by any malice or ill-feeling towards you, but rather a desire to hurt my sister,' Mary said, honestly. 'You were an unfortunate pawn in our game, and I forgot for a moment that you have feelings. For that, I am truly sorry.'

He gazed steadily at her once again before replying. 'You and your sister do not get on?'

'No, we do not,' Mary said, emphatically.

'And why is that, may I ask?'

Mary sighed. 'I suspect the answer to that is lost in the mists of time, but suffice it to say, we have never seen eye to eye on much and neither one of us enjoys the other's company nor sees the better qualities the other possesses. Edith has recently done me a great injustice, and I wanted revenge on her, hence my poor behaviour towards you yesterday.'

Sir Anthony nodded, although he could not pretend to understand the politics of the relationship between the two eldest Crawley daughters.

'But you do believe I am too old to be a suitable husband for Lady Edith, don't you?'

Mary hesitated.

'Please do me the courtesy of continuing to be honest with me, Lady Mary.'

Mary eyed him thoughtfully, seeing a man with deeper emotions and thoughts than she had previously given him credit for.

'I don't believe you are a suitable husband for me. And not because of my original shallow thoughts. I do not believe we would be suited at all. I know myself well enough to know that I would have made both of us exceptionally miserable had we become engaged. But Edith is not me. Edith is nothing like me.'

'But you would still advise her not to marry an old man like me, would you not?' Sir Anthony asked, pressing for an answer.

Mary gave a small laugh. 'Sir Anthony, if I advised my sister not to marry you, I can absolutely promise you that she would fair sprint down the aisle to become Lady Strallan. But more than that, I know that she cares for you. That's why I was so unkind to you yesterday. Because I knew that sending you away would hurt Edith.'

'But I am still substantially older than her. There must be at least 35 years between us,' Sir Anthony said, somewhat forlornly.

'I do not believe that makes a blind bit of difference to Edith,' Mary said, the words almost sticking in her craw as she championed her sister's cause to Sir Anthony.

'Perhaps not, but I am mindful of that large gap of years. Particularly in light of your words yesterday, which rather forcibly brought that fact home to me,' Sir Anthony said in that soft, gentle voice of his.

Mary winced a little at the mild rebuke, feeling genuine remorse that she'd upset this gentle man.

'I am sorry about that. As I said, I was not aiming to hurt you, but I am aware that by drawing you into our quarrel, I did just that. Please accept my apologies for my behaviour, Sir Anthony. It was unkind and ill-mannered of me.'

He pursed his lips, nodding. 'I forgive you, Lady Mary.'

'Thank you. Then may I tell Edith that you will call on her?'

'No, I'm afraid not,' Sir Anthony replied, calmly.

Mary frowned. 'I hope that's not because of what I said. As I've told you, those were not Edith's true thoughts about you. She is very fond of you.'

'That is delightful to hear, and please give her my kindest regards. However, I will not be calling on her as I am rejoining my regiment in a few days' time.'

Mary stared at him in surprise. 'Your regiment?'

'Yes. I telegraphed the regiment headquarters and expressed my desire to return and do my bit as soon as I heard that we are now at war,' Sir Anthony said, looking almost apologetic about the fact.

'But aren't you – ' Mary stopped as she realised what she had been about to say might be considered rude.

'Too old?' he questioned, with a small smile.

'Well, um, yes. Isn't war a young man's game?' Mary said, deciding she might as well ask the question.

'Well, I very much doubt I will be thrown into the line when there is one, but I hope my experience in the Boer Wars will count for something. Perhaps help in training the young fellows. Once you've been involved in a cavalry charge, you never forget how to do it,' he said with a wry smile.

'No, I'd imagine you wouldn't,' Mary said, still taken aback by this twist in proceedings.

'So, under the circumstances, I will not be able to call on Lady Edith.'

Mary regarded him carefully, wondering guiltily if her unkind words to him yesterday had played any part in prompting this sudden desire to rejoin his regiment. She couldn't help but think that a man of his age should not be going to war.

'Edith will be very disappointed,' she said, eventually.

Sir Anthony glanced down at the floor, avoiding her eyes before answering her. 'I daresay my absence will not be too much of a blow for her.'

'She does care for you, Sir Anthony,' Mary repeated.

'But I don't think she loves me. In my experience, marriage is a much happier state of affairs when the two people in it are in love with each other.'

Mary said nothing, thinking of Tom waiting for her outside.

'And it's hardly as if she'll be weeping and wailing as her young lover rides off to war, is it?' he continued pointedly, lifting his gaze to meet hers. 'I'm sure there will soon be a much younger man come along who will take my place in whatever claim to her affections I may have. Someone who will make a much more suitable match.'

'I don't believe Edith is thinking that way,' Mary said, although privately she was sure her sister would be more than willing to entertain the attentions of a younger man should one be foolish enough to appear in her life.

'Maybe not, but it is all academic now. As I said, please give Lady Edith my kindest regards. I wish her nothing but well. Now, if you'll excuse me, Lady Mary, I have some packing to do,' Sir Anthony said, walking over to pull the bell by the fireplace to summon his butler.

'Of course. Good luck in your adventures, Sir Anthony,' Mary replied, nodding politely at him, half dreading, half looking forward to breaking this unexpected news to Edith.

On the way back to Downton Abbey, two miles from Loxley, Tom pulled off the main road, following a small track into a copse until they were out of sight of any passing travellers. He stopped the car, switched off the engine, set his cap on the front seat and then climbed out to get in the back with Mary.

'Oh, this is an unexpected treat,' she said, turning towards him as he leaned in to kiss her.

'Well, I was thinking about what you said about not being able to see, touch or kiss you for a week,' he murmured, pressing her back against the seat.

'And you couldn't bear the thought of it,' Mary mumbled, reaching up to touch his cheek.

'No, I couldn't,' he agreed, kissing her again.

'A week is going to be horrendous, Tom. To see you but not be able to touch you will be torture,' Mary muttered, wrapping her arms around his neck.

'I know. I feel the same,' he said, slipping his arm around her waist.

'I don't suppose you thought to bring a shield with you today, did you?' Mary asked boldly as he kissed her neck.

'No, I didn't.'

'Let me take off my hat,' Mary said, pushing gently at his chest until he sat up straight. She reached up unpinning her brimmed hat, stuck the pins into it and leaned forward to drop it on the front seat with his cap.

She turned, beginning to undo the buttons on his tunic and glanced up at him lasciviously. 'Right, now you can press me down onto the seat properly. Just try not to rumple me too much.'

Tom chuckled, watching her fingers on his buttons. 'Perhaps you should be the one pressing me into the seat instead then.'

'Hmm, what a good idea,' Mary purred, pushing him backwards and climbing on top of him, dropping her head to kiss him.

'How long can it possibly take to say sorry to someone?' Edith grumbled, glancing at the clock once more.

Cora sighed and set her embroidery down. 'She's hardly going to simply walk in, say sorry and then walk out, Edith.'

'Why not? What else does she need to say to him?'

'Perhaps he's offered her some refreshments.'

'I don't see why he would.'

'Because he is a polite man,' Cora said, tartly. 'And if you do become his wife after all this, I would hope that you would show the same level of hospitality when you entertain guests. I did not raise you to be impolite.'

Edith chewed her lip, looking uncertain. 'Do you think he will propose, Mama?'

Cora stifled a sigh, still not entirely sure that her daughter wanted to marry Strallan for any reason other than to be married. 'I don't know, darling. We'll have to wait and see.'

Edith blew out a sigh and cast another impatient look at the clock.

In the back seat of the motor, Tom gave a sigh of contentment, running his hand up and down Mary's side as she lay against him.

'We should get back.'

'Oh, no, just a little longer,' she purred, nestling against him, her hand on his thigh.

'We can't, mo chuisle. They'll start to wonder where we are and why it's taken us so long. You know we're supposed to be allaying suspicions, not stirring them up,' he pointed out.

'Oh, fine,' Mary sighed a little petulantly, pulling herself upright.

Tom tucked his shirt in and then sat up, pulled his waistcoat closed and started buttoning it up.

'You know, I love watching you redress yourself,' she said, her eyes on his fingers. 'Not as much as I love watching you undress, of course, but I still like it.'

'Do you?' he said with a smile, raising an eyebrow.

'Yes. It reminds me of everything we've just done, and it gives me a warm glow that you are mine and I am yours,' Mary said, softly.

Tom stopped buttoning his jacket and reached out, cupping her face, drawing her to him for a kiss. 'Oh, God, I do love you,' he murmured against her lips.

'I should hope so after what we've just done,' she replied, smiling as he kissed her again.

'I wish things were different,' he said suddenly, his face serious. 'I wish I could just ask you to marry me, and you could say yes, and everyone would be happy for us.'

Mary's smile dimmed a little. 'I wish that, too.'

He paused, stroking his thumb over her cheek. 'I've decided I'm going to look for journalism courses I could do.'

Mary pulled back, staring at him, a thread of panic worming through her. 'What?'

'Gwen gave me the idea. She did a correspondence course in becoming a secretary. I'm going to look into whether there is such a thing for becoming a journalist.'

'So, you wouldn't have to leave Downton then?' Mary asked, relief rushing through her.

'Not if I can find a correspondence course. But if I can't, I think I should look at applying for positions at a newspaper.'

'What? No!' Mary cried, the panic coming rushing back at the thought of him leaving.

'I can't be a chauffeur forever, Mary. I don't want to be. And if I'm not in service anymore, perhaps things could be different for us,' he said, finishing buttoning his tunic.

'But… but you'd have to leave Downton!' she cried, staring at him, wild-eyed at the thought.

'Yes, but I'll have to leave at some point, won't I? If we're ever going to stand a chance of a future together,' Tom said, reasonably.

'Not if you come with me when I marry! When I have my own house, nobody will be able to forbid me from coming to your cottage whenever I want to!'

'Except your husband!' Tom retorted, his heart sinking that this was still apparently her plan for them, an illicit, extramarital affair.

'Well, I've been thinking about that, and all I need to do is find a confirmed bachelor and persuade him to marry me. Then you and I can be together without him minding,' Mary explained, outlining her plan for the future to him for the first time.

Tom frowned, seeing the earnest look on her face, realising she meant every word of this malarkey. 'That's your plan, is it? To find a lavender in need of a pretend wife, marry him and then take me as your lover?'

'Yes! It would work, Tom, it would!'

He regarded her silently for a moment, turning that all over in his mind.

'Tom? Say something,' Mary begged, unable to stand his silence anymore.

'It might work for you, Mary, but what about me?'

'What do you mean? We'd be together!' she cried, uneasiness stirring within her.

He shook his head. 'No, we wouldn't, not really. This plan of yours, it means me giving up my ambitions to remain a chauffeur for the rest of my life.'

Mary stared at him, pressing her lips together, a spark of anger flickering to life. 'Are your ambitions more important to you than I am?'

'No, but they are not nothing,' he admitted. 'Without you, this life, it would be stifling. I need something more.'

'But you'd have me!'

'Not properly, I wouldn't. You'd be married to someone else. And what if I got you pregnant? You're asking me to stand by and watch another man claim my children, watch him raise them and give them his name. I can't… I can't do that.'

Mary bit her lip, not knowing what she could say in response to that because he was right. He would not be able to acknowledge their children as his, and he would not be able to raise them as their father.

'If I leave Downton, would you come with me?' he asked into the silence hanging between them.

'You can't leave, Tom!'

'I might have to. So, I'll ask again, would you come with me?

'While you study to be a journalist?' Mary asked, her stomach churning.

'Yes. Or if I'm dismissed before I find another job.'

She stared at him, wishing with all her might that he wasn't asking her this question. 'When? When are you talking about this happening?'

Tom stared back at her, his heart sinking. 'I don't know. Maybe next year, maybe sooner.'

'I don't know,' Mary whispered, knowing full well that she wouldn't go with him but lacking the courage to say it outright.

'Right, well, what if we get back to Downton now and her ladyship decides we're too familiar with each other and dismisses me?' he asked, his heart in his mouth. 'What would you do then? Would you come with me? Or maybe follow on and join me later?'

Mary stared at him in silence, pressing her lips together. The silence stretched, becoming unbearable.

'Right,' Tom said, heavily. 'Right. Well, we'd better get back.'

He got out of the car, shutting the door behind him, and stood for a moment with his back to her, not moving, his head down. Mary watched him through the window, feeling wretched, hating that she'd hurt him but not seeing how his way could possibly work.

When he got in behind the wheel, he wordlessly picked up her hat and passed it back to her before putting his own cap on and starting the engine.

Mary pinned her hat back in place, fighting back tears, wishing she were braver or that he was less ambitious.

'What?' Edith said, staring at Mary as if she'd spoken in Swahili.

'He's rejoining his regiment?' Cora echoed in astonishment. 'But he's…'

'Older than Papa? Yes, I know,' Mary said, sitting down and nodding gratefully at Carson as he placed a cup of tea on the table beside her.

'Well, that's an unexpected twist in the tale,' Rosamund said, one eyebrow quirking up as she sat back to observe how Edith would handle the news that her prospective beau had slipped the hook.

'No. No, that can't be right,' Edith said, shaking her head.

'It is. He told me so himself,' Mary said, lifting her teacup and taking a sip, trying not to think about the studiously blank look on Tom's face as he'd handed her out of the car when they got back to Downton.

'And he's not even coming to say goodbye?' Edith asked in disbelief.

'No. He said he's preparing to go to his regimental barracks in a few days' time.'

'I suppose he feels he doesn't need to say goodbye as there is no understanding between you,' Rosamund put in, earning herself a sharp look from her sister-in-law.

Edith glared at Mary, ignoring her aunt. 'This is all your fault!'

'Mine? I know you think I am the devil incarnate, Edith, but I hardly think you can lay the blame for the war in Europe at my feet,' Mary said calmly, putting her teacup back in the saucer.

'No, but if you hadn't said your nasty, little piece to him yesterday, he would have proposed then! And I doubt an engaged man would have been rejoining his regiment and going off to war!' Edith cried, feeling tears of anger welling in her eyes.

'I don't think that's entirely fair, Edith,' Cora put in, trying to defuse the situation. 'I'm sure that there will be plenty of soldiers with fiancées, who will have to go and fight.'

'But one of them won't be mine, will it, Mama?' Edith spat, shaking with fury that her dreams of a wedding had gone up in smoke. 'And that's her fault!'

'Careful, Edith,' Mary said, silkily. 'Anyone would think you are more bothered about not being a wife than being Sir Anthony's wife in particular.'

'Mary, stop it,' Cora said, sharply.

'Oh, why don't you… why don't you go and boil your head!' Edith hissed and then fled from the room as her tears began to overwhelm her.

Cora let out a sigh as Mary lifted her teacup for another sip of tea, not really trying to hide the satisfaction she felt at Edith's upset.

'Why do you have to needle her so? You knew she would be upset by this news. Why make it even harder for her?' Cora said, disappointed in the way Mary had handled things.

'Oh, because we all know she's not really in love with Sir Anthony. She's fooling herself that she is because she wants to be married. She's not set on being married to him in particular, though. He's just the only poor fool who's got close to asking her,' Mary said dismissively, having no truck with Edith's drama.

Rosamund nodded, agreeing with Mary's assessment of the situation. 'I said much the same to you the other day, didn't I, Cora?'

Cora sighed, raising a hand to rub at her temple. 'Would it be too much to ask for a little good news? For things to run smoothly for once?'

'You've had good news, Mama. Sybil and Matthew are your good news,' Mary observed, mildly.

'And Edith is still young. I'm sure there will be a young man somewhere who would be willing to take her on,' Rosamund said, serenely. 'They do say there's someone for everyone, don't they? It's hardly as if marrying that old duffer was her last chance ever at matrimony, is it?'

Cora looked between her eldest daughter and her sister-in-law in exasperation. 'You two, you have no empathy. You're cut from the same cloth, do you know that?'

Mary and Rosamund exchanged a look, Rosamund giving a small shrug as she answered. 'We're simply speaking the truth as we see it.'

'You're just like your mother,' Cora said with feeling.

Rosamund put her hand over her heart, looking wounded. 'Now, now, Cora, there's no need to be unkind.'

Mary smiled and raised her teacup to her lips again, these last few minutes taking her mind off the awful, silent journey back to Downton with Tom.

'You looked like you could use a cup of tea,' Anna said, handing one of the two mugs of tea she was holding to Tom as she walked up to him in the kitchen yard.

He took it gratefully. 'Thank you.'

'You also look like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders,' she said, perching on the edge of the crates he was sitting on.

'Yes, you could say that,' he replied, sipping his tea.

'Do you want to talk about it? A problem shared is a problem solved and all that,' she offered.

Tom sighed. 'I don't think this problem can be solved.'

'Is it to do with… her?' Anna asked, taking a careful look around the yard.

He nodded. 'I asked her outright this morning if she'd come with me if I leave Downton.'

'Ah. And she said no,' Anna said, her heart going out to him.

'No. She didn't say anything.'

Anna bit her lip, debating what to say. 'Well, you never really expected her to say yes, did you, Tom?'

'I thought maybe she might think about it. After all this time together, I hoped she might at least give it some consideration.'

Anna said nothing, instead taking a long sip of her tea.

He looked up at her and sighed. 'I know. I'm an idiot. I told her that I wanted to be a journalist. No offence but being in service is not the extent of my ambition.'

'None taken,' Anna said, equably. 'I take it she didn't respond well to that.'

'No. I think she was all right with it if I could find a correspondence course and do it by post from here like Gwen did. But when I mentioned applying for jobs with papers, she didn't like it.'

'No, I expect she didn't. I don't expect she'd be keen on anything that would take you away from Downton.'

'She's got this hare-brained notion that she could marry a man like Thomas and take me with her to her new home as her secret lover,' Tom said, giving Anna an awkward look, aware that this was territory they did not usually discuss.

'And you're not happy with that?'

'How can I be? I'd be giving up everything, all my hopes and dreams, and for what? A few crumbs from her plate?' he said, looking plaintively up at Anna.

'For her,' she said, simply. 'You'd be giving it all up to be with her.'

'But I wouldn't be with her, would I? She wouldn't be my wife. And if we had children, they wouldn't be my children, not in name. They'd be hers with her lavender husband as far as the world is concerned,' he said in despair. 'I wouldn't even be able to tell my own children that I was their father.'

Anna put her hand on his shoulder, rubbing it gently. 'Oh, Tom.'

'I don't think I could bear that, Anna.'

'You knew this wouldn't be easy. You knew that from the beginning.'

'I know,' he said, dropping his head forward, staring at the floor. 'But I didn't think it would be this hard.'

'Yes, you did,' Anna said, gently. 'When I first found out about you two, I asked you if you loved her and you said you loved her with all your heart. I remember saying to you, even if she breaks your heart, and what did you say back to me?'

'I said even if she shatters it into a thousand pieces,' he said, hollowly.

'Yes. So, you did know, Tom.'

He nodded, miserably. 'I know. I know I did.'

'She does love you. I know she does. She's told me she does, and I can see it in her face when she talks about you. But there's only so much she can give you, only so far she can go. Because she's not like us. She doesn't have the skills needed to live the kind of life you and I live, and she knows it. But I'm not sure you know that, not really,' Anna said, trying to be as gentle as she could.

Tom listened to her, staring at the floor.

'Can you imagine what it would be like for her?' Anna continued. 'Going from the life she has now to the life she'd have as a working-class wife if she were to leave everything behind and go with you? Everything would change for her, literally everything.'

'But I wish she loved me enough to try,' Tom said, desolately. 'I love her so much. I thought she loved me like that too, but I think I'm wrong about that.'

'I don't think it's a case of her not loving you enough,' Anna said, thoughtfully. 'Like I say, she's mad about you. Do you really think she'd risk everything to sneak out and spend the night with you like she does if she didn't love you?'

'But she won't even consider it, Anna, leaving Downton, so we can be together. Surely, if she loved me enough, she would.'

'Well, I'm only guessing here because we've never discussed it, but I think she's terrified of losing everything and then losing you because she can't live in our world. She's not stupid, Tom, and you know her better than anyone. She's pragmatic, she's realistic as far as realistic goes in her world. She's certainly self-aware enough to know that she's not cut out for life as the wife of a servant.'

'But I won't always be a servant! I can make it as a journalist, I know I can.'

'Yes, but how long will it take for you to make a more than decent wage? Two years? Ten years?' Anna countered. 'I don't know how much journalists earn, but I daresay you'd have to have a significant amount of experience under your belt before you would be earning a salary anywhere near enough to keep her even close to the manner in which she's used to living.'

Tom tilted his head, listening to her, truly considering things from Mary's point of view for the first time.

'And in the meantime, Lady Mary is what? Sharing a rented room with you? Washing her own clothes and yours? Going grocery shopping and making you meals?' Anna continued, pressing the point home. 'I can tell you now, I hope you like scrambled eggs because that's the only thing she can cook and that's only because her ladyship forced her to learn. Mrs Patmore despaired at her ineptitude in the kitchen. She said she'd just as soon teach the stable cat to cook next time.'

Tom tried to imagine Mary cooking and cleaning, tried to imagine a domestic life for them that didn't just revolve around the bedroom. He found he couldn't do it, the vision slipping away from him.

Anna looked across at him, a sympathetic look on her face. 'I don't think she's not agreeing to run away with you because she doesn't love the bones of you. I think she's painfully aware that running away with you means committing herself to a life that she's simply not equipped for.'

Tom chewed his lip, thinking that over.

'And I don't think you can blame her for that,' Anna finished, quietly.

Tom was silent, his mind going over everything Anna had said, looking for the flaw in her argument, but he couldn't find it.

'I hate this bloody class system we all live under,' he said with feeling. 'I hate it.'

Anna reached out and put her hand on his shoulder again. She'd said her piece. There was nothing else she could say.

Sybil wandered into Mary's bedroom that night to find her lying on her side in her bed. She paused, having expected to find Mary up and about as she usually was at this time of the night. Normally, she wouldn't be in bed for hours yet.

'Are you all right?' she asked, cautiously.

Mary shrugged, saying nothing.

'Has something happened? Edith hasn't been whispering in Mama's ear again about you and Tom, has she?' Sybil asked, walking over to the bed and climbing up beside her sister, worried about how quiet and still Mary was.

'Probably. She seems to do that every opportunity she gets,' Mary said, bitterly.

'But that's not why you're tucked up in bed, staring at the wall, though?'

'No.'

'Then what's wrong?'

Mary was quiet for a minute before answering. 'Tom's talking about leaving Downton.'

Sybil's eyes widened, surprised that Branson was considering that quite so soon. 'When?'

Mary shrugged again. 'Maybe next year, maybe sooner.'

'To do what?'

'To get a job with a newspaper.'

'But that's… look, I know it's not what you want to hear, but that's good in the long run, isn't it?' Sybil said, wary of upsetting her sister further but pleased to hear that Tom was thinking of expanding his horizons.

'No, Sybil, it's not good!' Mary snapped, rolling over to glare at her little sister. 'He's talking about leaving! What's good about that?'

Sybil bit her lip, wisely deciding not to outline once again the reasons for Mary to champion Tom bettering himself.

'He asked me if I'd go with him if he leaves Downton,' Mary said, the anger disappearing from her voice.

'Oh, my goodness, did he?' Sybil said, completely shocked by that. 'What did you say?'

'I didn't say anything because I was too much of a coward to tell him no. But it didn't matter. I might as well have said no because he knew what my silence meant,' Mary said hollowly, thinking back to that awful moment.

'Oh, Mary,' Sybil said sympathetically, sliding under the covers to curl up behind her sister, putting her arm over her waist to hug her.

'He's going to leave me, I know he is,' Mary whispered, her voice catching.

'But he's still here now,' Sybil replied, tucking an errant bit of hair behind Mary's ear.

'Yes, but everyone's eyes are on us. We have to be more careful than ever, which means I'll see him even less than usual. Mama's forbidden me from going to his cottage, Edith is watching me like a hawk. And now I'm terrified that I'll wake up one morning and he simply won't be here anymore,' Mary said, feeling a lump forming in her throat as she said the words.

'He wouldn't leave without telling you or without saying goodbye,' Sybil said, soothingly. 'I know he wouldn't.'

'I don't think I can bear it if he leaves,' Mary whispered, choking back a sob. 'I don't know what I'll do without him.'

'I'll be here for you,' Sybil murmured, hugging her sister tighter.

Mary patted Sybil's hand in acknowledgement, the first tears beginning to trickle down her face.