16th March, 1916

Downton Abbey

Tom, my love,

I am thinking about you so much today. Why is that? Because today marks three years since you found me in the woods and saved my life.

I can almost see you shaking your head, denying that you did any such thing, but that's how I think of it. I remember being totally overwhelmed by everything that had happened to me in such a short space of time and believing that my life would never be the same. My mother was so angry with me, and I thought I would never be able to rise above the shame of it all.

But you made me see things differently, my darling. You took care of me, you listened to me and – most importantly of all – you believed me. You believed me. I can't tell you the relief of knowing that someone believed me and didn't blame me or judge me for letting it happen. And you gave me that gift. You and you alone.

Even if I hadn't fallen in love with you, Tom, I would never have forgotten you because you were the only person to listen to me and help me. You were my hero that day and for many days and weeks after that, my love. I'm not sure if I ever told you that, but it's true.

I am aware that I sound somewhat melodramatic here, soppy even, but I am, as you once said, soppy for you, even after all this time apart.

I honestly believe that I will go through my life loving you until the day I die. Despite it being a year and a half since I last saw you, touched you, kissed you, my love for you is as strong as it ever was. That flame still burns strongly. I don't believe it will ever be doused. In many ways, I hope it will not be.

As the days, weeks and months without you slowly turn into years, I find myself becoming more resigned to never seeing you again. I still daydream that it will happen, but I no longer really believe it will. Instead, you have become the warm, cherished memory that I turn to for comfort. The memory of you and the time we spent together brings me such joy even as it breaks my heart that you are no longer with me. When I close my eyes at night, your beautiful face is the one I see. I hope it will ever be so.

I love you, darling. Now and forever.

Your Mary

xxxxxxxxx

April 1916

'I don't know what they think they're doing in Dublin,' Robert said, his tone disapproving as he turned the page on the newspaper.

Mary looked up from her breakfast, her interest piqued at the mention of Dublin. 'What do you mean?'

'There's some kind of armed insurrection going on. Well, I say insurrection, it could just be a handful of yahoos for all we know. Dashed bad form in the middle of a war, though. They've had to send the Army in to try to sort it all out when we're already pressed for men at the Front. I mean, do they want the Germans to win the war?'

'An insurrection?' Mary questioned, eager now to get her hands on the paper. 'What do you mean? What exactly is happening?'

'A bunch of Irish republicans have apparently taken forcible possession of a few buildings. They've issued some kind of proclamation about Irish independence and locked themselves in,' Robert elaborated, giving the bare bones of the situation.

'What buildings?' Edith asked, only mildly curious.

'It says here they are holed up in the General Post Office, a biscuit factory and a mill.' Robert looked over the paper at his daughters, a wry smile on his face. 'Well, they'll be all set for stamps and afternoon tea, then.'

Mary suppressed a bolt of anger as Edith giggled at her father's joke.

'May I see the paper, Papa?' she asked, fighting to keep her voice level.

'Yes, I suppose so. I have to go anyway. I have a meeting with Jarvis this morning,' Robert said, folding the newspaper and handing it to Mary. He set his napkin on the table and rose to take his leave. 'I will see you both later.'

'Goodbye, Papa,' Edith said, watching as Mary grabbed the paper and opened it up, avidly reading about the events in Dublin. 'Since when have you been interested in current affairs?'

Mary flicked a dismissive glance up at her sister. 'I read the paper every day.'

'Yes, but you don't generally practically rip it from Papa's hands,' Edith observed. 'Is this because it's about Ireland? You're not still obsessed with that Irish chauffeur, are you?'

Mary said nothing, returning her gaze to the newspaper, her white knuckles giving her away.

'You are, aren't you?' Edith said, eyeing her in surprise. 'Don't you think it's time you let that go? He's not coming back and even if he did show his face here again, Papa would send him packing. You do know that, don't you?'

'Edith, would you kindly shut up and let me read?' Mary bit out through gritted teeth.

Edith shrugged, swallowed the last of her coffee and then she, too, put her napkin on the table and pushed to her feet.

'You're a bigger fool than I thought if you're still hankering after him, Mary. And that's saying something,' she said, looking disdainfully at her sister. When Mary neither looked up nor responded, she shook her head and left the breakfast room, rolling her eyes at Carson on her way out.

Carson looked over at the table where Lady Mary had pushed aside her breakfast things and laid out the newspaper she was now studying intently. He held back against the urge to shake his head, once more silently cursing Branson for what he'd done to this young woman.

Sybil eased Jamie from her breast, letting her nightdress fall to cover her chest, and put him over her shoulder, rubbing his back to wind him.

There was a knock on the door, and it opened before she could even open her mouth to respond. Mary strode in, clutching a newspaper.

'Tom's in Dublin,' she said without preamble.

'What? Is he? How do you know?' Sybil asked, taken by surprise by this whirlwind entrance and unexpected statement.

Mary waved the paper at her. 'Irish republicans have issued a proclamation of independence in Dublin and they're staging an armed uprising. Tom's there, I know he is. He's passionate about Irish independence. It was his dream, so there's no way he's not a part of this.'

'But you don't know for sure,' Sybil said, trying to take this all in as she continued to rub Jamie's back. 'He's not mentioned in the paper, is he?'

'No, of course, he isn't, but he's there, I'm sure of it.'

'Well, if he is… then what?'

'I don't know. I don't know,' Mary muttered, pacing backwards and forwards.

Sybil watched her, her heart sinking a little. She had begun to hope that Mary was getting over Tom, learning to live without him a little better each day, but now she could see that he was on her sister's mind as much as he'd ever been.

'I need to know more,' Mary said, looking up.

'What do you mean? How are you going to find out more?' Sybil asked, seized by a sudden dread that Mary was going to up sticks, get on a ferry to Ireland and walk the streets of Dublin in the middle of a coup, looking for her former lover.

'I'm going to walk into Downton and buy a copy of every newspaper they've got,' Mary said, decisively. 'I want to read everything I can about what's happening.'

Sybil breathed a small sigh of relief. 'All right, well, give me some time to wash and dress and I'll come with you. We'll take Jamie for a walk.'

Mary bit her lip impatiently and then nodded. 'All right. But be quick. I don't want them to sell out.'

For the next few days, Mary and Sybil walked into Downton every morning, pushing Jamie in his pram, coming back with a stack of newspapers stuffed into a bag hanging from the handles of the perambulator.

Every day, Mary would spend the rest of the day pouring over the reports on the situation in Dublin, imagining Tom in every scenario presented among the pages of the newspapers.

As news of deaths, both rebels and civilians, filtered through from Ireland, that old anxiety she felt reading through the casualty lists returned, filling her with dread.

'He might not be there,' Sybil reiterated as she watched her sister get tenser and tenser.

'He is,' Mary insisted. 'I know him. He's there.'

'But even if he is, you can't assume he's one of the casualties,' Sybil argued. 'It's not like the war where men are dying in their hundreds and thousands. Think of how many people there must be in Dublin. I'm no mathematician, but the number of people they are saying have died in the Rising is a tiny percentage of the population. What are the odds that one of them is Tom? They must be miniscule. If he's in Dublin, he's very probably absolutely fine.'

'Very probably?' Mary said, quirking an eyebrow, a small smile breaking through despite her increasing worry about Tom.

'Yes. That's a perfectly correct thing to say,' Sybil said, smiling at her sister and nodding confidently. 'And if I know one thing, it's that Tom has the luck of the devil.'

Mary tipped her head, puzzled. 'How so?'

'Well, he spent a year and a half romancing you right under the noses of everyone in this house without more than a couple of people finding out about it, didn't he?' Sybil replied, looking pleased with her logic. 'You can't deny that.'

'No, but his luck did run out,' Mary pointed out.

'Yes, but that's not the point. The point is that it took a long time for his luck to run out. This rebellion is a blink of an eye compared to that. So, like I say, he's very probably absolutely fine.'

Mary smiled, looking across at her sister sitting on the floor with her in the middle of a blizzard of opened newspapers and felt a deep swell of love for her.

'Sybil, have I ever told you that you are the best sister I could have ever wished for?'

Sybil put her fingers to her lips, looking upwards, pretending to think. 'No, I don't believe you have.'

'Then I'm telling you now.'

'Well, then you'd better believe me when I tell you that Tom is fine, then, hadn't you?' she said, reaching across the newspapers to take Mary's hand. 'That is what we are going to believe, darling.'

Mary nodded, determined to at least try.

1st May, 1916

Downton Abbey

My dearest, darling boy,

I have been reading in the papers all about the Easter Rising in Dublin. It's all over now, according to the newspapers. The rebels have all surrendered.

Are you one of them, my love?

Since the first moment I heard about the rebellion, I was convinced you were part of it. You're involved in some way, I know it. I feel so very certain about that.

I applaud you for having the courage of your convictions, Tom, but I can't help but worry that you've been hurt – or worse – in the fighting. I hope to God that I am wrong. I can't bear to think of you being maimed or dying for your cause, but I know it would be your cause, not like the Great War.

I rarely pray – you know me, my darling, I'm not exactly a God botherer – but I have knelt by my bed and asked Him to look after you during these troubled times. I'm resigned to never knowing what becomes of you, but that doesn't stop me worrying, so I thought a little word using up what little credit I may have with the Lord above wouldn't hurt.

I do find myself contemplating many scenarios in which you could be hurt when things like this happen, Tom. My imagination is more fertile than I ever gave it credit for in that respect, but I am trying to take a leaf out of Sybil's book and think positively. She is convinced that the odds of you being one of the casualties of this rebellion are infinitesimal compared to the number of people in Dublin right now. I cling to that thought.

Be safe, my darling. That is my wish for you – to be safe and unharmed as you join the struggle for Ireland's freedom.

I will close this letter in the only way I think appropriate.

Tá grá agam duit, mo chuisle.

Ever your Mary

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

June 1916

'It's barbaric!' Sybil cried, pacing around the library, her hand flapping near her chest, as she tried to squash down the panicky fear threatening to seize hold of her. 'They're wrenching you away from your wife and baby son!'

'Not intentionally, darling,' Matthew said, watching his wife helplessly, wishing he could spare her this distress. 'And it's not just me.'

'Maybe not, but they shouldn't be calling up married men! They shouldn't! Why are they doing that? Why?'

Matthew bit his lip, reluctant to point out that the powers that be were running out of unmarried men to throw into the line of fire. 'Because we're needed.'

'You're needed here!' Sybil cried, a sob breaking free. 'Jamie's only four months old! Is he to lose his father before he can even remember him?'

'I hope not, no.'

'But he might! He might! If you go, he might!' Sybil cried, becoming more distraught.

'Sybil? Darling, are you all right?' Mary asked, appearing at the far end of the library, looking at her sister in concern.

'Mary!' Sybil ran across the library, throwing herself into her arms, tears running freely down her face.

'Darling, whatever's wrong? What's happened?' Mary asked, embracing Sybil and casting a perplexed look at Matthew.

'I've had my call-up papers,' he said, quietly. 'I'm to report to York next week.'

'Oh. Oh, I see,' Mary said, rubbing Sybil's back soothingly, holding her sister as she sobbed. 'That seems… quick. They only changed the conscription laws last month.'

'Well, I suppose that's the disadvantage of having a surname so close to the start of the alphabet,' Matthew said, bleakly.

Mary gazed across the room at him, affection for her brother-in-law washing through her.

'Tell them you can't go!' Sybil said, twisting out of Mary's arms, and looking at her husband, tear tracks evident on her face.

'I can't do that, darling,' Matthew said, gently.

'Why not?' Sybil demanded. 'Do you want to go? Do you want to leave me and Jamie and go and fight in this horrible war?'

'No, of course, I don't, but I have to. I have to do my bit. And even if I didn't believe that, if I don't go, they will come after me and put me in jail. I can't avoid it, Sybil.'

Sybil's face crumpled, tears falling again. 'Matthew,' she whispered, her shoulders slumping in despair.

Matthew took several strides across the room and gathered her in his arms, hugging her tightly.

'Don't cry, darling, please don't cry,' he murmured into her hair as she clung to him. 'You know I can't bear to see you cry.'

Mary looked at them folded in each other's arms and backed quietly away, leaving them alone. She understood Sybil's distress all too well, but all she could do was make sure she was by her side, supporting her in Matthew's absence.

'Mary, do you have a few moments?' Matthew said a few days later.

'Of course.'

'Will you take a walk with me?' he asked, nodding to the door out to the lawn.

Mary rose, following him out into the bright sunshine, wondering what he wanted to speak to her about.

'Is everything all right?' she asked once they were outside and walking side by side across the smooth lawn, still immaculate even with fewer gardeners to look after it.

'Yes. Well, as right as it can be under the circumstances. I have a proposition to put to you,' Matthew said, casting her an assessing look.

'Oh? That sounds intriguing.'

'I hope it is. I hope you will at least give it some thought.'

'Well, spit it out, Matthew. Don't keep me on tenterhooks,' Mary said lightly, trying to mask the uneasiness she felt about whatever it was he might be about to ask her.

'You know how I've been learning how the estate works and how it's managed,' Matthew started, once more looking carefully at his sister-in-law.

'Yes.'

'Well, I was wondering if you would be prepared to step in and act on my behalf in meetings and negotiations with Jarvis and your father,' Matthew said, his voice completely calm and matter-of-fact.

Mary stopped walking, taken totally by surprise. This was the last thing she'd expected him to say. 'Me?'

'Yes. I think you'd be good at it.'

'Don't… don't you think you should be asking Sybil to step in as your proxy?'

Matthew shook his head. 'I've spoken to Sybil about it, but she agrees that you are the better choice in this instance. She has Jamie to occupy her and she's talking about perhaps volunteering a little at the hospital alongside Mother. And… well…'

'What?' Mary said, sensing that whatever he was not saying was not good.

Matthew looked her straight in the eyes, his face serious. 'There's a chance I might not make it back if I get sent to the Front, which I probably will. If I don't, then Sybil… Sybil…'

'Sybil won't be in any fit state to run the estate,' Mary said quietly, grasping the situation immediately.

'No, probably not,' Matthew said, heavily. 'She'll need you more than ever. And I will need you to stand proxy for Jamie until he comes of age. He'll be the next earl, not me if things take a turn for the worse for me in the war.'

Mary chewed her lip, trying her best not to think about Matthew not surviving the war. 'Do you really think I'd be good at it?'

'Yes, I do. We've crossed verbal swords enough over the years that I know you won't let something go if you don't believe it's right. You will not be afraid to go toe to toe with Robert. And you know Downton. You know it better than almost anyone else,' Matthew said, certain of everything he was saying. 'There will be lots for you to learn, Mary, I can't deny that, but you will be able to learn it quicker than I have because you won't have to split your time between that and another job. And you're astute. You won't let anyone pull the wool over your eyes.'

'Is that a possibility? Someone trying to pull the wool over my eyes.'

Matthew bit his lip, looking uncomfortable. 'I won't lie to you, Mary. There's real work to be done here. The estate… well, let's say the management of the estate leaves something to be desired.'

'Jarvis? Are you saying Jarvis is mismanaging the estate?' Mary asked in surprise. 'But if he's not up to the job, shouldn't you just sack him?'

'I have broached the subject with your father, but he's adamant that Jarvis is doing a fine job.'

'But you don't agree?'

Matthew sighed. 'I think Jarvis is entrenched in doing things the old-fashioned way, the way it's always been done, and that's why Robert likes him so much. Because he is cut from the same cloth. But we need to bring the estate into the modern world, Mary, kicking and screaming if we have to, otherwise it won't survive for very much longer.'

Mary stared at him in shock. 'Are things really that bad?'

'There's time to turn it around, I think, but we need to start doing that as soon as possible.'

'Right,' Mary said, her mind whirring.

'There's something else you should know, too.'

'What?' Mary asked, her heart rate picking up.

'The finances. Robert has his hands on the purse strings and he's… well, he's not what you might call a cautious investor or, indeed, a successful one. In fact, he's listened to the wrong people too many times and made some terrible decisions.'

'Are we… are we broke, Matthew? Is that what you're saying?' Mary asked, startled.

'Not exactly. Not yet.'

'Not yet?' she echoed, shocked.

'No, but that's why I need you, Mary. I need you to try to talk some sense into him.'

'Will Papa listen to me?' she asked, doubtfully.

'You have to make him. It's important that someone talks him around. If I can't be here, then I trust you to do what's right for the estate. Like I say, you won't shy away from telling him some harsh truths. And you love Downton, Mary. I know you don't want to see it crumble.'

Mary nodded slowly, thinking about his unexpected proposition.

'I also think it would be good for you,' Matthew said, deciding to lay all his cards on the table. 'I think you're still struggling to get over Tom, aren't you?'

Mary hesitated, surprised that Matthew had noticed that, but then she nodded, willing to admit the truth to her brother-in-law, knowing he would not judge her for it. 'Yes, I am.'

'I think you need something else to think about. And looking after Downton is a big task, Mary. If you throw yourself into it like I think you could, you won't have time to think about much else.'

Mary chewed her lip, gazing steadily at him, thinking it over. Having something to do, something important, something that would occupy her mind was an appealing prospect. And the fact that Matthew trusted her with such a big responsibility was flattering.

'So, what do you think? Will you do it?' he asked, looking at her anxiously.

Mary squared her shoulders and nodded, making her decision. 'Yes, I will. I won't let you down, Matthew, I promise.'

Matthew smiled at her, relief evident on his face. 'I know you won't.'

'But you have to promise me something, too.'

'What?'

Mary reached out and squeezed his hand. 'Don't die. Don't. Die.'

Matthew pressed his lips together, looking away for a moment as he gathered himself. 'I will do my very best, I promise.'

Mary stepped forward and kissed him on his cheek, fiercely hoping he would return from war in one piece.

23rd June, 1916

Downton Abbey,

Darling Tom,

Happy birthday, my love! I cannot believe that you have celebrated two birthdays since I last saw you. Well, I say that, but in truth, every day it seems a lifetime since you left.

I have news to share with you. You may not believe this, but I have a job! I have joined the ranks of working women. There! I'll bet that's shocked you, hasn't it?

Matthew has been called up, and he's asked me to act as an agent for the estate in his stead. He's concerned about the management of the estate, and from what he's shown me so far, he is right to be concerned. I've been quite shocked by some of the figures he's shared with me.

There is such a lot to learn, Tom, but for the first time in ages, I feel energised. And for the first time ever, I feel useful. I have a purpose, and that is to save the estate from collapse. I know it won't be easy and I know I may have to go to battle with Papa over it, but I am determined to do my best.

I've already crossed swords with Papa. Matthew and I told him together that I would be stepping in as Matthew's proxy and learning how to manage the estate. He was not happy. In fact, he was quite dismissive of the thought that I could do the job – which only makes me even more determined to prove him wrong. And Matthew was magnificent. He brought all his lawyerly training to the argument and quite ran circles around Papa.

His main objection appears to be that I am a woman and cannot possibly understand business. Well, from what I've seen so far, Papa's sex does not appear to have endowed him with any business sense whatsoever. And Jarvis is a dinosaur. I intend to make sure I am on top of everything and questioning every decision to make sure it is sound before Jarvis makes any changes. And I also intend to make a plan for what we can do to ensure the estate survives.

Wish me luck, Tom. I'm quite sure I will need every ounce of it.

All my love, my darling,

Your Mary

xxxxxxxxx

July 1916

On 1st July, the casualty lists were lighter than they had been for some weeks. On 2nd July, all of that changed as the toll taken by the first day of the Battle of the Somme began to become apparent. The sheer number of casualties was breathtaking, stopping the whole country in its tracks as it seemed that entire villages and swathes of towns and cities had lost their men, with the Pals battalions bearing the brunt of the fighting.

Every fibre of Mary's being told her to stop looking at the lists every day, stop scanning them for the name Branson, but she couldn't. It was like a compulsion she couldn't control. Day after day, week after week, she read the lists, swelling with names, the numbers unimaginable, but to her eternal relief, she did not find another Thomas Branson listed.

'At least Matthew was called up too late to be part of this,' Sybil said one evening after a particularly brutal day of casualties was laid bare in the newspapers. 'I suppose that's something to be grateful for.'

'Well, I suppose that depends on how long his training lasts and how long this battle goes on for,' Robert mused aloud without thinking.

Sybil stared at her father and then put her glass down and wordlessly left the room. Mary went after her, Isobel hot on her heels, casting an angry and hurt look at Robert.

'Was that really necessary?' Cora snapped, irritated with her husband's thoughtlessness.

'What?' Robert protested, defensively. 'It's true, isn't it?'

'Maybe so, but Sybil did not need to hear that. Neither did Isobel.'

Robert subsided, very aware of Cora's annoyance and his mother eyeing him from across the room, her disappointment very evident.

'Sometimes, Robert, you have the sensitivity of an anvil,' the Dowager observed, watching as an embarrassed flush crept across her son's face. 'You get that from your father.'

Cora turned her face away before Violet could see the incredulous expression she was sure was plastered all over her face at her mother-in-law's lack of self-awareness.

August 1916

'Has Mary been anywhere or done anything to meet a potential suitor of late?' Rosamund asked in a low voice, watching her niece talking to Sybil across the room.

Cora sighed. 'No, she hasn't. Every time I mention it, she closes the subject down, telling me it's not the right time with the war going on and all the young men fighting.'

'Well, that's poppycock if ever I heard it,' Rosamund sniffed, dismissively. 'This wretched war could go on for years and she's not going to be young forever. She's already 25 and unmarried. The war excuses some things, but it doesn't absolve her of simply not trying.'

'She does have something of a point, though,' Cora said, reluctantly. 'The young men of her generation are dying at a terrible rate.'

'Not all of them, Cora, although admittedly, there are not that many in the salons of London at the moment. However, I do believe we could make a match for her with an older man.'

Cora sent a doubtful look at her sister-in-law. 'Really? She'd have none of Sir Anthony Strallan at the time because of him being that much older than her.'

'Yes, but unbeknownst to us, she was bedding the chauffeur at the time, who as I recall was a lot younger, more virile and certainly more attractive than Sir Anthony,' Rosamund pointed out, dryly. 'Presumably, she hasn't been pig-headed and foolish enough to have taken another servant to her bed, has she?'

'No, I don't believe she has,' Cora said, as sure as she could be of that.

'So, perhaps she'll be more receptive to the idea of an older man this time around. And we needn't pick one as old as Strallan. There are men between her age and his, you know.'

Cora sighed, not convinced of the truth of that. 'I wouldn't get your hopes up, Rosamund. Edith said Mary announced some months ago that she did not ever intend to marry.'

Rosamund swivelled her head towards Cora, her mouth falling open. 'Not marry? Oh, no, that's… that's simply preposterous. She can't not marry.'

'Well, we can't exactly force her up the aisle.'

'No, perhaps not, but we can seed the way to the aisle with suitable prospects until she comes to her senses and picks one,' Rosamund said, once more fixing Mary with a look. 'Not marry, indeed. I never heard the like.'

September 1916

'Oh, dear Lord, I hate the fact that he's going to war, but I love how he looks so unbelievably handsome in his uniform,' Sybil confided, looking hungrily at her husband as he stood talking to her father. 'Does that make me a bad person?'

Mary chuckled. 'No, darling, it makes you a woman who is attracted to her husband, that's all.'

'I confess, I didn't want to let him out of the bedroom this morning,' Sybil continued, completely missing the scandalised look on Edith's face, still gazing appreciatively as she was at Matthew. 'Honestly, I couldn't get enough of him.'

'Um, I don't… I don't think we need to know those kinds of details, Sybil,' Edith squeaked, her face bright red.

Mary smiled, remembering feeling exactly the same way about Tom when they met for secret lovemaking sessions at his cottage.

'Oh, er, yes, sorry, Edith,' Sybil said, looking not in the least bit contrite. She tipped her head towards Mary, whispering out of the side of her mouth. 'He's got a dress uniform, too. A red one. I think it might be the undoing of me when I see him in that.'

'Well, if you want my advice, I should divest him of that uniform as often as possible. It's a wife's job to send her husband off to war happy,' Mary replied with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

'Oh, how right you are. It's practically my civic duty,' Sybil agreed, wholeheartedly.

Edith stared at the two of them, shaking her head, shocked by the tenor of this conversation. 'I can't believe you two. You should not be talking like this! It's not at all appropriate!'

'You'll understand one day, Edith. Once you've slept with a man,' Sybil said, completely unrepentant. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go and be within touching distance of my husband.'

She sashayed off making a beeline for Matthew, leaving Edith staring after her open-mouthed and Mary smiling, wishing once again that her own sex life had not been curtailed as it had been.

12th September, 1916

Downton Abbey

Tom. Oh, Tom.

I dreamt about you last night. Oh, goodness, did I dream about you.

It was the kind of dream that left me, well, panting to be entirely frank. Panting, highly aroused, and in need of a good shiver like the ones you used to give me.

I blame give thanks to Sybil. She was quite forthright in her appreciation of Matthew in his uniform yesterday, making it quite clear to me and a rather shocked Edith that she intended to ravish him at every given opportunity before he leaves for the Front. I think that's what prompted the rather delicious dream I had of you - of us - last night.

Oh, Tom, I do miss making love with you. Last night brought up some wonderful memories. It made me remember how you made me feel, how glorious our lovemaking was.

There hasn't been anyone since you, my love. And I can't imagine anyone taking your place. Even if I do eventually have another lover, I can't imagine how they would begin to measure up to you and how you made my body sing.

I thought at first that lovemaking was always wonderful, but to hear some of my friends talk, it seems not everyone experiences the joy that you gave me in bed. For some, the act of love seems almost to be perfunctory. I find that very hard to believe because that was never my experience. Nor Sybil's judging by how she talks of it.

Perhaps she and I have just been very lucky in the men we have chosen as our lovers.

God, I miss you, my darling. I miss you so very much. Even after two years, you are the only man I ever think of, the only man I can imagine being intimate with.

I still love you. Never doubt that.

I hope tonight to enjoy the same kind of dream as last night's delight. I shall try to help that into being by recalling some of our encounters as I try to fall asleep. I thank heaven that I have so many memories of that sort of thing to keep me warm at night.

I am forever,

Your Mary

xxxxxxxx

'Robert says you are driving Jarvis to distraction,' Matthew said as he sat beside Mary, a cup of tea in his hand.

'Yes, well, Jarvis is driving me to distraction. You were entirely right about him being an old stick-in-the-mud wedded to the old ways. He's the biggest old fuddy-duddy going,' Mary said, rolling her eyes in disgust at the mention of her current nemesis.

Matthew chuckled. 'I knew I was right to rope you into managing the estate. You're holding them all to account marvellously.'

'Is that what Papa said?' Mary asked suspiciously, almost certain that he had not said any such thing.

'No, he didn't. He said you were sticking your nose into every aspect of the estate and making a thorough nuisance of yourself.'

'Did he indeed?' Mary muttered darkly, casting a fierce look at her father.

'He asked me if I could stand you down and leave it all to him.'

Mary snapped her eyes back to Matthew. 'And what did you say?'

'I said that you were doing exactly what I wanted you to do, so no, I would not be standing you down.'

'Good,' Mary said with satisfaction, glad that Matthew was backing her and not considering taking the job she unexpectedly loved away from her.

'You know, he might be grumpy about you taking charge of things, but he's terribly proud of you, too,' Matthew said, looking sideways at his sister-in-law.

'Is he?' Mary asked, surprised by that. 'You could have fooled me if he said all that to you.'

Matthew shrugged. 'You're rocking the boat, Mary. You know Robert isn't the kind of person who likes that. He prefers things to rumble on as they always have. But even he can see that some of the things you're suggesting and doing make eminent sense.'

'Hmm, well, to be fair, he has backed me a few times when I've gone into battle with Jarvis,' Mary said, sending a more benevolent look her father's way.

'Give him time. He's adjusting to a new era; it's hard for him.'

'A new era?' Mary said, quizzically.

Matthew nodded. 'We're the future of the estate, Mary. You and me and Sybil and Jamie. He knows that. It's just a bit of a wrench for him to see it playing out in real life in front of him through you taking on the estate management.'

Mary smiled, touched to be included in Matthew's vision of the future of Downton. 'Then you'd better make sure you come back safe and sound, then, hadn't you?'

'I will do my very best,' Matthew said, his smile dimming a little. He hesitated before speaking again. 'You will look after them for me, won't you? Sybil and Jamie.'

'Of course, I will. I will keep them company until you return,' Mary said softly, pressing her hand to his sleeve. 'Because you will return, Matthew, I know you will.'

He nodded, laying his hand over hers, hoping to God she was right.

23rd September, 1916

Downton Abbey

My darling Tom,

I have good news. Anna is to be married! Bates has finally popped the question. She can barely wipe the smile off her face. She was singing as she drew my bath today!

I am so happy for her, and I know you would be, too. She has been a good friend to both of us over the years.

I want to give her something for her marriage, but I'm not sure what. I wish you were here to help me. You were always so thoughtful with your gifts. I still treasure the little cat and the heart that you carved for me. The heart goes with me always, forever in my pocket or my bag. I consider it my talisman. And it means I always carry a little piece of you with me. That alone makes me smile. Whenever I feel sad or lonely, I reach for your heart and it comforts me.

I shall have to ponder what to give to Anna. Perhaps something pretty for her wedding outfit. A necklace maybe.

In other news, Matthew has gone to war and Sybil is doing her best to bear it. She has Jamie to distract her, but he looks so much like Matthew with his blond hair and blue eyes, that I fear he is more of a reminder than a distraction. However, of late, she has begun helping out at the hospital in the village.

Papa was unsure that she should. He seemed to think it would interfere with her duties as a mother, but honestly, Nanny takes care of most of Jamie's needs. Sybil feeds him herself – which Granny is aghast at – so she is never gone for more than a few hours, but working at the hospital suits her. I think it gives her the same feeling of usefulness that being an estate agent gives me. Who knew that what we aristocratic young women needed most was a sense of purpose? (That was sarcasm by the way in case you were unsure.)

The only fly in the ointment at the moment is that Mama is forcing me to go to London for a few days. I've told her I can ill afford to spare the time, but she is insistent, and Papa has agreed with her and practically ordered me to go. That only makes me suspicious that he and Jarvis are concocting some dreadful business deal and they are trying to get me out of the way, so they can attempt to drive the estate into the mire without my oversight blocking them from doing so. Needless to say, I will not allow that. I have reluctantly agreed to go for two nights, but then I shall be back and I shall be scrutinising the books and all the paperwork.

I think you would be proud of me for the way I have taken to managing the estate. I hope you would, anyway. I like to think that if our paths ever do cross again, you would be impressed with what I have achieved. It is a pipe dream, I know, but it is a nice dream.

I should go now. Anna has arrived and she no longer looks happy. I need to investigate what's happened.

I remain, as ever,

Your Mary

xxxxxxxxx

PS Oh, my goodness! Tom! You won't believe this, but Bates has up and vanished! He's handed in his notice and disappeared into the great blue yonder without a word to anyone! Not even Anna, whom he had agreed to marry!

Papa knows nothing about where he's gone or why he's gone, and poor Anna is heartbroken. All she knows is that Bates' former wife came to Downton, and now he is gone. I can't believe that he would have returned to his wife. From what Anna said, she is not a very nice person, so I very much doubt that Bates would be tempted to throw over an angel like Anna for a shrew of a woman he has already divorced once.

Anyway, I intend to take Anna to London with me. I think I might either take her for lunch somewhere nice or give her some time off while we are there to try and cheer her up. I doubt it will work – nothing could cheer me after you left – but I feel I must do something.

I will keep you posted, my love.

Mx

London, September 1916

'Ah, Mary, I'm so glad you've finally decided to come out of hibernation. It's about time you got back onto the social scene.'

'I'm not in hibernation, Aunt Rosamund. I have a job now. I work,' Mary said coolly, trying not to show her irritation.

'Well, it's hardly a job, is it, dear? Not a proper one. As I understand it, you've just looking at a few papers for Matthew,' Rosamund replied, having heard all about Mary's "job" from her brother.

Mary bit back her anger. 'It's rather more than that.'

'Well, as I say, it's nice to see you doing what a young woman your age should be doing and mingling in society.'

'You should know that I am here under duress because Mama and Papa forced me to come,' Mary said, bluntly. 'If it had been up to me, I would still be at Downton working.'

Rosamund paused for a moment, taken aback by Mary's frankness. 'Ah, well, while you are here, there are some people I'd like you to meet.'

'What people?' Mary asked, instantly suspicious. 'Please don't tell me you've lined up a row of potential suitors for me. Because if you have, you're wasting your time, their time and my time. You should know that I do not intend to marry.'

'Well, I wouldn't call it a row, exactly,' Rosamund hedged, slightly worried now that Mary would simply leave the soirée given the pig-headed mood she appeared to be in. 'And don't be too hasty about declaring that you do not intend to marry. You never know when you might meet the right man.'

'I've already met the right man and you chased him away,' Mary said baldly, unable and unwilling to either forgive or forget Rosamund's role in destroying her relationship with Tom.

'Nonsense. That chauffeur was not the right man for you,' Rosamund snapped, somewhat rattled that Mary was still apparently carrying a torch for that young Irishman.

'Yes, he was. Whether you like it or not, he was the love of my life and always will be,' Mary said, her tone brooking no argument. 'So, whoever you've brought here to throw at me is on a hide into nothing.'

'Don't be ridiculous. You can't possibly know that,' Rosamund riposted.

'I can and I do,' Mary said, not giving an inch.

'Lady Rosamund,' a smooth voice came from over Rosamund's right shoulder. 'How kind of you to invite me this evening. It is a pleasure to see you again.'

'Ah, Sir Richard, you are very welcome,' Rosamund said, turning towards the tall Scotsman who had spoken and switching seamlessly from irritated aunt into unflappable hostess mode. 'I'm glad you could make it.'

'And who is this lovely young lady?' he asked, gazing at Mary, an appreciative glint in his eye as he let his eyes sweep blatantly up and down her body.

'May I introduce my niece, Lady Mary Crawley, my brother's eldest daughter,' Rosamund said, doing precisely what she'd orchestrated this evening to do. 'Mary, this is Sir Richard Carlisle.'

Mary sent a warning look to her aunt and then turned to Sir Richard, extending her hand to him, her manners and years of training in social etiquette kicking in.

'Sir Richard. It's nice to meet you,' she said, politely.

Carlisle raised her hand to his lips, keeping contact with the back of her hand rather too long for Mary's liking. She pushed down the urge to snatch her hand away and rub it on the skirt of her dress.

'And it's a delight to meet you, Lady Mary. I had heard that Lady Rosamund's niece was beautiful, but nothing could prepare me for the reality.'

The smile Mary gave him didn't quite reach her eyes. 'Oh, you flatter me, Sir Richard.'

'No, I don't think I do. You are truly a beauty. Perhaps you might honour me with your company for a while this evening.'

'Of course, she will, won't you, Mary?' Rosamund said pointedly, widening her eyes slightly at Mary, ignoring the furious look her niece shot her. 'Now, I must see to my other guests, so I will leave you in Mary's capable hands, Sir Richard.'

Carlisle inclined his head and then fixed his attention on Mary. 'I'm sure she will attend to me perfectly.'

Mary gave a weak smile as Rosamund edged away, looking pleased with herself. Tonight was going to be a chore and a half if she was going to be stuck with this man all night, and she had a strong suspicion that was exactly what was going to happen. She was quite sure that if her aunt had deliberately invited Carlisle as a potential suitor for her, she would be seated next to him at dinner.

Mary girded her loins. The sooner she started getting through the hours ahead, the sooner it would be over and she'd never have to see him again.

'So, tell me, Sir Richard, what is it you do?' she said, fixing a polite expression of interest on her face, hoping there would be enough champagne on hand to see her through this wretched evening.