Author's note: I've appropriated some dialogue from the show in this chapter. I'm sure you'll recognise it when you see it.

August 1914

This last week without Tom had been horrible.

Time and time again, Mary kept returning in her mind to that awful moment in the car when she hadn't agreed to leave Downton with him if the time came. Every morning, she'd wondered with a sick feeling if Anna was going to arrive to tell her Tom had handed in his notice.

That moment hadn't arrived, so she lived in hope that he might have changed his mind about possibly leaving to become a journalist.

In a concerted effort to persuade her mother that there was nothing to worry about as far as her relationship with the family chauffeur went, she'd spent every minute she could by Cora's side. She theorised that if she couldn't be accused of sloping off to his cottage, then her mother would surely believe her tale that things between her and Tom were strictly platonic.

But she'd missed him terribly, so when Wednesday rolled around again, she was desperate to see him and wholly determined to keep their appointment at his cottage.

So, she spent the morning with Cora as she had every day for the last week but begged off for an afternoon walk for the first time since Edith had revealed her secret. And to her delight, her mother did not bat an eyelid when she gave her permission to go walking, not even bothering to forbid her to visit Tom's cottage.

'Are you quite well, Cora?' Rosamund asked as she sipped tea with her sister-in-law on Wednesday afternoon.

'I'm a little tired, but otherwise well,' Cora responded with a slight frown. 'Why? Do I look ill?'

'No, not at all. It's just that Mary has been very attentive to you this last week,' Rosamund observed, setting her teacup down. 'She's been more attached to you than your own shadow. I wondered if there was any particular reason for it.'

Cora sighed. 'I think she's trying to prove to me that she can be trusted.'

'Trusted? With what?' Rosamund queried, puzzled by that statement.

'Not with what. With whom,' Cora replied, only deepening the mystery for Rosamund.

'With whom? Goodness, that sounds like there is a story there you have neglected to tell me,' Rosamund said, raising an inquisitive eyebrow, wondering if Cora had perhaps found out about Mary's problematical fancy for her mysterious working-class man.

'Something did happen, yes, but I believe you were with Mama at the time. And I confess that I have tried to keep the circle of people knowing about it as tight as a drum. Although that has been a job and a half with Edith in the know.'

'Edith knows but not me? Do you not trust me?' Rosamund asked, hurt by that inference, especially after she and Cora had worked together at the ball to spread the news of Allingham's misbehaviour and plant doubt over the rumours about Mary.

'Of course, I do. It's simply been a very difficult time of late, what with the… the baby – ' Cora paused for a moment, steeling herself against the pain of mentioning her lost son ' – Edith and her broken marital hopes, and then this business with Mary. Sometimes, I simply don't want to think or talk about these things.'

'And what is this business with Mary? If you trust me as you say you do, I insist you tell me at once,' Rosamund said, intrigued to know more.

'I do trust you, Rosamund, you know I do, but you must promise faithfully to keep this to yourself. Neither Robert nor Mama knows anything about it, and I would like for it to stay that way,' Cora said, setting out her parameters for sharing the tale.

'My lips are sealed, I promise.'

'Very well, then I will tell you. Around two weeks ago, Edith saw Mary walking through the woods, and she followed her. I don't know why she took it into her head to follow her, but she did.'

'And where was she going?'

'Well, therein lies the rub. It turns out she was going to Branson's cottage,' Cora revealed, still feeling shocked by that fact.

Rosamund gave her a sharp look, alarm bells ringing in her head. 'Branson? The chauffeur?'

'Yes. And it gets even more shocking than that.'

'Why? What's happened? Rosamund asked apprehensively, her suspicions about the identity of Mary's mysterious young man beginning to crystallise.

'She's been going to his cottage for over a year, would you believe? More like a year and a half, actually. And she's been sleeping there,' Cora confided, residual shock shuddering through her.

'Sleeping there? As in she is sleeping with Branson?' Rosamund snapped, horrified that things might have got that far with Mary and the chauffeur.

'No, of course, not with Branson,' Cora said, stunned that Rosamund had immediately leapt to such a conclusion. 'She's been going there literally to sleep. She said that she can't sleep at night in her own room since the incident with Pamuk. She stays awake most nights, and several times a week, she goes to Branson's cottage to sleep.'

Rosamund pressed her lips together, listening to this astonishing tale with an increasing sense of foreboding. 'Are you saying that Branson is not there when she is sleeping in his cottage?'

Cora nodded. 'That's what Mary says. She says he has been there on a couple of occasions, but mostly he is working while she is there. Indeed, the day Edith discovered her secret, Branson was in York with Robert.'

Rosamund sat up straight, fixing her sister-in-law with a gimlet-eyed stare. 'Has Mary promised you that there is nothing going on between her and Branson?'

'Yes, she swore to me that they are just friends.'

'And do you believe her?'

Cora nodded, looking surprised at the ferocity with which her sister-in-law was interrogating her. 'I do. I mean, there has been the odd occasion when I have wondered about whether there was an inappropriate closeness between her and Branson, but that was when I thought she'd been a willing partner in the Pamuk affair. I was terrified for a while that she might have liked the encounter enough to seek another lover. But now I know that is not true, I don't believe she would do that.'

Rosamund narrowed her eyes. 'What made you suspicious about a closeness between Mary and Branson?'

'Oh, it was nothing really. I remember watching them once as he handed her out of the car. Her hand remained in his for an inappropriately long time and they were talking for longer than I would have expected. I did reprimand her about it, but she scorned the idea most robustly. Like I say, I was probably being overly sensitive.'

'Anything else? That can't have been the only thing, surely?'

'Well, there was perhaps a sense of it at the servants' ball, especially after I heard O'Brien refer to Branson as Mary's boyfriend while they were dancing.'

Rosamund frowned. 'Is there gossip amongst the servants about Mary and Branson?'

Cora shook her head. 'No, I don't believe so. O'Brien was just being O'Brien. Sometimes, she can be a bit of a devil. She'd heard something about Mary calling Branson by his Christian name and she'd mentioned it to me sometime before that.'

'She calls the chauffeur by his Christian name?' Rosamund asked, almost positive now that Branson was the young man Mary had been talking about during their conversation by the lake.

'That's what O'Brien said. She said something about Thomas overhearing Mary calling Branson Tom if I remember correctly.'

'When was this?'

Cora cocked her head, thinking back. 'Sometime in September last year, I think. It was just before Mary and I came to stay with you. That was one of the things that prompted me to bring her to London, actually. I didn't believe she was seriously flirting with a servant, but it seemed wise to remove her from any kind of temptation.'

Rosamund sat back in her chair, thinking about everything she'd just learned. 'Oh, Cora, I hate to say this, but I think Mary might have misled you about the nature of her relationship with Branson,' she said, looking at her sister-in-law in concern.

'What? Why? What makes you say that?' Cora asked, sitting up straight, uneasiness prickling at her.

'Mary and I went for a walk around the estate at the weekend. She told me that some time ago when you were championing Strallan as a match for her, you'd told her if she was unhappy in her marriage, she could consider taking a lover.'

Cora flushed at Rosamund broaching such a sensitive subject so openly. 'Yes, I did. I thought… well, I thought…'

'I'm not judging you for your advice, Cora,' Rosamund said, trying to circumvent her sister-in-law's awkward explanation. 'I'm simply relaying the conversation I had with Mary. She said you'd intimated she should not look outside our own class for a lover, and she asked me why you might have given her that advice. I told her about Arthur and some of the trouble I'd had there. And then I asked her why she wanted to know. I asked her outright if she was considering taking a lover.'

Cora stared at her sister-in-law, her sense of uneasiness growing stronger. 'And what did she say?'

'She said no, but when I pressed her further, she admitted to there being a young man of working-class origins whom she found attractive.'

'Did she name Branson?' Cora whispered, shocked by this revelation.

'No, she would not name him or identify him in any way. And when I asked, she said he did not work for Downton. But where would she meet a working-class man if he did not work for the estate?' Rosamund questioned.

Cora sat in stunned silence, turning this new information over in her mind.

'I had my suspicions about it being Branson, although I could not, if pushed, put my finger on why. But there's no denying he is a good-looking, young man, and he is of an age with Mary,' Rosamund continued. She met her sister-in-law's shocked gaze as she finished making her point. 'And now you're telling me that she has been visiting his cottage for a year and a half. It all adds up to something I think we'd all rather it didn't.'

'You think… you think Mary is… is…' Cora stammered, unable to say the words.

'I think, at the very least, there is a connection between Mary and Branson that is highly inadvisable. He is most certainly the man she spoke of to me. I would put a wager on it.'

'Oh, my God,' Cora muttered, closing her eyes.

'I believe it would be wise for you to dismiss him from your service immediately,' Rosamund said, firmly.

'Yes, yes, I think you're right.' Cora opened her eyes, staring directly at Rosamund, something occurring to her. 'Oh, my goodness, she fought for him to keep his job. Twice.'

'When?'

'The first time was when Sybil was involved in that dreadful ruckus at the Ripon count. Branson took her there. Robert wanted to dismiss him, and Mary fought for him,' Cora said, thinking back to that distressing night. 'She said it wouldn't be fair because none of what happened was his fault. Sybil fought for him too, but Mary… By all accounts, Mary went the extra mile. She was ferocious in her defence of him. She was the one who forced Matthew to tell Robert what actually happened at the count.'

Rosamund pursed her lips. 'And the second time?'

'When Edith discovered her visits to his cottage, and I confronted her about them. She was adamant that Branson had never had any real choice in the matter. She insisted that he could not have refused her request for fear of losing his position.'

The two women locked eyes, both of them thinking about why Mary would have fought so hard to keep the chauffeur in his role.

'Where is Mary now?' Rosamund asked, deciding they needed to confront her niece with all of this. Until they'd spoken to her, it was all simply conjecture and speculation on their part.

'She went for a walk,' Cora said, with some trepidation, wondering now exactly where Mary may have gone.

Rosamund's thoughts evidently went down the same route. 'And where is Branson?

'I don't know.'

'He's not out with Robert?'

'Robert is closeted in the library with Jarvis going over estate business this afternoon.'

'Right, then we must act,' Rosamund said, rising to her feet.

'Where are you going?' Cora asked in surprise.

'I'm summoning Carson,' Rosamund said, tugging on the bell pull by the fireplace.

'Why?'

'Because he will know where Branson is this afternoon.'

'You don't think…'

'I don't know, Cora. But we're going to find out,' Rosamund said, grimly.

Mary had been vigilant on her journey to Tom's cottage. She'd deliberately set off on her walk in the opposite direction to the way she needed to go. Edith was nowhere to be seen, but she didn't want to risk it. And so she'd walked a long, circuitous route, looping around in the woods to bring her around to the area of the cottage.

Now, as she approached it, she couldn't remember being quite so nervous before about seeing Tom. She'd missed him fiercely this week. Even those small glimpses of him she'd managed to catch throughout the week had been more torturous than comforting. And with the weight of their last meeting hanging over her, she'd wanted nothing more than to go to him all week and sort out their differences. Staying away from him had been so very hard.

At the front door of his cottage, she paused, her hand reaching for the door handle. Suddenly, it didn't seem right to just enter as she usually would. Instead, she raised her hand and knocked.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway and then the door opened, and he was standing there in front of her, as handsome as ever. He stared at her and then reached for her, pulling her inside.

Mary went with him, letting him tug her into the hallway, and then suddenly, he was pressing her against the closed door, his arms around her, his lips on hers.

Gasping, she kissed him back, her desperation matching his, her hands clutching his arms, her fingers curling into his biceps.

'Oh, my God, I have missed you so much, mo chuisle,' he breathed, his lips barely leaving hers.

'I've missed you, too,' she whispered back, lifting one hand to cup his face. 'So very much.'

'It's a special kind of torture having you so close but so out of reach,' Tom murmured between planting kisses on her face, one warm hand on her torso, his thumb brushing the underside of her breast as his fingers curled around her side.

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' Mary blurted out, suddenly desperate to let him know how much she'd been regretting the way things had happened between them in the car that last time they were together.

'For what?' he asked, kissing her jaw.

'For the last time I saw you. For hurting you,' she whispered, tipping her head back, her senses beginning to swim as he stirred up her desire for him.

He stopped for a second and then shook his head before kissing her again, stopping her words.

'Tom, Tom, I'm sor-' Mary gasped as the kiss broke.

'No, I don't want to talk about that,' he interrupted her, shaking his head again. 'I don't want to talk at all. I want to take you to bed and make love to you. Are you going to let me?'

'Yes. Oh, God, yes,' Mary breathed, melting into his arms as he kissed that spot on her neck that was always her undoing.

'Ah, Carson. Do you know if the motor is available this afternoon?' Rosamund asked when the butler arrived in the drawing room.

'No, milady, I regret to say it is not. Today is Mr Branson's half day,' Carson said, apologetically.

Rosamund and Cora exchanged a significant look. Carson looked between them, brows furrowing, getting the feeling that he was missing something important.

'Do you need to go somewhere? I could arrange for Lynch to hitch up one of the carriages if it's not too far.'

'No, that's quite all right. Do you happen to know what Branson is doing today?'

Carson's eyebrows rose at that question. 'No, I'm afraid I don't. I don't enquire about how the staff spend their half days.'

'No, of course, you don't,' Rosamund said absently, already turning towards her sister-in-law.

'Is there a reason you want to know, milady?' Carson asked, puzzled by the unexpected interest in Branson's whereabouts and intentions on his half-day.

'No, no. Thank you, Carson,' Rosamund said, dismissing the butler.

'Carson,' Cora called as the butler turned to leave.

He stopped and turned back to her. 'Your ladyship?'

'Can you find Lady Edith and ask her to join us here in the drawing room, please?'

'Of course,' the butler nodded and withdrew from the room.

'Why do you want Edith?' Rosamund asked.

'Because she knows where Branson's cottage is,' Cora replied, a determined look on her face. 'We will need her to guide us there because I am certainly not asking either Carson or Robert where to find it. This is something we need to deal with ourselves.'

Mary followed Tom up the stairs, holding his hand, longing to be in bed with him, both of them naked and thinking of nothing except how wonderful it felt to be together like this once more.

Perhaps if they loved each other hard enough, if they reminded themselves how much they wanted each other and how good they were together physically, nothing else would matter. Perhaps being in bed with her would remind him that nothing was more important than them being together, that nothing else could make him feel as good as being with her.

When he pulled her into the bedroom and turned to face her, the look on his face made Mary believe maybe that could be true.

She reached up, pulling the pins from her hat, never taking her eyes from him.

'You take my breath away,' he said softly, gazing at her. 'You are so beautiful. Every time I see you, I can't believe you are mine.'

Mary jabbed the pins in her hat, tossed it to one side and stepped up close to him, her fingers going to the buttons of his waistcoat. 'I am yours. I'm all yours.'

He gazed at her and then kissed her again, his hands cupping her face as she began to undress him.

Even as Edith led her mama and her aunt through the woods of the Downton estate, she could hardly believe it. When her mother had sent for her, the last thing she had expected was for them to ask her to lead them to Branson's cottage because they thought Mary would be there. With Branson.

The thought of it bounced around her mind. Surely Mary wouldn't be stupid enough to return to the chauffeur's cottage after everything that had happened. And if she had, surely she wouldn't actually be doing anything incriminating. Would she?

But what if she was? Even the favoured child wouldn't be able to talk herself out of trouble if they caught her red-handed doing something with Branson. What that something might be, Edith couldn't even begin to imagine. Perhaps kissing him or holding hands with him. It wouldn't be anything more than that, would it? It couldn't be. Even Mary wouldn't be stupid and arrogant enough to risk her reputation by doing anything more with the chauffeur. Surely, she wouldn't lower herself that much.

And yet the grim faces of her mother and her aunt striding along beside her told a different story. Edith wasn't sure quite what they expected to find Mary doing, but it clearly wasn't anything good.

She bit back a smile at the delicious thought of Mary finally toppling from grace. Maybe at long last the rest of the world was going to see quite what a nasty, egotistical harpy she really was.

She could not love this man any more, Mary thought as she reclined in Tom's bed, her fingers wound into his hair as he lay between her legs, giving her more pleasure than she'd ever dreamed possible before she began this affair with him.

Nobody made her feel as he did. Nobody knew her as well as he did. Nobody had ever accepted her with all her quirks and foibles as he did. Nobody had ever loved her so completely and unconditionally as he did. Nobody would ever love her as fully as he did.

He knew all her secrets and he loved her anyway, and that was simply intoxicating.

She cried out as he did something that sent the most marvellous shiver cascading through her body.

Tom looked up at her, a happy smile on his face, and then began kissing his way up her body.

No, Mary thought, gasping with pleasure, nobody would ever make her happier than Tom did. Not ever.

'There it is,' Edith said, pointing at the cottage in front of them as they came out of the trees.

Rosamund and Cora exchanged a look and walked towards it, Edith tagging along behind them.

'Did you say you saw her hat on the kitchen table before?' Cora asked Edith in a low voice as they approached the window.

'Yes,' Edith whispered back as the three of them peered in the window. 'But it's not there now.'

Cora shot another look at Rosamund. 'Maybe we're wrong. Maybe she's not here.'

'Well, let's find out for sure, shall we?' Rosamund said, stepping around her sister-in-law and making for the door.

Cora clutched at Rosamund's sleeve as she reached for the door handle. 'Aren't you going to knock?' she whispered.

Rosamund looked at her like she was mad. 'And warn them that someone is here? No.'

'But what if Branson's in there alone or with someone else?' Cora said, scandalised at the thought of bursting into someone's home unannounced.

'Then we apologise and leave. But what if he's not? What if Mary's in there with him?' Rosamund hissed. She turned her head, pinning both Cora and Edith with a look. 'I'm going to open that door and we're going to go in there and be as quiet as mice. Do you understand? If they're in there and we're going to catch them doing whatever it is they may be doing, we can't give them any warning.'

Edith nodded, eager to be in there and find out if her sister was up to no good with the chauffeur in his cottage. Cora hesitated and then nodded in agreement.

Rosamund faced the door and pressed down on the handle, feeling it give under her hand.

Upstairs, Mary groaned as Tom entered her, stroking her hand down his back, revelling in the soft feel of his skin under her fingertips.

'Oh, God,' he murmured as he slid home. 'Oh, tá grá agam duit, mo chuisle. I love you so much.'

'I love you, too,' Mary whispered, rocking her hips up to meet him, one hand on his face, lost in everything she was feeling.

Rosamund put her finger over her lips as she, Cora and Edith stepped quietly into the small hallway. One quick glance through the open door of the kitchen showed her it was empty, and then all three of them looked up as the sound of creaking springs and soft moans came from upstairs.

Glancing at her companions, Rosamund saw the horrified look on Cora's face and the naked astonishment on Edith's. She put her finger over her lips again and then crossed to the staircase, creeping up it, the other two following her, hoping all the way that Branson was up there servicing a maid and not her niece. As embarrassing as the situation would be, it would be nothing compared to finding Mary in bed with the chauffeur.

There was only one room at the top of the stairs, the door to it slightly ajar, the noises of two people enjoying sexual congress clearly coming from inside it. Rosamund glanced behind her at Cora, who squared her shoulders and nodded, and then they moved as one towards the door, bursting through it.

The sight that met them was exactly what Rosamund had feared the most.

'Oh, no! No!' Cora cried as she saw her daughter underneath the chauffeur in the bed, both of them quite obviously naked.

Mary and Tom both looked up, shocked by the sudden appearance of three people in the bedroom.

Panic coursed through Mary.

'Get out!' she shouted, shoving at Tom with one hand and scrambling for the sheet with the other, trying to cover her breasts. 'Get out!'

'We will not,' Rosamund retorted. 'Get up and get dressed this minute.'

'Oh, my God! Mary! What have you done?' Cora wailed, clutching hold of her sister-in-law's arm.

Edith stood stock still, staring wide-eyed at the sight of her sister in bed with Branson, at his bare chest as he rolled onto his back under the sheets covering them, a look of horror on his face.

'Get out!' Mary shouted again, her face bright red.

'We will wait for you downstairs,' Rosamund said coldly, taking charge of the situation. 'You will not continue with what you are doing. Get dressed immediately and come down.'

She waited until Mary nodded her head, and then she turned, ushering Cora towards the door. When Edith didn't move, her eyes still fixed on the bed and its two occupants, Rosamund seized hold of her arm, dragging her out of the room.

'Oh, my God,' Mary whispered, dropping the sheet and covering her face with both of her hands. 'Oh, my God, no. No, no, no, no, no! This can't be happening.'

'It is happening,' Tom snapped, rolling to sit upright, pulling the shield off his wilting erection, and scrambling for his underwear. By the time he turned around, Mary was still lying there, her face in her hands, having not moved at all.

Tom climbed onto the bed, taking hold of her shoulders. 'Look at me, Mary. This is it. This is what we feared. This is the end. I'm gone for sure now.'

She stared up at him, shaking her head, even though she knew it was true. There was no possibility her parents would let him stay now. 'No. No. No, Tom.'

'Yes. There's no way I'm going to be able to stay now. I'll be sacked, you know I will. There's no doubt about that.'

'I don't want you to go,' Mary whispered, the thought of it piercing her to her core.

'Come with me,' he said, urgently. 'Come with me.'

She stared up at him, her mind blank.

'I know you're scared, Mary. I know it will be hard at first but, please, come with me. Please!' Tom begged.

'But what will you do? Where will you go?'

He shrugged. 'I don't know. London, maybe. Or Manchester. Maybe back home to Dublin.'

Mary shook her head. 'No, this can't be happening.'

'But it is happening! And you need to make a decision!' Tom bit out, getting increasingly frustrated. 'Get dressed. We have to go and face the music.'

He let her go and jumped off the bed, reaching for his clothes. Mary watched him for a few seconds, despairingly wondering if this was going to be the last time she saw him dressing.

'Mary! Get dressed!' Tom hissed when he looked up and saw her still not moving.

In a daze, Mary got out of bed, beginning to throw on her clothes, all fingers and thumbs. Tom finished dressing before she did and came over to her, helping her do up the buttons on the back of her skirt. When he'd done that, he circled around in front of her, reaching out to touch her face.

'I love you,' he said, his voice full of emotion.

Mary looked up at him as she fastened the last button on her blouse, seeing his feelings all over his face.

'I love you, Mary. Whatever happens, I want you to know that. I love you. I will always love you.'

'I love you, too,' she whispered, a sob catching in her throat. 'So much.'

'They'll tell you this is wrong, that it shouldn't be, that it should never have happened,' he whispered, stroking his thumb over her cheek. 'But they're wrong. This – me and you – this has been right from the very beginning. It's been everything. How we feel about each other, that can never be wrong, can it?'

She shook her head, fighting back tears.

'Don't ever forget that. No matter what they tell you,' he said, softly, cradling her face in his hands. 'Promise me that.'

'I promise.'

He nodded and closed the gap between them, kissing her deeply. Mary responded, her fingers clutching onto his waistcoat.

'We'd better go and face them,' he said, letting go of her, a sense of doom settling over him.

Mary nodded, sniffing back her tears. She squared her shoulders and drew herself up tall, transforming herself into the image of an earl's daughter. 'All right. Let's go.'

Mary and Tom came down the stairs together, walking into the kitchen to stand side by side just inside the doorway, to be confronted by a tableau of Crawley women.

Cora sat at the kitchen table, her shaking legs unable to hold her up. Edith stood by the sink, still reeling from what she'd seen upstairs. Rosamund was pacing the kitchen floor, fuelled by anger and outrage. She halted and glared at them, skewering first Tom and then Mary.

'This is unacceptable. Completely unacceptable,' she snapped, her gaze locking onto Mary. 'What were you thinking?'

Tom grasped Mary's hand, his head held high. 'Have you thought that this is none of your business?' he said, firmly.

Four pairs of eyes swivelled to him in astonishment. Rosamund's lips thinned into a hard, angry slash.

'I am not speaking to you,' she barked, furious at the cheek of this servant. 'I am speaking to my niece.'

Mary turned her head to look defiantly at her aunt. 'Tom's right, though. This is none of your business. It's nobody's business but ours.'

Rosamund gawped at her, hardly believing what she was hearing. 'Are you insane? Have you actually lost your mind? You are sleeping with the chauffeur!'

'Because I love him!' Mary cried, her hand tight in Tom's, clinging on for dear life. 'I love him!'

'Love him?' Rosamund scoffed. 'You're a child! You don't know the meaning of the word.'

'How dare you!' Mary shouted, incensed by her aunt's patronising tone. 'You don't know what Tom and I have been through together! You don't know what's happened between us! You don't know how he saved me!'

'Saved you? Saved you from what?' Cora said sharply, speaking for the first time.

Mary switched her gaze from her aunt to her mother, her jaw set, determined to fight for Tom even if it was ultimately hopeless.

'After Pamuk attacked me, Tom saved me from going mad with it all. He was the only one who believed me, the only one who helped me understand what had happened to me. And you have him to thank that you don't have an illegitimate grandchild,' she said, laying it all out, sparing Cora none of the guilt she still felt about not realising what had really happened with Pamuk.

Rosamund snorted. 'From what I saw upstairs, he was doing his best to get you with child!'

'Rosamund! Let her speak!' Cora snapped, shooting a look at her sister-in-law. When Rosamund fell silent, rolling her eyes, Cora turned back to her eldest daughter. 'What do you mean, Mary?'

Mary glanced at Tom and felt him squeeze her hand before she looked back at her mother. 'Pamuk left his seed in me. I was terrified I was going to have his child. Tom gave me a tea to get rid of a baby before it could begin to grow.'

Cora narrowed her eyes, switching her gaze to Tom. 'A tea? What kind of tea?'

'It's made of herbs and plants,' he said, steadily. 'I gathered the ingredients, made the tea and stayed with Mary while she drank it.'

'And how did you know how to make this… tea?' Cora asked, wondering who this man was who had inveigled his way so deeply into her daughter's life. Was he a saviour as Mary apparently thought, or was he a predator of a different ilk, intent on doing her harm?

'My mother is a midwife. It's one she makes for women who have been raped like Mary was,' Tom replied calmly, returning her gaze, seeing the countess flinch at his blunt reference to Mary's ordeal.

'A midwife who teaches her son how to procure abortions?' Rosamund sneered. 'How very efficient of her.'

Tom shot her an angry look, tensing up at the slight to his mother. 'It's not an abortion. It's preventative. And do not speak of my mother like that.'

'I drank the tea and it worked,' Mary cut in, defiantly. 'It was horrible, but it got rid of any seed that awful man planted in me.'

'So, what, you rewarded Branson by taking him to your bed, did you?' Rosamund asked, snidely.

'No! I did not!' Mary cried at the same time as Tom protested, 'No, she did not!'

'How long?' Cora asked.

Mary glanced at her, pressing her lips together.

'How long have you been…' Cora wafted her hand, unwilling to say the words '… being intimate with him?'

Mary bit her lip, glancing at Tom. 'Since Christmas.'

'Christmas?' Cora echoed faintly, wondering how she had not spotted any signs of this apparently long-term liaison between Mary and Branson. They'd already been sleeping together by the time of the Servants' Ball, she realised, when she'd been sitting there watching them dancing together. 'So, you lied to me when I asked you last week if there was anything between you.'

'Yes, Mama, I did,' Mary said, still with a note of defiance in her voice. 'Because you would not have approved. You would have sent him away and I couldn't have that.'

'Why? Why would you do this? After all the rumours that silly girl set off about you, why would you risk making things worse?' Rosamund demanded, waving a hand vaguely in Edith's direction.

Over by the sink, Edith started, looking at her aunt, stung by how she'd referred to her. After all, this was a mess of Mary's making, not hers.

'Because I fell in love with him,' Mary said, fiercely. 'And because I didn't want that horrible, dead Turk to be my first lover. I wanted it to be someone I loved and who loved me back.'

'Oh, Mary, that horrible, dead Turk will always be your first, whether you like it or not,' Rosamund snapped, impatiently. 'Branson here will only ever be the runner-up in that particular race.'

Mary glared at her. 'Technically, yes, but not in my head and not in my heart,' she retorted. 'Pamuk was the man who raped me. Tom is my first love and always will be.'

Tom squeezed her hand again, looking tenderly across at her.

'Your first love,' Rosamund said derisively, shaking her head in exasperation. 'He's the chauffeur, Mary! You're not in love with him. It's an infatuation at best.'

'No, it's not!' Mary cried. 'We love each other!'

'Sex isn't love!' Rosamund riposted. 'If you were older and wiser, you'd understand that!'

'Maybe not for you, but I would never have gone to bed with him if I didn't love him!' Mary countered, furious at her aunt's dismissal of her feelings for Tom.

'Well, it really doesn't matter anymore because he'll be long gone by morning,' Rosamund said, firmly.

'No! No!' Mary shouted, shaking her head wildly. She looked across at her mother. 'Mama! Please! Don't send him away!'

Cora looked up at her, astounded that Mary thought there was any way Branson could stay after this. 'I'm sorry, Mary, but he can't stay. Not now.'

'Please! Please!' Mary begged, holding tight to Tom.

'You think your father will let him stay on as his chauffeur when he finds out what the two of you have been up to?' Rosamund asked, incredulously. 'There's not a chance of that happening, Mary, and you know it.'

'They're right, Mary. His lordship will never let me stay,' Tom said, turning towards her. 'But you can come with me.'

'No! No!' Cora cried, rising to her feet, shaking her head.

'Marry me,' Tom said urgently, ignoring every other person in the room and gazing into Mary's eyes, his free hand coming up to cup her face. 'Marry me and let me look after you. I'll devote every waking moment to your happiness, you know I will.'

Mary froze, all words deserting her, as Cora, Rosamund and Edith gawped at Tom, all of them shocked to the core by his proposal.

'You can't be serious!' Rosamund managed to squeeze out.

'Tom, I…' Mary stammered, her heart hammering, banging against her ribs.

'I know you're scared, mo chuisle. I know you're worried about what coming with me would mean, but things are changing. This war will change things; war always does,' he ploughed on, determined to say everything he wanted to while he still could. 'When the war is over, the world won't be the same place as it was when it started. And I'll make something of myself, I promise.'

'I know you will!' Mary nodded, not doubting that for a second. She'd never questioned his potential; she'd simply dreaded that his ambitions would eventually separate them.

'Then bet on me,' he implored her, gathering both her hands in his, refusing to break eye contact.

Mary gazed back at him, more tempted than she'd ever been to simply go with him now that it was a certainty that he would have to leave Downton.

'Mary, no!' Cora cried, terrified that her daughter was going to seriously consider this marriage proposal from an entirely inappropriate suitor. 'You can't!'

'Don't be silly, Cora. Mary's not foolish enough to marry the chauffeur,' Rosamund said, not quite sure that was true even as she said the words, her faith in her niece's common sense badly shaken. 'Are you, Mary?'

'Don't listen to them, sweetheart,' Tom begged, clasping both of her hands. 'Follow your heart. I love you and you love me, I know you do.'

'I do love you,' she whispered, her stomach churning, contradictory thoughts clanging around her brain.

'Then marry me,' he pleaded, his face showing everything he felt. 'Marry me and we can be together forever, no matter what anyone else says or thinks.'

'I have never heard anything so ridiculous!' Rosamund snapped, determined to nip this ridiculous proposition in the bud. 'Marry the chauffeur? And then what, eh, Mary? Live in poverty, cooking and cleaning for him? Never see your family and friends again?'

'I… I… I love him,' Mary stammered, shooting a look at her aunt and then glancing at the stricken look on her mother's face, guilt stabbing through her.

'Maybe you do, but are you naïve enough to believe love is enough?' Rosamund went on, relentlessly hammering home her point. 'How will you live? How will you take care of yourself without all the servants you've relied on to do everything for you all of your life? How will you hold your head up? What will you do for money when your father cuts you off?'

'Mary, please, don't do this,' Cora begged, distraught at the thought of losing her eldest daughter to a shockingly unsuitable marriage.

'How could you do that to your parents? To your sisters? To all of us? What about your grandmother? The shock may very well kill her! How could you bring shame on the family name and expect us to live with it and forgive you for it? Or do you think we'd all come to tea with you and the chauffeur? This isn't fairy land, my girl!' Rosamund cried, desperate to get her niece to see sense.

'Mary! Mary, look at me!' Tom pleaded, pulling her attention back to him, desperation in his voice. 'If they abandon you, it won't be forever. They'll come around, they will. Give us a chance! Please! We can be happy if you'll only take a chance on us!'

'I wouldn't be so sure about that, young man,' Rosamund said, icily. 'Mary, if you do this, if you take this step, your life will never be the same again. Never. Is that what you want? To be ostracised? To never be able to show your face in polite society again? Because that's what will happen. Your friends will disappear. Your family will be shamed. And for what? So you can live in poverty with this young man?'

Tom glared at her. 'We would not be living in poverty!'

'But you can't give her the life she's used to, can you?' Rosamund flung back at him.

'Maybe not, but I can love you, Mary. I can love you like nobody else can,' Tom said, pulling Mary closer. 'Please, mo chuisle, please. Marry me.'

Mary stared at him, tears filling her eyes, her aunt's words ricocheting around her mind, tallying so tightly with everything she believed to be true herself.

'Mary, please,' Cora begged softly, rising to her feet, her distress written all over her face. 'At least think about this before you take such a huge step. Don't make a snap decision you might come to regret.'

'You won't regret it, Mary, I promise you. I will make you happy, happier than they could ever make you,' Tom cried, lifting her hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles. 'Please, love!'

Tears in her eyes, Mary gazed at him, this man she loved so much, her heart breaking, knowing that she couldn't do what he was asking of her.

'I can't. I can't… I'm sorry, Tom, I can't,' she stammered, hating the heartbroken look that came across his face, hating that she'd put it there.

'No, you don't mean that,' he said stoutly, shaking his head. 'You don't mean that.'

'She does mean that. You've got your answer,' Rosamund said, stalking across the room and tugging on Mary's arm. 'Come on, Mary. You've given him an answer, now let's go.'

'No! No!' Tom cried, trying to hold onto Mary as her aunt pulled her forcefully from him.

'I'm sorry, Tom. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!' Mary whispered, tears spilling down her face as her mother hooked her arm through hers and began to tug her towards the front door.

'Mary!' Tom shouted, trying to get to her.

Rosamund blocked his way, signalling to Edith to follow her mother as she heard the front door open.

'It's over, Branson. Whatever this was, it's finished,' she said coldly, eyeing him as if he was something she'd scraped from her shoe. 'Take my advice and put her out of your mind because she is never going to be yours.'

'No, no, you don't understand. We love each other!' Tom cried, trying to look past her to see Mary.

'No, you don't understand. Lady Mary Crawley will not be the wife of a chauffeur. Ever. The best thing you can do for both you and her is forget you ever knew her,' Rosamund said firmly, fixing him with a hard look.

Tom stopped craning his neck and looked at the woman in front of him, his heart sinking.

'My brother will send for you later today and he will dismiss you from your position. You will leave this place and go far away. As far away as you can if you've got any sense. And you will not contact her again. Do you understand me?'

'I can't promise you that. His lordship can sack me, but he can't stop me from contacting her,' Tom said, unwilling yet to let go of all hope that Mary would change her mind and leave with him.

'Yes. He can,' Rosamund said, unequivocally. 'We'll lock her in her room until you've gone if we have to. But this… this affair of yours, it's over. For good.'

Tom stared mutely at her, despair settling over him.

'If you love her like you say you do, let her go and live the life she was born to. She would wither and die in the kind of life you could offer her. Is that what you want?' Rosamund asked, trying to appeal to his common sense.

'I want her to be happy,' he mumbled, trying to hold back the emotion threatening to swamp him.

'Then let her go.'

Rosamund stepped back, certain that she'd given Cora enough time to hustle Mary away from the cottage and away from the danger this young man presented.

Branson stood before her, his shoulders slumping, his head dropping, a picture of misery.

Satisfied she'd made her point, Rosamund turned and left, shutting the front door behind her, leaving him to his pain.