A Scandalous Affair Dublin (1)
Tom returned to Ireland, his mother anxiously awaiting his arrival. Tom slowly made his way from the boat that brought him to Dublin back to his mother's house. The familiar sights and sounds of Dublin filled him with happiness. But Tom couldn't help but worry about his mother's reaction to his shocking news. A sense of tension hung in the air as he stepped into her modest home. His mother's disapproval was palpable, a weight that he knew he had to address.
Tom knew he would find his mother in her kitchen, the heart of her home. His mother grey haired was scrubbing vigorously some clothes on a wash board. The set of her mouth let Tom know his mother was unhappy with him. "Mother, there's something important I need to tell you," Tom began, taking a deep breath. The smell of washing soap filling the air.
Her stern green gaze bore into him as she replied, "Well, Tom Branson, I've received your letter. I must admit, I find it difficult to understand how you've landed yourself in such a situation."
Her scepticism ran deep, and Tom sensed that he needed to provide a more convincing explanation. After all, his impulsive decisions, from marrying Lady Sybil Crawley to this unexpected union with Lady Mary, had strained his mother's faith in his judgment.
Tom sighed and rubbed his brow, trying to find the words to explain this situation to his mother. The mother who had always been so proud of his achievements in the past. "It must have come as a great shock to you Ma," Tom started his explanation. "None of it was done on purpose. It was just terrible judgment on my part." Tom knew his mother well and she would not take it well if she thought he was shirking his responsibility for this situation he found himself in.
"Aye it was," Mrs Branson practically hissed, her anger apparent.
Tom flushed red in shame at the thought of explaining the next part to his mother. "I was taking Sybil to marry, legal like," Tom said barely above a whisper. "We stopped for the night at an Inn," "an Inn was it," Mrs Branson interrupted with contempt. "Yes, an Inn. Nothing happened between Sybil and I. We were fully clothed the whole time," Tom tried to excuse himself. His mother just raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "When Ladies Mary and Edith found us. Those were Sybil's older sisters. Lady Mary persuaded Sybil to go home and tell her parents of our plan to marry," Tom said with a pleading look in his eye. "Sybil left and I supposed Mary stayed behind to make sure I didn't try and follow Sybil. They had only been gone for five minutes when the Inn was raided by the police," Tom told his mother.
"The Police!" Mrs Branson exclaimed, looking horrified at the youngest son. The son she thought was going somewhere. The son who had a real chance of getting out of the grinding poverty that plagued the working class. She had been so proud when her boys had got a trade. A good trade at that. But Tom was extra special, with his reading and writing. She still remembers the day when he was sixteen and he had won that writing competition at the magazine. She had brought him to Dublin to buy his first suit and then paid the neighbour down the street to alter it for him.
She proudly had a copy of his book of poetry. She kept it on the mantle in the sitting room, so if she had guests worthy of that room, she could casually point it out. Her son the author. And here he was telling her a story of police raids and hasty marriages.
"We were arrested," Tom simply stated. Mrs Branson brought her apron up to her face, as if to hide her shame. "It got worse Ma," Tom said, deciding to confess all. "There was a reporter there and he took Mary's photo. They published a story about her. It was terrible Ma, the things they wrote about her were not true and they took such glee in tarnishing an innocent young woman's reputation."
"Lady Mary herself was engaged to a powerful newspaper man in London. He abandoned her. Not only that but he had his paper print the most vile, vicious story about her," Tom told his mother, he didn't tell his mother that any of the stories were true. He felt that Mary's business was her own and she certainly didn't need to share the truth of her past with Mr Pamuk, with his mother.
Tom could tell from watching his mother's face that she was starting to feel compassion for Mary's plight. "With Mary's reputation in utter ruin from my actions, I thought the only honourable thing to do at that stage was to marry her myself," Tom said he still felt great shame in the part he had played in Lady Mary's downfall.
"Ma, I know this might be hard to believe, but Mary and I are taking our vows seriously," Tom explained earnestly. "We're committed to making this marriage work, no matter how unconventional its beginning. In fact, we quite like each other, and I'm confident that we can build a stable relationship based on friendship and respect."
He could see the disappointment in his mother's eyes, a reflection of her lingering reservations. His initial intention to marry Lady Sybil had already been a point of contention, and now, with this new twist, he needed to convince her of the sincerity behind his choices.
"Mary may come across as reserved, but she's an intelligent, witty, and practical woman. I believe we'll get along well together, and I hope you'll give her a chance."
His mother, begrudgingly, had to admit that friendship and respect were as good a foundation for a marriage as any other. Although she had her reservations, she also recognised her son's unwavering determination once he set his mind to something.
"Very well, Tom. If you're committed to making this marriage work, then I shall accept Mary as my new daughter. After all, it's not her fault that she found herself married to my impatient son."
Tom sighed with relief, grateful for his mother's tentative acceptance. "Thank you, Mother. That means a lot to me."
He went on to share the practical details—the Crawley family securing a flat for them in Dublin and Mary arriving in two weeks. Until the flat was ready, she would be staying at a hotel. Tom acknowledged the challenges ahead but remained determined to make the best of this marriage and create a happy life with Mary in Dublin.
"I know that you have got a good job now at the Times, but how are you going to afford a fancy flat?" Mrs Branson asked, she couldn't imagine a daughter of an Earl being happy in the modest Flat Tom could afford.
Tom blushed pink, "erm, her father is paying for the flat and giving her an allowance. Mary will also have access to her settlement, though a solicitor here in Dublin." Mrs Branson's eyes went wide with amazement. 'An allowance and a flat paid for by her father' Mrs Branson thought. From Tom's letter's when he was discussing the future with Sybil there was no mention of settlements or allowances. But there was for Mary?
"How is this possible? I thought from your letters that the family would disinherit if Sybil married you," Mrs Branson asked, still shocked. "Her family didn't want Mary to be punished just because she had to marry me," Tom answered quietly. It still didn't sit well with Tom that Mary's family thought it was a punishment for Mary to marry him and that they didn't think he could look after a wife of Mary's quality. He had to think of a way to make more money from his writing. He had to finish his anthology of short stories and get it published for the best possible deal he could.
But what to write next? He loved poetry and writing short stories, but the real money was in novels. Or maybe a play, he knew so of his literary friends made good money from plays, but it was riskier than a novel. I wonder if I could write a novel and turn it in to play? Was there money in that? Had anyone done that before he wondered. He will have to talk to his editor and see if she had any suggestions for him.
Now Tom's mother's temper had cooled she offered Tom some tea and apple pie she had made. Tom smiled thankfully at his mother. He knew she had made the pie for him. She would never go to the trouble of making a pie just for her. He knew that even in the height of temper with him, that she still loved and cared for him.
"So, son, why don't you tell me your plans," Mrs Branson said as she bustled about her spotless and gleaming kitchen fetch tea and pie for her beloved son.
Tom feeling the love between them smiled at his mother as he happily shared his thoughts with his mother about the plans for the future. How he had finished his anthology of short stories based on the stories his grandfather told his as child and how he was in negotiations with the publisher. And asking for her opinion on what he should write next.
His mother excitedly told her son about the books she and friends were currently reading from the library called 'The Circular Staircase' by Mary Roberts Rinehart. About the exciting adventured the heroine called 'Rachel Innes'. "It's a mystery and terribly exciting," Mrs Branson enthused, and she went on give a detailed synopsis of the book to her son.
"I'm not sure Ma, a detective novel set in America, I don't know the first thing about America. Well not well enough to write a novel set there!" Tom pondered allowed. "It doesn't have to be in America," Mrs Branson said, not giving up on the idea of her son writing a detective novel. All her friends would definitely read it. She was already imagining showing her friends her sons' novel. What if it went into the library, her heart pounded with the excitement of the thought. "You could set it in Dublin or the countryside. You must know a lot about the rich folks who live in countryside by now," Mrs Branson further encouraged her son. "I don't know Ma, a detective working in the countryside, it sounds a bit unlikely, boring even," Tom said not seeing the appeal.
Lost in his own thoughts he didn't notice his mother deflating at the apparent dismissal of her idea. Tom couldn't help but think guiltily of Mr Pamuk dying at Downton Abbey and then about the time Mr Bates was arrested at the Abbey. Now he thought about it maybe it had possibilities. Maybe he would ask Mary's opinion, she must know all sorts of stories. Making a note in his mind to speak to Mary about novel ideas when she arrived in Dublin, Tom moved the conversation on to other topics.
Tom happily ate his pie and drank his tea, while his mother filled him in on all the family gossip and news. The details which never made it into the frequent letters that passed between mother and son. In the end Tom had a pleasant home coming.