A Scandalous Affair Dublin (8)
Holiday
Wind billowed into the hotel room, causing the white gauze curtains to flare into the room. The distant cries of gulls could be heard through the open windows, allowing a refreshing breeze to circulate in the warm room.
Tom's typewriter sat on the desk overlooking the Tramore Strand, while Mary's easel was set up at the next window, her half-finished composition, resting on the frame.
"Are you sure?" Tom questions, as he stares suspiciously at Mary's bare stomach, his nose almost touching the soft white skin.
"Well not 100% sure yet," Mary says gently, her fingers carding Tom's fine fair hair. She curls her fingers, catching loose strands of hair and admires the lighter blond highlights, brought out by the summer sun. "But Mrs Murphy seems to think so," Mary said, a hopeful tone to her voice.
Tom turns on the bed so that he can look up at his wife and smiles brightly at her, his arm outstretched as he strokes the skin on her hip. Turning again he places a soft kiss just left of Mary's bellybutton.
"I'll have to visit my doctor when I get home. But we won't know for sure how everything is going on for at least another three months," Mary says with a sigh. Too fearful to get too excited about this news.
'A baby!' Mary was simultaneously excited and terrified in equal parts.
When she had first visited her specialist in April, Doctor Green spoke for some time about Mary's advanced age to be having her first baby and all the difficulties she may have. Mary remembers sitting in the Doctors office, alone, face burning from embarrassment and shame as the doctor scolded her for waiting so long.
'It's not like available men fell out of trees,' Mary thought crossly. She had held off from visiting her doctor for this reason. He would no doubt lecture her again about the lateness of having her first baby at 29 years of age. Mary's cheeks burned red as she remembered how the doctor scoffed at her suggestion that her husband come to her next appointment.
"Are you all right love?" Tom asks with concern as he cups Mary's flushed cheek.
Mary's shakes her head mutely. "No, I was just thinking about my next visit to Doctor Green," Mary said, brow furrowed in a frown.
Taking her hand Tom kissed it gently, "you can tell me your worries Mary," Tom said, tenderness shinning in his eyes.
"It's just Doctor Green is very curt with me," Mary admitted.
Tom frowned in concern at his wife. "If he makes you uncomfortable, you can change doctors," Tom said gently as he moved to lay beside his wife. "My mother and sister only ever had a mid-wife attending them," Tom said. He felt a bit lost in this conversation. He never paid that much attention to the women around him, who were having babies before.
"Maybe your mother…" Tom suggested tentatively.
"No!" Mary said outrage clear in her face.
"That's basically the same as announcing we are having sex," Mary said, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. Mary squirmed in embarrassment at the thought of telling her parents about her possible baby.
Tom was baffled, he was sure turning up with a baby at Downton would be evidence that Tom and Mary had slept together. "We are married, I think they will assume that we are intimate with each other," Tom pointed out logically.
Mary looked mutinous at his response. Tom thought it would be best to back down, before this descended into a disagreement. Tom sighed, the morning started with such promise. "I am sure you know your parents best," Tom said, bending slightly to kiss Mary's exposed shoulder.
Mary left out a breath and relaxed a bit more into her white lace pillows. "I just don't think it is necessary to tell the parents about the potential baby, too soon," Mary said quietly. "Besides Mrs Murphy recommends not telling anyone until after twelve weeks anyway," Mary explained.
"What not even my mother!" Tom said, looking slightly unhappy at the prospect of keeping his mother in the Dark.
Frowning slightly, Mary shifted her position to face Tom more. She gently ran her hand down his chest. "I suppose you can tell your mother, once Doctor Green has confirmed my pregnancy," Mary finally said.
Mary wound her arms about her husband, and they shared some soft kisses.
Mary rested her head on Tom's shoulder. "I will have to try and disguise it from work as long as possible," Mary said.
"Mmm hmm," Tom murmured, as he played with Mary's silky dark hair.
"They will fire me once they find out," Mary said frankly, frowning. It was so unfair, that all women were dismissed once they had a family. Just when most women needed the money most.
"I want to get as many illustration projects completed, under my belt as possible, so I have a reputation as an illustrator before going freelance," Mary explained.
"It's ridiculous that they fire women who have children," Tom frown fiercely as his mind drifted back to the struggles his own mother had getting and keeping a job, when her prospective employers found out she had children. "It's not right. Women should have the means to financially support themselves, and their children if they have them."
Mary smiled into Tom's chest and left a warm kiss there. Before she was married, she never would have thought about women who needed to earn money to support their families. Now she worked, she knew Mr Byrne, a married man earned 10 pounds more a month, than she did, for the same work.
It hadn't bothered her when she first started work, because she was just excited to be out in the professional world and experiencing working in an office for the first time. She now knew how little the typist earned, compared to the male clerks. It irked her now that she did the same work as the men as well as being expected to make tea and run errands for the men too.
Mary sighed, she would miss working with the office girls and hearing all about Biddy's beaux's, she currently had two men she was trying to decide which one to keep, ironically one was a butcher, while the other was a baker. Or about the chemical warfare Coleen's Grandfather was engaged with against his nemesis Mr O'Rourke. His neighbour for fifty years, over who's garden was the best and whose vegetables were the biggest.
All the little details she would never hear about as Lady Mary. Mary's world was truly expanded when she married Tom. She snuggled against her husband and wondered if she could entice him to some love making.
"They say when a woman is pregnant that her body changes," Mary said flashing her husband a coy look, as she stroked his warm skin. A hint of a smile on her lips.
"Is that so?" Tom said with raised eyebrows and a grin. "Maybe I should do a thorough inspection," Tom said as he rolled on top of his wife and started to kiss her elegant neck. Nose pressed behind her ear, drawing in a deep breath. "Mmm, this smells normal hear," Tom said, followed with a quick lick of her skin. "Hmm, tastes the same too." Tom grins at his wife.
"Tom," Mary cries out in laughter at the surprising lick. Her hands on his shoulders, exerts a subtle pressure, encouraging him to continue his exploration further down her body.
"Well, it seems I will have to expand my search area," Tom said kissing further down Mary's body, leaving tender kisses on her sternum, leading up to her delicate collar bones, ignoring her breasts all together.
Mary ran her fingers through her husband's hair enjoying his tender ministrations.
"All normal so far," Tom said, shooting Mary a sparkling look. "Where will I inspect next?" He wondered aloud. Before darting into Mary's arm pit and snuffling loudly.
Mary squealed loudly at her husbands unexpected actions. "Tom!" Mary gasped, as she wiggled away from her husband and the ticklish sensation in a seldom explored part of her body. She brought her arm in tight against her body, giggling breathlessly, as Tom dragged feather light fingertips against her rib cage.
Pleased with the reaction he drew from Mary; Tom brought her body close and kissed her passionately.
Laughter echoed in their room as they both celebrated the beginning of a new chapter in their lives together.
Beach
Mary and Tom sat on the wide expanse on the beach in the August Sunshine. Tom had put up a multi-coloured windbreak, to protect them from the sand being blown about from a blustery Irish summer's day.
Mary was still in her swimsuit, but now wrapped warmly in her blue towelling robe, protecting her from the sand and the bright sunshine. Her hair was damp from the swim she and Tom had taken. She was getting better at swimming, even if it was in the cold sea surrounding Ireland.
"Would you like to travel?" Mary asked Tom dreamily.
Tom looked up from one of his many note pads, "What love?" as he put down his pad so he could pay full attention to his wife.
Mary turned her head to look at Tom, the light reflecting in her dark eyes, highlighting flecks of gold, usually unseen. "Would you like to travel?" Mary said curiously, drawing her knees up to her body, so she could rest her arms and head on her knees as she looked at her husband.
"Never really thought about it," Tom said, giving Mary a thoughtful look.
Tom turned his head back to the sea while he thought about Mary's question. He was momentarily distracted by a father in the distance who was walking with his son. Carrying a little fishing net and small bucket. Tom felt warmth suffuse him at the sight. Were there more children about today he wondered.
"I always thought I would like to go to Paris," Tom said finally. "I never thought about it seriously. But it seemed a place that all writers should go to once," Tom explained, before turning to look at his wife.
Mary looked so beautiful sitting in the sun, wisps of hair blowing about her face. Her face warmly flushed. He grinned suddenly when he noticed the tip of her nose was red. She wouldn't be happy if it was burnt.
"Put your hat on love, your nose looks a little red," Tom warned her. Smiling warmly.
She was too hard to resist, Tom quickly darts towards her and steals a startled kiss from her, before sitting back down.
Mary laughs at Tom's sudden kiss, before pulling out her large straw sun hat and fitting it on to her head. The hat had two ribbons that could be used to tie her hat in place at the back of her head, under her long dark hair, which was currently braided.
"Did you want to go somewhere?" Tom asks her curiously.
Mary runs sand through her fingers. "I was just remembering how warm the Mediterranean Sea was," she told him. "Mama and Papa took us to the south of France when I was seventeen, the year before I came out," Mary said in fond remembrance.
"The sea was so blue, I would love to paint it," Mary said with a smile. "Of course, swimsuits where a lot bulkier then and Mama didn't really like us swimming in public," Mary said, sharing this fond memory with her husband.
"But Papa, one day took us on a sailboat to a distant bay and Mama allowed us to swim freely for once," Mary remembered. "The sand was so soft and the water so warm," Mary smiled at Tom. "The sea was so clear, that even where the sailboat was moored, we could all see the bottom of the seabed."
"That sounds nice," Tom replied. "My grandfather's farm was on the west coast. In County Cork," he said wistfully, a slight smile on his face, eyes squinted against the bright sunlight.
Mary smiled encouragingly at Tom.
"You may find this hard to believe. But on the west coast. There are long golden beaches, with crystal clear water as blue as you just described," Tom grinned. "Of course, only in the brightest sunshine," Tom continued. "On cloudy days, the ocean looks as dark as night, with just the breaking waves and the white of the spray, the only relief from the shadowy waters," Tom whispered.
Mary shivered even though the sun was warm. The sea breeze carried salt on the air, in the distance a dog barked.
Laughter echoed from behind them, breaking the spell Tom had woven with his words. A group of laughing chatting children thundered over a nearby sand dune. Two older women came after them, red faced, laden down, with sun-umbrellas and picnic baskets.
Tom jumped up and waved to the two women as he strode as best, he could in the loose sand. "Can I help you madam?" Tom asked the women.
Mary watched on, love stole over her as she looked at her generous husband as he helped the other two women set up their day camp a short distance from where they were sitting. She admired the strong tanned arms of her husband as he hammered pegs with a rock into the sand. Helping the two ladies to put up their own windbreak.
The wind tousled Tom's hair as he easily erected their sunshade, while the two women set up their picnic blanket. Their children running this way and that, shouting in the summer sun.
The two women thanked Tom enthusiastically for his help. Tom waved away his thanks and returned to Mary.
"Lemonade?" Mary said, when Tom returned to her. His face flushed from his exertions.
"Yes, please," Tom said, dropping effortlessly to the soft blanket they were sitting on.
Mary pulled the lemonade they had kept in the shade, wrapped in a damp cloth to keep the bottle cool. Taking two glasses from the picnic basket the hotel had provided, Mary poured them a drink each, before handing Tom his glass.
Tom took a refreshing sip of the sharp flavoured drink. "What sandwiches did the hotel provide?" Tom said, looking at Mary as she rifled through the basket.
She took out a muslin wrapped sandwich, "Looks like cheese and chutney," Mary informed him.
Tom hummed happily too himself.
Mary just smiled and handed him the sandwich, which she had put on a little porcelain plate. She chose a sandwich for herself and hungrily bit into it. The cheese was strong and provided a good contrast to the sweet chutney.
They happily munched on their lunch in silence, enjoying the sound of the waves meeting the beach.
"That could be us soon," Tom said, nodding to a family playing in the waves, smiling. An edge of excitement clear in the way he leant forward, watching the little family in the distance.
Mary turned her gaze to the family, a little girl with her ribbons streaming in the wind jumping over the waves laughing. Mary's heart thudded in her chest. Unconsciously she rested her hand on her stomach. She and Tom could be parents' next spring. They could come back to this very beach with a little chubby baby.
She couldn't help the brilliant smile she bestowed on Tom.
"Yes, it could," Mary said happily. She couldn't help the hope fluttering in her stomach, she wanted to cross her fingers that all would go well.
Tom's eye was now caught by the little girl, who had been swung up on to her father's shoulders. "It would be nice to have a daughter," Tom said, starting to imagine a little Mary, with dark curly hair. 'Maybe she will have green eyes," Tom wondered.
"you'd like a daughter," Mary said, her tone dubious. A little furrow rested above the bridge of her nose. The thought of a daughter made her stomach twist. The thought of how disappointed her father had been to have only daughters, strong in her reflections.
She knew both her parents loved them, their three daughters. But Mary as the oldest had felt her parents' disappointment the most keenly. It seemed her whole life had been overshadowed by her father needing a male heir. Even now it stung that Matthew was going to inherit Downton and how Papa loved Matthew like a son.
"Yeah, a daughter," Tom said looking back at the little family as they disappeared in the distance. "I know it is probably selfish of me," Tom started to explain. "But it seems to me that daughters always remain close to their parents," he said. "While sons always pull away. Starting their own families, being independent," Tom said looking at Mary seriously. "I know Ma, has a much closer relationship with my sister." Tom reached over and took Mary's hand in his.
"I know Ma loves us and is proud of us. But she always expected us to move away one day. Start our own families," Tom said, expressing his feelings. "A daughter will do me just fine," Tom said.
Mary bit her own lip. It was such an alien thought. A man, or husband wishing for a daughter. In Mary's experience, the daughters were the afterthought while the sons were everything. She looked at her husband, who had tilted his face towards the sun, eyes closed. He looked so happy in that moment.
A daughter! Could she be happy with a daughter? She felt a bit twisty at the idea. As if she was betraying her heritage if she secretly hoped for a girl. Mary sighed. She would have to think on it. A little girl with sandy hair and green eyes, maybe.
Mary unconsciously rubbed at her breastbone. Trying to release the tension that built up there as she thought about her future.
Needing to distract herself she turned to her sketch book. Pulling it on to her lap, she pulled out a sharpened pencil.
"Tell me how far you have gotten with Lavinia's story?" Mary said. Pencil poised, ready to sketch.
Tom's eyes brightened at the mention of the new project. A welcome relief from editing his novel. Excitedly Tom picked up his notebook, flicking to the correct pages. Tom started to describe his ideas to Mary.
Together they worked on the plot of the children's book together, while Mary quickly sketched Tom's words to images.
The sea and gulls cry a pleasant backdrop to their discussion as they plotted, planned, and dreamed the day away.