Let's head back to England for a bit

Dinner was a silent affair for the most part. That was no different to the dinners they had all shared over the last few weeks. This silence, however, was somehow more agitated and charged than ever before. The unfinished argument between Mary and Henry was polluting the air surrounding the dinner table and confusing the people sitting around it.

It was quite apparent to everyone that there was something terribly amiss. Even Bertie and Lucy felt it, despite not yet being aware of Mary's decision regarding her failed marriage. Tom just kept glancing weirdly between Mary and her husband, unsure what to make of this peculiar situation. The initial joy about his brother-in-law and business partner returning had been less than short-lived — it was almost non-existent, especially after he interrupted that something in the library. What it was, he had no idea, but he was sure he would find out soon enough.

It took until the second course was served for anyone to speak at all, and, naturally, it had to be Henry to break the silence.

"Where are Robert and Cora? Won't they be joining us tonight?" he asked, sounding quite confused as he looked around the table. He had noticed that there were no plates and cutlery prepared on the table before him for two more people upon entering, but he hadn't thought much of it until then. It was odd, he found, his parents-in-law always ate dinner with them, it was their house after all. Or at least he found it odd enough to finally mention it.

"No, they won't. They are on their way to America to visit our grandmother as we speak. Which you would know if you paid more attention or simply took an interest," Mary replied in a neutral tone, not even looking up from her plate.

She knew it was wrong to speak her mind so openly, but she could not hold back. He had not wanted to understand her reasoning earlier, and she was now determined to show him her side of the argument, to make him see his wrongs. Even if that was to be at the expense of an otherwise still uneventful and silent family dinner.

"You never said they would go over there this year, least of all after the trip to France in the summer," Henry retorted. Mary had to suppress the strong urge to roll her eyes at him and his petulant tone.

"Well, things have changed, as I told you before. Mama wants to say goodbye, and I do not see anything wrong with that," Mary bit back across the table. She quite forcefully stuck her fork into the fish on her plate, making Tom, who was sitting next to her, flinch slightly.

The silence that followed was even more uncomfortable than before, the tension that filled the dining room could have easily been cut with even the bluntest butter knife.

Where everyone had been looking at Mary and Henry for the first part of this odd dinner conversation, they now stared at their respective plates in front of them. The topic of Cora's illness was still a sore one for all of them, especially so soon after Violet's passing, and the hostility between Mary and Henry was also not lost on any of the people sitting around the table, either.

A while later, it was Mary who spoke up again, her tone totally different to before.

"Oh, but I also received a telegram from Uncle Harold this morning. I am sure it was meant for Mama and Papa, but I see no harm in telling all of you, since they will find out about it first-hand upon their subsequent arrival in Newport."

"Uncle Harold? It is quite rare for him to reach out. What did he say?" asked Edith, trying to alleviate some of the depressing mood surrounding them, smiling at her sister.

"He wrote about his recent engagement to a certain Miss Madeleine Allsopp. The wedding planning is already well underway, apparently, or so he wrote at least."

"What? Uncle Harold? Getting married? I never thought we would see that happen in our lifetime!" Edith looked genuinely surprised at her sister's revelation, putting her cutlery to the side for a moment.

Tom leaned over to his wife, who kept shooting him questioning looks, and explained: "Harold is Cora's younger brother. He has been quite the playboy all his life for all I know. He never seemed to have any aspirations concerning settling down or marrying. Certainly not when I met him that one time in London a few years ago."

"Exactly, which is why this comes as quite a surprise to us," added Edith from across the wooden table. "And I feel like I have heard the name of the woman he is engaged to before. It sounds strangely familiar."

"We shall have to ask Mama and Papa when they return, they will surely have more information on the matter."

Bertie then took a sip of his wine before interjecting: "How right you are, Mary. I have to say that this is quite a nice surprise, especially in these times. I have never met him, but everyone deserves their own personal happiness, regardless of their age. I can only hope that Cora will be there to witness that special day in her brother's life."

It was not unusual that it was Bertie who said these kinds of things. He was a darling and certainly a lot more mild-tempered and gentle than Henry ever was, Mary had to admit. She knew that Edith had found the partner she was supposed to find all along – she had finally found her own Matthew after all these years. And Mary was genuinely happy about that, she would freely admit that should anyone ever ask — which was not very likely to happen anytime soon.

Dinner resumed again, the silence a little less unpleasant, but Mary could still feel Henry's burning eyes on her. She never gave him the satisfaction of looking at him, though. She had too much self-respect for that.

"What was this about Cora at dinner?"

He stood in the middle of the room, swirling the amber liquid in his tumbler in a steady motion before taking a sip of the drink that left this lingering, burning feeling in his throat.

"Oh, you do not know?" asked Tom, his eyebrows raised in question and surprise. "I thought Mary would have told you."

Henry sounded more than bitter when he replied: "Whatever it is, she hasn't said a word about it."

"That does not sound like her at all. I thought that was part of the reason you were having such an animated discussion when I interrupted you in the library just before the dressing gong."

Tom stood there near the fireplace, nursing his whiskey. He would have never thought he would be so comfortable in doing anything like this back when he was the chauffeur or even when he first came to live here as Sybil's husband, but there he was – dressed in black tie and enjoying a drink with the other gentlemen he had just had dinner with in what truly felt like home. Downton Abbey had become his home, and Tom doubted that Brompton would ever feel quite like this.

Henry only huffed in response, thinking back to that highly unpleasant argument he had had with Mary only a few hours ago. "Trust me, that had nothing to do with whatever this thing with Cora is."

"What was it about then?" asked Bertie, pouring himself another drink from the cart close by.

"She asked for a divorce."

Tom, who had just taken another sip of his whiskey, almost choked on it. He tried swallowing it hastily, tried to normalise his breathing again. But he was still coughing heavily and sputtering about when he spoke again.

"She did what?" he asked, his Irish accent much more apparent than usual, given his genuine astonishment.

"She asked for a divorce. Just like that. I hadn't even been in the house for all but 10 minutes and she dropped that out of the blue."

Henry walked to one of the plush hairs in the room and let himself sink into the soft cushions. The whiskey in his glass splashed dangerously close to the rim, nearly spilling on the carpet to his feet.

"Well, surely she must have given you a reason. She could never divorce you without one," said Bertie cautiously, stepping closer again.

"She said that she felt bullied into the marriage and that everything has changed. Everything and everyone but me, apparently, and that I was not there when she needed me. But I was gone for work so that I would be able to offer her a good life. She said many things, but she did not want to understand my side of it all, she never listened."

Tom closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath before he turned to face Henry fully, talking as calmly as he possibly could. That proved to be quite a tough task when Henry was looking at him like a petulant child. It almost comically reminded Tom of Sybbie whenever she wanted something in the candy store during their short-lived stay in Boston and he told her no.

"Henry, as much as I like you – and you know I do, I fought in your corner when she wanted nothing to do with you after the incident at Brooklands – but I am with Mary on this. Everything has changed this year and she truly needed you when you were away God knows where for more than twelve months without ever thinking of returning here for even a week. And from what I heard earlier tonight before I interrupted you in the library, you were shouting at her at the top of your lungs, which will never get you far, not with Mary. She won't listen to words spoken in anger. Trust me, I know that."

Henry almost jumped out of his seat as he listened to Tom. He was leaning far forward, his arms resting on the high armrests. His eyes were dark, still trying to hide his flaring anger.

"But why would she need me that badly? What has she not said in her letters? It surely cannot only be about me missing Violet's funeral. Also, let's be honest, we all knew it was coming sooner rather than later."

Tom and Bertie chose to ignore Henry's distasteful and disrespectful remark, not wanting to get into yet another argument with the already emotionally charged man in their middle, but Tom was having a hard time with that. His left hand already balled into a fist behind his back while his knuckles turned white clutching his drink in the other hand.

"Henry, Cora is dying. She has cancer and does not have much time left by the sound of it. She is refusing the treatment they offered her because she wants to be here with her family when it happens and not in London in some hospital," Bertie said almost softly. He was obviously trying to be much more diplomatic about this than his brother-in-law. Not that this helped in any way.

"This information came only days after Violet passed away, which had already impacted Mary a lot more than I ever thought it would. She had to organise the funeral of her grandmother knowing that her mother would be next, and soon at that. She is caring for George and Caroline as best she can, and is taking care of the estate and everyone living here and in the village. Mary has no one to turn to at the end of the day, she is all alone with the entirety of this. You were gone for a year and barely wrote. No matter how hard I try – I cannot blame her for asking this of you. And I know Mary well enough to know that she has truly thought this through. Asking you for a divorce was not a decision she made on a whim, I assure you."

Tom tried to keep his calm, to explain to his brother-in-law just why his wife was asking this of him. He felt responsible for this mess. After all, he had been the one to all but push them together, even when Mary had told him to stop his meddling — multiple times at that.

He had thought he was doing the right thing back then, but at that moment in the smoking room, serious doubts started to rise within him. Maybe Henry and Mary were not as well suited for each other as he had always thought. And if it came down to it, he would stick up for Mary. He could understand her reasoning only too well.

Henry set down his almost empty tumbler and hurriedly left the room, not uttering a single word to either of the other men.