"I'll be off." Henry announced, wiping his mouth with his napkin and rising from the breakfast table.

Tom met Mary's downcast eyes and asked her husband: "Where to?"

"Just to the village, I fancy a walk."

Mary rose abruptly to retrieve some more scrambled egg, although her plate was full. Tom saw that her hands shook as she steadied herself on the side table. Once Henry and Robert had left Tom rushed towards her, placing his hand on the small of her back.

"I cannot live like this." She whispered, unable to meet his gaze. "I loathe him."

Mary was weak on her feet and Tom brought her to a chair, kneeling before her.

"We need to get you away. I cannot leave you here with him."

Her head was bowed and her face bore a pained expression. She would give anything to leave Downton that instant.

"Let's go to London, there must be a train today."

▫️

Mary packed her own bag as Anna was on leave with her baby boy. She had debated emptying her wardrobe to frighten Henry, but decided against it. Her jewellery box was packed, however. How could she trust him with anything now?

Tom entered the room just as she was struggling to shut her case.

"Mary, I don't think you need your furs." He chastised, lifting the lid and pushing it down, clicking the little gold clasp shut.

"I'm not leaving them with him, they're worth a lot. Besides, I do not want her parading around in them in my absence."

Her tone was not one of bitterness, which surprised Tom. She was hurt, yes, but he suspected that it was her pride, rather than her heart that was wounded.

"Let's get going, I've left word with Carson that we'll be away for a few days. He'll know what to say."

Tom took her elbow lightly, as to steer her out of the room, and Mary felt his presence ever more keenly than she had before.

"It is a shame that we have to take the car." She sighed as Tom rolled his eyes, it was he who would be driving after all.

▫️

"That was fast." A dozy Mary smiled as she awoke from the slumber that she had succumbed to somewhere outside of York, mid way through a sentence, not that Tom would ever tell.

All was not right, however, as she smelled smoke and noticed Tom's furrowed brow. He pulled off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, jumping from car. Mary emerged too just as he lifted the bonnet.

"Well this is just wonderful." Tom grunted from his place almost within the engine.

"Shall I help?"

Tom pulled his head out and raised and eyebrow at her, grinning slightly.

"It was just a suggestion." Mary huffed, looking around her and realising that it was growing dark. "We'll have to find somewhere to stay. It's getting late."

Tom moved to collect their luggage from the boot of the now useless car. With him carrying both they started on their way, grateful that they had at least broken down in a village.

"There's a B&B over there." Tom announced to a disgruntled Mary, whose shoes were beginning to pinch. "We'll call a mechanic in the morning. I don't think it's a big job."

▫️

The lobby was small and cozy, with a fire burning in a dark, wooden fireplace. The air was rather musty but the place seemed clean.

Mary rang the small copper bell on the counter with her grey gloved hand.

Shortly, a small, wrinkled woman wearing a rather hideous woollen cardigan appeared.

"Evening." She greeted the them in a croaked voice, walking slowly towards the counter. "You're in luck, I've one room free for you and your wife, Sir. I've been very fortunate with my bookings as of late."

Mary was about to protest but then heard rain pelt off of the windows. She was not about to search for another room elsewhere.

Tom looked at her for confirmation and took the key from the woman once Mary nodded.

"Room seven, second floor, dearies. Sleep well."

▫️

Tom held the door for Mary as she walked in, turning on the light and assessing their home for the evening. It was simple, but someone who did not live in Downton Abbey may describe it as homely. A double bed stood between two bedside lockers, atop of each sat a lamp. The bed covers made Tom smile, he didn't suppose that Lady Mary Crawley had ever slept on a bed with such a garish print of orange and red.

"We're lucky I'm still wearing this." Mary announced, waving her left hand in the air, her wedding ring dull against her luminous skin.

"You take the bed. I'll be fine on the floor."

Tom placed their bags down and Mary eyes the wooden floor sceptically.

"Nonsense." She protested. "I won't have my knight in shining armour sleep on the floor."

He chuckled before saying: "You flatter me, Mary, and like all men I'm susceptible to flattery."

She grinned before taking her suitcase and laying it on the bed, retrieving her night clothes from it.

"I'm going to change." She announced, walking towards the en-suite.

Tom was in bed by the time she returned, his head was to the foot of the bed.

Mary rushed under the covers before he had a chance to see what she was wearing.

"Are those pyjamas?" Tom asked, shocked.

Mary Crawley was wearing trousers, well, silk trousers, but trousers nonetheless.

"Oh, be quiet." She snapped, humorously, shivering slightly and drawing the quilt towards her neck, causing it to slip down past Tom's waist.

Something cold touched Tom's leg as Mary moved in the bed.

"Are those your feet?" He inquired, eyeing her playfully.

"I'm cold."

Tom rolled out of bed and fetched a pair of woollen socks from his bag, throwing them onto the bed.

"You know what they say about cold feet..."

Mary unravelled the socks and raised her eyebrow at the size of them.

"You know what they say about big feet..."

They both laughed until their sides hurt, sitting up in the bed.

"It feels good to laugh again." Mary said sadly.

"Mary, I was thinking." Tom met her large, brown eyes. He had never seen her look more beautiful. Her short hair was curly now as she did not have Anna's assistance, her face glowing in the lamp light. "You know that a woman cannot get a divorce, really. It has to come from the husband."

"Sadly."

"Well, what if Henry thought you were having an affair? Wouldn't he want a divorce then?"

Mary thought over what he said. Had Tom just admitted something?

"Tom, if I tell you something, please feel free to remain silent. I do not expect an answer from you."

His heart was beating fast and he worried that she might see in beneath his top.

"I love you, Tom Branson."

He moved towards her, throwing the quilt to the floor.

"I love you too, Mary. Christ I love you."

He cupped her face in his large hand and stared into her eyes once more.

He knew that once he kissed her that nothing would ever be the same again. But he did not want things to remain the same, so he kissed her.