Apologies for the late posting, trying to add to this when I can, I have this story planned out to the end, so shouldn't be too long. Thanks for the replies and please keep them coming.

Chapter Five:

Mary sighed irritably as their driver slowed in the queue, waiting to let she and her cousin out at the Palace Theatre. Aunt Rosamund had kindly invited for the pair to see the Co-Optimists, a stage variety revue which had proved itself popular in the West End. Rosamund had been singing its praises for weeks despite never seeing a performance, but she'd always preferred that which was fashionable for fashion's sake.

Mary had hoped that a night at the theatre might encourage a healing of the rift between she and Rose, but that was clearly wishful-thinking. She'd naively assumed that her young cousin would be waiting for her with an apology the morning after their late-night spat - that had been a week ago. A week of nothing but stony silence. Mary had offered her the benefit of the doubt for the first two days, giving Rose plenty of opportunities to speak up - shooting her forgiving side glances, even one or two shy smiles - but Rose MacClare was certainly a stubborn thing.

Mary sighed again. She could rather do without the headache of Rosamund sticking her nose in, urging them to kiss and make up, but alas nothing ever seemed to go the way she wanted these days.

"You can't keep this vow of silence up forever. You're hardly being mature, Rose." Mary snapped, as Rose obstinately fixed her gaze on to the West End lights as the car ground to a final halt. She scowled as Rose, still ignoring her, fixed their driver with a sickly sweet smile as he held the door for her. Mary rolled her eyes, following her out. "Have it your way, but I expect you to buck up in front of Rosamund or else she'll smell a rat." She tried to fix Rose with a glare, but to no avail, as the girl waltzed off, spotting none other than Rosamund at the theatre foyer's door. Mary inhaled deeply, willing herself to stay calm. Rose's mood swings were beyond maddening and a week of them had put Mary in a foul mood.

"Rose, how are you?" Rosamund smiled cheerfully, kissing Rose's cheeks in greeting, her eyebrow slightly raised to see the length of the girl's hemline.

"Wonderful. Thank you so much for inviting us; it's been an age since I've seen something at the Palace." Rose grinned; Mary shook her head incredulously as her cousin finally deigned to acknowledge her presence. "Mary and I have spoken of little else all day."

"How dull for you." Rosamund deadpanned, reaching out to kiss her niece. "Mary, dear. I'm so glad you're feeling up to it - Edith told me you've been quite out of sorts."

Mary sighed - she seemed to be doing a lot of that lately - and frowned. The unreasonable grieving widow, was that how Edith had painted her? She could only imagine what she'd been telling Rosamund; she could easily imagine which parts her younger sister had left out. "What do you know about that?"

"I wish you wouldn't be so hard on her." Rosamund tried, her tone somewhat berating, as an usher came to take their coats. "She's very...fragile right now."

Mary's frowned deepened, already feeling defensive but her aunt sounded a little too knowing."And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Cousin Mary being judgmental?" Rose scoffed, pulling at her gloves, another sickening grin as the young usher took her coat. "Say it isn't so."

"Rose," Mary drawled through gritted teeth, "why don't you find us our seats, hmm?"

"No, we can't yet." Rosamund stopped them, forgetting herself as they began to ascend the stairs. She glanced around as men and women in their evening best passed them. "We have to wait for Lord Gillingham."

Mary's hand flew to the banister of its own accord to steady herself. She blinked. "What?"

Rosamund licked her lips, trying for nonchalance. "I happened across him in Harrods and he made a beeline for me. Naturally he asked after you and, when I mentioned that we had tickets to see The Co-Optimists, he insisted on seating us in the royal box." Mary's eyes narrowed as her aunt's eyes continued to dance around the foyer. Rosamund was no fool; she knew how awkward this might be for Mary, but apparently an evening being seen in the royal box was too good an offer to pass up.

"The royal box, my!" Rose exclaimed, smirking to see her cousin blanch.

"His cousin's a secretary to the Prince of Wales, or something along those lines." Rosamund shrugged, as if it wasn't anything special. As if Tony Gillingham hadn't offered the seats in the sole hope of seeing and impressing one Mary Crawley. "I didn't really ask - everything looks better from the royal box. I assume a few of his chums will be joining us. Now, wipe that look off your face Mary," Rosamund hurriedly put on a smile, as she suddenly espied the man in question, "- because here he comes now."

The shock had still to wear off, but her aunt didn't wait, guiding Mary by the arm to face Tony as he eagerly bounded up the stairs to meet them. Yet Mary didn't need to force a smile to her face - it came naturally to her when she saw him. Tony was everything that was gentility and kindness and when a gentleman smiled like that at a lady - like she was the only person in the whole world who mattered to him - one couldn't help but return it.

"Lady Rosamund, Lady Rose." Tony nodded at them each in turn, his eyes lingering on the last. "Mary."

She swallowed, feeling the other women's gazes on her, assessing her reaction. "Tony, what a surprise!"

"A happy one, I hope?" Tony asked nervously, his hand gently touching her elbow, desperate for reassurance as always.

Her heart panged for him. She smiled kindly. "Of course."

She pulled back, as if burnt.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me, I..." He stuttered, scrubbing his face nervously. She tried to offer him a smile, but she couldn't. One moment they'd been talking, she'd grinned because he was jealous, jealous of his old friend Charles and how much time he'd spent at Downton, and it had felt selfishly wonderful. She'd been grinning and then he'd kissed her.

And though he was apologetic, she could see his face was still hopeful.

But she couldn't even offer him a smile, because his kiss didn't feel selfishly wonderful. It was brief and unsure of itself, a first kiss like any other. She hadn't had a first kiss in so long. She was too used to the unhurried, knowing kisses of a husband, of a lover, of Matthew. She was too used to Matthew's kisses and she was far from ready to get used to anybody else's.

"You don't need to apologise." She assured him, surprised at how quickly she sprung back. She didn't want to tear up in front of the poor fellow- because he really didn't need to apologise.

Such words, of course, did nothing to dim his hopes.

Objectively, Mary knew it was all very entertaining and she obliged, laughing in all the right places, but Tony was making it terribly difficult. Sat beside her in the royal box, she could feel his gaze flick from the stage to herself. Whether he was checking to see if she was enjoying herself or content enough to simply look at her, she didn't know. What she did know, was that his stare was doing nothing to improve her mood. He wanted to talk to her, his mouth kept opening to do so, but as the first act was starting to draw to its close, Tony had still had said nothing. Spit it out! - That's what Mary wanted to say, but she knew that whatever he had to say, this wasn't the place for it.

"You look lovely this evening."

Mary slowly turned - sure to keep one eye on the performance, if only for appearances' sake -, surprised to finally his low whisper. "Thank you. " Determined to prove to Rose that there weren't too many years between them, she'd decided to stun in a cobalt blue evening gown with a diamond brooch. Now, sat next to a very determined suitor - for it was hard to deny that he wasn't -, Mary was beginning to realise that the dress would do nothing to put him off. In fact, it probably was having the opposite effect. She was out of black - the internationally-recognised sign that she was ready to move on.

"Are you enjoying your time in London?" He asked, smiling.

Mary sighed inwardly. Rose wasn't speaking to her, nor was Edith and Rosamund was mostly trying. She missed her son, she missed Downton and every morning she had to ask herself why on earth she was still whiling about town when it was becoming increasingly clear that escaping Yorkshire did not mean that she'd escaped her problems. But what was the use in saying that, when Tony Gillingham - good man that he was - was just one of her many said problems. "It suits me."

"Mary, I..." There was that hope in his voice again. "I would very much like for us spend some together. Dinner, perhaps?"

"The royal box and now an invitation to dine," Mary smiled breathlessly, "you're too kind!"

"I would have asked you the moment you set down your bags at Grantham House," Tony admitted in a hushed whisper, "but whenever I telephone, you're out." He raised a wry eyebrow, well-aware that she was probably avoiding him.

"I'm surprised you haven't dropped in, unannounced." She pushed down the guilt as Tony blanched, a little abashed. Taking her off-guard seemed to be a favourite pasttime of his, but it irritated her that she should feel guilty at all. He was terribly nice about it, but whenever they saw each other, he always seemed to be making his intentions known.

"I didn't want to ambush you." This time, she thought wryly though she knew he was truly sorry. "This is a far nicer setting for the first rendezvous, don't you think?"

"The first?" It was her turn to raise the wry eyebrow. "Isn't that presuming?"

But if stubborn was Rose's middle name, then presumptuous was Tony Gillingham's; she swallowed a gasp as he reached out to grasp her hand. "We have so much to talk about."

"Do we?" She whispered, feeling rather exasperated. "We kissed Tony - because you say you love me and you've broken things off with Mabel-"

"I do love you." He insisted, holding her hand tighter.

"And you want me to be your wife." It wasn't a question; he'd made it quite clear what he wanted. But these days, the word wife felt awfully hollow to her.

"Very much so - I won't give you up without a fight." Tony insisted, facing her fully, no longer even pretending to watch the performance, but Mary naturally turned to the stage once more, knowing they were on the verge of causing a scene and feeling Rosamund's eyes burning into the back of her skull. She heard him sigh as she disentangled her hand and watched him turn back dejectedly out of the corner of her eye. "I've heard that you had drinks with Blake in Soho." He offered after a moment.

Mary blinked at the sudden shift. She clucked her tongue - how pathetically male. Was Tony really so stupid as to think that another man would be the only possible reason for hesitation on her part? "I see." Mary smirked, disbelieving. "You want to do battle with Charles Blake for my affections."

"I wouldn't put it like that exactly," Tony backed off slightly, sensing she wasn't at all impressed by the turn in conversation, "but I know he's a rival for them."

Was he? She really didn't know. Yes, there was another man who had been desperately seeking her out. Another problem for her to deal with. Although Charles hadn't made any mention of marriage. "We haven't kissed - Charles and I." She mumbled, more to herself than to Tony. Mary couldn't decide if that was better or worse. But then, the two of them had saved a drove of pigs from dehydration which somehow had been a far more intimate affair.

"I should hope not."

Mary rolled her eyes as his own mutterings broke her thoughts. Lord Gillingham - good and kind and, so it seemed, rather petulant when he wanted to be. "You won't win, Tony - neither of you will." She put him straight, as the lights suddenly came up and people began to rise for the interval. "How could you when Matthew won long ago?"

She didn't bother to wait for his reply; grabbing her purse, she walked out of the royal box.

"Where has Rose got to?"

"I don't know." Mary replied absentmindedly to her aunt, as she studiously avoided Tony's stare from across the room and sipped on her gin rickey. Her young cousin could pick a cocktail, she'd give her that.

"Mary, really," Rosamund didn't bother to hide the scowl, "- you should be keeping an eye on her."

"I don't see why," Mary snapped, sick of bickering with everyone, " - she isn't a child."

"Certainly not," Her aunt muttered drily, "I hear she's been gallivanting about in the early hours of the morning, that you let her go to nightclubs."

Mary shook her head tiredly, wondering as to - as she often did - Rosamund's sources this time. At least, her aunt wasn't at her about she and Tony's tête-à-tête during the first act. Small mercies.

"One doesn't let Rose do anything," Mary smiled humourlessly, "Rose simply does."

"Such a defeatist," Rosamund smiled, distracted as she waved across the room to an acquaintance, "- you'll never make ground with that attitude."

"I'm not interested in making ground - I have enough to be dealing with." Mary muttered, tempted to ask as to why Rosamund hadn't taken Rose under her own wing. Clearly, her aunt felt more up to the job.

"Such as?" Rosamund's gaze snapped back to her niece. "Matthew left you a baby and Downton - and I don't see you taking care of either."

A slap around the face would have stung less and Mary blinked fiercely in surprise. Only Mama had dared mention the delicate matter of responsibilities, but even she hadn't sounded so harsh. So, this was what everything thought? She swallowed, willing herself to put Rosamund back in her place. "...Don't-"

"Speak the truth? I'm afraid it's in my nature to do so, dear." Rosamund interrupted, her own patience waning after having been distracted enough by Gillingham's and Mary's hushed whispers for one evening. She sighed inwardly to see Mary look down at the floor. No come-back, no defence - there were moments when Rosamund if the fight had left her completely. What had become of the Sisters Crawley? Sybil stolen away by childbirth, Edith giving herself up to a doomed romance and Mary still cutting herself from everyone. She might be in blue tonight, but she still played the widow in black. Rosamund softened, laying a gentle hand on her niece's arm. "Time might have stood still for you, but it hasn't for the rest of the world. It's been a year," She tried, waiting for Mary to finally look at her, "- you must step out of the shadows and back into the light."

Mary's eyes fluttered closed, tiredly. Out of the shadows - how poetic. But it seemed the farther people pushed, the farther she felt herself retreating. She'd tried moving forward and where had that got her? Tony Gillingham asked for her hand every time she saw him and Charles Blake had been flirting with her all summer. Papa was fighting her tooth and nail over Downton and Mama was fighting her over God knows what. Tom was still toying with the idea of moving back to Ireland with Sybbie and Edith was very fragile apparently, which inevitably meant there was more to her illicit affair with Gregson than met the eye. No doubt another secret for the entire family to have an opinion on.

But Granny, at least, had had the sense to leave her be. Surprising that, Mary kept half-expecting to come back to Grantham House and find her in the drawing room, cane at hand and tongue at the ready. It wasn't as if it were six months ago, when she barely ate, never left the house, couldn't smile if she wanted to. Mary functioned, she went out, she met friends, she could smile, she could laugh - she was trying. Lights and shadows, what sort of distinction was that? It was just life, and after the summer had ended, Mary had needed a break. Yet evidently, Mary thought wryly as she threw back the rest of her drink, nobody was prepared to give her one.

Walking back down the entrance's stairs to the first foyer, Mary's eye was caught by another gentleman who seemed as interested as she was in tonight's performance. The bell had been rung and Rosamund had headed back in, but Mary had offered to find Rose. A selfish move on her part; she needed a respite before she could face sitting next to Tony again. But as she reached the bottom step, Mary paused at the familiar way in which the man, leant against the entrance door and drew on his cigarette. Evelyn Napier. She almost laughed in relief to see who it was - his friendly face, it kept popping up when most needed.

"Evelyn? I didn't know this was your sort of thing!" Evelyn almost jumped, as she broke his thoughts; Mary's smile dimmed a little to see he, too, was not in the best of moods, his smile too forced. "The interval's ending." She offered.

"Is it?" Evelyn asked politely, a bit embarrassed to be smoking in front of her but he took a calming drag all the same. "My mind must have ran away with me."

Mary's eyes softened, concerned. In company, Evelyn always did his best to be jovial, but she'd caught him off-guard."Are you all right?"

"Splendid. You?" It sprung from his lips naturally enough, but Mary raised an eyebrow, not convinced for one moment. He sighed heavily, standing up from where he leant. "I'm here with my sister-in-law, Hettie. My father finds her rather trying these days, which - coming from a man as tedious as he - means that she must be very trying indeed. I can't blame her - after losing my brother, she..." He trailed off and Mary's eyes lit up with recognition. The Honourable Henrietta Pierce. She'd come out the same year as Mary and she was pushed at Evelyn for the first season until the younger, more confident Frederick Napier stole her heart away. A love match, if ever there was one. She'd been to their wedding - it had been the first time that she'd ever really spoken to Evelyn. That damn war - it hadn't left any family untouched - and sweet Freddie Napier lost his life at the Battle of Cambrai. The war ended a month later. Mary watched as Evelyn scratched his forehead tiredly. "Anyway, Hettie brought a friend along tonight - for me, I think."

"Ah," Mary smiled sympathetically; she, too, feeling more than ambushed this evening. "Thinking of escaping?"

He smiled grimly. "It had crossed my mind."

"I have a funny feeling it might have crossed Rose's as well." Mary sighed, casting an eye about the foyer. "You haven't seen her by chance, have you?"

Evelyn's brow raised. "Oh, in the red dress?" He ventured, looking towards the street. "Someone certainly went past me in a hurry."

Mary blinked. She hadn't thought for a moment that Rose would actually leave. Had she gone completely mad? Rosamund would inevitably tattle to Mama and Rose would be back on a train to Yorkshire before she could say Jack Robinson. "God, did you see where she went?"

"Well, your cousin's a night owl, isn't she?" Evelyn smirked before taking note of Mary's concerned expression. Narrowing his eyes in thought, he looked about before nodding and coming to a decision. "We best be off, then."

Mary could only blink again. "Where?"

"I drove over in the car," Evelyn brightened, "- don't worry, we'll find her."

Mary opened and shut her mouth, surprised as Evelyn brushed past her."What about my coat?"

"Excuse me," He approached an usher, his mood improving by the second, "would you be so kind as retrieve this lady's coat," Mary rushed to hand the usher her cloakroom stub, "and to make my apologies to a Mrs. Henrietta Napier in the third row, I believe - that her brother-in-law was detained, but that I'll see her at home. And also to -?" He looked to Mary questioningly to fill in the blanks.

"Lady Rosamund Painswick," She replied automatically, "- in the royal box. "

The royal box? Evelyn smirked."Very nice." He turned back to the usher. "Her niece has also returned home because Lady Rose has a headache." Mary raised an eyebrow, as Evelyn uncouthly held the cigarette between his lips and got out his wallet. "Here, for my sister's cab - and for your trouble."

Long after the cigarette had been flicked out on to the street, Mary sighed impatiently as Evelyn's Rolls-Royce crawled through London. Though, she quickly chastised herself when she remembered the last man she'd driven alone with - and how she wished with all her heart that he'd preferred driving at a snail's pace, too.

Not liking where those thoughts were taking her, her mind turned back to the matter at hand. "It's awfully late to be by oneself." She looked out the passenger's window, as they drove away from the West end and its bright lights. "Rose seems to think London is a playground, but it isn't without its dangers. If something has happened to her-"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." Evelyn glanced Mary's way, dissuading her from thinking the worst. "Now, my money is on the Blue Dragon, or the Lotus."

Mary frowned. "How do you know so much about it?"

"Well, isn't the Lotus where Charles took her yesterday?" He asked innocently enough, turning down another street.

Mary shook her head, amazed. First, Aunt Rosamund seemed to know everything about Edith and now Evelyn seemed to know everything about Rose. Had they their spies? Or had grief suddenly made her obtuse to all? "How do you know about that?"

"He's my boss, remember. I was the one who suggested he visit Downton." Evelyn supplied.

She'd almost forgot all about that. A smile tugged at her lips. "So, I have you to blame for all of this?"

"I doubt Rose has run off heartbroken over Charles," Evelyn scoffed, " - he was under the impression that your cousin's interest in him wasn't of the romantic nature, that they had an arrangement of sorts." He sent Mary such a knowing look, she almost rolled her eyes. "He was trying to find a way to see you, and she was - well, that I don't know. Perhaps he was simply a means by which to leave the house."

"You make me sound like her jailer." Mary scowled. All matters concerning Rose were giving her a newfound respect for her former governesses - and making her feel very old, indeed. "Although having continually proved myself to be the worst chaperone that ever lived, I may well have to start putting her under lock and key."

"Oh Mary, I'm sure your cousin judges you to be the ideal chaperone." Evelyn deadpanned.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but Evelyn kept his eyes firmly on the road. Leaving it be, she sighed. "I don't want her to make the same mistakes I did. Rose is too young to realise that you have to pay for them." She finished quietly.

Evelyn pouted; Mary wondered if he, too, was thinking back to that red dress and a certain gentleman from a foreign land. "She'll learn in her own time."

"What if it's too late by then?" Mary snapped with frustration, but wisely enough, Evelyn kept his tongue. Fixing her gloves, she raised a wry eyebrow. "Golly, I hope Tony forgives me for leaving him in the clutches of Aunt Rosamund, poor man."

"Tony Gillingham, again?"

He inquired innocently enough, but there was something in his voice that had Mary glaring at him from the corner of her eye. She wasn't interested in the thinly veiled jealousy from another would-be beau. Not that Evelyn had ever declared himself as such, not recently anyway.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing," Evelyn assured her, hearing her steely tone, but soon enough, he couldn't fight the smirk any longer. "...You've got suitors lining the streets, haven't you?"

"Please. They're probably all gold-diggers, sniffing around my half of Downton." Mary rolled her eyes, though they both knew Charles and Tony to be rich as Croesus and her heart panged only a little at the thought of Downton. "Besides, Tony's engaged or was..."

"Hmm, I wonder why he broke that off." He cast her a sideways look.

Very droll. She gave up the pretence. "He says that he wants to marry me."

"That was quick."

Mary was pleased to see Evelyn taken aback for once. She shrugged lightly, thinking back to their long acquaintance, the flashes of determination Tony sometimes had, beneath his good breeding, when he wanted his own way. "He always was an impatient boy."

Evelyn tilted his head, accepting the response. "I suppose when you know, you know."

Did you? She'd never been that impulsive, not really. Mary had only known she'd loved Matthew when he'd left Yorkshire taking his proposal with him; she'd only known that couldn't do well without him, until she'd buried him. "...Have you?" She asked quietly. "Ever known?"

"Yes," Evelyn drawled. Mary baulked at her thoughtlessness, but she hadn't known his feelings had ran as deeply as all that. Seeing her blush, Evelyn reassured her with a warm smile,"- but I won't badger you with it. Blake and Gillingham see what they want and do all that they can to get it, to get you." He bolstered her, knowing her well enough to know that, even in widowhood, Mary Crawley liked to be wanted. "It's admirable."

Mary stared lengthily at Evelyn. He paid the gentlemen a compliment, especially when their advances were often far from gentlemanly, but Evelyn didn't sound envious. She wasn't sure what to make of that. "And you're not like that." It wasn't a question.

"Like I said, when you know, you know," Evelyn's smile turned wistful, "- no wooing on my part will change anything."

Walking into the Lotus, Mary was pleased to see that it had more taste than the Blue Dragon. No doubt helped by the fact that this establishment kept to the first floor rather than a basement. In truth, it certainly seemed a lot more fun than an evening spent with Rosamund at the theatre; she could see why Rose left in such a hurry. Not that she'd ever let her little cousin know that.

The glittering chandeliers hung low, as did the ladies' strings of pearls, everyone with a drink in her hand. She was feeling old again. She sighed tiredly, casting an eye about.

"Have you cut your hair?"

Rolling her eyes, Mary turned her attention to the man at her elbow. Well, at least, she was in good company. They were both far older in years and in other ways than they had been when he'd asked for a turnabout the gardens before he left that morning after the hunt, and after everything else. She'd overlooked him then.

"Can I get your wife and yourself a drink, sir?"

Evelyn opened his mouth to correct the man; he was an honest chap like that, but Mary wasn't in the mood to waste time.

"A gin rickey, please."

She dared him to make a thing of it, but Evelyn didn't feel like being predictable. "Make it two." He cast his own eye to the bar. "Do you see her?"

Mary clucked her tongue. "There are so many people, and so much smoke."

"Hmm, yes, awful habit," Evelyn agreed, already lighting up; he could only respond to her glare with an offer of the packet, "- cigarette?"

She thought back to how morose he'd seemed, leaning against that theatre's door. "You've cheered up." Mary observed, drily.

He didn't argue with her. "I'm euphoric - you're releasing me from dear Hettie and her attempts to match-make me with..." Evelyn trailed off, frowning at his forgetfulness. "Lord, I've forgotten her name entirely." Before Mary thought to berate him for such ill manners, his eyes lit up with recognition. "I see her."

"Where?" Mary spun, following his eye-line. Her eyes started to widen with horror as she espied the man with whom her cousin was dancing. Lady Rose MacClare - dancing with a black man. "Who is that?" She breathed.

Eyebrows at his hairline, Evelyn took note of the band on the band on stage."I think he's the entertainment." He noted wryly.

Black and an entertainer? Mary gasped as she realised who it was - that jazz singer who'd Rose invited to Downton for Papa's birthday. How could she be so blind? - she truly was the worst chaperone. "Do you think they're..." She daren't even say it, but Mary noticed the familiarity with which the pair danced together. Was this why Rose had been so keen to see Charles Blake? So she had reason to leave the house and meet up with her...God, how to finish that sentence?

"Oh, oh. Really?" Evelyn blinked, astonished. "The ladies in your family do like a little of the exotic." He joked, before remembering himself. One of the few people who knew the true story of what happened to the infamous Mr. Pamuk - she supposed she had him to blame for all that, too. "Gosh, I didn't mean -"

"He sang for Papa's birthday," Mary cut him off, forgiving him for the blunder, "- don't you, remember?"

"Your brother-in-law, say," Evelyn went on, awkwardly, "exotically Irish..."

But Mary was too busy, taking in the scene before her. Dancing was always a terrible idea; Rose probably fancied herself in love with him. And why wouldn't she, when Cousin Mary was dragon and everyone at Downton a bore, and here was a man, happy to open her eyes to the world and all the opportunities it might offer. But like herself, Mary realised, Rose didn't have the conviction for this sort of thing. She and Rose were too restless to be so stubbornly principled; Sybil had always been the one for all that. Mary could see the devotion in the man's eyes from here - Jack Ross, that was it, wasn't it? - and it was enough for now; Rose, too, liked to be wanted. But she wasn't prepared for the consequences of any of this, no more than Mary had been when she'd let Kemal Pamuk share her bed. And someone might as well learn from Lady Mary Crawley's mistakes. "She doesn't have a clue, does she?" Mary said to herself, quietly.

Evelyn stopped his bumbling, his own eyes softening at her voice. "Why don't you give her that clue, then?"

Nodding absentmindedly, Mary naturally started to cross the dance floor, leaving Evelyn to his wreath of smoke and to the waiter with their two gin rickeys. Weaving through the dancing couples, she held her breath as she placed a gentle hand on her cousin's shoulder.

"Rose, may I have a moment?"

"Mary!" Rose almost stumbled back, her partner looking far less shocked. "What are you-?" She breathed heavily before raising an indignant eyebrow. "I'd much rather dance, thank you."

To Rose's irritation, Jack Ross nodded in greeting, offering a charming smile. "You're Lady Mary, I remember. It's good to see you again." Mary smiled pleasantly enough, though cringed inwardly. An American, too. "Rose's always singing your praises; she can't imagine being in London without you."

"Really?" Mary couldn't keep the disbelief quite from her voice, looking to Rose for confirmation - she hardly supposed her cousin had hardly been saying that tonight - but the younger woman flushed.

Jack nodded, frowning at Rose's embarrassment. "Of course."

"This is where you came last night." Mary offered.

"Yes, what of it?" Rose asked, still on the defensive.

Mary wanted to give Rose the clue - of how this would all end. But tonight wasn't the time, and she could ill afford to push her away any further than she had done. She took a breath, endeavoured to remain calm, and searched hard for that maternal bone in her body. "I understand that you've made your debut and want to have fun, Rose, but by not coming home for dinner the other night and by running out on Aunt Rosamund who went to the pains of organising this whole evening, you've shown that your manners leave a lot to be desired." Mary told her firmly, though not meanly. "It's below you, Rose. If you don't want to be treated like a child, then you need to stop acting like one." Mary left her with that thought and was pleased to see Rose seem, outwardly at least, sufficiently chastised. "Well, that's all I have to say on the matter. Now, I told Rosamund that you had a headache, so if you would be so good as to telephone in the morning and apologise for our absence?"

She looked to Rose expectantly, enjoying the expression of shock coming to rest on her cousin's face.

"You're going home?" Rose near spluttered. "And you're letting me stay?"

A smirk almost broke out on her face, but Mary was quick to turn it into a smile. She turned to Rose's companion. "If you could make sure that my cousin makes her way safely home by midnight, Mr. Ross, I would very much appreciate it." And no later than - Mary's demand was clear and Jack agreed obligingly.

"Of course, milady." Jack grinned at Rose lovingly. "I'll look after her."

Mary looked between the two. She was going to have a fight on her hands with this. "Right, good."

Turning to leave, Mary had only walked but a few steps before she felt a hand grasp her own. She turned back to see Rose having abandoned Mr. Ross for a moment with a grin just for her.

"Mary, wait - thank you."

Perhaps she wouldn't make such an awful mother after all. "Please, no more tantrums or running off," Mary asked of her, before admitting, " - you scared me tonight."

"I wanted to," Rose confessed, feeling rather ashamed, "- but I'm sorry for it now."

That was something, Mary supposed. "I'm trusting you, Rose. We'll need to talk about this," Her eyes flicked back to Mr Ross, waiting for her cousin's return, "but for now, I'll say goodnight."

Rose's grin widening still, she lurched forward to give her cousin a big kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight, Mary."

Slowing making her way to Evelyn, she didn't bother to hide the exasperation as she approached. The look on his face was one of pure mocking. "What?"

Evelyn shook his head, handing her her drink. "You old softie."

He grinned at the irritated purse of her lips:

"Less of the old, thank you. "

TBC...

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