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Dublin, 15^th of April 1919

My Dearest Lavinia,

I trust this letter finds you in the best of health and joyous spirits. It seems like an age since our last exchange at your wedding in Downton Abbey, a whole month. The quietude of Dublin prompts me to reflect on the value of our friendship. You are one of the only people I know who I can write the truth to. You were at Downton during those few days of my shame, and you know the truth of the matter. You know what a terrible patched up affair my marriage is to Branson.

I must continue to write to my acquaintances in England, spinning pretty lies about my new life in Dublin. I need one person I can write to who knows the whole story. As you can guess I cannot write to my sisters for obvious reasons. Sybil because I married the man she loves and well Edith. Even you must have noticed that there is no love lost between us. She must be crowing at my downfall.

I must try and put a brave face on things.

Life in this bustling city stands in stark contrast to the tranquillity of Downton Abbey's hallowed halls. The ceaseless hum of Dublin's streets, a world apart from the melodic birdsong that once filled the estate, leaves me yearning for the familiar sounds of the English countryside.

Tom has delved into the realm of journalism at the Dublin Times, while I navigate the uncharted waters of domesticity. Our modest flat, a far cry from Downton's grandeur, is still a realm to which I am acclimating. I will send you more details, I will try and sketch a likeness for you and add it to my next letter.

Dublin, with its narrow streets and vibrant markets, pulses with a passionate energy, much like the spirited Irishman who now shares my name, if not my heart. The city's fervour is infectious, yet my heart aches for the serene embrace of my beloved Downton.

Tom's dedication to his work, admirable though it may be, leaves me with ample time for introspection. The nights seem longer, the days lonelier, as I ponder the void left by the absence of my dear family and friends.

In the quiet moments, I find solace in the notion that we are forging a life together, crafting a path uniquely ours. Yet, doubts linger, and I reflect on the challenges of marriage. This life is so far from the one I imagined for myself. The echoes of our shared struggles fortify me to face the uncertainties of this new chapter.

Do you recall those afternoon confidences in the garden at Downton House, Lavinia? Those moments of solace in the midst of chaos? Where we spoke of worry of Matthew fighting in the trenches. I hope I offered some semblance of comfort then. I yearn for that connection again, which is why I share my thoughts with you through these letters.

Our lives have taken unexpected turns, and I, now the wife of a journalist in a foreign city, far from the opulence of Downton Abbey, embark on a journey of self-discovery. I trust that in sharing my thoughts, clarity will emerge.

Write to me soon, my friend. Your words are a balm to my lonely heart, and I eagerly await news of Downton and the joys of your married life.

With growing affection,

Lady Mary Branson

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Dublin, 22^nd of April 1919

Dearest Lavinia,

I hope all is well in Yorkshire and you are in good spirits. I hope you and Matthew enjoyed your

I hope you don’t mind me writing to you now, I feel we became friends through the long years of the war, and I feel I am need of a friend now more than ever. As we are both recently married women, I felt we would have much in common embarking on this new life with our husbands. We are both moving in circles that we are accustomed too. You in society of Yorkshire, married to a future Earl and I here in Dublin married to a writer.

As I promised Tom my father’s man found a nice flat not too far away from Tom’s work at the Dublin Times. Tom is not too fussed how our flat is decorated, so he has left it to me. It’s quite large as flats go, it is on the top floor with a roof top garden which will be quite pleasant in summer, I think. We have two bedrooms and a room for our live in housekeeper. Tom was quite fractious about the housekeeper, but as I don’t know how to boil a kettle, he will just have to put up with it. There is a dining room, a study and drawing room. All the rooms are a good size and prettily decorated. A child must have lived here before as the second bedroom has the most charming wallpaper filled with fairies and flowers.

The flat overlooks a lovely little park, it even has a rose garden and benches to sit on the evening. Our living room has what is called a Juliette balcony, which are French doors that open fully revealing a wrought iron railing, it is only six inches deep. But with the doors open it allows a lovely breeze in to the flat. Some afternoons I can stand there and drink my tea and look down in the garden. When the sun shines, I feel quite cosmopolitan.

I have included a sketch of our sitting room. I had forgotten how much I love to draw and paint. I have found a lovely little art supply shop on Dawes Street, near Trinity College. I am thinking of buying some watercolours and start painting again. I think it will be good for me to have something constructive to do during my days.

Now let me tell you about Mrs Murphy, our housekeeper, is a practical woman of about 50. She’s rosy cheeked with fair hair, with brown eyes, with a certain sparkling. If you can imagine it, she’s almost the perfect cross between Mrs Patmore and Mrs Huges. She’s a widow, she told me her husband died five years ago of tuberculosis, she has three grown children, two sons and a daughter. Her daughter lives in the country in a village called Leixlip. But her two sons emigrated to Australia over ten years ago.

It must be terribly hard to be so far away from your children. Tom reminded me that when you are working class, it doesn't matter how close to your family you are, you still never get to see them. All the time he worked in Downton he only saw his own mother twice. His brother who lived in Liverpool he only saw once a year if he was lucky. I must admit this made me terribly guilty. I never thought of servants never seeing their families.

I don’t think I remember Anna (you remember Anna was my maid in Downton) ever mentioning family, or Thomas or Mr Carson. I think young William Mason (that was Cousin Matthew’s soldier servant during the war), sometimes saw his father and his father was a local farmer. I never knew the privilege I had to be always with my family, whether it be cousins or uncles and aunts. And now it’s gone. I don’t know how long it will be until I see my family again. Tom say’s maybe Christmas.

Anyway, please do tell me how everyone fares in Downton, I miss everyone so. How are you settling in? I hope you don’t find it too tedious with Cousin Isobel’s and Granny’s machinations. Try to avoid any of their schemes, I am sure you will have a much more peaceful life if you do.

Yours affectionately,

Lady Mary Branson

P.S. How strange to sign my name so. It still feels so unnatural.

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The wall paper is a delightful green and the chairs are a deep red. The floor is polished and I actually got the rug from a house sale. The paintings I bought from a local gallery near Grafton Street. They are not by anyone famous but I liked the country scenes now I live in a city.

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1^st of May, 1919

Dearest Lavinia,

I was delighted to receive your letter. I am glad you and Matthew are well and are enjoying your married life in Yorkshire. Thank you for letting me know how everyone is getting on. I find my own letters to my family stilted. Granny is the easiest to write to, at least she is a practical woman, and I can write her of day-to-day life. Granny's letters offer a practical comfort, filled with advice on managing household affairs.

But Mama and Papa are impossible. Papa's anger towards Tom seems an insurmountable barrier, I don’t how we will overcome it. Tom has expressed his regret and the guilt he feels over the whole situation. Especially with the division he has put between me and my family and of course for hurting poor Sybil. Please let me know if you hear any news from Sybil. I just can’t write to her yet.

Mama is almost worse than Papa. She thinks I am living in some hovel and that Tom beats me every day. I have tried being positive and I have sent her some sketches of the Flat. But she just calls me her ‘Brave Darling Girl’. I swear I can see tear stains on her letters.

By the way thank you for your kind words about the sketch I sent you. I am sure it is not nearly as good as you say. I will add a sketch of the park I can see from my windows. It is so lovely now that spring is here, the flowers have started to bloom. I am glad to see daffodils growing, they are very popular here. I mentioned to Tom that I liked them. He has started to bring them home for me.

I look from my windows and the streets are so busy and filled with life and activities. Mothers with their children walking in the spring sunshine. Busy house keepers, with filled shopping baskets. Men of business strolling about, often smoking cigarettes or a pipe. The seemed to be filled with purpose, the opposite of me, who seem to have fallen into a more purposeless life than I even had at Downton.

Now, on a more personal note, I must share my apprehensions about Tom. At Downton I had such hopes for us. We seemed to be getting along so well and Tom displayed such wit and humour. But ever since I arrived here in Dublin, he has been so quiet and withdrawn, and our conversations are scarce.  He leaves early in the morning and comes home late. I was just trying to speak with him the other day and he shouted at me.  No one has shouted at me like that before (well except for Edith, she doesn’t count as she is all ways screeching at me). I will admit it frightened me and I went to my room, and I cried.

I feel lost and alone, yearning for home and the solace of familiar faces. Do you have any advice, dear Lavinia? I can't fathom Matthew ever raising his voice to you, and I find myself at a loss. Your words would mean the world to me.

Please write to me soon.

Yours affectionately

Mary

P.S. Here is the picture of the park, I am not completely happy with the style or perspective of it.  But you will get the impression of it.

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9^th of May 1919

Dearest Lavinia,

I hope this letter finds you well and you are enjoying springtime in Yorkshire. Thank you for sharing the lovely descriptions of the May Day celebrations in Downton. I had so many wonderful memories of that time of year at home. I am glad Matthew was able to escort you to the celebrations. Soon the season of Garden Parties and cricket matches will be upon you. Be warned Papa is terribly competitive when it comes to Cricket, but alas the village nearly always wins.

I was especially glad that Sybil was home for the celebrations. It was her birthday recently, so I sent her card in recognition of the day. I haven’t received a reply yet. I was very thankful of your descriptions and glad that she is looking happier these days. It would be a great boon to me dear friend, if you can extend the hand of friendship. Sybil is such a kind and friendly sole, she always had many good friends, but I fear she won’t be able to confide in anyone. I hope this is not too much to ask.

Thank you for the kind encouraging words regarding Tom. He confessed all a few evenings ago. Don’t be alarmed, it was a case of reality not matching the romanticised fantasy of being a reporter. By Tom’s account a lot of slog and boredom and not nearly enough dashing about being heroic, had gotten him down.

We were able to a have a meaningful conversation reminiscent of the conversations we started to have while at Downton. Together we have come up with a plan. I must admit it is very exciting, but I can’t tell you anything until everything is settled. We will venture down an avenue nobody expected me to travel, especially me.

I will confide that Tom and I are going to visit his publisher tomorrow.

On a more personal note, Tom has been able to locate a riding club in Dublin County. I have missed riding so. The feel of the wind in my face, the peacefulness of being free. Just being surrounded by countryside. After a hard ride, I like to sit, and take in my surroundings. The quiet allowing me to think clearly.

Lavinia dear, I don’t think we ever spoke of riding when you were at Downton. Do you ride? I regret now never taking you riding around Downton, especially as it will one day be your home. Or not taking you up on your kind offer of a ride in your motor. Maybe you feel similar in your motor.

Anyway, Tom has arranged an introduction for me. I will admit to being slightly nervous about the meeting. I am concerned that they won’t be as friendly to me as I am English. Tom said they will probably be a posh lot and will be pro-Britain. I do hope the meeting is a success. I have missed riding so and I am hopeful that I might be able to build some friendships with the other riders.

You might be wondering how I can join a riding club without a horse. Tom has shown his resourcefulness by locating a nearby stables that provide horses for hire. I am doubtful of the quality of the horses I will be offered. I am not optimistic if they are just renting them out. But it is not economical to buy a horse if I can only ride once a week. So it will have to be the hired horse for now.

Tom and I did spend a humorous afternoon looking for riding clothes for Tom. We shared much laughter as he tried on the ridiculous riding outfits. He absolutely refuses to buy them new. He actually took me to the second-hand store he frequents! Can you believe it? I think I might include it in the next letter I write Granny. You will have to report back on her reaction. I will admit privately to you and you alone that the quality of the clothing is good, but I will not give Tom the satisfaction of that knowledge.

Everything we found that day were comically too large or too small. He settled on tan jodhpurs and a dark navy riding jacket, much too large. He did have to buy new boots and shirts for riding. I told him firmly that I would not ride with him if he was going to look like a clown. He gave such a withering look I feel sure it would rival Granny’s.

He got quite huffy over that. I do feel guilty now as he was very pleased with his find. He just scowled and said I’ll see and stomped off. I did apologise with a nice jam doughnut, Tom’s favourite treat, and he tentatively forgave me.

I received a very long letter from Granny last week. She was telling me all about an argument she was having with Cousin Isabel about the hospital. I hope this is not making things difficult for you and Matthew in the village. I know Granny and Isobel are very strong-willed people. The only advice I can give you is to support your mother-in-law. I do feel it does Granny good to be thwarted now and then.

I am looking forward to your next letter and hearing all your news.

Warmest regards

Mary

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19^th May 1919

Dearest Lavinia,

I was so sorry to hear that you have had the flu. I am relieved that you are now recovering. The stories about the 'Spanish Flu' in the press have been alarming. Is this what you were suffering from? Are you fully recovered? Please write back as soon as possible to reassure me.

I hope my tales might distract you, though it feels trivial considering your recent health troubles. Yet, where do I start? So much has happened in such a short time.

Well, the horse-riding club turned out to be a great success. Unfortunately, Tom's new riding clothes weren't ready for the first meet, so he didn't join me in a ride. Though he escorted me to the stables where I hired a handsome gelding named Cesar. A beautiful chocolate brown coat with one white sock, he was full of character and spirit, definitely requiring an experienced rider.

Tom spent his time exploring the area on foot, where he somehow discovered a country pub. I have noticed the abilities of husbands to be able to find a pub no matter the task they are on. Though I will say of Tom that he is not that keen beer or stout. He confided that what little wine he had drunk in the past, that he preferred it, or a cool cider on a hot summer’s day. Tell me does Matthew have the ability to locate a pub wherever he is?

I don’t know how he does it, but by the end of his sojourn he was fully appraised about an ongoing feud between the O’Sullivan’s and the O’Flynn’s and the amorous attentions of Farmer O’Flynn’s bull named Bertie. Who apparently impregnated several heifers belonging to Farmer O’Sullivan, who is refusing to pay a servicing fee to Farmer O’Flynn. It must be Tom’s reporting abilities shining through.

Ten others joined the ride, including a groom from the stable. Among them was Mrs. Marjory Holden, whose husband is a QC in Dublin. They have only been married for a year, and the coincidence is striking – she is from Cumbria. We have much in common, and she has invited us to dinner next Tuesday. Truly my first venture into the Dublin social whirl. I am rather excited to expand my social circle.

Mrs Holden is an attractive woman of about my age, with the prettiest blonde hair, her riding clothes and hat were very fashionable. She was telling me about her experience on moving to Ireland. She felt Mr Holden’s colleagues were very welcoming. But the locals were more wary of her. Even though she has been here for at least six months, she still detects a certain frostiness in the local shop keepers. I know what she means, as I feel sometimes the shop keepers look at me with suspicion.

Tom has been having trouble with his colleagues at the Newspaper, so I have so far only socialised with Tom’s family. Only his mother and sister still live in Ireland. Our social interactions so far have been fraught with awkwardness. We have been going to Mrs Branson's flat after church service every Sunday. Where she serves me lunch in a very stiff manner. We have little in common except Tom and it has only been in the last few weeks that Tom & I relationship has reached a new intimacy. I am sure you understand how difficult it can be for a daughter-in-law to integrate into her husband’s family. 

Mrs Holden was very interested to know that Tom was a reporter and author. She has invited us to dinner next Tuesday. Truly my first venture into the Dublin social whirl. I am rather excited to expand my social circle.

Tom and I have been having a jolly time since our big conversation. But a woman needs more company than just her husband.

I hope you have been making friends in Yorkshire. It has only just occurred to me that I never offered to make introductions. Though with my reputation, such as it is, maybe it wouldn’t be that beneficial to you. On second thoughts maybe you should ask Sybil to make introductions for you. Everyone always loves Sybil.

I must tell you I met a lady publisher this past week, Miss Button Doran. She has the reddest hair I have ever seen. Much redder than yours dearest. With simply the biggest brown eyes, too. She will be publishing Tom’s anthology of short stories. I believed I mentioned Tom’s book during dinner at Downton.

I have never met a female businesswoman before. She was so dynamic and energetic. I found her to be scarily competent. Tom admires her greatly. She was cool with me when we first met, I will admit. But the more I participated in conversation she seemed to warm up to me. We’re not exactly friends by the end of the conversation, but she did seem to give me a real scrutinising look before we parted. She gave me her business card and said we would have to ‘do lunch’, I was very surprised and curious. I think I will take her up on her offer of lunch, though I am not sure what we will be discussing! I am sure it will be thrilling, well I hope so, I will be disappointed if it turns out to be as dry as the conversations some of Papa’s business acquaintances have had in the past.

Now back to Downton and Granny. She has told me all about the efforts her gardener is making to produce the best roses for the Downton Country Fair. But I have heard from Mama that Mr Mosely the elder, has a fine crop of roses this year. Granny will be fit to be tide if she loses again to Mr Mosely. Have you been roped in for judging any events? Mama, always claims a conflict of interest, keep this in mind if they ask you to do the honours.

Us three girls used to judge the prettiest kitten competition or the waggliest tail competition. The village children would all enter their pets and most of the children would get a ribbon or a sweet treat for entering. Please send me your opinions of this year’s winners. I am sure your report will be less biased than Granny’s.

Again, get well dear! Looking forward to any news from Downton.

Fondest wishes.

Mary

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29^th of May 2019

Dearest Lavinia,

I was so pleased to hear that you are now fully recovered from your dreadful flu. It was such a relief. Tom wrote a story for the Times about the effect of the Spanish flu on the working class. It was truly shocking; he was telling me about the number of people who have died, especially those poor people living in such cramped conditions.

Tom hasn’t taken me to the truly poor areas of Dublin; he doesn’t think it would be safe for me, even with my husband accompanying me. Living in Downton as I did, I probably had a rose-tinted view of the working class, thinking of Anna and Carson as examples and the various gardeners I would see happily about their work. Papa always made sure that the tenant cottages were in liveable condition. I just assumed that working-class people were healthy robust sorts, like I would see around Downton.

I hadn’t realized that Tom’s own mother was considered well-off by working-class standards. Her children had worked together and bought Mrs. Branson her tiny little terraced house. In a street filled with such houses. All the houses have brightly coloured doors. All the women made sure that their little garden was neat as a pin and the brass knockers where sparkling with how vigorously they were all polished. It’s a little two up, two down, as Tom calls it. This is where there are only two rooms on the ground floor and two bedrooms on the first floor. Mrs. Branson always seats me in her sitting room when I come over. This is an honour usually reserved for her priest and never her children.

Tom tells me her kitchen is considered spacious. It is certainly spotlessly clean. She has a kitchen table that can seat six people comfortably, a solid fuel range, and a Belfast sink with fresh water plumbed directly to the kitchen. All painted in a cheerful yellow and cream. She has a large dresser against one wall where she keeps her special china. Tom says I am blessed to be served on such plates.

The most embarrassing thing is that they only have an outside toilet. I am sorry for talking about such an indelicate subject. But we visit Mrs. Branson every Sunday afternoon, and sometimes it just cannot be avoided. I don’t think I have blushed so severely as the first time I requested to use the facilities and was told it was outside. Poor Mrs. Branson’s blushed profusely too. She sent Tom out first to make sure there were no SPIDERS present! It was terrible. As it was a newly built house it has electric lighting, so that was one upside. It would have been dreadful to have to sit out there in the dark.

Anyway, what I am trying to say in this rambling account is Mrs. Branson has a sweet little house that is the exception rather than the norm. Tom has told me of tenements where a family of ten might live in two small rooms. Sometimes there might be multigenerations living in the same cramped conditions. That any illness runs rampant through the building. But the truly frightening thing about the Spanish Flu is how it seems to strike down adults in their prime. There are numerous families who have been orphaned, with just elderly grandparents to care for children left. I am curious, did you ever see such tenements when you lived in London?

Mrs. Holden and I are organizing some charity drives to raise money for these poor families. I felt so sorry for them, how frightened those children must be, suddenly without a mother or father. So, we are also collecting donations of food and clothing, to help them. Mrs. Holden is splendidly organized. She is such a friendly sort that she seems to know everyone in Dublin. I am glad we are becoming friends. We are organizing an art auction to raise some necessary funds. Tom even persuaded his newspaper to print an article about our little auction to increase interest in the event.

But the most embarrassing thing about it, I am blushing even writing this down. Mrs. Holden has persuaded me to enter one of my watercolours for the auction. I feel I am not good enough; I am only amateur after all. Tom has been very supportive and encouraging. He seems to think my artwork is worthy. Being my husband, I think he might be biased. I am mainly afraid that no one will bid on my work. It is just a view of St Stephen’s green similar to what I have sent you previously. What do you think, dearest?

I am glad to hear from your letters that the Spanish Flu hasn’t taken hold at Downton. I do worry about you all. I was also pleased to hear about your own charity work with the displaced Russians. I can sympathize with them, moving to a foreign country where they might not know anyone. I know it is different for me; I can at least come home for visits. But still, I feel for them.

Granny is also pleased with your work with the refugees. But I think this is mainly because Cousin Isobel is so distracted by their plight that she isn’t paying as much interest in the cottage hospital.

I was also pleased to hear about your planned holiday to the beach with Matthew. I am sure you will have a lovely time, as long as the weather stays dry.

Tom has been telling me that he would like to take me to Bray, his childhood home. It will be nice to see where he was brought up.

Oh! Before I forget, I have arranged to have lunch with Miss Doran next Thursday. I will keep you abreast of all she says.

May your health continue to improve.

Fondest regards.

Mary

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5^th of June, 1919

Dear Mary,

I hope you and Tom are well. I do look forward to hearing all about your new life in Dublin. It sounds so different from my life here in Yorkshire.

I am pleased you and Mrs Holden are raising money for those unfortunate families. I feel for those poor children. As you know my own dear mother died when I was young, I was only nine. I can’t explain how bereft I felt at her passing, like my whole world changed in a moment. So I am pleased at anything you can do for those families who have suffered such loss.

I am sure your painting will sell in the auction. The sketches you have sent me have been so charming, so well executed. My favourite was the pictures of the fairies. I feel the drawings of St. Stephens Green evoke the essence of Dublin wonderfully.

I spoke to Mother (Matthew’s mother insisted I call her such) about the living conditions of the working class. She said the conditions in the city were terrible, there are still streets of houses that don’t have running water and many people only have access to outside toilets. Though Mrs Branson’s house sounds charming.

Matthew and I are still living in Crawley house. Married life is not exactly what I expected. It is awkward having marital relations when your mother-in-law is sleeping a few yards away. When we were courting during the war, everything was so exciting. Matthew would arrive from the front and we would be in a whirlwind of social activities. When he proposed, we spoke of having our own little house. But now we are married he doesn’t want to move. He always says ‘later’ or ‘we will talk about it soon’.

He has started working longer hours at the office and if he is not at the office he visits your father. “He says he needs to learn about the Estate and to start to take a real hand in helping run Downton”. I miss him and I am lonely. I know you understand how that feels.

We went to the seaside for a holiday. We talked and went for walks by the sea front and it was lovely, but Matthew seemed tense. He promised to try and be home more often. I think he is worried about his old war injury. We have been married for a while and yet there is no sign of a baby yet. I know this is an indelicate topic, but I have no one to talk to. It is at times like these I wish my mother was still alive. I just don’t know what to say to him to reassure him. You have known him longer than I, do you have any advice for me?

Enough with my troubles. The summer fete was this past weekend as you have probably heard. Your mother had invited a Horticulturist from London to come for the weekend and to judge the various competitions. Lady Violet was planning on having dinner at the House every evening he was here. I think, so she could put in a good word for her roses. But mother pointed out that the gossips of the village would say she was cheating if she was seen influencing the Judge. There was many a frosty words exchanged between the two. Lady Violet wanted to know who exactly would be telling the ‘gossips’ that she was at the house. And how dare anyone sully the Noble Crawley name, etc.

I am sure you have witnessed many an argument between the two to imagine the dialogue. Anyway Lady Violet decided she wouldn’t dine at the House, but that she would dine with us at Crawley house instead. Lady Violet said ‘To insure that there were witnesses and that no one could accuse her of cheating’. I am surprised either of them managed to eat anything with how much the were arguing at the dinner table.

Everything turned out for the best in the end. Lady Violet’s roses won the competition. They were the most beautiful pink and yellow roses I think I have ever seen. Mr Green told me the name of it was Rosa ‘Peace’.  Mr Green, Lady Violet’s gardener was relieved his mistress won this year. Mr Moseley shook his hand and congratulated him for an excellent show.

That’s all my news for now. Please let me know how your lunch with Miss Doran progressed.

Wishing you all the best, dear Mary

Lavinia

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9^th of June 1919

Dearest Lavinia,

Thank you for your kind letter and confiding in me for your hopes for a baby in the future. This is a difficult subject for a Lady to address. As you have probably discerned from my letters, Tom and I have built a more intimate relationship, then might have been foreseen from our unexpected marriage.

I am trusting you with private information, that is not usual for women of our station to share. But as your friend I felt like I needed to give you this information, hopefully to set your mind at ease. Tom and I had discussed the wish to have children. I am not sure if you realise this, but this April I turned 29 years of age. I was a proper old maid when I was married, so I was concerned that with my age, I might be too old to have a first baby.

My friend Mrs Holden recommended a doctor, here in Dublin. He told me that it was perfectly normal for a woman to take 18 months to become with child, after marriage. He said this was true even for women who were younger than me.

Forgive me this next part is most embarrassing, I can feel my face heating just contemplating my next words. The doctor told me that for best success. Forgive me! That the husband should be vigorously intimate with his wife, as often as possible in the middle of the wife’s cycle. The cycle was from first day of menstruation, to the following first day of menstruation. It is up to you how you manage this with Matthew.

Rest assured that each couple experiences are unique. I am sure that there is no need to worry.

As to your other confidences regarding Matthew and his work. Might I suggest that if he is spending time with Papa, learning the ropes at Downton. That you could go with him to Downton and ask my Mama to guide you on the Mistress’s duties of a great House? From Mama’s letter’s I know she is missing having both Sybil and I at home. I even understand that Edith has been spending more time with Aunt Rosamunde lately too.

She is missing having young women around her and I am sure she would welcome your company. You also mentioned the difficulty you were having in confiding in Cousin Isabel. My mother has had several children and sadly some losses too. I am sure she would be a good sympathetic listener for you. If you find the prospect of introducing the subject to my mother too difficult, I can write to her if you like?

And now for some lighter news, though please don’t mention it to my family, but I have a job! I had mentioned that I was meeting Miss Button Doran, who was a publisher. Well, we finally met for lunch at Bewley’s. It’s a darling Cafe, in the French style, just opened on Grafton Street. It is such a vibrant place, beautiful wood finishes. It does delicious lunches, as well as afternoon tea.

It’s close to the Publishing House on Dawson Street, it’s very popular with writers, Tom goes there to meet his writer friends, talk politics, and drink coffee. Anyway, I met Miss Doran there. She told me that they were having difficulty finding illustrators. Tom had shown her some of my work and she offered me a job.

Tom says that I am a brilliant illustrator, and I should take the job if I want to. So, I accepted, I now work as an Illustrator, and I earn £18 per month. I have never earned my own money before. Tom opened a bank account for me, where I can save my own money. It is all very exciting.

I start work at 9am and finish at 5pm, with an hour lunch break. It is a bustling office, I work in a large bright room, with three other illustrators, with drawing tables. I am giving a précis of the image I must draw from the author or editor. I have never felt so independent before.

I was very nervous about working. There are women who work as secretaries and typists, but nearly all professional rolls are held by men. I did have a slight moment of embarrassment. One of the sub-editors says, ‘Tea’. I said, ‘Yes please, just some milk please’. He looked quite annoyed, he told me he wanted tea, and I was to go and get it for him. I must have turned the brightest red anyone had ever seen. I then had to admit that I didn’t know how to make tea. He shouted at me!

Mabel, a lovely girl who works as a secretary took me away and showed me how to make the tea. I will admit my hands were shaking. Mabel told me there is usually a char lady who comes through the office every couple of hours with a tea trolley. But the women in the office usually make the editors tea if they ask. The exception is Miss Doran, who apparently threw a teacup at the last man who asked her to make one.

Apart from that experience, everything is going well, and I am getting on well with the other illustrators who have been very kind, showing me where all the Art supplies are stored.

I haven’t told my family about work. I am afraid they won’t understand. I fear that they would blame Tom, for ‘forcing me to work’. This is not true at all. We discuss all things together. Tom has very strong views on Women’s Suffrage, and he thinks that I should have agency over my own life.

On a completely different note, I have finally been riding with Tom. Obviously, he is completely self-taught. He learnt to ride bareback! He does have good instincts and won’t take long to improve his seat and handling of the horse. He is riding this large gentle mare, called Daisy. She’s beautiful, with such a soft velvety nose. I think she is in love, as even if Tom is not riding her, she wants to come up to him for a pet and a treat.

Last Sunday, he joined me on my outing with the riding club. He is such a personable man that he was soon chatting away to the other riders. Mrs Holding says he is ‘Darling’. He acquitted himself well, even though he was not the best rider in the group.

Tom has arranged for us to go to Bray next weekend, I will let you know what the town is like. I haven’t been to the sea in ages, and we are looking forward to our trip. We will be staying at a hotel near the beach. I have one of those new bathing suits and if it is warm enough, I will try sea bathing. Tom says he will go swimming no matter the weather.

Please keep me informed of the goings on at Downton. I hope you and Matthew can resolve your issues.

Love

Mary

Chapter Text

17^th of June 1919

Dearest Lavinia,

I hope you and Matthew are well. I was so pleased to hear that you took my advice and called on Mama. I have just received a letter from Mama, and she seems much more optimistic than her previous letters to me. She seemed very excited about the prospect of you helping her plan Downton’s Garden Party. So I thank you dearest for spending time with her.

I have much to tell you since I last wrote to you.

Most relevant to you is that I have asked Granny’s advice about breaking the news to Mama and Papa that I now have a job. Upon reflection I thought it unfair for you to be keeping so many of my secrets, especially now that you are up at the house more often.

On the most amazing news I received a letter from Edith! Who informed me she is writing for a Ladies Magazine in London. I was surprised that Edith would be so daring. Frankly I have received several letters from Edith since moving to Dublin. I haven’t been as open as the letters I write you, but I have realised that Edith is a much more entertaining writer than I have ever given her credit for.

Realistically we never had much reason or opportunity to write to each other before my marriage. I wrote back immediately and told her of my new job as an illustrator. Her editor sounds much nicer than some of the editors I have been working with. Button is a wonder, but she is very ‘tough’, I don’t know if that is the correct descriptor. She confided in me, that she needs to be harder, when working with the men. That she needs to constantly prove herself.

I wrote to Edith and asked her about her experiences working for the magazine. We may finally have common ground.

I don’t think I will ever be bosom sisters with Edith, but it is curious how I view her differently now that I am married. Tom, who has two siblings too, opined that it is because Edith and I are no longer in competition. Tom has an older brother Kieran, I have yet to meet. He is a mechanic in Liverpool, he owns his own business. Mrs Branson is prodigiously proud of her eldest son. Though she didn’t mean too, she fostered a sense of competition between the brothers when they were children, by enthusiastically praising Tom’s writing skills. The animosity between them only eased when Kieran achieved his own success with his business. It has given me much to think on.

So dearest you may speak freely to Granny, Edith and of course Cousin Isabel. I assumed you would discuss my letters freely with Matthew, as your husband. Depending on what Granny advises I will tell Mama and Papa soon, then you won’t have to keep any secrets from the family.

As I mentioned in my last letter Tom planned to take me to Bray. We did indeed go to Bray last weekend. We were lucky and had the most glorious weather. Which is in no way guaranteed in Ireland.

We travelled down to Bray via the train. The Hotel sends a large car to collect any hotel guests arriving at the station and a pony trap to transport the luggage to the hotel. The hotel is a fine Victorian Building all in brilliant white plaster. It is very close to the sea. Our room was on the third floor and had the most glorious view. The room was prettily decorated, with floral wallpaper and a dusky pink, curtains, furnishings, with a complimentary cream trim.

We did indeed go sea bathing, it was both easier and more difficult to swim than I expected. A former governess had taught us three girls to swim in the pond at Downton. The sea provided more buoyancy when swimming, yet the waves themselves make it more difficult. A large wave did knock me over and once Tom had righted me, he had the nerve to laugh! He said I looked like an angry wet kitten.

Really living with a man is sometimes like living with an overgrown child. I have never been squeamish, so when I spotted a jellyfish, I threw it at him. I laughed and laughed at Tom as he screamed and hopped about the beach like a small child. He then apologised for laughing earlier and we called a truce.

We did have a lovely time. On the Sunday morning before going home, Tom arranged for a morning ride on the beach. He is rapidly improving his seat. We had a most enjoyable ride. It is so invigorating galloping across a beach, the wind in your face, the smell of the salt air and the warmth of the morning sun on your skin.

Yes, we had a lovely time in Bray.

Dearest I want to ask an unusual favour of you. I mentioned that Tom has submitted his short story anthology to the publishers. Hence Tom has started his next big project, a novel! I can’t tell you any details, as Tom, I have found is rather superstitious when it comes to the early stages of his writing.

Anyway, the plot centres on art forgery. I remember once you mentioning to me that your father had dealt with a forgery case. I was hoping you might facilitate an introduction between your father and Tom? Tom is in throws of inspiration now. He is very excited about the novel and is writing feverishly day and night.

The way he explained to me his process, is that he likes to write the basic story from start to finish and then has a very long editing period, where he does detailed research and develops the intricacies of the plot. He would like to correspond with your father who has actual knowledge of the legal ramifications of art forgery.

I must admit it has added an air of excitement to the flat. This is the first time since we have been married that I have seen Tom in this stage of his work. It has a completely different feel to when he was working as a journalist. Then the process seemed to be filled with struggle and frustration. So, it is a lovely change.

For example, I woke up at 3 am during the week to find Tom banging away at his typewriter. Mrs Murphy and I must make sure he drinks and eats regularly, or he quite forgets. I suppose this is life to be married to a writer. Our artistic approaches are quite different, I enjoy drawing in peace and order. Tom is all wild energy and noise.

I never expected married life to be so, so noisy. Mrs Murphy says her husband Seamus was the very same, noise and chaos wherever he went. I don’t remember Papa being especially noisy. But I suppose Downton is so very large that we wouldn’t notice. Is Matthew very noisy?

Bye the bye, Mrs Murphy says you should try drinking chamomile tea before bed to help you sleep. I was sorry to hear you have been so frightfully tired recently. I know you said you couldn’t stomach warm milk now. She also said you should try to sleep with a sprig of lavender under your pillow, as it is very soothing.

One more thing, have you heard from Sybil? I have written several letters to her, but she has yet to reply. I am worried about her. Mama has said she is getting on well at the preparatory college. Maybe it is still too soon to write me.

Hoping you get plenty of rest.

Love as always.

Mary

Chapter Text

12^th of July 1919

Dearest Lavinia,

How are you in sunny Yorkshire? I hope all is well with you and your family. Thank you for latest letter with all the news from Downton. I am glad you’re planning for the end of summer garden party is going well.

Yours was not the first letter I received about my letter and lunch at Downton. Reproaching me. I have mentioned in the past the trouble I have writing in a more natural way to my parents. I hadn’t realised just how poor an impression I was giving to Mama and Papa until I received your report.

I just don’t know why I am having such difficulty writing naturally to Mama and Papa. No, that’s lie, it’s remorse for all the trouble and heartache I have caused them. From acting so recklessly in the past. And for the pain I must have caused my sisters too.

I also received a letter from Edith, who was quite scathing in her criticism. Even Granny has sent me an admonishing letter. Granny says I should mention Tom more often and include more details about my day-to-day life here in Dublin. She says I am giving the impression that I am a princess locked in my tower by my wicked husband.  

But it seems like a betrayal to Sybil, to be happy with my life in Dublin. At times Tom feels dreadfully guilty about it too. We can talk about the past with more ease now. But still, he will occasionally spend much longer in bed and is very listless when he does get up. He too tells me he feels happier each day with our life and marriage. Which is then followed by crushing guilt.

On brighter news I finally had a letter from Sybil. She apologised for taking so long to write. She mainly wrote about here time in college, which she says she is enjoying. Here is a quote from her letter.

‘I have made many new friends. There are so many young women, all striving to better themselves. It’s wonderful to be surrounded by likeminded women. The course work is geared towards entry into university. It is challenging but I am enjoying it’.

I am delighted that she is making new friends. I hope she achieves her goals.

Edith also wrote that she and Sybil have been socialising in London. Edith recounted that they both went to a party held by the Duke of Westminster’s son. Edith described Sybil as being radiant and that she was the 'bell of the ball'.

I hope that’s true.

Along with yours and Edith’s description of her improved appearance, I am happy that she is recovering from her disappointment regarding Tom. This pleases me. I hope she is happier with each day that passes. Sybil is such a darling, so kind and caring, she deserves joy in her life.

On a happier note, Tom has become a dedicated correspondent with your father. There are more letters exchanging hands between the two men, then there are between us. He is very enthusiastic about this new novel. He shares snippets here and there with me and it does sound very exciting. Though of course he has sworn me to secrecy.

He has even taken me with him when he is out scouting for locations or researching art and art forgery. We have been to several galleries and museums here in Dublin. If we are to be out for the entire day Mrs Murphy makes sandwiches for us that I carry in a wicker basket. Tom buys us two bottles of Taylor’s Red Lemonade. A most unusual drink and yes, it is a vivid red colour. But still, quite delicious.

You might be wondering about the ‘locations’ I mentioned. He explained that he liked to look at all types of building wondering what secrets lie behind the facade of the buildings. He then writes detailed descriptions of what he sees, to use later in his work. I help by drawing a quick sketch of whatever building takes his fancy. It feels so collaborative. Like I am part of the writing process.

With us being out and about at various Galleries and what not, some of the owners have been thrilled about Tom’s idea for the novel. So thrilled that we had been invited to an opening for a new   J.B. Yeats exhibition.

When we started to be invited to social events in Dublin, I insisted that Tom buy appropriate attire. Tom is such a self-sufficient man, that he always pays for his own clothes. He has excellent taste too. You probably noticed his handsome wedding suit. He thinks it is the height of madness to buy new clothes when there are second hand shops available. As I wrote before, the quality that can be found is good and it is amazing what a good seamstress can do.

Anyway, he looked very handsome in his black tuxedo, he wore a lovely silk waistcoat and red silk pocket square, so I wore a gorgeous red silk evening dress with just exquisite beading. We looked very well together.

The party was so lively with many notable Dublin personages there. Including Lady Gregory, Jack B. Yeats and even his brother William Butler Yeats. Tom was beside himself with excitement to be in the presence of one of his literary hero’s.

The gallery was in a Georgian house, with attractive mouldings, starkly painted white walls and large windows. I was told the rooms had excellent light during the day. All the guests were dressed beautifully, I was pleased to note that Tom blended in perfectly with the crowd. There was such gaity and the champagne was flowing, and so was the gossip.

There is a rumour here that Lord Drumgoole is having an affair with a very wealthy American widow. I knew his wife ten years ago, very well, as we came out together. Though she hasn’t contacted me since I have been in Dublin. I suppose she has heard of my disgrace. She greeted me very coolly when we met at the party. I didn’t let it dampen my spirits though. There were so many there who were kindness itself to Tom and me.

But the crowning glory of the night was when the great man himself W.B. Yeats complimented one of Tom’s poems, he even quoted a stanza, that he thought particularly evoked the Irish people’s fight for self-determination.

Tom practically swooned.

I have heard many a retelling of the encounter since then.

I will say that I thought Mr Yeats was a very distinguished man, his greying hair was swept back from his large forehead, and I found his eyes behind his glasses to be quite penetrating. I am pleased that I got to meet him too.

Well dearest, I will have to sign-off now, I am working on a dreadful illustration for the dullest author you will ever meet. Stories about morality, where all the interesting people (that is the wicked people) end in bad way. It is a struggle, especially as the direction is very vague, he wants ‘the personification of goodness itself’. I am not sure how I am meant to draw that! Thus, I have settled on a pretty doe-eyed blond girl. So cliched. Oh well! I am a working woman now, so I will just have to knuckle down and do my job.

Let me know how your jamboree proceeds, I hope you make some money for those unfortunate Russian refugees.

I was speaking to Mrs Murphy about you feeling nauseous, Mrs Murphy recommends that you try and eat dry toast or crackers, along with cup of weak earl grey tea. She says this will help to settle your stomach. Or you can try candied ginger if there is any available in the village shop. I hope you will start to feel better soon.

Looking forward to hearing more of the plans you and Mama are working on for the Garden Party. I know it is dreadfully hot in London during the summer, but will you be venturing forth to see any shows do you think? Let me know all your news.

Love as always.

Mary

Chapter Text

17^th of July 1919

Dear Mama and Papa,

I trust this letter finds you both in good health and Downton is flourishing in my absence. I have been glad to hear that Matthew and Lavinia have shown such keen interest in the estate in recent months.

I have some exciting news to impart. Tom is writing a novel—yes, quite a departure from his usual style, but he is very enthusiastic about the project. He is working on it night and day. Of course, he needed to leave the Times to focus on his novel, an easy decision as he didn't enjoy the work at the newspaper as much as he thought. He explained it was too regimented for his style of writing. That he likes to be free to pursue his own interests. He sees it as no great loss.

Tom has been going out every day, exploring different locations to capture the ambiance and essence of buildings and streets he visits. He believes this approach adds authenticity to his narrative, as he can instil his fictional locations with a sense of the real world. I have been joining him for luncheons during my breaks, and we recently had a delightful experience at the Gresham Hotel on Sackville Street. The elegant stone structure with expansive windows and Waterford crystal chandeliers provided a splendid backdrop for our meal. I persuaded Tom to try caviar and champagne, which led to quite an amusing reaction from him. The champagne, however, suited his taste. I enjoyed salmon mousse with Melba toast, followed by strawberries and cream. It was a delightful meal.

After luncheon, Tom engaged the manager with his innate charm, sharing his aspirations of setting his novel in a distinguished hotel like the Gresham. This led to an impromptu behind-the-scenes tour, further enhancing our afternoon with excitement and discovery.

Tom was particularly thrilled to tour the hotel and explore the private garage. The hotel owns four motors of various sizes and employs two chauffeurs to drive guests to and from the port or various train stations in Dublin.

Since moving to Dublin, we have become involved in the social scene, attending intriguing soirées. Recently, we were invited to an art exhibition held by Jack B. Yeats, attended by notable Dublin socialites, including Lady Gregory, a well-known dramatist. Tom, being a published poet, found common ground with Lady Gregory, a fascinating woman. However, she shared memories of encountering Granny and Grandfather, and there seemed to be some tension between her and Granny. She remarked that Granny was a "very shrewd woman."

Lady Gregory complimented Tom, noting him as a handsome husband, and we made a striking pair at the event. The next day, tired from the night out, I became the centre of attention at work, as all the girls were eager to hear all the details about my night out with Tom. The girls in the typist pool wouldn’t get the same opportunity to socialise in the same circle as me.

I am currently working on illustrations for a morality novel, though it's not the most exciting work. One of my fellow illustrators is working on a Jules Verne translation for children with numerous illustrations, and I can't help but feel a touch of envy toward his impressive portfolio. However, being the newest illustrator, I understand the need to prove myself.

I am pleased to inform you that Tom and I plan to visit at Christmas this year. Tom expects to be in the final stage of his novel, allowing us some free time. I will inquire about the number of days off I can take and write closer to the time with exact details.

Please ensure to send me all the details about the garden party in August. This will be the first time I have ever missed the event, and I'm sure it will be a brilliant success.

Love,

Mary

Chapter Text

21st of July 1919

Dear Anna,

I hope all is well in Downton and you and Mr Bates are in good health. Please give my best regards to Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes. I miss everyone dearly at Downton.

I miss you especially and our morning talks as I got ready for the day. I really wish you could have come with me, but I know you couldn’t leave your husband behind. My hair has never been in such poor condition, and I can only manage the most basic of styles.

Whenever we have a social event I have been going to Madam Isabelle, she is the polar opposite of Mrs Crawley. She is very petite, she stands on a little wooden stool when she styles customers hair. A very stylish woman, with a soft Irish accent, she actually speaks French! She is very friendly and she tells me the most scandalous gossip in French.

Tom and I have an important event in November and I need you to order me a dress from my favourite shop in London. The shops here are adequate, some are even quite stylish. But this is an important event and I want to look my best. None of my measurements have changed. I have enclosed a copy of the fashion plate, showing the dress I want designed.

If you could have the dress posted to my new address in Dublin, that would be appreciated. Just have the bill sent to Mr Murray as usual, my clothes allowance will pay for it.

Can you also purchase three dress shirts for Tom? Considering the latest fashion trends, Tom's preference is for comfort, and nothing too fussy. He has a double-breasted Dinner Jacket with silk lapels, I am looking for dress shirts that complement this ensemble. Mr. Bates has a keen eye for styles, and if you could consult with him to ensure we choose shirts that are both fashionable and fitting for the event, I would be most grateful.

In terms of details, I believe a white or light-coloured shirt would be most appropriate. Perhaps with subtle patterns or textures that add a touch of sophistication without being overly ostentatious. As for the collar style, I trust Mr. Bates to recommend what would suit Tom best. I will be able to find a suitable tie and pocket square in Dublin. I have done a sketch of Tom’s Dinner Jacket, as a guide, he looks very handsome, when he is wearing it.

You have probably heard now that I have a job and earn £18 per month. I am sure you were all agog to hear that I am working. Most of the people I work with are friendly, though there is one Editor who likes to shout at everyone. No one here is as kind as Mr Carson though. Hence, I can afford to buy the shirts myself. Father has restricted any of my allowance being spent directly on Tom. But I can use my own money. If you let me know how the men’s outfitters would prefer to be paid, I could send you the money or wire you the money to the Downton Post office.

I have so many exciting things I want to share with you. I am looking forward to seeing you all at Christmas.

Keep well dear.

Yours sincerely

Lady Mary Branson

Chapter Text

31^st of July 1919

Dearest Lavinia,

Your joyful news brightened our day, I was so delighted to hear about your happy news. Tom and I extend our warmest congratulations to you and Matthew. Are the family excited? Your father must be so pleased, and Cousin Isobel too! I hope you are not finding the weather too hot for you in your delicate condition.

I hope you don’t mind, but I told Mrs Branson and Mrs Murphy. Mrs Murphy has started knitting the most darling little cardigan in the Aran style for you. While Mrs Branson has started crocheting a beautiful white baby’s blanket. I look forward to being able to give you their gifts in person.

I hope you understand, but crafting isn't exactly my forte. Tom and I had a discussion before he left, and he has offered a unique gift. He plans to write a children's story for your baby, and if you have a theme in mind, he's more than willing to bring it to life. He even jokingly suggested a tale about a bunny. I, of course, will illustrate the story for you. We are both thrilled to contribute something special for your little bundle of joy. I am especially eager to work on a project I care about. Especially after having to work on that dreadful book, I told you about in my previous letter.

In case your father didn't mention it, Tom is currently visiting him, and they are engrossed in further research on art fraud. Mr. Swire is introducing Tom to some actual detectives, and you can imagine Tom's excitement. The world of art and intrigue continues to captivate him. He has finished the first part of his writing project. Now he starts the longest part of his process, editing and adding the details. Tom is relishing the challenge and has told me that it is very satisfying seeing the plot come together.

The big news that I hinted in my last letter is that we have received the date that our book will be released. The 13^th of November 1919. It will be called ‘Irish Myths and Legends by T. Fionn Branson’, that’s Tom’s nom de plume. Tom is nervous as they are going to print 20,000 copies in the first run and has a dread that he won't sell any books at all. However, I assured him that it's nonsense, as I already intend to buy at least four books. Button reassured us that the 13th of November 1919 is an excellent date for the release, as it will be available for Christmas, a good six weeks in advance of the holiday.

I am looking forward to the launch party, I just hope my dress is ready in time. I am already planning to invite the Yeats brothers and Lady Gregory. My new friend Marjorie is of course coming too with her husband Mr Holden. She is thrilled too, as she has never been to a book launch. Button as the Publisher is inviting many people from the industry. There is even going to a be a journalist from the Times, to report on the event. I do hope everything goes well.

I wrote to Anna recently too; I have asked her to order me a dress from my favourite shop in London and to pick me up some dress shirts for Tom. Shirts and underwear are the only two items of clothing that Tom doesn’t buy second hand. Husbands take such care, if I left him to his own devices he would have just gone to ‘Robertson and Cleaver’ and bought five shirts for £1 and called it done.

I find myself missing him dearly. It's only been five days since he left. The silence in our little flat is quite pronounced without Tom. His presence fills the space with a certain liveliness, and its absence is keenly felt. I've been contemplating the idea of acquiring a gramophone to add some melody to the quietude. Tom has a way of creating a pleasant commotion wherever he goes, and the stillness is quite noticeable.

Even Mrs. Murphy in the kitchen seems to be making extra noise, perhaps unintentionally compensating for the void Tom's absence has left behind. It occurs to me that the next time he must travel without me, having some music playing would be a comforting addition. Moreover, it would be a delightful enhancement to our shared moments at home, creating a warm ambiance with the gentle notes of music accompanying us.

One of the other reasons he is going to London is that he is going to visit various book shops like ‘W.H. Smith & Son’ and ‘Waterstones’ to name but two. The publishing business is so much more complicated than I ever imagined. Tom must do promotion work, meeting book sellers, interviews and he is writing some short stories that will be published in various publications. Are all part of this promotionally work an author must partake in.

I have included one of the articles that he wrote for the ‘Irish Times’. Along with an illustration I contributed to accompany the story. The story is about an Irish Pirate Queen, called Grainne O’Malley.

On a more extraordinary note, Edith is going to interview Tom for ‘The Sketch’. I find it amazing that Edith and I are having such open correspondence now. I never thought we would have built such a pleasant relationship through our letters. I will admit I have been more emotional and honest with Edith since writing to her regularly. I apologised for some of my unkind actions in the past and Edith apologised for her part in the scandal.

I am a bit nervous about meeting Edith at Christmas, in case our relationship from our letters do not translate to real life. Nevertheless, I am hopeful and excited about the prospect of all four of us spending time together at the house. I am sure we all will have a jolly time. Though of course I worry how Tom will fit in with the family.

I received news from Granny that Sybil is presently at Downton and seems to be in good spirits. She plans to stay until after the Garden Party. I hope the two of you are growing closer; Sybil is truly a delightful young woman. Last week, I also received a brief letter from her. It pains me that my marriage has strained our relationship, as I hold a deep affection for her. Perhaps by Christmas, with the passage of time, we can start mending the bonds between us.

Dearest I took your advice and I have included more news of Tom in my last letter home. I hope Mama and Papa received it better than my last letter? Do you know? Have they mentioned it at all? I do find it difficult to get the balance right when writing to them. Granny didn’t mention it in her last letter either.

Be sure to send me all your news and let me know how everyone is in Downton and how the rest of the family reacted to your baby news.

Sending you all my love and eagerly awaiting your response

Mary

Chapter Text

1^st of August 1919

My Dearest Mary,

I trust this letter finds you well and full of the same vibrant spirit that always warms my heart. London's bustling streets and ever-changing skyline may be vastly different from the contentment we have found in Dublin, where your presence is a constant source of inspiration.

Let me know dearest when Lavinia has decided on a subject for her personalised story. I have never written a children's book. I feel I will require extra time to research and compose the narrative. Or maybe, you could draw the illustrations first and then I can write the story to accompany the images. Nevertheless, we can plan this together when I return home.

Work on the new novel progresses steadily, fuelled by the memories of our rooftop conversations and the laughter that echoed through Bewley's tearoom. I find myself yearning for the quiet moments we shared, sipping tea, and losing track of time.

Do keep me updated on your latest artistic endeavours. I long to hear the excitement in your voice as you describe your latest projects. It fuels my creativity and provides solace amid the city's chaos.

My work here in London is progressing well. I feel that the comradery between Reggie and I has grown everyday. Though, he told me he caught the flu in spring and still has not regained his full health. But now he looks well and is in good spirits.

He has been such a help with my research. Now darling I do not want you to worry but he took me to a prison on Tuesday to meet an actual art forger. I had to bring cigarettes and food as payment for him talking to me. It was very enlightening, and I have a much more realistic approach to the forgery plot in my novel now.

As you know me so well, you can imagine the abundance of notes I made, detailing the experience and every detail I could recall from the visit. I wonder if you would be able to draw a likeness, just from my descriptions alone?

Reggie's detective contact has proven to be remarkably informative. Contrary to my expectations, he exudes a friendly and jovial demeanour. Sporting a large, round face adorned with ruddy cheeks and crowned with blond, curly hair, he defies the stereotypical image of a detective. His amiable nature, he claims, serves as an advantage in his line of work, as his targets don't perceive him as a threat.

Generously, he provided me with his business card and extended an offer to correspond, promising to address any inquiries I may have in the future.

He expresses genuine enthusiasm, saying that no writer has previously shown interest in discussing his cases and experiences. The prospect of our conversation excites Mr. Horace MacDonald as much as it does me. While he has already shared a wealth of advice, not all of it aligns with the current novel's direction.

Nonetheless, I'm already formulating ideas for the plot of my next book. At this pace, the first chapter of my novel might end up resembling a compilation of acknowledgments and expressions of gratitude.

My business with the various book sellers in London has also been very profitable. I believe it is mainly due to the sketches you made for me. Everyone I have shown them to, along with a synopsis of the anthology has been very encouraging. As per Button’s instructions I have been giving anyone who shows interest the already completed order form.

I have been in contact with Button, who has already confirmed that she has received pre-orders for the hardback copy of my book.

On Reggie’s advice I have also taken the train to go to Oxford and Cambridge, to speak to several book sellers in those cities, though not having the largest populations in England, Reggie pointed out being university towns, that they would probably have a greater number of people who would be interested in my book an more to the point a clientele who would be able to buy it too.

As you can see Reggie has been priceless. Please extend my thanks again to Lavinia for introducing us. I haven’t been all work here. Reggie has taken me to his club on at least four occasions. We eat, drink and converse. He has even taught me to play chess. I will confess I am not very good at the game.

I don’t know if you have ever been inside a men’s club. I know the majority have rules that women may not enter. But the best description I can think of the establishment, is it is like the ’Diogenes Club’ in the Sherlock Holmes stories. Without the silence that is. One of the conversations I have seen, become quite heated. Strangely they sell postcards here, I bought one of the smoking room. I wonder what will reach you first the post card or this letter?

I must admit, the political climate here is not as tense as it is at home. Conversations about the future of Ireland are unavoidable. Frustratingly the men I have met at Reggie’s club have expressed confusion on why Ireland would want independence from British rule. You will be pleased to here that I have reigned in my temper at such thoughtlessness. I am cognisant that I am Reggie’s guest here. I do not want to offend Reggie’s friends and acquaintances.

Reggie himself has been much more understanding of the ‘Irish Question’. He comes from much more humble beginnings than I had guessed. It also turns out that his own mother was Irish, though Church of Ireland. She was in Ireland during the famine and was greatly disturbed by the desperate poverty she saw there. Reggie’s father was a clerk and Reggie had to work hard to get where he is now. He told me he was only able to qualify for university due to his Parrish raising a scholarship for him. Hence, he is much more aware of the barriers facing working class people, here and in Ireland.

But now that I am here in London, I cannot but think of the contrast of opinions between here and there. I can't help but think of you and our life in Dublin. Your safety is my paramount concern, and I hope if you ever feel concern about your wellbeing that you will rely on Mrs Murphy’s council.

I have been reading in the Times about military reprisals of the British army after the IRA attack in Limerick. Dublin has been the bastion of British rule for centuries and likely to be the safest place for us. I just hope political pressure will result in a peaceful resolution and Independence for Ireland.

If ever you find yourself in peril during my absence, the most dependable individual to turn to is Lady Gregory. Having been deeply engaged with the Irish movement for decades, she has connections in influential circles. In case of an emergency, she should be able to ensure your safe passage to a ferry bound for England, providing a lifeline should misfortune befall you.

Now on to more pleasant news. I have met Edith and her editor Mr Gregson, a pleasant chap, older than me. Edith’s interview was surprisingly thorough. I realise writing this, that this was a condescending assumption to make. Edith is after all employed as a writer, by ‘The Sketch', a reputable magazine. The magazine has a large circulation, so I am hopeful that will be a good advertisement for the book release in November, though this is three months away.

The interview was so well received that Mr Gregson has asked me to write a short story. It will be published in late October. I have decided to write a story about Lugh of the Tuatha Dé Danann. Do you think you will be able to draw an illustration to go with the story my love? I admit I feel excited about the prospect, especially as I recall your mother has a subscription to the magazine. I am hope this will improve my standing with your family, that I am worthy of you, my darling.

This will also be an opportunity for you to show off your own skills as an artist. As you reported that your parents seemed uneasy about you working as an Illustrator, this opportunity will show them how talented and well you are suited to the role. I am also sure it is a unique occurrence. That sisters will simultaneously be published in the same magazine.

It will not be long now before all my business is completed here in London before I can return home to you. Just one more stop in Liverpool, to visit two book sellers that were recommended to me, before boarding the ferry back to Dublin and you. I expect to be home by the 10^th of August.

How I have missed you, my love. The feel of you in my arms at night. The way you smell in the morning. Our talks in our bed before falling asleep, our cups of tea and conversations in our little garden. Before I fall asleep at night, I remember the sunlight reflected in your eyes and the flush to your cheeks, how little wisps of hair escape and flutter about your face in the summer breeze. How I wish to embrace you, my darling.

I look forward to resuming our weekly lunch at Bewley’s when I return home.

Until we're reunited on the familiar streets of Dublin, know that you are my anchor, my muse, and my constant source of joy.

Love

Tom

Chapter Text

16^th of August 1919

Dearest Lavinia,

I am thrilled to learn that your pregnancy has become more manageable, and the delightful surprise from Matthew with a trip to Scarborough sounds enchanting. Your descriptions were so vivid, I could almost smell the sea.

Tom has finally returned home, and his presence brings immense joy. He expressed his own delight, particularly in the enjoyable visit with Reggie. So much so that he has extended an invitation to your father to stay with us in September. I am looking forward to finally meeting him. Tom has told me that he is an excellent storyteller.

Things are relatively calm at the publishing house presently, and I've wrapped up my latest project. It turned out to be quite amusing; I was tasked with creating illustrations for a cookery book, despite my lack of culinary expertise beyond toasting bread and boiling eggs. Collaborating with the editor, I identified the recipes needing illustration, took them home, and enlisted Mrs. Murphy's help in preparing the various dishes.

Mrs Murphy is one of the finest bakers I have ever met, so the cakes and tarts turned out wonderfully. I even attempted a steak and mushroom pie myself. It was edible, but unfortunately my effort is not something that should be recorded for posterity. Tom was immensely proud of my efforts; he even told his mother. Now she has said she will come to the flat one Sunday for lunch.

I will admit I scolded him on the way home that day. It is one thing to cook for your husband, but it is a completely different task to cook for your Mother-in-Law.

At least I was able to produce over fifteen illustrations for the cookbook.

Please try this recipe for pineapple upside-down cake that Tom and I particularly liked. Mrs Murphy is teaching me to make it for when Mrs Branson comes to lunch. I have included the recipe. Mrs Murphy used tinned pineapples from Del Monte:

For the topping:

• 3.5 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 3 ounces light brown sugar
• 7-8 pineapple rings
• Maraschino cherries (optional), for placing in the centre of the pineapple rings. (Mrs Murphy didn’t have any, so we did without)

For the cake:

• 5 ounces unsalted butter, softened
• 5 ounces granulated sugar
• 2 large eggs
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 6 ounces self-raising flour
• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 2 fluid ounces milk

Enjoy!

The most surprising thing has occurred. You remember how Marjory and I organised an art auction to raise money for families affected by the Spanish flu. How I entered one of my water colours into the auction? Well, the gentleman who won my painting has commissioned me to paint a sea view for him. It’s of a place called Tramore where he used to spend time as a child.

So, Tom and I are packing up for the week and going to stay at the Grand Hotel. I will paint and Tom will continue to write. He will be working on the second edit of his novel. This is the final write through before giving the book to the editors for the professional review. We are looking forward to our trip and spending time together.

I am glad to report that since Mama’s visit we have been able to share much more open and warm letters with each other. Though Mama still reports that Papa is still a bit salty about my marriage. I am hoping that with our visit at Christmas Papa will be able to see how well suited Tom and I are.

I think this is one of the reasons Tom is so terribly nervous about his book release. I think Tom will feel better about returning to Downton as a resounding success, he wants to show Papa that he can look after me.

I should warn you that everyone will be receiving books for Christmas. Do you think Cousin Isabel would like a cookbook? I am thinking of giving one to Sybil too, she was incredibly pleased with her self-sufficiency when she was studying nursing during the war.

You don’t think it is showing an undignified amount of hubris to gift people books that I have illustrated do you dearest? It’s just I want everyone to see what I have been working on. There should be several books published before Christmas for which I have illustrated. Tom intends to buy a copy of each one I have contributed to.

By the by, Tom was enchanted about the idea of your story for your children’s book about little children having adventures as pirates. I am absolutely brimming with ideas for the illustration. If you send me a photograph of you and Matthew, I can include your likenesses in the book. I would try and draw you from memory, but I don’t think it would turn out as well if I had a reference photograph.

I’ll include a little sketch of an idea I have.

I can’t believe we are in the middle of August already; it won’t be long now until the Garden Party. I am sure with all the arduous work you and Mama have put into it; it will be a Triumph. I am quite envious of you all. Though I have made many friends, I still miss home.

I had another letter from Edith, she is well, busy in London. She was describing a shopping excursion she went to in London and how she has bought a darling green stripped dress. It sounded ghastly to me, but in this new era of sisterly love and devotion, I didn’t share this opinion with her.

Oh, Lavinia I do miss shopping in London. There are some lovely department stores in Dublin and even one or two local fashion houses. Of course, everything is cheaper here too, but sometimes I dream of going shopping in London. Really, it’s quite shallow of me.

Speaking of London, have you met any of the people Edith works with in London? She does mention her editor rather a lot in her letters and I wondered what sort of man he was. I asked Tom, but really men can be so hopeless in such situations. He just looked at me in surprise and said he believed Mr Gregson was at least fifteen years older than Edith.

But Edith does like an older man, so it wouldn’t be a surprise to me, if she is sweet on the man. But I have no idea what the man looks like, so let me know if you have an intelligence on the matter.

Has Matthew said anything more about moving to your own home? It would be so nice for you if you got to move to your own home. It is so lovely when it can be just the two of you, the privacy is wonderful.

Also was just wondering what you will be doing for a Nursery. The thought has been on my mind recently. Mrs Murphy says it is better to have an older woman around who has some experience in raising a baby, to help a new mother. I expect you will be hiring a nurse to assist you. I have told Tom plainly that when we are similarly blessed, we will definitely have a nurse and then a nanny.

I must dash now dearest, I must meet Marjory, we are going to a séance. I think it’s all nonsense of course, but Marjory is thrilled, and I couldn’t disappoint her. I am sure it will be entertaining; Tom says that the performer, will have fishing wire tied to furniture to make it shake about the place. So, I will watch out for that. Mr Holden refused point blank to take her, so he will drive us both and collect us afterwards.

Let me know how everyone is getting on in Downton. I know it months away but I am so looking forward to Downton for Christmas and seeing all my dear family and friends again.

Warmest wishes.

Love

Mary

Chapter Text

Dublin, Ireland

1st of October 1919

Dearest Lavinia,

I trust this letter finds you in good health and spirits, especially as you embark on the journey of motherhood.

It has been a delightful few weeks with your father staying with us. Tom and Reggie have formed a strong bond, and Tom took great pleasure in showing him around Dublin. Trinity University, in particular, captivated Reggie, especially the magnificent Long Library.

Afterwards we all indulged in a visit to Bewley's on Grafton Street last Saturday morning, where they serve the most delectable iced buns. While I opted for tea, the gentlemen favoured the coffee. I’ve mentioned it before how this coffee house is one of hour favourite places. It is also situated half-way between our home and Trinity, so it broke the journey nicely. We did suggest hiring a taxi cab, but your father insisted he was well enough for the walk.

I must confess, I was pleasantly surprised by your father's storytelling prowess. Evenings at dinner were filled with laughter and anecdotes, leaving Tom and me in fits of laughter. We also had the pleasure of introducing him to three of our friends over the weekend, such as Marjorie, Mr Holden K.C. and Tom’s friend Fergus O’Sullivan, a play write.

Reggie and Mr Holden got in to a spirited debate about the Post war Legal reforms. I had not thought it was such a contentious subject. But Tom was inspired and asked to interview both men and he has now submitted an article to the Irish and London Times. We are not sure when the article will be published in the London Times but remember Tom’s penname is T. Fionn Branson.

During the weekdays, while I was at work, Tom took the opportunity to read the final draft of his novel to Reggie. Your father expressed immense honour in being the first to hear it and praised Tom's work, finding the novel thoroughly engaging. This led to Tom and Reggie spending hours brainstorming ideas for the next instalment.

Dearest don’t mention this to your father, but Tom has added a heartfelt acknowledgement for the help your father gave him in the background work of the novel. I can’t wait for you to be able to read it. There has been much talk about editing as well as marketing and other business discussions. But Button thinks the book will be ready to be released in March 1920.

We are both so excited about the book release, Tom has worked so hard on it, it’s like his own baby and he is nervous about setting it free in the world. It’s why your father’s kind encouragement was such a boon to Tom.

As always, my dear, I cannot divulge any of Tom's plot secrets, but I can assure you he is brimming with excitement for the next chapter of his life as a novelist.

We were truly saddened when the time came for Reggie to return to London. Please convey to your father our heartfelt gratitude for his delightful visit and assure him that he is welcome back anytime.

On a different note, how is everyone faring at Downton? I was troubled to hear of cousin Isabel's recent illness, though relieved to learn of her recovery. Let us hope no one else falls ill, especially with Christmas just around the corner.

I have thrilling news to share: Tom and I have completed the first draft of your book and are now arranging for it to be professionally bound. As a surprise, we have created an additional story with illustrations, which we intend to send to your father as a Christmas gift.

While he was here, he recounted the tale of you and your mother skating on the Thames, enchanted by the Christmas stalls, the Frost Fair, and visiting Father Christmas at Whiteleys of London. His vivid description inspired us to turn it into a picture book, which I hope will bring you both joy.

Please do not be distressed by this revelation; I am certain your father will eagerly share it with you when you reunite at Christmas.

With fondest regards and all my love.

Mary

P.S. Here is a sketch I made of Whitneys from a photo I found at the library

Chapter Text

14^th November 1919

My Dearest Lavinia,

I trust this letter finds you in the best of health and spirits. I am writing to you with news that fills me with immense pride and excitement.

Tom and I dressed most carefully to attend his book launch. Tom looked so handsome in his dress suit. I had Anna purchase me several white dress shirts for him and they arrived at the same time as my dress.

I had my dress commissioned in London, especially for the occasion. It was  beautiful blue full length evening gown, with delicate black and blue beading in the bodice. I feel we looked very well together. There was a photographer there, so Tom and I ensured that we had our photo taken together. As soon as it is developed I will frame it.

Last night, Tom's book launch was held at the illustrious Shelbourne Hotel, and it was a truly magnificent affair. The grandeur of the hotel's ballroom, adorned with crystal chandeliers casting a soft glow over the proceedings, lent an air of elegance to the event. The polished ornate wooden bar, gleamed in the light. Smartly dressed waiters carrying exotic trays of cocktails and champagne.

The Shelbourne is not only a stalwart in Dublin history and society, but it is also conveniently located on St. Stephen’s Green. This is where our dear flat is located, so it was only a short 200 yard stroll in the cold November night. It was exciting as Mrs Murphy and I were able to look from our third floor window and see the guests arrive for our party.

Among the esteemed guests in attendance were Button Doran, Tom’s publisher. Lady Gregory the renowned playwright and folklorist. Tom was especially nervous about her thoughts on his book of Irish Myths, she was wholly positive in her remarks. The Yeats brothers themselves were also in attendance. This indeed made me nervous as I had done the artwork for the various posters, that Button had framed for the event.

Tom insists I am an artist in my own right, but I couldn’t help but feel like an imposter surrounded by artists of such reputation. Mary Swanzy, an artist who I have come to admire, she said my illustrations were very pretty. I am not sure if I should take it as a compliment or not. She said it in a neutral tone, I think she may have been just polite. Jack Yeats said my illustrations were very vibrant.

Here is a early draft of the poster.

Tom just says that the visual arts are so subjective that I should remember this from any critique  I received, is more a reflection of their artistic taste, rather objective critique as an artist. This did not help me to feel at ease. I underestimated how exposed I would feel with people seeing my work in person. I  can’t help but feel that Tom would not be so sanguine if these comments were about his writing.

I have had my illustration published in several books now and included in some of the articles that Tom written for various magazines. But this is the first time I get to hear strangers critique my work.

Still, it was a surreal experience to be surrounded by such literary and artistic luminaries, and Tom was positively beaming with pride at the recognition of his work.

The festivities commenced promptly at 7 p.m., with glasses of champagne circulating freely among the guests. The atmosphere was one of excitement and anticipation as everyone eagerly awaited the unveiling of Tom's masterpiece.

As part of the  formalities, Tom treated the audience to a special treat—a public reading of one of the shorter stories from his collection. With his rich, melodious voice filling the room, he transported us all to another world, where characters sprang to life and adventures unfolded with each carefully chosen word. It was a captivating performance, and the audience hung on his every syllable, spellbound by his storytelling performance.

As the echoes of applause filled the air, I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in my heart. Tom's talent shone brightly in that moment, and I knew that his book was destined to leave a lasting impression on all who read it.

Tom confided in me that he hopes the book will be a success, so that I can be proud of being married to Tom and that it will show my family that he is worthy of being my husband. If we weren’t in a crowded ballroom, I would have kissed him soundly.

The evening continued in much the same vein, with laughter, conversation, and the clinking of glasses mingling together in a joyous cacophony. It was a night to remember, filled with camaraderie and a shared appreciation for the written word.

I wish you could have been there to witness it all, dear Lavinia. It was a testament to Tom's talent and dedication, and I couldn't be prouder of him or of the work we did together to create this book. I feel so much a part of Tom’s world, a true partner and helpmate. I grow more thankful that Tom and I married everyday. I cannot imagine my life would be as rich without him.

With warmest regards and all my love,

Mary

P.S. I am including a clipping from today’s newspaper that reported on the book launch. I have been mentioned in many article reviewing such London social events, but it was strange being the centre of attention. I hope these positive reviews will help to displace the memory of those terrible stories from last winter.

The Irish Independent

November 14th, 1919

A Magical Evening of Myths and Legends

The Shelbourne hotel in Dublin was the perfect setting for the much-anticipated book release of Irish Myths and Legends by T. Fionn Branson, held on the evening of the 13th of November. The ballroom, adorned with crystal chandeliers and an ornate wooden bar, provided a fitting backdrop for an enchanting evening that celebrated Ireland's rich cultural heritage.

T. Fionn Branson, whose pen name graces the pages of this captivating collection of tales, is no stranger to the world of literature. His previous work, Echoes of the Fenian Spirit: Poems for the People (1916), was met with critical acclaim and public appreciation. This new release, featuring illustrations by his wife, the talented Lady Mary Branson, promises to be another masterpiece that will transport readers to a world of magic, mystery, and ancient lore.

The evening began with a warm welcome from Tom's publisher, Button Doran, followed by an engaging reading of the Children of Lir, one of the most famous Irish myths. Tom's captivating rendition of the tale left the audience enchanted, with many commenting on his ability to bring the ancient story to life.

The gathering was a veritable who's who of Ireland's cultural elite, with esteemed guests such as Mary Swanzy, Lady Gregory, W.B. Yeats, and Jack Yeats in attendance. Each individual, already well-known for their contributions to art, literature, and drama, took time to express their admiration for the work presented that night.

Mary Swanzy, an accomplished artist, was overheard sharing her thoughts on the evening: Tonight was a celebration of Ireland's rich cultural heritage. Tom's ability to weave ancient tales into a tapestry of wonder and excitement is truly commendable. The illustrations by Lady Mary Branson only add to the magic.

Lady Gregory, the renowned playwright, also shared her praise for the book: Tom and Lady Mary have created a true gem with 'Irish Myths and Legends'. It's a testament to the power of storytelling and the importance of preserving our cultural heritage for future generations.

Tom Branson, looking dapper in his tailored suit, and Lady Mary Branson, who wore a stunning midnight blue gown adorned with beadwork, made for an unforgettable evening. With the success of this event and the rave reviews of Irish Myths and Legends, it is clear that this literary duo will capture the hearts and minds of the Irish people.

Mock up of Mary's poster for the event

Chapter Text

20^th November 1919

Dear Mary,

I hope this letter finds you and Tom in good spirits amidst the bustling excitement of Dublin. I am sure you must be very busy with Tom’s book launch and preparing for your return to Downton Abbey.

As for me, my pregnancy is progressing well, thankfully past the morning sickness phase. However, with each passing day, I find myself growing larger, making sleep increasingly uncomfortable. Isobel has been a godsend, suggesting various ways to alleviate my discomfort, such as using pillows for support, which has indeed been helpful.

I look forward to seeing you in next month for Christmas. Winter is setting in, and it is getting colder each day. There has been no snow yet, but there has been freezing driving rain, meaning we are all cooped up.

With such weather, Matthew hasn’t been able to go to Downton as much as he was able to in the summer and Autumn. He returns home soaked from the office, and his mood reflects this, often seeming rather beastly. It pains me to see him this way, and despite my efforts, I struggle to find the right words to comfort him.

The more I hear of the wonderful life you and Tom are living in Dublin, the more envious I become. In comparison, my days feel narrow and confined, my social circle smaller than ever. Some days I am not even able to leave the house.

Isobel has been wonderful, and we entertain ourselves with jigsaw puzzles and in the evenings, we play cards.

I enjoy the card games as Matthew can often be persuaded to join us. Three or four times a week Isobel will call on your grandmother and they will both go off in her motor, no doubt to terrorise the local denizens of Downton village.

Isobel will often call to Downton Abbey to visit the family there. She comes home full of gossip that she shares with me. Lady Grantham once a week will send the car for me and I am able to join Isobel in the visit.

I've found myself writing to Father more often than usual, seeking solace in the familiarity of home. His recent visit to Dublin brought him great joy, and he spoke fondly of you and Tom. However, his words about hoping to live long enough to see Tom's novel published struck a chord of fear within me. I worry that he's been concealing the true state of his health from me.

With my pregnancy, I've been unable to visit Father as often as I'd like, but I've resolved to see him next week, despite Matthew's indifferent response. His nonchalant "Yes, dearest" only serves to highlight his current preoccupation, and I suspect he'll welcome the respite from my presence during my visit to Father.

Your retelling of the Book launch sounded so thrilling, and it was exciting to read the newspaper clipping. I shared it with the Dowager Countess, who seemed very pleased to read it. No doubt you recounted the evening to her through your own letters.

It must be difficult writing to so many people who live in such close proximity to each other. Making each letter sound interesting and unique, but still needing to share the same information.

My old school friends live in such disparate parts of the country, that I often just copy each letter two or three times and change the names as needed.

Be assured my letter to you dear Mary are always unique. I find I can talk to you more freely about my emotions than to anyone else. As an equal. I of course confide my woes to my father, but to my father I will always be his little girl, and not a woman of equal standing.

I long to see you this Christmas and wait with true anticipation. Lady Grantham has invited us all to the house for the festive season starting on the 21^st of December. She is very excited to have all the family about her and is looking forward to having the house full for the season.

Lord Grantham is looking forward to the New Year’s shooting. I don’t know if Tom shoots, but you might need to bring some clothes to suit the activity for him. Matthew isn’t that keen on shooting or hunting himself. But I think he participates in it to make your father happy.

I did hear the strangest bit of gossip last week, the weather was dry for a change, so Isobel and I walked to the house to have tea with Lady Grantham, Lady Violet, and Edith. Edith was talking about going to visit Sir Anthony Strallen. I thought you would be interested as you had previously mentioned you thought Edith was sweet on her editor. But she can’t be if she wants to go visit Sir Anthony.

Also, your mother intends to invite the Grey’s over Christmas one evening, as she told me Lord Gray’s son had a tendre for Sybil. Edith pulled a face at this, so it may be a case of wishful thinking on your mother’s part. Edith did try to talk your mother out of it, but she wouldn’t hear of it.

That’s all the news from Downton for now. I wait with anticipation until we can all see each other again. I look forward to the day we can have tea together and converse face to face.

Fondest regards.

Love

Lavinia

Chapter Text

27^th November 1919

Dearest Lavinia,

I hope all is well in Downton and all the preparations for Christmas are going to plan. I was sorry to hear that Matthew has been out of sorts. Maybe his having a stressful time at work. Tom would often be down spirited when he still worked for the Irish Times. Hopefully with the Winter solstice approaching and the lengthening of days, his mood will also brighten.

I don’t know whether to be happy or not that it has not yet snowed at Downton. Happy because it is tiresome to travel in snow and I will be coming home in two short weeks. Or sad, as Downton looks so beautiful in snow. It is somehow magical, when white blankets the ground and the grand house is stark against a winter sky.

To be warm and cosy in the small library or sitting in front of a roaring fire in the great hall. I can’t express how excited I am to think of returning to my home, to Downton. Just thinking of it now brings a lump in my throat.

Though I admit I have come to love my little home in Dublin with Tom and Mrs Murphy taking care of us. I am thinking back to last Christmas and Matthew was finally recovering after his terrible injury in the war and we were all discussing your wedding in March.

I had no idea that my life would change so much in one brief year. That I could change so drastically. I feel like a completely different person from that time. Sometimes I will catch myself watching Tom as he whistles in the morning as he gets ready for the day and have to pinch myself, that I can’t believe this is my life now. That I could be so happy.

I have news I must tell you, if you could keep it to yourself, I would be grateful. You see, Tom and I are having a baby! We are overjoyed. Our baby will be with us in late spring and our lives will change all over again.

Tom is happy about the baby, I never thought a man could be so invested in having a child. Mrs Murphy and I worry that he doesn’t understand how small and helpless an infant will actually be at first. He came home with a Train set for the baby only last Saturday. He was so excited showing me his purchase, talking about how he will be able to play with his daughter (he is convinced it will be a girl).

Mrs Branson told him not to be so foolish and a baby wouldn’t be able to play with it until they were at least three. She constantly reminds him that we could have a son. Tom says yes of course and talks about his child for a day or two. But by the next week he is talking about his daughter exclusively again.

It’s lovely he wants a daughter, but I worry he will be desperately disappointed if it’s a boy. I never thought I would be in the position that I would be crossing my fingers and wishing for a girl.

I hope my Papa isn’t making remarks about you having a son. He can be so very thoughtless sometimes. He always valued boys over girls I am afraid. I am sure I will hear the same thing when I am home for Christmas.

You won’t have to hold my secret for long as I will be writing Mama next Saturday. She should receive the letter only two days after you, at the beginning of December.

I will be writing to Edith too with the good news. I don’t know what to do in regards Sybil. Do you think I should write her or let mother tell her when she comes home to Downton. It has been nine months since we were married. I think it’s enough time, don't you?

I suppose the question is rhetorical in nature, as you will not have time to write me and I to act on your advice as I will be in Downton by then. I just don’t want any hurt feelings to spoil Christmas and our visit home.

I fear you may perceive me as a coward, perhaps even selfish, for delaying the conversation with Sybil. Yet, I implore you to consider the complexity of the situation. It has been ten months since the unfortunate incident of their foiled elopement, and hopefully the wounds are healing for all those involved. Sybil once harboured deep affection for Tom, and I cannot dismiss the significance of that fact.

Tom's apprehension about facing Sybil again weighs heavily on him, for he wishes to spare her any unnecessary pain. However, we must confront the reality of our circumstances. Despite the discomfort it may bring, Tom and I are now bound in marriage, our lives irrevocably intertwined.

It is a matter of a delicate balance of compassion and pragmatism. We must navigate this situation with sensitivity and understanding, mindful of the emotions of all parties involved.

For our own wellbeing we had to come to an agreement where we could both live with each other in peace. Tom and I were just extraordinarily lucky that we were so compatible with each other.

Still, I am the nervous to meet Sybil again. All through our childhood we were so close. It still breaks my heart that our relationship could be damaged forever.

For some slightly sadder news, this is my last week at work. I can no longer work, now that I am pregnant. I will miss everyone at the Publishing house. But I have worked on twelve different books since starting work here, so next year I can work as a freelance illustrator. I may expand into water colours too, as my painting of Tramore was well received.

Tell me Dearest is there anything you would like me to bring you from Ireland? Tom is grumbling about how much I am bringing to Downton with me. I might have gone overboard with the Christmas presents, especially for Papa. I just told Tom we will just hire a porter to move our trunks.

Thank you about the reminder of the shooting party. I have had a real struggle with Tom’s wardrobe for Christmas at Downton. We have had many social events since moving to Dublin, so he has all the proper attire he may need to fit in with the family. He just feels embarrassed about wearing it in front of the other servants.

In Dublin Tom has no difficulty mixing in all levels of society. He really is charming and well read, he is able to converse easily with everyone he meets. I think when he was at Downton, he made friends with those below stairs and they never saw him as an author, only as another servant in the household.

Tom does enjoy outside pursuits, so he has riding clothes, and two sets of tweeds, the proper footwear. Plenty of good quality shirts. He does favour good quality clothes, due to his mother’s tutelage and always has them fitted. He believes that part of his success as a writer is due to his appearance. He may be correct.

I witnessed it myself at the publishing house, that those authors who appeared slovenly in appearance didn’t achieve the same amount of royalties as those authors who were smartly dressed. Tom believes he was able to achieve his 13% royalties on his book due to how he presented himself and the fact that he was a married man.

Since being a professional woman, the world of business has really opened my eyes to the inequity of the world. The establishment will be tripping over themselves to give a useless second son a position above his ability, where a man of ability, but from humbler origins will have to work all that harder.

This doesn’t even consider that a married man will be paid more for the same work as a single man. Whose own pay is already so much higher than a woman’s. Don’t tell Papa or Granny, but I think I might be becoming a socialist.

Anyway, Tom always had excellent taste in clothes, you remember how handsome he looked at our wedding. Even if he always buys his clothes second hand. He is very frugal. Don’t worry he realises he has to dress correctly in front of Granny and Papa. I will manage to pack everything he needs, with the help of Mrs Murphy.

I can’t wait to see you in December. I am also excited that we can share the experience of being pregnant at the same time. To think our babies will be so close in age, cousins growing up together.

Until we meet again at Downton, my thoughts and wishes are with you.

In fond anticipation.

Love

Mary

Chapter Text

29^th November 1919         

Dearest Mama and Papa,

I hope this letter finds you and Papa in good spirits amidst the bustling excitement of Downton preparing for Christmas. I can’t tell you how excited I am to return home to you all.

I will start with the practicalities. Tom and I will arrive into Downton train station on the 9^th of December on the 3pm train from Liverpool Station. I am afraid that I may have gone overboard on the gifts for everyone, after being absent for almost a year. So, Tom and I will have at least two trunks, plus hat boxes, suit cases, etc. The larger motor might be needed to transport us back to the house.

I have painted a watercolour of St Stephen’s Green as Granny’s Christmas gift, and I am having it shipped to Downton. Can you please have Carson store it away until I return?

Tom’s book launch went very well, and we are both hopeful that we will have some good news to share with the family when we return home. Mrs Branson is beside herself with pride. I was able to find a book stand for her as an early Christmas gift so she can display Tom’s latest book in pride of place in her little sitting room.

Tom arranged a special surprise for his mother. It was so sweet, I was almost overcome with emotion. Mrs Branson is an avid reader, and a group of her friends are members of their local library. Tom donated two copies of his book to the library.

We took her to the library this morning. Well, when she saw her son’s book on display in public for all the other members to see. I don’t think I can describe the look of motherly pride on her face. I think it is the closest I have ever seen someone ‘bursting with pride’. She happily stood by the shelf and pointed out her son’s book to any patron who neared her.

She was directly responsible for the books being rented out on that very day. It made Tom so happy to see his mother full of such love and emotion. Mrs Branson is a very practical woman, very much like Cousin Isobel.

She had a very hard life after Tom’s father was killed in a work accident and she had to work to take care of her three children. As you can imagine, a woman who had to earn a living for her children, well she wasn’t as soft and didn’t have the leisure to care for her children as she might have wanted.

It is why Tom and his siblings clubbed together to buy Mrs Branson her little house. Coleen, Tom’s younger sister, assures me, that Mrs Branson takes the greatest of pleasure from shameless bragging about her children. She is firm in her belief that her three children are superior to everyone else’s.

It is only from the fact that Mrs Branson is such a generous soul and was willing to help any of her neighbours in need, that her friends are willing to overlook the occasional boast.

Truthfully, she has a lot to boast about. Kieran, Tom’s older brother owns his own business in Liverpool. Coleen is a pretty woman of 25, who has the chubbiest of babies you have ever seen and is married to a bookkeeper.

Needless to say, we had a delightful morning. Mrs Murphy made a Pineapple upside down cake for me to bring with me on our visit. I am pleased to announce that Mrs Branson has now expanded her boasts to include me, her daughter-in-law, the artist.

I am glad that our relationship has developed to be much warmer than from the formal stiffness of when we first met. I feel that I have been fully welcomed into the Branson family now.

Speaking of families, Mama, I have the most wonderful news: I am pregnant! Tom and I are absolutely thrilled to be expecting a baby of our own. Given the time it took for even one of your daughters to get married, you probably despaired that this day would never come.

I have written this news to Lavinia and Edith. But I will admit Mama, I did not tell Sybil my news. I was worried how she would take it. I know it is probably very cowardly of me, but could you inform her? Please inform the rest of the family as you see fit.

Now Mama, I have heard from my informants that you are inviting the Grey’s to Downton over Christmas. Dickie is a darling of course. But really Mama, Larry is an ass and Sybil detests the man. I wouldn’t hold out hope that Sybil will change her mind about him. Why don’t you invite my old friend Evelyn Napier, he would be a much better match then Larry.

Evelyn always had oodles of friends I am sure if Papa invited him for the shooting, he could be relied upon to bring a friend with him.

Anyway, Mama I must sign-off now. We have been invited to a party being held by Lady Gregory and I must prepare for the evening.

I will see you all soon. Sometimes I get so excited about thinking of returning to Downton I can barely sleep.

All my love.

Mary

Chapter Text

Downton Village,

17^th of January 1920

Dearest Mary.

I hope this letter finds you and Tom well. I was delighted to receive your letter describing your journey home. The steamship journey sounds like such an adventure—I can only imagine how exhilarating it must have been. I do hope I’ll get the chance to visit you in your new home one day.

The weather here in Downton is very inclement. Gone is the snow, replaced with persistent freezing rain. As you can imagine, in my late stage of pregnancy I have not had much chance of outside exercise. But during the day Isobel and I have been visiting your mother at Downton. We have been able to get our daily exercise by walking a circuit of the ground floor.

With how extensive the house is, just the one lap is sufficient to wear me out. We are then able to have tea with Robert and Cora and occasionally Edith, who flits between London and Yorkshire. I am sad to say that Sybil has not been able to return home since New Years, much to the disappointment of Cora.

I must say being pregnant isn’t as romantic as I was told. Matthew has been so attentive lately though. He’s even brought me some extravagant gifts—he knows how much I’ve been craving oranges, and he managed to find some for me. It’s been such a relief to see him taking an interest in the baby’s future.

I put it down to Tom’s good example. I had noticed over our visit to Downton, how much attention Matthew was paying to Tom.

 I haven’t discussed this with anyone at Downton, but one of his suggestions is that we move to Manchester after the baby is born. I was incredibly surprised when he suggested this to me. I do miss the hustle and bustle of a city. Manchester doesn’t compare to London, of course, but there will be more opportunities for entertainment.

I must admit, the thought of moving to Manchester excites me, but it also makes me anxious. We’ve grown so attached to Downton and the people here, and the idea of uprooting ourselves with a newborn makes me uncertain. What do you think, Mary?

Edith visited on Tuesday, she tells us that Sybil is buried in her studies, and she has hardly seen her since the Party here. College must be challenging and time-consuming affair. I’ve always loved reading, but I’m not sure how I’d manage a whole syllabus. What do you do if you don’t like the books assigned? Sybil is so daring pursuing her dreams of higher education.

Please write back soon, Mary. Your thoughts always mean so much to me, and I miss our conversations. Give my love to Tom, and I can’t wait to read his book—it sounds like a thrilling story.

Love

Lavinia

Chapter Text

Dublin,

2^nd February 1920

My Dearest Lavinia,

I hope this letter finds you in good health, and that you are managing the discomforts of these final weeks with your usual grace. I can hardly believe how close we both are to holding our Babies in our arms. It feels like only yesterday we were discussing the nursery wallpaper, and now here we are, preparing for the next chapter of our lives as mothers.

Speaking of nurseries, we’ve had to put a pause on decorating ours. Tom has become increasingly anxious with the current unrest here in Dublin, and for the first time, he’s begun to seriously consider moving back to Downton for the birth. He’s always been so determined that our child be born here, in Ireland, so that they can truly belong to this land that is so dear to him. But now, with the situation growing more unpredictable, even he has begun to waver. He says it might not be safe, though yet, we don’t feel in danger, at least not yet. Still, the idea of giving birth to a baby amidst all this turmoil weighs heavily on us.

 I’ve never seen Tom so unsettled. Just last week, we heard that George Russell, who is a writer friend of Tom’s, was detained for questioning. Can you imagine? I’m not sure what the authorities were thinking—he’s always been more concerned with poetry and mysticism than rebellion—but it only goes to show how deeply suspicion has seeped into everyday life here. Even the most innocent connections to the literary circles seem enough to warrant scrutiny now.

Though Tom assures me we are safe, the daily reports of assassinations and ambushes in ‘The Freeman’s Journal’ make it harder to dismiss the danger. I try to lighten his mood, but even I find myself uneasy at times

And then there’s the matter of my own health, which, I confess, is causing me some anxiety. I do prefer my own doctor, Dr Clarkson, back in Downton village. He’s known me since I was a child, and I feel safe under his care. The thought of going through the birth without him is... daunting. Tom tries to reassure me, but he knows as well as I do that, I would be more comfortable with Dr Clarkson by my side when the time comes. It doesn’t help that my mother has taken to writing me every other day, urging us to come home. She’s right, of course—they have more than enough room for us at the house, and she’d love nothing more than to spoil us all under her roof. It’s so tempting to take her up on the offer.

Yet, I find it hard to imagine leaving Dublin, even with everything that’s happening. Tom and I have made such a home here in our little flat overlooking St. Stephen’s Green. I love our morning walks through the park, the friends we’ve made, and the life we’ve built over this last year. But then I think of our child’s safety, and suddenly all those attachments seem so fragile.

With everything changing so quickly—Tom’s worries, the baby’s arrival—I find myself thinking about family more than ever. Sybil has been on my mind. She’s been completely immersed in her studies, hardly taking a moment to pause. Edith tells me she’s spending long hours at the college, and I’m both proud and a little worried. Her last letter to me was perfunctory. It lacked the warmth I had thought we had reestablished when we reunited at Christmas. I am a little hurt over the return of awkwardness between us and I have racked my memory and cannot pinpoint any reason for this curtness. Tom even mentioned that during the Servants' Ball, Sybil warmly congratulated us on the baby, saying she looked forward to welcoming the newest member of the Crawley family.

I just hope she hasn’t become overwhelmed by her studies, especially as she is now living in London so far from Mama’s and Papa’s loving support. At least when I first started working, I had Tom and Mrs Murphy to support and care for me. Edith has promised that she will do her best to care for Sybil in this period of transition.

The strangest thing has happened, in that Tom’s book of poetry has seen an increase in sales and he received an unexpected royalty cheque of £27 4s 11d in the post on Monday morning. It was one bright spark in the fog of worry we are currently dwelling in. Another piece of good news is that Tom has been giving a date for the release of his first novel. It will go on sale in Ireland and the United Kingdom at Easter this year. This helps to take our minds from the political worries by concentrating on writing vignettes to accompany the novel to use as advertisements in magazines and News Papers. I am preparing some illustrations to accompany his work.

Oh, Lavinia, I’m torn. Part of me wants to stay, to stand by Tom’s side as he navigates these uncertain times in his beloved Ireland. But the other part of me—the part that aches with the weight of this growing life inside me—longs for the security of home, for the quiet of Downton and the reassuring hands of Dr Clarkson.

I think of you often, Lavinia, and wonder how you are holding up in these final weeks. It’s comforting to know we are going through this together, even from afar.

I hope you don’t think me too anxious, but these days it feels like there’s so much more to consider than just ourselves, doesn’t it? I can’t help but think of you too, so close now to meeting your child. I know you’ll be in the best hands, and I hope the birth will be smooth and peaceful for you. I’ll be thinking of you and waiting eagerly to hear the news.

Take care of yourself, my dear friend. We will get through this, and soon we’ll be exchanging stories of our babies instead of these worries.

With all my love and best wishes for you and your baby,

Mary

Chapter Text

Downton Village,
14th February 1920

My Dearest Mary,

I am overjoyed to share the news that our child has finally arrived! On the 11th of February, after a long and difficult labour, we welcomed a daughter into the world. She is the sweetest little thing, with a head of fair hair and the most delicate features. I have named her Elizabeth, after my mother. Though she is small, she seems strong, and already I am utterly devoted to her.

I must admit, however, that not everyone shares my joy as fully as I had hoped. Both Matthew and Robert were rather disappointed that she is a girl. I could see it in their faces, despite their efforts to mask it. Matthew, especially, had been hoping for a boy—a future heir, of course—and while he is kind to Elizabeth, I sense he is still coming to terms with the idea. Robert, ever blunt, made no effort to hide his disappointment. But that’s Robert for you. I imagine you understand this feeling all too well; your father has always placed such importance on carrying on the Crawley name. My dear, I wouldn’t trade her for any number of sons, no matter what society might say.

The birth itself was more difficult than I could have ever imagined. I won’t hide the truth from you—the pain was almost unbearable. But Isobel was with me throughout, and her steady, calm presence was such a comfort. I truly don’t know what I would have done without her. Dr Clarkson was wonderful as well, and between the two of them, I felt as safe as anyone could in such circumstances.

Matthew, on the other hand, has been distant since Elizabeth’s birth. I had hoped that becoming a father might bring us closer, but I fear he is withdrawing into himself again, just as he did before Christmas. He says he is tired, and I know he has been worrying about the estate, but it’s hard not to feel a little abandoned. I’m sure he will come around in time, but for now, I’m focusing on Elizabeth and trying to rest as much as I can.

And rest I must, my dear. I am so very tired, far more than I could have anticipated. Even holding Elizabeth for too long leaves me feeling faint. Dr Clarkson and Isobel, both assure me this is entirely normal, but at times, I feel quite overwhelmed. We’ve arranged for a wet nurse from the village to help with Elizabeth during the night, which has been a great relief—it has allowed me to sleep a little more. Matthew is sleeping in the spare room for now. He says he doesn’t want to disturb my rest, though I suspect he is finding it easier to manage his own worries in solitude.

Please don’t worry about me, Mary. Despite everything, holding Elizabeth makes it all worthwhile. She is perfect, and I can scarcely believe she’s mine. I miss you terribly, and I can’t help but wish you were here, especially as you near the end of your own pregnancy. It would be such a comfort to go through this together and to introduce our little ones to one another. I know how much you and Tom love your life in Dublin, but I worry, especially with all the stories we’ve been hearing about the troubles there.

Matthew orders the London papers, and they are full of alarming reports about the violence in Dublin. I fear for your safety, particularly as an Englishwoman living there. Have you been affected by any of it? I dearly hope not. Please take care of yourself and do keep me updated. I think of you constantly and send all my love to you and the baby.

With all my love,

Lavinia

Chapter Text

Crawley House,
Downton Village,
18th February 1920

Dearest Mary,

I know you must have received my last letter only a day or two ago, but I cannot wait to share the latest news. I have just received the photos of darling Elizabeth, and I am enclosing two as promised so you can show them to Tom. I hope this helps you convey just how tiny babies truly are. Doctor Clarkson and Isobel assure me that at 8 lbs 2 oz, Elizabeth is a bonny baby, perfect in every way.

Did I mention her eyes appear to be a cloudy blue? Isobel warns me that a baby’s eye colour can change often in the first year. She has such rosy, red cheeks, and I am convinced she is smiling at me already. Isobel doesn't believe me, but I am sure of it!

I am disappointed to report that Matthew has only held her once so far. It pains me, Mary, to see him so distant, especially at a time when I need him most. I feel as though I have lost part of him, just when I thought we were finally drawing closer. He seems even more withdrawn than during the War. Isobel has noticed too, and we are both concerned. She told me that sometimes men can behave oddly when they first have a child, as if the new arrival solidifies their place in this world and brings them closer to the next. I pray that she is right.

From my bedroom window, I’ve seen him pacing in the garden at night while I give Elizabeth her last feed before the wet nurse takes over. The wet nurse has been a tremendous comfort to me. I am still so tired and have developed a cough and a slight fever. Though Doctor Clarkson reassures me, I can’t shake a lingering worry, especially when I catch Isobel’s concerned glances. Sometimes I wonder if they are hiding something from me. Isobel has been so caring, regularly giving me aspirin and instructing the cook to prepare nourishing soups and broths.

Cora brightened my spirits with a visit yesterday. She agrees that Elizabeth is a beautiful baby and shared that she was bedridden for a whole month after your birth. Knowing this has calmed some of my fears. She mentioned that Edith's romance with Sir Anthony has cooled since Christmas, and she has been spending more time in London working for the magazine. Cora confided that she feels relieved, believing Sir Anthony is too old for Edith. She also shared her concerns for Sybil, who has been uncommunicative since her visit in December. Edith reports that she hardly sees Sybil as she is always studying or visiting friends from college. It must be terribly challenging work. I told Cora the same. I found Sybil to be as lovely as ever at Christmas; she looked well to my eyes. I didn’t mention this to your mother, but I wonder if Sybil has a secret beau.

Mary,

I hardly know how to write what I must now tell you. My hand trembles as I hold the pen, and the words feel so heavy and impossible that I wonder if they will ever make it to the page. But I cannot bear to carry this burden alone any longer, and I know you are the one person who will understand the weight on my heart.

Last night, after Elizabeth had fallen asleep and the house had grown quiet, Matthew came to me. I could see immediately that something was wrong. His face was pale, his eyes hollow, as though he had been battling with himself for days, and, in truth, I think he had. He stood there, trembling, and before I could ask what was the matter, he blurted out the truth. Mary, my world shattered in that instant.

Matthew has been unfaithful to me.

He did not tell me when or with whom, nor did I ask—I couldn’t, not then. All he said was that it was only once and that he deeply regretted it. He begged for my forgiveness, but I could hardly breathe, let alone respond. The room spun around me, and I felt as though the ground had been ripped away. How could this happen? After everything we have been through, after the war, after Elizabeth’s birth, how could he betray me like this?

I am so terribly lost, Mary. I can hardly look at him without feeling waves of grief and anger rise within me. He swears it meant nothing, that it was a moment of weakness, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Who was she? Why did he turn to her and not to me? I have loved him with every part of myself, yet it was not enough to keep him from straying. How does one forgive something like this? Can I even find it within myself to forgive him?

I haven’t told anyone, not even Isobel, though I imagine she knows something is wrong. I’ve been in a daze all day, barely able to eat or sleep, and a terrible headache has taken hold of me. My cough has worsened. It’s as if the weight of this sorrow presses down on me, and no matter how many hours I rest, the pain won’t leave. I’ve taken the aspirin Isobel gave me, but it does little to ease the ache in my head—or my heart.

I feel so torn, Mary. A part of me wants to flee, to take Elizabeth and run far away from this pain. But where would I go? Society would never forgive a woman abandoning her husband, regardless of the circumstances. The other part of me knows I need to stay. We are married; there is no escape for me or for us. But how do I do that when every glance at Matthew feels like a fresh wound?

I feel so foolish and blind. I knew Matthew hadn’t been happy with me, almost from the start of our marriage. I am ashamed to admit, but I thought Matthew held a torch for you, Mary, my friend. Yet, our relationship seemed to improve at Christmas. You saw his gift to me, that framed photo of our wedding day. I thought he was declaring his commitment to our marriage. How can I trust that any of it was true?

He says he will do anything to make it right. But I wonder if it is enough. I wonder if I can ever truly forgive him—or if I will spend the rest of my life haunted by this betrayal.

My head and heart ache so. I don’t know whom to turn to. Perhaps I will write to Father and ask to visit with the baby. I fear he will be terribly hurt by Matthew’s betrayal. I can’t remember if I ever told you, but it was Father who introduced us back in early 1916. Oh! Matthew was so dashing in his uniform, and we would go dancing every time he was on leave from the war. Or we would come up to Downton. Do you remember those times?

Have I been living a fairytale of my own making? Did I wilfully blind myself to the truth?

I can hear Elizabeth stirring now, so I must close for the night. Please, Mary, write to me as soon as you can. I need your guidance and strength. You have always been my steadfast friend, and I can’t imagine getting through this without you.

With all my love and sorrow,

Lavinia

Chapter Text

Downton Abbey,
Yorkshire,
24th of February 1920

My darling Mary,

I hope this letter finds you in good health, though I know the news I must share will bring you no comfort. It is with the heaviest heart that I must tell you something so unthinkable, so unbearably sad, that I can scarcely put the words to paper.

Lavinia has passed away.

My dear, I can only imagine the shock you must feel reading those words. I wish with all my soul that I could be there with you, to tell you in person, to hold your hand, and to share this grief together. But by the time this reaches you, her funeral will have already taken place. It all happened so quickly, none of us could have foreseen the terrible turn of events.

She had been suffering from that dreadful cough and fever, but Doctor Clarkson was confident it was only a passing illness, nothing more than exhaustion after the strain of childbirth. He and Isobel watched over her day and night, and at first, there seemed no cause for alarm. She was weak, yes, but we all believed she was on the mend.

Then, without warning, everything changed. Her fever worsened, and she began experiencing sharp pains in her chest. Clarkson grew more concerned, and it became clear that it was far more serious than we had imagined. The doctor spoke of myocarditis—a condition that strikes suddenly, often after an infection, and with so little that can be done. It was devastating to see how quickly it overwhelmed her. He said that there had been cases he had read where women who have had Spanish flu had a weakened body and died in childbirth.

Lavinia’s strength slipped away, Mary. She was surrounded by Matthew and Isobel in those final hours, but her poor heart could not bear the physical strain of sustaining life. By the time I reached her bedside, it was too late.

The sorrow that has settled over the house is indescribable. Matthew is utterly shattered, Mary. He has become a ghost of the man we knew, lost in his grief. He walks through the house as if in a daze, speaking little and barely eating. The few words he does manage are for little Elizabeth, who, I fear, will grow without knowing the father he once was. It is as though his soul has been buried with Lavinia.

Isobel, too, has been inconsolable. She and Clarkson tried everything within their power, and I know she blames herself for not being able to save Lavinia. She spends her days now clinging to Elizabeth as though that sweet baby is the only thing tethering her to this world. And in a way, she is. That little girl is the last piece of Lavinia we have, and though she brings a flicker of light, it cannot diminish the sorrow of her loss.

I’m so sorry that you could not be here to say your goodbyes. I know how deeply you cared for Lavinia, how close you had become. It was only weeks ago when you were both talking about the joy you would share at being mothers, together, here at Downton. It feels cruel that life should steal her away so soon, just when she should have been enjoying the happiest days of her life with her new child and husband.

I hope Matthew, does not succumb to grief for too long a time. Children, especially girls require a mother’s love and care. We will off course support Matthew and pray that he has the strength to find a suitable wife to care for baby Elizabeth.

In the meantime, I suggested the nursery at Downton might be more suitable, we have the necessary staff on hand to assist with caring for the baby. I thought remaining at Crawley house without Lavinia might prolong the pain. The house feels as though it has plunged into mourning, Mary, his heart is broken in a way that no stoic demeanour can conceal. Christmas was such a happy time for Lavinia, with all of us at home. I believe being in Downton might remind Matthew of those happier times spent together.

Isobel was quite stiff when she stated that she and the wet nurse could manage very well at Crawley House. I sensed her indignation at my suggestion, for I know how deeply she takes pride in her household. Matthew acquiesced to her, but I saw that they were both too emotional to think rationally yet. Therefore, I spoke to Mrs. Hughes, and she will ensure that they receive all the help they might need from our staff.

Please take your time to grieve, my darling, but know that we are all here for you. When you are ready, please come home my darling girl. We will grieve together, as a family, and honour Lavinia’s memory in every way we can.

With all my love,

Mama

Chapter Text

Dublin,
6th of March 1920

Dear Cora,

Thank you for your kind letter. I hope all is as well as can be expected during this sad time. Mary is heartbroken over the news of Lavinia’s passing and, at present, is not ready to reply to any of her correspondence. Please know that your words brought her some comfort during this devastating time, though she needs space to process the loss in her own way.

On the advice of her midwife, Mary is taking bedrest and conserving her energy during these last six weeks of pregnancy. While her grief has been overwhelming, we have been reassured by her doctor that she is in no physical danger. We take daily walks through St. Stephen’s Green; though she is often quiet, the signs of early spring lift her spirits, if only briefly. The care of Mrs. Murphy and my family has been an immense help, but I know Mary longs for the comfort of her home and her family.

After much consideration, I have decided that we will return to Downton before the baby is born. It is best for her to be with you all, surrounded by familiar faces and the love she needs right now. We plan to travel to Liverpool on the 29th of March, and I will consult with Mary to see if she wishes to rest there for a night or go directly to Downton. I will let you know as soon as we finalize those details.

Once we’ve settled at Downton, I may take a day trip to London to pay my respects to Reggie. He wrote to me, and it’s clear that the loss of Lavinia has broken him. I would like to offer him my condolences in person, as I can only imagine the depth of his sorrow at losing his only child. It’s hard to comprehend how such a kind and gentle woman could be taken from us so suddenly. Like you, I am both shocked and saddened by her passing, and it weighs heavily on Mary’s heart as well.

Mary has been particularly affected by the thought of baby Elizabeth, especially now as she nears the birth of our own child. Could you please share with us how Elizabeth is faring? Knowing more about her well-being might bring some comfort to Mary, who is troubled by the thought of the baby growing up without her mother.

She would particularly like to know if Matthew has changed his mind about Elizabeth using the nursery at Downton. It comforts Mary to think of our baby sharing a nursery with Elizabeth, allowing them to grow together, just as she and Lavinia planned. I understand it is Matthew’s right as a father to decide, but it does weigh on Mary’s mind.

I’ve sent my condolences to Matthew, but if you could also pass along my thoughts to him and Isobel, I would be grateful. We are all holding them close in our hearts during this challenging time.

My mother and her friends are saying a rosary every evening in Lavinia’s memory and praying to Our Lady for the well-being of baby Elizabeth.

Warmest regards,

Tom Branson

Chapter Text

Dublin,

25^th of March 1920

Dear Edith,  

I hope this letter finds you well. Thank you for your letters these past weeks. I can’t tell you how much comfort and solace they have brought me. I must beg your forgiveness for not replying sooner, but the loss of Lavinia has affected me more than I ever imagined.

Since hearing the devastating news, I’ve been utterly exhausted, and my midwife has recommended bed rest. It’s just as well because I’ve scarcely had the strength for anything else. Poor Tom has taken on most of the burden of caring for me, with the help of Mrs. Murphy and Mrs. Branson.

Dear sister, I can’t stress enough the importance of choosing a good husband. Though fate chose Tom for me, I consider myself so fortunate. I only realized recently that it would have been Lavinia’s one-year anniversary last Sunday. I’m embarrassed to admit that Tom found me sobbing in bed, clutching the Sunday newspaper.

It just feels so unfair that Lavinia is no longer with us. I am full of regret for not liking Lavinia at first. I could have been a much better friend to her during the war, but I was so consumed with jealousy because she had Matthew, and I did not. How foolish I was back then. But I was a good friend in the end, wasn’t I?

A week before Lavinia died, she sent two photos, one of her holding baby Elizabeth and one of just of Elizabeth. She looked so happy holding her dear baby and now she is gone forever. Tom bought me a beautiful double walnut frame. Please ignore the splotches, even now I can barely contain my tears.

You would be amazed to see how often I’ve been bursting into tears lately. Me—your most stoic sister, the “ice princess” as I know the staff call me. Even Mrs. Branson has had to dry my tears. She reassures me that many strong women shed tears, especially as pregnancy comes to an end. Truly, I am ready for this pregnancy to be over: my back aches and it is impossible to get a full night’s sleep.

A glimmer of happiness is beginning to return to my days. Tom has finally finished the preparatory work for his novel, and his publisher has already distributed his short stories to various magazines and newspapers. Fortunately, I had most of the sketches completed before the news of Lavinia’s death. Tom assures me that what I’ve provided will be enough for the different publications, as not all will need a sketch.

Tom has also been in contact with your Mr. Gregson about an exclusive interview to coincide with the release of the novel. I look forward to meeting this debonair Mr. Gregson in person. Tom will have to make personal appearances, but by then I will be back home at Downton, so I won’t be alone.

We’re beginning to pack up our things to send them to Downton. I will, of course, miss our little flat and rooftop garden, Mrs. Murphy’s delicious bread, and our friends and family here in Ireland. Tom puts on a brave face, but I know how much this country means to him. The troubles in Dublin pain him, and though his heart belongs to an independent Ireland, it has become dangerous for those of us in the literary circle, which is so closely tied to republican politics.

Now that I’ve lived in Ireland, I, too, feel this country should be free to determine its own destiny (don’t tell Papa). The people here may speak English, but they are not English in spirit or outlook. I used to think it was England’s duty to lead the world, to govern those who couldn’t govern themselves. Now I wonder if I was terribly mistaken.

If Ireland should govern itself, then what of India? Should they, too, not have the right to govern themselves? These distant places have histories as ancient as our own. With every book I read, the less certain I am of our righteousness. Tom teases me that he’s slowly corrupting me, and that when the time comes for women to vote, I’ll be casting my vote for Labour (definitely don’t tell Papa that either). But in truth it was all the Sunday mornings reading the papers and discussing the articles together.

You see how my mind is preoccupied, my thoughts swirl from topic to topic, I am unsure it is my grief causing my lack of concentration or my pregnancy. Still, I can’t wait to return home, even if Lavinia won’t be there to greet me. As a last hurrah, Tom is taking me to Bewley’s Oriental Café—my favourite place in Dublin—for afternoon tea. It will be my final chance before we leave.

Tom and his family will do much of the packing, while I remain in bed, giving directions and feeling as large as a tram. I will finish this letter after our outing, though I suspect I will have little more to report than how much cake I managed to eat!

^

 Oh Edith!

I am shaking, I must have tried to put down my thoughts two, three times, but I can hardly hold the pen steady in my hand. I have never experienced such a thing in my entire life. My heart is beating so hard in my chest right now. I must go, Tom is insisting I go to bed and rest, he is no doubt right. Goodnight sister!

^

I had meant to finish my letter yesterday evening after our outing to Bewley’s, but I find myself writing to you now in quite a different state than I had anticipated. What was meant to be a peaceful afternoon tea turned into something far more unsettling. I must warn you, this letter will take a darker turn than I had originally planned.

Tom and I had just sat down at Bewley’s, our usual table by the window, when a man approached us, I had him seen once or twice before—one of Tom’s acquaintances, Seamus O’Shaughnessy. A man with a dulled wit and penchant for parroting what every rhetoric he heard earlier that day. Unfortunately, his poetry was equally lacklustre with the superficial appearance of meaning. I had always suspected him of jealousy over Tom’s brilliance.

 He started out civilly enough, though there was a sharpness to his words that put me ill at ease. Without warning, he launched into a tirade, accusing Tom of being a British informant, of betraying Ireland, of betraying his very bloodline. He pointed to me, his wife, as evidence of this treachery— “the daughter of an English earl,” he sneered, “a cog in the machine of our oppression.” The way he said it, as if I were a symbol rather than a person, shook me to my core.

His anger was palpable, his words venomous, and I could see Tom becoming tense beside me, his hands clenched. Seamus didn’t stop there. He said our time at Downton Abbey last December, when we were visiting for Christmas, was proof of Tom’s "perfidy," as he put it. The accusations were wild and baseless, but that didn’t seem to matter to him. It was as if the mere fact of me being who I am was enough to condemn Tom in his eyes.

And then, Edith—it happened so fast—he picked up the teapot from the table next to us and threw the dregs of cold tea in my face. I was so stunned, so horrified, I couldn’t move. The cold tea dripped down my face, and all I could think was how close I had come to something worse. I covered my pregnant belly with my arms, the only thought to protect my baby. Never in my life have I been so near to such violence. I was frightened beyond words.

Tom, of course, stood up immediately, demanding an apology, but Seamus was beyond reason. He shoved Tom, and a scuffle broke out. In the confusion, Seamus landed a punch, knocking Tom back against the table. The whole scene was so surreal—other patrons jumped in to pull Seamus away and threw him out of the café. My hands were trembling so badly I couldn’t even hold my napkin.

Tom, bruised and shaken but still composed, guided me out of Bewley’s and back to our flat. I don’t know how I managed to walk, Edith—I felt as though my legs might give out at any moment. When we arrived home, Mrs. Murphy fussed over us both, her voice full of concern as she tried to make sense of what had happened. I wanted to finish the letter to you then, but Tom insisted I lie down. He was right, of course—I was too shaken, and I needed time to collect myself.

Now, with the morning light filtering in through the curtains, I still feel rattled. I can’t seem to stop replaying the scene in my head—how close I was to something awful, and how helpless I felt in that moment. I’ve never been so exposed to such open hatred before, so connected to the troubles of this land in such a visceral way. I suppose it’s something Tom has faced his entire life, but it was new to me.

Tom’s eye is black this morning, and though he brushes it off, I know it hurt him deeply—not just the physical blow, but the accusation itself. He’s always been so proud of his Irish identity, so dedicated to the cause of Irish freedom. To be accused of betraying that, especially by someone he knows, must be unbearable.

As for me, I find myself longing for Downton more than ever now. This little flat that I’ve come to love feels suddenly too small, too precarious. I miss the safety, the stability of home—the comfort of being surrounded by family. I know Tom feels the same, though he tries to hide it from me. Ireland will always be a part of him, but it’s become too dangerous for us here, especially with a baby on the way.

This attack seems to have momentarily shaken me from my grief for dear Lavinia and invigorated me with an urge for action. Lavinia’s recent passing should have prepared me for how unexpected life can be and a single moment can change your life forever, for the worse. The Scandal last year had changed my life for the better in so many ways, it is these sudden events that have changed my perspective.

We’re packing up today and leaving for Downton on the 29^th. It’s time for me to be with you all again, to put this ordeal behind me. I only wish the return could be under happier circumstances, but I suppose that’s not the way of things these days.

I’ll write again soon once we’re settled back at Downton. Until then, take care of yourself. I can’t wait to see you.

With love,

Mary