Sybil realises one day that Branson only talks to her (and she means really talks to her, like it matters) when no one else is around. She doesn't quite understand why this makes her feel so sad.
She notices it today, Mary is with them (Mary is with her, she should say, there is no them, Branson is the chauffeur, a servant) and she finds herself missing their usual debate. Even him helping her in the car, and calling her milady feels different, wrong, now that it isn't just the two of them. Now that Mary is here, expecting it to happen that way, rules and places and a social standing that seems further than the moon under the pressure.
Of course Mary notices.
"Sybil?" It isn't much of a concern for her wellbeing, that's not Mary's style but it is her way of saying she can see there is something not quite right. "You're very quiet."
Sybil notices Branson shift, and she wonders why. She isn't supposed to notice these things about him. She isn't supposed to notice anything about him. She most definitely should not be wondering what his first name is.
Unfortunately, the word shouldn't doesn't seem to work as well as she might wish.
Roy? Fred? Kenneth? Branson fits him so well. His politics, his attitude, his Irish brogue. All those quirks that make him him to her. Not that she really would know. They just talk, every so often, while he drives her around. They are nothing.
She feels a painful twang at the thought. Silly, silly Sybil.
"I'm listening, Mary, I promise."
Walter? Frank? Stanley?
"Alright, darling, if you're quite sure, I wanted to stop in on Cousin Isobel and invite them tonight."
Sybil has to hide a smile "Call on Cousin Isobel?"
"Who were you thinking of?"
Branson. Not that Mary would want her to be truthful in that regard.
"Cousin Matthew will be there, will he not?"
"Yes well I suppose he will. Papa will want to speak with him at dinner so we shall have to invite him as well."
David? Richard? James?
"How terrible for you."
"Oh, now Sybil, I don't know what you mean. Don't turn into Edith on me."
Perhaps she could ask Carson. He might tell Papa but really, what was so bad about wanting to know the name of one man. Just because he was a servant and she was a lady doesn't mean he wasn't given a name the day he was born.
Glenn? Sidney? Wilbur? She can't stifle a giggle at the idea of Branson being named Wilbur. She can admit that she is starting to get a little ridiculous now.
Mary is looking at her now, a somewhat annoyed look on her face.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing, don't worry about it".
She can see the corners of Branson's mouth turn up. She wishes she knew what he was thinking. It is exciting; being around him, but unpredictable can be hard sometimes. She'll never know if he wonders about her, the way she does him. Really, though, she doesn't know that she wants him too. Is that a lie? She could be lying to herself. It's part of being a Crawley, on occasion, knowing how to lie.
"We're here. We won't be long." Mary dismisses Branson and gets out of the car.
Sybil is fascinated. Is that how she sounds when she orders him around? She can remember she's told him what to do many times, but does she sound so superior, so cold, and so haughty? And maybe she's exaggerating because Mary isn't horrible, at least not on purpose (well, maybe to Edith), it's just how they've been raised. Does that make it alright? And why is she questioning it? Why is she questioning any of it?
"Milady," He's talking to her and he's looking at her and offering his hand. Gloved, of course, but still reaching out to her. It occurs to her she could always ask Branson what his name is. Maybe he'd be happy to tell her. It is just a name.
It feels like more.
Mary is staring. Branson is staring. Sybil steps out of the car before they ask her any questions. She should probably try thinking other thoughts.
And there is that hated word again: should. It feels restraining, a ruined dream.
Tom knows he is breaking his own heart. Her smile might be worth it.
That is why he talked to her in the first place. Her mother made him think he might be interested in women's rights but it was the look on her face that gave him the courage to offer her the pamphlets. He knows he's not right for her, he knows he'll never be good enough for her but that's not enough for him. It's not going to stop him. If they were caught, he would be fired. It makes him angry how ridiculous that is. He knows they aren't better than him. Well, Sybil is but not because of how they were born. They should at least have been equal in that. They aren't, though. And he talks of change, but he doesn't know that he really believes it will happen.
Tom can imagine a future where things are as they should be. He wants to make that future. Why should one's family dictate what can happen to a person in life. He never could understand it. And now he has even more of a reason for wanting to change it. Maybe that is selfish, but big dreams usually are. Things worth having are always worth fighting for. He'll always believe in that.
"What's your first name?"
He jumps. She's there. He didn't even notice. That's a first, not watching her every move.
"What?" He hopes his confusion comes across.
She blushes. She's lovely. "It's just that, we're friends right?"
"I like to think so, milady."
"No, don't say that. Milady. That's what I mean. I'm Sybil. It's my name, you should call me that. I want you to call me that." She's staring at him now, looking him right in the eyes and he knows he can't possibly look away. "I want to know who you are."
This feels like the most important moment of his life. It feels like something he will want to remember for years to come. Will this change how she thinks of him? Knowing him as Tom, calling him that. It's such a small thing, just his name, only three letters, but suddenly it feels like this is the one thing that they will never be able to go back on.
"If you don't want me to know…" she trails off, looking unsure. "I know it's not exactly proper, but you've never really seemed to care about that before, and-"
"Tom."
She smiles. She looks so pleased with knowing his name and somehow it makes him realise-
He loves her. Branson loves Lady Sybil. Tom loves Sybil.
He will be worthy of that.
"It suits you, you know."
"What, Tom? It's just a name."
"Just a title, you mean." And suddenly she looks sad, a little wistful. "People put too much into titles, don't they?"
He hates that her smile has disappeared. If he is going to be heartbroken, he should at least be able to know that she is happy.
"I go by Branson, anyway."
"That suits you too, I suppose. It was hard for me to think of you as anything else."
"You were trying to guess my name?" He laughs. It's good to know he's not the only one who can be ridiculous about the other. And maybe, if she felt knowing his name was that important, it means something. Maybe not a happy ending, maybe not her love, but they have something. An understanding, a bond of a sort.
She's blushing again, and he sentimentally thinks she is more beautiful than anything or anyone he's ever seen.
"I was just being silly."
"When was this? How long have you been wondering about my name?" He's never been so captivated.
"Not long. Just, just since the other day. Since Mary came to town with us."
Us. He's never felt stupidly happy enough to say these phrases before but right now he's tickled pink, he's flying high, he's walking on air. He allows himself a moment of wry humour at the nonsense of those thoughts. At least he didn't say them out loud. Sybil Crawley certainly has changed him in little ways, at least. Then he realises what she is actually saying.
"You mean, an entire week ago." He's quite sure he is smirking. He's always been sure of himself and now he's sure of her.
"Well, yes. Oh, stop it." She's trying to frown but can't quite manage it and breaks into a charming smile.
It gives him the courage to do something he's never done before. He takes her hand and it's not gloved, it's not to help her move her own two feet (like she needs anyone's help, she could do whatever she wants and he knows she will) and it is just them, skin on skin, together and he loves her more than anything.
This is a future worth having.