Hope
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the slight deviation from the canon.
I've been desperate to write something for these two since the amazing season 2 started and so have finally managed to get this out after several other attempts and writers block.
Enjoy
He was sitting on the step of the car, much the same as he had been on her last visit to the garage to tell him of her sister's imminent arrival. Only this time the newspaper was replaced with a single sheet of writing paper and the expression on his face was blank.
He hadn't noticed her arrival either. "Branson?" She cleared her throat feeling the butterflies rise in her stomach for some reason she did not want to evaluate. He looked up startled and then visibly winced as he saw who it was.
"Yes milady?" While his voice was so utterly him it was devoid of the passion he usually spoke with and his posture was slumped and defeated.
"Can you take Mary and me down to the hospital at five? Papa asked if I'd go with her to see Cousin Matthew." He nodded dropping his gaze back to the paper but it was clear to her that he wasn't reading the words scrawled on the page.
"You heard about William?" She continued on swallowing the lump in her throat at the thought of the tragedy that had befallen the house; they'd all seen one coming, after all they had remained untouched by the war for so long, but they'd still hoped, hoped so desperately.
"Hard not too; news flies fast around here." His tone was bitter now and she glanced down at him in surprise. While she knew his feelings towards the war he had never shown any anger towards those who had been injured and besides she was sure that he and William were or had been friends.
But there was no mistaking the hostile bite to his voice and she was momentary stunned before sighing heavily; he'd been in a foul mood for a while now and she was no better at handling it than she had been when it had arrived.
Sudden anger surged through her; they were all affected by the war and yet they didn't feel the need to snap everyone's head off the minute they opened their mouth, especially regarding something so tragic as the death of a someone they had both known well.
"I know you don't agree with the war but you could at least pretend that you care about those who are injured or dead." Her voice broke on the last word and she turned away feeling the anger leave her.
Without any sound to suggest movement from the bitter chauffeur she felt a handkerchief be pressed into her hand and she kept her back to him as she composed herself. "And you say we hide our feelings; is this proof enough that we have them." She snapped upon turning back round to face him; her anger not quite diminished as their conversation from yesterday came back to her.
She was expecting him to argue back, catch her by the hand or waist again and tell her how much he loved her or somewhere in the back of her mind she hoped for an apology.
She wasn't expecting to see him sitting hunched over with his head buried in his hands the paper lying innocently on the floor where it had fallen. "Branson?" Her anger completely died away and she dragged up a crate to sit on opposite him. "What's wrong?"
"My brother was jailed last month for opposing conscription when it came into being in Ireland." He started hesitantly but there had never been any question of him refusing to answer, not with her. Nevertheless his kept his face hidden, his voice muffled and thick with emotion.
Sybil felt her throat tighten as the thought of 'it could have been him' entered into her mind but otherwise remained confused; he had so desperately wanted that to be him so why was he so upset about it being his brother.
"He caught a chill." Branson continued his fingers pressing against his head so hard that it looked painful and Sybil instinctively took one hand and pulled it away from his face keeping it in hers. They were looking at each now and a lump caught in her throat as she saw how miserable he looked. "And it escalated; they say nothing could be done but…"
He trailed off and Sybil felt a horrible cold come over her as she realised the implications. "He's not dead." She gasped and he nodded miserably.
"Last week; the funeral was today and I can't go." He burst out unconsciously clutching her hand tighter.
"I'm sure Papa would give you some time off; to go and be with your mother…" Sybil started already set on forcing her father to give way whether he liked it or not until she was interrupted.
"She's dead." His voice had softened again. "Just before I took the job here, my father died the year before her and my cousin was bloody murdered and now…" Sybil looked away the anguish in his features too much for her to bear and the realisation that he had no family too awful. Now she knew why he had avoided her question of whether his people would accept her, it wouldn't matter either way now.
"I'm so sorry." She whispered turning to look at him again and he lifted his head to meet her eyes for the first time that day.
"So am I." Branson closed his eyes briefly and reopened them her gaze still fixated on him. "I'm proud of him though."
"Of course you are." She knew how much he believed in the opposition to conscription and freedom of Ireland meant to him and what he said to her the other day was true, sometimes terrible sacrifices must be made to have a future worth having.
And if his brother had been a part of that sacrifice then of course he'd be proud, entirely miserable for a while and he'd miss his brother terribly but he'd be proud that he had died standing up for what he believed in and she wouldn't expect anything less.
"Are you going to be alright?" Sybil glanced between him and the house where she had promised her mother she'd help her sort something out with a new timetable for the convalescing officers. She wasn't the type of person to neglect her duties or break her promises especially to her mother who she loved dearly but she couldn't leave him if she wasn't sure he was going to do something stupid.
"I'll be fine milady." He attempted a small smile but it fell short and she looked completely unconvinced. "You should get back to your work." He tentatively nudged her with his knee.
"Bringing hot drinks to officers?" Sybil raised an eyebrow despite her heart aching for the man and her own feelings towards him becoming clearer by the second she couldn't quite let what he said about her work go.
"I didn't mean that milady." He admitted sheepishly. "I know you do good work and it means a lot to you. I was just…" He trailed off and the rest of the sentence hung in the air between them, the eye contact between them becoming more and more intense until finally Sybil looked away.
"I should go." She let go of his hand slowly and rose to her feet, him standing with her forcing her to take a step back so that their bodies weren't pressed together. He nodded and before she could change her mind she leant forward and kissed him on the cheek.
She stopped at the garage door and turned back to face him; he had his head leant against the car door watching her leave with a small smile on his face. "Do you think the war will be over soon?" she asked curiously.
"Can't much last longer." He sighed heavily and looked past her towards the house to the kitchen where most of the staff sat silently grieving for their loss.
"Good." She nodded. "Maybe then we can…" She trailed off and took a step to the right to shield herself from view as the groundskeeper stomped past without even acknowledging Branson who was sitting in plain view.
"Maybe we can?" He questioned as the footsteps died away and they both breathed a sigh of relief.
She blushed and for a moment he thought she was going to walk away ending their conversations much the same way as they had been for the past few months. "Maybe we can talk about us." She admitted slowly before ducking out of the garage and out of his sight.
It wasn't the outright declaration of love or decision to run away to be married that he had wanted but it was enough to give him hope. And he could live with that. For now.
Conscription came into Ireland on 18th April and there was much opposition to it. Therefore, it is not a huge stretch of the imagination to go slightly off canon and say that Branson's brother was able to carry out a protest like his brother wanted too and end up being arrested. With the medical care as it was back then especially for the poor and those in prison it is also not completely unrealistic to suggest that he died in this way.
Any mistakes are my own but I hope my proof-reading is alright but you never know!
Thanks for reading!
Tacxxx
