Although he had drawn the dark green curtains shut to block out the early morning sun, he had left the window open so that the cool night air could drift into the room. Several times during the night he had been awakened by the now unfamiliar sounds of voices and even a passing lorry or two breaking the stillness of the night for in chauffeur's cottage he heard no such passing noises in the night.
That he had been able to sleep at all had been rather surprising to him since the evening had probably been the most eventful evening of his life mixing a variety of emotions including apprehension, hostility, scornfulness, pride but most of all love. Now wide awake and fully dressed, Tom pulled back the curtains to be greeted by a lovely spring morning with billowy white clouds floating aimlessly in the crisp blue sky. The fresh air of the spring morning contained just a hint of lilac from the budding bushes that grew behind the low stone wall that separated the street below his window from the village church yard.
Tom stood at the window of his room in the Grantham Arms, watching people scurry down the street and he briefly wondered where they had to be but mostly it seemed that those that passed by his window were children on their way to the village schoolhouse or women carrying their wicker baskets on their way to the shops occasionally pausing in groups of two or three to chat. Less rare than people were the lorries that would rumble by and the occasional motor car. As he stood there watching village life play out on the street below he thought how strange it seemed to have woken up in this room in the middle of the village rather than his cottage.
The chauffeur's cottage had been his home for the past six years. He recalled how excited he had been at the interview when told the cottage came with the job. For someone who had never had his own bedroom until three years prior when he went to work for the old widow, and not that the tiny room, a former horse stall that had been carved into a bedroom when part of the old stables was converted into a garage, with barely enough room for the single bed and one chest of drawers, was much, if any, of an improvement from the childhood bedroom he had shared with his brothers, the thought of a whole cottage just for himself seemed heavenly. Surely with his own cottage, he'd have a space to sit and read or write.
The cottage had delivered even more than he had expected with a large sitting room, a good-sized bedroom with enough space for a double bed, and most unexpectedly a bathroom with a large tub. For the first time in his life he had been able to take long soaking baths without fear of one of his siblings banging on the bathroom door imploring him to hurry up or moaning about leaving them no hot water. Since electricity had also been installed, another unexpected bonus, he could read far into the night without straining his eyes from candlelight.
Tom had known that the moment he stepped into that drawing room his time at Downton as the chauffeur would be over meaning he would no longer be welcome to stay at the cottage he had called his home for the past six years. He had prepared for that by packing all his belongings in the two battered suitcases he had brought with him from Ireland and bringing them to the Grantham Arms where he had taken this room. Not packed in either of those suitcases were the two sets of the green livery he had worn every day of those past six years. Those he had left, along with his camel colored coveralls, hanging neatly in the lone closet of the cottage's bedroom.
When he had awoken yesterday he had donned one of those uniforms as a matter of habit thinking that his day would be much like the day before and the days before that. It wasn't until breakfast when Carson doled out the morning's post to the servants gathered around the large wooden dining table that Tom's morning, indeed his life, changed.
Carson's eyebrow had given a slight quirk as he had read the return address on the bulky envelope before handing it to Tom. Tom knew that Carson was curious about the rash of mail he had suddenly begun receiving from Ireland for in the time that Tom had been at Downton the bulk of his mail had been monthly letters from his mother and the less frequent ones from his sisters and a couple of cousins. Taking the envelope from Carson, Tom didn't know if Carson realized if those names on the return were Irish newspapers and he never offered that information.
Tom didn't satisfy Carson's curiosity by opening the envelope in the servants hall as his fellow workers readily did. Instead he pocketed it in his vest pocket, to be read later in the solitude of the garage where there would be no one else to see the unbridled happiness of an offer or, more likely, the disappointment of another rejection.
His mind focused on the envelope in his pocket which he now realized was thicker that the usual one page letter, he didn't hear the chatter of his coworkers. Leaving much of his breakfast uneaten, raising the interest of those still seated at the table for Tom was known as a hardy eater, he hurriedly retreated to the garage. Taking the letter out of his pocket, he stood there staring at the unopened envelope he held in his trembling hands. When he had received his first reply he had excitedly torn into the envelope only to read those most unsatisfying words of rejection. Now, after several rejections Tom was almost afraid to open the letter fearing another rejection.
Finally sighing deeply, he slit open the envelope. He quickly glanced through the top letter and he could hardly believe his eyes as he read such words as offer … opportunity… reporter that were interspersed throughout the five paragraph letter. He felt his pulse quicken and his heart racing as he then slowly read through the letter.
That letter had set off a chain reaction that led to Tom now standing here at this window in one of the rooms-for-let at the Grantham Arms no longer the Downton chauffeur but a soon to be Dublin journalist.
Still standing at the window in the Grantham Arms his eyes no longer really seeing the street or the church yard, Tom ran his hand through his hair something he had done since he was a little boy despite the admonishments of his mother.
All the time you've been driving me about, bowing and scraping, and seducing my daughter behind my back
I don't bow and scrape and I've not seduced anyone
Folly, ridiculous, juvenile madness
I won't allow my daughter to throw away her life
The words shouted in the Downton drawing room last evening rattled around in his head. He had thought Sybil was naïve to believe that her family, or at least her mother and sisters, would accept him. While Tom didn't necessarily feel he needed or even wanted the Crawley's approval, he knew their acceptance was important to Sybil and that she'd be much happier if she left with their blessing rather than being cast out.
He was proud of her for how she stood up to her father, never wavering or faltering. It was only later when they had retreated to Jackdaw's Castle, the inappropriately named folly that stood across the wide lawn from the Abbey, that Sybil had shed any tears but those had been borne in anger not sorrow.
She walked out of the drawing room defiantly. Calling his name Tom followed her out of the room and out of the house. She kept walking across the broad front lawn until they reached the folly.
The moon and stars cast enough light that Tom could see her eyes were blazing.
"I'm sorry Tom" she finally uttered causing him a moment of panic. "Sorry to subject you to that … to them …"
On the floor of the folly, she paced up and down like a caged animal her voice rising with each sentence. "How dare he think I was seduced. How dare he think I'm so weak I can't make up my own mind. How dare he think I'm throwing away my life."
He reached out and stopped her pacing. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her in close so that her head rested on his chest as he caressed her hair.
"We knew it wouldn't be easy Sybil" he softly replied.
After Sybil had calmed down, they sat on the ledge of the folly and talked not so much of what had happened in that drawing room but of their future. He could have sat there all night, his arm wrapped around her waist. Oh how good it felt to finally be able to hold her, to kiss her, to not worry about being seen.
A knock on the door brought Tom back into this room here at the Grantham Arms. It was one of the serving girls bringing him the breakfast that came with the cost of the room. She set the tray holding a small tea pot, a basket of scones, and a hardboiled egg on the desk.
Sitting at the desk eating his breakfast, Tom thought it seemed a bit strange to have a day that his activities were solely up to him. For six years his days had been determined by the demands of those he worked for. Now his time was free until he and Sybil finally left for Dublin which wouldn't be until after Mr. Matthew's wedding in four days time.
He wasn't sure how he'd pass the time until he met Sybil this afternoon. Carson had been a witness to the happenings last night in the drawing room so Tom thought he didn't have to formally hand in his resignation. But he did need to receive the wages still owed to him so he'd visit the servants area before he met Sybil.
He fleetingly thought they should have waited until after the wedding to announce their plans to her family that way he could have been earning money these days instead of sitting here in the Grantham Arms with nothing to do to pass the time.
It was at Sybil's insistence that they tell her family the day Tom received the job offer. The offer came with the requirement that Tom report in person to the Dublin office in ten days time ready to begin work which Tom agreed to in the telegram he sent accepting the job offer. Sybil wanted her family to have some time to digest her plans rather than seem like she was running away. It's only for a few more days she had said. For his part, Tom thought he had waited for four years for her, he could wait a few more days.
But sometimes life takes unexpected, even unwanted, and sometimes cruel, turns. If only … two words that would come to haunt and torment both Tom and Sybil.