There's not very many Branson/Sybil fan-fic's at the moment, so I thought I've have a gander at one! Please reveiw whether it's good or Bad. This is set in around 1915 though the timing of the dialogue from the episode it is from may a different date just forget that, its 1915 heheheheh.
Happy Reading!
I own nothing!
Sit closer love: it was here I trow
I made that vow,
Swore that two lives should be like one
As long as the sea-gull loved the sea,
As long as the sunflower sought the sun, -
It shall be, I said, for eternity
'Twixt you and me!
Dear friend, those times are over and done;
Love's web is spun.
''Stop Badgering me!'' Exclaimed Sybil as she turned to leave the cluttered garage. Branson saw her jerk to leave and immediately placed a hand on her hip, blocking her exit and with that stared at the young women he most adored earnestly.
''Sometimes sacrifices must be made for a future worth having.'' he glanced at Sybil with twinkling eyes. ''Thats all I'm going to say.'' He sighed removing his hand slowly. They both stood tasting eachothers presence, is this it? Branson thought. Could it be? He slowly moved towards her.
No! What are you doing? This is so dangerous! Sybil's mind cried, he was leaning in. This was not the place nor the time. Quickly before she could notice his hurt which would brandish upon his face she turned away from him and briskly walked away from her dearest friend. Branson gave a heavy sigh of defeat at her departure. Oh how he wished his feeling would disappear. These long months of denial, how he wished he had never applied for such a job. Perhaps stayed in Ireland, met a nice girl, one of his rank and quality. He knew there was nothing to be done know the damage was there, he could no longer fight the intense feelings he held for the daughter on an Earl.
Branson solemly continued to read his paper, sitting back down onto the rough, cold steps. He opened his newspaper and read of of deaths of some infantry soliders whom had been killed in action on the front line in france. At this information the telegram reporting him to war burnt a hole in his pocket.
She was stupid.
This whole situation was idiotic.
How can a Lady fall for a chauffeur, it was beyond belief. In novels, as Granny had explained weeks ago, becoming close to someone of a differernt rank or 'lower' class was magical, a wild wild adventure.
However in harsh reality it was painful and heart breaking. Sybil had pondered on her relationship with the family chauffeur for over a year. She knew they were friends of course, sharing similar interests and being able to talk openly with eachother was exhuberating. Only recently had she began to realise the intensity of their relationship. He had admitted to her on that fateful afternoon in York, that he loved her, wished to marry her. The thought stung tears into Sybil's eyes.
Alone in her room with the penetrating darkness masking her pain she allowed the tears to flow. Why did it have to be so dfficult?, love is love after all. Sybil jolted upright in her bed, staring out of her window into the crisp darkness which bewildered his cottage which lay in view. Just becasue society does not accept their love does not mean she should be scared to edure it, feel it. How selfish had she become. Only thinking of the social hierachy which blocked their path. Only believeing her family would banish her without a doubt if they found out how much she cared for their revolutionary chauffeur, and she cared for him a great deal. He knew they would face trouble, be declined in society, possibly from both sides. ''Sacrifices must be made for a future worth having''. How true he was, how blind was she. This was real, she loved him.
Without wasting a moment, Sybil swiftly left her plush bed and began to dress not caring what she drafted from the wardrobe. Her corset lay on the cabinet, not tonight she thought with a smile. With that Sybil Crawley left her bedroom brandishing a burning candle and slowly made her way down the stairs.
Branson lay on his springy bed reading from candle light. The days events had taken there toll and he was unable to even close his tiresome eyes without the burn of heartbreak and rejection twisting its way back into his mind.
Maybe he'd got it all wrong. The caressing of his arms, the sweet talking and quick glances from the back seat. Evening squeezing his hand when he helped her out of the motorcar. Maybe it was all just a kind gesture. Even when they had held hands so innocently at the garden party. Oh how that seemed such a life away. Such happiness and prosperity. Until his Lordship had announced the dreaded war. How prospect had turned into pesimism. Tom's mind had gone astray and the book he held no longer bore him any interest, it was a Marx, one Sybil had found for him from a shop in Ripon. He felt his hand grow hot almost as if burnt from holding her item so he quickly threw in adruptly onto the hard wood wood floor.
He lay down placing his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. A swift knock at the front door brought his sombre though's crashing back to earth.
He was reluctant to answer the visitor at first, afraid of whom it may be, about to blow out his burning candle the late night intruder spoke.
''Branson...Tom, please open the door'' Branson was both stunned and worried upon hearing the voice of Lady Sybil. He hadn't known she'd known his given name and her use of it made his heart stutter. He slowly arose from his bed and went to unlock the door.
''Lady Sybil I...'' His words were cut of by her quick embrace. Twisting her arms around his torso she buried her head into his chest.
''I'm so sorry!'' She spoke almost silently. Branson, shocked at her intimate approach grew rigid under her grasp, however after a few moments she felt him relax and his arms curling over her body drawing them closer. ''Whatever for?'' Branson replied into her hair, he had waited for his moment for so long.
Pulling away slightly Sybil glanced up into the eyes of her beholder and frowned, ''For denying my feelings towards you.'' He smiled at her comment and pulled them both inside the warmth of his cottage, she closed the door swiftly, allowing herself to fall again into their embrace. He kissed her raven hair and pressed their bodies closer, she could now feel his breathe on her neck. ''I'm sorry I kept you waiting so long. I had to make sure my caring for you was true, I did not want to hurt you.'' Branson had to laugh. ''I would of waited forever,'' He pulled away and took each of her hands in his. ''You know that.''
She could only muster a nod, she never wanted this moment to end. Still holding his hands Sybil leant in realised her indication and leant in also. The moment their lips made contact the world of class shattered into a million pieces. Tom moaned under his breathe as he finally tasted her sweet lips. His hands tangled into her thick hair deepening the kiss. He slowly traced his tongue over her plump and lucious lips causing her to moan in delight. They tasted the sweetness of eachothers mouths,curling their tongues simultaneously. She know tracing her tongue over his strong lips. Branson gasped at her touch, moving his hands to slowly trace the small of her back, she followed pursuit gripping his shirt in lust.
Never wanting the moment to end but knowing time was against them, Branson slowly broke away from the women he loved. Their heavy breath's radiated around the small cottage, both bareing grins of delight. Sybil took hold of Bransons hand and lead his toward the faded red setee which lay in the middle of the house styling patchwork cushions and a thick blanket draped over the back. The two sat down still grasping hands. For a moment they sat in comfortable silence.
''I love you'' Sybil admitted frankly, staring up into his swimming-blue eyes.
''and I love you ... very much.'' He replied, stroking her flushed cheek with the thumb of his free hand. ''I have for a long time now'' His hand traced the to-white skin just below her hair line caused by the accident on the fateful day in Ripon. She nestled her head into his rough, hard working hand. '' As have I.'' She announced and he had to smile. ''I'm glad.''
Sybil smiled sweetly to her love looking up and once again kissing his strong lips. She broke the kiss, covering the proximity between them by wrapping her arms around his torso once again, resting her head upon his masculine shoulder.
''I had a telegram not so long ago, bareing news that George Jefferson had been killed in action. He was a nice man, I danced with him at my ball.'' Tom whinced at the thought of her arms around another man, his around her. ''I don't know why I am telling you this, I suppose I feel war is so unecessary, innocent men don't deserve to die.'' He kissed her head once again in a comforting gesture. ''I know Sybil, it is most awful, but it must be done to keep you safe.'' He felt her arms tighten around him as if none of the horrific things they were told of was not happening over seas. They, together, only mattered.
Sybil sighed deeply, pondering whether or not to relay the question she yearned to ask, although the answer may break her heart.
''Tom.'' She cupped his face in her hands drawing him closer, ''You have not be called up to fight'' tears welled in her eyes, ''have you?''
oooooh, ...
thankyou so much for reading and pleace reveiw, whatever you think of it; good or bad. I am sorry if it dragged on a little, almost 2,000 words :S. Thankyou again, the next chapter will be up shortly! :D xxx
