So at long last I finally finished my part for the secret Valentine's exchange for the lovely and very patient hetep-heres. Sh wanted a story where Branson receives Valentine's cards and Sybil is intrigued by these and also by the fact that she is intrigued by that. I really hope that I have written something you'll like.
I want to thank the brilliant, fantastic, supportive, including and very helpful Yankee Countess for all you help. You're truly amazing not only for being willing to beta my story, but for being willing to let me share my thoughts and ideas for this story. And for checking up on me and encouraging to not to beat myself up and get frustrated with my writing.
So to set the time frame Sybil's nursing course took two months, and we are let to believe that she leaves in November 1916. She is most likely given time of for Christmas so it wouldn't be completely far fetched that she returns home in February 1917.
Sybil rose from her seat and checked the time on the big clock on the wall at the entrance. She groaned internally; time was passing so slowly and she was anxious to see the familiar blue Renault. She had barely slept last night, his words still haunting her just like they had done when he first said them: "Bet on me". He had spoken them with such passion and with hope gleaming in his eyes. She knew she had hurt him, and the thought that he might have given his notice often haunted her. She considered him to be her friend, and he had opened her eyes to so many new things, but to give up her whole world seemed overwhelming and frightening.
The big hand on the clock moved again and Sybil bent down and picked up her cases. She took a deep breath and lifted her chin slightly, preparing herself for who was waiting on the other side of the door. The cold felt like a wall, but the sight of Pratt steeping out of the car hit her much harder. She barely acknowledged him as he bowed and took the cases from her hands before offering her his hand to get inside the car. The drive home suddenly became a lot longer, and Sybil spent most of the drive looking out the window. She had told him not to go, and she had assumed that he would stay since she wouldn't give him away, but what if he had gone? The thought of not being able to talk about books, politics, and her nursing course with him made that knot in her stomach grow tighter and bigger, but also a feeling emptiness and confusion began to fill her mind.
The spires of the Abbey rose towards the clear blue winter sky. It seemed bigger and more imposing than she remembered. It wasn't until she saw her waiting family that Sybil realised how much she had missed all of them. She loved the training in York, learning new things and meeting new people, but she had missed her family and her home. Sybil waited impatiently before hurrying into her mother's waiting arms; "Welcome home, Sybil dear."
Sybil smiled as Cora wrapped her arms tightly around her and suddenly she felt like the little girl who would hurry into her mother's arms when her parents would return from away. "Thank you, Mama."
Sybil slowly pulled away from her mother and hurried toward her sisters, hugging them both. Cora closed the gap between them and with a gentle arm around Sybil's shoulders, led her towards the door. "Let's get you inside; there's tea in the library and your father will be along shortly."
It was wonderful to be home again, although she didn't miss the constant bickering between her sisters. Sybil looked around the library while sipping her tea. She had spent countless hours in this room, but as she sat there looking around with the sound of her family's conversation in the background, the room suddenly seemed very big and foreign to her. Sybil rose quietly from her seat and walked over to the book case and let her fingers dance across several books. She opened the ledger and was surprised by a missing familiar signature. Her eyes and fingers glided down the page and right at the bottom she found it. He had returned a book three days after she had left for York, but he had not taken one out since.
"Sybil, what do you think?"
The sharp voice of her oldest sister made her turn around. "I'm sorry Mary, I think I'm a little tired after the drive home."
Mary eyed her youngest sister, knowing full well that fatigue wasn't what plagued Sybil, but before she had the chance to interject, Cora spoke up. "Of course you are, darling! You should go and rest before dinner."
Sybil smiled at her mother and turned towards the door; she could feel Mary's eyes one her as she left the room and she knew her sister had more questions and that Mary wasn't convinced by her claim of fatigue.
Sybil clipped on the last earring and checked her appearance in the mirror. She had gotten better at doing her own hair since she had been away, but she was still a long way off from having Anna's skills. A soft knock followed by Anna's gentle voice, "Oh, you're already finished milady?" Anna was used to Sybil being independent and being the one who needed the least help, but she would always come in and do her hair, but that was done as well.
Sybil pushed against the collection of hair at the base of her skull. "Well, almost; maybe you could help me with this?"
Anna smiled and quickly crossed the room. "Certainly, milady."
Sybil played with her fingers while Anna pulled the hairpins out and began reworking Sybil's hair. "I got a letter from Gwen last week…"
Anna smiled. "Oh? How is she doing?"
"She is very happy with her new life and job."
"That's nice, milady."
Sybil knew she needed to ease into the question of Branson's whereabouts. "Anna…how—?"
A quick knock on the door, followed by Mary's entrance, stopped her from continuing her question. "Ah, I hope that you're feeling well and that you were able to get some rest."
Sybil smiled and ignored the teasing tone in her sister's voice. "Yes, I am, and yes, I did."
Dinner passed slowly, and Sybil found herself missing the lively meal times in the dinner hall in York. At first, she had felt very out of place and things had been a lot different than what she had been used to, but she had quickly adapted to change in tone and to what was considered proper dinner table conversation.
"But I'm leaving for Richmond in the morning and with Branson being gone, I need Pratt." Robert sounded slightly annoyed as he put his cutlery down and looked at Cora.
He had really done it; he had left Downton.
Sybil fumbled, reaching out for her water glass, but instead she knocked it over. William quickly stepped up behind her and patted the table cloth while Sybil looked up at him and gave him an apologetic smile. He stepped back just as quickly as he had appeared, and Sybil looked up and saw that her entire family was staring at her like she had grown a second head. "How terribly clumsy of me."
Her parents looked at her with confusion but then returned to their conversation, Edith gave her a quick smile but Mary wasn't convinced.
"Sybil, may I come in?"
Sybil had known that it was only a matter of time before Mary would seek her out, but she had thought that with having gone to bed that she could hold Mary off until the morning. "Come in…"
Sybil put her book down as she sat up in her bed as Mary slipped inside the room and sat down on the bed. "Darling, what's that matter with you?"
Sybil wasn't surprised that Mary was so direct. "Whatever do you mean?"
"Do you have a beau?"
Sybil pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. "Don't be ridiculous, why would you say such a thing?"
Mary continued look at her with suspicion. "You've had your heads in the clouds ever since you've come home."
Sybil moved closer to Mary. "I'm training to be a nurse; I don't have time for anything else."
Mary eyed her carefully without saying a word, then suddenly offered Sybil a genuine smile. "I believe you about the beau, but that doesn't explain what has been going on with you."
Sybil shrugged. "I think I just get a little overwhelmed at times. I've learned so many new things, met new people, and I look forward to continue doing that, but then I come home expecting everything to be the same and it isn't."
Mary smiled as she leaned forward and gently stroked Sybil's cheek. "Just give it time, darling, and remember…as long as Granny is alive, nothing really changes here."
Sybil giggled; nobody was more opposed to change than Granny, but despite that, things had changed. "But things have changed, even here, especially when Papa is willing to make do with less staff."
Mary looked slightly confused as she stood up. "What are you talking about?"
Sybil looked down, hoping to hide the disappointment she felt. "I was just surprised to find Branson gone."
Mary barely registered Sybil's question as she opened the door. "Oh no, Branson is simply away. With it being Christmas and now with the War, Papa let him have some time off to visit his family. He'll be returning in the new year."
Sybil swallowed a small gasp as she snuggled down under the covers. "Goodnight Mary."
"Good night darling, and do try to get some rest."
As Sybil lay there in the dark, she was a little surprised at the smile that formed on her lips and at how relieved she felt at the prospect of Branson's return to Downton.
Closing the closet and looking around the room, Sybil was confident that she had everything. She had packed all her clothes, making sure she put her uniforms, headscarves, and aprons on top. They were her most prized possessions and she took extra care with them. Most of her fellow students found the uniforms too frumpy and unattractive, but Sybil didn't agree.
She felt more comfortable, more like herself wearing her uniform, than she ever did wearing her beautiful evening dresses. She had finally found her purpose and she knew what she wanted out of her life. Sybil closed her last case, picked them up and took a deep breath before leaving the room that had been her home for the last two months. Growing up she had always been reminded to stand or sit up straight, but now as she left the dorm of her training college she felt taller and held her head a little bit higher. She was excited to work and she was even excited to see Branson again. She hoped that he would be there to bring her home, there were so many new things she looked forward to sharing with him.
It was a beautiful, clear February day, and unlike last time, she had decided to wait outside on the big stone steps. Rather ungracefully, Sybil backed out of the giant door with both her suitcases in her hands, and turned around surprised to find the blue Renault waiting for her.
Sybil let out a small gasp and a smile spread across her face at the sight of Branson exiting the car and quickly closing the distance between them. With a firm nod, he picked up the suitcases and without looking her in the eyes he spoke in a formal voice, "This way milady." Sybil followed him without a word and she didn't object as he helped her into the car.
Sybil waited patiently as Branson fastened her luggage on the back of the car. She found herself moving closer to the edge of her seat as he got in and started the car. She had hoped that he would turn around and acknowledge her presence but he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road ahead of them and his demeanour completely professional.
Sybil moved slightly to the side, hoping to be able to make it easier to see a little of his face, maybe even catch his eye "I understand that you've been to Ireland over Christmas."
"I have, milady," his tone of voice was controlled and neutral just as it would be if he were answering members of her family.
It was a tone he had never used with her before.
"It must have been wonderful to see your family again after such a long time."
"It was, milady."
"I can imagine; I missed my family the entire time I was here in York and I've only been away for two months, but you've not seen you family for almost two years."
Branson shifted slightly in his seat, but he made no attempt to steal a glance at her or to exchange a look; he remained completely focused on driving the car. Sybil let her eyes drop as she leaned back in her seat. She hadn't really known what to expect when she saw him again, but she had hoped the time apart would have healed the pain she had caused him.
Was this change in behaviour all down to that conversation in the archway and her refusal, or was there more to this? Had being Ireland with his family made him consider going home? Or was it something or…someone else?
Had Branson met someone while he was home, or maybe he had met up with an old sweetheart? Sybil's stomach dropped at the thought, and at the same time she cursed herself for feeling this way. She had no claim on him, she had turned him down, and she most certainly wasn't in love with him. So why did the thought of Branson having a sweetheart bother her so much?
Her mind began to fill with images of pretty young girls hanging on Branson's arm, and she found herself growing more and more frustrated with him and even more so with herself for caring so much. The rest of the drive was spent in silence and she couldn't wait to be home and out of this car and away from the awkwardness of it all.
Sybil adjusted her headscarf one last time and put the last hairpin in to make sure that it would stay in place. She checked her appearance in the mirror; the last few days' long hours at the hospital were showing on her face. Her life had changed so much in such a short space of time, and despite how tired she was, she loved her work. She had allowed herself to sleep in today, her shift wasn't until this afternoon and for once she had actually been able to sleep. Nobody had been in to draw the curtains, which consequently meant that she had not been woken for breakfast.
The thought of food made her stomach rumble, but she wasn't going to bother any of the staff; a simple sandwich in the kitchen was all she needed. She knew her parents would be appalled at the thought of her eating a sandwich as she walked down to the hospital. They would insist that she sit down for lunch and have Branson drive her to and from the hospital. But she would rather walk, especially now with this tension between them. They hadn't really spoken since her return; he had driven her to and from the hospital and there had been days when he had been sent to bring her lunch, but that was it.
She looked for his name in the ledger in the library, but nothing had changed in his selections of subjects. She missed talking to him about books and politics, and she really wanted to share her experiences at the hospital with him, but the thought that he had a sweetheart back home still filled her mind and she didn't dare ask him.
As Sybil hurried down the steep staircase leading to the kitchen, she was met by the sounds of pots and pans clattering, as well as the footsteps and the voices of various servants. She passed one of the hall boys who seemed surprised at her presence, but he hurried past her. She saw Carson sorting through the mail so she paused at the window in the hall. She knew he wouldn't approve of her coming down to make her own sandwich, let alone eat it standing up. She was so focused on Carson that she didn't even notice him until she heard Caron speak his name.
"Ah there you go, Mr. Branson, these came for you." Sybil watched as he looked at the three letters, and when he reached the last one, a smile lit up his face and suddenly her stomach dropped.
"Well Mr. Branson, it looks like your recent trip back home was well worth it."
"It was; thank you, Thomas," Branson glared at the former footman as he tucked the letters into his waistcoat and walked out of the kitchen. Sybil pressed herself against the wall, her appetite gone completely. She really needed to get out of the kitchen.
Sybil decided to walk down to the hospital, knowing she would be early but she needed some time to think. She couldn't forget how happy he looked when he saw the last letter, and she wondered who it was from. Had it been a Valentine's Day card from a sweetheart? Or was it simply a letter from a his mother or a sibling? And did she dare ask him?
Tom sat in the front seat of the car, waiting for Sybil's shift to be over. He pulled out Moira's letter and smiled at the photo she had included. It was a bittersweet feeling, looking at his godson; he was humbled that Moira had asked him. And he would honour the promise he had made to her and her son for the rest of his life. The boy looked so much like the father he would never know, but Tom would tell wee Martin everything about his father. Being a widow with a baby wasn't easy, but Moira and wee Martin were lucky they had family, and Tom would do his best to make sure the boy had a fair chance.
Tom had been so sorry that he hadn't been able to come home for Martin and Moira's wedding, so when Martin had written him and proudly told him that he was to become a father, Tom immediately wrote him, back promising to do his best to come home for the christening. That had been the last letter Tom ever wrote his cousin. Soon after, his ma's letter had arrived, telling him about his cousin's death.
He had been so angry for so long, angry at himself for not being there when Martin had died, angry at the British army for being in Ireland, angry at the officer who had killed him, and even angry at her. Hell, he was still angry at her, not just for turning him down, but also because of Gwen. There were few members of the staff he trusted and that he could talk with, and Gwen had been one of them, but with Sybil turning him down and with Gwen having left service, he had nobody to talk to.
"Branson?"
The sound of her voice startled him and he dropped the letter and picture on the floor of the car. He hurried out of the car, picking up the letter and photo and placing it face down on the seat before opening the door for her. "I'm sorry milady, I wasn't paying attention."
"That's quite alright; did you get a letter from your mother?"
She stayed at the edge of her seat hoping to catch his eye. "No milady," Branson put his hat on pulled his shoulders back and started the car. Sybil sighed and sat back, closing her eyes before reaching back and unpinning her headscarf, letting it fall down on the seat next to her. She didn't want to believe that this was the way it was going to be between them now, that his only words were going to be formal, distant, and followed by her title.
Later that night, despite the fact that she was tired, Sybil couldn't seem to fall asleep. She couldn't get Branson off her mind. She wanted the tension between them to end, and she would try to talk to him tomorrow.
Sybil was quick to finish her breakfast; she wanted to make it down to the garage as soon as possible to make sure to Branson was there. She walked into the courtyard and was happy to see that the garage door was left ajar, meaning Branson was inside. She took a deep breath before pushing the door open and stepping inside.
The garage was filled with her father's cars, but Branson was nowhere in sight. She half expected him to crawl out from underneath one of the cars, but he didn't. She looked around the garage and although she had no idea what any of these things were for, she marvelled at the order of things.
She walked over to the work bench then; it was cluttered with so many different things, but it didn't look disorganized. Her eyes fell on a collection of papers just on the corner of the bench. Sybil pushed two fingers against her lip and wondered if these were the letters Branson had received yesterday. She looked closer, and could see the top of a photograph sticking out. Her eyes fell on the face off a beautiful young woman with a warm smile, and Sybil felt her throat go tight and found it hard to swallow. She was tempted pick up the photograph, but she respected him too much to ever do something like that.
She took one last look at the woman in the photograph before spinning around and hurrying out only to bump straight into Branson. His arms shot out, landing on her hips, and Sybil grasped his upper arms to steady herself. Breathing suddenly became a complicated task, and she couldn't take her eyes off him. His deep blue eyes captivated her so, that she jolted slightly when he released her.
Branson took a step back. "I'm sorry, milady."
Sybil shook her head. "No, it was just as much my fault; I wasn't looking where I was going."
His lips curled into a small smile, but it quickly disappeared. "Do you need something, milady?"
Sybil bit her lip and nodded. "Yes, I was wondering if I had left my headscarf in the car; I can't seem to find it anywhere."
Branson walked over to the Renault, reached in, picked up her headscarf, and held it out to her. "You left it there last night."
As she took it, looked him straight in the eyes and smiled. "Thank you, Branson." He nodded slightly, before walking over to the work bench. She had come there to ease the tension between them and she still wanted to try and do that. "Did you go home for a special occasion?"
Branson turned around, slightly surprised to find her still standing there. "I did, milady. I was there for the christening of my cousin son."
Sybil stepped closer; this was the most she had heard him speak since her return. "That's wonderful; I hope it was a good day for the entire family."
Branson twisted the rag he held in his hands; despite everything, it had been a good day. And they had celebrated wee Martin and done their best not to dwell on his father's death. "It was a good day."
There was a longing in his voice and his eyes. She knew of his love for his family, and how close they were. She could only try to imagine what it would feel like to be separated from ones family years at a time, not being there for Christmas, birthdays, or just everyday life. She knew how strongly he felt about Ireland, and that he wanted to go home permanently, and she knew one day…maybe sooner than she expected…he would leave for good. "It must have been hard to leave them all again."
Branson exhaled deeply and dropped the rag on the work bench. "It was, but hopefully it won't be another two years before I see them again."
Sybil smiled. "I can understand that."
Silence fell over the garage. Branson leaned back against the work bench and stuffed his hands into his pockets. Sybil bit her lip and fidgeted with the headscarf. "Well, I'm glad you found it for me," she waved the headscarf around and accidently knocked down his letters. "Oh sorry!" Sybil bent down, picking up the letters and photograph from the floor and held them out to him.
Branson took them and looked at the photograph for a moment, before holding it out for Sybil to see. "This is Martin, my godson."
Sybil gently held it and smiled at the image of the young mother and her child. "What a sweet baby."
She looked up then and was greeted by Tom's smiling face, and a sudden, warm sense of relief filled her and she smiled back. She still didn't completely understand these strange feelings the Downton chauffeur was causing in her heart, but she did feel, deep down, that the both of them were going to be alright.